THE FIRST NIGHT
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In the office.
"Dammit, Mulder. I'm going to kick your ass. And I hope it won't take place in a hospital, or." But I stop the course of my thoughts there, preferring to concentrate myself on the present, and on the few things I had to work on in order to get to him. I know perfectly well that I have to find him very quickly, but I don't know where to start. He hadn't told me where he was going, only that it was "not too far from D.C." and, as he had taken the bank's letter, I was unable to find its location.
I rummage through every possible drawer I imagined could contain that sort of information to no avail. It was such personal information that the best thing I could do was head toward his apartment where I had a better chance of finding anything of any interest.
First, though, I have to do something else, something I hope Mulder will forgive.for he had been adamant that none of this 'letter-thing' is Bureau business. But now that he is in danger, I have to find Skinner - I have to tell him what is going on and, frankly, .I just need help.
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In the trunk.
Everything is black. I don't want to open my eyes because I already know where I am, it's happened so many times: I'm in a car trunk.
I feel groggy; I've probably been drugged. I can remember the bank, the queue, the startling noise, the men and the gun put behind my neck. My head and my back hurt badly, they probably dragged me here without a lot of care.how surprising! I manage to lift my head but it doesn't go very far and hits the roof. "Fuffhm!" that's when I realize that a rag is stuffed in my mouth. I can't even swear properly, how pathetic.
I wish I could see my watch, but my hands are tied behind my back and there is no light at all.it wouldn't change a thing if I kept my eyes closed. I have no idea how long I've been here but I have no time to worry about what is going to happen to me, I'm so angry with my stupidity that I can't think straight. I should have seen it coming -I'm a fucking psychologist for God's sake!- it's easier to swear in my head.but I was so blinded by the personal facts of the case. Yeah, it's just a stupid case in fact, and *I* was the target. If I didn't ache so badly already, I'd probably punch myself very hard.
I can feel the car beginning to lose speed.then come to a stop. Doors are banging closed, and I know that I'm the next thought in their head. I was right; I can hear footsteps approaching.
Everything was black, now everything is so bright I think I'm becoming blind. But it's not the sun's light, for I now know that it's the night. Two pale figures lean over me -I don't know either of them- and something wet is put over my newly free to speak mouth before I can utter a word. I try to fight the chloroform effect for a while, but a fist's blow finally stills me.
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Somewhere else, one hour later..
I wake up on a dirty floor.and the first thing I realize is that I no longer have a rag in my mouth, which is not really a good thing: it proves that my captors don't give a shit if I yell, no one would hear me. I try not to show my worry as a door is opened, but I am nervous. Once again, light blinds me as whoever entered the room switches on a lamp. A plain bulb hangs from the ceiling and I can see it moving back and forth like a pendulum.
I retreat as far from the man as I can as I realize what he is holding. My back hits a wall and I have no choice but to face him as I try to sit.
"Don't worry." he says gently, moving the baseball bat very close to my head, "I won't use it unless I'm forced to."
Well, that's reassuring. My tied hands and shaky legs make me unable to stand up, but when he puts the bat on my chest to still me, I don't try to move.
"Stay there. Don't try to stand or you will find yourself back on your knees in no time."
I can see his face.but nothing comes back from my memory. Jet black hair, black eyes, white skin and a strangely shrill voice considering his impressive build.I think I would have remembered him.
"You don't know who I am?" he asks me kindly, even smiling
I shake my head in the negative, wondering if it was a good idea to move it in the first place, since it's still aching.
"Don't worry." he adds, showing me his too-white teeth ".you'll soon discover that."
I swallow hard, imagining why he said that.but I try not to show my anxiety as I picture him using the bat against my ribs.
"Let's just say for now that I'm a kind of seeker. I seek the truth.that makes us very much alike, doesn't it Fox?"
The way he said my name makes my blood run cold. Of course, I'm not used to hearing it but, as he lingered on the final 'x', the room temperature seemed to drop by many degrees.
"What truth are you looking for?" I ask, my voice less shaky than I feared.
He stares at me with a funny expression: "I forgot that you were also able to speak." But then, his smile fades, and I can no longer discern humour in his features. I can see the bat moving really fast toward me, but I have no time to react and I take the blow hard in the chest. I close my eyes briefly, trying to not to slip on the floor and catch my breath.
"I'M THE ONE WHO'S ASKING QUESTIONS!!" he yells very close to my ear.
