GET MULDER

by Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com)

CHAPTER III

They were turning into the emergency loop at the hospital, so

Scully zipped the bag closed over Mulder's face again, and got out

of the ambulance when it came to a stop. While Broyhill and the

EMT who drove the ambulance unloaded Garcia and took him through

the emergency entrance, she scouted around for a way to "relieve"

Mulder's problem.

Just their luck; too many people in the area, and no nearby

restrooms. It wasn't secluded enough for him to go outside behind

something, either. He would be spotted and all this would have

been for nothing. He'll just have to hold it, she heartlessly

thought.

"You'll just have to hold it," she told him when she had re-entered

the ambulance.

A whimper sounded from the depths of the bag.

"The EMTs are coming back. Keep still and we'll be at the morgue

in no time. You can find a bathroom there." She really did feel

sorry for him, but there simply was nothing she could do.

Broyhill sat in back with her, entertaining the pretty FBI agent

with gory EMT stories. With what she and Mulder had seen in their

cases, Scully could have told him tales that would have curled his

hair, but politely refrained.

She was seated on a metal chair/shelf that was affixed to the wall,

with her feet touching the body bag on the floor. Broyhill sat

across from her, still being sociable.

"Did you know the stiff?" he nodded toward the bag.

Scully tiredly closed her eyes, wishing she could disavow all

knowledge of the secretive, maddening, tempermental, arrogant,

brilliant, kind, and pig-headed man lying at her feet suffering

from a very painful bladder, but she opened her eyes again and

admitted, "He's...he was my partner. FBI."

Broyhill looked apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't know... Hey,

we're at the morgue." He didn't notice that two sighs of relief

followed his announcement.

The two EMTS grabbed opposite ends of the body bag and carried it

inside the automatic sliding glass doors of the building, where an

empty gurney was sitting. They tossed the bag onto it and rolled

their burden into an elevator with Scully close on their heels.

When the group arrived at the basement floor which housed the body

storage area, they approached a desk where a fidgety guy in his

late twenties sat watching them with a mixture of apprehension.

He pushed his slipping glasses higher on his nose and asked, "Is

this the FBI agent?"

At their nods, he said, "Well, there's a group of people in there

waiting to view the body. I've never had so much interest in

someone before, at least not prior to receiving the corpse." He

seemed nervous, and never stopped fidgeting while the EMTs filled

out a couple of admittance forms.

Scully knew that they had to run the gauntlet before Mulder would

be able to go into hiding, but she was hoping for a slight reprieve

so she could make sure he still looked the part of a dead Mulder.

And Skinner had said he had been wounded by Agent Nathan, but not

seriously. She wanted to make sure he was OK in that department,

too. Oh, well. It seemed that any plan they made was doomed to be

changed or screwed up lately.

She followed the gurney into a large room, where they found three

men with expressions that meant business. They all wore suits and

Scully could see they carried weapons. They wasted no time in

approaching the gurney. The tallest of the three had a hawk-like

face and had blond hair and blue eyes. He was the one to reach the

gurney first, and reach for the bag. The opening zipper sounded

very loud in the large hard-surfaced room. The man pulled the bag

aside, and they all gathered around the body.

As a medical doctor who worked with dead people all the time,

Scully could have sworn that she was looking at a corpse. Mulder's

black facial stubble starkly showed up against the pallor of his

skin. The blood was everywhere on him, especially in the area of

his forehead where a gaping wound was exposed. Another smaller

tear in his scalp looked non-lethal. His shirt was saturated with

blood and had three bullet holes, all in the area of the heart.

There was a tear in his jacket at the top of his shoulder where

another bullet had taken a bite, and some blood stained the cloth.

The tall man held two fingers against Mulder's neck, then moved to

take his pulse at his wrist. He let the arm fall limply back to

the gurney's surface and turned to the other two men.

"He is dead."

And that was it. The group, including the EMTs, left the room,

leaving Scully to stare at Mulder, feeling a terrible fear creep

into her mind. She had the horrible thought that perhaps the

second, "real," attack on him had wounded him, and he had bled to

death while she was sitting right next to him in the ambulance.

She jumped a foot when he suddenly whispered, "I'm dyin' here,

Scully. Bathroom?"

She took a breath to steady herself, and looked around the room.

