A Matter of Priorities

A MATTER OF PRIORITIES

Part I

October 29, 1996, 10:15 pm

On coastal road in Maine

Special Agent Fox Mulder slowed his rental car's breakneck speed of 30

mph down to 20 mph as he negotiated yet another switchback curve in

the road. He was cursing his brilliant idea to take the "shortcut."

Fog was so thick that he couldn't see the road beyond a couple of

car-lengths.

He had departed Bangor at 8:30 pm for a two-hour drive to Grandport up

the coast on Highway 1; however, he had not anticipated the fog white-

out. And then he had inadvertently compounded the problem when he

impulsively took a detour onto a little "gray" road on the map which

was only eight miles in length as opposed to the 16 mile stretch of

Highway 1. He had quickly discovered: A) Why no one seemed to use

this route, and B) why it was mapped as a gray road and not red or

black. It bordered the rocky coastline a little *too* closely and

primarily consisted of switchbacks and curves. He didn't remember

*any* relatively straight sections, come to think of it. When you

factored in the major foggy conditions and his own exhaustion, it was

not working out to be a fun trip. "All I need now is to be tailing a

log truck, eating exhaust fumes, and everything would be perfect."

Thank goodness Scully wouldn't be arriving in Grandport until morning,

with their new case. Something about a man walking through a solid

wall after murdering someone. She was catching a commuter plane out

of Portland, Maine, after flying in from D.C. He would be glad to see

her, and had to admit to himself that he missed his partner; they had

been together too long and he had come to depend on her too much,

although he wouldn't admit the dependance part willingly to her. The

problem with thinking about Scully lately was that the thoughts were

more along the lines of tactile memories than visual ones: How fragile

her wrist felt under his larger hand, the soft feathery tickle of her

hair when he leaned close to her ear and whispered some nonsense to

get a laugh out of her...

Oops, he was doing it again. He had promised himself that he would

stop that sort of thing, since it was pointless to lust after his

partner. Except it was scarier than that; he knew without a doubt

that it was much more than lust.

A deer suddenly leaped into the road, but because of the fog, he

didn't know what it was at first. Luckily it didn't stop in the

road, but if Mulder had been going any faster than his snail's

pace, he would have smacked right into it.

His heart still thumping at an accelerated rate, Mulder thought that

he had better keep his mind on the driving and forget about indulging

in fantasies about Scully.

He managed to concentrate on the road for a few minutes, but then his

mind drifted to the case he had just completed. He was helping the

Violent Crimes bunch in Bangor to catch a particularly nasty serial

killer who had beaten, raped and stabbed to death five young girls

from the ages of eight to ten. Every agent was spending their own

time as well as the Bureau's in the effort to identify and capture

this monster. But they needed help. Before offering Mulder's

services, his supervisor, AD Skinner, had made sure that Mulder was

willing to take this case. Skinner was aware that Mulder was wont to

identify with not only the perpetrators, but also the victims, and to

project his missing sister onto cases where it involved young girls.

The cost to Mulder's emotional stability was sometimes high, and

Skinner once in a while gave him some leeway in selecting such cases

outside his own X Files.

Scully had not been able to leave Washington with him because she was

"on loan" for a week to participate in the exchange of techniques,

technology, and experience with some visiting French forensic

pathologists. The event had been set up two months ago and couldn't

be changed. Skinner said that attendance was mandatory, because

Scully was one of the best forensic pathologists in the Bureau, and

the Director wanted the best to represent the FBI. So Mulder had gone

alone to Bangor, while Scully brushed up on French phrases and the

latest forensic literature.

Mulder smiled when he recalled teasing her with some of the silly

schoolboy French he and his buddies bravely used on girls when they

knew the girls couldn't understand a word they were saying. "Hey,

Scully. Deshabillez-vous." He could still feel the heat of his blush

when Scully caught "Take off your clothes" immediately, and fluttered

her eyelashes at him. She said in a sultry tone, "Pouvez-tu m'aider,

Mulder?" and pouted her lips at him. Besides the blush, he was

suddenly very turned on by her asking if he could help, and in the

familiar "tu." He remembered laughing then at the idea of the two of

them speaking very bad French. She surprised him yet again by coming

back with, "Pourquoi riez-tu?" or "Why are you laughing?" Obviously

she had taken some French as well as German in school. "You'll do

fine with the French pathologists, Scully," he had told her, shaking

his head.

His cel phone rang. "Mulder," he answered, his attention half on the

call and half on slowing enough to get around the 800th twist in this

miserable excuse for a road. He was expecting Scully, but recognized

Al Franks, the Special Agent in Charge in Bangor.

"Agent Mulder. We have a problem here."

Mulder slowly pulled onto a wider shoulder area and stopped the car so

he could give Franks his attention.

"What is it?"

A sigh. "At 7:30 tonight, Peter Gilroy, the perp we finally caught

for the serial killings...escaped."

"He *what*?!"

"Local law enforcement, as you recall, insisted on being involved in

the capture and confinement of the prisoner. After transferring him

to the Justice Center, but before using the manacles and chains on

him, one of the sheriff's deputies stood too close to Gilroy for a

second. That deputy is dead, as well as two of my agents." There was

a silence for a moment, then Franks continued, his voice strained.

"I'm still putting all the details together, but someone just

mentioned that we ought to call you and let you know. Gilroy, after

all, had been telling you in detail how he was going to kill you with

the maximum pain involved when he escaped. And he was free a full

hour before you left for Grandport."

Mulder was trying to think if Gilroy would know how to find him, other

than at the Washington DC office. A sinking feeling hit the pit of

his stomach when he remembered telling Agent Roselli about meeting his

partner in Grandport. They had been standing near Gilroy just after

his capture. He had thought the prisoner wasn't paying attention to

them, but now he wasn't so sure.

"Mulder, are you there?"

"Yeah, uh, yeah, I'm just thinking. He may know where I'm headed,

Franks."

"Wonderful. Well, where are you now?"

Mulder looked around at the billowing white all around him and said,

"Somewhere off of Highway 1 on a road that doesn't seem to have a

number. I took it as a shortcut. It's about three quarters of the

way to Grandport."

"Better watch your back, and I'll get someone at the Grandport end to

meet you at your hotel. Where are you staying?"

Mulder told him, "The Whaler's Inn. Look, we need to re-capture him.

Maybe the best thing to do is to let Gilroy make a run at me, and grab

him then."

Franks sounded doubtful. "He's an awfully dangerous fellow, Mulder.

We'll talk about that when you get to Grandport. Besides, he may not

go anywhere near you; all that might have just been talk."

