MOBSTER MASH (0 of 4) by Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com) Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters and situations created by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. As such, the characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, AD Skinner, the Lone Gunmen, etc. are the property of those entities and are used without permission, although no copyright infringement is intended. The following work is for the distribution and entertainment of fanfic members only. Any further distribution of this work without the author's consent is in violation of international law. THANKS: To a wonderful group of people, on whom I increasingly rely before posting my fanfic: Ten, Helen, Jo- Ann, nikki, and Macspooky. They pull no punches, and I have the bruises to prove it! Also, thanks to Ten for writing the "Epilogue." SETTING: Takes place after "One Son" but before "Biogenesis." SPOILERS: "One Son," "Never Again," "Pine Bluff Variant," the movie "Fight the Future." RATING: R for violence, language and attempted rape (not graphic). CONTENT WARNING: Mulder/Scully UST. Rape attempt by third party. Language. Violence. CLASSIFICATION: T, A SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully go undercover with the Mob. NOTE: I'd love to hear any feedback after you've read the story! fox42@ix.netcom.com. (See disclaimer and acknowledgments in part 0 of 4) *********************************************** MOBSTER MASH (1 of 4) by Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com) A Friday in May 1999 Hoover Building, Washington, D.C. Since it was after 5:00 PM on a Friday, most of the building had cleared out, leaving a skeleton staff on duty. Special Agent Dana Scully, heels clicked hollowly against the floor, made her way down the basement corridor. Deep in thought, her brief knock was perfunctory before she opened the closed door and entered the familiar room. After the new assignment had been made earlier today by Assistant Director Skinner, and after the inevitable protests from Special Agent Fox Mulder had been ignored and then squashed, Scully had figured that her partner would settle down and begin preparations. As far as she could tell, however, he hadn't moved from his desk since she had left him there three hours ago. Resigned to the inevitable, she understood that she was in for a bout of obstinate, balky, uncooperative Mulder. He didn't glance up as she reached his desk, although he had to be aware of her presence. She had a sudden urge to shove his big feet from where they were propped squarely on the blotter, but decided that now wasn't the time to teach him good manners. He finally looked up at her, his expression impossible to read. She tried to sidestep his complaints by coming right to the point. "The DEA guy was here with some clothes, ID, directions on where we'll be staying, and tons of printouts on the case. I had him pack it all into the back of my car. How about going over to my place and sorting through the stuff?" Ignoring her question, he growled, "No offense to your abilities, but I don't buy this crap about you being the 'only federal agent' who can pull this off, Scully. Besides, what's this bullshit about the Mafia? Despite what the movies tell us, all the big shots are dead or in prison, and the structure has fallen apart." She sighed, accepting that he wasn't going to make it easy. "I suppose Vincenzo's bunch are a few of the leftovers from the Mafia glory days," she replied. "The files show they've been getting hit from all sides lately: Law enforcement, factions within their own group, and the more organized street gangs. So no, it's not like we're taking on Al Capone, but this group is still dangerous." She saw no change of expression on his face. A little bit of exasperation entered her voice as she addressed what was really bothering him. "Mulder, you know that two DEA informants were murdered, and that now their undercover agent, Michaelson, has disappeared. They need someone inside, and fast. You heard how they've gone through all the alphabet soup law enforcement agencies, trying to find a female who is Tony Vincenzo's type . . . " Dropping his feet off the desk to the floor with a loud thud, he impatiently said, "Yeah, yeah. They had picked out three women, other than you. But Doris What's-er-name over at the DEA is nine months pregnant and overdue to give birth; Sharon Hingle upstairs got shot in the thigh yesterday in a raid; and Gayle Orintz, Hovitz, or whatever her name is, took off Friday to do some mountain-climbing in the Alps and is out of touch. Which leaves you." He stood up suddenly, towering over her, and she backed up a step. "Thousands of people from whom to choose, and they can come up with only four petite redheaded females who would be eligible for the assignment. Christ! They could have just dyed someone's hair." His eyes locked onto hers as he added, "Or do you have to be a *natural* redhead for the purposes of this assignment?" Ignoring his innuendo, she replied, "Apparently we were the only experienced field agents who also had the physical characteristics specified." His eyes deliberately raked down her body and she could see the gleam in his gaze when his eyes returned to hers. "Isn't your feminist soul offended by being picked for the case primarily for your body type?" "That's enough, Mulder. You and I both know that this is the quickest way to get close to the subject and learn what we need to know." "It'll be incredibly dangerous." There it was again; what Scully thought to be the crux of the matter for her partner. He was so protective.... "Mulder, I seem to remember you going undercover with those terrorists a few months ago, *without* telling me and *without* any backup whatsoever, barely surviving the experience. In this case, we'll both be going in, so we'll have each other to rely on." He gave an impatient shake of his head. "*I* wasn't the terrorist ringleader's boyfriend. You'll be going in for the express purpose of turning this guy on and maybe risking..." "My virtue?" she helpfully supplied. "Come on, Mulder. I can take care of myself, and we need any and all information we can dig out of Vincenzo about what's probably the biggest drug deal in this country in fifteen years." "God, Scully! He could be humping you twice a day and three times on Sunday, and you think he'll tell you where and when the buy will take place? He'll have just met you; there'll be no history of trust between you. I don't know what in hell the DEA is thinking." She had her own doubts on that score, but Mulder was deliberately being crude. Giving in to temptation, she retaliated. Scully opened the file in her hands and looked at the picture inside the cover. "Twice a day, huh?" she murmured with a little smile, letting Mulder see Vincenzo's handsome features from his vantage point. The man gazing out of the picture could have been Brendan Fraser's cuter brother. Glancing up, she could see the muscles in his jaw clenching and knew she had hit the target. Along with the satisfaction, however, she felt a twinge of guilt; but it was only a twinge and quickly forgotten. Closing the file, she said, "There's not much we can do about this, and complaining isn't going to accomplish anything, either. Let's get started on setting up the details." She turned and headed for the elevator. Mulder grabbed his suit jacket as he followed her, looking less than happy. In truth, he recognized how unprofessional his reactions had been. Scully deserved his respect and support, not this petulant crap he'd been shoveling at her. If he were really honest with himself, he'd own up to his jealousy, but that would open up a whole new can of worms. ****************** Scully's apartment 10:38 PM With a weary sigh, she got to her feet and surveyed the floor around them. It was littered with documents and printouts, take-out food containers, a couple of pairs of shoes, and other detritus from their case review and preparation. Hiding a smile when she spotted the Star Wars figure of Jar Jar Binks' head peeking from the couch cushion next to her partner, she remembered how tickled he had been when he had shown her his prize from his earlier foray for food. "Just think, Scully. The most hated figure in the Star Wars universe! Like the Edsel, it'll be worth big bucks someday." The memory faded as she felt his eyes on her. She shifted her focus to meet his gaze and saw immediately that he seemed weary...sad, somehow. "Scully, this brother/sister thing isn't going to work. We look nothing alike, you know. It would make more sense to be distant cousins, or even husband and wife, with you looking for a little excitement on the side." Thinking he must really be tired to skip the innuendos he loved to inflict on her, she said, "Well, it's too late now. The IDs are all prepared and the background data is in place. We could have had different mothers or fathers. It happens." He looked down and shrugged, accepting her argument. She felt that had been too easy. Attempting to lighten the mood, she headed for the bedroom, saying, "I'm going to try on some of the clothes they want us to wear. Those DEA guys picked them out, so God knows what they'll look like. Yours are in the spare bedroom." He stayed seated on the couch, however, ignoring the implied invitation to play "dress up." He dropped his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes. He must have dozed off because he was suddenly aware of a feather-light touch on his jaw. Opening his eyes without moving his head, he found himself staring at an upside-down Scully. She was behind the couch, looking down at him with a tender expression, making his breath catch in his throat. Then the moment was gone as she walked around the couch to stand in front of him. Hands on hips, she asked, "Well?" She was a knockout. The burgundy sheath dress showed more cleavage than he had ever seen on his partner. It was cut low, straight across the top, and was sleeveless, with narrow straps over her shoulders. The hem stopped well above the knees, and the waist was nipped in to emphasize her slenderness. She hadn't bothered with shoes, and so was barefoot. She had never looked so lovely. All the self-denial of how he felt about her was cracking wide open. It took all his strength to beat down his urge to enfold her in his arms and admit to her how he really felt. This woman had somehow become everything to him. And while there was this overwhelming tenderness he felt toward her, there was also the raw underlying lust which was even more difficult to shove into a corner. Scully must have read something in his eyes, because she blushed and turned to go back into the bedroom. "Wait." Mulder didn't know why he had spoken, since he couldn't...just *couldn't* ruin everything by speaking what was on his mind. She paused in the doorway to see what he wanted and Mulder was surprised to see the slightest flash of fear in her eyes. So Scully was afraid, too, he thought. He cleared his throat, got to his feet and began gathering papers together. His eyes burned and he didn't think it was from being tired. "I'm heading for home, Angela," he said, using her undercover name. "It's 'Angie' to you, brother dear. And why don't you stay in the spare room tonight? Everything we'll need for the job is already here." Burdened with an armful of paper, he busied himself with stacking it neatly on the coffee table, muttering something about needing to get home; that he had things to do. She let that go, although she knew he currently had no fish in the tank to feed, and nothing else pressing at the moment. Instead, she told him, "Samuels, our contact with the DEA, will be here at 10 AM or so. He's supposed to have a car for us and any last minute information before we take up residence in the Greenwich Hotel." He nodded as he went about putting his shoes back on, then grabbed his suit coat and