untitled
'THE
RESCUE'
By: X-Phylia
If our positions
had been reversed, I would have busted Mulder's chops for doing
what I was doing right now: attempting some heroic rescue without
back-up. I was supposed to be the voice of reason in this
partnership, but that day I found out that when it comes to
Mulder's safety, logic thinking is not the first thing that comes
to my mind. I *had* tried to do things by the book, however, but
the local SAC simply wouldn't listen. I confess, I was driven by
anger and desperation, a very bad combination. But what pissed me
off more was that it wasn't even Mulder's fault this time - he
hadn't gotten in trouble on one of his wild goose chases.
Mulder had volunteered for an undercover mission in New York
City; a *very* delicate mission, I might add, as a favor to
Senator Matheson. This was a huge operation, several agencies
were involved, including the DEA and the FBI. Mulder had managed
to infiltrate this group of major drug dealers, posing as a
potential buyer, and gotten loads of incriminating evidence;
enough to put the whole band behind bars for a long time. And
then, a few days before the raid, his contact made a bad move and
blew his cover, exposing Mulder to the wrath of the criminals.
Agent Evers had moved quickly, I'll give him that, but he wasn't
able to get Mulder out of there in time. And now they had at
least a dozen heavily armed people bunkered in an old condo on
8th Avenue who kept Mulder as a hostage.
I flew in as soon as Skinner informed me of the news. For
security reasons I wasn't familiar with the details of Mulder's
location, and we had been out of touch for over seven weeks. To
say that I was angry was a gross understatement: I wanted to grab
that guy Evers' head and squeeze it with a vise. As soon as I hit
the scene, I went directly to Evers' superior, SAC Robert
Templeton. I introduced myself as Mulder's partner, and I think
that was the only reason why he didn't send me away. My
suggestion of trying to enter the building by using the numerous
apartments with windows facing the streets, however, was met with
flat derision.
"Agent Scully, do you think we haven't considered that yet?
Most of the people who live in that building are somehow related
to this band, we cannot count with their cooperation. The minute
we try to break in, they'll know."
"What are they demanding?"
"An exit. Means to mobilize the whole band, all twelve of
them. But they'll never make it and they know it."
"But... this is going to take forever. If they use the
people in the building as a human shield, we can't break
in."
"No, we can't, Agent Scully," he patronized me.
"In fact, there are no guarantees they won't start taking
those people as hostages eventually..."
Templeton shut up, letting the full implication of his words
floating in the air. Mulder's life was in serious danger, they
wouldn't doubt executing him to prove they meant business.
"Damn it," I cursed, earning me a few raised eyebrows
from the officers nearby.
"Sir! Sir!" A young agent ran towards us. He nodded at
me and then addressed Templeton. "We're receiving a file
from them," he pointed to the building where the drug
dealers were hiding. "It looks like a video, Jensen is
downloading it right now."
They headed to a van parked in front of the building, and I
followed.
"Agent Scully, I'm sorry, but this is as far as you
go," Templeton tried to stop me.
"Like hell it is," I retorted. "That's my partner
in there, I'm not going anywhere."
Whether it was my voice or my stance, Templeton must have
realized he wouldn't get rid of me that easily.
The van was fully equipped with state-of-the-art surveillance
paraphernalia, I repressed a smile picturing the Lone Gunmen
drooling over it. A young technician was crouched in front of the
main screen, he executed the video file as soon as he saw his
boss.
The images paralyzed my heart for several seconds. They showed
Mulder's battered body, his arms tied up over his head and
hanging from a hook, his feet barely touching the floor.
He was also fully naked.
As the camera zoomed towards him, the multiple bruises and
lacerations on his skin were perfectly visible. His head was
hanging down, I couldn't see his face, his eyes, which was
probably for the better. I don't know if I could have taken it.
Then, a man wearing a black ski mask walked in and started
prodding Mulder with electric shocks. God, I almost started
screaming myself, as if those volts were tearing my own flesh.
Mulder's agony was soul-shattering, he convulsed as he was hit in
every vulnerable spot of his exposed body; armpits, nipples,
belly, genitals...
