Fox and the Howned Series 
by K. D. Enriquez



Rating: R
Category: A
Disclaimer: The X-Files property of CC, 1013, FOX yadda, 
yadda, yadda
Summary: A year after their encounter on the pier, Todd 
Howned returns to reek havoc.
Keywords: MulderAngst, SMT

Well, it sure took long enough.  This one was really tough 
for me I hope you like it. Let me know.  Also, I'm told this 
should not be read while about to eat, eating or shortly after 
eating.

Thanks to MareZX, editor extraordinare, for the story that 
is and to Windsinger, research maven, for the story that is 
not.



Part 1/4



The ceiling was white.

He could not call it a snow white or an ivory white or an 
almond white.  Antique white, desert white, winter white, 
virgin white, pure white, glossy white, glacier white and 
flat white did not come quite close to the shade of white 
the paint appeared.  He decided after two weeks that milky, 
chalky, bleached, frosty, flaxen and alabaster did not seem 
to describe the hue either.  He took three weeks to decide it 
was a white that was all colors and no colors at the same 
time.  A sterile white devoid of color and yet, being white, 
it was every color.

Coming to this decision, he turned his head away from the 
surface above him.  The equally sterile white walls driving 
his gaze back upward with their plainness.  He blinked, his 
eyes feeling gritty and dry from the time between his 
blinking.  The drugs made him a little spacey, as they 
always did, and it was hard to think most days, but the pain 
was gone.

The blank, emotionless ceiling stared back at him and for 
the first time he noticed the cracks.  They were faint, just 
beginning to complain that the surface needed a new coat 
of paint.  They ran from the four corners of the room, 
criss-crossing each other.  The more he stared, the more 
cracks he could see.  He fancied he could see pictures in 
the patterns they made of each other like those ink pictures 
the men in the dark blue scrubs and suits showed him.

There, in the corner, he could see the outline of a liver.  
Broiled, with onions and mushrooms.  He knew it would 
taste a little bitter, the tang of the mushrooms leaking into 
the meat.  In the other corner,  the face of a young girl 
stared back at him.  He felt his mouth water.  It had been 
too long.

He closed his eyes.  


***


The room was not a big one, barely large enough to hold 
ten uncomfortable wooden chairs arranged in two rows of 
five.  They were perfectly, evenly spaced on the dark 
concrete floor.  The walls, too, were constructed of the 
same dark concrete and seemed to absorb the dim light cast 
by a single row of florescent bulbs suspended from the 
ceiling.  Opposite the chairs, imbedded in the concrete, was 
a large, double-paned piece of glass opening onto the bleak 
view of an equally dark, concrete room.  

The difference between the two rooms lay only in the 
number of chairs.  In the second room, there was only one, 
exactly in the middle and bolted to the floor. Leather 
restraints hung from various points, swaying slightly in an 
unseen breeze. The metal buckles shone with an eerie, 
unworldly glow from bright lights, but the light still did not 
chase away the dark shadows from the corners.  

Fox Mulder entered the darker of the two rooms, staring in 
slight shock at finding himself alone.  Briefly, he wondered 
where the other witnesses had gone.  He quickly moved to 
sit in the front middle seat and stared apprehensively at the 
leather and metal buckles of the chair beyond the glass.

A door opened on the far side of the opposite room and a 
trio of armed police officers entered.  Two of the men went 
to the chair and began testing the restraints while the third 
man went to a panel on the wall checking various gauges 
and switches.  Their entry signaled a flurry of activity as 
more men entered and began to complete various routine 
tasks.

Mulder looked down and check his watch.  Eleven 
forty-five.  Fifteen more minutes until relief and assured 
safety.  He felt a brief flash of pity before ruthlessly 
tamping down the emotion.  He didn't want to feel pity for 
a monster who was finally getting what he deserved.

Today was the day that would end a living nightmare.

Mulder watched as the door opened again, admitting three 
more officers, a priest and Him.  Mulder tensed as dark, 
steel gray eyes scanned the room and locked on Mulder's 
form through the glass.  He smiled, nodded, and his voice 
filtered statically through a set of speakers mounted out of 
sight.

"I knew you'd be here," he said, grin growing wider.  "I 
knew you wouldn't miss the end. We're so alike, you and I."

Mulder shook his head, slowly, feeling his own bitter smile 
twist his lips.  He thought of all the people who would be 
alive now and all the pain he would've been without had 
this action been taken sooner.

Mulder checked his watch again, five to midnight.  Where 
were the others?  Something wasn't right here.

"We are. You'll see."  The other man chuckled. "That's my 
purpose, you know, to show you the truth about yourself."

It was then that Mulder noticed the man was absent of  
chains and leg irons.  It was then that he saw the officers 
were making no move to strap him down in the chair.  It 
was then that the man with the steel-gray eyes, who had 
been haunting Mulder's life, turned to the nearest guard and 
pulled his sidearm from the holster.

In less time than it took for Mulder to blink, the six officers 
in the room fell in perfect synchronization with the bark of 
the high caliber weapon.  The next bullet buried itself 
between the priest's eyes and before he had even slumped 
to the ground, the glass separating the two rooms shattered 
with the last two rounds.

"It's you or me now," the man whispered, his voice hard.

Mulder sat, unmoving, unbelieving.  This wasn't 
happening....


...and awoke in his dark apartment with the deafening 
sound of the telephone ringing in his ears.

He sat up, rubbing at his face, and fumbled momentarily 
for the cordless handset on the end table.

"Mulder," he barked still wiping at his eyes and trying to 
catch his breath.

"Agent Mulder," an unfamiliar male voice rippled from the 
ear piece. "This is Detective Mueller at Georgetown 
University Hospital."

"Yes?" Mulder asked, the name not immediately drawing 
up a face from his memory.  Had something happened to 
Scully?  He quickly brushed the thought aside.  If it were 
Scully he'd be getting a call from a doctor or nurse and not 
from the hospital security.

He must have said something aloud as the voice answered, 
"No, Sir, I'm with DCPD.  You're familiar with a prisoner 
we had in custody?"

