Fox Mulder’s apartment
Friday
3:15 am

    Mulder was suddenly propelled into wakefulness by the shrill ring of a telephone. He sat up on his couch,
groping around in the darkness for the offensive object. As his hand settled on the receiver, his eyes went
automatically to the green glow of the VCR to check the time. **3:15 am. Who would be calling at this
hour? **, he thought fuzzily, as he lifted the phone from its cradle and gave his trademark greeting.
    “Mulder.”
    There was no answer, but he could hear the soft sounds of breathing in the background.
    “Hello?” Then, in an unexpected flash of intuition, “Scully?”
    There was still no response from the caller, and Mulder could feel the first twinges of panic at the edge of
his consciousness. He couldn’t understand the reasoning behind his sudden irrational fear. ** It’s a prank call,
that’s all. People get them all the time. Just some kids screwing around with the phone. ** But even as he
thought these things, trying desperately to convince himself to calm down, he was equally convinced that this
wasn’t a simple prank call. He suddenly knew without a doubt that it was his partner on the other end of the line.
He had no idea from where this certainty came. He just knew.
    “Damn it, Scully, answer me. Are you all right?” His overactive imagination was beginning to kick in, eagerly
supplying him with dozens of possible scenarios that could have prompted a phone call at this hour. He
remembered another phone call from her, long ago now, a message on his answering machine that had marked
the beginning of a three-month nightmare. Duane Barry was long dead, he knew, but the world was full of psychos.
An image of Scully lying on the floor, phone clutched in her hand, unable to call out for help due to the fact that her
throat had been slashed popped unbidden into his mind. The mental picture was so vivid; he could almost smell the
coppery scent of her blood as it seeped from her body, forming a rapidly growing pool on the floor around her. He
was off the couch and halfway to the door before he realized she had finally spoken.
    “Mulder, she needs your help. You have to help her.” Although the voice was hushed, barely above
a whisper, it was unmistakably Scully, and he felt a surge of overwhelming relief rush through him.
    “Jeez Scully, you scared the hell out of me.” It hadn’t yet dawned on him exactly what she’d said, just that she
had spoken. Her throat wasn’t cut. She was ok. He chuckled softly to himself. “You know that hyperactive
imagination you always accuse me of having? Well, it just went into overdrive. It’s going to take me an hour to
come down from this adrenaline rush.” He sank heavily back down onto the couch.
    “Mulder, there isn’t much time. You have to hurry. He’s going to kill her.” Her voice sounded strange, still
soft and curiously flat, considering the message it was currently conveying. And this time the actual words penetrated
his brain.
    “Scully? Where are you? Are you all right? Who’s going to kill who? Did someone break into your apartment?
Is someone there with you?” His mind was instantly racing again, his panic back in full force, when the inane
thought that he probably should’ve said “whom” instead of “who” crossed his mind.
     **Jesus, I’m either having the strangest dream of my life, or something very bad is happening to my partner,
and here I am giving myself a damned grammar lesson! **
    She continued as if he hadn’t spoken, still in that same toneless voice, “There’s an abandoned building down on
Taylor Avenue, it used to be a bakery. It’s right across the street from the post office. That’s where he is. He’s
going to drag her into that building, rape her, and then kill her. He has a gun, Mulder, you’ll see that, but he also has
a knife strapped to his right ankle. Hurry Mulder, you’ve only got about fifteen minutes.”
    A thousand questions crossed his mind in the next instant.
    **What the hell is going on here? Why aren’t you at home, safe and sound in your bed, Scully? What are you
doing staking out a rapist at three in the morning? When exactly did I fall down the rabbit hole, anyway? ** But all
he said was, “I’ll be right there, Scully, ok? Don’t try to take this guy by yourself. I’ll be right there.”
    “Don’t forget the knife, Mulder. Remember the knife.”
    Mulder heard a gentle click, and the connection was lost. Looking at the clock, he was shocked to realize it was
only 3:17. He felt as if it had been hours since the telephone had awakened him, but in reality, the call had lasted
less than three minutes. He shook himself and went in search of his shoes and a pair of jeans to throw on over the
boxers he’d been wearing.
    Once dressed, he headed for the door, grabbing his gun on the way. Scully had said he had fifteen minutes, and
the location she had named was a good ten minutes away.
 
