Title: Hostage Situation. Part 1/?
Author:Sherry Davis and Setmedic.
E-Mail:SherryDav@aol.com and Setmedic@pacbell.net
Category: SRA MSR ScullyAngst 
STORY Rating: R (violence, language)
Spoilers: I don't think there are any, but US6 to be safe.

Archive: Gossamer. All other archivists should contact us.

Summary: A bank heist goes terribly wrong.

Feedback: You Betcha.

Author's Notes: Many thanks go to Polly, Dawson, Julie, Karen and Tamara for
their continued support and suggestions. This story would have crashed and
burned without you guys.

Disclaimer: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder and any other X-Files characters 
belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and FOX studios. No copyright 
infringement is intended by the authors.

Enjoy!
------

Mobile Command Center,
FBI Hostage Rescue Team East,
Gateway Plaza Complex,
Loudoun County,
Virginia. 4.45 P.M.

     "Shit!" The sudden sound of the spotter's two-way radio 
link shattered the silence of the mobile command center, "He's gonna 
waste him...  I repeat... Target is preparing to *waste* the 
hostage."

     "Do you have a clear shot?" The HRT SAC enquired, 
already knowing the likely outcome of that answer.

     "Negative, boss. The bastard is using one of the other 
hostages as a shield. He's put the female teller in just the right 
position to negate any kind of kill shot." There was a brief 
hesitation before the commentary continued, "He knows what he's 
doing. He's been down this road before." There was a tone of 
begrudging admiration in the spotter's voice. 

     "The target is forcing the hostage to his knees. Hostage has 
his hands cuffed behind his back. He's pretty beaten up... contusions 
and a *lot* of blood covering his face. Jesus... look's like the poor 
SOB has been pistol-whipped pretty bad..." The spotter's words 
trailed off for a moment and everyone in the small command center 
waited anxiously. There was a slight crackle of static and then 
his words were heard once more, "I'm pretty sure it's him though."

     The SAC's eyes lifted from his scrutiny of the monitors, 
to glance at the small auburn haired woman who stood opposite. Her 
cool, no nonsense gaze locked with his across the top of the desk, 
refusing to waver. Those penetrating blue eyes were asking him a 
question, a question she had vocalised on more than one occasion 
since this thing had started over four hours ago.

     **Let me go in with them?**

     **NO.**

     **Damnit... I'm trained for this. Let me go in... let me be a 
part of the team that takes this asshole out.**

     **NO.**

     **It's my *partner* in there.**

     **And that's the very reason *why* I can't let you go inside.**

     Dana Scully looked away from the intimidating glare of the 
Hostage Rescue Team's CO and bit down upon her lip in nervous 
agitation. Hands, eager to be doing something more constructive than 
merely waiting around, clenched and unclenched at her side. Her gaze 
slid over the small monitors on the desk, trying to quell the 
trepidation rising within her, but it only served to heighten her own 
feelings of powerlessness.

     SAC Sinclair was right. He couldn't let her go inside with the 
other members of the assault team. As Mulder's partner, the book 
clearly stated that she was too personally involved to perform 
objectively. Her instinctual need to put her partner first could 
cloud her judgement, thus rendering her useless to the other team 
members who would be relying upon her to back them up. To include her 
in the takedown would only serve to dull the finely honed edge that 
the assault team needed to do their job.

     She knew that. 

     She understood that.

     She hated it, but she had to accept it.

     **So *why* is it so goddamn hard to accept?** She thought 
angrily to herself. **Why is it so difficult to acknowledge that this 
is one team I'm not allowed to play on?**

     Because it was Mulder in there.

     If it had been any other agent it would have been different. 
Even if it had been Skinner held inside that building, she knew that 
she would have been able to accept the role that had been cast for 
her.

     But not when it was Mulder.

     Not when it was the one man that she had never *failed* to back 
up for six long years. No matter how impossible the task, she had 
*always* managed to get him out alive. No matter how dark and 
dangerous the situation, she had steadfastly refused to leave his 
side. The more he got himself entwined in the vines of lies and 
mistrust, the more she had acted as his personal machete, slicing 
through the fronds of danger and deceit to reclaim him.

     Sometimes just in the nick of time.

     They had stood back to back fighting all comers through Hell and 
high water, over and over again. It had become second nature to her 
to want, to *need*, to be the one that always brokered his release. 
It felt alien to her to just stand by and watch others ready 
themselves to go in and do battle for him.

     She was his paladin.

     His champion.

     His knight in shining armour. 

     Ready at a moment's notice to wage war and launch her own brand 
of wrath upon all those that dared to threaten him. Now she had to 
relinquish that right to a group of strangers dressed in dark Kevlar-
protected clothing and masks. She had been reduced to sweating it out 
alongside the relatives and friends of those held hostage inside the 
bank. It was an uncomfortable feeling, one she didn't like.   

     It gave her too much time to think.

     Too much time to ponder the possibilities.

     **Why didn't I go in with him?** She demanded of herself, **Was 
it really because he had insisted that I stay in the car?**

     Or was it because she had wanted to take a brief respite from 
challenging his latest, outlandish theory concerning the case they'd 
been working? A theory, she reminded herself, that had driven her up 
the wall to the point where they'd been having a heated debate in the 
car over its credibility.

     Just when she'd reached a point where she wanted to lean across 
the seat and throttle him, he had pulled the car over to the curb and 
told her he had an urgent errand to run. That he needed to urgently 
deposit his last paycheck.

     Jesus...

     What had suddenly made him decide to deposit a check that must 
have sat in his pocket for two weeks! Why now in the middle of the 
damn workday? 

     Since when had he become so organised?

     Or had her irritability over the case become so noticeable that 
he had decided a time-out was in order? Whatever it was, he had 
gotten out of the car and told her he wouldn't be too long. She had 
nodded absently in response and he had quietly closed the door.

     That had been over four hours ago.

     To the petite redhead it felt a whole lot longer. More like a 
whole lifetime had elapsed since she had last seen him. Since she'd 
seen that long, lanky frame saunter casually into the bank's foyer.

     They could have been back at the office now, poring over old 
casefiles. Arguing over the scientific evidence that she had 
uncovered that would have blown his theory clean out of the water. He 
would have been safe, not held hostage in a Virginia bank at the 
mercy of some whacked-out gunman.

     She sighed again and found that she had been unconsciously 
wringing her hands. Annoyed at her lack of control, she shoved them 
inside her trenchcoat pockets.

     Negotiation had turned out to be a fruitless waste of time. 
They had spent over an hour trying to strike a deal with a man who 
couldn't be reasoned with. The only thing they had accomplished was 
to irritate the bastard even more, to the point where he had 
viciously yanked the phone connection from the wall. Seconds later a 
burst of gunfire had been heard inside the old building.

     A moment of terror had invaded Dana Scully's body as she'd 
wondered what those gunshots signified. Then one of the monitors had 
picked up the bank's door being opened. Another hostage dragged out 
the bloodied body of one of the security guards. Fearful for his own 
safety, he'd dumped the bullet riddled body unceremoniously on the 
sidewalk before hurrying back inside the building. 

     The message was clear. The time for negotiation had long since 
passed.

     She didn't need to be a top-notch profiler to see that things 
were going to hell in a handbasket. This maniac had a couple of 
highly wired accomplices and enough hardware to start a second Iwo 
Jima. He had already clearly telegraphed his intentions to execute 
hostages if he didn't get what he wanted. This madman had the 
capacity and the cold-blooded willingness to totally disregard the 
bureau and their NO DEAL policy.

     **It's the rules, Dana.** she tried to tell herself, then shook 
her head in disgust, **Fuck rules... I want him out alive, not in a 
bodybag.**

     The cellphone in her pocket chirruped into life, breaking her 
from those macabre thoughts. She stuck a hand into the inside pocket 
of her trenchcoat and extracted it, hitting the send button and 
putting it to her ear.

     "Scully..." 

     "Scully, who?" A hard edged voice queried, the tone a little 
exasperated as the caller realised he was speaking to a woman.

     Bristling at the undisguised snub, she was about to put the 
chauvinistic jackass back in his place when a thought struck her.

     **Everyone who uses this number already knows who I am. It's a 
government issued cell, never used for anything other than business 
purposes... So who the hell is this asshole?**

     The answer followed hot on the tail of the question. 

     The gunman from the bank.

     But if that were true... 

     "This is Agent Scully of the FBI," she replied in her best 
authoritative voice, "and I wish to know to whom I'm speaking."

     She looked up briefly to pinpoint Sinclair's position in the 
command center. He was speaking to a group of men on the other side 
of the small van, oblivious to her conversation.

     "Take a look at the monitor and all will be revealed." The hard 
edged voice instructed, "I'm guessing you've got a shit load of fibre 
optic images being pumped into that tin can you're sitting in."

     The unknown man's assumption had been correct. He seemed to know 
as much about the banking community's practices as he did the assault 
team's. The bank was a regional branch of a major banking 
corporation, and as such its security systems were linked to a 
central location. About an hour into the crisis the bank's security 
people had shown up and offered the FBI access to their Fibre Optic 
Network. This in turn had given the bureau's technicians the much 
needed surveillance hardware to view inside the bank.

     "To whom am I speaking?" she asked again, waving her hand at 
Sinclair to get his attention.

     "A concerned citizen." Came back the sarcastic reply, "Listen 
bitch, I ain't got time to play any more fucking games. Look at the 
monitor!"

     Scully slowly moved around the desk containing the bank of 
monitors and began studying them. Six black and white screens 
showed various areas inside and outside the bank. None showed where 
the hostages were being kept. A smart move on the part of the 
criminals. 

     The fourth monitor caught her eye and she inhaled sharply. One 
of the gunmen was holding Mulder's ID up against the lens of the 
security camera. His bureau issue photo ID looked stark and grainy in 
the black and white tones coming from the screen. It blurred into 
hues of dark and light.

     It shouldn't have come as that much of a surprise, the SOB was 
using Mulder's cell to call her after all, but Scully's stomach still 
flipped over at the implications of this new set of events. She was 
certain that at that moment her own complexion must have mirrored 
that of the pasty looking image on the screen.

     They knew...

     Oh God... *they* knew...

     "What is it?" The SAC asked, alerted by her sharp intake 
of breath.

     "Mulder's ID." She slapped a hand over the mouthpiece of the 
cellphone, "Now they know he's Bureau. They'll think they have a bona 
fide hostage. One that can get them out of there."

     "We don't do deals." The SAC replied emphatically.

     The muscles inside her stomach tightened painfully as the 
realisation was driven home. No matter what happened next, the bureau 
*would* not, *could* not back down. Even if it meant sacrificing her 
partner's life, they couldn't go against federal policy.

     The look in her eyes must have alerted Sinclair to her present 
state of emotional turmoil. He gently laid a hand upon her forearm, 
breaking her from her thoughts.

     "We all knew the risks of this when we signed up. Your partner 
knows the rules as well as you and me. Any one of us could be used as 
a bargaining chip. The bureau doesn't allow that to happen." He 
stared into her eyes sorrowfully, "Period."