The hair stood on the back of Mulder's neck as a chill 
swept through him. "What's happened?"

"Agent Mulder, Todd Howned disappeared from his room 
at the hospital earlier this evening.  We're not exactly sure 
of the exact time Mr. Howned left his room.  We have 
conducted a thorough search of the facility but we're 
certain now that he is not on the premises.  We 
contacted..." the rustling of paper filled in a brief silence, 
"Assistant Director Skinner and he said to call and inform 
you of the current events..."

Mulder had stopped listening.

Howned had still been in the hospital recovering from their 
last meeting, after Mulder had nearly beaten him to death.  
Howned had been left blind for several days due to 
swelling even after the coma.  Mulder remembered seeing 
Howned before he'd regained consciousness, remembered 
the scars left from the surgery to repair Howned's fractured 
skull.  They'd had to reconstruct his nose and part of his 
face.

But now Todd Howned was loose again.  He had 
disappeared and the authorities didn't even have a time 
frame.  Mulder knew Howned would be coming for him 
soon.  Mulder could only shudder at the anger Howned now 
felt and what lengths he'd go to for vengeance.  For all he 
knew, Howned was waiting outside his apartment door 
even now.  

"Agent Mulder?" The voice called to him from the phone.

"Yeah, I'm here?"

"Do you understand?  I would like for you to stay in your 
apartment until I send some officers over.  The AD said 
he'd get some agents ASAP too.  It's clear that he may come 
after you."

Mulder nodded, still in shock and too terrified to chance 
leaving. "I'll be here."

He disconnected the line and then hit the speed dial.


***


Dana Scully's eyes opened slowly as she finally responded 
to the ringing of the phone.  She sighed, turned slowly onto 
her side, and stared at the clock.  Seeing the time, she 
reached for the phone already knowing who it would be.

"Do you realize what time it is?" she said into the handset. 

"Sorry," Mulder answered. "Did I wake you?"

The tone of his voice stilled her witty response.  "What's 
wrong, Mulder?"

She heard his shaky sigh.  "I got a phone call tonight."

"And?" she asked, now thinking someone he knew died. 
His mother?

"And... Todd Howned is missing."

For an instant, Dana felt everything in her body still.  Fear 
for her partner chilled her down to her bones.  "How long?" 
she asked after several seconds.

"They're not sure.  Since earlier this evening."

She closed her eyes, remembering the sight of Mulder 
restrained by duct tape to a chair. "How?"

"They didn't tell me." 

She could hear the fear in his voice and he had every right 
to be afraid.  Howned was a psychotic nut fixated on 
revenge against Mulder.  There was no doubt in her mind 
that Howned would be coming for her partner again.

"The police are sending over some officers..." he trailed 
off, the slight hinting note in his tone bringing a warm 
smile to her lips.

"I'll be over in a few minutes, too, Mulder," she said 
quickly.  "If that's all right?"

"Sure, Scully."  Unmasked relief practically bubbled out of 
him.

"I'll see you in about twenty minutes."

"Okay. Thanks, Scully."

As she hung up the phone and quickly began to dress, she 
sent up a silent prayer.  Just this one time, they would pick 
up Howned again only a few blocks away from the 
hospital.  Just this one time, Howned had not been gone as 
long as it seemed.  Just this once, Mulder could get lucky.

She sighed, a twisted knot of fear forming in her stomach.  
Who do you think you're kidding? she thought to herself, 
locking the door behind her as she hurried from the 
apartment.


***


The knock brought him to the door faster than it should 
have, but twenty minutes was a long time to wait really.  A 
length he'd never noticed before.  With his hand on the 
knob, he paused.  

"Who is it?" he called, deciding that caution was the better 
part of valor but already able to hear the inflection and tone 
of the voice he was sure would answer.

Instead, the door around the dead bolt lock exploded 
inward with the echoing thunder of a rifle blast.  Fine 
splinters of wood buried themselves into his cheek, jaw and 
throat while bright stars bloomed behind his lids.

When they cleared Mulder found himself on the floor, 
dazed, watching a pair of dark blue Keds swagger towards 
him, the soles squeaking softly against the hard wood.  Fear 
seized him, paralyzing him, as it had before more than a 
year ago in a warehouse on the Potomac.

"Together again," the deep voice rumbled down to him.

"Looks that way, doesn't it?" Mulder managed to stutter.

Howned grabbed Mulder by the shirt and pulled him into a 
sitting position.  Frightened hazel eyes met insanely calm 
gray ones as they silently stared at each other.

Mulder's eyes traced the pattern of scars on Howned's face; 
a pale white reminder of what had occurred that night over 
a year ago.  One scar ran the length of his face from his 
hair-line down past his left eye, ending just under his chin.  
Another jutted upwards from his upper lip like a ghoulish 
tooth.  The small scars had faded but could still be seen 
lightly marking the areas where the surgeons had attempted 
to reconstruct his face.

The dim wail of sirens began in the distance.

Howned slowly smiled, a lopsided expression now as the 
scar tissue prevented the movement of his features on the 
left side of his face.  "My, you haven't changed a bit.  The 
blood's an added feature but you still got all working parts 
though I'll wager, eh?"

Mulder continued to stare, oblivious of the fluid slipping 
down his face and neck to dribble onto his shirt.

"Are you a betting man, Fox?" Howned asked, his voice 
dipping a register to the calmly murderous tone Mulder 
recognized all too well.  The one that said, 'Answer yes or I 
*won't* kill you.'

He nodded.

Howned's smile lost its dangerous twist.  "Oh good...  See 
I'm wondering who will arrive first... the police or Her?  
You did call Her, I hope?"

Mulder's heart froze.  Oh God, Scully would be here any 
second.

"Ah, good," Howned sighed, glancing towards the door.  
"You still don't disappoint.  All things considered, Fox, I 
must say that's one of the reasons I like you so much.  
Dependable..."

In that instant, Mulder moved.  He reached for his weapon, 
still securely in its holster at his hip.  Fear for Scully 
drowned out the paralyzing lead in his mind.

