The night was dense and muggy--not even a small succinct breeze. The 
smell of putrid sweat so strong that it could almost be licked off the 
air. The humidity in this city was just a fucking crime.

Skinner sped over deserted back streets, occasionally glancing over to 
the cell phone lying carelessly on the passenger side seat. Off in the 
distance beyond the crumbled and fallen buildings of the archaic 
district was a horizon lined with the steady stream of blaring red 
brake lights stuck in rush hour traffic, swamping the beltway. Through 
the haze of sifting smog the cars seemed set at a stand still, or 
maybe deserted by their owners in some frantic haste to avoid the 
inevitable.

He glanced back over to his cell phone, jaw set grimly.

Was it worth the risk?

The smoking bastard had called him.

Deep and toneless, "Things are taking longer than expected."

Fury had burned through his veins. Anger reducing him to only a one 
word sentence. "Why?"

The words came fast--smooth, "Agent Mulder is having trouble 
understanding our need for his cooperation. It is vital. Make the 
necessary adjustments in light of this inconvenience and I'll contact 
you then."

The dial tone sang in his ear, mocking him.

<Godamncocksuckingmotherfuckershithead....>

One of Skinner's hands left the steering wheel and decidedly snatched 
the phone up off the seat. He had already dialed her number once that 
day, hesitating only a moment before hanging up, their threats echoing 
over and over in his tired brain ceaselessly, parading repeatedly like 
a fucking merry go round.

As he dialed, his eyes darted from the telephone to the road and back.

The sudden squeal of tires jerked his head up, his hands and feet 
immediately responding to what lay ahead. He swerved and stomped down 
on the brake, knuckles almost white with effort, trying to keep 
control of the steering wheel. His head slammed back into the seat and 
then there was no longer any movement or noise, just the acrid smell 
of burnt rubber and sweat.

Skinner glared through the windshield at the sedan just inches away 
from his own, but only for a moment, before putting the car in reverse 
in an attempt to barrel out of the situation backwards. His efforts 
were thwarted by another black sedan blocking his only means of 
escape.

He despondently turned off the engine but left the keys swaying back 
and forth in the ignition. Anger pulsed and adrenaline crept a long 
bony finger up his spine while he listened to the jingle of his keys 
as they rocked chaotically.

The cold steel felt comfortable in his hand as he got out the car in 
one fluid movement.

The crack of a blunt object between his shoulder blades sent him 
sprawling to the ground, the sound of his gun sliding on the dry, 
beaten pavement rattling in his ears. Another blow to his spine and he 
felt the cracked earth beneath his cheek.

"This could have been dealt with more humanely, yet your 
predictability is astounding." The slight hitch in the voice was the 
only sign of life in the old man standing over him.

"Where's Mulder?" Fire caressed the back of his throat as the bright 
lights in front of him shifted and swayed with his words. The pressure 
on his back increased, his wrists behind him, grinding bone on bone.

"Agent Scully is not to know of your position in this matter, Mr. 
Skinner. Agent Mulder's health suffers the consequences of your 
actions. It would be wise of you to stop and think about what you have 
readily accepted so graciously for him."

Skinner flinched at the betrayal and fought against the weight on his 
back.

"We had an agreement. Have you forgotten so quickly?"

Anger seethed from between his clenched teeth as his head strained 
upward so he could see the old man's face, but gave up and spit hatred 
at the expensive leather soles beside him. "We never made any 
agreement. Agent Mulder is not just some lab rat you can fuck with. 
You take what you want to take."

"Is it that simple? Agent Mulder has matters to attend to as do you. 
Agent Scully is subdued for now but I lack confidence in your 
commitment to this endeavor." The sound of metal gliding back on metal 
and the small click confirmed the finality of his words.

Skinner thrashed but found another blow hammered into the base of his 
neck. He closed his eyes, letting the colors fade, and hoped the 
bullet was slow and painful. A swift end with a bullet to the 
brain.....He didn't deserve that much.

A breathless sigh brought his eyes open a slit. "Agent Mulder will be 
returned.....when he has given us what has been asked of him. Keep 
Agent Scully out of this, Mr. Skinner. She is not to know." His tone 
was grave. A blatant warning of reproval and reassurance that both 
would suffer if he did anything noble.

The weight atop him was shifting. The voice above seemed pressed for 
time, then coddled the words as they slid past the old man's teeth.

"Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

He heard the sickening thud as metal collided with his flesh.

