Revenge pg 29 Net2Phone! More... Net2Phone Get the best deal on international calling with Net2Phone! Download our free software and get rates as low as 3.9¢ a minute to other countries and free PC to PC calls anywhere in the world. Click here to download! [Close] undefined [Close] undefined pair of shoes, and tried to stop that train of thought. There was nothing wrong; Dana was going to be fine. She found it difficult to believe in her own hopes. With a deep breath, she glanced into the mirror and fixed her hair before turning to go back downstairs. It was not until she was stepping out into the hallway that she remembered she had put Dana’s necklace in the pocket of her robe. Hurrying over to the hamper, feeling moisture pool in her eyes, she pulled the robe out and stuck her hand frantically into one pocket. Her fingers encountered nothing but threads, and she felt the panic increase. Had she lost it? Feeling foolish, she realized she had forgotten to check the other pocket. The tears in her eyes turned to those of relief when she felt the delicate chain there. Pulling it out, she moved back to the mirror and circled it around her neck, to keep it until she saw Dana again. Halfway down the stairs she could see that Mr. Skinner was still standing where she had left him a few minutes ago, the only difference being that he now had a cell phone to his ear. Her heart started to thump, and she said a quick prayer that it was Dana. She finished the last few steps and crossed the hallway to enter the living room. As she did, he folded the phone up and put it into his pocket. She wanted to shout ‘was it Dana?’ but instead asked, “Did you hear something?” She tried not to panic when he shook his head, and walked over to stare out the window, at the scene that was in her front yard. The police were still there, and if she was not mistaken, there seemed to be more cars than had been before. Margaret managed not to react when Mr. Skinner joined her at the window. The man walked like a cat, silent and graceful, and for a brief moment she allowed herself to admire him for the handsome, virile man that he was before once more thinking of him only as Dana’s boss, and the man who was going to help find her daughter. He spoke quietly; telling her it was too soon for any news, as she had known in her mind, while her heart had foolishly hoped. She replied just as quietly, talking mostly to herself as she saw again Dana as a child, deep in sleep, her bright red hair across her pillow, nose buried in her blankets, telling him about how she had imagined the agents going to Dana’s door, and waking her from a sound sleep, something she hated and had since she was young. Margaret turned to him once, explaining further, not wanting him to think Dana had been a slacker as a child, to find he was regarding her steadily, compassion in his eyes. She resumed her study out the window, and fear and sorrow for her daughter made her voice even lower as she said, “I don’t think she gets very much sleep anymore. Too many nightmares.” Mr. Skinner rested one warm, heavy hand on her shoulder, and she so wanted to lean into it, into him, and garner some of his strength. He spoke again, saying, “She’s going to be fine, Margaret. You’ll see.” He said it with conviction, and because she wanted so badly for it to be true, she let herself believe him, like she had not been able to believe herself. *** Zeus Storage and Warehousing, Dockside Washington, D.C. Saturday 1:35 am Sharp, burning pain streaked along his scalp at his temple and just inches above one ear as the echoes of the gunshot faded into the gloom of the warehouse. Mulder clasped his free hand to his head, feeling the hot wetness of his blood, and then threw himself to the ground, rolling over and over. His mind kept repeating ‘he shot me, he shot me’, and the thought stunned him, even though had already realized it was only a flesh wound. He heard two more shots fired in rapid succession, and knew it was Scully. Probably firing at where she had seen the muzzle flash of Elliot’s weapon. He stopped rolling and ended up on his stomach, elbows propped, with his gun extended and ready to fire, eyes searching where he had thought Elliot had been. He blinked back the sweat and blood that was trickling down his forehead, his breaths harsh and panting. His heart was beating rapidly, his veins being pumped with adrenaline and more blood. But there was no return fire from Elliot, nor any indication that either of Scully’s shots had found their target. He guessed it had been too much to hope to see Elliot’s body lying twisted and broken on the ground, blood trailing from two well-placed shots. Scully hissed his name, saying softly, “You okay?” Mulder took a deep, and hopefully calming breath, and then shot a quick look back and to his right, to where Scully had been. She was still standing in almost the same spot, crouching slightly with her legs spread for balance, probing the darkness of the warehouse. Her gun was clasped in both hands, her arms outstretched. Somehow the hat on her head had fallen off, and her red hair was wild and brilliant. The expression on her face was fierce, and she reminded him of an avenging angel, or a Valkyrie, the warrior maidens of