TITLE: Chilled
AUTHOR: Forte
E-MAIL ADDRESS: Forte1354@aol.com or bjm1352@aol.com
URL: http://www.thebasementoffice.com/
RATING: R
CATEGORY: SA
SPOILERS: Duane Barry/Ascension, Irresistible, FTF, Monday,
Orison.
KEYWORDS: MulderAngst.  ScullyAngst.  Pre-fic ScullyTorture.
SUMMARY:  A possible ending for Orison (written before the air
date for the ep).
ARCHIVE: Gossamer/Ephemeral/Xemplary/M&S/Spooky awards site OK;
anywhere else please ask first.
DISCLAIMER:  Sadly, I don't own 'em and therefore I'm making no
money on this.  They belong to CC, 1013, and Fox.
FEEDBACK: Yes please -- it would make my day.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:  Being a spoiler lover, I'd read as much about
Orison as I could before the ep aired.  I didn't know exactly how
those spoiler scenes would work together, but my Muse suggested
this fic as a possible ending to the ep.  This one ain't pretty,
so if that bothers you, bail now. :)

********************************************************************
Chilled
by Forte
********************************************************************

"This is Dana Scully.  I can't take your call right now.  Please
leave a message."

I hang up before the beep comes, because there's no point in
leaving her a message.  I've already left -- three? four?  I
can't remember now.  So I try her cell again, and of course
there's no answer there either, and after half a dozen rings I
give up.  Again.

I know there's nothing wrong with my phone.  Yes, I thought of
that, it's the one in the bedroom that got pretty wet that time,
but obviously it works fine because I got through to her
answering machine, right?  Scully would be proud of my logical
analysis.

Scully.  She's not home, and that's okay.  I mean, it's not like
I need to know where Scully is every second of the day.  I
just... wonder.  Sometimes.  Where she is, I mean.  Especially
when there's a psycho like Pfaster running around out there
somewhere.  Can I help it if I get concerned?  Like tonight, I
know I shouldn't have tried calling her cell, I knew she was at
her Mom's, but anyway I just needed to hear her voice again,
know she was doing okay with this whole Pfaster thing.  So like
I said, I tried calling her cell.  More than once.  Lots more
than once, actually.  No answer every time.  Every time I then
tried calling her at home.  More than once, like I said.  I
mean, she could have made it an early night, right?  She must be
tired, we've been running around so much.  So I called her at
home, too, but there was no answer, every time.  So she must
still be at her Mom's and she left her cell phone at home, or
she has it and it's just turned off.  Anyway, I lost count of
how many messages I left for her at home to call me back. 
She'll think I'm nuts, but that's nothing new.

Actually, I could tell that this case was getting to her, even
though she kept saying she was fine.  Fine.  Christ, I hate that
fucking word, when what she really means is "I'm falling apart
but I don't want you to know that, don't want you to think I
can't handle it, don't want you to think I can't take care of
myself."  Like I would think less of her if this case was
getting to her.  Christ, especially with her history with this
sick bastard.  What does she think, that I expect her to be
Superwoman?  Or is that what *she* expects?  I'm not sure.

Anyway, she'd already had plans to have dinner with her Mom, and
I'm glad she decided to keep them, since there's nothing more we
can do with this case tonight, we followed every lead we could
today, nothing more we can do to find Pfaster right now.  The
Marshall and his staff are doing their jobs, thank God for once
we're working with people who are fucking *competent*, so until
we get another lead we have to hang tight, as much as I hate
that.

I know Scully hates it, too, so I was that much more glad that
she had something to keep her occupied for the evening.  I'm
more than a little surprised that she didn't bring her cell
phone with her, but that just tells me how much this thing with
Pfaster is bothering her -- that she needed the escape, to
physically distance herself from the case both by going to her
Mom's house and by not taking her phone.  Or maybe she *did*
take it, and she just turned it off for a little while. 
Whatever.  Maybe that's why I didn't try calling her Mom's
number -- I knew Scully needed the time away.  From the case,
and from me, I guess.

