Day 10
Mulder didn't bother going to the bureau late; he had not slept anyway and so was at work even before his colleagues who were surprised to see him there.
"Mulder where have you been?" Roberts asked.
Mulder, unsure how to answer that since he was unaware of the story Skinner had spun simply said "I took some time to sort some things back home." A satisfactory answer apparently.
Skinner wasn't so surprised to see Mulder that morning; he hadn't really expected him to come in late and so proceeded to give out instructions to the two younger agents letting Mulder take care of himself.
Mulder however found himself at a loss a mere two hours later – Graham had not had any visitors other than a state appointed psychiatrist, not Dr Lecter who had never been seen again and he had no known associations since he had left the mental hospital the first time. He sat staring at his screen cracking sunflower seeds with his teeth when his phone rang shrilly; his cellphone this time.
"Hello?" He said heavily, not recognizing the number.
"Agent Mulder, I'm impressed you actually managed to get the money together." The insidious voice purred through the receiver.
"I showed, where were you?" Mulder hissed, his patience evaporating.
"Oh Mr Mulder, it's never about the money." The voice said.
"Well what is it about then?" He asked, doing his best to stay calm.
"Repentance." Was all the man said. The harsh voice came out in a cackle and then the phone clicked dead. Mulder looked at it for a minute then chucked it on the desk angrily. It was all a game it seemed and he didn't know the rules. He looked at the small amount of notes he had subconsciously taken. They didn't reveal much, if anything he didn't know already. Repentance was a word he had written and circled multiple times as if trying to find meaning with each pass of the pen. He spent the next few minutes thinking about what it meant but his reverie was interrupted by the arrival of the post cart. It was pushed by a young nerdy guy who reminded him a little of himself at that age.
"Hey," he said nonchalantly as the man approached him bringing a brown papered package. "Thanks." He said as he was handed the bundle and when their brief exchange was over the guy shuffled out back to his cart. Mulder stared at the word on his notepad longer and harder, ignoring the package on his desk marked for his attention. He thought of Will Graham – he clearly had something to do with the situation; maybe a relative holding Mulder responsible but it was over twenty years ago and he struggled to see how Graham would be aware of Scully's or his connection to her. He reasoned anyone could research their professional connection, see that they were partners for nearly a decade but it was impossible for the man to know about his personal connection with her. He tried not to focus on the ache building in his chest as he wrote his thoughts about possible leads. Once he was tapped out he turned his attention to the package. He immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he ran his eyes over the brown paper, over the all too familiar handwriting. He hesitated wondering whether to take the package upstairs then after a beat, deciding he couldn't wait, grabbed a pair of latex gloves and gently peeled open the seal. Inside was a small nondescript black box. Mulder swallowed dryly as he lifted the lid revealing much to his horror a severed finger. He felt a rising ball of nausea in his stomach and swallowed hard to quell it. Despite his building panic he fought to remind himself it might not even be hers. Besides, he told himself, he had a job to do. He took a deep breath and put the package back together and went to find the others.
Within a few hours Mulder found himself in the cold FBI half lab staring at a severed finger believed to be female, trying to remember whether he had even seen Scully wear violet nail varnish. With that thought he wondered if her tastes could have changed in the two or so years they'd been apart. He didn't think he knew her anymore so it was entirely possible. That familiar ache returned.
"We have an index finger severed at the third knuckle. Looks to be female. Besides blood tests back at Quantico to confirm it belongs to your missing agent there isn't a lot more I can tell you I'm afraid." The medical examiner told Mulder and skinner apologetically. Skinner nodded gravely but Mulder remained silent, trying desperately hard not to think of her hands clasped in his, their fingers entwined. He tried to block the thought of her hands running through his hair. Finally, he turned back to skinner.
"Where are Laurel and Hardy?" He asked with only a faint flicker of his humor. Skinner had worked with him long enough previously to instantly know who he meant.
"They are checking hospital phone records for Graham – they haven't found anything of particular interest. He didn't place any calls to convicted criminals. They are still checking through." He told him.
"Get those DNA results to us as soon as possibly Marty," he said to the examiner then steered Mulder from the room.
"Did Graham have any brothers, sisters?" Skinner asked when they rounded the corner and rejoined the living.
"I'm not sure, there wasn't much about family in the initial case from what I've read just that Graham was brought up in a series of care homes after his father murdered his mother and her lover. His only known relationships were with a Doctor Du Maurier whom he became friends with when he entered the FBI, and later his psychiatrist Doctor Lecter but no one has heard from him since Graham went into hospital and he was last seen with a blonde woman in Florence. There were no records to say whether he had any siblings before he went into care." As Skinner digested the information Mulder thought back to the man that he had faced once, not long out of the academy himself. "You know there is still one thing that's bothering me."
