Title: REPRESSED I (1/4) Author: Breck Lynn Walsh Rating: R Category: SA Keywords: UST Summary: When Scully and Mulder are assigned to the case of an escaped serial rapist turned murderer, devastating truths are revealed. Posting: Please forward with my name attached. If to anywhere other than Gossamer or ATXC, notify me FIRST. Please do not change anything in the summary or keywords without my permission. WARNING: The villain in this story is a rapist, thus characters in this story discuss and recall incidents of rape. If this subject matter is upsetting to you, please do not read on. You've been warned! Feeback: Constructive feeback always welcome to breckwalsh@yahoo.com. Note: There will probably be a follow-up to this story, but that's not set in stone yet. WASHINGTON DC 1/05/98 8:15 AM Assistant Director Walter Skinner advanced up the hallway towards his office, where he met Agent Dana Scully at the door. She looked up at him inquisitively, obviously curious as to the meaning of the urgent telephone call from AD Skinner's secretary at 7:30 AM that morning. "Sir, I got here as soon as possible, " Scully said. Skinner looked down at his watch, not even mildly surprised that Scully arrived less than 43 minutes after being summoned. On a Saturday. He glanced over her shoulder expectantly. "Is Agent Mulder here?" She hesitated. "I haven't heard from him, sir, " she replied. The assistant director sighed. "Come into my office, " he said, opening the door and motioning for Scully to lead the way. Fox Mulder was sitting with his back to the door, staring at Skinner's empty desk. He immediately turned and stood as his partner and his superior filed in. "Your secretary let me in, " Mulder explained, as Skinner brushed by and took a seat behind his desk. After they sat down, Scully looked over at Mulder. He shrugged, reflecting an equally bewildered expression over why they had been called in on a day off. Their eyes fell upon AD Skinner, who seemed to have forgotten they were there as he attempted to sort the papers that littered across his desk. Finally, he raised his head and addressed them. "You must be wondering why it is that I've asked you here this morning, " he said. "You are in-between cases right now, is that correct?" "Yes, sir, " Scully answered. "I turned in the latest field report last night." "Your caseload on the X-Files has been quite thin lately, and while I realize there is always something unexplainable happening that you might pursue, right now your expertise is needed outside the X-Files, " Skinner said. "Agent Mulder, an agent in our Baltimore office mentioned to me that you once studied the case of Lawrence Pratt, writing a lengthy psychological profile on the man in 1987 soon after you joined the Bureau." Scully looked from Skinner to Mulder, confused. "I'm sorry, I'm not aware of this case's history." "Understandably, " Mulder said. "Lawrence Pratt was a serial rapist, his crimes limited to Maryland. It wasn't a very publicized case, since his crime was rape and his victims, of course, chose not to bring attention to him or themselves. The Bureau wasn't involved in the investigation. I chose to profile him because I truly believed he was a serial killer in the making before his capture, and studying him helped me to put together On Serial Killers and the Occult." "Well, Agent Mulder, you were correct that Lawrence Pratt had the potential of becoming a serial killer, " Skinner continued. "Pratt escaped from prison three months ago and since then, six of his victims have been murdered. If I had known you were somewhat of an expert on Pratt three months ago, I would have called you in on this case sooner." Skinner held out two files to Mulder, who stood and took them. Mulder gave one to Scully and kept the other as he returned to his seat. "He's killing the women who testified against him, " Mulder said, catching a glimpse of the crime scene photographs. "If that was the case, it might be a less complicated situation, " Skinner responded. "In truth, only one of the victim's whose rape Pratt was convicted of has been killed. Four others pressed charges but either there was not enough evidence to pursue a conviction or they chose not to testify after Pratt was found guilty in other rapes." "And the sixth victim?" Scully asked. "She was treated at the hospital after her rape in June of 1965, and was listed only as MK, age 27, in hospital records, " Skinner explained. "Pratt was convicted of three rapes in 1967, although he was suspected in six others. Of those nine women, we don't know the identity of one. The only information we have to go on are her initials and age at the time of the rape. Pratt was released in 1973, but arrested again five years later, this time on suspicion of 21 rapes. More rapes means more unnamed victims who chose not to press charges. Altogether, 19 of Pratt's surviving, named victims are being protected right now. There is still one, MS, from his attacks in the sixties who is vulnerable, and four from his attacks from 1973-1978 who are out there, without protection." "What do we know about the four unnamed victims from 1973-1978?" Mulder asked. Skinner paused. "Nothing. Starting in the early 70s most hospitals ceased recording information about rape victims. Their policy was that the police would handle those details, and if a woman chose not to file a police report, that meant she wanted to remain completely anonymous. We have no ages, no names, only the dates that investigators took down at the hospitals." "When was the last murder?" "Ten days ago. Marion West, formerly known as Marion Sorrell when she was raped in 1978. Investigators hadn't been able to locate her. She was abducted from her home and taken to Virginia and killed, making this a federal case, " Skinner answered. "As I said before, we have nineteen women under round the clock protection. But there are five women out there, who probably don't know they're being pursued, who we have to get to as soon as possible." 10:45 AM Something about Lawrence Pratt disturbed Dana Scully from the moment she laid eyes on his mugshot. It was an old picture, taken nearly twenty years ago after his 1978 arrest, but the man's eyes appeared hollow and aged. He'd been only 37, but looked closer to fifty years old. After staring at his picture, Scully was surprised to find herself feeling overcome with nausea. She was thankful Mulder wasn't in the office when she raced out towards the restroom, making it to the Porcelain queen just in time to empty that morning's breakfast into the toilet. If he knew she was somehow...affected...by the case, no doubt he would twist it to in some way suggest she wasn't capable of doing her job. Mulder is not the enemy, Scully told herself, lifting her head from the toilet and standing. The truth was, she was embarrassed, ashamed at her pathetically typical response as a woman to the rapes and murders of other women. Psychologically, she felt as weak right now as her body. Why couldn't she separate herself from this, as she had so effortlessly other cases in the past? Other disturbing, frightening, disgusting cases? Scully suspected the answer was that Lawrence Pratt was as hideous, as much a monster, as any serial killer that had cursed the world with his presence. True, there were a lot of psychopathic killers walking around, but not many were like Lawrence Pratt. This was a man who raped his 13-year old sister, who died after falling from a tree when she hid from him. This was a man who went on to rape thirty other women, all who bore a similar name to the very sister whose death he caused. Mary was her name. His victims, many Marys, Marias, Marjories, and Marions; Margarets, Marcys, Marlys' and Maries. He was a twisted, repulsive man, who was now on a crusade to kill women he victimized twenty and thirty years previously. Women who believed they were safe, who might have actually been able to move past his horrific mistreatment of them. And now they were being forced to relive it. It was sickening. Scully wondered if her reaction wasn't a sign of weakness, but a reminder of her own humanity. What kind of caring individual could stomach the crimes of a man like Lawrence Pratt? She knew she had to get past it; she had to separate herself from it if she was going to be able to help the four women who were at that very moment targets of a serial killer. Mulder was waiting for her in their office when Scully returned. He immediately noticed her pale color and the lethargic manner in which she walked. "Are you OK, Scully?" he asked, watching her intently. "I'm fine, " Scully said. "Are we heading to Baltimore?" "Uh, yes, " Mulder said. "I've found the name of a nurse who worked 3rd shift at Baltimore General in 1977 when one of Pratt's victims was treated. She might remember something about the woman." Scully took a deep breath. "It's been over twenty years, Mulder. I'm sure in her career this nurse treated dozens of rape victims. What makes you think one would stick out in her mind any more than another?" she questioned. "Lawrence Pratt