Norse mythology. Prepared to slay his – their – demons. For the briefest of seconds he was terribly and incredibly aroused. “Mulder?” Scully repeated his name then, more urgently. He realized he had not answered her question as to his well-being, and the tone of her voice chased his arousal away. Mulder went back to being just plain scared and a whole lot pissed off. Turning his head, wincing as the crease in his head stung with pain, he saw that she was still on guard, but sending anxious glances his way, clearly concerned because he had remained lying on the floor. She had also moved a little bit closer to him. “I’m okay, Scully. Bullet just glanced along my head.” He rose to his feet, feeling foolish lying on the ground, and had to fight off a momentary wave of dizziness that made him stagger slightly. His wound still oozed blood, so he fished in his pockets, pulling out a rumpled but clean handkerchief, which he pressed firmly against it, before turning a bit and lifting his head slightly to scan the ceiling once more, even as he knew it was useless. He hadn’t been able to spot Elliot yet this way, and it was doubtful that he would now. Then the sound of Elliot’s laughter registered, seemingly all around them, and Mulder tightened his grip on his gun, feeling his shoulders tense. It was the same laughter Elliot had made when he had told them that the call about Mrs. Scully had only been a ruse to lure him to the warehouse. Mulder had surprised himself by keeping his anger in check then, although now he let it have full rein. Scully had radiated hers, nearly bristling with it, and had reacted by calling Elliot a bastard. He flicked his eyes towards her once more, and knew she was barely holding it in check now. The laughter stopped, to be replaced by Elliot’s voice. “Are you ready to listen to me now?” the madman asked, the smug pleasure impossible to ignore. “Maybe the next bullet won’t cause so little damage. Or maybe it will be for Dana,” he singsonged next, before chuckling a little. His tone changed like quicksilver as he barked, “Put your guns down and kick them away from yourselves. And no funny moves.” Teeth gritted to hold back the curses he was dying to unleash, Mulder slowly bent his knees and placed his gun on the shiny concrete floor with a gentle clunk, hearing the twin sound of Scully’s gun also being put down on the ground. Just seconds after he had done so, as if she had been waiting for him to make the decision for them. He straightened equally slow, holding out his hands, one still clutching the bloodied cloth that had been pressed against his head, to show Elliot they were empty. Peripherally he was aware of Scully doing the same. “Not quite done,” Elliot said. “Kick them away.” The smugness was still there, but added to it now was superiority. Mulder used the toe of his boot and did so, regretfully watching the metal of the gun glint in the moonlight as it slid across the floor with a heavy scratching sound. He felt naked and vulnerable without it, and was thinking furiously about how to retrieve the back-up gun at his ankle. A second later he watched as Scully’s gun made the same trip, stopping a foot short of his, and about the same distance apart. He glanced at her, wanting nothing more than to grab her and tuck her behind his back, to be her shield. She had moved even closer, and was now less than two feet away from him. “That’s better,” they heard next. Mulder wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but it seemed like Elliot’s voice was no longer coming from above them. That he might actually be down on the ground with them. He shot another look at Scully, and it was obvious she thought the same thing, for she was peering ahead in the darkness, instead of searching above them. “Now Mulder, lose your back-up piece. I know you’ve got one.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit and shit. How the fuck did Elliot know he had a back-up? Did he really know, or was he just bluffing? Mulder held himself tensely, trying to keep his facial features even and calm. “I don’t have one,” he called out. His answer was the cocking of Scully’s stolen Sig, and then Elliot’s much lower and enraged-sounding voice. “Lie.” Elliot paused briefly. “Shall Dana pay for that lie?” Jesus, no. He could feel the painful thudding of his heart all the way down in his stomach, which was tied in knots. “All right,” Mulder called. “I’m taking it off, okay?” He went down on one knee, loud cracking pops accompanying the motion, and slowly brought his hands to the cuff of his jeans. He kept his head ducked down in an effort to hide the fact that he was frantically searching the room. He would have only one chance to pull his gun out and fire at Elliot, before the man could do the same, knowing Elliot’s gun was more than likely trained on Scully. If he could locate him. Where the fuck was he? “Mulder,” Elliot said. Just that one word, as a warning. Damn it. Mulder yanked the gun free from the holster and threw it across the room, hearing it clatter noisily as it landed on the floor, and rose to his feet. Thankfully his dizziness was gone. “Now what?” he spit out, unable to disguise his anger and frustration and fear. “Now we talk some more,” Elliot