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Chapter Text

Ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle said, “Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.“

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The quiet sound of her own gasping breaths seemed pathetic in the darkness, like a panicked animal.  Her bound hands reached out, searching for hope, for him.  

“Mulder?” her voice was small. Scully knew she was alone.  A fresh wave of panic struck her.  She kicked against the ankle shackles and pounded her handcuffed fists against the concrete wall.  It was a futile struggle.  All sound was drowned out by the banging of her racing heart in her own ears.  She willed herself to inhale deeply.  Hold.  Slowly exhale.  Again. Again. 

As she sat in the darkness with her knees drawn up in front of her, her trembling hands closed as if in prayer, Dana Scully focused on her breath.  She forced her mind to consider nothing but her breath.  Breathe in, hold, slowly exhale.  

As the curtain of her panic lifted, the desperation of her reality hit her again with its full force.  She pressed her back against the rough concrete wall.  The metal of the cuffs bit into her tender wrists.

I lost my shoes, she thought.  Not to mention my badge, gun, phone.  Somehow it was her bare feet, only one ripped stocking remaining, that made her feel utterly helpless.

Of course, her shoes where not the most important thing she’d lost – she winced as her mind tortured her with the painful thought rising overwhelmingly to the surface of her consciousness.

“Mulder,” she whispered his name into the darkness, her voice cloaked with sorrow and guilt.  

It had been her lead that had taken them to that isolated farm.  She remembered Mulder’s exasperated face as they pulled up to the gray, crumbling barn.  

“Just humor me for once,” she said as she slide the decaying door open enough for them to step through.  “Waste of time is all I’m saying,” he’d spouted back as he also stepped into the dimly lit barn.  And then…

A tear slide down her cheek.  Then nothing…black…blank…this.  It must have been gas.  Or drugs.  She wasn’t sure.  The next cogent thought she could hear him.  But still fractured, like a dream, far away as if through water.  She heard him.  

“Scully, Scully,” he’d said her name, quickly, with desperation, and concern.  He’d needed her.  He’d been angry…afraid.  “No.  Get your hands off of me.  No! Wait!  Scully…” And he was gone. 

It was like a snapshot of memory from another lifetime -- faded, blurry, but real.  When she had fully come back to herself and opened her eyes, she saw nothing – total blackness – but she could still smell the faintest hint of his woodsy scent, she could sense to the warmth of his body lingering where he had lain on the cold concrete beside her.

The scent and warmth had long since faded.  She was truly alone in the silence.  In the darkness.  The effort to control her heart rate and breathing was now the only thing keeping her from falling to the fear completely.

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The merciful darkness began to close in.  Not long now, he thought.  Sweat and dust and blood filled his nostrils.  Each strangled breath intensified the ache of his battered body.  He gagged on the blood running down his throat from his broken nose.  He spat, but the metallic taste of his own blood continued to fill his mouth.  

Not for much longer, he thought weakly as his vision continued to close in.  The blows continued, but he was too far gone to even curl away.  His body was limp and bloodied.  Through the growing darkness, the haze of unconsciousness, he sensed the boots of his tormentor still.

A rough hand grabbed his arm, dragging him upward.  He had no strength to stand, no control to even kneel.  His body hung limply from his captor’s arm and spilled onto the concrete floor now smeared with his blood.  

But his swollen eyelids fluttered as the man who’d beaten him almost to death looked into his eyes.  Mulder couldn’t help himself – he smirked…and using all his strength spat on the man.  Why not? Mulder thought.  

He could feel himself leaving.  It would all be over soon.  He was going where they couldn’t touch him, where there was no pain. Gratitude.  He was tired. He ached for the rest that would soon be his.  He barely registered the sharp slap across his face.  It was as though the rough shake was happening to someone else’s body.  His eyes rolled unseeing as the hazy face of his attacker came again into unfocused  view.  

Suddenly, like light from a door opening down a long dark hallway, regret spilled into his thoughts, spoiling the relief of losing himself.  He remembered her – vulnerable, alone.  If he was safe, she was not.  If he left this room, would she find herself here?  The thought was a deeper pain than broken bone and torn flesh.

As desperate as he was for rest, he didn’t belong to himself alone.  He was hers.  The thought sparked fire in him.  He clawed at the edges of his fading consciousness.  He fought with effort that was beyond him.  He could not, would not, go gladly into this escape.  

His eyes fluttered.  His mind struggled.  But he was just a man – this truth felt like betrayal.  While love knows no limit, the body can only endure so much.  He hated himself for this weakness, but this was a battle he could not win.  

Forgive me was his prayer to her as he finally and fully plunged beneath the waters of unconsciousness.  He didn’t feel or hear as his body crumpled to the concrete floor with a sickening thud.  

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It felt like days.  But she knew by her hunger at most it had been 10 hours, maybe 12, since they’d been taken.  Her mind was fully clear of the drug now, and it tortured her.

The waiting was the most agonizing part.  Not knowing, helpless as the measureless seconds, minutes, hours passed.  It was useless to try to count the time…or wonder.  It was agony to imagine.

She had crawled through the darkness tentatively exploring her conditions.  The concrete room was about ten by ten square.  The sound of her ankle shackles and handcuffs echoed loudly as she shuffled along the floor.  

There was a heavy metal door centered in one wall.  The air was stale and cool.  Since there was no light, she couldn’t register detail beyond the rough textures of the harsh cube.  She’d found a plastic gallon jug in one corner with some water in it.  With her hands bound, she could barely raise the jug to her mouth to drink.  It tasted faintly like old carpet, but it soothed her thirst.  She’d sipped it carefully.  

She also found a foul smelling plastic bucket apparently intended as a toilet.  Other than that, the room was bare.  Her knees ached from crawling, and her hands swelled in her restraints.  Her numb fingers had familiarized themselves with every crack in the concrete floor, with each bolt on the reinforced door. 

In the darkness, her other senses became hypersensitive.  She could hear a dripping pipe somewhere deep in one wall.  Maybe it was the buzz of the florescent bulb on the other side of the door, though not even a crack of light entered her hell hole.  She’d examined every inch, every texture with her scientific mind, but she was still no wiser, no more in control than when she’d first opened her eyes.  

She remained quiet as she catalogued, but inside she was screaming, beating her fists bloody on the door, fighting.  Instead, she sat, crouched opposite the door, her back against the unyielding wall, her unseeing eyes locked ahead.  

She sat for hours – waiting, listening, praying for her partner.  She wanted to scream, to claw through the walls, to run.  Her muscles ached from tension, her bare feet gripped the floor, ready to spring up and fight at the first chance.  

As the hours dragged on, her muscles protested and fatigued.  She felt like such a fool. She wasn't helping either of them like this. She’d tried to relax her body, but she remained a tightly coiled spring.  It went against every instinct in the small, red haired woman to just wait.  She was a person of action.  She needed a plan.  Something to do. 

She felt her heart pounding in her ears and the waters of panic beginning to rise in her again.  Threatening to overtake her and toss her in the desperate storm.  She breathed deeply.  She could not let herself lose it.  It would be too selfish.  She owed it to him.  She would, she could be brave, calm, strong.  She would not let crazed fear of this unknown enemy endanger him or her any more than she already had.  She concentrated on her breaths.  Counted each one – inhale, exhale.  

She shifted so that her back pressed harder against the concrete blocks of the wall.  She stretched her legs out, and then pulled them in closer to her chest.  She circled her arms around her knees and lowered her head.  Forgive me was her prayer to him as she faded into numb emptiness.

Chapter Text

Author J.K. Rowling said, “To hurt is as human as to breathe.“

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Scully bolted upright as the silence was shattered by a blaring siren that reverberated off the concrete, crippling her with noise.  At the same instant a florescent light flicked on, utterly blinding her after hours of total darkness.

She doubled over from the shock of it.  She was so overwhelmed, she didn’t register the door opening until a man was in her cell, grabbing her arms and dragging her into the back of the concrete cage.  Only as his rough arms painfully pinned hers to the wall, almost lifting her off her feet, did she first begin to comprehend that it was too late.  They were here.

The siren abruptly cut off, and the man loosened his grip, but did not release his painful hold on her upper arm, he swung her around and unlocked the cuffs, letting her swollen hands fall numbly to her side. 

It happened so fast, as she continued to blink against the blinding brightness.  She felt a hand at her throat now, pushing her into the wall.  She coughed.  Blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to the light, and clear her shock, she saw brown eyes full of violence meeting hers and felt his grip on her neck tighten.  Her mouth opened for air.  And he smiled.  Then he stepped back, letting go.  She coughed, she breathed in. 

He stood in front of her, towering over her at at least six foot three inches.  The powerful muscles on his lean frame made her feel like a little girl, a little girl with no shoes on, but she tried hard to keep her expression blank as he stared at her for a moment, before turning his back on her and taking two steps into the middle of the room. 

Black t-shirt, camo pants neatly tucked into black military boots.  He turned again to face her, but this time with his expression carefully arranged into a mimic of casual politeness.  A shiver of fear ran down her spine as he smiled in mock friendliness.

She didn’t move or speak, but she also wouldn’t look down.  Her stony gaze was her own quiet act of aggression toward this man who remained as in control of her life and death as if his fingers still remained around her neck.  He dripped of arrogance, dominance, threat.

He made a slight wave of his hand and two others emerged through the open door dragging something between them.  Suddenly the small room felt crowded.  The two men unceremoniously dropped their burden in a heap in the middle of the room, and left.

She wanted to back up, to make more space between her and this thing.  But there was nowhere to go, her mind raced struggling to take in the scene.  Then as understanding dawned, a strangled sob escaped her as she took a step forward, forgetting her shackles, fell hard to her knees and in an instant crawled to the bloody twisted body.

She gently rolled him onto his back, lifting his head into her lap. She leaned over him as if to shield him.  “Mulder, Mulder,” she whispered frantically as she felt his neck for a pulse. 

Course laughter echoed off the walls.  “He’s alive…for now,” the voice was cold.  She looked from her knees up in to his hate filled gleam, and bile rose in her throat as she continued to shield her partner’s body with her own.

He smiled as she clenched her fists, muscles taught, shaking with rage.  With a dismissive chuckle, he turned and left.  The door slammed shut and locked behind him with a grating echo.

The hours in darkness had been a prelude to the fear that now rose in her.  She was frozen.  We’re fucked, she thought as the familiar silence of the room returned.  Dana’s hands still shook with anger and fear.  But now she could not hold on to panic, lingering self-pity.  She had work to do. 

A silent tear slid down her face as she looked into the swollen, bruised, blood smeared face of her partner, Fox Mulder.   A deep breath to ground her and clear emotions, then she began to work. 

You’re a doctor, for God sake, start doctoring. She gently lay his head down.  Shuffling around to his side, she began to examine his injuries.  She worked quietly and efficiently.  Clinically evaluating his vitals.  He was breathing, pulse was slow, but strong.  Pupils nonreactive.  But he’s alive.

She took off her jacket, sliding it beneath his head.  She tore off the left sleeve of her cotton blouse and poured water on it.  She ever so gently began to clear the dried blood and dirt from his face, neck, arms.

She tenderly held his hands, kissing each of his wrists, marked purple and bloody from metal cuffs. Love and Hate at war within her.  He’s alive, she thought again as she pushed down both overwhelming emotions. He’s alive.  So just help him.

She made another cloth with the right sleeve.  Her hand lingered on his cheek as she put the clean moist rag to his swollen, broken lips.  His eyes fluttered as his mouth drew in the water.  His tongue reached up for more, licking the drops off his lips. 

“Mulder, it’s me, Scully.” She said it gently as one speaks to a child.  “Mulder, if you can hear me, I need you to try to wake up.”  She waited, wetting his mouth again. “Please, Mulder.” She felt his hand move in hers, he squeezed with the pressure of a feather.  But she felt like she could finally breathe for the first time in days. “Come on, Mulder. Come on. Mulder, wake up,” she encouraged him as his eyes began to open.

Steadily his eyes focused on her face.  He tried to smile at her, “Hey partner…” Then piercing pain in ribs cut his breath short.  A ragged gasp escaped him through clenched teeth.

“Shhh.  It’s okay,” her hand tenderly stroked his head as he breathed against the pain. “Good, just breathe.  That’s it.  Relax.  You’re okay.  Breathe.” Her voice was gentle and strong.  A steady mantra of encouragement.  It grounded him, as he felt the fresh shock of what he had suffered.  He calmed.  But his breath still came in rough groans. “Be still.  Don’t talk. Just breathe.  I’m here. You’re good.  Breathe.”

His eyes swam with emotion as he registered the depth of trust and love he felt for this woman.  Dana Scully was the thread that held him together.  Her face was calm and her touch tender as she continued to let him suck water from the cloth.  Her words caressed him as he settled through the shock.  And with a little time, he came fully back to himself.

“Are you okay?” he asked weakly, searching her face with an intensity of emotion and depth of feeling she’d never seen in another man’s eyes.  “Did they… hurt you?”

“Shut up,” she said.  “I’m fine. Don’t talk.” Her anger was directed toward her own helplessness to have prevented this savage beating, and her helplessness to protect him from another.  She was too ashamed and guilty to look him in the eyes.  “I’ve got to check you out.  Be still.  You’re hurt bad, Mulder.” 

My no nonsense, practical, take charge Scully.  “It’s just a scratch,” he said as she began to gently move his limbs, looking for dislocations, breaks, torn ligaments.

As she felt along his left side, he clenched his teeth so as not to cry out and turned his face away from her.  Broken ribs for sure, she thought. Probably a bruised kidney.  I can’t do anything if it’s the spleen. Her clinical mind raced helplessly forward through all of the treatments he needed….and couldn’t get in this hole.  You’re a doctor, for God sake… but all you can do is wait.  Her mind continued to torture her with guilt as they just rested together in silence. 

“Hey Scully…” he began after a long silence. 

She cut him off, not ready to open herself.  “Do you think you could sit up, if I help you?” she asked, eyes still not meeting his. 

“With your help, I bet I could do jumping jacks, Doc.” He said it playfully, but they both knew the seriousness of the situation.  Captured, injured, no defense, no clue.  We’re fucked this time, he thought.  But somehow pretending, playing made him feel more in control. 

And honestly he felt worlds better just being with her.  He reached out and squeezed her hand.  When their eyes met, he saw her sorrow and silently willed her confidence and strength.  He didn’t have strength, but maybe it was hope. 

Leaning heavily on his petite partner, they were able to crawl to the wall opposite the door.  With a painful grunt, they sank to the floor, backs against the wall.  His bare feet next to hers.  He didn’t let go of her hand.  Squeezing gently, he looked at her seriously, “Thank you.”

She swallowed a small sob, “Just rest, Mulder.” She brushed his hair from his face again, and tenderly kissed his cheek.  “Rest,” she said. 

He didn’t really have a choice, he was totally spent.  But he wanted her to know.  His eyes closed, “Scully?” he started quietly.

“Yeah?” She whispered back.  But he had already drifted into sleep.  She draped her jacket over him, without letting go of his hand. His head dropped onto her shoulder.  She stayed still, comforted by his steady breathing and the gentle grip of his hand on hers. 

Okay, she thought. He’s okay.  Broken ribs, busted lip, broken nose. He’s had worse.  The thought made her smile and want to cry at the same time.  He’s okay. Rest up, so we can get out.  He needs you.  You’ve got to get him out of here, she thought. 

She was too drained to strategize an escape, or try to sort out the tangled clues that had led them here.  Instead, she soaked up the warmth of Mulder next to her, his steady breath and the weight of his head on her shoulder gave her hope.  Finally, sleep took her.

Chapter Text

"Pain nourishes courage." -- Actress Mary Tyler Moore

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She was startled awake.  He wasn’t next to her.  She stumbled onto her numb legs, climbing the wall to steady herself, frantically scanning the room. 

“Scully, I’m here.” His voice was warm and strong.

She calmed instantly.  He was examining the door.

“You should have woken me,” she said.  “Are you okay?” She stumbled forward, her legs asleep. 

“Good as new,” he smiled, limping over to her.  She rolled her eyes as she stretched her numb legs. 

They both surveyed the other, assessing the condition of their partner.  Then he lowered himself to the ground, sitting with his legs stretched out.  He looked relaxed, but she noticed the way he braced his side as he sat. 

She also sat, curling her legs under her.  “Seriously, Mulder, where does it hurt?  You’re limping. We have to…”

“Easy Doc, it hurts pretty much everywhere, but I’ll live.” He said it playfully as always, but his eyes carried a seriousness that made her pause.  “You look like you’re limping too.” 

"It's nothing. We are talking about you." She kept shifting, wiggling her feet as the feeling came back into them with pins and needles.  She didn’t speak, but her look accused him. He wouldn’t escape until she was satisfied.

“I’ve got a nice bruise on my hip, maybe pulled my hamstring, and my knee is swollen, but it’s not serious, just hurts.”

“And your broken ribs,” she masked her deep fear with frustration.  “I’m worried about your kidneys and internal bleeding. You’ve got to drink, Mulder, so we can assess…”

“My urine’s clear, Doc.  No blood.” He shrugged toward the bucket.  She noticed the water jug was next to where he’d slept.  He lifted up his shirt to show the mottled bruises striped across his side.  “It’s not my first broken rib,” he said.  His direct answers, the clear, unflinching look in his eyes as he lowered the T-shirt, told her more than anything.  He’s okay.  Banged up, but not broken.  Hope.

“Listen. We might not have that much time,” he said with gravity that pulled her forward.  “We’ve got to figure out who these people are and what they want so we can get out of here. Do you remember the barn?”

“No, I think they gassed us.”

“Damn.  Okay.  Yesterday, I was in a room just like this one.  But I didn’t see much of anything else.”

“I woke up here, you were gone by then.  It was dark.”

He looked deeply at her, “Dark?”

She ignored the question and the empathy in his eyes.  “Mulder, could these guys be military?” she asked continuing their rapid effort to learn.  Back and forth, this is how they worked. 

“Ha. They’ve got army boots,” he unconsciously touched his broken ribs. “But I’ll bet CIA or mercenaries.  One of the guys had a British accent.” He stood up, stretching, pacing.  “What’s the connection, Scully?”

“Well the farm belonged to a missing scientist working on genetic engineering, Gregory Fusilini.  No one has heard from him in 30 years, but last week, a patent application flagged in the system.  Somebody was trying to get a patent on the research he’d been working on.  He was trying to replace damaged DNA in embryos with synthetic genes.”

“Wow.  30 years ago?”

“Yeah, he was ahead of his time.  The work was theoretical, but apparently he was on track.”

“Who applied for the patent?” 

She’d tried to tell him all this back in the basement office, but Mulder of course was sniffing out UFOs and bigfoot.  He was only excited by his own conspiracies and theories.  Her leads were too … anyway, this wasn’t helpful.  He was listening now.

“It was some international research group,” she answered.  “Orchard Pharmaceuticals.  I couldn’t really dig anything up on them except that they recently purchased properties belonging to several dead or missing geneticists.”

“Ok.  So Orchard Pharma, Dr. Fusilini, synthetic DNA, dead scientists, and abandoned property.” He breathed deeply. “It’s something, Scully. We’ve got something to start with at least.  Keep working it.”

 He sounded hopeful, how he could sound confident and hopeful with so much against them, she could never figure out.   The eternal optimist. “Mulder…” she shook her head.

“Scully, listen to me.” A new zeal burned in his eyes. “This is important, Scully. Listen.” He was kneeling in front of her.  Holding her arms with firm gentleness, his eyes brushed across the finger print bruises from where their keeper had gripped her arms.  He released his hold, dropping his hands, but his eyes didn’t give up the earnest pleading.  “Please, listen.”

She registered real fear in his eyes, for the first time since this nightmare began.  She pressed her lips closed and nodded even as she felt the argument brewing in her. She would hear him out, but somehow she knew she would not like what he was going to say.

“Please, Scully.  If…” he began then, with a weary sigh, covered his face with his hands before returning his eyes to her. “Look, Scully.  When he comes back, I’m gonna go with them.  Let them take me.  Don’t argue.”

“Mulder.” She started to protest.

“Scully, I know you don’t like this,” he pinned her with a stare she couldn’t escape.  “I want you to let them take me.  You have to do everything you can to stay here.  Don’t talk to them, don’t speak up.  Don’t draw attention.  Let me take it.”

“Mulder…” She was shaking her head.  “No…”

He reached out, taking her face in his hands.  “Scully, for once, listen to me.   I need you to do this for me.  I need you.” His eyes gleamed with tears and a ferocity she didn’t recognize. “I’ve been through this before.  I’ve been taking beatings all my life.  I can take it here, but I need your help.  I need you to let me do this. I need to...to protect you...” His voice dropped to the faintest whisper, thick with emotion. “I’m strong enough. I need this, I can’t live with myself if you...if they...please...“ His eyes glistened with tears, and burned with the determined fire of his soul. “You are the key to getting us out of here, but I don’t want them to see that.  It’s our only advantage right now.”

“What do you mean? Mulder, I…”

“Scully, trust me.  I don’t know yet, but I need you to do this. Please, I’m begging you.  I don’t know what it means, but you’ve got to stay sharp.  Stay out of it until the right time.”

“You’re not making sense.  Not that we have a choice,” she shrugged. “But your plan sucks.” She tried to be angry, but mostly his intensity made her afraid.

“It’s just a feeling, not a plan yet.” He shrugged, “Please, just let me win this one.” 

