From: Gerry Hill Date: 13 Jul 2007 18:12:04 -0700 Subject: xfc: "To Die in South Dakota" by Gerry Hill (New, rated R) Source: atxc WRITTEN: June 10, 2002 FINALIZED: June 10, 2007 TITLE: TO DIE IN SOUTH DAKOTA AUTHOR: Gerry Hill E-MAIL ADDRESS: fox42@ix.netcom.com DISCLAIMER: This story is based on the characters and situations created by Chris Carter, the Fox Network and Ten Thirteen Productions. As such, the characters named are the property of those entities and are used without permission, although no copyright infringements are intended. The following work is for the distribution and entertainment of fanfic readers only. Any further distribution of this work without the author's consent is in violation of federal law. SPOILER WARNING: Fight the Future. Also, this story takes place long before Requiem. RATING: R (Violence and some nudity) CLASSIFICATION: XA KEYWORDS: M/S UST DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere is fine. THANKS: Ten, Macspooky, Jo-Ann, Nikki, and Helen wrestled this story from rudimentary bits to a semi- complete draft stage. It must have felt like pulling teeth to them, at times. :-) I'm extremely grateful to them all. But then I let my fic languish for years, having lost creative inspiration. But Tamra Walthall (http://X- Files.bytewright.com/) talked me into asking Mimic, one of the best XF fanfic writers, to beta the story, in hopes I'd finally finish and post it. Well, it worked. Mimic immediately saw what was needed to get me jump-started. With her suggestions, I was finally able to re-tackle and complete the thing. (I may have left behind a stray cobweb or two - please try to ignore it). You are all sweethearts for the patience and time you spent with this project. Thank you. SUMMARY: Mulder to the rescue. WARNING: (Inspired by Mimic). Extremely graphic and/or disturbing content. Definitely not for the squeamish. Don't come crying to me if you still read it and it makes you sick. It also puts children in an abusive setting. Did I ever claim to be nice? :-) *************************** TO DIE IN SOUTH DAKOTA by Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com) Travelers' Rest A motel near Barnard, South Dakota April 26, 2001 8:49 PM Special Agent Fox Mulder entered his motel room, not taking any notice of its dark, stale environment. Dana Scully apparently didn't feel the same way. Following behind him, she immediately flicked the light switch on the wall and opened the window a few inches. Scully had wearily agreed to meet with her partner, although her heart wasn't in any more case discussion that night. She wanted to head for her own room and have a good soak in the tub to soothe away the tiredness of the long day. Besides, Mulder had developed a dislike for their motel, and she couldn't see the problem. He shrugged out of his suit coat and tossed it in the direction of a chair, managing to hit his target for a change. He turned to her as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. "There's something wrong here, Scully. I don't care how sweet those little kids are, or how high the 'Barnyard Express' brochure rated the motel's restaurant..." "It's 'Barnard.' Not 'Barnyard.' And you picked this motel; I didn't." "Whatever. I'm telling you, Scully, people who run a place like this, who smile *all* the time, are not normal. And their kids creep me out big time. The boy is always peeking around corners and scaring the hell out of me, and the girl was sitting in the dark in my room, for God's sake, when we got back from the sheriff's meeting." Scully put her hands on her hips as she watched him flop onto his back on the bed. "I'm hearing this from someone who has fearlessly faced all kinds of horrible monsters and mutants in his career?" He made a 'what can I say' gesture with his hands and then tucked them behind his head. "They're only little kids, Mulder. The girl is about four and she was just playing. She didn't touch your suitcase or other belongings, did she? "Well...not that I could tell, no." He wiggled his hips experimentally to see if the lump in the mattress that poked his spine would go away. It didn't. "Okay, then. You see things that aren't there sometimes." He sat up. "Are you calling me paranoid?" Scully's eyebrow arched upward. "If the shoe fits..." "Humpf. It's going to be a cold day in hell before I'll buy you a meal again." Incredulously, she said, "A hamburger. A cold, greasy hamburger from the hole-in-the-wall caf next door to the sheriff's office. I hardly call that buying me a meal. Which reminds me, I expect to eat in the motel's dining room tomorrow night. The food really has been getting rave reviews since it opened under new management four months ago, according to the sheriff." Looking unimpressed, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and muttered, "Fine. It'll be on you, though, since per diem won't cover it." "What? Okay, that's it. You're obviously being contrary for the hell of it, so I'm going to do some work on my laptop and then take a bath and get to bed early. Enjoy your own company." The connecting door closed firmly as Scully left. Mulder soon decided that pouting had no effect on the empty room, so he sighed, got to his feet, and began shedding clothes on his way to the shower. 1:21 AM Thud. Thunk. Scrape. The noise penetrated his brain like a pesky mosquito. Mulder had fallen into a light doze as he watched some boring travelogue about Bali. He thought there'd be half- naked women running around, but from the looks of the show, you'd think Bali had been towed to Finland. Everyone wore clothes that covered them from their ankles to their earlobes, and some even had hats shading their faces. He listened carefully to see if the sounds would repeat, but it was dead silent once the television had been muted. He figured he had been dreaming, or maybe the Balinese were noisily building a condo. Just in case, however, he went over to the connecting door and tapped softly, whispering, "Scully." No answer. Well, she had probably been asleep for hours now. He'd lose his head for sure if he woke her up for no reason. He tried the doorknob and it turned easily. Pushing the door open a crack, he peeked inside, but it was so dark he couldn't see anything. Growing bolder, he let the door swing open a little more. Using the shaft of light from his own room, he could see that there was a Scully-sized lump in the bed, apparently deep in sleep, since the lump didn't budge. Not daring to go any further for fear she'd waken, he closed the door again and went back to his own bed to try and get some sleep. He left the television on to keep him company. ****************** 7:20 AM "Scully! If you want breakfast before leaving, you'd better shake a leg!" She hadn't responded to his earlier tap at her door, and now he was definitely worried. She was always up in time when they were working in the field on a case. Was she sick? He called out, "I'm coming in," and did just that. The same lump was in the bed, but in the full light of day he could see that it wasn't Scully. The pillows and blankets had been pushed into a mound, whether by accident or design, he couldn't say. His expression didn't change, but it felt like a fist was squeezing his chest. Mulder quickly checked the bathroom and closet. Empty. Not only was there no Scully, but all her belongings were gone, as well. What the hell? A quick glance out the window told him that the rental car was still where he had parked it the evening before. He stood in the center of the room, mentally scratching his head. He couldn't wrap his mind around this situation. He was fast approaching the frantic stage. He didn't want to believe she'd walk out on him without saying a word, especially in the middle of a case, but the alternative