There But For Grace
By ZwampAzz@aol.com

Rating: NC17
Category: XA
Disclaimer: The X-Files property of CC, 1013, FOX yadda, 
yadda, yadda
Summary:  On the drive home from a routine investigation, Mulder and 
Scully are drawn into a tragedy.

This story is Rated NC17 for disturbing and graphic content.


There But For Grace 

Michael parked the pickup in the last space of the empty lot as far 
from the entrance as the painted lines allowed, and directed his gaze 
at the deserted Duke and Duchess mini-mart and gas station.  The 
blaring and, quite frankly, tacky gold sign was alight with a glow all 
its own from the low afternoon sun.   The traffic from I-81 was sparse 
as was the norm for this section of highway through Pennsylvania.  He 
could tell from the profile of the lone attendant through the large 
glass windows, slumped on an uncomfortable looking stool and flipping 
idly through a magazine, there had not been many visitors to this rest 
stop.

Michael glanced over to his passenger. A shorter version of himself, 
Michael's younger brother sported the same unruly mop of dark hair.  
The same piercing ice-blue eyes peered out from under bangs just long 
enough to warrant cutting.  The hawk like nose, chiseled features and 
dark skin left no doubt to their Indian heritage, though from where 
those genes originated was a mystery even to their late grandfather.  
They looked so much alike that sometimes Michael felt he was staring 
into a mirror.  People still mistook them for twins even though they 
had five years between them.

"How's it look?" his brother asked digging  through the glove 
compartment.

"Perfect, like always." Michael answered taking the .22 rifle down 
from the gun rack on the back window.  He grinned. Something else they 
had in common.  The love of adrenaline and the sound of gunfire.  "I 
told you I could pick 'em, Jason."

Jason returned the smile, excitement lighting his eyes, and loaded a 
clip into the .45 he always left in the glove box.  "How many will 
this make?"

"Six," Michael answered.  They had been hitting these little stop- 
and- robs all up and down the interstate. They were perfect to hit 
considering their locations.  On average, the State police took  
almost ten minutes to get to the scene.

Jason glanced over at the form of the attendant before shifting back 
to look at him.  "And how many does that make?"

"Five," Michael replied. "That guy in Hazleton is still hanging on."

Jason shrugged as he pulled on a red flannel work shirt which matched 
Michael's blue one. "Ah, well... the one that got away.  Let's go."

But before they  had a chance to step from the pickup, a mid-sized 
economy car pulled in and stopped at the pumps.  Michael and Jason 
watched as a man and woman exited the car and talked good naturally as 
the man filled the tank.  They both sized up the two individuals, 
ignoring the tall lankiness of the man and the auburn tresses of the 
woman and instead focusing on the quality of their faded blue jeans 
and obvious expense of their light weight jackets.

Michael met Jason's eyes as they looked at one another.  His grin 
matched that of his brother as they both reached for their ski masks.

***

Dana Scully opened the standing cooler for the soda unable to decide 
between Pepsi or Sprite. Giving up she took one of each.  "What do you 
want, Mulder?" She asked tiredly holding up the sodas and shaking them 
slightly attracting her partner's attention.

He looked up from where he stood next to the pretzels, his expression 
was innocent but his eyes were lit with a mischievous gleam. "Do you 
really think I should have any more caffeine?"

She stared back at him, feeling a grin slowly spread across her lips. 
He was right, of course. Mulder had been so energetic lately that she 
wondered who had stuck a key in his back to wind him up.  They had 
been sent to Scranton, Pennsylvania on a consult which he had blown 
through in under three hours turning an anticipated week long  
assignment into eight hours.  Deciding to tempt fate and drive back to 
DC that day instead of staying at a hotel, they had left the sheriff's 
department with a suspect in custody before the deputies could get 
their jaws off the floor.

Now, on the road home, Scully was running on reserves and he was still 
manic.

She nodded at him, "Only too true, Mulder.  So what do you want?"

"Surprise me," he answered going back to his perusal of the snack food 
assortment.  "How about you?  Chips, pretzels or Cheetos?"

"Surprise me," she said. Her voice was teasing but her glare told him 
none were high on her list of tastes. 

Before Mulder could make a selection, the swinging glass doors banged 
open loudly as two men in ski masks burst through.

"Freeze," the taller of the two, dressed in faded blue denim and a 
blue flannel work shirt, ordered, brandishing a rifle.  "I think we 
all know the drill right?"

Mulder and Scully slowly raised their hands, already tense and ready 
to go on the attack as the short man swung his handgun in their 
direction.  A quick glance and the partners knew each other's course 
of action.

"Okay buddy, empty the register," the short one called to the 
attendant, brushing at his own red flannel shirt with his free hand.

The attendant complied, opening the register and dumping its contents 
into the waiting bag held by the taller man.  The young man nervously 
looked up, "There man.  Look, I don't want no trouble."

Michael smiled beneath his mask, feeling a rush of adrenaline course 
through his blood.  He could see Jason in the corner of his eye, 
watching on with interest. "Good, cause we don't need any trouble from 
you," and he squeezed the trigger.  The rifle kicked satisfyingly back 
with the thunder of the discharge.  The body flew backwards, jerked to 
the floor with the impact of the shell with his face.  Blood and 
tissue sprayed from the exit wound at the back of his head, dead 
before he hit the ground.

Michael turned, racking another round as he saw the couple duck behind 
the shelves of snack foods and car supplies.  Jason brought his own 
weapon up, his eyes alight with anticipation brought on by the smell 
of blood and gunpowder.  Neither expected the sudden reappearance of 
the two customers, using the isles for cover, and brandishing weapons 
of their own.

"Federal agents," the man called, closest to Michael. "Drop your 
weapons!"

Startled, Michael opened up on the agent's position. Pumping 
reflexively with each round as he backed towards the door. The shells 
ripped through the bags and containers of potato chips and Little 
Debbie snack cakes as his target dove back for cover.

"Jason!" He called, hearing the sound of his brother's automatic. "Get 
the car, man!"

Jason flung himself out the door, making a break for the truck.  
Diving into the driver's seat he fired up the ignition, the keys 
having been left behind.  Throwing the gears into reverse, Jason 
stomped on the gas, bringing the truck to a stop in front of the store 
just as Michael fired off two more rounds before turning to barrel out 
the now shattered glass door.

Mulder and Scully picked themselves off the tiled floor at the sounds 
of the truck peeling out of the lot.  They rushed for their rental, 
Mulder jumping into the drivers seat and quickly getting the car 
underway.  They pulled onto the highway only a few hundred yards 
behind the dented blue pickup.

Mulder floored the gas pedal, the rented Taurus gaining easily on the 
outdated truck.  He dimly heard Scully relay information to the 
Highway Patrol through her cellular phone. Light blue '86 Ford pickup, 
he thought to himself in parallel to his partner's conversation.  
South-bound on I-81.  He wasn't close enough yet for a plate.  He 
listened as she gave a description of the two men and the events at 
the gas station.

"Get this, Mulder," Scully broke into his thoughts, holding the phone 
slightly away from her mouth. "These guys have been hitting gas 
stations all up and down the interstate.  They've killed five ... make 
that six," she suddenly corrected, remembering the unfortunate 
attendant. "...in the last 4 weeks.  State police are setting up a 
road block a few miles ahead."

"They won't get them..." Mulder stated, pulling hard right on the 
wheel. "They're taking this exit."

The truck fishtailed through the stop sign at the end of the ramp, 
turning left.

"Go through," Scully offered glancing quickly for on-coming traffic. 
Then returning to relay the change in direction to the listener on the 
phone.

Mulder braked hard, his concentration totally focused on the truck 
speeding away up the narrow county road into the mountains.  He took 
the turn dangerously fast but the car's tires kept their purchase on 
the asphalt and as he again stomped on the gas, the vehicle leapt 
forward still in pursuit.

The mountains loomed up on either side of them, the lush trees growing 
next to the road blocking out the waning sun.  The chill shadows 
creeping out from beneath the warm pre-autumn rays.  The road twisted 
and narrowed between the blasted rock, small trickles of water ran 
slowly down the near vertical cliffs.

"We're losing the signal," Scully said into the phone and glanced up 
at the ever growing rock face. "Still heading south on 125."  She 
stabbed a button on the cellular.  "Disconnected."

"Damn, let's hope they stick to the pavement.  We won't be able to 
follow them off road." Mulder replied, taking another turn.  The 
engine growled as the road began sloping upwards.

Michael glanced back over his shoulder.  The forest green Taurus still 
gaining yards on their older truck.  "Jason, they're getting awful 
close. Floor it."

"The needle's buried, Man." Jason said not taking his eyes off the 
bumpy road. "We still got two miles to the turn off."

"Spechty Koph's up this way isn't it?" Michael asked, remembering the 
local tourist attraction, an idea suddenly forming.

"Yeah, just ahead."

"Slow up a bit," Michael grinned and finished reloading the rifle he 
cradled in his lap.  "Let's hope the cops keep their response record."

The tail lights of the truck flared bright red ahead of the pursuing 
federal agents and they covered the distance between the two vehicles 
at a sickening speed.  Mulder pulled to the right as the pickup's 
speed began to dwindle.