Skinner looked to him evidently a little surprised by Mulder suddenly opening up. "What?" he asked plainly.
"How would he know that I'd come back to the bureau? And clearly this is about something I've done; someone holds me responsible for Graham's situation so why would they bring Scully into this? And how would they know to? I haven't seen or spoken to her for 2 years, how could they know that to destroy me, all he-" he broke off abruptly, not quite ready to talk about his relationship with his boss. "I'm thinking I need to speak to Graham." He finished lamely instead.
Before he had even finished Skinner was shaking his head profusely. "Absolutely not! Out of the question. If we want any chance of prosecuting this guy you cannot go anywhere near Graham!" He told him reasonably but Mulder was not in a state to listen to reason.
"Sir, with all due respect, I don't care about convicting this guy, I just want to find Scully." Seething inside, he forced his voice to be level.
"I understand that Mulder, I really do but you gotta do this by the book – this is my not just my case, I can't cover your ass." Skinner lowered his irritation and clamped a hand on Mulder's shoulder comfortingly. Mulder nodded begrudgingly though he was unsure whether he would obey the order in the long run.
"So what do we do? Wait for the tests to come back on this finger? If Kennison and Roberts can't find any numbers of interest where do we go from there?" Mulder asked trying hard to keep the desperation from creeping into his voice. Somehow Skinner heard it anyway.
"Mulder we've found people on less." He reminded the younger man who reluctantly agreed.
Though daylight streamed through the tiny window at the end, the distinct lack of adequate windows made it harder to see details across the room. Evidently Kurelov had thought this also because as he approached Lucy's cell he turned the overhead strip lighting in order to see her clearer. The lighting however gave the room a laboratory feel. When he looked at the girl he almost looked remorseful and despite her wounded hand and back she showed no emotion until he stepped into her cell and pulled out a hunting knife. Her eyes widened and she began to back herself against corner of the inner cell wall. Heavy great sobs broke the fragile silence. Scully watched in horror, her eyes darting from the imminent abuse then over to Mike who ignored the scene as if it wasn't happening. She knew deep down he was right; to survive somewhere like this the best course of action would be to keep one's head down and be invisible but she couldn't stand by and do nothing. Against every ingrained survival instinct, she threw herself at the inner bars.
"Stop!" She cried, unsure what else to say.
"I'm sorry Doctor Scully but her brother was unable to show repentance and his time's up." Their captor said sinisterly and grabbed the young girl by the hair pulling her out of the corner and towards him. Scully got the cold impression of a hunter holding its prey by the scruff of its neck. Lucy screamed wildly, thrashing side to side like a squealing piglet and whilst the noise was deafening Kurelov showed no sign he heard her.
"Stop!" She shouted over the nose again but he didn't and tears sprung to the doctor's eyes; she had seen enough darkness in the world to know what was coming next but that didn't mean she knew how to deal with it in front of her eyes, she had taken that part of her old life and locked it in an unlock-able safe. In the past 2 years she had manually forced her brain to forget every ounce of her old life, suppressing every moment of training that did not relate to saving someone's life. At least she thought she had. "Lucy! Look at me!" She called, gripping the metal bars so hard her knuckles went white. Lucy flailed around, her eyes screaming fear. The knife made a sickening crunch as it slid into the girl's belly and scratched against her pelvis. Lucy made no sound save for a mild gasp as shock set in.
"No!" Scully screamed in horror. The voice bounced around the cold room. Kurelov pulled the knife upwards, gutting the girl like a boar and grunted angrily when the blade momentarily dug into the ribs and wouldn't budge. With effortless strength he pulled hard and the knife was released splattering blood in an arch. Scully's mouth formed a horrified 'o' shape as the blood drops flecked her skin. With a wet splash Lucy's organs fell to the floor in a mess followed by the rest of her. Kurelov wiped the knife down whilst Mike vomited noisily in his cell. He looked at Scully's tear stained face contorted in horror and smiled.
"You'd better hope Mr Mulder feels the need to repent for his sins." He said softly almost regretfully. When he left the occupants alone with the metallic smell of blood to comfort them Mike finally spoke.
"Who's Mulder?" He asked conversationally as if to engage her. She stared at the space where the young girl's eviscerated body lay and slowly scrubbed at her face with her sleeve until her skin was sore and she was sure the blood was gone. She turned to Mike, unsure how to answer him; she didn't particularly want to get into a conversation with him.
"He err – he was someone I used to work with. He's someone I cared a great deal about." She said thickly, blinking away the fresh tears that threatened to fall; it hurt her physically and mentally to talk about him.
"What did he do?" Mike asked and Scully frowned. "This terrible sin? What was it?" She had no idea how to answer that either.
"He was just doing his job." Her voice broke subtly.