Forgive me, readers. I am apparently incapable of writing anything besides angst and torturous cliffhangers.
However, the end is now in sight. Stick with me for a few more chapters.
I'll leave you back with poor Mulder, who just can't seem to win.
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No.
Mulder spun around again, looking for anything that might indicate which direction he needed to go. His hands began to shake.
He closed his eyes, retracing the movements he'd registered, blindfolded, in the back of the van.
West. They'd been heading west at first. Mulder had done his best to pay attention to the subtle shifts in momentum, forming a blurry mental map of their route in case he ended up having to make a quick escape.
West. Then a right turn, so north. The road had wound a bit before they reached their destination, and this one was fairly straight, so he could assume that they'd taken a different route away from wherever they'd been.
He opened his eyes again. Judging by the position of the newly-risen sun, the road ran southeast. It was a start in the right direction, and he took off at a brisk jog down the dusty shoulder. As soon as any houses or buildings came into view, he'd call the local police for a ride back to the hospital.
As he ran, Mulder checked his watch. 5:28. He'd told Frohike not to wait for him past 6:00. In his desperation to make sure they tried everything, Mulder had glossed over the risks. But now, with no way of telling them that he had the antidote, he knew that it was very possible that one more wrong medicine could kill Scully before he got to her.
The cold air burned in Mulder's lungs as he ran, but after a few minutes, his salvation came in the sound of a quickly approaching vehicle. Turning, he saw a small red car coming up the road; before it could pass him, he ran into the road, waving his arms. When the car slowed and pulled up beside him, Mulder ran to the driver's window, pulling out his badge and pressing it to the glass. Without waiting for any acknowledgement or response, Mulder moved around to the passenger side door. An empty McDonald's bag crunched under his feet as he got in the car.
The car's driver, a freckly, bewildered-looking man of about 25, stared at Mulder with wide eyes.
"I'm Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI," Mulder said patiently, still holding out his badge for the man to see. "I need you to drive me to the hospital as quickly as you can. Don't worry about speeding. A woman may die if I don't get there fast enough."
"Y-yeah, alright," the man stammered, hitting the gas. The little car wasn't in great shape, but it sped off well enough. Mulder took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He was going to get there in time. This would all be over soon enough.
"How far away is it?" Mulder asked after a minute, his anxiety getting the better of him.
The young man glanced nervously sideways at him.
"Um, another few miles," he said, pushing the car a little faster. "So….just curious, if you were trying to get to the hospital, how'd you end up all the way out here on foot?"
Mulder studied the young man for a moment before responding.
"I'm afraid that's classified," he said tensely. "But it was certainly not my intent. I was very fortunate that you happened by."
The young man chuckled nervously, seeming to relax a little at that. "Hey, anything I can do to help your...mission, or assignment, or whatever."
"I'm not on an assignment," Mulder sighed, running a hand over his face. "The woman in the hospital is my partner."
"Oh…" the man said, turning his attention back to the road. "Is she...what happened? Also classified?"
"Also classified," Mulder murmured, watching empty fields rush past his window. "But I suppose you could say she was injured in the line of duty."
"Ah...well, we'll be there soon." They spent the rest of the drive in silence. Mulder found himself reaching into his pocket to check that the vial was still there, still sealed and safe.
When the hospital came into view, Mulder directed the driver around to the back door near Scully's secret room. With one hand on the doorknob, Mulder turned to the driver one more time.
"What's your name?"
"Jay."
As the car came to a stop at the curb, Mulder stepped out. "I owe you one, Jay." Then he shut the door and hurried into the hospital.
By the time he came to Scully's door, he was half-running. He lurched into the room unceremoniously, catching himself on the doorframe to slow down, suddenly unsure of what to expect.
Scully was the room's lone occupant, lying still on the partially-reclined bed with sheets pulled up over her chest, which rose and fell gently with her shallow breaths.
Momentarily, Mulder wondered where Skinner and Dr. Hilton were; they were supposed to be looking after her. However, all thoughts flew from his mind as Scully's head turned to his approach.
"Scully," he breathed, taking the remaining steps to her bedside. "I've got it- well, we'll have to check it out to make sure it's what he says it is, but-"
"Mulder," Scully cut him off, and he noticed that her eyes were wide with alarm. "Mulder, what's going on? Why am I tied up again?"
Mulder looked down to see Scully's hands clenched into nervous fists beneath the thick leather straps that once again secured her wrists.
"Wha- I… I don't know, Scully," Mulder stammered, confused and taken aback.