 
 

Taylor Avenue
Friday
3:25 am

    Due largely in part to the lateness of the hour, the streets were virtually deserted, allowing Mulder to reach his
destination in record time. He had broken every traffic law between his apartment and here, making the drive in
eight minutes flat.
    He spotted the abandoned bakery easily enough, the broken and partially boarded up windows a testament
to the fact that it had been empty for quite awhile. He noted that many of the boards appeared to be missing,
especially the ones that had at one time covered the front entrance. There were plenty of gaps large enough
for a human to easily gain entrance to the building.
     He continued down the block, not wanting to draw attention to himself in case the rapist was watching the
street. He had no idea exactly where this guy was supposed to be, or even where his partner was for that matter,
so he turned into the parking lot of an all-night convenience store on the opposite side of the street two blocks
away and left the car.
    He glanced at his watch as he began walking back towards the bakery. 3:28 am. It had been roughly eleven
minutes since he’d hung up with Scully, and if the timetable she’d given him was correct, something should be
happening within the next four minutes.
    He began to replay the conversation in his mind as he walked, wondering how she could possibly know the
exact time the rapist was planning to strike. He figured she must’ve somehow overheard the man’s plans, but
that just brought him back to the question of what she was doing out here in the first place. This whole scene
was just starting to seem a little too weird, even for him.
    He heard a car start up behind him, and turned to see a young woman dressed in an orange uniform leave
the convenience store parking lot and turn her 1970-something Volkswagon onto Taylor Avenue. **Guess her
shift is over**, Mulder thought to himself as he watched her drive past.
    He continued to watch as she slowed to a stop at a traffic light directly in front of the bakery, and suddenly,
he knew what was coming.
    He was still nearly a full block away when a stocky figure in dark clothing darted from the shadows of the
building and circled around the back of the car, gun in hand. Mulder hugged the building fronts, approaching as quickly
and quietly as possible as the man reached the driver’s side, and ordered the frightened girl out of the car.
    Thinking she was the victim of a carjacking, the woman did as she was told, trying her best to pacify the man in a
trembling voice. “Ok mister, go ahead, take the car. I won’t tell anyone, I swear. Just don’t hurt me!”
    “Shut up!” he growled, shoving her brutally up against the car, pinning her there with one arm. With the other, he
reached into the car and switched off the engine, then engaged the hazard lights. Now anyone happening by would
simply think the car had broken down and been abandoned.
    He slammed the door shut, and the woman’s eyes widened with fear. “What…?” Her question was cut off
abruptly by a hand over her mouth and a gun pressed to her temple. “We’re gonna take a little walk now, honey,
and if you try to fight, or scream, I’m gonna splatter your brains all over the sidewalk,” he told her as he began
moving her towards the bakery entrance.
    Mulder realized that his best chance of saving this girl was to stop them before they made it to the building.
There were just too many unknowns once they got inside. He had absolutely no knowledge of the layout of the
building, whereas the perpetrator seemed to know exactly where he was going. Plus, there was still the mystery
of his partner’s whereabouts. He didn’t want to risk this guy running into Scully in the dark. She’d probably kick
his ass if she knew he had such an overprotective thought about her, and truth be told, she was actually a better
shot than he, but sometimes he just couldn’t help himself. And she hadn’t sounded at all like herself on the phone,
which, when coupled with her absence, was really starting to worry him.
    By the time Mulder was directly across the street from the abandoned bakery, the man and his intended victim
were nearly halfway between the girl’s car and the entrance of the building.
    Deciding it was now or never, Mulder drew his own weapon and ran out into the street, keeping the car between