Mulder had a bad feeling about that. He believed that Gilroy had

meant every vile thing he said. Mulder told Franks he would talk

with him later and disconnected. The silence settled once more,

and Mulder could feel his heart beating in his chest. Gilroy liked

killing. The more pain he caused while doing it, the better he

liked it. And he was intelligent, which was even scarier.

He wasn't tired anymore. The news had upped his adrenalin, and he

pulled back onto the road to get this part of the trip over with.

His thoughts were sifting through all he knew about Gilroy, trying

to figure out what he would do, where he would go. Whether Mulder

would be his first target or if he would go after some little girl

as an appetizer. His hands shook slightly at the thought of more

innocent little children dying at the hands of that pitiless devil.

As he drove, the adrenalin gradually wore down, leaving him more tired

than ever. He had spent nearly a week running on nerve and coffee,

sleeping only when he couldn't think anymore. He remorselessly pushed

himself to profiling the serial killer and identifying him. When that

breakthrough came, they still had to catch the guy. As luck would

have it, they had cornered Gilroy on his way to his next victim.

"Damn!" He hit the steering wheel hard with his right hand. Reaching

for his cel phone, he punched in the Bangor office number and got

Franks again.

On hearing Frank's voice, Mulder blurted, "Protect Amy Channing!" The

intake of breath told Mulder that they had not thought to make sure

Gilroy didn't succeed in finishing what they had interrupted when they

had arrested him.

Mulder disconnected again, and noticed a sign that was barely readable

in the fog that told him there was a rest stop just ahead. He decided

to stop for a bathroom break and to stretch his legs before finishing

the twenty-five or so miles still left to drive tonight.

He soon saw the entrance to the rest stop. Huge fir trees loomed up

above his head, the tops lost in the fog. The long parking area was

deserted except for one RV he could barely see at the far end. Mulder

parked in the middle near the small building housing the restrooms and

got out of the car, gratefully stretching his long legs and yawning.

Mindful of Frank's warning to watch his back, he made a complete turn

and saw nothing but the cottony white fog, menacing fir trees, and the

silent RV. Shrugging, he went into the entrance to the building where

"Men" was stenciled on the concrete block wall.

A cream-colored Chevy Cortina with no lights showing slowly pulled

into the parking area, stopping near the RV.

Five minutes later, after washing his face as well as his hands and

feeling a little refreshed, Mulder emerged from the restroom and

decided to take a walk on the path that wound through the trees.

He needed the exercise; he was used to running nearly every day and

hadn't had the opportunity since the Gilroy case. "Just a quick

walk," he thought.

As he angled up the path he noticed that another car had appeared in

the parking area. He noted its license number automatically and kept

moving into the trees. The sound of his footsteps was muffled to his

ears; he could hear water rushing nearby and figured it was a creek

that ran to the sea. The fog was even thicker in this area, and it

felt clammy on his skin. He was glad for the warmth afforded by his

black wool overcoat.

The fog was reminding him of London, where they tended to have some

pretty serious pea soup. Mulder felt a touch of pride that he had

remembered England without thinking about Phoebe. Damn. Pride

goeth before a fall.

After a good ten-minute walk, he finally came to a dead end where the

path ran into a wood-and- barbed-wire fence. Time to go back and get

on the road again. "Happy, happy, joy, joy," he sang to himself, as

Ren and Stimpy's demented refrain ran through his head. He chuckled

as he figured his fellow agents would *really* think him crazy if they

could hear him now.

Funny how the fog both deadened sound and amplified it. His footsteps

sounded muffled, but he could hear some noise like a car door closing

way up ahead somewhere.

He had almost reached the parking area when he heard the distinctive

snick of a gun being cocked. A voice came from the fog somewhere

behind him, saying, "This gun is trained on the back of your head,

Agent Mulder. Walk slowly to the Chevy and put both hands on the

roof of the car."

Mulder carefully turned, his hands out to his sides, and looked

into the face of evil. The man was blond, nearly as tall as

Mulder, muscular, with light blue eyes. Mulder knew of the things

this man was capable, and a shiver ran up his spine. And he was

afraid not of his own death, but of all the children who would

suffer and die at the hands of this man if he weren't stopped. He

vowed to look for the slightest opening and try to wipe this vermin

from the earth. He knew Gilroy wouldn't kill him right away. He

had to have his fun first.

"I said move," Gilroy growled, and took aim at Mulder's face. Mulder

turned back toward the parking area and slowly walked in the direction

of the car that had probably been stolen. Mulder glanced over at the

RV, but saw no movement through the front windows, nor any light from

the interior.

When his hands were lying palms-down on the damp, cold metal surface

of the roof of the Chevy, Gilroy told him, "Using your left hand, take

your handcuffs out and fasten one end to your right wrist."

Mulder complied, mind busy searching for an opening, a way to survive

this. "Tighter!" He narrowed the cuff on his wrist as told.

"Put both hands behind your back."

"Oh no you don't," Mulder thought. He moved his hands down as if to

obey the direction, but spun around and dove into the bulk he glimpsed

during his turn.

Gilroy had been waiting for Mulder to try something. He took great

pleasure in cracking his gun onto Mulder's head and seeing him drop

to his knees on the hard asphalt. While Mulder was stunned, Gilroy

removed Mulders gun, wallet and keys, dropping them into his own

jacket pocket. Then he roughly pulled his hands behind his back,

and snapped the empty cuff onto his left wrist. Gilroy grinned as

he put his foot onto the kneeling man's lower back and shoved hard,

knocking Mulder forward.

Mulder hazily became aware that a face was leaning in close to his,

and it was saying, "Get up. I want to show you something."

He groaned and tried to get up but couldn't with his arms behind his

back and his head threatening to explode. Gilroy grabbed his left arm

and jerked him upright. Mulder gasped at the agony in his head. He

wondered why, if the FBI unarmed combat course was so great, he always

came out on the short end of the stick. He was beginning to think

that little old grannies knew better self-defense techniques than he

did.

Gilroy shoved him, and Mulder made his feet move until they arrived

at the back door to the RV. The Monster (the name by which Mulder

thought of him) opened the door wide while holding his gun against

the back of Mulder's head.

It was dark, but the lights in the parking lot threw plenty of

illumination on the scene for Mulder to see enough to flinch

violently. A man was half lying over the body of a woman on the

floor. They were in pajamas and nightgown, and were both very

dead. Gilroy must have had the time to creatively carve around on

them while Mulder was happily strolling in the woods. The duct

tape wrapped securely around their heads and thoroughly covering

their mouths would have kept their screams from reaching his ears.

Mulder kept the obscenities he wanted to scream at Gilmore pent

inside, knowing it would do no good whatsoever, and would only

please The Monster.