waved as he left her apartment. After the door shut behind him, she noticed that her place appeared to be so...empty. He always seemed to take up so much more than his own space when he was around, that his leaving left a huge gap in her environment. Troubled about his negative attitude concerning their role in this case, Scully finished straightening up the place and then thought that she may as well change for bed soon. She smoothed her hands over the skirt of the dress she was still wearing and remembered Mulder's reaction when he had seen her in it. A faint flush pinked her cheeks as she wondered just when they had become so physically aware of each other. The last thing she did before turning out the lights in the living room was to place Mulder's forgotten Jar Jar toy on the bookshelf for safekeeping. ****************** Saturday, 11:58 AM En route to the Greenwich Hotel Other than a comment that the weather should be nice that day, if a little warm, the two partners sat in silence during the drive to the hotel. The BMW that Scully was maneuvering through lunchtime traffic was definitely a step up from the usual rental they drove on assignments, but Mulder hardly noticed the more luxurious interior. His mind was on the case, beginning with the unsatisfactory meeting with their contact earlier that morning. Samuels had turned out to be at least ten years younger than either of the two FBI agents. He had been all excited discussing the details of the assignment, and Mulder had wondered if this was his first field job. During one of the long, involved explanations that Samuels seemed to favor, Mulder asked him how they were expected to meet Vincenzo. "It's a big hotel, and it might take awhile if we just wander around, hoping to bump into him." Apparently unaware of the sarcastic tone, Samuels jumped to his feet apologizing about nearly forgetting, and produced two embossed invitations, which he handed to Scully. They were from the hotel manager, and were invitations to a party being held that evening in the hotel. "Vincenzo has also been invited. He likes to party, so we think he'll attend." Reading the invitations, Scully reassured Mulder that he wouldn't need a tuxedo, but could wear a nice suit. "Anyway, I don't think there's a tux included with the clothes they provided," she had told him. "See any underwear of interest while you were going through my clothes?" Mulder was intrigued when she reacted by biting her lower lip while a flush stained her cheeks. He had meant the remark to be joking, but she seemed to take it as criticism. "I was only making sure you had everything you'll need, since you couldn't be bothered last night to check it yourself." Samuels had been avidly listening to this exchange and Mulder couldn't help but notice the frown on his previously sunny face. "Don't worry," he reassured the man. "This is the way we work. Sharp, cutting remarks, designed to keep us mentally on our toes." He winked, confusing Samuels even more. The only ray of sunlight for Mulder was when they were told that the massive drugs and money transfer was likely to take place before Tuesday of the coming week. That would limit their undercover time to only three days or so. Ultimately they had finished going over and over the small details which their contact seemed to find so fascinating, and then Samuels had introduced Grayson and Wu, DEA agents who would be staying in the same hotel, providing backup, and keeping tabs on events. Jessie Grayson was a tall African-American woman who appeared to be fit enough to toss Mulder over her shoulder without much of a struggle. On the other hand, her partner Daniel Wu looked as though a strong wind would knock him over. He was taller than Scully, but not by much, and very slender. Mulder hid a smile as he imagined the man trying to have sex with Grayson. An image of a dog-sized Wu humping this gigantic, shapely, feminine leg came to mind...Then he sobered as he wondered where *that* thought came from. He sincerely hoped that Scully never gained the ability to truly read his mind. After setting up emergency procedures and methods of communication, the two FBI agents had finally made their escape. Mulder now carried a small black device on a keychain which, when pressed firmly, would send a signal to Samuels that they needed to be pulled out, ASAP. Scully's device was in her purse. What he wasn't going to mention to anyone is that he planned to "persuade" Langly, Byers and Frohike into providing additional back-up. Since the agents would essentially be at the mercy of the DEA, he wanted some kind of lifeline if Samuels screwed up. The FBI, constantly short-staffed, had essentially told the two agents that they were on their own for this one. At least Skinner had the decency to look apologetic when he'd made that statement. He still wished he could carry his weapon, but understood that it would be a dead giveaway if it were noticed or detected by a screening device. He wished even more that at least his partner had been able to carry one for her protection. Requests for a wire had been brushed aside by Samuels, who said it might be detected. Mulder couldn't help but shudder at how Vincenzo might detect a wire on Scully... Pulling himself out of his reverie as "Angela" maneuvered the car around a busy corner, Mulder found himself admiring his partner, who was again wearing the burgundy sheath and had pushed her hair back behind her ears. She looked crisp and cool on this warm day and had a glow of excitement, presumably because of this new case. He was tempted to whine, 'How come you never dress like that on *our* cases?' but figured that wouldn't go over too well. Leaving the car to the hotel staff, they found the lobby to be fairly busy. Mulder caught himself fidgeting in his new Italian leather walking shoes which felt unfamiliar on his feet. The cream-colored slacks and blue-gray shirt were comfortable, but he still longed for his own familiar clothes. At least he didn't have to wear a suit at the moment. Senses on high alert, he saw Vincenzo and his entourage before Scully did. They were exiting the elevators across the room and headed in their general direction. Mulder softly murmured "Son of a bitch," and elbowed his partner on the arm, hissing, "What do you know? We *are* going to just run into our target after all." She was swift on the uptake and managed to be standing at the outer edge of the group at the reception desk so Vincenzo would have to pass fairly close to her. That turned out to be all the work she had to put into the meeting, since the man literally skidded to a halt when she caught his eye. Mulder's half-hearted wish that the guy wouldn't give his partner a second glance was dashed when he saw this reaction. Shit. "Excuse me," Vincenzo said. "You look so much like someone I used to know." Mulder nearly gagged at the obvious pickup attempt, and noted with a sinking heart that the guy was more handsome than his picture. Looking up at him with an amused expression, Scully, bless her subtle little heart, replied, "Give me a break. That line is older than you are." He broke into surprised laughter and finally managed to say, "Good for you. That *was* rude of me. But you really do look like a...friend from long ago." "A good friend, I hope." "Oh, yes. Very much so. Pardon my continuing rudeness - I haven't introduced myself. I'm John Vincenzo, and these are my companions; Carl Volpe and Frank Barber. We're down here from New York for a few days." Companions, Mulder thought derisively. They were between 230 and 250 pounds of muscle each, and he had no doubt they were armed to the teeth. Volpe was slightly shorter, older, and had a meaner face. Definitely the one to watch out for. He brought his attention back to Scully, who was making her own introductions. "I'm Angela Bishop and this is my brother, David." The faint hostility that had been emanating from Vincenzo toward the tall man standing protectively at "Angela Bishop's" side lessened considerably at discovering that their relationship was that of brother and sister. Mulder's handshake was a little less enthusiastic than Vincenzo's. "Let me apologize for my behavior and offer you a drink in the lounge. I'm sure your brother wouldn't mind checking you both in?" Her "brother" wasn't too crazy about splitting up so quickly, but Scully took the initiative before he could say anything. She squeezed his forearm and smiled, saying, "David, why don't you come in and join us when you're done and then I'll go up to the suite with you?" Her question was obviously more in the nature of a command. So this was how she would play their brother/sister act. He glumly watched the group disappear through a chrome and glass door across the room before turning back to the registration desk. It took five more minutes to reach the clerk and another ten to register. Then he had to make arrangements for the luggage to be sent to the room. By the time he was free to check on Scully, his temper was wearing thin. The dimly-lit lounge was nearly empty, so it was an easy matter to spot the group. Scully and Vincenzo were seated at one end of a long, curved couch and the two goons were at the other end, with a table between them. Not hesitating, he flopped down in the small space left between his partner and the edge of the couch. Practically in her lap, he beamed a grin at her. "Miss me?" he said to her as his eyes took in the half-empty glasses on the table. He couldn't tell what the contents might be, but snatched up the closest one and threw back a swallow, avoiding the twist of lime. Tonic water. She gave him a tight smile and said brightly, "John is going to take me to Marigold's tonight. He says it's a great place for dinner and dancing. Apparently the manager's party here in the hotel will be a real drag." "Great. What time do we leave?" "Are you accustomed to accompanying your sister on her dates?" Vincenzo asked, with a slight frown. He wasn't trying to hide his impatience with this annoying brother. Mulder raised his eyebrows in perfect imitation of a certain redhead's favorite mannerism. "It's supposed to be a date?" That brought an indulgent smile. Vincenzo didn't deign to answer, but waved a hand in the general direction of his companions. "My associates prefer more excitement than Marigold's can provide, and would like to take you with them to Jake's. It's about a block from where we'll be going." Volpe, the guy Mulder had pegged as the older and meaner one, smiled and said, "It would be our pleasure." Sharks had a more engaging smile, and nicer teeth, too. He really didn't want to separate from Scully, but they did have a job to do. He might be able to dig some information out of the gruesome twosome here, while his partner did the same with their boss. Besides, Grayson and Wu should be around to back them up. Not seeing any logical way out of the situation, he agreed to the outing, but couldn't break his gaze from Volpe's. He could swear that the man's eyes were black and held no emotion whatsoever. The staring match was broken when Scully gave a little wiggle and shoved her partner's hip with her own, forcing him to stand up or fall off the end of the couch. "See you in the lobby at seven?" she threw back at the group as they stood, Mulder's hand on her arm. "Perfect," Vincenzo said. Neither agent noticed that Barber carefully picked up the drink glass that they had both handled, and used a handkerchief to carry it away with him. ******************** (Continued in Part 2) (Same disclaimers as Part 0) ***************** MOBSTER MASH (2 of 4) By Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com) As they crossed the lobby, Mulder commented, "He didn't waste any time making a move on you." "Hmmmm," she said distractedly. That drew a glance from him, but since they were entering an elevator full of people, he kept his questions tamped down for the moment. He idly wondered