You always win, Mulder…because you don’t play fair.  But she said nothing.  They both knew it was settled.  For now.

“Ahh,” he casually stretched out on the floor.  “Now Scully, let’s take a look at those leg irons,” he said with all the carefree nonchalance he could. 

Scully rolled her eyes, but stretched her stiff legs toward him.

With incredible tenderness, he examined where the shackles rubbed her ankles red.  He looked at the chain and the lock.  “If I still had my Swiss army knife, I bet I could I pick this lock.” He looked at her, he wanted absolution.

“No big deal,” she couldn’t keep the sharpness out of her voice, but her face softened a little.  Sometimes he looks just like a little kid, and sometimes he looks like an old, old man. Anger soon overtook that tender thought. He’s an idiot! The machismo! It felt good to be angry…almost like they were back in the basement or the car, not like they were in this concrete box.  …“I can take it”... another beating like that and you are looking at broken jaw, fractured skull, internal bleeding…

“Scully?” he shot her a pleading, boyish grin.  “Please.”

“You’re an idiot, Mulder.”

“I know.” He smiled and stretched out fully on the floor, putting his hands under his head. “But you love me.”

He had said it lightly, but the truth of it rang in her ears. 

She just rolled her eyes.  They continued in silence, tense but comfortable quiet.

Chapter Text

Japanese author, Haruki Murakami said, “I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.”

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They both covered their ears as the sirens blared.  Their sadistic host entered followed by two henchmen. 

They were sitting against the back wall, Mulder leaned forward putting himself slightly in front of his partner.

“Agents, good morning!  I’m glad to see you looking so well rested, Fox,” the cheerful words and sick smile did not reach to his dead eyes as he approached.

Scully tensed in anger, she would kill him.  Mulder almost imperceptibly touched her arm as he stood.  Remember. He communicated to her without words. 

This ritual had now become part of their sick routine.  Always the same cheerful violence in their torturer’s voice. The same burning rage in Scully, the same desperate request in Mulder’s eye.

Since the beating this would be the fourth time they’d come to interrogate him, though Mulder still had no clear sense of what they wanted.  They asked him questions which seemed random.  He guessed the torture was the point as much as anything.  He knew Scully hated him for it, but he wouldn't budge. 

“Let’s go,” Mulder said as he moved toward the door.  His antagonism was fading to weariness.  He couldn’t even look at Scully.  He felt her anger boring into his back.

“What’s the rush? Agent Scully, you’re looking well this morning,” their captor leered as he bowed in a mock gesture of gentility. 

“She’s got nothing to say to you,” Mulder snapped.  “Let’s go.”  He took his place between the goons at the door.

“As you wish, Fox.”

His tormentor followed him out the door, and Scully was left alone again.  Alone with her thoughts, her nightmares.

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The beating had been the worst, as far as physical damage anyway. 

The next time, it had been water.  They’d tied him to a chair and tipped him into a tub over and over.  He tried to spare Scully the details, but she got the gist when they dragged him, a sloppy, coughing, wet mess of a man, back to her after hours of near drowning.  He felt her hands trembling as she took off his wet shirt and rubbed his back to warm him while he coughed.  He’d been so tired he couldn’t speak.  She’d just held him.  Warming him up, combing his hair with her fingers, rubbing his back while he slept. 

He’d seen her face go deathly pale the next time as she looked at his mangled left hand.  Each finger broken.  His hand crushed.  The nails of his pinky and ring finger gone.  He winced at the memory of the pliers and the white hot pain that followed.  She’d cried outright as she set the fingers.  She was helping him.  He had asked her to do it. He needed her to, but he couldn’t suppress the scream.  He knew that had hurt her.  They’d barely spoken since she’d wrapped his hand in the sleeve she’d torn from her cotton blouse.  Now he rubbed his swollen thumb across that soft cloth, hoping that someday she’d understand.

He hadn’t been able to do anything for Samantha or for Scully when they were abducted, or during the cancer.  For once, he wasn't frozen, helpless to protect her.  He tried to relax as he followed down the narrow hallway into an open door.  He tried to wrap himself in layers and hide himself deep within his mind.  They had no right to know him…They saw that he cared for her…but he would do what he could to hide his most precious thoughts away where these animals could not touch them.  He would hide himself, and her, for as long as he possibly could, with everything in him. 

He offered no resistance as their hands stretched his arms and legs to the frame in the middle of the room.  He saw the whips, chains, ropes, and rods hanging along the wall without fear. He withdrew deeper into himself to prepare for the pain.  He was not there anymore, not really.  His numb, empty body would suffer, but he felt pride.  He felt deep peace.

I’d give myself to these animals in any way, if it means keeping her safe for one more day.

Time.  He was buying her time. 

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She paced restlessly in the concrete box.  She felt so many things it was overwhelming.  She was angry, worried, afraid.  She resented him and admired him at the same time.  She knew he was motivated by love, but she felt the sting of isolation – He doesn’t trust me.  He thinks I’m weak.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek, tasting blood.  It helped ground her.  The pain brought her disparate thoughts into focus.  She had gained some ground over these days.  In the intensity of these quiet moments, some of the pieces had snapped into place. 

Orchard was almost certainly connected to the consortium.  Fusilini had unlocked how to transplant the genes.  Burton, a scientist who’d been killed last year in a house fire had developed the synthetic buffer that could house the transplant genes.  Kwanio and Keller had disappeared from a yacht off Cape Cod a few months ago.  The partners had hinted at the ability to isolate genes that manifest in specific complex traits, though their research was as of yet unsubstantiated.  Keller had been a vocal supporter of engineered genome.  Critics called it designer babies.  Regardless, all of the pieces fit together and it wasn’t hard for Scully to guess that a government willing to harvest her ovaries without consent wouldn’t hesitate at ethical concerns of gene manipulation if it meant they could breed faster, stronger, smarter soldiers. 

The only thing that didn’t fit was them.  If she and Mulder had gotten too close, why not just kill them?  Why the torture?  Why the waiting?

Why?  It was the one question she’d never be able to answer.

Chapter Text

Japanese novelist and poet, Kenji Miyazawa wrote, “We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.“

++++++++++

There was no siren blast as the door opened. 

“I brought you another reward, Agent Scully.”  His voice sent a chill down her.  He tossed a roll of blankets into the corner and set a plastic container of soup and a bag of bread on the floor. These rewards...taking off her shackles, a fresh jug of water, a little food...were the only kindness they’d seen in days. And always Mulder’s suffering was the price to be paid for this sustenance.

“Where’s Mulder?” She spat. 

“Ah ah…you forgot to say thank you, Dana.”

“Go to hell.”

He stepped toward her, crouched to her level.   He was smart enough to stay out of her reach. 

“Come on, Dana.  Thank you is not too much to ask.  Fox has done so much, all you have to do is say thank you.  Fox would do anything to give you food and a warm blanket.  All you have to do is say two little magic words.”  There was an unspoken threat, a viciousness just under the surface, this man was capable of anything. 

“Thank you,” she said through gritted teeth.

“You are most welcome,“ he said with exaggerated enthusiasm.  He leaned in, “Dana, you should feel honored.  A man like Agent Mulder does not sacrifice himself for just anyone.”

Her heart froze, fear, panic rose in her.  “Where is he, you bastard?”

He laughed, but stood quickly, stepping back farther out of her reach. “He tried very hard to die for you this time.  And he will die…soon.  But you know, I admire a man of principle.  It’s inspiring really.”

“You…” she rose to her full height, ready to spring on him and claw his eyes out, rip his throat out. 

“Not yet, Dana.” He held up his hand, and Mulder’s unconscious form was dragged in.  “Agent Scully, I suggest that you and Mr. Mulder renegotiate terms.  Perhaps you and I can find the correct outlet for your pent up energy when I return tomorrow.  If not, it won’t be long.  Sadly, he can’t hold out forever.” He smiled at her as she shook with rage. “Anyway, think about it. Until tomorrow, darling.”  And he was gone.

She knelt beside Mulder’s unconscious body.  Her breath caught as she surveyed the damage.  His filthy T-shirt was in tatters.  Deep gashes crisscrossed his back.  She peeled a few shreds of cloth out of the deepest wounds causing fresh flows of blood.  Eventually she freed him from the shirt.  His entire torso was a mass of bruise and crisscrossed red welts and slices from his shoulders to the waist of his jeans.  The bottoms of his feet were stripped with welts as well.  He was breathing, and his pulse was thready.  

As she took his pulse, she looked down at his neck.  She recognized the marks.  Ligatures.  Her fingers gently followed the various patterns.  Belt, Rope, Chain.  She lifted his unconscious eye lids, petechial hemorrhage.  The bastard had strangled him – more than once, with different instruments! How many times had she seen these marks on the autopsy table!

Blinding anger burned in her.  This was her Mulder, her stupid, sincere, idealistic partner.  How long had his genius brain been starved of oxygen?  As much as he believed in her, she had no way of patching him up from brain damage. 

She hated him and his stubbornness.  She hated herself and her powerlessness. 

This was the man who loved her with every single breath, every single drop of his blood; every ounce of his strength was fiercely loyal, unshakable in his devotion to her.  He loved her to the brink of death. And she loved him, maybe she always had.

She loved his loyalty, his faith in her, his self-sacrificing, his pride.  It broke her heart, but she loved him.

She looked into his battered face, the network of scars that marked his body.  She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest.  Her fingers stayed lightly on his wrist monitoring his heart beat. 

Enough is enough.  She resolved to protect this man as he had protected her.  She would fight, fight him, fight their enemies, whatever the cost.  They would both suffer, they would both survive.  Together or not at all.  It was time.

++++++++++

She hadn’t moved from her protective station by his side when he stirred some hours later.  He was carefully laid on the blanket, positioned on his side so his whip torn back was as comfortable as possible in the circumstances.  He was gently surrounded by the soft warmth of a blanket. He felt her skilled hand on his pulse.  He groaned, and her eyes met his instantly.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied.

He reached up to wipe the silent tears from her face.  “What’s wrong?”

“Mulder, you can’t protect me.”  There was no judgement, no anger, just fact. 

“I’m sorry, Dana…”

“Mulder, this is over.  I can’t do it anymore.”

“What?” he reached out and gently squeezed her leg.  He needed connection.

“You can’t.  I’m done.”

“But I love you, Scully, always have.  I need you to know that…whatever comes next.  I love you.” His eyes swam with emotion so deep there is no name for it.  Unshed tears glistened in his eyes. “I’m sorry.  I’m just sorry I’m not strong enough…” his voice trailed away with unspoken regrets.

Silent tears still flowed from her piercing blue eyes.  “Mulder, I know that you love me.  But I don’t want you to gallantly die for me.  I need you.  I need you to live for me.  I need you safe.”

He squeezed her knee, but didn’t say anything.

“We’ve got to help each other,” she continued pleadingly. 

“You are helping me, Doc,” he smiled.  “More than you know.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she mumbled as she lifted his head to sip from the container of broth.  After he’d gotten down all he could, she drank the rest. 

He was tired, spent. They didn’t talk, but he searched her face as he faded to sleep.

She lay down closer to him, carefully putting his arm around her waist, she too slept.

Chapter Text

Lebanese artist, Kahlil Gibran said, “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.“

++++++++++

He’d been fitful as they slept. He was warm, feverish.  Without medicine, there was little she could do to keep infection at bay.  He was weak.  Rest was the best thing for him.  She placed a wet cloth on his head and silently watched him sleep.

She stood as the door unbolted and opened, placing herself between her fragile partner and whatever fresh evil was coming.  Mulder didn’t stir. 

“Good morning, Agent Scully,” he said. “I trust you are well.”  Looking down at Mulder’s form shivering on the floor, he said, “Oh dear.  Fox seems to be under the weather.”  He took a step toward him.  She blocked his path.

“Don’t.”

He eyed her evilly.  He was enjoying this.

“He’s sick.  You’ll kill him.  Leave him...please.”

“But you see, I can’t.  I gave Fox my word not to touch you…as long as he lived.” He smiled.  “I promised him…he was so pathetic as he begged me to keep hurting him…how could I say no.“

Pure hate for this sadistic bastard rose in her.  “New deal.”  She said it with quiet determination.   It was her time.  She felt strong.

“If you insist.” He stepped forward quickly and took her wrist, twisting it back behind her.  She bowed, and cried out.  This powerful man controlled her easily.  The illusion of power she had just felt crumbled, but her resolve to face what lay ahead remained.

“Noooo…” Mulder groaned, dragging his weakened body from the blankets.  “It’s my job…” he croaked out, struggling to stand, stumbling to his knees.  “Dana…” it was a wail of sorrow. “No, Scully, No.” He grasped at her ankles.

Amused, her tormentor released her.  She knelt next to her friend.  She held his face.

“Mulder, this is right.  It’s my time.  My turn to protect you.”

Tears flowed freely from his fever glazed eyes. “No, No. No.” He repeated frantically.

“Shhh.” She kissed his forehead and stood.

His arms flailed, clinging to her legs, trying to hold her back.  But he was in no condition to even stand, let alone hold her down.  She easily slipped away from him.  Her heart breaking.

“Let’s go,” her voice was harsh, cold. 

“After you,” their captor made an elaborate show of bowing, pointing her toward the door and the two waiting guards.  Then, he lowered himself to where Mulder sobbed and writhed on the ground.  “Fox, my friend, don’t worry.  I gave you my word.  I will not touch her.”

Mulder spat blood. “I’ll kill you!” he screamed, but his torturer was already gone. 

Mulder’s agonized wail was the last thing she heard before the metallic clang of the door being bolted behind her.

++++++++++

The hallway outside their cell was so quiet.  She guessed the entire complex could be underground.  She was anxious.  Anxious about what was going to happen to her, anxious about Mulder.  He was in hell right now, and she knew it.  But she felt a sense of purpose she hadn’t since this ordeal began.  She was doing something. 

The guards had stopped at the end of the hall and her keeper disappeared through a doorway.  Her thoughts lingered on her sick, broken partner as she waited.  The minutes dragged on as she imagined him, desperately clawing at the door, weeping, hating himself.  She knew what it was like.

“Agent Scully, I do apologize for your wait.” He was back. “Arrangements must be made when plans change.  But fear not, we are ready.”

She stared at him stoically, without comment.  She resolved not to show her fear.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to wear this.”  He handed her a black hood.

She held it, but made no move to put it on.

“I’d rather not have to ask my associates to help you.”

She put it on.

The goon on her right took her arm and led her as they walked forward through a doorway, down another hallway.  Scully was in darkness, and her breath stayed hot and close inside the hood.  She tried to focus on their movements, sounds.  They stopped, crossed a threshold. 

An elevator? she thought as they shuffled her forward and turned her around.  The feeling of movement in her stomach confirmed her guess as they rose.   Doors opened.  They walked further.  She heard a key in a lock.  They crossed another threshold.  The guard dropped her arm and left.  The door closed.

“You can take that off now,” the voice came from across the room.

They were in some kind of office.  A desk dominated the center of the room, file cabinet, bookshelf, a potted plant.  The blinds on the small window were closed, but Scully could tell it was daylight beyond. 

Her oppressor sat on the desk.  He took the gun from his belt and laid it on the table next to him.  “Agent Scully, don’t be afraid. I really don’t want to hurt you.”  He toyed with a pen from the table.  “In fact, dear, I really want to help you.”

 He was calm, the pretense of gentleness twisted a knot in her stomach.  She was prepared for brutality.  This quiet facade only strengthen her sense of distrust in this man and foreboding about what was to come.

“I promised your dear partner that I would not touch you.  So please, relax.  In a few hours, I will return you to him just as you are now.”  He stood and walked around the desk to the chair. 

His back was to her, the gun lay on the table.  But it was a useless thought.  She was too far away, he was too close.  The instant passed.  He sat, placed the gun in a drawer, and opened the laptop on the desk. 

She just stood there as he worked, he didn’t look up or speak or acknowledge her in any way.  Thirty minutes or so had passed, before his voice broke the silence. Without looking up, in that same nonchalant tone as ever, he said, “Take off your clothes.”

“What?”  She was surprised by the casual directive.

“Dana, don’t be coy.” He looked at her.  “I said, take off your clothes.”

She met his stare for a silent beat.  Her petite body stiffened and she reflexively folded her arms in front of her. 

He smiled.  She could see in the evil sneer that he enjoyed this. 

“You bastard.”

He rose quickly, leaned forward across the desk.  “If you no longer wish to cooperate, I will return you to your cell!” he shouted harshly, the calm mask breaking for the first time.  “No doubt, Agent Mulder will be willing to take up where we left off!”  Violence boiled just below the surface.  The muscles on his arms clenched dangerously as he spoke.

She let the hood she still held fall from her hand to the floor.  Without a word, she lifted her now sleeveless blouse over her head. 

He sat back down, still watching her as she stepped out of her slacks.  He returned his attention to the computer. “Everything, Agent Scully,” he said cheerfully, calmly without looking up. 

She unclipped her bra and let it fall.  Blushing with shame she slid her panties to the floor.  She was naked except the gold cross on her neck.  Goose bumps rose on her creamy white skin as she stood silently.

Her training as a field agent had prepared her for the potentials of sexual violence, but this was surreal – it was passive. Her mind whirled in chaotic circles as everything around her was still and quiet. 

She stood naked in the center of the office, her clothes at her feet.  He didn’t talk, or even look at her. She was just another object – like the plant near the window or the chair in the corner.  She felt overwhelmingly vulnerable.  Ashamed.  Humiliated.  And of course, that was the goal.  She hated that he was able to force these feelings on her.  Her understanding of the tactics only added to her helplessness.

An hour passed, maybe more.  Finally he stood from the computer and stretched.  He made a show of surprise as if he had forgotten she was there. 

“Goodness me, where are my manners.  I should have offered you a seat.”

He produced a stool from the large cabinet in the back of the room.  In the middle of the seat was a round wooden peg.  It was about 7 inches long, not very big around. But still, she didn’t have to think about it to imagine the purpose of this rod. She hated the blush that betrayed her shock. 

“Sit.”

She made no move.

He leaned in close to her face. “I insist.” It was a command.

She slowly moved toward the stool.  He watched from behind her as she parted her lips with a cold hand and positioned her opening above the rounded spike.  He was beside her now, close to her, watching.

“Sit down,” he said slowly, quietly, violence dancing in his eyes. 

Her body complied as her dry vagina began to slowly jerkily take in the skewer. There was the white hot fire of rebellion in her eyes as she refused to break eye contact with the monster now in front of her.  She made no sound, kept her face blank, and held her head high as she was fully impaled on the stool.

He chuckled as he returned to his seat on the other side of the desk.  For the next two hours he asked her nothing, but every 10 minutes or so commanded her to stand and then sit again.

He alternated between ignoring her and circling her taking in every inch of her naked, vulnerable body.  It got easier as her body supplied the moisture for the wooden dildo.  She was stimulated, but there would be no pleasure.  It was a slow rhythm of violation that left her sore and tired, humiliated and hopeless.

She fought to remain silent as the shaft penetrated her again.  Her legs burned as she tried to hold herself just off the seat for as long as possible.  That last centimeter stretched her, pushing on her cervix, filling her gut.

“I’m so glad you are enjoying this,” he said noticing her wetness.

“You are scum,” she whispered through clenched jaws as she let herself lower again onto the implement.

He picked up the rhythm now.  Sit, stand, sit, stand.  He laughed as she fucked herself on the spike.  Her body responded to the increased stimulation.  Her breath came faster, she trembled, warmth spread upward as she rubbed herself on the wooden dick.  A whimper escaped her. 

It was and wasn’t rape.  Every movement was her own, yet she was powerless to stop it.  She felt deeply violated, humiliated, dirty.  And he was enjoying every minute.  She felt nauseated. 

She closed her eyes, redoubling her efforts to remain silent as this torture pushed her body toward climax.  She hated herself.  She knew it was just a physiological response, but she hated herself.  Her muscles tensed, her breath caught.  It was coming, she was cumming. 

He laughed.  She tipped forward and went to her knees, spent as the last waves of her orgasm swept over her. 

“Good girl, now wasn’t that fun.”  He took the stool away, leaving her a tiny shivering pile on the floor.  

He took a medical dictionary from the shelf and set it on the floor beside her before returning to his seat at the desk.  She began to stand up, but he stopped her.  “Stay on your knees.” 

She knelt on the floor, focused on her breathing.  She was tired. 

“Would you pick up that book and hold it out in front of you?”  They both knew the question was a command. She was too tired to fight the inevitable, so she picked up the book, held it out in front of her.

“Straighten your arms, hold the book like this.” He held his palms open in front of him.  She complied.  Her arms began to ache in seconds. 

She tried to bend her elbows to relieve the burning strain in her shoulders and biceps.

“No cheating, Agent Scully.  Keep those arms straight.”  He watched her. 

Scully wanted to be strong, to show she was untouched by his perversion, but after everything she just felt drained.  The book felt like a 50 pound weight.  Her thin arms trembled, her back, neck, and shouldered screamed.  Her arms began to sag.

He was next to her again.  His face right next to hers.  “Arms out!” he screamed. 

She struggled to keep them in front of her.  Her hands were numb.  Gravity pulled the book lower. 

“Keep your worthless arms up!” he screamed inches from her face.  She closed her eyes, her arms were shaking.  The book fell.  She crumpled.

“You can’t even hold a book.  No wonder Mulder doesn’t think you can endure.  You are weak, you are useless. You are nothing but a dirty slut. You've failed him again.” He was whispering it in her ear.  All her own doubt and helplessness rose to the surface and poured out in silent tears. 

