Subject: A Matter of Priorities by Gerry Hill Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters and situations created by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and FOX Broadcasting. As such, the characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, AD Skinner, the Lone Gunmen, etc. are the property of those entities and are used without permission, although no copyright infringement is intended. The following work is for the distribution and entertainment of EMXC members only. Any further distribution of this work without the author's consent is in violation of federal law. Classification: T, A, MSR (a little bit only), no spoilers. Rating: Strong R. Rating is for violence, some bad words, sex. Summary: Mulder finishes a case in Bangor, Maine, and is on his way to his next case and to meet Scully, but fate intervenes in the form of a serial killer. Dedicated to Beth Ward in Australia for her rock solid support of my writing, and to Danielle Culverson in England, to whom I owe most of my stories, because they wouldn't have been written without her daily support. A MATTER OF PRIORITIES by Gerry Hill (GHill52695@aol.com) Part I October 29, 1996, 10:15 pm On coastal road in Maine Special Agent Fox Mulder slowed his rental car's breakneck speed of 30 mph down to 20 mph as he negotiated yet another switchback curve in the road. He was cursing his brilliant idea to take the "shortcut." Fog was so thick that he couldn't see the road beyond a couple of car-lengths. He had departed Bangor at 8:30 pm for a two-hour drive to Grandport up the coast on Highway 1; however, he had not anticipated the fog white- out. And then he had inadvertently compounded the problem when he impulsively took a detour onto a little "gray" road on the map which was only eight miles in length as opposed to the 16 mile stretch of Highway 1. He had quickly discovered: A) Why no one seemed to use this route, and B) why it was mapped as a gray road and not red or black. It bordered the rocky coastline a little *too* closely and primarily consisted of switchbacks and curves. He didn't remember *any* relatively straight sections, come to think of it. When you factored in the major foggy conditions and his own exhaustion, it was not working out to be a fun trip. "All I need now is to be tailing a log truck, eating exhaust fumes, and everything would be perfect." Thank goodness Scully wouldn't be arriving in Grandport until morning, with their new case. Something about a man walking through a solid wall after murdering someone. She was catching a commuter plane out of Portland, Maine, after flying in from D.C. He would be glad to see her, and had to admit to himself that he missed his partner; they had been together too long and he had come to depend on her too much, although he wouldn't admit the dependance part willingly to her. The problem with thinking about Scully lately was that the thoughts were more along the lines of tactile memories than visual ones: How fragile her wrist felt under his larger hand, the soft feathery tickle of her hair when he leaned close to her ear and whispered some nonsense to get a laugh out of her... Oops, he was doing it again. He had promised himself that he would stop that sort of thing, since it was pointless to lust after his partner. Except it was scarier than that; he knew without a doubt that it was much more than lust. A deer suddenly leaped into the road, but because of the fog, he didn't know what it was at first. Luckily it didn't stop in the road, but if Mulder had been going any faster than his snail's pace, he would have smacked right into it. His heart still thumping at an accelerated rate, Mulder thought that he had better keep his mind on the driving and forget about indulging in fantasies about Scully. He managed to concentrate on the road for a few minutes, but then his mind drifted to the case he had just completed. He was helping the Violent Crimes bunch in Bangor to catch a particularly nasty serial killer who had beaten, raped and stabbed to death five young girls from the ages of eight to ten. Every agent was spending their own time as well as the Bureau's in the effort to identify and capture this monster. But they needed help. Before offering Mulder's services, his supervisor, AD Skinner, had made sure that Mulder was willing to take this case. Skinner was aware that Mulder was wont to identify with not only the perpetrators, but also the victims, and to project his missing sister onto cases where it involved young girls. The cost to Mulder's emotional stability was sometimes high, and Skinner once in a while gave him some leeway in selecting such cases outside his own X Files. Scully had not been able to leave Washington with him because she was "on loan" for a week to participate in the exchange of techniques, technology, and experience with some visiting French forensic pathologists. The event had been set up two months ago and couldn't be changed. Skinner said that attendance was mandatory, because Scully was one of the best forensic pathologists in the Bureau, and the Director wanted the best to represent the FBI. So Mulder had gone alone to Bangor, while Scully brushed up on French phrases and the latest forensic literature. Mulder smiled when he recalled teasing her with some of the silly schoolboy French he and his buddies bravely used on girls when they knew the girls couldn't understand a word they were saying. "Hey, Scully. Deshabillez-vous." He could still feel the heat of his blush when Scully caught "Take off your clothes" immediately, and fluttered her eyelashes at him. She said in a sultry tone, "Pouvez- tu m'aider, Mulder?" and pouted her lips at him. Besides the blush, he was suddenly very turned on by her asking if he could help, and in the familiar "tu." He remembered laughing then at the idea of the two of them speaking very bad French. She surprised him yet again by coming back with, "Pourquoi riez-tu?" or "Why are you laughing?" Obviously she had taken some French as well as German in school. "You'll do fine with the French pathologists, Scully," he had told her, shaking his head. His cel phone rang. "Mulder," he answered, his attention half on the call and half on slowing enough to get around the 800th twist in this miserable excuse for a road. He was expecting Scully, but recognized Al Franks, the Special Agent in Charge in Bangor. "Agent Mulder. We have a problem here." Mulder slowly pulled onto a wider shoulder area and stopped the car so he could give Franks his attention. "What is it?" A sigh. "At 7:30 tonight, Peter Gilroy, the perp we finally caught for the serial killings...escaped." "He *what*?!" "Local law enforcement, as you recall, insisted on being involved in the capture and confinement of the prisoner. After transferring him to the Justice Center, but before using the manacles and chains on him, one of the sheriff's deputies stood too close to Gilroy for a second. That deputy is dead, as well as two of my agents." There was a silence for a moment, then Franks continued, his voice strained. "I'm still putting all the details together, but someone just mentioned that we ought to call you and let you know. Gilroy, after all, had been telling you in detail how he was going to kill you with the maximum pain involved when he escaped. And he was free a full hour before you left for Grandport." Mulder was trying to think if Gilroy would know how to find him, other than at the Washington DC office. A sinking feeling hit the pit of his stomach when he remembered telling Agent Roselli about meeting his partner in Grandport. They had been standing near Gilroy just after his capture. He had thought the prisoner wasn't paying attention to them, but now he wasn't so sure. "Mulder, are you