From:  tbishop27@aol.com
Title:   Please Don't Kill Her
Part 1 of  4
Disclaimer:  Forgive me Mr. C for taking what isn't mine.  I promise
you and your attorneys can share all the profits from my crime.  How
do you divide zero again?
Distribution:  Freely.  Just let me know where so I can visit.
Spoilers:  None, or at least I tried to avoid them.
Rating:  R
Content Warning:  Language/Violence (If this offends you, stop NOW!)
Classification:  Suspense Drama/a little MSR Scully Angst and
Shameless amounts of Mulder Angst (poor baby)
Summary:  Our beloved Skully is kidnapped by a dangerous man from
Mulder and Scully's past and Mulder is frantic to rescue her before
it's too late.
Author's Note:  This is my first attempt at fan fiction so try to be
understanding of the rough edges. I put them both through so much
here--God, I don't know where that came from.  Forgive me Mulder and
Scully.  As if you both haven't already suffered enough. Dedication:
To David who believes in me even when I don't, and who finally gets to
read something that I wrote.  I wouldn't have had the courage to do
this without you.   And yes, darling, I'll tell them.....it's
pronounce  A-BEAR  not  HE-BURT!  (But I still think they would know)

                  Please Don't Kill Her
 
 

Her mind struggled through the haze of the drug.  A tunnel of shadows
and distant echoes surrounding her.  No way out.  Drowning in a
peaceful bliss. Swim Dana!  Swim!  It was so hard to fight the
serenity that threatened now to consume her into a dark, deep,
dreamless sleep. Fight it!  Have to...fight this.  She shook her head
to clear away the stupor.  Open your eyes, Dana. You have to find your
focus.  Hold on to your consciousness.  Fight for it! It's too
hard...I can't....  Maybe just a little rest first to find my
strength.  Drifting... Drifting...  NO!  Don't let this happen!  Open
your eyes damn it!  She struggled, eyelids fluttering, light and
dancing images coming at her in a confused jumble, as she strained to
focus.  For the briefest of seconds she found her vision again.  A
face.  The face of a man.  That man!  That monster!  She knew
him...remembered him...dreamed him.  The image was gone.  Left now to
haunt her memory.  She swam again in the murky depths of her opiate
thoughts.  Bastard!  If I survive this I will kill you!  Can't fight
it anymore...need to sleep.  Need...to...let go.  No...no....  The
fight was over.  Darkness took Dana Scully.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Agent Fox Mulder checked the clip on his Sig, slapped it back in with
a satisfying snap, then holstered the weapon behind his back again.
It was a nervous habit he'd developed over the years and couldn't seem
to stop, no matter how hard he tried.  It had become a compulsion
whenever he perceived a threat he was unsure how to handle.  He blew
out a tense breath and tried to calm himself.  His partner was long
overdue and his attempts to reach her by cell phone unsuccessful.
God, this was all too familiar.  The turmoil inside his head, the hard
lump in the pit of his stomach, the nagging guilt that tortured his
soul.  Scully was in trouble again.  He'd sent her out alone to scout
out possible surveillance posts for their assignment tomorrow.  He'd
been too busy pouting over the mundane job they'd been given as
punishment for the trouble they'd stirred up with their last X-File
adventure.  I am Fox Mulder, for Christ sake, not one of the rookie
bull pen agents they have to slap on the wrist whenever they get a
little overexcited on a case.  So while he brooded like a stubborn
child, Scully, the mature adult in their partnership, had steadfastly
carried out the assignment at hand.  I should have been with her.  How
she puts up with me, I never will understand.
 
She was supposed to have met up with him three hours ago at the coffee
shop on 12th and E Street not far from their office at the Bureau, and
not far from the site of their stakeout tomorrow.  It was a simple
building surveillance.  Boring.  Nothing dangerous about it.  Sit.
Watch.  Record. Report.  The Bureau wanted photos of anyone entering
or leaving.  Adding insult to injury, Skinner had refused to give them
any other details of the case.  If there even was a case.  Mulder
wasn't entirely convinced Skinner hadn't just made the whole thing up
to keep him and Scully out of mischief for the next two weeks.  With
the added bonus of humiliating them in front of their fellow agents.

After a thorough check of the area his partner had gone to scout,
Mulder walked back to FBI headquarters and A.D. Skinner's office.  The
Assistant Director was on the phone as Mulder barged in.  Scowling at
the interruption, and Mulder's defiance of protocol, Skinner abruptly
ended his conversation.

"Agent Mulder, I assume you have a good reason for busting in here
unannounced?"  This had better be good, Mister.

"Agent Scully is missing, Sir."

"Missing?"  Skinner stood up, concern replacing anger on his face.

Mulder took a deep breath.  "She was scouting for our stakeout
tomorrow.  I was supposed to meet her for lunch three hours ago.  She
never showed and she isn't answering her cell phone."  He ran tense
fingers through his hair in frustration, and began to pace the office.
 "I checked around for her.  Her car's still in the here in the
parking garage.  She must have walked."

"Agent Mulder, is there a reason why Agent Scully is out in the field
without backup from her partner?"

"Not a good one, Sir."  Mulder didn't need the look Skinner was giving
him to know where the blame belonged.  "Sir, considering the fact that
Agent Scully is now missing, could I be made privy to the details of
the investigation we were assigned to work on?"

The Assistant Director turned his attention to his desktop.  "You
don't need that information, Agent Mulder."

"Sir, Agent Scully is missing!  If her disappearance is in anyway
connected to this case..."

"It's not."

"How do you know that?"

Skinner look from the desk to Mulder.  "Because there is no case,
Agent Mulder."

"What?" He felt the rage building within him.

"The powers that be wanted you two sidelined for a little while.  I
made it up.  I thought it was better than suspending you for two
weeks."

"This is bullshit!" I knew it!

"Agent Mulder, your last X-File investigation cost the United States
government a grand total of two hundred and seventy-four thousand
dollars. Generally speaking, the FBI looks bad when it spends that
kind of money without any resolution to a case.  More so when that
case involved a mythological phantom as the prime suspect.  Even Agent
Scully's delicate wording of the facts, and her adept scientific
translations, couldn't make this one palatable to those whose job it
is to care about such mundane matters as budgets and the Bureau's
reputation.  I wish sometimes, Agent Mulder, that you would stop to
consider more than just your own burning desire to discover the truth,
and realize that the FBI is not your personal expense account and
license to pursue any subject that piques your curiosity."

Yeah...yeah...heard it all before.  Damn it!  It never changes!
Mulder had to close his eyes to keep his temper in check.  He took a
deep breath then let it out again before looking at Skinner once more.
 "If what you say is true...Sir... Agent Scully wouldn't have been in
any danger.  So where is she?"

The A.D. shook his head.  "I don't know.  But you know the drill,
Agent.  Twenty-four hours.  Then we file a standard missing person's
report with DCPD.  I wish I could do more but..."

"She disappeared on duty!  This is an in-house investigation!"

"Unofficial duty.  I told you there wasn't any case.  If you can give
me evidence that her disappearance is in any way connected to her work
with the Bureau then I'll personally head up the investigation myself.
 But until then, don't ask me to do what you know can't.  The decision
isn't mine, Agent Mulder.  God knows I've bent the rules enough for
you both.  I'm not in a position to ask for favors from my superiors
thanks to your latest fiasco. I have to go by the book on this."  I'm
sorry.  I really wish I could do more.
 