where Grayson and Wu were, since he hadn't spotted them in the lobby or in the lounge. They would be hard to miss, so he guessed they hadn't arrived yet. Actually, the other pair of agents had been in the hotel for an hour already, registering separately as business associates. Samuels was in close communication with them and had ordered a low profile for the time being. Scully's eyes sparkled when she got a look at their suite; it was luxurious. The off-white walls in the foyer gave way to an elegant pale blue and white fleur-de-lis wallpaper, which ended at the large windows on the far wall. The tidal basin, Jefferson Memorial and other Washington sights were visible in a panoramic view. The two bedrooms on opposite sides of the suite were very large and held king-sized beds. There was a vase of freshly cut flowers in each room and fluffy white robes were laid out on the beds. Scully explored every room and was impressed, particularly with the huge bathroom. Finally returning to the main suite, she beheld a sober-looking Mulder. He sat in the middle of the overstuffed sofa, his lanky form managing to take it over entirely. One arm rested along the back of it, one leg was half on the sofa and half hanging off, and the other long leg stretched out under the low cherrywood table. She felt an unexpected wave of affection for him; however, knowing they needed to talk, she resisted the temptation to make room at his side. Instead, she settled herself into a nearby chair and waited for him to open the conversation. He gave her a wan smile and said, "I don't like being separated from you tonight. As Han Solo said, 'I've got a bad feeling about this.' " "I don't like it either, but I don't see what else we can do. We've been incredibly lucky to get this close to him so quickly. It's entirely possible we can do our job and get out of here before the fur begins to fly." He snorted. "That's a polite term. Don't you mean 'before the blood begins to squirt' or 'before the shit hits the fan?' " He sat up straighter and frowned as he asked, "Scully, don't you think this is all just a little too easy?" Shrugging, she said, "I don't know. Nothing strikes me as really wrong so far. We'll have to stay alert and watch each other's backs." "That's exactly why I'm going to put someone inside Marigold's later, since I won't be there for you." She cautioned, "Vincenzo's not stupid, Mulder. He might spot your guy. It won't be Grayson or Wu, will it?" "As if I knew where the hell those two were," he said sarcastically. "Let's hope we don't need them in a hurry." He hoped Scully wouldn't notice the fact that he had never answered her question. Changing the subject, he said, "We need to check Marigold's out to see if we can figure why Vincenzo is so comfortable going there tonight without his bodyguards. He may own it, or one of his 'associates' does." "Okay," she agreed. "I'll run Volpe's and Barber's names in the database as well, to see what we're dealing with. Then I plan to unpack." She disappeared into the bedroom to the left of the sitting area. After rummaging a moment through her suitcase which lay open on the bed, she found the laptop. Turning, she nearly dropped it when she bumped into her partner. "God! You scared me to death, Mulder!" He was looking earnestly into her face with a questioning expression, his hand gently gripping her arm. "Scully. Later on tonight...if...if the only way you can get the information we need from Vincenzo....is to..." "No." Her voice was hard and sharp and her eyes would have burned holes in him had they been lasers. "No?" He could see that she was furious at him, but was surprised nonetheless when she jerked her arm from his grasp and stuck a hard forefinger into his chest. She snarled, "Contrary to what you may think, Mulder, I am not a whore. I don't know where you've gotten the idea that I would sleep with a stalker like Padgett, or with Vincenzo, a drug dealer and probable murderer." Getting a little pissed off himself, he blurted, "Does Ed Jerse ring a bell with you?" and wondered if he had left his brain at home. At least she had laid off with the chest- poking. That *hurt*. "If we weren't in the middle of a case, I'd kick the crap out of you," she hissed. He had never seen her more angry with him. "And I never slept with Jerse, for your information. You were assuming something about me again." He was horrified to see tears swimming in her eyes and desperately tried to think of something to say other than 'you didn't do Jerse?' He, along with the Philadelphia police detectives, had been certain she had. "Not only do you check my drink in the lounge to see if I'm drinking alcohol and how much I've had, but now you ask if I'd *fuck* some guy I just met, simply to get answers. How dare you! Dammit, Mulder!" He thought for a second that she was going to deck him, but she suddenly shoved against his chest with her free hand, still clutching the laptop with the other. Then she was past him, heading for the other room. He could see a glint of moisture in her eyes as she passed. Oh, hell! Trying to make amends, he said possibly the stupidest thing he could have come up with as he followed her to the table near the window. "Scully, please. I don't think you're a whore." She suddenly turned, raising the laptop as if to throw it at him, then apparently managed to control her violent impulse enough to slowly lower her arms and put the case on the table. "Scully, I..." "If you want to live a little longer, Mulder, you had better get the hell out of my sight." Knowing when to beat a retreat, he disappeared into his room, changed into running clothes, and left the suite without another word. He had fucked up, but good. ************************** 3:00 PM Lone Gunman Headquarters "You're leaving her alone with this two-bit gangster and his mob tonight?!" Frohike's incredulous tone echoed all three gunmen's expressions. "Yeah, well, that's where you come in...I hope," Mulder replied. He went on to describe how he needed Frohike to infiltrate the Marigold's service staff in order to keep an eye on his partner. "If anything gets hinky, what am I supposed to do?" he asked, clearly intrigued with the undercover role he was being asked to perform. "I'll be in Jake's, a bar down the street, with some of Vincenzo's men. Just call me on my cel and I can be there in two minutes." "But what if it gets instantly hairy?" Mulder hesitated, uncomfortable. "I don't want you getting hurt, Frohike." Looking offended, he said, "Hey. I can take care of myself. Don't worry; I'll call you first, if at all possible, but I'll go prepared for anything." "No weapons," Mulder quickly warned. "They might check on that, if this is the kind of place I think it is." "No problemo." He exchanged looks with the other gunmen. "Right, guys?" They nodded confidently, and Langly returned to the computer monitor, which was scrolling data. "Listen," he told them, without breaking his gaze from the monitor. "I'm into Jaycos, the company where Marigold's gets their service staff." Rapid typing ensued, then, "Gotcha! Frohike, you are now Jerry Garcia, assigned to bus tables from 7:00 PM until midnight tonight." There was a "ta-da!" and then an exaggerated flourish of fingers in the air as the jubilant hacker gave everyone a smug grin. All three men looked at Langly and said, "Jerry Garcia?" Langly just shrugged. "You'd prefer Alice Cooper? Hey, 'The Dead' rules, man." "What about Agent Scully?" Frohike asked their visitor. "I mean, does she know I'll be there?" "No, because she probably wouldn't allow it if she knew. Once you're in, however, there won't be much she can do about it." "Except wring our scrawny necks afterwards." "Yeah," Langly piped up. "A force to be reckoned with, most definitely. We still don't know how you escaped bodily injury after....ow!" Byers had kicked his shin under the counter before he could expound on the Diana "incident." Mulder didn't miss much, and with his quick mind he caught Langly's reference. Other than a sideways glance at Byers, he refrained from getting into *that* subject with them. There was a brief silence, then Mulder slowly said, "Be careful tonight, Frohike. Don't even think about messing with these people's heads. I'd like to see you come out of there in the same shape you went in." Rising to leave, he added, "And take care of Scully." Three heads nodded solemnly. ******************** The Bishops' Hotel Suite 5:30pm When Scully wandered into the sitting area wearing the overlarge white robe, fresh from her bath, she found Mulder seated at the table gazing out at the city view, munching on a breadstick. The table bore several kinds of fruit and cheese, a container of crisp breadsticks, and several bottles of mineral water. He was still dressed in his running clothes, and appeared to be lost in thought. Mulder had spent the past several hours mulling over why he had been such an ass to Scully earlier. He was feeling insecure about Vincenzo, granted, but that was no reason to have insulted her the way he had. Come to think of it, he'd been doing a lot of that lately, and he had to admit that some of it was intentional. She used to deal with him in an affectionate kind of way, but more and more that was being replaced by a grim resignation. Maybe he had been reacting to that attitude. His mind kept skirting around the "Diana issue," as he thought of it. If he were honest with himself, a lot of their new mutual uneasiness stemmed from her arrival. And as much as it hurt, the gunmen's first loyalty seemed to have shifted to his partner, with him a distant second, after he had been such a prick about Diana. What did they expect, ganging up on him like that? They couldn't seem to understand that there had never been any reason to doubt her. He had given Diana his heart and his trust once upon a time, and it would take a hell of a lot more "evidence" to destroy the memories of what they'd had together. His heart now belonged to Scully, but he was stubbornly loyal to Diana, whatever the consequences. A slight sound made him swivel his head to see Scully standing in the middle of the room with an unreadable expression on her face. His gaze took in the fluffy robe and bare feet, and once again, an overwhelming need to hold her close swept over him. Knowing the action wouldn't be welcome, especially until they cleared the air between them, he forced himself to smile and stay in his chair. "Have something to eat. I ordered a snack to tide us over, since we probably won't be having dinner very early tonight. Great view, isn't it?" She didn't say anything or twitch a muscle. He turned his head back to gaze at the view and murmured, "You ought to try the melon anyway; it's really good. Sorry I was being a shit-head, but since that's nothing new, you shouldn't let it ruin your evening." After what seemed like forever, he saw a blurry white motion reflected in the glass and the whisper of feet moving on carpet came to his ears. Then she was sitting down to his right, reaching for a small plate. "I dug up some interesting information while you were out...running." From the tone of her voice it was obvious she hadn't forgiven him and was bulldozing over the issue by getting back to business. What else is new, he thought, as he idly watched a piece of honeydew melon disappear into her mouth. When he didn't comment, she swallowed the sweet fruit and said, "Marigold's - and Jake's, by the way - are owned by a corporation based in Florida, which is in turn owned by a larger corporation in New York. That larger corporation's board of directors is made up of members of Vincenzo's family, including two brothers, an uncle, an aunt, two cousins, and his mother." A sparkle finally lit her eyes as she added, "The cousins are ten and eleven years of age, and the mother lives in southern Italy. Somehow, I think it would be safe to assume that Vincenzo controls the board of directors, and all