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The Rescue By Xphilia

Written for the Mulder's refuge November Fanfic contest.
A wonderful MT ride and Scully comfort.

Title: The Rescue
Author: X-Phylia (
Disclaimer: characters are not mine (duh!)
Category: MT/SC
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.
"The Rescue"
by X-Phylia
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 
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 
"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 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."
"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.
"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."
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 
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 
Templeton's men.
"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-
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 
"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.
"Shh... I'm here, Mulder. I'm here."

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