Mulder's eyes narrowed.  Walk away...you'll only get in more trouble
if you say it.  Fuck you, Sir!  He walked out.
 

As his hand twisted the knob, Mulder prayed she'd be waiting for him
on the other side of the door.  She'd be waiting there, in the
basement office they shared, with some plausible explanation for not
meeting him and not answering her cell phone for the last few hours.
He even hesitated, to give God time to pull off this little miracle.
Sometimes the answer to your prayers is 'no'.  With a heavy sigh,
Mulder dropped himself into the government issue chair at his desk and
slumped back thinking what to do next.  After a minute, he tried her
cell phone again.  Nothing.  Then he dialed her home number knowing,
even before the answering machine picked up, that he wouldn't find her
there.  He happened to glance over at the monitor screen of his PC.
Email.  He clicked on the mail icon and scanned the subject lines.  A
few interdepartmental documents, several ET mailers-as Scully liked to
call Mulder's UFO journal subscriptions, a couple of junk mail sends
and...hmm? This is interesting.  Subject line; Agent Fox Mulder, FBI.
 He felt a tightening in his chest as he clicked on the headline and
brought up the email document.

 
               Are you missing someone?
 

He felt as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of his lungs.
Heart racing, with a trembling hand, he moved the mouse to see where
the message had originated.  Oh God!
 

The drive to Scully's Georgetown apartment wasn't far from the Hoover
Building.  Mulder used the time to teach himself how to breathe again.
 It was no longer automatic for him.  He had to concentrate hard on
each intake and exhale.  All the while his heart threatened to explode
out of his chest.  Scully's been taken from me again.  Damn it!  God
Damn it!  Why does this keep happening?  Are you listening up there?
When are you going to be through with me?  What did I do in my life
that was so horrible as to deserve this?  Is it because I let them
take Samantha?  If you want to punish me for that then punish me not
Scully.  She's been through enough.  She doesn't deserve this.  Tears
blurred his vision and he nearly hit a car that turned too suddenly in
front of him.  He slammed on the brakes.  His legs now rubbery and
weak, the accelerator felt strange under his foot as he pushed it and
made the car go again.  Calm down, Mulder, he told himself.  If he was
going to help Scully, he was going to have to get control over his
fear.  Scully needed him.  This was no time to lose it.  She's going
to be all right.  You're going to find her.  Whoever has her wants to
talk about it. Breathe in...breathe out.  Whoever has her knows we're
partners, knows we're FBI agents, knows my email address, knows where
Scully lives.  Whoever has her wants something from me.  I'll be
contacted again.  Breathe... In....Out.  Whoever has her knows how to
get to me.  Knows she is my weakness.  People keep hurting her to get
to me.  Scully, I'm sorry...sorry again...sorry for everything you've
been through because of me.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Her first sensation coming out of the nothingness was pain.  A
pounding throb in her head.  A burning ache in her shoulders and
across the back of her neck running down the lengths of her arms and
ending where her wrists were bound tightly behind her back.  Her legs
were bound too.  Still groggy, she hadn't immediately thought to open
her eyes.  Now as she did, she became aware of her surroundings.  At
least she wasn't blindfolded.  She hated the suffocating feeling of
sightlessness.  She was lying on the floor in what appeared to be a
storage closet.  The only light coming into the tiny room came from
under the door.  It was enough though.  Her eyes were used to the
darkness.  Scully shifted a little to try and give her aching muscles
some relief.  She struggled to sit up, and wiggled over to lean
against the back wall.  There were shelves along the walls to her left
and right but they were empty.  It didn't look as if she'd been left
with anything she could use to free herself.  Her mouth wasn't gagged.
 Probably because she was safely out of range of any help should she
attempt to call for help.  I wonder what time it is?  I wonder how
long I've been out?  In her mind she tried to piece together what she
could to reconstruct exactly how she came to be in this place.  She
remembered going to the office.  Mulder was in a bad mood about the
assignment Skinner had given them.  Not that he doesn't have a right
to be.  It was an obvious punishment and a huge waste of two valuable
agents' time.  Things being what they were, and Mulder being Mulder,
and prone to long bouts of pouting when his ego got bruised, Scully
had decided not to argue the point when he'd asked her to do the
location scouting for their assignment without him.  Better to let him
get over it on his own. Besides, it was a beautiful spring day in D.C.
and she could walk from the FBI building up 10th Street to G where
their stake out location was.  And, begrudgingly, her partner had even
agreed to meet her for lunch, in a coffee house of her choosing, as a
reward for her good deed.  Scouting surveillance locations sometimes
meant going down alleys and into places where you weren't easily seen
by the those passing by on the street.  The parking garage directly
across from the subject building provided an excellent opportunity for
covert surveillance.  Apparently, she wasn't the only one who realized
this fact.  Just as she was about to step onto the elevator to leave
and make her appointment with Mulder,  she heard the pop of a rifle
and, almost at the same instant, felt the hot, stinging pain as a
tranq dart hit her in the back.  She remembered spinning around and
pulling out the dart then looking up in the direction she'd heard the
shot come from.   But then her eyes lost their focus and she felt her
legs give out.  The whole garage seemed to spin out from under her
feet.  She hit the ground hard and then...and then...a face.  Someone
she remembered.  Someone who frightened her.  Was he really there or
did I dream it?  Scully realized her pulse was racing and her
breathing had quickened at the thought of him.  God help her if it was
true.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The door to Scully's apartment was open.  Agent Mulder approached, as
he had been trained to do, weapon drawn, back to the wall.  Slowly...
 Slowly...  Then in one fluid movement, he spun around, kicked the
door full open, and entered Sig first, his eyes darting quickly around
the familiar room.

"Scully?!" he called out.  Silence.  Not until he had checked every
room and closet, assuring himself he was alone, did he reholster the
gun.  That task completed, he turned his attention to that which had
brought him here.  It was there, where it had always been, sitting
dutifully on Scully's desk.  He'd seen it thousands of times, but now
he glared at it as if it were an evil thing.  As if it were
responsible for taking her away from him.  The email he'd received had
come from Scully's computer.  Transfixed, he walked with slow
purposeful intent towards the desk.  In front of him the same bold
oversized font that had tormented him in his office, not twenty
minutes before, now screamed out from the PC monitor.
 

                 Agent Mulder
        How much is she worth to you?
 
 

No fingerprints.  No witnesses.  Skinner had indulged Mulder and
ordered the crime scene team to go over Scully's apartment not twice
but three times.  The place was clean.  Whoever had Scully was being
meticulously careful.  Mulder's only comfort was in the fact that,
whoever it was who had taken Scully, they wanted to keep this little
game going.  There would be another message.  Although, it were these
same messages that troubled Fox Mulder deeply.  The profile he had
been carefully constructing on Scully's kidnapper told him the person
was unusually bold...the crime had been committed in broad daylight.
The person paid attention to details...no fingerprints, no witnesses.
 The person was calculating...the messages had been designed to elicit
fear in him.  Whoever it was, did their homework...they knew a lot
about him and Scully.  Too much.  And finally, there was one other
thing he knew for certain about the person who had taken his partner,
that person delighted in the power he (probably a he) now had over
Mulder.  They knew each other then?  He wasn't sure of that one yet.
But so far what he was certain of was that the person who had Scully
was extremely dangerous and determined to be the one in control of
this scenario.  All Mulder could do now was wait.  And keep running
that speech over and over again in his mind.  The one that said he'd
get her back.  That Scully would be fine.  And he tried desperately to
believe.
 