was even worse. Desperate for clues, he gave the bedding a closer look and found a dried smear of blood on the edge, next to the pillow. His legs felt wobbly and he had to sit down in the nearby chair. Wasting no more time, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and made a call. "Sheriff Gaines." "Sheriff? This is Agent Mulder. My partner has been kidnapped. I need a forensics unit over here at the motel, room 44. I'll be waiting." He hung up, ignoring a barrage of questions, since there was no way he could have answered any of them. What if her cancer had come back and the blood was from a nosebleed? But why would she pack up and leave, if that was the case? No, some third party had been the cause of her disappearance. The realization hit him that his partner may have been attacked, hurt, and unwillingly dragged from her room early that morning while he had been lying a few feet away. He suddenly found it hard to breathe. Needing to move, he got to his feet and hurried outside into the bright sunshine. The sheriff would help canvas the area when he arrived, but meanwhile, maybe Mulder could find someone who had seen Scully before the trail grew too cold. He decided to check with the people who had the room on the other side of his partner's first, but repeated knocking failed to raise anyone. If the room had been rented out the night before, then the occupants had either gone somewhere or they had already checked out. As he approached the office, he could see one of the owners through the plate glass window. Her ash-blond hair hung over her face while she wrote something in what looked like a ledger that lay open on the counter. She looked up with that maddeningly ever-present smile on her face and chirpily said, "Good morning!" as Mulder walked in. Not in the mood for pleasantries, he simply asked, "Have you seen my partner since last night? Agent Dana Scully, red hair, early thirties, petite?" "Why, no," she happily replied. "I'll be glad to tell her that you're looking for her if she should come by." "What about your husband? Can we ask him if he saw her?" Mulder looked toward the closed door that led to the interior of the building where the owners lived. "Oh, he drove down to his brother's place in Mina yesterday afternoon and won't be back until lunchtime." Mulder nodded, looking absently out the window, mind churning over the fact that violence was a part of his and Scully's jobs, and if he considered the law of averages...What if their luck had finally run out? He instantly rejected that thought. It simply wasn't a possibility. He'd find her and she'd be alive. She had to be. Sounding outwardly calm, Mulder told the woman, "The sheriff will be here in a minute. Agent Scully appears to be missing and we'll need to have a list of all the rooms which were rented out last night, along with any information you have on the occupants." Damned if she didn't keep smiling, even at that newsflash. "Of course. It shouldn't take very long. I'll print out a copy for you and one for Sheriff Gaines." In his experience, most motel managers weren't that accommodating, but he wasn't about to complain. Flashing lights caught the corner of his eye and when he turned, he could see two patrol cars and a van, all with Sheriff Department markings, pulling up in the parking lot. Thank God they didn't use their sirens, too. He'd like to keep this as low-key as possible, for as long as possible. He was walking out the door to intercept them when he heard a cheerful "Have a good day" called in farewell from the owner. He gave her an incredulous glance before the door shut behind him. It was probably just a reflex for her to repeat that to all departing customers, but, Christ! Sheriff Gaines had already spotted the federal agent and was quickly moving toward Mulder. For some reason, he had a guilty expression on his face. Mulder had expected concern, but guilt? "Sorry to hear that your partner is missing, Agent Mulder. We'll do all we can to get her back, safe and sound." He paused, then asked, "Do you think this might be related to the Salzman escape?" Mulder felt as though he had been kicked in the stomach. The sheriff, seeing the agent's expression, said, "Didn't my deputy contact you? Salzman escaped last night from the officers who were moving him out of lockup. They were taking him over to our new facilities in Aberdeen where the cells are more secure." His voice strained, Mulder asked, "What time did he escape?" "Around 10:00 PM. He knifed one of the officers, took his weapon, knocked the other officer unconscious with it, and took off. We were so busy trying to chase him down that I just asked one of my deputies to let you know. I figured we could fill you in this morning when we met downtown." Robert Joel Salzman. His wife, a daughter and two sons had disappeared and the husband kept insisting that they had been abducted by aliens. Since Mulder was in Bismarck with Scully finishing up another case, they had dropped by Barnard to check out the man's story. Sheriff Gaines was ready to arrest Salzman, figuring he had killed his family and was lying about it, but there was no evidence. When Mulder wanted to look into the abduction story, the sheriff thought the agent was just as crazy as Salzman, but at least he was polite about it. Mulder went to investigate while Scully checked them into the motel. By the time she caught up with him at the Salzman house, Mulder had already determined that there was no evidence to support an abduction theory. When Scully walked into the living room and Robert Salzman saw her for the first time, he began screaming about how she 'was already dead'. Apparently she looked amazingly like Anita Salzman, his wife. After that, it hadn't taken long to get the true story out of the man. Between profanities screamed at Scully and violent weeping, he'd revealed that the bodies of his family were at the bottom of a water-filled rock quarry in the next county. Mulder hadn't seen any reason to stick around after the victims were found later that evening, but Scully had wanted to perform the autopsies herself the next morning. Mulder shuddered at the thought that she would be doing an autopsy on a woman who looked much like herself, but made no comment. Now he wished they had made tracks out of town last night on the puddle-jumper to Milwaukee. The next thought ripped through his fog-filled mind, with a vengeance: Salzman had come after Scully, who looked so much like the man's wife. Oh, dear God. He hurried toward their rental car, calling back to the sheriff, "I'm going out to the quarry. See if you can get those divers back, and meet me there. I think Salzman may have taken Scully." He opened the door and paused to add, "And you had better begin interviewing motel tenants before they check out and scatter all over the map." Once on his way, memories of the previous night kept replaying in his mind, only with Salzman added to the picture. Murderously delusional about Scully, attacking her as she lay in bed, dragging her body and belongings out to a watery grave...Something that sounded like a sob escaped Mulder's throat. He pressed his foot down harder on the gas pedal. ***************** Abandoned Rock Quarry 9:48 AM Staring into the opaque green water that lay ten feet below his perch on the rock, Mulder tried not to imagine what the divers might discover in those depths. Two men were down there, searching the uneven bed of the long- abandoned watery pit for the second time in twenty-four hours. Yesterday they'd had to haul out that poor woman and those little kids, and now... He was shivering despite the warm spring sunshine. When he'd arrived at the quarry he had scrambled over the slabs of rock around the water's edge, searching for