34 Hours (1/2) by Leyla Harrison Disclaimer: I don't own Mulder, Scully or Skinner and I don't mean any infringement. All other characters are my creation. Hear that, Chris Carter? Spoilers: None. Timeline: This story takes place sometime in the middle of fifth season. Rating: R (violence and mature themes) Classification: SA Summary: It's Mulder's worst nightmare when Scully is kidnapped -- and it's the greatest terror Scully has ever faced. Can Mulder get to her before time runs out? Author's notes at the end. ***** DAY ONE -- 0000 HOURS "Don't move." Scully woke from a deep sleep to find a gun pressed into her temple. She opened her eyes and the brightness of a high-beam flashlight pierced her vision. She blinked, but was unable to see who was speaking, and how many of them there were. Calm, she told herself. My gun. Her mind scrambled to remember where she had left it when she came in. "You can forget about your gun. We've already got it." The gun at her head poked into her skull for emphasis. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice steady. "Never mind. You're going to go back to sleep now." The sharp sting of a hypodermic needle in her arm made her jump. Two sets of hands held her firmly in place, pressing her head back into the pillow. "Just relax. Relax. This will all be over soon." Scully fought the darkness, but there was nothing more she could do. Within moments, she was unconscious. ***** DAY ONE -- 0100 1 HOUR The phone jangled loudly, interrupting one of the first peaceful nights Mulder could remember in ages. He reached for it automatically in the dark. "Mulder." "Your partner has been kidnapped. Meet Assistant Director Skinner at the Bureau in forty-five minutes." Mulder sat up on the couch, his heart instantly pounding. "Who is this?" "You'll receive further instructions there," the disembodied male voice commanded him. "Don't disobey. Your partner's life depends on it." The line went dead. Mulder pressed down the switchhook and dialed Scully's number. This was a joke. A bad joke. Three rings. Four. Five. Come on, Scully, he prayed. Answer the phone. Ten rings. Eleven. Nothing. He slammed the phone down in anger. As soon as he did, it rang. "Scully?" he asked, picking it up. "Agent Mulder. It's Skinner. I just received a phone call -- " Mulder cut him off. "About Scully. So did I. I just tried calling her and she's not answering." "I'm sending a local unit over there." "Sir, I'd like to check it out myself." "No, Mulder. Don't go over to Scully's place. Meet me at the office. I'm on my way there now." Skinner hung up. His tone meant business. This was not aliens. Aliens did not call to tell you that they had taken someone. Scully, hang on, Mulder thought as he scrambled to find a pair of jeans and a shirt. ***** DAY ONE -- 0100 1 HOUR Scully opened her eyes. Her body was being jarred. A car. We're in a car, on a dirt road, she surmised through the gauzy haze of the drugs she had been given. She guessed that they were going about forty miles per hour. A dark cloth hood was over her head. She assumed that it was still dark because she couldn't see any light seeping in through the material when she turned her head towards what she thought was the car window. "She's awake," a female voice said. "Give her another shot." A male voice this time. Strong hands held her down again. "No," she managed to get out. Her mouth felt as if cotton had been jammed into it. But the needle slipped into her arm again, and within minutes, she faded into blackness once more. ***** DAY ONE -- 0200 2 HOURS The door to Skinner's office was open. Mulder walked in without knocking. The AD was hunched over his desk, talking into the phone. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a dark shirt and had obviously been woken from sleep as Mulder had been. "Keep a unit there," Skinner ordered into the phone. "Don't let them leave until they've heard directly from me." He hung up and looked at Mulder. "She's not there," Mulder guessed. Skinner shook his head. "A unit got there about 10 minutes after I got the call. From what they can tell, Agent Scully was taken from her bed. Her gun is missing. Her keys, money, everything else -- it's all there. No sign of forced entry." Mulder's heart sank. He checked his watch. It had been just over forty minutes since he had gotten the call, although it seemed like longer. The phone rang. "Skinner," the AD barked into the phone. He looked up at Mulder, then