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TEASER
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Wide, fearful eyes blink back the sting of ice particles.
Chattering teeth bite back against searing, unending pain that
will bring the body down if the small plates of enamel fail to
keep up their task. Brow sweats, lungs wheeze, heart thuds
frantically with a maddening beat that may have the power to set
it free from the confines of its chest cavity very soon, legs
pump despite the constant flow of blood and deep, slippery snow
underfoot.
Mind dwells on one, solo thought:
'Why the hell did I leave my gun behind?'
As fresh powder is kicked into the air - spraying every which way
- the tall, dark figure desperately forges ahead. He stumbles
several times, and even drops to a knee at one point as the
unbearable pain, cold and exhaustion tear at and overwhelm his
senses, yet still he shakily regains his footing and rushes ever
further onward, crashing through a low curtain of spindly tree
branches.
Only to come to an unexpected halt at the fallen pine blocking
his escape.
*Shit!*
Short shallow breaths fog the silent air as the figure
contemplates all available options, but before he's had chance to
decide on a new route, the sound of chasing footfalls crunching
the crisp snow echo in his ears and he knows jumping the log is
the only realistic choice. Biting down on his lip even harder, he
gathers what little strength he has left and makes a vaulting
leap over the obstruction.
...Except, his foot slips, and there's a loud thud followed by a
bone-jarring, throbbing pain in his groin as both legs straddle
either side of the tree trunk. Eyes begin to water profusely and
there's no fight left in him to ward off the inevitable cloak of
unconsciousness, so he lets it claim him, certain that it will
shortly be followed by his death.
"Sculleeee......."
As the prone figure of Special Agent Fox William Mulder slides to
the ground, a large man pushes through the mesh of branches ten
feet away - blood-red smearing his thick white beard - and then
looks hungrily at his next meal.
XxXxXxXxX
----------
ACT ONE
----------
42 HOURS EARLIER
As a rule, it had become almost customary for just about anything
and everything to go wrong - particularly in conjunction with
special occasions or when plans had been made - so as a guy that
had ignored pretty much all the rules in the book over the years,
Mulder'd be damned if he was gonna let this one go by unbroken
with a perfect average for yet another year.
No hospitals or bedside vigils. No family interruptions. No
explosions or car crashes or gun shots. No cases.
He didn't care what it took, even if that entailed tightly
wrapping padding around every single thing in their duplex: this
was gonna be *the* best Christmas that they'd spent together, if
not ever - just him, Scully and the overweight turkey they'd
managed to leave untouched over the Thanksgiving holiday and keep
hidden at the bottom of their chest freezer.
"Excellent," he smiled to himself, stepping back and
proudly surveying the room as he finished putting up the last
Christmas decoration. They'd both shared the task of finding and
erecting the eight foot tree last week like excitable children
(though Scully would deny that part), but work had gotten in the
way of the rest of the regalia being tended to, so when his
partner had been called to the Bureau for what they could only
guess was an unseasonable audit assessment for their division,
Mulder had promised to have the place finished by the time she
got back.
"That's it! I quit!"
Mulder sharply turned on his heel at the sound of the front door
slamming shut and stared in worried bewilderment at his partner
as she stormed into the room, threw both handbag and car keys
onto the coffee table and then dejectedly dropped herself onto
the couch.
"I don't care what truths we haven't uncovered or whatever -
we can go 'independent renegade' for all I care!" she
exclaimed, waving both hands in the air. "I'm not having
them completely screwing with us one more day! I quit!"
A little disappointed that his efforts of the day had gone
unnoticed (although he doubted she'd even realized he was
actually in the room), Mulder sighed and moved to sit down beside
her. By the sound of it, it had been the dreaded audit after all.
"'Hi, honey!' to you too," he joked, leaning in to
nudge against her arm. "What happened? Did they accuse us of
spending too much on pencils?"
There was silence as Dana stared blankly at the space in front of
her and mulled over this afternoon's meeting with Deputy Director
Wallace. Time and time again they'd had to put the job before
their personal needs and lives, so much so that she'd stupidly
let herself believe that this once - this one insignificant
Christmas when everything was working out right for a change -
they'd be given a restful respite.
Obviously an even higher power than believed possible was against
them.
"Scully?"
"Our vacation time has officially been cut short," she
finally grumbled, wiping at her face with both hands.
Mulder let out an uncomfortable snort of laughter.
"Wha-at?"
"The Bureau has decided our work is so invaluable that three
days before Christmas they're sending us on an 'urgent' case
somewhere in the wintry wilderness of Colorado." Her head
turned and she watched the disbelief and anger vie for supremacy
of his senses as his facial features contorted. "You've
pulled some sneaky ones in the past, but I'm afraid you've been
beat by this one."
"Skinner--"
"Trust me, I've already had rather sharp words with him, but
his hands are tied - the order has come direct from Deputy
Director Wallace and there's nothing he can do to out-rank her. I
just wish--... Oh, what's the point? Every time something happens
we say 'we won't make plans next time', but..." Reluctantly
sealing their fates, Scully stood up. "I'm gonna go get
changed - the thoughtful DD kindly booked us on an 8PM
flight." Her hand lingered momentarily on his crest of hair.
"...And you'd done such a beautiful job with the
decorations..."
As their bedroom door clicked shut behind her, Mulder grabbed for
his basketball and threw it across the room.
"*Dammit*!"
XxXxXxXxX
EN ROUTE TO WYNTACK, COLORADO
8:43AM
If he'd been pissed at just the thought of being sent on a case
three days before Christmas, Mulder was certainly not far from
downright outraged and ready to shoot someone in the ass by the
time Scully had finished filling him in on why they had actually
been sent to the tiny town out in the wilds of Colorado. Of
course, he had to concede that he'd sent them on some pretty wild
goose chases in the past, but he couldn't see the motive behind
one of the Powers That Be sending them to investigate an obvious
case of cannibalism that had nothing to do with them and could
easily be handled just by the local law enforcement.
"It's gotta be a trap."
"Mulder, you think everything's a trap unless you
hand-picked the case."
"So, you don't find this at all suspicious?"
"Of course I do! But I live in fear of what your next injury
will be enough as it is - if I dwell on this too much, it'll
drive me mad. Let's just catch the perp and get back to D.C as
soon as possible so that we can actually wake up Christmas
morning in our own bed, okay?"
"I knew we should have gone to your mother's again this
year... Thanksgiving at Skinner's instead of in our own company
no doubt doomed us..."
They'd reluctantly taken the pre-arranged late flight out to
Denver International yesterday (noting also that it was just
their luck that it wasn't one of the hundreds that had been
cancelled), and then stopped at a nearby hotel for the night,
refusing to tackle the icy, treacherous roads in the pitch black
- in broad daylight was proving difficult enough. Now, as their
rental carefully made its way across the white, unpopulated
wasteland, Mulder couldn't avoid the unsettling feeling in his
gut that they should turn back.
Scully was experiencing the same sickening sensation, but as much
as she'd come to trust it in the past, she knew they had no
choice but to do their jobs.
"I still say it's a trap," Mulder grumbled, tightening
his grasp on the steering wheel. "Who is this Deputy
Director Wallace anyway?" From the picture Dana had painted
him yesterday, the stranger was nothing more than an insufferable
bitch, but considering his partner's mood since she'd returned
from the FBI building, even a description of her mother would
have had him conjuring up images of the Wicked Witch of The East
in his head. "Was she transferred from somewhere else or
promoted?" He diverted his gaze from the road momentarily to
shoot a glance in her direction.
Letting out a deep sigh, Dana closed the folder she'd been
looking through yet again for any clues that would explain their
impromptu involvement with a two-week old cold case involving the
discovery of a family of four by a hiker in the local woods, who
had then reported his bloody find to the city cops in Denver
instead of Wyntack's lone sheriff. According to the pathologist's
report, the bodies had been bitten by what appeared to be human
teeth marks, and the chests had been sliced open by a hunting
knife, after which varying organs had been 'scooped out' from
each. By all accounts, the local FBI field office hadn't been
informed of the investigation, let alone involved, and the DPD
held little hope that any suspects would be found as a light snow
flurry had erased any footprints or evidence at the scene.
