Chap 9
The nearly constant torture and lack of sustenance had worn down their reserves. Mulder's already thin frame has slimmed to the point of counting every bone, and Skinner's normally toned body was showing the signs of malnutrition.
The last time the man had come for Skinner, he had not received the usual fight. Skinner's stubborn silence was broken only by the occasional pained grunt, and, when the torture had become too hard to withstand, he looked toward Mulder and allowed himself to fall unconscious.
The UNSUB was not satisfied. After several hours of unheard of silence, Mulder grew increasingly anxious.
"He's never left us alone this long before." He observed.
"I never stopped fighting before." Skinner said logically. Mulder grinned painfully.
"Yah. He didn't look too happy, huh? We probably spoiled his fun." Before Skinner could respond, the man walked in.
In his perfectly tanned arms was a long, slim box. He set it down and stood in front of his captives. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a switchblade. He flicked it open and stood in front of Skinner.
Skinner didn't move, schooling his chiseled face to impassivity.
Mulder, however, flinched at the sound of the blade opening. I don't like this. This isn't his M.O. He always kills with a sword, one killing stab and many non-lethal marks. He's never used a knife before, even with us. Of course, Mulder thought sardonically, he's never had two at a time, either. He's escalating.
The man looked over at Mulder.
"Ask me."
"Ask you what?" Mulder asked, curiously. "Cause I've got a lot of questions. One being, what exactly are you planning on doing with that knife?"
"Wrong question." The man grabbed Skinner's still swollen left hand. Skinner tried to pull it away from him, but, before he could, the man had already cut a long, deep line from his wrist to the inside of his elbow.
Skinner screamed at the sudden, blinding pain. His other wounds had been painful but relatively harmless. This one, though, was deadly if left untreated.
"No! What did you do that for? You'll kill him!" Mulder screamed.
Skinner panted and tried not to pass out. He couldn't take his eyes off of the river of scarlet blood pumping from his arm. Neither could Mulder.
"Ask me." The man repeated. Mulder glared at him.
"What? What do you want me to ask?"
"Wrong question." The man reached for Skinner's right hand. Skinner's eyes grew wide and pleading before he shut off all his emotions and stared blankly towards Mulder.
"No!" Mulder screamed.
The man stopped, hand on Skinner's wrist, knife raised. Mulder shuffled through his thoughts, trying to find the question to ask. Only one thing came to mind. It wasn't a question but a demand. It was also suicide.
"One more." Mulder said, voice cracking, knowing he signed his own death certificate with the words. The man cocked his head.
"I said one more!" Mulder shouted through damp eyes, weighing the chance of never seeing Scully again against the almost certain death of his boss. He had made the right decision, he finally decided. Even if Scully won't understand. He started to prepare for his death, saying his mental goodbyes and hoping that his sacrifice would save Skinner.
The man smiled and lowered his knife. Striding over to the long box, he didn't notice the quick exchange between the two men; Mulder's pleading look and Skinner's affirming nod. Skinner didn't agree with his decision but understood his motives. Mulder knew his boss would have done the same for him, and he only regretted not being able to tell Scully goodbye. His mouth twitched up in response to his thoughts. He didn't envy Skinner's job of telling Scully what had occurred.
The UNSUB pulled out two long, thin rapiers, finely crafted. Turning, he pulled out an old fashioned key and unlocked Mulder's chains. Mulder watched cautiously as the man slid the key back into his pocket.
Holding his emaciated body at the ready, Mulder was prepared for an attack.
Instead of the quick thrust from a sword, he got a sword itself. He looked at the UNSUB in confusion as he held the sword that had been tossed at him. What is this? He thought. Before he could ask out loud, the man pointed his sword at him.
"En guard!" He cried, flashing his sword. Mulder looked at him in utter bafflement as Skinner looked on through a haze of pain at the unusual scene.
The man attacked. Leaping forward, he slashed across Mulder's left cheek, leaving a perfectly straight line of blood. (No! Not his face!) Mulder jumped back, holding the sword up weakly.
The days of torture and malnutrition had caught up with him, and he was in no form to recall his fencing skills from college. He tried to remember some of his training, but all he could do against someone as experienced as this, and left handed, is go on the defense and try to stay as far away as possible.
Backing away, he kept his sword up and tried to keep from getting killed. The spreading scarlet stain beneath Skinner's increasingly pale body only fueled his desire to be done with this, once and for all.
Another lunge and a matching scratch appeared on his right cheek. Where the heck is Scully? Is all he could think as he glanced around, trying to avoid another cut.
As Skinner's stifled moan escaped his lips, Mulder saw an opening.
The man looked back in pleasure to see the suffering he caused, and Mulder went for an unorthodox and completely illegal fencing move. He tackled the UNSUB.
The men went down in a tangle of limbs, but Mulder had the element of surprise, as well as years of government training.
Mulder searched the man's unconscious body for the key. Running to Skinner's side, he unlocked the cuff that surrounded his injured limb.
"I'll have you out of here in just a second," Mulder said. He stretched towards the right cuff until Skinner screamed his name.
"Mulder, look out!" Neither of them had noticed the UNSUB rise from the floor until he had his sword in his hand. Mulder spun, just in time to avoid the sword piercing his back.
The man lunged forward again as Mulder backpedaled, desperately searching for an opening. The only weapon available was the switchblade he had confiscated from the man's pocket in his search for the key.
He flipped it open and darted forward, slicing the man's left hand and causing him to drop the sword. The man stood, panting, his sword at his feet.
"I have something I need to tell you," he said to Mulder.
Mulder rolled his eyes, never loosening his grip on the knife.
"What?"
"I'm not left handed!" The man shouted as he leapt for the sword.
Before Mulder could react, the sword plunged deep into his belly. He gasped in agony, dropping the switchblade.
The man released the sword as Mulder stumbled backwards and slumped heavily to the floor. Hovering over his prey, the man leaned down to hear Mulder's last words.
"I have... something I need... to tell... you." Mulder gasped out, holding his wound. The man sneered down at him.
"What?" he asked confidently.
"He's... not left handed... either." The man stood back, puzzled.
He never saw Skinner's right fist come flying towards him and didn't feel his body's unceremonial drop to the cement.