pressed the speakerphone button. "Agent Scully has been taken to a secure location. We want one million dollars. We will be calling back to arrange a drop-off location and time. Do not underestimate us. You must comply with our demands because Agent Scully's life depends on it. She has been buried alive." "What?" Mulder asked incredulously. "Do *not* underestimate us. She is able to survive under the conditions she is in until you make the drop-off, but no longer. You will receive confirmation that she is still alive within the next twelve hours." The line disconnected. Mulder stood in shock. Buried *alive*? Skinner picked up the phone and angrily punched in a few numbers. "Did you get a trace on that number?" He hung up after a moment. "They're using Scully's cel phone. They can't trace the location." Mulder sank into the chair. Blind terror coursed through his veins. ***** DAY ONE -- 0600 6 HOURS Scully opened her eyes. She was lying on her back. It was dim, and it only took her a moment for her eyes to grow accustomed to the light. She struggled to sit up and bumped her head. She moved her hands and felt walls on either side of her. If she moved, her feet touched the same smooth hard surface. The ceiling of wherever she was hovered about a foot above her face. Oh my God, she thought. Oh my God, I'm in a coffin. She struggled frantically to move, to sit up, to press on the top of the box that contained her. It didn't budge. A piece of paper placed on her chest crinkled and she grabbed at it, reading it in the semi-darkness. "DO NOT BE ALARMED. YOU ARE SAFE. YOU ARE PRESENTLY INSIDE A FIBERGLASS REINFORCED PLYWOOD CAPSULE BURIED BENEATH THE GROUND NEAR THE HOUSE IN WHICH YOUR KIDNAPPERS ARE STAYING. YOUR STATUS WILL BE CHECKED APPROXIMATELY EVERY 2 HOURS. THE CAPSULE IS QUITE STRONG, YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO BREAK IT OPEN. BE ADVISED, HOWEVER, THAT YOU ARE BENEATH THE WATER TABLE. IF YOU BREAK OPEN A SEAM YOU WOULD DROWN BEFORE WE COULD DIG YOU OUT. THE CAPSULE INSTRUMENTATION CONTAINS A WATER SENSITIVE SWITCH WHICH WILL WARN US IF THE WATER ENTERS THE CAPSULE TO A DANGEROUS DEGREE. YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON THE AIR DELIVERED TO YOUR CHAMBER VIA THE VENTILATION FAN. THIS FAN IS POWERED BY A LEAD-ACID STORAGE BATTERY CAPABLE OF SUPPLYING THE FAN MOTOR WITH POWER FOR 270 HOURS. HOWEVER, THE USE OF THE LIGHT AND OTHER SYSTEMS FOR ONLY A FEW HOURS COUPLED WITH THE HIGHER AMPERAGE DRAIN WILL REDUCE THIS FIGURE TO ONLY ONE WEEK OF SAFETY. SHOULD THE AIR SUPPLIED PROVE TO BE TOO MUCH YOU CAN PARTLY BLOCK THE AIR OUTLET WITH A PIECE OF PAPER. A MUFFLER HAS BEEN PLACED IN THE AIR PASSAGE TO PREVENT ANY NOISE YOU MAKE FROM REACHING THE SURFACE: IF WE DETECT ANY COMMOTION WHICH WE FEEL IS DANGEROUS, WE WILL INTRODUCE ETHER TO THE AIR INTAKE AND PUT YOU TO SLEEP. THE FAN OPERATES ON 6 VOLTS. IT HAS A SWITCH WITH TWO POSITIONS TO SWITCH BETWEEN THE TWO AVAILABLE CIRCUITS. SHOULD ONE CIRCUIT FAIL TURN TO THE OTHER. THE BOX HAS A PUMP WHICH WILL EVACUATE ANY ACCIDENTAL LEAKAGE FROM THE BOX WHEN YOU TURN THE PUMP SWITCH ON TO THE "ON" POSITION. THIS PUMP USES 15 TIMES AS MUCH POWER AS YOUR VENTILATION FAN (7.5 AMPS); YOUR LIFE SUPPORT BATTERY WILL NOT ALLOW USE OF THE PUMP EXCEPT FOR EMERGENCY WATER EVACUATION. THE LIGHT USES 2.5 TIMES THE AMPERAGE OF THE AIR CIRCULATION SYSTEM. USE OF THE LIGHT WHEN NOT NECESSARY WILL CUT YOUR BATTERY SAFETY MARGIN SUBSTANTIALLY. IF YOU USE THE LIGHT CONTINUOUSLY YOUR LIFE EXPECTANCY WILL BE CUT TO ONE THIRD OF THE WEEK WE HAVE ALLOTTED YOU BEFORE YOU ARE RELEASED. YOUR CAPSULE CONTAINS A WATER JUG WITH THREE GALLONS OF WATER AND A TUBE FROM WHICH TO DRINK IT. BE CAREFUL TO BLOW THE WATER FROM THE TUBE WHEN YOU ARE FINISHED DRINKING TO AVOID SIPHONING THE WATER ONTO THE FLOOR WHEN THE TUBE END DROPS BELOW THE WATER LEVEL. YOUR CAPSULE CONTAINS A BUCKET FOR REFUSE AND THE PRODUCTS OF YOUR BOWEL MOVEMENTS. THE BUCKET HAS AN ANTIBACTERIAL SOLUTION IN IT: DON'T TIP IT OVER. THE LID SEALS TIGHTLY TO PREVENT THE ESCAPE OF ODORS. A ROLL OF WAX PAPER IS PROVIDED - USE IT TO PREVENT SOLID WASTE FROM CONTAMINATING YOUR BED. KOTEX IS PROVIDED SHOULD YOU NEED IT. BLANKETS AND A MAT ARE PROVIDED. YOUR WARMTH DEPENDS ON BODY HEAT SO REGULATE THE AIR TO PREVENT LOSS OF HEAT FROM THE CAPSULE. A CASE OF CANDY IS PROVIDED TO FURNISH ENERGY TO YOUR BODY. TRANQUILIZERS ARE PROVIDED TO AID YOU IN SLEEPING - THE BEST WAY YOU HAVE TO