Not that I blame her for trying to get a few hours of peace from
this whole Pfaster thing.  The guy is a fucking lunatic, and
when he'd... the time he kidnapped her, took her to his mother's
house, he'd practically beaten the crap out of her, and if we
had gotten there just a few minutes later... I mean, what he did
to those other women...

Christ.  I shouldn't think about that right now.  I don't want
to think about that, or I'll be up all fucking night.

But anyway, it's almost midnight, shouldn't Scully be home by
now?  Or she's at least on the way, right?  I *really* want to
call her Mom's house, but I'm sure Scully's got to be on her way
home by now, and Mrs. Scully has probably gone to bed, and I
don't want to wake her up -- I'd probably just freak the poor
woman out, and God knows I've done that enough times over the
years, no reason to upset her.  And besides, if I did that,
Scully would *really* think I'm nuts, and I'll find myself in
another one of those padded rooms.

Well, she wouldn't really do that to me, but I'm sure she'd
think about it, at least for a moment.

Anyway, I'm sure she's fine.  Umm... yeah.  Fine.  I hate when
she uses that word, but when it's the truth it's a perfectly
good word.  A fine word.

Jesus, I'm babbling.

Somehow in the midst of all this thinking I've been getting
ready for bed, brushed my teeth, thrown on some sweats.  It's
too cold in here -- a real chill in the air.  And I've got the
heat set on seventy-five.  Someday this damn building will get
the heating system fixed.  Or better insulation.  Whatever.

Fuck.

I set the alarm on the clock, extra-early because we're gonna
have a lot of work to do, even if there are no new leads with
Pfaster yet there's other work that's been piling up that we
really need to tackle, and then I flip on the radio, to listen
for a few minutes while I finish getting ready for bed...

What the hell?

Jesus, it's that fucking song again, the one Scully kept hearing
today.  That's almost too weird, that some song from a hundred
years ago suddenly pops up on the radio so much, but then I've
been hearing that song "Ventura Highway" a lot lately too.  I
guess when people hear a song they like that they haven't heard
in ages and ages they call the radio station and request it, and
the cycle keeps repeating until everyone's heard that old song
so many times, over and over and over, that they're sick of it.

Jesus, I'm babbling again.

I turn the damn radio off, turn back the covers, pull off my
sweats, climb into bed.  Lean over, turn off the light, lie
back.  Stare up at myself in the mirror, in the tiny bit of
streetlight and moonlight that filters through the blinds, and
now I can't get that fucking song out of my head.  Why couldn't
it have been "Ventura Highway"?  At least that song doesn't turn
my stomach.

I roll my head, look at the clock.  11:48.  I look at the phone
on the nightstand.  Why don't you ring?  Why doesn't she call
me?

Scully... where are you?

I can't stop that thought from forming, my lips from moving,
although the words don't actually come out, but she wouldn't
hear me anyway so what difference does it make...

Jesus, it's fucking freezing in here.

After several minutes of twisting and turning, trying to get the
sheets and blankets around me enough to warm me up, I finally
decide I'm not going to get any sleep like this, maybe if I eat
something, watch a little TV, maybe that will help... so I get
up, turn the light on again, throw on my sweats, even grab my
ratty old flannel robe from the chair, that's how cold I am, and
go out to the kitchen.  Somewhere in the back of one of these
cupboards I know I have some hot chocolate mix, maybe that will
help, maybe that will help me get to sleep, maybe I should try
to call Scully again but no, she'll call when she gets home and
checks her machine... Jesus what is wrong with me? I haven't
checked my own machine since I got home, haven't gone near it
since I was using the phone in the bedroom...

Oh Christ.  Could that red light be blinking any brighter?  How
the fuck did I miss that when I got home?

