Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Failsafe 1/12 Date: 18 Mar 1996 20:25:52 GMT Failsafe. 1/11 Thanks to all those who replied to my plea for posting help, guess Stef drew the short straw :) This is my first attempt, having lurked on the group for about 18 months, I thought I'd give it a shot. I think I'd give it an "R" rating, (that's a 15 cert for all those in the UK) for adult themes and liberal splashes of blood. Being a Brit, the locations might be a bit dodgy, but I've done my best. The story assumes knowledge of The Erlenmeyer Flask and End Game with a bit of Dod Kalm thrown in for good measure. Confused yet? You will be :) Thanks to Stef for posting this, to anyone whose name I have stolen and to my little sis Helen without whom, I'd never see Season 3! Any character you recognize belongs to Chris Carter and 10.13 Productions, any that you don't belong to me. No similarities to anyone living or dead intended. Please don't sue me, I'm only a poor student. Comments/flames welcome at xqv37@dial.pipex.com Don't write to Stef, this story is not her fault :) If anyone does write, don't be offended if I don't reply straight away, it just means I've gone home for Easter. If anyone is still awake after all that, and actually reads the story I'd love to hear from you. Take care, Caroline. Failsafe. He listened as the echo of the scream slowly faded into the darkness. His hand held the knife with the firm, unyielding grasp a surgeon would employ; moulded and steadied through years of practice and gradual distanciation from the people who found themselves under his blade. He was the same. Distanced. But only from the emotions of his victims. The intense pleasure he gained from the gradual exploration of their bodies; the sensation of the flesh parting smoothly, the blood that ran out in a steady stream, was his to covet and investigate. He looked down at the face of the woman, her eyes were wide with terror, almost disbelief at the manner in which her life had been terminated. Smiling softly to himself, he wiped the knife clean before placing it onto the tray. FBI Headquarters. Washington, D.C. 28th July. 9am. Dana Scully walked briskly from the elevator, down the murky corridor to the basement office that now seemed to double as her second home. Her smart, no-fuss navy suit and lightly curled hair, portrayed a woman with more confidence and authority than her slight stature would at first suggest. On this occasion, her appearance was deceiving. Scully was tired and far too hot. For over a week now, Washington, D.C had been sweltering in an uncomfortably humid heatwave and, for over a week, Scully had been trying to badger FBI maintenance into fixing the basement air conditioning. Scully shook her head ruefully as she opened the door and a fresh wave of warm air greeted her. "And Good Mornin' Agent Scully!" Scully turned her head towards the voice, smirking slightly at the sarcastic radio announcer's intonation her partner had used. Fox Mulder was sitting in his shirt sleeves, the back of his shirt was already sticking to him, and his tie had been unceremoniously screwed up into his jacket pocket. Scully thought as she marvelled at the pattern gracing the tie, it was possibly even more tasteless than the one with pink pigs on it that Mulder only wore on "very special occasions". He had obviously been awaiting her arrival, an empty coffee cup and various configurations of sunflower seeds and discarded shells adorned his desk. "So Scully, what brings you in here at this early hour?" Scully did not dignify him with a reply, instead she busied herself with hanging her jacket up, dropping her briefcase and preparing a much needed cup of coffee. She sat down behind her desk, noticed for the first time a brand new file that had been left there. She knew without asking that Mulder had put it there and, as she opened it, Scully waited for the steady monotone to tell her exactly what he was getting them into this time. Scully's eyes widened as she was confronted by the black and white photograph preceding the report completed by the local officers initially assigned to the case. Mulder began to speak. "Linda Kavner. Age forty two, married with three children. Disappeared four days ago after leaving the restaurant where she works at 11pm. Her body was discovered last night by a man walking his dog." Scully held up her hand to stop Mulder in his tracks, closing the file, she picked up from where he had left off: "Over a period of three days, Mrs Kavner was repeatedly tortured. Her body was found to have a number of deep incisions, on limbs, chest and back. This trauma was not substantial enough to kill her, her throat was eventually slashed. Evidence of sexual assault but not rape. All cuts were administered with a surgeon's blade and dexterity. Around the wound that resulted in her death an, as yet, unidentified substance had been injected into the tissue." During this monologue, Scully had reached into her briefcase, pulled out her own file and handed it to her speechless partner. She resumed her seat to conclude. “The manner of death and torture are identical to those found in three previous murders, all occurring in or around the D.C area. So far, any connections between the victims remains unestablished and local law are, quite frankly, at a loss." Scully took a sip of her coffee and relaxed back into her chair, smiling at the quizzical look Mulder was giving her. Mulder waited, allowing her to savour the fact that, for once, she had him totally at a loss. Scully dug deep into her briefcase and took out her own file, crossing to Mulder's desk, she perched on the edge and handed it to him. "I got a call at three this morning from Alan Bryce, he and I used to work together at Quantico. He said that he had this weird case that we might be interested in. I spent the rest of the night doing the autopsy on Linda Kavner." For the first time since she had arrived at the office, Mulder took the time to actually look at his partner. Her eyes had heavy, dark smudges under them and her hair had been arranged in a hurry. "You OK, Scully?" Scully met her partner's eyes and saw both the concern and the unspoken apology, she smiled at him. "Yeh, I'm fine, she was just a mess. One of the junior pathologists fainted so Alan and I had to finish it on our own. The toxicology reports won't be in till later today, but if they are anything like the results for the other three deaths, then they aren't going to tell us anything. They just don't know what the substance is, or even if it contributed to the cause of death." Scully gestured back to the file Mulder had left for her. "Where did you get that?" "It came down from Skinner." Mulder grinned; "too spooky for anyone else, and besides, there's something you may not know about the way each body was discovered..." Scully shrugged. “A man walking his dog found Kavner, what's so strange about that?" She saw *the* look, the one that said .Mulder's grin broadened. "According to the young paper boy who found the second body, it just appeared in front of him, out of thin air." Mulder was right, Scully didn't like it, but he did not give her the chance to argue. He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to launch her complaint. "Pardon me for saying so, but you look like hell, partner." Scully nodded wryly, she was tired beyond belief, the autopsy had been a particularly harrowing one and had left them none the wiser, it was frustrating and only added to her exhaustion. Mulder stood and handed her her jacket. "Come on, breakfast is on me, then we have to see a paper boy about a corpse." Mike's Diner. 