     **I can't let him die,** her mind replied silently, **I can't 
just stand by and watch him die.**

     "I'm gonna try and stall him." A breathy sigh broke from her 
lips, "Get your people ready, this could get real ugly... real fast."

     The SAC nodded quickly, striding off toward the entrance of the 
van, giving orders to all those who would listen. Scully watched him 
move away, and tried to brace herself for what was going to come 
next. Slowly she moved her hand away from the mouthpiece of the 
cellphone.

     "Let me speak to my partner." Her voice was cool and calm, 
refusing to betray the fear that coursed through her body, "I want 
proof that he's still alive."

     "He's alive," The voice replied coldly, "and that's all you need 
to know for now." 

     She closed her eyes as she realised that the gunman wasn't going 
to give in to her request. He knew all the moves and counter-moves, 
could play the waiting game as well as those around her. He was no 
more likely to let her speak with Mulder than the assault team were 
going to let the robbers out of the bank.

     It was a standoff. All she could do was stay focused, keeping 
the gunman talking and therefore distracted long enough to give the 
assault team a chance to approach and storm the building.

     To keep intact the element of surprise. 

     "What do you want?" she asked, trying to keep to a script she 
barely knew, relying upon instinct and a vague memory of a class 
during her days at the academy to keep it together.

     "What price do you put upon your partner's life, Agent Scully?"

     The question took her a little by surprise, wondering why the 
gunman had suddenly made it into something personal, but she 
continued to play it by the book.

     "Look, can I put this on the speakerphone? I haven't the 
authority to make deals. You must know that there are others here 
that outrank me, I'll have to defer any demands you have through 
them."

     "Go ahead. Makes no difference to me as long as I get what I 
want."

     There was a brief silence as Scully looked around the command 
center for the speakerphone. One of the technicians pointed to a 
small plastic box that looked like a cellphone charger. She nodded 
and slipped the cell into the plastic cradle.

     "You still haven't answered my question." The voice finally 
said, "What price do *you* put upon your partner's life?"

     **Personally, I'd pay whatever you bastards want.** She thought 
to herself, **Professionally both Mulder and I know our lives aren't 
worth a cent.**

     "Like I said... what do you want?" she reiterated and wondered 
how she managed to keep the tremor out of her voice.

     "What I've wanted all along. Safe passage out of here. A 
chopper waiting at the nearest airport."

     "And Mulder?" Her words were soft and this time she noticed the 
tremulous cadence in her voice.

     "Doesn't die within the next few minutes." The hard voice 
replied, "So what's it gonna be? You prepared to make a deal for 
Elliot Ness here?"

     She looked around her quickly and met the eyes of SAC Sinclair 
staring intently back at her. His head was forcefully shaking back 
and forth... back and forth.

     **No deal. There's no way in hell we're gonna let them out of 
that building.** His eyes told her. **You know the policy Agent 
Scully. Each agent knows the risks of being taken hostage.**
	
     She closed her eyes and took a deep, fortifying breath.

     "It's not that simple... I can't just..." Her words were cut 
off before she could finish.

     "It's that fucking simple lady. You *do* what I say or I'll 
blow your fucking partner's brains all over this bank!"

     There was silence in the room as both parties regained their 
equilibrium. 

     "Aw shit! I don't know why I decided to call you motherfuckers  
anyway." There was another short pause before. "Say bye to your 
partner, lady..."

     "No!" Scully yelled at the phone, her hands slapping down on 
the console next to it, "Wait! Wait! Please..." Her eyes lingered 
over the small cellphone as it nestled inside its cold, impersonal 
casing, "Just give me a few minutes... just... just don't hurt him."

     She snapped the switch next to the phone off and ran a shaky 
hand through her auburn hair.

     **Christ... what are you doing, Dana? You're not bloody 
trained for this.**

     "There can be no deviation from policy, Agent Scully." 
Sinclair's somber words floated toward her, "You *cannot* deal with 
this man."

     Scully spun around and pinned the assault team's Commanding 
Officer with her most withering look, "You tell him that!" she spat 
at him, pointing at the phone, "You tell him that there's no deal. 
You sign my partner's death warrant!"

     "You know the rules as well as I do. As well as Agent Mulder 
does. There can be no ground given."

     "Fuck you!" Scully roared, "You're not the one being asked to 
serve up your partner on a plate. Don't presume to stand there and 
lecture me on points of protocol you son-of-a-bitch."

     "Agent Scully, you're out of line." Sinclair countered, 
anger now lacing his words.

     "Do you understand what you're asking me to do?" she said, "The 
second after I tell that bastard that there's not going to be a deal, 
Mulder's *dead*."

     "Your partner isn't the only hostage we have to consider, Agent 
Scully. My team's waiting on my signal to go in. Once that signal is 
given they'll blow the doors and proceed to take out the targets."

     "But Mulder will still be dead!" she replied anxiously, "Your 
team won't get there quick enough to prevent that maniac from killing 
him. For God's sake he's already on his knees with a fucking gun 
pointed at his head."

     "Casualties of war." Sinclair replied and Scully had to 
restrain the impulse to punch him. She was already in enough trouble 
for speaking to him with blatant disrespect as it was. Her sharp 
fingernails dug into the fleshy skin of her palms as she fought with 
the rising tide of anger that threatened to engulf her.

     **Don't let me be the one to condemn him.** her eyes pleaded 
with the SAC, **You can't ask that of me. You can't ask me to be the 
one to let him die.**

     Sinclair held her gaze for a moment longer before brushing past 
her, heading for the console and the phone upon it. Scully closed her 
eyes and bowed her head in defeat.  

     **Forgive me Mulder. I tried. As God's my witness... I tried.**

     The snap of the switch being activated jolted her body, but she 
refused to turn around. She wanted to run away, to silently slip out 
of the command center. She didn't want to hear the words that were 
going to be uttered in the next few seconds. She didn't want to have 
the weight of those words forever imprinted upon her mind.

     Knowing that the next two words out of Sinclair's lips were 
going to severe her link with Mulder forever. That their six year 
partnership was finally going to end, for him terrifyingly in a 
Virginia bank and for her in a crowded, but no less terrifying,  
command center. 

     Apart from each other.

     Alone.

     Surrounded by other members of the human race, but so totally, 
utterly alone.

     "No deal." Sinclair's rough voice filled the room and Scully 
felt the tension inside the van increase tenfold. An anguished sob 
rose from deep inside her chest to be quelled by the tightness of her 
lips as she refused to open them and let it out. 

     "What?!" the voice asked, not believing the words he had heard. 
Not understanding that the VIP he thought he had was nothing more 
than a mere pawn.

     "I said no deal." Sinclair restated, "The bureau doesn't do 
deals with terrorists or criminals." He cleared his throat and Scully 
wondered if perhaps this was just as hard for him, "Agent Mulder's 
life will not be bargained for."

     The ground beneath her lurched suddenly and she threw 
out an unsteady hand to grip the nearest desk. Its solidity was 
comforting, helping her to regain her faltering balance. 
Unfortunately her reeling emotions couldn't be appeased so easily.

     "Do you think I'm fucking kidding?!" the voice screamed through 
the speakerphone "Do you think I'm fucking bluffing when I say that 
I'll blow his goddamn brains all over this fucking room?"

     "No." Sinclair said, his voice totally devoid of emotion once 
again, "I'm just stating the bureau's policy."

     "Is Agent Scully there?" the voice asked, "Where is she?"

     "Agent Scully has been relieved from further negotiation in 
this matter. You are now to deal directly with me."

     "You ran roughshod over her, huh?" The voice responded 
sarcastically, "Well if she's still there I think she'd probably like 
to hear this."

     There was the sound of something rustling on the line and a 
muffled "No" could be heard in the distance. Scully turned slowly 
around as she picked out her partner's definitive timbre in that one 
word.
	
     **Oh God, they're going to kill him.**

     She felt her eyes prickling with unshed tears. Her throat 
closing around the lump that formed deep within her larynx. Every  
nerve in her body felt raw, stripped of the protective layer of 
epidermis that kept them from feeling pain. Blinking back the wetness 
that threatened to spill forth from her eyes, she crossed back to 
where Sinclair stood beside the speakerphone. As she reached him, she 
noticed him put a small radio up against his lips. She could just 
make out the softly mouthed, "GO!" as it was whispered into the 
handset.

     The order to storm the building had been given, she could only 
now pray that the HRT team were as good as they boasted. No matter 
how good they were it would be a tall mountain to climb. Once the 
building's doors blew the criminals would know that the cavalry had 
arrived and would automatically go onto the defensive. In his already 
vulnerable position on the floor, Mulder would be the first of the 
new casualties.

     **Hail Mary, full of grace...** 

     "Agent Scully, did you know that Agent Mulder carries an 
envelope stashed behind his badge addressed to you?"

     Scully was broken from her prayer by the sound of the voice on 
the phoneline. 

     An envelope? 

     "It looks to be one of those, 'only to be opened in the 
event...' type envelopes to me." The voice continued amusedly, "Shall 
we see what's inside?"

     "NO! Don't do that!" Mulder's hoarse voice echoed in the small 
room only to be followed by the sound of something hard connecting 
with his body. A muffled groan resonated down the line causing Scully 
to wince in shared pain.

     "C'mon... C'mon..." Sinclair's voice whispered beside her, 
"Blow those damn doors."

     The sound of something tearing brought Scully's eyes up sharply 
to stare at the speakerphone. That bastard was opening Mulder's 
letter to her. His last thoughts and wishes would soon be aired for 
everyone around them both to hear.

     She knew he didn't want that. The sound of his protesting voice 
had told her so in no uncertain terms. 

     She didn't want it either. Anything he had to tell her after 
his death was meant to be private and personal, not to be blurted out 
in front of complete strangers.

     **Oh God... I can't stand this.** Her mind declared. **What 
right does that bastard have to invade *our* privacy?**

     More rustling sounded down the line as the paper was taken out 
of the envelope. Scully's vision blurred as a bout of dizziness 
engulfed her, her world once more tilting at an acute angle. Her 
heart pounded erratically inside her chest, threatening to explode 
from its cavity. Hands twitched and shook with the force of the 
adrenaline rush coursing through her veins. 

     "Oh man..." The voice stated down the phoneline. There was 
another brief silence before the gunman's hard voice echoed down the 
line once more, "Oh man... Agent Scully, have you *ever* got to hear 
this."

     "Please..." Mulder's voice implored, "Don't do this to her!"

     Before she realised what she was doing, Scully's hand had 
wrapped around the cellphone and dragged it out of its makeshift 
cradle, pausing only slightly before bringing it up to her ear. She 
might not have been able to stop the man on the other end from 
broadcasting her partner's innermost thoughts and feelings, but she 
could strive to save Mulder what little dignity she could, by 
narrowing down the audience in the command center. 

     "Scully, 

     My strong, loyal Scully.

     As I write this, I pray for but a mere drop of the strength 
that you posses within your body."

     Scully's eyes closed as she clutched the tiny cellphone to her 
ear, straining to hear Mulder's soft voice through the harsh, vulgar   
tones of the man determined to end his life.