there?" "Yeah, uh, yeah, I'm just thinking. He may know where I'm headed, Franks." "Wonderful. Well, where are you now?" Mulder looked around at the billowing white all around him and said, "Somewhere off of Highway 1 on a road that doesn't seem to have a number. I took it as a shortcut. It's about three quarters of the way to Grandport." "Better watch your back, and I'll get someone at the Grandport end to meet you at your hotel. Where are you staying?" Mulder told him, "The Whaler's Inn. Look, we need to re-capture him. Maybe the best thing to do is to let Gilroy make a run at me, and grab him then." Franks sounded doubtful. "He's an awfully dangerous fellow, Mulder. We'll talk about that when you get to Grandport. Besides, he may not go anywhere near you; all that might have just been talk." Mulder had a bad feeling about that. He believed that Gilroy had meant every vile thing he said. Mulder told Franks he would talk with him later and disconnected. The silence settled once more, and Mulder could feel his heart beating in his chest. Gilroy liked killing. The more pain he caused while doing it, the better he liked it. And he was intelligent, which was even scarier. He wasn't tired anymore. The news had upped his adrenalin, and he pulled back onto the road to get this part of the trip over with. His thoughts were sifting through all he knew about Gilroy, trying to figure out what he would do, where he would go. Whether Mulder would be his first target or if he would go after some little girl as an appetizer. His hands shook slightly at the thought of more innocent little children dying at the hands of that pitiless devil. As he drove, the adrenalin gradually wore down, leaving him more tired than ever. He had spent nearly a week running on nerve and coffee, sleeping only when he couldn't think anymore. He remorselessly pushed himself to profiling the serial killer and identifying him. When that breakthrough came, they still had to catch the guy. As luck would have it, they had cornered Gilroy on his way to his next victim. "Damn!" He hit the steering wheel hard with his right hand. Reaching for his cel phone, he punched in the Bangor office number and got Franks again. On hearing Frank's voice, Mulder blurted, "Protect Amy Channing!" The intake of breath told Mulder that they had not thought to make sure Gilroy didn't succeed in finishing what they had interrupted when they had arrested him. Mulder disconnected again, and noticed a sign that was barely readable in the fog that told him there was a rest stop just ahead. He decided to stop for a bathroom break and to stretch his legs before finishing the twenty-five or so miles still left to drive tonight. He soon saw the entrance to the rest stop. Huge fir trees loomed up above his head, the tops lost in the fog. The long parking area was deserted except for one RV he could barely see at the far end. Mulder parked in the middle near the small building housing the restrooms and got out of the car, gratefully stretching his long legs and yawning. Mindful of Frank's warning to watch his back, he made a complete turn and saw nothing but the cottony white fog, menacing fir trees, and the silent RV. Shrugging, he went into the entrance to the building where "Men" was stenciled on the concrete block wall. A cream-colored Chevy Cortina with no lights showing slowly pulled into the parking area, stopping near the RV. Five minutes later, after washing his face as well as his hands and feeling a little refreshed, Mulder emerged from the restroom and decided to take a walk on the path that wound through the trees. He needed the exercise; he was used to running nearly every day and hadn't had the opportunity since the Gilroy case. "Just a quick walk," he thought. As he angled up the path he noticed that another car had appeared in the parking area. He noted its license number automatically and kept moving into the trees. The sound of his footsteps was muffled to his ears; he could hear water rushing nearby and figured it was a creek that ran to the sea. The fog was even thicker in this area, and it felt clammy on his skin. He was glad for the warmth afforded by his black wool overcoat. The fog was reminding him of London, where they tended to have some pretty serious pea soup. Mulder felt a touch of pride that he had remembered England without thinking about Phoebe. Damn. Pride goeth before a fall. After a good ten-minute walk, he finally came to a dead end where the path ran into a wood-and- barbed-wire fence. Time to go back and get on the road again. "Happy, happy, joy, joy," he sang to himself, as Ren and Stimpy's demented refrain ran through his head. He chuckled as he figured his fellow agents would *really* think him crazy if they could hear him now. Funny how the fog both deadened sound and amplified it. His footsteps sounded muffled, but he could hear some noise like a car door closing way up ahead somewhere. He had almost reached the parking area when he heard the distinctive snick of a gun being cocked. A voice came from the fog somewhere behind him, saying, "This gun is trained on the back of your head, Agent Mulder. Walk slowly to the Chevy and put both hands on the roof of the car." Mulder carefully turned, his hands out to his sides, and looked into the face of evil. The man was blond, nearly as tall as Mulder, muscular, with light blue eyes. Mulder knew of the things this man was capable, and a shiver ran up his spine. And he was afraid not of his own death, but of all the children who would suffer and die at the hands of this man if he weren't stopped. He vowed to look for the slightest opening and try to wipe this vermin from the earth. He knew Gilroy wouldn't kill him right away. He had to have his fun first. "I said move," Gilroy growled, and took aim at Mulder's face. Mulder turned back toward the parking area and slowly walked in the direction of the car that had probably been stolen. Mulder glanced over at the RV, but saw no movement through the front windows, nor any light from the interior. When his hands were lying palms-down on the damp, cold metal surface of the roof of the Chevy, Gilroy told him, "Using your left hand, take your handcuffs out and fasten one end to your right wrist." Mulder complied, mind busy searching for an opening, a way to survive this. "Tighter!" He narrowed the cuff on his wrist as told. "Put both hands behind your back." "Oh no you don't," Mulder thought. He moved his hands down as if to obey the direction, but spun around and dove into the bulk he glimpsed during his turn. Gilroy had been waiting for Mulder to try something. He took great pleasure in cracking his gun onto Mulder's head and seeing him drop to his knees on the hard asphalt. While Mulder was stunned, Gilroy removed Mulders gun, wallet and keys, dropping them into his own jacket pocket. Then he roughly pulled his hands behind his back, and snapped the empty cuff onto his left wrist. Gilroy grinned as he put his foot onto the kneeling man's lower back and shoved hard, knocking Mulder forward. Mulder hazily became aware that a face was leaning in close to his, and it was saying, "Get up. I want to show you something." He groaned and tried to get up but couldn't with his arms behind his back and his head threatening to explode. Gilroy grabbed his left arm and jerked him upright. Mulder gasped at the agony in his head. He wondered why, if the FBI unarmed combat course was so great, he always came out on the short end of the stick. He was beginning to think that little old grannies knew better self-defense techniques than he did. Gilroy shoved him, and Mulder made his feet move until they arrived at the back door to the RV. The Monster (the name by which Mulder thought of him) opened the door wide while holding