10.13am. The greasy spoon, just around the corner from the FBI Headquarters was a rundown, decidedly murky establishment, but it also served the best pancakes in D.C and the proprietor - who oddly enough was called Pat - was a firm believer in all that was weird in the world. "Hey Spooky!" the soft Irish lilt in the man's voice was a dead giveaway, and Mulder could not suppress his smile as the tall, dark haired man made his way towards them. "How's it going Pat?" The two men shook hands then Pat turned his attention to Scully. Mulder was well aware of Pat's none too subtle affection for his partner and he enjoyed watching her fend off his advances. "Y'know, you really shouldn't hang around with this fella, he's bad for your image." Mulder chuckled, trying to picture Scully hanging around with Pat instead. Scully took it all in her stride. "Yeh, well, he's buying, otherwise I'd have left him in the basement." Mulder feigned distress and followed Pat to their table. Pat hurriedly wiped the table clean and handed the two agents their menus. Five minutes later, Mulder heaped the pancakes onto Scully's plate and gasped at the amount of syrup she poured onto them. "A moment on the lips..." He whispered to her. She poked her fork in his direction, but could not think of a retort quickly enough. As he drowned his own stack, her thoughts turned back to their case. "Mulder, this paper boy, how old is he?" Mulder swallowed half a pancake. He's twelve and he is completely convinced of what he saw." "A twelve year old child discovering a murder victim is going to experience some considerable stress. It's likely that in order to cope with this he is putting the trauma into a scenario he can understand. I mean, maybe it's easier for him to give it this fantastical element to detach himself from the horror of what he has been through." Mulder nodded, spearing another pancake. "That sounds reasonable enough, but it doesn’t account for the fact that Jody Clark, the woman who reported the first body, claims exactly the same thing." Scully shook her head and savoured the taste of the pancake to disguise her annoyance. He always did this to her, he would give her a percentage of the information, allow her to attempt to rationalise it, then crash her theory into the dust with a final detail he had conveniently omitted. "Come on, let's go." Mulder's voice roused her from her introspection and she drained her cup as he headed for the counter with the check. "Take care of her, Mulder." The teasing tone was no longer evident in the Irish man's voice, and Mulder nodded to him as he guided Scully towards the door. Walker residence. Washington, D.C. 11am. "D'ya wanna piece?" Scully shook her head with a smile as Jason Walker thrust the Tootsie Roll in her direction. Mulder accepted gleefully and sat down on the sofa in the Walker's living room. Jason Walker filled his mouth with the candy and squatted cross- legged in front of the two agents. Scully looked at the boy, he was a slight child with blonde hair and no front teeth, he did not *seem* at all phased by their presence. "So, you want to know how I found that guy?" At Mulder's confirmation, Jason began to recount a story he had obviously told many times to various people. His delivery was flat and his eyes distant as he played with the wrapper of the candy. "I was on my way home from my morning round. I took a short cut through the field, mom always told me not to go that way, but it saves a lot of time and I was going for a swim after my round. I must have walked for about five minutes when this guy just appeared." Scully noticed the tremble in the boy's voice, but she did not want to interrupt to offer reassurance, she had a feeling that any disruption to his story would leave him unable to carry on. Jason steadied himself with a small, impromptu coughing fit, then continued. "His face was all cut up and he was still bleeding and..." The small face looked up, met Scully's eyes then turned to Mulder. "I'm not making this up, I keep on dreaming about it and it's always the same, he's just there in front of me." Mulder leaned forward and placed his hand on top of Jason's. "I believe you Jason, we don't think you're crazy, OK?" He was rewarded with a small nod which encouraged Mulder to continue. "Is there anything else that you can remember? Did you hear or smell anything strange?" "No. I don't think so. Am I done now? I'd like to go out and play now." 11.47am. Mulder pulled out of the street and rejoined the main stream of traffic. Scully tried in vain to operate the air conditioning in the car then gave up and opened the file on her lap. Mulder tapped out the rhythm of the Blues song playing on the radio, marking the time until Scully began the questioning. "Mulder...?" He stopped the drumming and glanced at Scully. "What?" She seemed to be having trouble finding the right words. "Jason, what did you think?" Mulder shrugged neutrally. "He seemed like a nice kid, bit on the jumpy side but that's understandable. He reminded me a bit of me when I was that age, the look in his eyes, that 'I know I'm telling the truth, why the hell won't you listen to me' look." Mulder turned his attention back to the traffic and tried to keep his mind on the present case instead of on an unsolved one from twenty three years ago. Scully swallowed, watched the freeway. In her heart, she wanted to tell Mulder that she had believed everything that Jason had said, sometimes it was draining always to have to offer the plausible explanation. But she couldn't turn her back on everything she had been taught and, as Mulder turned into the parking lot of the FBI building, it was to science that she turned, seeking an explanation within the realms of possibility, for a case that seemed to be defying the rational at every junction. She watched them from a safe distance, sensed their confusion. The tall man was trying to erase a memory that persisted in plaguing him; a brown haired girl drifting from his reach, the sound of her cries ringing in his ears as he struggled to hold his father's gun. The petite, auburn haired woman beside him was fighting with a different demon, one that she had confronted often and usually succeeded in subduing: a need to believe. The unobserved spectator chuckled sadly then choked back a pained gasp. She knew that the woman would be the hardest to convince, she also knew that she didn't have an awful lot of time to waste worrying about it. ----------- End part one ----------- =========================================================================== Failsafe. Part 2/11. FBI Headquarters. Washington, D.C. 12.15pm. "So what happens now?" Scully threw her briefcase down beside her desk and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to ignore the perspiration that had gathered by her hairline. Mulder was attempting to open a packet of sunflower seeds, whilst simultaneously switching his computer on and manoeuvring the mouse into the necessary position. He was not having the best of luck. Scully watched him, amused, debated helping him then decided against it, he was having too much fun on his own. She opened her mouth to repeat the question when he finally registered the original inquiry. "We speak to Jody Clark, see what she has to say and wait for the tox reports to get back from the last victim." His flippant tone masked the irritation he was experiencing, he hated being at a dead end, hated the feeling that he was dependent on other people to do their jobs before he could continue with his . Scully had seated herself behind her desk preparing to go through the files on the victims again. Mulder flexed his fingers and launched himself into the task of profiling the...Mulder hesitated to think of the perpetrator as a person, it was difficult to conceive that a human could have been responsible for such atrocities. Mulder paused as he remembered Pfaster, no-one had been willing to accept that a human could have defiled the women in the way he had. The reality had been a bitter pill to swallow. Mulder chanced a glance at Scully, she continued to read, oblivious to the thoughts that had brought her partner out in a cold sweat. Brutally forcing his mind to concentrate, Mulder looked at the screen of his computer and began to type. X-File. 1118 2X08. After reviewing the evidence presented so far in this case, I have arrived at the following conclusions. The five victims have ranged in age from nineteen to fifty five, three males and two females. The age and size of the male victims lead me to conclude that the killer is most likely to be an adult male, estimated age, early thirties. The bodies have been discarded almost immediately after death (usually in a public place) suggesting that they had been held captive close to that location, but searches of the surrounding buildings have revealed no evidence of this. Each of the female victims had been sexually assaulted but not raped, the tearing and bruising recorded during the post-mortems, suggest a forced examination as opposed to intercourse. Post-mortem analysis revealed that similar injuries were suffered by each of the victims. Each appears to have been subjected to a series of tortures over a number of days (average; three). Wounds are knife wounds, precise and varying in severity, a substance found in the surrounding tissue has so far defied identification and no weapon has been recovered. Agent Scully believes that the killer is using surgical tools and may have training or experience in this profession. The killer seeems to harbour a fascination with the biology of his victims. The wounds are inflicted to cause pain but not instantaneous death. The torture appears to be without motive (none