Title: Begetting Monsters
Author: P.C.Rasmussen
Rating:PG-13 to R
Summary:Mulder gets into major trouble over an old case file he hasn't
even read and Scully must do what she can to rescue him after she finally
figures out he's missing. Major MulderTorture.
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and Walter Skinner belong to Chris 
Carter, but TJ Jones is mine. No infringements intended. I'm just 
borrowing them for a little while.
                   

                 
                      BEGETTING MONSTERS

August 12
11.00 pm
Location unknown
"I don't believe it!" That angry exclamation shattered the otherwise 
almost serene silence in the living room of the old mansion. "I don't 
believe you could have been so stupid." The woman talking threw her hands
up in the air, an expression of both disbelief and disappointment etched
into her pretty face. She was tall for a woman and looked like she worked 
out daily. Short-cropped, blond hair framed her face and the now fiercely 
sparking blue eyes.
     The men she was talking to cowered under her anger. She didn't get 
angry often, but when she did, she had reason to be angry. "Uhm..." one 
of them began, carefully raising a hand like a pupil in school, trying to 
pacify an angry teacher. "We... uhm... have no idea how he got it."
     "I know how he got it. I don't give a fuck about that. He has the 
file and if I'm not mistaken, Special Agent Fox Mulder knows very well 
what to do with a file like that. If he understands the contents, all hell
will break loose," she snarled angrily. Heaving a deep breath, she 
attempted to calm herself, knowing what agitation like this could do to her
blood pressure.
     "I'm sorry, Lee, but there's nothing we can do about it now. We've..."
the other man began, but stopped short when he saw the deadly gleam in 
her eyes.
     "First of all, Fester," she snapped, using a nickname he wasn't too 
fond of, "I couldn't care less about your excuses. What bugs me is that 
this kind of information is in the hands of our enemies. Not that I in 
particular consider this very man an enemy. We need to get the file back 
and find out how much of it he has read. If he has read it all, he will 
have to be dealt with. If he hasn't read it, he will be dealt with anyway. 
The fact that hehas touched the file is enough to upset the balance."
     "Yes, Lee," the first man almost whispered, creeping deeper down in 
the chair he was sitting on. "The thing is, we've already checked his 
apartment and his office, carefully of course, and there's nothing there. 
No trace of it. I believe he carries it with him."
     Lee closed her eyes, clenching her hands into fists. She remained 
motionless for a moment, her whole body rigid. Then she slowly sat down 
on the couch again, letting her breath out in a sigh. "Okay, fine. 
Fester, Clark. Mug him. Search his car, search him. I don't care what you
do. Just get that damned file back. Now, get out of here."
     The two men got up and were out the door before her voice had died 
down. They were only too happy to be away from her when she was angry 
with them. And her anger was justified. They had really screwed up and 
nothing would stop her from ripping their heads off if the file remained 
in the hands of the Federal Agent. Fester had already decided to contact 
a good friend he could trust. Clark wasn't much use in cases like this. 
He was too afraid of Lee.
August 13
08.00 pm
J.Edgar Hoover Building, Washington, D.C.
Dana Scully glanced at her watch, sighed and leaned back on her chair. Closing her eyes
for a minute, she pondered why she was still at work this late, then sighed again.
     "You okay, Scully?"
     She glanced over at her partner who seemed just as chipper and fresh as he had
this morning and couldn't help grimacing. "No, I'm tired," she replied, her tone of voice
betraying her fatigue. "We've been going over these files to no avail, Mulder. There's
nothing in them. I don't know what you're looking for anyway."
     "The same stuff as always. A hidden agenda. Some indication of the encounter with
alien life forms. I just never knew there were that many files on this particular subject," he
replied, leaned back and pulled his reading glasses off. His expression told of his
fascination with the piles and piles of files they had stacked on their desks and the floor
and the chairs and the filing cabinets.
     Scully wasn't sure what he had in mind, but she couldn't see any reference to alien
abductions in these cases. "Damn it, Mulder. I'm only human. I need sleep," she said after
thinking it over. "We've been here since six this morning. This is a 14-hour workday we're
keeping here and for what?"
     He starred at her for a moment, then briefly gazed at his watch. "Oops," he then
said, looking up again to meet her eyes with a guilty look. "I had no idea it was this late,"
he then admitted. "Let's quit for today, okay?"
     Scully nodded, closed the folder in front of her and got up. "I'm going to be here
at eight tomorrow and I am leaving at five. Got that?" she said, her tone of voice stern.
     Mulder met her eyes again when she glanced over at him and couldn't help smiling.
She was so beautiful when she was angry and tired. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes
shining. "Yes, ma'am," he countered, barely preventing himself from saluting her, too. She
would have taken him apart for that right now.
     "Don't you dare start mocking me," she threatened. "I am not in the mood for that.
Go home and get some sleep and stop being so damned chipper after working for
fourteen hours straight," she told him, grabbed her coat and was out the door before he
could say another word.
     Fiddling with a pen, Mulder starred at the open door, listening to the rapidly
receding footsteps of his petite partner. "See you tomorrow, Scully. Have a nice evening,"
he said quietly, smiling. The thing was, no matter how angry she got with him, he always
knew it wasn't that bad. She did like him, after all. Deciding to follow her example, he
closed the file he had been reading, grabbed his own coat and headed for the door after
shutting off the light. For a brief moment, he hesitated in the doorway and looked back
at the stacks of files they were trying to find clues in. Maybe Scully was right. Maybe this
was to no avail. But he hoped he would find the thread he was searching for. The thread
which would eventually let him know what had really happened to his sister.
     The somber thought of Samantha made his mood deteriorate and when he finally
turned for the hallway, he didn't feel so chipper any more. His quest was ongoing and had
never been stronger than now, but he sometimes wondered if he would ever find her
again. It had, after all, been nearly twenty-seven years since she had been taken away from
him. Shaking his head sadly, he closed and locked the door, then headed for the
elevators.
The garage of the J. Edgar Hoover building was almost empty and very quiet when Mulder
made it down there. He walked slowly toward his car, hands in his pockets, his thoughts
miles away. Hence he wasn't aware of what was happening before it had already
happened. Suddenly, something was shoved into the small of his back. "Give me your
money." The voice was hoarse, the owner of it close behind him.
     Mulder froze to the spot, his mind going over what he should do in a millisecond.
Not that there was much he could do when he had a gun pressed against his kidneys.
"Take it easy," he said, raising his hands slowly.
     "I said give me your money, damn it. Are you deaf?" the robber snapped.
     Mulder was more than a little surprised that this man had made it into the garage
in the first place. Although the security in the garage wasn't the highest in the building and
the actual security check came once you stepped out of the elevators, there was still a gate
to go through. He carefully reached into the inner pocket of his coat, attempting to retrieve
his wallet, but he obviously wasn't fast enough for the guy. He had to admit to being
surprised when the unseen aggressor hammered the butt of his gun against the back of
his head. A roar of blistering pain rose in his head as he lost his footing and crashed to the
floor. The wallet he had already had in his hand skittered across the floor and was stopped
by the rear tire of his car. Groaning, he tried to make his eyes focus, but realized that it
wasn't doing him any good. He saw two of everything. In an attempt to get a look at his
attacker, he tried to turn over, but the man grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his
head back, ignoring the blood that stained his fingers. "Where is it?" he hissed.
     Mulder groaned again, trying to think around the thudding pain in his head. He
pointed toward the wallet, wincing when the man's grip on his hair tightened.
     "I don't give a shit about your wallet, buster. Where is the file?" the man snarled,
jerking hard at his victim.
     "What... file?" Mulder gasped. The pain from the wound increased when the man's
fingers tightend even harder around the handful of hair he was holding onto.
     "The file, you shit," the man snapped and took the opportunity to batter his victim
a little. His fingers locked tightly into Mulder's hair, he raised his head a little more and
hammered his forehead against the floor. "Spill it or die, shithead," he snarled. There was
no response and the agent had gone awfully quiet. Fester leaned in closer, noted that he
was still breathing and hissed an angry curse. "Fuck it. Did you have to pass out now, you
wimp?" he growled. He quickly searched Mulder, found nothing on him, grabbed his keys
and went to search the car. Nothing there, either. Glancing back at the unconscious man
on the ground, he considered his options, then decided that he had better report in with
his superior before doing anything else. To make it look like the robbery it had started out
as, he picked up the guy's wallet and ran for the ramp, leaving his helpless victim behind.
August 14
08.30 am
J.Edgar Hoover Building
Scully glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time, grumbled under her breath and
crossed her arms over her chest. Mulder was late. So, maybe she shouldn't be angry with
her partner for getting some well-deserved rest, but it really made her angry that he was
basically pulling both of them through a work-load which would probably lead them to
nothing and then he had the gale to be late more than half an hour. So certain was she
that he would have called her if he was sick, that she hadn't even bothered to check on it.
After a moment, she grabbed the receiver, dialed his number and got his machine.
"Mulder, where are you?" she asked, leaving a message. "It's half past eight. Get in gear
and get over here, would you?" With that, she hung up again. What was taking him so
long? And besides she had never known him to sleep through three phone calls. One,
maybe, but the second one should have aroused him. Shaking her head, she finally
decided to check in with Skinner's secretary. Maybe she knew something. Again she
picked up the receiver and dialed the internal number. "Hi, Kim. It's Dana Scully. Is Agent
Mulder in with A.D. Skinner? He hasn't shown up down here," she wanted to know.
     The other end was silent for a moment. "Uhm... no, Agent Scully, he's not in with
A.D. Skinner. He's in the hospital," Kimberly said, her tone of voice betraying her
confusion.
     "The hospital?" Scully almost shouted. "My God, what happened?" She instantly felt
bad about her initial thought that he was oversleeping just to annoy her.
     "Apparently he was mugged in the garage last night and has a concussion or
something. I got the message when I came in ten minutes ago. I assumed he had called
you himself or I would have. I'm sorry," Kimberly said, sounding very appologetic.
     "No, no, Kim. It's not your fault," Scully hurriedly assured her. "Is he at North West
Georgetown?" she continued and received an affirmative from Kimberly. "Okay, I'll be
going over there. Would you tell A.D. Skinner?"
     "Sure, Agent Scully. And tell Agent Mulder hello."
09.15 am
N.E. Georgetown
Scully hurried down the corridor to the nurses station and stopped there to get directions.
Then she headed for the room her partner was in. She was afraid of what she might see
and relieved when she finally did see him. Although he looked bad, he was awake,
watching the ceiling intently.
     "Hi there," she said with a smile.
     Mulder turned his head a little too quickly and winced at the pain that caused him.
"Hi yourself," he countered after a moment.
     Scully eyed him closely, the compress that covered his forehead, but not entirely
the spreading bruise. "I can't leave you alone for a moment, can I?" she asked jokingly,
more relieved that she wanted to admit that he wasn't unconscious or in a coma.
     "Doesn't look like it, does it?" he countered with a weak smile. "It's not as bad as it
looks, though. I'll be out of here by tonight," he added.
     There it was again. He just wouldn't give himself the time to heal. Everything had
to be done right now. "Don't rush it, Mulder. You have a concussion after all," she
admonished him after having taken a look at his chart. Glancing back at him, she caught
a glimpse of something white behind his head. "What's that?" she wanted to know, coming
around the bed to get a closer look.
     Mulder grimaced and brought a hand up to gingerly touch the back of his head.
"Oh, he first clobbered me from behind, then he hammered my face against the concrete.
Nothing like a good bashing, is there?"