any indication that someone other than the retrieval team and local authorities from the day before had been there. He found drag marks over one of the slabs of rock on the opposite side from where they recovered the missing family. Wasting no time, he stripped to his boxer shorts and entered the cold water. If she was in the quarry, she might still be alive. He began making systematic dives, searching primarily by sense of touch in the murky depths. When the divers had shown up, they persuaded the shivering man to wait in the sun while they took over the search. With their gear, they would be protected from the cold somewhat, and could see slightly better. He didn't mention that some of his shaking wasn't from the cold. He was realizing that, if Scully was in that water, it was too late. *************** Unknown location Scully had never been so exhausted, although she hadn't budged from her prone position on the floor for hours. The thick, foam-like wrapping that enclosed all but her head kept her immobile, despite every effort she made to move around. Struggling was useless, she finally admitted to herself. The wrapping did nothing to protect her from the cold that had built up around her body. The room was as icy as a refrigerator. She also had a monster of a headache. In fact, her whole body hurt and she badly needed a drink of water. Underlying all of this, however, was a deep dread of what might happen next. She prayed that Mulder was all right, since she didn't know whether he had also been abducted or harmed. At the moment, however, the foul-tasting piece of rubber in her mouth was her biggest concern. A strap of some sort held it in place and encircled her head, so she had no way to dislodge the thing. The taste kept triggering her gag reflex, and it took an enormous effort of will to keep from throwing up, which would have been a catastrophe. Scully lay still, not only because she was exhausted, but also to avoid having to look at the horrors the room held. On the edges of her vision there were two other "cocoons" hanging from the ceiling on hooks, and there was a body on the floor against the wall. But the worst was the body she had seen lying on a table over to her left. She desperately wanted to believe that it wasn't her partner whose body had been desecrated so horribly. From her obstructed line of vision on the floor, she had seen enough to know that the body was male and had dark hair. From all appearances, he had been butchered. Parts were hacked off, to put it bluntly, and if she thought about it too much, she'd go mad. Mulder had to be safe and looking for her, please God. She held her breath for a moment, thinking she had heard a sound. When she realized that someone was opening a door and entering the room, her eyes widened, knowing from the plodding footsteps that it wasn't her partner. A jeans-clad leg and a large hand clutching what looked like a machete came into view, pausing by her upper body. She couldn't tear her eyes away from that gleaming blade, which idly swung through the air near her face. ******************* The quarry Mulder watched the divers haul a familiar suitcase out of the water. It was Scully's. His heart felt as though it had plummeted off a cliff. Grim-faced, he made his way over the rocks to where the divers had deposited the soggy leather case in front of Sheriff Gaines and a deputy. He had to be positive. He stood looking down at the soaked bag, noting the missing buckle on the side and the small gold square with the letter "S" reflecting the sun's rays. He managed to say, "It's hers," before he startled the nearest diver by grabbing the man's mask and pulling it off. "Hey!" The guy made a reflexive grab for his equipment. Mulder met his gaze with eyes that were wounded and dangerous. "I need to find her." The diver, Dave Edwards, said sympathetically, "I know. We'll go back down. I promise you; if she's there, we'll bring her up. We know every inch of this quarry and it can be hazardous in among the boulders and debris down there. We can do this faster if you stay out of the way, okay?" Mulder mutely handed the mask back to Edwards and then seemed to crumple as he sat down next to the recovered bag. The sheriff had silently stood by during the discussion with the diver, but now pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and squatted down by Mulder. "Here. You should check the suitcase out before we send it back to the lab." The agent looked down at the offered gloves. A shudder shook his frame before he reached out and accepted them. He appreciated Gaines' sensitivity in not poking through Scully's belongings, instead leaving the search to her partner. He also noted, however, that the hawk eyes of the sheriff were watching his every move. Upon opening the case, it was instantly obvious to Mulder that Scully hadn't done the packing. Clothes and toiletry items were crammed together with no regard for organization or wrinkles. Underwear, shirts, a hairbrush and makeup bag were indiscriminately wadded in a sodden heap. Gently pushing aside a pajama top, he found an unopened bag of sunflower seeds. As shitty as he had been to her yesterday, she must have bought the seeds for him, knowing that his supply was low. A slight groan escaped his lips before he could stop it. He looked up at the sheriff and mutely shook his head, indicating there was nothing beyond the obvious about the case they needed to note. Sheriff Gaines nodded, and then wisely left the suffering man alone as he supervised the removal of the case for further analysis. Then he leaned against a patrol car to wait for the divers to pull Agent Scully out of her watery grave. ******************* Unknown location After a pause that seemed to last hours, the man with the machete moved away from Scully. He clomped in his heavy work boots toward the grisly table and then stood there a moment as though trying to decide something. She jerked in surprise when the machete suddenly slammed down onto the table with a thick, meaty sound. She saw that he was cutting into the body as his arm rose and fell repeatedly. A mantra of 'that is *not* Mulder, that is *not* Mulder' ran frantically through her mind. Finally satisfied, the man lay the machete to the side, picked up some butcher's paper from an overhead shelf, and made several neatly-wrapped packages out of what lay on the table. Holding them in one hand against his chest, he picked up the machete with the other hand and turned around to stare thoughtfully at the agent on the floor. Scully's eyes widened in recognition. A sick, helpless feeling washed over her she stared right back into that dark gaze. The suffocating prison that so thoroughly encased her body left her completely at the mercy of this monster. Then he grinned at her. Transfixed, she stared at the wolf- like, hungry expression on his face. The bared teeth and flecks of drool at the corners of his mouth nearly brought up the vomit she had been choking back. He slowly and deliberately licked his lips, gave a final grin, and left her shaking at the display of pure evil she had just witnessed. ********************* The quarry 11:00 AM Sometime during the past hour Mulder had put his clothes back on, hardly aware of the routine process. He had a vague thought that he needed to ready himself for whatever might happen. But in his heart he knew he'd never be ready for this. He had resumed his vigilant position, perched on the slab of rock. He was aware that the original two-man diving team had been joined by three others, and that two more deputies and three Aberdeen police officers had shown up, but no one had bothered him yet. Good. He couldn't deal with formalities and bureaucratic bullshit at the moment. The divers were coming up, one by