She had strength he knew nothing about, but in that moment she was used up.  Spent.  She was weak.  She let her face sink lower onto the floor, limp limbs beneath her as she continued to silently weep. 

He spit on her, and laughed as she quietly cried. 

Eventually she stilled, but didn’t get up.  From the desk he said coldly, “Get dressed.”

She pulled her clothes on, arms still shaky, legs sore.  She wiped her eyes and composed her face into a neutral expression.  He called for the guards to take her back.  She was thankful for the privacy of the hood as she was led down corridors. 

Chapter Text

According to the ancient Greek dramatist, Sophocles, “One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: that word is love.”

++++++++++

They removed the hood and roughly shoved her through the door.  She stumbled but didn’t fall as the door slammed shut behind her. 

Mulder was sitting on the floor against the back wall.  He was calm, but his bruised face was still red and puffy from crying.  He didn’t try to stand or move, but his eyes urgently searched her face.  “Are you okay?” he asked in a barely audible whisper.

She nodded.  “I’m fine.” She said it automatically, numb.  She just stood in the middle of the room –blank. 

Using the wall for support, he got to his feet, limping toward her.  “Scully,” he said her name with such tenderness.  He reached out cautiously to touch her arm.  She didn’t flinch away.  She didn’t look at him.  Slowly, gently, he put his arms around her.  He held her in silence as they both cried.  After a long minute, she put her arms around him, bearing part of his weight as they limped toward the wall and sat on the blankets. 

She noticed the deepest gashes on his back looked angry and infected.  His body was still too hot.  By the way he walked she knew his feet were swollen and very painful.   His neck was striped different shades of dark bruise, evidence of the violence he’d most recently survived.  

She didn’t speak as she surveyed his wounds.  He said nothing as he studied her face.  Wasn’t it always that way with them?  Silence.  The most important things always unsaid.

“Scully, are you okay?” he asked quietly after a long while.  “I mean are you really okay?”

“I’m fine,” her voice was far away.  “They never touched me.”  There was an edge of bitter irony in her words. 

His mind took him to dark places, imagining what tortures might have left no marks on her ivory skin.  He held her hand in his.

The weight of all that was unspoken hung in the air between them – fear, anger, pain, love, pride. She respected this man, trusted him completely.  But as close as they were in this cell, she felt the distance between them too far to overcome.  There was a deep hurt in her, hurt for his suffering, hurt at her own helplessness, hurt that the love she felt didn’t fit into words.

He dropped his head to his chest, fist clenched, muscles tight.  “I could kill that sick son of a bitch,” he growled. 

She turned, laying her white hand on his neck, marked deep purple and gray with bruises.

“Mulder,” she said pleadingly.  He relaxed and lifted his eyes to hers.

“Mulder, you know,” she continued softly, “the worst part isn’t when they brought you back half dead.  The worst part is every day when you walk out that door with those monsters and I wonder if I’ll ever see you again.  It’s the not knowing. 

What if you just don’t come back?  Are you dead? Bound in chains, screaming for me to find you? Did you get away?  Are you alone on the other side of that wall?  How would I know? How could I continue? 

The other day I sat here thinking…if he dies, please bring his body back, so I’ll know.  I hoped to at least hold your corpse so I would know.”

“I’m sorry,” he looked away.  “I’m supposed to protect you.”

“Listen to me, Mulder.  You cannot shield me from these people.  Their goal is to hurt us, to destroy us, body and mind.  When they hurt you, they hurt me even worse.  I know you felt that today.”   Her finger gently traced his bruised cheek, puffy from many tears. 

He nodded, too chocked with emotions to speak.

“The only way we survive this is together.  You don’t get to save me.  Your pain is mine too, just as if the whip were on my back.  You killing yourself does nothing but destroy me.  Our only hope is to save each other…anything else – they win.

Even if we are destined to die in this hole, we are going to do it together because I couldn’t face life without you.  Not here.  Not anywhere.” She searched his eyes, they protested, but she was ready.  She would stand her ground until he understood. 

“You are my whole world, Mulder.  You can’t die for me because my life ends with yours. Please, you are my life.”

Her words echoed the truth he felt in his own soul.  She was his everything.  He understood.  It broke him to admit even to himself that he could not save her.  But it was true.  Together.  That was their only power.

“Yeah.” he said finally, pain in his face. “You are right, as always, Scully. We do it together.  We save each other, fight together and die trying.”

She felt lifted by his respect, the trust in his eyes overwhelmed her. 

He took her face gently in his hands and drew her close.  “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.  Their lips met. 

She drank him in, his belief in her, his depth of passion.  His strong arm wrapping around her filled her with courage.  Hope.

He inhaled her fierceness and wisdom as he kissed her neck.  Her love healed him, made him whole, gave him hope.  Their interlocking hands gave him the strength to go on.

Together they were more powerful than any enemy.  Love cannot be broken with a whip or a boot to the ribs.  Love will not languish in deprivation, will not perish of hunger.  Love overcomes humiliation, asserts dignity in the face of abuse.  Love never fails.

Chapter Text

Helen Keller said, “Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.”

++++++++++

Their fingers where still intertwined when she woke up hours later.  Her head was nestled on his chest.  She could hear his heart beating.  His skin felt cool and damp, his fever had broken.  She looked at his bandaged left hand, the dark bloody scabs where his nails should have been.  He was healing.  As long as she’d known him, she had found his body’s ability to endure remarkable.  He bounced back from near fatal injuries faster than anyone she’d known.  Maybe all the practice he’s had at surviving torture and suffering has sharpened his ability to heal, she thought sadly.  

His body healed, but what about his heart, his soul.  She knew he still carried the traumas of the past and each day here just added to those wounds on his psyche.  He was too sensitive and gentle for the life he’d endured.  She wondered who he would have become if things had been different.  It wasn’t fair that he had carried the burden of what he had seen alone for so long.  She admired his ability to absorb pain and rejection and remain kind.  He drank too much, he kept people at arm’s length, his coping skills were not what she would call healthy, but despite everything, he was still good.  He hadn’t let the darkness take him.  And slowly, he had opened his heart to her.  She saw his vulnerability and it made her love him more.  He was resilient.  He was strong.  He was a fighter.  And somehow, he’d chosen her.  He gave her his trust, he let her follow him into the painful truths and dark corners of his world. 

The steady rhythm of his heart beat in her ear strengthened her resolve to be with him, to help him see that she was with him, always.  That he didn’t have to carry the hurt alone. She would stay by his side, help him.  He loved her, but he needed to see how truly and completely she returned that love.  He didn’t see it yet.  He didn’t feel worthy of being loved by anyone, let alone the woman who meant more to him than anything.  It made her sad, that he thought so little of himself. It was beyond his imagination that she could love him back. But she would help him understand.  He had made a big step last night.  They had made a big step.  Together.

But even as she replayed the words, she felt the isolation of shame.  If they were to be in this together, she should tell him about what happened.  How could she add to his burdens, hurt him even more with that knowledge? What he imagined was probably worse than the truth.  She felt ashamed, vulnerable.  That monster had raped her without touching her, she didn’t even understand the disgust welling up inside her.  She felt sick, she hated herself and what she had done.  She was wrapped safely in the arms of her partner, her best friend, but she felt alone in her shame as it worked to poison her mind. 

“Hey.” He was quiet.  Neither of them moved.  He didn’t want to break the magic of the morning -- waking up with Scully’s head on his chest, her hair spilling over him, their hands interlaced as his arms wound around her small frame.  “You’re crying, Scully.”

She turned her face so he couldn’t see it.  Part of him broke inside.  “Please, Scully. Tell me what happened.  Let me help you.”

“How, Mulder?  It’s done. We have bigger problems ahead of us.”

“Scully.” He tightened the embrace, willed her to let him in.  He felt powerless to help her, but he needed her to know that she wasn’t alone.

“I’m fine.”

“Remember, we are in this together.  Right?”

“Yeah.  Always.  But I can’t talk about it yet.  Please. Don’t ask me.”

He just held her for a long time. 

After an eternity, she turned to face him.  “Your fever broke.  How do you feel?”

“Like shit.  But better.”

“Are you hungry?” She freed herself from his arms and got the bread and water.  With effort he raised himself up, she sat cross legged across from him.  Their knees touched.  They shared the bread.  He was hungry.  And he eagerly drank the water.  He had needed this.  Probably dehydrated from all the crying, he thought.  He felt stupid.

“Scully…”

“Yeah?”

“What you said last night…about not being able to live without me…I know that you meant that. I just need you to promise me to try…if the worst happens.  I get it.  I’m not going to try to martyr myself.  I trust you.  We fight this together the whole way.  But I can’t let you give up.  I know what it is like…”

“Mulder.  You are my whole world.  I love you.”

“I need you to hear this,” he continued. “When you were taken, I looked everywhere, did everything and I couldn’t find a single clue.  You were just gone.  My life was over.  The pain was beyond what I could endure.  You were gone, because of me.  I was sure you were dead. And it was my fault.”

“Mulder.” She knew he had suffered, but they’d never talked about it.  He wasn’t good at words, at honest, at vulnerability.  He joked, and told tales and deflected.  This was different, new.  She waited for him to continue.

“One night, I was really drunk.  I was always drunk.  I sat in the basement.  I told you how much I love you, how much I respected you, how sorry I was for what had happened. I had that navy sweater you keep at work in one hand, and my 9mm in my mouth.”

She had always helped piece him back together before it got that bad.  But she hadn’t been there this time.

“I couldn’t do it.  I wanted to die more than anything, but I couldn’t do it.  The sweater smelled like you.  You are so brave and selfless.  I know I give you shit and drag you around, I don’t say thank you for how you keep me sane or listen to you like I should.  But you mean the world to me, you are my center, my constant.  Without you…it was torture.  But I couldn’t do it because I knew if you were there, you’d want me to live.  Even though I’m a worthless slug who couldn’t protect the only good thing that ever came into my life, you would have wanted me to live.  I couldn’t dishonor your memory by wasting my brains on the wall for some sucker to find in the morning.  So I just walked around D.C. all night, holding that sweater.  Surprised I didn’t freeze to death.”

“Anyway, by the time I stumbled up to my apartment, I had sobered up.  I still wanted to die, but I had decided not to.  For your sake.  Twenty minutes later, Skinner called me to tell me that you had been found.”

“Oh, Mulder.”  There was nothing to say…no words for the pity and sorrow she felt for him.  The overwhelming gratitude she felt that he hadn’t killed himself.

“You are right, Scully.  We have to do this together.  Live, fight, die, together.  But I need you to promise me…that you will try to live.  No matter what happens to me, you live.  It is not fair for me to ask you that…I know what it will be like for you.  But it is my condition.  If I don’t make it, you keep going, you keep fighting, you keep living for as long as you can…And if there is something after this, I will be there for you, waiting.  But you take your time.  I need your promise, Dana.”

“I’ll try.  But I can’t sit by and let you kill yourself either.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry.  I would do anything to keep you safe right now, to keep you out of harm’s way…but I can’t.  I can take a beating, but I can’t protect you from this.  You reminded me yesterday what it means to be a partner.  God knows, I don’t deserve you, you deserve so much better...”

He looked away.  He was still full of shame, self-loathing, impotence and anger at his helplessness to protect her.  No matter what, he held himself responsible as the source of all her pain.  These emotions played across his face, but he met her eyes again with an open trust, an honest, ardent love.  Fire stronger than his shame.

“…but I need you.  We are partners.  In it together.  But I just need to know that you will keep going.  You’ll give them hell, you’ll fight.  If you and I can both promise to do that, no matter what, then at least these bastards will regret they day they took us.”

She nodded.

 “And maybe, some part of me, of us, could survive this place, even if I don’t.”

“I promise.” 

“Good.  Thanks.  I really want to kiss you now.”

“Mulder…” 

Chapter Text

Comedian and actor Michael J. Fox said, "Acceptance doesn’t mean resignation; it means understanding that something is what it is and that there’s got to be a way through it." 

++++++++++

He was grinning like a school boy, playing with her hair as she lay facing him.  He was feeling better.  The restorative properties of a good make out session did wonders for the man, apparently.  He kept babbling about how pretty she was…how her lips were perfect, and her nose was perfect, and her ears were perfect. 

Honestly, they were both disgustingly dirty, clothes shredded.  Dirt and Mulder’s blood were on both of them.  It had been 5 maybe 6 days.  They’d been given enough food and water to stay alive, but not much more.  Some of Mulder’s wounds were still infected, though his fever seemed under control.

But in his eyes, she would always be perfect. 

He sat up quickly, twisting and dragging her behind him, as the door opened.  She didn’t let go of his hand as he rose to his knees, shielding her with his body. 

Four armed guards entered.  “Get up.  Both of you,” one said. 

Scully squeezed his hand as they both stood.  He leaned on her for stability. 

“This way,” the guard gestured with his gun toward the open door.  Scully and Mulder slowly moved forward, surrounded by their enemies. 

They were shoved into an open door just two down from their cell.  It was small. The concrete walls were painted blue.  There was a shower head on one wall, a drain in the center of the room.  A wooden bench ran along one side.  There were two towels and a bar of soap next to the neatly folded clothes.

“You’ve got half an hour,” the guard said and was gone.

They were alone.  Scully almost wept with relief. 

“Well, this is a surprise,” Mulder said as he sat on the bench.  He was still weak, and his feet were still painful. “What do you say?  Ladies first?”  Mulder, sat back, like he was going to enjoy the show.

Scully blushed, a shiver shot through her. 

He noticed, of course, and his body language changed instantly.  “Hey, Scully.  I’m sorry.  I was just joking.”  He sat forward.  “I wouldn’t watch you like that.  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“No, it’s okay.  I’m fine.  But, close your eyes, I’ll be quick.”

He lowered his head, closing his eyes.  She threw the filthy clothes in the corner, and took the soap.  The water was cool, not cold.  It felt so good.  She washed quickly. 

“Soap smells good,” Mulder said.

“No peeking, you pervert,” she scolded him.

“I’m not.  My eyes are closed, but my nose likes the smell of soap.  Is that a crime?”

There wasn’t awkwardness between them now.  And she saw that his eyes were dutifully closed. 

She deserves any shred of privacy I can give her, he thought. 

She dried and put on the modest grey cotton bra and panties, but not the t-shirt and sweats.

“Alright, Mulder.  You can open your eyes.”

He was surprised to see her in just her underwear. 

“I need to help you clean the wounds on your back.  You won’t be able to reach them by yourself. I want to keep my clothes dry.” She explained shyly, answering the question he hadn’t asked.

It was his turn to blush…how many times had this fantasy played out in his dreams.  He prayed that he’d be able to control his dick so as not to make this any more horrible than it had to be.  She was so sexy. 

She helped him toward the still running stream of water.  He stood under the shower, still in his jeans.  He turned so the water would wash away the bloody grim from his face and back.  She stayed just out of the spray.  He put his hand on the wall to stabilize himself.  Between his swollen knee and his caned feet, walking and standing were not his best skills right now.

She took her towel and began to gently rub his back, shoulders, sides.  He handed her the soap.  She worked up a lather in her hands and her fingers cleaned his wounds and skin.  He turned so the water would rinse his back.  She held out the soap, but he took her whole hand in his and began soap down his chest and neck.  She bit her lower lip, took a deep breath.  She took her soapy hand and washed his hair, his face.  He leaned back into the stream, suds running down his body.  She offered the towel.  He took it, wiped his eyes, kissed her hands.  He handed her back the wet towel.

“Thank you,” he said it quietly.

She stepped back toward the bench.  He turned his back to her and undid his wet jeans, sliding them off.  She looked at the multicolored bruises running down his hip and legs. She saw the tight muscles of his shoulders work as scrubbed his arms.  The water ran in streams down his scared back.

He’s got a fine ass, she thought.  She blushed that she was watching him like this.

As if he could read her thoughts, he looked over his shoulder at her and winked.  “Like what you see?”

“Oh, good Lord,” she rolled her eyes at him, and shut them tight so he could finish on his own.  Electricity surged through her as she sensed him, so close to her.  Her mind’s fantasy embarrassed her, but she didn’t try to stop as she listened and smelled and gripped the wooden bench to steady herself.  Was he watching her?

After a few minutes, she heard him sigh contentedly.  She didn’t open her eyes, but every other sense was still focused on him.  She finally heard the water shut off. 

“Could you bring me the dry towel?” he asked. 

She felt along the bench seat for the towel.  Then turned and opened her eyes, moving toward him.  He stood with his back to her, head down, arms braced against the wall.  She approached him.  Laid the towel across his back, and gently, tenderly began to dry his damaged skin.  She reached his waist, and he reached back taking her arm. The electricity of the passion between them was tangible.

“Thank you. I’m good now.”

They were both breathing hard as she backed away.  It wasn’t a rejection, she knew he wanted her, but it wasn’t right.  There wasn’t time.  Not now. 

 She turned her back to him, slipped on the black sweats.  He was behind her.  He took her by the shoulder, turned her toward him. He was in front of her.  Towel around his waist.  With the gentlest pressure he pushed her down to sit on the bench.  He knelt down in front of her, their eyes met.  He picked up the grey t-shirt.  She held out her arms and he slipped the shirt over her arms and head.  He lowered it over her chest and belly, pulled the hem, smoothed out the shoulders, raked the wet hair out of her face with his fingers.  Her heart beat wildly, she couldn’t look away from him.  He couldn’t speak.  After a long moment, he stood up, kissed her hair, and went to dress himself. 

She tried to compose herself as she watched him dress.  What the hell! she kept thinking.  She’d fantasized about him taking her clothes off lots of times, but she’d never known putting on a t-shirt could be so sensual, so erotic.

“Whew!” he breathed and turned toward her smirking.  “Cold shower never did this to me before, Scully.”

She smiled, rolled her eyes, and just laughed. 

“I want you,” he said.

“I know,” she winked. 

++++++++++

The guards had entered just a few minutes later.  They were escorted back to their cell.  Mulder walked fully under his own power.  He still limped, but he kept a good pace down the corridor.  She watched his tall, strong back as she followed him.  He really does have a fine ass, she thought.

When they entered the cell, she noticed the two trays of food and the water bottles and protein bars arranged on cardboard box in the middle of the room.  The blanket pallet had been replaced by a futon mattress on the floor, two pillows, and two clean blankets folded at the foot of the bed.  There was also a large first aid kit near the bed, and a new clean toilet bucket in the corner, complete with seat cover and a roll of toilet paper. 

“Well, isn’t this cozy,” Mulder said when they were alone again.  They both looked suspiciously around at the new accommodations. 

The old blankets were folded up by the low cardboard table.  Mulder sat cross legged on the blanket.  “It’s chicken and rice, green beans, a roll, and chocolate pudding.  Wow!”

“Take off your shirt.”

“Oh, my god.  I can’t believe I’m saying this, Scully.  You know how much I want you…fuck, I’m an idiot for this…but maybe we should eat first.”

“You are an idiot, Mulder. I’m going to dress your wounds.” She carried the first aid kit toward him.

“Oh…right,” he said sheepishly, as he took off his shirt. 

There were no scissors, or tools which could be weapons in the kit, but there were bandages, tape, antibiotic cream, aspirin, and a few does of broad spectrum antibiotics.  An ace wrap for his knee, and a few lightweight finger splints. 

She efficiently began to clean and dress each wound.  As her hands moved over his body again, it wasn’t as a woman touching a man, she was a doctor caring for her patient.  He felt the difference too.  But honestly, he didn’t care much.  She could touch him anytime, in any role. 

“Okay, now we eat,” she said settling down across from him. She gave him some pills – the aspirin and the antibiotics.  Then opened a water bottle for him.  “These are cold!” she was amazed at their sudden fortunes.

He swallowed the pills, and she handed him two more unopened bottles.  “Put one on your knee, and rest your left hand on this one.  The cold will help the swelling.”

She sounded happy to him.  It made him happy, to see her working.  They ate slowly with their plastic spoons, enjoying the meal, enjoying each other’s companionship. Neither one could wipe the smile off their faces.  Sure they were still in a fucking hole with no hope of escape, but they were clean and fed for the first time in a week.  Scully felt human again.

The passion of a few hours ago had dissipated into a playful companionship.  They were both giggles and teasing.  They joked about how with these upgrades the room was better than some of the motels they’d stayed in.  Eventually the conversation turned toward their current circumstances. 

“You know what I just can’t get my head around,” Mulder said. “There is no reason on earth for us to be alive right now.”

“Don’t sound ungrateful, Mulder,” She teased him. 

“Oh, no…I’m glad we are alive.  I just don’t understand why.  They have to want something from us…but they don’t even ask questions anymore.  Could they be using us to get to someone else?  As bait?  For Skinner maybe?” 

“Maybe, but honestly, I don’t think so.  Everything about the case goes back to them genetically engineering whatever super human alien hybrid they are working on now.  I don’t see how keeping us alive would serve that purpose in any way.”

“Well, that sucks.  We know who they are and what they want, but we still have no clue how to escape or what they want with us.”  He smiled back at her mischievously, “Oh well, we’ll just have to find some way to stay busy…” He looked shy, nervous. “Um, you are so beautiful, Scully... I just keep thinking about...” There was longing in him. “Maybe we could, um... you know like...uh, if you want to...?”

“Mulder, I don’t think so.” It made her sad. “We’re both worn out. I’m really tired, we need to keep our heads clear.  Who knows how long this calm will last.  Maybe we should just try to rest.  I’m sorry.”