     "I know that only in death can I finally muster the courage to 
speak the words that need to be spoken. Words that were forever 
perched upon my lips, waiting for a moment, a time when they could be 
uttered in peace... without the fear of repercussion or repris..."

     Whatever came next became lost in the cacophony of sound that 
suddenly echoed down the line. Scully yanked the phone away from her 
ear as the deafening roar pulsed across the airwaves.

     The assault team's first explosive charge detonated, blowing 
open the glass fronted doors to the bank. Debris and dust billowed 
into the building.  

     "What the fu..." The sound of the gunman's disembodied voice 
sounded startled as it squawked in the palm of Scully's hand. She 
lifted the phone back to her ear, trying to make out how the 
operation was progressing, praying that they would rescue her partner 
in time. 

     Two of the monitors in the command center lit up brightly as 
the first of the flashbang grenades exploded. The pictures on the 
screen shuddered and shook with the force of the explosion, 
mirroring the disorientation that the grenades perpetuated upon 
gunman and hostage alike.

     "FBI DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" The brusque, authoritative sounds of 
the agent could be heard faintly as the team approached the group. 
Scully could only hope and pray that the flashbangs had done enough 
to knock the gunmen off guard. To give the team the precious time 
they needed to reach the hostages.

     To reach Mulder.

     "I SAID... DROP YOUR WEAPON!" The authoritative voice sounded a 
little tense now, as though he had come upon something unexpected in 
his gameplan.

     "Guess you and Agent Mulder just ran out of time." The gunman's 
hard voice stated coldly down the line, "Say goodbye to Elliot Ness, 
Scully."

     "No!!" Scully screamed, but the line went ominously dead. 

     Nanoseconds ticked away. With each one a funeral knell rang out 
inside the mind of the diminutive female agent. She could feel each 
and every eye in the command center settle upon her back, boring into 
her body with the intensity of a laserbeam. Her hands began to shake 
upon the small cellphone, her palms becoming slick with perspiration.

     **Be alive! Be alive! Be alive!** Her mind chanted over and 
over.

     A thin crackle was heard over the SAC's short wave radio, 
followed by more static.

     "Clear!" The first team member called in.

     "Clear!" The second called.

     "CONTROL... ALL SECTIONS REPORT CLEAR. ALL TARGETS HAVE 
BEEN TAKEN OUT. I REPEAT ALL TARGETS HAVE BEEN TAKEN OUT."

     A whoop of joy went out around the command center as the team 
members congratulated themselves with a job well done. Fists pumped 
the air, hands slapped backs as the knowledge sunk in. This would go 
down in their books as a good result.

     "Ahhhh! Shit!" The spotter's radio crackled into life, the 
sniper team had almost been forgotten during the tension of the 
takedown, "There's a hostage down. I repeat there's a hostage down. 
It looks like that son-of-a-bitch wasted him."

     The words reverberated across Scully's mind, echoing back and 
forth until they merged and became one long, incomprehensible word. 
She was frozen to the spot, a living, breathing statue in the middle 
of the command center. Eyes wide and unbelieving stared with terror 
at the cellphone in her hand, willing it to ring. Wanting to hear his 
voice softly telling her that everything was okay.

     That it was over and that he was safe.

     **It looks like the son-of-a-bitch wasted him.**

     Mulder. They were talking about Mulder. He was supposed to come 
out alive, like he always did, with a cocky smile and a quick fire 
quip upon his lips. 

     "Hey Scully, I takes a licking, but I keeps on ticking."

     **No. No. No. No.** Her mind echoed. **This can't be 
happening. This can't be true. Please God... don't let this be 
true.**

     "Control... We have confirmed fatalities inside the bank. Three 
*Targets* and one Caucasian male. We're gonna need ambulances."

     Dana Scully spun around, forcing her small body through the sea 
of figures moving chaotically around the command center. She pushed 
and shoved at the bodies in front of her until she made it to the 
doorway. Toward the beckoning twilight outside. She dashed across the 
street toward the bank, nothing registering inside her mind expect 
the overwhelming need to see him. To feel him. To touch him. To see 
for herself if he was really, truly dead. 

     "MULDER!!!!!" 

End Part One.

-----
Title: Hostage Situation. Part 2/?
Authors:Sherry Davis and Setmedic.
E-Mail:SherryDav@aol.com and Setmedic@pacbell.net
 
Enjoy!
------

Mercantile Credit Bank,
Gateway Plaza Complex,
Loudoun County,
Virginia

     Blood. There was blood everywhere, it seemed. Staining the 
marble floor of the bank, it looked like some macabre mosaic left by 
a savage people. Hostages lay huddled against the floor, watching 
every move the gunman made as he furiously paced. Here and there a 
footprint tracked the blood away from it's source. Some clear, some 
showing evidence of having caused the object of their making to slip 
in the slick, oily substance.

     In the space of a few minutes Mulder's entire world had exploded
around him. One minute he was depositing a check, and the next he was 
on the floor with a lunatic waving a gun near him.

     What the hell had happened?

     What had started out as a normal 'Mulder-you're-nuts'
disagreement had quickly turned almost bitter. Whatever was bothering 
the two of them needed to be sorted out, and Mulder knew it wouldn't 
happen while they were still hot. So he'd yanked the car over to the 
curb and headed into the first bank building he could find. They 
needed a break from each other, and he really did have a pay check to 
deposit.

     He loved his partner, but *sometimes*, he just wanted to shake 
her! 

     Lying on the floor, listening to the fading echos of gunshots, 
Mulder replayed the last few minutes in his mind. He'd mumbled an 
apology absently to an old lady he'd bumped into on his way in, and 
stood quietly at the teller's deposit window, waiting for the woman 
to finish her notes from the previous transaction.

     He was so lost in his thoughts that it took a minute to register 
the sudden disquiet in the echoing room. Glancing at the cashier's 
face, he froze, then followed her glance to the man standing a few 
windows down. 

     He was well over six feet tall and skinny as a beanpole. His 
long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, giving his gaunt 
facial features a skeletal appearance. Dressed in rumpled, well 
worn clothing, he looked decidedly out of place amongst the tailored 
business suits and smart casual clothes of the other customers in the 
busy bank. 

     Mulder noted the tension in the cashier's stance and watched as 
she began to slide a hand down towards the panic button hidden under 
the counter. Trying to catch her eye, he shook his head slightly. 
Noticing the movement, the dishevelled man suddenly erupted with an 
escalating shout, "I said NOBODY MOVE!!"

     BANG!!

     Mulder saw the cashier's shoulder explode in a crimson spray of 
blood and bone. He hit the floor, ears ringing, trying to listen for sounds of
life on the other side of the counter. A faint groan and muttered reassurances
from her co-workers told him she was alive - for now at least. Suddenly there
were shots coming from every corner of the room. One of the gunmen took out
the old security guard in the corner, another 
stood on a small table firing shots into the air.

     In the noise and confusion it was hard to figure out just who 
was in charge, just who was responsible for the carnage in the room. 
Mulder knew that the instant the shots were fired somebody outside, 
maybe even Scully, had activated the local EMS teams. Glancing 
carefully around, trying not to attract anyone's attention, Mulder 
slowly eased his coat open. If he could just get to his weapon...
 
     "HEY!! I said DON'T MOVE!!" Mulder winced and ducked his head, 
certain that the gunman was talking to him. Out of the corner of his 
eye he watched the man's approach, his dirty boots tracking blood 
with his every step. Startled when the man moved past him, he winced 
in sympathy at the sound of a solid object striking flesh. He heard 
the groan behind him as the man who'd carelessly moved slid to the 
floor. 

     "You, with the hair. Get up!" Mulder looked up to see the gunman 
pointing a weapon at his face. "Over there with the others." He 
gestured to where his men were lining the other people up against the 
teller wall, too low for the cameras to pick up.

     **These guys are good,** Mulder thought as he climbed gingerly 
to his feet. Walking swiftly to where the other hostages were now 
gathered, he stood with his back against the wall, watching the three 
men intently, committing their descriptions to his formidable memory.

     It was obvious by the way that the blond guy was taking charge 
that he was the trio's leader. There was something about him, an 
underlying ruthlessness that manifested itself in his actions. 
Everything that he did was measured, self assured, as though he would 
go to any lengths to see the job through. He conveyed a leadership 
quality that practically screamed to be obeyed. He had a plan, and 
from what Mulder could tell, it was a good one.

     His second in command was a big, burly guy. He looked like he'd 
been weaned on molten lead instead of milk. Muscle-bound to the point 
of parody he looked like a Rambo gone wrong. He perspired profusely, 
and had donned a Vietnam-style bandanna around his forehead to keep 
the sweat out of his eyes. Large hands cradled an assault rifle as 
though it were something he truly cherished. His trigger finger 
lovingly stroked the cool metal as someone would stroke a lover, but 
it was the feral gleam in his eyes that caught Mulder's attention.

     Although he couldn't be certain, Mulder feared that it had been 
this man that had needlessly taken out the elderly security guard. 
The poor man's bullet riddled body lay in a rapidly expanding lake of 
blood in the far corner of the lobby. The gleam in Burly Guy's eyes 
was no doubt a sign of his growing anticipation at using the weapon 
again. To Mulder's highly trained eye, this man posed a serious 
threat to the welfare of the hostages. He could only hope that 
Blondie knew how to keep him on his leash.

     The remaining gunman looked to be the complete antithesis of his 
buddies. He was short, stocky, and had a prematurely receding 
hairline. He trembled noticeably and his eyes seemed to do a 
continuous circuit of the room, as if he were waiting for the world 
to come crashing down at any second. Mulder noticed that someone, 
possibly Burly Guy, had given him a Glock to use. It made sense in a 
way. The Glock was possibly the easiest handgun to master, there 
wasn't much to remember, you simply pointed it and fired. 

     If the other two members of the team hadn't been so dangerous 
Mulder would have considered trying to defuse the situation through 
this man. He was the weakest link, more likely the one to snap as the 
crisis continued. The type of man that he had been trained to take 
advantage of.

	Still reviewing his options, he watched the blond leader snap up a teller's
phone on the first ring. **That'll be the negotiation team. Don't fuck up,
boys.** he pleaded silently. Turning his attention back to the armed men
before him, he toyed briefly with the idea of trying to reason with the
weakest man.

     **No,** Mulder thought, **if I am to have any success here it 
would be with the leader. It didn't appear he'd have that chance, 
however. Blondie was becoming increasingly more aggressive and 
agitated as he argued with the mediator over the phone. Mulder knew 
the verbal road to freedom was about to come to a dead end.

     He just hoped that *dead* wouldn't become the operative word. 

     As if to prove Mulder's thoughts right, Blondie yelled a string 
of obscenities down the phoneline before yanking the cord from the 
from the wallsocket. A moment later the handset was hurled into the 
far corner of the room, disintegrating with the impact.
	
     "Who do they fucking think they are?" Blondie screamed, 
"I've got all the aces here... don't they think I'll use them?"

     His angry roar of frustration was accompanied by a savage burst 
of gunfire, shredding the ceiling under which the hostages cowered. 
Screams of terror punctuated the noise of the weapon's discharge as 
the hostages clung to each other in fear of their lives. As the noise 
finally ebbed away pieces of plaster began to fall from the ceiling 
tiles to cover the small frightened group like confetti.