one. As each surfaced, Mulder's world stopped until he could see they were empty-handed. Dave Edwards, who seemed to be the senior man in the group, approached Mulder and stood tired and dripping while the agent got to his feet. "She's not in there." "What?" He had prepared himself so thoroughly for bad news, what the man was saying didn't connect at first. "I'm telling you, she's not down there. We're certain of it. There was some unrelated junk that's been on the bottom for ages, but there's no body down there." Mulder was aware that the law enforcement group had gathered at his elbow, absorbing Edward's news. He turned to Sheriff Gaines and urgently said, "Salzman must still have her. We have to find them." He pointed at one of the sheriff's deputies, startling the man, and said, "I want an officer or two staked out here in case Salzman comes back." The sheriff nodded in agreement and replied, "Makes sense." He gave some quick orders to his deputies and rejoined Mulder as they walked toward the cars. Gaines said, "We have the basis for a task force here. I've already talked with some agents I know in the FBI offices in Milwaukee and they're on their way, too. Why don't we all go over to my office and set up some search procedures?" Resisting the urge to go running aimlessly around the county on his own, Mulder impatiently followed the assortment of vehicles after calling Skinner's office and breaking the bad news. He needed a place to start. ******************* Sheriff's Office 11:30 AM Sheriff Gaines explained to Mulder that suitcases and other belongings of missing travelers had been found in the quarry over the past six months, but never bodies. At least, not until the recent Salzman family deaths. "I hadn't heard of a series of missing persons in this area." Mulder's voice was even despite the obvious tension in his body. He was furious that the sheriff hadn't deemed it important enough to mention this before. "We've been passing all the information on the three cases we've had so far to the FBI." Mulder insisted on seeing those files, even though the Sheriff thought it was a waste of time, when it was obvious to him that Salzman had taken the agent's partner. While Mulder sat at the conference table and looked through the files, sandwiches and coffee were passed around the room. The agent ignored the food, intent on the papers in front of him. It didn't take him long to go through all three cases, since none of the files held much material. Douglas Ansaller was a sales rep for a restaurant supply company. His itinerary had placed him in the general area of Barnard/Aberdeen just before Christmas when he went missing. The next case involved a married couple. Tracy and Mark O'Neill were cruising around in their 1969 vintage Cadillac, seeing the country over an extended vacation, and had last talked with their daughter from Aberdeen two months ago. The third case consisted of two brothers and a sister, the Devons, who had been heading to Mt. Rushmore to meet other family members for a camping and sightseeing trip. Mulder impatiently tossed the papers to one side just as Sheriff Gaines and two other men sat down across from him. The newcomers were dressed in dark business suits that screamed 'feds'. He recognized the tall black agent as Ray Renaldi, an intelligent man who possessed the diplomacy and level-headedness that Mulder had lacked in his profiling years. Okay, he admitted to himself: that he still lacked. The other man was a clone of Brad Pitt, only better- looking. Sheriff Gaines turned to the two agents and made introductions. The handsome guy was named Charlie Hilman, and his accent told Mulder he was probably from Texas or the southwest somewhere. After the introductions, they took a few minutes to see if the rest of the team had turned up any leads, but no one had picked up Salzman's or Scully's trail yet. In addition to interviewing and tracking down motel guests, a house-to- house canvass was being conducted in the murderer's neighborhood, relatives were being contacted, and a three- state manhunt had been instigated. Forensics hadn't turned up anything useful at Scully's motel room. Sitting back down at the conference table, Mulder poked at the files in frustration, saying, "The only thing in common with all three disappearances was that their luggage and some other belongings were found in the same rock quarry. The same quarry, I may add, where Agent Scully's suitcase was recovered." There were nods all around, but then the sheriff said, "Robert Salzman and his family just moved here a month ago from Medford, Oregon, so he couldn't have been responsible for those earlier disappearances." "So Scully's luggage being dropped there is...what? A coincidence?" Mulder said as he abruptly shoved his chair back and stood up. Sheriff Gaines shrugged and Renaldi said, "We know that Salzman disposed of his family in that quarry, so it's not a stretch for him to think of it as a place to dump Agent Scully's belongings." Hilman stated, "Okay, we have two possibilities here. Either your partner was snatched by Salzman, or our mysterious disappearance cases have now increased to a total of four. Using the same location - the quarry - by both perps *is* just a coincidence." Renaldi nodded and added, "We need to split the investigation into two, so we can cover both possibilities. Time is running out, I'm afraid." "And so is my patience," Mulder added, as he headed for the door. "I'm going to re-check the motel owners' list and try to contact guests. Call me with the results of your survey of tenants to date, as well. Someone might have seen something that'll give us a direction." Renaldi shook his head at the sheriff and his partner before they could speak, and he merely said, "I'll stay with him while you get moving on splitting the investigation." He hurried after Mulder and managed to catch up with him as the agent slammed the door of his rental. Renaldi quickly opened the passenger door and fell into the seat as Mulder gunned the engine and drove out of the parking lot. There was a pause while Mulder maneuvered through town back to the highway, and then he tersely said, "What did Skinner tell you?" Startled, Renaldi looked at the agent and noticed his white- knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "He asked me to back you up and give you some help in finding Agent Scully. Apparently your short conversation with Walt left him worried as much about you as about your partner." "Walt?" Mulder cast a quizzical glance at his passenger. "I've known him a long time. So sue me." Mulder shrugged, his mind obviously not on his companion anymore. The rest of the drive was made in silence. At the motel, list from the owner in hand, Mulder set out to interview all travelers who had occupied a room at the Travelers' Rest the night before. Most of the tenants weren't in their rooms, and he tried to track those down. He also planned to re-interview those people already questioned by local law enforcement. They had found nothing, but he had to make sure. He asked Renaldi to see if he could help the team make more progress in following the trails of the ones who had already checked out. ****************** (Concluded in Part 2) From fox42@ix.netcom.com Thu Jul 12 19:26:01 2007 Date: 13 Jul 2007 18:15:32 -0700 From: Gerry Hill Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: xfc: "To Die in South Dakota" by Gerry Hill, Part 2 of 2 Rated R June 10, 2007 TITLE: TO DIE IN SOUTH DAKOTA (Part 2 of 2) AUTHOR: Gerry Hill E-MAIL ADDRESS: fox42@ix.netcom.com DISCLAIMER: Same as noted in Part 1 Introduction. RATING: R (Violence and some nudity) WARNING: Once again, I need to caution you that this story contains extremely graphic and/or disturbing content and it's not