Chapter Twenty Eight – Disarray


He was a little cold, enough that goosebumps had begun to stand up on his skin. Or at least he tried to convince himself it was just the cold. The thought that perhaps he was terrified only worsened the intensity of everything – not only the blow to the head just mere hours ago – but the possibility that he would walk out of here and face the consequences of his actions.

"Walter."

Through the uncomfortable haze, he recognised his name and turned his aching head toward the voice. He knew it well, in fact he knew it very well, and there was not a chance in hell he would make this easy for them.

He felt himself dragged to his feet, the room spinning. He wondered what they would do to him next, if he would break sooner rather than later, if they would eventually kill him here in the basement where they had found him. As he began to question himself, he realised very quickly his surroundings were very different than the ones from before when they had struck him.

It was definitely no longer Mulder's office that was for sure.

These were walls he only knew briefly from unwelcome invitation and forced circumstances. The smell of cigarettes overpowered him. He struggled to focus, allowing himself to be led to a chair. He knew what was coming.

A figure stood at his side – one of several – all watching. There was movement in the room, a scuffle between men, some commotion.

"What have you done?"

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She froze on the spot, as did he, at the sound of a knock at the door. Neither agent said a word, their attention instead drawn to the direction of the living room and the front door. Mulder let go of his temporary hold on her, meeting her stare as she turned to look at him.

"It'll be him," Scully spoke, feeling an uncomfortable shiver creep down her spine.

Mulder nodded. He thought little of the fact that it had been many, many hours since Skinner had promised to return, too tired and weak to think anything at all.

"Stay here," he told her, walking away from their close position to answer the door.

Scully did not follow, uncertain of the uneasy tension she felt crawling over her. The apartment was quiet, too quiet, not even disturbed by the sound of a street outside. She watched from the bedroom doorway as her partner approached the front door, hesitating momentarily as he peered through the peep hole.

It was of course, exactly who they were expecting standing in the darkened hallway.

He unlocked and opened the front door, now face to face with Skinner. The older man did not wait a second longer than he had to in the corridor, pushing his way in to the room. He avoided Mulder's eyes.

"You took your time." Mulder spoke first, shutting the door.

Skinner nodded.

"Powers out, at the bureau," he replied. "It's chaotic…"

He paused abruptly. The younger man stared at him, his eyes studying his slightly off mannerisms and a bruise framing the side of his face.

Surely that hadn't been there before, Mulder thought. As his stare continued to fall over the man before him he suddenly noticed that he was holding something down by his side.

It only took a moment for Mulder to look down at the object in his hand to be caught off guard. He barely had a moment to react as an aerosol was raised to his face and sprayed abruptly. He stumbled backwards out of shock, choking and spluttering as he inhaled.

The man who had entered the apartment as Walter Skinner watched as the male he had come for crumpled to the floor, struggling to breathe. He turned his attention to the woman staring back at him in the bedroom doorway.

Mulder found himself blinded momentarily, a cold acrid taste poisoning the inside of his throat as he inhaled. He felt his heart racing as he panicked, worsened by the lack of air getting to his lungs. He caught a glimpse of the man standing over him once more, his attention no longer on himself but on someone across the room.

Scully paused, standing and staring out of fear as the intruder stood and stared back. She watched as he took a step over her partner's body on the floor towards her, mindlessly and without the fear that she felt crippling her.

A jolt of panic urged her to back into the bedroom, slamming the door in front of her.

She suddenly realised there was no lock.

The instinctive motion of reaching for her weapon kicked in, reminding her that she was totally unarmed. Her eyes scanned the room for something, anything she could possibly use to protect herself. Mulders bedroom had always been a little bare – bed, cupboard, chest of drawers - It was no use.

The sound of footsteps walked quickly to the bedroom. An overwhelming wave of panic only made her think irrationally - the thought of clambering out the bedroom window for once seemed completely and utterly rational, attempting to lift the heavy glass window pane that likely had never been opened. She barely got it up half way before catching the bedside table lamp with her arm and sending it crashing to the floor. The room plunged into darkness.

The bedroom door opened once again and slammed hard into the wall behind it. The man she had just moments ago thought of as Assistant Director Skinner found her instantly in the darkness of the room, grabbing her and pushing her back against the bedroom wall. Scully's instinct kicked in, an unnatural strength lashing out and kicking her attacker until she broke free for just a moment. He turned almost as quickly as she had escaped and caught her, wrestling her down onto the bed.

She kicked him over and over, her leg bruising with the intensity of every movement, screaming in the hope that someone would hear. It didn't take long for her strength to tire under his size holding her still, a hand finding its way around her throat.

She stared up at the man she had once felt she knew, a large bruise staining the side of his face, his eyes darker, different. She had seen this look once before when she had woken in the field of a mile of grass, a man standing over her. His stare had been the same.

She wondered what had happened to these men, what kind of mind altering drug they had been forced to take by the same people who had drugged herself and Mulder. She wanted to know why they were doing this, why it was so important and to who. But it was useless now, Scully thought, she'd watched her partner die and now she too was about to suffer the same fate.

In a last ditch attempt to save herself she continued to struggle against her restraint, clawing the strong hand at her throat as the other hand reached for the aerosol that had rolled across the bed. She knew she was going to die, and no way was she going to let it be easy for him.

He struggled against her, clasping desperately for what he needed that was just inches from his fingertips. It was against his wishes and yet he was being controlled. He couldn't stop himself.

He caught it once again as it had so briefly slipped from his fingers in the struggle, and held it to the female agents face, her eyes staring up at him, intense and beautiful as he had always known them to be. He'd once harboured strong feelings for her, and yet here he was with his hand around her throat. He had no choice in the matter. He only hoped she'd forgive him.


To be continued - please review!