     "You!" Blondie pointed to one of the trembling hostages, 
"Drag that sorry son-of-a-bitch outta here." The weapon's muzzle 
indicated the prone, lifeless body of the security guard that had 
been killed during the earlier deadly hail of bullets,"If you're not 
back inside here in thirty seconds, I'll waste one of these fine-
lookin' ladies!" 

     The hostage sprang to his feet and did as ordered. He dragged 
the poor grey-haired man's corpse by the arms toward the double glass 
doors at the front of the building. All the while Blondie kept his 
weapon trained upon the unfortunate soul doing the donkey work, a 
constant reminder of the man's own precarious hold on mortality. The 
trembling hostage dumped the body on the sidewalk and practically 
sprinted back into the bank. 
	
     Mulder couldn't help but wonder where Scully was. Thank God she 
hadn't followed him into the bank. He figured she was probably at the 
command post tearing her hair out. A small smile graced his lips as 
he suddenly realised how unlikely that scenerio would be.

     More likely she would be gearing up with the rest of the HRT 
assault team preparing, if necessary, to storm the building, psyching 
herself up to come crashing through the double glass doors like the 
vengeful right hand of God himself.

     Hell hath no fury like a Scully scorned.

     He shook those vivid thoughts away and tried to concentrate on 
the matter at hand.

     The stillness of the large room was broken only by the 
occasional sniffle from the crowd along the wall. Blondie and Burly 
Guy conversed in angry hisses in a corner while the other man stood 
watch over the hostages. The sound of Mulder's cell-phone chirping 
made him suddenly jump.

     Mulder watched as Blondie approached, tilting his head to try 
to pinpoint the sound of the cell-phone. Stopping in front of Mulder 
he gestured him forward.

     "What's this, buddy? Hm? The wife want you to pick something up
on the way home?" He reached into Mulder's inside pocket, Mulder 
trying to twist his body away so the man wouldn't encounter his 
holster.

     "Yeah!" Blondie said into the phone. "Who? No, I'm a...
friend. That's right. Who should I say is calling? Kersh?" Mulder 
shuddered, just what he needed. Any second now and Kersh would say 
the magic word... Blondie's eyes lit up and his gaze narrowed as 
he looked back at Mulder. "*Agent* Mulder? *Agent*? Nope, he's 
unavailable!" 

     Mulder groaned silently as the man's eyes shone with an almost
manic glow. Chuckling, he grabbed Mulder by the back of the neck and 
pushed him forward. "Hey guys, we have another bargaining chip! This 
guy's an 'agent'!"

     Mulder tried to make the best of it. "Um, yeah, I'm an, um,
insurance agent, and I, um, well, that was my boss, and..." His head 
snapped sideways as Burly Guy smacked him across the face with the 
butt of his weapon. Hot, sharp pain lanced across his cheekbone. His 
right eye throbbed and began to swell, and Mulder could feel the 
warm, sticky blood trail down his cheek from the cut below the eye.

     "Shut up pal!"

     He felt the man holding him pull his hands roughly behind his 
back. The unmistakable feel of steel circled his wrists as the other 
gunman used the security guard's discarded handcuffs to secure him. 
The cuffs bit sharply into his skin, making him hiss against his 
will. Burly Guy only grinned in evil amusement at his discomfort 
before using the weapon to smack him across the face again.

     "Hate cops," he said by way of explanation, "hate Feds even 
more."

     "Well, that's something you share with half the police 
departments across the country." Mulder replied wryly, but his forced 
bravado only resulted in another backhand smack to his face.

     Mulder swayed on his feet, pressing into the body of the third 
gunman as he tried to keep his balance. Burly Guy gave another evil 
grin before placing a meaty hand upon Mulder's shoulder and forcing 
him to his knees.

     Blondie gave Mulder a final shove forward and stood over him 
menacingly, "Insurance salesman my ass, you dress too good!" He 
gestured for his men to hold Mulder still while he searched his 
pockets. "Hmm, standard wallet, one gun, and, ahHA! One ID wallet. 
Let's just see here... oh looky here boys. I'd like you to meet one 
Fox Mulder, FBI Special Agent."

     Snarling, Blondie leaned close to Mulder's face, his breath 
making him gag slightly. "Fox? What the hell is that about? Your 
parents hate you or something?" He looked at him in digust before 
turning his attention back to Mulder's phone, "I'm pretty sure you 
guys always travel in pairs. At least you do on TV. Isn't that right 
Mr. FBI?" He shook his long hair out of his eyes as he tapped a few 
buttons on Mulder's phone. "Geez, nice suit, bad tie... hell, you're 
a regular Elliot Ness." Finding the combination he wanted, he hit 
'send' on the phone. "Here we go. No ring on your hand, so I'd guess 
ole number one on the speed dial here would be el partner-o, whaddya 
say Mr. Ness?"

     Blondie grinned as the phone was answered with a tense, 
"Scully." The man snarled into the phone, "Scully who?" There was a 
definite sneer in his voice as though he were speaking to someone 
much lower on the evolutionary chain than himself. Mulder bit back a 
grin of his own as he realised that his partner would pick up on the 
man's belittling attitude toward her. His blatant chauvinism would 
only succeed in upping Scully's ire by a factor of ten.

     He didn't envy being in this guys shoes *when* she finally came 
crashing through those doors. With the attitude he was displaying it 
was a foregone conclusion that his balls would be hers.

     "Take a look at the monitor and all will be revealed." Blondie  
ordered, "I'm guessing you've got a shitload of fibre optic images 
being pumped into that tin can you're sitting in."

     Mulder could hear Scully faintly. He couldn't hear her replies, 
but could imagine her standing in the command center, frantically 
getting the commander's attention.

     Scully. Oh God. What he wouldn't give to be arguing with her
right now. 

     "A concerned citizen." Blondie's voice cut through Mulder's 
thoughts. "Listen bitch I ain't got time to play any more fucking 
games. Look at the monitor!"

     He yanked Mulder forward, dragging him along by his shirt 
collar, his knees sliding along the marbled floor as smoothly as an 
ice puck, until they were right below one of the main bank cameras. 
Grabbing a chair, he stood on it and shoved Mulder's ID into the 
lense. He gave them a few minutes to stew, enjoying the power he 
held. He held all the cards now, including an ace in the hole. Not 
only did he have a bank full of money and hostages, but now he had 
one of THEM as well. And he damn well knew THEY'd do anything for 
each other.

     Time to get moving. "What price do you put upon your partner's 
life, Agent Scully?" 

     Mulder's eyes closed as he listened to the man talk to his 
partner. What price? He knew. He knew his value to the Bureau and to 
his partner. He also knew just who's price tag would win in the end. 
He also knew that if the situation were reversed he'd negotiate and 
stall as long as he could. Scully's hands were tied, though, when all 
was said and done. He knew that, so did she. But, being Scully, she'd 
try to keep this bastard occupied until someone could present a
viable solution.

     Oh Scully. He hated the position she was in. The position
they were both in. For him it would end one way or another, but for 
her, whatever happened here would stay with her forever. If he died 
here she'd never forgive herself, no matter who's final decision 
sealed his fate. He knew he wouldn't if the situation were reversed.

     "You still haven't answered my question." Pacing back and
forth, Blondie asked again, "What price do *you* put upon your 
partner's life?" He scowled as he listened to the woman on the other 
end of the line. Jesus, a woman FBI partner. No wonder the man seemed 
like a wuss. What kind of a weenie got a whiny woman as a partner. 
Growing angrier by the minute he finally exploded.

     "It's that fucking simple lady. You *do* what I say or I'll
blow your fucking partner's brains all over this bank!" There was a 
collective gasp from the other hostages as he yanked Mulder closer to 
him, jabbing the muzzle of the gun against his temple. "Aw shit! I 
don't know why I decided to call you motherfuckers anyway."

     The metal was cool against his head, sending a slight anxious 
tremor through his body. A detached part of him vaguely acknowledged 
that this was it. This was going to be the end.

     "Say bye to your partner, lady..." Blondie spat into the 
phone.

     Mulder heard Scully's faint "No!" He braced himself as the man
began to squeeze the trigger. After a second or two he peeked up at 
him in confusion, he was listening again to something on the phone.

     For an eternity they were frozen in a strange tableau, the two 
men holding Mulder firmly by the shoulders, the gunman listening to 
the argument rage on the phone and Mulder, his head down and thoughts 
turned inward to only one person.

     Scully.

     And the hell she must be going through. 

     Suddenly the man before him erupted in furious anger. Swearing 
and raving, he waved Mulder's badge before him, shouting into the 
phone. With a ferocious growl he whipped the badge across the room, 
stopping his tirade as he caught sight of something falling from the 
wallet. Mulder bit back another groan as the man picked up the 
envelope.

     "What's this?" He grinned evilly at Mulder.

     "Nothing, it's nothing. Don't --" Mulder was silenced by another 
blow to the face. "Shut up Ness, I don't care what you think."

     Snatching the phone from the floor, the man lowered his voice, 
"Is Agent Scully there?" 

     Mulder looked up dazed. He hadn't realised that the gunman was 
now talking to someone else. This new knowledge now brokered a 
question. Where was Scully? Was she preparing to storm the building 
with the rest of the team? He strained his ears, trying to listen to 
the voice now on the other end of the line. Praying that his torment 
would soon be over. That the change in mediator spelled an iminent 
change in circumstances. 

     "You ran roughshod over her, huh?" Blondie's voice practically 
dripped sarcasm, "Well if she's still there I think she'd probably 
like to hear this."

     Mulder's hopes plummeted to about the same level as his stomach. 
She was still there and that had to mean that there would be no 
rescue just around the corner.

     "Agent Scully, did you know that Agent Mulder carries an 
envelope stashed behind his badge addressed to you?"

     If he hadn't already been on his knees, he would have sank to 
them. Mulder listened as the man gleefully ripped open the envelope. 
Damn, he *knew* he should have thrown the damn thing out! "...shall 
we see what's inside?"

     It was too much. Mulder leaped to his feet. "NO! Don't do that! 
Ung..." With a cry of pain, he slipped to his knees once more as  
Burly Guy hit him again.

     With a harsh laugh, Blondie planted himself in front of Mulder, 
the phone tucked under his chin. "Oh man..." He shook his head as he 
scanned further down the page. "Oh man... Agent Scully, have you 
*ever* got to hear this."

     No, please, Mulder thought. He lifted his gaze to his captor's, 
"Please... don't do this to her!" He remembered writing this to her, 
remembered how desperate he was to get the words down on paper before 
they escaped him. Now he was sorry he had. Sorry he hadn't just taken 
the time to say them to her privately. He didn't want her to hear 
them now, like this. Not in front of the world, where she couldn't
hear the love in his voice, the feelings behind the words.

     He listened as the words he wrote, so familiar to him, were 
uttered in the harsh, guttural sounds of the madman before him. 