"That's just part of the surprise, Agent Mulder. Come look at what

I have in the car." Mulder shut his eyes for a moment. "No," he

thought in fear. "Don't let it be a child."

When they reached the car, Gilroy proudly pulled the back door open

and let Mulder see the small girl lying on the floor, tightly trussed

up with duct tape, her eyes huge and terrified above the tape across

her mouth.

A sob escaped Mulder's lips before he angrily turned to The Monster.

"Let her go. I'll cooperate in anything...*anything* ...if you'll let

her go unharmed."

Gilroy's smile grew broader. "Anything?! Well, this might be fun.

Let me see...How about letting me fuck you, Agent Mulder? You'll

offer me your virginal body?"

Mulder closed his eyes and grated, "I said *anything* - just let her

go and don't hurt her."

Gilroy burst into laughter, then said, "I'll do anything I want to you

whether you like it or not, and whether I let her go or not. If you

haven't noticed, you have no say in the matter." He howled with glee

again.

Mulder rushed him, head down, going for the solar plexus.

And again, Gilroy was ready for it. He stepped to the side just as

Mulder reached him, and he shoved downward on his shoulder, letting

the impetus of the attack carry Mulder to the ground.

"Now I'm pissed off," Gilroy said, and proceeded to kick the

handcuffed agent as hard as he could on the thigh. Mulder couldn't

believe the intensity of the pain that radiated out from the point of

the blow. He wondered if he could even walk. A second kick landed

in his side, and taking a breath suddenly seemed to be an impossible

task. The Monster landed one final kick high up on his cheekbone,

which began impressively bleeding.

Apparently satisfied for the time being with Mulder's condition,

Gilroy reached into the car and grabbed a large roll of duct tape.

He yanked on Mulder's arm until he got the agent to a wobbly

upright position and told him, "Move! Go back to the RV."

Limping and dripping blood, Mulder eventually reached the vehicle and

Gilroy stepped up behind him. Tearing off a long piece of tape, he

wrapped it around his mouth and lower face, then did it again with

another longer piece. He reached around Mulder, opened the door, and

said, "Get inside."

Mulder's heart lurched. He guessed that Gilroy would kill him now.

But what he thankfully didn't know was that things were going to get

much worse before this was over.

He managed to get into the RV with some pushing from Gilroy and fell

back onto the narrow bed along the inside wall. He had stepped once

on some part of one of the corpse's anatomies, and felt queasy behind

the tape. He desperately pushed the nausea back down, succeeding to

some degree.

Gilroy thoroughly wrapped Mulder's ankles and legs with the tape, then

stood back in the blood on the floor, admiring his handiwork. Then

seemingly on impulse, he securely wrapped tape around his wrists, over

the handcuffs. Mulder wondered if he considered them suspect because

they were government-issued.

Gilroy produced Mulder's cel phone and hit #1 on the speed dial.

The queasy agent suddenly became very alert and focused.

Gilroy whispered to Mulder, "Hit it in one," then was speaking into

the receiver: "Agent Scully, I'm Al Franks, the SAIC here in Bangor.

Agent Mulder was working with us on a case. We wrapped it all up

several hours ago. I understand that you are his partner?" He

listened, nodding at a struggling Mulder.

"Yes. I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you. The State Police

called just now to tell me that Agent Mulder's car was broadsided by a

pickup truck out on Highway 1. The fog is extremely thick along the

coast tonight." A pause, then, "Yes, he'll be all right, maybe a

broken collarbone and a concussion. He is still unconscious."

Another pause, and he was quick to say, "Yes, we've notified AD

Skinner, and he may come up to Bangor himself. He said for you to

call him when you know more about Agent Mulder's condition."

Mulder had an awfully sick feeling about where this was going.

"You're in Portland? Early, huh? It's clear at the airport, yeah.

OK, I'll tell you what. I have a man named Jim Peterson in the

Grandport area who can meet your plane and take you to Agent Mulder's

location. At this time, it hasn't been decided whether to keep your

partner in the small local clinic near where the accident occurred, or

to transfer him to a larger hospital in Bangor. I think he'll be

transferred, if you want my opinion."

"Yes, I've got that. And Peterson will fill you in on the latest word

from the hospital when he meets you. See you soon."

As he disconnected, he pulled Mulder's confiscated car keys from his

pocket and dangled them from the end of his fingers. Gilroy told a

pale and sweating Mulder, "I'll be going to Grandport in your rental

to meet your partner shortly. She's so anxious about you that she's

catching the next flight out. We'll have some real fun when we get

back here. Or maybe we won't wait." He winked. Mulder was screaming

in his mind and knew he had to keep it together if they were to

survive this.

(Continued in Part II)

Part II

Gilroy left the RV, closing the door. Mulder worked at the tape-

covered cuffs, but all he succeeded in doing was to abrade his wrists

badly. The tape held his wrists immobile in the embrace of the steel

bands. He lay silently in the semi-dark, breathing through his nose,

and stared into the dead face of the little girl's mother. Her death

had not been easy from the look of pain and horror still etched there.

Mulder suspected that the fear for the fate of her daughter was

responsible for most of that horror.

He closed his eyes to shut out the sight, and realized that he was the

one responsible for bringing this monster into the midst of their

family. He was responsible for their deaths. If he had used his

so-called brilliant fucking mind, he would have known Gilroy was

following him as soon as he had learned of the escape.

The door to the RV banged open suddenly, startling Mulder. Gilroy

stood there with the struggling child in his arms, face flushed,

and then he bodily tossed her onto the corpses of her parents.

"I'll get back to you later. Right now I have places to go, people

to see." They could hear his laughter fade away, then a car engine

start. He was headed to the airport and Scully. Mulder groaned,

then looked over at the girl.

Her tear-streaked face was turned toward him, but her body was rigid

and unmoving. She still had tape around her mouth and head, her

wrists and hands, and her ankles, but some of it had been torn away.

Her nightdress was twisted and wrinkled more than before. Mulder

didn't want to think what Gilroy had been doing with her recently.

Tears sprang to his own eyes at his inability to help her.

When he moved his head and blinked to clear his eyes, he noticed that

some of the tape around his mouth slid just a tiny bit. He rubbed the

tape against the surface of the bed and felt it shift a little more.

He realized that Gilroy had taped over the blood from his head wound

and the blood had kept the tape from bonding completely.

He worked at it some more, using the edge of the bed, and finally

loosened it enough that it slid lopsidedly below his mouth. He pulled

in the first deep breath he'd taken for a while. He licked his lips

and tried to keep a calm voice as he said, "I'm an FBI agent, and

maybe we can get out of this, but you'll have to help me."