for the squeamish. Don't come crying to me if you still read it and it makes you sick. :-) *************************** TO DIE IN SOUTH DAKOTA (Part 2 of 2) by Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com) 4:18 PM Motel Of the travelers that Mulder and Renaldi had successfully contacted, no one could say they had seen or heard anything unusual the previous night, nor had anyone seen Scully. Some of the people they questioned weren't happy about being bothered again, since the sheriff's deputies had already grilled them once that day. Having gotten nowhere with the motel's list, Renaldi left with the sheriff to check out a lead. They were getting together later to eat at the motel's restaurant, but Mulder wasn't planning on joining them. The increasingly desperate agent had another contact to make. He was most interested in talking with the people who had stayed in the room next to Scully's. Their license plate had been issued in Kalamazoo, Michigan. The sheriff called in an APB on the car, but Mulder couldn't wait around for results. He contacted the few Dracovs listed in the Kalamazoo phone book and finally reached the man's parents. From them, he obtained a cell phone number and at last reached the Dracovs. It seemed the couple was house-hunting in the area prior to the husband's job transfer. They promised to return immediately to the motel to talk with Mulder. Tess and Alan Dracov drove into the motel parking lot and had no trouble spotting the impatient-looking FBI agent. He was pacing back and forth in front of the door to their room. They seemed a little nervous, but Mulder was used to that. Most people live their whole lives without ever laying eyes on an FBI agent, so being interrogated by one could be an unsettling experience. The couple sat next to each other at the end of the bed, facing Mulder, who kept up his pacing. He knew it probably made them more nervous, but he was incapable of sitting still. "Can you tell me what you know about the occupant of the room next to yours?" He gestured in the direction of Scully's room. They looked at each other and then Mrs. Dracov, a matronly middle-aged woman, volunteered, "She's attractive, not very tall, has red hair, and she entertains men in her room at night." That last bit stopped Mulder in his tracks. He stared at her for a beat, and asked in a strained voice, "Why would you say that, Mrs. Dracov?" Another look passed between the couple, and finally she admitted to being awake between one and two o'clock that morning. "The bed in her room apparently is against the same wall as ours. There was...activity going on." Carefully, he asked, "Could the sounds you heard have been those of an attack rather than what you assumed was happening?" She thought for a minute. Her husband, a thin, balding guy, shrugged at Mulder when he met his gaze. "I slept through all of it. Sorry." Sounding doubtful, Mrs. Dracov finally said, " Well, it *could* have been an attack, I suppose. But with the headboard bumping the wall that way and the sort of moan I heard, I just assumed..." Mulder nodded like he was still with her, but his mind was reeling with two other possibilities. Could it have been a rape? There had been no evidence in her room, but that didn't mean it couldn't have happened. Or maybe Scully had a boyfriend, someone he didn't know about, and she decided to run off with him. In the middle of the night. Without a word. No, that couldn't have happened, for more reasons than just the fact that her suitcase had been found dumped in the quarry. But he had to consider all possibilities if he expected to solve this. After a few more questions, it was obvious that the Dracovs had no further information, so he thanked them and walked over to his own room. He could use the facilities and make some more phone calls before touching base with Renaldi. He knew that if he let himself stop for even a minute, he'd be adding a straitjacket to his wardrobe selection. His room was dim and murky with the curtains closed, so it wasn't until he was coming out of the bathroom, distracted with his thoughts, that he saw the silent figure sitting in the chair near the television. For a fraction of a second his heart leaped at the thought that it could be Scully, but just as quickly he knew it wasn't. "Oh, crap," he muttered, as his hand reflexively moved to draw his weapon. The reaction was abruptly halted, though, when it registered on him that the figure was too small to be an adult. Mulder was pissed off. He walked back to the door and flicked the light switch, then returned to stand in front of the chair that contained the eight-year old son of the manager. Words of irritation died in his throat as his gaze met the wide brown eyes of the child, and he found himself asking, "What's your name?" The kid quietly replied, "Nicodemus." Ooookay. "How about I call you 'Nick'?" The boy gave a barely perceptible nod. "And your sister? What's her name?" Might as well get a list of the cast of characters who had the free run of his room. "Doris." Doris and Nicodemus?! How...odd. He'd never met anyone named Doris, except for one of his mother's aunts. It was very old-fashioned, he thought. And Nicodemus...He mentally ran through the meaning of names he had read once in the back of a dictionary as a child. Nicodemus meant 'conqueror of the people', while Doris was... 'a shining knife'. He doubted that the parents were even aware of the names' meanings, though; most people weren't. "Want to tell me why you and Doris keep visiting my room, Nick?" "Mom and Dad told us to keep an eye on you. FBI means trouble." What the hell? He supposed the kids had taken something one of the parents had said literally. Although why the motel managers would be wary of the FBI was anyone's guess. They could be doing anything from running a sleazy, hourly-room-rate type of operation to drug trafficking. "Well, how about coming to an agreement that you keep an eye on me from *outside* my room from now on?" The boy thought about that for a moment, then nodded, and slid from the chair. Mulder backed up to let him pass, and breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed and he was alone once more. His cell phone startled him by ringing, seeming louder than normal in the quiet room. It was Renaldi, sounding urgent and distracted at the same time. "We have Salzman." "I'll be right there," Mulder said, as he grabbed for his car keys from the top of the television. "Give me directions, and then keep him healthy so we can ask him about Scully." "Well, that'll be a problem." Mulder halted his motions, already knowing what Renaldi was going to say. "It looks as though he shot himself, probably not long after he escaped. He's been dead for quite awhile. Some kids found him in a culvert behind the bowling alley and called us." Mulder had hardly heard Renaldi after he said that their main suspect was dead. If Salzman abducted Scully, his death may have spelled his partner's death, as well. "Agent Mulder?" "Uh...yeah.". "We need to talk about other possibilities for Agent Scully's disappearance. I don't see any evidence that Salzman was involved." Renaldi hesitated, knowing how close some law enforcement partners could become. Then he plowed ahead with what had to be explored. "What if her boyfriend came by and convinced her to run off with him? I mean, it's possible, and it happens. After all, her belongings are gone as though she packed up and left. There may not be a crime here at all. She could have thrown the luggage in the quarry herself to make us think she was abducted or murdered." His last statement sounded defensive to Mulder, as though he was preparing himself for a violent reaction. Mulder's response was immediate and surprisingly reasonable, considering