He slept tight.

~~~~~~~

The room was the same--harsh light pushing down, searing his skin, and 
walls that glowed with their whiteness--only it was filled with a 
disturbed clicking sound that echoed off the walls.

Mulder sank back against the wall and hissed, cradling his hand close 
against his side in an attempt to protect and soothe his throbbing 
finger. His movements were slow and clumsy, but calculated. Holding 
back tears, he finally collapsed down on the floor and gritted his 
teeth, desperately trying to keep them from chattering.

He squinted up at the ceiling, his lower lip trembling as a raw chill 
sliced its way up his spine and lingered--frost-bitten fingertips 
dancing seductively on the back of his neck, tracing slow chaotic 
paths that made his gut clench in cold terror.

He screwed up his face as he let his eyes fall back to the floor, 
writhing as the small quakes shook his body. Somehow he had been given 
his sweats back. That small piece of clothing gave him comfort, if 
only a little.

He curled up against the wall, arms wrapped around himself and knees 
pulled up close to his chest, muttering nonsense under his breath.

They had given him something, something to slow him down, when they 
were dragging him back--cold white floors, fluorescent lights beating 
down from above and his reflection muddled on the slick tiles beneath 
his body.

Dark hazel wandered off becoming glassier with each passing shiver.

At least they gave him some of the good shit....

Time shifted, sweet and sticky and horrifically balanced, set in sync 
with a slow mellow song that hummed softly in his ear.

Gently rocking to and fro on the splintered docks that groaned. 
Watching the rusted patterns of light collapse back to earth. When it 
was dusk the air was cool and so was the water, an ebbing current 
slipping past his ankles. Water drifted in--the monotonous sway of the 
dock and the constant sloosh and creak as water collided with eroded 
wood. Edging forward you could just barely see reflections in the 
water, spider-webbed and ruined once the surface was disturbed by the 
incoming tide.

Dad was storming around inside. Anger masked fear and terror, but not 
very well.

Where's Sam?

Away.

She went with Mom down to the local market. Just as they had left Dad 
had gotten a visitor.

The visitor made Dad slam doors and shout and, and....

Their voices were faint, but he could just barely hear them over the 
soft splash of the water from where they stood on the deserted beach

His father's voice was hoarse and ragged. "...I won't let them take 
him!.... Bullshit! No!"

Samantha and Mom would bring back hot dogs, and burgers, and soda, 
and...

"It's not your decision to make. He's the most suitable subject. Don't 
be a fool..."

And maybe even dessert from the small store on the corner. They had 
the best homemade chocolate chip mint ice cream....

"They're children for Christ sake! Don't make me..."

A burst of salt corroded wind assaulted his eyes and made his nostrils 
burn.

"This shouldn't be tough in the first place. He's not even..."

The last bits of the sun reflected sharp golden along the outer rim of 
the deteriorating horizon, stinging his eyes and almost forcing him to 
betray himself by breaking his gaze.

"I can't...He's just a child...I won't.....Not him....No--"

A loud smack--calloused flesh on flesh.

His face stung and his eyelids fluttered, trying to decide if it was 
worth the effort.

The young assistant was above, pale eyes set with grim determination. 
Mulder opened his eyes in time to see a hand raised above him and then 
his face stung again. Heat gently rolled down over his lips as his 
tongue swirled tangy salt against the back of his teeth.

Dulled hazel glistened uncomprehending, chin slightly tilted upwards. 
Heat caressed Mulder as he felt a warm hand knot around the back of 
his neck. The hand viciously slammed him face down to the floor.

Mulder grunted and struggled in slow motion as a weight settled down 
on top of him, pulling his arms tight behind him and shoving them 
upwards in a direction they were not meant to be forced. He groaned 
and squirmed, receiving a jolt of pain when his arms were pushed up 
further.

The assistant above wasn't even out of breath as he settled his knee 
directly on Mulder's lower back, grinding harshly--bone against bone. 
Mulder's breath caught and a whoosh of air broke free from his lungs 
as he stopped thrashing and lowered his forehead to the cool floor, 
breathing in sobs. The tile felt nice against his fevered skin, almost 
calming him until he heard the doctor's footsteps.

The echo bounced off walls and resounded in his ears--no escape.

Pain and electrodes then questions and no answers just like with Dad. 
No answers and the horrid stench of his own marred flesh, sizzling and 
crackling in his mind and deep rooted pain again and those pliers, 
pulling and yanking at the fringes of sanity that were already 
crumbling and...

Mulder's breathing was accentuated by a sudden gasp. His muscles 
froze, body tensed and trembling beneath that grinding knee. His 
breath left a slippery residue on the tile below him. He closed his 
eyes and thrashed, only to receive a hard rap to the side of his head.

He lifted his head for a moment, red eyes rimmed with tears glancing 
upwards.

A nice pair of black shoes. All shiny and new. The leather creaked and 
groaned, not yet worn in and exposed to the elements.

Oh god they all had wonderfully expensive shoes.

Vinton crouched down, large needle in hand. Lowering it just enough so 
that Mulder could see the razored tip of it if he strained his neck 
enough.

Mulder was content to stare hard into the floor, hard enough to make 
his eyes hurt. His warm breath ricocheted off the ground and came back 
cold and devoid of life, alien.

The sharp glint of the needle was finally comprehended through the 
thick haze that was his thoughts.

Mulder shifted in an effort to get the weight atop him off balance, 
but the bony knee dug into his back, halting any effort.

The room was silent except for his own harsh breathing.

Vinton studied his subject with skewed eyes, slowly reaching a hand 
out to let it gently stroke the top of Mulder's head.

Mulder flinched and shouted. "Leamme alone!"

Vinton snatched a fistful of Mulder's hair and pulled. The weight on 
Mulder's back forced his arms up further, wrenching sounds of anguish 
filtered through his gritted teeth.

The back of his throat was dry and raw. It hurt to scream. It hurt to 
move and to think. Everything hurt and they would never let up. Never.

Once he stopped struggling Vinton released the cruel grasp he had on 
Mulder's hair.

Mulder breathed. Tried to remember how, but couldn't quite recall 
everything. The result was a strangled exhale that shook unstably.

Vinton returned his hand to Mulder's head and continued stroking the 
softness. Mulder didn't flinch. Didn't move. His eyes watered, letting 
the hand take another piece of him. The gentle rubbing was so tender. 
Kind. Lightly brushing his hair back in a paternal gesture. Soothing, 
but producing the exact opposite effect. Mulder shuddered and screwed 
his eyes shut, letting the tears slip down his face and barely made a 
sound--a small, keen whimper.

Sounds were cooed into his ear, "Sshhh...," and the hand kept 
stroking.

The tears burned, stinging his eyes. He was so tired. Too goddamned 
tired.

The hand left his head and he felt his sweats tugged down. He tensed 
his muscles, but wasn't ready for the needle.

Just a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down...

Vinton stuck the syringe down hard into Mulder's butt. Depressing the 
syrupy liquid with quick, painful speed.

Mulder's backside burned with a sharp ache that throbbed up along his 
spine to his head. His skin started to tingle before it burned. His 
head began to pound and his chest froze, constricted and tensed, 
making it painful to breath.

The assistant got off Mulder's back and let him lay there on the 
floor.

Vinton stepped back and observed Mulder's groaning form.

"Don't fight it, Fox. It'll only get worse."

Mulder curled into a ball and clutched his stomach as hot waves of 
pain rippled along his skin, unable to stifle a moan as it broke 
fiercely from his chest.

"It's sulfizine. I'm sure you're familiar with it, yes?"

Mulder clenched his eyelids shut, willing the pain away. Vinton's 
voice reverberated between his skull and gray matter.

<Ohgod>

Pharmaceutical text appeared before his eyes, long ago stored and 
memorized. Sulfizine, a from of purified sulphur that was found 
decades ago to have no therapeutic value. Manly used for 
interrogational purposes...'

"I can help you, Fox. Just let me help you and I promise this will all 
be over soon."

Vinton could see that Mulder was hanging on his every word. He paused, 
enjoying the lines of frustration and pain etched into Mulder's face.

"I can give you something for the pain if--"

Mulder bit down on his tongue and whispered fiercely. "Go to hell."

Vinton crouched next to Mulder, leaned down close, eyes cast down 
studying the forsaken form before him with frighteningly calm, cold 
eyes.

"You're a handsome subject, Fox--."

Images of restraints and drugs and tests danced in his head.

"Truly remarkable. Your ribosomal RNA structure has me intrigued." 
Vinton sighed and brushed a finger over Mulder's jaw, studying. "It 
seems your father had no qualms about sacrificing his children to 
science--when it was to his advantage..."

The loud wave of static washed over him, listening, dimly aware, as 
the cool tide washed over his fevered skin and dragged him further 
from the truth.

"Your father liked records, Fox and I have them. Official and 
unofficial."

Vinton traced a menacing finger along the back of Mulder's shoulder.

"I know how your father liked leather, Fox. Liked the sound as it 
cracked against your fine skin..."

Mulder fought feebly as the drug coursed hard through his body, and 
glared up at the sordid face above him.

Vinton answered the unvoiced question with a gleam in his eye. "As I 
said before, records boy. Pages and pages of documents."

The finger caressed the sides of his ribs, then down to his hip.

"I think you just might be of assistance in attaining information that 
has been...lost."

Mulder's body forced out a disheartened groan. The drug seemingly 
slipped sideways and bore into him, creating a glazed over appearance 
in his eyes as the agony dug down into his bowels.

"No."

He tried to say more but he wasn't sure he could trust himself not to 
scream.

"You're such a sweet boy. I'd hate to enforce stricter punishment...."

Vinton came to Mulder's navel with his finger and brushed it against 
the scabbed skin, where the electrode had been clipped too tightly and 
had burned into his flesh.

"Do you remember the first time, Fox? Do you? Your father certainly 
did. I believe his words were..." He paused, smiled as he finally saw 
Mulder's eyes go dark. "..Fox was little then, the first time I 
touched him. He cried the first time I touched him..."

Vinton gently grasped Mulder's chin and lifted his head from the floor 
so that he could see Mulder's eyes.

"I told you before. It's only going to get worse."

Mulder let silence do what he knew his voice could not accomplish.

Vinton released Mulder's chin and with one last nasty glance in 
Mulder's direction, exited the room.

The words played over and over in his cluttered mind, the drug flowed 
as undiluted pain pushed up against the interiors of his brain, 
slashing razor teeth deeply into his bowels. Useless tears welled up 
in his eyes, slipped down his flushed cheeks and rushed down to meet 
the floor as remembrance brought more anguish.

The tips of his fingers tingled while the rest of him convulsed and 
the drug took hold of his mind.

<Just make it stop.pleasepleaseplease make it stop...>

Mulder screamed hoarsely and without restraint.

He screamed for Vinton.

~~~~~~~

The nights in Chilmark were always cold.

Not just the air but the sky.

During the day, it stretched for miles in endless gray swirls of 
dizzying proportions. It hurt to keep your eyes on it for long. It was 
the same no matter what direction you looked from.

But the immense black sky was different. Each glance brought an 
unfamiliar star-studded patch into view. Never repeating itself.

Sam couldn't conceive why I got so nervous when she made me sneak up 
onto the roof with her, to watch the stars.

At least not until Dad came home early one night.

But I remember her voice when she was up there. Both of us laying on 
our backs against the slight tilt of the roof. The back of our pj's 
getting damp and muddy as we sat in silence. When she did speak, her 
voice was almost always a whisper, yet it was so....excited.

Anticipating something magnificent.

I tried teaching her the constellations once, but she quickly touched 
my arm lightly, eyes wide, putting one of her small fingers to her 
lips.

As if she knew something was about to happen but wouldn't tell me.

She didn't know how good I was at keeping secrets.

Dad caught us up on the roof.

He just sent Samantha to bed. He led me into the kitchen, fingers 
digging into my arm, cutting off the circulation.

He slammed me against the wall and held me there. The wall collided 
with the back of my head while his hands clamped in a fierce death 
grip around upper arms.

When my vision cleared I saw his eyes. I saw the rage and it scared 
me.

I wanted to cry. But that would have just gotten him angrier.

Dad hated cry-babies.

He never really hurt me until Sam was gone.

Actually, that's a lie. He hurt me even when Sam was still around, 
just not to the degree that he did when she disappeared.

His breath was evil smelling as he leaned in close.

Nose to nose almost.

He sounded exhausted, scared almost, but his tone was no less 
threatening.

"Don't you ever take your sister up there again! It's dangerous god 
dammit! You should be taking care of her!"

The hands gripped tighter and I almost thought I'd lose it.

That I _had_ lost it.

Desperate, "Do you understand?"

Then another shake and more bright colors behind my eyelids after I 
heard the sharp crack of my head against the wall again.

Bleary confusion was all I felt as I nodded weakly and mumbled, 
"uh-huh." Before he let me go back up to bed.

That was the first time I remember him acting scared. Though I didn't 
understand why.

Sam had heard everything.

She never asked me to take her up there again.

It hurt me to see the realization in her face, in her eyes the next 
day. She wasn't an invalid. She knew what Dad did to me when I took my 
eyes off her for a second but she'd never believed it until that 
night. She had always had this certain dissolution that all smaller 
kids have about their parents. That they're invincible and incapable 
of any faults or wrong doing.

Of screaming at them.

Of hitting them.

Of hurting them.

It hurt me to see that she finally understood what Dad was capable of. 
But he never touched her.

Must have been that special father-daughter bond.

On the first anniversary of her abduction, I snuck back up onto the 
roof.

The nights can get really cold in Chilmark.