Basically, they were too busy with 'more important',
easier-to-solve crimes that were actually covered by their
jurisdiction, and the deceased didn't have any other family,
so......
None of this made sense, and her doubt about following orders
seemed more and more founded as the mileage constantly clocked
up.
"Scully?"
"I told you alread--"
*BANG!**BANG!*
The car suddenly lurched and fish-tailed violently for ten
hundreds of a second before losing ground on a patch of ice and
spinning completely out of control. Mulder used his
lightning-fast reactions to tug at the steering wheel and try to
right the vehicle's forward motion, but the sideways incline of
the mountainous region's sparse road network and the
below-freezing treacherous conditions made it impossible.
And he knew all was lost.
As he moved to shield his beloved partner from the inevitability
of what would follow, the rental swerved one more time, hit a
bank of snow and flipped once, twice, and then came to a halt...
On all four wheels.
XxXxXxXxX
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, D.C
Walter Skinner sat down at his desk, ready to start his last day
at work before a two-week holiday vacation, when he noticed the
copy of the case file his two best agents had just been sent to
investigate lying in the middle of the wooden surface.
'No doubt they will come running to you to complain-'
'I'm their superior.'
'Maybe, but you're also an assistant director of the Federal
Bureau of Investigation. You have a responsibility to the work
which far exceeds your favoritism of two troublesome agents. They
are employed to accept assignments, and that's what they will
do.'
'Their 'assignment' is to the X-Files, investigating bizarre
cases. This is for somebody at VCU, not them.'
'We'll see. Just be assured that if you insist on fighting me on
this, you won't have a job to let you run to their defence.'
He felt a shiver run up and down his spine as he recalled the
encounter with the newly-appointed deputy director yesterday
morning. Of course, Scully had come to him about it after her own
meeting, but he was powerless - only able to wish that his two
friends could be left alone to enjoy the festive season for a
change.
Or was he?
As the conversation repeated itself once more in his memory and
he toyed with the corner of the folder, Skinner realized that the
best way to help his agents right now was to do some
investigating of his own, from the safety of his office. He
quickly stood back up and opened the office door.
"Kim?" he started in a hushed tone, leaning towards his
assistant's desk, where she sat sorting through some paperwork.
Her head snapped up at the sound. "Yes, sir?"
"I, um...I need you to find out as much information for me
as you can about Deputy Director Deborah Wallace. Do you think
you can do that? As discreetly as possible?"
The redhead hesitated for a moment. "Of course, sir. Is this
to do with the case Agents Mulder and Scully have been sent
on?"
"If I answer that you'll be in possession of too much
information. Let's just call it a 'background check' for now,
okay?"
She gave a nod and reached for the phone as Skinner smiled his
appreciation and then disappeared back into his office.
XxXxXxXxX
From a perch high in the Wyntack Forest, two tired, aging eyes
blinked against the sunlight as it reflected against the end of
the figure's high-powered binoculars, and then lips pulled back
in a crooked grin to reveal blood-stained teeth as on the road a
day's trek away, a maroon sedan swerved and then flipped over
several times.
Not wasting any time, the large figure quickly packed the
binoculars away and reached for the red suit neatly laid out on
the crisp snow.
It was time for the show to begin.
XxXxXxXxX
"Mulder?"
He blinked several times, disorientated and mistaking the
air-filled bag his face was snugly pressed against for his bed
pillow at home, until the freezing chill of the air stabbing at
his skin registered and dragged him back to reality...as well as
the pain radiating from the left side of hairline.
"Mulder, are you okay?"
A groan to assure Scully he was at least alive, and then he
lifted his head to check she was more than 'fine'. "A little
daunted by this moment of déjà vu and pissed that with fifty
inches of snow on the ground, Lariat couldn't provide us with a
rental that actually had chains...Other than that, I'm
fine," He noticed her wince and shift uncomfortably in her
seat. "How about you?"
Dana shifted yet again, knowing she couldn't - and didn't want
to, anyway - lie. There was a razor sharp sting tearing down her
arm whenever she moved, and she needed to check it but there was
a sense of fear niggling at her.
Dreading the worst, Mulder quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and
moved to examine her. And that was when he spotted the large
shard of glass from the shattered window on her side of the
vehicle protruding from the top of her left arm - blood seeping
out in copious amounts, but thankfully slowed by the offending
item acting as a plug. Panic rapidly shifted to something much
greater as he struggled to think of the best thing to do to help
his partner. "Shit, Scully...Why didn't you rouse me a lot
sooner and tell me?"
"You were only out for ten seconds!" she unexpectedly
snapped, gritting her teeth against a wave of nausea. It subsided
after a moment, and she stared at the worried expression wrought
on Mulder's face. "I'm sorry. I'm...I'm sorry, Mulder.
I--...I know I've been a little distant since I got back from the
meeting yesterday, but I don't know how to explain how I've been
feeling or what's been going through my head. I have the same
suspicions as you about Wallace, just as I have questions about
the missing gaps in this report, but we're in a Catch 22
situation - They know how much off our radar this invesyigation
is and, with Christmas coming up, the inconvenience it will cause
by sending us on it, but that we're also walking a thin line and
that if we refuse this assignment They have grounds to fire
us." Scully sighed, resigned, and tentatively leant in to
rest against the comforting, solid frame of his body. "And I
know you worry about me, I'm--"
"Just tell me what to do," he whispered against her
hair, glancing once again at the slice cutting through her thick
winter jacket and muscle.
She gave an accepting nod and sat up, swivelling in her seat as
best she could so that he had better access to the injured arm.
"I need you to pull it out at the right angle."
"But if I pull it out--"
"It'll do further damage whether it's left or not. Just
remove it at the angle it's going in and get some snow to press
against it - it'll help to slow the bleeding and wash the wound
at the same time."
"But Scully--"
"Mulder, please." She paused to wince against the
excessive pain again. Over the years - thanks to frequent medical
emergency hospital visits (or 'The dreaded gurney treks' as
Mulder unaffectionately called them) - Scully had acquired a very
high pain threshold, but this little injury, which paled in
comparison to many she'd had before, was causing an unbelievable
amount of discomfort that she couldn't avoid. "If it's left
there, one wrong move and it'll be buried all the way in."
With a reluctant nod, Mulder took off his padded gloves -
shivering slightly as the cold air bit at the newly-exposed skin
- and leant in to pinch the end of the glass fragment between the
thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He gave her one last
questioning look, and then in one swift move he pulled the shard
out. Scully snatched in a breath and hissed as her right hand
shot up to clutch at the wound, from where the where was
beginning to flow a lot more freely.
"Holy shit," Mulder gasped, watching her and then
diverting his attention to the two-inch length that had been
buried in her arm.
"Mulder?...Snow?"
He looked back up at her, realized what she was saying, and
quickly turned to open the driver's side door and scoop up a ball
of the white powder thickly blanketing the land.
At least, he would have, had the snow not been packed against the
door and stopped him from opening it.
"Oh, for--" His voice trailed off as he awkwardly
squeezed between the two front seats to get into the back of the
car. An attempt at the left back door proved more promising and
he managed to force it open far enough for one of them to escape
should they need to. As soon as he had a handful of snow, Mulder
quickly moved to sit beside his partner, who had removed both her
jackets to expose the deep lesion, again. He wanted to comment on
the large amount of red liquid bathing her arm, but thought
better of it - knowing that upsetting her more right now was not
a wise idea - and promptly placed the freezing ball against the
injury, holding the pressure there as hard as possible for a
silent moment. "You hold that," he instructed, letting
up on what was quickly becoming a slushy mess so that she could
replace his hand with her free, slightly trembling, one.
"I'm just gonna get the first-aid kit of the trunk - I won't
be a second, I promise."
She didn't respond.
"*Scully*?"
That got her attention, and her head snapped up to stare at him -
teeth chattering as the frosty air entered through the back of
the car and wrapped itself around her small, thinly clothed
frame.
"Stay with me, okay?" He gently kissed her forehead.