“No, no.  Don’t be sorry.  You are right.  Gotta keep a clear head.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to…”

“Relax, Mulder.  I get it.  Back there, in the shower, it was everything I could do not to…”

“Fuck.  Let’s not talk about it.”

“I’m sorry… Could we just cuddle?”

“As long as you are near me, we can do whatever you want.  I don’t want you to feel any pressure.  It just feels so good to talk about how I feel, to show you what you mean to me…I know you know, but it’s like putting it to words, makes it feel real for the first time.  I love you, Scully.  I want to kiss you and hold you and make love to you, Dana Scully, but it is more than just that.  I love you.  I don’t have a right to love you.  I’m not worth it, I don’t deserve it, all I’ve ever brought you is pain.  But it the truest truth I know.  I love you.  What you said to me last night…I only ever dreamed that you could feel that way about me.  I know you have my back, you’ve save my life more times than it’s worth, you’re the best partner I could dream of. I know you care about me, respect me, trust me. But I never even dared to hope that you’d want more.  That you’d love me…”

“Oh, Mulder. You are an idiot.  Of course, I loved you.  You thought I’d followed you to hell and back for years, because I was committed to the job?  You silly, boy.  Of course, I love you.  You are the only man I could ever imagine being with, Mulder.”  A memory of the day before flashed across her mind.  A shadow of sadness crossed her face.  The shame, the humiliation rose into her consciousness.

He noticed but didn’t press.  He just helped her up, hugged her for a long minute.  They walked toward the bed.  She lay down close to the wall, he picked up the blanket to cover her, and an envelope fluttered to the mattress in front of her. 

Her brows furrowed in worry as she sat up, taking the envelope.  It read Dana Scully in tight, strong handwriting. Mulder dropped down beside her.

She held the envelope away from her as if it were a revolting creature, poisonous, dangerous. 

“Do you want me to?” he asked.  

“No.  I got it…” she said, tearing the end of the envelope and sliding the folded note into her hand. 

She was stiff as she opened the letter and scanned the page.  She didn’t say anything, but her face grew pale.  He watched only her face, his heart breaking next to hers.  She let the paper fall to her lap, and turned burying her face in his chest.  He circled her in a protective embrace.  He could feel her breathe against him.  She inhaled the fragrance of soap and clean laundry.  He reached down and took the note from her lap with his left arm, never breaking his hold on her.  He kissed the top of her head and then read the note for himself.

My dearest Dana,

It was an honor to share the afternoon with you yesterday.  What a stimulating experience for both of us!  In my line of work, I rarely have the privilege of spending such time with a beautiful woman like you.  I keep replaying our time together in my mind.  Your body pleased me greatly.  I hope you are also pleased with my tokens of affection for you.  I find that a shower and a good meal and a comfortable night’s sleep can make anyone feel like a new person.  Enjoy.  Yesterday was just the beginning of a relationship that I know we will continue to find mutually beneficial.  Do give my regards to Agent Mulder.  I look forward to seeing you both tomorrow.

Always and affectionately,

Your most humble servant,

Declan Abaddon

With one hand, he crumpled the paper and flung it across the room.  His right arm never let go of Dana.  She was so still in his embrace.  He fought back the anger and shame.  He would find time to wallow in the grief of his own failures later.  She needed him now.  He pushed aside his rage and regret, instead trying to radiate comfort into her.  I do not deserve this woman’s sacrifice and love.  She needed him, but he didn’t know what to say or do. 

“Dana, I’m so sorry,” he whispered it.  “Please forgive me. It kills me that he hurt you.”

“I’m fine.  Really.  It’s not your job to protect me, Mulder. We protect each other, remember, partners.”

 “Yeah. I remember.”

“It happened.  But you are saving me now,” she said it without lifting her head from his chest.  “Don’t let go.”

“Never.”

He held her.  Loved her.  There were no words he could say…he just waited until she was ready.

Eventually, she sat up.  He relaxed his grip on her, but didn’t drop the arm across her shoulder.  She was close to him looking into his eyes.  “Mulder, you deserve to know.  I don’t want to hurt you, but it will be better if you are ready for what it could be tomorrow.”

His jaw clenched as visions of murderous revenge flashed before his eyes, but he tried to calm himself. That doesn’t help, he thought.   That’s not what she needs.  Listen.  Be there for her.  Make her feel safe. “I understand if you can’t talk about it,” he said.  “I want to listen and help you if I can, but you do what is best for you.”

“Mulder, he is going to use me against you.  He is going to use me…it is better if you know.  We will be more prepared.” 

She sat back, his arm lay on her thigh.  Their shoulders touched.  She couldn’t look at him as she began to pour out the details in a detached clinical tone.  It was like reading a case file, just the facts.  She couldn’t process her emotions with him because to open that door would release a flood that could overwhelm and destroy them both.  Not yet.  For now, just the facts. 

They gushed out of her: Upstairs, in an office.  Naked. Alone with him. The stool. The spike.  Sit, stand. He watched her.  He forced her to…

She couldn’t continue for a long minute.  He waited in the agonizing silence, absorbing the trauma with her.

After…I was kneeling.  The book, my arms shaking.  He was so close.  The things he said — worthless, useless.  Sobbing.

“I couldn’t take it.  He broke me..." She whispered as she finished, a single tear streaking down her cheek.

“It’s okay, Scully.  You did what you had to do.  I’m proud of you.”

“Mulder, how can you be?  I came!!  I fucking came for that bastard.”

“Scully, it’s okay.  Your body is so strong it was trying to protect you.”

“It feels like it betrayed me.”

“I know, I know. I want to kill him for that,” and I will he vowed silently, “But you are so strong, I’m just so proud of you.” 

He held her close to him again. Just a few of her tears dampened his shirt.  God, she’s strong.  This tiny woman hugging him was a warrior.   Mulder, understood the psychology of torture and how skillfully this man had applied pressures to her to achieve the outcome.  And yet, she had looked the bastard in the eyes.  She held herself with dignity he couldn’t imagine.  And still she didn’t even see her strength.

“I love you, Scully.  But you are wrong.”

“What?” She looked up.

“You are wrong.  He didn’t break you.  You decided you were done.  You ended it. You looked that son of a bitch in the eyes, you showed him your power.  You walked right in here from that hell with fire in your eyes and showed me the truth of what an idiot I’d been.  You left his office, not as a broken woman, but as a warrior, strategizing the next attack, loving my sorry ass back into the fight. He gives us this food and bed, and tries to make you feel dirty for it, like a whore turning tricks for favors…”

She stared at him, she felt that way.  

“Screw him,” he nearly shouted it.  “We’re not hungry, your hair smells like soap, I’ll be in fighting shape anytime with those drugs on board.  We are going to sleep and I am going to dream of you in my shower.  If he thinks he can break you with that, with this twisted delusional note…he’s a bigger fool than I imagined.  He’s just arming us for the fight.  Last night, I was ready to give up.  I didn’t expect to make it to today.  But now, I’m ready to kick butt and go home.  You know why?  You know what changed…”

She just looked at him.  His passionate optimism lifted her.

“You.  You stepped up.  You joined the fight.  You are the key to our survival, Scully.  He thinks he can use you as a weapon against us, but you are more powerful that he can even imagine.  You amaze me. You will undo him.  Maybe not tomorrow... we may have a lot more suffering before the time is right… but it is coming. I believe it. He isn’t breaking you.  He’s awakening your strength, and you are awakening mine.  We are going to kill him and go home.  Soon.”

She just looked at him.  Her shame slipped away.  She felt a surge of hope, maybe Mulder was right.  She didn’t understand it all.  But she would decide not to give up her joy or her hope.  A shower, a meal, and a good night’s sleep could make her a different person, a warrior.  No matter what, he was proud of her.  He believed in her.   She felt their strength multiply as they opened their trust for each other. 

“Thank you, Mulder.” 

“Thank you, Scully.”

 They talked until late in the night.  About lots of things…hopes, dreams, fears.  They strategized how to keep themselves safe, to bide time until their moment.  They made promises, they pledged faith. Mulder told her stories of the places he’d take her, the ways he would make her his, the future they would build together.  It was just silly talk.  But she felt safe again as she faded into sleep with his voice echoing in her dreams.

Chapter Text

Singer-songwriter, Bob Marley said, “You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.”

++++++++++

They’d both still been asleep, lost in lovely dreams, when the door opened.  Seconds later, rough hands dragged them apart.  Scully cried out, as a man dragged her by her hair into the hallway.  Mulder fought the two men who twisted his arms behind him.  He struggled to his feet as they shoved him toward the door.  Once his feet were under him and he could see Scully ahead of him, he made no effort to resist, just concentrated on following her. 

She looked so small to him, surrounded by these men.  She was strong, yes, but how could he face himself if they hurt her, how could he even call himself a man if he couldn’t keep her safe.  The anguish of that thought hurt him worse than any torture he had yet endured. 

They were pushed through another door into yet another concrete room.  Scully was shoved roughly to the ground, one of her guards aimed his weapon at her.  Mulder went limp in their arms.

“Please, don’t hurt her,” fear and pain evident in his voice.

“Shut up.” Three guards were surrounding him.  They tied ropes hanging from the ceiling around each wrist.  On guard punched him hard in the gut, he doubled over breathless as they pulled the ropes, stretching his arms above his head.  His feet were tied tightly at the ankles.  He was helplessly strung up in a Y shape.  He wasn’t stretched tightly, but he had no hope of getting out of the bonds.  A cloth gag was stuffed in his mouth and secured.  He murmured curses at them through the gag.  He couldn’t really do anything but stand there, waiting for the horror that awaited them. 

Scully crouched in the corner opposite him.  She kept her eyes down.  I can’t look at him, she thought although her need to look into his face was like her need for oxygen. She resisted.  Every fiber in her being was aware of him, but she did not look at him.  She could not face his compassionate eyes, the eyes that would beg forgiveness for whatever was about to happen even though it was beyond both of their control.  The tenderness of his I’m sorry eyes, of his I love you eyes would have broken the thin veneer of self-control she was fighting to maintain. She focused on her breathing, steeling herself for whatever may come.

Once Mulder had been secured, the guard put away the gun he’d been aiming at her head. Thank God for that at least, Mulder thought.   All four men stood along the wall, leering at them.  That is when the master of their torment entered the room, smiling in the same sick demented way. 

The venomous rage in Mulder’s eyes was checked only by his own fear.  Fear for Scully.  This man had the power to tear Mulder’s whole existence apart, to rip his very soul in two with just a word, a signal to his henchmen, a bullet to her brain.  The thought made Mulder feel physically sick.  This man could force him to feel hatred, and also gratitude.  Mulder knew he would willingly, gladly even, submit to any humiliation or degradation or agony, if only he were given a choice.  But he knew the game had changed, the imagined power he’d had to sacrifice himself in her place was gone.  As strong and stubborn and skilled at suffering as Fox Mulder was, as deep and unquenchable his love for her was, he was a useless child in front of this man.  And they both knew it as each man studied the other’s face. 

Mulder saw the sadism; the fear and rage he read in Mulder’s eyes fueled that evil smile.  Mulder tried to push down his feelings, but her presence here made it impossible.  She was his center, and Mulder could not hide his fear as much as he tried.  

“My dear Dana…” he approached her.

Mulder thrashed in his bindings. 

Scully looked up.  Her eyes met his for a nanosecond, willing him to stop, before they locked on the face of their captor. 

This small woman absorbed the attention of all six men in the room.  Her face was calm as she did not flinch away from his gaze.  Something in her eyes made the monster stop.  There was a complexity of righteous anger in her he had not expected. It was more than just hate or fear.  She was interesting to him, powerful even in her fragility.  He broke eye contact first.

“We must get some chairs,” he announced.  One of the guards left, returning quickly with two metal folding chairs.   “Have a seat, my dear.”  He said seating himself directly across the room from where Mulder was tied.  Scully stood, and sat in the empty chair.  Her back to Mulder. 

Once they were seated, he scooted his chair close to her.  Their knees were almost touching now. 

“Did you enjoy my gifts, dear?” he reached out, brushing some hair from her forehead with his finger.

She didn’t say anything, she didn’t react.  Mulder’s eyes glared, he bit into the gag.

“You may call me Declan.”

“What do you want?” her voice was flat, fierce.

“What do I want?  Well, a thank you would be nice.”

Silence.

“Well, I should probably be thanking you.  You made me so happy during our last encounter. I haven't stopped thinking of you. A little refreshment was the least I could do in exchange for your services. You really are beautiful, Dana.”

Mulder spat curses into the gag.  Scully sat stoically.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Oh, my dear.  Why is a question well above my pay grade.  I just do the job I’m hired to do.  And I enjoy it when I can.” He leaned in, kissed her cheek, stood.  “I was thinking we could pick up where we left off.  Time for a little quid pro quo. As I remember, last time you finished before I ever got my chance.”

Taking his chair to the far wall, Dana was alone in the center of the room.  Mulder at her back, four guards to her left, and this sicko now sitting in front of her.

“Strip.” His voice was flat, dead as he stared at her. 

Mulder thrashed wildly, spitting every expletive he knew into his gag.  She willed him to be still.  Don’t give him what he wants, Mulder.  Control it, Mulder.  Save it for when we can use it. She willed these thoughts toward her partner, but she dared not to look at him.  His sincerity could break her, even as she felt lifted by his love.

She stood silently, lifting her T-shirt over her head.  She tried to keep her mind blank.

“No, No, No.  Not like that.” Declan’s voice cut in.  “Do it slow.  Make it sexy.  Tease me.”

She stared at him, bile rising in her throat.

“Trust me, Agent Scully, you will want to do your best.”  He looked meaningfully at Mulder, helplessly bound behind her.  Declan’s eyes danced with violent intent. “Agent Mulder is counting on you.” He uttered the last threat slowly, smiling.

It was more effective motivation for Scully than if he had put a gun to her head.  Mulder was the knife to her throat. 

A shiver ran through her as she took a deep breath.  She closed her eyes as she lowered her shirt and began again.  She swayed -- slowly, stiffly.  Her hands moving down her body, she lifted the hem of the shirt, revealing her belly button.  She swayed where she stood.  The shirt was over her face now, her cotton bra visible to all of them — her lover and her enemies watching her slender body move.  She shifted her hips as she slowly pulled the shirt off of one arm and then the other.  She tossed it to the ground and shook her red hair.  She unflinchingly met Declan’s scrutiny.

Mulder’s arms trembled with rage as he watched his partner’s humiliation.  She was trying.  She was moving her body in a pantomime of passion, but he could see the stiffness in her limbs, like a puppet, strings pulled by an inexperienced hand.  He couldn’t look away.  He couldn’t leave her here among these enemies alone.  She was degrading herself like this because of him.  He hated his very existence, and vowed to use every second left of his miserable life to show her how sorry he was. 

Declan leaned back in the chair, unzipped his pants, and began to stroke his manhood as she continued the slow painful strip tease.  By the time Scully stepped out of her underwear, his erection was full.

Mulder had struggled, gagged, chocked.  Now he hung limply in the ropes, head down as tears trailed his face.

She stopped moving, stood naked in the center of the room.

“On your knees, whore,” Declan said.

At this Mulder stirred, a new wave of fury and helplessness compelling him to struggle against the ropes.  Curses and drool flowed from around the gag as Mulder raged. 

The unwilling puppet knelt.  Her breath came quick and sharp.  Mulder saw her hands tremble by her side.  Her eyes were fixed unfocused on the floor in front of her. 

Declan stood in front of her.  “Look at me.”

She looked up to his face, his throbbing penis standing in front of her.  Tears flowed down her perfect cheeks, she said nothing – but her shell was cracking.  The brave face snapping as her fear and shame betrayed her.  Yet, somehow, she also knew that her courage was real.  Mulder was right.  Strength was awakening in her she never knew she had.  She was broken, yes.  But she would also be ready for battle when the time was right. 

“Lick my boots, slut,” hatred leeched into his voice as he issued the command. 

Mulder, just close your eyes.  She lowered herself to the cold floor.  Her nipples hardened as they brushed the concrete.  Her ass raised and lowered as she licked his boots.  His hand continued to work his erection as she moved beneath him.  She could feel the warm stickiness of his cum on her back as he groaned his release. 

She stilled. She heard him zipping his pants, but kept her face to the ground.  He knelt down, lifting her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.  “Good girl.”  His breath so close on her face it made her shiver in disgust.

He turned to the door, leaving her on the floor.  As he crossed the threshold, he turned to the waiting guards, “Gentlemen, enjoy.” 

“If she bites, shoot him,” he added as he closed the door.

Mulder went wild in the ropes, screaming into the gag as the four men surrounded Scully.  They pulled her hair, dragging her up, roughly grabbing her neck, prying her mouth open, fucking her throat.  She gagged, chocked, as she was dragged from one man to the next.  She was so small in the middle of them, her body pinched and fondled and slapped as they used her mouth relentlessly.  They forced themselves down her throat one after the other.  She fought for air, she slapped at their legs as she struggled to breathe.  They laughed as she gagged around their cocks, tears flowing freely from her eyes.  They took turns holding her head as they pounded into her.  They used her brutally until each man had been satisfied.  She was covered in tears, saliva, and cum.  Bruised, trembling, gasping, she sank to the floor in a ball as they finally left. 

Mulder wept.  His voice hoarse from screaming into the gag, he strained against the ropes in a futile attempt to reach out to her.  They were there, just a few feet apart, together.  Yet each was also alone, trapped in their own personal hell. 

She lay still for a long time.

Once his own tears were controlled, desperation still crept at the edge of his consciousness.  Mulder tried to focus.  He watched her.  She was breathing, but was so still it frightened him.  Maybe she’s sleeping, he thought helplessly. 

After what felt like ages, she sat up.  She crawled across the floor, gathering her clothes.  She kept her back to him, shielding her body like a terrified animal.  She frantically scrubbed her hands across her face, wiping the spit and cum.  She dragged her hands on the concrete floor to clean them. Tears flowed.  Her whole body shook with sobs.  She gagged and vomited on the floor.  She wiped her face again with her hands. She coughed as she took a series of deep breaths.  She quickly dressed. Only then, did she turn toward Mulder. 

She was next to him in a moment.  With effort, she loosened the gag.  It slide down and hung loosely around his neck.  He coughed and swallowed.  

“Scully…”

Her hand wiped the drool from his chin.  He moved his head to nuzzle her hand.  She didn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry. O God, Dana, you are so brave.  I’m so sorry.  I’m sorry.” The words gushed out of him.

“I should have untied you right away.” She moved to his arm.  The knots were tight – tighter still for all his struggling.  His hands were deep red, reaching purple and had long been numb.  She had to stretch to reach the knots.  She worked them with her slender fingers. 

“I love you. I’m sorry.  I love you.” It was the only thing he could say.  No other thoughts remained solid in his mind as she worked.  

“I’m better now.  I’m okay.” She said it as much to herself as to him. 

His left arm fell around her once she had loosened the rope enough for him to slip out.  He was still pinned by one arm, pins and needles coursed through his stiff left arm as blood rushed back into it.  He flexed his broken fingers, not noticing the pain.  He held her close to his chest.  He kissed the top of her head.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair. 

She wiggled free, but caressed his cheek as she smiled into his eyes.  It broke him again, what she had endured…for him.

She worked the rope holding his right arm. As he slipped free of the loosened rope, she knelt to untie his ankles.  He dropped to his knees before her.  Both hands held her face. 

“No, Scully…” The vision of her kneeling at Declan’s feet tore him apart.  Words failed him, but she would not kneel at his feet.  “No …” He kissed her forehead, with gentle reverence. 

She took his hands, slowly turning them.  She kissed his rope burned wrist. First one, then the other. 

“I love you,” he said again, his eyes sparkled with fresh tears.

“Mulder…”

“Scully, I love you.” It was his only truth.

He leaned back, his hands on her shoulders.  At arm’s length, he studied his partner.  She returned his intense gaze.  He didn’t see the fear, or trauma, or hate, or pain in her eyes.  Only love, perfect love. Love for him.  He was lost, drowning in the depths of it.

“I love you, Mulder.”

“Scully…I…”  The sorrow of his guilt rose between them.

“Shhh, Mulder. Don’t do that to yourself....We're together.  Remember? We do this together.”

“Yes.  I remember, but…”

“No. It’s not your fault. Mulder, I love you.  You need to learn to love yourself.” 

Her forgiveness was beyond his comprehension. 

“Scully…”

“I know.  You would give your life to keep me safe, but today I gave myself to keep you safe. Together, we give ourselves and save each other. That’s what love does.  Now let me untie you.”

She was beyond his comprehension. Her strength and grace astounded him.  I will kill every man in this compound to get you out of here alive, he promised himself.  I will give every day I have left to become worthy of your faith in me. 

 These vows remained unspoken.  He did not trust his voice, his heart was too full for words.  So he just stretched out his legs toward her so she could work the knots. 

++++++++++

They’d been returned to their cell a while later.  Scully had flinched when a guard took her arm to lead her.  But she kept her head up as she’d walked among them.  Mulder wanted to stay close to her, but they were both like leaves caught in the river's current.  They moved under someone else’s will.  The guards were silent, and had not lingered as the two were roughly pushed through the doorway.