of the cases involved ransom demands or similar threats) with the victims selected arbitrarily, no connection has so far been established between any of the deceased. The cold disregard for human life points me towards the consideration that the perpetrator is inhuman, whether figuratively or literally. It is unclear at this stage whether the victims died as a result of exposure to the unidentified substance or as a result of their cummulative injuries. The random nature of the victims renders establishing any pattern or predictions futile. The manner in which witnesses have described discovering the bodies leads me to suspect the possibility of extraterrestrial involvement, a conclusion that Agent Scully would vehemently oppose. It is my opinion that the most important factor in this investigation is the substance that is still undergoing analysis. Further conclusions will be possible once the origin and structure of this element have been ascertained. Mulder stared at the computer screen, read and reread the report then printed a copy for Scully to go through. Scully was still immersed in the files, her brow furrowed in concentration as she searched for clues they may have missed. Mulder jumped as the phone rang, Scully raised her head querulously, the sharp, insistent noise shattering her train of thought. Mulder snatched the receiver up. "Mulder." Scully watched as her partner's face first drained of all its colour then became animated with an expression of incredulous surprise. "You're absolutely sure?...And this is the same for each victim?...No! No! Don't do that, Agent Scully and myself will come over and arrange the transfer. Thank you. Goodbye." Mulder put the phone down and turned towards Scully. "You're not going to believe this Scully." His smile told her he thought it was the greatest thing since the launch of 'Celebrity Skin'. "What?" Mulder paused for dramatic emphasis. "The substance that they found in the bodies, they brought in someone from Boston, someone who had worked with a Doctor Anne Carpenter. The substance Scully, its design and structure are almost identical to that found in the Erlenmeyer flask." 4.35pm. Mulder drove in silence, the radio switched off, no tapping on the steering wheel to distract his racing imagination. Scully stared out of her side window, few words had been exchanged since the phone call. A simple agreement to go to the lab at Georgetown, Scully, almost subdued, had followed him to the car without question. The scenery passed unnoticed, Scully's mind was intent on a memory <"Under any other circumsatnces, my first call would have been to the Government."> Scully had resisted the conclusion that what she had experienced during that case was, indeed, connected to tampering with something extraterrestrial in origin. Denial was the easiest solution to something she had no plausible explanation for. Deep down, Dana Scully consciously admitted to fooling herself. The evidence was overwhelming and continued to mount Mulder heard Scully exhale sharply and knew what was troubling her. He rarely gloated, opting instead for self-deprecation to try and make her more at ease with phenomenom she longed to refute. He wanted to tell her that he understood, he would have said anything to break the tension in the air, but he found himself lost for words Instead, he contented himself with finding a parking space then, still without speaking, they made their way to the laboratory. Georgetown University Microbiology Department. 5.50pm. "Dana, thank you for coming." Scully shook hands warmly with the small man who greeted her from across the other side of the laboratory. "Alan Bryce, this is my partner, Fox Mulder." Mulder nodded, shaking Bryce's hand and simultaneously trying to get the measure of the man Scully spoke so fondly of. Bryce was not much taller than Scully, his face was haggered, with black shadows running deeply beneath bloodshot eyes. The stress evident on the man's face had aged him considerably, and Mulder was left to wonder what horror the man had discovered that could have had such an effect. Scully too, looked worried, she exchanged a few hushed words with Bryce then approached Mulder. "Simon Stave, the man who knew Anne Carpenter will be here in about five minutes, he'll be able to tell us more about what's going on." She turned towards her friend. "Alan meanwhile, is going home to get some rest. Doctor's orders." Her tone gave no outlet for debate and Alan nodded his assent, Scully kissed him lightly on the cheek, smiling at Mulder's raised eyebrows. "Give my love to Helen." 5.57pm. Simon Stave was not the cheeriest of men. If anything, he acted even more highly-strung than Alan had, his hands shook as he consulted his notes. "Er...Cell cultures and DNA sequences have proven conclusively that the substance found in the victims is an amalgamation of the Erlenmeyer fluid and a retrovirus of unknown origin. The behaviour of the substance is unpredictable but it does appear to be inhibited by cold temperatures." Scully felt her face flush, she spun around to look at Mulder who was standing equally as stunned. Stave cleared his throat. "You've encountered this before?" Mulder smiled at the man's unintentional irony. Yeh, he'd had a pretty damn close encounter with it before. "Y'know, I'm risking my job just telling you this. Doctor Carpenter lost her *life* dealing with something like this." Stave's voice had risen a pitch. "The bodies should be transferred to a Government safehold for further examination but Bryce...He said that I should call you guys first." "Doctor Stave, we work for the Government, this is our case and you were absolutely correct in calling us. Now, do you think we could have a closer look at the data?" Mulder fervently hoped that he had sounded calm and in control. Stave was obviously scared to death and he knew it was only a matter of time before this information would get into the wrong hands and mysteriously disappear. If he and Scully were going to make any progress they needed to act fast. 8.05pm. Scully peered into the microscope, the recognition flooded her senses as she gazed at a sample there was no earthly origin for. "This appears to be the same as the Erlenmeyer fluid. The structure is almost identical apart from these smaller cells which are the retrovirus." Mulder took his turn to look. "Scully, we have no evidence of what we found in Berube's lab." Scully frowned as if he had wasted time by stating the obvious. "The extra nucleotides have been detected, we still have your blood samples in your medical files. We don't need a comparison sample, this does not..." . Scully lowered her eyes. "Look, more work needs to be done, but I think the results so far are pretty conclusive. What we have to figure out is why the hell we are finding such a thing in murder victims all over D.C" "Why weren't these results found in the autopsies?" It was a good question, the blood around the wounds had congealed in a manner consistent with the hyper-viscosity syndrome that had almost killed Mulder, but something had slowed down the process. Scully gave it her best shot. "It's my guess that the substance was introduced post- humously. If the bodies were cold at the time then the reaction would have been delayed." Mulder whistled softly. "More experimentation?" Scully's voice was soft, sickened. "That's what it looks like." "Jesus." Mulder spoke in a hushed whisper. Scully turned her head sharply in her partner's direction. She could almost hear the cogs whirring as his mind accelerated smoothly into a gear she could never hope to fathom. He saw the case files of each victim, his eidetic memory recounted every minute detail of the victims, their families and their lifestyles. There hadn't been a connection purely because this *was* the connection. Each of the victims was vastly different either in race, gender, build or age, almost as if a cross-section of the population was being sampled. What better way to study the machinations of the human body? Mulder felt nauseous, was this the work of alien curiosity? He thought of Sam, taken as a child and he remembered the bodies that had been found, the bruises and scars on the women...Tears filled his eyes, threatened to fall and he dimly heard Scully's cry of alarm as he swayed in front of her. Her steadying grip on his arm allowed him to focus. "Mulder, what the hell was all that about? Are you OK?" He looked down into her concerned face and took a deep breath. "Yeh, sure." He motioned to her to sit down. He didn't think that she should be standing up while he told her what he had just been considering. It was more than a mere consideration though, call it