At her acknowledgement, Mulder hurriedly left the car via the
back door, but slowed to assess the situation. All four tyres
were deflated, and the vehicle had landed at an angle so that the
nose was essentially buried in the snow. As he reached the trunk,
he looked out at the road and shuddered at the harrowing sight of
the erratic, out-of-control tracks burnt into the icy tarmac -
his mind reflecting back to the last nightmarish time their car
had been forced off the road in snowy conditions, not long enough
ago.
"H-how did they a-all blow-out?" Scully's inquisitive
voice suddenly asked from behind where he stood in thought.
"I don't know - I'll follow the tracks back to where it
happened in a minute." Mulder turned, wiped a hand across
his face and then stared down at his partner with a raised brow.
"And what are you doing out of the car? I said I'd be back!
Go sit down - you're badly injured!"
"So are you!"
"What?"
As always unwilling to let him win the debate when it came to
what she should and shouldn't do, Dana carefully took a step
forward and reached up to touch the still lightly-bleeding cut on
his forehead. The contact made him instantly yelp in surprise and
recoil. But he lost his footing in the slippery powder, and
before he had chance to right himself, Mulder fell hard onto his
butt.
And, despite the pain tearing down her arm or even the direness
of their current situation, Scully couldn't hold back her burst
of laughter.
"Ha-ha," Mulder grumbled as he struggled to stand up.
"Like I don't get my ass kicked enough, now I have to have
it hit by hard, compact snow?" He picked up a handful of the
stuff and passed it to her to press against her arm - the last
ball having already melted into the water that was now washing
away some of the blood.
"S-sorry," Scully sighed, still lightly snorting at the
sight of him trying to get up.
He eyed her, smiled, and then turned to open the trunk.
Ten minutes later her arm had been cleaned and tightly wrapped,
and she'd made sure he'd put a band aid on his own cut. They now
followed the skid marks back along the road, and stopped when
they reached the point of impact.
"What the hell?!" Mulder frowned, crouching down
"I-is that--"
He brushed away the light dusting of snow to expose the
police-issue spike strip that had punctured all four tyres of
their rental. "Yep," he sighed. "Either this was
left here by accident, or for about the millionth time we've
stumbled across more crooked cops."
"But w-where does that l-l-leave us?" Scully asked,
bending down beside her partner.
Mulder pulled out his cellphone, and sighed as 'No signal'
flashed back at him. "With a nice little trip in the
forest." He slowly raised back up to his full height and
glanced around at the open landscape and then at the dense tree
line that flanked the other side of the road. "We got a
choice - either we sit and wait in the car, or we hike it."
A pause and his focus fell once more on Dana. "Or you stay
in the car and I hike it."
"Oh, no - don't even think it! You're not ditching me this
time!"
"It's gotta be at least three days trudge over that
ridge...It'd be easier for you to stay in the car, and then I
could send for help..."
Scully stubbornly rested both palms on her hips. "Mulder, if
I stay in that car and it snows I'll be buried alive. And what if
something happens to you? Do I really need to give a not-so-brief
recap of your medical track record? As always, we're better
together, and if we're gonna get out of this, that's how it's got
to be."
There was a moment of silence as Mulder tenderly regarded his
pint-sized but feisty partner. "You always seem to know
best, even in the most hopeless of situations," he sighed
with a smile.
"Damn straight, and don't you forget it!"
"We've got enough snacks in the back of the car to keep us
fed for at least a day and a half, and I guess the snow will
provide enough liquid to sustain us..."
"Is this where I have to teach you the 'Yellow Snow' rule
again?" she teased, following him back to the car.
He wheeled on his heel - almost slipping over yet again.
"Aren't you just the wittiest little sprite today? What
happened to the bad mood?"
"Seeing you fall on your butt kind of got rid of it."
XxXxXxXxX
3:46pm EST
"Chief Chad Spector speaking."
Skinner snatched up the handset of his phone and sat back in the
seat behind his desk. After reading through the case file more
thoroughly, he'd decided it might be worth contacting an old war
buddy of his at the Denver police department to find out why they
had given up so easily on the investigation of four murders.
"Hi, Chad, it's Walter Skinner in D.C." he sighed. It
had been at least ten years since he'd last spoken with Spector,
so he just hoped the man remembered who he was.
"Walt? No kidding? Hey, man, how's it going in the life of
an FBI assistant director?"
"Great, thanks, Chad. You?"
"Oh, you know - not as fun as the life of a big-shot g-man,
but I can't complain. So, what can I do you for? Drug bust?
Stakeout? Hair piece?"
"Very funny," Skinner shook his head "Look, I need
some information on a case - four homicides in Wyntack Forest? I
just wondered If you could fill me in on why it was so quickly
filed as a cold case? A whole family's killed and two weeks later
you give up hope?"
At the other end of the line, Spector turned to his computer and
typed in some information. "Hey, now! We're not *that*
incompetent here, Walt. We may not be New York or D.C, but we
still have a pretty 'together' way of doing stuff." A little
humming to himself, and then, "Aha! See? We never cold-cased
it - the case was closed, period."
"Wha-at?"
"I haven't got all the details here, but apparently the bad
guy was caught and the investigation was closed. One man, one
woman and their two young daughters found cannibalized in the
woods by a hiker almost a month ago?"
"That's the one, but..." Skinner frantically thumbed
through the folder that was quickly in front of him again and
then stared disbelievingly at the last page. "Two of my best
agents have just been sent out there to...to investigate..."
He stood and pulled his jacket from the back of his leather
chair.
Spector snorted. "You're kidding, right? What idiot did
that? Wyntack isn't the most friendliest of terrains at any time
of the year, but it's like minus ten out there, sixty inches deep
and there are only about five houses in the whole place, miles
apart! I wouldn't be surprised if the sheriff's moved here for
the winter. If you've got people going out there, I hope they've
got a truck-load of supplies or gas to get 'em through!"
"This isn't funny, Chad!" Walter exclaimed, wiping a
sweaty palm down his face. "Who caught the guy?"
"Like I say, I haven't got all the details here - I could go
track 'em down, but it's gonna take me at least a day."
"That long?"
"We're understaffed - it is Christmas Eve tomorrow unless
you didn't notice! Have you got a number there I can fax the
details to when I find them?"
"No need - I'm gonna get the next flight out--"
"Whoa! Didn't you hear me before? Haven't you been watching
the news lately?" Spector turned in his seat and looked out
the window at the zero-visibility whiteout. "All the
airports in the state are pretty battened up - I'd be surprised
if your agents' flight even took off - hundreds are being
cancelled....It's just not safe for a plane to try land or take
off in this. Sit tight, let me dig out this info, and if there's
any reason to think your agents are in danger, we can go from
there, okay?"
Skinner wasn't happy, but he was out of options for the time
being and he needed as much help as possible - knowing their
luck, Mulder and Scully needed as much help as possible.
"Okay. The fax number's 202-555-1704. You got that? I can't
tell you how much this means, Chad."
"Hey, Walt, you need anything, you only have to ask! No need
for begging...If it hadn't been for you I wouldn't have gotten
through - let alone survived - 'Nam. Just make sure it ain't
another decade before the next time!"
The assistant director bade his goodbye with a promise of
speaking again tomorrow to end the call, and then - slipping on
his jacket, left the office.
"Sir?" Kim suddenly started, standing up and taking a
step toward her boss to be as circumspect as possible. "I
found a little of what you asked me to 'background check', but I
should be able to have some more by the end of the day."
"Thanks heaps, Kim. I'm going out for a late lunch - I'll be
back in about an hour."
"Yes, sir."
XxXxXxXxX
After examining the area map, both Mulder and Scully had agreed
that their only hope of survival was to hike the forty-six miles
to Broomfield, which lay just over the ridge on the other side of
the forest. They'd donned as many layers of clothing as possible,
and packed as much of the food and accessories they'd had in
their overnight bags into one easy-to-carry holdall. As if on
cue, the clouds had then begun to close in, and they'd taken that
as their own cue to get moving. Four hours later, as darkness
loomed on the horizon to the east and an occasional snowflake
fell from the sky, the two agents stopped to rest and scavenge
any food the woods had to offer.