the subsidiaries and holdings." "Now, now, Scully. Making leaps of logic is my prerogative," he teased. "What about Vincenzo's goons; Abbott and Costello? I'm betting ex-cons and/or ex- military." "A little of both. Barber did some hard time a few years ago for attempted murder. There were also some homicide charges, but they were never proven. I was able to talk with the arresting detective when I called the precinct and I asked about the unproven charges. I got the distinct impression that he knew Barber was 'as guilty as hell' in strangling two rival mob members, cutting out their tongues and hacking their genitals off, but he never could get the proof he needed to nail Barber with the crimes." Mulder winced at her casual description of the murders, and asked, "What about Volpe?" "He was military but his file is "Need To Know." It'll take me longer to fill in a past for this guy. All I have is a discharge date of May 31, 1995. It doesn't even say whether the discharge was honorable or not." "That's all you could get on him?" "For now. Why don't we put the gunmen on it? They always seem to come up with information that neither the FBI nor the national crime database can locate." "They're already on it." She seemed unsurprised and took a few more bites of cheese and fruit. When she turned to look him full in the face, he expected something momentous, and he held his breath, but she merely said, "You had better take a shower, Mulder. We'll be going down in an hour and I didn't pack any air freshener." Releasing his pent-up breath in disappointment, he gave her a 'ha, ha' look and said, "That bad, huh?" "Don't ask," was all she'd mutter. He ambled off to the bathroom while Scully rummaged in the closet to decide what to wear. Well, that was real, he thought, as he stripped and stepped into the shower. He supposed that, like in "Gone With The Wind," they'd talk about it "tomorrow," meaning never. Not for the first time, he wondered if you could knock yourself unconscious by deliberately banging your head against the wall. ********************** 6:58 PM Scully had chosen a basic black ankle-length dress that accentuated her curves. It was cut low in back, low in front, and had a slit up the side to her knee. When she joined Mulder at the door to go downstairs, he was initially speechless. Then he wondered what pervert had provided these clothes for her to wear. It was something he himself would have chosen. Her hair was piled on top of her head, with curly tendrils escaping here and there. She looked beautiful. "Hope all this black is foretelling Vincenzo's funeral and not our own," Mulder commented after he recovered his voice. She looked him over, noting the black jeans, black tee shirt, black boots and black leather jacket. He looked dangerous. And good enough to eat, but that thought was stomped into the ground before it went any further. Following her to the elevator with his hand at her lower back was pure torture. Her dress wasn't cut low enough to be able to see the tattoo that he knew was there, so his mind kindly supplied the image of it beneath his hand, and then his imagination took him even lower, to the sensually- moving hips...He mentally groaned, and deliberately put a little distance between them once they entered the elevator. They had a job to do; he needed to quit lusting after his partner. Scully felt his withdrawal and, while disappointed, was also relieved, since his closeness had been making it too distracting to concentrate. Volpe flashed his shark's grin at them as they crossed the lobby. His greeting was a verbose, "Car's outside," and took the lead toward the main doors. Following the military strut of their guide, Mulder was tempted to imitate the man's short, choppy steps but managed to refrain. A white limousine idled at the curb. Volpe got into the front seat with Barber, who was driving, and left the doorman to open the rear door and escort their two passengers into the back. They saw that Vincenzo was already in the car. He was lounging on the rich leather seat and he gently pulled Scully by her wrist so she sat next to him. Mulder was relegated to the jump seat, facing the pair. Great, he thought, and forced a grin. "Nice wheels. Never went to a bar in a limo before." C'mon, he told himself. Be an ass. It should come naturally. Vincenzo essentially ignored him, however, and turned to Scully. He gave her hand a squeeze and purred, "I hope you like good food. The chef is preparing a feast for us tonight. Trust me; you'll love it." "Trust everybody, but cut the cards," Mulder intoned cryptically, his eyes on the man's slimy hands. They had progressed from squeezing Scully's hand to caressing her bare forearm. "That's not from 'Maverick' but from a turn- of-the-century humorist. Actually, Bret Maverick stole a lot of other people's quotes, come to think of it." Babbling like an idiot, he desperately thought that he couldn't do this. But he had to. It pissed him off that Vincenzo was acting as if Angie's brother was part of the upholstery, so he nudged Scully's tiny foot with his size 12s and snickered, "Hey, sis. Remember to take your antibiotics? You wouldn't want to transmit any of that disease, now would you?" Horror and amusement were at war in her expression, and amusement finally won out. She gave a delightful laugh and playfully kicked his shin so hard he'd have a bruise until Christmas. "Brothers," she said in a disgusted tone to Vincenzo. "Do you know what idiots they can be?" "Yeah. I have two of my own. You either love them or want to shove them off a high cliff." They smiled tolerantly at Mulder, who was still fighting the urge to barf. Thankfully, though, Marigold's wasn't far from the hotel, and they were drawing to a stop at the curb. "Curfew's at midnight," Mulder called to Scully as she passed him and exited the limo. He winced at the obscene gesture she gave him, which was hidden from her date's view by her body. Then the door was closed and the limo moved another half a block before pulling into a parking garage. When he emerged from the car, Barber and Volpe were climbing from the front seat and laughing. "Let's go, Bishop. Rachel will be on stage in five minutes," Barber said, and they set off toward the neon sign across the street that stated, "All Naked, All The Time." So Jake's wasn't just a bar, but a strip joint. When Scully had done her research, she must have realized that fact, but hadn't bothered to mention it. Guess she wanted to surprise him.... ******************* Nearby "This doesn't make sense," Grayson said, her voice sounding puzzled. Wu looked out of the front windshield of their car at the trio of men who were entering Jake's. "Yeah, well, Samuels said to stick with Agent Mulder until told differently. I think it would make more sense to split up and watch both agents, but we're outranked." Grayson slowly drove a route around the building, intending to park in the alleyway to the left of the front door. When she pulled into the alley, however, there was another vehicle already in place. It was a van, and a light-haired man stepped out of it as they watched. The guy hurried out of the alley and turned left at the main street, and it was a good bet that he was going into Jake's. This could be interesting. Wu switched off the overhead light and opened the car door, saying, "I'm going inside for a few minutes to check things out." He shut the door quietly before Grayson could tell him to be careful. He hated when she did that, since he was *always* careful. ********************* Jake's Interior Mulder had to admit that the place was classier than most. Not that he'd seen that many strip joints, but from what he could make out in the subdued lighting, it was fairly clean and attractive. There was a bar to the right, tables scattered around the floor, a small stage at the far end, with a runway up the middle of the room. There were no menus, but not long after the trio had settled into seats to one side of the runway, baskets of hamburgers and fries had appeared on the table in front of them. Mulder was also given a beer without asking, and he figured that he'd just sip at it all evening. The two goons weren't much on conversation, and had clearly come here to watch the show. When the lights went down, a sharp jab of an elbow to Mulder's ribs told him that the main attraction was about to make an appearance. Mulder recognized the opening music of an instrumental version of "Lady in Red," instead of the usual bump and grind fare he had expected. A strikingly beautiful woman danced gracefully onto the stage. Besides some strappy high heels, she was dressed only in red gauzy scarves which flowed from a breeze, generated no doubt from offstage. Her long black hair looked striking against the paleness of her body and the red of the material. Finally she was coming closer to where they sat, losing a scarf now and then, until she was entirely naked. One scarf remained in her hand, and as she undulated in time to the music, she pulled it back and forth through the juncture of her legs. As it disappeared into her labia and over her clitoris, she moaned aloud, eyes closed. Mulder felt a surge in his own groin at the sight. This was one gorgeous female, and sexy as hell. He tore his eyes away for a moment to see that Volpe was leaning back in his chair, smirk on his face, and hand blatantly on his crotch. Barber had raised his arm, however, and a 20-dollar bill was sticking out from between his fingers. The woman stepped close to the edge of the runway and let the man run his hand up and down her leg and over her ass while he stuffed the money with his other hand into the ankle straps of her shoe. Then she moved back and, swaying once more, eyed Mulder like a cobra eyes a mongoose. Suddenly she sat down on the very edge of the runway, legs hanging apart over the edge, displaying her wares. Still staring at Mulder, she murmured, "Care to test the waters?" Fuck, he thought. He kept reminding himself he was on the job, over and over, but that didn't stop his body's natural responses. And he noted that someone had obviously paid off the local cops, since this was beyond legal. Volpe whispered, "What are you waiting for, dumbass?" which broke him from his trance. He whispered back, "I'm particular where I stick my body parts." That got a big look of incredulity. Then Volpe surprised the agent by breaking into a huge belly laugh. Mulder gave him a small smile, then noticed that the stripper was standing once more, looking slightly offended. She moved across the runway to the opposite side and struck a pose with her feet planted wide apart, her spine arched, and her head thrown back. Mulder nearly dropped his teeth when he saw Langly's awe-struck face framed by the lovely legs of the woman. His friend was staring up at the view displayed before him and was clearly catatonic. The agent was furious that the guys had put Langly at risk. Having Frohike keep an eye on Scully was bad enough. He nervously wondered where Byers might be. (Continued in Part 3) (Same disclaimer as Part 0) ***************** MOBSTER MASH (3 of 4) by Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com) In a beat-up van in the alley halfway between the restaurant and the club, Byers was monitoring Langly's audio feed. They had taken a chance that no one would check for the tiny device in his ear or under his collar as he entered the club, and so far so good. Byers' headphones had been silent for quite some time now, however, and the bearded gunman was beginning to worry. Finally Langly's voice filled his ears. He was describing a stripper in detail, which was certainly interesting, but not very informative. "Langly," he hissed. "Is Mulder okay? What's he doing?" A chuckle came over the earphones. "Getting an eyeful, what d'you think?: Byers sighed and settled back in his seat to await developments. He didn't notice the dark sedan parked further down the