had a signature of sorts, " Mulder said. "It wasn't in the trial, because there was already enough physical evidence linking Pratt to the rapes." "A signature?" "After raping his victim, Pratt cut all the hair of her head and shaved off the rest, leaving the woman bald, " Mulder revealed. "That's how we knew for sure it was him killing these women; each dead woman was found without a hair on her head." 2:30 PM "Her name was Kitty. She had the prettiest brown eyes, the kind that just made me want to wrap my arms around her and promise everything would be all right." Vivienne Meyer, as Mulder expected, remembered Pratt's victim of February 19, 1977, very distinctly. The sixty nine year old woman had offered the agents a cup of warm tea upon their arrival, and after both politely declined the story poured from her lips as if it had occurred yesterday. "You know, she had a picture with her. A school picture. She was so devastated, about losing her hair. It had been clear down to behind, she'd let it grow for years and years. And it was all gone, " Vivienne recalled, staring at neither agent but instead out the window at her snow-filled backyard. "She kept saying, so much is lost now, so much is lost. And it broke my heart, because I knew she was trying to make me think she was talking about her hair." "Are you certain her name was Kitty?" Mulder asked, perplexed. "Of course, " Vivienne said. "Kitty. Her mother called her that, over and over. My poor little Kitty Kat, she kept saying. The girl was a junior or senior over at West High School; she said she couldn't be a cheerleader now. Who would want to look at her now? A bald cheerleader. It was horrible." Mulder's forehead wrinkled. "And did you treat any other rape victims that night, Mrs. Meyer?" Vivienne Meyer smiled thinly. "No, Agent Mulder. Back then, women were raped, but you didn't get more than one at a time. Maybe one every couple of months or so at our hospital. But that's about it." "Do you recall where she said the rape took place?" Scully asked. Lawrence Pratt usually attacked his victims in wooded areas, alongside highways, near parks, out in the country. "I'm sorry, " Vivienne apologized. "I just remember the girl. Kitty. She was a darling little girl." 3:00 PM Mulder was convinced Vivienne Meyer had mixed up the Pratt rape victim with the cheerleader Kitty's rape; either that, or Pratt hadn't raped anyone that night after all. Perhaps an acquaintance of an earlier victim, knowing that Pratt shaved his victim's heads, had gone after the girl. Whatever the case, Mulder didn't think this Kitty was one of Pratt's. "Why not, Mulder?" Scully had asked after she and Mulder left Vivienne Meyers. "You said it yourself that it was Pratt's signature." "It's not his MO, Scully, " Mulder said. "All of his known victims had names that began with an 'M' like Pratt's sister Mary. And none, not one of them was under the age of twenty one. Don't you think if Pratt had resorted to attacking babies just one of them would have reported it?" Scully contemplated this. "He might have known her, Mulder. His sister was only thirteen years old. Perhaps he was attracted to another young girl in the same sick way, and put aside his MO to attack her. To throw the police off, even. Maybe his intended victim got away and he took a younger woman than usual as a second choice, " Scully suggested. "I think it's worth tracking her down and showing her a photograph of Pratt." 5:00 PM They went to West High School and looked through the yearbooks from the late 70s. Mulder skimmed through the 1978 yearbook while Scully took on 1977. As Mulder neared the end of 1978, Scully put her hand on his arm. "Here we go, Mulder, " she said, pointing to a photograph of six cheerleaders. "Katrina Billings. Kitty was probably short for Katrina." Katrina Billings hair was in pig tails that fell past her shoulders even with her hair up. Mulder found the yearbook picture for the girl from a year later. Sure enough, she was no longer a cheerleader. And her hair. It came only to the bottom of her ears in an uncharacteristic cut for the late 70s. Whatever luck they had at the school, though, was matched by the unfortunate fact that no Billings listed in the telephone book knew of Katrina Billings or her whereabouts. They were going to have to wait until the morning to do a more in-depth, revealing computer search on the woman. The two agents booked conjoining rooms at the Emery-Gates Hotel. Mulder retired to his room to dig through his old notes that he took on Lawrence Pratt nearly ten years earlier while Scully went directly to sleep. Scully was exhausted. She had planned on sleeping in this morning, after staying at her mother's until one the previous morning then insisting on driving home rather than spend the night. Scully didn't know why, but she preferred sleeping in her own bed than anywhere else; it was comfortable and familiar. Nothing was more disconcerting than awakening in the middle of the night or even in the morning not knowing where she was. Of course, the momentary panic always passed when she reminded herself that she was at her mothers, or staying in a hotel with Mulder nearby. But if she could, Scully favored sleeping at home. Which was, unfortunately, not possible tonight. Scully couldn't stop seeing Lawrence Pratt's face whenever she closed her eyes. It was his mugshot picture that she saw, but it looked like he was staring right at, right through, her. And it was alarming. She thought maybe her reaction would be beneficial in the long run. It was an incentive to find the son of a bitch and put him away, so that even if his face didn't leave her head she would know that there was absolutely no way he could ever *look* at her, or any other woman, with those eyes. Empty. Hollow. Aged. Cruel. AMMERSBY HOTEL 11:00 PM Someone was on top of her. Moving. But she couldn't feel anything. She couldn't see anything, either, except his hairy chest. She wanted to look up, at his face, but she couldn't. She couldn't move. Oh my God, Maggie! It was her father's voice. Oh Maggie! My God! He was frantic. And then she could see. She could see him, her father, younger, looking down at her with wide, tear-filled eyes. Oh Maggie! His lips moved out of synch with the words. And then she was back on the ground, and the man was moving on her again. Her father was gone. And she was paralyzed. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. Oh Maggie! Her father again. Looking down at her, speaking with pure anguish. She still could not move, she could not speak. Oh Maggie! When Mulder first opened his eyes, he thought maybe the scream he thought he'd heard had only been a part of a nightmare. The room was totally silent and dark, the only light escaping through the thin drapes from the streetlights outside. He was calming himself to try to go back to sleep when he heard it again. A scream. A blood-curdling, terrifying scream. Coming from Scully's room. He grabbed his gun and flew to the door that joined his room with Scully's. The screaming stopped again, and Mulder's pulse raced. If someone was in there with her... He'd kill the bastard. Mulder took a deep breath and burst into the room, holding his gun out in front of his body. He expected to find an intruder. But she was alone. Thrashing from one side of the bed to the other, whimpering and moaning, as if she was trying to scream again but unable to. Mulder set his gun down on the night stand next to Scully's bed and cautiously climbed in bed with her. "Scully, " he said, gently. "Scully, wake up-" As he touched her shoulder, she flinched and her arm came back across his nose. Her eyes were open but unfocused, both her arms pushing and hitting and scratching at Mulder. "Scully!" Mulder's voice was louder, more commanding. "Wake up." He grabbed both of her arms and restrained her, quickly overpowering her. "Scully, it's me. It's me." Her eyes went back in her head and then, finally, she went limp and her eye- lids closed. Mulder released her arms, shocked at how tightly he was holding on to her. "Scully, " he repeated. "Scully, wake up." He shook her gently, until she finally gasped and sat upright. "Mulder?" she asked, looking over at him. "What are you doing?" "You had a nightmare, Scully, " he told her. "Do you remember?" Scully, dazed, exhaled. "Yeah. A nightmare, " she admitted. "I'm fine." Her partner stepped off of the bed, an awkward feeling passing through him. What would he think if he awoke in the middle of the night and found Scully lying in his bed, half-naked, holding onto him? Well, he'd probably think it was his lucky night. But that was beside the point. Scully was obviously uncomfortable, so he recoiled. "You were screaming, Scully, " Mulder said. "Are you sure you're OK?" She nodded weakly. "Yes, " she answered. "I'm fine. I'm fine." At her insistence, Mulder returned to bed, fully awake. He hoped this all wasn't too much for her. In the couple of months that had passed since her remission, he and Scully had only investigated a few cases, none of which threatened to take a huge toll on her. But this case...was it giving her nightmares? Mulder had never known Scully to have nightmares. Not after any of their most disturbing cases, not even after her sister was murdered in cold blood in Scully's own apartment. Scully hadn't even considered moving; living in the apartment where Melissa was shot didn't phase Scully. Besides, it was only a place. Places are harmless. 