 

Two thirty am.  He paced his apartment like a caged animal.  What's
taking so long?  What is this guy waiting for?  Probably exactly this.
 Making me wait.  Making me sweat.  Power trip, Mulder, remember who
you're dealing with. Son of a bitch.  I hate this shit.  God, I hope
Scully's all right.  How much is she worth to me?  He's not looking
for a ransom.  Why ask me that?  What does he want from me?  A test of
sorts, maybe?  Does he really want to see how far I'm willing to go to
get her back?  I already know the answer to that question.  As far as
I have to.  What ever it takes.  I've proven that to myself more times
than I care to think about.  There is not a thing in this world I
wouldn't do, a place I wouldn't go, a price I wouldn't be willing to
pay, to save the life of this woman without whom my work and my life
would most assuredly cease to hold any meaning or validity.  Without
pause, without question, I would lay down my life for hers.  I
wouldn't hesitate to kill for her if she asked this of me.  And I
would have to kill anyone who hurt her. He knows so much, he must know
that?  I wonder if he understands what an out of control fucking
animal I would become if something were to happen to her?  There is
nothing else in my life that I defend with such violence and ferocity
as I do Scully.  Maybe it's because she's the one thing that keeps me
from plummeting over that edge that I live on.  I have developed a
violent reflex after coming so close to losing her all those times
before.  The fact that I have this overwhelming need inside of me to
destroy anything I perceive as a threat to her well being overrides
all rationality when I am provoked in that way.  I become capable of
the darkest acts. I wonder if the person who has taken her realizes
what a dangerous game he's chosen to play?  As he paced, Mulder's mind
continued the tortured conversation.  And then the phone rang.  He
froze.  Terrified now of finding out the rules of this insidious game.
 It rang again.  Mulder closed his eyes to steel himself for what was
about to happen.  On the third ring he willed himself to pick up.

"Mulder."

"I hope I didn't wake you, Agent Mulder?"  The male voice was cool and
dripping with satisfaction.  He spoke with a heavy Southern accent.

I know that voice.  Who is it?  I know that voice.  "You've got my
attention.  Tell me what you want.  How do I get my partner back?"

"You seem a bit tense, Agent Mulder.  Are you worried about her?"

Who is this son of a bitch?  I know him.  Think, Mulder, think.  "Yes.
 Of course I am."

"With good reason."

"What's that supposed to mean?"  Despite his efforts to keep cool,
Mulder found his voice rising along with his growing fears.

"I'll be in touch again,  Agent Mulder.  Pleasant dreams tonight."

Just before the caller hung up the phone, Mulder heard the man laugh.
 His blood turned to ice.  "Oh Jesus, Scully.  Not him. . . Not him."
 
 

End of part 1
 

Send feedback to TBishop27@aol.com   (Flames will be forwarded to that
dark part of my writer's imagination that roams the night in search of
victims.)
 
 
 

Please Don't Kill Her...Part 2 of 4
 
 
                              by tbishop27@aol.com
Disclaimer:  See part 1
 
 
 
 

"Hello."  He answered on the first ring, but his voice betrayed the
fact that only a moment ago he had been in a deep sleep.

"Sir, It's me Mulder."

Walter Skinner sat up immediately in bed and switched on the
nightstand lamp to help him wake up.  A glance at his alarm clock told
him it was just after 2:30 in the morning.  "What have you got?  Any
more word from Agent Scully's kidnapper?"

"Yes, Sir.  He just called me."

His agent sounded shaken.  "And?"

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line, then, "I know who
it is.  I know who has Scully."

"Who?" In all the years he'd known Fox Mulder, Skinner had never heard
such unmistakable fear as was now evident in the other man's voice.

"He was the prime suspect in an investigation Scully and I had the
misfortune of being assigned to a little over four years ago in New
Orleans.  A sicker more twisted bastard you'll never meet.  Not
outside of Hell anyway.  His were known as the Mardi Gras murders.
Over the span of fourteen years he committed 53 murders in and around
the city of New Orleans and the surrounding parishes during the weeks
directly preceding Fat Tuesday.  The victims were all women in there
twenties and thirties.

NOPD had requested the help of the Bureau because of the number of
homicides by a serial killer with, it appeared, some sort of Voodoo
fetish.  Black magic.  A definite X File.  Time to call in old spooky
Mulder.  So Scully and I got an all expense paid trip to the Big Easy.
Carnival time.  The murders were particularly gruesome.  The three
most recent bodies being found, just as the victims of past years had,
headless.  In each and every case the women had been sadistically
tortured in any number of unspeakable ways before being decapitated.
On each of their persons was found a ritualistic Voodoo doll, also
deprived of it's head.  Every one of them had been discovered in
public parks, out in the open, yet there were no witnesses.  Scully
and I made the rounds at the local Voodoo and black magic shops in the
French Quarter. The dolls were quite common, popular souvenirs with
the tourist crowd and widely available.  They were novelty items
produced to cash in on the city's number one revenue.  It was most
likely that our killer wasn't practicing occult rituals but instead
used the dolls to mark his victims.  A calling card of sorts.  Another
victim was found the day after we arrived.  The Times/Picayune ran the
story front page and NOPD was more than happy to get some of the heat
off their backs by letting it be known that there were feds on the
case.  Scully and I got our pictures in the paper and everything. So
now our killer had a new game.  One by one the victims' heads start
turning up along with little notes taunting me and Scully."

"I thought you said these murders took place over a 14 year time
span?"  Skinner grimaced.

"They did."  Mulder felt his stomach twist and threaten to revolt on
him at the memory.  "He'd been keeping their heads in his freezer."

"Fifty-four victims?  That must have been one hell of a big freezer."
The picture that came to Skinner's mind appalled him.

"That's exactly how we caught him.  We searched every cold storage
facility in the greater New Orleans area.  I guess you'd say we got
lucky, although I'm not sure I'd call it that.  We found the remaining
heads, wrapped in butcher paper and labeled with the date each murder
had occurred, at a place called Gulf States Fish Company, in the
little town of Slidell, Louisiana. It was a processing plant for the
local catfish farmers.  From there, it wasn't difficult to pinpoint
our killer.  The place was owned by a Mr. Jordan Thomas Hebert, J.T.
to his friends.  A search of Mr. Hebert's home turned up ample
evidence of his guilt.  Of course J.T. was long gone.  He was kind
enough however to leave behind a recorded message for the FBI agents
he gave the slip to.  Along with video tapes of the torture and murder
of each of his victims."

Skinner drew in a deep breath and let it out.  "And now this man has
Agent Scully?"

"Yeah.  He didn't identify himself to me but I could never forget that
laugh.  I watched some of his homemade horror flicks, documentaries of
his perversions.  I'll never be able to forget the sound of his laugh
as long as I live"

"So you talked to him.  What did he say?  What does he want?"