"D' you ever think 'this is it'?" Dana unexpectedly
asked, resting back against a fallen tree and rubbing the bandage
that covered her sore injury.
Mulder sharply looked up from the map and frowned at her.
"Wha-at?" Of course he'd heard, but he didn't like the
implications...
"Do you ever wonder if this could be it - that your body
can't take anymore?"
Now he really was worried! He immediately rushed to her side to
unwrap her arm and check the wound hadn't become infected. When
he was satisfied it was clean and okay, scared eyes lifted to
stare at her. "Scully, honey, you're scaring me..." He
reached up to brush an errant strand of coppery hair from her
face. "What's brought this on?"
Her head jerked up, as if only just noticing his closeness.
"Explosions on Valentine's Day, hanging from the rafters
when we just go to see a basketball game, Egypt, and now this...
We've almost lost each other so many times just this
year..."
"Hey, hey, hey! We've only been out here a few hours, and
you're giving up all hope on my Indian Guide skills already? You
wound me!" He cupped her frozen cheeks in his gloved hands.
"Christmas Day we're walking out of here...Frostbitten,
tired, chapped lipped, hungry, and my ass as bruised as hell, but
alive nevertheless - we might even be able to avoid the chapped
lips by making out a lot."
Dana rested against the welcome warmth of his palms and nodded,
uncertain herself why she'd been so ready to give in...Until she
saw the figure approaching from behind her partner.
"Mul-der?"
"Okay, so we won't overdo the making out..."
"No - behind you!"
Both hands slowly lowered away from her face as he carefully
pivoted to glance over his shoulder, and see the adult wolf that
skulked several more steps toward them before stopping and just
staring. Scully fumbled for her holstered gun, but there were too
many layers of clothing in the way, and her frenzied movements
were only spooking the animal more, so Mulder quickly stilled her
hand.
The wolf continued to watch them with nothing more than curiosity
for five minutes before sharply turning and running away.
Leaving the two agents completely bewildered.
XxXxXxXxX
----------
ACT TWO
----------
LONE GUNMEN OFFICE
TACOMA PARK
"You sent them on a case right before Christmas? Man, I
thought you were on their side!"
Both eyebrows sharply lifting, Walter Skinner looked down at the
shortest of Mulder's three friends in shock. Byers and Langly
were nowhere to be seen, which didn't help the assistant
director's unease, but now the false accusation...
"After all these years - after what happened this summer -
you really believe that?" he retorted, not breaking eye
contact with Frohike. "Come on, Melvin! If it'd been up to
me, they would've had the whole holiday season off! This Deputy
Director Wallace..."
"Who?"
"Oh, don't worry about that for now - I've got my assistant
looking into it. I need you to find out if they did catch that
plane and--"
Frohike turned to his computer and started typing in the
necessary details.
"And track them down somehow..."
The tapping on the keys paused momentarily, but then continued
without anything being said.
Langly chose that moment to enter the office. "Hey, Skinman!
Skipping work to come hang with us? Cool! Any governmental
secrets you wanna leak while you're here?"
"Mulder and Scully may have been sent on a bogus case to
endanger their lives by a newly-appointed deputy director at the
FBI," Skinner stated flatly, not looking away from the
monitor as the details of yesterday's scheduled flights came up.
Frohike glanced over at his friend and shrugged, before sighing,
"They went and they landed last night. According to their
bank cards they booked into a hotel that end and left early this
morning."
"You don't know where they are now?" When the elf-esque
man shook his head, Skinner forged ahead, "*Can* you find
them?"
"We could track them down via the GPS chips in their
cellphones," Langly piped up, nudging his friend aside and
hacking into a system they'd had to use a number of times in the
past to find their FBI buddies. "The only problem is, their
phones have to be on or at least able to pick up a signal for us
to track it, and at the moment..." A tense pause as he set
the system to dial either of the two phone numbers. "Neither
of them are connecting."
A loud curse word erupted from Skinner as his fist slammed
against one of the tabletops and he turned away
"Hey, man, calm down!" Frohike assured, moving to stand
in front of the much taller man. "We've found them before,
we'll find them again - just trust us, okay?"
Walter considered this for a moment, knowing that these men,
above anyone else, had never given up on Mulder or Scully and
certainly wouldn't now. Even if they did find them, though - from
this far away - would they be able to get to the two agents in
time if they were indeed in danger?
Awkward silence descended for a moment - only the sound of the
whirring computers circulating the air around them.
"Scully came to me...begging me not to let them be sent on
this case...but..." The assistant director stepped around
Frohike and moved slowly toward the exit, his head lowering.
"I had orders to follow - that's my job. I know I've sent
them on some pretty pointless investigations in the past that
have only ended with them badly injured, but even I wouldn't have
sent them on this one if the 302 had come to me directly."
"We know, dude, don't take it so hard - it's not your
fault!" Langly piped up, diverting his gaze to the computer
monitor to check the program was still redialling the two cell
numbers.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, Walt. I didn't mean what I said
before," Frohike added solemnly, patting Skinner's back.
"They get in so much trouble so often, we're scared one of
these times we won't get to them in time."
Skinner's hand fell on the door latch and his head gave a shaky
nod. "I fear that every day."
And with that he left.
"Jeez, man! What did you say to upset him that much? He
looked like his favorite pet had just been run over!" Langly
snapped, standing up and stepping towards his much shorter
friend.
Melvin eyed him back and then stepped back towards the computer.
"I said exactly what he would have said if the roles had
been reversed. Now let's find them."
XxXxXxXxX
He dreams he's running, as fast as possible, for his life.
Running, struggling for breath, smacking into hordes of branches.
Running against the snow, not fast enough.
And then there's pain ripping through his whole body, blood,
and--
"Mulder?"
Her voice cuts through the haze, and the pain morphs into
something much more piercing that instead envelopes him and seeps
through his muscles straight to the bone.
Bitter, freezing cold air.
"M-Mulder?"
He shuddered back to awareness and tightened the circle of his
arms around himself as both eyes tentatively open - blinking
several times against the fresh snowflakes before focusing on
Scully. They're still resting against the fallen tree, but
there's now a dark blanket of nimbostratus clouds blocking out
the sky above them, and the steadily increasing rate of falling
snow lets him know enough time has passed for the forecasted
impending storm to find them. The last thing he remembers is the
wolf leaving them alone, and then....nothing. No wonder she looks
so worried.
"What time is it?" he asked, yawning and scrubbing
gloved hands at his damp, icy hair.
Scully folded back the cuff of her jacket to examine the watch
hiding underneath and then puffed out a sigh as she looked back
up at her partner. "Almost three o'clock, local time. You
were snoring away for about half-hour, and I would have left you
a little longer, but you started frantically kicking and mumbling
something...I figured you'd rather be woken up than left in
whatever nightmare you were having."
"Thanks." He gave her a weak smile and nod. "Are
you okay? Did you get any rest?"
"No - I'll take my turn a little l-later." At his
confused frown, she elaborated, "Somebody had to keep an eye
out for wolves that weren't as friendly."
Mulder gave an appreciative huff of laughter and uneasily stood
up, folding away the map that had been resting in his lap. He
then paused, though, and dropped to his knees in front of her -
both arms outstretching to embrace her tightly. He felt the
shakes wracking her body fade slightly as she absorbed the heat
their bodies shared, and wished he could whisk them away to a
tropical isle within a blink of an eye.
"Come on, let's get moving. The map says there should be a
cave a little further up ahead. We can shelter and rest there for
a while."
"A cave? Won't bears be hibernating in it?"
"We won't disturb them. It's our only option."
After a thoughtful pause, Dana nodded her head against his chest,
and then looked up to press a kiss against his pale, frozen lips
- a kiss which he quickly returned, fuelled with passion that
burned even hotter than the warmth their bodies could generate or
share. The bitter air biting at them and exhaustion brought it to
a much-too-soon end, though, and their icy foreheads rested
together for a moment before they helped each other to their
feet.