There was a door with a man and woman symbol on it, so she assumed

it was a coed bathroom.

"Let me help you, Mulder, then I had better go watch the door to

the corridor." She got her arm under his shoulder, and he grimaced

as he tried to sit up.

"Aaah. That...hurts." His hand was clutching his right side at

his waist, and Scully pulled his hand away to see what was wrong.

She pulled his shirt aside, shoved the torso protector upward, and

tugged his waistband down a bit. Her eyes widened at the sight.

An area the size of her hand was deep purple and black, and some of

it extended up the side of his belly a few inches. She hoped it

was only a bad bruise and not something worse.

"Let me wheel you on this thing up to the door, then you won't have

so far to walk. That looks really painful."

He lay back with a sigh and said, "Not as painful as my nose; they

got it again when they unzipped the bag. I know it's going to be

black and blue." Scully hid a smile as she pushed the gurney

across the room toward the current focus of Mulder's attention.

He could barely get off the gurney, much less stand when they

reached the door. He finally did make it inside, although he had

to walk bent over and shuffle one foot along at a time.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" Scully offered, her brow

wrinkled in concern.

Mulder just snorted, and said, "As if." The door shut behind him.

Scully thought, "Now, all we need is for someone to come in and

want to know why a dead person has to use the facilities."

And at that moment the doors to the corridor did open, but it was

Skinner who strode into the room, followed by Detective Farley.

Skinner wore his usual Assistant Director/God expression, but Janet

looked tired and concerned.

"We had to leave the Nathan crime scene in some very bewildered

agents' and detectives' hands, but we needed to get Mulder out of

here to the safe house." He looked pointedly at the empty bag open

on the gurney.

Scully cocked a thumb back toward the bathroom door and murmured,

"Pee break." Then she wanted to know, "What the hell happened to

his belly?"

"A bullet from Agent Nathan's gun hit the receiver strapped to

Mulder's waist. It shattered, but deflected the round."

Janet asked, "Has anyone been here yet to get a look at our

favorite corpse?"

Scully told them about the visitors, and Janet expressed her

opinion that there would probably be a few more curious suits

checking on Mulder's demise before long.

Skinner was getting impatient. "What's taking so long? Someone

may come in at any moment, and he'll be in there."

Scully shrugged and said, "Nature called."

"Well it damn well better hang up the phone in 15 seconds," was the

sharp reply.

Scully's ears detected a faint 'Help!' from behind the door of the

bathroom and had the door open in a flash, Skinner and Janet right

behind her. They saw Mulder leaning against the tiled wall, bent

at the waist with his right shoulder against the cool surface. He

was apparently through with the bathroom, but had not made it all

the way out.

"My God, he looks horrible," Scully was thinking for the second

time that night. Janet spoke up, "God, you look horrible, Agent

Mulder." He managed a half-hearted smile that turned into a

grimace.

Scully, with Skinner's help, assisted Mulder as he made his slow

way back to the gurney. He was in a great deal of pain now, and

she winced in sympathy when he had to lie back. Obviously, it felt

better to stay folded over his injury; stretching out was agony for

him. Janet had removed the messy body bag, and he said to himself,

with relief, "Good. No more zipper."

Her worried gaze met Skinner's and she murmured, "He has to be

checked out, and soon. There could be internal bleeding."

Mulder gasped, "I heard that."

Scully touched his hand reassuringly and said, "Not much longer,

now." She knew that they were playing a dangerous game delaying

medical care and treatment like this, but from what she had been

told, there was no other choice right now. It was as simple as

being alive with only a chance of dying, as opposed to offering up

your bared throat for the sure kill.

She noticed with annoyance that Janet was tenderly brushing some

stray locks of Mulder's hair from his forehead, and wondered what

*that* was all about. Then she forgot about the tender scene when

two men came briskly walking into the room.

They nodded at the group, but headed straight for Mulder, who was

again looking disturbingly deceased.

They departed after only a few moments' examination, seemingly

satisfied. They had not said a word the entire time.

When they were gone, Scully said, "He needs that hospital. I have

a friend at Doctors' on the Beltway who can set up the exam and

tests right now."

Skinner agreed, saying, "I'll tell the guy out front that we're

taking him for an autopsy, that the FBI is going to do it rather

than the ME staff. Let's go."