     Scully heaved a deep sigh. It was so typical Mulder to make a joke out of a serious
situation like this. "No, not really. Not when it comes to you, anyway," she agreed. "So, did
he manage to get anything from you or did you give him a run for his money?"
     Mulder actually managed to look a little embarrassed at that. "Oh, uhm, well, he
kind of took me by surprise. Before I knew what was happening, I was down for the count.
I didn't even get a look at him," he admitted.
     That again made Scully frown. "You didn't see him?" she asked and his carefully
shook his head. "But he was after your money, wasn't he?"
     Mulder shrugged. "I'm not so sure. First he was, yes, but then he demanded that
I give him the file. The oddest thing is, I have no idea what he was talking about."
     "He wanted a file?" Scully asked and Mulder nodded. "So he didn't take anything?"
     "Yeah, he snatched my wallet after I was out cold, but that was retrieved from a
dumpster around the corner from the garage. Everything still there. No money missing."
     Scully's frown deepened. "So, he was after a file and not your money. So, which file
was he after?" She had a vague idea that Mulder might know, but the look on his face
convinced her otherwise. He looked pretty baffled by the whole thing himself.
     "No clue. He didn't say. He just asked me twice for the file, then smashed my face
against the floor and that was the end of that."
     With a raised eyebrow, Scully again regarded his battered face. The purple bruise
had spread all over his forehead and down his nose, affecting both eyes minimally. The
lids next to the bridge of his nose were slightly swollen and discolored. "I can tell," she said.
"You have to take it easy for a few days, though. A concussion, no matter how mild, is no
joke."
     He merely nodded, not so sure he would be able to stay away from work for a few
days. "I'm feeling a lot better, Scully. I've got a bit of headache, but no dizziness and no
double vision. That has to be good, right?"
     Knowing where this was heading, Scully sighed. She would not be able to pound
it into his thick scull that he should stay home. So she would just keep an eye on him
instead. Maybe then he would go home and stay there out of his own free will. "Yes, that's
good. But you've still got the concussion. Don't make it worse by overexcerting yourself,
okay?" She rose from the edge of the bed again, put a hand over his and smiled. "I have
to get back to the office. Try to rest as much as possible. And call me if you need
anything."
     He nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Scully." He smiled confidently at her, trying to convince
her that he was doing fine despite the battered look he had acquired, but as soon as the
door had closed, his hands came up to cover his aching eyes. "Oh man, that hurts," he
mumbled to himself. The thought of the attack and the subsequent battering he had
received made him wonder. What the hell kind of file had that guy been after? It had to be
important if it warranted this kind of behavior.
10.00 am
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Scully slowed down when she neared Skinner's office, actually a little surprised to find the
door open. And she could hear his angry voice from inside.
     "This lack of security is a disgrace. What the hell were you thinking of? Make sure
that something like this never happens again, is that understood? We can't have our
agents being beaten half to death by muggers who get into the basement without even
being seen by the security cameras. That is irresponsible as well as bad publicity."
     Scully didn't know whether to enter or stay outside, but Skinner saw her and waved
her inside. The two security officers standing in front of his desk looked everything but
happy. "Sir, I don't know what to say other than that this guy had access to the basement.
He couldn't have gotten past the gate without proper clearance," one of them said.
     "That doesn't mean anything if he can still get in and clobber somebody half to
death. I don't want to hear more about this. Take care of it. Now," Skinner growled. He
was furious over the turn of events.
     The security officers left the office, closing the door behind them. Scully glanced
after them, a little concerned. "Sir, I just went over to see Agent Mulder. He's doing better.
No permanent damage."
     "This breach in security is alarming. That man should not have been down there.
No matter how he got there," Skinner said, waving at a chair for her to sit down on.
     "Well, this might not be what it seems, sir," Scully revealed, wondering how he
would take what she had to say.
     Skinner frowned, wondering what came next. Scully was the one who had changed
after starting to work with Mulder. Not the other way around. He had gotten to the point
where he would not be surprised to hear some outrageous comment from her and that
worried him a little. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked.
     "Well, as I said, I just talked to Agent Mulder. Apparently, this man wanted him to
hand over some kind of file. He doesn't know what file, but this man was very insistent,"
Scully explained. "And his wallet was retrieved with nothing missing. No ordinary mugger,
if you ask me."
     Skinner's expression darkened a notch. Another conspiracy-theroy? "What exactly
are you saying, Agent Scully?"
     "Well, I don't have any proof of this. Nor does Agent Mulder," she confessed.  Of
course not,' Skinner thought, but didn't interrupt. "But it's obvious," she continued, "that
this man was after something other than Agent Mulder's money. The fact that he didn't
empty the wallet. That he demanded to have this file, whatever it is."
     "And now the posibility exists that he realized Agent Mulder didn't have this file and
that will be the end of it?" Skinner asked thoughtfully and didn't believe his own words for
a second.
     "Maybe," Scully countered. "But I'm not too sure. If my assumption is corrected,
then the Cigarette Smoking Man and his cohorts are behind this. These people -- if we are
indeed talking about these people -- have previously proven to be pretty relentless and a
bit dense when it comes to things they want back."
     Skinner's expression darkened even more. "Why don't you keep an extra close look
on Agent Mulder for the next few weeks, Agent Scully? Just to be sure he doesn't get
mugged again," he suggested, thereby indicating that it would be her responsiblity to keep
him out of trouble.
     Scully starred at him, her expression a bit tight. "Sir, if I may remind you, Agent
Mulder has a habit of going his own ways and he has a very strong habit of ditching me.
If he does and something happens to him, I do not want to be held responsible for it. I'm
not his keeper."
     Skinner met her eyes for a second, seeing the sense in her words, then nodded. "I'll
talk that over with him when he gets back. And he'd better stay in line this time. I do not
want to be the one who has to place that special call to his mother."
02.00 pm
Location unknown
Lee paced the living room of the old mansion, angry and strangely in awe. "So, you
couldn't find it on him or in his car?" she asked Fester for the umpteenth time.
     "That's right. He must have hidden it well," he replied, standing at attention, his
hands folded behind his back.
     Lee stopped, starring into space for a moment. "Well, then there's only one thing
we can do, isn't there? Increase surveillance on him and give him a chance to try and use
some of the information. That way we will know for sure that he has it on him. Let's give
him two weeks. If he has shown no sign of using it before then, we'll simply have to pull
him in and ask him, won't we?"
     Fester smirked at the thought. He knew exactly what Lee had in mind. He also knew
how ruthless she could be when there was something she wanted. "Yeah. Let's do that,"
he agreed eagerly.
     Lee glanced at him, then waved him away. He left the room and Lee dropped down
on the sofa, draping both arms over the back of it. If there was one thing she liked better
than the intelligence work she was doing, then it was breaking tough guys. And Agent
Mulder had the reputation of being pretty resilient when it came to drugs and questioning.
She would enjoy breaking this particular tough guy.
August 18
09.30 am
J.Edgar Hoover Building
Scully made a face, regarding her partner's forehead with concern. "That's something of
a bump," she finally commented and straightened up agian.
     Mulder tentatively touched his sore forehead, feeling the bump over. "It's big," he
agreed. "And I've got a headache, too. Do you have any Aspirin here?"
     Scully almost laughed. "Aspirin? For a concussion? You have to be kidding, Mulder.
Aspirin is not going to take that kind of pain away."
     "Scully, really, it's not that bad. I just have this mild headache and I don't want it to
get worse." He knew he was lying. He knew she knew he was lying. But that didn't change
his approach.
     Shaking her head, Scully opened her briefcase, pulled out a pill bottle and shook
two of them out into her hand. "Take these. They're stronger than Aspirin. And if you don't
want it to get worse, Mulder, you should go home and get some sleep. That's what you
really need." She handed him the pills and a glass of water she had poured from the
pitcher on her desk.
     He took the pills and swallowed them, slightly surprised to have her hover over him
like she did. That wasn't typical Scully-behavior. "I'll go home early, okay? Would that
make you happy?" he asked, his tone of voice slightly sarcastic.
     Scully returned to her chair and gave him that look he knew so well. The one which
made him feel certifiably crazy. "I don't want you to do this to make me happy. I want you
to do it so you can recover properly. I don't understand why you have to be so stubborn
about this," she said, starring straight at him.
     Mulder only grinned, perfectly masking the thudding pain in his head. "I'm not
being stubborn. It's just not that bad," he explained, shrugging lightly. Shaking her head,
Scully returned her attention to the work at hand. They still had a lot of files to go over and
he was impossible to talk to at the moment.
     When she turned her back to him, Mulder raised his shoulders, wincing quietly. The
pain was a lot stronger than he would let her know, but there was no way he would stay
home. Not when there was so much work to do. Briefly pressing the heels of his hands
against his eyes, he tried to will the pain away. It didn't help much, so all he could do was
actually just wait for the pills to take effect. Suppressing a sigh, he sank back in his chair,
grabbed one of the files and started reading it. He didn't get very far before the headache
became worse. The pills didn't seem to do much and he most of all wanted to close his
eyes and just sleep. He glanced over at Scully, wincing at the pain it caused when he
shifted his eyes, but didn't want to let her know how he was really feeling. But if he thought
he had fooled Scully, he had another thing coming.
     So abruptly that he didn't have time to raise his defenses she turned her chair
toward him, eyeing him with a good portion of anger in her eyes. "One thing is that you
don't want me to know how poorly you really feel, Mulder. Another thing is that you lie
about it. You need to be home in bed. You need to rest as much as possible. Don't you
understand that you're only making things worse with this stubbornness of yours?" She
got off her chair, took one step toward him and looked down at him. "You're shoulders are
basically up around your ears every time I turn my back on you. And I know the pills don't
work properly, either. I can tell by the paleness of your skin and the sheen of sweat
covering your face." Folding her arms over her chest, she frowned at him. "Admit it. You
feel lousy."
     He starred back for a moment, then closed his eyes with a sigh, carefully pinching
the bridge of his nose. "Okay, fine. I feel lousy," he grumbled. Swallowing hard, he had to
admit to himself that he felt worse than lousy. When he opened his eyes again, the room
swayed like a boat in rough water. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath to
keep the nausea at bay. But it didn't work. "I think I need to lie down," he finally admitted.
     Scully took another step toward him, her anger gone like dew before the sun.
"Jesus, Mulder. You're going to kill yourself some day," she said. "Come on, I'll take you
home," she added, reaching a hand out to him.
     Wincing with the effort, he nodded and got up. Using Scully as a support, he went
with her to her car and she drove him home.
11.15 am
Alexandria
Mulder dropped down on his couch, covered his face with both hands and sighed. He felt
awful. "Lie down. Get some rest," Scully said and he really wasn't in the mood to discuss
it with her. He let himself drop sideways down on the couch, his hands still covering his
face. Scully drapped a blanket over him, then sat down on the edge of the couch. "This
is what you get for taking this too lightly," she told him.
     "Please, Scully. No moral lessons now," he mumbled into his hands. "I feel sick
enough as it is."
     That brought a smile to her lips. She just couldn't help it. Even when he was in pain
he had to crack jokes. Putting a hand on his right arm, she gave it a light squeeze. "Just
get some rest, okay? The more you sleep, the sooner this will be over."
     He dropped his hands and looked up at her. "Okay," he agreed. When she was
about to get up, he stopped her by grabbing her wrist. He felt silly for this, but feeling like
this, he didn't want to be alone. "Would you mind staying until I'm asleep?"
     There was something so basic in that request that she just could not deny him. She
simply nodded. "No, of course not," she said and sat down again.