what Renaldi had implied. "I've already considered that, and it just doesn't make sense. She wasn't seeing anyone nor would she have had any reason to disappear." Except to escape the tragedies that working with me has caused, he guiltily thought. "Another thing: Scully is neat and orderly to a fault, but we found that all her belongings had been literally crammed into the suitcase. Even when in a rush, I've never seen her do that. This case has something to do with those other disappearances, I'm sure of it." "Agent Mulder...Why don't I turn this Salzman mess over to the locals and meet you at the motel restaurant where you're staying? It's about 5:15 now. How about in half an hour? We can go over the case better in person. I need to hook up with Agent Hilman and get him up to speed, so I'll bring him along and we can hash it all out together. " "I'll see you there." The phone felt as though it weighed a ton as he disconnected and let it drop to the bed. ********************** 6:05 PM Motel Restaurant Mulder walked through the front door of the restaurant, eyes scanning the room, finally spotting the sheriff and the two agents at a table toward the back. He waved off the hostess and made his way through the crowded dining room, absently noting how full the place was for a weeknight. He thought it might have something to do with the large sign out front, proclaiming, 'Special of the Day: Tender Pork Medallions with Burgundy-Cherry Sauce. $8.95'. Even Scully had been planning on eating there before returning to D.C..... The men spotted the agent and the Sheriff leaned over to pull a chair out from the table in invitation. "Take a seat, Agent Mulder. Have something to eat with us before we get started." Mulder was in no mood for pleasantries and wanted to get busy, but since he was running late, the others had already ordered and received their meals. Although he hadn't eaten at all that day, seeing the juicy pork that the sheriff and Hilman were cutting into didn't give him an appetite. Quite the opposite, in fact. He noticed that Renaldi had a pasta dish of some sort, but the man seemed troubled and was merely pushing the food around rather than eating. Sheriff Gaines was waving his fork and making a point, Mulder realized, annoyed with himself for zoning out when he could be missing something important. Better focus, he thought. "...and that makes one more disappearance in the area." That got his attention. "What?" It was evident to the sheriff that Mulder hadn't been listening, so he patiently repeated, "There was apparently another person who disappeared in these parts about two months ago. Since she was single and had no relatives or close ties, no one reported it. A lawyer contacted my office today about this Sherrie Hawkliss, saying they were trying to settle some lawsuit and weren't able to locate her. She was last traced to this area." With a pained expression, Renaldi nodded at his partner, who chimed in, "We found something else, as well. I went through the logs for missing persons cases and found that a local family reported their 20-year-old son missing last month. The investigation was dropped when no evidence of foul play was discovered. It was thought that he just...left." Little odd-shaped pieces began falling into little odd-shaped slots in Mulder's mind, supplying the missing bits to what seemed to be happening right under their noses. And then it all made sense. He turned pale so quickly that Renaldi put his hand on the agent's arm in concern. Mulder stared in absolute horror at the pink and juicy pieces of meat that lay on Sheriff Gaines' and Agent Hilman's plates. His stomach churned and he felt as though he would faint. "Oh my God," he whispered. He tried to stand but found that his legs refused to hold him. His knees hit the floor just as the sheriff and Renaldi were getting to their feet in alarm. Hilman was still sitting there, his eyes huge, staring at the stricken agent. It was all coming together in Mulder's mind at blinding speed. The motel owners' desire to steer clear of the FBI. All the disappearances that had happened in the area. Doris and Nick's names. The popularity of the restaurant that coincided with the first of the disappearances. His mind tried to reject the conclusions it was rapidly making, to no avail. Anyone else, including his partner, would tell him that his suspicions were ridiculous. With all his heart, he wished that were so. Renaldi's hand was under Mulder's right elbow, supporting and maneuvering him back into his chair. "What is it? What's wrong?" Mulder was trying to hold himself together, since he felt as though he would begin fragmenting in every direction with no effort at all. His eye caught some rapid movement near the door to the kitchen at the rear of the room. Turning his head, he was in time to see a woman with blond hair disappear, the door swinging shut behind her. "Mrs. Warren. She knows I've figured it out." He got to his feet and pointed toward the door as he began to move that way, but Renaldi blocked his path. Frustrated, Mulder grabbed Renaldi by his coat lapels and snarled, "Scully might still be alive. The motel managers are killing people and serving the butchered bodies in this restaurant. Tell everyone to stop eating the evidence. Get some more agents in here - I'm going after the Warrens." Stunned by Mulder's revelation, Renaldi offered no resistance when shoved to the side. Hilman, however, looked ready to take issue with the startling announcement, and Gaines was shaking his head from side to side as though he pitied the clearly addled agent. Fighting to settle his stomach, Renaldi told them, "As crazy as that seemed, I'd be inclined to listen to the man. He has a reputation in the Bureau of being right, especially when it's something weird like this case." The sheriff's gaze dropped to his plate for a moment, and then he leaned down to vomit underneath the table. Hilman moved his feet out of the sheriff's range and, with a sick fascination, poked his fork at the partially-eaten meat on his plate. ***************** When Mulder hit the swinging doors and entered the kitchen, there were three people with their backs to him, staring toward the outer exit door. The woman who evidently had been preparing a sauce and some kind of vegetable was just saying to her fellow cooks, "I wonder why the Warrens ran out of here like that?" Then she saw Mulder and asked, "Who the hell are you?" Suddenly she gave a shriek and dropped the saucepan with a clang onto the stove top. Her gaze was riveted on the agent's hands, which gripped his gun. The two young men preparing salads and desserts backed away from the dangerous-looking man. All Mulder took time to say was "FBI" as he ran to the door that opened onto the exterior of the building. Seeing no one in the wide-open, weedy, graveled area that formed the rear of the restaurant, he gambled that the Warrens would have headed for their living quarters to retrieve the kids before clearing out. Rounding the side corner of the building, he happened to glance out across the acres of fields that stretched behind the motel, and saw someone moving quickly on a path over a nearby grassy expanse. Just as Mulder was wishing he could go in two directions at once, Renaldi came running around the corner, nearly colliding with him. "You take the office; I'll go after the husband," Mulder said. He was halfway to the open gate in the fence before he finished his sentence. He raced up the path with an overwhelming sense that time was quickly running out. When he neared the top of a rise, a large dilapidated barn was visible, about forty yards away. There was a good- sized generator by the wall that faced him, and an unusual number of electrical wires and cables that