said, and materialized out of the darkness, roughly fifteen feet away from them. Scully’s gun was evident in his hand, held waist-high and pointed directly at them. Mulder judged the distance as too far away to risk rushing at the man. Elliot would be able to get off at least two rounds before he even got close. Hearing Scully’s rapid breaths, he took a few steps to the side to get closer to her, and maybe maneuver himself in front of her, all the while keeping his eyes focused on Elliot. The man looked completely different than the composite, or how Mulder had ever pictured him. His hair had obviously been dyed, a horrible platinum blonde, and was cut very short and spiked. Tufts of hair at his chin announced the attempt at a goatee or a beard. The only thing that was the same were the man’s eyes, although they seemed wild and flicked nervously from he to Scully, back and forth. Tension was visible in every line of his body, and the hand holding the gun shook every so often. “What would you like to talk about, Elliot?” Mulder asked. He was thinking to himself that now was when the SWAT team was supposed to rush in and take the bad guy out. Except he had never called for back-up. He could only hope Scully had, and there was no way of asking her that. If he had believed in God, he would be praying to Him right now. Perhaps Scully was doing that right now, and had graciously included him in her prayers, despite the fact that if they got out of this, she was probably going to kill him herself. Finally, after what seemed like long minutes of silence, where the three of them stood in their strange tableau, he and Scully watching Elliot, and Elliot watching them, Elliot answered. “Well, I never got to finish telling Dana about how much I enjoyed jacking off while watching you two do the wild thing.” He grinned salaciously at Scully and added, “And you were wild, Dana.” He shifted slightly to include them both in his gaze and said, “You both were wild. Like dogs.” Mulder sensed, and almost felt, Scully stiffen beside him, heard her gasp, and wanted to punch the grin off of Elliot’s face. He clenched his fists uselessly, hating to listen to this sick bastard belittle how they had expressed their love through their bodies. He felt entirely helpless. *** 1:50 am Wild. Like dogs. The words kept echoing in her mind. Scully wanted to scream as loud as she could to make them stop, to scream and scream until it was the only sound she heard. Wild. Like dogs. She felt nausea rise anew. To have to hear this man, this sick pervert, debase the physical love she and Mulder shared, to hear how he had turned it into fodder for his own pleasure was one of the most difficult things her very private self had to endure. Wild. Like dogs. Her hand clenched into a fist, mourning the loss of her gun. Wishing she had it still, for she would happily plug the bastard full of holes, for the feelings his words invoked were the basest, the most primal. There was no thought of justice, or due process of law. There was only the thought to bring him down like the animal he was. She could still remember the first instant after hearing the sharp crack of a gun firing how she had immediately dropped into a protective crouch, minimizing her potential as a target, hoping to avoid being in the bullet’s path. Her mind had been screaming, ‘get down, get down, get down’. In the next, instinct and training kicked in, and she had assumed a shooter’s stance, had aimed her gun at the location where she had seen the flash. She had pulled the trigger twice, one after the other, smoothly and cleanly, but unfortunately, she had not found her mark. She recalled how she had all of a sudden realized she also had not heard any shots from Mulder’s gun. The concern she had felt as she had flicked a glance in his direction, and seen him down on the ground. Her heart, which had already been beating furiously since Elliot had fired his gun, had begun a triple beat. Had then only been able to think, had Mulder been hit? Once Mulder had finally told her he was okay, that the bullet had only glanced him, and he had slowly gotten to his feet, she had let herself relax a fraction. Only to be forced to relinquish her gun, to watch it slide farther and farther away from her, too far to retrieve it without risking her self or Mulder. Mulder had done the same, with both his weapons, Elliot somehow knowing Mulder had a back-up strapped to his ankle. And here they stood, almost side-by-side, staring at Elliot, waiting for his next move. They did not have long to wait. His insidious snicker came then, and the sound was as disgusting as the leer on his face. She focused her attention on his appearance to distract herself from both the snicker and the leer. He had obviously been trying for a disguise of some sort, although she would have recognized him anywhere. No amount of hair dye or facial hair would have hidden him from her. There was just something about him, something that made him linger in her mind. And she hated him for it. “That time against your door, Dana?” He phrased the words as if they were conversing together, reminiscing about old times, even tilting his head to the side like he was waiting for her response. She unintentionally gave