"This must be how the victims were forced into the
woods," Scully noted as they started forward.
"Most likely, but they probably didn't have a map or compass
and that's how they became lost. What I don't understand is if
there are indeed a group of cannibals out here, what benefit
would any source of law e-e-enforcement have protecting t-them,
or even - more darkly - providing live meals for them? There's no
way they c-could survive out here in these mountains on just the
occasional person, unless more people have b-been reported
missing and there's a cover-up."
"The townsfolk ignored what was going on in the d-desert in
'The Hills Have Eyes'."
Mulder blinked and gave her a mock-shocked glare. "Scully!
Your taste in m-movies just keeps surprising me! W-when did you
get time t-t-to see that? And without me?"
"I was actually thinking m-more along the lines of the
original - there were actually advantages to having an older
brother who could sneak you in to an NC-17 flick."
"Bill? Doing something generous and against the rules? That
I do wish I'd seen."
"He had his moments."
As they forged ahead against the blistering breeze and snow,
silence fell between them momentarily, but then Mulder had an
idea. "Unless the local LEOs *are* the cannibals?"
"The only n-native officer is Sheriff Lynus D-Donner."
She quickly raised a hand to stop him interrupting. "And
don't even think about making that joke."
Mulder gave an innocent shrug of his shoulders. "You mean
the s-same Sheriff Donner - I have read the file, remember? - we
were on our way to see when the tyres were blown out?"
"Well, y-yes, but... S-surely you're not implying that one
m-m-man on his own managed to k-kill that whole family?"
"One person could kill a whole army g-given the r-r-right
tools and means, S-Scully."
"But the crime-scene photos showed the bodies were all
together and t-there w-w-were no signs of great struggle."
"'No signs' that were probably covered by fresh snow."
Mulder came to a stop, wheezing against the frigid air filling
his lungs. The weight of the backpack he was carrying was
beginning to take its toll, and struggling to walk as quickly but
carefully through the deep snow so as not to end up chest-deep in
it was no easy stroll in the park. He coughed, wiped a hand down
his face - wincing when he accidentally brushed a finger over the
cut on his forehead - and was about to continue onwards when he
paused to glance over his shoulder to check she was okay.
"Do you w-w-wanna t-take...take another break?"
Scully shook her head and took a deep, shuddering breath.
"N-no...Let's k-keep moving for as l-long as possible."
From the pain tearing at her face, he wasn't convinced, but he
gave her an assuring smile and started moving ahead again.
XxXxXxXxX
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, D.C.
5:09PM EST
Kim jumped out of her seat as Skinner walked through the door to
the area outside his office with his head lowered and quickly
moved to walk alongside him. "Sir?" Her voice dropped
to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sir, I managed to get the
information you were after...for that 'background check'."
His head snapped up and fixed on her. When she gave him a slight
affirming nod he guided her into his office and immediately shut
the door after them.
"'Officially' Deputy Director Wallace was transferred from
the New York offices," Kim started, keeping her voice as low
as possible as she offered her boss a file folder - which he
instantly accepted, "but I contacted a friend whose worked
there for twenty years, and she said she's never heard of a
Deborah Wallace. She didn't even recognize her from the file
photo I e-mailed to her. So I did a little more digging..."
She became slightly antsy, shifting from one foot to the other.
"Apparently whoever assigned her here is...is from somewhere
high up in the chain of command at the Pentagon."
Walter Skinner sharply looked up from the pages in the open
profile and frowned. He knew the Syndicate had never been
restrictive when it came to the lengths they were happy to go to,
to get at Mulder and Scully, but placing somebody in the FBI
seemed like too elaborate a plan for such a brief, insignificant
end.
Unless there was even worse trouble on the horizon...
He mulled it over, chewed on the gristle of the facts, and then
spat it all out of his thoughts for the time being, knowing that
it was enough to prove his fears that his two agents were at risk
but that he also couldn't go after Wallace to try have her
exposed and removed from the Bureau - that was a level in this
conspiracy he would never be able to battle. All he could do was
focus on finding and rescuing Mulder and Scully.
"That's excellent work, Kim. Thanks so much for doing
that," he sighed, squeezing her shoulder affectionately with
his left hand as the right one slipped the now-closed folder
underneath his arm. "Why don't you pack up and go enjoy
Christmas? I'll see you next week."
"Agents Mulder and Scully are going to be okay, aren't they,
sir?"
"Of course."
Kim gave a grateful smile and then turned to leave. "Merry
Christmas, sir."
"You too, Kim."
As the door closed after her, Skinner reached for his cellphone,
moved to pick up his briefcase from beside his large desk and
then left the office via the double doors at the back of the
room.
"It's me. Have you managed to find them yet? Okay. I need
you to get me a seat on the soonest flight out to Colorado."
XxXxXxXxX
WYNTACK FOREST, COLORADO
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23rd 2006
11:27PM
The figure huddled underneath a large blue spruce as the
snowstorm reduced visibility on his trek down from the mountain
to zero. This wasn't the most convenient of developments in his
plan, but it was far from about to hinder him too much. He'd
almost literally grown up in these woods, and had used them for
many hunting games over the years so he knew the area and how to
survive in it rain or shine like the back of his hand. Plus the
red suit he now wore was thickly padded, so it kept him
well-insulated.
No, no snowstorm would deny him these two fine, healthy catches.
Bare, frostbitten-but-steady fingers tore at some more of the
red, raw meat pooled by his feet and bloodstained teeth hungrily
bit into it - ripping as much of the flesh from the bone before
discarding the inedible remains onto the nearby pile of fur, bone
and cartilage that had - not twenty minutes ago - made up the
body of a tall, proud, adult wolf.
The night would be long and this was his only meal for now, but
he could relax with the knowledge that by tomorrow afternoon he'd
have the finest cuisine for the taking that he'd had in over a
month.
Thank God for people with grudges who could deliver!
XxXxXxXxX
----------
ACT THREE
----------
7:07AM
The storm had died out about two hours earlier, and as the sky
began to slowly lighten and welcome the new day, Mulder watched
the clouds begin to part from where he and his partner were
huddled.
They'd just managed to reach the cave before the complete
whiteout had set in - tired, weak, frozen to the core and leaning
on each other as the fierce wind had fought back against them -
but it had turned out that there were indeed three
happily-snoring grizzlies hibernating within the depths of the
shelter as Scully had feared, so they'd been forced to rest right
at the entrance where they had been protected from the cutting
wind, but not from the bite of the chilly air or all of the snow.
Mulder glanced down at Scully, pressed a kiss against the crest
of her icy hair and then pulled the hood of her jacket that had
slipped down at some point during the night back up over her
head. She shivered and snuggled even closer against him, but
didn't wake up.
"We will get out of this," he vowed in a hushed
whisper, holding her a moment longer before carefully slipping
away from her and edging toward the cave's exit. "I'll
b-b-be b-back, I p-promise - I'm just gonna g-go ahead a
l-l-little and check the w-way is safe..."
He was about to turn away when one of her hands suddenly shot out
and wrapped around his wrist. "N-No you d-d-don't," she
stammered, shifting to sit up. "No w-wandering off o-o-on
y-your own... Wherever y-you go..." Her eyes fluttered shut,
no matter how hard she tried fighting it, and her voice began to
trail off. "...I g-go..." And before she'd even had
chance to fully wake up, she was asleep again.
Mulder smiled, leaned in once more to kiss her on the lips and
then crawled out of the cave - leaving behind the backpack of
supplies for her, just in case.
XxXxXxXxX
27th STREET
DENVER, COLORADO
8:32AM
*knock* *knock* *knock*
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm coming!"
*knock* *knock* *knock*
Chad Spector wiped frantically at his sleepy, gritty eyes and
scowled at the front door as the loud knocking continued. He'd
been up all night going through the case file Walter'd asked for
and he'd finally managed to dig it out of the records department
at work at about 9PM, so this early visitor on Christmas Eve was
not about to get on his good side.
*knock* *knock* *knock*
"I said I'm coming, dammit!"
He tore open the door as hard as possible, only to reveal Walter
Skinner - red-eyes peering out from beneath a baseball cap.