When the sadistic bastard was finally done torturing him, he
grabbed Mulder's hair and pulled it backwards to raise his face
for the camera. Then I could see his eyes, his terrified
expression of indescribable pain. His cheeks were soaked with
tears and his lips moved to form a single word.
My name.
"This happened half an hour ago," a distorted voice
off-camera informed. "And it will happen again every hour
until our demands are met."
Somehow I managed not to faint from the shock, but I couldn't
help my stomach from expelling everything I had eaten in the last
few days. This time my fellow officers showed some compassion and
eased me on the van so I could compose myself. My pulse was
racing and I was a bit disorientated, but in the back of my head
I swore I would kill that bastard hurting Mulder with my own
hands. I rejoiced in that thought, draw strength from it. It was
of utmost importance that I kept myself together, Mulder needed
me whole and strong now, there would be time to break down later.
"Agent Scully, I'm very sorry you had to see that. You're
too close to this case, I can't allow you to be part of the
rescue team," a more soft Templeton was saying. Even though
they tried to hide it from me, I could tell that the video had
shaken them up too. After all, Mulder was a fellow agent, it
could have happened to any of them.
"So you're going in?" I inquired.
"We have plans," he said vaguely. "We need to
convince them that we're working on getting what they want, and
maybe get them distracted. These people aren't amateurs, Agent
Scully. Any mistake will cost lives, and not only Mulder's."
"I know. And that's why you need me."
"What for?"
"I'll be the one to go in, alone, as a medical doctor. Being
petite has its advantages, Agent Templeton. They won't suspect
I'm FBI."
Templeton opened his eyes in disbelief.
"You have to be kidding. You can't throw yourself into the
lion's den like that! Besides, they might not suspect if they see
you on the street, but by now they must have figured out Mulder
*is* an FBI agent, and hence know you're his partner. Forget it,
Agent Scully. It's not going to happen."
Despite Agent Templeton's words, it *was* happening. Thanks to an
unsuspecting technician who lend me a cable to hook up my laptop
computer to the internet, I had been able to receive the files I
need. I owed the Gunmen big time for hacking into God knew where
to find the blueprints of the old building. I also asked them to
send them to Templeton anonymously, in case he decided to go in,
too.
I tried not to think about what Mulder was going through, what
was going to happen to him if I didn't hurry. Instead, I just
focused on the task. The building was surrounded, there were a
lot of people, between officers and curious bystanders. There was
no way I could enter unnoticed, which left me only one way: the
roof. I studied the nearby buildings and took my pick.
Ten minutes later I was in the roof of the six-floor building,
dressed with jeans, sneakers and a comfortable sweatshirt,
congratulating myself for having come directly from La Guardia to
the 8th Avenue; my presence there wearing a working suit and high
heels would be a little hard to explain. But, more important, I
also had my medical bag with me. Other than that, I was
completely on my own, no one knew where I was or what I intended
to do, and instead of making me nervous, it made me feel
incredibly close to Mulder. This was *his* modus operandis,
sneaking inside buildings with no certain way out. He had done
this for me in the past, and even though I had given him grief
for it, now I could feel what he must have felt. I didn't hate
Templeton, he was doing his job to the best of his knowledge. He
couldn't risk the lives of innocent people in the building;
Mulder, on the other hand, was an FBI agent doing his job. He
knew the risks he was taking.
Getting inside the building from the roof had been surprisingly
easy. I crawled inside using a tiny window - another advantage of
being small: no men, especially a usually big FBI agent would
have fitted though it. I was carrying both of my guns with me,
the second one in an ankle holster, another of Mulder's tactics.
The bigger one had a silencer attached, just in case. Looking
back, I can hardly recall a moment in my career in law
enforcement when I was more determined. I was ignoring protocol,
training, even common sense, and I was taking a huge risk by
attempting this rescue, but I couldn't care less. Mulder was my
partner, and moments like this reminded me he was more than that
to me. My job was to watch his back, and that was exactly what I
going to do.
I stepped down a story unnoticed, but soon I began to hear
noises, loud voices arguing. I glued myself against the wall and
carefully peeped into the corridor. Two thugs were walking up and
down, machine guns in their hands, bored and visibly nervous.