August 29
06.30 pm
J.Edgar Hoover building
"Hey, Scully. Guess what," Mulder said, rubbing his forehead and the remainder of the
bruise there while starring down at the file lying open in his lap.
     Scully turned her chair around to face him. "What?"
     "I think you're right," he said after a moment's worth of silence. He didn't look at her
because he knew what her reaction would be to what he had to say. She would probably
verbally rip his head off.
     "About what?" she wanted to know, almost certain she knew already.
     "There's nothing in these files. I could have sworn..." He trailed off, observing the
silence in the room, then slowly raised his head to look at her. She was merely looking
back at him.
     "I told you so from the beginning. These two weeks we've spent reading through
these files is a waste of time. There's nothing in here. Nothing at all," she said, grabbed
the next file and opened it. "It's not that I don't believe in your sense of these things,
Mulder, but..." she continued, but suddenly trailed off, starring down at the file now lying
open in her lap. "Uhm... what is this?"
     Mulder got up and came over to take a look at it, frowning at the odd-looking front
page of the file. It didn't look like anything he had ever seen inside the Bureau before.
Skimming over the page, he frowned. "John Castor," he read a name aloud. "This doesn't
look like it belongs down here."
     "That's right. It's a Missing Persons-file. But it's not in Bureau standard. Look at the
way it's set up," Scully countered, starring at the page with slight bewilderment. It looked
very strange. Not exactly sloppy, but set up in a confusing way. It was difficult to get a
grasp on what it was until one had a chance to read through it. "John Castor is obviously
missing," Scully added, then flipped the page. The next page had pictures stuck to it with
no explanations. The pictures themselves did not immediately make any sense at all.
Mixtures of light and shadow, some of them vaguely indicating human shapes. Scully
shook her head in confusion over these odd-looking pictures and was about to close the
folder when Mulder stopped her.
     "Wait a minute. What do you think this is?" he asked, pointing to one of the pictures
that seemed to be mostly shadow-play.
     "I don't know, Mulder. And I'm not sure I want to know," she said a little sternly. The
pictures, for some odd reason, frightened her a bit. "Has it occurred to you that this might
be the file you were attacked for?" she asked after a second and firmly closed the folder.
     Mulder nodded thoughtfully. "It had crossed my mind, yes," he admitted. "Why they
would want to nearly kill me for this I don't know, though. Maybe I should run it through
the Lone Gunmen."
     Scully almost flinched. All day she had tried to remember what it was she had to tell
Mulder, but it had completely slipped her mind. "Frohike called me last night. He said
they'd be out of town for a couple of days. He couldn't reach you, so he called me."
     "Oh, okay. So I'll run it by them when they get back," Mulder said. Straightening,
he kept looking down at the folder. "Where do we put it until then?" he asked after a
moment.
     "Well, you're not taking it home with you, Mulder. Consider the consequences if
these people find it with you. I don't even want to think about what could happen," Scully
commented, wondering  if it would have any impact on his decision at all. He remained
silent for a moment and when she looked up at him, she could tell he was really working
this one over. Eventually, he sighed.
     "We'll leave it here. Put it in one of the other files. And remember which one. I don't
feel up to going through over twohundred files just to find it again," he finally said. Scully
almost dropped her jaw at that one. This was so unlike him. Maybe that bump on the head
had put some sense in him. "And don't tell me where you put it," he added as if on second
thought. That made her frown.
     "Why not?" she wanted to know.
     "Because I don't want to know until we can do something about it," he said
serenely.
     Scully looked up at him with renewed respect. So he did know when to back down.
That was always a good sign. Or maybe that attack had shook him up enough to make
him see the light. She hoped that was it. "Okay. I'll make sure nobody finds it," she replied.
And she knew just how to do that.
     "I think I'm gonna go home now, Scully. I still have a bit of a headache," he
admitted, grinning when he saw the surprise in her expression. "Not that bad. It's just from
this damned sore spot on my forehead," he soothed her, gently tapping his brow.
     Scully couldn't help smiling. This was one thing she really liked about him. He never
ceased to amaze her. "Okay. I'm gonna go, too. It's late and I've got a date with my mom
for dinner tonight. Can I drop you off or are you taking a car home?"
     "It's a bit out of your way to drop me off, isn't it, Scully?" He was a bit surprised by
the way she kept hovering over him, but was also aware that she was probably under
orders to do so.
     She merely smiled. "Hey, what are friends for," she countered, grabbed her things
and followed him out of the office.
     "What about the file, Scully?" he said, stopping short in the door way.
     "I'm going to take care of it," she replied. "Don't worry about it."
07.30 pm
Alexandria
Scully glanced at the dashboard clock for the umpteenth time, knowing that Mulder
noticed it. She glanced over at him and he smiled briefly.
     "Why don't you let me off here. I can walk the last piece of the way. It's a nice night,"
he said.
     Scully slowed the car and pulled up to the curb. "Are you sure?" she wanted to
know, a little cocerned.
     "Why are you so anxious, Scully? I'm gonna be fine," he said, starting to get a little
annoyed. She seemed to be afraid something would happen to him on this last stretch of
road. "You've been hovering over me like a nervous hen over her chicks ever since that
incident."
     Scully sighed, then shook her head. "I'm just worried, okay? If you can get mugged
in the garage of the J. Edgar Hoover building, Mulder, you're quite capable of getting
yourself into trouble walking home from here." Looking at him, she wondered if he would
crack a joke over this, but he looked pretty serious. "I just don't want anything to happen
to you. I'm sorry if I seem a little overprotective."
     A weak smile curled his lips for a moment. Then he reached over and gave her hand
a squeeze. "Well, I appreciate it, Scully. But you don't have to worry about me. I always pull
through, don't I?" She had to nod to that one. "Thanks for the ride. Now go meet your
mother. And tell her I said hi, okay?" With that, he opened the door and climbed out of the
car. "Drive safely," he added and closed the door.
     Scully raised a hand in goodbye as he headed up his street and he briefly looked
back, waving at her with a smile. Shaking her head, Scully hoped and prayed that he
would be all right. At the same time she scolded herself for being so overprotective. It was
the same kind of behavior he had displayed, which had annoyed the hell out of her right
after she had been returned from her abduction. Mulder could indeed take care of himself.
Putting the car in gear, she drove off, now anxious to meet her mother.
Mulder glanced back as the car pulled away from the curb and disappeared down the
crossing street. He shook his head in wonder, trying not to think too much about why
Scully felt so overprotective toward him. He knew by instinct that Skinner had told her to
keep an eye on him, but he figured she took this assignment a little too seriously. More
than once had he wondered what lay behind, but that was ground he didn't want to tread
on. Not now. He had a pretty good idea about it and if he went there, he wouldn't be able
to go back. He knew that. And that would be fatal for their working relationship.
Something he did not want to jeopardize for anything in the world.
     Walking slowly up the street, he tried not to think of it and at the same time couldn't
help it. It meant so much to him, that he had recently felt his priorities shifting. What
seemed like a trivial thing to most people meant the world to him. That he would consider
Scully almost as important as his search for his sister was something that had initially
taken him utterly by surprise. But there it was.
     "Got a light, mate?"
     The voice seemed to come out of nowhere, but Mulder stopped the instant he
caught sight of the guy standing in the shadows of an entrance to one of the buildings.
Shrugging, he smiled briefly, trying to get a grip on the nervous bundle in the pit of his
stomach. "Sorry. I don't smoke," he said and walked on.
     "That's just too bad, ain't it?" the man said, suddenly very close.
     Before Mulder knew what hit him, the man had tackled him, dropping him to the
ground. Experience had a big part of the way this man handled himself when he slapped
the handcuffs on Mulder's wrists, locking his hands behind his back. The whole thing took
less than a minute and when the man stuffed a piece of cloth into his mouth and pulled
a hood over his head, he felt himself panic. Hands grabbed him and he was roughly
thrown into what he considered to be the rear of a van. Moments later, the vehicle was in
motion, removing him from his home and any chance of getting help.
     The thoughts that went through his head made his nightmares seem like a walk in
the park. He didn't know where those thoughts came from, but rationalized that they were
provoked from the trauma the previous attack had caused him and the shock of this one.
It had all happened so quickly that he hadn't even had a chance to react. These people
knew him. That much he was certain about. They knew not to give him a chance or he
would come out on top. Struggling against the cuffs and the hood over his head,  he at
the same time tried to estimate which way they were going. Impossible, he knew, but he
needed something to do to keep the creeping panic at bay.
Time unknown
Location unknown
Some time later, the van came to a halt and Mulder, still tied up and gagged, was dragged
out of the back and on shaky legs guided inside. He felt the shift in temperature and heard
a door click shut somewhere behind him. Completely disoriented, he was guided down
a flight of stairs, then pushed forward. The momentum made him stumble and fall over,
whereafter the handcuffs were removed and his unseen attackers vanished. A heavy door
fell into lock behind him as he struggled to get the hood off his head and the cloth out of
his mouth. Spitting angrily at the floor, he looked around the tiny, empty basement room
he was in. Not a clue gave away where he was. Staggering a little, he came to his feet and
checked the room more carefully. It had dawned on him in all its horror that Scully
wouldn't miss him until the following Monday, unless she wanted to talk to him before
that. He hoped that she would try to call and get worried when she couldn't reach him.
Two days would be plenty for him to loose his mind if he were to be locked up in this room
for all that time. He hated tight spaces. His only consolation was that there was light.
     As if some evil spirit had read his mind, the lights suddenly went out. "Shit," he
hissed, instantly disoriented again. He reached both hands out and fumbled for the
nearest wall, then felt along it to the door. It was still closed. He stood there, his hands on
the door, thinking things over for a while. He hated the complete darkness. Although it
was usually not something he would make a big fuzz over, he disliked it strongly when he
was in a vulnerable position. And this was more vulnerable than he had ever wanted to be.
     After a while where nothing happened, he fumbled along the wall to the rear of the
room and sank down on the floor. He felt like screaming for help, but also knew that it
would bring him nothing. Those who had brought him here would sooner or later reveal
why. He just didn't particularly want to know. For now, it suited him fine that they left him
alone.
10.30 pm
Annapolis
Scully closed the door after her mother had left and returned to the kitchen to do the
dishes. While she worked on them, her mind kept returning to Mulder and what they had
discussed this evening. She wanted nothing more than to just call him and continue their
talk. After a moment, she decided that she would do just that.
     Drying her hands on the dish towel, she walked into the living room, picked up the
phone and dialed his number. After several rings she had to accept that he wasn't home.
Maybe that or he just didn't feel like answering the phone. The moment she hung up it hit
her that his answering machine would have been hooked up in both cases. She knew his
routine by now and knew that the first thing he did when he got home was listen to
messages, then either leave the machine on if he went out or switch it off if he stayed in.
The machine was either full or off. So why didn't he answer? Frowning, she sat down on
the couch, then shook her head. "You worry too much, Dana," she mimicked her mother's
words and smiled. He'd probably fallen asleep and forgotten to turn the machine on. She
would call him in the morning if he didn't call her before that.
August 30
Time unknown
Location unknown
Mulder snapped awake in the complete darkness of the basement room and felt
disoriented for a moment. Then he remembered where he was and tried to relax into a
more comfortable position. Sleeping while sitting up was not something he preferred to
do, but he wasn't about to lie down on the floor. He heaved a deep breath and sighed,
closing his eyes. The waiting and the uncertainty was the worst. Although he was glad that
they hadn't touched him yet, he wasn't so sure he could count on it to remain that way.
Trying to get as much rest as possible, he wrapped his coat tighter around himself and
drifted off again.