PASS THE TIME. THE VENTILATION SYSTEM IS DOUBLY SCREENED TO PREVENT INSECTS OR ANIMALS FROM ENTERING THE CAPSULE AREA. YOU RISK BEING EATEN BY ANTS SHOULD YOU BREAK THESE PROTECTION SCREENS. THE ELECTRICAL COMPONENTS BEHIND THESE SCREENS ARE DELICATE AND THEY SUPPORT YOUR LIFE. DON'T ATTEMPT TO TOUCH THESE CIRCUITS. WE'RE SURE YOUR COLLEAGUES WILL PAY THE RANSOM WE HAVE ASKED IN LESS THAN ONE WEEK. WHEN THEY PAY THE RANSOM WE WILL TELL THEM WHERE YOU ARE AND THEY'LL COME FOR YOU. BE CALM AND REST - YOU'LL BE HOME SOON." Scully crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it beside her. She wanted to scream, but she was sure that her captors were serious about the ether. She reached around her and felt the candy -- smooth plastic wrappers. There was a small plastic bottle and she lifted it to her face so that she could read the label. "Tranquilizers," it said. She opened the bottle and looked at the small white pills. Xanax, or Ativan -- she couldn't be sure which ones they were. There were a few switches above her head. She remembered what the note said about the light draining the air supply. One was marked "light". She flipped the switch and she was plunged into darkness. Sleep, she thought. Just pretend you're at home. Close your eyes and sleep. But she couldn't. She squeezed her eyes shut and counted. All fifty states. State capitals. Then she began to think of every X-File she and Mulder had worked on. Her panic was rising. According to her watch, she had been gone from her apartment for a little over five hours. Five hours. Do not panic, she ordered herself. Do not panic. There was absolutely no noise except for the quiet rasps of her breathing. Moments later, all she heard was the soft sound of her own sobs. She didn't cry for long. Pulling herself together, she curled onto her side -- there was just enough room to do that. She had to urinate. She could feel the bucket to the left of her feet, but couldn't bring herself to use it. Tranquilizers. She was still clutching the small bottle in her fist. She opened it and slipped two of the pills out, placing them on her tongue and snapping the cap back on the bottle. What if the water was drugged? She felt the tubing but she didn't want to risk it. Not yet. She closed her eyes and swallowed the pills dry, trying to ignore the bitter aftertaste on her tongue. She slowly started counting down backwards from 100. She got to 40 when she drifted off to sleep. ***** DAY ONE -- 0900 9 HOURS Mulder's shoulders were slumped as he walked down the hall towards his apartment. Something brown was propped up against his door. His heart rate accelerating, he raced down the hall and snatched up the small manila envelope, tearing open the flap and turning the envelope upside down. A single Polaroid fell into his palm. Scully. Mulder's heart contracted when he saw her. Her eyes were only half-open -- drugged, Mulder thought absently. The lighting wasn't great, but he could see that she was wearing what appeared to be a gray t-shirt. He couldn't see below her waist. A piece of cardboard was propped up against her chest; the word "KIDNAP" scrawled crudely across it. "Scully..." he softly moaned aloud. Her body was inside what appeared to be a large wooden box. A coffin. He could see grass and dirt around it. Fuck. It was right before they put her in the ground. Oh my God. Somehow he managed to get into his apartment and shut the door behind him. Then he sank to the cold wooden floor, his back against the door, the picture of Scully still clutched in his palm. He could think of no greater terror. He could think of no greater nightmare than this. And for what? For money? It made no sense. To abduct her for the Truth, for Secrets, for the Lies, for *something*, but not for money. That made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever. He closed his eyes and imagined Scully getting ready for bed. The softness of her hair, her clothes, her face. The harshness of the people who yanked her awake, who pulled her from her bed and forced her into the box, closing the lid... Oh, please God... He rubbed his eyes harshly. It was morning. He hadn't slept. He didn't want to. He didn't want to waste one minute. Each minute that he breathed was one minute that Scully spent in a fucking *box*, for God's sakes, under who knows how many feet of earth and dirt and grass and weeds. Get it together, he ordered himself. Skinner had told him to go home, to get some sleep and come back when he was rested so that he could be of some use to the mission. In the meantime, the Bureau's labs were analyzing the voice from the ransom call. Fuck Skinner. Mulder gathered up the picture and the envelope and his keys, locking the door behind him. Maybe there was a print on the envelope. Maybe he had smudged it in his haste to get it open. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He couldn't think. Not when Scully was... Don't think about it. Think about getting her out of there. ***** DAY ONE -- 1400 14 HOURS Fourteen hours. Skinner looked out at the expanse of his desk. There was nothing to look at, really. No evidence. No prints at Scully's place. No leads from the phone call. The voice from the ransom call had been digitally altered. No prints from the envelope that Mulder had brought in. No prints from the Polaroid. Skinner had only looked at the photo for a few moments. He didn't want to see Scully like that. He knew Mulder couldn't. He could see Mulder's eyes were red-rimmed. He didn't have to ask if he'd been crying. Skinner didn't want to think about that. Crying translated into weakness. Someone had to be strong. Someone had to look at a picture of a drugged woman, an attractive drugged woman, and be strong. Someone had to be in charge of this thing. Someone had to get her back. Quickly. "Sir," Mulder's voice came out wearily from across the room. Skinner looked at him. "We have no idea where she is, Mulder. We have agents out within a hundred miles of here, searching every house and farm between Virginia and Maryland. They're covering as much ground as they can." But it's not enough, Mulder's eyes told him. They aren't doing it fast enough. Skinner knew as well as Mulder did that Scully couldn't last long without oxygen. Not while buried underground in a box. The phone rang. Skinner answered it. "Hold on." He put the phone on speakerphone and Mulder looked up. The digital voice again. "Agent Scully is still alive." Both men heaved a sigh of relief. "Where the hell is she?" Mulder burst out. "She will be released as soon as the money is picked up from the drop-off point." "This isn't about money, you bastard," Mulder lunged for the phone, but Skinner held him back. "What the hell do you *really* want?" "I have been informed that you and Agent Scully are very...valuable...to the Bureau. We don't care about whatever it is you're working on." "The hell you don't," Mulder growled. "We know that she's important. And that without her, well, without her, things will not be the same. Which is why we want money and not anything more significant." "You're just petty thieves?" Mulder asked in astonishment. "I wouldn't say that we're petty, Agent Mulder. One million dollars is not petty." There was a pause. "We'll be calling back in the next twelve hours to arrange the drop-off location." The line went dead. Skinner again made a phone call. "Get that tape down to the lab and analyze each second of it. And call me the minute you know anything." ***** DAY ONE -- 1800 18 HOURS Scully shifted uncomfortably as she woke up. Her limbs were stiff and she wasn't able to move them enough -- there simply wasn't enough room for her to sit up and stretch out. The need to urinate was too strong to deny it much longer. And she was going to have to have something to drink eventually or else she was going to get dehydrated. She normally drank a lot of water during the day. She could feel her body aching for it. She reached for the bucket in the dark and unsnapped the top, pushing it to one side. She then managed to lift her hips and wedge the bucket underneath herself. Humiliating was the only way she could describe the experience as the urine splashed loudly against the walls of the bucket, the sound echoing harshly in the enclosed space. But the embarrassment faded as she emptied her bladder and the pressure in her abdomen faded away. Carefully, she moved the bucket back to its position after putting the lid back on with a snap. She certainly didn't want to spill the thing all over the place. The last thing she wanted was to be found in a pool of her own urine. Her stomach rumbled noisily, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in...how long? She checked her watch. It was almost six o'clock. In the evening, she thought, but she wasn't sure. It must be, she told herself. There's no way I could have slept for twenty-four hours after taking only two pills. She reached