This was information Templeton could really use, I thought. I
closed my eyes. There was no way I could take them down, even if
I shoot one, the other would kill me. I made up my mind quickly:
I would dump my guns and try to throw myself in using my medical
credentials, hoping they granted me access to Mulder. That plan
was only marginally better, but maybe, just maybe, it would buy
me some time and avoid Mulder being subjected to that horrible
torture again. As I plunged in, I never stopped for a moment to
consider what the consequences for me would be if the plan
failed.
Out of nowhere, a strong arm held me tightly and a hand covered
my mouth. I was pulled from the floor and dragged into the first
apartment in the corridor. The place was pitch dark, even though
it was mid-afternoon, and I began to panic. I tried to shout, and
my captor held me even tighter.
"Shhhh!!! You're going to get us all killed!" a young
male voice hissed.
That calmed me a bit, and he released me.
"What the hell are you doing here, lady? And how did you get
in? The cops are everywhere!" he demanded in a low voice.
"Who are you?" I asked back.
"Who are *you*?"
"I'm a federal officer," I confessed. Whoever this man
was, he wasn't trying to hurt me, so I decided to trust him...
for now.
"Oh... I'm sorry I grabbed you. My name is Latrell," he
said. "But how come you're all alone? Where are the other
guys?"
"Don't ask."
"They're going to kill him," Latrell whispered
ominously.
"Who?"
"The fed. We heard him screaming about an hour ago. I don't
know what they were doing to him, but... it's scaring my baby
sister. I want to take her away, but they won't let me."
"Latrell, whatever you can tell me about these people is
going to help to get you and your sister out of here soon."
I couldn't see the boy's face in the darkness, but he was
obviously very young, probably sixteen, seventeen years.
"I can't, lady," he said. "I thought you were
someone from the building sneaking, but if they know I'm with a
Fed... I'm sorry."
"You don't have to do anything, Latrell. Just answer a few
questions. If you don't help me, that man you heard is going to
die. You don't want that, do you?"
Turned out that Latrell Jackson was the younger brother of the
super of the building, who let him use that apartment because it
was currently unoccupied. He was also a pretty decent kid,
considering his virtual lack of parenting and the bad influences
he was permanently exposed to. His big brother earned his money
by providing his drug dealer friends with a safe place for their
operations, and I could tell that the criminals weren't prepared
for a confrontation, they had only come here to consumate the
transaction with Mulder. However, they had enough resources to
complicate things.
Even though I had been extremely lucky to bump into young
Latrell, the situation was still critical. In another ten minutes
Mulder would be due to another torture session, and I just knew I
wouldn't be able to hold it together if I heard him scream like
that again. I had no choice but to go in. But first, I took my
cell phone and called Templeton. He would have to rescue two
federal agents now after all.
I was about to leave when my young friend stopped me.
"If you knock that door, you're dead, lady," he warned
me. "You don't know my brother's friends."
"I'll have to take the risk. I can't let them hurt that man
again."
The kid must have sensed it in my voice.
"He's your boyfriend or something?"
"He's my partner, Latrell. We watch each other's back."
"Wow," he mumbled. "You think I could make it to
the FBI? I want a pretty lady to save my ass too!"
"You can do whatever you want," I smiled in the dark.
He seemed to be considering something, but I had no time to lose,
so I headed for the door.
"If I help you, will you help me afterwards?" he asked
timidly.
"Help me how?"
"I know a better way to get there, so you can surprise
them."
"You do? Show me!"
"I will, but only if you promise you will help me. I want to
enter that FBI witness protection program with Lindsey, my
sister. I don't want her to grow up in places like this and... I
want my brother away from her. I don't like the things he does to
her."
I shuddered violently, but fortunately the kid didn't notice.
"I will, Latrell, I promise. As soon as this is over, I'll
come back for you."
"Hm... don't take it the wrong way, lady, but you might not
come back, if you know what I mean. What happens then? They will
kill me when they know I helped you."
This kid was smarter than I thought. I took a card from my wallet
and gave it to him.
"If I don't come back, call this number, ask for Assistant
Director Skinner, and tell him I sent you. He will help
you."