his gun against the back of Mulder's head. It was dark, but the lights in the parking lot threw plenty of illumination on the scene for Mulder to see enough to flinch violently. A man was half lying over the body of a woman on the floor. They were in pajamas and nightgown, and were both very dead. Gilroy must have had the time to creatively carve around on them while Mulder was happily strolling in the woods. The duct tape wrapped securely around their heads and thoroughly covering their mouths would have kept their screams from reaching his ears. Mulder kept the obscenities he wanted to scream at Gilmore pent inside, knowing it would do no good whatsoever, and would only please The Monster. "That's just part of the surprise, Agent Mulder. Come look at what I have in the car." Mulder shut his eyes for a moment. "No," he thought in fear. "Don't let it be a child." When they reached the car, Gilroy proudly pulled the back door open and let Mulder see the small girl lying on the floor, tightly trussed up with duct tape, her eyes huge and terrified above the tape across her mouth. A sob escaped Mulder's lips before he angrily turned to The Monster. "Let her go. I'll cooperate in anything...*anything* ...if you'll let her go unharmed." Gilroy's smile grew broader. "Anything?! Well, this might be fun. Let me see...How about letting me fuck you, Agent Mulder? You'll offer me your virginal body?" Mulder closed his eyes and grated, "I said *anything* - just let her go and don't hurt her." Gilroy burst into laughter, then said, "I'll do anything I want to you whether you like it or not, and whether I let her go or not. If you haven't noticed, you have no say in the matter." He howled with glee again. Mulder rushed him, head down, going for the solar plexus. And again, Gilroy was ready for it. He stepped to the side just as Mulder reached him, and he shoved downward on his shoulder, letting the impetus of the attack carry Mulder to the ground. "Now I'm pissed off," Gilroy said, and proceeded to kick the handcuffed agent as hard as he could on the thigh. Mulder couldn't believe the intensity of the pain that radiated out from the point of the blow. He wondered if he could even walk. A second kick landed in his side, and taking a breath suddenly seemed to be an impossible task. The Monster landed one final kick high up on his cheekbone, which began impressively bleeding. Apparently satisfied for the time being with Mulder's condition, Gilroy reached into the car and grabbed a large roll of duct tape. He yanked on Mulder's arm until he got the agent to a wobbly upright position and told him, "Move! Go back to the RV." Limping and dripping blood, Mulder eventually reached the vehicle and Gilroy stepped up behind him. Tearing off a long piece of tape, he wrapped it around his mouth and lower face, then did it again with another longer piece. He reached around Mulder, opened the door, and said, "Get inside." Mulder's heart lurched. He guessed that Gilroy would kill him now. But what he thankfully didn't know was that things were going to get much worse before this was over. He managed to get into the RV with some pushing from Gilroy and fell back onto the narrow bed along the inside wall. He had stepped once on some part of one of the corpse's anatomies, and felt queasy behind the tape. He desperately pushed the nausea back down, succeeding to some degree. Gilroy thoroughly wrapped Mulder's ankles and legs with the tape, then stood back in the blood on the floor, admiring his handiwork. Then seemingly on impulse, he securely wrapped tape around his wrists, over the handcuffs. Mulder wondered if he considered them suspect because they were government-issued. Gilroy produced Mulder's cel phone and hit #1 on the speed dial. The queasy agent suddenly became very alert and focused. Gilroy whispered to Mulder, "Hit it in one," then was speaking into the receiver: "Agent Scully, I'm Al Franks, the SAIC here in Bangor. Agent Mulder was working with us on a case. We wrapped it all up several hours ago. I understand that you are his partner?" He listened, nodding at a struggling Mulder. "Yes. I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you. The State Police called just now to tell me that Agent Mulder's car was broadsided by a pickup truck out on Highway 1. The fog is extremely thick along the coast tonight." A pause, then, "Yes, he'll be all right, maybe a broken collarbone and a concussion. He is still unconscious." Another pause, and he was quick to say, "Yes, we've notified AD Skinner, and he may come up to Bangor himself. He said for you to call him when you know more about Agent Mulder's condition." Mulder had an awfully sick feeling about where this was going. "You're in Portland? Early, huh? It's clear at the airport, yeah. OK, I'll tell you what. I have a man named Jim Peterson in the Grandport area who can meet your plane and take you to Agent Mulder's location. At this time, it hasn't been decided whether to keep your partner in the small local clinic near where the accident occurred, or to transfer him to a larger hospital in Bangor. I think he'll be transferred, if you want my opinion." "Yes, I've got that. And Peterson will fill you in on the latest word from the hospital when he meets you. See you soon." As he disconnected, he pulled Mulder's confiscated car keys from his pocket and dangled them from the end of his fingers. Gilroy told a pale and sweating Mulder, "I'll be going to Grandport in your rental to meet your partner shortly. She's so anxious about you that she's catching the next flight out. We'll have some real fun when we get back here. Or maybe we won't wait." He winked. Mulder was screaming in his mind and knew he had to keep it together if they were to survive this. Part II Gilroy left the RV, closing the door. Mulder worked at the tape- covered cuffs, but all he succeeded in doing was to abrade his wrists badly. The tape held his wrists immobile in the embrace of the steel bands. He lay silently in the semi-dark, breathing through his nose, and stared into the dead face of the little girl's mother. Her death had not been easy from the look of pain and horror still etched there. Mulder suspected that the fear for the fate of her daughter was responsible for most of that horror. He closed his eyes to shut out the sight, and realized that he was the one responsible for bringing this monster into the midst of their family. He was responsible for their deaths. If he had used his so-called brilliant fucking mind, he would have known Gilroy was following him as soon as he had learned of the escape. The door to the RV banged open suddenly, startling Mulder. Gilroy stood there with the struggling child in his arms, face flushed, and then he bodily tossed her onto the corpses of her parents. "I'll get back to you later. Right now I have places to go, people to see." They could hear his laughter fade away, then a car engine start. He was headed to the airport and Scully. Mulder groaned, then looked over at the girl. Her tear-streaked face was turned toward him, but her body was rigid and unmoving. She still had tape around her mouth and head, her wrists and hands, and her ankles, but some of it had been torn away. Her nightdress was twisted and wrinkled more than before. Mulder didn't want to think what Gilroy had been doing with her recently. Tears sprang to his own eyes at his inability to help her. When he moved his head and blinked to clear his eyes, he noticed that some of the tape around his mouth slid just a tiny bit. He rubbed the tape against the surface of the bed and felt it shift a little more. He realized that Gilroy had taped over the blood from his head wound and the blood had kept the tape from bonding completely. He worked at it some