11:25 PM Margaret Scully just happened to change the channel to the 11 o'clock news as the photo of Lawrence Pratt flashed across the screen. She had been heading towards the couch, preparing to sit down and wait for Saturday Night Live to come on, when his face appeared. She stopped dead in her tracks. Him. It was him. She unmuted the TV and listened in shock as the newscaster described how a woman under police protection had been murdered along with two policemen, and that Pratt was a suspect in the killings and six others that had been committed since his escape from prison in October. "Oh, no, " Maggie said out loud, the remote dropping from her hand and crashing to the floor. "Oh, no." end of part one feedback to breckwalsh@yahoo.com thanks! REPRESSED I (2/4) by Breck Lynn Walsh (breckwalsh@yahoo.com) Read summary and disclaimer and everything else in part one 1/27/98 Tuesday 9:00 AM Dana Scully was up early to call Danny at the FBI crime lab in hopes he could come up with something on Katrina Billings through a computer search. In the time it took for Scully to take a quick shower and brush her teeth, Danny telephoned her back with a complete list of information about the woman, including an address in Bethesda. During the short 45-minute drive from Baltimore to the home of Kitty Billings, Scully described Kitty's life to her partner as he drove. "She graduated from high school early, after the first semester of her senior year. She was married the following December and had three children. Divorced in 1990, remarried in 1994, and had another child. Her husband Cory Clayton is a medical resident at NIH, and Katrina owns a day-care center." "Seems like a fairly normal life, despite what happened to her, " Mulder commented. Scully stared over at him. "Mulder, contrary to what you might think, most rape victims are able to enjoy a 'normal life'. Believe it or not, it's not that unusual for them to get past the circumstances of their rape and go on living as everyone else, " Scully said, her voice traced with annoyance. "I wasn't implying that it is or that it should be difficult for a victim of rape to overcome what happened, " Mulder said, defensively. "I meant that I'm glad for her... I always wondered how any of Pratt's victims could forget what he did to them." "Having a normal life is different than forgetting, " Scully pointed out. "I strongly doubt Kitty Billings has forgotten her rape, no matter how happy her life is. It's not something someone forgets." Mulder didn't resond to his partner; he was tired, and he didn't want to argue, especially since he knew he and Scully weren't even talking along the same lines. He agreed with what she was saying, so what was the point of arguing? His thoughts drifted back to the scene in Scully's hotel room the previous night. She'd been so violently shaken, and seeing her like that was enough to throw Mulder into the depths of insomnia. He nodded off just as the sun arose, less than two hours before Scully awakened him with Danny's findings about Kitty Billings. And now he was suffering from a bad case of sleep deprivation. It wasn't as if he couldn't normally function without sleep; he'd investigated plenty of cases on only a couple of hours rest. But he was so drained from sitting up all night, worrying about Scully, hoping she wasn't pushing herself too much, and remembering how terrified she had been in the hotel room. She seemed perfectly fine this morning; awake, alert, and sharp. There were no indications that she'd had any trouble sleeping after her nightmare. Mulder was happy for her, he was, but at the same time he felt foolish for having languished in worry all night. People have nightmares. So why couldn't he shake the gnawing the feeling inside his stomach that had him so worried? "Mulder, " Scully said, drawing Mulder from his thoughts. "You missed our turn." She was looking at him. Staring. Kitty Billing's home was relatively easy to find; it was painted in bright, fluorescent pinks, yellows, and blues, and a large sign in the front yard read "Kitty's Rainbow Daycare". The house, a split-foyer, was surrounded by a chain-link fence, and children's playground equipment filled the yard from the front to the back yard. As Mulder and Scully stepped out of the car, a woman walked out of the front door of the house with five young children. The children scattered, some heading straight to the swingset while others beelined for the slide. "May I help you?" the woman asked the agents as they entered the yard. Scully and Mulder pulled out their badges. "I'm Agent Scully from the FBI," Scully introduced, "and this is my partner, Fox Mulder. We're here to speak with Katrina Clayton." The woman studied the badges carefully before taking in a deep breath. "Kitty's inside the house, " she finally replied. "I'll get her." 10:15 AM "This isn't something I wish to rehash, " Kitty Billings-Clayton told the FBI agents. They were sitting around Kitty's kitchen table, alongside three high chairs holding the toddlers that Kitty was busy feeding at their arrival. "We understand that, Mrs. Clayton, " Scully said, "but we have reason to believe you might be in danger." Kitty's only reaction was a brief glance towards Scully. She handed one of the babies a cracker before saying, "Why is that? The man who raped me is in prison." "Was he convicted of your rape?" Mulder asked. "No, " Kitty said reluctantly. "But I saw him on TV, when he was arrested for raping someone else. It was, like, a year after the rape but I would know that face anywhere." Mulder pulled out a picture of Lawrence Pratt. "Is this the man that raped you, Mrs. Clayton?" he handed her the photograph. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the picture. "Yes, " she said. "That's him. Lawrence Pratt. Convicted in 1979 of raping twelve women and sentenced to 50 years to life with possiblity of parole in the year 2004." "Do you keep up with current events, Mrs. Clayton?" asked Scully. "When I can. I'm so busy here with the daycare, by the time the last child is gone the news is ending, and I'm always in bed by 9:30 at night, " Kitty explained. "And we don't usually get a paper. So I guess, no, I don't keep up. Why?" "Lawrence Pratt is on the loose, " Mulder said, gently. "He's killed six women in the last three months. The victims were all previously raped by Pratt. That's why we're here." Kitty paused. "Why would he come after me? I didn't file a police report after the rape. I didn't press charges after I saw that he was arrested. He probably didn't even know my name. It was a random attack." "Are you sure of that?" "Yes. I was walking home on the trails through East City Park and he grabbed me, " Kitty said. She gave Mulder back the picture of Pratt, then went on, "It was past dark, I was a good target, I guess." "Pratt was not a random rapist. He stalked his victims first, watching them and waiting for an ideal time to attack, " Mulder said. "Chances are he did know your name, and probably a lot more about you." The 34-year old woman looked away from her charges and for the first time met Mulder's eyes. "Are you trying to scare me or something? Are you saying that anyone that creep raped is in danger?" Scully exhaled. "We're not trying to scare you, Mrs. Clayton, " she said, reassuringly. "The women who've been killed were all rape victims of Pratt, and one of the dead did not file any reports or press charges. Still, she was targeted and killed. Our only goal here is to ensure your protection from this man until he is apprehended." 