"He's toying with me.  He knows he has the upper hand.  And this guy
is a power freak.  He said I should be afraid for Scully.  And he said
he'd be in touch.  He's enjoying himself immensely at this point.
You've heard of being drunk with power.  Well, this son of a bitch is
fucking stoned out of his mind with it.  And I haven't the slightest
idea how to help Scully.  This guy scares me to death."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dana had fallen asleep.  She awoke with a start, suddenly overwhelmed
by the light flooding in around her.  Painful, bright, piercing light
assaulting her eyes as they struggled to compensate from the almost
total darkness they had known for so many hours now.  Squinting, she
made out the silhouette of a man towering above her in the open
doorway.  And then he plunged toward her reaching out and grabbing her
by the ropes that bound her ankles together. She was dragged from the
closet allowing her to see clearly for the first time who her abductor
was.  Before she could stop it, a horrified gasp escaped her, and
immediately she could see how much her fear pleased him. He fed off
it.  It sated him and strengthened him and gave him power.  A face
from the murky depths of her nightmares.  5'11".  190 pounds.  Dark
brown shoulder length hair pulled back in a ponytail.  Sharp, angular
facial features punctuated his deep, heavy set, brown eyes.  This man
had haunted her dreams for many months after that case in New Orleans.
 

All the twisted horrors he had inflicted upon his victims, playing out
over and over in her guilt-ridden subconscious while she slept.  He
got away.  The bastard had escaped capture.  She and Mulder had
failed.   It happened sometimes.  But this one was especially hard to
let go of.  Discovering through her autopsies the heinous tortures he
had inflicted upon those poor women, she wanted to make him pay for
his crimes.  She and Mulder had profiled him together. The picture
that had emerged of this man had sickened and frightened them both
more than either of them cared to admit.  She knew because she'd seen
her same desperation and dread reflected back in her partner's eyes.
Jordan Thomas Hebert, the devil's henchman himself.  And she was his
prisoner. Try as she might she couldn't mask her terror.  What
depravity this man was capable of horrorstruck her to the very core of
her being.  Please let this be just another bad dream.  Let me wake up
and he'll be gone.  Please don't let this be real.

Jordan delighted in the terrified look she gave him.  That's right,
darlin', it's old J.T. in the flesh.  You sure are a pretty little
piece... Look how scared she is, J.T. She knows how powerful you are.
 
She knows she's helpless all tied up like that.  Why there's no
tellin' what ya might do to her.  I am in control.  I control her.
She is mine.  Mine to do with as I please.  I have the power over her.
 
I am her God.  I will punish her for her sins. She has sinned against
me.  She will suffer for her transgressions.  She knows this.  She
knows her end is near.  " I see you remember my face, Agent Scully.
I'm pleased that you haven't forgotten old J.T. Hebert after all these
years.  I certainly haven't forgotten you and your partner, Agent
Mulder."

Scully swallowed hard and somehow found the courage to speak.  "What
do you want with me, Hebert?"  As if I don't know.

That hideous laugh.  A telling glimpse into the insanity of this man.
 
"Revenge, darlin', revenge.  And it will most certainly be sweet.
I've had quite awhile to plan how I intend to get even with you and
Agent Mulder for y'alls interference in my life.  For the trouble
y'all caused me.  I can't go back to my beloved home because of y'all.
I've been forced to live the last four years of my life as a fugitive.
My home, my childhood home, the very house where my dear Momma was
born, was confiscated by the state of Louisiana and sold at auction.
My business, my livelihood, closed down and sold to the highest bidder
because of y'all.  The good name and reputation of J.T. Hebert
destroyed by two nosey agents of the federal government of these
United States.  The injustice of it all boggles the mind.  I will
never get back what I had or who I was because of you and him.  Can
you imagine the depth of my hatred?  And now, at long last, I will
seek retribution.  You wall be penitent before me and your penance
will not be easy.  The punishment must fit the sins.  I am so going to
enjoy this, Miss Scully.  Lucky for me I discovered your secret.  You
and Agent Mulder have feelings for one another that go well beyond a
professional working relationship.  I noticed that he is particularly
protective of you, darlin'.  I've watched y'all for quite some time.
Neither of y'all seems to put much value in anything outside of your
work together.  How better to hurt you then to take y'all away from
each other?  And poor Agent Mulder, however will he deal with it when
he finds himself helpless to protect you?  I should say he is already
suffering a great deal because you are now in my possession.  And I
plan to see to it that he suffers quite a bit more before we're
through.  You too, darlin' " He winked at her.

"You sick son of a bitch."  Scully lashed out at him furious at his
delight in Mulder's anguish.

The back of his hand hit her hard across her right cheek.  "Don't you
be talkin'  bad 'bout my Momma."  His eyes flashed pure evil from
somewhere deep within.  Blasphemy!  I'm sorry, Momma.  She will suffer
for her evil.

As her cheek began to swell, Scully made a mental note to avoid any
future unfavorable remarks about this man's mother.  Damn it that
hurt!  Stupid, stupid...gotta keep your cool, Dana.  No reason to piss
this maniac off anymore than he already is.

He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head sharply to one side.
Evil, evil creature.  You are pure evil.  You must suffer.  He must
suffer.  "You hear me?"  His face was just inches from her own now.
His dark eyes betraying the insane mind within.

"Y-yes."  Oh God, he's losing it.  This is not good.  He's going to
kill me.  Think.  Think.  Remember the profile.  It's all about power
and control with him.  She felt tears welling up in her eyes.  Damn
it, Dana, don't cry!  Don't let him see that he has that much power
over you.  It'll turn him on too much.  Don't want that.  Keep him
level.  Keep him calm.  Don't provoke him.  Just keep your mouth shut.

He brutally jerked Scully to her feet by a fistful of red hair.  She
struggled to steady herself, to avoid pulling against him.  Hebert
glared at her for an uncomfortably long time as if he were trying to
decide something.  Scully wanted no part of those eyes.  She
concentrated her focus on a tiny scar that ran along the right side of
his jaw.  She tried to slow her breathing, to keep her fear in check.
 What's he thinking?  What will he do next?  Please, please, don't
kill me.  If Mulder were here he'd kick this guys ass.  Protective of
me?  Damn right he is!  And if he were here right now, you son of a
bitch, he'd take you down.  When he finally released her hair, Scully
managed to gather up enough courage to steal a glance into those eyes
again.  And then, out of nowhere, he hit her across the mouth knocking
her down with the force of his blow.  She slammed hard onto the floor,
unable to protect herself from the impact.  The salty taste of blood
filling her mouth.  Before she could recover, he leaned over Scully
and cuffed her twice more.  Then he dragged her back into the closet
and slammed the door.