alley behind him. ****************** Marigold's Just as her date was telling her how much he liked her beautiful eyes, Scully choked on a piece of pate at seeing Frohike clearing dishes from a nearby table. Coughing and sputtering, she had to wonder how appealing she looked to Vincenzo now. Waving him away when he moved to get up and help her, she took a sip of water, gave a final cough, and smiled her apologies. "I'm fine," she said, out of habit. "I had better not compliment you again, if it causes such a reaction," her date smiled. When she finally risked looking over for Frohike, he had disappeared. She didn't see him again during the rest of the meal, although she was certain he hadn't gone far. Her feelings were mixed at the thought that her partner had enlisted the gunmen on a case like this. A trained professional would have made more sense as a backup; on the other hand, she knew that Frohike would die himself before he'd see any harm come to her. Maybe that's what she was afraid of.... While Vincenzo rambled on about a new boat he had bought, she couldn't help but think about her partner, wondering what kind of trouble he might be getting into. Hopefully he was behaving himself, if that word could be used to describe someone watching a strip show. A smile tugged at her lips, but it disappeared instantly as she recalled how unfair she had been toward Mulder earlier that day. She had never told him what had really happened with Ed Jerse, so she could hardly fault him for coming to the conclusion he had. Vincenzo interrupted her thoughts at that point, however, with a direct question, but she silently made a mental note to clear the air with her partner as soon as they had some private time. ******************* Inside Jake's Several strippers had gone through their acts and another was just coming on stage when Mulder's two companions suddenly got to their feet. Volpe lightly punched the agent's arm and said, "It's time to go run an errand for Mr. Vincenzo." "Aw, guys, I wanted to watch this," he whined, wondering what they were up to now. He suspected that, whatever it was, and with his luck, it would probably be detrimental to his health. Then it occurred to him that the drug deal could be going down...naah, not with him along. "You'll like it, I promise you," Barber chimed in, as he nudged the agent's shoulder. Alarm bells ringing in his head, the agent was tempted to refuse and just stay where he was. But that wouldn't gain the information he needed, so he sighed, got to his feet and followed the pair to the rear of the room and through a door. It opened into a cluttered "undressing room." There were stairs built against the wall to his right, presumably leading to the stage. The real focus of attention, however, were several nude women who were applying makeup at the mirrors which lined the walls. Although the men took their time checking them out as they made their way through the room, the women didn't acknowledge their presence beyond an initial glance. The next doorway led to an office, and beyond that was a large, open garage, with room enough for five cars. Only an aging Cadillac was parked near the far wall at the moment. Mulder surmised that they must have reached the back of the building where it opened onto Raleigh Street. He definitely was having bad feelings about this whole situation. Although alert to trouble, the solid punch to the gut by Barber was sudden. He fought to breathe as it took him down hard to his knees against the concrete slab floor. Reminding himself that he was, after all, a trained FBI agent who presumably knew self-defense, he struggled for that all- important breath so he could retaliate. He frantically tried to note the positions of his companions. Barber stood directly in front of him, only a foot away. Volpe...where the hell was Volpe? Then he had his answer as the back of his head exploded in pain and the world faded away. ******************** Marigold's Scully had just finished her meal, and her eyes followed several couples as they danced to the music of the live band. A warm hand suddenly covered her own where it lay against the linen of the tablecloth and Vincenzo murmured, "Do you mind if we forego the dancing and return to the hotel? I would like for us to have dessert in my suite and then talk some more. I find you to be quite fascinating, yet mysterious. I'd love to get to know you better." Mentally rolling her eyes at this thinly-veiled come-on, she managed to smile at him. "That sounds wonderful." But not really, she added to herself. Scully wanted that drug sale information and would have to walk a fine line with this man. She wasn't about to sleep with him but couldn't cut him cold, either. She soon found herself sharing a taxi with him, and realized that she had a decision to make, and quickly. He was showing unmistakable signs of wanting to kiss her. Since she had acquired no useful information from him up to that point, she didn't want to risk alienating him...yet. So she let him gather her into his arms and kiss her. No big deal, she told herself, and was surprised when the kiss wasn't quite the chore she had expected. The image of her partner's face and the memory of the contemptuous way she had treated his earlier concern for her brought a blush to her cheeks. She eased away from Vincenzo and put her hands against his chest as a barrier. "We're moving a little too fast," she breathed. "Funny. I thought the opposite." His brown eyes danced with amusement and desire. Then he surprised her by moving away and giving her some space. "I can respect your caution, Angela." He smiled and softly repeated, "Angela. Such a lovely name." There was something about his smile that she couldn't place. She still saw amusement, but there was a tinge of...malice? ***************** Back at Marigold's Frohike saw Scully and her date leaving the restaurant, so he tossed his employer's jacket and bow tie aside, pulled a small earring out of his pants pocket, and made his way to the doorman at the front of the building. "Hey, do you know where Mr. Vincenzo was headed? His date left her earring and I was told to personally deliver it to her right away." The tall young man looked down his nose at this obvious outsider; one who didn't have the inside knowledge that he himself possessed. "Everyone knows that he stays at the Greenwich Hotel when he's in Washington," he sneered. Fighting down a nasty retort, Frohike asked, "Well, is that where he was headed now?" He was careful to speak calmly. "With that hot dish on his arm? You've gotta be kidding me! Of course he took her to the hotel. Bet he has her pinned in bed by now - the boss doesn't waste any time." In Frohike's mind, he hauled off and hit the dipshit in the solar plexus, and when the tall man bent over, knocked him out with a blow to the side of his neck. Too bad he couldn't really direct his fury that way, or he might put his friends in jeopardy. Instead, he gritted his teeth and muttered, "Punk-ass," as he turned to flag down a taxi. He didn't fool himself that he could rescue Agent Scully from an assault on her virtue, but Mulder had asked him to watch out for her, and that's exactly what he was going to do. He tried calling Mulder on his cel phone once he was settled in the cab, but couldn't raise him. That made his brow furrow, since he knew that the agent was worried about Scully and would have made himself available. So he dialed another number and got Byers. At Byers' cautious, "Yes?" he quickly gave him a rundown of the situation. In return, Byers was able to give him the location of Vincenzo's suite. "Can you have Langly tell Mulder what's going down?" "I would, but we can't find Mulder. One minute he was sitting there at a table, and the next, he and the two bozos had disappeared. Langly is sniffing around, hopefully discreetly, right now." Frohike snorted at the idea that Langly could be discreet about anything. "I'll call you back later to see what develops. If you talk with Mulder, tell him that this Vincenzo creep was all over Scully tonight. Bad vibes. Over and out." ******************** Jake's Garage Mulder was awash in pain before he fully regained consciousness. Opening his eyes was not something he especially wanted to do right then, but as he grew more aware, it was unavoidable. He had to see what was hurting so badly. The all-encompassing pain in his wrists was explained when he saw that they were tied by rope to the legs of the wooden chair in which he was sitting. His arms were pulled taut beside his body by the tension on the ropes. His ankles were also tied to the chair legs, and there was another length of rope around his neck, secured to the back slats of the chair. It was not a comfortable position, to put it mildly. Adding to the discomfort, he was bare to the waist. So much for reaching the panic button on the keychain in his pocket. Unless he could free one of his hands, that wasn't going to happen. Volpe was telling his buddy, "Remind me not to order any local fish or crab in restaurants for awhile, would ya? Those little suckers will be chowing down on this motherfucker when he lands in the Potomac tonight." "Aw, c'mon, you know you ate crab the other night, even though we had just dumped Michaelson off the pier." "That's why I want you to remind me this time, dickface." "They're going to find the bodies soon enough and make an ID," Barber warned. "Nah. I'll knock his teeth out and cut his fingers off just like Michaelson. Unless they do a DNA on them, the feds won't have a clue." Mulder shouldn't have been surprised to learn just how vicious these men were, but what he was hearing caused his stomach to knot painfully. It occurred to him that, with Volpe's slicing and dicing, and given Barber's penchant for cutting off his victim's genitalia, Mulder wasn't going to have a lot of parts left when they finished with him. The speaker finally walked around into Mulder's view, and he saw that Volpe was holding a large, serrated-edged hunting knife in his hand. He was followed by Barber, who mirrored Volpe's expectant expression. "Agent Mulder. Hope you have a high pain threshold." Volpe sounded cheerful, the sick fuck. "I've put up with you two bozos for several hours. How am I doing so far?" Despite his confident tone and attitude, the agent couldn't keep his eyes off the knife that the other man was waving around. Ignoring the jibe, Volpe grinned his humorless grin and said, "This could be easier on you if we get some useful information. Tell us what the feds know about the Boss." "Every performance sells out, and he does three-hour shows?" Barber snickered, but Volpe's face turned red. "One more chance, asshole. Give, or I start cutting." "You must have realized by now that they don't tell us field agents jack about a case, except what we need to know." "Too bad. Guess we'll just have to see if you can last longer than Michaelson did." The agent knew there was nothing he could say that would deter them from their fun now. They knew who he was and they'd already killed another fed. Oh, God, what about Scully? He felt panic settling in at the thought that both covers were blown and she'd be in danger, too. Struggling against the ropes, Mulder watched with a horrible fascination as the knife moved toward his face. Look at the bright side, he told himself; at least they weren't starting on his family jewels. Then it paused, and Volpe said, "Oh, by the way. The boss has screwed your partner, put a bullet into her pretty little head, and by now she's on her way out of the hotel with the garbage. That's his M.O., as you cops call it. Just thought you'd like to know before you die." Then the ugly metal blade moved, bypassed his jaw and pierced his shoulder. At first the only pain was mental. Mulder's mind was frantically rejecting the thought that Scully could have been raped and murdered. This was just part of the torture, right? Please, God, let