instinct or just a gut feeling, Mulder knew his conclusions were not too far from the truth. He also knew that Scully was going to fight them every step of the way. It was testament to the exhaustion Scully was feeling, that she could not even attempt to formulate an argument against what Mulder was telling her. She reluctantly acknowledged that much of what he had said actually made sense, which gave Mulder a clear indication that she really did need to get some rest. Mulder stood up and held his hand out to her. "Come on Scully, I'll drive you home. We can fight this out tomorrow. I don't like having you at such an obvious disadvantage." The grin on his face was contagious and despite the strain of the case, Scully smiled with him, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet. As he steered her towards the door, she turned to him, stifling a yawn. "Tell Stave to send a copy of the tox results to the office, I'll be in first thing to go over them." Mulder continued to usher her to the door. "Scully, I promise those results will be waiting for you, but you're not going to be doing anyone any good if you can't think straight." Scully thought of the amount of sleep Mulder usually got in a night, but bitback the retort amidst another yawn, leaving her partner to revel in the last word as usual. ----------end part two---------- =========================================================================== Failsafe. 3/12 Disclaimer and intro the same as in part one. Comments/flames/criticism of the constructive kind to: xqv37@dial.pipex.com Dana Scully's apartment. Washington, D.C. 10.14pm. Scully pulled back the comforter from the bed, trying to decide whether to have a shower or just collapse and worry about it in the morning. Personal hygiene triumphed and she set the water running while she gathered her toiletries. A sudden noise behind her made her start, it was not loud, more of a faint scuffling, but past experience had taught her that home was not exactly a safe place, and she reached for her gun. Walking stealthily from her bedroom to the darkened room where her computer sat idle, Scully could hear her heart pounding inside her chest. Forcing herself to breathe deeply and slowly, she walked through to the kitchen towards the place where she had heard the noise... The light flashed brilliantly in her eyes and she gasped, squinting against it and trying to locate the source. She aimed her gun in the direction of the intense beam, but the rays were too strong and she found herself weakening. The kitchen floor rushed up to meet her and the last thing she felt was the cool surface of the tiles pressing on her cheek. >From the midst of a nightmare, Scully heard a voice calling her, beckoning her back from the void, but it was not a voice that she recognised. "Agent Scully, can you hear me?" Scully groaned as, through cracked lips, she managed to whisper; "Yes, where am I?" The voice was not threatening, instead it filled her with a feeling of calm and Scully relaxed slightly. "I'm sorry Agent Scully but there was no other way that I could contact you. I'm not going to hurt you, you just have to listen to what I have to say, and believe it. That will be the hardest part for you, I fear." Scully could see a figure now, it was faintly outlined and it approached her with hands outstretched in supplication. It appeared to be a female with whispy brown hair and a wizened, kind face, but the eyes were not those of a human's. Scully shuddered as a cold hand touched her, helping her to sit up and steadying her as she regained her bearings. She looked into the eyes of the creature. "This is just a dream" she murmured to herself, "working with Mulder...it's warping my mind." But a nagging thought in the back of her memory recalled the light from her kitchen, and fear threatened to consume her once again. "Don't be afraid, please, we need your help. You and your partner, we can't do this alone." A thousand questions circled Scully's mind but she contented herself with asking just the one. "Who exactly are 'we'?" The creature sighed and settled down at Scully's side. "The case that you and your partner are working on, the man behind it all is one of us. We came to this planet to study, much as you will examine the animals and plants here. Our work involved humans." The fear nestling inside Scully's stomach seemed to be there for a lengthy stay. "You killed and experimented on humans?" The reply she received was so forceful that Scully leaned back, trying to shield herself from the creature's anger and pain. "NO! Our tests were benign, the subjects knew nothing of them and were returned without harm. It was him...He turned everything. We need your help to bringhim to justice." Dana Scully stared, mouth open. This was just too much to try and swallow, and she found herself shaking her head. The creature smiled ruefully. "We knew that you would be the hardest to convince, that is why we chose to come to you and not to Mulder." "How do you know his name?" Scully's head was beginning to ache, she closed her eyes, but found herself being bombarded with images; images of a knife slicing through the air and the screams of a woman, the cries of a man, then finally, sickeningly, the sobs of a child. Vials of fluid were stacked in a basement and a faceless being worked on a body lying on a table. Scully knew the face of the body, it was Linda Kavner. "He has betrayed everything we stand for and he has to be stopped. He takes pleasure from killing, from taking the life that we can only envy and observe." "Why can't you find him and stop him yourself? Why do you need us?" The face was fading before Scully's eyes. "We cannot survive here any longer, our time here was complete. I am the last remaining and I am dying now." Scully could hear the wheeze of the creature's respirations and knew she was speaking the truth. "All we know is that he was going by the name of Logan, Paul Logan. We lost him...Please Agent Scully, stop him." Scully winced as she was assaulted by another array of images; the anonymous face of a child weeping and choking for air. "He knows no restrictions, could never grasp the concept of guilt, we should have been able to see it. Agent Scully, he's reached the children." Scully looked down at her hands, they were tightly clasped together and onto them the creature pressed her own. Their eyes met and Scully saw an unfathomable depth of sorrow, and of hope, hope in her. She didn't know what else to do, nodding her head slightly, biting back her own tears, she whispered; "I'll tell Mulder. This, he is just going to love." The creature smiled wearily and stood up. "You do have the ability to believe Agent Scully. Don't hide from that need all your life. Admitting to yourself is the easy part, telling him is what you have to work on." The faint light that the creature had been emitting dissipated. Scully had no time to contemplate what she had just witnessed before the darkness claimed her once more. 10.35pm. Scully moaned against the hand that was trying to shake her back to consciousness. She could hear Mulder's voice somewhere above her, but could not for the life of her summon up the energy to open her eyes. Besides, she had gone home to get some rest, why was he here bothering her? Why did her head feel like she had been hit by a truck? And why the hell was she lying on herkitchen floor? Scully forced her eyes to co-operate and stared foggily into the anxious face of her partner. "Jesus Scully, what happened here? Are you alright?" She nodded tiredly and placed her hand on her forehead, felt the congealed blood there, and realised that she had hit her head when she had fallen. That seemed to spark a memory and her mind reeled suddenly as the events of the past few - she checked her wrist watch - minutes, came rushing back to her. Mulder helped her to sit up, his hand firmly resting on the small of her back as she fought back the nausea. "I...I heard a noise in the kitchen and..." "Someone attacked you?" "No! She..." Scully's voice trailed off and she hauled herself to the sink, retching quietly "Come on, let's get you to the hospital." Mulder tried to take her arm but Scully resisted. "I'm OK. We have to talk Mulder." Mulder filled a glass with water and handed it to his dishevelled partner. She accepted it gratefully and sipped at it as she walked slowly into the living room. Mulder rooted in a cupboard and emerged with a first aid kit before following Scully into the next room. "Are you sure that you're alright Scully? You know doctors make the worst patients." Scully smiled briefly . But she sat patiently as Mulder cleaned the gash on her forehead and covered it with a piece of gauze, when he sat back to admire his handiwork, she gestured to him to take a seat. Hesitating only for a second, she began to tell him everything. 