for the candy bars. Unwrapping the package in the dark, she wasn't sure what kind it was, but she didn't care. It was food, and she was hungry. She pushed the package to her mouth and found that there were two candy bars encased in the wrapper. Two candy bars. Which candy bar came in two pieces? She couldn't remember. She pushed one into her mouth and chewed it. Chocolate. Caramel? And something crunchy. Twix, she realized. Twix bars. There's two in every package. Both bars were gone before she knew it, and she reached for another one -- and then hesitated. Using her fingers, she counted the candy bars. Seven left. She didn't want to eat them all. Screw it. She wolfed down another one. Then she decided to try the water. The candy had made her even more thirsty than she was before. Her mouth was dry and filled with the remains of the chocolate and the caramel. Scully found the tube and lifted it to her mouth. Please, she thought, please don't be drugged. She took a small sip. It tasted normal. There's only three gallons, she reminded herself. Don't take too much. She sucked on the tubing for a few moments, satisfying her thirst. Then she carefully blew into the tube as she had been instructed and replaced it as she had found it. There was nothing to do. She had eaten, had some water, and urinated. Now what? She could breathe easily -- there was plenty of air. So they hadn't lied about that. She turned the light on and tried to look around the capsule, as her kidnappers had called it. She didn't want to try to break through the wood because of the instructions in the note. Even if they had been lying about the water coming in if she broke a seam, what was she supposed to do if she could break through? Dig her way to the surface? She had no way of knowing how deep she was buried. Buried. The word came crashing back into her brain and she froze. She turned off the light and rolled back onto her side. In the darkness she found the small bottle of pills again. Mulder, she thought. She didn't want to think about him, but it was inevitable. There was no way that she *couldn't* think of him. Oh, God, Mulder, she thought. Where are you? She could picture him, on the outside, looking for her. Was he looking for her? Did he know what had happened to her? She uncapped the pills again and shook four into her palm before recapping the bottle. For a moment she thought about taking all of them, then thought better of it. She swallowed the pills, again without water. When I wake up, she prayed, let me be out of here. TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2 34 Hours (2/2) by Leyla Harrison Disclaimer and such in part 1. Author's notes at the end. DAY TWO -- 0100 26 HOURS It was one in the morning. Mulder jerked awake when he heard the phone ring. He was lying on the couch in Skinner's office. The AD had two large briefcases on his desk and was standing, looking down at them. Mulder got up. Skinner answered the phone on speaker. "Skinner." "The money is to be dropped off in a garbage can at the corner of 10th and F streets in Washington at exactly 4am by Agent Mulder. If we see any other law enforcement, we will not pick up the money. We will not release Agent Scully. Her life depends on this. If the money is marked in any way, we will not release her. There will be no second chance." Skinner exchanged a tense moment of eye contact with Mulder. Mulder nodded. "We understand," Skinner said. "Is she still alive?" Mulder asked. "Yes." The line was disconnected. Skinner reached for the phone. "What are you doing?" Mulder asked. "Setting up agents around the area of the trash can. We're going to get these bastards." "He said no," Mulder told him firmly. "Scully --" "We're going to find her, Mulder. I'm going to put the best agents out there. This is the only way. We only have one chance." The phone rang again. Skinner hit the speakerphone button. "Sir, this is Agent Cole. I've got something on the audio from the phone call at 2pm." "What is it?" "There's the sound of a plane in the background. I could hear it when I turned down the treble of the kidnapper's voice. Based on the propeller sounds, it sounds like a Fokker 100 -- a passenger plane. I called Dulles, National, and BWI -- the only one with a Fokker 100 taking off around that time was National." "Got it." Skinner pressed down the switchhook and dialed another number. "Move the searching agents to a 10 mile perimeter around National Airport. I want