it just be a mind-fuck, and not true... The blade very slowly pushed its way into the muscle, blood now running freely down his chest. Then white-hot searing agony shot through his shoulder, every nerve traumatized, forcing a raw scream from his throat. The agony was unbearable, but it went on and on as the knife pressed deeper and deeper. ********************* Inside Jake's Langly had finally decided that the nondescript door to the left side of the stage had to be where Mulder had disappeared. There just wasn't anywhere else. As he reached for the doorknob, Byers' voice resounded in his ear, asking, "What's going on?" Desperately trying to calm his heartbeat, Langly nervously whispered, "Chill out, man. I'm entering the lion's den as we speak. Catch you later." He again reached for the doorknob, turned it and walked cautiously into the room beyond. He narrowly missed bumping into a woman who wore nothing but her long, curly red hair. She was carrying a large, feathery fan, and gave him a wink as she slipped past him and up some stairs. Langly gulped, his eyes very large behind his glasses as he watched her disappear through a curtain at the top of the stairs. Hearing a soft noise behind him, he turned in time to see another nude woman, blonde this time, carefully sliding a gauzy piece of material over her head and onto her body, hiding nothing. "Talk to me, Langly," came Byers' voice in his ear, startling him back into a semi-coherent state. "Uh..." Langly flushed at his inability to speak, and tried again, addressing the young woman. "Did you see anyone come through here, m'am?" M'am?! Nervous much? he sarcastically thought. "Yeah, about eight, ten minutes ago," she answered, looking him over. Then she pointed to the door at the far end of the room. "They went into the office." "Thanks," he said, and made his escape. Once in the office with the door shut, he could hear a muffled sound coming from further back in the building. Could be screaming... An impatient voice in his ear demanded, "What the hell is happening?!" Distracted, he moved through the empty office toward the other closed door, saying, "Don't know yet. Sounds bad." Once his hand closed over the doorknob, he felt very reluctant to take that last step. He was sure now that those were screams and he really didn't want to see what could make someone sound like they were being skewered alive. But he forced himself to keep going. It was a scene from hell that opened before Langly's shocked gaze as he stepped into the large garage. A big man who had been crouched over a seated figure in a chair turned his head to look at the intruder. His eyes were insane, and Langly was horrified to see that he was pulling a wicked-looking knife out of Mulder's shoulder, while blood spattered everywhere. Another man who had been watching the butchery produced a gun from somewhere on his body and leveled it at the new arrival. "What are you *doing* to him?" Langly whispered. "Who the hell are *you*?" Barber bellowed as he confronted this new complication. Langly had forgotten his own precarious situation after seeing his friend's plight, and pushed forward to see if he could help him. Barber resolved his anguish with one knock-out blow to his head with the weapon. That seemed to enrage Volpe. "Why the fuck didn't you just kill the guy, you dumb shit?" he demanded, looking down at the unconscious man, the knife in his hand dripping several drops of blood onto Langly's white tee shirt. Barber shrugged and said, "We can have some fun with him, too, but this will keep him quiet while we finish with the fed over there." He nodded toward Mulder, who was gasping and fighting to stay conscious. *************** Alleyway next to Jake's The front passenger door of the sedan opened and closed, and Wu settled into the seat with a sigh. Grayson glanced at him, waiting to hear what he had found inside the building. Wu stared out the windshield as he said, "Something's going on in there. We need to check out that van first and then the joint." She thought about that for a moment, contemplating the van that was parked nearly the length of the block away. "We might blow Agent Mulder's cover if we make a move right now." Grayson looked over at her partner, knowing, however, that she would follow whatever course of action he felt was right. She used to question these instinctual "feelings" he had, but after several years of his making the right call in these kinds of situations, her arguments with him were more of a habit than anything else. Wu nervously tapped his fingers on the armrest, indecisive. Five minutes ago, from his vantage point across the room in the strip joint, he had seen Agent Mulder and Vincenzo's hoods go through the dressing room door. He knew Volpe and his mentality. The murdering asshole wouldn't have led the FBI agent into the interior regions of the club unless he was up to no good. Suddenly he grabbed the short-barreled shotgun from the floor beneath his feet and said, "Let's go. I don't want to see another fed disappear on this case. You take the driver's side." They moved quickly up the alley and yanked open the doors to the van. Identifying themselves, they shouted orders about dropping weapons and raising hands but only found one man inside. They seemed to have scared him nearly into having a heart attack, but once the initial excitement was over, they realized that he was also upset about what he'd been hearing over the listening device he'd been monitoring. "You're DEA?" he demanded. "You need to get in there, now! I think my friends are in real trouble." "Who are you and who are your 'friends?' " Grayson asked, as she motioned for him to get out of the van. As he climbed out of the vehicle he impatiently answered, "I'm John Byers. Agent Fox Mulder of the FBI is in that building and may be hurt. I've lost the audio from Langly, so he might have been hurt, too." She kept her gun leveled at the increasingly-agitated guy while Wu frisked him. No weapons were found, but the ID confirmed his identity. "You have to *do* something," he demanded, while Grayson made sure there were no weapons tucked away in the van. Finished searching, the partners exchanged a glance in the dim light of the alley and came to a silent mutual decision. As a precaution they cuffed Byers inside the van, to the frame, and left him sitting there. They made sure, however, that he wasn't within reach of the electronic equipment. Moving quickly around to the back of the building, they searched for a lock they could force. The agents wanted to keep a low profile for as long as they were able. "Here!" Grayson had found a door at the back corner of the building. There were also several large overhead doors adjacent to it. Wu went to work with his lock pick. ***************** Hotel Scully was reconsidering her decision to go with Vincenzo to his suite. Granted the man was charming, but she had learned nothing that was useful all evening. She vowed to scream if he told her one more time how beautiful her eyes were. And the thug he'd left on guard outside his hotel room door...He may be Vincenzo's bodyguard, but to her, he was just another obstacle to be dealt with if she had to get out of a sticky situation with his boss. She and her "date" had been sitting on a small sofa together making small talk, his hand caressing her cheek or arm occasionally. This she could handle. But then his patience must have worn thin, because he suddenly made his move. Setting his glass of wine onto a side table, he shifted even closer to her. His lips were warm and sensuous as he kissed her again. She was torn between slapping him away and going along with the charade for the sake of the job. Then suddenly, without warning, his hand was moving through the slit in the skirt of her dress and heading for home base. Scully's reactions kicked in, and she scooted into the corner of the sofa, away from his questing hand. An angry spark lit up his eyes. He snarled, "Enough tip- toeing around. At the risk of sounding like a dastardly villain from some '30s film, the situation is this: I'm going to fuck you, Agent Scully, so you may as well lie back and enjoy it." The sexual threat was nearly forgotten when the fact registered that he had called her by her own name. Her expression caused him to chuckle. "We've known who you were since this afternoon. What really makes this whole thing priceless is that we exchanged the drugs for the money last night. So you're a day late and an agent short." He easily anticipated her lunge toward her purse on the lamp table and roughly shoved her back into the sofa cushions. She kicked up and out, trying to connect with his groin, but he nimbly dodged the potentially lethal high- heeled shoe and stood back out of range. "Where's my partner?" she demanded. "Agent Mulder should be just about..." he made a show of looking at his wristwatch, "...dead by now." Her face turned white. She slowly got to her feet, her eyes never leaving the face of her enemy. She felt as though the atoms of her body were disintegrating and she would fly apart any second. "I don't believe you," she managed to choke out. Vincenzo sighed and said, "Volpe isn't a subtle man when it comes to torture. His methods are so heavy-handed that the victim never lasts very long." Scully didn't see the blow coming in time. His fist hit her jaw with a force that sent shock waves throughout her body, with the pain centering on the point of impact. He gathered her limp body into his arms, strode into the bedroom, and dropped her onto the bed. His blow had stunned her and although she was desperately willing her limbs to move, they were useless. Her shoes were discarded and her dress rapidly followed. She lay there clothed only in panties while Vincenzo loomed above, practically drooling as he gazed at his prize. She screamed for Mulder then, but only she could hear the sound, imprisoned within her mind. (Concluded in Part 4) (Same disclaimer as Part 0) ******************* MOBSTER MASH (4 of 4) By Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com) Garage at Jakes It took only seconds for Wu to defeat the lock on the door, and then they were inside the building. Grayson moved through the door first, weapon ready, and suddenly she was diving to the side, screaming, "Gun!" at Wu, and "Federal agents! Drop your weapons!" at Barber. The first bullet caught Wu in the leg, but the second went high, spanging off the open edge of the metal door. Before Barber could get any more shots off, Grayson took Barber down with two rounds from her Glock. Still holding her weapon on the scene in front of her, she screamed, "Dan!" knowing he had been hit, but not how badly. "It's okay. Go on," was his calm reply. He was sitting on the concrete floor, back against the wall, gun up and covering the room. His other hand was pressed against the large dark stain on his thigh, just above the knee. Despite his reassurance to Grayson, he realized that he was going into shock. Better call Samuels first, he thought, and fumbled for his cel phone with his blood-covered hand. Casting a quick, worried glance over her shoulder at her partner, Grayson cautiously moved further into the large, open room, not seeing any immediate threat. The man she had shot was obviously dead. There was a blond man lying on the floor either dead or unconscious, there was a man tied to a chair who looked like Agent Mulder, and one guy was still standing, hands in the air. Volpe waited until the fed had moved close to Mulder and was feeling for a pulse in his neck with one of her hands before he made his move. As he dropped suddenly, he pulled the spare knife from his ankle sheath and threw it at her before he hit the floor. Without thinking, Grayson fired a round at the man, even while spinning away from the object that was hurtling toward her. She felt the sting as it sliced along her cheek and heard the solid thunk as it embedded itself