I stretched out and let the cold water from recent rains seep into my 
clothes. Pretty soon my teeth began to chatter as I studied the stars, 
straining for a glimpse of that special thing or place Sam liked to 
watch.

Angry, I stood up. My bare feet scraping along the damp roof material. 
A gust of wind sent chills through me, a slight convulsion, but I kept 
my eyes upward, turning around in confused circles, searching.

Before I knew it, I had tears running down my face.

She was lost.

Everything was gone.

There was nothing up there, just the fucking beautiful, dead stars.

What happens when you die?

It's all just black. Like the night sky only there's no stars. You 
just go down and down into the dark and there's no one. There's 
nothing. Nothing. Just the fucking blackness, that's all. There's no 
heaven. Heaven is a fairytale made up to help the little ones fall 
asleep.

Dad taught me that.

I didn't hear my Dad's drunken footsteps on our gravel driveway.

Mom was already sleeping off a Valium induced coma in the dinning 
room.

I didn't hear him the first time when he shouted my name.

"FOX!"

I was seduced by the twilight.

"FOX!"

My back was to his voice. I jumped at it, startled. I turned slowly, 
my feet dragging on the dirty material beneath them. I climbed down 
and into the only accessible window.

Sam's window.

Big mistake.

He was waiting for me.

He grabbed the back of my neck and forced me downstairs. He squeezed 
my neck harder as we passed the dining room, warning me. He used me to 
open the back screen door. I fell down the four small stairs to the 
wet grass and just laid there waiting.

He yanked me back up by the back of my shirt and flung me forward 
again but held on to my shirt, choking me.

"Walk."

"I'm sorry I went back up there. I'm sorry I went through Sam's room. 
I miss--," was as far as I got.

He back-handed me hard. I spun around on my toes and went down. He 
started kicking me in the shoulder blades and lower back.

"What did you just say!?!"

I yelled at him, "I miss her!"

That got me a fist to the face and a thick hand jerking me up off the 
ground by my arm.

I wasn't sure where he was taking me but I had a few ideas.

I tried yanking my arm away so I could turn and run, but he pulled me 
to his side in one quick jerk. He got a better grip on my neck and 
arm, squeezing hard, forcing me to keep walking forward towards the 
trees.

Images of him showing me Samantha's grave, making me dig her back up. 
Him saying I killed her. That I sent her down into the darkness and 
then he would kill me too because I killed his baby girl and I sent 
her down, all alone, into the dark.

"Please--"

His fingers dug harder into my skin.

I didn't think she was dead, but Dad always seemed to surprise me 
whenever I thought I knew what was coming next.

We stopped after we were hidden in the small forested area behind our 
house.

I turned my head so I could look back at our house illuminated by only 
a few lights. He dug his blunt fingernails into my neck and forced me 
to look straight ahead, further into the dark forest.

One hand let go of my arm. I quickly realized what he was doing when 
he pistoned his fist into my kidneys. I slammed into the ground, 
trying to catch my breath.

He gripped the bottom of my shirt and yanked it upward over my head. 
It slipped off and he threw it to the side of him. I started kicking 
but he sat on my chest. My back was grinding into a stray sticker bush 
beneath me.

I was so cold. My lips must have had a blue tinge to them.

He tore my sweats off. Then the weight on my chest was gone. His foot 
connected square with my stomach and I couldn't breath. I couldn't 
think.

The world swam in front of my watery eyes. I thought he was going to 
kill me and send me into the darkness, bury me with the maggots and 
the compact earth.

I heard the sleek sound of his belt slipping away from the belt loops 
of his slacks.

I didn't scream that first time.

I was too afraid he would kill me if I did.

He grabbed my wrists and belted them together. The other end of the 
belt was tied to the base of a thin tree. While he kicked and beat me, 
I placed my head between my outstretched arms, trying to conserve my 
body heat.

I was already numb by the time he finished. My skin was bluish and I 
realized my face stung. There were scraps there from when I put my 
head between my arms. I was still laying on that fucking sticker bush.

Dad was out of breath.

Every time he exhaled I could see his breath float up in a white cloud 
and disappear.

I looked away when he made direct eye contact with me.

Playing dead was not going to work this time.

Dad grabbed my chin and forced me to turn over on my back, digging 
into those stickers again. He brushed my hair back from my forehead 
and sat down next to me.

I was so fucking cold.

My limbs were numb but I could still feel the cold and every time a 
gust of wind came along it just got worse.

My lower lip was trembling and the rest of my body was shivering, 
muscles frantically clenching and unclenching.

When he spoke he got this far away look in his eyes as he stared at 
me.

He started talking about Sam, that it should have been me but that it 
was for the best.

I cried but he didn't hit me then. He just kept stroking my hair back 
from my forehead, muttering small choppy sentences that didn't make 
sense.

He kept talking about how I was special and how I had to be kept in 
line or someone would notice. The merchandise was sacred. Genetic 
codes were sacred. The project didn't care. This was all for the best.

That I was needed again.

Needed?

Again?

He dug into his pocket and pulled out a syringe.

I started whispering for mom.

I was going into hypothermic shock and I was going to die out here.

Dad stroked my hair back one last time and turned me on my side, 
pulled my underwear down then jabbed me with the needle.

I whimpered and closed my eyes.

"S'okay son. You won't remember."

Immediately, I opened them again.

I didn't want the dark.

I wanted light.

I wanted the stars.

I wanted Sam.

The edges of my vision were deteriorating with each passing thought 
and it kept getting darker and darker.

That's when I screamed.

It was already to late.

I went back down into the darkness.

All alone. ~~~~~~~

And it counted, continuing on and leading no one but he into the 
forgetfulness of fear and pain. He remembered. Count the broken 
whispers and you shall find the fear. Those eyes tell you nothing but 
mirrored reflections of thy self, noting no more than the tired. 
Terror of the starless sky disappeared into its own blackness, 
swallowing everything and leaving nothing but the dust. And he 
remembered.

~~~~~~~

The harsh ticks of time beat out a muddled tune of pain, prying the 
awkward and insane from the drugged depths of nothingness....

Dark eye lashes congealed together from tears struggled open.

The pain of yesterday lingered in his bones as he watched his toes 
sway back and forth. The creak and groan of the cuffs above him were 
of no interest. He could already feel old cuts on his wrists splitting 
open under his weight. He was in a room similar to his own. White 
walls and a stunning view through a chicken wire laced window. The 
cuffs that he hung from were the only new accessory.

The haldol was wearing off. He could concentrate. Mulder tried 
interlocking his elbows, managed to lift his body half way, then gave 
up, collapsing and hanging by his wrists again.

He kept his eyes downward, not chancing a glance up at who he might 
see.

Shame made him grow weary. He had told Vinton. Not everything, but 
just enough to get him to ease off the sulfizine. Dread was building 
in the pit of his stomach. Vinton wasn't stupid.

His father must have kept some kind of detailed record of the 
beatings...but why...

His mind wandered off, pushed along by the depressant and denial.

Mulder blinked hard, shook his head and tried unsuccessfully to focus 
tired eyes. Tilting his head he forlornly rubbed his face against his 
forearm.

His body tensed as soon as he heard the soft creak of the door behind 
him. A soft breeze that flicked across his back made his nerves sing 
and his back arch.

Soft footfalls bounced delicately off the walls, disturbing the dimly 
appreciated safety of silence.

Vinton appeared before him, taking his chin roughly in a hand before 
he had a chance to shy away. Vinton examined Mulder's eyes carefully 
and barely noticed the crimson line crusted over with tiny congealed 
clots of blood along his lower lip. Mulder's body was slack and 
unmoving but his eyes shined with delirious rage. Darkened hazel 
didn't flinch at the bright light, just stared and screamed and looked 
restlessly on as Vinton studied and smiled and leered at him with 
those decayed blue eyes.

Mulder finally broke his gaze as he twisted his chin away from the 
hand. The hand's gentle grip turned harsh and dug its bruising fingers 
into his jaw, holding him utterly still. Mulder gritted his teeth and 
his eyebrows came down in a boyish slant as he sneered at Vinton .

"Don't test me boy." The smile was gone, but the words were sugar 
coated with a handsome tone. "I've got plans for you."

Mulder glared hard, tried not to flinch, but couldn't help twitching 
as the words rattled in his ears.

"I need more, Fox and I have a feeling you're not feeling up to it."

Mulder slowly shook his head and quickly glanced up at his aching 
arms.

"So quiet today?" Vinton's eyes deviated between him and somewhere off 
behind him.

Mulder heard a slight shuffle of feet from behind and his breath 
quickened.

Vinton saw rage and fear mixed in tiny swirls of green in Mulder's 
dark eyes. Mulder tried desperately to turn his head and see what lay 
in store, but his chin was captured by Vinton's hand again.

"What do you remember, Fox?"

Mulder pleaded with his eyes, looked back up at his wrists and found 
nothing but despair.

Vinton let his thumb caress the side of Mulder's cheek. "Don't make me 
ask you again."

Mulder's heart beat destructively in his chest, his breath worn and 
tired. "I don't remember anything else. I-I told you every--"

Vinton's thumb moved and pressed against his lips--stopped his lies as 
they tumbled out unconvincingly.

Mulder's eyes strained to look behind him but his shoulder blocked his 
view. "I swear." His eyes turned lurid and frantic as he watched 
Vinton shake his head.

"I believe he used a wire once. An electrical one with the two sharp 
teeth...."

Mulder shook his head. His vocal cords knocked his voice up an octave 
or two. "I already told you--"

Vinton nodded to the noise behind him and Mulder shouted, uselessly. 
He heard the object cut through the air in a matter of moments before 
he felt the heart stopping sting that walked a crooked path down his 
back. Mulder felt the pain and remembered so clearly and arched 
violently away. The cord floated through the air again and came 
crashing haphazardly across his shoulders and caught his arms. Mulder 
grunted fiercely with each blow. The next one struck him perfectly 
along the spine, the cords two metal teeth buried themselves into his 
flesh and ripped themselves out again. He screamed--at Vinton.

His eyes held savage determination--to hold on. Mulder's back was 
ablaze. One fiery mass of numbing pain. The cord slashed at his neck 
and he issued a moan through gritted teeth--Dad wouldn't stop until he 
could only see red, dried and plastered to his horribly bruised skin. 
Dad would let up soon. He had too.

Mulder lowered his gaze to his toes, watching the rhythmic sway of his 
body, rocking back and forth as the cord smacked and slit his skin. He 
clenched his eyes shut as he felt the steady flow of watery thin blood 
roll down the soles of his feet, puddling between his toes before they 
dripped down to the floor beneath him--sounding like a leaky tap.

Beads of sweat graced his forehead and upper lip. The blows had long 
ago stopped coming and it was only now that he noticed.

"Fox, you just don't seem to understand do you?"

Mulder looked up, eyes unseeing. Vocal cords unable to produce a 
recognizable string of words. Vinton was close to him now--close 
enough to feel his breath.

"There are other ways about doing this..." Vinton produced a syringe 
that contained a syrupy elixir of some kind.

Mulder swallowed hard and feebly shook his head--god no. Forced his 
tongue to move and pushed the words out past his lips in a hurry, but 
didn't have the time to finish each one.

"I didn--plea--nn--doan--," finally choked out a single syllable that 
was discernable, "no!"

Vinton brought the needle up to Mulder's eye level and tapped the 
bubbles out.

Logic and rationality were lost in the haze of panic and fear. Mulder 
couldn't breath. Couldn't think. Could only watch in terror as Vinton 
fucked with him.

He watched as Vinton brought the needle down to rest on his shuddering 
chest.

"This is all a matter of choice, Fox." Vinton stared with cold 
indifferent eyes that held a bit of false sadness in their watery 
depths.

Vinton slid the needle down across the plain of Mulder's abdomen and 
let it trace a lustful path there.

Mulder breathed, cringed and tried to think of something 
useful--something to stop this as the hands of pain played before him 
in a childlike manner.

Vinton waited for something, but didn't hear it.

Mulder lifted his head at Vinton's words. "Sulfizine it is."

He thrashed--still felt the vicious bite of the needle as it was 
jammed into his lower abdomen.

Vinton pushed the plunger down quickly, knowing it would bring a 
savage burn throughout Mulder's belly soon--spreading like fire.

Mulder tried to bring his knees up, but didn't have the strength, just 
hung there swaying back and forth--like a dead man.

