Flickering fluorescent fixtures carved into the bleached cement of the ceiling reflected harsh white light from every surface he could see. It was cold. Very, very cold. The room itself seemed to suck warmth from him, claiming everything, every bit of light, heat, sound, and yet reflecting the opposite back towards him ten fold. He gave it grunts of exertion, sweaty, radiating heat, and it gave him echoes, mockingly high pitched, like the whimpering tones of a child; lost, cold, and miserable. The light was not true light, not the warming light of the sun, nor the cool, soft glow of the moon. It was harsh, bitter, spitting out its daily regimen of luminance with an angry power.
The blindingly white surroundings were broken by only three things. His own body, which he had once thought pasty, now seemed practically ebony against the stark surroundings. The table he lay on, what glimpse he could see, was a glistening silver as smooth as surgical steel and almost as clean; the restraining straps matched the decor, layering thick bands of white down his entire body. The oddest thing in his eyeshot was the pulley. About as round as a fat grapefruit and as matte black as his sidearm, it seemed out of place screwed tightly into the ceiling, dangling a thick nylon cord.
The tap of footsteps ricocheted against the walls. Startled, Mulder resumed his struggle against the restraints that made him lie painfully flat. Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of auburn hair caught his attention.
"Scully?" He whispered. "Is that you?"
"I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm sorry," Scully answered. Her voice was sweet relief.
"Sorry? What are you talking about? Come and let me out, before she comes back!" He practically cried the last, dreading the sudden return of the viperous vixen he had been profiling. He thought he'd been tracking her, but, as last night's occurrences certified, she had been hunting him. The remembered flash of her glowing green eyes in the dark alley caused him to shudder even now.
"I can't," Scully whimpered. The tone of her voice tied knots in his stomach. She didn't whimper; she commanded, cajoled, and confronted. Whimper was not in her list of vocal intonations. Something was wrong.
"Scully?" Mulder questioned, straining towards the flash of red. He heard a feminine grunt of pain and a dull thud.
"She can't help you, Boy. She can't even help herself," The Pit Bull said, dragging Scully's unconscious body up to Mulder's eye level. Mulder growled at the sight of a steady stream of blood flowing down Scully's cheek. No! If that monster touched a hair on her head... But she already had.
"Let her go, or I'll kill you!" Mulder threatened ineffectually, knowing that he could do nothing to protect the only person that meant anything to him. He felt helpless, flickering visions of his sister's abduction fueling the burning fire of fear.
"I'd be worrying more about myself, Boy, and less about your little girlfriend," The Pit Bull snarled as she dragged Scully to the wall. Mulder could only watch as she grabbed the dangling rope and tied it through Scully's handcuffs. With barely a grunt, the Pit Bull hoisted Scully up off the floor and left her suspended a couple of feet from the ceiling. He tensed, but then the woman moved away from his partner's poor body, and he allowed a faint hope to peek through. Maybe Scully could escape; maybe there was hope.
"I'll leave you two lovebirds to chat, while I take care of some unfinished business. See you soon, Lover Boy," The stunningly beautiful, and sickeningly psychotic, murderess said as she strode out the door. Moments later, Mulder heard a low moan. Yes! Go Scully!
"Scully. Come on, wake up. Come on, Scully. That's it. You okay?" He felt like a cheerleader urging his team onward, but then he wasn't much of a physical help at the moment.
"Mmm. I don't think I have a concussion, but I do have the worst headache possible." Headache? That didn't sound good. A mild concussion maybe? Okay, first things first- escape and then worry about medical problems.
"Scully, you have to get out of here. I've been trying to escape for hours, but the restraints are just too tight. See if you can get out of yours and get some help," he urged, demonstrating his own inability to escape.
"Okay," she mumbled tiredly. Mulder stopped struggling with his restraints and gave her his full attention. She was just a little too submissive. Where was her argument, her 'I'm not going to leave you' speech?
"Scully, are you sure you're okay?"
"Mmm. Head hurts," Scully said weakly as she passed out once again. Oh no. She was worse than he thought.
"Scully? Scully! Wake up! Scully!" Mulder shouted at her unresponsive body. A mirthless chuckle echoed from the walls.
"Lost a bit of her stamina, huh?" The Pit Bull drawled as she made her way to Scully's side. For a moment, he hesitated. Should he let this serial killer know how much he cared for Scully, or would she use her against him? He looked at Scully's pale form, and the thought of her dieing spurred him on. To hell with keeping it cool; Scully would not die because of something he did.
"Please, wake her up. Help her! You can't just let her die!" Mulder pleaded with his captor, hating how desperate he sounded.
"You're wrong. I can let her die, I just don't want to. After all, I haven't kept her alive this long to let her escape me now." Mulder fought to hide the fear that welled up, a fear that he had just sentenced Scully to something far more harmful than a swift and silent death. He couldn't think like that. The most important thing right now was keeping her alive and awake, the future was secondary.