"Looks like they're getting ready to bail, Scully." Mulder said aloud, 
knowing instinctively that Scully already had her hand on the door 
latch.

Suddenly the road veered to the left and the mountain on the right 
dropped off to reveal a remarkable view of the sinking sun.  Mulder 
braked lightly as the car slid to the right from the unexpected shift 
in force.

"We're on the wrong side of the road Mulder," Scully offered, glancing 
nervously at the sudden sheer drop just outside her window.

"Yeah," he murmured pulling back to the left side of the road away 
from the drop before maneuvering the Taurus' bumper even with the back 
bumper of the truck.  "Hang on." He turned the wheel slightly and the 
two surfaces brushed but the speeds at which they traveled caused the 
impact to jolt both vehicles.

The truck veered violently back and forth as the driver struggled for 
control.  After a few seconds the blue pickup straightened its course 
and suddenly the passenger leaned out the window.  He had discarded 
the ski-mask and his short dark hair fluttered madly in the wind.

"Mulder, look out!" Scully shouted as the perpetrator pulled his rifle 
out and laid it across the roof of the truck.  

But her warning came too late as the muzzle flashed, its report lost 
in the wind.  The round starred the windshield and a second round 
scoured the hood.

Mulder swerved violently in an attempt to dodge the incoming fire but 
pulled too sharply to the left, crossing the center of the roadway.  
The car's tires dug into the soft dirt shoulder before connecting with 
the rock cliff-face.  The velocity of the vehicle caused it to 
ricochet off the natural barrier.

Mulder fought the wheel for control but, with his view obscured 
through the cracked windshield, it was a hopeless battle.  The car 
careened back across the road, straight through the protective guard 
rail and down the steep, two hundred foot drop.

***

Michael laughed as the pursuing car veered off and disappeared down 
the ravine.  He crawled back into the passenger seat and shared a 
high- five with his brother in victory.

Jason pulled off the main road after another mile, smiling as Michael 
counted out the loot.  It wasn't much, these heists never were but 
they nearly had five thousand dollars now, enough for a new truck 
since they'd have to ditch this one.  Now that they had gotten rid of 
the cops and the adrenaline had worn down, Jason allowed himself to 
worry about what would happen when they got home.

"Hey Mike?" he asked timidly. A reminder that he was still the younger 
of the two men. "What're you gonna tell Grace?"

Michael glanced up to gaze at his brother.  "Nothing."

Jason shook his head, knowing how futile that course of action would 
be even though Grace was younger.  She'd know, Jason thought.  "She'll 
know even if you don't say anything."  

Michael nodded thoughtfully for a second. "Yeah, I guess she will.  
But I'm the oldest. I don't have to explain my actions to her. So just 
drop it and let me do all the talking, like usual."

Jason merely nodded, knowing his place and unwilling to fight over it. 

After all, they'd had a good day.  Almost five hundred in cash and 
three kills. Life just doesn't get any better than this, Jason thought 
pulling the truck into the dirt and gravel driveway of a small 
cottage.

The front door opened before they parked the truck.  The slight form 
of their younger sister walking out to meet them.  Their father had 
always said she took after their mother.    In reality, she wasn't 
much to look at. Her mousy features framed by long locks of strawberry 
blond hair were more than a trifle average.  She had a slim figure 
while underdeveloped that never garnered a second look from members of 
the male persuasion if even a first glance was won.

But, Michael's bravado in the car withered under her knowing and 
angered blue eyed glare.

"So how many this time?" She asked, her voice husky with rage.

Michael guessed she already knew the answer but was only testing his 
honesty.  "Three," he answered, his voice lilting up an octave making 
it sound like a question and hating that she talked to him this way. 
She never spoke to dad with that tone.

"Are you sure?" Grace replied, placing her hands on her hips.  Even 
though she was nearly a foot shorter and ten years his junior, Michael 
felt as if he were the younger, weaker one. She closed her eyes, 
wincing in pain then continued, not waiting for a reply.  "The two who 
were chasing you... I.. don't think they're dead..." she whispered.

***

Dana awoke to a throbbing in her head and a stiffness in her 
shoulders.  She slowly opened her eyes to find herself still in the 
passenger seat with her forehead, and origin of the throbbing, resting 
against the dashboard just above the glove compartment.  The last 
thing she remembered was the blue pickup that forced their car off the 
road and then the car rolling as it slid into the ravine.

Groaning, she took a moment to take stock of her injuries.  Her left 
eye felt swollen and aside from the headache it didn't feel like 
anything else was wrong.  Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself 
back up into her seat noticing the car had been stopped by a head-on 
encounter with the large oak that loomed about two feet in front of 
the shattered windshield.

To her left, facing away from her, Mulder sat slumped against the 
steering wheel, a fine coating of glass dusted the shoulders of his 
coat. The driver's side window had shattered and it looked as if the 
door had collapsed inward.  Flecks of brownish mud streaked along the 
inside of the door and across the ceiling.  As the throbbing in her 
head cleared, she reached over and checked for his pulse.  "Mulder?" 
she called gently.

"Mulder, come on," she continued to call to him.

After a few moments he answered her with a groan.  "Wha... what 
happened?"

"We were driven off the road... Are you hurt?" she asked.

She heard him lick his lips.  "Give me a sec... everything aches.  
What about you?"

"I'm okay... a bump on the head. Just take it easy.  It looks like 
your side of the car took most of the damage."  She unfastened her 
seat belt catch and brushed some of the glass off him before leaning 
across his shoulders to get a look at his face.  What she saw 
confirmed her suspicion.  The left side of his face, what she could 
see, was covered in dark red blood.  "You must've been the one to 
break the window, Mulder, you're bleeding.  Don't move."

He grunted an affirmative.

Dana reached under his jacket and ran her hands along his rib cage. 
She sighed in relief when she encountered no breaks. "Are you having 
trouble breathing?"  The answering grunt was negative.  She moved to 
his arms and hands.  "Feels okay.  Can you wiggle your toes?"

Suddenly, Mulder gasped and sat upright, his hands gripping the wheel 
and his face contorted in pain. "Leg..." He managed to whisper between 
gritted teeth.

"Okay," Scully said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Take a deep 
breath, Mulder." She turned to the glove compartment for the 
flashlight.

Turning on the light, she shone the beam down towards his feet.  Her 
eyes widened in shock at the sight that greeted her.  The paneling 
along the front of the car had been sheared away so that Scully could 
see grass and dirt on the ground below and the framing had buckled.  A 
sharp edge of the twisted metal had caught Mulder in the calf, gouging 
him nearly eight inches up to just below his left knee.  The denim of 
his jeans were torn and soaked black with blood under the yellow beam 
of the flashlight.

"So much... for crumple-zones... huh?" Mulder bit out between breaths.

"Yeah, I guess," she answered meeting his eyes. "Can you feel your 
toes?" She asked moving to the seat belt clasp.

"Um,... yeah," Mulder answered, still dazed, putting a hand to his 
bleeding forehead.

She grabbed his wrist gently and pulled his hand away from his head. 
"Don't do that, there could still be glass in your skin."  She looked 
back down at his leg. There was a lot of blood which could either be 
from the amount of time they had been unconscious or he could have 
nicked an artery.  "Come on, we need to get you out of this car so I 
can take care of that leg. It doesn't look like your door is going to 
open."

"Mm, Scully... we need to get out of this car for... more reasons than 
first aid." Mulder answered painfully shifting his weight as she 
attempted to pull him out of his seat.

She grasped the handle on her side and pushed the passenger door open. 

His voice was starting to waver and he did not sound like he was all 
with her anymore.  "Do you really think the blue pickup is going to 
come back for us?"

"Mm... a definite... possibility..." His voice trailed off.

She turned back to him, grabbing him under the arms. "Come on Mulder," 
she tugged, pulling him across the gear box. Her head was beginning to 
throb again with her sudden movements. "You're too big for me to do 
this by myself."

He grunted and pushed weakly with his uninjured leg.  As one, they 
fell out onto the damp ground, Mulder's legs resting on the passenger 
seat. 

Scully crawled out from under him and moved to his legs.  Clawing at 
the denim, she tore the bloodied hole open further to get a better 
look at his injury.

"How do you know?" She asked trying to maintain conversation and keep 
him conscious.

"No plates," he paused, blinked rapidly a few times. His eyes seemed 
to focus and as he continued his voice sounded stronger. "How bad is 
it?"

She shook her head and began unbuckling his belt. "It's not deep but 
still bleeding." She slid the belt from the belt loops and fastened it 
around his left leg above his knee.  "And," she continued, pulling the 
belt tightly, "it doesn't look like you hit anything major. If we can 
keep it elevated we may be able to stop it."

He nodded then suddenly sat halfway up, head cocked.

"What?" she asked looking instinctively towards the road nearly two 
hundred feet above them.

"I hear a car," he whispered.

She nodded then stood. "I'll go see."

He opened his mouth as if to argue but quickly shut it, nodded in 
return and watched as she disappeared into the underbrush.