~~~~~~~

I remember the gray static above--an endless terrain that could 
terrify--or confuse.

I laid on my back, hidden below the tall grass that swayed in a 
current of motion, orchestrated masterfully by the wind.

I was hiding.

It was twilight and the last pale shades of light were slowly sinking 
back beyond towards a horizon I could not see.

My gaze was outlined by the sinuous movements of the few blades of 
grass that surrounded me, but my eyes were fixed on the sky. The 
clouds were a light gray--dull, almost invisible. They held my gaze as 
I raked my eyes back and forth across them in a forlorn gesture of 
betrayal.

I was waiting.

My eyes ached, so I smothered them with my arms, blocking out the 
sharp light that reflected off the clouds and down on me. The world 
was now black and I could feel the gentle breeze getting colder as it 
caressed my arms--goose bumps. I listened to myself breath--feeling it 
on my forearm that was just a few inches from my mouth, warm and wet 
before the wind carried it off into the distance-- and wondered when 
it would stop hurting to do so.

Sam....

My breathe caught--pigtails and shrill laughter, water frothing 
forward and quicksand below, splashing and racing away from the 
incoming tide.

I started humming and whispering words to a song I didn't remembering 
hearing. Empty words forced out from my aching throat. The words got 
lost once they parted with my lips. The wind was starting to pick up. 
They were taken from me as the scream of the wind filled my head and 
let the ache behind my eyes settle and harden.

I tried concentrating on the welts that were scattered across my back, 
the slow burn and throb they were producing as I squirmed against the 
loose soil beneath me, aggravating them. They were still a vicious 
red--the price of existence. The air had turned sharp and cut through 
my t-shirt, running a painful chill down my spine. The pain helped my 
tears along as they ran down my face--nice and warm before turning to 
an irritating cold that nestled on my ears and neck.

The sudden crack above and the startling boom that followed shook me. 
My arms flew from my face and I peeled back my eyelids, sitting up 
halfway then flinching back as an intense white light silently struck 
down from of the sky. Hope gripped my chest while my vision was still 
blurred.

Samantha?

I stood quickly, violently wiping away the tears that obscured my 
sight.

The clouds had turned a menacingly decayed black. Rain started 
crashing to the ground as another collision of sound boomed over my 
head. I actually let out a disheartened whimper, my hands at my sides 
clenched in tight balls of frustration and hopelessness.

I remember feeling gullible, stupid. She wasn't coming back.

I stared hard past the thrashing rain and up into those clouds, 
following with my eyes the blue fire of lightning as it struck the 
horizon. The wind was strong then. I swayed from side to side, 
unsteady, though not because of the wind. My legs burned and itched 
with restlessness. My body was tense and I felt like screaming.

"Fox!"

The wind sped past my face and I turned with it. I started running, 
sneakers pounding the dirt with a steady thump. Dread. Futile anger. 
Needing to go, to run away. The wind would take me.

"FOX!"

A car engine roared off in the distance.

The blades of grass were whipping frantically now. They struck the 
sides of my arm as I raced past, leaving small red lashes as they 
failed to hold me in place. My heart was beating hard and the mix of 
tears and rain screwed up my eyes. The shattering crack of thunder 
above my head implored me to go faster. I was running with the wind, 
past it. Faster. I was the wind. I had to run further. Decayed, dry 
leaves crunched beneath my feet as I sprinted over them in a dead 
fury. Desperate. My mind cried. My face slack, eyes deadened. I would 
have kept going until I collapsed if I hadn't heard the fierce blow of 
a car horn.

The screech of the horn and the abrupt squeal of tires on gravel hung 
heavy in the electrically charged air. The black Crown Vic skidded to 
a stop on the loose gravel road a few yards in front me, halting my 
escape.

The down pour of rain stopped suddenly, but the heavens still 
grumbled.

I stood tense, ready to bolt but didn't when Dad leaped out of the 
passenger side door in full bureau gear. A huge gust of wind struck my 
back and I couldn't help stumbling forwards toward the car.

"What the hell are you doing!?!"

"I--."

"--Get in the car, _now_."

Dad grabbed my arm, yanking me towards the car. He wasn't drunk, that 
much was for sure. His eyes were sharp and focused and his words were 
viciously pointed with clarity.

I resisted but he clamped his other hand around my neck.

"Where are we going? What about Mom?"

We reached the car. He didn't look at me as he answered and yanked the 
back seat door open. "She's sleeping and you've got another 
appointment." He tried pushing me into the back seat but I braced onto 
the car door.

"I don't want--."

He flashed cold feral eyes at me, threatening. "--Get in the car, 
Fox."

Every so often Dad would take me to an "appointment," usually in the 
middle of the night, but I never remembered what happened or where I 
went. I'd just wake up in bed feeling lousy. It only happened a couple 
of times before Sam disappeared but it kept happening more and more 
frequently.

I let my hands relax against the car door and he shoved me into the 
back seat. I hissed when the padded leather rubbed up against my back. 
Dad strapped my seatbelt around me and yanked it tight. I kept my eyes 
forward, drilling holes into the back of the driver's seat, clenched 
fists at my side.

He crouched down next to me blocking my only exit and holding a juice 
can up to me. The seal had already been broken.

"Drink."

I glanced up and found the eyes of the driver staring at me intently 
in the rear view mirror.

Dad forced the bottle into my lap, giving me another cold warning with 
his eyes. "Drink it."