"I must have passed out," she said, still looking troubled. "I woke up a few minutes ago and Skinner and Shelly were both gone. I don't remember anything happening, but what if I blacked out and hurt someone again? What if I lost my memories, like with you?" Her voice was rising in panic.
Mulder crouched by the bedside, taking her face in his hands. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly, trying to calm her. "We don't know what happened yet. I'm sure they're both fine. I'm going to try to find them and then we'll get this whole thing over with. Let me get you out of these."
As he reached to unfasten the heavy restraints, however, Shelly came through the door, looking nervous. Mulder stood and turned to her.
"Good, you're back," Shelly said before he could speak. "Do you have it?"
Mulder reached into his pocket, pulling out the tiny vial.
"Shelly, what happened? Why was Scully restrained again?"
She shook her head, moving around to the other side of the bed. "No time to explain. Right now, I need to get her that medicine." She held out her hand, and Mulder put the vial in it. After giving the little bottle a cursory examination, Shelly slipped it into the inner pocket of her lab coat.
"What are you-"
Behind him, Mulder heard the door open again, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Scully tense.
"Mulder!" she cried out in warning, and he whipped around, reaching for his weapon. It was too late, though. He turned right into the barrel of another gun, raised to the level of his head.
Darryl Hunt stepped the rest of the way into the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
"Keep your hands where I can see them, Agent Mulder."
Mulder slowly took his hand off his gun, raising both arms slightly away from his body and stealing a sideways glance at Scully. Her gaze was fixed on Hunt; her already pallid complexion had paled even further, giving her the appearance of a ghost. As Mulder raised his arms in surrender, she turned to Dr. Hilton, her fists clenched beneath the thick restraints.
"Shelly, what is this?" Scully demanded, her voice shaking slightly.
Shelly didn't answer at first, moving instead to confiscate Mulder's gun. He fixed her with a burning glare, though she refused to meet either of their eyes. Mulder felt his stomach turn sickeningly at her betrayal.
"Dr. Hilton has been a part of one of my research teams for several years now," Hunt said slyly as Shelly crossed the room to place Mulder's gun on a desk, far out of reach. "She did well in keeping you here for us to study, though I'm afraid she knew that we could never let either of you live to see your investigation through."
Shelly walked back to stand beside Mulder, looking down at Scully.
"I'm sorry Dana," she said quietly. "You should have stayed away from this."
Scully forced herself to meet Shelly's eyes, and Mulder saw that her own with shining with unshed tears.
"How could you do this?" she forced out, her voice thick with desperation and rage. Shelly made no answer, instead turning back to Hunt for direction.
Suddenly, Mulder's heart dropped as he had a terrible thought.
"Where's Skinner?" he demanded, looking from Hunt to Shelly and back. The Assistant Director had sworn to stay by Scully's side until Mulder returned, and he wouldn't have left without cause...or without putting up a fight. Glancing around the room, Mulder saw no signs of a struggle.
Shelly dragged her eyes up from the floor to meet his gaze, seeming to choose her words carefully.
"He's…..out of our way."
Mulder stole another glance at Scully, who met his eyes with an expression of barely-contained horror. The sinking feeling in his gut intensified.
Hunt took another step towards Mulder, the nose of the gun practically nudging his neck.
"It's like Dr. Hilton said; you should have stayed away from this." He looked at Mulder with a peculiar and unsettling kind of curiosity, as if he were a fascinating new species of bug.
"As much as I would love gaining the scientific perspective of comparing the effects of the drug on Agent Scully to its effects on you, Agent Mulder, I'm afraid we just don't have that kind of time, and you have been attracting too much attention to risk it."
Hunt shifted his gaze to Shelly, giving her a short nod.
Mulder watched with growing unease as Shelly crossed the room to the cabinet of medical supplies, selecting and uncapping a fresh syringe. From another pocket of her lab coat, she withdrew another small vial, slightly different in shape than the one Mulder had gotten from Brontman. Its contents were similarly clear, though not as viscous.
From her makeshift prison on the bed, Scully grew tense as she watched Shelly draw the contents of the vial into the syringe.
They mean to kill him, she realized, and started pulling against the restraints, trying to squeeze her petite hands through the loops. When that didn't work, she strained her fingers to the side, trying to reach the buckle mechanism to loosen it. Her reach fell centimeters short.
"By nature, our work must be conducted in secret," Hunt continued as Shelly worked. "So unfortunately, we've had to develop certain failsafes...ways to discreetly remove any potential sources of exposure. You've done a pretty good job of marking yourself as a potential source of exposure, wouldn't you say, Agent Mulder?"