ran into the structure. He put on a final burst of speed when he saw that the side door was just closing. The door was completely shut by the time he reached the barn. It wasn't locked, so he cautiously pulled it open and checked each direction before stepping into the dim interior. That nagging sense of time running out was getting worse. What looked like a large industrial refrigerator or freezer, measuring at least fifteen feet both in width and length, stood over to his right. He felt a chill when he realized for what purpose the room had probably been built. He gripped his weapon tightly as he reached out with his left hand to try the latch. Locked. From the looks of the heavy door, there was no way he could gain entry without some heavy-duty tools. Frantic, he turned to see what he might use, and froze in surprise at finding someone quietly standing several feet behind him. "Nick." The boy, whose clothes were soaked and dripping, mutely moved forward and extended his open hand toward the agent. Mulder saw a key nestled in the small open palm. Nick had tears brimming in his eyes, but with his wet hair dripping water down his cheeks, it was difficult to tell which were tears and which were not. The desperate agent gratefully snatched the prize from the boy's hand and quickly fitted it into the lock on the door. A twist and a push, and he was inside. The sights and smells instantly told him he was in a slaughterhouse. He had seen murder sites throughout his career in law enforcement, but had never become hardened to their horror and the sense of evil that enveloped them like a smog. Then he was completely focused on the scene taking place not ten feet away. It took only a second for it to be burned into his brain. Scully was nude, hanging by her ankles from a wood-and- metal fastener in the ceiling. She was soaking wet, water dripping from her fingertips and hair onto the floor below, where it then trickled down a drain. Some spray equipment attached to a hose lay nearby. Her skin had a bluish-gray tinge, and she wasn't moving at all. More importantly, a man was pressing a large knife against her pale throat, promising to send more than just water down that drain. Mulder distractedly registered that the man was, indeed, Mrs. Warren's husband Warren began drawing the knife across Scully's throat. Blood immediately welled up. Mulder didn't hesitate, not even to shout a warning. The first bullet punched into the man's chest, the second hit his right upper arm, and the third took out half his throat. He was dead before he hit the floor. Mulder quickly holstered his gun and was ripping his coat off when he reached Scully, desperate to know that she was alive and would need the warmth that his jacket could provide. He held on to the fact that she wouldn't have bled when the knife bit into her throat had she been dead already, and he didn't think the cut was fatal. His fears that Warren might jerk the knife deeper when the bullets hit him had not happened, thank God. His fingers detected a slow pulse in her neck. He let out a sob of relief before looking up to see how to release her ankles. "I'll do it," came a small voice behind him. Nick operated a switch on the nearby wall and the contraption that held Scully's ankles slowly began descending on a chain. Mulder roughly pulled the dead man out of the way and then guided her upper body gently to the floor, covering her torso with the coat. He didn't see anything to press against her neck wound, so he pulled his shirt off, buttons flying, and held it against the oozing blood while Nick released her ankles from their restraint. It was extremely cold in the room. Mulder was beginning to feel it now that just an undershirt covered his upper body. He had to move Scully to where it was warmer. Feeling the uncomfortable similarity to their situation in Antarctica, Mulder's tremor wasn't totally related to the current chilly conditions. Tenderly gathering her slight form against his chest, he carried her out into the barn. He was aware that Nick had seemed disturbingly unemotional about the death of his father, but couldn't spare time for the kid at the moment. The glazed look in the child's eyes haunted him, but he was still terribly afraid for Scully and shoved it out of his mind. ****************** Renaldi had managed to corral the little girl, Doris, in the motel office. He turned her over for safekeeping to one of the sheriff's deputies. Once the child was out of the way, he grabbed a pale and sweating sheriff to back him up as he entered and searched the Warrens' private quarters. Nothing. There was an open window in back, and it looked as though Mrs. Warren had taken off. Cursing under his breath, Renaldi, with a panting sheriff in tow, ran out to the parking lot. Police and sheriff department vehicles were descending on the place, but there was no sign of the woman. He turned to the sheriff and said, "I'm going after Agent Mulder. You might want to get an APB and a search party out to find the Warrens. I could use a few officers as backup. And an ambulance could come in handy, too." With Mulder's track record, an ambulance will probably be essential, he thought to himself. Then he was off and running again, disappearing around the corner of the building. He heard orders being shouted behind him, hopefully carrying out his 'suggestions'. The sun was going down and it would be dark soon, making any search more difficult. He followed the direction in which Mulder had been headed, and soon came upon the barn. The side door opened easily, but once he was inside the murky atmosphere of the structure he nearly dropped his weapon at hearing a woman's ungodly, ear-splitting shriek. His attention was immediately caught by movement to his right. A female, blond hair flying around her face as she screamed in rage, was attacking a man crouched on the floor. Eyes finally adjusted to the dimness, he could see that it was Mulder she was going after, and he was protecting someone who lay partially under him. The attacker was stabbing him with a large knife. Renaldi was sickened to see it sink into Mulder's upraised arm and then again into his shoulder before he could take any action. The blood was a bright crimson smear against the white of the agent's undershirt. Renaldi wasted no more time and shot her as she was poised to use the knife again. ********************** Mulder's first instinct when Mrs. Warren came running at him with the knife was to reach for his weapon. But with Scully in his arms, his hands weren't free, and he wasn't about to drop her. He quickly lowered his precious burden and tried to deflect the knife's thrusts with his own body until he could draw his gun. The first stroke of the blade entered his upper left arm and when it hit the bone, it released a searing wave of raw agony. He hunched over Scully's body even farther as he fumbled with his other hand for the holster at his waist. But then the blade ripped into his shoulder and he struggled to draw a breath from the shock of it. The initial blow wasn't literally painful, but agony exploded as the knife was drawn back out. His world was rapidly narrowing to the need to keep the knife from Scully until he could reach his gun. At last he drew his weapon, but realized in the same instant that he wouldn't be needing it. A loud gunshot rang in his ears and Mrs. Warren fell next to him, not moving. A big hand came into view and checked the woman's pulse at her throat. Renaldi's voice rumbled, "Let me check Agent Scully, then I'll try to stop your bleeding." Mulder realized that he was fading in and out, probably from shock, and tried harder to focus. Moving left him breathless with pain, but he managed to shift back just enough for the agent to see how Scully