10:45 AM Her name was Mary Fossett and he remembered her well. Thirty years ago she was a young housewife tending to the needs of her rich lawyer husband and three little children. She cooked, cleaned, changed diapers, wiped noses, and struggled through supermarket lines trying to keep up with the kids while satisfying the items on the grocery list. And she was beautiful. All-Foods Grocery Store. That was where he first saw her. It was a chance encounter, really. He hadn't planned on finding another one so soon, as it had just been a couple of weeks since he'd followed through with his carefully laid plans and caught the bitch he'd been watching off-guard. Back then, he didn't do more than one every eight to twelve months. But then he stood behind Mary Fossett in line at the store. "How are you today, Mary?" the clerk had asked, and Larry was smitten. Mary. Mary. Just like HIS Mary. He wanted her. And he'd been too hasty with her. Only followed her a few days before attacking her, in her house, in the middle of one bright sunny July Thursday as her kids napped upstairs. He hadn't watched Mary Fossett long enough to know that every Thursday afternoon, Mr. Fossett came home for a quiet lunch with his wife. That's when and how Larry was caught. And nothing was going to keep him from getting the bitch. Not even the two agents that closely guarded the house where Fossett, now a widow, lived. This time, Larry did it right. He'd been watching Mary Fossett for the last ten days, and he knew what his ticket to gain access to Mary Fossett would be. His ticket came in shape and form of the 11-year old pigtailed grandchild who visited Mary Fossett one afternoon with the woman's son, the child's father. Kaitlin. Oh, the irony. It sent chills down Pratt's spine. He might just have to get carried away...especially if Mary Fossett refused his demands. He might be able to make lemonade out of lemons whether or not Mary Fossett was cooperative. Kaitlin... FBI HEADQUARTERS 11:45 AM Assistant Director Walter Skinner had just finished up a board meeting when his secretary came to his door. "You have a visitor, sir, " his secretary said. The last person Skinner expected to walk through his door was Margaret Scully, and when she stepped into his office he immediately said, "Agent Scully is gone a case today, Mrs. Scully." "Yes, " Margaret acknowledged. "I called several times this morning and left messages for her... I haven't been able to reach her by her cell phone, so I thought maybe you would know where she is." "As I said, she and Mulder are working on a case, " Skinner said again, obviously mildly annoyed. "Is there some type of family emergency?" Margaret paused. "You could say that, " she answered. "I need to talk to Dana as soon as possible." "I don't know how much help this is, but she and Mulder are staying at the Ammersby Hotel in Baltimore. If you leave a message for her there-" "They're on a case in Baltimore?" Maggie interrupted. "Yes, uh, it's a case I personally requested they be involved with." "Is that the Lawrence Pratt investigation?" Skinner nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact it is." Maggie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her knees weakened slightly, and it took every ounce of strength she could muster to than AD Skinner and leave his office. The hallway outside Skinner's office was clear, and Maggie leaned back against the wall, reaching up to rub her head with her hand. "God, no, " she whispered. "No." 1:30 PM The headache started around the time she and Mulder left two guards at Kitty Billings-Clayton's home. Since then, Scully was practically disabled by the headache. She could hardly open her eyes, let alone investigate the case with Mulder. "How are you feeling?" Mulder asked, standing at the side of Scully's hotel bed, where she was lying. Scully shook her head. It hurt to move, to even think. "Not so good, " she answered, weakly. "I'm sorry, Mulder." She felt so...stupid. A headache. A pathetic little headache, keeping her from doing her job. She had been able to work while suffering from terminal cancer. So what did it take to put her out of submission? A headache. "Don't worry about it, Scully, " Mulder assured her. "I'm going to be right next door, looking over the files of the other four rape victims that we're looking for. I think I'll head over to one of the hospitals where a victim was treated and I'll let you know if I pick up on anything new that might lead us to one of the women." Scully didn't answer. She was already asleep. Mulder stood still for a few minutes, just watching Scully sleeping. She looked content. Yeah, she was fine. He retreated to his own room. A headache. If it was anyone else besides Scully, he might now think twice about it. But, her cancer had just gone into remission. It could still come back. Don't even think about that, Mulder told himself as he settled at the small table in the corner of his room. There were still four vulnerable women out there that Mulder had to find before Pratt. Pratt definitely had the advantage: he probably knew the names and addresses of all the women, and could strike at any time. MS, treated on May 19, 1963, age 28. The other four victims were attacked in May 1974, August 1975, April 1977, and October 1977. Two of the five were treated at the same hospital. So, that's where he would start. At Baltimore's St. Luke's Hospital. 2:00 PM He was on her again. Moving. He had his hand placed against her cheek, forcing her to look to her side and not up at him. She looked past the trees and focused on the little, white building that sat a few hundred feet away. She said something that came out as a muffled, unintelligble cry. He responded by lifting his hand from her face momentarily and slapping her. Her face pounded against the dirt ground, her head turned so much that her mouth was against the ground and she could taste the dirt. And then it was dark. A breeze passed over her body. "Bill, " she said, her voice hoarse. "Bill. Bill. Help me. Bill." Then she saw her father, staring down at her. "Maggie!" he yelled, looking away. "Oh my God. Maggie." 2:30 PM Scully's face was red and wet with tears when she hobbled through the door way into Mulder's room. As she expected, he was gone, along with two of the files on Pratt's unnamed victims. She sat down at the table and found the file she was looking for: MS. 1963. Reading outloud, Scully said, "Female victim, 28 years of age, housewife, mother of two. Raped in May 1963 in a wooded area while camping with her family. Victim stated she was of Catholic faith and preferred not to report the incident to authorities." She sat unmoving, her wide eyes reading the words repeatedly. Mother of two. 1963. Wooded area. 28 years old. Housewife. Mother of two. Campground. May. 1963. Finally snapping out of it, Scully hastily shoved the papers back into the file and hurried out of the hotel room. Seconds later, the telephone in her room began to ring. It rang thirty times before the room went silent again. 5:00 PM Mulder was in his car when he got the telephone call: Pratt had contacted one of his victims and, to make matters worse, he had kidnapped the woman's granddaughter. By the time Mulder got to Mary Fossett's home in Washington DC, close to a dozen FBI agents and police officers had piled into Mary's cramped living room. AD Skinner was among them. Mary Fossett sat on her couch, comforted by a woman as she was questioned by a policeman. Mulder headed straight for Skinner. "What's going on?" Mulder asked. "Mary Fossett's son was carjacked this afternoon with his daughter Kaitlin sitting in the front seat. The carjacker refused to let the child go, and when her father refused to let go of the car he was shot, " Skinner filled Mulder in. "His wound isn't life threatening. Forty five minutes ago Mary Fossett received a telephone call from her sobbing granddaughter, who said she was with a man named Larry Pratt. Then the call was disconnected." "Has he called back since?" "No, " Skinner replied. He opened his mouth to say more, but was interrupted by the shrill ringing of the telephone. The various members of law enforcement moved around the room quickly, falling silent on the third ring as Mary Fossett answered the telephone. "Grandma, " came the voice of a child. "Honey are you all right?" Mary asked, her voice trembling. "Honey are you all right?" A man responding, mockingly. "You shouldn't have told the police about me you stupid tramp." Mary's face crumpled as if she was about to dissolve into tears. The phone was shaking against her ear, and it looked like she was about to lose her grasp on it. "Please, don't hurt her, " Mary finally found the strength to plead. Pause. Larry Pratt chuckled. "One of ya's going to be hurtin' tonight, Mary, " he said, emphasizing the word 'Mary'. "Are you going to hurt her?" the terrified woman shrieked. "I don't know about that, yet. It's in your hands, really, " Pratt answered. "What do you mean?" "I mean, I can tell you one thing. You ain't never going to see your precious granddaughter again, " he spat. Mary gasped. The woman sitting next to her on the sofa tightened her grip on the shaking woman. "You're going to kill her?" "Now, now, I didn't say that, " Pratt said. "It's up to you whether this girl ever comes home to Daddy. Now use that little brain in your head and decide what exactly I'm saying here." "I don't understand. You said I'll never see her again..." "That's right. Soon as I know that, I'll be letting the girl go. Otherwise I'll be having some fun starting tomorrow night, " Pratt threatened. "Now you tell this little angel goodbye." Before Mary could plead with Pratt, Kaitlin spoke. "Grandma." "Oh, sweety, are you OK?" "I'm fine, Grandma, " Kaitlin answered softly. "He says he won't hurt me, Grandma, if you do as he says." "I love you, baby, " Mary whispered. Kaitlin was quiet for a few moments. "I love you, too, Grandma. He says to tell you goodbye forever, " she said, the tone of her voice rising slightly. "Goodbye." "Oh Kaitlin, " Mary sobbed as the dial tone sounded. end part two feedback to breckwalsh@yahoo.com thanks! REPRESSED I (3/4) by Breck Lynn Walsh (breckwalsh@yahoo.com) Read