10.56pm. Mulder leaned back into the armchair and whistled softly between his teeth He brought himelf forward in his seat and looked directly into the eyes of his usually composed and *sceptical* partner. At the moment she looked anything but; her face was pale and her hands were clenched viciously, but the fire in her eyes told him that she absolutely believed in what she was saying. He didn't know whether to be afraid or triumphant. He moved over and sat beside her on the sofa. "Scully, do you realise what you are saying?" Mulder was just beginning to, and his heart was pounding fiercely against his rib cage. Scully looked into his hazel eyes, shaken by what she had had to recount. "I know what you must be thinking, but it happened Mulder. Would I make something like this up?" Mulder shook his head. "So what happens now?" "We try and locate Paul Logan. It's the only way to prove this thing." Scully mused ruefully. She looked back at Mulder sharply. "What are you doing here anyway? Exercising your sixth sense?" This time it was Mulder's turn to try and explain the seemingly inexplicable. "I don't know Scully. I just found myself heading back here. When you didn't answer your door, I let myself in." He shrugged, acknowledging the flimsiness f the explanation. "Maybe you weren't the only one *they* touched tonight." Scully yawned in spite of herself, and Mulder looked to see her practically alling asleep where she sat. He moved over to her and helped her to her eet, gnoring her protests as he steered her towards her bedroom. He drew the comforter further down the bed and Scully lay down, sighing gratefully as he placed the covers over her and turned to leave. "Mulder?" Scully's voice sounded unusually small and Mulder realised that she was probably still in shock from whatever she had experienced earlier. "Yeh Scully?" "Um, you know that my couch is just as comfortable as yours is..." Mulder grinned in the half light from the open doorway. "Well, seeing as all my fish are dead anyway..." "Spare blankets are in the closet." Scully mumbled, as Mulder quietly shut thedoor and made his way back into the living room. 29th July. 6.12am. The shrill, persistent ring of the phone roused Mulder from an uneasy doze. He initially reached over to try and kill it, and when that failed, he attempted to answer it before it disturbed Scully. "Schmulder." Fox Mulder was not a man renowned for coherence first thing in the morning. What he heard from the other end of the connection soon drove the lassitude from his mind. "I'll tell her. We should be there in about forty minutes." Scully appeared in the doorway, her hair still tangled and her eyes drowsy. "What was it?" No reply. "Mulder, what was it?" Mulder forgot to be coy about the fact that he was staring at his partner whilst dressed only in a pair of, leave nothing to the imagination, boxer shorts. "That was Bryce. The body of a seven year old girl was discovered this morning. Same distinguishing marks as previous victims, body discovered in the same manner. He wants you to assist with the autopsy." ----------end part three---------- =========================================================================== Failsafe. 4/12. Disclaimer and intro same as in the first part. Be warned, there is an autopsy in this part that some people may find disturbing. Comments/flames and criticism, constructive or otherwise to: xqv37@dial.pipex.com FBI Academy. Quantico, Virginia. 7.07am. "Subject is a caucasian female. Seven years of age." Scully willed Bryce not o see the tremble in her hand as she removed the sheet from the tiny body ofEmily Patterson. The child's eyes were closed as if in sleep. Her hair, dark and matted, framed the thin face, making its pallid tone all the more apparent. Scully began to examine the body, her voice concisely registering the trauma that the child had subjected to. "Bruising and contusions around the throat suggest strangulation with a rope or chord. Larynx has been crushed but this is only a possible cause of death. Injuries may have been inflicted posthumously." Scully manoeuvred herself around Alan Bryce who silently took X-Rays and photographs, then collected fibres from the body using something not altogether dissimilar to a miniature vacuum cleaner. The incongruity of such a description never failed to give Scully the creeps. "Several deep knife wounds about the torso, varied in both depth and length.Blood has congealed around the wounds, taking on an almost jelly-like consistency. Samples have been sent for further analysis, but it is my opinion that the results will concur with those taken from previous victims. Time of death is, as yet, unestablished, but should be compared with the results from the blood tests. The advanced nature of the viscosity suggests that the cause of death may have been the introduction of the virus into the bloodstream, something that is anomalous with the previous cases." Scully took a deep breath and, after confirming with Bryce that he had completed his tasks, she made the first Y shaped incision about the small neck. After four hours, Scully knew enough about what Emily Patterson had been through during the three days of her captivity, to fuel her nightmares for weeks to come. The child's stomach had been empty, five of her ribs had been shattered. The skin had been rubbed from her wrists, suggesting heavy restraints and there was a fracture along her skull severe enough to have rendered her blind. Scully peeled the blood streaked gloves from her hands, and waited until Bryce had untied the apron from around her waist before returning the favour. Wrenching the septic cap from her hair, she splashed water onto her face, trying not to watch as the morgue technicians endeavoured to make the child's body presentable enough for an open casket. Bryce had already left, making his way down to the labs to supervise the blood analysis. Scully picked up the small cassette onto which she had been dictating and, without a backward glance, she left the autopsy suite. FBI Headquarters. Washington, D.C. 12.42pm. The mood in the X-Files' basement office was unnaturally somber. Mulder slumped at his desk, peering at photographs taken only a couple of hours previously by Alan Bryce. Scully was methodically typing her report into her computer. Both were waiting for news from the offices of The Lone Gunmen, whose mission it was to try and locate a Mr Paul Logan. Scully took her glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She looked over to Mulder, sensing what was bothering him. He clenched a photograph between his fingers, staring intensely at the image indelibly preserved for some perverted concept of posterity. The similarities between Samantha Mulder and Emily Patterson were unmistakeable, and while Scully knew that Mulder's pursuit of the Truth behind the X- Files was no longer exclusively linked to the abduction of his sister, she also knew, that in cases such as this one, her partner had a persistent struggle not to become personally involved. Scully saved the work she had completed, sipping at a bottle of iced tea as she walked over to Mulder's desk and perched herself on the edge of it. Mulder snapped himself from his reverie to meet her seeking gaze. "Don't say it Scully, please. I know that she isn't my sister. It's just... They promised me they wouldn't harm Samantha." His voice trailed off as Scully touched his arm gently, searching for the right words and failing miserably. "Mulder, you can't think like that. We have no proof that these crimes are being committed by anyone other than a psychotic with a penchant for exotic chemicals. What I *thought* I saw last night and Patterson's death could have been a coincidence." Mulder couldn't help but smile. Give Scully a few hours and she could rationalise anything into a plausible occurance. But the defeat in her eyes acknowledged the inadequacy of her words. Mulder was planning a sneak attack on Scully's iced tea when the phone jarred him from his battle strategy. "Mulder. No Langley, I still don't think that the current climate is due to a secret Government contract with the manufacturers of sun block. And no, Frohike, Agent Scully is not wearing a bathing suit. What have you found?" Mulder snathced up a pencil and swore as the lead snapped on impact with the paper. Scully thrust her pen into his hand and craned her neck around in an effort to see what he was scribbling. "PAUL LOGAN. Prev arrest for suspected arson. Skip bail. Six weeks ago. Last known address: Apt2, 33 Gateslock Road, Baltimore. Searched, no trace. Employ: Factory worker; Jame's Surgical Appliances. LTD" Mulder placed the receiver back into its cradle. "Scully, what would you say to a trip to Baltimore?" 