NC-17 for intense violence, language, sexual situations
Spoilers: none
Keywords: Angst, MSR, Mulder Torture, Scully Torture, Alternate Universe
Summary: A serial killer, known as the Collector, is on the loose in DC, kidnapping and torturing women. As the number of victims climbs higher and higher, will Mulder and Scully become just another of the madman's statistics?
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"Hate me, Scully. Please," he pleaded with her, his brown eyes bright with unshed tears. He knew that what he asked of her was impossible. But she had to; it was the only way he could protect her. Lying to her was the only way to guarantee that she lived. "I -I never want to see you again."
"How can you do this to me?"
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Chapter One: A Real Life Melodrama
A single gunshot reverberated throughout a cramped room, bouncing booming echoes off of cold, concrete walls. Vivid red showered from the back of a woman's head, spraying the dingy walls with a macabre facade of paint. Chunks of grayish-pink and brilliant white scattered indiscriminately, just like any other over-exaggerated horror film. Only it wasn't a movie; it was a real life fucking melodrama starring Mulder and Scully as the main players. All acted out for some sick psycho's twisted fantasy. Throughout Mulder's head, he could hear the echo of the demented serial killer's voice screaming out, warning him of the dire consequences if he closed his eyes.
"If you close your eyes, mother fucker, I'll just kill another. And another. And another. And then when I'm finished, I kill your little chickadee, too. But she won't have the mercy of a gun, no sir-e. Uh huh. A pretty little knife for the pretty little red-head."
"Open your eyes, little Mulder." The voice was taunting him, daring him to watch. There was no choice, really. On one hand, there was the urge to keep his sanity intact. On the other, was Scully's life. The decision was easy; Scully's life had always been more important than his already doubtful mental state. Slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes; the sight that greeted him was nauseating. He was surrounded by a pool of blood and brain matter, gun residue still drifting lazily in the air. The force of the bullet shattering the young woman's head was so strong that pieces of her flesh clung to the cuffs of Mulder's pants. Catching a glimpse of Mulder's ashen face, the killer started laughing, a high-pitched pealing shriek that sent shivers down his spine.
"Aw, poor little Mulder can't handle a bit of blood?" His laugh was like a hyena's. "Well, I think I made you a promise. And you broke your end of the deal. Shall we bring out another?!" At the last remark, he threw his hands up at the ceiling, spinning around like a ring master addressing his audience. Which, in a morbid way, he was. Before waiting for a reply from Mulder, he went through a back door. Screams and frantic sobbing could be heard before the man finally reentered, dragging another young woman behind him.
"Just fucking stop! You don't need to do this!" Mulder screamed at him, his desperate demands falling on deaf ears. "Please, don't." The last came out barely above a whisper. The urge to close his eyes was so powerful, but the frightened stare of the woman, a child really, grabbed his gaze and held him captive. She couldn't have been old enough to have seen her sixteenth birthday. And she wouldn't live to see any beyond it, either. Her piercing ice-blue eyes were begging him to do something, silently pleading with him, but the bastard had shackled his wrists and ankles. A heavy chain connected the shackles to the wall, allowing little more than a centimeter or two of lee-way. He was utterly helpless and he hated it.
He had her on the floor in front of him, only feet away from Mulder. But it may as well have been miles for all that he could do to help. Her wrists were tied behind her back, her ankles bound; there was no way for her to escape if she tried. Behind her the man stood, a manic gleam in his eyes as he placed his gun against the back of her skull. A .50AE Desert Eagle Magnum. A detail that hadn't registered with Mulder before. One that, now registered, struck a pang of fear down his spine. She would not survive this.
"Now watch closely, little Mulder. I'm a-gonna show you how to take real good care of your girl." His eyes gleamed manically as his finger twitched deliberately over the trigger.
Silently, the girl's lips formed the words "help me" before collapsing as the bullet shattered through her head, sending pieces of her skull flying everywhere. Drops of something hot and wet landed on his face, and in abject horror, Mulder realized that the girl's blood and brain matter was coating his face.
The room swayed in dizzying circles around him as he fought his mind to retain consciousness. He knew to faint would be certain death for Scully. He could feel her presence somewhere within the room, but hidden from his sight; he could only hope that the horrors in front of him were hidden from her, too. As his vision began to blur, every promise he ever broke her and every case gone horribly wrong ran through his head.
"It'll be a nice trip to the forest..." Donnie Pfaster, Skyland Mountain, Gerry Schnauz and those god-damn howlers, dark shadowy figures reaching out from the far corners of the government - and the universe, the gleam of a knife inching closer to her throat as the Collector snatched her from the night right in front him...
And as his mind drifted and consciousness left him, he whispered to no one, to the universe, to her that no matter what, she would live...
The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was the distorted figure of a man dragging a beautiful redhead out of the shadows...