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Chapter Twelve

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The Sheriff had been in his office when they'd left.  With 
everyone focuses on nailing Derek Corbett, Tipton had been 
able to march her out of the room without anyone even meeting 
her eyes.  Scully took all the hard copies of the records but 
left her computer behind.  If Tipton's name were in those 
files somewhere, it was possible Parker would find it.  
Tipton stuffed her in the front seat of his cruiser and took 
off down the highway at breakneck speed.  The sun burned low 
in the sky, glinting off the windshield.

"Why Mulder?" she asked as he drove.  "What do you need with 
him?"

"If you'd been there, you would understand.  We're all still 
joined.  Him, me, her -- don't you see?  It all came out 
wrong, and I have to put things right again."

Scully knew that right meant dead.  She gripped the door 
handle and tried to remain calm.  With no gun and severe 
injuries, there was no way she could overpower him.  She had 
no idea what shape Mulder might be in, only that it must be 
bad if Tipton had felt confident enough to leave him alone.

Fear rose like a rash on her neck as Tipton turned off the 
main road and they disappeared among the thick trees.  A few 
minutes later they emerged on the other side, a dusty 
wasteland with a ramshackle farmhouse.  Tipton stopped the 
car.  "You wanted to know," he told her.  "Now you know."

Scully struggled to keep her voice even.  "Where's Mulder?"

"Get out."

Pain shot through her ribcage as she got to her feet.  
Breathless from the shock, she looked at Tipton.  "And 
Eleanor?  You took her too?"

"Eleanor is where she belongs."  He took out his service 
revolver and motioned towards the front door.  "Move."

Scully walked in his shadow, stumbling on the uneven steps, 
heart in her throat as she imagined what she would see on the 
other side.  The gun barrel pressed between her shoulder 
blades.  "Open it," he said near her ear.

Scully swallowed a surge of nausea and turned the knob.  The 
smell nearly knocked her backwards, but Tipton shoved her 
inside.  "I--I can't see," she said.

"Just keep going."

She reached out for the wall with her uninjured arm, feeling 
her way in the dark.  "Mulder?  Mulder, are you here?"

Tipton kicked the back of her knee and sent her sprawling.  
She choked as she hit the floor, breath gone, hot pain 
radiating through her entire body.  She couldn't move.

"Get up," he sneered. "Or I'll shoot you right here."

She sat up and staggered to her feet, hanging on to the door 
jam for support.  Tipton's face was barely visible in the 
murky darkness.  "Where...  where's Mulder?"

He nudged her into a large room and flipped a wall switch.  
Scully blinked in the harsh light.  She took in the dirty 
walls, the stained floor and the hacksaw in the corner.  At 
the back of the room, she saw side-by-side closets.  
"Mulder?"

Tipton grabbed her arm so hard his fingers bit into her 
flesh.  "What's it going to be, Dana?  Door number one or 
door number two?"

"I don't understand," Scully said hoarsely.  "Where's 
Mulder?"

"I'll tell you where he's not," Tipton said.  "He's not 
behind one of these doors."  He took his gun and pointed it 
at the door on the right.  

"No!"

Tipton laughed.  "Let's make a deal!"

"Stop," she pleaded.  "There has to be another way."

"No, this is perfect.  Eleanor or Mulder.  Which one is 
which, Dana?  Can you tell?"

"Mulder?" Scully yelled again.  "Mulder, where are you?"

"Pick one!" Tipton snarled.  "Left or right!  Win or lose!  
Who's it going to be?"

"Just stop!"  Scully trembled.  "No one has to die."

"Time's up," Tipton said.  He started to pull down on the 
trigger.

"Noooo!" Scully screamed again, and he stopped.

"No?  You want the other one?  All right, then!"  Abruptly, 
he jerked his arm to the left and fired over and over again 
through the door.  The noise shattered Scully's ears.  Tears 
streamed unchecked down her cheeks, and she felt she might 
pass out.  

"Please," she said softly.  "Stop."

"It's too late now."  He fished out a key from his pocket.  
"Let's see who made it, shall we?"

No sound came from the closets as Tipton dragged her towards 
them.  She twisted to get free but he held tight.  "Time to 
see," he snarled.  He tried to manage both her and the key at 
the same time.  In the process, he dropped the gun.  His 
shock eased his grip and Scully moved faster than any injured 
person ever had.  Her hand closed around the gun as she 
scrambled out of reach.  

"You don't want to do that," he said.

Scully's arm shook but she aimed right between his eyes.  
"Open the door."

"Dana--"

"I said open it!"  The tears were still wet on her cheeks.

Slowly, he turned and fitted the key in the lock.  Scully 
held her breath as the door squeaked open.  "You picked 
wrong," Tipton said.

"Oh, no."

Eleanor squinted at them from the floor of the closet. 

"Get the other one!" Scully demanded.  "Now!"

Maybe the bullets missed him, she thought.  Oh, please let 
them have missed him.  

She stepped back to allow Tipton access to the other closet, 
but instead of unlocking it, he advanced on her.  "I'll 
shoot!" she warned.

"No bullets," he replied just before he knocked the gun from 
her hand.  He shoved her backwards and she hit the floor 
again.  In a flash, he had his knife out.  Scully shrunk back 
as he loomed over her.

"Yeah, but this one does," said a voice from the door.  "Get 
the hell off of her, Tipton.  Right now."

Tipton backed off with his hands in the air.

Scully turned and saw Mulder standing at the door.  He had a 
gun but blood dripped all over his hands.  "Mulder?"