     '"Scully, my strong, loyal Scully. As I write this, I pray for 
but a mere drop of the strength that you posses within your body."' 
Mulder shuddered as the man glanced from the letter to him and back 
again. He tried to concentrate on a possible plan of action, to block 
out the words he'd once written in love and now hated to hear read 
aloud. Inexorably, the man continued, his halting stutter marring the 
beauty behind the written words. 

     '"I know that only in death can I finally muster the courage to 
speak the words that need to be spoken. Words that were forever 
perched upon my lips, waiting for a moment, a time when they could be 
uttered in peace... without the fear of repercussion or repris..."'

     A sudden loud explosion caught everyone by surprise. **Of 
course,** Mulder thought, **what a perfect time to hit. The leader's 
distracted, lulled by his own amusements. It's what I'd do.**

     Glass and debris were thrown into the building, hitting gunman 
and hostage without mercy. The room suddenly lit up like a super nova 
as the flashbangs tossed in by the assault team detonated. The ear- 
splitting thunder of the grenades added to the confusion in the 
echoing lobby.

     Cries of, "FBI, DROP YOUR WEAPONS!!" rang out, along with
the sharp sounds of gunfire. One of the gunmen holding Mulder dropped 
to his knees with a groan. Dropping the letter, Blondie spun 
furiously, waving his remaining ally to the far wall.

     Mulder dove sideways, landing on another man pinned in the
crossfire. A hostage like himself, they both tried to remain
motionless in the confusion around them. Blondie caught sight of 
Mulder and his companion in the corner and grinned, madness glinting 
in his eyes. Ignoring the sounds and chaos around him, he stood 
straight and leveled his gun at Mulder. 

     "I SAID... DROP YOUR WEAPON!" Again, a voice rang out from
the gloom.

     Speaking into the phone for the last time, Blondie said,
"Guess you and Agent Mulder just ran out of time." Squeezing the 
trigger with each word, his last words were punctuated by sharp 
gunfire, "Say goodbye to Elliot Ness, Scully."

     The final explosion of gunfire deafened everyone in the
room. Smoke, debris, shards and bullets flew everywhere, pinging off 
of metal objects. Shouts and cries filled the air as the innocent and 
guilty alike were assaulted in the rescue.

     Inching carefully forward, the assault team's pointman watched 
the dust settle in the room. He knew he'd taken out the leader, but 
not before the man began firing into a corner. Hating what he was 
sure he was going to find, the black-clad rescuer moved forward, his 
feet crunching on the broken glass and shards below. Shit. 
shitshitshitshit. Damn. 

     Glancing around the room, he got a nod from his second in
command. The man held up two fingers. Nodding in response, he keyed 
his mike again, "Control... We have confirmed fatalities inside the 
bank. Three *Target's* and one Caucasian male. We're gonna need 
ambulances."

     Yanking off his hood, the rescuer knelt by the bodies before 
him. His rudimentary first aid skills might be enough to help the 
poor guy stuck below the fallen hostage. From somewhere outside, 
mixed with the wail of the approaching sirens, he heard an anguished 
cry.

     "MULDER!!!"

End Part Two.

------
Title: Hostage Situation. Part 3/?
Author:Sherry Davis and Setmedic.
E-Mail:SherryDav@aol.com and Setmedic@pacbell.net

Enjoy!
------

Mercantile Credit Bank,
Gateway Plaza Complex,
Loudoun County,
Virginia. 5.35.P.M.

     Twilight had begun to fall outside the command center, it's 
encroaching shadows settling over the scene like an oppressive cape.
Already a fleet of ambulances were pulling up to deal with the dead 
and injured inside. Black clad HRT members and detectives mingled 
around the entrance to the building discussing the destructive 
handiwork of the assault team. A large gathering of interested 
passers-by had congregated at the end of the street, their presence 
countered from intruding any further by uniformed officers from the 
local police department.

     A breathless air of expectancy settled heavily over the 
gathering crowd. Nervous whispers mingled with the odd command from 
nearby police officer's urging the crowd to keep behind the taped off 
area. A television news crew arrived on the scene, gaining entry to 
within a few feet of the building after a lengthy chat with one of 
the Watch Commanders. Silently the journalists set up their 
equipment, waiting with the rest of the interested public for the 
first glimpse of the rescued hostages, or bodies, which really made for a
better lead-in.

     Nobody in that ever growing crowd paid particular attention to 
the diminutive woman who raced across the street.

     Scully headed toward the partly demolished bank in a daze, her 
body trembling with a mixture of adrenaline and trepidation. Each 
reluctant footstep brought her nearer to the building, closer to the 
truth that lay in wait inside its glass facade. Deep within the 
recesses of her mind a battle waged... a conflict between her 
strict professionalism and that of overwhelming personal grief. 

     Personal grief was winning this particular battle hands down.

     "...wasted the hostage...wasted the hostage..." the spotter's 
words kept pace with her strides, tormenting her with their finality. 
A mental slideshow began to torture her further as one by one images 
of her fallen partner filled her mind's eye. Every grisly crime scene 
she'd ever investigated replayed itself, Mulder's face superimposed 
grotesquely over that of the original victim's. Each disturbing 
deathscene became more ghastly than the last, complete with every 
possible scenario of Mulder's last earthly moments.

     Bullets ripping through his upper body as he became a victim of 
the vicious crossfire between assault team and criminal.

     A single close range shot to the head, splitting skull,  
shredding sinew and cerebrum as it embedded itself deep within the 
confines of his perfect brain.

     His lifeless hazel eyes staring out in stony silence from his 
shattered and broken body. His dark brown hair matted with blood, 
tiny particles of brain matter sticking to the once fine strands.

     Her stomach lurched and bile surged into the back of her 
throat, burning the tender tissue of her oesophagus. She clamped an 
unsteady hand over her mouth, arresting its further progress and 
angrily forced those thoughts from her mind.

     As she neared the doorway to the bank she could see the full 
extent of the damage inflicted upon the building. What was left of 
the two glass-fronted doors hung precariously from twisted metal 
hinges. They swayed in the light breeze blowing down the exposed 
street, threatening to collapse completely with the merest brush of a 
hand. Shattered glass lay in sharp and glittering fragments on the 
sidewalk, debris and yet more glass lay strewn across the bank's 
interior.

     To gain entrance, she had to dodge her way through the still 
milling crowd of assault team members and detectives. Paramedics and 
ambulance personnel stood in a tight group to one side, waiting the 
go ahead to recover the dead and injured from the building. They 
reminded her of a flock of circling vultures waiting to pick at the 
bones of their prey. On one level, she knew that everyone here was 
only doing their job, but in her grief-stricken state the price paid 
for their intervention was too high.

     Way too high.

     Suddenly she became increasingly frustrated with the gawker's  
macabre need to mingle outside the building. Elbowing her way past 
them, she ignored their rude comments and continued forcing her way 
through.

     A uniformed police officer considered blocking her entrance, but 
one look at the grim face and the ID she shoved in his face changed 
his mind. She passed over the threshold into the bank's interior, her 
feet crunching upon the shards of glass and debris, her eyes trying 
to make sense of the chaos around her.

     Sounds of cursing, crying and complaining came from the 
liberated hostages as they still huddled in a group upon the floor, almost too
stunned to move yet. Assault team members, weapons slung over their shoulders,
hovered over them protectively. More Police and FBI agents were turning up by
the second to begin the painstaking task of getting coherent statements from
all concerned, a task that Scully didn't envy them. 

     The acrid smell of cordite hung heavy in the air, layered with 
the metallic stench of blood and death. Each definitive aroma 
assaulted Scully's senses, pulling her with magnetic force toward the 
scene of the carnage.

     "You can't go in there, ma'am." A bulky, black-clad figure 
filled her sight, blocking her view of the huddled hostages.

     Her eyes slid up his body to lock onto his earnest gaze, "I'm 
Agent Scully, I'm with the Bureau." She flipped open her ID 
automatically, the HRT agent hesitated briefly before stepping to one 
side. Scully nodded her thanks and brushed past him.

     The reek of spilt blood and other more involuntary movements 
increased as she made the last few hesitant steps toward the four 
covered bodies on the floor. Liquid pools of crimson spread outward 
from each still figure, a river of life now turned to one of 
death. 

     Each body was covered, but it was easy for her to identify  
which one belonged to her partner. His was the only one covered from 
head to waist by a HRT windbreaker. Beside it, splattered with the 
blood of two men, lay Mulder's FBI Identification wallet. It was 
open, showing the picture that she had seen earlier, only now it was 
stained a deep, foreboding red.

     Even if all that hadn't been evident, his charcoal grey 
suitpants and highly polished leather shoes would have been enough of 
a clue. Scully began to shake, the tremors taking over her body as 
her eyes took in the fact that her partner lay before her, broken and 
still. Tears sprang up, distorting the image further, almost 
softening its harshness. A small, involuntary sob broke free, 
wrenched from her very soul.

     For the third time that day her world tilted lopsidedly on its  
axis. 

     Step by painful step she moved forward, fist clenched tightly to 
her mouth, as if to hold back any more sounds that might break free. 
Another trembling step forward, she shook her head, unable to accept 
the evidence of her senses. Her eyes swept over him, *needing* to 
find something - anything - that would refute the all-too-real body 
before her. 

**Too late,** she thought, **You're too late for him.**
	
     Around her she could dimly hear the sounds of the recovery 
teams as they began their cleanup. In the distance she faintly 
registered the sound of a receding ambulance, and another drawing 
closer.

     As she knelt down to pull the jacket back from his face, a 
gentle cough from behind caught her attention. Looking up, she caught 
the sorrowful gaze of the young man who's jacket covered her 
partner's body.

     "Ma'am?" He flinched at the raw pain coming from the blue eyes 
of the stricken woman in front of him, "I think this belongs to you."

     In his hands he held the note the gunman had been reading when 
all hell had broken loose. That last note, crumpled and spattered 
with blood. With a surprisingly steady hand Scully reached up and 
pulled the note from his grasp.

     "Thank you," she whispered softly as he turned and left her 
alone. 

     **Alone.** The word echoed in her mind bringing with it an 
overpowering feeling of intense loneliness and heartache, **Oh my 
God, Mulder, I'm alone.**

     Her iron clad resolve dissolved entirely under the weight of 
those last thoughts. No longer able to keep the tears at bay she let 
them fall, feeling the cathartic release of her grief combine with 
the saline wetness trickling down her face. 

     A trembling hand once more reached out toward the jacket lying 
over his face. Her fingers curled around the soft material of the 
windbreaker's collar as she mentally braced herself. She drew back 
the jacket and gazed down into the terrified, glazed eyes of...

     A stranger.

     For a moment, nothing registered. The room seemed frozen, the 
only sound was the harshness of her breathing. Then time resumed, 
the room began to brighten. Scully toppled forward, partly in relief, 
and partly from the need to confirm. Her latex-covered hand landed on 
the blood-soaked chest before her. Another detail penetrated her 
shocked haze; **wrong tie, this one matches the suit.**

     Suddenly everything came back into extreme sharpness. 

     **It's not him!** Her mind screamed this, over and over. For now 
there was no thought of the family this poor Armani-clad man had left 
behind. Now there was only the gibbering relief that the body before 
her was NOT Mulder.