He swings the bat again, harder, and this time I can't suppress a groan and my shoulders' weight send me to the floor. I cough, surprised not to see blood spreading on the floor: I'm quite sure he already broke me a few ribs.
"I'll come back later, I hope you'll be more cooperative."
With that, he closes the door, and I find myself once again in the darkness.
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I don't know how long they waited before they come back into the room, I say 'they' 'cos there are now three men, all hovering above me.
I'm lying on my side, I must have drifted off for a while, weakened by the blows. I try to stand the best as I can, but all I can do is simply put my back against the wall and stare back at them. My ribs don't hurt too much but my head is spinning and my vision is not very clear.
"Do you have any questions?"
I may look like one, but I'm not an idiot: "I thought I wasn't supposed to ask questions." The black haired man smiles, and asks the others to come nearer. I can now see their faces, but once again, none look familiar. Did I say the first bastard who hit me looked impressive? Well, scratch that, my two new friends *look* impressive. I'm even surprised not to see foam forming at the corners of their mouths.
He nods at them and I can feel them dragging me to my feet, holding my arms in their big hands.
"Untie him, I'm sure he'll be more comfortable."
His smile is really starting to piss me off; I wish I could erase it from his face. When the two gorillas let go of my arms, I feel myself falling.but I don't go far, and they pull me right back on my feet.
"Don't try to do anything stupid.you don't have your gun, or your phone." He nods his head toward a table, in the corner of the room. I can see my black shirt, phone, gun, cuffs and wallet on it.
"How kind of you to remove my shirt.blood stains are so hard to get out!" I couldn't suppress a little joke, trying to make the atmosphere lighter.
He smiles warmly, nods again and I know before the gorillas hit me that 'humour' has no place in a situation like this. I catch my breath, my head is hanging loose on my chest, but it doesn't remain there as a hand grips my hair and pull it back once again.
"I think you're ready to hear what we have to say. As you've probably already guessed, all this has to do with your father."
"My father is dead." I point matter-of-factly.
"That's where you're wrong.he's alive, and he's the one we're looking for."
"I really don't know what you're talking about, Bill Mulder."
A blow to the stomach stops me from carrying on my sentence and the black haired man comes nearer to me so that I can smell his breath. I try to move away from him, but the two arms that are gripping me tighten and I'm forced to look him square in the eyes.
"I'm not talking about Bill Mulder, I thought you realized that." he tells me, with a look of sadness, sad .for me?
He grips my shoulders and puts his forehead against mine and speaks again: "I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but Bill Mulder is not your father. Well.not your *real* father anyway."
It's my turn to smile, and I answer him from my position a few inches above him: "I've already heard that shit. If you're referring to the smoking bastard he's not my father.and if you want to kill him then let's do it together!"
His elbow comes in contact with my chest a few times, and he then takes up his former position with his hands on my shoulders. We're both out of breath, but not for the same reason.
"WILL YOU LET ME FINISH MY SENTENCE?!"
I try to put my head back down, but he places his hands on my cheeks, squeezing them with force.
"I want you to look at me when I'm talking to you, okay? Now you listen to me. I don't care who you *think* he is, you can picture him playing whatever part you want in your fucking life, but for me.for us.he's your blood, you're his son."
His words hurt more than his blows, because I knew he was right.
You' re probably wondering why I believe this man, who has been vociferating in my face for over an hour. I think I just needed a kind of confirmation of what I had been told, and of what I have learned from my years in the X-Files.this man just gave that to me. I can barely feel his blows on my head and stomach, and his voice is lost to me.but when his knee comes in contact with my groin, I open my eyes again. I think he is surprised to see all the hatred in my eyes or maybe he was even scared.
But I don't want to kill him, not yet anyway.my murder plan was directed toward someone else. Unfortunately, he misunderstood me and started to speak again in a lower voice.
"Now you know who I'm talking about.but there's something *I* know that you don't. I'm aware that he gave something to you, something he wasn't supposed to give to anyone. And the only reason I can think of why he gave it to you is because you are his son." he pauses, his face red from screaming, "You know what I'm referring too.the chip."
Oh God.please don't. Not the chip, not the chip.not my Scully.
He must have seen something flashing in my eyes, because he smiles brightly and adds, this time without yelling: "Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. You can't imagine the power of this chip you have, you've probably put it somewhere safe, but the only thing we want to know is: where."