There was no response from the girl, her eyes still staring straight

at him, unblinking.

"Oh, God," he thought. "She's too traumatized to react anymore."

But then he heard a whimper, and she blinked her eyes.

Mulder smiled and said, "It will be OK," silently damning himself as a

liar. Her parents are lying under her, slaughtered, and I'm telling

her everything will be OK?

He took another deep breath and said, "My name is Fox," hoping the odd

name would re-focus her attention away from the situation and onto

him. It worked. He could see her eyes look at him speculatively.

"Listen carefully. I'm going to roll off this bed and get as close to

you as I can." He could see her start to panic and he cursed himself

for beginning so abruptly. And of course she wouldn't want him close

to her after...

He went on in a steady, quiet tone, "I promise that I won't hurt you.

I want to try and use my teeth to loosen the tape from your wrists so

you can get free and then remove the rest of the tape from both of us.

OK? He put tape on my hands and wrists, so I can't use my fingers."

She was shaking her head frantically from side to side.

"Please - I wouldn't hurt you. I have a sister your age named

Samantha, and I would help her the same way if she were in trouble

like you." Well, his mental image of the long-ago-missing Sam was

that of an eight-year-old, even though she would be much older now.

"We can get away from that sick man if you'll help me. Please."

Mulder could see that he wasn't getting through and time was not

conveniently pausing to help them out. It came down to a matter of

priorities: Lie there and do nothing, which wouldn't harm the girl

any further psychologically, and would get them both killed; or

shock her into facing their predicament, enlisting her help in

getting free, and hope that his Nazi tactics didn't damage her

irrevocably if they managed to escape from Gilroy.

He felt like a torturer, but he had to tell her, "He's coming back

soon, you know, and we have to get away before then, or he'll hurt

you some more and then he'll kill us both."

God, he hated himself. Now she was really freaking out, scared out of

her mind.

He kept up a litany of soothing words until he could get through to

her again.

"I'm going to come down there now, and we'll try to get free and run

away from him - Ready?"

No response, just huge eyes in that white face.

Mulder slid closer to the edge of the bed and managed to land on his

side. The lower half of the male corpse and the arm and leg of the

female's were under him. Making his mind go blank, trying to block

out the sensations and the pitiful hurt-bird sounds coming from the

little girl, he struggled to turn and move closer to her.

He kept his voice soothing, and said, "It's all right. See, we're

really going to make it out of here. Shhhh."

He was finally close enough to touch her, but refrained from doing so

yet. "Now I need for you to roll just a little bit away from me so I

can reach the tape on your wrists."

Mulder could see that she was beyond terrified, and wasn't moving

anytime soon.

Apologizing and still crooning soothing words, he butted her with his

head and pushed with his knees, and was able to half-turn her. He

felt a wave of pity wash over him when he felt the child's trembling

body flinch and her muffled cries grow more shrill.

He wasted no time in attacking the tape with his teeth, and found it

to be tougher than he had thought. And it tasted horrible. But he

kept at it, spitting out shreds of slimy, gummy tape every now and

then. He lost his sense of time, and when the tape finally gave way,

he had no idea how long it had taken.

"OK, it's your turn now. Pull your hands apart and try to get my

hands free."

Of course the terrified child didn't move and was probably unaware

that her hands were loose. He could feel the tremors in her body

through the dead body beneath them.

Time to pull more wings off the butterflies, Mulder.

"Move!" he shouted, practically in her ear. She started violently,

automatically pulling her arms forward, and the tape completely

separated. She looked at her hands for a full minute, then madly

scooted off the bodies and huddled close to the door. Mulder

calmly said, "If you get the tape off my hands, I can help you."

She was breathing heavily through her nose and the whites of her

eyes were showing, and she didn't move. Mulder felt as though he

had missed his calling; he should have been out on the ice floes,

clubbing baby seals. He opened his mouth to slam a club home

again, but he was surprised to see that she was cautiously edging

back toward him. He pushed himself in her direction as best he

could to save her from contact with the bodies.

He felt her small, trembling fingers scratch and pull at the tape on

his wrists, then she was pulling one end of it, unwrapping his hands

and wrists, until the last of it came free, along with some of the

hair in that area.

She immediately scrambled down to his feet and began on that tape.

She'd had practice now and made quick work in removing it from his

ankles.

Mulder didn't know if he could bring his arms from in back and slide

the cuffs under his feet, to wind up with his hands in front of his

body, but he had to give it a shot. He was pretty limber from

swimming and running, and thought he could do it.

Yeah, right. It was harder than he thought. But just when he felt

that he was putting his left shoulder out of joint, and when he just

knew that the cuffs had cut right through his wrists, he was home

free. He lay there for a second, panting, then made himself get to

his feet. He managed to rid himself of the loosened tape at his neck,

then turned toward the child.

He saw that the girl hadn't tried to remove the tape from her head or

her own ankles, so Mulder squatted down next to where she was trying

to meld into the wall, and reached out toward her feet. And got

kicked on the arm and almost toppled backwards for his effort.

"We need to leave; he'll be back soon," Mulder tried to explain, but

the girl's terror of being touched had not abated. "OK," he thought,

"we do it the hard way."

It took two kicks, and the rear door flew open. He dove for the

girl and, before she could react, scooped her up and carried her

out of the RV. He stopped for a second to shift his burden when a

car's headlights turning into the rest area caught both of them

full-on. He was blinded, but couldn't take the chance that it

wasn't Gilroy. He turned and ran with the child into the thick

woods.

--------------

Bridgeport, 12:30am

Airport

Scully was immediately aware of the muscular blond man with the

penetrating blue eyes. A shiver ran up her back and she attributed

it to the chill of the air in the terminal. He was approaching her

as she walked from the gate with her carry-on bag.

He smiled as he neared her and asked, "Special Agent Dana Scully?"

She nodded and immediately asked, "How is Agent Mulder?" It was

obvious that her partner was the uppermost thought in her mind at

the moment.

"He's still unconscious, but his doctor thinks he'll be OK. Nothing

has really changed since you were notified. Oh, sorry, I'm Special

Agent Jim Peterson." He held out his hand and shook hers, then dug

into his pocket and gave Scully an ID and wallet.

Taking the items from Peterson, Scully looked puzzled until she opened

the ID and discovered that it was Mulder's.

"His cel phone and gun must be somewhere in the wreck and will be

recovered later, hopefully," Peterson said.

Scully sighed and said, "Another gun and phone to explain to Skinner."

Peterson reached down and retrieved Scully's bag from the floor,

giving her a raised-eyebrow to ask permission. She smiled and

they began walking toward the airport parking garage.