She was grateful.  Grateful for the darkness.  Grateful to be away
from the monster.  She spit out a mouthful of blood.  All ready her
right eye was beginning to swell and it hurt like hell.  Her lip felt
no better.  The fall she had taken had resulted in a nasty bruise
across her left shoulder.  It wasn't dislocated though.  She was
grateful for that too.  Of course, Scully knew that if  help didn't
arrive soon, he would kill her in one of those horrible ways that he
had killed his other victims.  She knew enough about this man to know
that was exactly what he intended to do with her.  This time she
couldn't hold back the tears or stop her body from trembling as she
lay there on the cold floor.  I must have been crazy to join the FBI.
 Dana, you're a deeply disturbed woman.  You gave up a career in
medicine to play out some deranged fantasy of being a federal agent
and hunting down the bad guys.  Maybe I should profile myself.  I
flirt with death for a living.  I take the beatings and the abuse that
are a part of my line of work like the good little masochist that I
am.  I eat, sleep and breathe X Files cases to the exclusion of any
kind of normal social life.  I don't have any friends. My family
thinks I've completely lost my mind.  Maybe I have.  Why else would I
do this to myself?  Why?  There's got to be some reason why I stay
with the Bureau and put my life on the line day after day, putting up
with all the crap and abuse?  Some reason...  Mulder.  God damn Fox
Mulder, that's the reason.  I hate that I need him so much.  I hate
that our love for each other is so obvious to anyone who sees us
together.  Obvious, yet we dance around it, avoid it, deny it, refuse
ourselves the consummation we both ache for. His personal quest has
become my obsession as well.  The X Files.  Hell of a life's work.
Maybe it's because everyone is always against us that we cling so
desperately to one another.  Somewhere along the line Mulder became
the most important person in my life. Sometimes he looks at me with
such intensity that I know he's making love to me with his eyes.
Spooky Mulder. They call me spooky now too.  Maybe we are.  Mr. and
Mrs. Spooky?  I can live with that.  I kind of like it in fact.  It's
not like we haven't earned the reputation.  Some of our case reports
could put Stephen King to shame.  It isn't work for the faint of
heart.  My dedication to the X Files and my devotion to Mulder will be
the death of me, I know that.  And I can accept that.  I just hope
Mulder can.  She thought about the affect her death would have on him.
 His childhood had left him with some pretty deep scars.  Her death
would reopen those old wounds.  He'd find a way to blame himself.  He
always did.  This bothered her to think that when he would need her
most she wouldn't be there for him.  Jeez, Dana, he's a grown man with
the guts to take on the entire world, if need be, to prove his
conspiracy theory. Yeah, but can he do it alone?  Stop it!  Stop!  I'm
not dead yet.  I can't give up hope.  I know Mulder is trying to find
me.  I have to believe that he will. And if I can, I have to find a
way to help him find me.  I have to find a way to stay alive until he
gets here.  Mulder will find me.  I have to believe that.  She
continued the mental pep talk and tried not to think about how badly
her injuries were beginning to hurt.

Sometime later the door opened again.  Hebert came close to her and
pulled on her arm.  "Sit up!" he commanded and she complied.  "Now
look up at me."

She did but she braced herself for what might happen.  He had a
Polaroid camera aimed at her and he flashed off two quick shots.  Then
he left her again without another word.  He didn't have to say
anything.  She knew.  Those photos were for Mulder.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mulder sat on his couch and stared out the window as the soft, pink
light of dawn grew brighter with each passing second.  He sat in
silence.  He thought about Scully.  He thought about Jordan Hebert.

He thought about what he was going to say to Mrs. Scully if, God
forbid, he wasn't able to rescue his partner from this maniac who'd
taken her.  The thought made him wince.  Jesus, no.  I have to get
Scully back.  I have to find her somehow.  God, I wish now I hadn't
watched those tapes.  Watched what he did to the others. Scully must
be terrified.  She watched too.  She knows what he's capable of.  If
he hurts her I'll hunt him down and make sure that son of a bitch dies
the most unnatural and hideously painful death imaginable.  What I'll
do to him will make his crimes look like child's play.  Call again,
damn you!  I can't stand this waiting game.
 

By 9 am Mulder couldn't take the waiting anymore.  He decided to head
in to the office just for something to do.  He almost didn't see the
envelope with his name on it that had been left at his front door.  It
was only because his foot kicked it, that he happened to look down at
all.  Picking it up, Mulder went back inside.  He waited until he was
sitting on the couch before he let himself open it.  His hands were
shaking so much that he tore the envelope in half and the photos fell
to the floor.  He gasped as he retrieved them and saw Scully's
battered face looking back at him.  Oh, Scully.  Look what he's done
to you. Tears stung his eyes.  Anger and frustration raged inside him
to the point where he didn't know if he could contain it any longer.
He closed his eyes and chewed on his lower lip waiting for the feeling
to pass.  It didn't.  He jumped up from the couch and shouted, "Fuck!"
 He kicked over the coffee table.  "God damn you, Hebert!"
 

After staring at the photos of Scully most of the morning, Mulder was
numb. Visions from those tapes he'd watched kept popping into his
head.  Only now it was Scully that he saw being tortured.  It was
Scully's screams he imagined he heard.  It was her begging Hebert for
mercy.  It was Scully that he watched die each time another one of
those sickening tapes played back in his mind.  He felt completely
powerless.  Hebert had all the power. Too God damn much power.  And he
was using that power to hurt the one person Mulder couldn't bear to
see hurt.  Please don't kill her, Hebert.  Please don't kill
her...please.  Not Scully.  Please don't kill her...
 

At noon he realized it had only been 24 hours since she had been
taken. The longest 24 hours of his life.  He was contemplating whether
or not he had made the right choice in deciding not to tell Scully's
mother yet that her daughter had been kidnapped, when the phone rang,
startling him out of his thoughts.

He grabbed the phone.  "Mulder."

"Did you get the photos?"  J.T. taunted him.

The mantra he'd been chanting inside his head came tumbling out of him
before he could stop it.

"Please don't kill her, Hebert."

It was the voice of a desperate and powerless man and it made Mulder
sick to his stomach.  You fucking idiot!  Don't feed his power
obsession.  That'll only make him more dangerous.  Get a grip on
yourself.

That laugh again.  "D.C. Cold Storage.  Locker twenty-three."  Click.

"No!"  Mulder screamed into the phone too late for Hebert to hear.
"You son of a bitch!  No!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

D.C. Cold Storage was clear across town from Mulder's apartment.  He
didn't remember looking up the address in the phone book.  He didn't
have any memory of the drive there.  He didn't remember calling
Skinner.  But suddenly he was standing in front of the place and
Skinner's car was pulling up next to his.  The A.D. got out of his
vehicle and hurried over to where Mulder stood staring at the
building, paralyzed with fear.

"I got here as quickly as I could.  Have you been inside?"

"I can't.  I can't move." He was covered with a cold sweat.

Skinner sighed, resigned to the task.  "It's okay.  I'll go in."

"No!"  The look on Mulder's face was pure agony.  "She's my partner.
I have to...I can do this!"

Skinner nodded his understanding.  "I'll go with you."