Mulder made no response, lifting his head a little higher and glaring past Hunt indifferently.
"The solution that Dr. Hilton is holding is not as new or exciting as what was given to Agent Scully, but it is, nevertheless, quite effective. It will stop a person's heart in under a minute, leaving no trace so long as the puncture is well hidden."
Scully's stomach twisted at this, her heart beating a frantic cadence against her chest.
"Don't do this, Shelly," she pleaded, trying to keep her voice steady. "There are other ways to end this. Please."
"It will be painless," Hunt drawled as Shelly ignored her words. "Though I'm afraid I can't say the same for you, Agent Scully."
At that Mulder bristled, speaking for the first time since he'd thought of Skinner.
"You have nothing to gain by killing us," he spat. "Two federal agents dead on top of a dozen bodies that can already be traced to you? You struck me as an intelligent man, Dr. Hunt."
"He's right," Scully said, breathing heavily as she continued to test the straps that held her. "There are other people at the Bureau that know enough about what we were doing to put the pieces together."
"Your bodies are easier to deal with than your testimony," Hunt said coldly, and Shelly joined him from across the room, syringe in hand.
Scully found her partner's eyes and for a fraction of a second they shared a glance that spoke hundreds of words.
"Shelly, please don't do this," she begged again, trying to intercept her friend's gaze. "Please don't- NO!"
Hunt grabbed Mulder by the arm, pressing the gun under his ear and twisting his hand behind his back. Mulder struggled, but in the end Hunt forced him down over one of the equipment carts that stood beside the bed.
Mulder's heart fluttered frantically at his ribs as they forced him down, as if it was trying to escape from the body it knew was doomed. His breath came in short, labored pants as he tried to push himself back up, but with only one arm it was futile. With his face pressed against the cold metal of the table, his eyes were almost on level with Scully's where she sat, helpless, feet away, yelling his name as she strained against her bonds.
When Hunt had Mulder under control, Shelly moved in, grabbing a fistful of his hair with one hand to force his head forward. She inserted the needle just above the hairline at the back of his neck, in the hollow beneath his skull. When she'd pushed the plunger down and withdrawn the needle, Hunt released his hold.
Scully ceased her struggles and fell still, feeling as though her own heart had stopped.
Mulder felt the prick in his neck, followed by a foggy cold that spread from the tiny puncture and throughout his body. When the hands holding him disappeared, he collapsed against the table, trying to pull himself back up. All he managed was to slide down from it, catching himself on the edge of the bed on his way to the floor.
His hand brushed her leg as he clutched at the sheets, trying hopelessly to regain his feet. As his vision darkened he found her eyes, fixed on his and spilling over with tears.
"Scul-"
The second syllable of her name caught in his throat, turning into a soft groan as he slumped to the floor.
Scully's lips moved soundlessly, her mouth forming around the words that couldn't break through her trembling gasps for breath as she stared in disbelief at the spot where her partner had collapsed.
Since the words wouldn't leave her lips aloud, they echoed, anguished, in her head.
No, no, no
This isn't happening
Please, God, no
From where she was bound to the bed, she could still see part of Mulder's face and his outstretched arm, awkwardly bent across the cold tile. His eyes were closed and his body still.
Hunt walked slowly over to where his victim had fallen, nudging him apathetically with the toe of his shoe. Mulder's eyelids fluttered weakly as his head lolled to the side, but otherwise he made no response.
"Don't touch him!" Scully hissed, snapping out of it to lurch at Hunt against her restraints. Tears spilled over to run unchecked down her cheeks, clearing her blurred vision of the nightmare before her.
Hunt turned, looking at her as if noticing her for the first time. After studying her for a moment, his expression blank, he turned to Shelly.
"Good work," he said, his tone businesslike and indifferent. "He'll be gone in a matter of moments. A team will be here to pick him up shortly; they'll rush him to urgent care as a cardiac arrest case, but it will be too late to resuscitate."
Scully sat taut against her aching wrists, chest heaving in near-hyperventilation as she glared hatefully at her captor. Her gaze returned to Mulder as he said this, desperately searching him for signs of life. Her throat closed around a sob, not letting it surface to be heard.
"As for her…" Hunt continued, and though Scully could feel his eyes she refused to lift hers to look at him. "Keep her restrained here until her symptoms have advanced into the final stages. It shouldn't be long now. When she's unconscious or too far gone to talk, take her into general hospital to die. Let some young doctor try to save her, should make the whole thing more believable. Contact me when it's over."
Shelly nodded, and Hunt left the room without another word.