every house searched. And get me the head of the SWAT team. I want four units to be placed around F and 10th." He hung up the phone. "Agent Mulder. It's one in the morning. Go home. Take a shower and get cleaned up. Then get back here." Mulder started to protest, but realized that arguing was futile. Skinner was in charge of this. "Sir, I just...don't want anything to happen to Agent Scully." He didn't know how to explain it any more succinctly than that without blurting out that Scully was the reason he was still alive, that she was the only thing that mattered to him anymore. Skinner nodded. "I know, Agent Mulder. I don't either." ***** DAY TWO -- 0200 27 HOURS Mulder stood under the hot spray of the shower for long minutes until he could feel the burning on his skin. Then he knew he was awake. He turned the shower off and stepped out, unable to see his face in the fog-covered mirror, thinking only of Scully. Hang on, Scully. Hang on. Breathe. Breathe. He was breathing. Was she? ***** DAY TWO -- 0400 29 HOURS As he drove, Mulder felt the sweat on his palms. Without letting go of the steering wheel completely, he wiped them for the third time on his jeans. God forbid he dropped the suitcases and the money flew out, the wind carrying it all over downtown Washington in the middle of the night. Now *that* would be a sight. He was wearing an earpiece and could hear SWAT agents reporting their positions from various locations around him. He knew that all of them had their crosshairs leveled on the garbage can that was about two blocks ahead. He wasn't wearing a mike, but he didn't need one. Once he got close to the drop-off spot, there were going to be forty pairs of eyes watching him. "No one's out there, Mulder," Skinner's voice came through the earpiece. "And so far no luck near National. They've covered about 20% of the area." That's not enough, Mulder thought. They have to cover the *whole* fucking area. They have to find Scully. And they have to find these motherfuckers. And then I'm going to kill them. Mulder pulled his car up about 30 feet from the garbage can. He knew everyone was watching him now. They could all see him. "We've got you, Mulder," Skinner told him. He parked the car and got out. God, Scully, he prayed as he stepped onto the sidewalk. Please, let this bring you back to me. Please. Each step felt as if he were walking in quicksand. And then he was there. The garbage can was right in front of him. "Drop the cases, Mulder," Skinner's voice came through, loud and clear. Mulder hesitated. "Drop them, Mulder." Skinner sounded angry. "Drop them." Mulder turned around. He knew that the SWAT agents were watching him. Were Scully's kidnappers watching him as well? He lifted the briefcases above his head and waved them around for a moment. There was no one in sight except for a few homeless people ambling down the street and two sanitation workers already moving towards the following block. Mulder dropped the cases into the garbage can and turned away, expecting to hear the thump as they hit the bottom. There was no noise. He turned back, looking into the garbage can that had been filled with trash and newspaper. There was a dark hole in the center. Oh, fuck. Fuck. It was a fucking setup. Mulder kicked the can over on its side. There was a small hole in the pavement. The cases were gone. They had dropped below street level, likely right into someone's waiting hands. "Fuck!" he screamed, pointing at the ground, hoping the SWAT agents could see what he was seeing. "Mulder!" Skinner's voice exploded into his ear. Other agents were yelling and Mulder yanked the earpiece away from him as he sprinted back towards the car. He started the engine and pulled away from the curb, his tires squealing. He grabbed his cel phone and dialed Skinner. "What the fuck are you doing?" Skinner answered. "Mulder, what the fuck --" "Where are they? The agents by National? Where are they?" he yelled. "Arlington," Skinner said. He gave Mulder a street name. "They're covering the area." "Tell them I'm on my way." He stepped hard on the gas pedal. Hang on, Scully. Hang on. ***** DAY TWO -- 0700 32 HOURS Scully turned awkwardly, her mind fuzzy. My pillow, she thought. My pillow is gone. She realized with a half-start that she didn't have a pillow. She was cold and uncomfortable. And she was starting to think that Mulder wasn't going to come for her after all. Scully didn't want to wake up. She didn't want to look at