Janet found a sheet in a drawer and threw it over Mulder. By the

time they had wheeled him out into the reception area, Skinner had

already gone through his explanation to the guy at the desk.

Kevin Johnson, the young man behind the desk, had listened to all

this, fascinated. The medical examiner had called him earlier,

telling him to allow the various federal and local authorities all

the access they wanted to the FBI agent's body, and to stay

completely away from it all. The ME would come in later and get

the normal routine started. Now he was being told that the body

was being removed.

"You'll have to sign these documents if you want to take him out

again," he told Skinner.

While Skinner looked over the paperwork and signed it, Johnson

remarked, "Busy night. Another agent is due in here shortly. Will

you be removing him, too?"

Skinner just shook his head; Nathan would stay at the morgue.

Scully used her cel phone to call her mother's doctor to see how

she was doing. The doctor told her that she had come out of the

operation quite well, and had not yet awakened. Scully told him

that some work-related emergency had come up, and she would call

back later.

Her next call was to her medical contacts, to make arrangements for

Mulder to be discreetly seen at Doctor's Hospital in about half an

hour. While on the phone, she had been following the gurney and

watched as Skinner and Detective Farley helped Mulder off and into

the back seat of the car. Janet climbed into the other side of the

back seat, where she was doing something energetic with Mulder.

Scully squinted but couldn't quite tell what was going on.

She opened the passenger front door and peered over the seats to

see that Janet had unbuttoned Mulder's shirt, pulled it open, and

was trying to unfasten the straps which held the torso cover in

place. Mulder's eyes were closed, and he wasn't doing much to

help.

Janet looked up at Scully and said, "He'll be more comfortable with

this off. Give me a hand, would you?"

Embarrassed that she had not thought to take it off first, she got

out and opened Mulder's door. Leaning in, she reached around his

waist under his shirt to the back, trying not to touch his wound,

and finally located some fastening points. She got them loose and

pulled the straps free. Mulder suddenly opened his eyes, taking in

the two females who were working so hard to undress him.

"Just my luck to be too injured to take advantage of *this*

scenario," he murmured.

Janet said, "Behave yourself. At least for now," and she winked at

him.

Mulder and Scully both just looked at her with mouths open, then

the torso cover came free. Scully shoved it toward Janet, while

she re-buttoned what was left of Mulder's shirt. Finished, she

looked up into a pair of warm hazel eyes, and she responded without

thinking, giving him a quick kiss on the rough cheek.

Her face aflame with her impetuousness in front of other people,

Scully avoided Mulder's gaze and got out of the car. She slammed

his door shut, and got into the front seat, where Skinner was doing

his best to look preoccupied and oblivious.

Scully filled him in on the location of the hospital, and they were

on their way.

Mulder's brain, meanwhile, was going a mile a minute. That was the

second time that Scully had kissed him today. Well, OK, the first

was when she thought he was dead, so that really didn't count. And

the second was just on his cheek. OK, so maybe neither one counted

as *real* kisses. But they sure felt real. Those soft, full, warm

lips on his skin had felt perfectly wonderful, as a matter of fact.

He was brought back to the world when Janet put her hand on his arm

and asked, "How are you feeling?"

The smile he gave her made Janet's heart do a little skip, but she

didn't realize that someone else had inspired that smile.

When they reached the hospital, Skinner helped them get Mulder

where he needed to go with as much discretion as possible. He then

left the car with the group, taking a taxi back to the office to

coordinate the effort to neutralize Mulder's would-be assassins so

things could hopefully get back to normal. At least to what passed

for normal where the X Files were concerned. He might even get a

minute or two of rest. It was, after all, 2AM.

He felt secure in leaving the Mulder problem in Janet's and Agent

Scully's hands for a day or two. He smiled at the thought,

wondering who would drive who crazy first, betting that the women

would wind up with the upper hand. The cab bore him through the

deserted early-morning streets as he gave a huge yawn.

While Janet waited in the main admitting area, Scully, based on her

credentials as a medical doctor and on her friendship with the

chief surgeon, was in the cubicle where another friend, Doctor Bill

Sanderson, was just finishing Mulder's examination. Blood had

already gone to the lab, and an MRI was scheduled, although the

doctor didn't feel that it would be necessary.