***

Scully made her way slowly up the steep ravine incline.  She stayed 
under the cover of the brush and trees but still able to make out the 
path the car made on its way down.  From what she could see, it looked 
like the car had only fallen about fifty feet but had rolled and slid 
for another one hundred to one hundred and fifty more feet before 
coming to a stop.  Trees had been cut in half and there was a trail of 
singed grass and branches indicating they'd been burning earlier.  The 
path of destruction wrought to the greenery had her thanking God she 
and Mulder had both survived the crash at all and as well as they had.

Suddenly, she heard a loud gun-shot like noise from above her.  
Looking toward the road about fifty feet above her she could just 
barely see the dark blue shape of the pickup truck through the trees. 
 It's brakes made a horrendous squealing noise as it slowed to a stop 
and three people clambered out of the cab.

"Okay, then... this should be the place," The tall, dark haired man of 
about twenty-five who'd fired at them said stopping at the cliff's 
edge.

"Okay," a blond woman answered.  Scully placed her age at about 
sixteen.

"You sure they're still alive?  It looks like a long fall." The second 
man said.

"I... dunno, I ..."  The girl turned on the two men, suddenly furious, 
"You did this. If they were Feds then now that you've attacked 
them..." Her tirade trailed off as she suddenly turned and looked 
directly at the place Scully was concealed.

"What is it Grace?" Michael asked looking into the woods as well.

Grace stared, a look of confusion crossing her features. "Mm,  
nothing' I guess... come on, I think I see where the car went."

Scully watched them begin their decent into the greenery before 
turning  to silently creep back down the hill.







Mulder saw Scully come back several minutes later. Her eyes grazed 
across him where he still lay half in the car on the ground then she 
wrestled the trunk open and began digging through its contents.

"Scully," he asked propping himself up on his elbows.  "Who was it?"

"It was the blue pickup, Mulder.  Two men and a woman. They've come to 
finish what they started." She came to kneel next to him holding his 
gym bag. "They're on their way down the ravine now, following the path 
the car made through the trees.  We need to move.  Can you walk?"

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" He asked crawling painfully the 
rest of the way out of the car.  He thought he could manage it. Having 
been laying down with his legs elevated had caused the blood to rush 
to his head and he no longer felt so disoriented.

She helped him struggle to his feet. "Don't put any weight on your 
leg," she said as she draped his left arm across her shoulders.  
"Damn, I wish I had time to wrap it up." She whispered under her 
breath.

"Time for that later," Mulder grunted, leaning heavily on Scully as 
they moved further into the trees.  He could hear the voices of three 
people behind him and attempted to quicken his dangerously slow pace.

***

Grace watched in stony silence as her two brothers picked their way 
cautiously down the side of the ravine.  She could not remember the 
last time she had been as angry as she felt now.  She was surprised to 
realize that her anger was due to the stupidity of not remembering 
where they had forced the Federal Agents off the road, more than the 
fact that they had actually attacked two Federal Agents.

Grace shuddered, feeling suddenly calm and lethargic.  Her anger 
leeching away from her heart, the pounding, painful ache in her head 
suddenly gone.  She relished in the absence of the headache. They'd 
been coming more and more frequently in the last few months and almost 
non-stop for the last three weeks--a painful burning that began behind 
her eyes turning into a drumming that frayed her nerves and her 
temper.

"Here, Grace," Michael called from below her picking his way towards 
the twisted shape of a green car.

"Wow, look 't the blood..." Jason trailed bending to look into the 
front seat.  "You may have tagged that dude, Michael."

His callous tone pricked at Grace's fragile good mood and she felt the 
sudden shift to rage.  "Are they in there?" She asked, iron lacing her 
voice.

Jason looked up alarmed.  "Uh..."

"No, Grace.  They're gone." Michael's voice was equally stern. A 
warning  to watch her tone.

"Then what are you standing there for?" She raged, ignoring the 
warning,  emotion welling up to blind her.  She was finding less and 
less patience to deal with her brothers' idiocy in the last three 
weeks. "Find out where they went!"

As she finished the sentence, she felt something else prick at her 
mind.  An emotion seeped through her rage: worry.  Blinding her to the 
malice welling in her brother's eyes.

Grace looked around her, expectant.  Where would that be coming from 
and what did she have to be worried about? she wondered.  She stared 
off into the foliage, it was weird.  "Come on, follow me." She 
ordered, starting off into the trees.

***

Mulder and Scully struggled through the underbrush for several minutes 

trying to put as much distance between themselves and the young group 
as  they could.  Each step becoming more painful for them both then 
the last forcing Mulder to lean more heavily against Scully until she 
stumbled slightly under Mulder's weight.  The muscles of her shoulders 
and lower back were beginning to cramp under the strain and she knew 
he wouldn't be able to go much farther. Looking up at Mulder, she saw 
his jaw clenched in pain.  His hazel eyes were slightly glazed while a 
thin sheen of sweat glistened on his skin mingling with his blood. 
But, she also knew, he would continue without complaint as long as she 
did.  "Okay, let's stop here."

"How's that?" He asked trying to sound as if he had comprehended what 
she just said.

Scully answered by stopping suddenly and helping him to drop to the 
ground.  "Let's get you cleaned up now."

Mulder nodded, breathing heavily.  He watched her take medical 
bandages and iodine from the gym bag. "You brought a First-Aid Kit?"

She grinned up at him, trying, for now, to ignore his pallor. "Where 
you and the mountains are concerned, Mulder, I come well prepared."  
The comment earned a grin from him.

She sat at his feet and began to wash away the blood, dirt and sweat 
from the wound.  It was a jagged but clean cut with all of the 
surrounding skin intact.  She reached back into the bag for her suture 
kit, a staple of her equipment for work in under equipped towns with 
no pathology facilities since the last time she had to travel two 
hours to the nearest lab.

She shook her head, forcing herself to concentrate on the present, 
then set to work on the torn leg.

***

Michael led his siblings through the trees following an obvious trail 
of bent and twisted greenery.  Grace had willingly remembered her 
place after a slap to the face. His father had been right about her. 
She needed reminders as to whom was in charge.

He glanced back at her, feeling only a slight twinge of remorse. Her 
nose was still bleeding. He was sure he hadn't hit her that hard. but 
she knew better than to use that defiant tone with those older than 
her. It was disrespectful,  just as his father had said.

"You okay, Grace?" 

She answered him with a angry, hurt glare as if he had betrayed her.  
The look in her eye disturbed him.

"I asked you a question?" He snapped, hiding the emotion.

"I'm fine," she answered meekly, looking away.

He nodded in approval.

"So which way?" Jason asked trying to diffuse the still tense 
situation.

Michael glanced over at his brother.

"If we keep yellin' they're gonna hear us." He added.

"Yeah, okay. No more talking then." Michael answered and turned back  
into the woods.

*********************

Mulder started awake at the gentle touch on his shoulder. Sometime 
during  Scully's ministrations he'd passed out. Dazed, he blinked and 
met Scully's  urgent gaze as she covered his mouth with her hand.

"Keep quiet," she whispered, glancing over her shoulder into the 
forest behind them.

He nodded as he heard the faint sounds of their pursuers quietly 
stumbling through the underbrush.  She removed her hand and started 
gathering their meager supplies. His leg throbbed in a steady rhythm 
with his heart accompanied by the pounding in his head.

"We need to get moving again," Scully said as the rustling became 
louder.

"Yeah," he agreed reaching for her shoulder and leverage to drag 
himself to his feet.

She helped him stand, balancing him as a wave of dizziness swept over 
him.  He could feel the row of new stitches tug painfully at his 
damaged skin and it felt as if she'd washed away the blood and grime  
from his face.  He slowly regained his equilibrium, pointedly ignoring 
Scully's worried gaze.

"You going to be able to make it?" she asked looking off to the trees 
in the direction of the growing footsteps.

Mulder smiled trying to hide the nausea.  "Yeah, let's go."

He took three painfully unsteady steps before he stumbled, his leg 
giving way taking Scully with him.  As he hit the wet forest floor and 
began to slide downward, Mulder realized he'd fallen on an incline.  A 
very steep incline.  Picking up speed and not having the strength to 
halt his course, he tucked his wounded leg as close to his body as 
possible to prevent it from striking any of the trees or brush he 
passed by. 

Above him, he could hear Scully sliding down the incline as well.  A 
part of him knew she could halt her downhill progress much more easily 
than he but she wouldn't, instead following him to where ever they 
would stop.

He turned all his attention back to controlling his slide as best he 
could. The ground and passing foliage bruising as he fell. Suddenly, 
the ground gave way beneath him, dropping off onto a fifty foot cliff. 
Alarmed, he stretched out his left hand, reaching for anything to halt 
him from going over.

His fingers closed around a small outcropping and he slid out into 
nothingness. Suddenly, remembering his partner behind him, he stuck 
out his right as he began to swing downward. He felt her grip his 
wrist, whispering a frightened curse as she did so.

Gravity took them both, pulling them down. Scully's weight jolted 
along his right arm and he heard a horrible pop. Pain flared and he 
could not stop or slow her impact into the cliffside.

She hit the wall with a terrifying force, the shock of it searing his 
torn shoulder. Her grip on his wrist went limp and he tightened his 
own despite the agony.

"Scully?" he called, his voice rough with pain.

She didn't answer.  He called to her again, looking down at her still 
form as they swung slightly from the reaction.