her watch and see how many more hours had passed since the last time she had checked. She didn't want to think about never being found. She didn't want to think about dying. Luckily, the drugs were still clouding her thoughts. She drifted back off to sleep. DAY TWO -- 0900 34 HOURS Mulder watched as the agents knocked on yet another door. Another dead end. His mind was too busy calculating how much time had elapsed since Scully had...disappeared. How much air she could possibly have left. He didn't want to have to open the box to find her body curled as if in sleep, or her face pressed up against the cracks, having tried desperately to get a few last breaths of air before she -- No. "Sir? We were just wondering if you would be willing to step outside for a moment and answer a few questions." "What's this about? I'm very busy right now." Mulder looked up. "This will only take a minute, sir. Is there anyone else home?" The man at the doorway looked back into his house, a small cottage with ragged curtains in the windows and a broken front step. "No, there's no one else here." His voice. Mulder listened to his voice. The digital mastering had altered the kidnapper's voice. But it wasn't a scrambler. Certain characteristics remained. "Could you step outside, sir?" "Sure, hold on a minute." The man shut the door quickly. The agent at the door pressed the talk button on his radio. "We've got a suspicious person at 1482 Swartham Road. Requesting backup. We're going around the back." "Copy that." Mulder sprinted around the back without hesitating. "Agent Mulder!" one of the other agents hissed. "Somebody, go after him..." Mulder didn't hear the rest of the order. He raced around the side of the house, scanning the ground carefully. Oh God. Oh God. His breathing doubled when he saw it. A fresh grave. About fifty feet from the back door of the house. A shovel was propped up against a rickety-looking shed and Mulder grabbed it and began digging. Another two agents appeared from around the house. "Hey!" the owner of the house yelled, coming out of the back door. "Get him!" Mulder screamed. "This is it! She's under here!" The man only needed one glance to see that he was surrounded by FBI agents, but he ran anyway. He only covered about twenty feet of ground in the opposite direction before fifteen agents were surrounding him. "FBI! Freeze!" Mulder heard the agents yells but ignored them. He plunged the shovel into the earth. DAY TWO -- 0900 34 HOURS "Scully!" Scully opened her eyes, rubbing them in the darkness. She didn't know how long she had been out this time, but now she was hearing Mulder's voice. Hallucinations, her mind told her. Then she heard it. The sound was almost indescribable. But she recognized it immediately. It was the sound of a shovel digging above her. She bit her lip. Mulder's voice -- she'd imagined it. And now her captors were digging her out. She struggled to get up as much as she could. Think, she ordered herself through the haze of the drugs. Think, damn it. She reached blindly around her, trying to think of what she could use as a weapon. The candy bars, the tranquilizers -- all useless. The jug of water -- too heavy for her tired arms to lift. The bucket. She reached for it and grabbed a hold of the sides. Whoever opened the lid was going to be in for a big surprise. ***** Mulder was being helped by two other agents who had found shovels of their own. "Paramedics are on their way," one agent told Mulder in between scoops of dirt. Mulder simply nodded. His shovel hit something hard. He dropped it and fell to his feet, digging with his hands, pushing dirt aside as fast as he could. The box. He had found the box. Oh, Jesus, Scully. Please. They exposed the box quickly. Two tubes from above ground were pushed through small openings in the top. Mulder pulled at the lid. Tugged hard. It wouldn't budge. He saw the latch, padlocked shut. He pulled his gun, aimed carefully and fired. ***** Scully heard the shot and jumped. They had a gun. How the hell was she going to get away? Hitting them with a bucket was going to be no match for a bullet. She had no idea what she could expect to see. She had been in the darkness for so long that she wasn't sure how her eyes were going to adjust to the light. She wasn't even sure if it was day or night outside. Outside the box. All she knew was that she was inside -- and she wanted to be out. Now. ***** The lock careened away and bounced in two pieces