XxXxXxXxXxX Chapter Fourteen XxXxXxXxXxX "Scully!" In her dream, the name was a cry of frustrated anguish. Mulder was locked on the outside of the cabin as she struggled for life within. Her hands were pinned; his knee blocked her kicks. Carl rose above her, his shears glinting in the light. She curled her toes in fear. "Scully, wake up!" She opened her eyes, gulping air like a drowning victim. Mulder's face blurred then sharpened into focus. He had her hands trapped over her head. "Okay?" he asked, searching her face. She nodded and he released her. Mulder's bedroom, she realized, drawing up the sheet. Safe. Pale morning light streamed in from his open window, and she shivered as the cool breeze dried the sweat on her skin. "Sorry," she murmured against his arm. "I know." He raised his arm to make room for her. She curled into him and replaced Carl's voice with the reassuring rhythm of Mulder's heartbeat. "You all right?" He traced the vertebrae down her back with gentle fingers. "Yes." The fierce grip of the dream was already receding, but she burrowed a little closer to him anyway. He stroked her hair. "Sometimes I wonder if I should just let you have it out with him." His voice was a low rumble under her ear. "Wake you up when it was all over." She slid her palm across his smooth stomach to find the bony playground of his ribs. He still bore faint bruises from one of their recent nighttime tussles. "That could be hazardous to your health." "Might be worth it." "No." She kissed his breastbone. "I need you fit and healthy. You have to stand up in court today, remember?" "The only thing that has to stand up today is my testimony. Besides, you're the star witness. You and Amelia." Scully rolled away from him onto her back. Carl Quentin's actual trial had passed with no input from her. The federal prosecutor had had his hands full with fourteen counts of homicide; no need to add kidnapping to the list. It had taken eight women and four men just three hours to return a verdict of guilty on all charges. Her only job at the sentencing was to let the jury see a victim's face and convince them that Carl should pay with his life. Mulder leaned up on one arm and gave her leg a slow caress through the sheet. "Nervous?" She dropped her chin to her chest. "No." He waited. "I hardly belong at this hearing, Mulder. All I've got to show them is a few minor scars and a month of bad dreams. It just seems wrong to sit in front of those women's families and pretend my losses are commensurate with theirs." "You have every right to be there. He hurt you, and you have a right to stand up and be counted." Her smile was wistful. "My number just seems awfully small." Mulder bent his head in thought for a moment, then looked her in the eyes. "You once said I had no idea what it felt like to be tied in that bed while Quentin sharpened his shears, and you're absolutely right. I have no fucking idea, and neither does that jury. But you do, Scully." She looked away, and he turned her chin back to face him. "If you won't stand up in that court for yourself, stand up for the others. Give them back the voice that he took from them." Hot tears stung her eyes. "Yes. I guess I can do that." "I know you can." He gathered her against him and she snuffled into the warm creases of his neck. "Or we could just stay here," she offered after a minute. He squeezed her. "Said the siren from the rock." "Okay, okay." She brushed the hair out of her eyes. "You're on first, so I guess that means you get dibs on the bathroom." "I'll make it worth your while." "Mulder, we don't have time for..." "If you can find the waffle iron, I'll make waffles while you're getting ready." She eyed him. "I see the loophole in that offer already." "Check the back closet," he said as he got out of bed. "I think that's where I last saw it." He left his robe so she put it on, dragging the hem on the floor as she went down the hall to the closet. She opened the door and a partially-deflated basketball landed with a "thunk" at her feet. "Great," she said, regarding the boxes and piles of clothes. She peered into the closet one and found a dusty lava lamp. Green, of course. Pushing further into the depths, she brushed aside a coat and discovered a unicycle. She gave it the eyebrow and continued her search. "Any luck?" he called from the bedroom. "Not yet!" "Check the shelf!" The corner of a box poked her in the back as she stood on tiptoe to scan the shelf. Records, a fedora, a giant beer mug...baby blocks? She pulled them down. On the front, a toothless baby grinned at her as his fat fingers waved a yellow block in the air. Scully felt her heart constrict. "Oh, Mulder," she whispered, running her fingers over the infant's face. There would be no courtroom for this. No one would ever sit and answer to her for the real injustices in her life. But she could go and tell the jury about the man who plagued her dreams, who had tied her up and cut her and forced her to run terrified through the dark woods. She could explain how she nearly died. How she nearly lost the chance to spend the rest of her days with a man whose faith was so strong that he kept baby blocks hidden in his closet. Just in case. "Scully?" She swiped the tears from her cheeks and pushed the box back up on the shelf. "Right here." He joined her in the closet, all fresh scent and pressed white shirt. "Good thing it wasn't a snake," he said, reaching over her head for the waffle iron. "You've got thirty minutes," she answered as she brushed past him. "We don't have to be downtown for at least an hour and a half." "I have some