"He has a slight abrasion on the top of his nose, along with some

faint scratches - nothing serious there."

Mulder lay next to them on the examining table, wondering why all

doctors talked over their patients as if they weren't there. He

tentatively touched his nose and thought that it felt worse than

what the doctor said was wrong with it.

Doctor Sanderson was continuing, "A strip of flesh is gone from the

top of his left shoulder; there's a furrow in his scalp; and he has

a deep bruise in the right lower abdominal area. None of the

injuries were serious, although the bruising is bad and will be

painful for a few days. He took quite a punch there, and he was

lucky something didn't get ruptured."

"We were afraid of internal bleeding," Scully commented with

relief.

"No, it seems to be OK. I've dressed the minor wounds, and given

him a shot of antibiotics and one for the pain." He handed her

piece of paper. "This lists the treatment performed, the

medication given, and further treatment recommended."

Doctor Sanderson looked at the heap of latex and wires and blood-

stained clothing on the counter next to him and added, "I'll have

to say this was a first for me. I thought we had a miracle with a

patient still alive after taking three gunshots to the heart area

and one in the head." They both laughed at that.

Mulder felt grumpy and ignored. He wanted to hurry up and get out

of there; this doctor was too cheerful for his liking, and Scully

seemed to be awfully friendly with him. The examining gown was too

short and the air conditioning was set too cold. His dignity was

threatened with Scully in the room, and he wished she would go away

so he could put some clothes on.

Wait a minute. The only clothes he had with him were ruined and in

a heap over on the counter. His pants were OK, although some

bloodstains were on them, too. Hell. Now what.

"I need some clothes," he stated to the room.

Scully and Dr. Sanderson were too busy swapping doctor lingo to

notice that Mulder had spoken.

He rolled to his good side, wincing from the pain, and hung his

bare feet over the side of the table. Holding his gown shut in

back, he hopped to the (cold) floor and peeked through the curtain

into the waiting area. Aha! Janet was sitting there gazing into

space, bored to tears. He caught her eye with a waving hand, and

she focused, then smiled, then got up and walked over to him.

"I need clothes," he whispered.

She blinked. He could see her processing the thought, then she

exclaimed, "In the trunk of the car. There were some changes

stashed there for Nathan and Garcia for when we took you to the

safe house. I'll go grab some stuff."

Scully broke off talking with Dr. Sanderson when she noticed that

Mulder was no longer on the table. She swiveled and saw his bare

butt inadequately covered by the pieces of the gown gripped in his

fist, as he leaned out of the curtain.

Suppressing a smile, she asked, "Mulder, what on earth are you

doing?"

He jumped, winced when it hurt, and turned around to face them.

"I need clothes," he repeated the mantra.

"Oh, that's right. Yours are ruined." She looked stumped as to

where to find clothes for him at that hour of the morning; they

couldn't go back to his apartment until it was all clear.

Then Janet triumphantly walked into the room with a stack of

assorted men's clothing and dropped it onto the table.

Mulder was elated. "Thank you," he said said emphatically, a

grateful look in the gaze he turned on her. "Now, if everyone will

clear out of here..."

Dr. Sanderson took pity on the poor guy and shooed everyone out of

the cubicle so he could get dressed in peace.

Mulder was already seated and pulling on socks before the last

person left the room. He found that Nathan's jeans were way too

huge. Garcia's were OK, although a bit tight in the crotch and

legs, but the waistband was about right, though, so he wore those.

The gray sweatshirt with "Property of Lola" stenciled in hot pink

on the left side of the upper front portion was a universal size,

so he put that on. He hated to wear dress shoes with jeans and a

sweatshirt, but he didn't have much choice.

When he left the cubicle, he got the once-over from all three

companions. The women looked approving, so he relaxed. Until

Scully moved closer to him, stood on tiptoes, and whispered, "I

wouldn't sit down if I were you, Mulder. It might affect future

reproductive abilities."

He blushed and grinned down at her. "Why, Scully. I wasn't aware

that you noticed things like that."

The response, "Always, Mulder," surprised him, and he tried to

catch her eye, but she had moved away toward the doctor. She took

Sanderson's hand and thanked him for all he had done, and she

promised to come by when this was over and straighten everything

out, including buying him lunch and explaining what was going on.