There was a fresh meal set on their table, though neither of them ate as heartily as the day before.  She didn’t really talk, except to make sure he took another dose of antibiotics.  Mulder kept checking on her, searching her eyes for some clue as to what she needed.  He felt just as helpless now as before.  He ached to hold her, to somehow fix the hurt that he knew couldn’t be fixed.  But she stayed inside herself.  After eating, she lay down on the mattress, keeping her face to the wall. 

“Scully, are you okay?”  He asked tentatively, fearful to break into her silence.

“Just tired, Mulder.  Don’t worry.”  She did sound exhausted, totally spent. 

He stayed back, giving her space.  He watched her sleep for a long while.

Suddenly, her body when rigid, a pained screamed erupted from her, “Mulder!”

He was beside her in an instant, “Scully, I’m here. Wake up.  I’m here.”  He reached out, taking hold of her shoulder to wake her. 

She recoiled. “Get off of me!  Don’t touch me!” She shoved him away, wildly kicking and swinging.

“Scully!  It’s a dream!  Wake up!”  He spoke loudly, and came close to her, but did not touch. “Scully, wake up!”

Her eyes shot open. She stilled her flailing, but the tension remained in her body.  She took in a deep breath, blinking her eyes as she found herself again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

“Oh Scully, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Mulder’s palms were toward her in a gesture of calm.  “Sorry…” his voice broke as his arms fell to his lap.  “I’m sorry.” 

“Mulder…” she wrapped her arms around her body.  “Mulder, I can still feel them on me.”

“I know, Scully, I know.”

She rocked back and forth.  He wanted to hold her.  He made a tentative move toward her.  She flinched instinctually.  He froze.

“I’m sorry, Mulder.  I didn’t mean to…”

“Scully, don’t be sorry.  I’m sorry. I just want to…”

“Hold me.” She dropped her arms and scooted toward him. 

He very slowly circled her.  Her body was stiff as his arms finally closed around her, but she leaned into his chest. 

“I’m sorry, Scully.”

She slowly began to relax into him.  They both sat there in silence for a long time.  He held her loosely, gently, carefully aware of her, ready to release her at the slightest sign of discomfort, but praying that he’d never have to let her go. 

Time passed…an hour, maybe more.  She finally shifted, stretching out her legs.  He dropped his arms, but she leaned deeper into his chest and reached out pulling his arm around her waist.  Her continued contact felt like water in the desert to his soul.

“How are we going to get out of this?” the question was quiet.  She didn’t really expect an answer, but the fear the question represented hung in the air around them.

“I don’t know, Scully.  I don’t know.” 

They lay there, holding each other until they finally drifted off into restless sleep.

Chapter Text

"No matter what sort of difficulties, how painful experience is, if we lose our hope, that’s our real disaster." -- The Dalai Lama

++++++++++

They walked stoically down the hallway.  Neither had really slept, their nerves were raw from the trauma of the day before. Nightmares stole the snatches of rest they found.   When the guards had returned, he’d squeezed her hand once before they both stood and wearily marched out the door.

She couldn’t help it, she was afraid.  Everything that was happening to them was carefully orchestrated to make her feel afraid.  As they neared an open doorway, the guards picked up the pace, shoving her forward into Mulder’s back.  He tried to turn to catch her, but a guard kicked out his leg, both prisoners fell to their knees as they spilled into this new torture chamber. 

Mulder took the advantage as the guard bent over him, to spring up and ram his shoulder into the guard’s gut.  He was up.  His right fist made contact with a jaw.  Scully kicked out at the guard closest to her.  His groan as she made contact with his crotch filled her with satisfaction.  But it was a useless struggle.  Scully was on the ground, a knee in her spine, the muzzle of a 9 mm pressed against the base of her skull.  Mulder’s punch had been returned.  He was hunched on his knees, coughing and wiping the blood from his nose.   A gun was pointed at his head too. 

From there, the guards wasted no time securing the pair.  Mulder’s arms were shackled to metal chains hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room.  Scully found herself restrained to a metal chair, handcuffed at her arms and legs.  One guard flipped a switch and a wench lifted Mulder’s shackles higher above his head.  When only his big toes could touch the floor, the wench stopped.  The guards turned off the lights and left. 

Only a few moments ago, he’d been holding her.  Now, in total darkness, the cold metal was biting into his skin as his stretched body struggled to find equilibrium.  He was sucking in quick, short, shallow breaths.  She could hear panic as he groaned and sucked air in out of his lungs in ragged gasps.

“Easy, Mulder.  Calm.  Breathe.”

She could not see him in the darkness, but she imagined his arms stretched painfully.  His toes straining to ease the pressure on his shoulders and wrists.

“Breathe, Mulder.  Just breathe.” She said it with all the calm her voice could manage.

His breathing slowed.  He worked to regain control.

“That’s it.  Slowly.” 

“Yeah,” he was breathless, continuing to hyperventilate. 

“You’re doing great, Mulder. Easy, just relax and breathe.  You’re good.  Breathe.”

“Breathe,” he echoed her.  His voice was still tight, but the panic was passing.

“You’re okay.  It’s okay.  I’m okay,” she reassured him.  His breathing was returning to normal, a labored, but steady cadence.

“By the way, “ he said, “Good morning.”  He coughed through a moan.  “Oww.”

“What’s wrong?  Keep breathing, okay?”

“Cramp,” he groaned in obvious discomfort.

She worried about his broken ribs, his broken hand, his torn back, the pain she knew he was in.

“I’m okay, Doc.  I got it.  Thanks.” He said into the darkness, knowing her thoughts.

“Hang in there, Mulder.”

His laughter sent him into another spasm of groans.  She hadn’t even noticed the irony of her comment.

“Scully, don’t make me laugh…It hurts too much.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Besides I got to be on my toes this morning, Scully.”

Now she giggled in the darkness.  His playfulness reassured her. 

“I’m glad it’s dark, Scully.  I don’t want you to see me like this.  I feel stupid.”

“This is no time for vanity, Mulder.”

“Yeah, but I was really thinking…when he comes…you should try not to…watch. If he's hurting me, you know. Just close your eyes, try to zone out.  It will make it easier for both of us.”

“You’re right, Mulder.  But I don’t think it’ll work.  I couldn’t just close my eyes if they were hurting you, any more than you could zone out if I was being tortured in front of you.”

“Could you try, Scully?  I don’t want them to use you like that.”

“Mulder, I think that is the point of this whole thing.  The more we suffer, the more empathy and love compels us to share the pain.  It can’t be helped.  They are torturing you by hurting me, and I don’t think we can stop them.”

“I know.  I just wish…”

“We are in it together, Mulder.  For better or worse.”

They continued in the darkness for a while.  Mulder concentrated on keeping his toes underneath him, tried to block out the tearing pain in his shoulders and back.  Scully listened to his strained breathing, to the chains rattle when he cramped and tried to reposition.  She spoke gentle encouragement into the darkness.  He endured.

Suddenly, the light blinded them.  Declan entered caring a duffel bag.

Scully blinked against the brightness.  As her eyes adjusted, she saw Mulder wriggling like a worm on a hook.  His muscles cramped, his body twisted for relief from the strain, but there was none.  His back spasmed, his fists clenched and unclenched in a fruitless effort to maintain blood flow to his hands.  

Declan surveyed them both, and chuckled. 

“Agent Mulder, may I assist you?” 

He took a small block of wood from the duffel and placed it under Mulder’s feet.  He was able to stand almost flat footed on the block.  His heels lifted just off the block as he stretched his screaming arms.  Mulder was more standing than hanging, Scully saw with relief.

“Thank you,” Mulder said. 

That’s the sickest part, Scully thought.  He really is thankful. Her proud, witty partner had no verbal retort, just an utterance of genuine relief.  Although she knew that this man had cruelly scripted their suffering, she was also thankful.  She saw the agony in Mulder’s eyes sink to the background. 

“You are most welcome, Fox,” Declan said, pleased that the gratitude had come unprompted.

He stood between them, looking at both of them.  “Well, agents, yesterday was pleasure…today will be pain.”  He took a step toward Scully.

“No!  Don’t touch her,” Mulder said it with murderous coolness.

“Oh…” he continued toward Scully, “someone’s jealous?  Agent Scully, have I ever even touched you?” He ran his fingers through her hair.  She struggled in the chair to escape him.  He turned back toward Mulder.  “I am a man of my word, Fox.  I haven’t touched her.  The pain, my friend, is all for you.”

Scully locked eyes with Mulder.  So much passed between them.  I’m sorry, thank you, I love you, you are strong, I’m here, survive, together.  These feelings flowed in both directions across the room.  Each pouring all the support and encouragement they had into the other.  Each lifted by the trust and faith of their partner.  Each hopeless to stop the torture that was coming.  Helpless to escape the tortures that were slowly grinding them down, body and soul. 

Declan returned to the duffel bag.  He removed two devices.   He flipped a switch on one that looked like a screwdriver with a thick handle.  Soon the smell of electric heat reached Scully’s nose.   Declan approached Mulder, still holding the other device.  A baton about a foot long, with two metal probes at one end.

“Agent Mulder, I brought some toys to play with today.”  He held the probes near Mulder’s face and pushed a button on the handle.  Electricity arced across the wand.  “Electrifying, isn’t it!” Declan was gleeful.

“Agent Scully,” he turned to her, “this other toy is a soldering iron.  This tip will heat up to over 400 degrees. Do you happen to know, doctor, what the melting point of human flesh is?”

She said nothing, but all color drained from her face.

Okay, so this is pain, Mulder thought.  He was afraid.  He had to endure, to push back his panic.  It was his time.  For her sake. 

“Even in pain, we could have a little pleasure, couldn’t we, Agent Scully?” Declan asked as he returned to Mulder.  He took out a pair of scissors and began to cut his T-Shirt off of him.  Mulder gasped when he tore off the bandages bracing his broken ribs.  Then Declan pulled Mulder’s sweats and briefs down, letting them fall around his ankles. Declan jerked Mulder’s cock, toying with him all the while leering at Scully.

“Scully, don’t look.” Mulder’s voice was even.  Don’t let him get in your head.

“Oh, but Agent Mulder, I’ve put this little show together just for Dana.  She will look. She will want to watch.”

He couldn’t stop this.  He couldn’t spare her.  Naked and defenseless, all he could do was survive.  All she could do was survive. 

Mulder closed his eyes, tensed everything as he took a deep breath in and held it.  His arms bulged, his fists clenched, his feet and legs drew in tight.  With his exhale, he relaxed.  Like a spring uncoiling, he went loose from fingertips to toes.  He slowly opened his eyes, staring straight ahead.  He was ready.

Declan approached with the electric wand.  Mulder swallowed his yelp as it made contact with his side.  He hissed through clenched teeth as the wand kissed his arm, hip, leg in rapid progress.

Despite herself, Scully kept her eyes shut.  He was suffering for her.  She knew he wanted to spare her, but shutting her eyes to his pain felt like a betrayal to her. I'll try, Mulder. I'm sorry.

“Why?!” he called out to no one, maybe to God, as the shocks continued.  His agonized question brought her eyes to his.  He struggled to hold back his cries.  He tried to catch his breath between the shocks.  He fought to hold onto the thread of control as he reacted to the pain. 

His eyes bore into hers.  She saw he was asking her for something in that look…for mercy, for permission, for forgiveness.

He bit his lip hard as his body shuddered through another jolt.  The strangled cry caught in his throat.  He pushed it down, working hard to silence his anguish. 

Let it out, Mulder.  Your pride is nothing.  Just survive. What you see as weakness is really your humanity. She communicated these truths to him without words.  She willed him all the strength and courage she had.

He cried out loud, his body writhing through the shocks.  Each was held in place.  No more glancing blows.  They were bursts of 5 or 10 seconds of breathtaking agony like he had never known.  He screamed in earnest.  His voice nothing but an animalistic expression of anguish.  As his body contracted with the shocks, his eyes rolled, losing focus as pain overwhelmed him.  But in those moments of recovery, he always sought her face.  She willed him everything inside of her.   Bloody drool ran from the corner of his mouth, urine dribbled down his legs.  Mercilessly the wand worked his body.  He thrashed as the electricity worked his genitals.  A pop, the odd angle of his body as he hung in the chains gave evidence of a dislocated shoulder. 

Scully could not look away from her partner’s unimaginable suffering.  She loved this man with all her heart, and she couldn’t do anything.   She wanted to beg for Declan to stop, bargain to end Mulder’s torture, but she knew it would only be playing into the hand of their sadistic master. It would only add to Mulder’s suffering. So she kept silent even as her soul shattered at his pain. She knew by the joyful gleam in this demon’s eyes that there would be no mercy. This is what he wanted. This would only end when Mulder could feel no more, when death or unconsciousness claimed him. Only then would Declan’s lust for pain subside. Just stay alive.

He was weakening before her eyes as the torture continued.  He hung limply in the chains, his head rolling as he swayed, eyes unfocused as they looked toward her. 

Declan finally stopped.  “Not yet, Agent Mulder.”  Declan slapped him hard across the face.  Mulder stirred, eyelids fluttering as he tried again to bear his weight on his legs. Swinging in the chains as he failed to find his footing.  Declan slapped him again, watching his eyes finally focus.  “That’s right, Mulder.  Stay awake.”

“Please, no more,” Scully said, tears breaking down her cheeks.  She couldn’t take any more. She couldn’t hold back her pleading as Declan picked up the soldering iron.

“Almost done, dear.”

“Just stop.  He’s had enough.” She begged through sobs.

Declan ignored her, walking behind Mulder.  He pressed the hot iron into Mulder’s shoulder.  The scream that came from him was gut churning.  His eyes when wide, his face went white. His whole body convulsed, and he went limp, lost to the mercy of unconsciousness.  Declan laughed as he continued to drag the iron over his skin, branding Fox Mulder with an X over his right shoulder.  Scully gagged at the smell of her partner’s seared flesh.  As she screamed for him to stop, Declan continued his task.

Finally, it was over. Declan put away his tools, and released the wench, dropping Mulder’s body to the floor in a crumpled heap of sweaty flesh, arms and legs askew. 

Declan kicked him once, hard in the gut. 

Scully lost her mind.  “You stop it!  You’ll kill him.  Fuck you!  He’s more than you’ll ever be, just stop! Easy to hurt him when he can’t fight back, you coward!  Don’t you touch him!”

Declan was on her, he grabbed her face hard as she screamed and spit on him.  He roughly kissed her.  She bit his lip. 

“You bitch!  I make the rules!  I own you!”  He screamed it into her face, violently shaking her, slamming her head into the back of the metal chair. Her vision blurred. 

His hands settled around her throat, pushing her down into the chair, strangling the life out of her.  She fought, thrashing.  His grip was iron.  He watched as her eyes rolled back.  He let her go just as darkness closed around her vision.  Her oxygen starved brain greedily sucked in air in ragged gasping breaths.  She coughed and chocked as she regained consciousness. 

He was still on her.  “I own you…the air you breathe is mine!” 

His hands were all over her.  Under her shirt, on her breasts, in her pants.  He licked her neck.  She struggled against him.  The steel handcuffs bloodied her wrists and ankles as she thrashed in the chair.  She tried to fight back.  She begged him to stop. 

He pulled back from her, cleared the distance to the still unconscious body of her partner in two strides.  He pulled the gun from his waistband, he pressed it to Mulder’s unconscious head.  “He is mine, bitch!”

“No, please…no!” She screamed as tears poured down her face.

He smiled at her, and pulled the trigger.

“NOOOO!” she screamed.

Click.  Declan laughed maniacally as he pulled the trigger of the unloaded pistol again and again.  Click. Click.

Scully’s heart stopped, she sagged in the chair.  Shock and grief and relief, overwhelmed her.  She wept.

Declan picked up the bag, walked back to her.  Pressed the gun hard into her chest, and pulled the trigger again.  Click. 

“You are mine,” he whispered close to her ear and left. 

Chapter Text

German poet Charles Bukowski wrote, “What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.”

++++++++++

They were alone for no more than five minutes before two men and a woman dressed in scrubs entered the room.  The two men went to Mulder, began taking his vitals.  They unchained him and laid him out on a backboard, secured him with belts.  One drew a syringe of blood, and the other started an IV.  They applied a clean bandage to his burn and secured his injured shoulder. 

The woman attended Scully.  Speaking softly as she approached the pale, trembling agent.  “Agent Scully, I need to get your vitals.  It’s okay, please hold still.”

“Mulder.” It was all she could say.

“Yes, we are helping your partner too.  Please hold still.” The nurse took her pulse, oxygen saturation levels, and blood pressure.  Checked her eyes for dilation.  Scully continued to tremble violently. 

“You’re in shock, sweetie.  Hang in there, I’m going to get an IV going.”  The nurse talked as she worked, first drawing Dana’s blood, then starting an IV in her arm. 

“I want to uncuff you, but you have to promise not to fight me, okay.  I’m only here to help you and your partner.” Scully nodded numbly, as she watched the other paramedics work on Mulder.  She was comforted by the soft beeping of the portable EKG heart monitor they had attached to Mulder’s chest.  She found herself breathing in step with his heart beats.

The nurse wrapped Scully’s bleeding wrists  and ankles, then helped her to her feet.  Scully walked beside Mulder as the two men carried him to a gurney waiting in the hallway.  He was wrapped in a silver emergency blanket, but she reached under to hold his hand.  The female nurse draped a silver blanket over her shoulders as they moved down the hallway toward the elevator. 

++++++++++

Scully sat in a chair close to Mulder’s bed in the windowless hospital room. 

They’d been in the elevator, when Scully had first questioned their rescue. 

“Where is Assistant Director Skinner?”  Scully asked aloud but to no one in particular. 

She began to grow anxious as her mind cleared from the suddenness of it all, “How did you find us?  Where are the SWAT agents?  Who are you?  Where are we going?”  She shoved the woman away, dove toward Mulder on the gurney.  “Get away from him!”  She was hysterical as she tried to shield her partner.

“Oh, great!” one of the men said.  Then she felt the prick of a needle in her neck, Mulder’s bare skin on her face as she wilted, and darkness as the sedative overtook her. 

That had been hours ago.  When she’d awoken, she was in a hospital bed, dressed in a gown, IV, EKG, oxygen.  She sat up.  Relief washed over her as she saw Mulder in the identical bed across the room.  She fought against the nausea and dizziness as she stood.  Whatever drugs they had given her were not fully out of her system.  She flung off the oxygen cannula and ripped the wires, disconnecting the EKG from the sticky electrode pads on her chest.  The machines next to her bed began to alarm as she continued to disconnect herself, throwing the blood pressure cuff and the pulse oximeter to the floor.  She removed the IV from her arm, and leaned on the pole as she made her way to Mulder’s side. 

He looked small as he lay so still in the bed.  He was so pale.  She sat next to him.  She brushed a lock of brown hair off his forehead, then assessed the stats on the machines.  His heart rate and blood pressure were steady.  His oxygen was good.  She noticed the morphine pump connected to his IV, checked the dose. Thank God for that, she was so confused.  She caught her own ghostly pale reflection in mirror above a small sink as she took in these new surroundings. 

She was grateful to be alive.  She was more grateful he was alive.  But this place, for all its help and comfort, was still full of danger. 

“Agent Scully.” She jumped as the disembodied voice emanated from a speaker on the wall.  “Agent Scully, why have you removed your IV.”

“Who are you?  What the hell do you want with us?” She shouted. 

“Agent, please try to remain calm.  You and Agent Mulder are receiving excellent care for your injuries.  We do not wish to harm you.”

“Oh, yeah?!” She looked toward the door, fists raised.

“Agent, please.  I would like to come in and examine you and your partner again, but you must remain calm.  I do not want to have to sedate you again or restrain you.” 

She remained tense, but lowered her fists.

“Please, Agent Scully.  I know you must be frightened, but I really just want to help you.”

His voice sounded sincere, even a little sad. 

“Please, I’m coming in now.”  The door opened and a young man in a lab coat entered.  His hands were raised in a calming gesture of non-aggression.  But the two male nurses whom she had encountered earlier followed behind him with guns drawn. 

“Agent, please don’t do anything stupid.  You have both been through the unimaginable.  Just let me help you.”  He was earnest, pleading with her.  She relaxed just a bit, but stayed protectively at Mulder’s side.

“Put the guns away, please.” He looked at the nurses.  He switched off the alarms and machines by Scully’s empty bed.  “Actually, you can wait outside.  Everything is okay in here.”  He cautiously eyed Scully again. 

Reluctantly, both men lowered their weapons, holstering them beneath the lab coats, but neither left his station by the door.

“I’m Dr. Curtis Gareth,” he said calmly as he slowly approached the opposite side of Mulder’s bed.  He slowly took the stethoscope from around his neck, and put it in his ears.  His actions were very slow, giving her time to see each move.  He listened to Mulder’s heart, then each lung.  He gently lifted each eyelid and used his pen light to check his pupils. 

“He’s been through a lot, Agent Scully.” There was sadness in this kind doctor’s eyes. “But he’s going to recover…physically anyway.  I can’t imagine what you’ve been through…”  He came around the bed toward Mulder’s IV pump.  Scully watched his every movement, ready to pounce. 

“I gave him a light sedative to help with pain and keep him still when we ran the MRI.  I will get you those reports as well, if you want.  Anyway, I think we should let him wake up slowly, on his own, but I would like to lower his morphine a little, if you agree.  I don’t want him in pain, but I also don’t want to suppress his system. If he can regain consciousness, I’ll be able to do a more thorough assessment of his condition.”

“When.”

“Excuse me?”

“When he regains consciousness.”