"It would have been easier to call me, guys." I feel better, because I realize that he doesn't know that Scully has the chip in her neck, the same chip that saved her from her cancer. She is safe, for now, and that's the most important thing in this story.
"I threw it away a long time ago. I didn't know what it was for, I had no reason to keep it."
It is my turn to see something in his eyes.in fact; he reacts as if I had just punched him, which is a good thing.
"You.you didn't do that! You *couldn't* have done something like that!"
He looks totally taken aback, miserable.but I don't feel any pity for him. He lowers his head, shakes it from side for a few seconds and then looks back at me.
"You're lying. I know you have it.you wouldn't have done something that irrational."
"Why would I lie? I told you the truth." the man was cleverer than I thought.
He shakes his head, almost in sorrow: "You're going to make me hurt you."
He takes a step back and then punches me hard in the stomach. I saw it coming, and braced myself for the blow but the force is strong enough to send me to my knees, since the gorillas had released me. As I gasp for breath, I hear a gun cock behind me and feel cold steel against my skull.
"Is that it?" I ask. "Are you finished?"
A clump of my hair is gripped in someone's hand and I am dragged to my feet, the gun still behind my ear.
"How stupid are you?" he says, rubbing the knuckles of his right hand "You want to die?"
"Not really. But apparently, since you don't believe me.."
He throws his fist back again. The tone of his voice grows gentler, but his face hardens as he speaks again: "I'm sorry we have to do this to you, but I need to be sure that you understand what we've discussed. If at any point you feel you have something to add to what you've told me, just moan louder."
He then nods at whoever is behind me and I am forced down to my knees again. My arms are pulled back and then secured with cuffs. I look up to see the black haired man limping toward me. In his hand, he holds a black metal rod. Crackling blue lightning dances along its length.
The first two shots from the cattle prod knock me backwards and send me spasming to the ground, my teeth gritted in pain against my tongue. After the third or fourth contact I lose control of myself and blue flashes move through the blackness of my mind until, at last, the clouds take me and all goes quiet.
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When I come to, I am lying on my back, still on the same dirty floor. The tips of my fingers are raw, my head aches badly, my body still trembles and there is dried blood on the side of my face. I feel nauseous; and when I open my eyes, the room spins before my eyes.
"I'm going to vomit." I think.
TO BE CONTINUED..
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In the office.
"Dammit, Mulder. I'm going to kick your ass. And I hope it won't take place in a hospital, or." But I stop the course of my thoughts there, preferring to concentrate myself on the present, and on the few things I had to work on in order to get to him. I know perfectly well that I have to find him very quickly, but I don't know where to start. He hadn't told me where he was going, only that it was "not too far from D.C." and, as he had taken the bank's letter, I was unable to find its location.
I rummage through every possible drawer I imagined could contain that sort of information to no avail. It was such personal information that the best thing I could do was head toward his apartment where I had a better chance of finding anything of any interest.
First, though, I have to do something else, something I hope Mulder will forgive.for he had been adamant that none of this 'letter-thing' is Bureau business. But now that he is in danger, I have to find Skinner - I have to tell him what is going on and, frankly, .I just need help.
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In the trunk.
Everything is black. I don't want to open my eyes because I already know where I am, it's happened so many times: I'm in a car trunk.
I feel groggy; I've probably been drugged. I can remember the bank, the queue, the startling noise, the men and the gun put behind my neck. My head and my back hurt badly, they probably dragged me here without a lot of care.how surprising! I manage to lift my head but it doesn't go very far and hits the roof. "Fuffhm!" that's when I realize that a rag is stuffed in my mouth. I can't even swear properly, how pathetic.
I wish I could see my watch, but my hands are tied behind my back and there is no light at all.it wouldn't change a thing if I kept my eyes closed. I have no idea how long I've been here but I have no time to worry about what is going to happen to me, I'm so angry with my stupidity that I can't think straight. I should have seen it coming -I'm a fucking psychologist for God's sake!- it's easier to swear in my head.but I was so blinded by the personal facts of the case. Yeah, it's just a stupid case in fact, and *I* was the target. If I didn't ache so badly already, I'd probably punch myself very hard.
I can feel the car beginning to lose speed.then come to a stop. Doors are banging closed, and I know that I'm the next thought in their head. I was right; I can hear footsteps approaching.
Everything was black, now everything is so bright I think I'm becoming blind. But it's not the sun's light, for I now know that it's the night. Two pale figures lean over me -I don't know either of them- and something wet is put over my newly free to speak mouth before I can utter a word. I try to fight the chloroform effect for a while, but a fist's blow finally stills me.