With Mulder lagging behind, they reached the car and Janet claimed

the driver's seat. After several attempts, Mulder managed to fall

into the front passenger seat with a groan. "I think you were

right, Scully," he moaned. Janet raised an eyebrow, but didn't

ask.

They drove for what seemed hours into the Virginia countryside.

The sun was beginning to come up behind them when Janet turned into

a country lane and followed it up a slight rise for a quarter of a

mile.

There was enough light now to see the well-maintained two-story

farmhouse with a wrap-around porch as they turned into a graveled

driveway. They realized how exhausted they were by the time Janet

parked next to the building and shut down the engine. Everything

was quiet and peaceful. For a moment they all just sat there,

blearily looking at the early morning sunlight washing across the

walls and down the gentle hillside.

CHAPTER IV

They all began moving at once, opening doors and gratefully getting

out of the car to stretch stiff muscles. Except for Mulder. He

managed to get the door open, but from the sweat forming on his

upper lip and his sudden inactivity Scully realized that he was

having trouble.

She leaned into his open door and asked, "Can I help, Mulder?"

He looked at the concern evident in her face, and wryly said, "I'm

not usually this helpless, Scully, even that time I got shot. I

think I'll be better once I can move around a little and work out

the kinks."

She helped him swivel his legs out so his feet rested on the

ground, then let him use her for leverage as she backed away,

pulling him with her. He stood, gasped, and grabbed onto the door.

After a few minutes, he seemed more stable, so she turned to see

what had happened to Janet. That's when her eyes saw the flash of

light off the metal of a moving car out on the main road, about

half a mile away. As she watched, it slowed and made the turn into

the country lane that led up to their "safe" house.

"Janet," she yelled, then grabbed Mulder's arm. "C'mon; let's get

into the house fast," she told him. "Car coming."

Janet had opened the door and was entering the house when she heard

Scully's call. She returned to the porch and took in the situation

immediately. She quickly ran to Mulder's other side, got under his

arm with hers around his waist, and helped them up the steps to the

house.

Once they had some cover, they watched the car make its way up the

drive.

"It's another Taurus," Janet observed. "Got to be a fed driving."

Mulder laughed, despite the tense situation.

And sure enough, when the car came to a stop next to theirs, Garcia

emerged from the vehicle. He had a large bandage on the side of

his head, but looked fairly mobile considering the wound, loss of

blood, no sleep, and a long drive. He had shed his bloody jacket,

but still wore the same shirt, which had blood spattered across the

front. Nathan's. They watched as Garcia removed it and tossed it

into the back seat, leaving him in his relatively clean undershirt.

Scully looked at Mulder, who slowly shook his head, then shrugged.

"He saved me once from Nathan; I doubt he's here to kill me now,

but who knows the good guys from the bad in this madhouse lately?"

Scully said, "I'm going to stay out of sight and cover you two for

a minute while you see what he's up to." She quickly went into the

next room.

Mulder had his weapon in his hand, as did Janet, when the knock

came at the door. She opened it and stood to the side as Garcia

nodded at her and entered the house. His expression when he looked

at Mulder was none too friendly as his gaze settled on the

"Property of Lola" sweatshirt.

"What are you doing in my clothes?" he demanded.

"More to the point, what are you doing *here*?" Mulder replied

tersely.

Garcia's eyes narrowed. "You're my assignment, in case you've

already forgotten, Agent Mulder. I'm supposed to be protecting

you. The assignment all agents dream about having. What happened

to your nose?"

Mulder sighed and re-holstered his gun. "Why don't we find a bite

to eat, then get some sleep?" he said.

Scully joined them and they all went to the kitchen to rummage,

finding lots of food stockpiled. Garcia and Janet volunteered to

make some pasta and open a jar of spaghetti sauce, while Mulder and

Scully took showers first. There was a full bathroom on each

floor, so Scully made the climb up the stairs and left Mulder to

the main level. Janet distributed clothing and towels first, then

continued her argument with Garcia about which sauce to open; with

mushrooms or without.

"But I hate mushrooms," she said for the third time.