him one. She started forward, her fists clenched, biting her lip to hold back the words she wanted to yell in his face. Words she did not often use, words that would shock and shame her mother, even her sailor father, if he were alive. Soft-voiced, Mulder said, “Scully.” Just that one word. She knew it was a quiet warning or plea for her to keep her cool, and halted her forward movement. The fists, however, remained clenched. So tight she thought the knuckles had to be bleached white with the strain. She dug her fingernails deeply into the flesh of her palms, sure there would soon be crescent shaped marks emblazoned on them. She welcomed the stinging pain as a distraction from the feelings invoked by Elliot’s words and voice. Seconds after Mulder had spoke her name, Elliot said, “Ah, ah, ah,” while wagging the gun at her in the manner a mother uses with her recalcitrant child. Seeing she had stopped, he tapped the gun to his lips and said sotto voice, “Now where was I?” He giggled and then said, “Oh! I remember now!” Like it was a revelation. His performance was sickening. She knew damn well he had not forgotten, that he just wanted to drag the moment out as much as possible. Well, if it gave them a chance to make a move, she supposed it could be a good thing. She just hoped Mulder was right at this moment thinking of a plan to get them out of here, because she was drawing a complete blank. And bemoaning once more about how she wished she had grabbed her cell phone on the way out and called Skinner. Or even had gotten the Gunmen to drive her here. “Anyway, Dana, before I was rudely interrupted, we were discussing that time against the door,” Elliot continued. “You know, after the two of you went for a walk?” He paused and then mused, “Though it was more of a march on your part, Dana. You seemed a bit…preoccupied at the time. In fact, I got the distinct impression you were angry with Mulder. Until you let him fuck you up against your door.” He leered again, and then spoke, his voice much lower, and filled with arousal. “It turned me on.” He giggled that same damn giggle, the one that sent shills down her spine and then asked quite chattily, “Do you know how…oh, naughty me, I was going to say ‘hard’,” another giggle “how difficult it is to hold onto a camera with a telephoto lens and keep it focused while playing spank the monkey?” Scully had not meant to let herself get drawn in by his words, but she had. She could see herself that day, stalking around her apartment ready to bite Mulder’s head off at a moment’s notice, see herself walking as quickly as she could to stay ahead of him. She could also vividly picture what had happened once they had shut and locked her door upon returning from their walk. She had been wild, from her desire and her love for Mulder, but she had not been ashamed then, nor would she be now. She was just angry and sick that Elliot had witnessed it, been aroused by it. Had pleasured himself during it. She struggled to keep her face expressionless, her body tight with tension, and was peripherally aware of Mulder standing equally stiff beside her. She wasn’t sure but she thought she heard him whisper almost inaudibly, “I’m going to kill him.” “Hmmm…” Elliot said. “No comment from either of you? Pity. I would love to hear your thoughts about me and my monkey.” This time Mulder was the one who stepped forward, and she who said his name in an appeal for him to stop. She shot a glance at him, to see his hands clenched in fists as well. Elliot looked disappointed that neither of them had reacted anymore than that, and his next words proved he was trying to egg at least one of them on. “I have to tell you, Mulder, by the way she handled your monkey, I’d rather she’d been the one handling mine. I never did get to finish what I started, did I, Dana?” Flashback to his attempted rape. Scully flinched, for a brief moment felt his hands on her body, touching her everywhere, pulling her sweatpants down. She pushed the thought violently from her head, and forced herself to look him in the eye, not wanting to let him enjoy this moment any more by seeing her cowering and ashamed. Beside her, Mulder had spit out, “You bastard!” He began to step forward, and added, “You miserable, taunting, impotent little bastard.” Scully lunged forward too, and grabbed onto his arm to halt his progress, seeing that Elliot had stiffened at the first uttering of ‘bastard’, and had now trained his gun fully on Mulder. The muscles of Mulder’s arm beneath her hand were rock solid, and trembling with his rage. His entire body quivered with the urge to get to Elliot. She whispered, “Mulder, don’t let him get to you like this. He’s taunting you on purpose.” Mulder did stop his advance, but he did not stop his mouth. “That’s right, you bastard. I said ‘impotent’. Scully told me how you couldn’t keep it up. What’s the matter, Elliot? Can only do it when you’re watching other people? Or is it because she wasn’t your sister?” Oh God. What was he trying to do? Did he hope that his words would anger Elliot enough that he could rush him? “Mulder!” she hissed, flicking a glance at Elliot. The madman had gone completely rigid, and his eyes were almost bulging from the sockets, his face purple