himself and the pair until the last possible second. They were ten feet from the door when Mulder rounded the front
end of the car and made his presence known.
    “Federal agent! Drop your weapon!”
    The man turned automatically towards this new voice, the woman momentarily forgotten, and found himself
looking down the barrel of Mulder’s gun.
    “I said drop it!” ordered Mulder.
    The man put his hands up, fingers spread wide, the gun hanging loosely in his right hand. “Ok, ok, I heard ya.
Don’t shoot, man.”
    “I want you to very slowly put the gun down on the ground,” said Mulder. As the perpetrator bent to comply,
Mulder’s attention shifted briefly to the woman, who seemed frozen in place. “Miss, are you ok?” he asked. She
gave a quick nod, her eyes flicking nervously between Mulder and her would-be abductor, who had yet to stand
after placing his gun carefully on the pavement.
     Mulder kicked the weapon several feet away, safely out of the suspect’s reach. “Get up!” he ordered harshly.
In a much gentler tone, he spoke to the victim. “I need you to do something for me. Go back to the convenience
store and call 911. Tell them that I’m a federal agent, I’ve apprehended an armed suspect and need police backup.
Can you do that?”
     “Y-yes.” Her first attempt came out a mere whisper, so she tried again, her voice stronger the second time.
“Yes, I can.” He smiled encouragingly at her.
    “Go on then. Take your car. This neighborhood can be dangerous at this time of night.” She gave him a ghost
of a smile in return and walked quickly to the Volkswagon. As the engine turned over and the car headed back in
the direction from which it came, Mulder turned his full attention to the man still crouched in front of him.
    “I told you to get up!”
    Seemingly absorbed in the task of tying and retying his right shoe, the man ignored the order, much to Mulder’s
annoyance. In exasperation, Mulder stepped directly in front of the man, gun leveled at his head, and cocked the
hammer back with a deliberate click.
    “NOW!”
    The suspect glanced up, giving Mulder a look of mild irritation, much as he might look at someone in a theater
that talked during the movie. Then he shook his head briefly as if amazed by the unmitigated gall of this FBI agent
before him, and bent once again to fiddle with his shoelace. Mulder was completely bewildered by the man’s cavalier
attitude. **What’s wrong with this picture? I’m standing here with a gun not two inches from this guy’s head, and
he’s trying to make it into the Guinness Book of World Records for World’s Most Perfectly Tied Shoelace. **
    Mulder was suddenly certain that he was missing something. There was some vital piece of information nagging
at his memory, but the harder he tried to retrieve it, the more it continued to elude him. It wasn’t until the man stood
quickly and lunged at him, something clutched in his right hand that flashed silver in the streetlight, that Scully’s warning
came back to him.
    **Don’t forget the knife, Mulder. Remember the knife. **
    At the last possible second, Mulder stepped quickly backwards, managing to avoid the brunt of the blow. He felt a
sharp, hot pain as the knife cut into him just above the waistband of his jeans, but upon sparing a glance down at himself,
he realized the wound was superficial. He said a silent thank you to his partner, certain that without her warning, he
would’ve just been gutted like a deer.
    He backed up a little more before the man could lunge again. “Drop the knife, asshole!” Even with Mulder a safe
distance away, a gun aimed pointedly at his heart, the man hesitated for a moment, quite obviously weighing the possible
consequences of another attack. Finally he decided the odds weren’t in his favor now that he’d lost the element of
surprise, and he relented, dropping the knife to the pavement.
    “Now, I want you to turn around and lie face down on the ground with your hands behind your head.” The suspect
sighed in resignation as he complied with the order. Mulder had no way of securing the prisoner until the police arrived,
since he had left his handcuffs at home in his rush to get here in the short amount of time that Scully had allotted him.
Fortunately, the distant sound of approaching sirens told him that he wouldn’t have long to wait.