Scully slid the wallet and ID into her soft leather briefcase which

hung from her left shoulder by straps. " Where is Agent Mulder?

Have they moved him to Bangor yet?"

He glanced back at her as he walked, and said, "No, they'll probably

transfer him in the morning, last I heard."

They had reached the exit and she let the agent lead the way to his

car. Since the airport was not a large one, it only took a minute

before they reached the Taurus.

He unlocked the door so Scully could get in, and then threw her bag

into the trunk. Before closing it again, he looked around to see if

anyone was interested in what he was doing. The only people in the

whole parking lot at that hour of the morning were a father and his

young son; they were four parking spaces away, getting ready to leave

in their mini-van.

Peterson/Gilroy reached into the trunk and grabbed a sock which was

heavy with the sand that filled the lower half. He slammed the lid,

then walked around to Scully's window. He made sure the homemade sap

was out of her sight as he tapped on the window and motioned for her

to roll it down.

Scully complied and curiously looked up at him. He swiftly brought

the sap up and into the window, hitting her solidly on the temple.

Her body went limp and collapsed against the door. He dropped the

sock onto the asphalt and walked around the car to get into the

driver's seat.

The twelve-year-old boy in the mini-van told his father that something

didn't look right at the car down the row. "I think that lady is

hurt. It might be a kidnapping or something."

His dad's gaze followed the direction of the boy's pointing finger,

and saw a man getting into a Taurus. He couldn't see a passenger.

"I don't see anything, Mark."

"She was sitting there, dad, then that guy acted like he was hitting

her, then I couldn't see her anymore."

"Tell you what...why don't you get a pad and pen from the glove box

and write down the license number, color and make of car, and what

you saw. When they leave, see what direction they turn at the

highway entrance, and we'll report everything to the police. They

can decide what to do."

Once in the car with Scully, Gilroy had first reached across and

rolled the window back up. Then he ran his fingers over her cheek and

down her body, before realizing that he had better get out of the

well-lighted parking lot. He removed her gun from the waist holster

and threw it into the back onto the floor. He had the gun which he

had taken from the guy who owned the car he had stolen, and he had

Mulder's, too; he didn't need another.

He made good time on the road until he hit the fog bank once more. It

was so dense that he passed the turnoff to the secondary road that led

to the rest stop before he realized what he had done. He pulled over

onto the shoulder to make a U-turn, hoping no one was coming, because

the fog didn't allow him any visibility.

As it happened, someone *was* coming up behind him, and he let them

pass before whipping the car out into the road and heading the

opposite direction. He soon found the secondary road again and

drove the snake-like curves as fast as he dared.

Gilroy could sense that Scully was beginning to regain consciousness

from the small movements she was making and the breathy groan he

heard. The rest stop was just a few more miles, but he couldn't go

any faster with the condition of the road and the weather. He hoped

she would stay groggy until he could take care of her properly. He

began to get excited just thinking about what he could do to her while

his partner watched, helpless.

Unable to restrain himself he slowed to a crawl and reached over to

Scully, grabbing her left breast in a brutal grip. Her gasp told him

that she was awake, so he told her, "Settle down, or you'll never see

your partner alive again." He bunched the left side of her blouse in

his fist, and yanked it to the side. Buttons flew and cloth tore, and

her breasts were hidden only by the thin white lace bra.

He was losing control, a part of his mind observed. He needed to get

off the road first. With a monumental effort of will, he pulled away

from Scully and viciously pounded the dashboard with his right fist as

he picked up speed.

Scully was confused, not yet fully conscious, but aware enough to

know that the man in the car with her had hurt her and would likely

be hurting her more, and soon, if she didn't get away from him.

But she couldn't seem to move for some reason, and her head was so

painful that she could hardly bear to blink.

She struggled to open her eyes, and was finally able to see the

dimly-lighted interior of the car with 'Peterson" at the wheel.

She tried to use her fingertips to feel behind her for the door

handle, but her captor saw what she was doing immediately.

He struck her with a swift backhanded blow, which landed either by

accident or design squarely on the injured side of her head.

Flashing white lights exploded behind her eyes and incredible pain

lanced through her head. She was helpless to do anything but lie

bonelessly against the seat and door, making agonized, repetitive,

"Ah, ah, ah" sounds.

Gilroy returned his attention to the road, and soon saw the exit to

the rest stop. Cautiously he entered the parking area, his eyes

searching to see if any travellers had stopped here while he had

been away. Then his headlight beams caught Mulder carrying the

little bitch and running toward the woods!

He quickly accelerated and drove up over the curb onto the grass,

trying to catch them before they reached the dark shelter of the

trees. He had to stop, however, as Mulder successfully crashed

into the first stand of firs. Gilroy, enraged, got out of the car

and screamed, "I've got something you want, Agent Mulder, and I'm

going to play my games with her if you don't come back here, now,

with that little bitch!."

He listened. Nothing. The fog seemed to act as cotton, absorbing

sound.

"I've already hurt your partner bad, and you've seen my handiwork

before," he screamed into the white mist.

Mulder was leaning against a tree, clutching the frail child to his

chest, his heart rate way too fast and his breathing labored. He

closed his eyes and bit back a sob as he all-to-easily visualized

what Gilroy had done to his victims. And that monster had Scully

in his damned clutches. He couldn't think about that right now or

he would go mad.

Mulder took a deep breath and shouted, "I would rather kill this

child myself than put her in your hands again, you son of a bitch!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. All right, then, you've made your choice. Your

partner is obviously not a priority with you." He got back into

the car and saw that Scully was still stunned from the last blow,

and hurting.

He backed the car up, turned, and drove the 50 yards to the parking

lot to stop between his car and the RV.

Seeing that Scully wasn't going anywhere, he went into the RV and

hauled the two bodies out, placing one into each trunk of the two

cars. Then he opened the passenger side of the Taurus and caught

Scully as she sagged into his arms. Gilroy wasted no time in

dragging her over to the RV.

He had decided to go ahead and enjoy himself, then kill Mulder and the

girl when he was done. The idea was to have Mulder's partner make

enough noise to draw him in closer first. No way was he going to go

running through a fucking forest to find them.

He threw Scully onto the narrow bed where Mulder had previously been

lying. He took a hunting knife out of its scabbard from his waist and

began cutting away her jacket, and her blouse. One little flick of

the knife at her chest and her bra split in two. He pulled it off

with a hard yank, and sat back to admire the shapely torso of the

woman below him. Then he got to work with his knife on her skirt

fastenings.

Mulder put the child down gently under a fir tree, and nearly landed

on the ground himself when the pain in his ribs and thigh shot through

him. In the adrenalin of the moment, he hadn't noticed his injuries,

but now they were making themselves known.