I should have known that what Latrell called a better way wasn't
simply a door to the room where Mulder was being held. Instead, I
had to walk on a very narrow cornice, with my chest flat against
the wall. My path was so narrow that part of my feet weren't
touching a solid surface, and there was nothing to hold on except
an occasional slightly protruding brick. Carrying the medical was
out of the question, so I left it behind, not without regret.
With five stories between me and the hard floor, those were the
longest five minutes of my life. I couldn't move faster because I
would surely fall, and if they started torturing Mulder again
before I got there... I didn't want to even think about it.
I finally made it to the stairs and let out a huge breath of
relief, and then I moved again. I jumped over the banister and
used the key Latrell had given me to open the door. In that same
second, I heard the unmistakable click of a lock... but that
didn't come from this door. With my heart threatening to explode
in my chest, I sneaked inside just before the other door opened.
I lay down, drawing my gun and waited. It was dark in there too,
so I couldn't see very well. Apparently I had landed in a
kitchen, and from where I was standing I could hear some strange,
metallic sounds. And then, a most terrible voice.
"Well, well, well, Agent Mulder, it looks like your friends
enjoyed the little show we put for them, because they're not
doing anything to avoid another one."
No response.
"So you don't speak now," the voice continued.
"Too bad, you were so chatty earlier. Well, Shane, turn on
the camera, I love to perform on camera, y'know?"
The buzz of electricity was my cue. All full on adrenaline, I
kicked the connecting door open.
"FBI! Freeze!"
I shot at the camera, and the man with the taser was so stunned
he dropped his dreadful weapon. Never before had I wished so hard
for some back-up, for I couldn't deal with the two men myself. If
I tried to reduce one, the other would attack me, and I couldn't
risk that. So I did what I had to do: I aimed at Mulder
aggressor's knee, at least the son of a bitch would be in a lot
of pain. I easily handcuffed the other, and taped both of their
mouths shut, all the time glancing at Mulder's naked figure
hanging lifeless by his arms, barely resisting the temptation to
blow those bastards brains off. I ached to go to him, but first I
had to secure the scene. Once I had them neatly tied up, I piled
up their bodies against the door, together with everything else I
could find. Hopefully, that would give us enough time before
Templeton and his crew arrived.
Very carefully, I lowered Mulder to floor. I covered him with a
tablecloth from the kitchen, in a feeble attempt to give him a
little dignity. Not that he minded at that time, though. He was
barely conscious and in deep shock from his ordeal. It was hard
not to break down at the sight of him, he was hurt all over, the
electric burns looked even worse than in the video.
"Mulder, it's me," I called him, stroking his hair.
"It's over, partner, you're safe, wake up, please..."
Just like that, he stopped breathing. Completely on automatic
pilot, I started CPR. "Damn it, Mulder, don't do this to me!
Breathe!"
I don't have clear memories of those minutes, all I remember is
Mulder's life slipping away from my hands, his battered body
taking even more abuse from the heart compressions, his lips
tinged with blue, dry and cold against mine as I insufflated air
into his lungs.
After what seemed an eternity, he reacted and coughed.
"'ullee..."
I offered him my best smile, the one I know he adores, hoping it
would reassure him. "Shh... you're safe, Mulder. It's
over."
Tears of relief flooded his eyes, and I think mine too.
"I knew... you'd come... Hurts..."
"I know, I need to examine you, Mulder, is that okay?"
He nodded shyly, perhaps acknowledging his state of undress.
"I'll be gentle, just tell me where it hurts."
It seemed that no matter where I placed my hand, it elicited a
cry of pain from him. He was dehydrated, feverish, scared... and
there wasn't much I could do. I would have given anything to have
my medical bag with me, I nagged at myself for not having even
tried to carry it, or at least bring a syringe with some Demerol
to ease the pain. So I did the only thing I could: I took him in
my arms and tried to make him as comfortable as possible. I think
I even sang to him, some silly song that came to my mind, so he
could hear my voice.
I hoped he would be able to rest, but as the shock wore out, he
became more lucid, and thus more aware of the lacerating pain his
body was sustaining. He started to tremble from the cold, but his
skin was warm and somewhat red; he was spiking a fever.
"Hurts, Sculleee... please..." he begged, jerking tears
from my eyes.