She was unconscious. Below them, some fifty feet away, granite rocks 
waited, washed in an orange glow from the setting sun.  Waiting to 
catch them when they fell.

"Oh, god," he felt tears well up and slip down his cheeks. His 
shoulder throbbed, a pinched nerve numbing the fingers locked around 
her wrist. The rocks beneath his other hand cutting into his fingers.

He would not let her fall.

***

"Shhh... stop," Jason called out stopping dead.

"I thought I said no more talking," Michael rebuked. 

Jason glanced at him, warily.  He sounded just like dad.  "I know, but 
listen."

All three concentrated on the sounds of the forest.

"There! Did you hear it?" Jason asked excitedly.

Grace nodded. "Sounds like a voice."

"Yeah, sounds like it's coming from over there."

They moved off in the direction of the voice. As they walked, Grace 
rubbed at her forehead. The headache was back, in force, and it felt 
like her nose was beginning to bleed again.  She felt jittery and 
frightened, but from what, she couldn't tell. She doubted Michael 
would take another swing at her if she kept her mouth shut. She'd been 
surprised when he'd hit her. He had promised to never let that happen. 
He had promised that the hitting, and other things, would stop.

She felt a sob well up but smothered it before it escaped. A sense of 
dispair and hopelessness washing over her so intense it frightened 
her.  She knew something was wrong with her, had known for a few days 
now. The mood swings were becoming exhausting.

"Here," Jason called, bringing her out of her head. "Looks like they 
went this way. Look at the all the blood."

Grace looked at the ground. Bloodied gauze pads and bandages littered 
the area. A swath was cut through the underbrush just up ahead, 
leading down the steep hill.

"Looks like they fell." Michael said from his study of the ground.  
"No way we can go this way after them.. we'll have to circle around."

A sudden sense of urgency rose. "Michael?" Grace asked, schooling her 
tone. She didn't know why she was about to ask, but something told she 
had to.

"What, Grace?" He answered angrily.

"I can make it down that way.  Why don't we split up, I'll go down 
this way after them and met up with you at the bottom."

He stared at her, something dark swimming in the depths of his eyes. 
He was truly beginning to scare her. For a brief instant, he looked 
like their father.

"Okay, you call us if you find them first. Just shout out.  And take 
this..." He held out one of the automatic pistols.

She nodded, taking the gun and begun the slow decent downwards.

***

The first thing she was aware of was a strange heaviness over her 
limbs combined with an equal lightness in her chest.  It was a strange 
cross between floating and having some unknown force trying to pull 
her downward. Then she realized she was warm, strange itself because 
she could also feel the chill wind of night breezing gently against 
the exposed flesh of her face and hands. Slowly, she felt a painful 
burning around her left wrist, a tightness forming in the muscles of 
that arm and a throbbing in her head that was protesting her gradual 
awareness.

"Scully?"

She didn't recognized the voice at first. It was weak, rough and 
grating as if over used and descending into hoarseness.

"Scully? Wake up, Scully. Please. Scully?"  The voice cracked in pain 
and was obviously trying not to panic.  Was that Mulder's voice? 
"Scully?"

He continued to call her name, pleadingly, and as the tone of his 
voice dipped into despair she worked up the energy to speak.

"..."

Well, she thought, that was a bit useless.  But he must have heard her 
because he fell silent suddenly.

She tried again. "Mulder..." It was no louder than a whisper, her own 
voice rough, but she knew he heard her.

"Scully?" His overtaxed voice flooded with relief. "Oh, thank God! Are 
you okay?"

She hadn't opened her eyes yet and she did so now to take stock of her 
injuries and found herself staring down above a fifty foot drop. The 
dim light from dusk illuminating the jagged rocks below. She could 
feel the burning grip of Mulder's right hand clamped around her wrist. 
She could feel the heat of his body next to her and realized she was 
at eye level with his thighs.  She couldn't see what he was holding 
onto with his other hand only that he was preventing both of them from 
plummeting to the ground below.

On instinct her right arm snaked around his leg and she gripped a 
handful of denim on the inside of his thigh.  Not exactly where one 
would grab one's partner in normal circumstances but nothing about 
this was normal.

"Are you okay?" he called again the pain in his voice alarming her to 
the possibility of other problems.

"My head hurts, but other than that I think I'm fine.  What about 
you?"

"You were knocked unconscious when you hit the cliffside.  I think I 
dislocated my shoulder during the fall."

Not good. "Which one?"

He grunted both from effort and pain. "Does it matter?" He exhaled a 
labored breath in a puff. "My right. I can't feel my fingers anymore."

That was the arm he was supporting her with. "Don't let go!" She cried 
out, alarmed, tightening her grip on his leg.

Another puff. "I hadn't... planned on it."

She quieted, knowing that the effort of supporting both their weight 
and trying to hold a conversation was exhausting him and he needed to 
conserve what energy he had left. How long had they been hanging 
there? How long had she been unconscious with him holding onto her 
with a dislocated shoulder?  The sun was almost gone, much lower now 
in the sky than she remembered it.  Long enough, for his voice to give 
out.

Her head throbbed as she realized she would have to get them out of 
this.  After all, Mulder was in no condition to assist as he no longer 
had the strength. She could feel his muscles straining beside her. It 
was taking all he had to maintain the status quo.

First things first, she decided feeling Mulder quiver with fatigue.  
She moved her free hand from his thigh to grab the waistband of his 
jeans. 

Taking a handful of the denim she felt the metal button dig into her 
palm. "Okay," she called, deciding this was the best purchase she was 
going to manage. "Let go of my hand, Mulder."

"I can't," he replied, his voice cracking from overuse.

Scully glanced up at him.  His eyes were closed tightly against the 
darkening of night. Sweat beaded on his skin and she could tell that 
the entire force of his intense concentration was all that stood 
between them and gravity.

"I won't fall," she assured him quietly. "But I need my hand."

He shook his head. "I can't."

"Mulder, you have to."

A shudder passed through him but from the tone of his voice it wasn't 
from the strain. "No, you don't understand... I *can't*.  Something's 
pinched, I can't move my fingers."

"Oh," she paused.  "Oh... this is going to hurt."

She twisted her wrist in his iron grip and then pulled.  White-hot 
fire burned in his shoulder.  He groaned in pain through gritted teeth 
and, as she pried her wrist from his fingers, felt suddenly lost. Set 
adrift on some nameless emotion.  He felt her weight tug on his pants, 
the backs of her fingers against his skin, and thanked God for Levi's 
as the material held.

"You okay, Mulder?"

"You're right," he bit out in response, trying to ignore the burning 
in his shoulders and arms. "That hurt."

"I'm sorry," she answered in a tone that carried an unidentifiable 
emotion.

He shook his head and looked down to meet her eyes where they peered 
up from against his right thigh.  He grinned, not thinking about the 
numbness beginning in his left hand. "Well, denim is sturdy enough 
material..." he trailed off in a groan.

"...Let's try cotton?" She finished for him and took hold of his 
shirt.

"Good thing I didn't wear a suit..." he trailed off again, annoyed at 
himself for being too tired to finish a sentence.

Scully grinned, slowly making her way up his body careful not to 
jostle any of his injured parts. "Yes, polyester would not be 
appreciated right now. Now stop talking, reserve your strength." She 
finished, clinging to his shoulders.  She could feel the right one 
shifting freely under her.

Scully examined the rock face before her.  She would need to scale the 
surface only a short, insignificant distance to reach the top.  As she 
tested a crevice with her left hand, half of her began working on the 
problem of getting Mulder up.  He was in no condition to assist and 
too heavy for her to pull up herself.

Mulder felt bereft and afraid as Scully let go of him and clung to the 
rock.  Amazed as he watched her carefully scale the remaining six 
inches and haul herself over the edge to safety. Helpless that he was 
unable to assist her, his shoulder betraying him as it refused to 
move.

"Don't go anywhere," she called peeking back over the edge and down at 
him. Concern floating in her eyes.

"Where the hell am I going to go?" He tried to grin at her. 
"Besides... this is a lovely view."

Scully turned away from him. Afraid, as she did so that he would fall 
now that she was safely on solid ground again.  She needed to get him 
up.

She slipped the gym bag from around her neck and shoulder, grateful at 
least for not losing that to the fall. She looked at the strap, 
unhooked it and began lengthening it.  It wouldn't be long enough to 
use as a type of pulley but maybe, with some effort they could use it 
to get him off the cliff.

So engrossed in her work on the strap, she did not hear the woman 
approach until it was too late.









Hearing a crackle of twigs behind her, Scully spun around to find 
herself face to face with the wrong end of a 9mm Baretta.

"Don't move," the young girl ordered the gun grotesquely large in her 
hands.  Her tone held no anger or malice as if she didn't care one way 
or the other what happened in this moment.

Scully froze, briefly calculating the odds if she attacked the girl.  
She was too far away, sure to get off at least one shot before Scully 
could reach her.

She relaxed, glancing over her shoulder to the space where Mulder 
still hung from the side of the rock. "Okay, look, I won't hurt you, 
but my partner... he's still over the side. I have to help him."

Grace stared at her awed and a little confused.  "*Him*?  You want to 
help *him*?"

Scully stared back, horrified. Was this girl actually expecting her to 
leave him there?  "Yes, my partner. I can't leave him... he'll die!"