As the gun came up, Howned reacted.  His fist connected 
with Mulder's torn face and his other hand grabbed the 
barrel.  Mulder hit the floor again as the gun was torn from 
his grasp.

The dangerous tone was back in his voice.  "Like I was 
saying... dependable, predictable..."  Before Mulder could 
resume a struggle, Howned produced a role of duct tape 
and had bound both wrists and ankles.  "Not so quick 
anymore though... pity."

He stood and strode to the window.  "So, the cops or Her?  
Want to make a bet?"

"This has nothing to do with Scully," Mulder stammered 
out.  "This is about me."

Howned moved back and knelt. "Yes, *it* does have to do 
with Her, or have you forgotten so quickly?"

Mulder shook his head.

"I saw something last time that I didn't think I would see 
from you," Howned continued, a new inflection to his voice 
that Mulder couldn't place.  "I want to see it again.  I want 
to show you what I already know about you.  I want to get 
it for myself."

Terror gripped him again, stronger than Mulder ever 
thought he could feel.

It was awe.  It was awe he heard in Howned's voice. 


***


Dana parked on the street, glancing up to Mulder's window 
as she got out of the car.  She could see him standing in the 
window watching the street.  The dim lighting of his 
apartment cast his features into shadow.  She waved and 
watched him move away from the window.

Taking the elevator to his floor she strode down the 
hallway to his door.  As she approached she could see it 
standing open, and she drew her gun.

"Come in and put the gun slowly on the floor or he dies," 
Howned's deep voice echoed out.

She hesitated for a moment, trying to maintain her 
composure.  This wasn't fair.  No chance to fight, no time 
to try to apprehend Howned first.  She knew Mulder wasn't 
dead yet.  She knew she could count on Howned to stick to 
his MO.

Slowly she entered the apartment, holding her gun by the 
barrel and her hands out.  "Okay, Todd.  I'm right here."

Howned was standing in front of the door but back in the 
living room.  A rifle pointed in her general direction.  A 
glance down revealed Mulder, already bound and gagged 
by duct tape, the right half of his face a bloody mess.

"The gun.  On the floor," Howned calmly instructed.

Slowly she placed the gun on the floor.

"Now, you're going to drag him down to your car and we're 
going to go for a short drive." He smiled as he picked up 
her weapon.  "Or I shoot you both."

"All right," Scully answered and bent over to grab Mulder 
under the arms.

Mulder briefly met her eyes before glancing away, but it 
was enough to see the dispair in them.  Good God, what 
had already happened? She wondered as she began pulling 
him towards the door.

"We don't have all day," Howned said, glancing nervously 
towards the direction  of the sirens.  He bent and grabbed 
the bundle of tape between Mulder's ankles with one hand, 
and lifted.  "Move!"

***


end Part 1


The Fox and the Howned IV: Howneded
by: SciNut@aol.com (K. Enriquez)
Part 2/4

See Disclaimers in part 1



Assistant Director Walter Skinner plowed through the 
swarm of police officers surrounding the Brownstone 
building where Fox Mulder called home.  Waving his ID at 
anyone attempting to stop him, he didn't even have to raise 
his voice to clear the path before him.  A small entourage 
of agents followed in his wake almost as an afterthought.

Outwardly, he was the picture of professionalism and calm, 
the text book image of an officer of his rank.  But inside, he 
was seething.  The growing anger had begun with the 
second phone call from the District's police detective that 
had informed him of the now missing status of one of his 
agents.

Stepping off on the forth floor revealed the controlled 
chaos of a police department on the hunt.  Uniformed 
officers lined the hallways, taking statements from the 
neighbors.  Forensic officers dusted the doorway of 
Mulder's apartment.

An uniformed officer stepped in Skinner's path, attempting 
to slow him down. "Sorry, Sir, this is a crime scene."

"FBI," Skinner bit out through a clenched jaw.

The officer peered at the badge carefully, "Oh, sorry, Mr. 
Skinner.  Detective Mueller is in the apartment."

"Thank you, Officer," Skinner replied, not having slowed 
his stride.  The other agents following him spread out, 
professional and silent like a spreading shadow.

He turned the corner into the apartment, quickly taking in 
the splatter of the blood on the floor, the damaged front 
door and the flashing of cameras.

He stopped in the middle of the pandemonium, held up his 
badge and called, "FBI, I'm Assistant Director Walter 
Skinner.  Who's in charge here?"

A man in plain clothes turned.  "I am, Sir.  Detective Frank 
Mueller."

"Let's get this out of the way now, Detective.  I have no 
desire to step on any toes but this is my man that's missing.  
He is a valuable agent in the Bureau and a personal friend 
so I don't care about your jurisdiction.  What have you 
got?"

The detective scowled.  "We believe Todd Howned 
escaped earlier this evening with the assistance of a 
hospital volunteer, Leslie Forth.  At this time, we are 
unable to locate her.  A thorough search of the hospital has 
shown Mr. Howned no longer on the premises.  Sometime 
in the thirty minutes between dispatching officers to this 
location and their arrival here, Howned apparently arrived 
and abducted Agent Mulder.  Witnesses say there was a 
shot fired.  We assume that was the round Howned fired, 
blowing open the front door."

Mueller walked over to the door gesturing to the pattern of 
splintered wood.  "We believe he has a medium caliber 
rifle, maybe a shot gun."

Skinner nodded in agreement.

"Five minutes later, witnesses describe the arrival of a 
petite woman, red hair.  The neighbor says she's his 
partner?"

"Damn," Skinner whispered glancing back to the pattern of 
blood on the floor.

"I take it that's a yes?"

"Agent Dana Scully... yes." 

"So, Agent Scully arrives and then is seen helping carry 
Agent Mulder, bound and gagged, from the building just 
five minutes before my officers arrived.  Agent Mulder's 
car is still parked downstairs.  We had assumed they took 
her car.  We've got a roadblock up in a five mile staggered 
radius."

"No sightings?"

"None, yet, Sir."  Mueller turned from him. "We've got the 
situation as under control as we could under the 
circumstances.  It's your call now, I guess."