Lee starred at Fester's sidekick whom she only knew as Joe. It was obvious that Joe wasn't
his real name, but that didn't really matter. The guy had managed to secure Mulder for her
without any fuzz and she appreciated people who could get the job done.
     "Good job, Joe. Where is he?"
     "Downstairs in the small room. We killed the lights in there to keep him in the dark,
so to speak," Joe replied, casually regarding his fingernails, not a trace of amusement in
his voice.
     He was cold, that one, Lee mussed. "Right," she said. "What I want you to do is get
him out of there, put him in a chair and make sure he doesn't get out of it. Get rid of his
coat and shirt. He won't need those any more." Lee was certain that Joe would get this job
done, too. He seemed pretty efficient.
     "Got it, boss," he replied, nudged Fester and left the living room.
     Lee looked after them, one eyebrow raised. "Boss?" she mumbled, then shook her
head. It was time to get ready.
Joe and Fester were ready for whatever might happen, which should have given them the
advantage. Fester would switch the lights on and together they would overwhelm their
prisoner without much trouble. They hadn't counted on him fighting back because he
hadn't when they had picked him up.
     The moment the lights were on, Mulder was up and moving. He managed to almost
disable Fester with a solid kick to the groin, but Joe obviously didn't shy back from
physical violence. Using a rubber truncheon of the kind the police used, he made it very
clear who was stronger. The truncheon connected squarely with Mulder's right temple,
knocking him off his feet and against the wall, a searing pain spreading throughout his
head like wildfire. Grabbing his head with both hands, Mulder tried to regain the breath the
impact with the wall had stolen and was forced to his feet by two very angry men. Wincing
at the pain in his head, he tried to resist them as they dragged him out of the room, but
he couldn't find the strength. The debilitating thunder behind his eyes made it hard for
him to see, let alone act. He was dragged into another room and pushed down on a chair
after they had removed his coat and his shirt. His hands were tied behind his back, then
cuffed to the back of the chair. A hot trickle of blood ran down the side of his face and he
sensed the world fading out around him. The last thing he thought before the darkness
engulfed him was that at least they couldn't hurt him while he was out.
Some time later, he came to again, groaning at the pounding headache. Another
concussion, he thought and slowly raised his head. This couldn't be good for him. The
first thing he saw when his eyes finally focused was a woman. Blond, blue-eyed, tall and
pretty butch-looking. She was also smiling.
     "Hi there," she said and squatted down in front of him. "I'm sorry the guys were so
rough with you. I didn't intend for them to be that, you know. It's so difficult to get good
help these days."
     Mulder starred at her for a moment before groaning again.
     "Joe," she called, reaching a hand out to one side. Mulder turned his head a little
and saw the pills being put in her hand along with a glass of water. "Here, take these.
They'll take the top of the pain," she said, holding them out to him.
     For a moment, he starred longingly at the pills, then he shook his head. He had no
idea what they were and they wouldn't be able to make him take them unless they forced
him. "No, thanks," he said.
     "You sure? They're Aspirin," she said.
     He again shook his head. "No, thanks. I never take medication I don't recognize,"
he said, giving her a grim smile back.
     She shrugged. "Fine with me. I don't care, really." Getting up again, the smile on
her lips disappeared. "Now, let's get down to business, shall we?" Her tone of voice was
no longer friendly. "Where is it?"
     Mulder looked up at her, his expression full of agony and confusion. "What?" he
asked, the bewilderment obvious in his voice.
     "The file, Agent Mulder. The file," the woman said.
     Mulder frowned and instantly winced at the pain from his split temple. "What file?"
He was starting to get a little fed up with this line of questioning. "What do you want from
me?" he snapped.
     "Now, now, friend. Take it easy," she said, squatting down in front of him again,
putting her hands on his knees. "All I want is the location of the Castor-file. Then we'll take
you home and pretend this never happened, okay?"
     For a split second the realization showed on his face, then it became a mask. So,
that was what they were after. He'd have to take a closer look at that when he got out of
here. For now, he had to ward this woman off. "I don't know anything about any Castor-file," he lied.
     She starred into his eyes for a moment, then rose once more. "I see," she said,
obviously aware that he knew what she was talking about and was lying about it. "Well, I
will have to convince you to disclose the whereabouts of this file then. It's very important
to me and I'm willing to go a long way to retrieve it."
     Mulder briefly considered telling her where to look for the damned file, then
remembered that Scully had taken it home with her.  Oh damn,' he thought. Under no
circumstances could he let this bitch know that Scully had it. Heaven only knew what she
might do to Scully to get to it. "I still don't know what you're talking about. I haven't seen
any file with the name Castor in or on it."
     Slowly shaking her head, she seemed almost sad about his answer. "I'm really sorry
you see it that way, Mulder. I really am. I don't want to hurt you, you know. I just want the
file." Folding her arms over her chest, she looked down at him for a moment. "I know you
have it. I know it was delivered to you by special courier. All you have to do is tell me where
it is and that will be the end of this rather disgraceful episode. I'll have my file back and you
will go back home. That's all there is to it. This file is none of your concern anyway. It's got
nothing to do with aliens or UFOs or any such thing."
     Biting back the pain, he starred up at her. It actually annoyed the hell out of him
that he couldn't just tell her where to get it. If it was worth so much trouble, he didn't want
it. Not until he knew what it contained anyway. "That may very well be, but I still have no
idea what you're talking about."
     She closed her eyes for a moment, seemingly almost meditating. Then she looked
at him again. "Always maintain plausible denial, huh?" she asked, confusing him. "Right.
You want to play tough, I can play that game, too." She turned and marched out of the
room, followed by the guy she had called Joe. The door closed behind them and Mulder
was once again alone.
     Groaning, he tried to ease the tension in his neck by lowering his head, but that only
increased the pounding.  What the hell did I do to deserve this one,' he thought, flexing
his shoulders carefully to loosen up a bit.
     Moments later, the door opened again and the woman re-entered. She had a gun
in one hand. "Now, Mulder, shall we talk more seriously about that file?" she asked,
obviously not asking a question she expected an answer to. She cocked the hammer on
the gun and held it out to him so he could take a look at it. "I want to know where the file
is. Don't play with me, Mulder. You're gonna loose every time." When he made no move
to reply, she pressed the muzzle of the gun down on his right thigh, just above the knee.
"Come on, Mulder. You don't really want a bullet wound in your leg, do you?"
     Perspiration gathered on his brow as he starred down at this very real gun pressed
against his thigh. "No," he almost croaked.
     "Then answer the question. Where is the file? This will all be over a lot sooner if you
just work with me," she said. She shifted the position of the gun a little, away from the
bone and out to the side where it would hurt like hell but not really damage him
permanently. "Well?" she asked.
     Knowing what was in store, he still shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking
about," he insisted quietly. He ground his teeth even before she pulled the trigger, but he
could still not contain the yelp of pain when the bullet slammed through his flesh, tearing
nerves like wet paper. Being shot at close range was always extremely painful. Gasping,
the world faded out of focus, then abruptly returned to focus when she slapped him hard
across the face.
     "Don't pass out now, Mulder. I need an answer and I'm damned well going to get
it. Even if I have to take you apart bit by bit. And believe me, I can do that and keep you
alive almost all the way."
     He couldn't think straight, let alone speak. All he wanted was to pass out to get
away from the pain. But that was obviously not going to happen. His breath came in
shallow, quick gasps, leaving him lightheaded with the hyperventilation. Both his legs were
secured to the legs of the chair so he couldn't even stretch out. Somehow, he had gotten
it into his now breezy mind that it would feel better that way. The world again threatened
to fade away into darkness and once again she pulled him back by slapping his face.
Slowly, the world regained focus and with every heartbeat, the pain seemed to lessen a
little. His system was starting to shut down certain areas in his brain to prevent him from
dying from shock. With a fully blazing headache and a leg that was on fire, he didn't hear
her voice any more. And he was grateful for that.
     "Mulder." She finally managed to cut through and it annoyed him. "I know you're
hurting right now. I can make it go away if you tell me where the file is. If you don't, I'll
have to hurt you some more. Do you understand me?"
     "I... don't know... what... you're talking... about," he finally managed, his voice
hoarse and restrained with the pain. He focused on her and managed a sneer.
     Meeting his now glazed eyes, she had to marvel at how resilient he was. Nobody
liked pain. Not unless they were insane. "Okay, fine," she said, reached out to her right and
grabbed something. A piece of rob. She tied it around his leg to stop him from bleeding
to death.
     "Hey..." he croaked, causing her to look up at him expectantly. "Those... were my...
good pants," he managed, trying to make a joke of it all. He needed to do that to stay
sane.
     Her eyes were sparking with anger at that. "Is that so? Well, prepare for some more
damage, then," she spat, pressed the gun against his right calf at a crooked angle and
pulled the trigger again.
     He screamed once again, his breath now coming in ragged little sobs, tears of pain
streaming down his face. He fought the restraints, bucking against the chair in an attempt
to get away from her, away from the pain she was inflicting. He had also instantly decided
that he would be quiet from now on. No more taunting. That only increased the hurting.
11.00 am
Annapolis
Scully picked up the phone, dialed Mulder's number and got no reply again. With a frown,
she hung up. "Now, don't go and get possessive, Dana," she told herself aloud, then
sighed. Where could he be? She was worried, annoyed actually, that she couldn't get in
touch with him. Somehow, she wouldn't let herself believe that he might be in trouble.
Then the phone rang. Suddenly her heart was beating faster as she picked up the receiver.
"Yes?"
     "Agent Scully?" Skinner's voice. "I'm sorry to disturb you at home on a Saturday, but
I've been trying to get a hold of Agent Mulder, but nobody's answering the phone. Do you
know where he is?"
     Now, why should I know that? she thought a little aggressively, then calmed down
again. Her nervousness over being unable to reach Mulder herself made her snappy. "No,
sir. I must admit that I've been trying to get a hold of him myself since last night. He didn't
say anything to me about going anywhere."
     A brief silence answered her at first. "If you get a hold of him, let him know that I
need to talk to him, all right?" Skinner asked. "And if you don't make contact with him
within the next 48 hours, Agent Scully, I want to know about that, too. I've..." he began,
then trailed off. "Just let me know if you hear from him."
     "Yes, sir. Have a nice weekend," Scully countered and hung up, her nervousness
blossomed into full bloom. "Damn it, Mulder. Where are you?" she whispered, then
decided to take the chance and go over there. She grabbed her coat and her keys and was
out the door before she had a chance to regret.



Alexandria
12.00 am
Mulder's apartment was very quiet. Scully looked around, saw no sign of him having been
there recently and frowned. Okay, he didn't use his bed much. That much she knew. But
there was no sign of him anywhere. The answering machine sitting beside the phone was
blinking rapidly, indicating a lot of messages. She contemplated listening to them, then
sighed and turned away from the machine. It was none of her business who called him.
Standing there in the middle of his living room, she looked around, wondering what had
gone wrong now. Because something was definitely wrong. Mulder always gave her a call
or at least left her a message. "Damn it, Mulder. Where are you?" she repeated her
question quietly.
     She left the apartment again after feeding the fish and headed toward her car.