The disgusted expression Grace returned to her spoke volumes. Let him, 
it said. One more doesn't matter. She didn't care.  "Why?"

Grace watched her stutter around her surprise. "Be-because. He's my 
friend, my partner. I can't leave him." she stopped, her expression 
changing to one of anger bordering on hatred. Grace could feel the 
emotions coming off this woman in waves.  Somehow she knew these 
things were coming from this woman, but she did not know why she could 
feel them too. "If you're going to leave him there to die, you'd 
better shoot me now because I'll kill you before you make me walk away 
from him."

Grace blinked, feeling something else. An emotion she'd never felt 
before.  It was almost frighteningly pure and her heart seemed to 
swell with it.

Before she could answer, she heard her brother call out from the woods 
a short distance away.  "Grace!"

"Here, Michael. Jason. I found them."  Grace looked back to the woman. 
She was glancing between Grace and the spot where the stranded man 
still held to life.

Suddenly, the other woman was gone from Grace's head. Instead, a 
massive headache erupted and she squeezed her eyes against the sudden 
pain.

Michael and Jason broke through the underbrush.  "Where's the other 
one?" Jason asked.

"He's over the side still I guess." Grace answered him lowering her 
weapon and holding her head.

Scully looked from one captor to the other, terrified by the gleam of 
nonchalance in each of their eyes.  They were planning on leaving him 
there and more than likely, if she did not act soon, they would make 
her join him.  Quickly, the thoughts ran through her head as the two 
boys exchanged a meaningful look.

One turned to her, raising the rifle they had used to kill the store 
clerk and pointed it to her head.

"Wait!" She nearly shouted. "We're both Federal agents. If you do 
this, the whole of the FBI will be out here looking for your heads.  
They won't stop until they've found all three of you and have gotten 
you a nice place in line for the electric chair."

The other boy placed a hand on the arm of the one with the gun.  
"She's right Michael.  What if they come looking for them. We heard 
the helicopter earlier..."

Scully nodded vigorously. "That's right. We were in contact with the 
police while we were pursuing you. They know where we went off the 
road. I'd even say they may have already found your truck.  If you 
kill us now, if you let my partner fall and he dies... they'll be on 
you like wolves in minutes."

Michael sighed, looking from the agent to his siblings.  Daddy was 
right, Feds... always causing problems.  He couldn't let them be 
arrested but what to do with these two.

"Hey Michael... what if maybe we could get money for 'em... like on 
TV?"

Grace snorted. "Hold them for ransom?  On TV those guys always get 
caught."

"But that's TV," Jason shot back. "We could get away with it."

"Look," Scully broke in, risking the wrath of the man with the gun. 
"You can figure that out later. Right now, my partner, a Federal 
agent, is hurt and hanging from a cliff. If he falls it won't matter 
what you do, he'll still be dead.  Help me get him up."

Michael nodded. "Okay, come on Jason. Let's get this Fibbie."

Scully sighed gratefully and stood to lead the two boys to Mulder.  As 
she reached the spot where she had left him, she nearly wept with 
relief. He was still there, weak and pale from pain and exhaustion, 
his eyes glazed over and blank staring at nothing.

The first touch of hands on him he jolted in surprise, his grip 
faltered and he slipped. If not for the strength of Michael's young 
muscles, Mulder would have fallen to his death.

Jason leaned over the edge sliding an arm under his right shoulder and 
around his back. Mulder yelped in pain.

"Careful," Scully berated, "his shoulder's..."

But she didn't finish, the glare Michael shot her warned of the 
consequences of disobedience.  Here was the dangerous one, she thought 
stepping away from him slightly.

Mulder groaned loudly as they dragged him over the cliff's edge.  He 
collapsed onto the ground too weak to protect the movement of his 
shoulder or leg. Scully could see that the latter had started to bleed 
slightly again. She bent over him to check his wounds.

"So now what?" Grace asked sounding slightly angry.

Michael turned, his expression darkening even further. "*Don't* use 
that tone with me, Grace.  We've been over this before. You watch them 
while we figure out what to do."

Michael and Jason moved a few feet away.  Grace sighed a breath of 
mixed relief and terror.  What was going on with him?  He had always 
said he never wanted to grow up to be Dad, but as she watched him now, 
his posture and the scorn in his eyes, he was looking more and more 
like their father.  If she could read people's emotions like she was 
beginning to believe she could, maybe it could help her avoid any 
scenes with Michael like the one's she had with Dad.

The headache she had developed earlier had eased to an acceptable 
level. She turned to the two agents on the ground.  The man was 
sprawled, face down, across the damp grass, breathing rapidly.  Dark 
red cuts crisscrossed what she could see of his face which was twisted 
in pain.  He was biting his lip, as if to stop himself from crying out 
which was understandable since the woman was probing gently at his 
right shoulder.  The one she'd said he had hurt.

"I'm sorry, Mulder," she whispered to him running a hand through his 
hair to stroke him. "Do you want me to do this?"

He nodded slightly. "There's no other choice... right? It'll just get 
worse.  I couldn't... not if it gets worse."

Grace watched, fascinated.  The gentle tones in both their voices were 
almost soothing.  Did people really talk like this to each other?  No, 
she answered looking back at her brothers.  This was probably just a 
show. She knew how things *really* were.

Scully glanced up and reached for the shoulder strap she had been 
fiddling with earlier when Grace had sneaked up on her.  "Grace?" She 
paused looking up into her eyes. "That's your name, isn't it?"

Grace nodded, captivated by the woman's eyes.  She was flooded with a 
feeling of intense worry and a nervous ache built in her stomach.

"My name is Dana Scully, okay?  I need to set his shoulder.  He 
dislocated it when we fell." She was folding the strap in halves.  
"But I need your help to do it."

Grace looked quickly over at her brother.  Michael was watching her, 
something indefinable in his eyes.

"Please, Grace," Scully pleaded. "He's in terrible pain."

Grace looked down at him. His eyes were barely open but she could see 
the hazel depths.  Beautiful eyes really... for a man.  Suddenly, a 
flame of intense pain blossomed in her right shoulder. The familiar 
fire of a damaged arm rocked through her bringing with it a memory. 
The memory of her personal demon as he lashed out, surrounded by the 
scent of whiskey.

"Grace?" the woman's voice called her back. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, vanquishing both the unpleasant memory and 
the other man from her head. "What do you want me to do?"

"He needs to be kept still.. if your brothers could help too...?"

She glanced back over to them, they were both watching now.

"Michael? Jason?  Could you help please?  She wants to fix his 
shoulder."

Michael shrugged. "So?"

Grace glared back at him.  "So... he won't be able to walk with his 
shoulder like this.  It hurts too much."

As if to back up the young girl, Mulder moaned.. loudly.  The noise 
startled her and she felt him again. The ache still in her shoulder a 
dull reminder.

"We'll need him to walk back to the cabin... we can't stay here if the 
police are looking for them."

Michael seemed to think it over before nodding.  Both he and Jason 
came over to them. "Okay."

Scully sighed, a bit nervous. "Okay... we'll have to hold him down." 
She leaned back over him. "Okay, Mulder, you need to turn over."

Gently, oh so gently, she helped him to roll over.  Grace watched, no 
longer certain this was for show.  Was it really supposed to be this 
way?  The voice of her mother, long gone, echoed in her head. "Men, 
all the same. Not a decent one in the lot. Look at the one I'm with.. 
all the same."  She had used to mutter it, like a mantra, over and 
over. The last Grace could remember of her, stooped and broken, 
muttering endlessly.

But yet, here she was, watching this woman, strong, capable, and an 
FBI agent no less, focused totally on this *man*.  Concerned only with 
him and not her own life. Was this how it really was? This dream that 
Grace had always envisioned late at night with the tears drying on her 
face and her father sleeping next to her, spent, his hands still on 
her body.

She felt tears beckon.  She could not believe this, this lie. She knew 
the truth.. lived with it.  She didn't know what this man was really 
like, this Mulder.  She had only felt his pain.  It meant nothing, how 
Scully treated him for Grace had cared for her father even after 
everything. 

She cared for her brothers, even as she watched Michael blossom into 
the man who'd spawned him.

"Okay," Scully said, as she settled her partner back to the ground. 
"Everyone take a limb.  He's going to fight you holding him so just 
hang on. Keep him from thrashing."

Grace bent, took his left arm at the wrist and pined it to the ground 
between her legs practically sitting on his hand.  Her brothers each 
took a leg at the ankle sitting on his thighs, their backs to her and 
Scully.  They knew how to hold down a grown man.. they had done it 
before.

Scully reached down, brushing a lock of damp hair from his brow. 
"Here, Mulder, bite down on this," she whispered, her voice full of 
pain and that something else Grace had still yet to recognize.  "I'll 
try to make it quick."

He nodded, allowing her to place the folded strap between his teeth.

"Here goes," Scully muttered more for herself than for him.

She grabbed his wrist and stood, bringing it up with her and 
perpendicular to the ground.  He moaned with the movement, his cries 
of pain filtering out around the strap.  Her left hand took his and 
she lightly rubbed his forearm with the other while placing a foot on 
his chest.

"Hold him," she ordered. Grace could hear the tears in her voice.

