Mulder slammed the car door as hard as he could, not intentionally, but because of the anger-the fear-that flowed through his body. Before he knew it, he was at the door, standing on the front step, and the feeling he had got when he had reached the car in the park, its doors still open but no one inside, returned to him. It was like a metal nail. Cold and hard, it blocked his throat, making it hard to swallow the deep gulp he took as he turned the doorknob, not surprised that it was locked despite him and Scully leaving it unlocked that afternoon. It stabbed at his stomach, hot and sharp, as he raised his foot, pulled back his leg, and kicked out as hard as he could.
The door, though in decent enough shape, was old and crumbled easily beneath the strength of the desperate man. Mulder, flashlight in hand and gun prepared, took the step into the dark.
The small beam of light threw as many shadows as it removed, shadows that coward and feared the light. Going from room to room, Mulder saw only more shadows, nothing that he was looking for. The house was quiet; just the way any normal person's house would be. The couch, the TV, the oak coffee table… it was all so normal, so innocent. Nothing in the house would give any indication that it knew the secret Logan Jackson kept from his neighbors, friends, and co-workers.
Mulder shivered and bit the top of his lip. There was no one in the house, unless they were in the basement.
The basement.
Mulder's breath stopped, his lungs ceased to work, as his hand left its cold, miserable sweat on the brass doorknob that guarded the descent into the basement. As his hand wrapped around the knob, Mulder could not help but remember what he had seen the last time he had stood before a door in this same situation.
"Shh," the man said, as he tied the gag around her throat. It made the corners of her mouth ache, but she barely noticed it over the sound of her heart throwing itself against her sternum. "You have to be quiet," he continued, stepping out in front of her. "David's in the next room, asleep. The drugs will take longer to ware off of his smaller body; I don't want you to wake him. He needs his rest."
His grin made her skin crawl.
Scully wanted to slap him, to punch that grin off of his face, to just hurt him in anyway. To keep David out of harm. Scully tensed all of her muscles, struggling against the ropes that hugged her wrists and ankles to the chair. The chair bounced slightly with her movement, making a light rapping sound on the old hardwood floor.
"Don't. You'll just make yourself tired," Jackson said, looking her over, "and you'll want your strength too." She watched as his eyes started at her feet, followed them as they traced her legs, up her waist, over her chest, and finally met them as they looked into her face. Cold sweat embraced her fear.
"I looked at your badge. It's not really a good picture of you; it doesn't capture the unique angelic sculpture of your face." He stepped closer, standing close enough that she could touch him if her arm were free. Standing close enough he could touch her... "You're a very beautiful woman, Dana," he said, pushing his bony fingers through her hair which was clinging to her scalp, fused with nervous sweat.
She turned her head, trying to get as far away as she could from those fingers. He chuckled at the movement, both at the action and the futileness of it all. "Well, I suppose I should check on David," Jackson said, his footsteps seeming loud and painful against Scully's ears as he walked to the door and opened it. Before stepping out, he added, "He's a good kid, you know. I almost hate to do this to him."
As he stepped out, Scully noticed a bulge in his back pocket. Something shiny and silver was sticking out. It looked like a camera.
Mulder, Scully thought, saying a little prayer at the same time. Where are you?
* * *
Where are you, Scully? Mulder thought as the old wooden stairs creaked beneath the weight of each step he took. His flashlight's glow danced desperately around the musky little room. The mustiness of the room met him, but the sight he wanted to see, the one he feared the most, did not. Scully and David were nowhere to be seen, but in the corner there was a box. When he went to it, Mulder pulled open the top, looking in and finding it was full of video tapes. There were at least thirty in the one box, and there were three boxes. Each one was the story of at least one victim, of at least one innocence lost. A tale of at least one childhood being torn away from hands that were not ready to have it taken.
Mulder kicked the box as hard as he could, not caring about destroying evidence. The only thing important was that Scully and David were in danger. He had to find them, had to continue searching, no matter what, he had to find them. He had to.
But where do I look?