“Of course.  I’m sorry.  When he regains consciousness, I’ll be able to do a cognitive and neurological function assessment.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Dr. Curtis Gareth…”

“No, who the fuck are you?  Where are we?  Why are there two nurses with guns over there? What the fuck do you want from us?”

“Agent, I’m so sorry for what has happened to you.  I am trying to help you, but you are going to have to trust me.  I’m sorry. I'm doing everything I can, but I just can’t…”  He was sincere, ashamed even. 

“Okay…” she said it mostly to herself.  I have to go with this, for now.  Mulder needs this.  You can’t carry him out of here like this.  Wait for your moment.  “Alright, I’ll trust you.” Even as she said it, she remained guarded. 

“Thank you.”

“I want the MRI reports.”

“Of course, I’ll bring them as soon as I can.  He has three broken ribs, and seven fractures in the left metacarpals and phalanges.  You did a good job setting most of the bones, I can’t imagine without lidocaine or something for pain. It must have been...  Anyway, I reset a few places and braced the hand.   Relocated his shoulder, but there was some tearing in the rotator cuff, it could heal on its own, we won’t know the extent of the damage until the swelling goes down.  Mild pneumonia. The hip and knee are bruised, but not broken or torn.  We cleaned and dressed the burn and abrasions.  Most of his back was already too healed to stitch, but I did close some of the deeper wounds.  It’s just going to take time.  But I’ll send over the MRI results and both your charts so you can look at them for yourself.”

She sat there, next to Mulder, looking at this man.  She was uncertain, and afraid, but also overwhelmed by gratitude.  She nodded, a tear rolled down her cheek as she turned back to Mulder. 

“Right now I have him on fluids and glucose, Levaquin to clear up the pneumonia and inflections, morphine for the pain.  I’d like to start you both on paroxetine to ease some of the anxiety and psychological symptoms, we will start with a low dose…I don’t want to give you anything stronger right now, because…well, I just thought you might need to stay as sharp as you can….but of course, I can get you a sedative if you want.”

“No.”

“Good. What about pain?  Are you in pain?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Would you let me put your IV back?  It’s just glucose, saline, and a B-Complex vitamin infusion.  Your labs showed dehydration and anemia.”

“I’m fine, Doctor.  Thank you.”

“Alright, I’ll bring you some ibuprofen at least and the paroxetine…and some ice packs for your bruises.  What do you think about Agent Mulder’s morphine?  Could he handle a little less so we can wake him up faster?  It is up to you.”

“Thank you.”  She was overwhelmed with the unexpected respect she felt from this young man.  He was treating her as a colleague, an equal, not a prisoner.  He was taking as much care of Mulder as she would have. 

“Yes, he’d want to be awake.”

The machine beeped as he entered his code and adjusted the dose.  “He’ll be in pain, but the lower dose will probably give him more clarity when he comes to.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll get him set up with a PCA pump so you can control the dose if he needs more.  All you have to do is press the button, and it will give him a boost.”

“Thank you.”  She was just so tired. 

He brought a chair close to Mulder’s side.  “You should really be in bed,” he said knowing she wouldn’t leave Mulder and not expecting her to.  He put an extra blanket beside her.  “Please, take care of yourself, Agent Scully.”     

He’d returned about half an hour later, with both of their medical reports, medication, gel ice packs, the patient controlled morphine pump, and a tray of food for her.  He’d worked quietly and efficiently to hook up the pump. 

Other than to use the bathroom once, she hadn’t left the chair for hours.  Mulder slept a dreamless sleep, and Scully snatched brief moments of rest as she kept vigil for her partner.

Chapter Text

Brené Brown said, “Vulnerability is not winning or losing: it’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome.”

++++++++++

He felt like he was floating. He had no eyes with which to see, he tried to move, but had no body – he was spirit alone.  Am I dead?  He felt nothing.  He tried to remember, his memory was watery blackness dripping and swirling just beyond his awareness.  He did not move at all.  I must be dead, he thought again, nothing hurts. Pain had for so long been his only reality, the force binding him to his body, in its absence he had no frame of reference.  As he concentrated, he felt warmth, soft warmth lifting him.  That comfort further confirmed for him that he was dead.  He had never known life without the companionship of pain, without suffering.  He tried to focus on this vague soothing warmth cradling him, explore it.  His mind reached out into the nebulous plane, pushed forward from where he started toward…toward what?

His mind searched for something.  Her.  He longed for her, was she here, had she come with him to the other side?  Could their spirits meet here in the unknown, unknowable beyond?  He remembered the smell of her hair – the darkness filled with color, waves of beauty surged and faded, only to be replaced with cool ripples of sorrow.  Here it is… He recognized the sadness, the loss. They had long been his most familiar friends.  He reached toward the emptiness of unfulfilled dreams as he tried to concentrate on her face.  She was there, but just a shadow.  A far away wisp in the fog his disembodied consciousness. 

I’m sorry.  A spark of light moved toward her in the darkness and fizzled.  I’m sorry, Scully.  She dissolved into the haze as currents of sound and motion spun around him leaving ripples in the thickening atmosphere.  I love you, I always will. Starlight rained on the horizon, and dawn traced a line of pale pink light across the edges of his existence.    

His grief marred the delicate beauty of the ethereal warmth and light that he sensed was connected to her love for him, love that had somehow transcended time and space to find him beyond death.  The words unspoken, the touches lost, the life not meant to be.  He’d finally found the truth he’d been searching for.  That truth was her.  Truth, always just beyond his reach.  Now he could only observe the exquisite revelation from afar, never to be bathed in its transformation.

His mind reached up, into the infinite sky above him.  Traveling up and up and up, faster and faster--  the circle of light surrounding him continued to expand,  horizons ever pushing outward, shrinking away from him into the infinity of space even as it grew swallowing up the whole expanse of his mind. 

He broke the surface, transitioning into yet another dimension.  He was apart from her, alone -- having crashed above the waves of the sea of warm comfort his mind had bathed him in.  The darkness morphed in to cold, wet winds.  He was aware of a body, his body… as the searing, intolerable pain of his most recent memories approached him, overwhelmed him.  He fell through layers of ice and fire, tumbling endlessly through memories of pain, registering only a numb ache of what he had experienced, but feeling the full force of his terror as he fell forward forever and ever again through the fear. 

He felt hands.  They were his hands.  He reached out to brace himself, to stop his tumbling fall through the chaos.  This is what hell is? The thought was not a lament, just an observation.

Mulder.

The voice was so quiet, but he reached out for it.  It was his lifeline.  He swam toward her as he was smashed and overwhelmed again by a wave of black fire.  Please, Scully… He fought toward her as she called his name again.  Please, wait for me.  He tried to reach out for her through the nothingness.

His hand touched hers.  My constant. The turmoil of the night retreated as the reality of that hand grew.  He felt her return his touch.  Her voice said his name again.  It was not misty Scully, a million miles away at the unreachable horizon; it was real Scully, his Scully. 

“I’m here, Mulder.”

She really was.  So was he.  His eyes opened.  She was there.  Next to him.  The world beyond her face slowly materialized.  It was real, a real place.  She was real.  He was aware of his breath, heartbeat, skin.

So I guess I’m not dead. He didn’t know if it was disappointment or joy. 

Her voice continued to draw him into full consciousness.

“Scully…” At first he didn’t recognize that it was his own voice responding.  Some sensations still felt far away, a little frayed at the edges.  He experienced the surroundings without understanding.  The only reality he was sure of was her, her face, her eyes, her hand.

“Are we at the hospital?  How?”

“It’s okay, Mulder.  Rest.”

“You saved me, my brave girl, you brought me back.”  His hand reached up to her face. “I love you.”

“Mulder, you’ve been out for a long time.  Take it slow.”

“How? Where’s Skinner?  Did they get him?  I don’t remember…”

“Mulder…”

She’s sad.  How can she be sad?  We’re safe. We must be. Confusion.  “Scully, what’s wrong?”

“We’re not rescued, Mulder.   This is just recovery.”

“What?  How?”

“I don’t know.  There is a doctor trying to help us, but this room is locked, we are still captives.”

“Oh…”  He didn’t understand, but he trusted her words as truth.  He felt a pang of disappointment. She’s still in danger.  We’re still in danger.

“You are on some drugs now, Mulder.  It’s okay, you just need to rest.  I’m taking care of you.  Rest.”

He relaxed into the bed.  She was taking care of him.  He wavered in and out of sleep, but his mind did not return to the dream world of darkness.  He stayed with her, here in the hospital shaped prison, in the soft grip of her hand.

++++++++++

Hours after his confused return to semi consciousness, Mulder had finally woken up for real.  Scully was pleased to see he was himself.  He was able to listen with understanding as she told him about their new friend, Dr. Gareth, and the quiet recovery of the past 30 hours.

 Mulder tolerated the pain well.  The morphine made him a little slower, a little hazy, but without it, he’d have been suffering too much to think.  His left arm, from damaged shoulder to broken hand, was numb with burning pains running up and down when he moved.  His right hand also showed signs of nerve damage, numbness in the last two fingers and weakness in his grip.  With time and therapy, she hoped he’d regain full use of it.

 His most recent memories were fuzzy.  The electricity was a blur.  He did not remember the brand at all.  Thank God for small mercies, Scully thought.  He did however remember all the other painful realities of their most recent history.  She helped him sit up.  He leaned close and kissed her neck as she supported him, arranging a pillow behind his back.

Soon after, Dr. Gareth entered. He was alone.  He was kind, gentle.  He introduced himself to Mulder, his empathy toward them reminded Scully of Mulder. There was a sadness and goodness in both men. 

“I’m sorry I can’t do more,” the doctor finished speaking.

“Thank you.  This is more than I’d expected,” Mulder saw the authenticity in the young man.  It wasn’t that he trusted him, but he was thankful. 

“Well,” the doctor was embarrassed by the gratitude he felt he didn’t deserve. “I would like to do another MRI, I want to look at that shoulder again, but mostly compare the brain imaging now that you are awake to the baseline we got earlier.”  He looked at Scully.

“Why?  Nothing is going to change, is it?”  It didn’t make sense.  She was tired.  What good is it to heal us, just so we can be killed again?

“Please, I think it will give us all some insight into things,” he passed something to Mulder with that look, it was more than just another medical scan.  The doctor had some kind of plan.

“Sure, let’s go,” Mulder said, sitting up further.

“Slow down.  I’ll be back with a wheelchair,” he said putting a hand on Mulder’s shoulder.  “Thank you.”

“Be ready,” he whispered to Scully as he turned to leave, not looking back at them as he walked out of the room.

He was flanked by two guards when he returned a few moments later with the wheelchair.  He and Scully helped Mulder into the chair.

 As they turned to go, the guard spoke up.  “We are only taking him.  She doesn’t need to go.”

“Actually, she is his doctor and I cannot perform these diagnostics without her consultation.  Unless either of you have experience with identifying arachnoid hemorrhages and neural circuit collapse of the occipital synapsis, I need her to do my job.”  He looked at the two guards with dismissive arrogance and continued, “I can wait here while you go check with your bosses, but I’d hate to have to explain these idiotic delays to them when he strokes out and dies from an unidentified brain bleed.”  He shot an exasperated look at Scully and then returned a hard stare to the two men.

They looked doubtful at each other.  Mulder slumped back in the wheelchair just a bit.  He let his eyes roll back in his head.  Scully looked down at him, concerned. 

“Well,” one of the guards said, “Okay, I guess, but we’ve got to cuff her.”

“Whatever. Just do it fast.  Quit wasting my time,” Gareth said it with authority.  He gave Scully a quick glance.

As one of the guards cuffed Scully’s hands in front of her, Gareth knelt down to Mulder, checking his pulse. 

“Thank you,” Mulder whispered so that only the doctor could hear. 

“I only wish I could do more,” the doctor said it so quietly the words were almost unspoken, then took the wheelchair, leading the group out the door.

It looked like any other hospital as they moved down the hallway, but for every man or woman in scrubs and lab coat, there was another in fatigues.  Many were armed, Scully noted, scientists and soldiers alike.  She didn’t recognize anyone.  She’d half expected Declan to be waiting for them. 

They entered through double doors to a radiology lab.  Gareth stood next to her, barking instructions to the guards as they helped Mulder on to the MRI table, securing him with the belts. 

The doctor steered Scully toward the glass cubical with the control computers.  “Alright, gentlemen, I’d wait outside if I were you, unless you think those guns will work as deterrent against radiation poison.  This could take a while.” He said as he began to turn on switches awakening the machine. 

The two guards looked worried at the lights coming on in the machine and retreated quickly through the door.

MRI doesn’t even use radiation, Scully thought as she looked over at Gareth still uncertain about what he was trying to do.  She knew based on Mulder’s memory and awareness the chances of brain bleeding were extremely low.

“Don’t talk,” he said in a low whisper without looking up from the monitor in front of him.  “Alright Agent Mulder, just relax.” He went to a panel on the wall and dimmed the lights, flipped a switch and classical music filled the room.  “Just listen to the music and be still, Agent.”  The doctor entered the last command into the computer, and Mulder slowly slide into the imaging chamber.

Gareth never made eye contact with Scully.  He watched the screens flashing with cross sections of Mulder’s brain, as she watched her partner. 

“Look at that, doctor,” he said pausing the scan.  She looked at the screen, but there was nothing noteworthy about the image.  That’s when she saw his hand resting on an open file on the desk in front of them.  He looked at her, “I think we should review this area a little more closely, don’t you, Agent Scully?”

She nodded, "Yes, I agree."  She casually sat on the nearby stool and began to scan the open file as she pretended to monitor the screens in front of them.  Gareth took his time as he continued to scan Mulder’s brain and body.

Chapter Text

“Adversity is the first path to truth.” — Lord Byron, 19^th century English Romantic poet.

++++++++++

“Wow…That guy really has guts,” Mulder said.  The two were next to each other in the hospital bed.  Their faces were close as they whispered back and forth. 

“I’m not really sure how it helps us though?”

“Knowledge is power, Scully,” he said.  He couldn’t stop himself from touching her hair.  “Knowledge is power.”  She could see the wheels in his head turning, processing these new revelations.

After the MRI, they had been returned to their room.  Two trays of food were set out on a table next to the bed.  As they’d eaten, Mulder had remained quiet.  Both knew they were likely under surveillance.  Mulder knew Scully would tell him when she was ready.  He could wait.  He felt stronger as he ate and drank.

They had crawled into the bed next to each other, close under the covers, she had snuggled in tight as he held her.  He closed his eyes.  The feeling of her warmth next to him filled him with hope. 

In whispers she’d told him about the file.  Project Dunamis.  They were trying to use the stolen genetic science to engineer super soldiers.  But they didn’t just want them to be taller and stronger and faster.  They were looking to create soldiers bred for loyalty, courage, determination, resilience – unwavering, self-less commitment to the cause.  Soldiers with heightened emotional intelligence fully committed to the people and purposes which produced them would never stop fighting for what they believed in, for what they loved. 

It was an interesting idea.  The potential of the soul to enhance the power of the fighter.  It has merit, he thought looking deeply in to Scully’s eyes.  I’d take on the whole world for her.  This truth was in fact the reason the agents had been targeted.  These people wanted to test their loyalty and love, to use the strength of their devotion to each other for their own purposes. 

He hated it. Their genes were in some test tube right now, under a microscope, being studied by their enemies. What was beautiful between them, used against them. He was still powerless to stop this, but he'd keep trying. For you, I can never give up. Until you are safe, I'll never stop, Dana. As long as you're breathing, there's hope. He'd keep fighting. They both would. Together.

Scully had explained to him that, according to what she had seen in the file, stress – trauma – helped concentrate the genetic markers connected with character traits they were seeking to isolate and enhance.  They were looking for fearlessness in pain, courage in a hopeless fight, love under pressure.  The worse their tortures, the stronger their commitment to each other, and the easier it would be to harvest the genes needed to reproduce those qualities.  Strength grows out of weakness.  Suffering burns away the masks and brings the soul to the surface. 

“You know, it’s worth it, Scully.  Loving you…” his hand traced her check, one finger coming to rest on her lips. “Loving you will always be worth it.”

She kissed his finger, “I know, Mulder.  But I just hate that they can use us like this.  What’s keeping us alive and sane is also what they’ve been trying to get at.”

“I know.  But we can’t give up.  I bet they don’t really know what they are messing with.  How could people without any compassion know anything about how powerful love really is.  We can use that.”

“I hope so.”

“We can, Scully.  To them it is just an idea, a string of chemicals in a test tube.  But this…” he put his hand on her heart.  “This is real.”

She smiled at him, snuggling closer.

“I’m not sure how, but we are going to use it, fight with it.  We are not going to let them win. I know it.”

“Mulder, I love your optimism.”

“Scully, I love you.”

“I love you too, Mulder.  Always.”

++++++++++

“Nothing truly valuable arises from ambition or a mere sense of duty; it stems rather from Love…” – Albert Einstein

Chapter Text

“Loyalty means nothing unless it has at its heart the absolute principle of self-sacrifice.”  --American President Woodrow Willson

++++++++++

The next time the door opened, it was not Dr. Curtis Gareth, but Declan Abaddon who entered. Mulder stiffened.  Scully sat up straighter in the chair.  The four armed men who’d assaulted Scully were with him.  It begins again, Mulder thought. 

“Well, isn’t this cozy?  Home away from home,” Declan said.  “Have you missed me?  I’ve missed you, especially you, my dear.”  He was nearing Dana.

Mulder reacted, “Go to hell!  You are not going to touch her.”

“Such passion, Fox!  That is just what we want to see, you know.  You two really are perfect.”

Mulder was standing, barefoot, wearing only the thin hospital gown.  Scully put her hand on his back as she stood up from the chair.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Actually, Dana, I’m here for you.  We are going to have a little talk, you and I.  Would you come with me, please?”  Declan pointed toward the door.

“She’s not going anywhere with you!” Mulder stepped in front of her.

“Yes, Fox.  She is.  Don’t worry, the plan is for you to join us shortly, so please don’t make me put a bullet in you.  It makes such a mess, you know.”  A guard drew his weapon, pointed it at Mulder.

Scully squeezed Mulder’s hand, and stepped out from around him.  “It’s okay. I'll go.”  She gave Mulder one more hard squeeze before she dropped his hand.

++++++++++

Mulder had paced the hospital room for at least half an hour now.  Where are my damn clothes!  He was angry.  He was afraid.  He tried to calm down, to think.  He wanted to be ready. 

He stretched his sore, unused muscles as he paced. He’d taken the brace off his injured hand. He felt better - physically at least. Even without the morphine, he was okay.  Not 100%, but he was ready for a fight. 

All I need are some clothes and then I’ll gut that son of bitch and be done with this place.  He fantasized about beating Declan’s face in with his fist, literally crushing him with blow after blow of his bare hand.  Then he’d carry Scully out of here and together they would bring hell down on the Consortium.  It was a good dream, the anger soothed his fear.

“I’m back. Just like I said, I would be,” Declan opened the door.  Two men had guns trained on Mulder.  “Don’t worry, you didn’t miss anything, Fox.  We’ve just been setting up.”  He smiled at Mulder, like they were old friends. 

Declan excitedly waved him to come close and follow.  “Hurry up!  Let’s go. She’s waiting for us.”

The guards kept their guns on him as they walked down the hallway of the hospital floor.  A few of the scientists looked away and pretended to be busy.  The sight of a broken man marched at gun point down the hall probably broke the clean illusion of academia they had built for themselves.  Mulder didn’t care if they meant well, if it had started as a pure pursuit of science and discovery.  As far as he was concerned, every man and woman in this place should burn.  From the lowest research tech to the monster leading him toward the elevator and beyond, they would all pay for everything they’d done to her.  His rage was equal parts fear and love.  His only real thought was Scully.

They entered a small dimly lit room.  One wall was a large glass window.  There was foam padding on the other walls of the room.  An interrogation room, Mulder thought.  Are you there, Scully?  What did they do to you?  His heart broke as he looked into the blackness beyond the glass.  It was dark, he couldn’t see, but some part of him sensed her. 

“We’re ready now,” Declan said into a microphone.  The lights flipped on in the room beyond the window.

My god...

Mulder ran to the glass. Banging and screaming obscenities, he crumpled.  Declan laughed, Mulder turned on him, charging.  The guards were on him.  He couldn’t fight them off. He was still weakened, injured.  Even if he did fight them, he knew he couldn’t fight them all.  He wept as he turned back to the window, to his partner.

She was naked.  She’d fought, and been roughed up by the looks of the fresh bruises and scrapes on her.  She was tied to a metal frame, it was like a sawhorse.  Her arms and legs were secured to the A shaped legs and her body rested face down on the crossbeam.  He could tell the fight had gone out of her by the limp way she lay on the frame. She was positioned so that her rear was square to the window.  Her legs spread and tied, she was open and totally vulnerable.  Four naked guards circled her, growing hard at the sight of her weeping.  Declan flipped a switch, and the sound of her crying and their obscene threats burned Mulders ears. 

“Please, no…not this.” Mulder begged Declan.  “Please, don’t do this.”  He could not stop his tears.

“Begin,” Declan said into the microphone. 

“No!  Anything, I’ll do anything…”  Mulder was hysterical.

The men surrounding Scully closed in, groping her, pinching her pink nipples, fingers slipping in and out of her, rubbing and crushing her clit.  She twisted and squirmed, but was helpless to fight them off.  Her white ass was now rosy with hand prints as they spanked her, laughing among themselves as she flinched. She'd never in her life been so vulnerable.