"I want photos and statements released to the press.  
Howned's not going to go far.  The best way to find them 
now is through the public."

"Sir," Mueller shifted nervously. "This was a man under 
tight guard on the maximum security level of a local 
hospital..."

"Detective, right now the concern here should be Agents 
Mulder and Scully," Skinner interrupted.  "*Not* the 
reputation of the DC police department."

Mueller nodded, the angry scowl deepening on his face.


***


The car hit another bump and Scully heard Mulder grunt as 
she elbowed him in the stomach.

"Sorry," she said, trying to wiggle away and give him more 
room.  

Howned had locked them both in the trunk of her car after 
securely taping Scully's wrists and ankles.  The darkness of 
the cramped space had swallowed them in silence and 
Scully had been trying to find a mutually comfortable 
position for them both as she was the only one capable of 
any movement.  She finally settled on lying next to him 
with her head on his chest.  In the darkness, and with 
Mulder gagged, it was the only way she decided they could 
communicate.

"How's this?"

He nodded.

"Are you okay?"

She felt him exhale shakily.  He shrugged.

"Your face... how serious is it?"

He shook his head then shrugged.

If she was deciphering his answers correctly, the injury 
wasn't bad, just painful, but emotionally he was not doing 
well.  Now the hard part.  "Howned," she asked.  "I know 
something happened before I got there.  Do you know what 
he's up to?"

His breath hitched and he nodded slowly.

Oh, this wasn't good, Scully thought.  "Is this about what 
happened a year ago?"  A slow nod.  "Well, I'm here this 
time, so something that involves me now too?"  Another 
nod.

She sighed, her mind whirling over the possibilities.  A 
year ago on the docks along the Potomac, she had 
interrupted Howned's game with Mulder.  Mulder had 
managed to call her from a pay phone.  When she had 
arrived, Howned had shot at her.  She'd managed to escape 
injury but Mulder had gone off in a blind rage, beating 
Howned almost to death.

Was Howned now including her in his psychotic need for 
revenge?  Her presence here in the trunk seemed to suggest 
it.

As she opened her mouth to ask another question, she felt 
the car begin to slow, pushing her more firmly up against 
her partner.  The car came to a stop and she heard the 
driver's door open as Howned exited and came back to the 
trunk.  The lid lifted and Howned pulled her from Mulder's 
side, slamming the lid back down.  Loud thumps came 
from inside as Mulder began pounding on the lid.

"All right, let's go," Howned growled, dragging her across a 
gravel lot and into a small, one-story house.  The lot was 
surrounded by small trees, the lights from the city shining 
brightly just over the tops.

He pulled her through a door, into what looked like the 
kitchen.  The floor was bare, without furniture, and the 
walls were absent of any appliances.  The sink was overrun 
with rust and dirt lined the baseboards.

He continued through a hallway past other empty rooms to 
a door.  It creaked as he jerked it open and led her down a 
shaky flight of wood stairs.  A faint smell of rot drifted up 
and Dana struggled to keep her footing as the taller man 
barreled downwards.  He dragged her across the concrete 
floor to a metal ring imbedded in the foundation wall.

"Sit," he ordered, biting out the word impatiently.

She sank to her knees and said nothing as he cut the tape 
from her and rebound her wrists tightly with a length of 
twine, running it through the ring above her head as he did 
so.  He tugged harshly, checking the security of his 
handiwork.

He nodded, satisfied. "Now, don't go anywhere."  Turning, 
he left.

She could hear him as he strode quickly back the way he 
had come.  She also heard his return, the dull thumps and 
scrapes as he dragged, shoved and pushed Mulder with 
him.

The door opened and Mulder came tumbling down the 
stairs, landing heavily at the bottom.  The rotting wood 
shuddered dangerously.  He was no longer gagged.  Either 
Howned or Mulder had removed the tape across his mouth.

Mulder lay, stunned, as Howned trotted down happily after 
him.  He lifted Mulder under his arms and dropped him 
unceremoniously into a wooden chair.  In silence, he began 
to tape Mulder's wrists to the chair arms, oblivious to 
Mulder's struggles.

"You know, Fox, it's been such a long time since we've 
spent any quality time together," he spoke as he finished, 
folding the roll in half and tucking into a back pocket.  "I 
didn't realize your manners had gotten so bad.  You haven't 
formally introduced me to your new friend over there."

He bent slowly and whispered to Mulder's ear.  Scully 
couldn't hear his comment but whatever it had been got a 
reaction from her partner.

Mulder turned and spat in Howned's face.

She watched, horrified, as Howned's expression contorted 
in rage and his fist snaked out to connect with Mulder's jaw 
with enough force to topple the chair over backwards.  She 
heard the sharp crack as his head bounced against the floor.

"Fuck you!!" Howned screamed as he towered over the 
prostrate agent.  "I'll cut your fucking tongue out if you ever 
do that again!"

Mulder, his eyes twisted shut in pain, said nothing.

Howned strode to the far wall and began pacing nervously 
back and forth.  His hands rubbed at his face, wiping away 
the spittle under his eye.  His breathing was coming in great 
ragged gasps and Scully realized that he was trying to 
regain his tenuous control.

She turned her focus back to Mulder, who was beginning to 
blink rapidly, trying to regain his balance.  His eyes held a 
dazed glaze and his face had begun to bleed again.

Scully wondered what he was trying to accomplish by 
testing Howned's behavior.  Even she knew Howned's anger 
was not something to play with or tempt.

Suddenly, Howned moved back to Mulder and, in one fluid 
movement, grabbed his shirt front and pulled him upright.  
The wooden chair scraped harshly against the floor with 
the force of the impact.  Mulder glared with pure hatred as 
Howned retrieved his battered, nearly spent roll of duct 
tape from his back pocket and, without a word, began to 
tape Mulder's forearms to the chair at his elbows.

Seemingly satisfied with the tape job, Howned turned 
towards Scully.