Taylor Avenue
Friday
4:15 am

    “I’m sorry sir, but there’s no sign of her anywhere.”
    The words were barely out of his mouth before Officer Steve Phethean wished he could take them back. It was quite
apparent from the steely glare now fixated on the young officer that this news was not what “Special Agent Fox
Mulder, FBI” had wanted to hear.
    He instinctively took a half step backwards before he dared to continue. “The bakery has been thoroughly searched,
as have all the side streets and alleyways within a two block radius. Every building within that same radius has been
checked as well, and found to be locked securely with no signs of recent entry, forced or otherwise. We’ve also been
unable to find any car in the area matching the description you gave us of your partner’s. Are you absolutely certain
that she didn’t leave of her own accord?”
    “Agent Scully would not leave a crime scene.” This was spoken through a jaw clenched so tightly the officer feared
for the enamel on Agent Mulder’s teeth.
    “What did he say when you questioned him?” Mulder jerked his chin in the direction of the perpetrator, who was currently
handcuffed and sitting in the backseat of Phethean’s patrol car. He had wanted to question the man himself, but at
Phethean’s insistence had been led off to have his knife wound looked at by an EMT and then to give his own accounting
of what had transpired.
    Officer Phethean consulted his notes, rolling his eyes as he spoke. “Well, let’s see here. He claims he was walking home
from church – seems he had the irrepressible urge to visit the confessional at 3 o’clock in the morning – when he spotted an
old family friend sitting in her Volkswagon at a red light. He greeted her - though he couldn’t even give us her first name
when questioned - and the two of them were just on their way to catch up on old times over coffee when you happened along.”
    Mulder snorted. “Yeah, greeted her with a loaded .22. Couldn’t he have just sent a Hallmark? Anyway, what did he say
about Scully?”
    “I told him that you had been called here by your partner who hasn’t been seen or heard from since the time of that
phone call. His reply to that was, ‘If there’s another fed down here somewhere, I ain’t seen him.’ It didn’t seem to occur
to him that your partner could be a woman.” Steve held up his hand when Mulder began to interrupt. “I know what you’re
going to say, and yes, he could’ve said what he did to throw us off.  But for some reason, I don’t think he was lying.”
    “Oh, that’s just great,” Mulder said. “You’re going to accept the word of a rapist and a murderer simply because you
don’t think he was lying?” He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of impatience.
    “That’s another thing. When we ran the guy’s name through our computer, he came up clean. Well, relatively speaking,
anyway.  There were a couple of assault and battery charges, two counts of possession of illegal firearms, a smattering
of drug-related charges, and a failed attempt at robbing a liquor store, but nothing having to do with murder, rape, or
any other kind of sexual offense whatsoever.”
    Phethean took a deep breath before continuing. “Look, Agent Mulder, there’s no doubt in my mind that if you hadn’t
come along tonight, that girl would have been raped at the very least. What I’m having such a hard time with is how your
partner could have possibly known that this guy would choose tonight of all nights to begin his new career as a rapist.
You said you were asleep when she called, right? Is it possible that you were dreaming?”
     “If that phone call was a dream, then how do you explain the fact that when I got here, I stopped a man from dragging
a young woman off into an empty building, exactly as I was told it would happen? How could I have known to come here,
specifically?” If Mulder wasn’t so worried about Scully, he might have laughed. ** Ok, now I’m supposed to be psychic?
As much as I’d love that idea, I’m just not buying it. **
    The officer shrugged. “Well, this isn’t exactly the greatest of neighborhoods. It could be a coincidence. I mean, it’s kind
of like dreaming that you have to go to Baskin Robbins, and while you’re there you’re going to have some ice cream. If you
wake up, drive to Baskin Robbins, and eat ice cream, does that make you psychic, or victim of the inevitable? What else
would you expect to eat there? You don’t live far from here yourself, so you must know what this area is like. What else
would you expect to have happen here at this time of night?”
    Mulder shook his head. “No, it wasn’t a dream. She called me. I’m certain of it. It’s completely plausible that Scully
could have somehow learned of his plans. Who’s to say the guy hasn’t been planning this for weeks, watching and waiting
for the right time to make his move?”
    “Well, ordinarily I’d agree with you,” Steve said. “But, according to Miss McIntyre, her home is in the opposite
direction from the convenience store. She only came this way to drop something off at the post office mailbox for
her mother.” He indicated the building across the street from them. “If he had been plotting this abduction, wouldn’t
it stand to reason that he’d have been waiting in a location that was actually on her way home? What that tells me is
that this was not a premeditated event.”
    He sighed heavily. The agent wasn’t going to like what he had to say next.  “Regardless of whether or not your
partner called you Agent Mulder, she’s not here now. I’m at a loss as to what else I can do for you without having
some solid evidence of foul play. There’s going to be hell to pay for me tomorrow if I keep my men out here all night
looking for someone that may or may not even be missing. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”
    Phethean was certain an argument was forthcoming, but was surprised when Mulder spoke. “Well, thank you for
looking, and you have my number if you need any more information about what happened here tonight.” He began to
walk towards his car as he spoke, delivering most of his parting statement to the officer over his shoulder. He needed
to be off by himself so he could think.