Grace looked away, she could see he was delirious at this point and 
she knew that to look for his emotions now, just to see if she could, 
would be opening herself to pain and horrors she no longer needed to 
feel.  She had promised herself, that part of her life was over.

There was a sudden jerk, a grinding pop and a scream from him before 
his body twitched in her grasp. She tightened her hold and when he 
finally stilled she glanced up.

Michael and Jason had already gotten up. Jason was digging through the 
bag she assumed belonged to the two agents.  Agent Scully was crouched 
low over her partner. One hand still clasping his, she was gently 
removing the strap from his mouth and murmuring too low to hear what 
she was saying to him.

"Here, Michael... found 'em."

"Cool," Michael answered sounding just as young and took the two pair 
of handcuffs.  "All right then get him up, we gotta move."

Scully glanced up, hate filling her eyes.  "Give him a minute to 
recover.  Setting a dislocated shoulder is not a picnic."

Grace knew it was a mistake before Michael moved.  She watched as he 
strode over to her, eyes cold.  The crack of his hand across her face 
was as loud as thunder.

But the action did not provoke her as Grace thought it would. Her eyes 
came back to his face, darker than before. She said nothing.

The man on the ground however, was struggling to sit up.  Rage washed 
over her as she looked at his eyes.  A familiar rage, one she saw from 
her father on a regular basis.  As the familiarity of it surrounded 
her, so did a overwhelming sadness.  Men... they were all the same 
after all.

"Mulder, don't," Scully commanded softly, her hand coming to rest 
lightly on his chest.  "Not now."

He calmed under her touch. The rage still there, but the intent 
dimmed.

"Let's get you on your feet."

She helped him to sit and then laboriously climb to his feet.  Weak 
from pain and exhaustion, he swayed clutching to her shoulders with 
his good arm.

Lord, but he was tall, Grace thought watching as he nearly towered 
over Scully. He was taller than even Michael and she took a few steps 
away, intimidated.

She glanced at her brothers, they seemed to be thinking along the same 
lines which was never good. Michael got mean when he was intimidated.

"Fuck that," Michael muttered under his breath and walked purposefully 
over to the two agents.

Grabbing Mulder's right arm he slipped one end of one of the handcuffs 
around his wrist.

"What are you doing?" Scully asked indignant.

"Handcuffing him. So he doesn't run away." Michael answered not 
realizing the idiocy of the action.  Even Grace could see he would not 
be running anytime soon.

"Look at him," She replied. "He's not going anywhere."

Michael frowned, his body tensing.

"Look," Mulder sighed weakly, actually speaking to him for the first 
time.  "I need help to just stand, let alone walk.  If you feel it 
necessary to handcuff us, then for now just link us together, like 
this."

With his left arm across her shoulders he tapped Scully's upper left 
arm and then wiggled the fingers of his right, wincing as he did so.  
"You wanted to elevate my arm, right?"

Scully's eyes widened and she smiled.  She held out her left hand and 
Michael snicked the other bracelet around her wrist.  Slowly, gently 
she raise her arm, bringing the chain over her head and grasping his 
left hand.  The chain dug into the back of her neck but Mulder's right 
wrist now rested above his heart and against her shoulder.

Slowly, he regained his breath. "Happy?" Mulder asked looking at the 
shorter man.

"Yeah," Michael said somehow feeling as if he'd been had.  "Let's go, 
this way."  He pushed them slightly to the left.  "Jason, you lead. 
We'll have to leave the truck I don't want to risk going back if the 
cops are there."

***

They had stumbled through the forest for several hours, stopping 
periodically allowing Mulder to rest.  Despite the pain, Mulder had 
been casually observing their captors.

Michael tended to wander aimlessly whenever they stopped, an annoyed 
scowl etched onto his features.  The other two, Grace and Jason, 
tended to watch him warily.  There was something going on between the 
three siblings, something that had only just recently developed.

He wanted to ask but bit his tongue.  He was not capable of surviving 
anything should either of the three decide he was being too nosy.  So 
he merely continued to watch.

He saw Michael bristle in anger whenever he was spoken to and the 
younger siblings shrink away from his rebuke.  He watched the young 
man's fists clench and unclench, eyes never settling on one spot as if 
watching.  Waiting to fight some inner struggle. 

He watched Grace rub at her temples, her forehead, the bridge of her 
nose, repeatedly.  He watched her complexion pale and her eyes squint 
in pain.  He watched her watch Scully, a continually confused 
expression on her face while she watched Mulder with a look that 
wavered between disgusted hatred and curious interest.

He watched Jason as he just sat seemingly drifting between dazed non- 
interest and curious observation.  He just seemed to be just... there. 

Neither contributing nor hindering the other's efforts.

"How you doing?" Scully asked near his left ear.

Currently, they were struggling along what used to be a footpath. The 
foliage had long since started to overgrow.  Michael had said their 
house was a few miles away and now, not much further away.

"I'm hoping there's a Club Med around the next tree," he answered, 
stumbling slightly.

"Whoa, steady," Scully said, adjusting to compensate. "It's not too 
much farther now, then you can sleep."

He sighed no longer bothering to hide how tired he really was, "Sounds 
like a plan."

On his comment, they suddenly broke out of the woods onto a small, 
weed ridden clearing.  A modest one story house sat in the middle of 
the clearing begging for a new coat of paint.  Behind the house, 
dilapidated and grayed by water damage, leaned an old barn.  The roof 
was partially collapsed and would probably be condemned should an 
inspector have a look.  In the shadows cast by the moon, now just 
reaching over the tree tops, a faint outline of a tractor, or some 
other type of farm equipment could been seen inside.

The two partners were lead around the side of the house to a storm 
cellar.  As the door to the cellar was pulled open, the sound of a car 
approaching on gravel drifted across the night.

"Shit!" Michael cursed looking into the night towards the front of the 
house.  "Get them down there and keep them quiet.  I'll go see who 
that is."  He walked away, stripping off his flannel shirt and tossing 
it behind a clump of weeds.

"Okay," Jason turned to the partners. "So get down there already."

Scully, helped him to struggle across the threshold and down the 
stairs into a musty smelling yet modest sized room.  It was dark, the 
stone walls eerie in the moonlight filtering through the doorway.  No 
windows.

Mulder sighed, seeing no other escape route than the door through 
which they had come.  One which would most likely be locked once the 
other two kids left.

"Come on, Mulder, right here." Scully said as she stopped near a 
support pillar.  She slowly helped him to the ground.

"Sit down too," Jason commanded. "Back to back."

Scully complied though her face twisted in annoyance.  These kids were 
beginning to piss her off.

Jason either ignored or was unaware of her look as he bent, unlocking 
the cuff around Mulder's wrist and locking it around Scully's free 
one, securing them behind her.  Withdrawing the other, he fastened 
them to Mulder's, lacing one end between Scully's effectively trapping 
them.

"Here," Grace said offering her brother two rags from a dark shelf.  
At his confused glance she continued. "Michael said to keep 'em 
quiet."

***

Outside, Michael strode nervously out to the drive.  He knew it was 
the police.  No one ever came out here except for the cops.  Did they 
know?

He waved at the officers as they climbed out of their patrol car.  He 
knew the one, Officer Hansen.  He was a medium built man, large 
shoulders and the kevlar vest he no doubt wore under the uniform made 
him look rather squat, but Michael knew underneath he was a capable 
man.  He had watched the man drop his father on several occasions.  A 
man not to be fooled with. Hansen had been out to their place several 
times, looking in on them, called out on a disturbance or just 
dropping off their dad from the bar.

The other man he had never seen before.  Taller, thinner, the uniform 
clung to his form.  The look on his face appeared bored.  They knew 
nothing.

Just play it cool, Mike, he told himself as he walked up to meet the 
men.

"Hey, Officer Hansen," He waved and then shook the other man's hand.

"How've you been, Michael?"

"Been better," he shrugged.

"Where's your old man?  I got some questions."

Michael shrugged.  Could they hear his heart pounding?

"When was the last time you seen him?"

He shrugged again.  Let them think what they want to with that. They 
couldn't hang him on words he never said.

"His truck was found down the road apiece," he continued eyeing 
Michael closely.  "But he wasn't in it so we need to find him."

Michael's eyes widened in shock. They *had* found the truck.  "He's.. 
he's been gone a coupla weeks now, Sir."

"It was at the top of a hill where we found a car belonging to some 
agents from the FBI, they're missin'. Any ideas on what your father 
coulda been out there for?"

"No, Sir," Michael continued, hoping they continued to interpret his 
terror for shocked confusion.

"Can we take a look around the place?"

"Uh," Michael stuttered.  Can't let them do that. He thought quickly. 
"Officer, you know what would happen if Daddy found out you looked 
around the place without him here..." he ended suggestively.

The policeman looked him up and down. He was nearly shaking in terror. 
 If they found the agents now...

Hansen looked past the boy to the barn.  Squinting into the darkness, 
"Where's Grace and Jason?"

"Inside."

He nodded.  "Okay, Mike, we'll wait for him to come back." His voice 
softened to calm the tension.  "You have my number.  You call me when 
he comes home.  In the mean time, I'm gonna put in another call to 
that Social Worker okay?  Grace needs to be in school."