place I need to stop first," she said over her shoulder. "I'll have to meet you there." XxXxX He walked the shiny hallway outside the courtroom several times while waiting for her. When the doors at the far end finally opened, it was Amelia and Grenier who appeared. Grenier held the heavy wooden door as Amelia navigated her crutches over the threshold. Grenier's stay in the hospital had cost him twenty pounds, but Amelia made up the difference with her rounded belly. "How are you feeling?" Mulder asked as she lowered herself onto a bench. "Getting around better every day. I only use these things 'cause he makes me." Grenier shot her an affectionate scowl. "As if I've ever been able to make you do anything." "Where's Scully?" Amelia asked, looking around. Mulder glanced at his watch for the hundredth time. "I don't know. She said she had a stop to make, but she should be here by now." "Maybe she got trapped in traffic," Amelia replied. "Worst comes to worst, I can always go first." "I'm on before either one of you," Mulder said. "Any minute now." "Well, I can't wait to get in there," Grenier said. "If this is the only way we get to kill the sonofabitch, I'll take it." He looked to Mulder. "I was thinking last night -- if he was our greatest failure all those years, then we must be his, right? He tried to take down all four of us, and here we are about to stick the nails in his coffin." Mulder said nothing. He wished he could have Grenier's clarity, but it was hard for him to see the four of them as real victors. Carl was caught, yes, and would likely die for his crimes. But men like Carl had long fingers that could reach out from beyond the grave, tap you on the shoulder and remind you that you weren't the same person you were before they came along. A scar here, a missing toe there. Or, like him, the memory man who had a fresh batch of images that would never go away. Amelia was the only one with the crutches, but they were all limping along. "Agent Mulder?" A court official stuck her head out the door. "They're ready for you." Mulder turned and frowned down the hall. "Yeah, okay." He'd taken two steps towards the courtroom when Scully opened the front door. Momentary sunlight streamed in behind her. "Hey," he said, his shoulders relaxing with relief. "Hey," she answered as she joined them outside the courtroom. Amelia snagged her hand, and Scully squeezed back. "Good to see you," she said. "Agent Mulder?" He ignored the woman. "Everything okay?" he asked Scully. "Fine." He raked his gaze over her from head to toe. When he met her eyes again, it was to ask her a silent question. She gave him a tiny nod, and they shared a slow smile. "Agent Mulder, we need you inside now." "Good luck," Scully said, and he brushed her fingers. "You, too." XxXxX The murmuring stopped when she entered the courtroom. All the spectators turned for a better look, and she knew she must be a great curiosity as the object of a serial killer's obsession. She could feel them evaluating -- this was it? this small woman in the dark suit and serious expression? -- but the one man who understood had not yet turned to stare. No doubt his lawyers had counseled him not to seem a slavering monster when she appeared. Probably they had told him not even to glance her way. But she could fix that. The silence helped, her heels audible against the marble floor as she walked past the rows of onlookers. The strappy leather sandals weren't her usual choice for a court appearance, but for this particular bit of testimony, they were perfect. She watched Carl, his head down and hands clasped tightly in front of him on the defense table. The rubber and spokes of his wheelchair obscured the view of his missing right foot. As Scully closed the small gate behind her, she could see his eyes shift to the right, desperate for a glimpse. Just a few more steps and he would know. She moved into view and his head shot up, their eyes locking. Her stolen shoes had been in the FBI evidence storeroom, not needed for Quentin's prosecution. She'd shined the scuff marks away and scrubbed them free of his fingerprints. His lips parted in horror, then pressed together into a white line. He clenched his hands in impotent rage. That's right, you sonofabtich, she thought, I got them back. She turned away to take her place on the witness stand. "Agent Scully," the prosecutor said when she had been sworn in, "Thank you for coming today. The jury has heard testimony about the vicious attacks the defendant committed against the many young women who lost their lives at his hands. You survived not one but two of his terrible assaults. Can you please give the court some sense of what it was like to suffer these brutal attacks?" Scully felt the strength of fourteen voices behind her. "Yes," she said clearly, "I can." XxXxX Zee End. Ending credits: Mulder -- as himself Scully -- as herself Carl ---- Billy Bob Thorton Agent Cheng --- the scary woman at my bus stop Invaluable Story Editor, initial phase -- Jerry Chief "bwhahahahahahaha" Story Editor -- bugs Chief "EEEEK!" Story Editor -- Alicia K. Keygrip -- Skinner, since he didn't have much else to do here The Loudest Screamers: Mara and jen Head Stalker -- Jean, Jean, the prance machine Most Persistent Real Life Stalkers -- Joanne and Nancy Chief Real Life Whine Recipient -- Sarah Head Cheerleaders -- the Haven fic crowd Bestboy -- that's got to be Mulder again, don't you think? Best Shoes -- Scully, no question Feedback -- syn_tax6@yahoo.com Thank you to everyone who has helped and sent encouragement along the way. Take care. Cheers, syntax6