Pulling the tape from the girl's ankles and legs was difficult with

the handcuffs restricting his movements, but he finally got the last

of it off. All the while he was working at her bonds, he told her

what was going to happen.

"I have to go help my friend. He'll hurt her if I don't. You stay

here and be very quiet and I'll come back for you when it's safe.

Don't wander off, because you could get lost."

He tried to be gentle when he worked the tape from her mouth and

her long brown hair, but was unable to completely avoid hurting

her. Tears stood in her large brown eyes as the last of it came

away, but she never moved once during the whole process.

He was surprised to see that she tried to talk right away, but was

even more surprised at the one word she used: "Fox." He was startled

until he recalled that he had told her his first name earlier in the

RV. He softly asked her, "What's your name?"

"Annie," she replied, after a second or two.

"OK, Annie, I'm going to go help my partner." Her hand gripped his

arm almost painfully, then she looked down and reluctantly withdrew

it. He noticed that she was still trembling.

Suddenly a faint cry of pain pierced the fog and ripped at Mulder's

soul. Scully.

He patted Annie on the shoulder and briefly met her eyes with his own

before turning and running back toward the parking area.

Annie pulled her knees up to her chin, and her arms crept around her

legs. She kept her eyes securely shut and rocked slightly back and

forth, whispering over and over, "Help us, help us, help us."

Gilroy had stripped Scully without much damage. There was a nick at

her left hipbone and a cut on her upper left thigh. She was aware

enough now to realize what was happening to her. She stayed passive

as she watched for an opening to escape from this nightmare.

Gilroy was nude, also. He brutally yanked Scully to a sitting

position and knelt on the bed facing her. He had one knee along

the right side of her body, and the other was between her legs.

He moved his face close to hers and asked, "Do you know who I am,

Agent Scully?" Scully shook her head jerkily, then regretted the

movement as the pain flared again.

He leaned even closer to her face and said with a leer, "I'm Gilmore

the Butcher." He could see the way her eyes went dull, and knew that

she had immediately recognized the name the media had bestowed on him.

"Ah, I see you know the reputation. Good. You'll find out first-

hand if it's all true or not." He grabbed her knee and shoved it

farther to the side, and his own knee rammed harder into her groin.

She cried out and instinctively tried to move away from him, but he

held her pinned to the bed with his hands on her shoulders.

(Concluded in Part III)

Part III

Grandport Police Department

1:28 am

The well-lighted police station seemed almost deserted to Mark

Vernon and his dad, Stuart. The large open area with desks laden

with unfinished paperwork and other detritus revealed one person;

a woman in her late thirties typing at a computer keyboard. The

counter near the entrance door appeared empty, but a young black

man suddenly popped up from the depths of the lower part of the

counter, saying, "Are you sure you put it under..." His voice

trailed off when he saw that there were people standing on the

other side of the counter.

"Good morning. I'm Officer Michael Jones. I didn't hear you come

in." He grinned at them amiably. "How can I help you?"

Stuart and his son introduced themselves, then Mark told his story.

Officer Jones jotted some notes while he listened, and turned

toward the female officer when Mark was finished with the tale.

"Maureen...er...Detective Fitzpatrick, could you..."

"Already done. I ran the license number on the system and it belongs

to Avis in Bangor. They're checking to see who rented it." She was

holding the phone receiver to her ear, waiting for the clerk to come

back on the line.

"Yes," she said to the mouthpiece, picking up a pen. "Any other

information? How do you spell that? Yes, thank you." She finished

her notes on a pad of paper, then walked over to the group waiting

to hear what she had learned.

"Why don't you come over to my desk while I make some more calls?

This is becoming interesting; the car was rented by Special Agent

Fox Mulder of the FBI on official business."

Mark's eyes got big and round at that, and he followed his dad through

the swinging gate to the officer's desk. They patiently sat on two

straight-back wooden chairs while Detective Fitzpatrick patiently

tracked down someone in the Bangor FBI office who might know what was

going on.

Finally, after speaking with the night staff (and someone she

suspected had been the janitor), the phone was ringing at Al

Frank's home, the Special Agent in Charge who had apparently

dealt with Agent Mulder.

"Yeah?" The voice was gruff from sleep, and Fitzpatrick could hear

another sleepy voice asking the time in the background.

"Sir, this is Detective Maureen Fitzpatrick in the Grandport Police

Department, calling about a car rented by Special Agent Fox Mulder."

The voice was more alert now. "What's going on? Has there been an

accident?"

"No, sir. Some civilians at the airport here witnessed what they

think could be a kidnapping. It involved the car in question.

Here, let me put Mark Vernon on the line with you and he can tell

you exactly what he saw. It will save time."

Mark paled a little. Him, talking with an FBI supervisor? Wow!

His hand fumbled the receiver just a little bit as he put it to his

ear. "Yes, sir?"

"Son, could you tell me everything you saw at the airport?"

Mark said, "Yes, sir," again, and once more related his story, while

Fitzpatrick taped it.

When Franks heard Mark's description of the man with the rental car,

he blanched. "Oh, God, not Gilroy," he thought.

He interrupted Mark and asked him to describe the lady in the car.

"Well, I didn't see much of her, just her red hair."

When Franks talked to Detective Fitzpatrick again, he told her that

the FBI would be handling what now appeared to be a kidnapping,

possibly of an FBI agent and another unknown victim. "We would

appreciate your department's assistance, however."

"I'm sure Captain Rodriguez will have no problem with our giving the

FBI a hand, Agent Franks." She smiled at the slight pause, knowing

that Franks was wondering whether she had just implied that the FBI

couldn't do this without their help.

Blandly, he asked, "Could you get me lists of passengers who arrived

on flights from about midnight until 1:00am? And could you check the

Whaler's Inn to see if Mulder ever arrived there? I'll get my

investigators busy, and send several down to Grandport immediately.

It will probably be Carol Santini and Willis Vrocek."

Detective Fitzpatrick said, "I'll be looking for them. Meanwhile,

we'll see what we can turn up at this end."

"You might have someone check a side road off Highway 1 about

three-quarters of the way to Grandport from Bangor. When I talked

with Agent Mulder around 10:00pm or so, he was in that area."

He then proceeded to tell her all about Gilroy, including his

description and any other information that could help the case.

"Keep me posted, if you will," he finished. "Any help is

appreciated," he wryly added.

----------

Gilroy had been busy. First he had turned on the battery-operated

fluorescent light, which lent a harsh glare to the room. Then he

had taken Scully's pantyhose and tied her wrists together, and

fastened the end over the metal arm at the head of the bed.