Taylor Ave.
Friday
4:22 am

    Mulder spent the two-block walk to his car reviewing the events of the past hour. By the time he’d reached the
convenience store lot where he’d parked, he had no new answers, but plenty of new questions. How had Scully
known the man would attack tonight? How had she known exactly what time that attack would take place? Why
did she leave the scene without waiting for backup to arrive? These were all questions that would have to be
answered by his partner, he knew. And that wasn’t likely to happen until he found the answer to his most pressing
question: where was she now?
    Mulder reached the car and got in, his eyes falling on his cell phone lying forgotten on the passenger seat. ** Why
the hell didn’t I think of that before? ** He snatched up the phone and hit the speed dial number for Scully’s cell phone.
    After several rings, a nasal voice told him, “We’re sorry, the Cellular One customer you’re trying to reach…” Mulder
punched the ‘end’ button in frustration. Then he tried her home number. Expecting to hear her machine pick up but
hoping to hear an annoyed “hello?” at being called at such an hour, Mulder was baffled by what he did hear. A busy
signal.
    He tried again, just to make sure, and got the same result. He called the operator and requested an emergency
interrupt, just so he could hear for himself that she was fine. ** Jeez, I’d even like to hear that from her at this point. **
Her patented, “I’m fine, Mulder”, delivered with a sigh that said without words that even if she wasn’t fine, she didn’t
want to be mothered, would be music to his ears right about now.
    The operator came back on the line, putting an end to his musings. “I’m sorry sir, but there’s no one on the line.
Either the phone is off the hook, or it’s out of order. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
    “No, thank you.” Mulder hung up abruptly and started the engine. Well, at least now he knew where to start looking.
He put the car in gear and headed for Scully’s apartment.

Less than one hour earlier

    Dana Scully stood in the middle of an unfamiliar street, barefoot and dressed in her favorite navy blue satin
pajamas, watching the drama as it unfolded before her.
    A Volkswagon came down the street, stopping for a traffic light in front of a vacant building, it’s driver not
seeming to notice the petite redhead standing in the middle of the intersection not fifteen feet in front of her car.
When a man with a gun made his appearance, Scully was certain he looked in her direction as he surveyed the
area for possible witnesses, yet he continued to carry out his heinous intentions, not seeing her as a threat to his
plans. Or quite simply, not seeing her.
    Turning her gaze away from the girl and her abductor, Scully saw her partner making his way hurriedly toward
the pair. She quietly watched the scene play itself out, making no attempts at intervention. She sensed that any action
she tried to take would only result in frustration for her. Somehow she knew that her role here was as an observer
only, and that any movement she made would go unnoticed, any sound she uttered, unheard. Her part in this had
ended as soon as she’d returned the phone to its cradle. Now all she could do was watch, and pray.
    Scully watched as her partner confronted the man, disarming him easily. With the suspect’s gun gone, and the
girl on the way to phone for help, Scully should have been relieved, although in reality she was anything but. The
words tumbled out of her mouth in a frantic whisper before she even realized she was speaking. “The knife, oh
God, he forgot the knife!”
    As soon as she heard herself saying the words, she remembered what her partner had forgotten. The suspect
had a knife in a sheath strapped to his right ankle, and he was planning to use it on Mulder.
    Scully watched in fascinated horror as the killer made a show of tying his shoe, waiting for just the right moment
to attack. As she saw his right hand slip beneath the hem of his pants to grip the knife handle, she knew she couldn’t
just stand by and watch her best friend gutted before her eyes.
    If Scully had more time, she might have wondered at what she did next. She would have questioned with a scientist’s
logic the validity of her actions. And had she the time to question, she most certainly would have dismissed the gesture
outright, certain in her science that her attempt at intervention would be ineffective. But as time was a factor, she acted
purely on instinct, channeling all of her energy into a single thought, hoping against hope that subconsciously he would
receive her message.
    ** Don’t forget the knife, Mulder. Remember the knife. **
    Scully held her breath as the knife cleared its holster and the man rose from his crouch, a flash of silver glinting in
his right fist. Mulder did not yet seem aware of the impending danger. He hadn’t gotten her message.
    She choked back a sob as she tried to prepare herself for the sight of her partner receiving what would most likely
be a fatal knife wound to the abdomen, when he jumped back at the last minute, avoiding the brunt of the blow.
    Scully exhaled shakily and allowed her eyes to close for a moment in relief, only to open them to darkness. She could
no longer feel the pavement beneath her bare feet, couldn’t see her partner and his prisoner, couldn’t hear the sirens that
had been discernible in the distance.  The street where she’d been standing a moment before was simply gone, and in its
place was…nothing. There was no light, no noise other than the sound of her own sharp intake of breath at the sudden
loss of stimuli, the only sensation that of floating in the nothingness that surrounded her. She felt a twinge of surprise
that she wasn’t at all frightened by the darkness, and then even that faded as she let her eyes slip closed and her mind
drift away.
 

End Chapter One
 
On to Chapter Two...
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