in the wall behind her. Taking a shaky breath, she checked on the man she now recognized as Volpe, one of Vincenzo's hired thugs. She had been aiming for his chest but her bullet had gone high; Volpe had a neat hole through his head, right between the eyes. "Good shot," a hoarse-sounding voice remarked from nearby. Looking up from the body, gun swiveling to face the sound, she saw Agent Mulder gazing at her, still bound to the chair and bleeding. "Oh, God. Let me get you out of there." She quickly had him untied and then checked on the other bodies lying around the room. The blond-haired guy was alive; just unconscious. She confirmed that Barber was very dead. She realized that both her partner and Agent Mulder needed immediate care to get the bleeding stopped. She found a fairly clean shirt lying nearby and pressed it to the agent's wound. He jerked back initially, but then took over for her, keeping pressure on it. He seemed dazed, but able to function. Returning to her partner she saw that he was pale and sweating, gun lying beside him, blood still seeping from his wound. She knew he had called for help already, but she needed to do something about that leg. As gently as she could, she eased him down so he was lying flat, and then scooted a box under his feet to elevate them. Hoping to slow the blood loss, she quickly fashioned a tourniquet with his belt above the wound. Then she hurried over to the dead man and worked the jacket off his stiffening body. Her partner needed it more than he did. While laying the jacket over Wu, she absently noticed that Agent Mulder was checking on the blond man who was still out cold. The agent really got her attention, though, when she saw him pick a gun up from the floor and stagger toward them, the now-saturated cloth held to his wounded shoulder with one hand. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "Scully," he whispered, and continued making his way to the back door. "An ambulance will be here in a second," she objected. "You need medical attention." He didn't seem to hear a word she said and was out the door, a trail of blood droplets marking his route. "Shit," she said, and grabbed her cel phone. *************************** Hotel Armed with the suite location from Byers, Frohike went directly upstairs when he reached the hotel. Once off the elevator, however, he came to a dead stop. There was this tough-looking guy standing in the corridor halfway between himself and where the hallway split in two directions. Odds were, he thought, this guy was guarding Vincenzo's door. Now what? Trying to act as nonchalantly as possible, he ambled past the guard to verify the suite number. Yep. This was the place, all right. He gave the guy a nod and kept going, frantically wondering what he could do to check up on Scully without getting himself killed. As he reached the corridor intersection, he heard the elevator doors opening back down the hall behind him. Turning slightly, he wasn't so far away from the elevator that he couldn't see that the three large men who emerged had very grim expressions and were carrying automatic weapons. Not a friendly bunch. Not being armed, he scampered around the corner, but then halted and leaned against the wall to await developments. He was far enough from the group that they wouldn't hear his cel phone, so he tried dialing first Mulder and then Byers. Half a dozen gunshots and a tremendous crashing sound interrupted the call and he peered around the corner to see what was going on. He was in time to watch the last of the three men disappear into Vincenzo's room by stepping over the guard's body and pushing through a completely smashed door. A voice coming through the phone was ignored as another, longer, barrage of gunshots assaulted his ears. Nearly in tears with indecision and fear at what might be happening to Scully, he whispered into the phone, "It's a mob hit on Vincenzo, and Scully's in the middle of it." He heard a strangled sound and realized that Mulder had been on the other end of his cel phone connection - not Byers. Frohike urgently said, "I'm at Vincenzo's hotel room. Where are you?" "The hotel, coming up the elevator," was the distracted response. "Tell me what's happening now." The three men came barreling out of the room, and took the stairs at a run, bypassing the slower elevator. Frohike wasted no time in entering Vincenzo's room, telling Mulder that the shooters were on their way down and that he was going to check on Scully. ************************ Earlier in the Van Byers had nearly had his second heart attack that day when a bloodied, shirtless Mulder clutching a gun suddenly yanked the driver's door open and practically fell into the seat. "I *thought* this looked like the Gunman's van," he panted, as he looked back at the handcuffed Byers. The handcuffed man in question was still sitting in the cluttered open area at the back, and now wore an expression of astonishment. Mulder laid the weapon on the passenger seat, slapped his hand against the empty ignition and turned a frantic look back at his friend. "Spare key under the mat," Byers managed to say, correctly reading the agent's mind. With a grunt of pain as he bent down, Mulder retrieved the key, put it in the ignition, and floored the pedal as the engine roared to life. He didn't pause as he burst from the alley, and turned up the avenue at full speed. Finally collecting his wits, Byers grabbed a cherished Ramones tee shirt of Langly's that was in reach and threw it to Mulder. "I assume this is a rescue mission. You'd better put that on, or you won't get two feet once people take a look at you." He almost regretted the gesture, because Mulder kept driving like a madman, using his thighs to steer while pulling the shirt over his head with his usable hand. Luckily it only took a second or two, but Byers' life flashed before his eyes as they ran a red light and nearly sideswiped two cars. "Where's Langly?" he called, as he slid sideways when Mulder took a sharp corner. "Knocked out cold, but he should be okay," came the terse reply. "Where are we headed?" "I figured Scully would be back at the hotel by now." Byers hesitated, and then said, "Frohike called earlier and said that she and Vincenzo were headed back to the hotel, and that the guy had been coming on to her, big time." The car swerved wildly as muffled curses reached Byers' ears. Then they were pulling up to the hotel, while a phone began ringing somewhere in the van. "Sorry, Byers, but I don't have time to try to get you out of those cuffs. Later!" He grabbed the ringing phone and the gun, opened the door, tucked the gun in his waistband, and staggered past a startled parking valet. The washed-out light-colored tee shirt Mulder wore was gradually becoming a deep red in the area of his wound and he held his left arm protectively against his chest as he ran. Knowing he'd never be able to climb fourteen flights of stairs, he made his way through the large lobby toward the elevators. Impatiently, he activated the still-ringing phone. "Yeah?" No one answered at first. Then he could hear gunshots coming through the instrument. Running for the just- closing elevator doors, he kept demanding, "What's happening?" Frohike's words chilled him to the bone. "It's a mob hit on Vincenzo, and Scully's in the middle of it." Mulder couldn't help the choked cry that was wrenched from his soul. He was terrified of what he would find upstairs. He finished his brief conversation with Frohike and stuffed the phone out of the way in his pocket. The young couple who were already in the elevator had moved to the far corner at the sight of the bloodied wild man. While his foot held the door open, Mulder hollered at them to get the hell out. Their eyes riveted to the butt of the gun sticking out of his waistband, they scrambled hastily out of the car. As the doors closed, they could all hear sirens screaming nearby. Mulder desperately tried not to think of all the things that could have happened to Scully during the interminable fourteen-floor ascent. When he neared his goal he drew the gun from his waistband and clutched it tightly. The blood loss was beginning to be a problem, however; he felt lightheaded now, and the pain in his shoulder was threatening to take over and knock him flat on his ass. Adrenalin had kept him going up to this point, but the wait in the elevator had let the injury take its toll. With a slight jerk, the elevator car finally stopped and the doors slowly parted. He forced himself to move cautiously out into the hallway, which appeared to be deserted. It had only been a few minutes since he had talked with Frohike, though, and the bad guys could still be nearby. Although lightheaded now, he didn't waste any time in heading down the hall to the room where the remnants of a door did little to bar his way. Still no one in sight. He moved through the living area and fearfully entered the first bedroom he came to. And froze. Frohike was kneeling on the floor near the large bed, weeping. But it was the sight of the bodies on the bed that stopped Mulder's heart. There was blood everywhere. The man lying on top of the woman was nude, so it was easy to see that he had at least six or seven bullet holes in him. The woman....the woman was Scully. It appeared that she was unclothed as well. From what he could see of her beneath Vincenzo, she wasn't moving and was also covered in blood. His already- stopped heart now began cracking and falling into pieces. "I think they're both dead." Frohike's voice was grief- stricken. With a sudden fury, Mulder grabbed the dead man by his shoulder and shoved him over and off of Scully. Now he could see that she had wounds to her head, her shoulder, abdomen, and upper arm. With a trembling hand, he felt for a pulse in her neck, holding his breath in terror that there would be nothing. There. He felt...something. A faint pulse. Then his shaking hand moved to her mouth and a puff of breath tickled his palm. He nearly wept with relief. He grabbed a rumpled sheet from the foot of the bed and threw it over her nakedness, and then leaned close to her face. Gently touching his lips to hers, he whispered brokenly, "If you have me big time once more like this, Scully, so help me God, my heart will stop for good." Suddenly there were police and feds streaming into the hotel room, screaming orders and generally creating havoc. One of the police officers mistakenly tried to pull Mulder away from Scully and received a black eye for his efforts. But with the pain and his weakened state, the desperate agent would have ultimately lost the battle if Agent Samuels hadn't stepped in and clarified Mulder's role and identity before it got really ugly. When the cops then turned their attention and suspicions on Frohike, Mulder explained that he was a witness. Meanwhile, paramedics worked on Scully, hooking her up to various bags of liquids and treating her wounds. Mulder was able to give her his full attention at last, and was hovering anxiously over these efforts, when she stopped breathing. The room full of people went silent as the EMTs concentrated their efforts to get her breathing again. Silent, that is, with the exception of one man's quiet pleading for her to 'breathe, Scully.' Somehow, he managed to hang onto one of her hands as the medical experts efficiently did their job. The intensity of his expression lightened slightly when Mulder saw that they had managed to get his partner breathing again. A ventilator had been inserted and they were wrapping things up preparatory to moving her. He had temporarily stepped back to give them room to work, but as they headed out to the elevator, he practically glued himself to the gurney. "I'm not leaving her," was all he'd say. No one argued. But plans change, and when Mulder suddenly staggered in the hallway, leaned against the wall, and slowly slid to the floor, the paramedics realized that they had more