summary and disclaimer and everything else in part one 6:00 PM Scully didn't have to be asleep anymore to have the nightmares, which had become more like visions as she drove around aimlessly for several hours. She wasn't sure what to do now; her suspicions seemed to absolutely groundless, and to base them on her own nightmares would be presumptuous. Still, the age and the date and the description matched. Could that be merely a coincidence? That these nightmares of rape and of her father and mother would begin during this particular investigation of a rapist who attacked a woman who in 1963 was the same age as Scully's mother, who also had two "young" children and was of Catholic faith? No, no, no, Scully told herself, you've got to stop this. It's psychological. As soon as you saw the file on the victim from 1963 you subconsciously believed she was your mother, and that led to these nightmares and to your suspicions... That's the only explanation, the only reasonable explanation. Reasonable smeazonable... The visions were too vivid, too detailed, too REAL to be so easily dismissed. But you HAVE to dismiss them, you have to! Scully's cell phone, which had spent the last two days lying on the front passenger seat of her car, came to life. She grabbed it. "Hello?" "Where are you?" Scully exhaled. Mulder. "I, uh, I'm taking a drive." "Scully, Larry Pratt's done it again, " Mulder said, cryptically. "He's killed another of his rape victims?" Mulder paused. "You could say that, " he answered. "He was captured in 1967 after he was discovered attacking Mary Fossett. She's been under police protection, so he kidnapped her granddaughter. He telephoned this woman and told her she would never see her granddaughter again, and put the child on the line to tell her good-bye. Mary Fossett then went up to her bedroom with a family friend to rest, then proceeded to go into her bathroom and shot herself." "My God, Mulder, why?" "Pratt told Mary that he wouldn't harm the child if he didn't have to, that he would even let her go if he knew his threat would be a reality." "That she would not see the child again, " Scully said. "So she killed herself to save her granddaughter. Do you think Pratt will let the little girl go?" "He already has. She was found wandering by herself in a supermarket in a suburb of Washington. Unharmed, " he replied. A long silence followed. Mulder was obviously disgusted and shaken by Mary Fossett's death, which made Scully all the more reluctant to tell him of her suspicions. But if it's true, your mother could be in danger. She could be in danger. "Mulder, " Scully blurted out. "I-uh, I think I know who Pratt raped in 1963." "You've been busy this afternoon, " Mulder said, assuming she meant she'd worked to track down the woman in his absence. Scully took a deep breath. "No, Mulder, I think she was, I think she is, my mother." As she expected he would be, Mulder was taken aback by Scully's revelation. "Your mother?" he asked. "Why? Why do you think that?" "I know it sounds crazy, Mulder, and maybe that's right up your alley. But I feel it, I know it. I can't explain it, " she said. "I keep having these memories...but they're not my own. I'm there, but I'm not there. Pratt is there, and I'm calling for 'Bill.' Then my father is there, crying out my mother's name." "You think that because you've been having nightmares about Lawrence Pratt and your parents that that means your mother was his victim?" Mulder asked, not intending to sound as mocking as he did. "Fine, Mulder, that's fine. How can you expect me to not only tolerate your theories and beliefs, but to embrace and accept them, when you are unable or unwilling to offer me the same courtesy?" she asked. "Don't you see what a giant risk I'm taking personally and professionally by telling you this?" Mulder stepped from the crowded living room of Mary Fossett's home into the quiet, empty kitchen. "I understand the position you're in, Scully, " he told her, "but do you expect me to dismiss my knowledge of psychology and dreams and say, 'Sure Scully, you're on to something' to make you feel better? I've said it before, it's not that I'm not pleased that you're opening your mind, but that certainly does not mean that I'll automatically pat you on the back and blindly agree to anything 'unbelievable' that you might suggest." "Isn't that what you expect me to do, Mulder?" "OK, Scully, you're right, " Mulder said sarcastically. "Your nightmare is not just a nightmare, it's a, what, psychic connection to your mother's memories that enables you to relive the night your mother, who loves you unconditionally, was raped by the man you're pursuing, the vicious fiend Lawrence Pratt..." Finally having enough of Mulder's sarcasm, Scully cut in, "Thank you for your support, Mulder. Isn't it good that I'm working with you, not against you? Isn't it good that I've confided in you, I mean, look at your pleasant attitude. I'll remember it in the future." She tossed the cell phone into the backseat without hanging up. Mulder's voice could still be heard as he stayed on the line, so Scully turned her car radio on, loud. I don't want to talk to you anymore, anymore, Scully thought as tears filled her eyes. She was so tired, of Mulder, of driving around, of the damn 'visions'. Of everything. She wondered if she should pick up the phone and tell Mulder everything, about the dates and all the actual evidence aside from her nightmares that suggested Margaret Scully had been one of Pratt's victims. If only she could tell him the truth about what was upsetting her the most about this case, the truth about why she believed she had the memories of this attack so firmly implanted into her mind... If Maggie Scully was attacked in May of 1963, it was nine months before she gave birth to her third child, her daughter. Dana. Nine months. The possibility that crossed Scully's mind sent chills down her spine and her stomach into twisted, knotted chaos. Did she remember these things NOT only because of her connection to her mother, but because of her connection to both Maggie and HIM...Lawrence Pratt. Her father? 5:30 PM Maggie's house was dark when she returned home. She bothered to turn on just one light, a lamp that hovered over the living room loveseat, before taking a seat under the light and staring at the newspaper headline. POLICE FINALLY CONFIRM: ESCAPED RAPIST PRATT SUSPECT IN MURDERS Maggie frowned, trying unsuccessfully to keep from dissolving into tears. Maggie was emotionally drained. She'd spent the entire day trying to track her daughter down, psyching herself up to finally tell Dana the dreadful truth; something she promised herself, and her husband, years ago that she would never do? But after the events of the previous 24-hours, Maggie knew it was something she had to do, that she should have done years earlier. Dana had a right to know, didn't she? Yes, she did. She had a right to know. It'll kill her, Maggie remembered Bill Scully telling her just a few short months before he died. Maggie had considered discussing it with Dana then, and when she brought it up with her husband he had been adamantly against it; he'd actually forbidden her to raise the subject with their daughter. She hadn't argued, for telling Dana wasn't anything she looked forward to. Maggie knew how much it meant to Bill not to defy him on this, and she chose to let it go. Of course, there were times when she'd considered speaking with Dana about it, to finally getting the sometimes suffocating weight off her chest, such as the time when Dana was returned after her abduction or when she was diagnosed with cancer, or even when Dana learned the child Emily was her own daughter genetically. Maggie saw how the secrets, how the not knowing practically killed Dana. But then, she'd go back to Bill's words five years ago: It will kill her. And she'd kept silent. No more. It was impossible, now that Lawrence Pratt had escaped and was killing his victims, to avoid telling Dana. Maggie had faith in her daughter's strength, more than anything else. It will not kill her, Maggie said outloud, it will not. 7:00 PM Mulder expected to find Scully there when he returned to the motel, but to his surprise she wasn't there. He knew she'd still be angry with him, possibly giving him the silent treatment until he gave in and genuinely believed that her nightmares were reality. It wasn't going to happen. He knew it, she knew it, and he suspected that was why she had disappeared. Still, she was turning her back on her job simply because Mulder wouldn't trust her instincts. He empathized with her, he really did, having walked miles in the shoes she now had on her own feet. He knew that he could have been more open to her suggestion, that he didn't have to be as condescending as he'd been. But there was nothing he could about that now. If she called or came back to the hotel, he resolved to pay more attention to why she believed her nightmares were indications that her mother had been raped by Lawrence Pratt. He'd heard of similar situations before, where family member's seemed to share memories or experiences in cases of distress. Why then could he not even consider that was the case with Scully? Could it be his own personal involvement with her, with her family? Of course he didn't want Scully to be right; he didn't want for someone like Margaret Scully, someone so close to Dana Scully, to have been brutalized by Lawrence Pratt. Is that why he'd closed himself on Scully, not because of anything he knew about pschology but because, psychologically, he didn't WANT to believe it? Was he guilty of the same thing he had accused her of? Mulder pulled out his notebook and found the page where he commented about MS. He read his own notes, and as had Scully hours earlier, began to see that the rape victim did, indeed, seem to match Margaret Scully. Of course, there wasn't a lot of information, but what there was certainly could have applied to Scully's mom. "Damn," he said, shaking his head in astonishment. 