Mulder smiled as he closed the bathroom door down the hall, unable

to hear their friendly argument any longer. He hung his towel over

the rack and got the hot water running in the shower. Peeling off

the jeans took some doing, since they were so tight and moving just

aggravated his bruise. Finally stripped, he stepped under the

spray and yelped. The water made the wounds on top of his

shoulder, his nose, and his scalp sting.

Scully finished her shower, feeling much better. She pulled on the

too-big sweat pants and shirt provided by the "management" and went

downstairs to see about Mulder. She wandered around until she

found him in a bedroom at the back of the house. He had apparently

gotten as far as pulling on his sweat pants, but never finished

dressing before sprawling across the bed and falling asleep.

He looked so young and peaceful lying there. Scully stopped her

hand from reaching out to touch the angry-looking bruise, which had

now added purple and yellow to its basic black color scheme. She

didn't want to disturb his needed slumber. She picked up a thin

blanket

from the top of the bureau and gently spread it over him.

He didn't even twitch.

Scully pulled the curtain over the window as she quietly left the

room, then made her way back to the kitchen. There she found

Garcia standing on a chair, peeling long sticky strands of pasta

from the wall. At Scully's raised eyebrows, he shrugged.

"She got peeved and threw it at me, just because I questioned

whether it was done or not."

Janet was imperturbedly draining the pasta and placing it into a

bowl. She snorted, "If it sticks to the wall, it's done.

Seriously, what does it take to boil water, throw in the spaghetti

noodles, pull them out, and eat? I don't need to hear about the

exact, precise "al dente" moment of truth." She smiled sweetly.

"Ready to eat?"

The food tasted really good, Scully thought, even though it was a

Mulder kind of thing to be eating for breakfast. They all agreed

to let him sleep as long as he could. Janet told them to get some

sleep themselves while she kept watch.

"I'm pretty wired yet, and won't sleep anyway. There are three

more bedrooms around this place, so go find a bed or two and

crash."

She went out onto the porch with a magazine and a glass of orange

juice, flopped down into a rocker, and put her feet up on the

railing. Garcia and Scully didn't need to be told twice; they were

both yawning from the cumulative effects of no sleep, continued

stress, and the comforting warmth of the meal they had just eaten.

Scully didn't like to be too far away from Mulder in case something

should happen, so she found another ground floor bedroom next to

his.

Garcia had wandered upstairs, looking around the place before

deciding on the bedroom at the front of the house. He could look

out the window and see for several miles. Anyone approaching from

the road would be visible long before reaching the farm. Not that

he planned to sit at the window and keep watch, however. He was

dead tired, but decided to take a shower before sleeping.

Scully was vaguely aware of the shower running upstairs, just as

she was drifting half-way between sleep and wakefulness. She was

also processing some other noise from the main room, but couldn't

quite grasp what it might be...oh, yeah. Footsteps on the hardwood

floor. Janet must be moving around...Scully's doze moved closer

toward the restful sleep she needed.

Garcia finished his shower and dressed in the predominant fashion

of the household - sweats. He pulled the covers back and sank

gratefully onto the bed face down, thinking that it wouldn't take

long to fall asleep, as tired as he was.

A weight suddenly landed square on his back, pushing him into the

softness of the bed. Before he could react, his hair was grabbed

and his head was pulled painfully up and back, exposing his throat

to the long gleaming knife which was moving in from his right. He

convulsed his body up and to the side away from the knife, but felt

the knife enter his neck low and to the side away from the carotid

artery. Although the artery was missed, blood spurted from the

wound, and he couldn't help but hysterically think about the crack

to Mulder on needing their own personal blood banks.

Scully was not so far gone yet that she didn't hear the thumping

sound upstairs. What the heck is going on? She struggled into

wakefulness and listened, holding her breath. Nothing.

She slipped out of bed and grabbed her gun from the nightstand,

then peeked in at Mulder. He hadn't moved, and his chest had a

steady rise and fall. She moved into the living room. A glance

out the front window revealed an empty rocker with a magazine on

the floor of the porch with an empty overturned juice glass next to

it.

Scully thought about this for a second. So far, nothing might be

wrong at all. Janet had just come in for something and knocked her

glass over accidentally. Garcia was done with his shower and was

doing some pushups to maintain those muscles of his. She knew

before she even tried rationalizing, however, that something *was*

wrong.

