Title: The Rescue
Author: X-Phylia (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Disclaimer: characters are not mine (duh!)
Rating: NC-17 for violence and graphic scenes.
Archive: sure, just let me know.
Feedback: very welcome!
Thanks to San for urging me to write and submit this.
Written for Mulder's Refuge Fic Contest. November 2003.
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
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
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
"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
"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
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,
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.
"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 hand 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."
"I'll be the one to go in, alone, as a medical doctor. Being
petite has its advantages, Agent Templeton. They won't suspect
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
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?"
"They're going to kill him," Latrell whispered ominously.
"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
"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
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."
"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.
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
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!
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.
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
"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
"Shane! Brigg! What the hell is going on in there! Open up,
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
"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-
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
"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 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.
"Shh... I'm here, Mulder. I'm here."