more, using the edge of the bed, and finally loosened it enough that it slid lopsidedly below his mouth. He pulled in the first deep breath he'd taken for a while. He licked his lips and tried to keep a calm voice as he said, "I'm an FBI agent, and maybe we can get out of this, but you'll have to help me." There was no response from the girl, her eyes still staring straight at him, unblinking. "Oh, God," he thought. "She's too traumatized to react anymore." But then he heard a whimper, and she blinked her eyes. Mulder smiled and said, "It will be OK," silently damning himself as a liar. Her parents are lying under her, slaughtered, and I'm telling her everything will be OK? He took another deep breath and said, "My name is Fox," hoping the odd name would re-focus her attention away from the situation and onto him. It worked. He could see her eyes look at him speculatively. "Listen carefully. I'm going to roll off this bed and get as close to you as I can." He could see her start to panic and he cursed himself for beginning so abruptly. And of course she wouldn't want him close to her after... He went on in a steady, quiet tone, "I promise that I won't hurt you. I want to try and use my teeth to loosen the tape from your wrists so you can get free and then remove the rest of the tape from both of us. OK? He put tape on my hands and wrists, so I can't use my fingers." She was shaking her head frantically from side to side. "Please - I wouldn't hurt you. I have a sister your age named Samantha, and I would help her the same way if she were in trouble like you." Well, his mental image of the long-ago-missing Sam was that of an eight-year-old, even though she would be much older now. "We can get away from that sick man if you'll help me. Please." Mulder could see that he wasn't getting through and time was not conveniently pausing to help them out. It came down to a matter of priorities: Lie there and do nothing, which wouldn't harm the girl any further psychologically, and would get them both killed; or shock her into facing their predicament, enlisting her help in getting free, and hope that his Nazi tactics didn't damage her irrevocably if they managed to escape from Gilroy. He felt like a torturer, but he had to tell her, "He's coming back soon, you know, and we have to get away before then, or he'll hurt you some more and then he'll kill us both." God, he hated himself. Now she was really freaking out, scared out of her mind. He kept up a litany of soothing words until he could get through to her again. "I'm going to come down there now, and we'll try to get free and run away from him - Ready?" No response, just huge eyes in that white face. Mulder slid closer to the edge of the bed and managed to land on his side. The lower half of the male corpse and the arm and leg of the female's were under him. Making his mind go blank, trying to block out the sensations and the pitiful hurt-bird sounds coming from the little girl, he struggled to turn and move closer to her. He kept his voice soothing, and said, "It's all right. See, we're really going to make it out of here. Shhhh." He was finally close enough to touch her, but refrained from doing so yet. "Now I need for you to roll just a little bit away from me so I can reach the tape on your wrists." Mulder could see that she was beyond terrified, and wasn't moving anytime soon. Apologizing and still crooning soothing words, he butted her with his head and pushed with his knees, and was able to half-turn her. He felt a wave of pity wash over him when he felt the child's trembling body flinch and her muffled cries grow more shrill. He wasted no time in attacking the tape with his teeth, and found it to be tougher than he had thought. And it tasted horrible. But he kept at it, spitting out shreds of slimy, gummy tape every now and then. He lost his sense of time, and when the tape finally gave way, he had no idea how long it had taken. "OK, it's your turn now. Pull your hands apart and try to get my hands free." Of course the terrified child didn't move and was probably unaware that her hands were loose. He could feel the tremors in her body through the dead body beneath them. Time to pull more wings off the butterflies, Mulder. "Move!" he shouted, practically in her ear. She started violently, automatically pulling her arms forward, and the tape completely separated. She looked at her hands for a full minute, then madly scooted off the bodies and huddled close to the door. Mulder calmly said, "If you get the tape off my hands, I can help you." She was breathing heavily through her nose and the whites of her eyes were showing, and she didn't move. Mulder felt as though he had missed his calling; he should have been out on the ice floes, clubbing baby seals. He opened his mouth to slam a club home again, but he was surprised to see that she was cautiously edging back toward him. He pushed himself in her direction as best he could to save her from contact with the bodies. He felt her small, trembling fingers scratch and pull at the tape on his wrists, then she was pulling one end of it, unwrapping his hands and wrists, until the last of it came free, along with some of the hair in that area. She immediately scrambled down to his feet and began on that tape. She'd had practice now and made quick work in removing it from his ankles. Mulder didn't know if he could bring his arms from in back and slide the cuffs under his feet, to wind up with his hands in front of his body, but he had to give it a shot. He was pretty limber from swimming and running, and thought he could do it. Yeah, right. It was harder than he thought. But just when he felt that he was putting his left shoulder out of joint, and when he just knew that the cuffs had cut right through his wrists, he was home free. He lay t a second, panting, then made himself get to his feet. He managed to rid himself of the loosened tape at his neck, then turned toward the child. He saw that the girl hadn't tried to remove the tape from her head or her own ankles, so Mulder squatted down next to where she was trying to meld into the wall, and reached out toward her feet. And got kicked on the arm and almost toppled backwards for his effort. "We need to leave; he'll be back soon," Mulder tried to explain, but the girl's terror of being touched had not abated. "OK," he thought, "we do it the hard way." It took two kicks, and the rear door flew open. He dove for the girl and, before she could react, scooped her up and carried her out of the RV. He stopped for a second to shift his burden when a car's headlights turning into the rest area caught both of them full-on. He was blinded, but couldn't take the chance that it wasn't Gilroy. He turned and ran with the child into the thick woods. -------------- Bridgeport, 12:30am Airport Scully was immediately aware of the muscular blond man with the penetrating blue eyes. A shiver ran up her back and she attributed it to the chill of the air in the terminal. He was approaching her as she walked from the gate with her carry-on bag. He smiled as he neared her and asked, "Special Agent Dana Scully?" She nodded and immediately asked, "How is Agent Mulder?" It was obvious that her partner was the uppermost thought in her mind at the moment. "He's still unconscious, but his doctor thinks he'll be OK. Nothing has really changed since you were notified. Oh, sorry, I'm Special Agent Jim Peterson." He held out his hand and shook hers, then dug into his pocket and gave Scully an ID and wallet. Taking the items from Peterson, Scully looked puzzled until she opened the ID and discovered that it was Mulder's. "His cel phone and gun must be somewhere in the wreck and will be recovered later, hopefully," Peterson said. Scully sighed and said, "Another