Intending to wake Mulder for backup, she started toward his room,

then froze when she heard a raspy "No!" shouted from somewhere

above her. Instinctively, she raced up the stairs to help Garcia,

since she had recognized his panicked voice.

Gripping her weapon in both hands, Scully checked out the first

bedroom she came to, but found nothing. Thinking that this was the

part of her job that she hated the most, she cautiously peered

around the doorway into the other bedroom. She immediately spotted

the blood which was splashed all over the bed sheets, and her

breathing rate increased in tempo.

When she glanced downward she was not surprised to see the bare

foot protruding from the far side of the bed on the floor. Before

she could investigate, the sound of rapid footsteps on the stairs

reached her ears.

Scully whirled around and ran for the stairs, shouting, "Mulder!

Look out!" Concern for his safety was all-consuming, and she

fairly flew down the stairs.

Mulder had rolled onto his side and the pain of his bruise brought

him gasping out of a dream. The dream lingered in cloud-like fog

half-way between consciousness and sleep, however, wherein Scully

was demonstrating how to push the accelerator and brake pedals of

the car while he was driving. He was having trouble steering with

her body in the way...

When Mulder heard Scully's shout, he thought it was part of the

dream for a second, then he snapped fully awake as Janet burst into

his room. She had a tear- and blood-streaked face, but the most

important fact to Mulder was that she was holding her gun aimed

right at his chest.

She whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

They both heard Scully hit the living room floor at a run and Janet

backed up against the wall, still holding the gun on Mulder.

Chest heaving and gun extended, Scully never slowed down, but

barrelled through the doorway. Mulder had his arm extended toward

her with his hand up as if to stop the inevitable. His hoarse cry

of warning held a tinge of resignation, as if he knew what was to

happen was not within his control to change.

"Scully! No!"

Scully half turned toward Janet's position against the wall and

thus caught the bullet that had been speeding for her chest in her

left arm instead. The impact threw her into the edge of the bed,

and she fell onto the floor in what seemed like slow motion to

Mulder.

He had not been idle, but had grabbed his Glock from the bedside

table and triggered two quick shots in Janet's direction. One hit

the wall, and the other hit Janet, but he was not sure where. He

was too concerned for Scully to care about anything but stopping

Janet any way possible so he could see how badly Scully had been

hit. He rolled over the edge of the bed to land beside her on the

floor.

"Hey, Scully!" He gently cradled her head in his lap, carefully

pulled the bulky sweatshirt off one shoulder, and looked at the

wound in her arm. The bullet had entered the fleshy part of her

upper arm and exited again without hitting the bone. There wasn't

even that much blood, but it was going to hurt like hell once the

shock wore off.

His hand touched her cheek as he said, "You'll be all right,

Scully. I'm going to get you up onto the bed, call an ambulance,

then see about Janet." Suddenly he remembered..."Where's Garcia?"

Scully said in an unsteady voice, "Up...upstairs. Either wounded

or dead."

Mulder stood, then bent down to gather Scully into his arms, but

had to sit back down when his bruise hurt so badly he wanted to

scream.

She said, "Don't we make a pair. We should hold wheelchair races

after this is all over."

She managed to make it to her feet on her own, holding on to the

bed and pushing against Mulder's unwounded shoulder. She lay down

with a sigh.

Mulder simply crawled over to Janet, and found her to be

unconscious, with a bullet wound in her chest. It looked bad, and

he doubted she would make it. Shit. Of all the people he had to

shoot today, it would be Skinner's cousin.

Janet's eyelids fluttered and opened. She knew it was bad, and

grabbed Mulder's wrist to get his attention. On his hands and

knees, he had just planted a foot onto the floor under himself,

ready to try and stand up, and was startled when he felt the hand

close around his wrist. His gaze met Janet's scared-looking brown

eyes, and she whispered, "They got to me after the thing with

Nathan." She paused and licked her lips. "I've always been a

straight cop, Mulder, please believe me." At his nod, she

continued, and he sat down to listen.