	Glancing at the other men laid out nearby, she jumped to her 
feet, tearing off the bloodied glove. Scanning the room, she spotted 
the young man who'd handed her Mulder's note. Adrenaline pumping, 
Scully took a step away from the body **It's not HIM!!** she'd grieved over.
She bent and gently repositioned the HRT jacket over the corpse, murmuring a
quick prayer for his soul.

	Spotting the HRT man again, she gingerly made her way across 
the still-slippery floor. Grabbing his arm, she spun him around to 
face her.

"Where is he?" she demanded, "Where's Agent Mulder?" 

     The FBI agent taking the statement turned toward her, a ready 
rebuke perched upon his lips. However, he quickly changed his mind 
when he saw the look in her eyes. He knew Agent Scully, and knew what 
had gone down here. Closing his notebook, he took a couple of steps 
to one side and gave the female agent the space she needed.

	Oblivious to the courtesy she'd just been given, Scully rounded 
on the young man in front of her. "I need to know where they've taken 
him? I need to know if he's all right?"

	With a surprised glance at the bodies behind her, he nodded and 
keyed his mike, asking questions Scully only barely registered. 
Running a hand through her hair, she forced herself to be still, to 
not scream at the top of her lungs, "HE'S NOT HERE!!!!" Taking 
another deep breath, she focused on what the serious-faced man was 
saying to her.

	"...yes Sir, I'll pass that along... be advised, it appears 
that the man they're transporting is a federal agent... yes Sir..."

	Taking Scully by the arm, he bullied his way through the still-
gathering crowd near the doors. Bodyblocking for the small agent, he 
told her what he knew, "They're taking all the injured to St Jude's. 
If he's not around here, then that'll be your best place to look."

	"Do you know how badly he was injured?" Scully asked.

     He shook his head in the negative, "Sorry ma'am, but I arrived 
on the scene after the takedown. He nodded to one of the agents that 
had stopped Scully before, "One of the guys gave me the note when he 
recognised the name from your ID. He said he found it next to the 
body over there. I thought..." He trailed off leaving the rest 
unsaid.

	"It's OK, really." Scully surprised them both by jumping up and 
giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you so much for your 
help."

	The HRT man watched as she pushed her way through the edges of 
the crowd to the car she and Mulder'd left so many hours before. He 
grimaced as she gunned the engine, forcing the people milling around 
to scatter before she took off with a squeal of her tires.

	**Lucky bastard** he thought, meaning that on several levels as 
he returned to the grim task of cleaning up.

End of Part Three.

------
Title: Hostage Situation. Part 4/?
Author:Sherry Davis and Setmedic.
E-Mail:SherryDav@aol.com and Setmedic@pacbell.net 

Enjoy!
------

St. Jude's Hospital,
Louden County,
Virginia, 6.45p.m.

	"He's arresting!" the nurse announced as the monitor beside 
her began its shrill buzzing.

	The attending doctor shot a worried look at the still body 
on his emergency table. His hands, soaked with the blood of his 
patient, began chest compressions as he mumbled a string of 
curses under his breath, "There's too much damage... just how many 
bullets did this poor SOB take?"

	Overhearing his comment, the triage nurse said, "I count 
nine... all of them in the upper torso..." She shook her head 
solemnly, "someone sure wanted this guy dead."

	"Looks like they're gonna get their wish," the doctor replied 
as the heart monitor continued its screeching wail. "What're his 
stats?"

	"No heartbeat, no pulse, he's in respiratory failure and his BP 
is heading south in a hurry," the nurse by the monitor reported. She 
shook her head, exchanging a grim glance with another attendant. "I 
don't know doc..."

	"Not on my shift..." the doctor replied determinedly, "I want a 
100cc's of Epi, push it and a hundred of Adrenaline...stat. Continue 
bagging him."

	Used to this sight nearly every day, the ER staff continued 
their tasks, but this time with an edge. This man was a member of the 
team, one of the good guys. That didn't mean they wouldn't do their 
best for just an ordinary 'joe', but each team member new that the 
loss of this man would chalk another one up for the bad guys, 
something they were determined not to have happen.

	"He's still flatlining..." the nurse informed them, "The meds 
aren't working."

	"How long has he been down?" the doctor asked, his eyes briefly 
glancing at the wall clock above him.

	"Five minutes..."

	"Get the paddles and charge them to 250 Jules..."

	"Charged." 

	"Clear!" the doctor yelled, placing the paddles on the 
patient's chest. All personnel took a cautious step back, ensuring 
that they were not going to act as a conductor for the burst of 
electricity that would soon leave the defibrillator pads.
	
	With a quick glance at his staff, the doctor pressed the button 
on the handles and the patient beneath him arched skyward.

	"Still nothing."

	"Dammmit," the doctor whispered softly, "Com'on stay with us 
buddy... stay with us!" He placed the paddles on the blood stained 
chest once more, "300!"

	"Charging."

	"Clear!" 

	"Still nothing... he's been down for nearly ten minutes now," 
the young nurse solemnly declared. Asking the question every doctor 
hates to hear, she said, "You calling it?"

	"Don't you believe in miracles?" the doctor asked her.

	"Not since I started working in this place," the nurse replied 
truthfully as she continued to constrict the oxygen bag in her hands, 
"this is like working in hell and we all know the devil doesn't do 
miracles."

	"Still no response..." the resident monitoring vitals reported, 
"pupils fixed and dilated... we've lost him."

	The doctor put down the paddles and stared at the broken man 
before him, "Time of death..." He glanced back at the wall clock, 
"six-fifty five P.M." He shook his head sadly as he stripped away his 
bloodied gloves and threw them into the receptacle in the corner of 
the room.

	It was never an easy thing to lose a patient, but today he felt 
as if he had lost more than that. You always tried that little harder 
to save the law enforcement people. They were in the front line, 
trying to survive the trenches, trying to make the world just that 
little bit safer for everyone.

	"This shouldn't happen to the *good* guys." The doctor said, 
"In the movies they always win."

	He stared once more at the body lying on the table. A nurse was 
in the process of covering it with a white hospital sheet. Already 
the other members of the team were dispersing, going onto their next 
challenge, their next chance to save a life, hoping maybe to make up 
for the battle they had just lost.

	The doctor made his way toward the connecting door and the 
flurry of activity he could already see taking place inside. As he 
pushed open the door he turned back to the solitary nurse left in the 
room, "Is there anyone we should contact... any relatives... 
friends?"

	The nurse shook her head, "Not that we know of, but I 
understand that his partner is on her way in."

	"Let me know when she gets here. I'd like to be the one to tell 
her the news."

	The nurse nodded slightly and finished up her work. The doctor 
pushed open the connecting doors and walked through them, leaving 
behind him the feeling of despair as he tried to focus on his new 
casualty.

      "What have you got for me?"

      "White male, late thirties, gunshot wounds to the head and 
shoulder. He was unconscious enroute, but it looks like he's starting 
to come out of it. He's fighting the oxygen mask a little."
 
      "Okay people, let's try and save this one." The doctor 
announced as he went to work on this latest patient.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

St. Jude's Hospital,
Louden County,
Virginia, 7.25 P.M.

	Grateful that she still remembered the entry code on the ER 
doors, Scully slipped through the entrance normally used by the 
medics and EMT's. 

      **The hell with protocol, I'll deal with bruised ego's later.** 
she thought.

	Glancing quickly around, she headed toward the area with the 
most activity, only to be stopped by a tall nurse. He resisted her 
best 'Scullyglare' and asked where she was headed.

      "A man was brought in here just a few minutes ago. He was 
involved in a bank robbery... I want to see him... now!" To back up 
her demand, she flipped open her ID, showing it to the nurse.

	Taking her by the elbow, the big nurse pulled Scully to his 
computer terminal.

      "Name..." the nurse asked.

	"Mulder, Fox William," Scully supplied, frustrated at the 
delay, but understanding the man was doing his job.

	Shaking his head, he told her, "Sorry, I don't see the name. 
Are you sure he was brought in here?"

	"Yes dammit!" She started to turn away from the nurse, "Look, 
I'm a doctor, I'm just going to look in..." She was suddenly 
surprised to find that she couldn't move. The nurse had a solid grip 
on her shoulder.

	"Look, ma'am, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you can't do that... 
it's hospital policy that law enforcement officers have to wait until 
treatment has ceased before talking to a suspect..."

	Scully turned back toward the towering hulk, leaning her small 
frame across the counter. Unconcealed anger clouded her deep blue 
eyes as she set about correcting the mistaken nurse, "He's *not* a 
suspect, he's my *partner.*"  

	The nurse nodded apologetically, "I'm sorry... but I still 
can't..."

	"Never mind. Can you at least give me an update?" Scully asked, 
trying not to scream in frustration.

	"You'll have to wait until I can get a doctor to speak with 
you."

	"Look..." Scully's patience finally snapped, "I've spent the 
longest half hour in HISTORY not knowing whether my partner is alive 
or dead and you're telling me I can't see him?"

	"It's hospital poli..." The nurse reiterated.

	"I don't give a *shit* about policy... All I'm asking is..."

	"Agent Scully?" A voice interrupted her tirade and she spun 
about, zeroing in on her new target.

	The tall physician introduced himself, "I'm Doctor Porter. I 
was told to expect you."

	Scully now focused her entire attention on the young doctor and 
his penetrating sad eyes. What she saw there filled her with a sense 
of dread.

	**Oh God No!" she thought to herself, "**He's going to tell me 
Mulder's dead.** She'd seen that look before, she'd even worn it a 
few times herself during her rotation in the emergency room. It was 
the closed and sorrowful countenance of a person filled with deep 
regret.

	She swallowed down her encroaching fear and took a steadying 
breath, waiting for the words that she dreaded more than anything 
else in the world.

	"If you'll follow me..." Scully needed no further urging, she 
was on the doctor's heels as he led the way to an exam room. "We 
tried..." The doctor began, but the sound of a curtain being pulled 
aside broke his train of thought, his eyes shifted to the cubicle 
behind Scully just as a distraught young woman emerged from it.

	Scully looked over her shoulder when she heard the anguished 
sounding sobs. She noticed that the young woman was wearing the 
pressed blue uniform of the local police department. Commendation 
medals adorned the front of her tunic, but it was the utter 
desolation in her eyes that drew Scully's attention away from her own 
thoughts of despair. She watched quietly as the woman was lead away 
by other members of her department.

	"She just lost her partner." Dr. Porter said as a way of 
explanation, "He tried to assist a pregnant woman who was being 
harassed by a bunch of street kids. One of the bastards pulled out a 
handgun and emptied the clip into him." He nodded toward the 
retreating woman, "Apparently they'd been partners for a little over 
five years... he was godfather to one of her children."

	Steeling herself, she held up a hand to stop the doctor before 
he continued his explanation, "Please," she said, her throat tight, 
her blue eyes filling with tears she was afraid to let fall. "Please, 
I *need* to see my partner. Now."