into the grass. Mulder ignored it and paused before moving to lift the lid. He closed his eyes for a moment. God, if you can hear me, please let her be alive. I know it's impossible. But please. I can't lose her. He opened the box. ***** Scully heard some rustling noises. Come on, she urged. Open the fucking lid already. Open it so I can bash your face in. That's it, she told herself. Think positive and you can do it. She pulled herself into the closest position to a crouch that she could manage in the small space. She wanted to be able to burst out as soon as she could, take them by surprise. More rustling, and then with a long, slow creak, the lid opened. ***** Scully pushed her body up and against the body of what felt like a tall man, and she pushed the bucket into his stomach. She heard him fall onto the grass. "Son of a bitch!" she screamed. Her voice was dry and hoarse, but she got the words out anyhow. Then she was up and out of the box, on the ground, struggling to get away. She couldn't open her eyes. The sun burned them. Daytime, she told herself, knowing that it was an inconsequential piece of information. But it was making it harder for her to get away. She squinted through half-open eyes. There were other people around too -- at least a dozen. Oh, Jesus, there was no way she could get away. But she was going to be damned if she wasn't going to try. She got to her feet and wobbled again, trying to stay on them long enough to run. They haven't shot me yet, Scully thought. Why? "Scully!" She froze. Mulder. She would recognize that voice anywhere. "Mulder," she whispered. "Mulder." "Christ, Scully." He was at her side in an instant, supporting her body as her stiff knees gave out and forced her to the ground. "I'm here, Scully. You're safe." She grasped at his shoulders, clutching them convulsively. "Mulder. I'm alive." He pulled her close to him, enveloping her small body in his arms. "Yes, Scully," he murmured. "You are. You're alive." ***** Scully woke up, sitting up in bed sharply. She turned on the light. Her bedroom was instantly illuminated. She was safe. In her own bed, not in the box. She was safe. She had been back for two days. Her kidnappers had been captured. Two men and one woman, with no ties to the Consortium (that Mulder could find, anyhow) were arrested the day she was dug out. They were all facing numerous charges and were being held without bail. The ransom money had been found below street level along with the female kidnapper, who was waiting for it to drop into her hands. Except Scully was still having trouble sleeping. She refused to take sleeping pills. She doubted that she would ever want to look at one again. She glanced over at her bedside clock. Midnight. The phone rang, startling her. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she answered it. "Hello." "Hey, Scully, it's me." Mulder's voice was warm. It sent a feeling of calm through the phone line and she rested her body back on the three pillows she had stacked up behind her head and neck. "Did I wake you?" "No," she said. "I was already up." "Can't sleep?" "I'm still having some trouble," she said honestly. "Anything I can do to help?" She shook her head with a smile even though she knew he couldn't see it. "I'm afraid not, Mulder." "You sure?" "I'm positive." "Well, I was just calling to say hi. To make sure you were okay." Scully paused before answering. Was she okay? She wasn't fine. She was having nightmares about the box. Elevators felt like boxes to her. Everything felt like the box. "I'm fine, Mulder," she finally said. There was a pause. "Well, I don't want to keep you up. I'll see you in the morning, Scully." "Bye, Mulder." Scully hung up the phone. END Author's Notes: The events of this story are inspired by real events that happened to a young woman named Barbara Mackle, who was kidnapped, held for ransom and buried alive in 1968. She was known as the "Girl in the Box", and the note in this story is quoted from the note that was put in the box with her. She was rescued after being buried alive for 83 hours, and the photo described in this story is similar to the one that was taken of Barbara Mackle and printed in newspapers across the country after she was taken. Thanks to Mary Ann for answering an important technical question, and to Madeleine and Angie for editing. -- ****************************************** "I'm standing on the edge of common sense here." --Dana Scully, The X-Files