"You have one message," the machine announces, like I couldn't
tell that from the fucking counter, and then there's a voice but
it isn't Scully's, it's not even a woman it's the Marshall, and
this is great we've got a new lead to follow would you hurry up
and call me Scully so we can get back out there?  Wait, what did
he say -- call girl?  Wig?  But the next words register loud and
clear:  

"Upset she wasn't a redhead.  This mean anything to you? 
Appreciate a call back."

Oh... fuck.  Oh fuck.  Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.

My blood turns to slush, so cold that every cell in my body is
stinging and prickling and my stomach is in knots and my head is
pounding and I keep hearing her voice, Scully's voice over and
over and over, it's been over five years but I hear it, I hear
it like it's on my answering machine right now...

"MULDER!  I NEED YOUR HELP!"

No, no, no, no, not again I'm not going let it happen again I'm
not gonna fail her when she needs me I need to find her...

The phone is in my hand, my hand is shaking, my fingers are
shaking but I punch in the speed dial number for her apartment
and get her answering machine again, and I leave a message, call
me Scully, call me, call me, get out of your apartment, call me,
and I try her cell phone again but of course there's no answer
again, and I don't even think, don't care what time it was I
called Mrs. Scully she's not there she left a couple hours ago
and somehow I convince Scully's Mom that I'm just looking for
Scully because there's a lead on the case don't worry Mrs.
Scully everything's fine fine fine there's that word again I
hope she believes me no need for both of us to be freaking out
just be fine Scully where are you?  I'm coming to find you
Scully Jesus she has to be fine she has to be fine she has to
be...

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

"When I panic, I make this face," I had told her.

I'm gonna get there, but it's taking fucking forever, where is
all this fucking traffic coming from, get the FUCK out of my
way!  I'm gonna get there, and she's gonna be there, and she's
gonna be fine, she just got home, she stopped on the way home
for a cup of coffee and that's why she wasn't there before, and
I'll tell her why I came over, show her my panic face, and we'll
both have a good laugh at my paranoia, right, Scully?

Oh fuck.  Oh God, no no no... there's her building, and there's
flashing lights, so many, there's gotta be half a dozen police
cars out front, a fire truck... and fuck, an ambulance.

It's not for her, it's not for her, she got him, she's armed,
she's tough as nails, she got him, that ambulance is for him...
Scully Scully Scully Scully...

Jesus, I can't believe this, this is like when Duane Barry took
her all over again, I can't believe this, the police are all
over, crawling around her apartment door like swarming ants, I
show my badge thank God I remembered to bring that I show it and
they let me in, and the place looks like a fucking bomb hit it,
furniture turned over and things knocked off shelves, broken
things, shards of glass and WHERE THE FUCK IS SCULLY?

I don't say that out loud even though I want to scream it,
because I suddenly can't speak, can't make a fucking sound but
I've attracted attention anyway because one of the cops is
trying to steer me toward the kitchen, says do I know Miss
Scully and I don't hear what else he says because he's not
taking me *toward* her, because I can see there's only more cops
in the kitchen, more shit tossed around like a fucking bomb hit
the place...

And I turn away, start toward the crowd in the corner of the
living room, and when a couple of the cops move I can see her,
just a bit of her, her face, looking down, but Christ thank you
she's here, being worked on by EMT's, or paramedics, or whatever
the fuck they are, and the cop who wanted me to go into the
kitchen is suddenly in my way of getting to her, she doesn't see
me yet and my throat and mouth and lips just won't work to call
her name... would you get the FUCK out of my way and let me get
to her!

Oh God... I fucked up... why didn't I listen to that message
earlier... just like Duane fucking Barry all over again... I
want to let her know I'm here, I'm here for you Scully, and I
open my mouth to call to her but nothing comes out and I nearly
double over, I can hardly breathe but I can't stop looking at
her...