gun and phone to explain to Skinner." Peterson reached down and retrieved Scully's bag from the floor, giving her a raised-eyebrow to ask permission. She smiled and they began walking toward the airport parking garage. Scully slid the wallet and ID into her soft leather briefcase which hung from her left shoulder by straps. " Where is Agent Mulder? Have they moved him to Bangor yet?" He glanced back at her as he walked, and said, "No, they'll probably transfer him in the morning, last I heard." They had reached the exit and she let the agent lead the way to his car. Since the airport was not a large one, it only took a minute before they reached the Taurus. He unlocked the door so Scully could get in, and then threw her bag into the trunk. Before closing it again, he looked around to see if anyone was interested in what he was doing. The only people in the whole parking lot at that hour of the morning were a father and his young son; they were four parking spaces away, getting ready to leave in their mini-van. Peterson/Gilroy reached into the trunk and grabbed a sock which was heavy with the sand that filled the lower half. He slammed the lid, then walked around to Scully's window. He made sure the homemade sap was out of her sight as he tapped on the window and motioned for her to roll it down. Scully complied and curiously looked up at him. He swiftly brought the sap up and into the window, hitting her solidly on the temple. Her body went limp and collapsed against the door. He dropped the sock onto the asphalt and walked around the car to get into the driver's seat. The twelve-year-old boy in the mini-van told his father that something didn't look right at the car down the row. "I think that lady is hurt. It might be a kidnapping or something." His dad's gaze followed the direction of the boy's pointing finger, and saw a man getting into a Taurus. He couldn't see a passenger. "I don't see anything, Mark." "She was sitting there, dad, then that guy acted like he was hitting her, then I couldn't see her anymore." "Tell you what...why don't you get a pad and pen from the glove box and write down the license number, color and make of car, and what you saw. When they leave, see what direction they turn at the highway entrance, and we'll report everything to the police. They can decide what to do." Once in the car with Scully, Gilroy had first reached across and rolled the window back up. Then he ran his fingers over her cheek and down her body, before realizing that he had better get out of the well-lighted parking lot. He removed her gun from the waist holster and threw it into the back onto the floor. He had the gun which he had taken from the guy who owned the car he had stolen, and he had Mulder's, too; he didn't need another. He made good time on the road until he hit the fog bank once more. It was so dense that he passed the turnoff to the secondary road that led to the rest stop before he realized what he had done. He pulled over onto the shoulder to make a U-turn, hoping no one was coming, because the fog didn't allow him any visibility. As it happened, someone *was* coming up behind him, and he let them pass before whipping the car out into the road and heading the opposite direction. He soon found the secondary road again and drove the snake-like curves as fast as he dared. Gilroy could sense that Scully was beginning to regain consciousness from the small movements she was making and the breathy groan he heard. The rest stop was just a few more miles, but he couldn't go any faster with the condition of the road and the weather. He hoped she would stay groggy until he could take care of her properly. He began to get excited just thinking about what he could do to her while his partner watched, helpless. Unable to restrain himself he slowed to a crawl and reached over to Scully, grabbing her left breast in a brutal grip. Her gasp told him that she was awake, so he told her, "Settle down, or you'll never see your partner alive again." He bunched the left side of her blouse in his fist, and yanked it to the side. Buttons flew and cloth tore, and her breasts were hidden only by the thin white lace bra. He was losing control, a part of his mind observed. He needed to get off the road first. With a monumental effort of will, he pulled away from Scully and viciously pounded the dashboard with his right fist as he picked up speed. Scully was confused, not yet fully conscious, but aware enough to know that the man in the car with her had hurt her and would likely be hurting her more, and soon, if she didn't get away from him. But she couldn't seem to move for some reason, and her head was so painful that she could hardly bear to blink. She struggled to open her eyes, and was finally able to see the dimly-lighted interior of the car with 'Peterson" at the wheel. She tried to use her fingertips to feel behind her for the door handle, but her captor saw what she was doing immediately. He struck her with a swift backhanded blow, which landed either by accident or design squarely on the injured side of her head. Flashing white lights exploded behind her eyes and incredible pain lanced through her head. She was helpless to do anything but lie bonelessly against the seat and door, making agonized, repetitive, "Ah, ah, ah" sounds. Gilroy returned his attention to the road, and soon saw the exit to the rest stop. Cautiously he entered the parking area, his eyes searching to see if any travellers had stopped here while he had been away. Then his headlight beams caught Mulder carrying the little bitch and running toward the woods! He quickly accelerated and drove up over the curb onto the grass, trying to catch them before they reached the dark shelter of the trees. He had to stop, however, as Mulder successfully crashed into the first stand of firs. Gilroy, enraged, got out of the car and screamed, "I've got something you want, Agent Mulder, and I'm going to play my games with her if you don't come back here, now, with that little bitch!." He listened. Nothing. The fog seemed to act as cotton, absorbing sound. "I've already hurt your partner bad, and you've seen my handiwork before," he screamed into the white mist. Mulder was leaning against a tree, clutching the frail child to his chest, his heart rate way too fast and his breathing labored. He closed his eyes and bit back a sob as he all-to-easily visualized what Gilroy had done to his victims. And that monster had Scully in his damned clutches. He couldn't think about that right now or he would go mad. Mulder took a deep breath and shouted, "I would rather kill this child myself than put her in your hands again, you son of a bitch!" "Tsk, tsk, tsk. All right, then, you've made your choice. Your partner is obviously not a priority with you." He got back into the car and saw that Scully was still stunned from the last blow, and hurting. He backed the car up, turned, and drove the 50 yards to the parking lot to stop between his car and the RV. Seeing that Scully wasn't going anywhere, he went into the RV and hauled the two bodies out, placing one into each trunk of the two cars. Then he opened the passenger side of the Taurus and caught Scully as she sagged into his arms. Gilroy wasted no time in dragging her over to the RV. He had decided to go ahead and enjoy himself, then kill Mulder and the girl when he was done. The idea was to have Mulder's partner make enough noise to draw him in closer first. No way was he going to go running through a fucking forest to find them. He threw Scully onto the narrow bed where Mulder had previously been lying. He took a hunting knife out of its scabbard from his waist and began cutting away her jacket, and her blouse. One little flick of the knife at her chest and her bra split