3.53pm. Dana Scully squinted against the sunlight coming in through the windshield of the Bureau car. It was late afternoon and the temperature had not had the decency to dip below eighty degrees. Scully had insisted on driving, arguing that Mulder could go over the file on Paul Logan that had been faxed through to them by the Baltimore PD. In truth, she was uncertain as to whether Mulder was actually in a fit state to try and concentrate on driving, and he had given in to her request without a fight. Scully slowed the car down as she approached a set of traffic lights, and glanced over at the mugshot of Logan resting on Mulder's knee. The man was small but well built, with a shock of dark brown hair and eyes that seemed transparent, their colour not registering onto the print. He had been arrested for burning down a large, abandoned factory, the police had never ascertained a motive. Scully had her own suspicions of what he had been attempting to destroy. He held his criminal number with disdain, smirking for the benefit of an unappreciative audience. Despite the heat, Scully suppressed a shiver. 33 Gateslock Road. Outskirts of Baltimore. 5.25pm. The street was quiet. The sound of a car door slamming shut behind Mulder, seemed to be the first noise to interrupt the silence in years. Scully waited for him at the side of the road, and they made their way towards the house together. It was a detached house, uncared for and apparently deserted. The entire area looked to be abandoned. Dust blew across the dirt track that served as an access route and a haze of heat shimmered, illuminating the ruins of what looked to have been a profitable estate at some earlier time. A dog howled disconsolately in the distance and Mulder twitched involuntarily. "After you, Agent Scully." Scully knocked at the door of number thirty three, not expecting an answer. She did not receive one. Pushing the door gently, she took a deep breath as it opened. Both agents drew their weapons and, after silently communicating their strategy, they entered the house. Apartment two was as non-descript as the rest of the building. A small, dingy room, barely penetrated by the rays of sun, displayed nothing that would have suggested a recent occupant. Coughing slightly against the dust, Scully moved the mattress aside, wincing as it crumbled beneath her fingers. "Mulder, no one has been in here for years." Mulder turned towards her holding a filthy toothbrush between gloved fingertips. "Well, the housekeeping certainly leaves a lot to be desired. We should run this through for prints." A slight noise suddenly caught his attention, and he whirled around to try and identify the cause. Scully had heard it too, and she walked quickly over to her partner. "What was that? Water?" Mulder mumbled something inaudible and dropped to his knees beside the grimy sink. A thin trickle of water ran from the piping underneath the bowl. Mulder gingerly lifted the lid of the toilet and, holding his sleeve over his nose, he peered inside. Through the filth and the stench Mulder saw a slight smudge of brownish red. His stomach fluttered as he leaned closer to try and confirm what Scully already suspected. "Blood?" Her voice seemed to come from miles away as Mulder scraped away the substance into a sterile evidence bag, sealing it shut quickly as if that alone would remove the horror and leave him untainted. "We should get that to the lab and come back with a back up unit to go over this place top to bottom." Mulder nodded his assent. Reluctant as he was to leave the scene, he also admitted to himself that he was uneasy. Something wasn't quite right about all this and Mulder realised that he was afraid. There was an ominous air to this place, he had felt it before in a different apartment in Baltimore, one located at 66 Exeter Street. A presence, spirit, no description seemed adequate, but whatever it was, Mulder was more than willing to go back to D.C and return with a little more in the way of firepower. Scully watched Mulder as he placed the bag into his pocket and stood up to his full height. His face looked pale in the gaunt sunlight and she motioned him towards the door. This place, that smell of decay and desperation, was making her stomach churn. Donnie Pfaster's face loomed large in her imagination, the almost gentle way that he had taken hold of her bound hands, raising them to inspect her fingernails. The visions that she had experienced then, had haunted her sleep ever since, and an identical fear threatened to consume her as she stood in that room. "Come on Scully, I'll drive." Walking to the door, Scully took a last glance backwards, her brow furrowed in puzzlement as she tried to remember Mulder shutting the lid of the toilet, she could have sworn he had left it open. It was a relief for the two agents to escape back into the sunshine. Scully could feel the tension leaving her body as they made their way back towards the car. Mulder was taking deep breaths of the stifling air, anything was preferable to the smell of that room. He unlocked the door for Scully and moved around to the driver's side, refusing to look at the house as he started the engine. 7.30pm. Mulder turned the car back out onto the highway. Beside him, Scully tried to get comfortable, hampered by the seatbelt as she wriggled about, attempting to find a sleeping position. Mulder reached over and held the belt out as she snuggled down in the seat, then allowed it to rest over her again. "Thanks Mulder." "Well, you did pay for dessert." He returned his attention to the road, fighting the satisfying full feeling in his stomach that demanded he either go for a jog or imitate his partner. He turned the radio on, humming tunelessly along to the music. Dusk had fallen quickly, leaving the sky in that nowhere stage between absolute darkness and fading sunset. Mulder checked his speed and accelerated slightly. The road was quiet, they were passing through countryside, a roundabout route Mulder had selected to avoid the rush hour traffic. Scully muttered softly in her sleep, something about chocolate muffins and cream, and Mulder stifled a laugh. He didn't see the car behind them until it was too late. Scully was jerked awake by Mulder's swearing. She felt the gentle impact of the pursuing car as it urged them forward. Coming awake with a start, she looked over at her partner struggling to keep control of the wheel. The radio hissed wildly, spitting static. There was no time for her to do anything before their car was sent hurtling from the road. Scully braced herself for the collision as she saw a tree looming straight in front of them. Seconds later everything went black. Failsafe. 5/12. Disclaimer still hasn't changed and neither has the intro (see part one if you really want to!). Comments/flames/constructive criticism and general hilarity to: xqv37@dial.pipex.com Location unknown. 7.51pm. There was a terrible pain in her right arm, forcing her back to lucidity. Scully tremulously raised her head. She was still in the car. It was then that she realised she had only been unconscious for a matter of seconds. Biting back the stabbing ache in her head, she looked over to her partner. "Mulder?" Her voice was hoarse. As she spoke, she heard a car door slamming behind them and footsteps quickly approaching. "Mulder, we've got to get out of here." Her voice trailed off as she saw the amount of blood on his forehead, he had hit the steering wheel hard. Cursing the Bureau viciously for not providing cars with air bags, Scully reached for her gun with her left hand. She was not quick enough. Her door was wrenched open and a hand as unyielding as steel grasped her wrist. Scully had no time to struggle. Her assailant unbuckled her seatbelt and dragged her from the car, throwing her roughly to her knees. Scully looked up into the beam of the flashlight, she squinted against the glare, trying to make out the identity of the man. With a sinking feeling, she admitted to herself that she already knew who he was. "Allow me to introduce myself." His voice was gratingly polite. "I believe you know me as Paul Logan." Scully lowered her head and closed her eyes, she was halfway through the Lord's Prayer when a blow from her own weapon plunged her back into the darkness. Location unknown. 