She's sitting in the corner, surrounded by other people, people
in uniforms, and she's pale, paler than I've ever seen her, even
when she had the cancer, the worst of it, she wasn't this
pale... Christ she looks awful, face cut and bruised, he must
have tried to beat the crap out of her but I bet she gave as
good as she got, didn't you Scully?  That's my girl, and her
hair is wet and... oh shit what did that fuck do to her?  Her
hair looks like it's been hacked at with a machete or some
fucking thing like that... like Samantha looked when she was
four and she found the scissors and tried to give herself a
haircut... God, there's bloodied cuts all over Scully's face and
neck, yeah she fought back all right, and her hands, I can see
them as she holds them up for the EMT's, God a few of her
fingertips are covered in blood, and she's wrapped in a blanket,
Christ, I think that's all she's wearing...

I can't look, I can't look, I can't believe this, and I look
away and I'm staring at her answering machine, lying on the
floor, cover cracked but it must still be plugged in because
it's flashing its light at me, blinking blinking blinking and
accusing me...

Oh God, Scully, why wasn't I here sooner?  I look at her again,
pull against the asshole trying to hold me back, struggle
closer... Scully, Scully, I came for you, I'm so sorry I wasn't
here sooner, and finally my vocal cords remember how to work and
I half-sob her name, and she looks up... 

Oh God, her eyes, her haunted eyes.... the look I saw in my
nightmares after Duane Barry took her...

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

I'm at the hospital, waiting, waiting in the ER waiting room, I
don't remember exactly how I got here, or what route I took, or
anything else, I know I didn't drive here myself I think a
couple of the cops from Scully's apartment brought me, but it
doesn't matter how anyway except that I got here, and I was
right behind the ambulance, and they whisked Scully into an ER
exam room, and they told me to wait and now I sit and wait and
wait and go out of my fucking mind.

One of the cops, the one in the car with me, but not the one who
drove, he looks a little like that morning guy on The Weather
Channel, the young one, he filled me in on the way over,
neighbors heard Scully screaming "fire" and called the fire
department, no one answered her door and the firemen didn't
smell smoke but a neighbor said they were certain they saw her
come home and the building manager was right down the hall so
they got him to open the door of her apartment, and when I get
her out of here and back to my place, no fucking way she's going
back to her own apartment tonight, I have to give that woman a
kiss for being so smart, for yelling "fire," God knows no one
would have come to help her if she'd yelled "help" or "murder"
or "rape" --

Oh fuck.

They found her in the bathroom, weather-cop said, why can't I
remember his name he told me three times?  And it *was* Pfaster,
that prick, that motherfucker, Pfaster had attacked her, went at
her with scissors, then tried to fucking drown her, had her
fucking naked, had her in a bathtub full of ice cold water, she
was barely conscious, holding onto the side of the tub, coughing
and sputtering and trying to breath and the window, the window
was broken the prick had gotten out the window he got away, you
can't hide you sick fuck I'm going to find you and kill you, and
Scully, Scully was in that water half dead, and the firemen
called the police and the ambulance.  Scully, she probably has
fucking hypothermia, near frostbite, like she had after
Antarctica, don't worry, Scully, you looked beautiful then and
you'll still look beautiful now, no matter what he did to you...

What the fuck *did* he do to her?  What the *fuck* did he do to
her?  That sick fuck... he did unspeakable things to those other
women... women he violated... *violated*...

Oh.  Oh Christ.  No, no, not Scully, he didn't...

No, no, he never raped any of those women, it's not part of his
pattern, he didn't do that to Scully, but he had five years,
five years in jail to think and plan and plot what he was gonna
do... no, no, not Scully, please no...

And now I can't get this picture out of my mind, making me sick,
that sick fuck Pfaster, beating Scully, stripping her, pulling
her clothes off so he could...

NO!  No no no no no no...

Weather-cop tries to stop me from pacing in circles around the
waiting area, when did I start pacing I was sitting down wasn't
I?  And he tells me I'm making him seasick but I don't give a
shit, and I tell him so, it pisses him off maybe I'll piss off
everybody enough so they'll let me go see Scully...