It wasn't easy but Mulder finally managed to will himself to move.
Skinner followed as he made his way into the building and down the
long concrete and steel corridor, until they came to the door marked
number twenty-three.  There wasn't any padlock.  Swallowing hard over
the lump in his throat, Mulder slid the latch and opened the door.
What he saw hit him like a jolt of electricity.  He staggered forward
two steps then dropped to his knees before the package.  It looked
just like all the others he'd seen in that ice house in Slidell.  It
was even dated.  Today's date.  Mulder stared at the thing rocking
back and forth on his knees.  "Please no...please no...please no...Oh
God, please...please no."  He had to do it.  His stomach was in his
throat as his trembling hands made contact with the package.  He shut
his eyes for just a second and prayed.  God, please don't let this be
Scully.  Then he bit down hard on his bottom lip and slid his hand
under one of the flaps of the white butcher paper lifting it up and
popping the tape that held it.  He rolled the package slowly over,
opening it until...Oh God!  A shocked cry escaped his gaping mouth.

Mulder struggled to his feet and stumbled past Skinner who stood
pale-faced in the doorway.  With Mulder no longer blocking him from
seeing the package, the A.D. got  his first glimpse at what had sent
his agent reeling out of the locker.
 
 

End of part
 

Send feedback to tbishop27@aol.com      (Flames will be forwarded to
that dark part of my writer's imagination that roams the night in
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Please Don't Kill Her   Part 3 of 4
     by tbishop27@aol.com
Disclaimer:  See Part 1
 
 
 
 

Even matted with dried blood that flaming red hair was unmistakably
Dana Scully's.  Skinner could hear Fox Mulder throwing up out in the
hallway. It was all he could do not to join him.
 

He wretched and gagged until it hurt.  His stomach was already empty.
The last thing Mulder had consumed was a cup of coffee yesterday
morning.

Scully!  Oh Jesus!  Scully!  I'm so sorry..  I'll never forgive myself
for letting this happen to you.  I failed you.  I failed.  Oh
Jesus...Oh God....  You can't be dead.  You can't.  You can't be gone.
 Please, God, give her back to me and I promise I'll never fail her
again.  Scully!  I can't do this...I can't do this without you.
Mulder sat down with his back to the wall, drew his knees up close
against his chest and hugged them.  The sobs came from somewhere deep
inside.  From the place where his soul had once been.  It was gone now
of course.  It died with Scully.  All that was left of him was a body
to hold his pain and sadness, a vessel for his guilt.  The thing he'd
feared most had come true.  He hadn't been able to save her. She was
gone.  In his anguish, he could not escape the images now flooding his
mind of the many victims of Jordan Thomas Hebert.  The unrelenting
sadistic persecution and brutal physical torment those women knew in
their final hours of life was difficult enough to have witnessed but
now to know that Scully had endured a similar horror....How was he
supposed to live with that? What grievous hell had she suffered,
frightened beyond reason, at the hands of that psychotic butcher?
Scully.  I'm so...so sorry.  I swear to you I will hunt him down and
....

". . . . Mulder.  Did you hear me, Agent Mulder?"

What?  What's Skinner saying?  Can't the man just leave me
alone...Just go away and let me die right here.

"It's not her, Mulder.  Do you hear me?"

"What?" Did he just say what I thought he said?

"Her kidnapper's playing games with you.  That isn't Scully in there.
Right hair, wrong face."

Even though he knew Skinner wasn't lying to him,  Mulder had to see
this miracle for himself.  He got to his feet and went back into the
locker.  Skinner had completely unwrapped the head.  Sure enough, the
face there did not belong to his Scully.  You murdering bastard!  Is
this your warped idea of a joke?  Who is this poor woman whose life
you took just to keep your little game going with me?  I've had enough
of this.  I'm going to find you and take you down once and for all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
 

Scully was exhausted.  She was hungry and thirsty and the pain from
her over full bladder had become increasingly hard to ignore.  She
didn't know how long it had been since Hebert had taken the photos of
her, but It felt like quite a few hours had passed.  When he did
finally come around and open the door again, Dana surprised herself by
speaking first.  "I need to go to the bathroom.  I have to.  I can't
wait anymore."

And then she got another surprise.  "All right."

He took out a big hunting knife from the sheath at his hip.  For one
horrible moment Scully thought he was going to kill her right then and
there.  Hail Mary, full of grace...  But instead he bent down and cut
loose the ropes that held her legs.

"Stand up."

He didn't need to say it twice.  Scully scrambled to her feet.

"This way."

He lead her out into the room where he had beaten her.  This time she
took more notice of her surroundings.  This was a living room or a
family room of some kind.  There was a couch and some end tables and a
wing back chair. In one corner of the room a camcorder mounted on a
tripod stood facing a wooden dining type armchair.  The thought of why
it might be there sickened her. As he led her through the room she
also noticed her badge, her purse and her cell phone sitting off to
one side, on one of the end tables next to the couch.  Her gun, she
noted as they passed through the kitchen, was on the table right next
to...Okay, Dana, you had better start thinking of a way out of this.
One guess who that's for...  a black and white Voodoo. Same as the
ones he'd marked his victims with before, except this one had yet to
undergo decapitation.  Scully forced herself to continue on as if she
hadn't noticed   Soon they came to a door that opened under the
stairs.

"It's in there."  He told her impatiently.

She looked at him pleading.  "Can I have my hands back for a couple of
minutes?"

He thought for just a second then grabbed her roughly by the arm and
twisted her around.  A quick slash of that razor sharp knife and her
hands were free.  "Try anything, darlin', and I'll show you what else
I know how to do with this knife."  he whispered into her ear.  Then
he gave her a hard shove forward.

Scully went into the small, windowless powder room and closed the
door.  Relief at last.  Now I can concentrate on figuring a way out of
this.

Obviously I'm not going to overpower him.  I doubt he'd let me get
anywhere near my gun.  Now my cell phone...if I could manage to get
over by the couch.  Mulder's just one button away.  No.  I haven't
heard it ring since I've been here.  He must have turned it off.  Damn
it!  That's going to make it a lot harder.  But I have to try.

"Hurry up in there!"  He pounded on the door.

"Coming!"  She flushed the toilet and glanced in the mirror as she
fixed her clothing.  Don't you look pretty, Dana.  I'm sorry I looked.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mulder was sitting on the passenger side of Skinner's car, his feet
still on the ground outside the open door.  The A.D. had called in his
people to take care of the remains they'd found in the locker.  A team
was going over the place for evidence.  Questioning the attendant only
confirmed what they already knew.  They were dealing with Jordan
Hebert.  Mulder rested his elbows on his knees and pressed the palms
of both hands against his tired eyes.  The stress of the last day and
a half had turned his body against him.  There wasn't a place that he
didn't ache.  Hebert certainly is a master. I wonder how much more he
has in store for me?  What am I saying?  Can you be anymore
self-absorbed, Mulder?  What kind of a selfish bastard am I?  What I'm
going through is inconsequential.  Scully's with HIM.  The devil.  At
the mercy of a man incapable of such higher psycho-social functioning.
 God knows what she must be going through.  And I'm worrying about my
own suffering?  Nice, Mulder, real nice.  How does she put up with me?

The sound of dress shoes on asphalt.  Mulder looked up to see Skinner
standing there.

"You look like hell, Agent."  Not that you don't have every right to.

"You should see the view from the inside."

"I reviewed the case file on this guy, Hebert, last night.  You said
he scares you.  Now I know why."

Mulder pulled the photos of Scully from his shirt pocket and offered
them to Skinner.  "I found these waiting for me by my door this
morning."