She froze as she watched him move slowly across the floor.  
For the briefest moment, she met Mulder's gaze, and saw 
that fear had replaced the hate in his eyes, before Howned's 
form blocked all view of her partner.  He crouched down to 
her.

"Do you want to know what's about to happen?" Howned 
asked, his voice the barest of whispers.

Scully's mouth opened to speak but nothing came out.  She 
didn't know what to say to stop whatever Howned was 
about to do.

He leaned in closer to her and his voice quieted further.  
"I'm going to turn that man into a monster."  She could feel 
his lips brush against her earlobe as he spoke, his breath 
burning as it caressed her neck.  "And you..." he continued, 
brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek, "You 
are going to watch me do it.  You are going to watch or his 
screams will be the last thing either of you ever hear.  One 
glance away and it's over... he dies... slowly."

He pulled back only enough to bore his gaze into hers. "Do 
you understand me?"

Terrified for them both, Scully's only response was a 
strangled sounding whimper.

Howned nodded. "Good."

Abruptly, he stood and moved quickly to another corner of 
the room that remained deeply in shadows.

Scully's eyes found Mulder's once more.  A mixture of fear, 
concern, agony, anger and hatred swirled in his hazel 
depths, forming an expression that bespoke murder.

[Whatever happens, just hang on,] she tried to answer with 
her own eyes.  [Hang on, Mulder.  No matter what.]


***


Mulder broke his gaze with Scully as Howned, carrying a 
semi-small cardboard box,  swaggered back into view to 
stand between them.  His shoulders were beginning to tense 
from the strain of being bound in such an uncomfortable 
position.

Howned dropped the box to the floor and it landed with a 
dull thump-rattle.  Mulder glanced down but could see 
nothing through the dim shadows.

"Nope, this won't do," Howned muttered to himself, 
glancing between the partners before grabbing the back of 
the chair. "There's no way She can see properly."

Alarmed, Mulder sought Scully's eyes as Howned twisted 
the chair around.  Scully now sat only six feet to his right.  
Such a short distance, he thought, looking back at Howned 
as he bent to reach inside the box.  Its contents rattled and 
Mulder caught the sweet, metallic odor of iron.

Howned stood, smiled and displayed a three inch nail.  Its 
shiny new polish glinted wickedly in the light by the 
overhead bulb.

Before either of them could draw a breath, Howned jabbed 
the nail into the soft flesh of Mulder's left hand in a blur of 
movement.

Pain lanced up Mulder's arm but he held in the scream that 
rose in his throat.  It died a short grunt as he closed his lids 
against the stars blossoming in his eyes.  He could feel 
Howned continuing to push the metal into his skin.  The 
pain built with a piercing pressure.

Don'tscreamdon'tscreamdon'tscreamdon'tscreamdon't...

The litany began in his head.  He knew that Scully was 
watching and he also refused to give Howned the pleasure 
even as he felt the tip of the nail perforate his palm and dig 
into the wood of the chair.

Through the pain, Mulder sensed Howned let go and step 
away.  Eventually the agony faded into a hellish throbbing.  

Mulder opened his eyes to find Howned kneeling before 
him, grinning maniacally.  He felt a sudden rush of tears 
but closed his eyes against them.

"Now, that was interesting," Howned said, and Mulder 
opened his eyes once more to find the comment directed at 
Scully.

Turning his head slowly he saw her.  Anguish lined her 
face and creased the skin around her eyes.  She shook her 
head and her eyes flickered down to his hand.  
Instinctively, his own gaze was drawn downwards, even 
though he wanted to do anything else but see it.

The nail jutted straight up out of his hand from just behind 
the head joint of his metacarpals between the first and 
middle fingers.  The flesh around it had turned purple and 
puckered up into a little mound as his body tried to eject 
the foreign object.  It oozed blood that trickled across the 
back of his hand and down his fingers.

"I bet that hurt, huh, Fox?" Howned asked and reached over 
to lightly flick the protruding metal.

Once again pain blossomed running up his arm, spasming 
the muscles in his neck.  He gasped at the sudden 
sensation.

"But," Howned added reaching once again into the box and 
pulling out a hammer, "We're not quite done yet."


***


end Part 2


The Fox and the Howned IV: Howneded
by: SciNut@aol.com (K. Enriquez)
Part 3/4

See Disclaimers part 1



Assistant Director Walter Skinner sat at a full conference 
table, ignoring the motions and conversations of the other 
agents and police officers as they coordinated the 
information coming in from phones that seemed to ring 
unendingly.

On the television in front of him, the local network 
anchorwoman was broadcasting "Live" from outside 
Mulder's apartment complex.  Below the network 
identification blazed the FBI hot line 800 number.

"Police still will not provide any information on how Todd 
Howned escaped custody, only that he is considered armed 
and extremely dangerous,"  the woman was saying in a tone 
that said 'This is the same information we told you fifteen 
minutes ago but we think it's important enough to hear 
again.'

"Again, serial killer Todd Howned escaped earlier this 
evening from the security wing of Georgetown Medical 
Center taking FBI Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully 
hostage..."

Skinner hint the mute button and turned away as their 
photos were flashed onscreen one more time.  Five minutes 
ago he was doubting this decision to go to the media.  He 
didn't like them, they tended to get underfoot during the 
important parts of an investigation.  Occasionally, however, 
they were necessary.

His musings were interrupted by an excited voice calling 
over the din.  "I've got a hit!"

Skinner made it to the officer on the phone at the same 
time Detective Mueller did.  "What it is it, Officer?"

"I've got a woman on a car phone, saying she's following a 
car matching Agent Scully's.  She's given a match on the 
license plate.  I've got a car en route."

Just as the words left his mouth the dispatcher across the 
room called out. "We got him. 54 has confirmation."

"Let's go," Skinner ordered moving towards the door.


***


Dana Scully finally allowed her eyes to flutter closed.  A 
door closed at the top of the stairs marking Howned's 
departure.  Across from her, barely six feet away, Mulder 
sat slumped in unconsciousness.  Each hand was firmly 
nailed to the arms of the chair.