Scully, Scully, Scully I can't stop thinking about what that
prick did, what he might have done, God, is that what he did to
her that gave her that haunted look, she looked so terrified, so
defeated, I need to see her, need to see her, to hold her, it'll
be okay, Scully, just hold on...

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

Hundreds of years, and I'm still pacing, still pacing in circles
staring at the floor and no one will tell me anything and I'm
rubbing my hands together they're cold it's so fucking cold in
here don't they have any fucking heat?  And my heart is racing,
it won't slow down, not until I can see Scully and know that
she's okay, don't worry Scully no matter what he did to you
we'll get through this, we always do, and weather-cop has given
up on trying to get me to stop, and then suddenly someone is in
my way again and now I *have* to stop, have to stop, have to
stop...

"Agent Mulder?"

What...?

I still stare at my feet, because if I don't I'm going to trip
when I keep going in circles like this, who is this in my way
and why doesn't he just leave me the fuck alone I don't want to
talk to anybody except Scully, or maybe a doctor who can tell me
that she's going to be okay...

Oh FUCK what did he do to her?

Get a fucking grip, Mulder, maybe this *is* the doctor, pay
attention pay attention pay attention this is for SCULLY
dammit... 

"AGENT MULDER."

Finally I look up because I know that voice, don't I, and it's
not any doctor... 

Skinner.  How did Skinner get here?  I didn't call him.  Did I? 
Did I call anybody?  Christ, I should have called Scully's
mother again to tell... no, no, Scully would want to do that
herself, wouldn't she?

Suddenly Skinner has a grip on my upper arms and he's talking to
me again, did I miss something he said already but doesn't he
know better than to get in my way, to get between me and getting
to Scully?

"AGENT MULDER.  I said how is she?"

How is she?  How the fuck should I know how she is?  No one has
told me a fucking thing!

And then Skinner is turning, and there's some nurse there, she
has a kind face and brown hair, and she's wearing glasses, the
little round gold metal kind like Scully has, and...

"Agent Mulder?"

Why do people keep saying that to me, first Skinner and now her
don't they know who I am by now I've been making enough fucking
noise...

"... can see Agent Scully now if..."

What?

She's saying something about how Scully is, and I can't move,
can't move, and Skinner goes pale, almost as pale as Scully was
but not quite, I want to hear what the kind face is saying but
hardly anything's getting through, it sounds like she's telling
me how Scully was attacked, I think it's what weather-cop told
me anyway, but her words are all fuzzy and sounds like a bee is
buzzing around my head, Christ that's fucking pathetic to think
about bees now that must be some weird sick psychological thing,
but all I really want to hear is that Scully's okay and if she'd
said that I would have heard it, wouldn't I?  So she didn't and
anyway if she had then Skinner wouldn't be looking like a
fucking ghost....

Scully Scully Scully, and now I don't stare at my feet when I
move because the kind face is taking me down the hall and I need
to memorize where Scully is so I can find her again, oh fuck
that I'm not leaving her side until she throws me out herself
and even then I'm not leaving her side, not again, I'm not
leaving her alone again, not ever fucking again...

Oh.

Christ.

I'm not ready for this, I'm not fucking ready to see her, she's
not okay and I have to see her I have to know what that prick
did to her, I need to hear her tell me he raped her but then
what the fuck will I do about it I can't help her, I can't
comfort her, I can't take that away, and what kind of a prick am
*I* to make her say that to me anyway, I'm such a miserable
fucking...

"Mulder."

And now I'm not moving, I don't know how that happened, but I'm
standing next to her, she said my name, Scully's right here in
front of me, lying on the table, head turned toward me, and it
must be bad if she's not sitting up, and the lights are dim in
here, they must have turned down the lights once they were done
with her, the bright lights must have been hurting her eyes
while they were examining her, like she hasn't been hurt
enough...