7:30 PM He was watching the house when Dana Scully pulled into the driveway. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her as she stepped out of her car and walked up the sidewalk to the front door of her mother's house. Maggie Scully. That bitch. How he hated that dispicable, fucking bitch. There were no police; not that he'd expected to find any. This one would be as easy as Mable King, who didn't report her rape in 1967 thus leaving her open to him without protection. After his plan with Mary Fossett had worked so splendidly, he knew he needed a little rest, a no-brainer. This one would definitely be that. Easy as pie, just as easy it had been years ago. Pie is pie, he thought. Once you have one piece, you can't help but return for more. He smiled. A wide, evil, hungry smile. "Dana!" Maggie said, exhasperated. "Did you get my messages?" Scully stepped past her mother, turning to face Maggie after she closed the front door. Maggie could tell by the look on her daughter's face that she had been crying, and that she had come to confront her. Oh, God help us, Maggie thought. "Did you get my messages?" Maggie repeated. Scully shook her head. "No, " she said. "But I need to talk to you, Mom." "Sit down, Dana, " Maggie urged, gently taking Scully's arm and leading her to the sofa. They sat, facing one another. "What is it, Dana? Are you all right?" "Yes, " Scully said. "I'm fine, Mom. It's...it's you that I'm worried about." Maggie gazed into her daughter's eyes, silent. "Me?" she managed. "I don't want to scare you, Mom, but I think you're in danger." "Dana..." Scully interrupted. "Please, Mom, I need to get this out. I feel like I'm losing my sanity, and you're the only person I can share this with..." "OK, I'm listening. I won't interrupt you again, " Maggie promised. Tears streamed down Scully's face as she continued. "I think you're in danger. I-I've been having nightmares and-uh-visions of you and of Dad, and of a man named Lawrence Pratt." Maggie closed her eyes. "You know who he is, " Scully said, and her mother nodded. "You know that he's escaped from prison. That he's been murdering the women he raped years ago." "That's why I've been trying to get ahold of you, Dana, " Maggie said. "I didn't want you to find out this way. I wanted to help you." "But I don't need your help, Mom, " Scully objected. "Whatever the truth is, we can work through it after Mulder and I catch Pratt." Maggie shook her head, taking Scully by the arms with a gentle but firm grip. "You cannot work on this case, Dana, " she said. "Mom, I want to find him and ensure he never harms another person again, " Scully said. "I understand it's painful for you." "But what about you, Dana?" "I can deal with it. Right now, my connection to Pratt is something I don't care about. It doesn't matter to me. I have contemplated all this so much today, and looked back on my life and my relationship with Dad, and I know he loved me. And this doesn't change that, " Scully said tearfully. "It shouldn't, Dana. Your father never blamed you, not ever. We were just frightened to tell you, because you seemed to be OK, " Maggie explained. "He thought it was best." Scully nodded. "Because I was his... Dad knew that I was HIS daughter, that biology didn't matter, that in spite of the circumstances that brought me into this world, I was still his." Maggie's arms dropped to her lap, and she tilted her head to the side. She sighed. "Oh Dana, " she whispered, softly. "I don't think you understand." "I'm tired, Mom, " Scully said. "Please, I need to rest. Here is Mulder's cell phone number, you call him, and tell him that I was right. OK, Mom? You tell him to get over here, that Pratt might target you. Here's my gun." "No, Dana, " Maggie refused, pushing the gun that Scully held out to her away. "Mom, please. If he comes here before Mulder gets here, you need this to protect yourself, " Scully urged. "Please. I'm sure Mulder will get here as soon as possible, that you don't need it. But just in case..." her voice trailed off. Maggie gave in, accepting the gun from her daughter as well as the piece of paper that had Mulder's cell phone number written on it. Scully arose and slowly ascended the staircase. Maggie would have to wait until Mulder arrived to tell her Dana the real truth... 7:35 PM "Mulder, it's Skinner. I've got a lead on one of the women you're looking for, " Skinner said. "A doctor by the name of Edward Collins was an ER resident in 1975 and he remembers treating a rape victim whose head was shaved after her assault." "Did he remember her name, her age, anything?" Skinner paused. "Before I go on, Agent Mulder, I want to remind you that we must behave in a professional manner until we have all the facts, " Skinner said. "This afternoon Agent Scully's mother came to my office, desperate to get in touch with Scully. When I told her that Agent Scully was working on the Pratt case, she was visibly upset. Although I did think it odd, but I didn't realize she came here because of her connection to Lawrence Pratt." "Sir, this afternoon Scully told me she believes her mother was raped by Pratt in 1963, " Mulder revealed. "What?" Skinner asked, puzzled. "Is Scully there with you?" "No, Sir, " Mulder said. "I'm not sure where she is." "You need to find her, immediately, " Skinner said. "Agent Mulder, the doctor I spoke with said he was acquainted with the father of the rape victim treated on August 17, 1965. He identified the victim as an 11-year old girl. Dana Scully." "I'm sorry, sir, but that's unbelievable, " Mulder immediately said. "Pratt raped women, not children. He raped women whose name resembled that of his sister's, Mary." "Yes, Mary. Mary KATE. Her name was Mary Kate Pratt, " Skinner said. "That explains Katrina Billings, and it explains Dana Katherine Scully." "She would have told me, " Mulder gasped, his voice barely audible. "Maybe that's what she was trying to do, when she said she thought her mother had been attacked by Pratt, " Skinner said. "Agent Mulder, as of right now I'm taking you and Agent Scully off this case. Find her, Mulder. She could be in trouble." Find her. end part three feedback to breckwalsh@yahoo.com REPRESSED I (4/4) By Breck Lynn Walsh (breckwalsh@yahoo.com) Read summary and disclaimer and everything else in part one 8 PM Her world was spinning. A cold breeze passed over her body and she realized she was unclothed. She was paralyzed, her eyes fixated on the building beyond the trees. Her chest was heaving, and each breath came to her only with excruciating pain. And she felt the pain...down there. As in the dreams before, he came to her. Her father. He scooped her up in his arms, rocking her body gently, pulling her body against his to warm her. She was trembling. Her whole body seized in her father's arms. "Maggie!" he cried. My poor, poor mother... "Oh my God, Maggie!" What did he do to you... She felt so small, so weak. She squeezed her eyes closed. "NO!" Animal, animal, animal... It hurts, it hurts, stop... "Shut up! Shut up!" But she can't stop crying, it hurts so much. She's scared but she can't stop crying. "Do you want to die?" Do you want to die? "No!" He's moving, faster and faster, and all she can think about is her legs, how uncomfortable it is with his weight pressing down against them. She feels so small under him. Blackness. A boy and his sister are standing in line at Miss Ice Cream shop, each holding a quarter in their sweaty little hands. It's a nice, beautiful summer day, not too hot but warm enough that their mother was kind enough to reward each child with a quarter for staying out of her hair. She was cleaning house. I know this, this is real, Bill Jr and Dana. Miss Ice Cream shop. Three blocks from their home on the base, the Miss Ice Cream shop was a favorite place of the Scully children. Dana was constantly searching for cans and bottles throughout the summer, trying to muster up twenty, thirty, forty cents for an ice cream cone or a chocolate bar. How she loved ice cream. Both children walked away from the shop satisfied. Bill chose a vanilla cone while Dana preferred chocolate. Her brother saw