"Sure thing Officer, you just try convincing Daddy of that."

The officer nodded, looked at his partner and then they both  headed 
to the car.  Michael exhaled a long breath in relief watching the 
lights dim into the trees.  When they were gone, he turned back to the 
house.









In the morning, Mulder awoke to find himself cold, on his side with 
something small and warm against his back.  He guessed he was still 
gagged by the numb dryness in his mouth and as he tried to lick his 
chapped lips his tongue encountered the putrid taste of a dirty piece 
of cloth.  His wrists were bound with handcuffs.

He opened his eyes to take in the dark room around him.  The only 
light filtering through the small cracks made by the door.  A damp 
chill seeped from the cement bricks that formed the walls of the 
cellar while dark rotting wood stretched across the ceiling. God, he 
was cold, he thought pressing himself closer to whatever was so warm 
against his back.

He couldn't see Scully from his current position and as he raised his 
head for a better look, he was rewarded with a searing pain from neck 
to fingers.  He grunted in pain, realizing he was lying on the injured 
shoulder.

Something moved against his back.  The thought that this bundle of 
warmth was probably Scully penetrated the pain fogging his brain.

"Muhduher?" Her muffled voice floated past his ear.  

She must be gagged too, he thought as he grunted a response.

"You okay?"

She was so much better at talking around a gag than he was.  He 
grunted again.  "I lu-ing on muh shuhder..." he trailed off with a 
groan.

"I know.  I been waiting for you to wake up.  Luh-t's try sitting up." 

She replied sounding terse.  "On thwee?"

He nodded, trying to ignore the fire in his shoulder. "One... too... 
free..."

They both pushed off the cement floor and struggled to a sitting 
position. Mulder groaned in pain all the way up. He leaned back 
against Scully, spent.

"You okay?" She asked again feeling the muscles in his back relax as 
his weight pressed against her.  She heard the agony in his movements.

He answered with a weak hum that sounded like a quiet whimper.  She 
felt a soft shiver run through him even though he was beginning to 
radiate heat. "You cuhd?" She asked already knowing he was running a 
low grade fever.  

"Yeah," he replied on a sigh.

Damn it, she thought twisting her wrists in the cuffs. His leg wound 
was becoming infected.  "You shuhd rest."

Suddenly the room flooded with light as the door to their prison swung 
open, blinding them both.  Grace entered, carrying a small plate.  
They could not see what was on it but they both felt the pangs of 
hunger. She switched on the light above them and pulled over a chair 
from a work table on the far side of the room, sitting down on it in 
front of Scully.

Grace gazed at the woman intently. She was pretty in a strange sort of 
way, Grace decided, with her auburn locks and intelligent deep blue 
eyes.  Even tied up and gagged, she looked composed, graceful and in 
control just like before at the cliff.  But, the woman's looks hadn't 
been what had drawn Grace to her. No, it had been the strange mix of 
emotions.

Reaching forward, Grace removed the stale piece of cloth from Scully's 
mouth.

"I figured you'd be hungry, so I... brought you something to eat."  
She brought the plate down so Scully could see.

An assortment of vegetables lined the plate, tomatoes, peppers and 
potatoes mostly.  A meager offering, but food none-the-less.

"Thank you," Scully replied looking into the girl's eyes as she did 
so.  She watched a slight blush creep up her face.  "Will you take off 
the cuffs so we can eat?"

Grace looked warily at Mulder who just sat, slumped against Scully's 
back.  She seemed to think it over before answering.  "Michael 
wouldn't take that well if he found out but I'll let you out... not 
*him*."

Again the look of disgust.

"All right," Scully agreed.

Grace left briefly and returned with the keys, glancing occasionally 
over her shoulder to the doorway. Unlocking the handcuffs, she moved 
away from Scully to the other side of the room.

Scully watched for a second before turning to Mulder, supporting his 
back as she directed him to lean against a near wall.  Then she 
grabbed the plate and moved to sit near him.  She removed his gag as 
well.

"You need to talk to her," Mulder whispered as she brought a slice to 
his lips.  "She's the only one who might help us out of this but 
there's no way she'll talk to me."

"Why?" Scully asked taking a bite for herself and watched him chew. 
His eyes darted to the young girl behind them.

He shrugged slightly with his left shoulder. "I don't know. There's 
something going on here, where are their parents?"

She nodded feeding him another.  She turned, "So what happened last 
night?"

Grace looked at her for a few seconds before answering.  "The cops 
came but don't get all excited. They always come up here.  Michael got 
them to leave."

"You know your brothers have killed six people?"

Grace nodded then shrugged.  "I can't stop them from doing it."

Scully nodded, tempering down the impulse to warn the girl of the 
consequences ahead of them.  The police would return, she knew, 
probably with other FBI agents leading the way.  If this house was the 
closest to the crash site it wouldn't even take Mulder's genius to 
figure out what happened.

Cautiously, she met the girl's eyes again.  "Can I ask a question?"

Grace's head tilted with curiosity. "Yeah."

"Are you three alone out here?"

A wariness settled on her face as Grace hesitated. "...Yeah."

Scully paused, ignoring Mulder's subtle yet urgent tugging on her 
sleeve.  His motions were concealed from the girl's view as Scully sat 
almost completely in front of him.

She softened her tone as she asked, "What happened to your parents?"

Grace shrugged, looking away.

"Mom died a long time ago." She finally answered, almost wistfully.

"What about your father?" Mulder asked, his voice soft, an 
undercurrent of pain turning it gravely. 

The expression in her eyes as she looked back at him could have 
killed. "Gone."

"Gone where?"  Mulder blinked the sweat from his eyes as he watched 
her.  The information was beginning to fall into proper linear place 
in his head but he needed this last answer. 

Grace sat in front of him the anger and hatred she threw back at him 
was nearly a living thing all its own.  He would have to overcome that 
anger if they were to attempt to get her to help them escape.  He was 
confident the girl would help Scully, she seemed to have a curious 
fascination with his partner.

He met her emerald eyes as she stared at him.  They had a strange 
sparkle to them as if lit by something brighter than intelligence.  
She cocked her head slightly and then he felt a strange tingling. It 
was as if someone had taken off his skull and was running their 
fingers along his brain.  The feeling was not painful but it was 
familiar.

Suddenly he was back in Fairfax Mercy Hospital.  The image of Robert 
Modell floated before his eyes and the memory of a similar pressure on 
his will.  The feel of his hand tightening around the grip of a gun 
without his permission. The images and emotions, cold metal against 
his temple, the fear of dying but pulling the trigger anyway, the look 
of horror in usually calm, serene blue eyes, came flooding back with 
all the clarity of a photographic memory.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear his head and bring himself 
back to the here and now.  But the stroking feeling continued.  Tears 
slipped out from behind his lids as he struggled against the pressure 
building in his head.

"No, don't..." he whimpered.  He couldn't go through that again... 
ever.  But it was happening.  The sensation was the same and he was 
beginning to tire, just like last time.  What would this young girl 
make him do?  To himself? To her? To Scully?

This last thought froze him in a panic.  He could not go through this 
again. He realized he was sobbing now.  Scully's voice was a muffled 
drone.  And suddenly, one of the "fingers" pushed.

Fox Mulder began screaming.

***

Grace blinked as the man across the room had started whimpering.  Her 
anger and hate thrummed in her blood like an addict's high.  She 
remembered focusing all of her emotions into those hazel depths.  She 
imagined they were like a laser blast from a cheesy science fiction 
movie.  She half thought the force of her will could stop the man's 
questioning.

But as his whimpers turned to sobs, a cold dread gripped her heart. 
His skin was pale and drawn in pain.  Sweat beaded along his hairline 
and ran down the curves and planes of his face.  He was too hot. Grace 
suddenly felt a burning heat along her spine and the skin of her back 
while she saw a shiver shake his body slightly.

Another emotion built as Grace continued to stare at him, an almost 
frantic fear.  The intensity of the emotion drew her eyes to Scully to 
meet those blue depths.  The fear she felt was reflected there.  Fear 
for *him*.

Grace frowned.  Why would this woman feel that way about a man?  All 
men were the same.  She knew it, she had seen it at the cliff.

Scully broke eye contact first as she turned to Mulder, gently 
stroking his head and whispering to him.  Trying to calm him with the 
sound of her voice.  But, it was soon clear that he couldn't hear her. 
His eyes were clenched tightly, tears squeezing out to run down his 
cheeks.

Did she do that? Grace wondered, watching them both, utterly 
fascinated.  She'd been feeling emotions that she knew were not her 
own. Had she done this in her anger?

Curious now, she brought to mind the image that no one knew about 
except for her and focused.  He wanted to know what happened, then 
fine, she'd show him.

She remembered her father calling her out into the barn, his voice 
thick and slurred with whiskey.  She remembered the dread as she 
obeyed. The sound and feel of the mud between her toes as she went out 
to meet him.  Shame flooded over her like a tide as she remembered 
what had happened next. The pain of things no one ever had the right 
to do to her let alone her own father.  She remembered the red haze 
settle as he pushed her to her knees to finish the ritual as they had 
every time. Something in her had had enough.