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Somewhere else, one hour later..
I wake up on a dirty floor.and the first thing I realize is that I no longer have a rag in my mouth, which is not really a good thing: it proves that my captors don't give a shit if I yell, no one would hear me. I try not to show my worry as a door is opened, but I am nervous. Once again, light blinds me as whoever entered the room switches on a lamp. A plain bulb hangs from the ceiling and I can see it moving back and forth like a pendulum.
I retreat as far from the man as I can as I realize what he is holding. My back hits a wall and I have no choice but to face him as I try to sit.
"Don't worry." he says gently, moving the baseball bat very close to my head, "I won't use it unless I'm forced to."
Well, that's reassuring. My tied hands and shaky legs make me unable to stand up, but when he puts the bat on my chest to still me, I don't try to move.
"Stay there. Don't try to stand or you will find yourself back on your knees in no time."
I can see his face.but nothing comes back from my memory. Jet black hair, black eyes, white skin and a strangely shrill voice considering his impressive build.I think I would have remembered him.
"You don't know who I am?" he asks me kindly, even smiling
I shake my head in the negative, wondering if it was a good idea to move it in the first place, since it's still aching.
"Don't worry." he adds, showing me his too-white teeth ".you'll soon discover that."
I swallow hard, imagining why he said that.but I try not to show my anxiety as I picture him using the bat against my ribs.
"Let's just say for now that I'm a kind of seeker. I seek the truth.that makes us very much alike, doesn't it Fox?"
The way he said my name makes my blood run cold. Of course, I'm not used to hearing it but, as he lingered on the final 'x', the room temperature seemed to drop by many degrees.
"What truth are you looking for?" I ask, my voice less shaky than I feared.
He stares at me with a funny expression: "I forgot that you were also able to speak." But then, his smile fades, and I can no longer discern humour in his features. I can see the bat moving really fast toward me, but I have no time to react and I take the blow hard in the chest. I close my eyes briefly, trying to not to slip on the floor and catch my breath.
"I'M THE ONE WHO'S ASKING QUESTIONS!!" he yells very close to my ear.
He swings the bat again, harder, and this time I can't suppress a groan and my shoulders' weight send me to the floor. I cough, surprised not to see blood spreading on the floor: I'm quite sure he already broke me a few ribs.
"I'll come back later, I hope you'll be more cooperative."
With that, he closes the door, and I find myself once again in the darkness.
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I don't know how long they waited before they come back into the room, I say 'they' 'cos there are now three men, all hovering above me.
I'm lying on my side, I must have drifted off for a while, weakened by the blows. I try to stand the best as I can, but all I can do is simply put my back against the wall and stare back at them. My ribs don't hurt too much but my head is spinning and my vision is not very clear.
"Do you have any questions?"
I may look like one, but I'm not an idiot: "I thought I wasn't supposed to ask questions." The black haired man smiles, and asks the others to come nearer. I can now see their faces, but once again, none look familiar. Did I say the first bastard who hit me looked impressive? Well, scratch that, my two new friends *look* impressive. I'm even surprised not to see foam forming at the corners of their mouths.
He nods at them and I can feel them dragging me to my feet, holding my arms in their big hands.
"Untie him, I'm sure he'll be more comfortable."
His smile is really starting to piss me off; I wish I could erase it from his face. When the two gorillas let go of my arms, I feel myself falling.but I don't go far, and they pull me right back on my feet.
"Don't try to do anything stupid.you don't have your gun, or your phone." He nods his head toward a table, in the corner of the room. I can see my black shirt, phone, gun, cuffs and wallet on it.
"How kind of you to remove my shirt.blood stains are so hard to get out!" I couldn't suppress a little joke, trying to make the atmosphere lighter.
He smiles warmly, nods again and I know before the gorillas hit me that 'humour' has no place in a situation like this. I catch my breath, my head is hanging loose on my chest, but it doesn't remain there as a hand grips my hair and pull it back once again.
"I think you're ready to hear what we have to say. As you've probably already guessed, all this has to do with your father."
"My father is dead." I point matter-of-factly.
"That's where you're wrong.he's alive, and he's the one we're looking for."
"I really don't know what you're talking about, Bill Mulder."
A blow to the stomach stops me from carrying on my sentence and the black haired man comes nearer to me so that I can smell his breath. I try to move away from him, but the two arms that are gripping me tighten and I'm forced to look him square in the eyes.