some of his friends on their bikes a block away, and he ran away from her and up to them. "Wait, Bill!" She struggled to keep up with him, but instead tripped on a hole in the sidewalk, her cone smashing to the ground under her. Bill came back for her. She was crying. He pulled her up. "My ice cream, my ice cream." He was concerned at first, but now he was annoyed. "You're OK. Baby." And he took a big long lick off his cone. "MMM, good. Too bad, Dana." "Bill!" she screamed. He grabbed her arm and pulled her along. "Come on, Dana!" "My ice cream!" He stopped and stared down at her. Brat, brat, brat. "You either keep up and walk or I'm leaving without you." "My ice cream, Bill, " she repeated. "It's not fair. My ice cream." Blackness. Lying on the ground again, on a rock and some broken tree branches. "Bill!" It doesn't even come out as a scream. "Do you want to die?" She ignored him, and stared off towards the white Miss Ice Cream shop building. "Bill!" His fist fell on the side of her head. "Bill..." Bill, Bill, Bill. Help me. She felt pressure against her midsection, as if someone was sitting on her. Breathing in reality was labored, and suddenly a tight grip on her throat brought Scully into full consciousness. Looking up, she saw him, sitting on her over the blankets that were covering her body, his hands around her neck. Her first instinct was to grab at his arms, squeezing them. She then pushed at his chest, moving up with her body and trying to push him off of her. "You're sure a lot stronger now, bitch, " Pratt said. "You want some ice cream?" Scully's whole body reacted, and she reached up and grabbed the sides of his head and dug her thumbs into his eyes. He let go of her neck, and she was able to slip up from underneath him. Tangled in the blankets, Scully was unable to jump off the bed before Pratt tackled her, pushing her stomach first down on the bed. He pulled her arms behind her body and held on to them tightly with one arm. He used the other arm to grab his knife, which he'd set down on the bed and had fallen on the floor in the struggle. Scully continued to struggle, kicking behind her with her legs, but he was much stronger and larger than she was. "I'm gonna kill you, " he spat, putting the tip of the knife against her chest. "No, you're not." Maggie was standing in the doorway behind Pratt and Scully. Pratt swung around, placing the knife against Scully's throat. "Oh, looky there, big Mama come to save the day, " Pratt laughed. "You think you can save your little girl, Maggie?" "Yes, " Maggie stated simply. "Let her go, or I'll blow your head off." "We're tough, aren't we?" Pratt said. "You can't help her now anymore than you could twenty years ago." "Mom, " Scully moaned. "What is he talking about?" "It's OK, Dana, " Maggie assured her. "Leave, Mom, he wants to kill you, " Scully said. "Please, he's after you." Pratt laughed. "I don't want that bitch. I've come for you." "I'm not yours. You can't have me." "Dana, it's going to be all right. I'll protect you." "You can't protect her. You never could, " Pratt said. "Come on, Dana, don't tell me our time together wasn't memorable enough for you. Don't tell me you've forgotten how we bonded over ice cream." "Bill!" He wasn't going to turn around and come back. He didn't care if Dana stood there and cried all night. She was a baby. As if he wanted his baby sister hanging out with him and his friends anyway. And she wasn't going to get any ice cream. A hand fell onto her shoulder. She turned around. "Oh hi Larry." Oh hi Larry. Hi Larry. They're sitting together in the woods. He had a bigger cone than hers, but she was happy anyway. It was nice of him to buy her another one; he said he couldn't believe her brother could be so mean to a pretty little sister like her. She liked to be called pretty. He still had most of his cone when Dana finished hers. She was still hungry, and she stared at his ice cream longingly. Missing seconds... "Taste it." "No." "Come on, Dana, give it a try." She cried. "I can't." "It's better than ice cream." "No." "Don't make me hurt you. Taste it." "Please." Everything changed. She was lying on the ground, and the pain inbetween her legs was horrible. "Bill! Help me, Bill!" "He doesn't care about you, " he growled. "Now close your goddamn mouth unless you want some more ice cream." "Daddy..." The world went black, and then she was in her daddy's arms. Off in the distance, she could hear her mother, calling for her. "Dana! Dana!" "Maggie!" her father yelled, looking away from his daughter's battered face. He looked back down at her. "Oh my God. Maggie!" And then she could see her mother running towards them. Bill was behind Maggie. She was screaming. "I'm going to give you three seconds to drop the gun or I slit your little slut's throat." Scully suddenly jerked down onto her knees, pulling one of her arms free. Pratt bent over, trying to grab the released arm. He unwittingly gave Maggie Scully a clear shot of his head. The gunshot was deafening. His blood splattered all over Scully's clothes, and in her hair. At first his grip on her tightened, then he fell backwards onto the floor with a thud. Scully went back with him partially, landing in a sitting position with is legs on each side of her body. She sprung up off the floor, glancing back at Pratt's body. His face was gone. Maggie let go of the gun and rushed to Scully, putting her arms around the shakened woman. Scully pulled away. "No." She put her hand against Maggie's shoulder to keep her at a distance. "Dana, it's OK, " Maggie said. "He can't hurt you anymore." "It-wasn't-me, " Scully said, angry. "No." "I love you, Dana, " Maggie cried. "We didn't want to hurt you, Dana. We'd talk to you about what happened, and you just looked at us like we were crazy. You phased us out when we tried to talk to you about it. And after awhile it seemed like you completely repressed it." "No." "Sweety, you were so little. It would have been cruel to keep reminding you what happened. Not if your mind kept sending it away." Scully felt dizzy. She pulled an arm against her stomach and staggered away from her mother, to the telephone sitting on the night stand. "Did you call Mulder like I told you?" she asked, raising her voice. Maggie nodded. "He's on his way." Scully lifted the telephone and dialed Mulder's cell phone number. He answered with, "Scully?" "Mulder, " she said breathlessly. "Are you coming to my mom's?" "I am, " he replied. "Are you OK, Scully?" "He's dead, " Scully said. "My mom shot him." "OK, Scully, I'm about two minutes away. I'll be there in a flash. OK? Scully?" "Don't hang up, Mulder, " Scully said, timidly. "Please don't hang up." "I won't." Scully, the phone still to her ear, slid down onto the floor against her mother's bed. She could hear Mulder breathing, and he could hear her sobs. A long silence followed. As soon as Mulder arrived, Scully slipped into the bathroom off her mother's room and turned on the shower water. Mulder burst into the room as Scully began unbuttoning her blouse. She looked up at him, expressionless. "Scully, you can't shower." She stared at him for the longest time with the most awkward look on her face. He couldn't tell if she was angry or...amused. "My hair is matted in blood, Mulder, " she said. "You need to be examined." "He didn't rape me, Mulder, " Scully snapped. Her eyes met his, and he knew she wasn't just talking about tonight. Mulder stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He came within a few inches of his partner. "A doctor who examined you at the emergency room in 1975 told Skinner that you were raped, Scully." "Well, he was wrong. I would remember. It's not something somebody forgets." "Your mother said-" "She's lying. It didn't happen." And then it happened again; a vision, from out of nowhere, dominated Scully's mind and she stiffened. She was choking. Mulder, seeing that she was about to fall, reached out and caught Scully as her body went limp. She grabbed at his shirt, as if holding on for dear life as he gently glided with her onto the tile floor of the bathroom. "It's OK, Scully, " Mulder whispered. She coughed. "No, no, I can't, no, " she cried. "I don't want to. Please." "Scully." "No, no, it's not supposed to go...to go...in my mouth. No, " she muttered. Scully unexpectedly bolted to her feet and stumbled to the bathroom sink. She turned on the water and put her face under the faucet, taking a mouth full of water then spitting it out. She repeated this several times until she finally stood up, grabbing a hand towel to dry her face. She saw Mulder's reflection in the mirror and remembered she wasn't alone. Turning to face him, Scully said, "I needed to rinse..." She stopped. "Scully, you know it happened, " Mulder told her gently. "You're remembering now, in bits and pieces." "I don't want to talk about it, Mulder, " she replied, weakly. Mulder complied, leaving Scully to shower. When she was finished, Mulder called for assistance with Pratt's body. Maggie Scully tried to comfort Dana, who repeatedly said, "I'm fine, " and walked away from