And she's looking at me and she's looking just as haunted as
she was in her apartment, if not more, if that's possible, and
now I'm holding her hand, and it feels weird, like a jellyfish,
like she's filled with the ice water he tried to kill her in but
that can't be her can it?

"Mulder."

Christ, she's talking to me and I'm not even looking at her,
what the fuck is wrong with me?  I have her clammy hand, realize
it's freezing, and that it has bandages on it, as does most of
the rest of her that I can see that isn't covered by hospital
gown and blanket... I hold her hand, her beautiful hand, a
couple of the fingers are bandaged, there's blood seeping
through at the tips WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER YOU SICK FUCK, I hold
her hand between both of mine, as gently as I can and try to
will some of my heat into her, to warm her up, she's so cold...

"You're cold, Scully."  That was my voice, but I'm not sure
where it came from, and I lean down, raise her hand to my mouth,
kiss the fingertips that aren't bandaged, shaken to see that
she's trembling so badly but then I realize that it's me, that
I'm trembling while I hold her hand in mine...

Tell me don't tell me I need to know I don't want to know...

"Mulder."  Her voice is shaking, I can't believe this, Scully is
never like this, Jesus what did that prick do I'll fucking kill
him when I catch him you are going to PAY you motherfucking son
of a bitch for what you did to her... he'll never hurt you again
Scully I promise you I promise I promise I'm so sorry he hurt
you again Scully...

I keep holding her hand with one of mine and use the other to
touch her, her face her arms her shoulders, I'm not sure why I
guess I just need to, to know she's here in front of me, and
she's cut all over but you're still so beautiful to me Scully
I'm so sorry he hurt you, and I keep touching her, gently, so
gently, I would never hurt you you know that don't you Scully?

"Mulder... please... I need you to listen to me... "

God she's begging me she's never done that unless it was ME that
was hurt oh Christ this is going to be bad I don't know if I can
stand this...

"I told them not to tell you this part..."  And Scully takes a
deep breath, tears roll down her cheeks down her neck onto the
table and I'm paralyzed I can't stop them I can't help her I
couldn't help her Scully Scully Scully I'm so sorry and she's
talking again...

"Mulder, when Pfaster attacked me... with the scissors... "

She raises her hand, the one I'm not holding, the one I *am*
holding I grip a little tighter, trying to warm her, warm her
soul, give her strength, but how can I when I have none for
myself?  And she gestures at her face and neck and shoulders and
body and Christ I can picture him with those fucking scissors
stabbing at her taking her beautiful hair Christ I can't listen
I can't hear her tell me he fucked her God did he fuck her, did
he rape her with those scissors did he hurt her that badly?

"Mulder..."

Her voice is so small, she's so small, she chokes back a sob and
I almost lose it, almost have to run from the room to be sick
but I can't I'm paralyzed I can't hear this but I have to she
needs me to hear that he hurt her I can't do this I have to I'm
here Scully I'm here I'll do anything for you anything you want
anything you need for you Scully I'm here...

And then she looks at me, her eyes huge and wet and they bore
into me and she says the words one at a time shaking trembling
but it's not what I feared the most oh my God it's worse it's
worse the world is fucking ending my life is ending her life is
ending my breathing stops my heart stops it won't ever start
again...

"Mulder... he cut out the chip."

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

- end -

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

Feedback is cherished at Forte1354@aol.com or bjm1352@aol.com.

Additional Author's Notes:  The idea for this story came to me
one morning last week as I was lying in bed, not eager to get up
to go to work. <g>  When I started to write it, it came out much
more angsty than I'd originally intended.  I realized that
Mulder must have been more distressed by the events of
Irresistible than I'd thought. <g>

I included the reference to the song "Ventura Highway" because
*I've* been hearing that song a lot lately. :)

Many, many thanks to Jintian, the best damn beta reader on the
planet -- not only for her beta skills and for being a great
friend, but for insisting that I write this. :)