"Walt? How the hell'd you get here?"
Skinner shrugged. "I ...I managed to get a late flight out
to Colorado Springs and then drove the I-25 over night...I'm
sorry if I got you up..."
Spector stared disbelievingly at his friend for a moment and then
quickly moved out of the doorway so the older man could enter out
of the cold. "Don't be silly! Holy shit...You drove here? I
don't remember you being this crazy."
"There's a big chance my two agents are in danger,"
Walter sighed, dragging his tired frame across the threshold and
shuffling with his head lowered into the living room. "I
needed to get out here as soon as possible."
"Your agents?" Chad frowned, puzzled, as he quickly
followed the FBI assistant director. "You came all this way
to--"
"They're friends. Were you able to find that case
report?"
"Uh, yeah - I was gonna fax it to you when I was fully
awake. I've been going over it all night. Apparently Sheriff
Donner called in to say that he'd caught the killer and the case
was closed." Skinner opened his mouth to say something, but
Chad quickly continued, "*But* no official report was
forwarded on to us, which is standard procedure - especially if
we're involved in the investigation - and from what I was able to
find out by calling a few favors in, no suspect was ever sent our
way to be tried. Normally red flags would have flown up
everywhere in our system, but whoever was handling it either
accidentally or purposely altered the info on the system network
to say the case had been wrapped up completely. It was only when
I looked at the hard copy, which we're always sure to keep of
every single case we're involved with in our Records department,
that I spotted the gaping holes." The Denver Police
Department chief shrugged his shoulders and picked a cigar out of
the wooden box on the coffee table in front of where Skinner sat.
"And before you ask, no I couldn't find out who that
was."
"That I *can* help out with," Skinner piped up, pulling
a folder out of his bag. "I was able to acquire a copy of
the personnel file of who sent my agents out to investigate the
murders. It says she was transferred to us from the New York
field office, but after a lot more digging, it turns out she was
actually assigned to us from your department by somebody at the
Pentagon."
"You're kidding? What's her name?"
"She's posing as Deputy Director Deborah Angela Wallace in
D.C, but her real name - at least the one she was using when she
was parading as a cop - is Sally Morse-Elba."
Chad stood in thought for several minutes, puffing on his cigar
as he wracked his brain to try remember the name.
"Sally...Sally...Sally! Yes, I remember her - she must have
only been with us a couple months! Never thought to find out
where she disappeared to; she left at the start of the month. But
how could a cop get promoted straight to deputy director of the
FBI? Why would she go to such lengths to dispose of the case, and
then send your two agents out?"
"These two particular agents have pissed off a few figures
in authority over the years by trying to expose conspiracies.
Let's just say there've been a lot of ploys used to try get rid
of them, so nothing surprises me now." Skinner wiped a hand
down his face. "What about the sheriff? Why would he so
blatantly lie about something he knew would send up red
flags?"
Chad gave a shrug of his shoulders and rested back in the comfy
chair opposite his friend. "I tried calling him at his
office in Wyntack, but the line just kept ringing. As I told you
yesterday, though, he might have moved to Denver for the winter
months. He must be in cahoots with your deputy director there -
there's no way he'd dare to try pull the wool over our eyes
otherwise."
There was a moment of thoughtful silence, and then Skinner
suddenly reached to pull out a second folder from his bag.
"Maybe not," he muttered, thumbing through the file.
"What if...What if Sheriff Donner's the murderer? It would
explain his need to throw you guys off the trail as soon as
possible."
"A cannibalistic sheriff? That's a bit of a leap, isn't
it?"
"Like I say, nothing surprises me now. Seriously, think
about it, Chad. He could have been doing this for years! The only
reason why you were involved this time is because the hiker that
found the family came to you first."
"You really believe--"
Skinner's tired head nodded vigorously.
Spector got up from his seat and moved over to his computer,
where he immediately typed in a request for Lynus Donner's
profile. After reading for approximately three minutes he
suddenly stood up and quickly snatched up his coat. "Come
on, Walt, we need to get to the PD!"
"What is it?" Skinner queried, standing up also.
"When he was a kid, Donner and his parents were in a car
crash out by Wyntack Forest. They were found a week later by a
search and rescue team; Lynus had eaten his folks to stay
alive."
"Shit!"
XxXxXxXxX
Mulder hadn't realized he'd been walking for as long as he had
until he stopped to catch his breath and thought to look at his
watch.
8:42.
He'd only intended to venture away from Scully for about
half-hour to survey the path ahead before returning to the cave,
not almost two hours! She'd probably be awake by now and worried
about where he'd gone...as well as fuming and ready to kick his
ass for ditching her.
With a sigh, as the sun peeked out from above the mountain and an
eagle passed overhead, Mulder turned on his heel to go back and
face the music, but as he did something caught his attention out
of the corner of his eye. He paused and then - curiosity getting
the better of him as ever - made his way over to the red patch
underneath one of the taller spruces.
When he was close enough to see the lifeless, empty eyes of the
wolf that they'd encountered yesterday staring back at him from a
mass of matted fur, muscle, bones and diluted blood, he knew
exactly what had happened here. Instinctively his hand reached
for his gun...but it wasn't there. He must have left it behind
back at the cave, but that meant--
Suddenly there was a sharp pain tearing up his leg from somewhere
in his right calf, and Mulder looked down in time to see the
large hunting knife sticking out from there before he dropped to
the ground. There was movement from somewhere behind where he
lay, but he was too busy frantically scrabbling to apply pressure
to his leg to stop the blood flow to care who it was. There were
another pair of hands pushing his away, though, and before any of
what had happened had had chance to sink into the agent's muzzy
brain, a head came into focus, the knife was ripped out of his
leg, and - just when he didn't think the pain could get any more
excruciating - teeth chomped into his bleeding flesh.
A scream barely recognizable as his own voice shot out of
Mulder's chest, and he thought he may have blacked out for a
minute, but the pain, the blood, the pull of something trying to
rip his skin from his body...It all never ended.
Lynus Earl Donner smiled greedily as blood poured down his white
beard and the pain-filled cries echoed against the trees in the
morning air. If there was one thing he'd learnt over the years,
fresh, living tissue was so much more of a delicacy than that in
which the heart had stopped beating blood - life - to the muscles
and organs.
*I'll be back, I promise.*
His own vow replayed over and over in Mulder's mind as he lay on
the frozen ground, futilely struggling to break free from the
stranger's jaws.
*Christmas Day we're walking out of here...Frostbitten, tired,
chapped lipped, hungry, and my ass as sore as hell, but alive
nevertheless.*
He'd promised her an end to this nightmare. He'd promised her
life. He'd promised that this would not be the final time Death
stared them in the face and claimed them or that they'd be
separated forever.
It was time to prove all his promises to her actually meant
something.
With the tiny bit of strength left in him, Fox Mulder kicked and
rolled his way away from the cannibal and shakily got to his
feet. He felt the other man lunge at him, but before he could be
taken down again the FBI agent ran with all his might deeper into
the woods - disorientated and desperately trying to bite back
against the pain tearing his senses to shreds.
He ran and ran and ran, almost feeling the breath of his pursuer
right against the back of his neck, but then he reached a fallen
tree that was blocking his path of escape, and the only option
was to jump it.
Which he did.
And failed to clear.
And all he knew then was darkness.
"Sculleeee......."
As Mulder's body shut itself down, the distant sound of rustling
branches registered in his brain, and he knew Death had finally
caught up with him. He thought he heard something akin to a
gunshot...
And then there was nothing at all.
XxXxXxXxX
WASHINGTON, D.C.
The sudden beeping from the computer snapped Frohike back to
attention and he quickly sat up, staring at the monitor in shock.
"Hey! Guys! I've managed to connect to Mulder's phone!"
Both Byers and Langly rushed to his side and stared at the screen
also.
"Finally!" Langly exclaimed, slapping his friend on the
back and then nudging him out of the way so that he could have
full access to the keyboard. "Now, if we can just locate
their exact position..."
As the long-haired geek started tapping away, a shaky voice
suddenly started over the speakers, "H-h-hello?"