She'd felt the blade brush against her knee. Rusted and old, a 
forgotten piece of the past life they had shared there.  She still 
could not remember if she had thought anything as she grabbed the 
short handle. 

She could only remember the sound of his gasp, his hands tightening in 
her hair and his now soft flesh slipping from her mouth as he fell to 
the ground.  The curved blade of the scythe buried deep into his 
abdomen.

It was then, she heard the scream.  She jolted painfully aware as 
Mulder emitted a high pitched wail of anguish. She was startled to 
discover that it matched in volume with her own.

Their torment echoed in tandem masking the banging of the cellar door 
as it swung open.  Michael burst in, the terror writ across his 
features quickly turned to anger as he took in the scene in front of 
him.  Jason peered anxiously over his shoulder as he strode across the 
room grabbing Grace by the upper arm.  His sudden brutality silenced 
her.

Mulder's wails had trailed off as well, Scully cradling him in her 
arms as she silently watched unwilling to risk the older sibling's 
current anger.

"What the Hell are you doing?" He yelled.

"N.. nothing," Grace answered, still shaken and confused.

Michael shook her, roughly, pointing at Scully with his free hand. 
"Why isn't she cuffed?!" 

Grace met his angered stare and saw her father's eyes. She knew what 
was coming and what would eventually follow.  Michael had been through 
it plenty enough times himself to know that this was how things were.

So the punch didn't surprise her when it landed on her cheek bone. She 
didn't feel the pain either.

"Jason, chain them back up and watch them." Michael ordered, dragging 
Grace towards the door. "I'm taking Grace inside."

And the door slammed behind them.

***

Scully held her breath as Jason turned from the door, tears welling in 
his eyes, to do as his older brother said.  His shoulders slumped 
under an unseen weight.  He bent and retrieved the set of handcuffs 
Grace had left on the floor near her chair.

"Please," she asked as he turned towards them. "Give us a minute 
before you put those back on."

Jason stopped, looked back at the cellar door then back. Shook his 
head and took another step closer.

Mulder began to shake in her arms, shivering.  She pulled him tighter 
against her body.  "He's going into shock, please. Just until he's 
warm?"

"You want me to go through that too?" Jason asked with an angry 
gesture to the door.

"If I don't keep him warm, he could die!" Her voice rose, the 
commanding tone breaking through her restraint.  "Please. I know you 
don't really want that to happen."

Jason stopped, thought, then sighed. "Here, put one arm under his... I 
can do it that way and not get in trouble."

She did as he suggested, knowing he wouldn't compromise further.  
Shifting him a bit, she snaked her left arm under his and up around 
his chest holding him tightly as Mulder continued to shiver. Jason 
came close and she watched as he once again fastened the steel 
bracelets around her wrists.  He moved back to the chair Grace had 
occupied and sat.  Scully ignored him, focusing her attention back on 
her partner. She rubbed his chest in small, gentle circular motions, 
the only movement the handcuffs allowed.

After several minutes, Mulder settled, the shivering subsiding.  His 
eyes blinked open and he took in his surroundings with anxiety as if 
breaking out of a trance.

"Hey," Scully said to him softly. "How ya feeling?"

He took a deep breath, relaxing back into her embrace.  "I dunno.  
What happened?"

"You wigged out on me.  Do you remember why?"

He nodded slowly, "Yeah, yeah."

She waited for him to continue but it was clear she would have to prod 
him.  "Why?"

"Modell," his voice dropped to a whisper.  "She was doing something 
and it felt just like what happened with Modell." He shifted a bit in 
her arms to meet her eyes.  "I.. I.. panicked."

Scully said nothing but continued to rub his chest.

Mulder's eyes flitted over to Jason who sat in the corner gazing 
worriedly towards the house as if he could see through the concrete 
wall.  Dropping his voice even lower he continued, making Scully 
strain to hear him.

"I think Grace is very sick. She's got to have some kind of tumor like 
the one Modell had... but different."

Scully shook her head gently. "Mulder, you know how rare that kind of 
condition is?  For two, unrelated, people to develop that kind of 
condition, and for it manifest itself with the same symptoms... it's 
astronomical.  The brain tumor alone is a rare condition."

"But she showed me... show me what happened.. what *is* happening 
here.  If Michael was dangerous before, he's even more so now. He's 
turned on her." His eyes glazed, looking at something only he was 
seeing.  "We have to get out on our own now. We can't count on being 
able to talk her into helping us. It's all falling apart."

"Calm down," she whispered back, looking anxiously back at the younger 
boy.  Jason was watching them now, an inscrutable look in his eyes.

"It's falling apart," he repeated, louder. "We have to leave... now!" 
He struggled to sit.

Jason stood, opening his mouth as if to speak.

But his words were halted by the thundering report of a gun blast.

"No! Oh, no... Gracie..."  He tore out of the cellar.

The old door swung close on its suddenly silent hinges.









Michael pulled on her arm with a force that surfaced memories.  Grace 
felt the tears, the betrayal.

In her head, she could still feel the FBI agent, lying warm in his 
partner's caring arms.  The safe feeling that surrounded him bled out 
to her.  She cried with the new emotion, one she'd never had for 
herself, one she now had to "eavesdrop" on in order to experience.  
The self-pity she felt was overwhelming.

In her despair, she didn't fight her brother as he pushed her through 
the door or dragged her through the ramshackle house into the room she 
knew only too well.

"You know I don't want to do this," Michael's voice twisted out of 
him. Were those tears she saw?  "But you know what happens when you 
break the rules, when you disobey?"

He began tugging at her cloths.  She didn't protest, watching instead 
as his eyes hardened, his face twisting with something not quite human 
and suddenly it was her father above her.

Her father pulling her shirt from her body with a force that tore it.

Her father rubbing at her still developing chest. Squeezing them 
roughly and pulling on her scarred nipples.

Her father pulling both her pants and underwear away. His grip 
bruising his voice harsh.

"Mama's not here for you no more.  You'll do what I tell ya. I'm yer 
Daddy and you do what I say. You show me respect if I have to beat it 
inta ya."

And then he was in her.

The pain of it not quite like it was the last time.

Grace blinked, seeing her brother again before her.  His flannel shirt 
still on, slightly unbuttoned, the fabric of his pants rubbing against 
her inner thigh as he pounded into her.  He'd only push out of the way 
what was needed.

His breath was ragged and he bit so hard at her shoulder she felt the 
blood.

The anguish of it all blossomed in her heart and she clenched her eyes 
closed, biting her own lip until she drew blood herself.  She brought 
her hands up weakly and futilely pushed at his shoulders.  It only 
accomplished another harsh bite, this time to her cheek.

"Dammit, Grace!" he grunted in time with the motion of his hips.  "You 
do what you're told... Be still!"

She sobbed, the tears flowing.  She looked about the room, anywhere 
but at him.

In her head, she felt a swell of compassion. Mulder, she realized.  
Somehow, even without her concentration, they had still been linked.  
She could feel his concern and his understanding but there was no 
pity.  Confusion as to why she allowed this to continue when she 
didn't have to.  Sadness with the knowledge that there was something 
horribly wrong with her. An image flashed... something black and vile 
growing in her head.

She enveloped herself in his presence. Knowing now that it was *this* 
situation, *this* life that was wrong.  Knew there was a different 
life outside this house off the property and in the real world.  Where 
men and women were the way Mulder and Scully were to each other.  A 
beautiful and unreachable fairy tale.

She let his eyes guide her to the table beside the bed. To the handgun 
forgotten there. She reached for it just as her brother grunted in 
release.  He panted in the final tremors of his orgasm but Grace felt 
nothing.  Nothing accept the reassurance from Mulder that stopping 
this was right, ignoring the smaller voice of him telling her there 
was another way.

Her hand closed around the handle and lifted it. Pushed the barrel to 
her brother's ribs as he lay spent above her.  Met his startled gaze 
as he recognized the feel of metal on skin.  Pulled the trigger.

The report of the weapon was loud, but didn't break the deadness in 
her heart.  Her brother's blood warm and sticky, like his cum, on her 
body.

She rolled out from under him, naked, bruised and grabbed the soiled 
blanket. She wrapped it around her body and, gun still in hand, moved 
out into the outer room.

She met Jason in the entryway as he barreled through the back door.  
His gaze locked with her own in a look of terror and relief.

"You're okay?" he asked.  Eyes searching to see under her covering.

"No," and she pulled the trigger a second time.

You don't have to do this, the thought rose to the surface of her 
emptiness.

"What else is there?" She asked aloud.

In the instant of silence that followed, she turned the gun on 
herself.

***

In the cellar, Scully jumped at the sound of two more rounds being 
fired.  Mulder was still in her arms.  They sat in the silence that 
followed for a long time.  Waiting, but she knew none of the three 
siblings would return.

"That's it," Mulder broke the ominous silence.

"Yeah," She held him a bit tighter.



Ends



Authors Notes:  This story started out several years ago as a series 
of scenes I had written separately because they leapt out at me.  I 
stuck them together figuring it'd turn into an okay action story with 
some nice UST and MulderTorture, but it turned into something far more 
draining than a quick action/adventure. I'm only now posting it. I've 
never been to Pennsylvania so and geographical errors have been done 
in the name of artistic liscense. Hope you liked.