Something made her hesitate as she looked down the street to the point where she had
let him off the night before. Had something really happened between here and there last
night? Was he perhaps in trouble? Slowly, she started walking down the sidewalk toward
the point where she had seen him cross the street before she had driven off herself. Her
eyes traced every line, every object on the ground, flipping from a bottle cap to a lost
button to a piece of tinfoil and so on. What she hoped to see she didn't know, but she was
somehow sure that there would be something. Then she looked up again and noticed that
she had passed the spot where he had crossed the street. With a sigh, she turned and
headed back up the sidewalk to where the car was parked. 'Am I jumping at shadows
here?' she wondered silently. 'Mulder would get a kick out of this one. I'd better get home
before he turns up and sees me here.' With that thought, she walked swiftly back to the
car, completely overlooking the three expensive-looking dark blue buttons lying on the
ground near a wall. If she had seen them, she might have recognized them. And it was not
often that someone lost three buttons at once. She climbed into the car, started up the
engine and leaned back in the seat. For a long moment, she just sat there, starring ahead
of herself, then she put the car in gear and drove back home, hoping in vain that there
might be a message from him waiting on her machine. But nothing. She promised herself
that she would start a riot if he hadn't turned up by the following morning.
Time unknown
Location unknown
Breathing was something of a job for Mulder. After having shot him twice, beaten the crap
out of him and inflicted more pain that he had thought possible, the woman and her
cohort had finally given him so peace. Not that it helped him very much. Tied down to the
chair as he was, he couldn't move much. His head hurt ferociously, his right leg was on
fire from the ankle to the hip and he most of all wanted to die. But something in him was
stubborn. If they would do this to him for that file, it had to be worth something. Heaving
another shuddering breath, he tried to ignore the sting of his bruised ribs. That pain was
the least of his concerns right now. Although she had tied his leg off to prevent him from
bleeding to death, he could still feel the rather steady trickle of blood oozing down his
damaged calf. If this kept up, he would bleed to death no matter what she did. His eyes
half closed, he was barely able to think past the present moment. He had wanted to tell
them where the file was but not if they kept treating him like this. No way. He wouldn't
break. And besides, telling them would be jeopardizing Scully's health and life and he
wasn't about to do that. The thought of Scully made him wince.  Please help me', he
thought incoherently, knowing very well that she had no idea where he was. And even if
she could find him, it would take time. Time he didn't have.  Oh God, help me.' Those
words kept running through his mind over and over again. It would be such a solace to see
her face, to know that he would be getting out of this mess he was once again in. He only
hoped that she would miss him before the weekend was over.
Lee stood leaning against the door frame, watching him. She wondered what was going
through his mind while his life slowly ebbed away. But she wasn't about to let him die of
blood loss. She would make sure that he would be around for a while to come. Mainly so
she could torture the answer out of him. For a long while, she just watched him, then she
turned and went for the bandages she had sent Joe out to get. Lots of them. Within
minutes, she returned to the basement room and laid out the bandages on a table next
to the bottle of disinfectant. It wasn't the nice kind. This would sting in any wound. It would
probably drive him into a frenzy of agony, but that would also serve a purpose.
     "Wakey, wakey," she said, patting his face. He groaned, raising his head a little. "I'm
here to take care of your leg."
     "Get away from me," he mumbled, unable to put much strength behind the words.
     Lee starred down at him for a moment, then shook her head. "Not likely, buddy."
She pulled out her pocket knife and smoothly cut through the fabric of his pants. Then
she untied his right leg, grabbed his ankle and eased it into a stretch. She could feel the
tremble going through the muscles and one glance at his face told her that she was
hurting him badly. His breath came in ragged, little gasps. "There," she said, grabbed the
bottle and pulled the cap of it. His eyes focused on the bottle and he started shaking his
head. He knew what it was and he knew what agony it would put him through if she
poured that over his wounds. "Don't fret. I need to clean the wounds or they'll go septic.
You don't want that, do you?" she asked, grabbed his ankle again and was surprised how
much strength he was able to muster to get his leg away from her. But she held on, once
again forcing his leg into a stretch, then tilted the bottle and poured the liquid right into
the bullet hole in his thigh. He didn't even manage to vocalize his pain before he passed
out.
     Lee grumbled under her breath, then set about bandaging him up. The pressure
bandage around both the wounds on his leg should do the trick. It would stop the
bleeding. She then grabbed a syringe, filled it with a clear liquid and injected it into his
right shoulder. "There. That should give you some more strength."
August 31
07.30 am
Annapolis
Scully woke up with a start, realizing that she had fallen asleep on her couch. That was a
first for her. But she was so worried about her partner and friend that she had found it
impossible to go to sleep. The TV was still on and she realized that the early morning news
had awoken her. Glancing at her watch, she sighed deeply. If there was any time he should
be at home, it had to be now. Easing into a stretch, she grabbed the phone, dialed his
number and waited. Nothing. Nobody home. Her mind was reeling as she considered the 
possible cause for his abscents, that he hadn't gone home Friday night after she had
dropped him off. With the receiver in on hand, she sat on the couch, starring down at the
soulless device which would not let her get in touch with him. "Damn it," she mumbled,
then dialed another number. This one was answered almost immediately. "Good morning,
sir. I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I've been trying to get a hold of Agent Mulder
without luck. I went over to his apartment yesterday and he hasn't been home at all."
     There was a brief silence, then Skinner grumbled under his breath. "Right. File a
Missing Person's report on him, Agent Scully. And meet me at the office at 09.00. I want
to know what's going on here."
     "Uhm... sir? He hasn't been gone for 48 hours yet," Scully said, afraid he might not
have thought about that.
     "That doesn't matter, Scully. If they make a fuzz, just tell them to call me. I'll be in
the office in half an hour."
     "All right. I'll see you at nine, then," Scully replied, hung up and went to her bed
room to change her clothes. Fifteen minutes later, she was on her way out the door.
08.15
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Scully had been asked to take a seat until one of the agents in the MP-division would get
around to talk to her. She had been sitting there for ten minutes without result and was
getting rather fed up. When she saw a female agent coming toward her, she rose and
stepped in the woman's way. "Excuse me. I need to file a Missing Person's report here by
orders of A.D. Skinner." She didn't like to pull rank on others, but if it got her what she
wanted in this case, then she didn't mind.
     The woman looked at her for a moment, then smiled a crooked smile. "Sure thing,
Agent Scully," she said, having read her name on the tag. "I'm Jane Glover. Have a seat."
Scully sat down again and the woman took her seat across from her. "So, who's missing?"
     "Agent Mulder. My partner," Scully said.
     Glover made a face. "Spooky Mulder?"
     It took all the self control that Scully could muster to avoid a scene here. She most
of all felt like slapping her for that comment. Sometimes she thought that she hated his
nickname more than he did. "Special Agent Fox Mulder," she corrected her sternly.
     "Are you sure you want to file a Missing Person's report on him? He might be out
there somewhere, hunting UFOs." The cynical smile on Glover's lips made Scully furious.
     "Damn it, this is a serious matter," she snapped. Before she could continue,
though, another female agent turned up at the desk.
     "What's going on here?" she wanted to know, looking for her young colleague for
an explanation.
     "Oh, Agent Scully here want's to file a Missing Person's report on Spooky Mulder.
Can you believe it?" Glover asked, grinning.
     The newcomer starred at her for a second. "Don't you think that a little
professionalism would be in place here?" she growled. "Get off that chair and make
yourself useful elsewhere. I'm taking over here, Jane."
     Glover starred back at her, then nodded with a look of embarrassment on her face.
"Sure, TJ," she countered, got off the chair and walked away briskly.
     Jones took the chair instead and sat down. "I'm sorry about that, Agent Scully.
Sometimes I feel like I'm still in Kindergarten here," she said with a pleasant smile. "My
name's TJ Jones. So, what's the problem?"
     Scully starred at her, then she broke the case down for her, telling her everything
she knew from the moment she had dropped Mulder off and until Skinner had told her to
file this report on him.
     Jones nodded at regular intervals, made notes and eventually leaned back. "Do you
have any clue what might have happened? Any idea at all?" she asked.
     "He was attacked in the downstairs garage two weeks ago and I have the distinct
feeling that we're dealing with the same person here. This guy appeared to be a mugger,
but he wasn't interested in Agent Mulder's money. He wanted some kind of file without
ever identifying which one," Scully said.
     "Okay. So, this person might have... kidnapped him for questioning or something.
Do you have any idea what kind of file we could be talking about?" Jones wanted to know.
     Scully considered this for a moment, wondering if she could trust this woman, then
sighed. She felt like she didn't have any other choice but to show her the file. "Yes, I think
I have an idea," she said, opened her briefcase and pulled the file out. "This was among
a lot of files we've been working on. We must have had it in the office for two weeks
without knowing about it. It looks like a Missing Person's report, but it's not in any
standard I've ever seen."
     Jones took the file and leafed through it, frowning at the odd way it was set up.
"Sure isn't one from this office," she admitted, then looked up at Scully. "The Castor-case
is famous, though."
     "It is?" Scully was a bit perplexed. "For what?"
     "Well, there was this agent called John Castor some years back. He was really
making life difficult for some very important people. Apparently he messed up a lot of their
work by sticking his nose into it. The file on the Castor-case vanished about a month after
Castor did and neither have been seen since. This is the first time I've seen it, but if this is
the famous file on Castor, I don't have a clue why they would make it vanish. It doesn't say
anything interesting and it's a mess." Scully could only nod. "Unless your partner would
be likely to find anything interesting in it. Did he?"
     "I don't think so. Mulder didn't know it existed until he was clobbered because of it.
We were going to go over it this Monday, but now he's gone. And I have no idea where he
could be."
     Jones nodded, thoughtfully starring at the odd pictures in the file. "Okay. I've got
an idea. I'm gonna leak the information that the file is in my possession, but I think you
should keep it with you at all times. And don't tell anybody about it. That way we might be
able to get this sucker to rear his head. And when he does, I'm gonna be there to chop it
off." 
     Scully starred at her, frowning at this odd procedure. "I'm sorry. I don't know much
about what's going on here in Missing Persons, but... what good is it going to do to leak
this kind of information?" she asked, wondering if she was missing something obvious.
     Jones leaned a little closer. "The Castor-case was an internal matter, Agent Scully.
And a lot of odd happenings were connected to it. It was hushed down so fast that very few
have even heard about it and that's why I think that who ever is after the file is connected
to the Bureau in some way."
     Scully's frown deepened. Jones had some strange ideas, all right. Mulder would like
her. "But what makes you think that leaking the information wihtin the Bureau will make
any difference?" she asked again, not getting the point.
     Jones smiled a little at her lack of understanding. "Because the Castor-case was an
F.B.I.-matter. Somebody here doesn't want Agent Mulder to mess with this file. I'm only
surprised it has turned up in the first place." 
     Scully leand forward. "And you think that leaking this information will make
somebody react?" she asked and Jones nodded. "How long do you think this would take?"
she asked on after a moment.
     "Well, considering that the innards of the Bureau are as rotten as six-day-carcass
in the sun, it shouldn't take too long. I know just who to leak this information to. He's
gonna spread it faster than any ordinary chain of command could manage." Grinning,
Jones closed the file and handed it back to Scully. "Are you gonna be in the office today?"
     "For a while. I have an appointment with Assistant Director Skinner at nine. Which
reminds me, I'd better get going." She rose and couldn't help smiling back at Jones. She
seemed to be very efficient. "I'll be in my office until around ten if you want to talk to me."
     "Okay. I'll be in touch A.S.A.P.," Jones said, leaning back on her chair.
     Jones watched Scully go, then turned around in search of her scape goat. She
knew his reputation as a snitch and she knew how to use it, too. "Hey, Bastian," she said,
waving the guy over. He looked like a rooky and thought Jones confided in him. That
alone was the joke of the department since Jones never confided in anyone. Due to the
rather immature state of mind in this department, the others went along with the joke and
Bastian so far hadn't realized that he was not the one using others.