Bursts of wind were moaning outside the car, behind Dad. I slowly 
twisted the cap off and brought it up to my lips. Dad's hands joined 
mine and tipped the bottle back. I swallowed hard and immediately 
tried to draw away, but he grasped the back of my head and forced the 
bottle back further. I gulped furiously, trying to keep up with the 
liquid as it slid down my throat but failed miserably, most of it 
spilling down my chin and neck, dripping onto my shirt. I finally got 
enough leverage to yank the bottle away from my mouth.

Annoyed, "God dammit, Fox! Drink it!"

"No," I coughed and spit out the remaining contents in my mouth. "It 
tastes funny. Bitter."

He grabbed a fistful of my shirt and pushed me back, sandwiching me 
between him and the seat, bringing the bottle back up to my mouth.

"Don't make me help you, Fox. I guarantee you won't like it much."

I twisted my head away but he snatched my chin with one hand and 
brought my eyes back to face his--fear and anger swirling around in 
the depths of their blackness.

An annoyed sigh from the driver, suddenly smelling of cigarettes. 
"Bill, just leave him be. We're already late as it is."

Dad leaned in closer, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my 
cheek. "Don't move..." He bore into me with that wicked stare. "...and 
be quiet."

I watched him ease off of me and out of the back seat. He slammed the 
door shut and chucked the juice bottle into the grass field.

The sound of another door slamming was faint and coated in a thick 
layer of soft fuzz. My stomach rolled and I groped blindly for the 
door latch, finding it locked. The engine roared to a start and I 
fumbled weakly for the lock, my vision split in two.

In front of the car, muttering. "It's not enough."

"It's enough for now. Look at him."

My eyelids were at half mast. I was struggling to keep them open, to 
plead with Dad to stop the car.

"Dad, I doan feel s'good..."

The voice was far off. "Go to sleep, Fox."

"It should at least last him until we get to the centre." The voices 
were a distant murmur as I slid down into a soundless sleep.

Dad was holding me up, walking me down a long corridor hidden in 
shadows, illuminated only by the emergency flood lights that lined the 
walls every ten feet. I was walking slow and my feet were dragging, 
but he forced me to walk at his pace with a hand on my back.

"Dad, I'm tired."

"Just a little further." He urged me forward with the hand that was on 
my back. I complied and tried to walk with him.

We turned down another corridor and I collapsed hard to my hands and 
knees, shaking. "Please, I'm so...please." I felt him lift me up from 
the floor, gently by my arms.

"Alright son."

He crouched down next to me. I rested my head on his shoulders, arms 
wrapped loosely around his neck while he let me lean all my weight on 
him. I could feel sleep tugging down on my eyelids, but I whispered 
into his ear before I let the darkness take me back down again.

Innocent and soft, "I'm sorry I lost her, Dad."

"Come on Fox. Help me out."

Someone was tugging my shirt up over my shoulders.

"Lift your arms up."

I lifted them meekly and felt my shirt taken off. Then there were 
hands at my jeans. They tugged them down around my ankles. I felt cold 
tiles beneath my bare feet.

"Step out of them."

I did. Half asleep, arms limp and eyes open only a slit. Then there 
was cool cotton on my chest.

"Turn around."

The hands undressing me spun me around. They tied two ends of the gown 
together, protecting me from the chill of the air.

I moaned in frustration, chin resting on my chest. "Where's Dad? I 
want my Dad."

"Let's get you back up onto the table."

My arms hung lifelessly at my side. A large hand reached down and took 
one of mine into its own, guiding me over to a large examination 
table. Two firm hands slipped under my arms and lifted me up onto the 
table.

I looked around the room, lucidity trying to wrestle me from the 
incapacitating grasp that held me.

"I want my Dad."

There was a loud snap and I flinched, then a cold hand in a rubber 
glove grasping my chin, shining a bright light in my eye.

"No!" I pulled away from the hand, shaking my head and not making 
sense of my surroundings. "Leave me alone," stubbornly deflecting a 
hand away from my head, "I want my dad."

The hand tried to grasp my chin again but I scrambled backwards, 
slipping as I did so on the cold table surface.

A fed up sigh, "Jesus."

I rubbed at my red, dry eyes.

"Jim! Can you get in here and help me?" Directed off somewhere to my 
right.

"Fox, he's coming but you'll have to be patient okay?"

The voice was controlled and soothing--lying.

Footsteps padded towards the table, but I couldn't distinguish a face 
through the foggy haze and dim lighting.

A pair of hands grabbed each ankle, pulling me back towards them while 
the other clamped onto the back of my neck and forced me forward.

The voice that lied said, "Hold his arm."

I resisted weakly. A pair of hands flexed my arm out so the inset of 
my elbow was exposed. The crinkle of plastic packaging. The hand 
braced my arm harder before the sharp sting of a needle. Crimson 
splashed up into the small vial, filling it completely.

Panicking, I thrashed. Crying out as the needle tore into my flesh.

"Dammit! Hold him down on the table!"

I retreated backwards, holding my arm. The two sets of hands lunged 
for me and pinned me down on my back.

"Where's my Dad?" I cried.

"I need him on his stomach."

I squirmed as they flipped me over onto my belly, the table surface 
cold and sterile. One pair of hands dug its nails into my ankles 
forcing them to the sides of the table. Velcro restraints snaked 
around my ankles, strapped down tightly at the corners of the table. I 
screamed for Dad, my voice hoarse and cracking. The man holding down 
my arms pulled them up past my head, spreading them to each side of 
the table. The velcro straps were torn open, the loud sound grating in 
my ears, then each wrist was captured.

The table was cold, it seeped through my gown and stole the fight out 
of me.

Cheek resting on the cold metal and eyes still glazed--quiet, "Please, 
I just want my Dad."

The back of my gown was ripped open harshly by rough hands.

The voice held no emotion."Stay still."

The snap of the over head light.

I tugged at the straps uselessly. Swallowing hard, my breathing 
panicked as the gloved hands returned to my back, pausing for a 
moment. Then sharp pain tore its way up my back, drawing a gouging red 
streak of agony straight up the middle. I screamed loud and hard.

"Dad!"

The fingers felt like spiders as they crept their way up my back, 
examining my spine, "Don't move."

A long needle was inserted directly into sore red flesh.

Tears inched forward and down my face. I couldn't help but shriek at 
the pain racing up down my sides, throttling me.

"Please stop! Don't!" Swallowing the words whole.

A magnificent array of colors blossomed behind my eyelids, drowning 
out my screams. Pleading out in choked sobs and whimpers but the 
fingers did not--would not stop. They kept touching me, shoving 
needles into me.

The probing mercifully stopped and I was left alone, shaking and 
straining as my muscles contracted involuntarily. Beads of frigid 
sweat graced my upper lip. I tried to catch my breath, heaving hot air 
in and out, feeling the terrible slickness of my back.

Off in the distance, beyond the disturbingly sharp fading ache was 
Dad's voice, "God dammit let me in!"

He was standing a million miles away just barely heard over the din of 
the howling wind. Beside me there was more arguing.

Then silence.

"You son of a bitch!"

"He didn't drink it all. You fucked up."

"Give him the sedative, Goodwin."

"Get out Mulder. I can't administer anything to him now. It's too 
late. It wouldn't do any good."

"Stop then."

"You know I can't do that. Now leave."

Drool lay beneath my cheek on the table as I pleaded for the unfocused 
figure beside me. Sobbing, "Dad please--make him stop--make it stop 
hurting."

Dad stared at the man named Goodwin. "Let me stay then."

Silence.

Goodwin must have finally caved in. Dad crouched down in front of me, 
brushing sweat soaked hair from my fevered eyes. "Just hold on son. 
Just a little bit longer, I promise."

He nodded at Goodwin to start again and I howled. "No!" I tensed my 
muscles, clenching my eyes shut and twisting my wrists until they were 
raw and sticky with red. "Don't let him do this to me!" I screamed 
into his face, pleading. Tears spilling down my face unending as the 
agony of the needles--sinking deeper and deeper, started all over 
again.

A muted scream.

Dad was holding my hand, trying to quiet me down. His voice was 
shaking, "Sh--sh. Sshh. It's almost over. Stop fighting it. Sshh. . ."

Sweat was dripping into my eyes as I bared my teeth at him, gasping. I 
ground my face into the table and growled, wanting nothing more than 
that darkness that I was so afraid of. "You--you won't remember..." He 
sounded as if he was comforting himself instead of me.