"I'm not talking about Bill Mulder, I thought you realized that." he tells me, with a look of sadness, sad .for me?
He grips my shoulders and puts his forehead against mine and speaks again: "I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but Bill Mulder is not your father. Well.not your *real* father anyway."
It's my turn to smile, and I answer him from my position a few inches above him: "I've already heard that shit. If you're referring to the smoking bastard he's not my father.and if you want to kill him then let's do it together!"
His elbow comes in contact with my chest a few times, and he then takes up his former position with his hands on my shoulders. We're both out of breath, but not for the same reason.
"WILL YOU LET ME FINISH MY SENTENCE?!"
I try to put my head back down, but he places his hands on my cheeks, squeezing them with force.
"I want you to look at me when I'm talking to you, okay? Now you listen to me. I don't care who you *think* he is, you can picture him playing whatever part you want in your fucking life, but for me.for us.he's your blood, you're his son."
His words hurt more than his blows, because I knew he was right.
You' re probably wondering why I believe this man, who has been vociferating in my face for over an hour. I think I just needed a kind of confirmation of what I had been told, and of what I have learned from my years in the X-Files.this man just gave that to me. I can barely feel his blows on my head and stomach, and his voice is lost to me.but when his knee comes in contact with my groin, I open my eyes again. I think he is surprised to see all the hatred in my eyes or maybe he was even scared.
But I don't want to kill him, not yet anyway.my murder plan was directed toward someone else. Unfortunately, he misunderstood me and started to speak again in a lower voice.
"Now you know who I'm talking about.but there's something *I* know that you don't. I'm aware that he gave something to you, something he wasn't supposed to give to anyone. And the only reason I can think of why he gave it to you is because you are his son." he pauses, his face red from screaming, "You know what I'm referring too.the chip."
Oh God.please don't. Not the chip, not the chip.not my Scully.
He must have seen something flashing in my eyes, because he smiles brightly and adds, this time without yelling: "Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. You can't imagine the power of this chip you have, you've probably put it somewhere safe, but the only thing we want to know is: where."
"It would have been easier to call me, guys." I feel better, because I realize that he doesn't know that Scully has the chip in her neck, the same chip that saved her from her cancer. She is safe, for now, and that's the most important thing in this story.
"I threw it away a long time ago. I didn't know what it was for, I had no reason to keep it."
It is my turn to see something in his eyes.in fact; he reacts as if I had just punched him, which is a good thing.
"You.you didn't do that! You *couldn't* have done something like that!"
He looks totally taken aback, miserable.but I don't feel any pity for him. He lowers his head, shakes it from side for a few seconds and then looks back at me.
"You're lying. I know you have it.you wouldn't have done something that irrational."
"Why would I lie? I told you the truth." the man was cleverer than I thought.
He shakes his head, almost in sorrow: "You're going to make me hurt you."
He takes a step back and then punches me hard in the stomach. I saw it coming, and braced myself for the blow but the force is strong enough to send me to my knees, since the gorillas had released me. As I gasp for breath, I hear a gun cock behind me and feel cold steel against my skull.
"Is that it?" I ask. "Are you finished?"
A clump of my hair is gripped in someone's hand and I am dragged to my feet, the gun still behind my ear.
"How stupid are you?" he says, rubbing the knuckles of his right hand "You want to die?"
"Not really. But apparently, since you don't believe me.."
He throws his fist back again. The tone of his voice grows gentler, but his face hardens as he speaks again: "I'm sorry we have to do this to you, but I need to be sure that you understand what we've discussed. If at any point you feel you have something to add to what you've told me, just moan louder."
He then nods at whoever is behind me and I am forced down to my knees again. My arms are pulled back and then secured with cuffs. I look up to see the black haired man limping toward me. In his hand, he holds a black metal rod. Crackling blue lightning dances along its length.
The first two shots from the cattle prod knock me backwards and send me spasming to the ground, my teeth gritted in pain against my tongue. After the third or fourth contact I lose control of myself and blue flashes move through the blackness of my mind until, at last, the clouds take me and all goes quiet.
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When I come to, I am lying on my back, still on the same dirty floor. The tips of my fingers are raw, my head aches badly, my body still trembles and there is dried blood on the side of my face. I feel nauseous; and when I open my eyes, the room spins before my eyes.
"I'm going to vomit." I think.
TO BE CONTINUED..
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