in two. He pulled it off with a hard yank, and sat back to admire the shapely torso of the woman below him. Then he got to work with his knife on her skirt fastenings. Mulder put the child down gently under a fir tree, and nearly landed on the ground himself when the pain in his ribs and thigh shot through him. In the adrenalin of the moment, he hadn't noticed his injuries, but now they were making themselves known. Pulling the tape from the girl's ankles and legs was difficult with the handcuffs restricting his movements, but he finally got the last of it off. All the while he was working at her bonds, he told her what was going to happen. "I have to go help my friend. He'll hurt her if I don't. You stay here and be very quiet and I'll come back for you when it's safe. Don't wander off, because you could get lost." He tried to be gentle when he worked the tape from her mouth and her long brown hair, but was unable to completely avoid hurting her. Tears stood in her large brown eyes as the last of it came away, but she never moved once during the whole process. He was surprised to see that she tried to talk right away, but was even more surprised at the one word she used: "Fox." He was startled until he recalled that he had told her his first name earlier in the RV. He softly asked her, "What's your name?" "Annie," she replied, after a second or two. "OK, Annie, I'm going to go help my partner." Her hand gripped his arm almost painfully, then she looked down and reluctantly withdrew it. He noticed that she was still trembling. Suddenly a faint cry of pain pierced the fog and ripped at Mulder's soul. Scully. He patted Annie on the shoulder and briefly met her eyes with his own before turning and running back toward the parking area. Annie pulled her knees up to her chin, and her arms crept around her legs. She kept her eyes securely shut and rocked slightly back and forth, whispering over and over, "Help us, help us, help us." Gilroy had stripped Scully without much damage. There was a nick at her left hipbone and a cut on her upper left thigh. She was aware enough now to realize what was happening to her. She stayed passive as she watched for an opening to escape from this nightmare. Gilroy was nude, also. He brutally yanked Scully to a sitting position and knelt on the bed facing her. He had one knee along the right side of her body, and the other was between her legs. He moved his face close to hers and asked, "Do you know who I am, Agent Scully?" Scully shook her head jerkily, then regretted the movement as the pain flared again. He leaned even closer to her face and said with a leer, "I'm Gilmore the Butcher." He could see the way her eyes went dull, and knew that she had immediately recognized the name the media had bestowed on him. "Ah, I see you know the reputation. Good. You'll find out first- hand if it's all true or not." He grabbed her knee and shoved it farther to the side, and his own knee rammed harder into her groin. She cried out and instinctively tried to move away from him, but he held her pinned to the bed with his hands on her shoulders. Part III Grandport Police Department 1:28 am The well-lighted police station seemed almost deserted to Mark Vernon and his dad, Stuart. The large open area with desks laden with unfinished paperwork and other detritus revealed one person; a woman in her late thirties typing at a computer keyboard. The counter near the entrance door appeared empty, but a young black man suddenly popped up from the depths of the lower part of the counter, saying, "Are you sure you put it under..." His voice trailed off when he saw that there were people standing on the other side of the counter. "Good morning. I'm Officer Michael Jones. I didn't hear you come in." He grinned at them amiably. "How can I help you?" Stuart and his son introduced themselves, then Mark told his story. Officer Jones jotted some notes while he listened, and turned toward the female officer when Mark was finished with the tale. "Maureen...er...Detective Fitzpatrick, could you..." "Already done. I ran the license number on the system and it belongs to Avis in Bangor. They're checking to see who rented it." She was holding the phone receiver to her ear, waiting for the clerk to come back on the line. "Yes," she said to the mouthpiece, picking up a pen. "Any other information? How do you spell that? Yes, thank you." She finished her notes on a pad of paper, then walked over to the group waiting to hear what she had learned. "Why don't you come over to my desk while I make some more calls? This is becoming interesting; the car was rented by Special Agent Fox Mulder of the FBI on official business." Mark's eyes got big and round at that, and he followed his dad through the swinging gate to the officer's desk. They patiently sat on two straight-back wooden chairs while Detective Fitzpatrick patiently tracked down someone in the Bangor FBI office who might know what was going on. Finally, after speaking with the night staff (and someone she suspected had been the janitor), the phone was ringing at Al Frank's home, the Special Agent in Charge who had apparently dealt with Agent Mulder. "Yeah?" The voice was gruff from sleep, and Fitzpatrick could hear another sleepy voice asking the time in the background. "Sir, this is Detective Maureen Fitzpatrick in the Grandport Police Department, calling about a car rented by Special Agent Fox Mulder." The voice was more alert now. "What's going on? Has there been an accident?" "No, sir. Some civilians at the airport here witnessed what they think could be a kidnapping. It involved the car in question. Here, let me put Mark Vernon on the line with you and he can tell you exactly what he saw. It will save time." Mark paled a little. Him, talking with an FBI supervisor? Wow! His hand fumbled the receiver just a little bit as he put it to his ear. "Yes, sir?" "Son, could you tell me everything you saw at the airport?" Mark said, "Yes, sir," again, and once more related his story, while Fitzpatrick taped it. When Franks heard Mark's description of the man with the rental car, he blanched. "Oh, God, not Gilroy," he thought. He interrupted Mark and asked him to describe the lady in the car. "Well, I didn't see much of her, just her red hair." When Franks talked to Detective Fitzpatrick again, he told her that the FBI would be handling what now appeared to be a kidnapping, possibly of an FBI agent and another unknown victim. "We would appreciate your department's assistance, however." "I'm sure Captain Rodriguez will have no problem with our giving the FBI a hand, Agent Franks." She smiled at the slight pause, knowing that Franks was wondering whether she had just implied that the FBI couldn't do this without their help. Blandly, he asked, "Could you get me lists of passengers who arrived on flights from about midnight until 1:00am? And could you check the Whaler's Inn to see if Mulder ever arrived there? I'll get my investigators busy, and send several down to Grandport immediately. It will probably be Carol Santini and Willis Vrocek." Detective Fitzpatrick said, "I'll be looking for them. Meanwhile, we'll see what we can turn up at this end." "You might have someone check a side road off Highway 1 about three- quarters of the way to Grandport from Bangor. When I talked with Agent Mulder around 10:00pm or so, he was in that area." He then proceeded to tell her all about Gilroy, including his description and any other information that could help the case. "Keep me posted, if you will," he finished. "Any help is appreciated," he wryly added. ---------- Gilroy had been busy. First he had turned on the battery-operated fluorescent light, which lent a harsh glare to the room. Then he had taken Scully's pantyhose and tied her