A.D. Skinner's office
09.00 am
Skinner looked up when Scully came in and waved her to a chair. "So?"
     "I've filed a report with an agent named TJ Jones," Scully said, sounding a little
uncertain. "She seems to be more serious about the matter than the others were."
     "TJ Jones," Skinner mumbled. "I know her. She's very good. Said to be among the
best in her field. What did she suggest?"
     "She thinks it's an internal affair," she said and sat down. "She's going to leak the
information that she has the file that Mulder was attacked for and then she wants to see
what happens. I'm not so sure it's a good idea, though." Scully couldn't help worrying
about the whole thing. "And it might take time before something happens. If anything
does."
     "With Agent Jones' connections I bet we'll see action a lot sooner than we think.
We're gonna handle this by ourselves as much as possible, Scully. Something tells me that
there is a lot more at stake than this file they are after." Skinner leaned back, still
concerned for Mulder's safety, yet confident that he would be found soon. He just hoped
they weren't too late. "Have you found out what file this guy was after?"
     Scully pulled the file from her briefcase once again and handed it to Skinner. He
looked through it and was as puzzled by it as everybody else. "I can't make much sense
of it. Agent Jones told me about the Castor-case and she speculates that is what this is all
about."
     Skinner leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully while he starred at the file. "The
Castor-case," he finally said. "No wonder he's in trouble. This case was one of the worst
incidents the Bureau has ever encountered. It's also one of those cases, which was
covered up and buried in no time." Looking up to meet Scully's eyes, his expression
remained very serious. "If we are lucky, we might find him alive, Agent Scully. The fact that
he has had this file in his possession, no matter if he read it or not, is enough to get him
killed. I don't know if you have any idea how serious this is. You are in jeopardy just by
having this file with you."
     Scully starred back at him, her expression as serious as his. "This file may be what
decides whether Mulder lives or dies, sir. I am not going to let it out of my sight until he
has been returned."
     With an uncertain glance down at the file, Skinner contemplated the severity of the
situation, then nodded. He handed it back to her. "You can hope and pray that Agent
Jones can be trusted, Agent Scully. If she can't, you may very well have joined Agent
Mulder wherever he is before the end of the day."
     Nodding, Scully replaced the file in her briefcase. "This file... I can't believe anybody
would hurt him over this," she said after a moment.
     "The reason is buried in that file, Scully. That is for certain. You need to be able to
interpret the text in order to understand the seriousness of this. Don't make the effort,
though. The less you know about the contents, the better you're off. Do you understand
me?" Skinner insisted and she nodded. "The phrase that knowledge is power doesn't
prevail in this case. The less we know about this, the more likely we are to come out alive
at the other end. Now get this thing out of my office. It's emanating a nasty smell."
     Scully got up, but hesitated before leaving. The one thing she would love to ask him
was the one thing she couldn't. Could he be trusted? "I'll keep you posted, sir," she finally
said and left the office again.
     Skinner looked after her with a stern look on his face. This was going to blow up in
their faces. He just knew it would. And the situation was getting more and more
aggravated by the minute. The Chain smoker had already approached him about the file,
but at the time Skinner had known nothing about it. Now that he knew, he would have to
pretend he didn't or Scully's life would be in danger. The whole thing was starting to
bother him to no end. And in the end it was because Mulder couldn't keep his nose out
of other people's business.
TJ Jones was waiting for Scully when she came down to the office in the basement. She
was sitting on Mulder's chair, eyeing the contents of the office with a frown. When she
heard Scully entering, she shifted her attention to her. "He really is hooked on all this stuff,
isn't he?" she asked needlessly.
     "Yes, he is. What have you found out?" Scully replied, not in the mood to discuss
her partner's obsessions.
     "The word is out. I'm going to have to be very careful going home today. But I'm
ready for it. Once I've identified the guy, I'll give him the slip, then follow him to wherever
he's gonna go. Once I know where he's holed up, I think we can be pretty sure that this
is where Mulder is. I'll call reinforcements and ta-da. That will be the end of another nasty
case. The bad guys go to jail and the good guys are reunited."
Time unknown
Location unknown
The world faded into view after an undeterminable span of time. Mulder was lying on his
back, starring up at a chalked ceiling he didn't recognize. His immediate reaction was that
he wanted to go back to sleep. It was dangerous to be awake. Then his senses kicked in
and he realized that the pain he had previously experienced was now a dull throb he could
easily live with. Slowly, he moved his head, noting that the pounding headache was gone,
but his whole face felt sore. Painkillers. He had been given some pretty heavy painkillers.
His wrists felt swollen and when he raised his right hand to inspect it, he realized that they
didn't just feel that way. The skin was chaffed and red, bulging out with too much fluid.
He breathed deeply and lowered his hand down onto the cot he was lying on, not making
any sudden movements. His right leg throbbed away with the rate of his pulse. Carefully,
he raised his head and looked down at it. It was wrapped in a pressure bandage which
would keep him from bleeding to death. It was also elevated with several pillows. Closing
his eyes, he let his head sink back onto the pillow. So at least she had the decency to not
kill him that way. But he was still aware that he was not going to be out of danger. She was
going to take him apart bit by bit to get the information out of him and he wasn't so
certain that he would be able to resist much longer. When his mind was clouded by
constant pain, the promise she had made to put an end to it sounded so good. Right now
there was no way in hell he would give in, but if she started torturing him again, he was
afraid he might break. He could virtually feel his resolve crumble.  Think of Scully,' he told
himself quietly. She would give him strength. She would find him.  Soon,' he assured
himself, hoping he was right.
Lee looked up when the door to the living room opened and Fester came in, looking all
excited. She put the book she was reading aside and starred at him expectantly. "I've just
received word that this other Agent, a Miss TJ Jones, is in possession of the Castor-file,
Lee. I've found her address and I know where she works, too."
     Lee's eyes narrowed as she starred at him. She didn't really believe it could be that
easy, but it would be worth a try. "Good. Wait for her when she comes home and relieve
her of her burden. If she has it, we'll return Agent Mulder to the world. If not, we'll continue
our questioning of him. He must know where it is."
     Fester grinned. "Sure thing. If she has it, I'll have it here by no later than tomorrow
morning."
     Lee nodded. "Good. I'm gonna go down and chat with our guest a little more. Just
in case she doesn't have it."
     Fester left again and Lee walked toward the stairs going down to the basement. She
wondered if she would see fear in his eyes when she entered the room. Would he beg for
mercy? If he did, she would be very disappointed in him. So much, actually, that she might
consider killing him right away. But she needed to know where that file was. So killing him
was not an option. Not yet. Stopping in the doorway to the room, she noted that he was
awake. For a moment longer, she would leave him in the belief that he was alone and
therefore safe. Then she cleared her throat. He raised his head, starring at her, and she
was satisfied that the fear was not yet present. Probably because he was still influenced by
the painkiller she had injected him with.
     "Do you feel up to talking now?" she wanted to know as she approached the cot.
     The first shiver of fear ran through him. "No," he croaked. His throat was dry and
he felt a little dizzy.
     "Why don't you just level with me, Mulder. If some of your friends have the file, all
we want to do is go out there and pick it up. We won't hurt anybody. We just need to get
that file back. It will put an end to all this suffering. You'll be home in a jiffy and that will be
the end of this nightmare."
     Letting his head sink back down on the pillow again, he closed his eyes. "I still don't
know what you're talking about," he whispered, trying to ready himself for what came next.
     Lee regarded him thoughtfully. "You're a tough one, Mulder. But, let me tell you,
I've broken combat-trained commandos who are claimed to never break under any kind
of pressure. I will get the information I'm after. I can mess with your head as well as with
your body and I will not shy back from anything to achieve my goal. Do you believe that?"
Her tone of voice was conversational, friendly even.
     "Yes," he whispered. He truly did believe that. He didn't want to know what she had
in store for him if he didn't comply. And if he could in any way prevent it, he wouldn't
comply though.
     "Are you protecting someone? Is that it?" she asked. "It's a fairly silly thing, wanting
to die for someone else. You should be damned sure that person appreciates it or it would
make this whole thing kind of useless. So, are you gonna let me in on who has the file?
I promise you I won't hurt that someone. I just want the file. Nothing else."
     Keeping his eyes closed, he forced himself to seem indifferent to what she was
saying. She was so damned close to guessing where the file was. If only she didn't get it
into her head that Scully might have it, then he would gladly suffer. She stroked his right
leg and he winced involuntarily. Well, maybe he wouldn't suffer gladly. But he would not
reveal the whereabouts of the file. "I don't know what you're talking about," he repeated.
     Lee looked at his bandaged leg, considered her options for a moment and then
pressed her thumb down on the very spot where the bullet had entered his leg. It was like
releasing a spring. He sat up with a sharp intake of breath, slapping her hand away rather
forcefully. His eyes were wide and wild with pain. "Talk to me," she said, meeting his stare.
     "Not... if it kills... me," he gasped, the fingers of his right hand nearly digging holes
into his thigh.
     Lee looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded solemnly. "So be it," she said.
With very little effort, she forced him back down on the cot and although he struggled
against her, she managed to cuff both his hands to the head of the cot. It was only then
that he realized that the cot was bolted down. Within a very short time, he regretted that
he had ever laid eyes on that damned file. He generally cursed it to hell while he screamed
his head off in pain.
04.00 pm
Nebraska Avenue, Washington D.C.
TJ Jones had spotted the man waiting for her long before he had seen her. She needed
to be sure it was him, but when he caught sight of her, all her doubts about that vanished.
He kept watching her and obviously didn't know that she was also watching him. Jones
strolled leisurely down the street toward her building, fully aware that he was now following
her. Once she reached the door to her building, she quickly vanished inside. Keeping to
the shadows, knowing that he wouldn't be able to see her, she watched him until he
apparently gave up and walked away again. Jones followed him out into the night,
grinning. She knew she had been put in the wrong department. Missing Persons wasn't
half bad, but she would prefer to work with the real criminals. She had always wanted to
go undercover and this was a dream come true. It didn't really occur to her that this could
be dangerous. So she followed the man for a while and was caught off guard when she
rounded a corner and found that he was gone.
     Starring down the more or less empty street, she frowned. "Damn it," she mumbled
under her breath and walked a few steps further. Suddenly, something hard was pressed
against her back.
     "Don't move, Miss Jones," a low voice told her. "And how are you this fine evening?"
He started searching her and came up with nothing. "Where's the file, Miss Jones?"
     "What file?" she asked before she had a chance to think about it. She almost hit
herself for that one.
     "What file?" he repeated, then chuckled. "I should have figured that you didn't have
it. That it was a trap. Trying to get to Mr. Mulder, are you? Well, since you're so eager to
join him, you will."
     That had not been on her agenda. Jones quickly considered her options, then
figured that if she wanted to find out where Mulder was, this was the way to do it. She
could then deal with whatever came her way once she was there. "Okay, okay, take it easy,
right? I'm not making a fuzz," she said.
     "That's good. Because if you were, I'd have to clobber you. See the van over there?
Walk slowly over there and remember, I'm a very good shot."
     Jones started moving, walking slowly, never giving him an excuse to make good on
his threat. He opened the back of the van for her and she climbed in, taking it slow. The
back was completely blinded off. No way of seeing where they went.  Shit,' she thought
and settled down on the floor after the door had closed again. No handle on the inside,
either. With a sigh, she settled back. This had not been such a good idea after all. Boy was
she going to get in trouble with her supervisor for putting herself at risk.