"I know, help is on the way, just hang on,"
His ragged breathing felt heavy and difficult, I was concerned by
the effect of electricity on his heart, but without my
stethoscope, I couldn't tell if anything was wrong.
Mulder had quieted down a little when someone bumped at the door.
My relief was very short-lasting, those weren't Templeton's men.
"Shane! Brigg! What the hell is going on in there! Open up,
man!"
So far, my impromptu barricade was working, but it wouldn't hold
much longer. My prisoners were trying to move, but being tied
they couldn't do much. The one with the busted knee was obviously
in a lot of pain, and as a doctor, I should have tended him. As
an agent, I had other priorities: to protect my wounded partner.
The noises were scaring him, he had started to shiver violently.
Afraid that they would shoot their way in, I dragged Mulder out
of the line of fire, but my gun was pointing at the door. Soon
enough, they started to shoot at the door, never realizing they
were hitting their own cronies. As blood spread on the floor, I
pulled Mulder closer against me and prayed.
"Please, Templeton, hurry up..."
The hospital room was quiet, except for the busy sounds of the
many machines around the bed. Mulder was sound asleep thanks so
some powerful sedatives. Templeton had arrived in time to get our
asses out of there, thank God. I thought a lot about Latrell, if
it hadn't been for that boy's help... he was right, I would have
never crossed that door alive with those happy-trigger assholes.
Mulder's condition, however, was another issue. His heart indeed
had suffered as a consequence of the electric shocks, but the
cardiologist assured me he'd fully recover. His bladder was
ruptured and that required surgery, Mulder would have to be on a
catheter for more time than he'd like. His genitals were sore too
due to the burns, and that made him very uncomfortable when he
was awake, so much so that his doctors had opted to keep him
sedated until his body healed. I was just happy that he wasn't
aware of all the poking and prodding he was subjected to, his
psyche needed as much rest as his body.
Five days later Mulder was discharged under my care and with
numerous restrictions. For starters, he had to stay in New York
City for at least another week. The IV and the Foley catheter
would remain in place, he had to eat regularly, and he would
still be on sedatives so he could get plenty of rest. I hired a
nurse-maid to help me out and we moved into our provisional home,
a nice apartment two blocks away from Central Park. Templeton had
assured me that the City would pick up the bill, so I had nothing
to worry about.
As I lay on the king-sized bed, I realized that I too had been
affected by this last ordeal. In over a week I hadn't been able
to leave Mulder alone for more than a few hours, and the time I
was with him, more often than not I was holding or touching him
somehow, making sure he was safe. He was still pretty much out of
it, be it for the drugs he was on, or the trauma, or both. And
yet he snuggled up against me as if seeking shelter, especially
in the night. I could only imagine what his nightmares were like.
Skinner visited us and Lydia, the nurse, let him into our room
thinking he was my father or something. I was watching TV, and
Mulder was asleep with his head over my shoulder, my hand running
up and down his spine. I blushed at the sight of him, but at
least only one of us was embarrassed. However, our boss didn't
seem upset by the obvious intimacy between Mulder and me. I
pointed at a chair and he sat down by the bed.
"How's he doing?" he asked in a low voice.
"He's still sore and achy, but he'll be alright."
"And what is his... state of mind?"
That was a far more difficult question. I didn't want to tell him
just how fragile Mulder's state was. "He's strong. He'll get
over it," I said confidently.
He seemed to buy my answer. "I came here to tell you in
person that your friends Latrell and Lindsey Jackson are taken
care of. He asked about you and Mulder, he seemed very
concerned."
I smiled for the first time in days. "If it hadn't been for
him, we'd both be dead. He deserves the chance to have a good
life."
"He insists he's going to apply to the Bureau as soon as he
is old enough. Looks like you made quite an impression,
Scully," Skinner grinned.
Skinner left a few minutes later, not wanting to disturb Mulder.
He stirred, though, and I recognized the onset of a nightmare, so
I woke him up. He looked up at me, those hazel eyes full of pain
and confusion, and then buried his face into the crook of my
neck.
"Scully...?"
"Shh... I'm here, Mulder. I'm here."
THE END
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people have no stories" (Therapy?)
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