When Goodwin's hands finally left my back. I only felt the bluntness 
of the needle once more in my backside and sank down into a swamp of 
haziness, nestled softly in between the gray and the black.

~~~~~~~~

The drug spread through him, searching out his nerve endings 
ruthlessly. Intermixing with his blood as it shoved and ripped its way 
through his tired veins.

Mulder lay sprawled out on the slick tile floor, breathing in harsh 
gasps of air. He had his back to the wall, knees pulled up to his 
chest and his cold, bare feet lay crisscrossed over each other in a 
pathetic attempt to conserve warmth.

Vinton had left. Left him in a whimpering mass of pain on the floor. 
Left him after he'd shot him up with a huge dose of sulfizine. Left 
and said, "If you need anything just give us a holler--"

Mulder grunted as the drug gnawed at his gut, raking slimy claws over 
his intestines. The pulsing in his ears got louder. He rolled onto his 
knees and exhaled anguish.

< Think lovely thoughts.' Isn't that what they always say?>

He sat there for awhile, getting use to the position with a hand 
clamped over his abdomen

< Give it the old college try...'?>

He finally raised himself to his feet and the sticky fluid rushed to 
his brain. He hit the floor, holding his head, screaming bluntly. His 
voice broke in mid-wail, leaving the air empty and alone.

The distorted sound of a door opening was far off. The noise of 
footsteps got nearer as it drummed obnoxiously in his ear.

<Vinton?>

Mulder involuntarily cringed, but worked to defiantly raise his chin, 
staring up with cold, diluted eyes. Not this time he told himself.

Cancerman eyed the vicious slits on Mulder's bruised side. "Treating 
you accordingly I hope?"

Mulder swallowed his anger whole and managed a simple and shaky, "Why 
are you doing this?"

Cancerman stared back with equally cold eyes, leveling Mulder's 
condition with a nasty smile. "Come now, you don't think we're doing 
this for fun do you? Your options are simple, Fox. Cooperate and end 
this."

Mulder didn't falter, just clenched his jaw and gritted through his 
teeth as another wave of agonizing pain dug razor fingernails up his 
back. "Fuck you, what is this!?!" Mulder made a move to get up, but 
didn't exactly have the heart for it and settled back against the 
wall. "How do you know what he did to me?"

"Records. You've--"

Snarled, "Why? How!?!"

The corners of Cancerman's mouth jittered in a half smile. "It was all 
part of the deal, Fox. It was all arranged...." Cancerman let his 
tongue slide across the back of his teeth as memories ran rampant.

Mulder's rage surfaced in his eyes, but he worked to regain their past 
impassivity. "Arranged?"

Cancerman crouched down and reached out to touch Mulder's forehead. 
Mulder flinched back, a look of disgust wrinkling his brow. Impassive 
again, "Don't touch me."

"Bill was a sadist. He abused you....sexu--"

Mulder's face turned red and he spit his invective with a cruel and 
twisted tone--clear and precisely, "No worse than you, you sick fuck!"

Just then another icy wave split him in two, gutting him open with a 
dull knife's edge--ripping him open, groin to sternum. He doubled over 
and moaned, curling into a tight ball at Cancerman's feet.

"It was all part of the plan, my boy." Cancerman brushed back a few 
tendrils of hair from Mulder's forehead.

Mulder stubbornly screwed his eyes shut at the pain. The hand on his 
head stroked his cheek before sliding down to his chin. A finger 
placed below the hollow of his chin forced him to look up.

"Bill was a very busy man..."

Mulder suddenly opened his fever-glazed eyes unbelieving, shaking his 
head in a feeble attempt to banish the thought.

"She was so lonely, Fox."

His eyes glistened for a moment--held in suspension by the glaring 
lights above. Then a few lonely tears slipped silently down his cheek. 
Voice cracked and broken, struggling past his split lips "Nn--"

Cancerman's lips curved up. Mulder's eyes went black when he saw 
Cancerman's shit eating grin. Cancerman lifted himself up and stood 
for a moment, curiously studying Mulder's prone form--frozen tense. He 
made a move to speak again, but Mulder slipped sideways so that his 
face was turned to the wall.

His smile grew.

Mulder listened to the sound of the old man's receding steps. He 
blinked back tears and kept his fists clenched--already knowing his 
nails would leave bloody crescent moons on his palm when he finally 
relaxed his hand.

Fury burned fast and hard. He flinched at something imagined--the 
lines of restraint and tolerance finally snapped and broken.

Sordid images cascaded down unending, fast--too fast. Mulder whimpered 
hatefully and thankfully at knowledge lost so long ago. The memories 
assaulted his exhausted body belligerently. Mulder finally screamed, 
pain and remembrance intertwining to become one.

<Sam--oh god she...>

Bright lights flashed as he watched the men hitting her, taking her 
away, and...Then fierce pain again.

He cried out hoarsely--a voice that had long ago since given up. He 
let the tears spill down, fear and pain and pain and more pain--just 
watched and let his eidetic memory cough up image after horrifying 
image.

Men waiting with syringes and doctors hovering above, waiting and 
watching him with intent, all eyes held fascination as his small chest 
shuddered...

He managed to stumble to his feet, hand placed awkwardly on the wall, 
balancing him. Head bent down he watched--slippery tile with a small 
maze of grout surrounding each square.

Don't step on a crack or you'll break your mothers back!

Mom upstairs and Dad touching him and telling 
him.....things...terrible, terrible things.

He slammed his fist against the wall, leaving small bloody marks on 
his knuckles and not even so much as a dent in the wall. His vision 
cleared for a moment before anguish swept a curtain of despair over 
his conscious. Jittery eyes narrowed, wild red-green flecks 
concentrated on the door. He licked his lips in a disturbed manner. 
Fisting and unfisting his hands at his side--steadying himself.

The feel of the tile floor slapping against the soles of his feet was 
a blur.

He slammed into the metal door at full force, his head glancing off 
one of the welded hinges on the side. He sagged to the floor with his 
forehead resting against the cool metal, barely conscious, wanting 
more--needing more. He lifted his head and drove it back down, feeling 
the sound his flesh made as it contacted with the immovable. He raised 
a limp fist, letting it pound with savage strength against the door 
till his fist was slick with blood. Not thinking, just 
feeling--watching as his beliefs were swept away. His hopes--torn 
ruthlessly away from his bloodied outstretched fingers.

Darkness had robbed him of sight as he laid his ear against the rusted 
steel.

Hastened footfalls echoed off the damnable walls of hell.

And he smiled.

~~~~~~~~

Vinton ran the video back and watched a second time, smiling fiercely.

Cancerman's eyes dared not leave the monitor as he watched Mulder slam 
his head into the heavy door a few times. An audible thud just barely 
heard over his screaming.

They had found Mulder in a heap, lying in a pool of his own blood. 
Eyes fluttering as if confused while his cracked lips parted, 
muttering nonsense.

Vinton turned back to Cancerman with eyes that danced. "I suggest we 
move quickly."

~~~~~~~

It was so dark.

The ground--smooth concrete--hurt. Pressed against his back, his bony 
shoulder blades dug into it.

Tiny cracks of light filtered down from somewhere. The blackness 
seemed to shift before his eyes. Leaned to the left then...Fists 
rained down, slamming him back into the ground. Seasoned knuckles 
cushioned by his soft skin.

He whimpered, wondering what this place was.

"Stop. Please...no."

He felt someone cut through the air, swift currents brushing past his 
face.

"Shut your little fucking mouth, _Fox_."

He tried to get up and fell back down again. Blood rushed to his head. 
And there was a crazy laugh. A calloused palm smacked his face hard. 
Then hands grabbed the front of his shirt and a hot labored breath was 
exhaled against his sweaty skin.

"You wanna know where she is Fox? You wanna know where? She's fucking 
dead. You just remember that you little piece of shit. Just like you 
should be. She's gone. She's going to be gone for a long time and its 
just going to be you and me for awhile."

The words were spit into his face--could feel the awful crazy sneer 
through the darkness. Exhaled quickly, his voice shaking, "D-dad. 
You're a--"

The crunch of bone then more pain and blood flying against the walls.

"I made a deal with him for you. A little trade off, you worthless 
little fuck. We were both in trouble. Helped each other out. He got to 
do his tests and I get to have my fun. Ain't that right little Fox? 
We're having fun now aren't we?"

A blunt object beat his tiny body into unconditional submission, 
laying slack in the angry hands that dug fingernails into his chest.

"Tests Fox. She'll be in pain. You remember the tests don't you? With 
that little old photographic memory of yours? We took care of that 
didn't we?"

Unaware that he was sobbing, his small body trembled under his 
father's tormenting fists.

Another blow and a deafening shout in his ear, "It should have been 
you! It should have been you, you little fucker. But it's too late. 
It's just you and me pal."

Fingernails slick with red and hands pulling him closer to the muddled 
sound of a belligerent shout.

"I'm gonna see you through, boy. I'm going to make you pay. They can 
have you, but your ass is mine, Fox. ..."

Fox lay limp.

~~~~~~~

My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. Speak to me. Why 
do you never speak. Speak. What are you thinking of? What thinking? 
What? I never know what you are thinking. Think.'