wrists together, and fastened the end over the metal arm at the head of the bed. He allowed himself a moment to contemplate the struggling form while he absently stroked himself, then he grabbed the knife and approached her. Despite a headache that was nearly blinding in its intensity, Scully was acutely aware of Gilroy's actions. The minute he came close enough, she put all the energy remaining in her body to kick out at him, hoping to injure him in some way. Her left foot came in contact with the edge of the knife blade, but the cut was superficial. Both feet landed on Gilroy's stomach, and he staggered back, but didn't fall. The RV door was ripped back and Mulder came flying in like an avenging angel. With his handcuffed hands used as a battering ram, his fists hit Gilroy in the ribs as he was turning toward Mulder. He felt something give under his fists, and there was an audible "crack" as something broke. Gilroy gasped from the pain and swung the knife around at Mulder's face, but he dodged back in time to avoid the blade. Mulder wished for his gun; he wouldn't hesitate to put a few rounds into that face, after he had glimpsed Scully bound to the bed. All his attention was on Gilroy right now, and the knife he held. And he was terrified that he wouldn't be able to save Scully. ------------ Annie had decided that if help was going to come, she had to make it happen and not just sit like a scared baby under the tree. She *was* scared, more than ever before in her life, but she was angry, too. Annie didn't even notice her tears, but got to her feet and determinedly made her way toward the rest stop, following in Mulder's footsteps. She soon saw the parking area, and made sure her path did not take her near the RV as she headed towards the drive that led to the roadway. She would stop the first car she saw and get help. --------- Detective Fitzgerald had ambushed two officers when they came back from break, and left them in charge of the routine police work. She notified her superior, Captain Rodriguez, of the role that the FBI was shortly going to play in his life, and filled him in on the case up to date. Then she sent the Vernons on their way home, promising to get in touch with them when the case was resolved to let them know how it came out. A quick check by Jones with the Whaler's Inn revealed that Agent Mulder had never shown up; his room was still being held, however, since the place was half empty and they thought that he might just be running late because of the fog. Jones told them to hold a couple of additional rooms since several more FBI agents were on their way. By the time he got off the line, Detective Fitzgerald was walking over to the fax machine, telling him that only one passenger plane had landed during the critical time, and the list of passengers was being faxed. "I had them fax a copy to Franks, too; that should save us some time." When the page of names scrolled out of the machine, she snapped it up and quickly read through it. "Hmm. No name that I recognize. Maybe Franks will see something." ------------ With his wrists still handcuffed, Mulder was finding himself to be at a distinct disadvantage in this fight. Gilroy was at least twenty- five pounds heavier, all in muscle, and had that damned pig- sticker for a weapon. While Gilroy suffered from broken ribs, Mulder also had damaged ones, and was feeling pain with every breath he took. Scully had twisted onto her stomach and was working with her fingers to loosen the panty hose which bound her wrists to the metal rail. She knew Mulder was not going to end up the victor if she couldn't shift the odds a little bit. A scuffling sound and a gasp from Mulder made her look up from her task, and she was horrified to see the knife buried in Mulder's shoulder, with Gilroy twisting it in the wound, still grinning his death's-head amusement. Mulder screamed, moaned, then screamed again. Desperate now, Scully shrieked at Gilroy with all her strength. "I'm almost free and I'm coming after you, you bastard! You coward! You fucking piece of shit!" Gilroy, startled, glanced over at her. With the distraction, Mulder made a super-human effort and fell back away from his grip. The knife slipped out of his shoulder, he heavily landed on the floor, and blood spurted from the wound. Gilroy stood immobile looking from one to the other, then moved over to Scully, who was still lying on her stomach. She tried to turn and face him again, but he knelt on the backs of her legs. The pain from his weight on her legs was enormous, but she felt him shift so that he knelt between them. He pulled her hips upward and thrust two of his fingers into her with no warning. It hurt so bad that tears fell from her eyes, and she pulled as far forward as possible to get away from the humiliating pain. After a moment of probing, he removed his fingers and she could feel his erection at her opening, beginning to push its way inside. "No!" she screamed, and renewed her efforts at freeing her wrists. ---------- Annie was leaving a lot of space between the RV and herself, and was stealthily moving past the rental car when the sodium vapor light above caught the glint of something inside the car. She squinted, and had just recognized what it was, when she froze in shock. A loud agonized scream came from the RV, and somehow she knew that it was Fox. He was being killed like her parents had been. Her legs barely held her upright as her mind shied away from this reality. She started to go to her inner world where her loving family was still alive. Where things like this didn't happen and she felt safe. In that place, she could hear laughter instead of screams, and she could even feel her dad's warm stubbly face rub hers as he gave her a hug...No! Those were memories of Fox when he carried her away to safety and he needed her now. There was no hesitation in deciding to help him, although she was shaking so hard from having to rip herself back into harsh reality that she couldn't get the door to open at first. When it finally cooperated, she reached inside and her hand closed on the cold metal of Scully's gun. Annie didn't remember moving from the car to the RV; the next thing she knew, she stood looking at the broken door, seeing it was open an inch or two. She could see Fox through the crack, fighting to get to his feet, then swaying with dizziness, blood all over him. She put trembling fingers on the inner edge of the door and tugged it slightly, which caused it to swing open of its own volition. ---------- Through the red haze of the pain which pulsed excruciatingly through his shoulder, Mulder saw Gilroy attack Scully. With a superhuman effort, he pulled himself upright, but staggered from the impossibly increased level of pain this caused. He was dimly aware of some movement to his left where there should have been none. He turned his head toward the door and his pain-filled and desperate eyes saw Annie shoving the gun onto the floor in his direction. Then she turned and ran away from the RV as quickly as her legs would allow. Unfortunately, Gilroy had also noticed the door opening, even though he had been focused on raping Scully. The combination of Mulder getting to his feet (what did it *take* to keep the man down?!) and the opening door caused his to swivel his head in that direction. He took in the entire scene within seconds, and before Mulder could reach for the gun, Gilroy had leaped from the bed and hit the half- conscious agent with the full weight of his body, knocking them both to the floor. Mulder's head took a blow from the opposite wall when he fell; Gilroy felt the boneless way he landed, and knew he was unconscious this time. He picked up Scully's gun as he got to his feet, and he ran out the door after the