with rage. “Shut up,” he whispered first. He continued to repeat the same two words, getting more vocal with each repetition, until he was screaming them, spittle flying from his mouth. Scully could feel Mulder’s body tensing, preparing to make the leap forward, when Elliot suddenly roared unbelievably loud, halting him completely. “YOU MOVE ONE MORE GODDAMNED STEP AND I’LL BLOW HER BRAINS OUT!” The words echoed and echoed, and when they finally stopped, Elliot heaved in a deep, noisy breath and then released it with an equally loud exhalation. He made a ‘move it’ gesture with his gun, looking directly at Mulder, and said, “Step back, Mulder, right now.” Once Mulder had complied, Elliot moved slightly and shifted his gaze to her. “Now, Dana, we’re going to show Mulder that I am not impotent. Come here.” *** Margaret Scully’s Residence Baltimore, MD Saturday 2:00 am Skinner heard the cell phone in his pocket ringing, and lifted his hand and held it out in apology to the CSU agent, a young-looking woman by the name of Aislynn Waters, putting a halt to their discussion. He pulled the phone free, flipped it open and pressed send, barking out, “Skinner.” He turned slightly away from the agent, grimacing slightly as he listened to the voice of Agent Reynolds telling him there was no sign of Scully or Mulder, and that it appeared as if the bed had been slept in, but whomever had been sleeping in it and gotten up in a hurry. Nightclothes on the floor, the bed unmade. The muscle in his jaw twitched a little, as he heard the questions in her tone. It was obvious the signs pointed to the fact that only one bed was in use, and that she wondered about the relationship between the two currently missing agents. He ignored it, and hoped she would do the same, as well as keep her assumptions to herself. “Anything else?” he asked briskly, his free hand coming up to rub at his forehead, at the headache that had started not long after his arrival at Margaret Scully’s house, and was now building furiously into migraine-like proportions. Through the tinny line of the cellular, Agent Reynolds told him about the two men her partner had observed sitting in front of Agent Scully’s apartment building in a dilapidated blue van, and the suspicious nature in which they had acted once confronted by Agent Marks. She lowered her voice a little to add that they were very strange, although she did not think they had anything to do with the missing agents. That in fact, they had been quite upset to learn that Agent Scully was not in her apartment. Mulder’s friends, the Lone something or other. It had to be. Skinner sighed, rubbing once more at his forehead, and then straightened up from his uncharacteristic slouch. Maybe they knew where Mulder and Scully were. “Where are they right now?” “Um…Agent Marks brought them up to Agent Scully’s apartment, Sir,” Agent Reynolds replied. “Marks is still talking to them.” “Put one of them on the line, please,” Skinner requested. A sound behind him had him turning back to where Agent Waters had been, to see she was back at work, dusting the kitchen table for fingerprints. A moment later, after a shuffling noise from his cell, a gravelly voice came through, asking a question without introduction. “You Mulder and Scully’s boss?” What the hell? Skinner frowned and growled, “I’m AD Skinner, and yes, I am their boss. Who are you?” “A friend,” was the short answer. “Well, friend, I need to find both of them right away. Do you know where they are?” Skinner had to work hard on not yelling the words, and they came out terse and clipped. “All we know is Mulder came out just after midnight and said he had to go somewhere, and for us to keep watching Scully’s apartment. We got the feeling he hadn’t told her where he was going,” the man said. Skinner registered the unspoken words ‘and she’s not going to be very happy about it’, which at any other time would have made him smile, and pushed them away. Shit. Why the hell hadn’t Mulder told them where he was going? The man continued. “We didn’t even know Scully was gone until your agents brought us up here. She musta snuck out somehow, maybe through the back. She definitely didn’t go out the front.” He then added, “And her car’s still here.” Skinner was thinking rapidly. There was no one else Scully could call, and a bus seemed unlikely, so she had to have taken a cab. Christ, there were so many cab companies around, it would take hours to contact them all, and even then, there was a chance the cabbie never registered the fare. Shit. But he knew it could be his only lead, as slim as it was. “Thank-you,” he said finally. “Put Agent Reynolds back on.” She came back with a brisk, “Yes, Sir?” “I’m going to have the Bureau contact all the cab companies to check if Agent Scully was one of their fares. You can let Mulder’s two friends go. I need you and Agent Marks to talk to the superintendent, se if he heard or saw anything, and get him to show you any other exits out of the building. It’s more than likely that Agent Scully did not use the front entrance. Report back to me if you learn anything.” He disconnected before she could reply, and quickly dialed the Bureau line to make his request about the taxicab companies, putting yet another