Byers brightened when he recognized the voice and quickly reached
for the system microphone.
"Agent Scully? It's John Byers. Are you okay?"
Considering how weak and upset she sounded, it was probably a
stupid question, but it was the first thing he'd managed to think
to ask.
There was silence, the ever-so-faint sound of her shivering, and
then, "I...Mulder's b-b-bleeding..."
Langly sharply looked up from his work, but those two words made
him even more determined to succeed with tracking their friends
down.
"Don't panic, Scully. Assistant Director Skinner is in
Colorado, and we're using the GPS in your phone to locate you, so
don't give up yet," Byers gently assured, hoping he could
calm the scared woman even a fraction.
"There's a s-s-stinger on the r-road in...Make s-sure n-n-no
one d-drives o-over it." She paused, sniffed. "I-I-I
need...I n-need to--"
The line went dead.
"I've got them!" Langly smiled, taking a step back and
pointing the flashing indicator on the screen.
"Let's get those co-ordinates to Skinman immediately,"
Frohike barked, wiping at his eyes and rushing for the telephone.
There was no need for questions from his two friends - they were
all feeling the affects of the emotional charge.
XxXxXxXxX
DENVER POLICE HEADQUARTERS
CHEROKEE STREET
Walter Skinner closed his cellphone and turned to face the group
of twelve officers that Spector had managed to gather to help
with the search.
"We've found them. Let's go."
The team moved into action at his order and quickly filed out of
the room - leaving Chad and Walter alone.
"By the sounds of it, both of them are badly injured,"
Skinner sighed, trying to compose himself as best as possible but
failing to ward off the guilt that continued to consume him.
"And there's a concealed spike-strip on the road in to
Wyntack...Do you have any choppers we can use?"
Chad gave a nod, knowing a lot was riding on his answer. "I
could call one of our pilots in, but it's gonna take him at least
a couple hours to get here," he explained, heading toward
the exit.
"Please, can you call him? A foot search isn't gonna get to
them soon enough."
"Sure thing, Walt. You go ahead with the guys and I'll catch
you up."
The two stared at each other in companionable silence for a
second and then went their separate ways.
XxXxXxXxX
6:39PM
Pain sifted through the darkness and tugged him in every
direction.
In his head.
In his leg.
In his groin...
Fox Mulder had experienced a *lot* of pain and torture over the
years, but he really didn't believe that he'd ever experienced
anything like the agonizing ache inflaming his squashed genitals,
and he never wanted to again - hopefully that was something he
could keep to himself and not let them use against him.
"...Joy to t-the f-f-fishes in t-the d-deep b-b-blue
sea...J-joy to y-you and m-m-me."
His eyelids slipped open as reality tried to break through the
fog in his brain, and he realized he was resting in the cradle of
her arms...
And there was something cold being gently rubbed against his
testicles.
Not in an arousing way, but it was certainly helping to take the
edge off the burn in his balls.
"You're e-e-enjoying t-that far too m-much," he
whispered in a strained, quasi-falsetto.
Scully almost jumped out of her skin at the sound and she looked
down at her partner, pulling him tighter against her as she
rested back against the fallen pine tree that had caused him this
extra injury. "M-Mulder? You're o-okay?"
"J-just as w-w-well we c-c-can't think a-about having k-kids
the old-fashioned w-way, 'cos there's n-n-no way I-I'll b-be able
to d-deliver n-now," he pouted, letting his eyes close
again. "That and m-my leg...it...I-it--"
"It's o-okay," she whispered, kissing the top of his
head.
"How d-did you--...What h-h-ha-happened?"
"I w-woke up again after y-you l-left the c-c-cave,"
Dana explained, withdrawing her hand from his pants and reaching
for another ball of snow. "But I-I had that b-backpack to
c-carry and f-f-fell behind, so I had to j-just f-f-follow your
footp-prints in the sn-snow. Then I saw you and Donner--"
"D-Donner?"
"Mm, y-you were right - it w-was S-Sheriff Donner
c-committing t-t-the m-murders after a-all. Anyway, I saw y-you
b-both s-scrabbling up ahead after a-a-awhile, d-dropped the bag
and r-r-ran to catch up. Sadly y-you h-had your
procreation-damaging s-slip b-before I-I was able to s-s-shoot
the guy." Her hand delved back into his pants to cup and
massage his swollen balls with the cold slush. She'd only just
managed to get the bleeding from his leg under control, so she
hoped upon hope that she could help him with this unbearable
injury at least.
"H-he's d-d-dead?" Mulder snatched in a breath as his
testicles began to numb and the fog in his brain cleared a
little.
Despite the lack of energy left in their bodies, there was no
mistaking the fire of hatred and poison of disgust when she spat
out, "H-he's on the o-other side of t-this log."
Mulder looked up at her, saw the icicles that had formed on her
cheeks glisten in the moonlight, and gave her a loving,
reassuring smile.
Her hand once again retreated to scoop up a fresh ball of frozen
powder.
"I-is there s-something I should know a-a-about your
knowledge and e-expertise at d-d-doing this?" he joked,
eyeing the snow in her hand.
"W-well, y-you know," she mused, expelling a huff of
laughter when she saw him waggle his eyebrows, "I-I've
always h-h-had this s-secret f-fantasy of 'packing i-ice' w-with
y-y-you, so r-really I'm just t-taking advantage o-of you a-and
your injury."
"If only t-that was turning me on and n-n-not n-numbing my
s-senses."
"Will h-have to s-start c-calling y-y-you 'Blue
Balls'." She began to chuckle, but then suddenly paused and
looked up at the sky.
"S-Scully?"
"Shhh. Did y-you hear t-that?"
There was silence and he listened as hard as he could, but he
guessed he must be more out of it than he'd thought as he
couldn't hear anything.
Scully could though, and she strained to hone in on the noise as
it came nearer and nearer.
"It s-s-sounds l-like..." She paused, searched the
horizon frantically for the source,
And then she saw it - its searchlight coming into view as it
skimmed the tops of the trees.
"...H-helicopter blades... "
"You m-mean we're g-g-gonna be out o-of h-here for Christmas
a-after all?" Mulder hummed as his eyes slipped shut once
again - his body beginning to succumb to the cold and pain and
exhaustion. "N-not s-s-sure if I'll...b-be up to coo-cooking
the d-dinner..."
The searchlight stopped on them as the chopper hovered directly
above. Scully quickly withdrew her hand from her partner's groin
and raised it to shield her eyes from the bright light and
whirlpool of snow the rotors whipped up. If she'd had the energy,
she probably would have sent up a silent 'Thank you' to whatever
deity had saved them this time, but everything left in her was
focused on Mulder...
And getting the hell out of here as soon as possible.
XxXxXxXxX
----------
EPILOGUE
----------
'Case File: #X14082273
Agent of record: Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner
Date: December 28th, 2006
Due to the injuries inflicted by Agents Fox Mulder and Dana
Scully whilst on this investigation, I shall make my own report
on this case.
Lynus Earl Donner was found dead wearing what appears to be an
imitation Santa Claus outfit. His ID photo depicted him with a
clean-shaven face, however his corpse fashioned a thick white
beard, giving the all-round impression that he was trying to
portray himself as the mythological bringer of Christmas
presents. To date, no explanation has been found amongst his
belongings sequestered from his office at the Wyntack Sheriff's
Station, but a full psychological evaluation of his background
from medical records etc. will be carried out in the new year.
Personally, I wonder if the trauma incurred by his parents' death
triggered something in Donner's brain that made him regard every
special holiday as a reason to feast and dress-up - I wouldn't be
surprised if he'd been dressed up as a turkey when he killed the
Thompson family at Thanksgiving. Or, perhaps he had been
psycologically okay, but - isolated out in the wilds alone -
cabin fever had begun to set in and his past caught him up,
pushing him completely over the edge of reason. This is all
hearsay, but I think that that's all it will ever be - only Lynus
Donner knew the truth behind his reasons...Or, at least what he
believed to be the truth.