	**I need time alone with him, before they come and take him 
away.**

	Nodding in understanding, and grateful that this time, at least 
he could give some *good* news, he continued. "You're partner's in  
x-ray at the moment, he should be back any minute now. He'd lost 
quite a bit of blood..." His voice faded out as Scully's brain locked 
on the doctor's first words.

	**He's in x-ray, x-ray, x-ray...** Dead men didn't go to x-ray, 
*live* men did!

	Grabbing the doctor's arm she shouted, "X-RAY?!"

	"Well yes, x-ray. As I was saying..." Cut off by Scully's 
abrupt, sparkling smile, he grabbed her arm to steady her as she 
wobbled a bit before him.

	Spinning out of his grasp, Scully scanned the hallway 
frantically, looking at the telltale signs at each corner. Spotting 
the one she wanted, she sprinted down the hall, leaving the stunned 
doctor in her wake.

	Pounding down the hall, she silently read off the names of the 
rooms as she passed them, **Lab... Records... Fileroom... 
Ultrasound... Pathology... X-ray!**

	"Bingo!" Scully muttered to herself as she slid to a stop 
outside the room. The red light above the door was on, indicating 
that they weren't quite finished inside. Pacing impatiently up and 
down the hallway, she jammed her still-shaking hands into her 
pockets, her left hand finding the note the gunman had been reading 
when all hell had broken loose.	

	Her fingers unsteady, she pulled the crumpled, bloodstained 
letter out. A quiet groan stopped her from reading it. Glancing up, 
she watched as an orderly maneuvered Mulder's gurney out of the small 
x-ray room.

	God, she thought she'd lost him. Thought that she'd never see 
him alive on this earth again. Suppressed emotions waged a battle 
inside her, tears began to well up in her eyes as she took in the 
sight of him before her. She swallowed down the lump in her throat 
and took a hesitant step toward him, letting him see the watery 
relief in her eyes.

	Mulder's eyes met hers, and his pain-filled gaze softened at 
the fear still evident in hers. His stoic Scully, her emotions 
normally so carefully hidden behind a well-maintained wall, was 
standing before him with tears threatening to fall down her cheeks.

	Hers was the last face he'd seen, conjured up in his mind and 
held there as a talisman while that madman had opened fire in the 
chaos of the 'rescue.' Her face, serene and beautiful, so capable of 
conveying the subtlest emotion with just the twitch of an eyebrow, 
was even more stunning to him now, with everything he'd ever wanted 
to see written there not just for him, but the world to read.

	Mulder cleared his throat, "Hey G-woman," he said softly, "what 
I'd tell you... I takes a licking, but I keeps on ticking."

	He watched in silence as his light-hearted comment released 
that last, tenuous hold she had on her emotions and the tears she'd 
been holding onto so tightly began to cascade down her face.

	Mulder could only look on as she took a few stumbling steps 
toward him, her bottom lip quivering uncontrollably as her hand found 
his, grasping it so tightly that it almost hurt. She laced her small 
fingers through his, re-connecting them, grounding them in the 
reality of this moment. A moment she'd been certain she'd never have 
again.

	Scully's eyes never left Mulder's as she kept pace with the 
gurney the orderly was pushing back into the ER. Locked between their 
joined hands was the blood-stained letter, forgotten for the moment, 
but not for long.

End part four.

------
Title: Hostage Situation. Part 5/5
Author:Sherry Davis and Setmedic.
E-Mail:SherryDav@aol.com and Setmedic@pacbell.net

Enjoy!
------

St Jude's Hospital,
Louden County,
Virginia 10.50 P.M.

	The soft beeping of the monitor was mesmerising. Each little 
peak that registered Mulder's heartbeat became hypnotic. She couldn't 
look away, daren't glance at his sleeping form for fear that he might 
still slip quietly from her tenuous grasp.

	She knew the thought to be an irrational one, brought on by 
fatigue and a day of high octane tension, but she couldn't help 
herself, she had to keep scrutinising the monitor. Standing sentinel 
over her weakened partner in a way that had been denied her earlier.

	**He's safe... injured... bruised and beaten... but safe.** Her 
mind informed her, trying to comfort that part of her psyche that 
still refused to believe the evidence of her eyes. 

	A soft groan broke through her thoughts and for a brief moment 
she dared to look away from the screen. Mulder was moving fitfully in 
the bed, sweat beading his face, eyes dancing back and forth under 
closed eyelids. He grimaced in pain as he unconsciously moved his 
injured arm in his sleep. 

	Before she had even realised she was doing it, Scully's hand 
had reached out. Her small fingers running up and down his forearm, 
smoothing over the skin, avoiding the place where the IV had been 
inserted, soothing her partner's mind along with his injured body.

	He stilled almost immediately, his body relaxing under her 
comforting touch. His eyes abandoned their manic dance. His breathing 
evened out and he slipped into a more peaceful slumber.

	Scully's gaze returned once more to the monitor. Her vigil 
resuming, searching for the tiniest sign that he might be in trouble. 

      But the monitor continued its steady rhythm undisturbed. 

      Fifteen minutes passed before she finally allowed herself the 
luxury of closing her eyes. They felt dry and gritty beneath their 
lids, a sure sign of her overwhelming tiredness. 

      **I'll rest just for a moment.** She told herself, **Just for a 
few minutes. To recoup.**

      Another soft groan filled the silent room and all thoughts of 
her own rest evaporated as her eyes snapped open. She searched the 
various monitors, sweeping across the readouts with anxious eyes, 
checking his vitals.

      They remained stable. 

      **More stable,** she chastised herself, **than the woman 
monitoring them.**

      A broken sob shifted her attention back to the bed and her 
partner. His face was a twisted mask of pain, his right fist clenched 
so tightly that the knuckles had turned white. His lips were pulled 
back in a grimace, and beads of sweat once more dotted his skin.

      Scully leaned forward until her lips were against his ear, 
"Mulder, do you want me to increase your medication?" She moved back 
in her seat, awaiting his answer. Her hand hovered near the valve on 
the IV tree that would increase his intake of Demerol.

	She watched as he fought his way back to consciousness slowly, 
his body fidgeting inside the constraining covers. His eyes fluttered 
briefly, holding on to the last vestige of sleep before carefully 
opening.

	"Christ!" He moaned, pulling his good hand across his eyes in a 
vain attempt to shield them from the intrusive light. His face 
visibly paled, the blood seemingly leeching out and being replaced by 
a stony grey pallor. He retched, abruptly turning away from Scully's 
gaze, searching for some unseen object.

	"Easy," Scully's voice was soft, a touch of concealed concern 
tarnishing its edges, "Take it nice and easy. You've been through the 
wringer." She helped him into a seated position, placing a cardboard 
bowl before him. The movement and dizziness that followed was all it 
took for him to put it to good use.

	When he was finished, she wordlessly handed him a drink so he 
could rinse his mouth, then she took the bowl away, leaving him 
briefly while she went in search of a sluice room. When she returned 
Mulder was lying back down. He looked worn out, his vomiting session 
having taken the last of his reserves of energy.

	Scully hurried to his bedside, "How are you feeling?" she 
asked.

	"Like the entire Bronco's defense just sacked me," he replied, 
grimacing slightly as a sharp pain lanced through his arm, "did you 
say something about increasing my medication?"

	"Just a second." She took a step to the side, checking the IV 
bag that hung from the post next to his bed. Moving her hand toward 
the transparent line, she adjusted the valve slightly, allowing more 
of the pain relief to enter his system. It had an immediate effect, 
Mulder's face relaxed visibly.

	Ever the professional physician, Scully wrapped her fingers 
around his wrist, digging them into his flesh, feeling for the pulse 
that resided there. Her other hand brushed his forehead, looking for 
signs of fever.

	"I'm feeling *much* better," he informed her. 

      She ignored him, preferring to check for herself. She 
concentrated upon her task, mentally counting his pulse rate as she 
observed his reactions. There was no outward sign of a fever, his 
pulse was regular, and his pupils seemed reactive to the light. All 
in all they were good signs, although his earlier vomiting would 
remain a cause for concern, but even that seemed on par for the mild 
concussion he had suffered. 

 	Confident of her own diagnosis, she let out the breath she'd 
been holding. Relief surged through her, washing away the last of the 
adrenaline that had been keeping her body functioning. The room began 
to spin wildly, she teetered on wobbly legs that now refused to hold 
her upright, thrusting out a hand she held onto the side of the bed 
until her balance returned.

	She noticed that her movements had not been lost on Mulder, who 
was now watching her with concern written all over his battered face. 
All she needed was for a few moments rest, time to put her blitzed 
defences back into place.

	As though reading her thoughts Mulder patted the mattress 
beside him, "Looks like you could do with taking a load off partner."

      A weary smile crossed Scully's lips as she took the proffered 
seat, balancing herself precariously upon the bed, one foot braced on 
the floor in order to keep her balance. She adjusted herself slightly 
so that she could face him, "I just need a minute." It was a typical 
answer, one that she knew he had become intimately familiar with over 
the years. He would know better than to challenge her, to call her on 
this unaccustomed show of weakness. It was one of many unspoken rules 
in their partnership. He gazed at her for a while, his hazel eyes 
determinedly seeking out her blue ones. Then he nodded imperceptibly 
and she knew that he would play his part. Gently he placed his good 
hand over hers, softly squeezing her fingers underneath.

      "Take all the time you need, Scully. I'm not going anywhere." 
Their eyes clashed again, a multitude of questions and answers 
flowing between them. They both knew how close it had been, how close 
Mulder had come to spending this night in the morgue. Scully blinked 
away the encroaching tears and looked away, embarrassed that she may 
have let him see too much.

      "So..." It was obvious from the tone of that one word that 
Mulder had decided to change the subject, "How soon can I blow this 
joint?"

      "A few days," She noticed him wrinkle up his nose at that 
remark. The one thing he hated more than visiting someone in the 
hospital was actually having to stay in one. She tried to explain his 
forced incarceration, "You lost a lot of blood, Mulder," Her voice 
sounded thick, heavy still with emotion. She took a moment to clear 
it before continuing, "You took a couple of bullets. The one to the 
shoulder did some minor damage to the ligaments. The doctors want to 
make sure that it's healing properly before they release you and 
you're gonna need a little physio to help keep it manipulated."

	He nodded solemnly, his good hand rising up to touch his 
wounded shoulder, "But... it will heal?" 

	"In time," Scully replied, "But you mustn't push it, Mulder. 
Let it take the time it takes." 

	He nodded again at her slight admonishment. She knew him well 
enough to know that he would try to circumvent the convalescence time 
so that he could get back to work as quickly as possible. 

	She leaned forward a little, her small hand travelling toward 
his forehead and the thick gauze that covered part of its surface, 
"The second bullet hit you here." Her fingers brushed tenderly 
against the surface of the gauze, tracing the unseen path of the 
bullet that had so nearly ended his life. Her eyes, pooled with more 
unshed tears, these ones threatening to spill forth at any moment, 
"That's gonna leave a nasty scar you know."
 
	Mulder smiled lightly, trying to ease the pain he could see 
lurking in his partner's worried gaze, "It'll add character to my 
roguish reputation." His smile grew wider, "Chicks go for the wounded 
hero look." He waggled his eyebrows at her in an attempt at a  
friendly leer, but winced when the movement tugged at his stitches, 
"Ow!"