priority on the job. Once that was done, he pressed the end button and replaced his phone in his pocket. He stood there with his hands on his hips, and tried to think if he had missed something, skipped an important step. The pair of agents he had sent to Mulder’s place had checked in a few minutes before the call from Agent Reynolds, and had reported nothing unusual there, so that was not it. He cursed under his breath. Agent Waters looked up at the sound, and quietly said, “I’ve only found one set of fingerprints so far, Sir. And from what you said Mrs. Scully had told you about using the phone to try and call the police, I don’t think I’m going out on a limb when I say they are more than likely hers.” “Thank-you, Agent Waters,” he said, and started to pace a little, his hands on his hips. He almost growled with his frustration. Why had Mulder and Scully not gone together? Something was not right. He knew Mulder would never have left Scully alone like that, not unless… “Shit!” he exclaimed, startling Agent Waters. He waved at her in apology and then headed outside to find an agent to take with him. He paused at the entranceway to the living room, to where Mrs. Scully was sitting in the near darkness. “Margaret?” he called softly, unable to see her face. She leapt to her feet with a gasp. “Is it Dana?” she asked, clasping her hand in front of her. Even from the distance separating them, he could see that they were shaking. “No, there’s been no news yet,” he told her. “I need to go for a little while, check out some things. I’ll call you if I hear anything.” She nodded her head jerkily, and whispered, “Thank-you, Mr. Skinner.” Skinner did not reply, just looked at her for a moment, letting his eyes do the talking, and then turned to continue outside. He saw Agent Andrews, talking to a couple of uniformed officers, and called him over. “Come with me,” he said. “We’re going to check out Zeus Warehousing.” He did not explain any further, but saw the comprehension in Andrews’ eyes. That was the last known whereabouts of Elliot Andercott before he had turned up in Leesburg, Virginia. They strode quickly over to his Bureau issued sedan and climbed inside. Skinner buckled in and brought the engine roaring to life, reversing quickly before turning the car in the right direction. Many criminals often returned to the scene of their crimes. Especially to those places that held particular meaning to them. Andercott had already once returned to a place of big import, the mental hospital where his sister had died. There was a very good chance he would return to Zeus Warehousing, the place he had first lured Mulder to in his bizarre plan of revenge. Perhaps he had done so again. It was not much of a theory, but it was the only one he had right now. *** Zeus Storage and Warehousing, Dockside Washington, D.C. Saturday 2:00 am Why weren’t they reacting like he wanted them to? Sure Dana had looked like she had swallowed something bitter, and Mulder had actually started to move as if the agent had planned to rush him and stop his flow of word with his bare hands, and had even muttered the words ‘I’m going to kill him’, but it was not enough. Elliot wanted to see Mulder enraged and beyond all common sense. He wanted Mulder to actually attempt that rush, to get so close to him that Mulder would think he was going to succeed and then he would show him how wrong he had been. He would shoot him, not fatally, but wound him enough that he would be incapacitated, and then force him to watch as he killed Dana. Maybe he’d even fuck her before he killed her. That would really torment Mulder. Then he’d either finish Mulder off, or leave him to die all alone, staring at her dead body. Mulder had ruined his plans back at the mental hospital, so it was only fitting that he come up with a new plan, one that he decided would be far more satisfying than his original one. He had thought telling them how he had masturbated while watching them fuck against Dana’s door would have pushed that last button, especially with his crude talk, referring to it as spanking the monkey. Yet Dana had been able to pull Mulder back just by saying his name. It was discouraging. He would have to try a little harder. Push a little further. He smiled inside, he thought he knew what would do it. It had become obvious that Mulder was extremely protective of Dana, even more so than one would expect of one partner to another. He would have to play on that fact to a greater extent. “I have to tell you, Mulder, by the way she handled your monkey, I’d rather she’d been the one handling mine. I never did get to finish what I started, did I, Dana?” He had made his voice as intimate and carnal as he could. Bingo! Mentally he rubbed his hands together, and let a smile slide across his face. Dana had visibly flinched, although her face was a stoic mask. Mulder on the other hand, had gone beet red, and looked like he was ready to go ballistic. Go for it, Mulder. I’m ready and waiting, Elliot thought. More than you could ever imagine. Vaguely he heard Mulder yell, ‘You bastard’. He stiffened; leveling the gun at Mulder, but stopped before he could fire it, and cautioned himself to ignore that for now. And then came the moment he was waiting for.