She could still see, in her mind's eye, the methodical glee in 
Howned's eyes as he pushed a nail into Mulder's skin, 
twisting it to aid its progress through his flesh. The joy as 
he swung the small hammer down onto the head of the nail, 
pausing to watch Mulder struggle through the pain, only to 
bring it down again.  The satisfaction before pulling out 
another nail to start all over again.

She sat, unable to look away.  Unwilling to let Mulder 
suffer through it alone and fearful of the slow death 
Howned had promised would follow should she flinch from 
the sight.  So she'd watched as Mulder had clenched his jaw 
so tightly she could see the veins in his neck.  His eyes 
screwed so tightly shut they'd paled from lack of 
circulation.  His face purpling as he held his breath to keep 
in the agony.

She'd quietly endured, as Mulder had, all twelve nails, six 
in each hand.

Minutes had stretched into hours before Howned finally 
was satisfied with the results.  She remembered as he'd bent 
over Mulder, still barely conscious, and whispered, "I'm not 
going to kill you, Fox, though I bet right now you're 
wishing I had."

He'd pulled out a pair of scissors and cut away the tape 
binding his wrists and elbows to the chair.  "You can leave 
whenever you want to," he'd continued with quiet 
encouragement.  "Pull your hands free.  I'm going to leave 
for a bit and give you a chance to get away.  All you have 
to do is stand up."

With that, he'd turned and left.

Scully opened her eyes and looked back at her partner.  She 
saw his body flinch weakly as the sound of another door 
slamming upstairs broke the silence.  A ripple of surprise 
flickered across her mind that he was still awake.  She 
thought he'd finally let go and fallen unconscious.

She watched his eyes flutter open and turn to the ceiling, 
following the sounds from upstairs as a car door closed.  
An engine purred to life and gravel crunched under moving 
tires.

"Mulder..?" she whispered as the sounds faded.

But he didn't answer.  Instead, he began a low whimper, his 
face twisting in pain.  The sound grew in volume quickly 
until it was an anguished wail that went on and on only to 
finally die hoarsely when he ran out of breath.

An eerie silence fell on them both broken only by Mulder's 
ragged, hitching gasps.  Scully sat silently waiting for him.

"Mulder?" She tried again after his labored breathing eased.

He blinked once before turning to meet her.

Trying to ignore the absent glaze in his eyes she spoke 
slowly, "We have got to get out of here."

He blinked again and glanced down at his hands.

"Are you hearing me?" she asked urgently, pulling at her 
own bindings. 

"Yeah..." he croaked.

"We have *got* to leave, Mulder."

He glanced back up at her, pain and tears welling in his 
eyes.  "I can't."

She looked down at the length of nails still sticking up 
from his hands and knew what she was asking him to do.  
Fighting her own tears she spoke softly, "I've been trying, 
Mulder, and it's not working.  I can't get free."

"You have to, Mulder," Scully continued, aborting his 
negatively nodding head.  She spoke slowly, seeing telltale 
physical signs of shock on his features.  "Howned will be 
coming back, Mulder.  He'll be back any minute."


***


Mulder glanced fearfully towards the stairs.  His hands 
throbbed with a constant pain and it was getting awfully 
damn cold.

He could hear Scully coaxing him from across the room but 
he just couldn't do what she was asking him.  It hurt too 
badly and he wasn't even moving his hands now.

A horrible weight settled on his conscience, a familiar 
feeling of worthlessness. 

"I can't."  It came out half a sob and he struggled against the 
tears that threatened again. 

He could feel a numbness settling somewhere in the back 
of his mind.  A place in his head separate from his body 
where nothing would hurt anymore.  A place almost within 
reach.


***


"Mulder, no!" Scully yelled to him.  Being so close she 
could see a dangerous blankness in his eyes.  "Mulder, 
come back."

He blinked once, his head lolling to one side.

"Mulder!" she called again.  There were pros and cons to 
having him fade out right now but catatonia was definitely 
a con.  She twisted her wrists against the twine binding her, 
wincing as it cut into her skin.  "Mulder, don't leave!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."  She could hear him mumbling over 
and over.

She was losing him.  Upstairs a door closed.

"Mulder, wake up.  Wake up, Mulder, Howned's coming 
back."  She cursed in desperation.  "Damn it, Mulder, I 
need you here.  Don't leave."

He blinked and she could see the terrifying blankness begin 
to recede from his eyes.

Relief swept through her. 

"Come on, Mulder.  That's it.  Come back.  I know it hurts."  
She crooned to him for several minutes with short, slow, 
calming phrases.

Then the door at the top of the stairs opened and she froze.

"Still here?" Howned called with a knowing smile as he 
came heavily down the stairs.  He was gripping the back 
collar of a shirt as he dragged a body along behind him.  "I 
was kinda hoping that wouldn't have been enough for you.  
You still live up to expectations, Fox.  I admire you for 
that."

Mulder blinked and followed Howned's movements lazily.  
A blessed numbness had settled over him, pushing the pain 
in his hands to a far corner of his mind.  Scully's desperate 
pleadings still echoed in his head.

Howned stopped just in front of Mulder and propped the 
body into a sitting position on the floor.

It was a young woman, no more than twenty, Mulder 
guessed, her throat slit.  She was wearing jeans and a blood 
soaked T-shirt, and her blond hair hung in tangled ringlets 
down her shoulders.  The last inch or so of hair was damp 
and red with blood.  Her brilliant blue eyes were open in 
final terror, her skin pale, while her mouth moved weakly 
around a silent scream.

Her mouth... moved.

Mulder blinked, startled.  <Oh God... she's not dead...>  He 
could still see the blood moving as it oozed from the 
ghastly wound at her throat.

Instantly, the numbness vanished and pain once again 
lanced up his forearms as he struggled to sit fully upright.  
As he pushed himself forward, the urgent, terrified gleam 
of life drained from her eyes.  Her silent mouth slackened 
and a blue tinge faintly colored her skin.

Somewhere inside himself, Mulder felt something die with 
her.  That faint piece of himself that died over and over on 
every case he worked, with every victim he saw.  That 
piece grew larger and larger each time.