injuries to treat. They had noticed that his tee shirt was covered with blood, but figured that it was somebody else's, given the condition of that bedroom scene. The shirt wasn't torn in that area, either. But when they checked under the sodden material, they found a nasty knife wound. Sending Scully's gurney on down with one of the EMT's, the remaining technicians took Mulder's vitals and temporarily bandaged the wound. He was deeply unconscious by this time. Another gurney soon made its way up to the fourteenth floor and they took their second burden down to the ambulance. *********************** Hospital Saturday morning Regaining consciousness abruptly, Scully was mesmerized by Mulder's hazel-eyed gaze not more than a foot away from her face. "Welcome back," he murmured, pulling a lock of hair away from her face with a finger. Then, to give her room and to let her properly wake up, he settled into his chair with a sigh. His system had recently absorbed several bags of blood, pain killers, antibiotics, tetanus serum, and God knew what else. He had slept through the treatment of his stab wound which involved a thorough cleansing and fourteen stitches. The rap on his head hadn't caused a concussion by some miracle, but there was a cut that took three stitches. It had been 8:00 the following morning before he had suddenly come to life, urgently asking for Scully. He was still weak and in some pain from his shoulder, but he had visited her the minute he found out where she was. After a few hours of staring at his unresponsive partner, he had gone to visit Wu down the hall and then returned to continue his vigil by Scully's side. Focusing on him, she could see the edges of a large bandage under his hospital pajamas at the shoulder. Lifting the hand that wasn't encumbered with an IV needle, she pointed at his chest and raised her eyebrows. Immediately recognizing what she wanted to know, he said, "Volpe used me for a knife-holder, but I'm all patched up, with all my body parts in working order." He couldn't resist giving her a sly, sideways look and waggling his eyebrows for emphasis. Her worried look didn't go away, so he thought he'd distract her by bringing her up-to-date on the case. "The gleesome threesome - Volpe, Barber, and Vincenzo - have all gone to the Great Pasta Figule in the sky. Grayson put down the two bozos, and Vincenzo bought it from three gang leaders who were pissed off about his making such a huge drug sale in their territories." "They..." She had to pause and gratefully work at an ice chip from the cup Mulder offered before she could continue. He could also see that her bruised jaw and cheek were making talking painful. "They sold the drugs...*before* we were assigned to the case, Mulder." A strange mixture of anger and guilt crossed his face as he nodded. "What?" she asked. "Uhhhh, well....I was down the hall in Wu's room...." "Wu?! Did he get hurt, too?" "Yeah, and Langly got bopped on the head. But he's fine." At her puzzled expression, he thought he'd better finish the whole sordid story. Besides, it would delay having to fill her in on what happened in the last hour or so... "...And the bullet to your abdomen was superficial because it went through his body first, which slowed it down considerably. The head shot was bad, but it bounced off your skull above your temple and didn't penetrate. You've got a concussion; it was bad enough to stop your breathing for a minute back there..." He forced the quaver from his voice and continued, "... and your arm has a flesh wound. All in all, you were pretty lucky." "Yeah, I was really lucky," she said wryly. Mulder, his heart in his eyes, found himself babbling, "Well, he could've left that expensive dress on you, it would have been ruined, and you'd be looking at a hefty bill from the DEA." With a serious look at him, she captured his fidgeting hand with hers. Memories of being coldly stripped of her clothes by Vincenzo had been flashing through her mind. She had no choice but to ask.... "Did he rape me, Mulder?" He blinked, and said with surprise, "You don't know?" Swallowing her fears, she shook her head no. "He hit me a couple of times and I wasn't exactly aware of what was happening." His fingers whispered across the bruised skin of her cheek as he said, "Well, the doctors told me there was no evidence of rape...I asked," he admitted, ducking his head. She realized that she was tightly gripping his hand and forced herself to relax and take a breath. "That's okay, Mulder. I understand that you were worried about me." She took another deep breath before adding, "I really did try to fight him off." She couldn't stop the trembling of her lower lip nor the moisture in her eyes. Through her blurry vision, she could see that he looked stricken, so she forced herself to calm down and gave him a small smile of reassurance. That move backfired, however, since her face and jaw were so sore that it turned into a wince. "Scully..." he whispered in concern. "I'm okay, really. But remind me later to apologize for being so ungracious to you in the suite yesterday, when you were just concerned for my safety and making an...understandable...assumption." He could only nod, all smart remarks gone from his head. The apology would be mutual, he vowed, but now was not the time to get into it. The talking she'd just done seemed to have worn her out, since she looked as exhausted as he felt. Then he managed to say, "We'll talk about assumptions later." And they both knew he was also referring to the Diana issue. He released her hand when he felt her grip lighten, missing the connection immediately. Mulder ached to pull her into his arms but knew that her injuries wouldn't allow it, nor would she, in such a public place. A few minutes passed in silence as her eyes stared into his, until finally she asked, "What aren't you telling me, Mulder?" His first reaction was to look startled, then offended, but finally he backed down under her steady gaze. "Okay," he finally conceded. "I was in Wu's room about an hour ago and Samuels came by to drop the little bomb about how 'whoops, they already did the drug deal - we didn't need you and Agent Scully, after all.' " Mulder bit his lower lip and looked even more uncomfortable. "I...kind of lost it." Looking like a kid who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he admitted, "I knocked him down and then tried to...uh, strangle him." All she could do was stare at him, speechless. Finally she was able to say, "I don't suppose you succeeded, since you're sitting here instead of in a jail cell." He fiddled with the hem of her bed sheet and shrugged with his good shoulder. "Skinner happened to stop by the room, saw what was happening, and pulled me off the guy. But when Skinner heard the story, he slugged Samuels so hard, he's probably still unconscious." She closed her eyes, unable to believe what she was hearing. "I suppose you'll use the 'I was drugged' defense, right?" Her sarcasm faded into real concern when she added, "You both could lose your jobs, you know." She felt him move closer to her. When her eyes flew open, he was so close that she could feel his breath on her skin. "We could have lost *you*, Scully. Not to mention Daniel Wu, his partner, and myself. This whole scenario was dreamed up by that little prick, Samuels. His own supervisor wasn't being kept informed. Skinner found that out when he called the man about half an hour ago. I think it's more likely that Samuels will be losing his job than Skinner or me." She seemed confused. "Why didn't Samuels keep in touch with his supervisor?" "Because he was trying to grandstand and get a promotion. He's an incompetent ass who doesn't follow procedure, and nearly got you killed by not providing backup. He screwed up the whole operation from the very beginning." He fell back into the chair once more, wincing a little at the discomfort the jostling caused his shoulder. Scully noticed, and ordered him back to bed. This, of course, required him to argue with her about it, until they were interrupted by a nurse. This nurse was male, weighed somewhere around 230 pounds, and probably ate rusted iron auto parts for breakfast, judging from his gravelly voice. "Back to bed, Mr. Mulder," he growled. "Those stitches you popped earlier may have been repaired, but you need to take it easy for awhile." There was a pregnant pause as Scully absorbed this information. Wanting to argue but knowing when to give it up, Mulder beat a hasty retreat, giving his partner a little wave goodby as he disappeared out the door. The debonaire look he was attempting was doomed, however, with the ill-fitting hospital pajamas bagging at his butt and the paper slippers threatening to fall off with each step. "Thank you," Scully told the nurse. "He needed to get some rest." Turning his amused eyes on the small woman in the bed, the nurse smiled and said, "Yes, ma'm, but so do you. I chased him out of here mainly to let you sleep. You need lots of rest right now." But the peace and quiet they both wanted for her was not yet to be. A loud voice in the hallway was saying, "You monumental load of shit! I'm being called on the carpet by Gerald-fucking-Rosenthal! Me! *You're* the one who tried to kill a federal officer, namely yours truly! I'm going to have your badge, and A.D. Skinner's too! You're not getting away with attempted murder!" She could recognize Mulder's voice but couldn't quite hear his reply. Her nurse made a move toward the commotion, but he paused when Scully's hand fell on his arm. Then they heard Samuels speak again. "The only decent agent in this whole fiasco has been Agent Scully. She's so dedicated that she fucked the guy for the informa...." Mulder's cry of rage could be clearly heard, along with a scuffling sound and two loud thumps. Then her partner snarled, "If you ever come near Agent Scully or myself again, I'll introduce your dick to your asshole and then shove what's left of you through the nearest mail slot." His interesting comments were interrupted suddenly by another voice. It was deceptively calm. "Agent Samuels. You are out of line here." After a pause, he added, "Mulder, get off of him." Scully smiled at hearing Skinner's familiar voice of command. "*I'm* out of line?! You...you both....hit me, you bastards!" "And you nearly killed two of my agents. Get the hell out of this hospital. You'll have your chance to voice your complaints at the appropriate time and place." The voice of reason worked wonders, since a pause ensued, and then footsteps faded away and a distant door swung closed with a bang. With a smile at the woman in bed, Scully's nurse patted her hand which still lay on his arm, then placed it on the bed. "I'll go make sure that his stitches held up, okay?" He left her to rest, figuring that all the excitement was over. For the time being, anyway. After that, Mulder's and Skinner's voices ebbed and flowed outside her door, but Scully was fast dropping into sleep and didn't bother to try to make out what they were saying. It was enough to know that her partner was there, close by. And a wicked inner self was also contented that Agent Samuels was undoubtedly sporting at least one black eye. THE END EPILOGUE by Ten (Her revenge for my not writing a "proper" epilogue for this fanfic) Jar Jar Binks was currently being jar-jarred on the nightstand, eyes bulging, in danger of falling off due to the banging of Scully's bed into the wall and the night stand itself. The toy wobbled back and forth dangerously as the cries of his owner became more and more frenzied. As for Scully, she had dissolved into one big long continual scream, especially since Mulder had proved to have a tongue just as dexterous and amazing as Bink's, everywhere at once... Jar Jar didn't end up falling though - a stray, hormone- charged arm whacked him off his perch. The impact of the toy against the wall triggered his voicebox: "How rude!" THE END (again)