One man pulled her hair hard and slapped her in the face.  She cried out in pain.  He put headphones on her and then wrapped a dark cloth strip over her eyes, around her head, tightly gaging her as he tied it off.  She was still crying, whimpering helplessly as they used her. 

“Those are noise cancelling headphones.  I find that the sensory deprivation makes the other feelings...more intense.”  He said this to Mulder.  Mulder heard the words, but his whole soul was fixed on the small woman on the other side of the glass. I’ve got to stop this, I have to do something.  

“Declan, please.  Stop this.” He begged.  “I’ll do anything.  You can kill me, just please don’t do this to her.”

“Oh, Fox.  You are such gentleman.  I wish I could help you.  We’ve had so much fun together, you and I.  I feel as though I do owe you something.  But I’m afraid I just can’t.”

“Please!  Anything…” Mulder knew this was what Declan had wanted, for him to break at the sight of her torture, for him to beg.  But he didn’t care.  His humiliation was nothing, he had to try.

“Alright, here’s what I can do.”  Declan was close to Mulder now, smiling, being generous.  “Your sweet little whore is not leaving there until she’s had cock in her hole…”  Bile rose in Mulder’s throat as this man spoke of Scully, his Scully, in such vulgar terms.  He choked it back.  “…whose cock, and which hole, I’ll leave up to you.”

“What?” Mulder’s mind fought against his comprehension.  What is he saying?  No.  This isn’t the way…

“Agent Mulder, you can fuck her or we can.”

“No, no.  I can’t.  Do anything to me…please,” horror gripped him.  I can’t, not like this, I couldn’t. 

“It’s your choice, Agent, but you better decide now.  Once the boys get going, it’s hard to call them off.”

Mulder watched as one of the men began to rub spit on Scully’s asshole.  She thrashed in her restraints. Her screams muffled though the gag.

“Stop. Okay.  I’ll do it, just call them off.  Stop this. I’ll do whatever you want.”  He was frantic. 

Declan smiled.  Mulder shook with terror and relief as Declan spoke into the microphone.  “Wait.” The guards took a small step back from Scully’s trembling form.

“The boys will be so disappointed.  They may want to take their turns after you.  You know, I was also looking forward to my turn with our little lady.”

“No, no.  You can’t.  Please…”

“Fox, I can.  Don’t forget that.”  He stood beside Mulder at the window, he put an arm around his shoulder.  Mulder stiffened, but didn’t fight.

“I can. But I won’t.  Here’s what I’ll do.  You can have your way with our dear sweet Dana, and then the boys and I will have our way with you.”

Shock and fear ran through Mulder as the shiver ran down his spine.  The feeling of this man’s arm on across his back burned him, vomit rose in his throat. 

“You said you’d do anything.  Did you mean it, Fox?  Anything?”

“Yes, fine,” he choked. “I’ll take her place.  Just don’t touch her.”

“Dana, will be safe and sound.  Don’t worry.  I’ve always kept my word.”  He slapped Mulder on the shoulder in a celebratory gesture and then stepped to the microphone.  “Sorry, boys.  We’ll have to wait for round two.”

With relief, Mulder saw the men step back and move out the door. 

“Alright, Fox.  Today your dreams come true.  She’s all yours.”

New terror filled him.  I can’t do this, how can I… “You can do anything to me, but don’t ask me to hurt her.”   

The twinkle in Declan’s eyes made Mulder sick.  “If you can’t go in there and fuck her, then I certainly can.  It’s part of the bargain."

“Alright.  Let her go, let me talk to her.  Then I’ll try. But not like this.”

“Oh you sweet boy, what would be the fun in that.  This is the deal.  Unless you want to change your mind?”

Shame spread over Mulder, he felt utterly useless. “I can’t.  I won’t be able to.”  How could he get hard, how could he force himself to do this?  To rape her.  She was so scared.  He wanted to save her —but to rape her!  How could he do that to the woman he loved more than his own life?  He knew it would not be physically possible for him.  Not like this.

“Fox,” Declan laughed deeply.  “Don’t worry.  No need to be embarrassed.  Since we’re friends, I’ll help you.”  He held out a small blue pill to Mulder.  “This is guaranteed to give you a good hard on.  Works fast too from what I hear.”

Mulder was pale and trembling as he walked naked into the room minutes later.  Scully was still weeping, lost in her dark silence.  Waiting for what she knew she could not escape.  You’re doing this to help her.  You love her.  She loves you.  He tried to convince himself as he approached her. 

“I don’t want you to rush it, but let’s do move this along now.” Declan’s voice came through the speaker.  Mulder couldn’t see him, but he knew he was there, just beyond the glass. 

You don’t have a choice.  You have to keep her safe.  Just make it gentle.  Try.  He reached out, with the lightest touch his fingertips brushed her back.  She reacted, tensing and shaking. 

Tears were rolling down his face.  You have to do this.  It’s the only way you can spare her from them.  “I’m sorry, Scully.  I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

Declan’s voice, “How touching.  Now quit stalling and fuck her.” 

To Mulder’s great shame, his erection was growing.  He hated himself, and thanked God for that pill.  I love you, Scully.  Please…please forgive me. He tried to clear his mind.  He touched himself as he stood behind her.  He couldn’t think about her.  He couldn’t not think about her. 

He rubbed her gently.  She trembled, but didn’t cry out.  She was still crying softly into the gag, but she seemed calm as he used his spit to prepare himself and her. 

He rubbed her back gently as he moved closer.  He held her side as he slowly entered.  She gasped, but was still.  He didn’t move.    

“Fuck her!”

He began to move, slowly at first.  Make it easy for her, make it gentle.  He concentrated.  His right hand rested on her back as he moved. His finger moved over the her soft skin, tracing a figure eight on her shoulder as he tried to block out the thoughts of Declan and the danger.  I love you, Scully.  I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.

She was relaxed as he began to move faster.  He was thrusting at a steady pace.  His movements were strong, but always gentle.  She was breathing faster now.  Oh god, how can I be doing this to her. His mind tortured him even as his body responded to her tightness. 

“Good job, Mulder.  You are going to finish inside her, so keep it up.”

He felt it coming, but somehow he couldn’t get there.  He couldn’t let himself.  I have no right to enjoy this!  I’m sick.  I’m getting off on raping her!  He continued to thrust, picking up the pace. He had to finish, to end this. She cried out as he pounded into her. I’m sorry.  Oh, Scully, I’m so sorry.  She trembled and went stiff as he rode her.  I’m hurting you.  I’m so sorry. He forced himself to keep going.  He wept, trying to block it all out, to let go, to give in. Scully…Scully…Scully. He came deep inside of her, folding onto her back, a broken man, as the orgasm finally took him.

Weeping, he’d slumped to the floor after.  Two guards came in and released Scully from her bindings.  She was compliant as they took her off the frame, almost limp in their arms as she stood.  They led her out, still gagged and deaf and blind.  He was glad to see them drape a blanket around her just before she disappeared through the door.   

It was to save her. You tried to save her. His mind tried to console himself, but deep down he know it was the end.  He had hurt her.  She’d been scared and alone and he’d raped her.  He came inside her while she cried!  How will I ever look her in the eyes again?  He hated himself.  How could I ever touch her again after what I’ve done?  How could she ever?  His mind tortured him as he grieved for her.  What have I done!  She’ll never be able to forgive me.  I’ll never be able to undo this.  How could I?  My life is over.

But she’s safe.  You protected her.  It was the only way.  He gagged, and puked bile onto the floor. He shivered violently as he collapsed onto the cold concrete.  His body and mind were on overload.  You raped your best friend!  You raped her!  

He spun deeper and deeper into despair.  He was barely even aware as the five men now entered the room.  They picked him up, draping him over the frame.  He didn’t move at all as they secured his naked body.  He just wept for Scully as they began to circle.

Chapter Text

“Failure gave me strength. Pain was my motivation.” --Michael Jordan

++++++++++

She just sat there.  Alone.  The concrete walls of the cell felt close around her.  She shivered despite the blanket covering her naked body.  She fought through the overwhelming sensations, the thoughts and images raced through her mind at a crushing pace. 

Their hands on her, her screams, the darkness, silence, the fear.  He was there. She shuddered.  Mulder. She ached. Mulder, Mulder, what have you done? It was new agony as she thought about her partner, the man she loved, the man she trusted with her whole self. 

What did they do to you?  She hurt for him.  What did you give them?  She could not comprehend the turmoil leading him to act as he had.  She was afraid for him.  For you do to that, they must have… She was afraid for him, knowing that this act would destroy him. 

Mulder, just survive.  Hold on.  Just survive.  She prayed as she saw him in her mind’s eye, breaking beyond repair.  Shattered into pieces so small he was gone. 

Of course, she’d known it was him as soon as he touched her.  No one else could hold her with such tenderness.  She knew what it had cost him.  The price he now paid for protecting her.  Mulder, I’m coming.  Just stay alive until I can find you. 

She’d felt him as he touched her.  She’d trembled with rage that these men could force this on her tender, gentle love, her partner. He’d soothed her as he made love to her, caressed her as he moved inside her.  Despite the horror, the emotional pain of it all, she felt exhilarated by his touch.  His fingers moving in a never ending circles, the gentle pressure of him sliding in and out in perfect tenderness.

She’d felt the tension in him.  It was torture for him.  She’d felt him struggle, she could feel his soul cracking, breaking apart, falling as he had pushed himself on.  Her love for him overflowed in her, she’d tried to pour it out for him as he sacrificed himself to her.  Let go, Mulder.  Let go.  I love you.  I always have, always will.  You are my whole world, you are my life.  Just rest, my love.  I’m so sorry they’ve done this to you, but just let go.  You and me, in this moment, Mulder.  She’d spurred him on with the rapid beating of her heart as she responded to his touch.  She’d trembled as the tingling warmth of her own climax grew and overtook her.  Love, Mulder!  This is love. 

Her heart broke for him as he finally reached his release.  She felt the weight of his sorrow as he’d collapsed on top of her, cold, sweaty, broken. 

I’m going to save you.  I’m going to bring you back, she vowed as she sat in the stillness of the room grieving for him, for what’d he’d lost to save her.

The door opened.  Her heart rose, then crashed again.  It wasn’t him.  It was Gareth.  He looked shaken, pale as he knelt beside her. 

“Agent Scully, are you alright?  Hurry, we have to go.”

He began to dress her in a pair a blue scrubs.  He pulled her hair back into a ponytail and wiped her face. 

“What’s happening?  Where’s Mulder?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled her to her feet. “I can get you out, but we’ve got to go now.  There’s no time.”

What?  Get out?  How? 

“Come on, agent.  You can’t help him if you stay here.  Please…”

How could she?  Leave him.  “But…” She was torn as he urgently pulled her to the door, looking out into the hallway.

“We have to go now!  So you can help him.  You can get help for him, but you have to follow me,” the young doctor had pained terror in his eyes as he urgently whispered to her. 

Help him.  Get help.  Come back for him.  Save him.  Her mind rushed forward through the door, beyond the unknown, to her partner as she imagined him curled and weeping in the dark.  Help him, Dana!  He needs you.  Save him. “Okay,” her shock filled face nodded her assent as she moved to follow him through the door.  “What do I need to do?”

++++++++++

She’d kept her face down, low to the clipboard she carried in her trembling hand as she followed the doctor.  His confident strides masked the anxiety and alarm she knew boiled just below the surface as they had made their way quickly through dimly light corridors to the elevator.  He’d swiped his key card at the elevator, looking anxiously over his shoulder at empty hall as they waited for the elevator to open.  To their great relief, it was empty.  They stepped inside.  He fidgeted as he watched the lights blink as they rose.

“No. No.” He cursed as they slowed. 

He turned toward her, blocking her face and began talking about how horrible the food was in the cafeteria today.  The doors opened.  A man and woman in lab coats, with guns clipped at their waists, entered the elevator. 

“I didn’t work my ass off at Johns Hopkins to come here and drink that shit they call coffee and put in 14 hour shifts in a windowless hole.”  He laughed.  “Isn’t that right, Brad?”  He gave the man a friendly punch in the shoulder. 

“Well, Curtis, I wouldn’t know.” He seemed annoyed.  “I graduated from Harvard.”  He said it with humorless superiority as he smirked at the woman he was with.  Then they turned toward the door.  Ignoring the young doctor and the small redhead with him.

The elevator continued to ascend.  Level 3.  The doors opened.  Scully could see the hospital floor in front of her.  The man stepped off the elevator and was gone.

“Well, are you coming?” The woman asked, holding the door as she stepped off.

Curtis froze beside Scully.  She took a step forward, brushing against his arm.  “Yeah, sorry.  Of course.”  He moved.  “Thanks, Barb.”

“Yeah…no problem.” She said it to herself, sensing something odd in the doctor and nurse who walked hurriedly down the hall and disappear around a corner.

Curtis Gareth could not bring the color back into his face as he walked down the hallway.  He forced himself to breath.  She was beside him still.  He didn’t look at her as they ducked around a corner into a dead end hall.  He fumbled with the key card as he tried to swipe it in the security lock.

“Relax.  You’re doing great.”  Her voice sounded calm.  He took a deeper breath.  The door clicked open.

They were in the stairwell.  The air was dense and muggy.  “We gotta go up,” he said taking her hand and leading her up the twisting flight.  Their footfalls echoed loudly off the concrete walls as they climbed. 

Level 2.  Parking Garage.  Scully took note of the many black sedans and government SUVs as the pair slowly weaved through the parked cars. 

Suddenly, he grabbed her.  Dragging her back between two vehicles, he put his hand over her mouth.  Two men with automatic rifles slung casually across their chests walked down the road weaving around the rows of parked cars. 

She could feel him shaking as he dropped his hand.  They remained crouched in the shadows between the cars at the edge of the garage. Frozen as the guards passed. Once the men were out of hearing, he pointed his trembling finger to a silver Mazda SUV across the row and down the road about four cars. 

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” his eyes were full of pain as he spoke in the faintest whisper.  “I just wanted to help people.  Cure disease.”  He put the car keys in her hands.  The guards had reached the end of the long row and were now turning back toward where they hid.

“I wanted to save people.  My sister…” tears were falling from his eyes.  She felt empathy for him.  “It was leukemia. It was in her genes, they said. I was 14. I wanted to help her.  I wanted to save people like her.  To help.” His pale face bore the tight, strangled expression of agony. 

“I didn’t know.  I swear.  By the time I saw what it was, I was in too deep.  I couldn’t do anything…” his voice broke off.  There was nothing else to say.  It was his confession. 

“I know.” Scully tried to comfort him.  “You did what you could.  Thank you.”  She gave him all the forgiveness she could with her eyes. 

The guards were close now.  Scully and Gareth sank deeper into shadow as they passed.  She took his hand, squeezed it.  Thank you. 

“Kate.” He whispered in her ear as he dropped her hand.  “Her name was Kate.”  He stood, springing forward into the road.

“Hey!” he called out to the guards.  They turned.  He ran, leading them back the way they’d just come.  Away from the silver car, away from the exit.  He ran, moving between the cars as they pursued him.

She was up, racing toward the car.  She was in it, driving.  She couldn’t see him, but she heard the sharp report of gunfire reverberating through the garage as she drove up the ramp, crashing through the security gate and speeding into the moonlit stillness of evening. 

Chapter Text

“One thing you can’t hide – is when you’re crippled inside.” – Singer-songwriter, John Lennon

++++++++++

He just sat there.  No tears.  No thoughts.  The blood smearing his inner thighs had dried.  He was cold.  He shivered as the feelings overwhelmed again.  On his hands and knees, he retched, his whole body heaved, as his guts tried crawl out of his throat again and spill onto the dirty floor.  He was empty.  Still the heaves wracked him.  He shuddered violently as tears began to flow again.  His breath was fast.  He choked and sobbed, but no oxygen reached him as hyperventilated and gagged. 

A wail, the most mournful sound he’d ever heard reached his ears; it ripped what was left of his heart into pieces imagining the absolute suffering capable of producing such a cry.  It was him.  It was his scream into the emptiness of the night surrounding him.  It echoed off the walls and sank deeply into him.  He grew still, tired.  He collapsed again into his own sick and blood on the floor.

Without her.  Because of what I did to her.  Because of what they did to me.  Because of what I did… I’m dead.  His fractured mind spun through the night.  But he wasn’t dead.  He was very much alive.  Heart beating in his chest, his body taking in breaths without his consent.  Am I not allowed to die?  He looked numbly at the concrete wall.  Death is too merciful.  I'm not dead.  I can't die. I belong here. This is hell.

He was alone as he rode through the waves of numb shock.  Stillness and violence taking turns with his body as his mind continued to spin, breaking. 

Their hands on him, in him.  They were in him. He gagged again, convulsing as he was forced to remember, to relive.  It went on forever, they were pounding into him, again and again.  No mercy as they used him one after another.  Declan had been the first and the last to cum inside him. I'm dirty. I'm sick. What a worthless piece of shit! His own body had betrayed him as they used him. Am I that perverted? To get off on that? I deserved it. Punishment. Pain. But how could I...did I...how could I enjoy...? Oh god, why... It was too much for anyone to endure. Mulder wept for his pain, for his shame.

I deserved worse!  Oh god, I deserved it.  He was small, like a child.  Hatred began to rise up.  Not hatred for the men who did this to him, hatred for himself.  You raped her first!  You said you loved her, but you did to her what they did to you. She trusted you!  To protect her! You betrayed her!  Love… How can you think of love!  You are worse than them.  She believed in you.

He sat up, beating his chest with rock hard fists.  He hit himself in the head over and over.  Let me die.  Please, just let me die. 

He hurt.  Fresh blood slipped from his ear and nose.  Death is too good for you, Fox.  It would have been better if you’d never been born.  You deserve to rot here for eternity.  There is nothing left for you.

It was hours – maybe days later.  He didn’t know and didn’t really care.  Declan entered the room, guards dragged a young man toward him.  He was white, too pale.  His side was wet with deep blood.  He was on his knees, barely conscious.  Agony was in his eyes.

“Fox, look.” Declan called to him.  “Mulder, look at me.”  Mulder looked up from the pained eyes to his torturer.  “Do you remember him?  The good doctor Gareth?”

Mulder looked back at the man whose life was clearly slipping away.  Yes.  I know him. Far away thoughts began to reconnect Mulder to the world around him.

“We just found him with his hands all over your little whore partner,” the taunting voice reached deep inside him.

No. Not Scully. No. Why?  He reeled.

“She left you, Mulder!  She hates you.  How could she not?  After what you did…”

After what I did…

“She’s gone.  She and the doctor were leaving together.  She didn’t even try to find you.”

“No…Mulder…” the new voice was weak.

“You are dead to her." Declan taunted him. "She’s gone. She left you. You’re mine.”

She’s gone?  She’s gone.  Something like joy washed over him for the briefest moment.  She’s gone.  Safe. Then it returned.  I hurt her.  I hurt her.  How could I?  I’m already dead. Please just kill me.

As if Declan could read Mulder’s mind, he said, “Not yet, Fox.  Not yet.”

He took a step back, like he was going to leave.  Then he turned, put a gun to the back of Gareth’s head.  And fired. 

The sound echoed off the walls.  Mulder’s face and chest were splattered with blood and brain.  The doctor’s body slumped and slide to the floor.  Mulder gagged on the man’s blood in his mouth.  Frozen by the horror of it all.  Declan laughed.

Alone.  He scrubbed at his face and body to wipe this man’s blood off of him.  He clawed until his own blood flowed.  No. I can’t.  No.  Just die.  Please, God, just let me die.  He smashed his skull against the wall as he rocked.  The vision of the dead man in front of him blurred as he beat his own head against the bricks.  Darkness closed on Mulder, he hoped for the last time.

Chapter Text

“Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.” -- Confucius

++++++++++

She gasped and gripped the wheel recovering control as she nearly spun out around a sharp corner.  She was going too fast along the dark, winding mountain road.  She was blind.  She didn’t know where she was or where she was going.  Except away – away from that place…away from Mulder. To help him.  I’ve got to help him.  She knew it was right.  But the pang twisted in her gut.  Am I abandoning him?  He needs me. 

Scully pushed thought and emotion away as she focused on the road.  In the darkness and trees, she had no way to get her bearings.  She just kept moving forward, checking for headlights behind her, praying she would find help in time for him.  She was forced to slow as the road wound sharply up a hillside, then down into another rocky valley. It was so dark.  Even the moonlight did little except to cast an eerie silver web of light and shadow on the road as it shown through the tangled trees above her.   

Okay, think.  Calm down.  Think. She slowed again as the road turned around the mountain and opened up to a wide vista through the trees.  The moon sparkled off a river deep in the valley below.  The bright star field of the sky above contrasted with the rolling mountains shrouded in dark trees below.  Where am I?  She was getting desperate.  Around the bend, the road split merging into a wider highway.  Right or left?  She wondered, totally lost before turning right. East, I think. She took a mental note of the terrain around the intersection.  I have to be able to get back here.  She sped on. 

A sign told her she was on West Virginia Highway 92.  Oh, God, help me. She prayed as drove.  Not even the light of a farmhouse broke the darkness of the forest.  She looked behind her again.  Nothing.  She was surprised that they weren’t following her. 

Just then, she saw lights behind her.  They were close, matching her speed.  She pushed the car to its limits as she flew along the steep twisting mountain road.  Lights flashed, blue and red behind her.  She didn’t slow.  She had to try.  For him.  I can’t stop.