was doing. He was elated to see her eyes open when Renaldi adjusted the shirt-bandage at her throat. "M...Mulder?" she said, her voice a little quavery. He noticed the bruising around her mouth and cheeks and figured that a gag of some sort had been used to keep her quiet. A deep anger burned within him at how she had been treated. He managed a smile for her sake and she took a little hitching breath to say, "I thought you were...dead." Her eyes glistened with tears as they conveyed her fears to him. "I think I was slated to be the corned beef hash, but they only got around to tenderizing me," he joked, trying to ignore the fiery pain that had settled into his shoulder. "You're bleeding...on me." Echoes of 'I had you, big time' bounced around his brain when he saw the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. However, he could see in her eyes her concern at the seriousness of his wounds. Sure enough, his damaged arm and shoulder were industriously dripping blood all over the jacket with which he'd covered her. "I'm okay, Scully. It's you we're worried about." "C...cold." Mulder pulled her into his lap, providing his body heat, such as it was. He had forgotten about Renaldi, but there was suddenly another jacket to add to Mulder's, giving Scully some additional warmth. A fierce stab of agony went through his arm and shoulder, but it settled to a dull throb, and the room slowly came back into focus. "My partner told me that an ambulance will be here any minute," Renaldi was saying. The agent looked at the abundance of crimson soaking the formerly white undershirt Mulder was wearing and added, "But you're still bleeding. I need to see if I can slow it down a little." He disappeared and then returned to squat down next to the two, wrapping a cloth from God-knew-where around Mulder's upper arm wound. It hurt like hell. The movement and pressure caused a moan that was quickly bitten-off. Since the bleeding arm was around Scully, it wasn't easy for Renaldi to minister to the wounded man, but the agent could see that getting Mulder to give up his position was not an option. At last the cloth was in place. Another wad of material was pressed against Mulder's shoulder, causing a much more pronounced reaction. "Aaaahh! Shit! A little warning might help," he gritted through clenched teeth. A grunt was the only reply as strips of cloth were torn and tied, binding the makeshift bandage against the wound. Agent Hilman entered the barn and moved into Mulder's blurry view at that moment. He was waving his cell phone in the air and announcing that there had been a major traffic accident on the interstate. "What is this, the six o'clock news report?" Renaldi growled. "Both local ambulances were right behind the four-car pileup, so they're staying at the scene. I'm working on getting us a LifeFlight helicopter from Aberdeen now." He put the phone back to his ear and disappeared from Mulder's view once more. The feeling that the world was fading in and out had worsened, but Mulder was stubbornly staying conscious until help for his partner arrived. Scully, however, had become concerned about Nick. "The boy. He...his father beat him. Made him...wash me. Where..." "He's all right," Mulder lied, glancing over to where Nick was kneeling by his mother's prone body. There was still no expression on the boy's face, and the agent wondered if there ever would be again. Renaldi surprised him by going over to the boy and gently urging him away from the dead woman. He spoke quietly and whatever he said seemed to work. They both moved to the door and then out into the yard where crickets were chirping, greeting the day's end. With the door open Mulder could hear the crickets, and the hypnotic sound was lulling him into a semi-conscious state. He roused a little, becoming aware that the crickets had fallen silent with the advent of a louder, more mechanical noise. It was a helicopter, he realized, and it seemed to be approaching fast. Mulder wanted to tell Scully that they'd be fine soon, but everything was becoming indistinct, and he found it hard to see. From a distance he could hear Renaldi saying something, and then Scully was being lifted from his arms. He tried to hold on to her, but he had no strength left in his body. It was all he could do to call her name, and then the world shut down. ********************* Two months later In a government vehicle Scully sat against the passenger door, her head leaning against the tilted-back seat, eyes closed, the sunshine from the late afternoon bathing her in light. Mulder wanted to...yes...*gaze* at her, but had to keep more or less watching the road. If he pulled over to indulge his voyeuristic tendencies, she'd undoubtedly wake up and there'd be hell to pay. She wanted to make it home in time to get some laundry done before facing another work day at the office tomorrow. She had been troubled by the case in South Dakota to the point where, after recovering from the hypothermia and various cuts and bruises, she had kept numerous appointments with the Bureau psychiatrist. Karen was good, but Mulder wished that *he* could be the one she confided in. Stupid notion, but that's how he felt. He snorted as he realized how he could *really* screw up her recovery without even trying. His eyes again wandered into her direction and over the graceful curve of her neck to where it met her jaw. A faint line from the aborted attempt to slash her throat was still visible across that pale neck and he shivered. How could she seem so vulnerable and strong at the same time? His thoughts turned to that hellish barn and the rush to get them to the hospital. His only memory of the helicopter flight and the next 18 hours or so was hearing Renaldi say, "Walt is going to *kill* me!" Mulder guessed that Skinner had told Renaldi to watch his agents' backs. Well, he'd tried. Once his own wounds had been cleaned and stitched and lost blood replenished, it was a matter of regaining consciousness. Upon opening his eyes, he had immediately begun raising hell until he got what he wanted -- to be given a run-down of Scully's condition and to be at her side. Even Renaldi was impressed. Thinking of the other agent, Mulder still marveled at Renaldi's commitment to the orphaned Warren kids. He had made sure they were placed with a loving foster family after they began extensive psychiatric treatment. The little girl was already doing well, and there was hope that Nick would eventually overcome the awful traumas he had endured. And Scully...she had been her typical, stoical self in the hospital, refusing to tell him all the details of her captivity. That, of course, had made him imagine all kinds of horrors she might have endured, including rape. But by going behind her back and using his Bureau credentials, he had been able to determine that she hadn't been sexually molested in any way. Only her exquisite mind had suffered a kind of rape, having to endure what that monster put her through. He realized that he had a white-knuckled hold on the steering wheel, and forced his hands to relax before Scully woke up and noticed. A passing sign warned him of merging traffic, so his attention reluctantly shifted back to the freeway. As they neared D.C., it would only get worse. Maybe they should stop for food, since there was still an hour's drive ahead of them. But the thought of burgers made his stomach churn. He hadn't had much of an appetite over the previous couple of months... Suddenly a small, warm hand covered his knee and he smiled. She was awake. He wasn't alone with his thoughts anymore; always a dangerous proposition. The realization hit him that maybe he *was* helping her, after all, just by being there for her. He turned his head toward the light. Toward Scully. THE END