Time unknown
Location unknown
Fester shoved the pretty brunette into the living room of the mansion and frowned when
he realized that Lee wasn't there. "Yo, Lee. Where are you?" he hollered. A muffled scream
interrupted anything else he wanted to say. Jones flinched at the sound, suddenly very
much aware that this was not a good idea. Fester, however, only grinned. "Looks like she's
still talking to our guest," he said. "This way," he added and pushed her back into the
hallway and toward the stairs to the basement. "Nice and easy."
     Jones swallowed hard. She did not want to go down there. Those sounds of agony
made her skin crawl. "What the hell are you doing to him?" she demanded, knowing full
well who was doing the screaming.
     "Don't you worry about that," Fester said and shoved her forward.
     She stopped at the top of the stairs, aware that now was the time that she had to
act. She waited for him to come closer, then she hammered an elbow backwards,
knocking the air out of him. She threw her weight against him, knocking him over and
wrestled the gun out of his hand. Pressing the weapon against his face, it was her time to
smile. "But I do worry about that," she said, got off him and backed out of his reach and
away from the stairs. "Get to your feet, shithead," she snarled.
     Fester did not like the turn of events. This was not beneficial. Not at all. "Hey, take
it easy. I was just doing my job," he tried.
     "Right. Go down those steps right now. Move it, pal." Jones had the upper hand and
this was the time she felt most at ease. No matter how dangerous this situation might be.
She starred at this man, her eyes almost hurting because she didn't blink. And that was
the only reason for that she noted the shift in his expression. They weren't alone any more.
To keep a grip on the situation, Jones threw herself sideways, landing on her shoulder
without ever loosing sight of Fester guy. The second one's fist hit the air where her head
had just been. "Nice try, asshole," she snarled. "Drop the gun and join your buddy." Both
men looked rather amazed at her effectiveness at dealing with this situation. The second
one dropped his gun on the floor and back up to stand beside Fester. She picked up the
second gun and held both weapons in her hands. "Right. Here's the deal. You behave and
I won't have to kill you," she said. "Now move downstairs. Nice and easy. I'll pick you off
like sitting ducks if you as much as look at me wrong. Got that?"
     Both of them nodded, then turned and walked down the steps. Jones stood at the
top of the stairs until they had reached the bottom, then ordered them to stop. She was
halfway down the stairs when she told them to move up a bit. The screams had ebbed
away, but it was obvious that the third person was still continuing the process of making
life a living hell for Mulder. "Move it. Nice and slow. One wrong move and you both get it,"
she warned them quietly. With guys like these it didn't help threatening one life to make
the other behave. She had to make it clear that she would not distinguish between them
if it came down to it.
Lee looked up when Fester and Joe turned up in the doorway. "There you are already. Did
you get it?" she asked, wiping blood of her hands with a towel.
     Fester swallowed, looking very unhappy. "Not really," he admitted.
     Lee frowned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she snapped as they slowly
edged into the room. Then she caught sight of the woman behind them with the guns.
"Who the hell are you?"
     "Nobody as far as you're concerned, sweetheart," Jones told her. "Why don't you
go over there and join these two morons before I decide to put a bullet between your eyes.
That would really mess up that pretty face of yours."
     Lee considered her options, noting the way this woman held the guns. She was
professional and she was used to handling two guns at once. There was no doubt about
that. Slowly, she moved away from the cot, walking slowly to avoid provoking this woman.
"Take it easy. No reason for loosing your cool, okay?" she said. There had to be a way out
of this.
     Jones deliberately did not look over at the cot. She didn't need the distraction right
now. She noted the cuffs dangling from the woman's pocket and smiled when she
surveyed the room and found a lot of useful angles. "Why don't you cuff yourself together,
huh?" she suggested. When neither of them made a move to comply, she cocked the
hammer of the right-hand gun. "Don't make me mad," she added.
     Lee retrieved the cuffs from her pocket and sneered. This was not what she had had
in mind. She handed one to the guys and they cuffed their hands together. Then Lee
snapped the second pair of cuffs around her wrist and was about to lock it around Fester's
other wrist, when Jones shook her head.
     "No, honey. You don't do that until you've hooked the chain around that pipe right
there," she said, waving her left hand toward a solid hot water-pipe. She noted the way Lee
sneered again and couldn't help smiling. This was fun. She was aware that the woman was
a lot more dangerous than the men and that she was probably in charge. Lee slipped the
cuff around the pipe and locked it around Fester's wrist. "Now throw me the key, huh?"
Jones said, glancing sideways at a table. What she saw there made her little heart rejoice.
A tranquilizer gun. Now this was what she needed. She put down one gun and picked it
up. There were several darts lying on the table. "Now, what would you need a gun like this
for?" she asked and aimed it at Lee.
     Lee's expression sagged. "Hey, come on. You've already cuffed us. You don't need
to use the dart gun, too," she said, trying to ward off a disaster.
     "Oh? Is that so? And did you really need to torture Mulder here?" Jones asked, then
shook her head. "No, you didn't. So, here's looking at you, kid. Have a nice rest," she
added and fired the gun. The dart hit Lee square in the chest and before she could even
try to raise a hand to remove it, she sank to the floor like a deflating balloon. "Well, well,
well. What do you know. It works," Jones said, grinning while she reloaded the dart gun,
pointed it at Fester and pulled the trigger again. Moments later, all three of them were out.
Before anything else, she searched them and found weapons on all three of them. She
collected those and the spare keys for the cuffs, then finally turned around to take a closer
look at Mulder. Her joy over being such a hotshot vanished immediately. "Jesus," she
whispered.
05.30 pm
Crystal City
Skinner had gone home immediately after he had talked to Scully, but he could find no
rest, no peace. The fact that Mulder and Scully both were involved with the Castor-case
was a bad blow. That case file should have been burned and buried a long time ago, yet
here it was again. John Castor had been a bastard in life and now he was haunting the
F.B.I. again. Skinner swore that as soon as Mulder turned up again, whether dead or alive,
he would personally destroy that file. It made no sense, anyway, and to let Mulder have the
slightest go at it would end in disaster. The subject of Castor was so sensitive that none
of the people who had known the man talked about it any more. They all just tried to
ignore it. In a way, Mulder reminded him of Castor. With the exception that Castor had
reached a point of no return. He didn't care about anybody but himself and whatever
hidden agenda he had been after. And the Cancer Man had feared him like nobody else.
The idea that Castor was still around had been raised back then and the rumor had never
died down. It was as if he had risen from whatever grave he had been put in and was out
for revenge. Skinner didn't believe that, but he wouldn't put it past Castor to have staged
his own death back then. If that was the case, then he wouldn't be surprised at all if Castor
stood behind what was happening to Mulder right now. Because Mulder of all people
would be able to find him if he was still around.
     His train of thought was interrupted when the phone rang. "Yes," he said gruffly.
     "Sir, this is Scully. I've just been informed that Agent Mulder has been found at an
address just outside of D.C. I'm going out there right now. It seems Miss Jones came
through for us."
     "Where are you right now?" he wanted to know.
     "I'm at home, sir," she said, sounding a little cautious.
     "Stay there. I'll come by and pick you up."
06.00 pm
Annapolis
Scully stood waiting at the curb when Skinner's car pulled up in front of her. She got in,
gave him the address, and settled back for the ride.
     "Did Agent Jones let you know how he was doing?" Skinner asked after a moment.
He could sense the complete and utter strain on Scully.
     "He's in bad shape, sir," she countered, not wanting to get into what Jones had told
her on the phone.
     "Well, we'd better hurry then," Skinner said and sped up.
07.00 pm
Woodmont
The mansion was big. Scully was apprehensive about going in first, but Skinner took the
lead, so she didn't have to. When they opened the front door, Jones came to meet them.
"Hi. TJ Jones, sir," she introduced herself to Skinner, then turned to Scully. "I've called an
ambulance. It'll be here soon," she said, pale as a ghost.
     Scully looked her over. "Are you okay?" she wanted to know.
     "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just a little shocked at what they've done to him," she confessed.
"He's downstairs in the basement," she added and guided the way.
     Scully followed her, gun drawn, not so sure she was up to this. She was a doctor
and she had seen a lot of mutilated corpses, but she still wasn't sure she would be able to
handle seeing her partner in a bad condition provoked by another human being. Jones
stepped aside, waving toward the doorway to one of the basement rooms. Scully tugged
her gun away, gave Jones another glance and stepped through the door. He was lying
there on a cot and at first she didn't think he was breathing. She moved closer, surveying
the damage done and heaved a deep breath. "Mulder," she almost whispered. He stirred
and his eyelids fluttered open.
     When he saw her, he thought he was hallucinating. It couldn't be her, could it? But
whether it was a hallucination or not, he raised his right hand toward her. Swallowing hard,
he tried to clear his throat. "Scully."
     She sat down on the edge of the cot and took his hand in her, tears gleaming in her
eyes. "Take it easy. The paramedics are on their way," she soothed him, gently caressing
his face.
     He was panic-stricken and in severe pain. His t-shirt was blood-soaked from a fresh
wound on his right side, apparently caused by the knife lying on the floor next to the cot.
When he reached for her with both hands, she leaned over him and hugged him. He held
onto her like a drowning man would hold on to a lifeline. "It's over now. You're safe," she
whispered.
The three perpetrators were taken away at the same time as the paramedics carried
Mulder out. Lee stopped, starring at the stretcher. "I hope you rot," she snarrled before one
police officer gave her a pretty hard push toward the waiting car.
     Jones looked after Lee with a frown on her face. "What a nasty little bitch," she said,
glancing sideways at Skinner.
     "Yes, that she is," he agreed darkly, then turned to Scully.
     "I'm going to the hospital with him," she informed him, her tone of voice telling him
that this was not open for discussion.
     "Of course you are," he agreed. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Keep me posted," he
added and let her hurry after the stretcher. "Good job, Agent Jones," he said to Jones.
     She merely smiled. "Thank you. I wish I had arrived sooner. I might have been able
to spare him some pain," she replied after the ambulance had vanished down the street.
     "Don't blame yourself. He's alive. That's what we wanted out of this in the first place.
Without you he might still be... suffering." Skinner padded her shoulder and even
managed a smile. "If you ever consider switching departments, Agent Jones, you can give
me a call. We always need good people." With that, he walked back to his car.
     Jones looked after him, her expression serious. Experiencing what she had always
dreamed of in real life wasn't as thrilling as she had thought. Most of the time, she'd been
scared. And seeing what certain people did to others was a traumatic experience. Looking
after Skinner's car as he drove off, she shook her head. "Naw, I think I'll stick with Missing
Persons, thank you. At least there, somebody gives a shit." She hitched a ride with one of
the police cars and was more than happy to be back where she belonged.
September 1
03.00 am
N.E. Georgetown
Scully heaved a deep breath and tried to get more comfortable on the high backed
armchair she was sitting on in the waiting room. The doctor's words after having seen
what shape Mulder was in hadn't been too encouraging. "I only hope we can save his leg."
Scully closed her eyes at the memory. Wasn't anything ever easy for him? Did he always
have to get hurt so much more severely than others? She remembered that case where
he had been shot in the leg. He had very nearly bled to death back then. And his trip to the
Arctic. That had very nearly killed him, too. What would it take for him to live a normal life,
she wondered.
     Skinner came into the waiting room and sat down across from her. He looked as
bad as she felt. Completely depleted of strength. "Have you heard anything?" he asked her
after a moment.