She felt the slide as she took yet another corner at top speed, the car spun into the shoulder, kicking up loose rocks.  She fought for control, but the car fishtailed even more violently as it slipped down the embankment and crashed into a tree below.

Forgive me, Mulder she cried out as she was thrown forward with the impact, and flung backward by the air bag.   

++++++++++

Broken glass.  Flashlight in her eyes.  A man prying the crumpled door.  Air rushed back into her lungs.  She spun.  Mulder, Mulder.  I’ve got to help him.  “Mulder…”

“What’s that?  Is that your name, lady?” the deputy asked as he struggled to free her from the twisted metal of the car.  “What the hell were you doing?  It’s a miracle you’re alive.”  He spoke to her as he heaved on the wreckage.

Paramedics soon joined him, together they lifted her out of the car, securing her to the backboard.  They steadied her as the team at the road above used a wench to lift her up the steep rocky hillside.

Lights.  Motion.  Voices.  She faded in and out of consciousness and the paramedics stabilized her in the ambulance. “Mulder…” she kept repeating his name, trying to tell them.

“What does that mean?” one man asked his partner as they continued to work on her.  “What’s your name, ma’am?” he asked her as she began to drift away again.

“Scully…FBI…Dana Scully…”  She fought to form the words as she sank again into unconsciousness.

++++++++++

Scully shot awake, fighting the sheets holding her in the bed. 

“Woah, it’s alright.  You’re safe.  Calm down.”  Skinner was beside her.  Worry etched in every line of his weary face. 

“Mulder… we’ve got to…” She stopped thrashing, but the urgency in her voice only intensified. 

“We will.  He's strong,” Skinner put a hand on her shoulder.  “We are going to get him. I just need you to calm down and tell me what happened.”

“I got away.  I left him there.  He’s hurt.  We have to hurry,” she tried to stand again as the words rushed out of her.

“Agent, stop!” Skinner said it with authority.  “If you want to help Mulder, you’ve got to get control of yourself.” She stilled. “Now tell us what you remember.”

She began at the end.  She’d driven through the darkness, the mountains before she crashed.  Skinner pulled up maps and satellite images trying to retrace her path.  They soon narrowed their focus on the remote woods of the Monongahela National Forest. 

Skinner stopped her, made calls on his cellphone, gave orders to the agents waiting in the hall. 

When he was ready, she continued.  She gave him a tactical analysis of the arms and defenses she’d seen.   She described the compound, a one story concrete building tucked in the hills with a dozen levels below ground, reaching down into the mountain. 

 “He’s hurt bad.  We have to find him.  Quick…” She finished. 

“We will.  We’ve got every team on this.  We are going to get him back.  We are mobilizing now.” 

“How long?”

“Within the next three hours, we’ll be ready.”

“No.  How long have I been here?”

“Dana…” he tried to sooth her anxiety with a fatherly hand on her shoulder.  “You were airlifted to here to George Washington University hospital from the county hospital near where you crashed. It was touch and go at first.  You had a bad concussion. It’s a miracle you’re awake and talking right now.”

“Walter…please?” She begged him.  Her guilt at leaving Mulder compounded at her awareness of this passage of time. 

 “You arrived here 37 hours ago.  You and Mulder went missing eleven days before that.”

No. No.  More than a day?!  Mulder doesn’t have that kind of time. “We’ve got to hurry,” tears streamed down her face.  It might already be too late. “We’ve got to hurry,” she repeated as she wiped her tears. 

Skinner nodded in solemn agreement as he left to continue organizing the teams that would take the compound and get back his agent, Fox Mulder.  “We’ll get him.  We will.”

Chapter Text

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  I love you because I know no other way.” – Chilean poet Pablo Neruda

++++++++++

Skinner had to yell to be heard over the sound of the engine.  “You’re not coming!”  The wind from the helicopter blades swirled around him as he faced off with Scully on the hospital roof.

“You need me!”  Scully stood dressed in black tactical uniform, fierceness in her like he had not yet seen. “I’ve been inside!  You’re going to need me.”  Her broken arm was in a sling.

“You were unconscious for more than a day, you’ve got a severe concussion.  You’re not even supposed to be out of bed!  You’re sitting this one out!”

“Look, I’m coming.  You need me, sir!”  Skinner hated to admit that she might be right.  Right now, she was their best source of information.  “Walter, please!  Listen to me!  He’s going to need me.  He’s going to be in bad shape.”  She wasn’t asking for permission. 

“Alright, but you stay back.  You don’t go in until we give the all clear.  Do you understand?”  He helped her secure the bullet proof vest.  “That’s an order!”

“Yes, sir!” She was already in the chopper with the other agents.  I’m coming for you, Mulder!  Hold on!

++++++++++

She stepped out of the stairwell onto the abandoned hospital level.  The emergency lights bathed the hall with an ominous blue glow.  Test tubes and lab supplies spilled from the open cabinets.  Computer screens flickered, their terminals smashed.  Papers were strewn about the counters and floors.  It was quiet. 

The SWAT teams were clearing each level ahead of them.  The offices on the main level were also abandoned – data all destroyed or taken.  The underground parking lot was mostly empty now.  She was next to Skinner as they walked down the hallway, looking in the now empty labs and rooms. 

The silence unnerved her.  She’d imagined gunfire, battle.  How do you fight an enemy that doesn’t exist?  Of course they’ve gone!  That’s what they do. That’s why they didn’t follow me.  They already have what they wanted from me.  She wanted to shoot something.  To fight!

Skinner kept looking over at her.  She seemed okay.  On edge, but she was holding up.  She was probably the bravest women he’d ever met.  As they descended deeper and deeper into the facility, her professional calm began to show cracks. 

His radio crackled.  The lead team was reporting in.  Level 6.  They were in some kind of detention wing.  They’d found a body, a white male.  Skinner sensed her tense beside him.  They both quickened their pace toward the stairs.

Her heart was a whirlwind as they approached the cluster of agents.  She had to know.  She had to see him for herself.   

“Looks like he’s been here a day or two…it’s not pretty.” The agent spoke to Skinner, but his eyes were full of pity for Scully as she slowly approached the door. 

She walked toward the body.  Knelt down.  She was silent as she examined the bloodied remains. 

“Gunshot to the back of the head.  He was kneeling.  Exit wound destroyed most of the jaw.” Her voice was clinical.  “Another gunshot wound to the left side. Likely ante-mortem judging by all the blood loss.“ She waved her hand over the dark stain running wide down his waist and leg. “He wouldn’t have survived the abdominal wound long, but the head shot is likely the cause of death.  The end would have been quick at least.”

“Agent Scully,” Skinner was behind her, tears in his eyes as he looked at the bloody remains face down on the concrete floor.  “I’m so sorry.”

“He died for me.  To keep me safe, to get me out of here.”  She was quiet. 

“I know he cared for you very much.”

“His sister’s name was Kate.  He wanted to help people.”

“What?”

“This is Doctor Curtis Gareth.  He was a good man.  He risked everything to help us.”  She turned away from the body, looking back to Skinner.  “In the end, he gave up everything.”

Skinner blinked back tears, “Then it’s not Mulder?”  He looked closer at the body on the floor.  It wasn’t him.  He was too young.

“No, Mulder’s still out there somewhere.” Scully said it to herself as she rose and turned back down the hallway alone.

++++++++++

Scully wandered the corridors of the lower levels.  Agents were scattered here and there.  There was no other sign of life in the whole complex.  Everyone and everything was gone.  Did I dream it?   She wondered as she moved from room to room, lost inside herself.  Was this real? She felt herself breaking down as she turned down a short hallway that branched off to a dead end.  She peered in one empty concrete room after another. 

Then, she stopped dead.  This was it.  She entered, her hand lingered on the reinforced door.  She stepped around the cardboard box topped with two trays of half eaten moldy food.  She dropped to her knees on the futon mattress.  She buried her face in the blankets and wept. 

This was real. He was real. This is where I held him, where he kissed me.  This is where we slept, where we comforted each other.  We talked, and cried, and made promises in this place. Her heart was breaking; the pain of her loss filled her. Mulder, where are you?   Sobs shook her.  The despair of losing him overwhelmed her.

“Dana, my dear, I knew you’d come.”

A cold shiver ran through her.  Her tears ceased, every muscle in her body tensed to full alertness.  She turned around to face him.

Declan stood just inside the doorway.  He held Mulder’s drooping body in front of him.  And he held his gun tight to Mulder’s head.

“Dana, slide your weapon toward me.  Slowly.”

She complied, taking the handgun from her waist band and sliding it across the floor.

“Good.  Now take off the vest.”  With some difficulty she undid the Velcro straps and lay the vest on the floor. 

All the while she studied Mulder.  He was awake, or seemed to be.  He stood on his own legs, but he was limp, droopy.  His eyes looked at her.  But it was like he saw nothing.  He was too pale, too thin.  His eyes were big and empty, like hallow voids where the deep portals to his soul had been.  His body was alive, but all the life had drained out.  He was an empty shell of who he had been.  She tried to connect with him, to pour love and life back into him, but his blank eyes just blinked as he stared through her, unseeing.

“Let him go.”

“It’s always the same with you.  You’re both so predictable.” He smirked. “That’s why I knew you would come back.  I was supposed to kill him and leave with the others, but I had to see you again, Dana.”

“Let him go.”

“You see from the first time I saw how Agent Mulder was willing to fight for you and die for you, I was intrigued.  What kind of woman is worth such sacrifice!  I knew then that my life would not be complete until I’d had you, both of you.” 

“There are agents everywhere out there.  You’re not getting out of here.  So let him go.”

“Maybe so, but right now, in here, it is just you and I…and Fox.  He’s not really himself anymore, as you can see. I do hate it when my toys get broken before I’m done playing.”

“What do you want?”

“The look on your face right now is worth the effort I’ve made to keep him alive.”  He smiled at her. 

“Declan, please…”

“I do love it when you ask nicely.  I’ve had my fun with our poor little Fox, and now I want my turn with you.”  He pushed the muzzle deeper into Mulder’s temple. 

“You don’t need him, just let him go.  If I’m what you’ve been waiting for, then just let him go. ”

He pointed the gun toward Scully.  He roughly twisted Mulder’s face around.  “Did you hear that, Fox?  She doesn’t want you!  She can’t stand the sight of you!”  He laughed, shaking Mulder’s face. 

“Please, just kill me.”  The voice barely sounded human.  “Just let me die.”

Scully looked at her broken partner.   He seemed to recognize her for the first time.

“No, No, No!” he fell to his knees at Declan’s feet.  He weakly gripped the front of Declan’s shirt, pleading.  “Please…make her go.  I can’t... don’t make me. I can’t do it anymore.  Not this...”

Mulder reached out and pulled Declan’s right arm toward him.  Mulder pointed the gun in Declan’s hand to his own forehead, leaning into the barrel as he cried.  “Just do it.  Please, please.  Just kill me.  Just let me die.”

It broke her.  Oh, Mulder…What have they done to you? I’m so sorry.  She pushed all the love she had toward him, not knowing if it would be enough.

“I’m sorry, Fox.”  Declan patted his head tenderly.  “Not yet.”  He left Mulder, kneeling on the floor, and moved toward Scully.

Declan was on her.  He put his hands around her neck.  She didn’t struggle.  He pushed her against the wall, kissing her.  She didn’t move.  He crushed her with his body against the unyielding blocks, pinning her hands above her.  He kissed her neck.  “Remember, Dana.  I own you.  Both of you.”

He threw her to the mattress.  She was so small compared to him.  He choked her as he undid his pants with one hand.  She squirmed, but the struggle was half-hearted.  She was still weak from the traumas she’d endured.  But it was the sight of Mulder, broken and lost, that had drained her will. 

“You’re mine.” Declan whispered into her hair. His knees pinned her down as he kissed her again.  He pulled her hair, and lowered himself onto her, biting her collarbone.  She yelped.

“Scully?  No…” Mulder’s voice was a faraway whisper, a confused and poignant cry.  A dull light registered in his eyes, but he was as immobilized as if he’d been chained to the wall, utterly helpless.  “No. No.  Scully.  Scully!”  He cried. 

Heartbroken, Scully fought weakly as Declan manhandled her, pulling her toward him, trying to get her pants down.  Her one whole arm scratched at his leg as she twisted her legs trying to leverage him off of her.

It was impossible. Declan laughed as her will to fight ebbed away. She flopped in his hands as he twisted her around, crushing her back down on the mattress as he ground in to her, growing hard against her stomach.

A shot rang out in the small room.  A surreal stillness followed the deafening noise as all three were frozen in place.  Mulder kneeling on the floor.  Scully pinned to the mattress.  Declan laying on top of her.

Scully was the first to break the moment.  She pushed Declan off of her.  He rolled onto his back, blood spreading across his chest.  He looked at her -- surprise in his eyes, as his hand reached up to hold the wound.  “But my dear…”  His voice was low, quivering as he took in ragged breaths. 

The tiny Glock 26, still in her steady hand, Scully leaned in close to his face, “No one owns me.  And no one owns my partner.”  She stood up and had already turned her back on him when his last breath deserted him and his heart stilled.  He was nothing to her, alive or dead.  She’d come for Mulder.

She returned the pistol to her ankle holster.  She spread her open palms out and approached Mulder with caution.  His dead eyes had turned to wild, fear-filled windows into the shattered soul.  He didn’t move as she drew closer.  She reached out to touch his arm.  He flinched away, crying out as if in physical pain.

“Mulder...it’s me. Scully. I’m here. I’m real. I'm here to take you home.”

“Scully?” he struggled to comprehend.

“I’m sorry, Mulder. I’m sorry.”  Tenderness, love radiated from her.

“No, no, no…” his face crumpled in agony as he met her eyes.  “Scully…” Her name on his lips was a heartrending howl.  He slumped to the floor and wept.

She put her arms around him, held him close to her.  He sobbed and shook like a small child in her arms as SWAT agents, responding to the gunshot, rushed into the concrete room. 

Chapter Text

“Find a place inside where there’s joy.  And the joy will burn out the pain.”  -- Joseph Campbell

++++++++++

It had been five days since Mulder had been carried out of that place.  Five days since Scully had shot Declan in the chest.  Five days of worry and waiting. Five long days and nights praying for the nightmare to finally end.

He’d oscillated between catatonic and violent as they tried to bring him to the surface.  After his tears stilled, he’d been docile as she’d led him by the hand down the hallway.  When they’d helped him onto a stretcher near the elevator, the medic lifted his shirt to listen to his lungs, Mulder had gone wild.  He was screaming, lashing out without clear intent at anyone and anything he could reach. He'd screamed her name, but he didn't see her as she struggled to soothe him. She was lost to him, nothing more than a mirage on the horizons of his mind. Her name was the word that summarized his agony and fear. “Scully! Scully! Scully!” He screamed it as some new anguish tore through him. He was falling to the exhaustion of his exertion even as they had injected the sedative. 

At the hospital, he’d begged again for death, clawing at his skin until he drew his own blood, seeming to relish the physical pain even as his eyes bore the anguish of his shattered spirit.

When she spoke to him to calm him, he’d frozen, slipping again into the dead, empty, waking sleep. Numb, lost to the world, blank eyes looking through her.  She couldn’t bear to see him restrained, even for his safety. Not after all he’d endured.

So she'd stayed awake by his bed until he finally slept.  But in the night, she must have dozed, he’d silently removed his IV and used the needle to cut at his wrists. She had woken to the sounds of his crying. They'd been cries of relief.

His eyes had been panic and horror as she’d held him down, using the sheet to stop the blood as she called for help. She was afraid.

“No, No!  Let me die!  Scully…no, no, no more…”  His wail had cut her soul. 

Since then, he’d been sedated.  She stayed with him except for brief moments – to take a shower, to give her statement, to have her check-up, to grab a cup of coffee from the cafeteria.  His mother, or hers, were always with him if she wasn’t.  Skinner often came.   She guessed he was there to check on her as much as Mulder.

Mulder slept.  His body healed.  In the few moments he was awake, he had grown calmer with each day.  He did not speak except to answer direct questions. She saw his small improvements. He was making eye contact with everyone, except for Scully.  He’d let his mother hold his hand, kiss his cheek.

Scully stayed with him.  She kept watch over his life. She could not leave him.  She willed him the will to survive, to find himself, to find his path home from the darkness. To live. For her sake if not his own.

She slunk back into the shadows when he was conscious.  The sight of her, the sound of her voice, sent him spiraling into weeping and trembling.  But when he slept, she was close to him. She held his hand, touched his hair, ran her fingers lightly over his cheek, kissed his forehead.  She spoke softly of her love for him, of her hope for him, of her gratitude. 

“I need you, Mulder.  I need you to live again.  I love you.  You are my world.  What am I supposed to do without you?  Come back to me, Mulder.  I love you.  Together, remember?” 

She asked him to forgive her, to forgive himself.  She reminded him of his strength, of his courage that had carried her.  She poured every good thing into him during those quiet moments when they were alone.  Bathed him in comfort and compassion, soaked him in the tender earnestness of her need for him.

She fought for him now as though her own life hung in the balance, because for her it did. She was afraid, afraid of losing him, afraid he'd never come back to her, afraid of her life without him. In quiet whispers she poured out her soul to him through the endless hours, the days and nights passing.

She was sitting beside his bed.  It was after midnight, but she hadn’t slept.  She just held his hand, gazed into his sleeping face, spoke lovingly recalling for him the many moments of friendship they’d share through the years. 

She gasped when he’d squeezed her hand.  She’d tried to back away, but he held her tighter, his eyes meeting hers for the first time.  She was afraid to breathe, afraid to hurt him with a word or look or touch. 

“Scully?” the sorrow in that voice was beyond her endurance, tears welled in her blue eyes.  “Why?  Why….”  He expected no answer.

“Mulder…” Her tears overflowed onto her face.  She could not begin to find the words to comfort him.

“Why are you here?”

“I love you. I need you.” Her response was lightening.  She knew no truer truth than those words.

He curled his head away from her into his shoulder, silent sobs rising up, shaking him as his own tears ran down his face. The depth of his pain was unknowable.

“Mulder, I’m here.  I love you.  I’m not going to leave you.  We’re going to get through this.”

“I’m too far gone.  I’m not worth it.”  He was broken.  He truly felt himself beyond repair.

“Loving you…Loving you will always be worth it.”  She rubbed her hand along his back, soothing him. "I'm sorry, I love you, you're safe here, I’m here."

“But…after what I did to you…what they did…”  His eyes searched her face.  He was drowning in the pain and shame of his memories.

“Mulder, you saved me!”

“How can you say that?!  You were alone and scared and I…I…”  He couldn’t finish.

“Oh Mulder, no!  No.  Listen, it wasn’t like that…you loved me even though it hurt you. You put yourself between me and what would hurt me,”  She held his face gently so he wouldn’t turn away from her.  “I was scared and alone, surrounded by enemies, and then you came to me.  You held me gently, you loved me in the only way you could.” 

“I didn’t know what to…how to…I wanted to…protect you…but I…” he cried, his voice breaking off into sobs. 

“Shhh.  It’s okay.  I’m okay.”  She soothed him.  She climbed onto the bed, sitting next to him.  “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry that they hurt you…I’m sorry, Mulder.  I would give anything to make it different.”

“My life is over, Scully…there is nothing left.”  He reached up to touch a tear that slid down her face.

“There’s me.  I’m here.  Could that be enough?  Couldn’t we try to live again?” 

He closed his eyes, swallowing back another wave of sobs.  “Scully…you don’t know what they did to me…If I ever was anything, I'm nothing now...I’m no good for you anymore.”

“Mulder, I decide what’s good for me.  I love you, and I don’t care about anything but this...”  She put her hand on his chest, over his heart.  “This is real.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I’m not willing to let you go.  I’m going to fight for you. I want to love you and be with you. Together.”

“But…how could you want me after…”

“Mulder, silly boy, don’t you know how completely I love you.  I always have.  You are my whole life, remember.  I can’t leave you any more than I could leave my heart beating in this chair and walk away.  You are part of me.”

“Scully, I’m so broken…”

“Me too. And breaks heal.  We go slow. I'm here.  We live and fight and heal together.  I'm with you.  You’re not alone, Mulder.  You never were, you never will be.”

“I’ll never be the same. I don’t know how I can…”

“No.  That’s true.  We have the scars…” her finger lightly traced the X forever branded into his shoulder as she lay down on the bed beside him, she would never forget what they’d suffered.  “Both of us do.  I just know that I love you.  I can’t do this without you.  I need you now, just as much as I needed you in that place.”

“Scully…I’m not sure I’m strong enough…”

“We save each other. Together, we make something beautiful with the broken pieces. No one could love me more than you already have…you are enough.  Love is enough, Mulder.  Please, trust me.”  She snuggled closer to him.  He wrapped his arms around her. 

“I’ll try, Scully.”  It was the most he could promise.  It was enough for now.

As they held each other, she began to trace a figure 8 with her finger on his back.  He looked at her, eyes overflowing with love, with gratitude.  There was hope, however small.

“It’s infinity…” he was quiet, but there was the shadow of a smile on his lips for the first time she could remember.  A new spark filled him.  He began to trace the pattern on her arm. 

She kissed his jaw, his neck, his collar bone.  He pulled her tight into him.  Connection. 

“It was all I could think of…the only way I could try to tell you…how much I love you, Scully…it doesn’t stop, it goes on and on …forever…”  

“Always, Mulder.  Always.”