I think we are in rats' ally Where the dead men lost their bones

What is that noise?' The wind under the door. What is that noise now? 
What is the wind doing?' Nothing again nothing. Do you know nothing? 
Do you see nothing? Do you remember nothing?' I remember.

~~~~~~~

Bile burned the back of his raw throat.

He lifted his head and everything was black, head pounding with 
disorientation.

The soft plastic end of a nozzle pressed against his parched lips and 
forced its way into his slack mouth. At first he tried to draw back, 
but found he couldn't. As soon as he realized what the object was he 
sucked furiously. Water cooled the back of his throat, sending shivers 
of icy pleasure down his battered body. The nozzle started to draw 
back, but he held on, gripping its end with his teeth, trying to get 
just one more sip. The nozzle was ripped away from his mouth, spilling 
water down his chin. He coughed, turned his head as some of the water 
came back up his throat, but failed as the water spilled painfully out 
his nose

As his coughing fit subsided the black clouds of disorientation lifted 
to let the glaring white sun shine through. It was bright but radiated 
no warmth. Nothing. Just cold light that held no purpose...

"We wouldn't want Fox to get a tummy ache now do we?"

Mulder cracked an eyelid open to see if it was safe to come out and 
play.

His wrists were bound at his sides as were his ankles and thighs. 
Vinton was holding up a syringe.

It certainly was not.

The table's surface ran a deathly cold chill up his bare back. His 
sweats were gone.

Vinton flicked the needle, examining its contents in the light. An old 
hand steadied Mulder's arm, running the pad of a finger menacingly 
down a thick engorged vein in his arm. The touch turned his blood to 
ice.

He clenched his eyes shut and forced the whine building in the back of 
his throat to stay the fuck down.

Vinton roughly peeled back Mulder's eyelids, grasping him by the hair 
so he could check his pupils.

"Rise and shine."

Vinton turned away and Mulder closed his eyes, breathing deep.

The assistant on Vinton's left started sticking electrodes to his 
body. He didn't fight. Didn't try to slip his hands out of the 
restraints. Knew it was useless, just let his hands lay lifeless at 
his side except for an occasional twitch.

The assistant was holding the smooth probe in his hands. Mulder 
swallowed hard. The assistant took Mulder's penis in his hand and 
began to slowly shove the probe up Mulder's cock, working it back and 
forth, ramming forward then back. The silent ministrations of the 
assistant wrenched a series of grunts and moans from him. His abused 
cock was already a bruised dark purple.

The old man turned back, "I'm going to let you see just how good it 
can be..."

Mulder's brow furrowed at the comment--mouthed words with his lips but 
issued no sound.

Vinton slipped the needle into his vein and waited with a devious 
grin. "A taste of the forbidden fruit, my boy." Then he pressed the 
plunger down--fast and hard. Mulder gritted his teeth, exhaling 
harshly.

Once the slight sting of the needle died down....A delicious soothing 
warmth crept up his arm and flourished in his chest, sending bursts of 
colors across vision. A line of exquisite pleasure was drawn down his 
abdomen to spill enrapturing heat into his groin, thickening his 
aching cock in utter sublimity

The pain was pushed back into the past as he reveled in the present. 
No more pain. Just a sweet and sticky now. His eyes were half-lidded, 
not really aware of anything--just the wonderful sensations that 
rippled along and inside his body.

Vinton watched happily, letting his hand drift along Mulder's side. 
Stroking the welts and cuts there, slid his hand up to Mulder's belly 
and ran a finger delicately down to the groin. He let his fingers 
dance dangerously on the inside of a trembling thigh.

The boy let out a mindless groan.

He lightly brushed the tip of Mulder's penis. Dragging a fingernail 
across its head.

Mulder's traitorous hips bucked up towards the hand, straining. The 
young man on the table was moaning, mouth slack, off someplace else, 
but obviously enjoying it.

Vinton turned away again and produced another needle.

The tap-tap-tap was magnified in Mulder's ear, furrowing his brow, but 
not quite comprehending it meaning.

Vinton jammed the needle into Mulder's arm. Mulder grimaced. His eyes 
shot open wide and he strained wildly, whimpering. The heat left his 
body--split-second--then the cool death-like pain returned to his 
muscles, arousing the deep ache within his skull.

Vinton leaned down in his face. "I can give you either. Pain or 
pleasure. I know you know. Your little fit' almost assures me."

Vinton held up a larger syringe. It's contents were unmistakable to 
him. "You know what this is, don't you Fox?"

Mulder feebly nodded his head.

"I can make the pain go away. I've only given you a small dose. 
Nothing as bad as last time."

Mulder's breath trembled.

"Please Fox, let me give you freedom from this."

He wasn't sure which Vinton was referring to, the past or the pain. He 
glanced to his left. The assistant was waiting for Vinton's nod.

Mulder licked his lips and forced himself to breath. To say it. Low, 
quiet, barely audible, "No."

Vinton stared at him hard, then reached beside his head, fisting a 
handful of his hair as a hand strapped a restraint across his 
forehead, forcing his head to stay down. He knew what this meant, and 
desperately jerked his head up and away from the hand. Fierce, "No!"

He tried to keep his eyes from watering. Tried not to scream. Wide 
tremulous gray watched in silent terror. The harsh clinical lights 
above refracted off his sullen eyes.

Vinton injected a barrel full of the dreaded mixture, and Mulder 
finally screamed, thrashed as he felt the needle sink into his flesh 
and dispense its contents into him.

Vinton spoke as he watched the young man sob, just letting the drug 
take affect before they started again. "Tell me."

The sulfizine hit him full force, knocking his breath away. It bore 
down on him like a drill, becoming worse and worse with each passing 
second until he couldn't stand it any longer. He couldn't concentrate, 
not even on the pain.

Vinton nodded to the assistant.

Mulder dropped his mouth open and let out a terrifying shriek. 
Screaming at the top of his lungs, no longer able to control anything 
as the electricity ripped fiercely through him.

His savage animal cries resonated in the air--hung there like the 
stench of a rotting corpse.

Vinton grimaced in frustration. Asked softly--false comfort, "Tell me, 
Fox."

Mulder shook his head as much as the tight strap across his forehead 
would permit. His eyes were red. Hot tears were slipping down the 
sides of his face. His voice was coarse and worn. Sobbed as the words 
left his lips, "I can't!"

Another nod.

Mulder couldn't scream, just made unhuman sounds of agony while his 
body strained and arched.

Vinton gently placed his hand on Mulder's forehead, stroked. Voice 
devoid of sympathy. "Why not?"

Mulder caught his breath. Breathed and sobbed. He couldn't tell the 
difference between the two. Couldn't keep the whine in the back of his 
throat from sounding. Couldn't help the whimpers as they broke past 
the back of his teeth.

His voice was that of a frightened child. Breathless, smoothed over 
with a cracked tone, just about to break down for good. "Because!" 
Mulder cringed and tried to not to look at anything as his voice 
shivered. "You'll take it from me...You'll take everything..."

Mulder growled at Vinton as he nodded.

Frantic screams begged Vinton to stop as Mulder's body jumped and his 
heart skipped a beat.

"Raise the current."

Mulder's heart pounded, his body slick with sweat and the horrible 
smell of burnt flesh assaulted his senses.

Dread filled gray met with fierce blue. Gray saw blue nod and he 
sucked in a breath. The pain slammed him up then back down on the 
table. Hot fire centered in his groin spread. Images of pain caressed 
his eyes as a shriek tickled the back of his throat.

The next one did it. Cracked his mind in two, brain cells melting 
down. Body finally giving in, the pain no longer an option his body 
was willing to take. The words just fell from his mouth, tumbled down 
in a stream, barely coherent. His body lay limp, pushed beyond the 
limits of hell, the finer points of his travels were apparent, flesh 
burned and bloodied, oozing pus.

Ohgodohgodohgod.

He sobbed, letting betrayal spill from his mouth. Told them 
everything. About The Project. Samantha. What they did to her. What 
they were doing to her. What they would have done to him. What they 
did do to him. The tests. The awful cocktail that was his DNA. His 
life blood. He was special. So very special....

Vinton gave Mulder another injection of sulfizine, let him lay there, 
trembling. When he was sure Mulder had told him everything he finally 
smiled. Rested his hand on Mulder's sweat soaked hair and brushed it 
back.

"Good boy."

~~~~~~~

-4 Days Later-

Empty space moved and shifted lazily. Cruelly laughing and toying with 
his collective memories. Blank images that held no threat made his 
body quake. Skin--dark, bruised beyond recognition--crawled, goose 
bumps rising as a draft of air pushed up against his side.

Once familiar smells seemed so foreign...

Mulder's eyes peeled back and he jolted awake, gasping for air. A 
cruel sound escaped his throat as he awoke, a combination of dread, 
fear, and agony intertwined and twisted into a barbed wire of noise 
that hurt his own ears.

His eyes were panicked as they tracked his apartment. It hurt to 
breath and he didn't know why he was so scared. He sighed, placed his 
bare feet on the floor and sat up on the couch, shaking his head and 
rubbing the grit out of his eye with his palm. It was only then did he 
look down at his hands and arms.

Mulder stared. Eyes wide with terror. Lost in some vague memory. His 
eyes smoothed over his skin, observing harsh needle marks, bruised-raw 
skin, and scabbed cuts--blood encrusted flesh in the place of his 
middle finger's cuticle.

He let out a splintered sound. It broke off, hanging there horribly in 
the air.

And the world was silent again.

He brought a hand up to his mouth and sobbed, his mind letting the 
sights come back to him--needles and doctors and handcuffs and the 
smells...his own flesh--sizzling and crackling...