9.17pm. Scully knew she was dead. She had to be, no one feeling this cold could be alive. The weight of the chains around her wrists and the very real need to vomit told her otherwise. Opening her eyes cautiously, Scully was met with a seemingly impenetrable blackness. The pain from her arm effectively masked the dizziness caused by the blow to her head, as, gritting her teeth, Scully felt around for her partner, trying not to think what she would do if he wasn't there. As her eyes gradually became accustomed to the gloom, Scully was able to distinguish a dark shape slumped off to her left. She reached over, gingerly feeling her way up the person's body, letting out a choked sob of relief as she realised that it was Mulder. She gently placed her fingers on his throat, found his pulse, racing but strong. "Mulder? Mulder, come on, you've got to wake up." She took a deep breath. "Please wake up." Scully tried to keep her voice steady, shuddering as she remembered the amount of blood there had been on the steering wheel. She rested her hand on his shoulder, keeping her injured arm close to her body. She had been bound in chains, thicker and heavier than handcuffs but also permitting a greater degree of movement. How long she remained like that, Scully could not tell. Her entire body was numb with cold, and she had to fight to remain conscious. After what seemed an eternity, she felt Mulder stir. Scully's heart leapt into her throat as he moaned softly. "Ssh Mulder, it's OK. Don't try to get up." He was struggling against her grip, attempting to sit. Scully made her voice firmer. "Mulder, lie still. You're going to make yourself sick." It was too late, Mulder turned quickly to one side and graciously emptied his stomach. "Shit." Scully kept her hand on his shoulder, she squeezed it gently. "You never listen to me, do you?" She could just see his weak grin. "You're probably concussed. You've been out for a while." Concentrating on medical facts was keeping Scully's mind off their situation. Mulder, on the other hand, was just beginning to realise what had happened. "Logan?" He ran his tongue around his mouth, trying to get rid of the bitter taste. Scully nodded, then calmly filled him in on the details of what had happened since the crash. Mulder's face turned an even paler shade of grey. "Are you hurt?" Scully briefly considered lying, but instead, nodded again. "I think my arm is broken. Other than that..." She shivered involuntarily. "What the hell are we going to do?" Mulder had no idea how to answer that. They were injured, unarmed and close to freezing to death. That was not to mention the psycho who was holding them hostage. The odds were not exactly stacked in their favour. Scully was shivering freely now, a combination of fear and the cold. Mulder managed to sit up. "Come here." Scully looked at him, tried to smile. "I don't think this is exactly the right moment." She moved slowly until she was sitting close beside him. He had been bound in the same manner. Looping his arms over her head, he pulled her close to his chest. Scully tensed then relaxed into the warmth of his body. Taking care not to hurt her, Mulder wrapped his arms around her. "Mulder?" "Hmmm?" "Don't go to sleep." "I'm not going to sleep. I know I have a concussion, Doctor." That was not the reason he was not going to sleep, but he didn't say anything else. Despite her fear, Scully was exhausted. She felt protected, reassured by the knowledge that Mulder was there. Mulder listened as her breathing became steady, her breath was warm on his chest and he was suddenly overcome by a feeling of terror. They were going to die here, he wouldn't be able to protect her. Silent tears coursed down his cheeks, leaving trails through the dried blood and falling into Scully's hair. She stirred uneasily in her sleep, her left hand tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. Mulder placed his hand on her forehead, stroked a steady rhythm through her hair, driving the nightmares away. 30th July. 5.48am. They had eventually agreed to sleep in shifts. Scully was awake now, listening to Mulder's soft snoring, still enveloped in his arms. She wondered why they had been left alone, then decided not to tempt fate, the longer they were alone, the longer they remained unharmed. She closed off her memory, shutting out the images of the bodies she had so recently examined. Scully arched her neck around. From what little she could identify, they were in a basement of some description. Water dripped solemnly from some unknown source. The floor was concrete, as were the walls and there was a silence as still as death. But it was the smell that made Scully shudder inwardly; decay and desperation. They were back at Gateslock Road. The certainty of her conclusion made her pulse race. The Lone Gunmen had given them the address, all they needed to do was hold on until they got nervous. If she had been thinking rationally, Scully would have realised that The Lone Gunmen probably had other things on their minds, a Global conspiracy or two. Mulder was not in continuous contact with them, they did not demand regular updates on all of his cases. But Scully needed to be able to grasp a slender thread of hope, it kept her fear manageable. Mulder shifted position slightly, inadvertently jarring Scully's broken arm. She yelped plaintively and he opened his eyes quickly. "Scully, you OK?!" She was trying to look at her arm, untangling herself from Mulder's hold. "I'm alright, it's just..." She winced as she moved, the chains rattling in a frightening melody. She slumped forward, exhausted by the effort. Mulder steadied her with his hand on her back. "It hurts." Her voice was small, laden with tears. "I'm so scared Mulder." Scully was gulping for air, her breath harsh and heavy. She had, for so long, maintained a pretence of being in perfect control. She hated the thought of Mulder perpetually having to take care of her, even though she knew the spoils were equally divided in that department. Somehow having admitted her fear, Scully felt absurdly relieved. Mulder's hand circled her back in a smooth routine, when he spoke his voice only just reached her ears. "So am I, Scully." She looked around at him, fixed his eyes with hers. Neither needed to elaborate. Scully touched his hand, felt the strong fingers encircle her own, they were ice cold, but warmth flooded through her. It was at that moment that she knew, she could not let him risk his life for her. Even if he ignored everything she was about to say, she had to tell him. Keeping a firm grip on his hand, Scully turned to face her partner. "Mulder." Gone were the tears, Scully had set her course and would not be deterred. "The women...The bodies I examined. You know what he did to the women." "Scully don't..." "I have to Mulder. You can't do anything. Please, promise me, if he tries..." The tears forced their way back and she struggled to form the words, to keep the panic from her voice, he wasn't listening to her. "I don't want you to get hurt, trying to protect me. Mulder, look at me." He obeyed reluctantly. Even in the dark he could feel the crystal blue of her eyes burning into his soul, pleading for his consent. "Maybe if we hold on long enough someone will find us. If it's only you that they find..." Mulder was shaking violently, trying and failing to hold back his protests. "No!" "Mulder, please..." "No! I can't promise you that, I *won't*. You're asking me to just sit back and watch? Scully, I saw those pictures, I read the reports. I can't just let him hurt you, anymore than..." Scully finished his sentence for him, "I could let him hurt you, and do nothing." Despite the weight of the restraints around his wrists, Mulder lifted his hand to her cheek and with his thumb, he tenderly wiped the tears away. She closed her eyes against his touch, sighing in resignation "Mulder?" "What?" "You're telling Skinner about this one." "OK. Deal. " They fell back into a companionable silence, nothing to do but wait. 8.18am. They had searched the room inch by inch, and eventually concluded that they were, indeed, in a basement. A flight of stairs on one side of the room led to a locked door. There was an assortment of tables and boxes scattered at random and nothing else. The search had been a slow one, Mulder still complained of dizziness and could not stand for more than a few minutes at a time, Scully was hampered by the injury to her arm. She had located the source of the water dripping and deemed it safe to drink. That had quenched their thirst. For the moment, their hunger was merely inconvinient. "Hold still, Mulder." Scully used the damp handkerchief to clean the wound on his forehead. How long ago was it, that he had performed the same task for her? Scully wiped the blood from his cheek, the wound needed to be stitched but there