Deputy Director Deborah Wallace has not been seen since her
meeting with Agent Scully. A further check into the FBI's payroll
list revealed she is not even listed as an employee here anymore,
deepening my suspicions that she was placed here for malicious
purposes, and I highly recommend that an investigation should be
opened to deal with this matter.
Agents Mulder and Scully are currently still receiving treatment
at Georgetown Memorial Hospital for pneumonia, and hypothermia,
as well as the external injuries they suffered. There was a fear
that the lower half of Agent Mulder's right leg would have to be
removed due to the damage incurred and infection that had started
to set in, but thankfully his surgery went successfully and his
leg was saved.
Both agents will hopefully be fit to return for work in three
weeks.
Further details can be found in Chief Chad Spector of the Denver
Police Department's report into the oversight on their handling
of the case.
Otherwise, FBI case number X14072273 is closed.'
XxXxXxXxX
The woman walked away from the building - each calculating step
taking her nearer and nearer to her next assignment.
"Who are you working for?"
Deborah Wallace turned at the voice, finding herself coming face
to face with Conrad Strughold but never flinching at all, even
though she knew this impromptu encounter probably meant that her
deception had been uncovered.
"I thought I was working for you," she dryly retorted,
brushing her hair back away from her face.
"You know we have more plans for Mulder - more we need to
learn from him," Strughold snapped. "Why would you put
those plans in jeopardy by sending them on that case?"
Wallace quickly unholstered her concealed gun and pointed it at
the shorter man. "Because someone offered me a bigger pay
packet!"
*BANG!*
One shot.
One kill.
Unwavering eyes stared and watched nonchalantly as Deborah
dropped to the ground - a gunshot wound in the center of her
head.
"It obviously wasn't big enough," Strughold coolly
noted, pulling both his hand and silencer-equipped gun out of his
jacket pocket and giving them a quick wipe. "Otherwise you'd
have been long gone by now."
Before a crowd could gather, he re-pocketed the weapon and moved
to the nearby parked black sedan.
ROLL CREDITS
"Mulder? Mulder, are you all right? Mulder, wake up!"
Sounds slowly made their way through the darkness - hollow,
indistinguishable to begin with but eventually sharpening into
something he could place as his head groggily turned to the side.
What was happening? The searing pain in his calf and certain
other places of his body he would give anything to save reminded
him of what had happened and that he must be in hospital.
Except...there was no familiar smell of disinfectant, no clinical
sounds or groanings of people passing back and forth in the
corridor, or--
"Mulder, if you don't open your eyes this very minute I'm
calling for an ambulance!"
Scully? That was Scully's voice! But she was-- Wait... Did she
say 'ambulance'?
Mulder's hand shot out and grabbed at the closest appendage,
which turned out to be Scully's warm, bare wrist. He must have
been out of it for ages if she was back to good health! She was
so going to kick his ass for this one... He slowly blinked open
his eyes, preparing for the glare of cold fluorescent lights he
knew would blind him.
There was no blindness, though. No fight to focus as the familiar
ceiling of their living room came into view above him. No need to
long for the heat that had been deprived from him for the past
three days. No--
Living room ceiling? Why was he on the floor of their living room
and not in a somewhat lumpy, slightly raised bed at Northeast
Georgetown?
"Scully?" he choked out, lifting a hand to eye-level so
that he could examine it. "Scully, what's going on?"
"That's what I want to know, Mulder." Dana sounded
pissed and worried at the same time. Knowing how long she could
hold a grudge, ditching her at the cave really hadn't been the
smartest move he'd ever made "I came home from the office
early and found you sprawled on the floor with the ladder knocked
over, half the bulbs from the tree smashed on the floor and...
Well, you were clutching...your pants," she concluded,
pointing to his midsection.
"What about Donner? And Deputy Director Wallace?"
"Who?" Scully asked, confused.
"Donner! Sheriff Donner - the cannibal. Scully, surely you
remember--" His voice trailed off as realization dawned that
she really had no idea at all of what he was talking about.
"Scully, what day is it?"
She raised an eyebrow, wondering if it was time to examine his
scalp again for any extra bumps that may have come up in the last
five minutes, but then dutifully checked her watch. If there was
one thing she'd learnt from experience, it was that Fox Mulder
would not settle until his confused mind had been appeased, and
right now she needed him as lucid as possible so that he could
lift himself up off of the floor (it was times like this when she
really wished she wasn't almost a foot shorter than him).
"December 23rd," she intoned, rising to her feet,
"and it's time for me to call that ambulance,"
Scully slipped out of his grasp as she took a step away, but his
hand outstretched to grab her ankle, and as he regained contact
with her soft, heated, unharmed flesh the sudden movement almost
brought her toppling down on top of him. "Wait. No
ambulance. I'm fine."
"You aren't fine. You're talking about cannibals and
sheriffs and deputy directors I've never heard of, and you have a
knot on your head the size of a melon!" she argued,
inspecting the back of his head from her vantage point above him.
When his head shook in dismissal, she dropped back to the floor
and grabbed his shoulders. "Mulder, track my finger." A
detached, authoritative and clinical order was the only thing she
knew would bring him back into focus if he really was as okay as
he insisted, and he dutifully obeyed, watching as her left finger
slowly waved back and forth in front of his eyes.
"Scully, I'm fine," he groaned, hoping her standard
failsafe would be as acceptable as she expected it to be when she
delivered it to him. "I guess it was just...just a bad
dream. It was so real, though! I could literally feel the ice
hanging from my nostrils! It was so detailed I even saw things
from everybody else's point of view, like I was watching it on
television! Honestly, Scully, I thought I was a goner! What's
worse, I was shit-scared *you* were done-for." His head
lowered and he shuddered, the memory of the cold and fear shaking
his frame to the very core. When he felt her gentle touch on his
cheek, he lifted his head again and stared into her blue,
concerned eyes. "Really, I'm fine." He started to get
up from the littered floor, hoping a vertical stance would
reassure her, but the ache in his groin tightened and both hands
quickly clutched at the area right over his pants' zipper.
"Okay, maybe not *that* fine," he admitted, barely
managing to gasp it out. "But no ambulance, and definitely
no hospital!"
Forty-five minutes later Mulder was resting in their bed with an
icepack on his lap and ibuprofen happily flowing through his
bloodstream. Scully came up the stairs with two cups of mulled
cider and settled in next to him.
"Sorry you had to clean up the mess," he lamented,
taking one of the cups and sipping the cider.
"Well, it wasn't as bad as I initially feared. Only two
casualties in 'The Great Christmas Ornament Disaster of 2006' --
not including you. You're lucky you don't have glass embedded in
your ass as well, just to add insult to injury."
"...Like what I did do isn't insult enough..."
She couldn't hide the slight chuckle that burst out at that.
"You were doing a great job, right until, I guess, you tried
to tie the ornaments to the ceiling fan. What were you thinking,
Mulder?"
"That it was a cool place to hang the mistletoe?" he
replied with an innocent look.
"Well, judging from the swelling, we won't be playing 'find
the mistletoe' for a couple of days," she reminded him.
Mulder winced, shifted uncomfortably and decided it was time to
change the subject to something a lot less painful and
embarrassing as soon as possible if he was to retain any dignity.
"I heard the phone ring while you were clearing up my sorry
mess...Was it your mom?"
"No, it was Skinner. He was calling to ask if we might be
interested in a case. I told him you'd had an accident and would
be laid up till after Christmas. He said he'd find another set of
agents and see us in the New Year."
"Did he say what the case was about?" Mulder asked,
slightly uneasy.
"Not really. Something happened in a place called Wyntack,
Colorado." Scully shrugged her shoulders and settled back
against the headboard, not noticing how pale her partner's face
had suddenly become. "Anyway, it's not our bother, so let's
just forget about it. Now, are you going to tell me about this
dream you had -- the one that played out just like a television
drama complete with credits at the end?"
"Yeah, sure, Scully. But first, uhhh, I have to make a quick
call to Skinner. He's gonna want to send more than two agents on
that case. I'm sure of it."
THE END
....Really, it is this time J
THE END
DISCLAIMER: CC
and Fox own 'em - I just like to play with them :)
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