He knocked the coffee table over in a whirl of movement as he jumped 
to his feet. He raced to the toilet, violently retching into the bowl, 
his stomach heaving up its only contents--water. Nasty shivers 
tap-danced up his back as his fingers reflexively curled and uncurled 
on the rounded sides of porcelain. The sound of his rough breathing 
echoed off the insides of the toilet as he rested his head on its cool 
surface, not thinking at all. Just being.

His eyes got hot and the tears warmed his cold skin. His lower lip 
began to tremble. Everything he was feeling, everything inside 
him...all collided at once.

Suddenly, he rocked back on his heels. Outright terror had him tearing 
blindly through his apartment. He paused in front of his couch, eyes 
searching for something. He bent down and wrenched the coffee table 
back up right. Circled it and when he didn't find what he was looking 
for he gripped the table again, flipping and shoving it away from 
himself at the same time. His computer was a mound of junk after he 
finished sweeping the contents of his desk. It impacted onto the 
floor, shattering into tiny little pieces. Mulder's fingers entangled 
themselves on a knob, yanked the drawer open and slammed it back in.

He stood there, chest heaving, looking blindly around the room, eyes 
raging with sick fear.

Hazel glistened and he was moving again, storming into his room. He 
ripped a drawer out of his clothes chest, spilling its contents all 
over the floor. An assortment of clothes and dirty magazines tumbled 
to the ground, scattered everywhere at his feet. He collapsed to his 
knees and started rifling through them, eyes glazed over with a sudden 
yearning, needing so badly for it to be there. He tore through them, 
picking up one of those magazines and throwing it to the other side of 
the room with pure contempt. He fisted another one and immediately 
threw it to his side and froze.

Stared. Stared with tears in his eyes. Stared down at what had been 
hidden there, underneath it.

Mulder breathed quiet and licked his lips, slow, as if deciding what 
to do next. He reached down carefully, hands shaking. The pads of his 
fingers pressed over the cool metal barrel sending small pangs of 
comfort through him. His hand finally grasped the gun whole heartedly. 
He checked the magazine. Then shoved it back in, savoring the small 
click. A small whimper and he let his hand rest in his lap

He forlornly raised his eyes to the ceiling, Adams apple bobbing up 
and down in an attempt to keep the tears from falling. He tightened 
his grip on the solid metal and lowered his head, sitting back on his 
haunches. The apartment was so quiet. The only sounds emanated from 
the gurgle of the fish tank and the soft rumble of traffic outside.

He tried to lift the gun but his arm wouldn't comply. Wouldn't move at 
all. He leaned forward, hunched over, head bet down between his 
sagging shoulders--and sobbed pitiably.

He grimaced with effort, lips peeling back to reveal clenched teeth. 
Stubborn tendrils of hair fell into his eyes as he held the gun with 
both hands. He couldn't help the small rhythm his body had set, 
rocking back and forth, letting the salty tears fall, hitting the cuts 
on his wrists.

He stayed that way.

~~~~~~~

Scully scratched her brow as she slipped past various doors situated 
along the hallway. Her eyes reflected exhaustion as she kept them on 
the window at the end of the hall. The last remnants of the day were 
slowly tumbling back to earth. Dusk frothed forward across the sky, 
stealing up the last bits of light that inched along the horizon, 
refusing to die.

Quantico was over and done with. No more corpses and no more, "Dana, 
are you feeling alright?" She had gotten word from AD's superiors. 
They had informed her that Skinner was being treated for injuries 
sustained during a mugging--

Her face turned red as she approached the door, her stomach turned 
wickedly and her throat constricted as she remembered the blood on the 
floor and the way the couch had been left in disarray.

She rocked back on her heals, then leaned slightly on her toes, 
willing herself to open the door, to at least check.

She unlocked the door and let her hand hover over the door knob, 
closing her eyes and whispering, inaudibly, something that might have 
been a prayer.

Finally, she turned the knob quickly, walked calmly inside, and turned 
with the door so that her back faced Mulder's apartment. She closed 
the door gently and turned with the keys jangling between her fingers.

She walked into the apartment and dreaded what she saw. Everything lay 
in ruins... Papers were strewn all over the floor. His computer lay in 
at thousand tiny pieces. She quickly surveyed the living room and came 
to the bedroom.

The keys in her hand crashed to the floor as they slipped from her 
fingers that had suddenly gone numb.

Mulder.

Scully smiled one of those brilliant smiles, "Mulder!".... and it died 
in an instant.

As she turned the corner she saw him, naked and bruised. His back was 
deceptively half hidden. She gasped at the deep red welts that 
overwhelmed the flesh there. He was hunched over, sobbing.

He jerked his head up when she called his name. His eyes glistened 
from the tears--desolate. They held nothing but despair....

~~~~~~~

Mulder broke his gaze from Scully and lowered his head, shaking it 
side to side--disquiet.

<nononononono>

Scully moved towards him. Mulder cringed at the crumple and tear of 
paper, gripped the gun tighter in his sweaty hands. Uneasy, "Go away, 
Scully."

Scully ignored the pornography scattered beneath her, shredded it with 
the heel of her pump and crouched a foot from Mulder. Finally noticing 
the soft glint of metal in his hands.

Mulder didn't budge, felt a shudder run down his body and whimpered 
again as he tried and tried to raise the gun. It was more of a plea 
than a yell, "I said go away!"

She steadied her voice. "Mulder, you don't--"

Mulder stopped rocking and turned his head in such a way that ran 
shivers of fear down Scully's spine.

His voice was ragged and barely recognizable. He shook his head side 
to side again, slowly, staring at her, in disbelief that she could 
even utter such a ridiculous comment. "You don't know! You don't 
know!"

Scully took a shaky breath and reached out to touch his shoulder.

Mulder flinched back violently, scooting a bit to his left away from 
her. He mouthed words--liquid tongue--but no sound would come. No 
voice came to tell Scully to fuck off.

Scully thought for a second about grabbing the gun, but killed that 
idea as soon as Mulder saw her looking at it. He just gripped it 
harder, daring her. "Mulder--"

Mulder sobbed hard--his throat hurt so fucking bad. His voice returned 
but the words were not his own. "I knew all along, Scully." Swallowed 
back the snot that clogged his nose. "I knew all along..."

Scully inched forward, closer to Mulder than she was before.

Soft and soothing, "What are you talking about, Mulder?"

Mulder let out a manic giggle, tracking Scully from the corner of his 
eye. "All this time.." He shook his head in disbelief. "All this time 
the truth was in here." He comically let a finger tap the side of his 
head.

Oh god she couldn't look at his eyes, they weren't his own.

He bit his lower lip and rocked lethargically back and forth, setting 
a slower rhythm than before. His voice cracked under new strain, 
"T-they did things, Scully..."

Pressure was building steadily behind her terrified eyes as she 
watched her partner break down.

He couldn't help the stutter. It only made him sob harder. "I-I told 
them and then they t-took it from me. I knew, but they took it away." 
He made a half-hearted gesture towards his head again. "T-they did 
something to m-me."

Scully scooted forward a bit, just a few inches from Mulder now. The 
tears in her eyes began to fall, one by one. "Don't end it this way 
Mulder. Please. This isn't the way." Her voice became strained over 
the last part, betraying her cool.

Mulder gritted his teeth and lifted the gun half-way. Admiring it for 
a moment, before he felt Scully rip it out of his hands.

Scully tore the gun from Mulder's sweaty palm. She quickly emptied the 
magazine and slid it along the floor into the other room.

Mulder lunged for the magazine as she slid it away. They both tumbled 
to the floor, atop his magazines and clothes. He laid beside her 
panting with one arm outstretched. Scrambled to his knees, but Scully 
was suddenly there, blocking his exit.

Scully crouched down and held Mulder still. She felt all of the 
tension and strength drain out of his body as he went slack in her 
arms, but knew he was still reaching with his hand outstretched behind 
her, sobbing hoarsely. "Please--Scully--just--please--let me..." His 
pleas became unrecognizable as she held him tightly in her arms, not 
daring to let go. She rested her chin down on his hair--sticky with 
sweat. Rubbed his back gently, trying to find a spot that wasn't 
marked, and cooed words to him while she rocked him back and forth the 
way she'd seen him do it. "Not like that Mulder. We're going to finish 
this. I promise you. We're going to finish this...."

~~~~~~~ 

The end

Wait! Before you guys all start throwing beer bottles and the likes, 
tell me what you thought. Oh what the hell, please direct your 
projectiles and comments at the addy on the right. Cody@hurricane.net

"..Let the obscure be explained by the more obscure, the unknown by 
the more unknown." --The Great and Secret Show

NOTES: (The truth of the matter)

Most of the torture featured in the above is taken from literature and 
various governments around the world. I did not just pull sulfizine 
and its effects out of my ass. Sulfizine is a form of purified sulfur 
that was used on Russian dissenters who opposed their government in 
the mid 80's. It can cause excruciating pain, fever, convulsions, 
disorientation....the list goes on. Well, I hope you enjoyed it, TTFN