her mother whenever the woman tried to talk to or touch her. "I'm fine." Mulder knew the meaning of "fine" when it came to Scully. She was anything BUT fine. Just one look at the pained expression on her face was enough to show she was hurting. She'd held her own against Pratt, coming away with a few bruised on her arms and knees, but she was horribly wounded, inside. Scully and her mother were questioned by the police and Scully's FBI colleagues; it was a cut and dry case of self-defense. Skinner and Mulder remained tight-lipped when other agents expressed curiousity over why Pratt had decided to go after an FBI agent. Now that Pratt was dead, his motives were insignificant, his victims finally freed. In a small way. 12:00 AM "Scully." "Take me home, Mulder, " Scully said, watching as the last police officer left her mother's home. Maggie Scully interjected. "Dana, you should stay here tonight." "No, " Scully said, not looking at her mother. "Mulder, I want to go home." Maggie and Mulder exchanged glances. After a long silence passed, Maggie put her arms around her daughter. "OK, you go home. I love you." Scully stiffened. She was not going to return her mother's embrace. Instead, as soon as Maggie pulled back, Scully exited the house without another word. "Fox, " Maggie said, stopping Mulder at the front door. "Stay with her. She's going to need you." "What happened to her, Mrs. Scully?" "You know about what Lawrence Pratt did to his victims. Don't think that because Dana was a little girl he spared her at all. Because he didn't." Mulder grimaced. He thought of Dana Scully, at eleven years old, stuck in the clutches of Larry Pratt. Innocent, defenseless, frightened. And he thought of her now, as a grown woman, flooded with the memories of this attack for the first time. Just as innocent, defenseless, and frightened as she had been twenty two years ago. 1:00 AM Scully retreated to her bedroom immediately as she and Mulder arrived at her apartment. She crawled into bed, silent. Mulder followed her, standing in the doorway of her bedroom. He didn't know what to say to her. "Mulder." Her face was against her pillow, leaving her voice muffled. Mulder hurried to her side, sitting on the bed. "I'm here." "It doesn't seem real, " Scully said, turning onto her side. She looked up at Mulder longingly. "Does it seem real to you?" "What?" "This. Everything." She paused, then laughed. "My God, Mulder, I thought it was my mother. How could I think it was her when it was me? How could I forget something like that?" Mulder caressed Scully's cheek, and she closed her eyes. "You were a child. A lot of children who were sexually abused repress the memories of the abuse. It's a coping mechanism." "But... Mulder, it just seems like, if I remembered this, then it would have, it should have, changed me somehow. It makes me wonder, how much more don't I know? How many other things have I been dishonest about, simply because I was too weak to accept the situation?" "I don't understand." Scully laughed through her tears. "God, I told Mark Augustine that I was a virgin. I thought that that was my first time, and he thought it was his fault that it upset me, " she remembered. "And it had nothing to do with him. I let him think he hurt me when it was me, not him at all." "Scully, don't do this to yourself, " Mulder said. "You've done nothing wrong, here. Pratt stole a piece of your life. An hour out of your entire life. Forgetting that horrible one hour didn't make you weak. You didn't fail yourself by forgetting." "Just like you didn't fail yourself or your sister by forgetting the night she disappeared?" Mulder's eyes fell to the floor. "It's not the same thing." "In a way, it is. There are parts still missing for me, and I'm afraid to know, to really know. Aren't you afraid? Afraid that you might remember something that might change everything? That you shouldn't have forgotten in the first place, but since you did it's going to hit you all the harder once you have it back?" "Yes, I'm afraid, " Mulder admitted, his voice nearing a whisper. Scully sat up and slipped her arms around Mulder, lying her head on his chest. She could barely keep her eyes open. "Don't let me go to sleep, Mulder, " she said. "I don't want anymore. I can't..." Mulder rubbed his hand against her back. She helped him further onto the bed until only his legs hung over the side. She pushed her body closer to his. "Scully, " Mulder began to protest. "Shh, " she replied. "Don't leave me all alone." "I won't, but-" he stopped as Scully slid her hand down inbetween his pants and boxers, touching him. He grabbed her arm. "Don't, Scully." "I want you, " she said, lifting her head up to meet his mouth. He kissed her, taking her head into his hands and their tongues took turns exploring one another's mouth. Scully used her free hands to unbutton her blouse, then led one of Mulder's hands to her breast. He caressed her through the material of the bra. Scully then concentrated on undoing Mulder's pants, fumbling with his zipper. Finally, she gave up, and returned to her own clothing, shaking the blouse from her shoulders where it fell behind her. She sat up on her knees and pulled her pants down. "Scully, " Mulder said, scooting back. "Stop. Stop." She took his hand and returned it to her breast, but he pulled back. He reached down and lifted Scully's pants. "Stop, " he said again. Her breathing was heavy. She continued probing Mulder's body, stopping only when he grabbed her by the wrists. "Enough!" "Mulder!" Scully said. "Please, have sex with me. Please." "No." "You want to. I know you do, " Scully taunted. "Touch me. Anywhere you want to. I want to have sex with you." Mulder shook his head adamantly. "Not like this, Scully." "Not like what? We're in my apartment, in my bed, we both want it." "You want to have sex, Scully, so that you don't have to think about what it was like when he was raping you, " Mulder said. Scully shook her head furiously. "That's not true, " she said through tears. "I want to have sex with you. You want to have sex with me. Why won't you do it?" "I don't want to have sex with you, " Mulder stated. "You think I'm dirty." "No." "You don't want to be with anyone he touched." "Scully..." "Then leave, Mulder. Just leave." Mulder didn't move, his hands still firmly gripping her wrists. "Scully, I want to be with you. I want to make love to you. But you want to have sex with me. I don't think it's because you want ME, and I don't think you're ready." "Ready?" Scully asked, taken aback. "I wasn't raped yesterday, Mulder." "You might as well have been." "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Scully snapped. "I don't know how you expect me to behave right now." "I certainly don't expect you to beg me for sex." Scully frowned, her eyes shifting from Mulder to her own half-clothed body and back up to his face. Her head fell against Mulder's chest, and he released her wrists to pull her close to him. She was trembling now, aware of how and why she had tried to seduce her partner, ashamed and sickened by her own behavior. Mulder sunk down in the bed so that Scully was lying partially on top of him, holding her, comforting her. "Everything's going to be OK, Scully." "He bought me ice cream, " Scully said. "I knew him. I don't know how, but I knew him. I trusted him. He...he took me into the woods to eat our ice cream. Then he dropped his pants and he forced me...he forced me to have oral sex. I didn't want to but I was afraid. And I took off my clothes when he told me to. I didn't know what he was going to do. I kept looking for Bill outside the woods. I was afraid he would see it, that he would tell Mom and Dad. And then when he got on top of me I started calling for Bill, because I didn't care then if my parents found out, I just wanted him to stop." "I know, it's OK, it's OK, " Mulder said, soothingly. "He hit me when I wouldn't stop crying for Bill, and he said he would kill me if I didn't shut up. He would stop, get up and I would think he was gone but then he'd come back again. He was mad at me, he was frustrated. He called me names and I told him I didn't know what to do, I didn't understand what I was doing wrong, " Scully remembered. "I didn't want him to be mad at me, or hit me, or say those things to me. But then he was done, and he cut my hair. He told me I was OK, that I would make a good slut. Then my dad came and he picked me up. And my mom was there, and Bill. I was so embarrassed. I was naked." "They took you to the hospital?" Scully nodded. "I didn't like that. It felt like they were doing it, too. Touching me where I didn't want to be touched. Where it hurt. But I couldn't think of why I was there. I..." she stopped. "I think that's when I repressed it, Mulder. At the hospital. I think." "Did they hurt you at the hospital?" "I don't want to talk about it." "OK, you don't have to." "I'm tired. I just want to sleep." "Good night, Scully, " Mulder whispered, kissing her gently on the top of her head. "Good night." end of part four feedback to breckwalsh@yahoo.com thanks!