The A.D. winced as he looked at the subject in those photos.  He drew
in a deep breath and held it for a moment.  And then he let it out in
one big huff of despair.  He started to say something then Mulder's
cell phone rang and the thought was lost.

Heart racing, he press the phone to his ear.  "Mulder."

No reply.

He could hear something in the background though.  A conversation.  A
man talking.  Was that Hebert?  A second later he heard a voice he
knew better than his own.  Scully!  'I'm not doing anything.  I'm just
sitting here.' He heard her say.  He mouthed 'Trace it' to Skinner as
he strained to hear the dialog on the other end of the line.  The
man's voice grew louder.  It was Hebert all right.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Scully couldn't believe her luck.  After leading her back into the
living room, Hebert had actually shoved her down onto the sofa, only
inches from her cell phone, and told her to stay there as he busied
himself with his video camera.  While he was looking through the view
finder, she took advantage of his momentary distraction and snatched
up the phone, hiding it under one of the throw pillows beside her.
Eyes never leaving the man who stood only a few feet away, she slowly
ran her fingers over the buttons she knew by heart.  That one!  That
one turns it on.  She pushed it down deep into the sofa cushion as she
activated the device.  All the while praying he wouldn't hear the tone
as the apparatus came to life.  He didn't.  Thank you, God.  Next she
found the first speed dial button.  It was programed to Mulder's cell
phone number.  She pushed it and then prayed he would answer.  That
was all she could do.  She replaced the phone back on the table before
he could miss it.  She was suddenly sure that he saw what she'd done.

"What are you doin' over there?"  He glared at her.

"I'm not doing anything.  I'm just sitting here."  She swallowed hard.
Shit, he's looking at the phone.  I need to buy time here.  If, by
some miracle, Mulder's tracing this call right now, I have to make
sure he has enough time for a complete trace.  "What is it you're
doing exactly?"

"Just getting the camera ready.  We're gonna make a little home movie
for your partner, Agent Mulder.  You wouldn't want him to miss all the
fun, would ya, sugar?"

"You're just having way too much fun, aren't you, Hebert?"

"I am.  I truly am.  I only wish I had been able to see the look on
poor Agent Mulder's face when he unwrapped that the package I left for
him.  She weren't near as pretty as you, Miss Scully, but I do believe
I captured your exact shade of red.  I bet that partner of yours went
nearly outta his pretty boy mind before he realized J.T. was just a
havin' fun with him."

"You didn't?"  God, she hated this man.  She really hated him.  It
took all her strength of will not to leap up off the couch at that
moment and attack him.

"I did."  He smiled that purely evil smile of his.

"Oh, my God.  Poor Mulder."  She felt sick at the thought of what this
man had put her partner through.

"Poor you.  This time I won't be a pullin' his leg."  He came closer.
"It's time, darlin'.  Time for your atonement.  And don't you worry
none.  You're in the hands of an expert.  Nothin' but the best for
you, Agent Scully.
 
Shall we begin?"

Oh, Mulder, if you're hearing any of this please hurry.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Faster!"  Mulder had been listening intently to the conversation
taking place on the other end of the line while Skinner drove, as fast
as he could manage in D.C. traffic, toward the location the trace had
pinpointed.

"I'm going as fast as I can."

"You have to go faster!"  Scully needed him now.  He'd been given his
miracle back at the cold storage locker.  Scully had been given back
to him and now he had to keep his part of the deal.  He couldn't fail
her.  He'd promised never to fail her again.  It was a promise he
intended to keep.  He couldn't make out what was being said anymore.
The voices were too far away.  But then he heard Scully cry out in
pain.  She screamed a horrendous out of control sound that made him
drop the phone and not want to pick it up again.  He covered his ears
and rested his head on the dash.  I can't...I can't bear to listen.  I
can't stand to hear him torture her.

"What is it?  What happened?"  Skinner demanded not really wanting to
hear the answer.

"He's torturing her." He anguished.  "He's killing her."

"It's not much further, Mulder.  About another six blocks."

"Hurry.  Please hurry."  He said it with almost no voice at all.  On
the seat beside him he could still hear Scully's screams over the
discarded cell phone.  Please don't kill her...
 
 
 
 
 
 

End of Part 3
 
 

Send feedback to tbishop27@aol.com     (Flames will be forwarded to
that
dark
part of my writer's imagination that roams the night in search of
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Please Don't Kill Her    Part 4 of 4
     by tbishop27@aol.com
Disclaimer:  See part 1
 
 
 
 
 

He tied her into the armchair that he'd brought in from the kitchen.
Binding her wrists tightly to each arm with duct tape.  He felt the
thrill of what was about to come coursing through him.  He trembled
with anticipation. The smell of the tape as he tore it with his teeth
reminding him of the others. Reminding him of the power.  He continued
his work, taping her around her forearms just before the elbow joints,
making it impossible for her to move either appendage even a fraction
of an inch.  He wanted her completely helpless.  As he tied her with a
rope around her waist, fastening her securely to the chair, he glanced
up into her face and a surge of sexual pleasure took him as he
witnessed the fear in her eyes.  It had been so long.  He'd denied
himself any of the usual pleasures with that last one.  Her death had
only been a tool in his revenge against Agent Mulder.  What a pity it
had been to waste her like that, but he hadn't had the time to linger
over the details of her death.  This woman sitting before him would
soon give him back that ecstasy he'd lived without for all these
years.  He moaned with delectation, relishing the control as he taped
each of her legs along the full length of the corresponding front legs
of the chair.  She was trapped. She was his.  His breathing had become
ragged as the anticipation of the fulfillment of his desires grew.
Slowly he ran a tremulous hand over her bound calf and up the inside
of her silky thigh, stopping just under the line of her formfitting
black skirt.  He looked up at her, and a gratified smile crossed his
lips.  Easy J.T.  All in good time.  Don't want her partner to miss
any of the fun.  Can't forget about Agent Mulder.  His contrition
isn't complete yet.  They are both under my control.  The thought
aroused him more than the press of warm flesh under his sweaty palm.
The need to punish and inflict his will had swelled in him,
threatening to spill out in a violent rage.  They must be punished.  I
want to hear her scream.  I want total control over her.  When she is
screaming I'll know that I control her body and mind...and when I kill
her, her soul will be mine too.

Scully breathed a sigh of relief when he finally left her and turned
his attention to his camera.  The obvious erotic satisfaction Jordan
Hebert had derived from tying her to the chair had brought back vivid
and disquieting memories of the tapes.  Her mouth was dry and she
found it very difficult to swallow.  She'd been afraid many times in
her life but never like this.  Hebert had a way of terrorizing his
victims by rendering them completely helpless to his madness.  Her
fear was intensified by the knowledge of the acts she had witnessed
him commit, and heightened by the dread of yet to be revealed evil
lurking within him.  Hebert loomed in front of the camera saying a few
things for Mulder's benefit.  Scully's heart was pounding so loudly in
her ears that she missed most of his speech.  Come on, Mulder!  Time
for one of those 'just in the nick of time' rescues of yours.  I'm
counting on you, partner.  Don't let me down.  Hebert came toward her.
 Anytime now, Mulder!  Damn it, where are you?  Get me the hell out of
here.
Now!