He slumped back into the chair in sorrow, his hands 
forgotten.

"This is Leslie," Howned spoke, his hand supporting the 
corpse's neck, keeping her upright.  "She's my newest 
friend.  I met her at the hospital and she helped sneak me 
out. Isn't that right sweetie?"  With a slight movement of 
his hand he nodded the head up and down in affirmation.

He turned to look at Mulder.  "I wanted to have a friend for 
dinner and I guess it looks like you'll be hanging around 
too, huh?"

The meaning of Howned's words slowly sank through the 
pain and grief to Mulder's consciousness.  His head 
snapped up and his eyes met Howned's.

"I'm not hungry," he croaked out around the lump of fear in 
his throat.

Howned frowned as he lowered Leslie's body to the floor. 
"I don't care."

Mulder turned, looking to Scully.  Her eyes told him she 
knew what was coming just as well as he did.  She was 
twisting vigorously at her bindings, frantically trying to 
loosen them.  He could see blood welling up around the 
twine and smearing the backs of her hands.

Suddenly Howned was in front of him again.  In the palm 
of his left hand sat a thick, bloody hunk of flesh an inch in 
length.  "I bet you're a breast man, eh, Fox?" he chuckled, 
waving the piece of meat under his nose.

The sick smell of death and human blood assaulted 
Mulder's nostrils and he turned his head away as much as 
possible.  "No!"

"Ah, come on... I know you want to," Howned cajoled, 
moving the piece back under his nose as if he were an 
errant child who didn't want to finish his vegetables.

Mulder twisted away again, accidentally brushing the meat 
along his lips.  Warm blood smeared across his skin as 
Howned followed his movements in a twisted dance.

"Come on, Fox," Howned sighed after several seconds.  
Taking the flesh away from Mulder's lips, he popped the 
morsel into his own mouth.

"What do you want from me?" Mulder whispered.

Howned looked at him, anger growing in his eyes.  "I want 
you to accept what you are."

"What do you think I am?" Mulder asked.

"We are so alike, you and I," he answered, chewing 
thoughtfully. 

The words from his dream echoed through the room and 
Mulder shook his head in denial.  "I'm nothing like you!"

Howned smiled softly, almost tenderly.  "Yes.  You have a 
great gift.  I saw in you something I never had and I'm 
going to teach you to use it."

"You can't change me into something I'm not," Mulder shot 
back, all pain forgotten.

"I'm going to show you what you really are."  Howned bent 
down over the body, slicing another piece from her 
exposed torso with the knife still stuck in the body.  
Turning back to Mulder he held up the fresh piece between 
two fingers and, with his other hand, grabbed Mulder's jaw.  
"You are going to eat this," Howned continued, his voice 
lowering again to a dangerous tone.

Mulder shook his head vigorously.

"You will," Howned said as he glanced over his shoulder.  
"Or I will kill Her."

Mulder's eyes widened in horror.  Howned smiled.


End Part 3



The Fox and the Howned IV: Howneded
by: SciNut@aol.com (K. Enriquez)
Part 4/4

See Disclaimer part 1



Assistant Director Walter Skinner crouched low in the tall 
grass on the edge of the gravel lot.  He adjusted the kevlar 
vest so it didn't press so tightly against his abdomen and 
looked to see if the rest of the team was in place.

Closer to the house, he could see Scully's car and the 
officer creeping up to it.  His hand touched the hood then 
came around in a thumbs up gesture.  Still warm.

Skinner turned to the FBI agent behind him.  "We're first in 
that door, understand me?"

The agent nodded and Skinner thought back briefly to the 
argument he'd had with Mueller.  It hadn't taken long to 
"convince" the policeman that this was an FBI matter.

"Sir, we're in place."

Skinner nodded.  "On three..."


***


"Open," Howned said, tugging lightly at Mulder's jaw.

Mulder felt his stomach drop into his feet as his eyes 
welled with tears.  In his peripheral vision he could see 
Scully shaking her head, but there was really no choice to 
be made.  He couldn't meet her eyes.  He doubted he would 
ever be able to again.

"Open or she dies."

Mulder knew Scully looked on, horrified, as he slowly 
unclenched his jaw and his mouth dropped open.  His eyes 
twisted painfully shut.  Tears broke free from under the 
lids, creating tracks through the blood on his cheeks.

In one swift movement, Howned popped the piece of flesh 
onto Mulder's tongue and then held shut his jaw.  Quickly, 
he moved behind Mulder, bracing Mulder's head against his 
stomach.

The morsel sat like a lead weight in his mouth and was 
warm on his tongue.  The sweet taste of blood seeped onto 
his senses, filling his nostrils and drowning out everything 
else.  In a moment of unreality, Mulder recalled a piece of 
article about the cannibalistic tribes of Africa.  "Long 
pork," they had called human flesh, because of its 
remarkable resemblance in taste.  His stomach twisted in 
vile recognition.

"Swallow," Howned's voice ordered from above him.

Mulder tried to shake his head but only managed in 
twisting himself in the chair, tugging painfully against his 
damaged hands.  He began to kick against the ground with 
his feet, bucking backwards into Howned with the chair in 
an effort to loosen the iron grip holding his mouth closed.  
Anything to get that girl's body out of him.

Howned's other hand closed down around his nose, cutting 
off his only airway, and Mulder immediately went 
lightheaded.  He had already been short of breath from the 
struggle.  Blood began to rush into his face and he knew he 
would pass out in a matter of seconds.  This was Howned's 
last game.  Mulder knew Howned would continue to 
strangle him until he died if he refused to comply and Scully would be quick
to join him.

Before he managed another thought, and with the life 
threatening loss of oxygen, Mulder's body made the next 
move. 

As if it were a reflex action, he swallowed.  The bit of flesh 
slid down his throat with surprising ease and he felt its 
entire journey to his stomach.

Suddenly, Howned released him and Mulder leaned 
forward, gasping in four quick breaths of precious air 
before his body convulsed and his stomach rejected the 
meat.  He managed to lean far enough downward to miss 
himself and spent the next several minutes in dry heaves.