	"Serves yourself right," Scully replied trying to match his 
smile, but it failed to reach her eyes, that one place she knew 
Mulder took solace in. Her fingers began their travels once more, 
slipping across his face, skirting around the deep blue/black bruise 
that adorned his cheek where he had been pistol whipped. Mulder sat 
statue-like beneath her touch and she silently thanked him. He knew 
how important it was for her to take her time to re-connect with him, 
to prove to herself the reality of his presence. 

	For she had allowed him to do the same whenever their 
situations had been reversed.

	She moved on, fingers sliding further down his face, 
encountering his evening beard on route toward his mouth. The stubble 
rasped against her nails, sounding much louder in the quiet hospital 
room than it really was. Mulder's eyes closed, and he nuzzled his 
face against the palm of her hand as she continued her journey. She 
halted at his mouth, outlining the shape of his lips, stopping at 
the jagged cut that split his full bottom lip.

	"God. They really did a number on you..." She tried to fight 
the sob that welled up inside her, but found she couldn't. It broke 
free of her tight restraint, shattering the stillness in the room. 
Mulder's eyes snapped open, searching her face, trapping her in the 
snare of his intense gaze. He began to form a question, but Scully 
headed him off, shaking her head adamantly from side to side. 

	"I'll heal, Scully," he said soothingly, trying to reassure her 
that the blemishes on his face and body would one day disappear, "I 
always do."

	**Yeah, but after today, I don't think *I* ever will. Not after 
coming so damn close to losing you.**

	She couldn't voice those words, not without muddying the waters 
further in their already precarious relationship. So for Mulder's 
benefit she nodded in agreement with him. 

	He cupped her chin in his good hand and ran an unsteady finger 
across her lower lip. It trembled under his featherlight touch, 
"Hey..." he tilted her face upward to meet with his gaze, "you okay?" 

      She nodded slightly, "I'm fine, Mulder." Seeing his eyes narrow 
at her familiar fob off, she rushed to placate him, "Really, it's 
just been one bitch of a day."

	He studied her for an uncomfortable moment before letting her 
off the hook, "You should go home, Scully. You look wiped out."

	"I will... soon. I just wanted to be here when you woke up." 
She shifted a little uneasily on the bed, "I have something I need to 
give you." 

	"Really?..." The innuendo in his tone was not lost on her, and 
his eyebrows were beginning their march toward his hairline again. 
Luckily for Scully, his stitches took that precise moment to 
reintroduce themselves to their host. The grimace would have been 
comical if it hadn't looked so painful.

	Scully fished around in her pocket, finally pulling out the 
bloodied letter now wrapped inside an evidence bag, "I think this 
belongs to you." 

	If the grimace on his face had been comical, the look of shock 
and fear now in his eyes was a complete contrast.

	His fingers twitched as they slowly made their way toward 
the stained letter. He was acting as though the slightest contact 
with the parchment would result in mortal harm. Tentatively he took 
the plastic wrapped letter from her grasp, turning it over and over 
between his shaky digits. 
	
      He seemed to take a fortifying breath before asking the 
question that Scully knew was coming, "Did you read it?" 

	"No." Her whispered reply could be barely heard within the 
confines of the small room, "No, I didn't."

	Mulder's face registered relief, only for it to quickly 
dissolve into confusion and then to disappointment. He frowned, his 
gaze going back to the letter and then to his partner, "Why not? It 
was addressed to you."
	
	"I think the answer to that question is pretty obvious," Scully 
said, hoping that her meaning would sink in, obviously from the look 
on her partner's face it was evident that it hadn't. She sighed, 
"Mulder, that letter was meant to be read only in the event of your 
death. 

	Her remained silent. She rolled her eyes, why was he making 
this so damn difficult?

	"I've got news for you partner," she announced, "reports of 
your demise have been greatly exaggerated. You're alive, ergo it 
wasn't necessary to read the letter." She didn't let on that she had 
been tempted while she had waited for him to wake up, or that it was 
only her nervousness at the thought of its contents that had stopped 
her. She sat back on the bed, stretching her arms out on the mattress 
to brace herself.
	
	Mulder seemed to take a moment to process everything. He 
scratched the side of his long nose with his index finger, a move 
that Scully knew well as being one of thoughtfulness.

	"Even so," he said after his brief contemplation, "weren't you 
curious?"

	"Is there any reason why should I be?" Her reply came out a 
little harsher than she had intended and she immediately felt 
guilty.

	"It was my dying declaration," Mulder responded, the wounded 
tone barely masked, "My last mortal words... my last thoughts and 
wishes..." He broke off, staring at the letter still in his hands, 
"...my last link with you."

	"Maybe I don't want to be the beneficiary of your porn 
collection, Mulder. Frohike would be a more suitable..." She froze 
when she saw the hurt look cross his face. Her jestful jibe had 
completely mis-fired harming her partner in the process. He was being 
serious. She thought back to the few lines of the letter she could 
still remember, they had been serious too.

	They were about to step out upon some very shaky ground. Were 
they ready for it?

	She took a deep breath and took that first fateful step, "What 
do you want from me, Mulder?" He shook his head, unable to meet her 
eyes or answer her question. She took another small step forward in 
this emotional minefield they were entering, "Do you want me to read 
the letter?"

	He twisted said item between his fingers, still refusing to 
meet her eyes, "Um... well..." he stuttered.

	"I thought as much," Scully replied, not harshly but with 
resignation, "I think maybe you need to think this through."

	"I have thought it through," he replied tersely, "It was all I 
could think about in the bank. He was reading it to you, Scully, 
speaky *My* words... *My* thoughts. He was taking words I'd written 
with passion and love and twisting them into some ugly version of the 
truth."

	She sucked in a breath, her heart had began to thud like a 
jackhammer inside her chest, she could feel its vibrations fluttering 
against the fabric of the blouse she wore.

	"On second thoughts... maybe you should read it," Mulder said, 
holding out the bag toward her.

	"No!" Scully's adamant reply caused him to lock gazes with her. 
She could see the confusion in his eyes, the beginnings of doubt 
rising to the surface, she slipped her fingers across his lips 
stalling him from saying what she knew he would say. His attempt to 
extricate them from an embarrassing situation.

	**I made a mistake... Let's just forget it, okay?**

	**Not this time, Mulder.**

	"It's not what you think," she whispered softly, "it's not that 
I don't want to read it... I do." She allowed a small smile to grace 
her lips, "It's just that..." She hesitated, glancing away from his 
intense stare, dropping her eyes down toward her lap, "It's just that 
after all this time. All the things we've been put through to reach 
this moment..." Her eyes lifted, searching out his once more. Her 
hand caught his much bigger one, spreading his fingers wide and 
slotting her own between them, "I don't want to read the words, 
Mulder. I want to hear you say them."

	His mouth opened, his lips moved, but nothing came out. His 
eyes bore into hers, flashing messages loud and clear between them, 
but he couldn't find the voice to project them.

	"I... can't..." His voice stumbled over the words, "I tried 
once before and you didn't believe me."

	"Then try again and maybe I will." She leaned in closer, "It's 
only three little words, Mulder."

	She looked at him, challenging him to say them out loud once 
more. To put his heart on his sleeve and to put his feelings on the 
line.

	"I like you," he said nervously.

	"Uh huh, not good enough, G-man," 

"I..." He suddenly smiled roguishly at her, "I. Want. You."

	"Now you're getting ahead of yourself." She gave him a look of 
mock reproach, but her eyes told him all he needed to know.

	**All in good time.**

	"Scully..." 

	"Yes."

	He looked longingly into the bluest eyes he had ever seen, 
seeing the love shining there.

	"I love you."

	He waited for the roll of her eyes, the softly spoken, 'Oh 
brother' like before, but it didn't come. Instead she closed the 
distance between them, sliding her hand around his neck and gently 
pulled him into her embrace. They stayed that way for a long moment 
until Scully pulled away.

	It was time to detonate the final mine that lay between them.

	She swallowed, giving herself a moment to regain lost 
composure, to put the thoughts that were tumbling erratically inside 
her head into some sort of order, "I thought today was it..." Her 
soft voice was tremulous, the tears that she would usually be 
ashamed of showing teetering momentarily on the edge of the abyss, "I 
honestly thought it was the end." 

      He nodded quietly, urging her to continue.

      "I always thought I'd be ready for it." She could see that the 
tone of inevitability in her voice had rocked Mulder, although he 
tried to hide it from her view, "With all the times we've been 
here... at this point... where life and death meet..." She hesitated, 
and ran a shaky hand through her hair, she sighed, "I guess I've 
always known that we're both living on borrowed time, that there 
would come a day when our luck would finally run out." She shook her 
head forlornly, "I thought today was that day... when I would have to 
let you go... the day our luck ran out." A single tear broke forth, 
she could feel it running slowly down her cheek, "And I found that I 
wasn't ready for it... that no matter how much I prepared myself... 
I'd *never* be ready for it." 	

      She looked at him intently, blue eyes boring into hazel, "I 
didn't want it to end like that... apart from each other. Alone." Her 
index finger wandering absently across his damaged lower lip, "I 
always hoped there would be time..." Her eyes slowly wandered upward 
across his face, until she stared through watery tears at his beaten 
face, "Time to tell you that I love you."

	"Scully..." Mulder's voice was tremulous and when she finally 
managed to blink her tears away she could see that he had shed a 
couple of his own. She closed the distance between them once more, 
watching this time as Mulder rose up from the bed slightly to meet 
her halfway, "I love you," she whispered as her lips descended toward 
his.

	The cellphone in her pocket took that inopportune moment to 
spring into life.

	"Leave it," Mulder mumbled against her mouth, "It'll only be 
Kersh."

	Scully pulled back slightly, one eyebrow cocked curiously, "How 
do you know?" 

	Mulder pushed himself further up on the bed until he was 
sitting more upright, "Let's just say the guy's got great timing." 

	The phone kept up its shrill ringing, Scully sighed and thumbed 
it on.

	"Scully."

	"Agent Scully," AD Kersh's voice echoed down the line, "would 
you mind telling me what the hell is..."

	"Not now!" Scully announced, switching off the cellphone and 
dumping it unceremoniously upon the cabinet beside Mulder's bed.

	"You hung up on him." Mulder stated wide-eyed.

	"I did." Came her response, "We're in a hospital, Mulder, 
doesn't he know that cellphones interfere with delicate hospital 
machinery." She grinned at him and he returned it in kind. God, she'd 
been around him way too long.

	"By the way... I think you used one of my lines." He stated as 
he slid his good hand around her shoulder and pulled her toward him.

	"I only hope you didn't have this in mind when you dumped me 
with that line." She moved slowly toward him, licking her lips 
seductively with the tip of her tongue. 

	He stifled a groan. 

	Their lips met in the softest of kisses, moving gently against 
each other, making a promise for the future.

	Somewhere in the back of Scully's mind she could hear the faint 
explosion from a now very distant minefield. She knew there and then, 
her arms wrapped around her partner and her lips caressing his that 
the path ahead of them was finally clear.

End of Story.