The mad man knelt before her.  He took one of her small hands and
sandwiched it between both of his, stroking it gently as his enraged
eyes bore into her.  A cold chill ran up the length of her arm and
down her spine causing Scully to shiver.  Her breathing quickened
until it could only be described as panting.  She fought the urge to
scream.  His touch was unnerving her, making her flesh crawl.  Oh God,
what if Mulder's not coming?

"You have beautiful hands, Miss Scully.  Very delicate.  Very
fragile." With one of his fingers he traced along the outline of her
hand, up and down each of her fingers, lingering an agonizingly long
time for effect. Never once letting his maniacal gaze stray from her
face.  He fed off the fear he saw there.  "Why I bet the tiny bones in
those finger would snap in two without much effort at all.  Of course,
I imagine the pain would be quite excruciating.  Shall we see if I'm
right?"  He raised a brow taunting her.

Tears ran unabated down her pale cheeks.  She no longer had the
ability to control them.  It was over.  There wasn't anything she
could do.  "Please...Jordan...J.T, don't do this.  You don't really
want to...ahhh!"  Damn you!  Shit, that hurts!  But he didn't stop at
one.  She cried out again as the stabbing pain of breaking bone ran
through the nerves of her body up to the pain center in her brain.
"You bastard!  Ahh!  Ahh!"  The pain was overwhelming now and still he
refused to stop.  To give her even a moments rest.  One by one he
twisted her fingers in unnatural ways until they popped or snapped
under his relentless pressure.  She screamed until the sound of her
own screaming seamed distant and unrecognizable.  She was lost in the
pain.  Unable to see or even think beyond her agony.  Sweat ran from
her forehead and mixed with her flowing tears soaking her face and
neck.  Coherent thoughts were impossible.  He'd taken every ounce of
her control for his own.  Her mind screamed one cognition over and
over in desperation.  Stop...Stop...Stop!!!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Even before Skinner had stopped the car Mulder was out and running,
gun in hand, up the walk to the large colonial.  Without a seconds
hesitation he kicked in the front door.  From somewhere at the back of
the house, he could hear Scully screaming.  "Hebert!" he yelled out
challenging the man to come after him as he moved throughout the
house.  "I'm going to kill you, you sadistic son of a bitch!  Do you
hear me, Hebert?!"  He was in the kitchen now.  He couldn't hear the
screaming anymore, but Mulder knew he was close. He saw Scully's gun
on the kitchen table.  And a vivid reminder of the New Orleans
homicide victims lay beside it.  A Voodoo doll.  His furor and
determination intensified beyond rationality.  He crossed the room
stopping for just a second in the kitchen doorway to listen.  The
muffled sobs that he heard coming from the other side set him into
action again.  Without any thought given to his own preservation, he
pushed through the door and leveled his Sig at the face of Jordan
Thomas Hebert.

Scully had become a shield now for her assailant.  His hunting knife
resting against her throat.  The other hand cupped over her mouth to
silence her.

"Get away from her, Hebert!"  Mulder warned.  Scully's desperate eyes
sought comfort from her partner.  Mulder gave her the best reassuring
look he could at that moment, but he had to concentrate on the man
with the knife.  The man he'd come to kill.

"Agent Mulder, are you part blood hound?" Damn it all to hell.  How'd
this man find him?  He would not be denied the retribution he so
rightly deserved.

"Spooky, isn't it?  Smiling at the private joke, he exchanged knowing
glances with his partner. "Now get away from Agent Scully."

"I don't think so." I'm still in control here.  I want my revenge.  I
have the power to take it.  To take her from you forever. " If the
last thing I ever see in this world is the horror on your face as my
knife slices open your partner's throat before your very eyes, then I
will indeed die a happy man."

Skinner was coming up behind Hebert.  He'd entered through the back
door and was making his way along the hallway, his weapon already
trained on the man holding his agent hostage.

"Put the knife down.  Now!" Mulder yelled.  No matter what you do I'm
going to kill you for the look on her face right now.  I don't give a
fuck if Skinner is here to see me do it.  You're not going to take her
from me.  I won't let you.

"Agent Mulder, I'm no fool.  I know I don't stand a snow ball's chance
in Hades of  gettin' away this time.  There's an electric chair
waiting for me in Angola.  I got nothin' to lose.  I promised this
little darlin' my best attentions.  And y'all know J.T. Hebert don't
like to disappoint the ladies."  He pressed the knife into Scully's
flesh until it hurt.  "Judgment Day is at hand, little darlin'."  And
then he whispered in her ear, "Are you ready to die, Miss Scully?"

Mulder didn't have a clean shot.  And Skinner indicated that he didn't
either.  They were out of time.  Mulder's frantic eyes locked onto his
partner's.  A thousand unspoken thoughts passed between them in that
instant.

 He saw her faith in him shining out of those pools of crystal blue.
He felt her complete trust.  She was urging him to trust himself.  No,
Scully. What if I miss?  'You can do this' she told him wordlessly.
And then, ignoring the burn of the blade as it sliced into the soft
skin of her neck, Scully moved her head just a fraction to the left
and Mulder fired half a clip off into a target only millimeters from
his partner's brain.  Hebert slumped to the floor behind Scully, his
knife falling harmlessly onto her lap.

"Jesus, Mulder!"  Skinner came running into the room.  I can't believe
he took that shot.  "Are you all right, Agent Scully?"

She nodded, though she was far from all right at that moment.

A quick glance behind the chair brought a grimace to Skinner's face.
This man wasn't going to die in any electric chair.  Agent Mulder's
Sig made damn sure of that.  It looked like a small explosive device
had gone off inside his head.  Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.
 You got what you deserved, asshole.  Only wish I'd had a clean shot
at you myself.
 
 

While the A.D. made all the necessary calls, Mulder freed his partner
from her restraints, being extra careful of her injuries.  Scully
hadn't spoken a word yet.  She just waited in silence for Mulder to
finish his task.  When he was done, he helped her to her feet and ever
so carefully wrapped his arms around her, holding her close against
him.  She leaned into him and felt the heat that radiated out through
the thin fabric of his dress shirt She shut her eyes and took great
comfort in the sound of his heart beating loud and a little too fast
in his chest.  She breathed in his scent, that mix of spicy cologne,
laundered shirts and fear, that was uniquely Mulder.  It calmed and
aroused her simultaneously.  She loved the way her body responded to
his touch.  What a tragedy it would be if she couldn't know this
feeling anymore.  And then she experienced one of those rare moments
of pure clarity of thought and understanding.  "I just realized
something, Mulder."  She told him.  "I wasn't afraid of dying so much
as I was afraid of never seeing you again."

Mulder kissed the top of her head.  "I was afraid of you dying." He
said softly into her hair.  Then he held her like that for a long
time.  He needed to.

The immediate danger gone.  The monster dead.  This nightmare was over
for both of them, but the memory of it would haunt their sleep for a
long time to come.  It was a price they were willing to pay as long as
they remained together always.
 

 
The
End
 

Yeah, the ending is shippy but I couldn't resist.  It's a curse of my
hopelessly romantic heart.  And besides, after all I put them through,
they
deserved some reward for their suffering.

Send feedback to tbishop27@aol.com    (Flames will be forwarded to
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part of my writer's imagination that roams the night in search of
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