When it was over, he leaned wearily back into the chair, 
eyes and nose streaming.  He sniffled loudly and turned 
towards the source of the shadow that loomed above him.  
He barely met Howned's scowling gaze before looking for 
Scully.

She still sat next to him, achingly out of reach, still 
watching but with tears openly on her cheeks.  She made 
no move to wipe them away or hide the undisguised pain in 
her eyes.

Howned sighed heavily.  "Guess you don't like blondes 
huh?"  He moved back to the body on the floor and 
removed the knife, wiping the blade across his pants leg.  
"Maybe you'd like to sample something else?  Perhaps 
something in red?"

Mulder's head snapped back to Howned as he moved 
menacingly towards Scully.  He flicked the sharp edge of 
the blade lightly with the pad of his thumb.

"I bet she tastes pretty," Howned continued, a trace of his 
own insane hunger lacing the words.

As Howned dropped to his knees next to Scully, Mulder 
spoke.  His voice was rough, barely above a whisper, but 
filled with so much loathing and anger it sounded like a 
gun shot through the dank basement.

"Don't..."

Howned smiled back at him. 

"Hmm?  Which part do you want to try?" he asked, drawing 
the knife teasingly along her leg.  "There's so many places 
here that taste absolutely wonderful."

As Howned moved to trace the blade across her right 
breast, for the third time in his life Mulder felt the cage in 
his mind unlock and the monster that dwelt there break 
free.  A blood red haze tinged his vision, conscious thought 
fled and, suddenly, Mulder was on his feet.


Scully gasped as she saw Mulder stand.  A faint tearing 
sound filled the room as his hands pulled from the nails, 
several of them coming free of the wood and still imbedded 
through his flesh.  His normally brilliant hazel eyes had 
darkened in dangerous rage.

Howned quickly glanced back to Mulder at Scully's gasp, 
just in time to see the blur of movement as Mulder came at 
him.  The knife winked in the dim light, cutting the air as 
Howned swung the blade around in defense, his now 
lopsided grin baring his teeth.

Mulder pounced, unconcerned or unseeing of the blade 
slashing towards him.  Scully screamed a warning before 
the tip of the blade raked across his chest, opening a 
vicious red gash that stretched horizontally between his 
shoulders.  Despite the wound, Mulder collided with 
Howned and they both went down.

Howned rolled, coming back up to his feet.  Mulder was 
slower in rising but Scully doubted it was because of his 
injuries.  She recognized the glimmer in his eyes from last 
year and doubted he even knew where he was, let alone felt 
any pain.  It was a warning slowness he stood with as 
Howned eagerly shifted in front of him.

They circled each other slowly.  Upstairs, a door banged 
open, startling them both. Howned recovered first.  Leaping 
forward, he plunged the knife deep into Mulder's side. They 
both grunted and went down again, Howned landing on 
top.  Pulling the knife out, he raised back to stab again.

Then the door at the top of the stairs blew inward, the 
flying dust and wood obscuring the entrance of men in 
black SWAT gear.  Shouts rent the air in a jumble of 
sound.

"FBI!  Drop the weapon or we'll fire!  Drop it now!"

The knife fell harmlessly from a stunned Howned's grasp.  
It barely had time to jangle against the concrete before the 
officers swarmed over him, pulled him roughly from 
Mulder and pressed him face down onto the ground.  The 
men shouted to each other to restrain arms and feet, asking 
for extra handcuffs.  Somewhere over the din, Miranda 
rights were read.

The bindings were cut from Scully's wrists, bringing her 
out of momentary shock.

"Call an ambulance!" A familiar deep voice shouted out.  
Only then did Scully see Skinner, identically dressed in 
kevlar body armor, bent worriedly over Mulder's prone 
form.  "Man down, get the paramedics now!"

Somehow she found her voice as she crawled over to them.  
"He's been stabbed and watch his hands."

"We got a body here, Sir," a man called out.

Skinner looked over at the dead woman.  "Leslie Forth... 
Jesus, Scully, what happened here?"

Scully met her superior's eyes and shook her head, still too 
stunned to process anything.  Mulder groaned beneath her 
and her attention was drawn back to him.

"It's over, Mulder.  It's over," she whispered as she 
unbuttoned his shirt to get to the wounds.

"It's not over," Howned laughed, drowning out all other 
noise as several of the officers began to lead him from the 
basement.  His scar had turned an angry crimson red.  "It'll 
never be over.  He knows now.  Look at him!  He 
understands.  He knows..."  His rantings trailed off into 
demented giggling.

Scully looked down into Mulder's eyes to find the anger 
gone, but leaving a gaping emptiness reflected through the 
tears trailing down his face.

"Get him out of here!" Skinner shouted, but Howned was 
already being pushed out the door.

"Calm down, Mulder," Scully called to him as his breath 
hitched.  She pressed a compress to his side that someone 
had handed to her from an emergency first aid kit.  
"Howned's wrong."

But Mulder shook his head, a numb, bloodied hand taking a 
handful of the fabric of her sleeve.

"No... I am a monster."


***


Outside, the police wagon started to move away.  The 
lights in the back had been dimmed, casting into darkness 
the holding area where Howned sat dejectedly.  At least, he 
thought, the setting matches my mood.

He didn't know what had happened or where he'd slipped 
up.  He had the night planned out, he thought, so perfectly.  
How had it all gone so wrong so fast?  It must've been the 
car... someone had spotted the woman's car when he'd gone 
out that once.

He would have to revise his plans for next time.  If there 
was a next time, he thought as he looked around the paddy 
wagon and felt the chains about his wrists and ankles.  It 
was unlikely security would ever be relaxed enough for 
him to escape again.

Howned sighed, quickly becoming depressed.  There would 
be no more Hunts.

The sound of the partition between the driver and himself 
sliding open broke him out of his reverie.

"Mr. Howned," a deep voice drifted back.

He peered through the darkness, seeing the dim smoldering 
of a lit cigarette.

"I want to make you an offer..."


end.


Author's notes:
:::ducking and running for the exit:::