He allowed himself a moment to contemplate the struggling form while

he absently stroked himself, then he grabbed the knife and approached

her.

Despite a headache that was nearly blinding in its intensity, Scully

was acutely aware of Gilroy's actions. The minute he came close

enough, she put all the energy remaining in her body to kick out at

him, hoping to injure him in some way.

Her left foot came in contact with the edge of the knife blade, but

the cut was superficial. Both feet landed on Gilroy's stomach, and

he staggered back, but didn't fall.

The RV door was ripped back and Mulder came flying in like an avenging

angel. With his handcuffed hands used as a battering ram, his fists

hit Gilroy in the ribs as he was turning toward Mulder. He felt

something give under his fists, and there was an audible "crack" as

something broke. Gilroy gasped from the pain and swung the knife

around at Mulder's face, but he dodged back in time to avoid the

blade.

Mulder wished for his gun; he wouldn't hesitate to put a few rounds

into that face, after he had glimpsed Scully bound to the bed. All

his attention was on Gilroy right now, and the knife he held. And

he was terrified that he wouldn't be able to save Scully.

------------

Annie had decided that if help was going to come, she had to make

it happen and not just sit like a scared baby under the tree. She

*was* scared, more than ever before in her life, but she was angry,

too. Annie didn't even notice her tears, but got to her feet and

determinedly made her way toward the rest stop, following in

Mulder's footsteps.

She soon saw the parking area, and made sure her path did not take her

near the RV as she headed towards the drive that led to the roadway.

She would stop the first car she saw and get help.

---------

Detective Fitzgerald had ambushed two officers when they came back

from break, and left them in charge of the routine police work. She

notified her superior, Captain Rodriguez, of the role that the FBI was

shortly going to play in his life, and filled him in on the case up to

date. Then she sent the Vernons on their way home, promising to get

in touch with them when the case was resolved to let them know how it

came out.

A quick check by Jones with the Whaler's Inn revealed that Agent

Mulder had never shown up; his room was still being held, however,

since the place was half empty and they thought that he might just be

running late because of the fog. Jones told them to hold a couple of

additional rooms since several more FBI agents were on their way.

By the time he got off the line, Detective Fitzgerald was walking over

to the fax machine, telling him that only one passenger plane had

landed during the critical time, and the list of passengers was being

faxed. "I had them fax a copy to Franks, too; that should save us

some time."

When the page of names scrolled out of the machine, she snapped it up

and quickly read through it. "Hmm. No name that I recognize. Maybe

Franks will see something."

------------

With his wrists still handcuffed, Mulder was finding himself to be at

a distinct disadvantage in this fight. Gilroy was at least twenty-

five pounds heavier, all in muscle, and had that damned pig-sticker

for a weapon. While Gilroy suffered from broken ribs, Mulder also had

damaged ones, and was feeling pain with every breath he took.

Scully had twisted onto her stomach and was working with her fingers

to loosen the panty hose which bound her wrists to the metal rail.

She knew Mulder was not going to end up the victor if she couldn't

shift the odds a little bit.

A scuffling sound and a gasp from Mulder made her look up from her

task, and she was horrified to see the knife buried in Mulder's

shoulder, with Gilroy twisting it in the wound, still grinning his

death's-head amusement. Mulder screamed, moaned, then screamed again.

Desperate now, Scully shrieked at Gilroy with all her strength. "I'm

almost free and I'm coming after you, you bastard! You coward! You

fucking piece of shit!"

Gilroy, startled, glanced over at her. With the distraction, Mulder

made a super-human effort and fell back away from his grip. The knife

slipped out of his shoulder, he heavily landed on the floor, and blood

spurted from the wound.

Gilroy stood immobile looking from one to the other, then moved over

to Scully, who was still lying on her stomach. She tried to turn and

face him again, but he knelt on the backs of her legs. The pain from

his weight on her legs was enormous, but she felt him shift so that he

knelt between them. He pulled her hips upward and thrust two of his

fingers into her with no warning.

It hurt so bad that tears fell from her eyes, and she pulled as far

forward as possible to get away from the humiliating pain.

After a moment of probing, he removed his fingers and she could feel

his erection at her opening, beginning to push its way inside.

"No!" she screamed, and renewed her efforts at freeing her wrists.

----------

Annie was leaving a lot of space between the RV and herself, and

was stealthily moving past the rental car when the sodium vapor

light above caught the glint of something inside the car. She

squinted, and had just recognized what it was, when she froze in

shock. A loud agonized scream came from the RV, and somehow she

knew that it was Fox. He was being killed like her parents had

been.

Her legs barely held her upright as her mind shied away from this

reality. She started to go to her inner world where her loving family

was still alive. Where things like this didn't happen and she felt

safe. In that place, she could hear laughter instead of screams, and

she could even feel her dad's warm stubbly face rub hers as he gave

her a hug...No! Those were memories of Fox when he carried her away

to safety and he needed her now. There was no hesitation in deciding

to help him, although she was shaking so hard from having to rip

herself back into harsh reality that she couldn't get the door to open

at first. When it finally cooperated, she reached inside and her hand

closed on the cold metal of Scully's gun.

Annie didn't remember moving from the car to the RV; the next thing

she knew, she stood looking at the broken door, seeing it was open an

inch or two. She could see Fox through the crack, fighting to get to

his feet, then swaying with dizziness, blood all over him.

She put trembling fingers on the inner edge of the door and tugged it

slightly, which caused it to swing open of its own volition.

----------

Through the red haze of the pain which pulsed excruciatingly through

his shoulder, Mulder saw Gilroy attack Scully. With a superhuman

effort, he pulled himself upright, but staggered from the impossibly

increased level of pain this caused. He was dimly aware of some

movement to his left where there should have been none. He turned his

head toward the door and his pain-filled and desperate eyes saw Annie

shoving the gun onto the floor in his direction. Then she turned and

ran away from the RV as quickly as her legs would allow.

Unfortunately, Gilroy had also noticed the door opening, even though

he had been focused on raping Scully. The combination of Mulder

getting to his feet (what did it *take* to keep the man down?!) and

the opening door caused his to swivel his head in that direction.

He took in the entire scene within seconds, and before Mulder could

reach for the gun, Gilroy had leaped from the bed and hit the half-

conscious agent with the full weight of his body, knocking them both

to the floor. Mulder's head took a blow from the opposite wall when

he fell; Gilroy felt the boneless way he landed, and knew he was

unconscious this time.

He picked up Scully's gun as he got to his feet, and he ran out the

door after the child, screaming, "Come back here, you bitch! I'm

not through with you yet!"