"Just help her, please," Mulder begged. The Pit Bull sneered but complied. Lowering Scully to eye level, she slapped her hard across the face. Mulder bit his lip, struggling to keep silent and not agitate her further. At the third strike, Mulder's bones melted in relief.
"Stop," Scully said weakly but authoritatively. The Pit Bull grabbed her chin and forced Scully to look at her. Don't touch her! Mulder wanted to scream but restrained himself.
"Stay awake. I will not do this again." Dropping her hand, the Pit Bull pulled on the rope and returned Scully to her ceiling box seat. Okay, she was safe for the moment, now what?
"Let's begin, shall we?" The Pit Bull said, tying her hair back with a snow white scrunchy that matched her all white outfit. White on white on white. The Pit Bull's blue-black hair and rose lips were the only things that made her stand apart from the cinderblock walls.
As Scully's awareness slowly returned, Mulder worried more and more about his own safety. He had some subconscious idea that as long as she was awake and aware, Scully could defend herself, even tied up. He had no such delusions about his own state and knew just how utterly helpless he was. Clad only in his boxers, he had never felt so exposed. His toes tingled with the lack of circulation, and he wiggled them to try and return feeling. He knew this woman's M.O. and was not looking forward to his seemingly imminent fate. The fox and the hound, what an ironic twist. He only wished he and his red haired "vixen" could pop down a fox hole instead of being caught in this hunter's trap.
Where had the Pit Bull gone? He wondered, and he looked to Scully's eyes for an answer. Scully seemed to be following her movements as she paced the end of his table. Back and forth. Suddenly, Scully's eyes froze and widened almost imperceptibly.
Mulder felt hot breath on his left foot and swallowed hard. Here it comes. The Pit Bull's raven hair brushed his arch, painfully scraping the numb appendage.
A little nip on his big toe made him jump. His breath rate increased as a sudden rush of adrenaline poured into his system. He knew exactly what this woman was capable of, and he also knew that this was only the beginning.
A slight pressure on his shin was followed quickly by a hard nip on his thigh. As she made her way up his body, the bites became progressively harder, but never broke skin. Poised for pain, Mulder's muscles were bunched tightly; hoping to hold his body together even as his mind flew apart.
She reached his left ear.
"Let's see how you taste, Boy," she breathed into his ear as she took his lobe in her teeth and allowed one sharp tooth to pierce through. He hissed at the sudden pain, and she backed up, licking her lips. He didn't like that look.
"You taste good, Boy, and I'm hungry," she growled, almost seductively. His firmly restrained body began to tremble, and he kept his eyes glued to Scully's frantic blue orbs. She'll start small, he hoped, he prayed. An ironic part of his mind wished he'd skipped that last shower and his Degree didn't work quite so well.
The Pit Bull lowered her face to hover over his; her warm, copper tinged breath turning his stomach. As her curvaceous lips lowered towards his left eye, he whimpered. He hated himself for his weakness, especially in front of Scully, but self-preservation took over. Not the face, not the face!
"Please. Stop. Don't..." Is all he could whisper as she came closer and closer. His throat closed off and he struggled to keep breathing. Her teeth brushed his thick, dark eyelashes as he closed his eyes to try to avoid the truth. Soon he would be known as Cyclops as well as Spooky, if he even lived though this. Funny how the threat of imminent pain was scarier than the pain itself. Excruciating agony exploded in his left eye and a choked scream escaped his lips.
"Stop it!" He vaguely heard Scully scream from her perch.
Once the pain had faded to a sharp throb, he tried to assess the damage. Strangely enough, he still felt both his eyes. Daring to crack them open, he met the startlingly green eyes of his torturer. Pain surrounded his eyebrow, but there was little actual damage. His vision turned red as the blood clouded his eye.
The Pit Bull grinned and moved on, apparently wanting her prey alive and aware for as long as possible. She trailed her hands down his torso, lingering at the waist band of his boxers. His already tense muscles cramped under her fingers. No, no, no, no, no. And he thought the face was bad. He felt all the blood in his body pool at the base of his spine, as if both beckoned and chilled by her fingertips.
Her beauty turned monstrous as a wave of ravenous hunger seemed to overwhelm her, and she leapt on him like a starving wolf. Straddling his hips, she ripped a piece of his chest off with her teeth, blood gushing from the open wound above his sternum. He screamed unintelligibly at the explosion of pain.
"Mulder! Stop hurting him! Why are you doing this?" Scully screamed as she squirmed against the wall. The Pit Bull didn't seem to hear, lost in a blood frenzy. More chunks were ripped off, creating one unyielding, continuous scream from Mulder. His scream stopped abruptly. Scully looked on in horror, voice hoarse from her pleas. No, Mulder, no! She thought.