"They said that they were holding my sister; that they would kill

her if I didn't take care of you. They showed me my sister's hair

and...and...her finger - Mulder, they had cut all her hair off and

a finger, just to show me they had her and meant business!" Her

eyes showed the horror she felt and the grip on his wrist

tightened, fingernails digging into his skin. "They knew something

was going on when Nathan was killed. I was the officer in charge

of the crime scene, and that's why they chose me to help them

finish the job. I would know where you had been taken and could

get to you easiest." She stopped talking and closed her eyes.

Mulder gently pulled his hand free and reached up to check the

pulse in her throat. He found that the pulse was still there,

although slow and unsteady. He looked over at Scully and saw that

she had heard the conversation; she looked stunned.

But that wasn't all; Janet continued in a low voice, fighting

unconsciousness, "They'll be here...10:30...mop up."

Without opening her eyes, Janet said, "Please help my sister.

Please. I'm so sorry...please..."

And she was gone. Mulder stood and looked down at her with dark,

unreadable eyes, and he thought, "I'm so frigging *tired* of this

shit." He wanted to weep for Janet, for Scully, for himself.

Scully's quavering voice yanked him out of the abyss into which he

had been falling, saying, "Mulder. Maybe you should check on

Garcia and forget about calling the ambulance. We need to get out

fast. It's already 10:00...we would have to pass them on the road

even if we left right now."

He tossed a troubled glance her way and left to tackle the stairs.

He finally settled on a method that worked: Put one leg up and

step on the next step; drag your other leg up while hanging onto

the railing; then repeat. This process seemed to hurt his bruise

the least. He soon reached the top and searched for Garcia.

When he found him, he figured Garcia had bought it this time.

Hell, probably most of the blood wasn't even his, but came from

some blood donor when they pumped it into Garcia at the hospital

after his head injury last night.

Mulder painfully sat down next to Garcia on the floor and tried to

get a pulse. And was a bit surprised that there was one. The

wound was in his neck and shoulder, so he wadded up a pillowcase

from the bed and pressed it on the wound, then tore a strip from

the sheet to tie it in place.

"OK, here we go fellah." Mulder sat him up to lean against the

bed, then Mulder lowered his head and used it and his arms to

wrestle Garcia up and onto the edge. Sweating in earnest now,

Mulder stood Garcia up, then turned so he sagged onto Mulder's

back. Somehow he got Garcia's arms onto his shoulders, where he

could grab the wrists, bend over, and shuffle along with Garcia

precariously balanced on his back.

"Oh, boy," he thought. By some miracle they made it without

incident to the head of the stairs.

Carefully and painfully Mulder started down, biting his lower lip

to keep from crying out. "It won't kill you," he berated himself.

"Just shove the pain down. Deeper. He ain't heavy, he's my

broth....Aaagghh!"

His bare foot had hit a step on its edge, and went slipping out

into space. There was no way he could keep gravity from taking

over. They had half a flight to fall and Garcia wound up "surfing"

Mulder down the steps. They landed at the bottom, and Garcia

finally slid off Mulder to lie spread-eagled on his back.

Mulder groaned and tentatively moved his limbs. He could hear

Scully worriedly calling, "Mulder? What are you doing?"

When she came out of the bedroom holding her wounded arm tightly

against her side, he grinned up at her and noted, "You said to

hurry."

She gave him that particularly disgusted Scully look, and helped

him to sit up. Using her good arm, she poked around on him for a

minute before declaring, "You'll have some more spectacular

bruising, but nothing appears to be broken, thank God."

She stood and held her hand out to him. With her help and the

newel post, he managed to stand in a broken sort of way. A glance

at his watch gave him the energy to move toward Garcia. It was

already 10:13.

Between the two of them, Mulder and Scully somehow got Garcia out

to the car. Adrenalin can overcome pain for just so long, though,

and then the pain kicks in big time. Once Garcia was sprawled

across the back seat, Mulder barely made it to the front passenger

seat before he passed out.

Scully went back inside and gathered the guns, IDs, cel phones and

her purse, threw it all into the pillowcase she ripped from a

pillow, and retrieved the car keys from Janet's pocket.

A glance at the clock in the living room made her heart sink;

10.23. Her arm felt as if someone was shoving a hot poker up and

down inside it. For a moment she just wanted to lie down, curl in

on herself, and whimper. But she knew the two agents in the car

now depended entirely on her to get them out of here, so she bit

down on the pain and ran out to the car.

(Continued in Chapter V)