was not an awful lot that she could do about that. Mulder was more concerned about his partner. Her movements had become sluggish and he could hear her grinding her teeth in an effort to control the pain. When she had finished fussing over him, he made her rest, his anxiety heightened by her weary acquiescence. They huddled side by side, not feeling obliged to talk, comforted by the close proximity of each other. "Think Skinner will have missed us yet?" Scully's voice was slurred by the onset of sleep. "He's probably enjoying the peace and quiet." Mulder had been wondering the same thing though. Almost as an afterthought, he looked at his watch, shook it gently, scrunching his face with a grimace as the chains bit into his flesh. Not surprisingly, it had stopped, not broken during the crash, but affected by something else. Mulder kept his discovery to himself, Scully had enough to worry about. "I was going to call mom this weekend, invite her over for Sunday." The tremble in her voice was unmistakeable. Mulder squeezed her hand gently, his mind reeling; is this what condemned men think about? Their lives? The people they love? Their regrets? Mulder inevitably thought of his sister. The recent revelations regarding her abduction had served to ease some of the guilt he had borne since childhood, but this only made it harder for him to accept that, with the possibility of his own death imminent, he still had not found her. Mulder was afraid to die, to leave so many things still unaccomplished. He looked down at his partner - now sleeping quietly - and he remembered her words of comfort the last time they had stared death in the face. <"As certain as I am of this life, we have nothing to fear when it's over."> She had never told him more about what she had experienced whilst lying comatose, but those words replayed themselves over and over as Mulder listened to her gentle breaths, and he felt oddly at peace. It was then that he heard a key turning in the lock. The harsh, grating sound pierced the silence, jerking Scully awake with a start. Mulder tightened his arms around her instinctively, as a thin beam of light seared through their prison. The two agents watched the steady progress of the beam as it descended the stairs, both trying to remain composed in front of the other. With a silent touch, Scully disentangled herself from Mulder's grasp, with their diminished physical strength, they were less vulnerable apart. He reluctantly allowed her to sit beside him, but he maintained a tight grip on her hand. The light swept around the basement and, for a fleeting second, Mulder and Scully were able to discern their surroundings. With a sinking heart, Mulder saw that the tables were the sort used in hospital emergency rooms, the boxes had hospital identification stamps on them. All Scully saw was the blood on the walls and the floor. Mulder shielded his eyes as the flashlight was played over them. Scully blinked but remained motionless. A dark, shapeless silhouette stood before the agents. "Agent Mulder, I don't believe we have been properly introduced. I don't hold much with names, but for now, Logan is as good as any." Mulder nodded non-committally. "I'm sorry I took so long to get back to you, but there were a few things that needed to be taken care of. None of which really concern you, the Bureau may be a little pissed that you wrecked yet another car. That's if they ever locate it." A rough laugh. "I suppose that is the least of your worries at the moment though." As the light was lowered from their eyes, Mulder was able to distinguish Logan's features. His appearance was disarmingly ordinary, slightly small in stature with unruly, dark hair. It was his eyes that gave the only indication of his true nature, they shimmered, seeing to change colour and depth at the slightest alteration of his position or mood. As Mulder watched, he could have sworn that they vanished from his face completely leaving only vacant hollows behind. Logan smiled as he watched Mulder. "You are very perceptive Agent Mulder - I know you don't like to be called Fox - I am afraid that my time here on your glorious planet is destined to expire shortly. We never could quite create eyes that would endure until our departure. But, at least I will be leaving behind a legacy." "Is that what we are?" Scully's voice was tinged with anger. "Your legacy? What about all the other people you have murdered, what were they? Rehearsals?" In two short strides, Logan was by Scully's side. He crouched down to her level, spoke in a whisper next to her ear. "They were recreation Agent Scully. They were the opportunity to hone my talents and to truly experience human life." "By taking it away?" Scully was a doctor, trained and educated to preserve life. The cold-blooded murderer whispering insanity into her ear, defied everything she had ever considered sacred . "We were studying life, studying the workings of the human body. But it was dull, formulaic." He remained close to Scully, his harsh breathing making her recoil. "Agent Scully, have you ever killed anyone? Of course you have. Remember the feeling? The rush pumping through every part of our body? The exquisite feeling of power and intoxication? It can be quite addictive." Scully turned her face from his, seeking an escape and finding none. "You are sick." The words forced themselves, unbidden from her tightened throat. The effect they had on Logan was immediate. Grabbing hold of her broken arm, he hauled Scully to her feet. She managed to stifle her cry of pain, determined not to give him that much satisfaction, steeling herself for whatever he was about to do. Mulder tried to move towards her and was rewarded with a swift kick to the stomach, he was propelled back against the wall, momentarily stunned. Logan held Scully to his chest, keeping her upright with his arm tight across her collarbone. Mulder slowly raised his head to meet her terrifed gaze, the look in her eyes pleaded with him not to do anything stupid. "Your partner is very beautiful, Agent Mulder. They promised me she was pretty, but she has surpassed even *my* expectations." Mulder's naturally paranoid imagination went into overdrive. Who was he referring to? Cold dread settled, deep in the pit of his stomach, but fear for Scully took precedence over his analytic confusion. Logan ran his fingers down Scullys cheek, moving them lower to brush her breast. She closed her eyes, unable to look at Mulder as he watched helplessly. She could feel Logan rummaging for something, and opened her eyes tentatively. A glimmer of light teased its way over the blade he now held in his hand. Shifting his hold on her slightly, Logan pulled Scully's bound hands away from her chest. Mulder opened his mouth, his hands began to move forward, but he knew he would be too late. With a bark of laughter, Logan kicked out at Mulder, catching him beneath his jaw, sending him to the floor. Without pausing for breath, Logan slashed the knife across Scully's chest and abdomen, she cried out with fading consciousness, as two long gashes opened up, the blood quickly staining her blouse. Dropping her with disdain, Logan turned to Mulder. "Tell her she was lucky this time." Mulder coughed, dragging himself towards his motionless partner, Logan's words barely registering. He heard the door slam and the key rattle in the lock, but his focus was on the small body curled up in front of him. "Scully? Oh Jesus." There was a lot of blood. "Scully, come on, don't give up on me now." He turned her onto her back, gently unbuttoning her blouse, as her eyes flickered open. She turned her head quickly, searching for Logan. "It's OK, Scully, he's gone. Take it easy." Her left arm was trying to push Mulder away. "Scully, I have to look, hold still." He pulled the blouse loose from her trousers and carefully wiped the excess blood away with it. To his relief, the wounds were not too deep. Scully moaned as he tried to clean them. Despite the cold, her face was covered by a thin sheen of perspiration, she was slipping into shock. With an effort, Mulder managed to rip his own shirt free, tearing it into strips to wrap tightly around her torso. That seemed to staunch much of the bleeding and he allowed himself to breathe easier. "Not bad, Mulder." Scully's voice was weak, strained, but to Mulder, it was the sweetest sound. He tried and failed to stop his tears. "Ssh, save your strength." Scully nodded, relaxing a little. Mulder moved behind her and, as carefully as he was able, he cradled her in his arms. "Mulder?" "What?" "Do you think we were set up?" He clenched his teeth, feeling the ache in his jaw. "Yes." ---------end part five---------