     "No, not yet," she replied and shifted hr position for the umpteenth time. "I don't
know why it's taking so long," she added just as the door opened once again and the
doctor came in.
     "Miss Scully, Mr. Skinner. He's in recovery now," he said.
     "How did it go?" Scully asked, getting up instantly.
     "Well, his right leg was severely injured, as I'm sure you know. But the damage
looked worse than it was. He will need some rehabilitation to get it up to speed again once
it's healed properly, but that should be it for the physical part. The wound on his right side
wasn't that bad. It again looked worse than it actually was. He's lost a lot of blood, so we've
got him on a drop. He's got several stitches and a concussion to top it off. What I'm more
worried about is the mental distress this might cause him. I've taken the liberty of
requesting a counselor for him once he's fit enough to talk to one."
     Scully nodded. That sounded like a good idea to her. "When can I see him?" she
wanted to know.
     "I would suggest that you leave him alone for tonight and come back tomorrow,"
the doctor suggested, but Scully instantly shook her head.
     "No. I'm not going to leave him tonight. He needs somebody to talk to when he
wakes up." She glanced at Skinner and noted the frown furrowing his brow. But she
decided to ignore it.
     The doctor looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. But he needs his rest.
I don't think I have to tell you that," he said, nodded to both of them and left them alone
again.
     "Scully, it might be advisable to go home. You can't help him anyway," Skinner said
after a moment's worth of silence.
     "Yes, I can. If he wakes up and I'm not there..." She left the rest unspoken, not
bothering to explain. Either he got it or he didn't. She didn't much care what he had to say
on the matter. She would stay.
     "Fine. I'm giving you the day off tomorrow, Scully. Stay with him if you like. But I
want a full briefing on what happened once he's up to it." He took one step toward the
door, then turned back to look at her. "I want the file, Scully. The Castor-file."
     Scully eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"
     "Because it has to be destroyed. It is messing up people's lives and I'm not going
to be responsible for that. Do you have it with you?" he asked, holding out his hand.
     Scully starred at him for a moment, then sighed, opened her back and pulled the
file out. She looked at it for a moment, then gave it to him. "Mulder is going to hate me
for that. I'm sure he would like to know what it was he was tortured for."
     Skinner took the file, looked at it for a moment, then met her eyes. "The less he
knows the more secure he'll be. Don't worry about any repercussions on this one. I'll make
it official that the file is destroyed. That should prevent any further unwanted events from
taking place." Pausing for a moment longer, Skinner thought briefly about what this all
meant. Then he looked at her again. "Tell Mulder I'll fill him in on the file some day. I was,
after all, one of the agents on that case." With those words, he turned around and left.
     Scully looked after him, stunned. Somehow, it had never really crossed her mind
that Skinner had once been in their shoes. That he had been a field agent. And the fact
that he was involved in this case surprised her even more. It also explained his odd
reaction when she had handed him the file. Heaving a deep breath, she let it out slowly
and decided to leave it at that. Instead she headed out to find the room Mulder was in.
06.00 am
Mulder slowly came too, wrapped up in a blessed blanket of painkillers. He felt fairly good
despite the shiftiness of his vision. When he finally managed to focus, he saw Scully sitting
beside the bed, asleep in the chair. The fact that she was there made him relax even more.
He had known she would be and he would have been unhappy to say the least if she
hadn't been.
     She shifted a little, then opened her eyes and blinked at him. "Hi," she said with a
smile.
     "Hi," he replied and carefully cleared his throat.
     "How are you doing?"
     Frowning a little, he tried to get a grasp on his feelings. The lingering fear was there
as he had suspected it would be, but he would be able to deal with it. "I don't know yet.
I'm not really awake."
     Scully's smile widened at that. It was good to see that his sense of humor was still
intact. "They've called in a counselor who's going to talk to you once you feel up to it," she
told him. "I think you would do yourself a favor by talking to him."
     Mulder briefly closed his eyes, trying to suppress the dislike he felt for people who
wanted to pry in his mind. He knew he needed someone who could help him deal with
what had happened. Although he didn't feel any particular dread right now, he knew it
would come once his body's resources were off the task of healing him. "Okay, sure," he
finally said. "But for now, I don't want to talk to him. Okay?"
     "Okay. Just promise me you will see him before you go down the drain," she
insisted with a soothing smile.
     "Yeah, okay. I promise," he said with a weak smile of his own. "So, where's the file?"
     Scully starred at him, wondering what it took for him to loose interest in this one.
"Skinner is going to destroy it," she said, knowing it would upset him, but not wanting to
lie to him.
     He tried to sit up and gasped as the wound just above his right hip complained
strongly to that kind of violent movement. Scully grabbed his shoulders and pushed him
down again before he could make the injury any worse. "Destroy it? I suffered for that
damned file. The least I want out of this is to know what it's about," he gasped.
     "I know that. I pointed that out to Skinner, too. But he was insistent. Besides, he's
promised to fill you in on it when you're up to it," she said sternly, trying to make him
behave.
     "Fill me in? He can know about it, but I can't?" He tried desperately to get his
breathing back under control, but the pain was a constant throb in his side and he felt
slightly nauseous due to it.
     "Mulder, relax. Skinner worked on the Castor-case back then. He probably knows
all there is to know about it." That did calm him down. He held his breath for a moment,
then exhaled slowly. "You do not need this right now, Mulder. You need to heal first. Do
you understand?" And he had a long way to go in her opinion.
     "Yes," he finally consented. "I understand." His voice was weaker than it had been
before. Closing his eyes for a moment, he focused on willing the pain away, then looked
up at her again.
     "I know you're upset about this, Mulder. And you really don't need that stress right
now. Would you please focus on getting well first? You've been through hell the last couple
of days."
     For a moment longer he just starred at her, then he smiled weakly. "Sure, Scully.
If you say so," he said.
September 22
08.30 am
Dina's Diner
Skinner looked at Mulder and Scully for a long moment, trying to figure out if he should
tell Mulder all there was to know about Castor. But then he decided to tell him enough to
satisfy his curiosity, but not enough to wet his appetit for solving this case. In Skinner's
opinion there was nothing to solve.
     "John Castor was a mean son-of-a-bitch," he finally said, shaking his head sadly at
the memory. "He was my supervisor at the time, but he was going his own ways already
then. Castor had a love for unsolvable cases, but his preferences became more and more
bizarre for every month that passed. He used to be the Golden Boy of the Bureau, showed
a lot of guts and heart. But he took it to the edge and beyond. He crossed the line and he
stayed on the wrong side. He got involved in something which we never managed to figure
out and as a consequence, he became more and more anti-social, dangerous even. It is
my belief that even the Cigarette-Smoking-Man was afraid of him. I'm not sure, though.
I didn't know him back then. But that is beside the point. Castor created a lot of problems.
He risked the lives of his partners, even got two of them killed. The only thing that
mattered to this man was himself and his agenda. They had given him the supervisor
position because they hoped it would calm him down, get him out of the thick of things.
But the increase in power created a monster." Slowly turning his glass on the coaster,
Skinner starred absentmindedly at the swirling drink. "I've seen a lot of things in my life I
didn't much care for, but most of it never scared me. Castor did, though. There was
something so inhuman about him. He sent a rookie into a warehouse once, knowing full
well that the kid would get killed. There wasn't much left of the boy when they finally got
to him." Pausing again, Skinner looked up to meet Mulder's eyes. "He was involved in
things I don't know anything about. We never bothered to look into it after his death.
Mainly because everybody was glad to be rid of his bad influence. But, whatever it was, it
turned him into a killer. And more. The case the file was based on was a simple case. A
minor drug lord we had to bring down. Nothing special. We'd done that a million times
before and it has happened a million times since. But on this occasion, John Castor was
killed. The thing that bugged our superiors back then was that his body was never
retrieved. Some thought he had staged his own death so he could dedicate his time to his
rather shady hobbies. I don't know what happened. I got wounded in the process along
with a lot of others. Six other agents got killed. The whole thing was a disaster and when
it was over, those of us that remained were happy to be alive. Until the Castor-file vanished
about a month after his death, it got a lot of people in trouble. I don't remember who wrote
the damned thing, though. I actually don't think that anybody will be able to tell you that,
either. A lot of odd things happened until it disappeared. Once it was gone, the
strangeness went with it and we all silently agreed never to mention that blasted case or
that man again." Taking a sip of his drink, he shifted his position on the chair. "That's
about all there is to tell about John Castor. The file has had a bad influence on people and
that's why I've had it destroyed. There's no sense in keeping something like that around.
I don't know if there are any copies of it around, but the original is history. And so is John
Castor, I hope."
     Mulder frowned a little. "So, it was never actually proven that he died?" he asked and
Skinner shook his head. "That means he could continue whatever shady operation he was
working with in peace."
     "Yes, I suppose it does mean that," Skinner agreed, then gave him a sharp look.
"Stay away from this case, Mulder. Think of what it brought you before you even knew
what it was about. If you start digging, you might not like what you find. John Castor is
dead and buried in my opinion and he should stay that way. Leave it alone."
     "Is that an order, sir?" Mulder asked, his tone of voice slightly provocative.
     Skinner met his eyes, then leaned back again and sighed. "No, Mulder. It's a piece
of friendly advice. And a warning. You do not want to tread there. The Cancer Man is
nothing compared to John Castor. Nothing."
     Mulder considered what Skinner had told him, what he had heard about the 
Castor-case since his return from the hospital and frowned. With a cold shiver he 
recalled the agony he had undergone because of the file and figured that certain things
didn't need to be dragged out into the light of day. He eventually nodded.
"All right. I'll leave it alone. I've got no desire to get involved in this. 
Not after what happened."
     Skinner eyed him closely for a moment, then nodded, relieved. "Good. I'm glad to
hear that. Now, can we return to normal here? I don't ever want to hear about John Castor
again if I can in any way help it." With that he got up. "I'm going back to the office now.
Heed my advice, Mulder. Don't go near this case." Satisfied that he had said his piece in
this, he then turned and left.
     Scully and Mulder looked at each other for a moment, then Mulder leaned back and
sighed. His right leg was doing better, but he still found it hard to walk without limping. He
went over what Skinner had said again, thinking it all through, and figured that he had
better stay away from this. But it did peak his interest that the case had never been solved
and that there were so many strange things connected to it.
     "Don't even think about it," Scully admonished him.
     He glanced at her in surprise. "What? Did I say anything?" he asked, sounding
innocent.
     "No, but I know that look, Mulder. Listen to Skinner. Leave this one alone."
     He looked her in the eye for a second longer, then he smiled. "Don't worry, Scully.
I've learned my lesson here. I'm not touching this case with a ten-foot-pole. Let's get back
to work, shall we?" With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. "Another unsolved mystery.
How many monsters are we supposed to ignore, Scully?"
     She patted his shoulder and got up. "Sometimes it's hard to see the forest for the
trees, huh, Mulder?" she asked.
     Mulder looked up at her for a moment, his expression betraying his slightly
bewilderment. "Who's talking about trees, Scully?" he wanted to know.
     "Come on, Mulder. Let's go do some work for they money they pay us."
     With a shake of his head, he followed her up to the register to pay for their drinks,
still limping slightly. As he opened the door and held it for her, he glanced back into the
Diner, for a moment starring at the booth they had just left.
     "Are you coming?" Scully called.
     With a shrug, Mulder stepped outside and let go of the door. It swung shut, closing
out the daylight once more.
      In the booth next to theirs, a man sat on the bench, leaning out for a moment to
watch them go. There was a smile on his lips which didn't reach his ice-cold blue eyes.
                                THE END