child, screaming, "Come back here, you bitch! I'm not through with you yet!" Annie had not been able to go very far before she began to falter, and then her legs finally gave out. She fell to the hard asphalt surface of the parking lot and prayed that Fox would be all right. That she would be all right. -------- Detective Fitzgerald was driving one of the police units, while Officer Jones studied the map attempting to find the road Mulder may have been on when talking with Franks. Then a call from Franks was patched through. "One of the names on the passenger manifests is that of Mulder's partner, Special Agent Dana Scully," Franks told her. "It appears that Gilroy snatched her and took her to wherever he's holding Mulder." Fitzgerald sighed. "When are your agents arriving?" "They caught the first flight out, and should be there within a half an hour." He gave her the airline, flight number, and ETA. "I'll have one of our officers pick them up at the airport." She paused for a moment, then asked, "Do you think they're still alive?" "Knowing how Gilroy operates, it's very possible he's already killed them. But his prey is normally young girls, and these are adult FBI agents. It's difficult to say what he's doing with them." "We have officers asking around the airport if anyone else saw what happened. Everyone in three counties is looking for the car. I think that Officer Jones and I have the best chance of finding some trace of them by driving in the direction Gilroy took, and by searching in the area Agent Mulder described. With the fog, you couldn't see anything from the air." "Thanks. Good luck." Jones had been studying the map closely and shared what he knew. "There isn't much out this way; just a few small towns with scattered houses in between. Then you have the really uninhabited stretch of road that loops out from the highway and follows the shoreline for about eight miles, then rejoins the highway up further. Other than that, there's not much. Some of the land is state and federal forests. There's a rest stop up near Tolman, and one on that loop road." "He could have been heading out of state, or turned and headed for Canada for all we know." Jones shook his head. "No, he stashed Agent Mulder somewhere, then went back for his partner. They aren't far. He just escaped and arrived in this area, so I doubt if he's had time to rent anyplace like a remote house. Of course, he could have broken in somewhere." They sat in silence, trying to puzzle it out. They hit the fog bank and Fitzgerald had to slow down slightly to compensate. It was one of the thickest fogs she had encountered in the area. "Why don't we try that loop road along the ocean?" he suddenly asked. "That's probably the shortcut Agent Mulder took, it's off the beaten path, in the direction that Gilroy was going, and in this weather at this hour of the morning, he wouldn't have to worry about very many passers-by." Fitzgerald saw the sign looming up out of the fog for the road that Jones was talking about. She slowed and took the turn. And was soon regretting this decision when she was reminded how twisting the road was. She had been on duty for twelve hours now and was getting very tired. Jones kept trying to penetrate the fog with his eyes, hoping for a glimpse of something...anything. Grateful to finally reach the rest stop and enjoy a respite from the bends and curves of the so-called road, Fitzgerald slowly turned into the access lane. Jones was sitting ram-rod straight in his seat, eyes constantly searching, roving. He looked like he expected to find something, but Fitzgerald had serious doubts they could be so lucky. She saw the parking area appear through the fog, and there actually were some vehicles in the lot. Fitzgerald nearly had a heart attack when Jones suddenly screamed "Stop!" She slammed her foot down on the brakes, then looked where his eyes were riveted. She saw indistinct figures of what appeared to be a large man and a small girl through the fog; apparently the large figure was in pursuit of the smaller, and he was gaining quickly. Before they could get out of the car, the man overtook the girl, grabbed her around the body, and threw her over his shoulder. Then he reversed his direction as the police officers ran from the car, weapons drawn. ------------ Mulder could hear a sound coming from somewhere beyond the red haze that existed behind his eyelids, and finally managed to open them to see what the annoying noise was. He realized that Scully's voice was trying to tell him something, but there were two sledgehammers; one was hitting his shoulder and one his head, with lesser instruments of torture at work on the rest of his body. His ears didn't seem to work right; everything was muffled. His eyes closed in self-defense, then shot open again when he remembered. "Scully! God, no..." He moaned aloud with the thought of what she had gone through, and he struggled to his hands and knees, nearly fainting from the loss of blood and the agony his injuries were giving him. Panting from the effort, he crawled over to Scully's side. She was smeared with blood and lay face down with her hair hiding her face. Her wrists were still bound above her head. She was trying to tell him something. When he pushed her hair back, he saw the ugly abrasion on her face. She whispered, "That bastard is chasing someone down. Hurry, Mulder." "Scully?" He touched her gently on the shoulder, and she shuddered. He snatched a blanket from the floor at the foot of the bed and pulled it over her body, then grabbed the knife Gilroy had left behind. He quickly cut through Scully's wrist bindings, and said, "I'll go see if I can stop him. Will you be OK for a few minutes?" There was no sound from his partner, but Mulder saw a slight up-and- down nod of her head. He couldn't wait any longer; he had to save Annie, and then help Scully. It was the most difficult thing he had ever done, leaving her when she needed help, but he managed to tear himself away and stagger out the door---smacking full force into the returning killer and his burden. Gilroy overbalanced because of Annie's weight across his shoulder, and all three bodies went down in a tangle. Mulder, enraged and determined not to let Gilroy get the better of him again, shoved the knife into the closest part of his body as hard as he could. Gilroy roared and rolled away from Mulder, the knife buried to the hilt in his upper thigh. Then Scully's gun was in Gilroy's hand and he was bringing it to bear on Mulder. Time seemed to stop as Mulder stared into the barrel of the weapon; it seemed as large as a cannon. He knew he was about to die, and he felt a curious...acceptance. When Mulder closed his eyes, an image of Scully floated in the blackness, and he felt at peace. The shockingly loud sound of gunshots jolted him and his eyes flew open. Gilroy lay dead and two police officers were standing about six feet away, still holding their guns trained on the serial killer. He saw that Annie was slightly off to the side, lying flat on the pavement, but apparently unhurt in the shooting. With a single-mindedness of purpose, Mulder turned and began crawling and then pulling himself up into the RV, ignoring the shouted demands of the police officers behind him. He made it to Scully, who was lying on her side under the blanket, and (bless her heart, he thought) she was smiling to see him. "I thought you were dead," she said in a subdued voice. "Not yet," he said, and pushed her hair from her poor battered face. Then he fell onto the floor by the bed, out cold. Scully's arm dropped from the bed and her hand lay on his chest feeling the warmth and the steady thumping of his heart. And that's the way Fitzgerald found them when she looked into the RV a minute later. THE END