"Damn it! You monster! If you killed him, I'll kill you myself! I swear!" The Pit Bull paused when his screams ceased. Now, she turned to look at Scully, her face and body crimson painted and dripping. The sanity returned to her eyes as she wiped her lips on her sleeve.
"I need a drink," the Pit Bull intoned as she stalked out the door. Scully didn't give her another glance, mind only on her partner. At first, she was certain he was dead, but dead men don't bleed, and the agonizing gasps for air gave certain proof that he still fought on. Thank God.
"Mulder! Oh, God. Mulder! Can you wake up? Mulder?" Scully shouted hoarsely, attempting to rouse her partner. He coughed weakly and opened one eye. Yes!
"Scully?" He rasped.
"I'm here, Mulder, I'm here! Stay with me, okay?" Do not die, Mulder. He's survived so much; he can't die on me now. Not by her.
"I'm sorry, Scully."
"Sorry for what Mulder?" There he goes, taking responsibility for things he could not control.
"For getting you into this..."
"Mulder, it's my choice." It's always been my choice.
"And sorry for leaving you."
"Leaving me? Mulder, what are you talking about? You didn't ditch me this time, you were kidnapped." Not that ditching her wasn't what she had assumed at first, but then finding his gun in that alley...
"No... Not what I meant... Scully, I'm dieing." He can't say that! Where's his hope? Where's that damn bull-headedness he's famous for?
"No, Mulder! Hang on! Someone will rescue us! You have to hold on!"
"I'll... I'll try," he whispered as he coughed again and winced. Internal bleeding. Oh, God. It was worse than she thought.
The door creaked open as the Pit Bull returned.
"Ah, still alive and kicking, are we?" She crooned, surprised. "Good. I get to kill you my way then." Scully's eyes widened as she realized what she meant. Her 'signature' move. Like her canine namesake, she went for the throat.
Mulder could only lie there impotently as the woman took her place at his side. His helpless hazel eyes sought Scully's strength, but Scully was insane with anger.
"Haven't you done enough to him? Let him alone!" She screamed to the calloused woman in front of her. Scully's rage grew when she got no reaction.
The Pit Bull ignored her and lowered her mouth to Mulder's untouched neck. Opening her jaws wide, she clamped down in a crushing, vice-like grip. Mulder's face went instantly red, and his mouth opened and closed like one of his fish, trying without success to inhale.
Scully finally gave up her threats and pleas and met his eyes. Live Mulder! She willed with all of her might. Just live! Infinite sadness reflected back at her, and, as his struggles grew weaker, he seemed to draw the last of his strength to make his lips move under his control.
"Bye, Scully," he mouthed; his eyes apologizing even as they closed and his body went limp.
"No! Mulder! Don't leave me! Mulder!" Scully sobbed ineffectually. She had not realized how bad it would hurt, until now. Her soul felt like it had been ripped from her, leaving a vast empty chasm the approximate size and shape of a coffin or, deeper yet, of death. Why now? After all they had suffered, all they had worked for, why take him now? And by this glorified cannibal no less!
What was left of her heart turned as black as her emotions, and a hunter's veil fell over her mind. Kill.
As the Pit Bull circled her masterpiece, she made the unfortunate mistake of coming within Scully's grasp. Scully's legs shot out, wrapped themselves tightly around the woman's neck, and squeezed.
The murderess clawed at her legs, struggling to break free. WHAM! Scully contorted her body, using all her muscles in unison, and slammed the woman's head against the wall. WHAM! Again. WHAM! Again. But suddenly there was nothing to smash. The woman's body had fallen to the floor, her skull a wet bag of broken chips in bloody sauce.
Grabbing the rope tied to her handcuffs, Scully pulled upwards until her face met her hands. Using her teeth, she viciously yanked apart the rope and set herself free. She dropped to the floor, landing in a crouched position, and immediately stood. The smell of blood caked her nostrils, mostly wafting from her partner's body. His blood-coated corpse lay still and quiet on the table.
Moving carefully to his side, she looked down on his angelic face. He was asleep, just asleep. Her hand cupped his cold cheek. He looked so quiet, so innocent. She kissed him, brushing his lips with her own.
Turning away from his body, she moved towards his killer. Her tongue flicked out unconsciously to remove the liquid covering her lips. His blood. She stood over the battered body she had created and was not satisfied. Something snapped.
"Live! Live so I can kill you again! Live so I can kill you a hundred times! Live because he died!" Scully strangled the maimed body between her cuffed hands, the blood oozing between her fingers. A sound.
The door creaked open.
And, as Scully flew towards the figure- hands outstretched, bloody, and ready to kill again- Skinner reflexively raised his gun.
END