Mulder listened to the clang as his gun and flashlight dropped to the cold, concrete floor. He felt the cardboard against his back as he leaned against the box on the floor next to them. Think, Mulder, he told himself. Think. Don't waste time tearing yourself up over this, get inside of his head. You've done it a thousand times, and you have to do it now. Okay, okay… He's going to want someplace quiet, where there will not be any people. Probably a larger building with interior rooms so that people walking by won't see in. He needs power for lights and the camera,…but he did the last one in his basement. That goes completely against his usual tendencies. What if he does something completely different, something totally random? How do I find him then?
The silence of the room, and the noise of his thoughts, was broken by the ringing of his phone. The sudden change startled Mulder, making him jump to his feet. Deep down, his hope got up. There was a chance the person on the other line was Scully. A small one, but she was a strong woman. Maybe it was her. Maybe… "Mulder."
David groaned. His side ached in the way it does any time you sleep on the floor, or someplace equally uncomfortable. He rolled over, coughing as the movement kicked up the dust on the floor. Everything felt like a blur; it was all so cloudy. Where am I? he thought, rubbing his eyes, trying to make the clouds go away. "Dana!" he shouted, realization dawning through the haze. He looked around frantically, seeing only cracked windows overlooking tree tops, tables long since beyond use, a lap top computer looking out of place with its newness, and a chalkboard covered in dust and long since forgotten. Slowly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position with his hand, hesitating to look behind him.
Behind him was a group of tables, about four of them, pushed together with a blanket draped over their tops. On the blanket were pillows. Soft, comfortable looking pillows. Not far from the tables was a tripod, a video camera already set upon it. David's breathing quickened as he forced himself to his feet, noticing a small stool next to the camera, a metal tray resting on top of it. The tray was empty.
I have to get out of here, David thought. He rushed to a window and tried to force it open, but the years kept it from budging. He heard the door start to creak open, as he pushed at the window harder, not caring that he was on the second floor of the building, and it would have done him no good anyway. It was better than staying in the room with the man stepping inside.
"Well, David! I'm surprised to see you up and about," Jackson said pleasantly. "I apologize for the accommodations; they were the best I could do on such short notice."
David stood staring at him, not saying a word, fear and hatred crossing over his face. "Where's Dana?" he demanded.
"Aww, how adorable. Look at you. All ready to play hero," Jackson said with a smile one would give to a child dressing up as his father.
"Tell me where she is, or I swear to God I'll…"
"You'll what? Pull that little trick you did earlier?" The smile faded away, taking the pleasantness with it. His teeth gritted, his voice angry. "I don't know what you are, or how you did what you did, but you will not-you will not-do it again. Do you understand?"
"Oh yeah?" David said with a smirk that told Jackson David knew he could take him out with the thought and that he remembered what he did to him earlier. "How are you going to stop me?"
"I can't really," Jackson said. "But then again, I can't guarantee I won't hurt that delightful little redhead that came along with you either…"
David's eyes grew wide as he watched all hope die right there in the center of the room.
Jackson took his turn to smirk with glee. "If you don't mind, take off your shoes and socks and make yourself comfortable," Jackson said, walking to the tray and picking it up. He turned to leave the room, tray in hand, but before shutting the door he added, "We'll start filming in a few moments."
"Mulder?" the voice on the other end said. "It's Byers. We found that site you wanted. It took some doing - finally got some bozo to break down and spill it in a chat room - but...well…I think you need to see this."
"What's the URL?" Mulder asked, already up the stairs and into the den. He was in front of Jackson's computer by the time Byers had finished telling him the address. It felt like an eternity as the dial-up connection went through its business, and by the time it had finished, Mulder already had the browser searching for the site.
It was another long, breathless moment as the site loaded and at last came to view.
Mulder's breath did not return to him, unable to move past an even larger nail in his throat and stomach.
On the site was a picture of David, unconscious on the floor, wearing the baggy jeans and button-up shirt he had been wearing earlier. Over the image were the words "Coming Soon! Songs in the Key of David!" Mulder swallowed hard, not noticing the pain as the saliva forced its way past the nail through the dryness of his throat. "And for those with more 'mature' tastes, a special one-time only offer…" he read, following the words to an image of Scully, tied to a chair, unconscious and helpless. "…the FBI's most wanted- Dana Scully!"