Annie had not been able to go very far before she began to falter, and

then her legs finally gave out. She fell to the hard asphalt surface

of the parking lot and prayed that Fox would be all right. That she

would be all right.

--------

Detective Fitzgerald was driving one of the police units, while

Officer Jones studied the map attempting to find the road Mulder may

have been on when talking with Franks. Then a call from Franks was

patched through.

"One of the names on the passenger manifests is that of Mulder's

partner, Special Agent Dana Scully," Franks told her. "It appears

that Gilroy snatched her and took her to wherever he's holding

Mulder."

Fitzgerald sighed. "When are your agents arriving?"

"They caught the first flight out, and should be there within a half

an hour." He gave her the airline, flight number, and ETA.

"I'll have one of our officers pick them up at the airport." She

paused for a moment, then asked, "Do you think they're still alive?"

"Knowing how Gilroy operates, it's very possible he's already killed

them. But his prey is normally young girls, and these are adult FBI

agents. It's difficult to say what he's doing with them."

"We have officers asking around the airport if anyone else saw what

happened. Everyone in three counties is looking for the car. I think

that Officer Jones and I have the best chance of finding some trace of

them by driving in the direction Gilroy took, and by searching in the

area Agent Mulder described. With the fog, you couldn't see anything

from the air."

"Thanks. Good luck."

Jones had been studying the map closely and shared what he knew.

"There isn't much out this way; just a few small towns with scattered

houses in between. Then you have the really uninhabited stretch of

road that loops out from the highway and follows the shoreline for

about eight miles, then rejoins the highway up further. Other than

that, there's not much. Some of the land is state and federal

forests. There's a rest stop up near Tolman, and one on that loop

road."

"He could have been heading out of state, or turned and headed for

Canada for all we know."

Jones shook his head. "No, he stashed Agent Mulder somewhere, then

went back for his partner. They aren't far. He just escaped and

arrived in this area, so I doubt if he's had time to rent anyplace

like a remote house. Of course, he could have broken in somewhere."

They sat in silence, trying to puzzle it out. They hit the fog bank

and Fitzgerald had to slow down slightly to compensate. It was one of

the thickest fogs she had encountered in the area.

"Why don't we try that loop road along the ocean?" he suddenly asked.

"That's probably the shortcut Agent Mulder took, it's off the beaten

path, in the direction that Gilroy was going, and in this weather at

this hour of the morning, he wouldn't have to worry about very many

passers-by."

Fitzgerald saw the sign looming up out of the fog for the road that

Jones was talking about. She slowed and took the turn.

And was soon regretting this decision when she was reminded how

twisting the road was. She had been on duty for twelve hours now

and was getting very tired.

Jones kept trying to penetrate the fog with his eyes, hoping for a

glimpse of something...anything.

Grateful to finally reach the rest stop and enjoy a respite from the

bends and curves of the so-called road, Fitzgerald slowly turned into

the access lane. Jones was sitting ram-rod straight in his seat, eyes

constantly searching, roving. He looked like he expected to find

something, but Fitzgerald had serious doubts they could be so lucky.

She saw the parking area appear through the fog, and there actually

were some vehicles in the lot.

Fitzgerald nearly had a heart attack when Jones suddenly screamed

"Stop!" She slammed her foot down on the brakes, then looked where

his eyes were riveted. She saw indistinct figures of what appeared

to be a large man and a small girl through the fog; apparently the

large figure was in pursuit of the smaller, and he was gaining

quickly.

Before they could get out of the car, the man overtook the girl,

grabbed her around the body, and threw her over his shoulder. Then

he reversed his direction as the police officers ran from the car,

weapons drawn.

------------

Mulder could hear a sound coming from somewhere beyond the red haze

that existed behind his eyelids, and finally managed to open them to

see what the annoying noise was. He realized that Scully's voice was

trying to tell him something, but there were two sledgehammers; one

was hitting his shoulder and one his head, with lesser instruments of

torture at work on the rest of his body. His ears didn't seem to work

right; everything was muffled. His eyes closed in self-defense, then

shot open again when he remembered. "Scully! God, no..." He moaned

aloud with the thought of what she had gone through, and he struggled

to his hands and knees, nearly fainting from the loss of blood and the

agony his injuries were giving him.

Panting from the effort, he crawled over to Scully's side. She was

smeared with blood and lay face down with her hair hiding her face.

Her wrists were still bound above her head. She was trying to tell

him something.

When he pushed her hair back, he saw the ugly abrasion on her face.

She whispered, "That bastard is chasing someone down. Hurry, Mulder."

"Scully?" He touched her gently on the shoulder, and she shuddered.

He snatched a blanket from the floor at the foot of the bed and pulled

it over her body, then grabbed the knife Gilroy had left behind. He

quickly cut through Scully's wrist bindings, and said, "I'll go see if

I can stop him. Will you be OK for a few minutes?"

There was no sound from his partner, but Mulder saw a slight up-and-

down nod of her head. He couldn't wait any longer; he had to save

Annie, and then help Scully. It was the most difficult thing he had

ever done, leaving her when she needed help, but he managed to tear

himself away and stagger out the door---smacking full force into the

returning killer and his burden.

Gilroy overbalanced because of Annie's weight across his shoulder,

and all three bodies went down in a tangle. Mulder, enraged and

determined not to let Gilroy get the better of him again, shoved

the knife into the closest part of his body as hard as he could.

Gilroy roared and rolled away from Mulder, the knife buried to the

hilt in his upper thigh. Then Scully's gun was in Gilroy's hand and

he was bringing it to bear on Mulder.

Time seemed to stop as Mulder stared into the barrel of the weapon; it

seemed as large as a cannon. He knew he was about to die, and he felt

a curious...acceptance. When Mulder closed his eyes, an image of

Scully floated in the blackness, and he felt at peace.

The shockingly loud sound of gunshots jolted him and his eyes flew

open. Gilroy lay dead and two police officers were standing about

six feet away, still holding their guns trained on the serial

killer. He saw that Annie was slightly off to the side, lying flat

on the pavement, but apparently unhurt in the shooting.

With a single-mindedness of purpose, Mulder turned and began crawling

and then pulling himself up into the RV, ignoring the shouted demands

of the police officers behind him. He made it to Scully, who was

lying on her side under the blanket, and (bless her heart, he thought)

she was smiling to see him.

"I thought you were dead," she said in a subdued voice.

"Not yet," he said, and pushed her hair from her poor battered

face. Then he fell onto the floor by the bed, out cold. Scully's

arm dropped from the bed and her hand lay on his chest feeling the

warmth and the steady thumping of his heart.

And that's the way Fitzgerald found them when she looked into the RV a

minute later.

THE END