"Are you okay, Scully?"

"Yes."  She lurched to her feet again.

He motioned at Tipton with the barrel of his gun.  "Face 
down, hands behind your head.  Do it."

"You got out," Tipton observed.

"Mulder, your hands..."

"First lesson in old closets," Mulder told Tipton.  "There's 
always an attic over head.  I just pried the boards loose.  
Shouldn't have left my gun behind, though.  Say what you will 
about Coben -- he never made such a stupid mistake."

As Mulder arrested Tipton with his own handcuffs, Scully went 
to help Eleanor.  The woman skittered like a trapped animal 
at first.   "It's okay," Scully told her.  "It's all over 
now.  Are you hurt?  Did he hurt you?"

Eleanor said nothing.  Scully released her gag but couldn't 
free the knots with one hand.  "Mulder, can you give me 
Tipton's knife?"

The knife came sliding across the floor and Scully cut the 
ropes around Eleanor's hands and feet.  "Are you all right?" 
she asked again.  Eleanor wiggled her fingers and looked at 
her hands like she had never seen them before.  "Here, let me 
help you up."  

Eleanor allowed Scully to assist her to her feet, limping 
along as her circulation came back online.  "She's going to 
need a doctor, Mulder.  So are you."

From the floor, Tipton seethed.  "You're still mine, Ellie.  
You always will be."

Mulder placed a foot on the back of Tipton's knee and pressed 
until the man whimpered.  "Shut up."

"He's got radio in his car, right?  I'll call for help."  
Scully tried to walk Eleanor out the door, but Eleanor 
wouldn't move.  She stood frozen, locked staring at Tipton.  
"Eleanor?" Scully said gently.  "Come on outside.  It's 
cooler out there, and we can sit down."

Eleanor shook her head.  She pulled away from Scully and 
walked wordlessly back to the closet.  She closed it without 
a sound.

"You go," Mulder told Scully.  "It's okay."

"Are you sure?  You're bleeding pretty badly, Mulder."

"It's not as bad as it looks, really.  You go call--"

Their conversation stopped on a gun click.  Scully turned and 
saw Eleanor had retrieved Tipton's service revolver from the 
floor.  She pointed it at Tipton's head.

"Ellie, don't," Mulder said.  Scully didn't move.  The gun 
wavered in Eleanor's hands but she did not take her eyes off 
of Tipton. 

"You're mine," he told her.  "You know it's true."

"Eleanor, put the gun down," Mulder ordered.

"Put it down," Scully echoed.  

Eleanor ignored them both.  She took a step toward Tipton, 
still aiming for his head.  Scully exchanged a worried glance 
with Mulder.  He lifted one shoulder in a slow shrug and 
tried again.  "Eleanor, put it down.  It's okay.  There 
aren't any bullets.  Just put it down."

Eleanor pulled the trigger, and Scully jumped as the terrible 
noise sliced through her.  Blood oozed out of the hole in 
Tipton's forehead.  Eleanor stood stock still, the gun still 
raised.  Her lower lip trembled.  "There was one left," she 
said.  "I counted."

She relented and gave the gun to Mulder without really 
looking at him.  "Eleanor," he said. 

"He's not coming back this time."  Her voice hardened.  "Not 
anymore."  She began walking toward the exit.

"Scully..."

"I'm on it."  Scully trailed silently behind Eleanor.  She 
limped past Tipton's lifeless body, past the frayed rope and 
bloodied hacksaw, out of the dead house and into the setting 
sun.

XxXxXxX

Hours later, when the fresh horror had dulled to a sense of 
unreality, Scully walked the hospital hallways searching for 
Mulder.  She found him in a tiny room off of the ER, getting 
his hands stitched up by a young man who looked like he ought 
to be home studying algebra.  "Hey," she greeted Mulder, who 
answered her with a small smile.

"Hey, Scully.  Everything check out okay?"

"No new broken bones.  How about you?"

The young doctor moved aside to clean up his tools.  "You're 
all set, Mr. Mulder.  You can fill that prescription here or 
at any local drugstore."

"Thanks," Mulder said, carefully accepting the piece of paper 
with bandaged fingers.  He put it aside as Scully stepped 
closer and the doctor left the room.  She held out her good 
hand for his.

"Let me see." He sat still while she looked at the stitches 
that covered his palms. 

"Well, Dr. Scully?" he asked as she frowned.  "Do we have to 
go revoke his medical license?"

Grudgingly, she covered him back up, tucking her hand in his 
lap with his bandaged one.  "He did an okay job.  You really 
did a number on yourself, Mulder.  Some of those cuts are 
deep."

He shrugged.  "The boards were old but not that loose.  Once 
I got one of them off, the rest weren't too bad."  He leaned 
forward until his forehead touched hers.  She shuddered and 
closed her eyes.  "You all right?" he asked.

"I thought you were dead."

"I'm fine, Scully."

She nodded and moved a little closer.  She fingered the 
smooth fibers of his pants, felt the hardened patches of 
dried blood.  "Parker says we can wait until morning to give 
our official statements if we want."

Mulder blew out a long breath and sat back.  "A killer with 
cuffs on his hands a cop's bullet through his head.  I think 
the facts pretty much speak for themselves in this instance."

"God, Mulder.  It hardly seems fair.  Tipton's ordeal is over 
and it's Eleanor who will have to go to court."

Mulder nodded, not really looking at her.  "I thought about 
taking the cuffs off."

She stared at him.  "You what?"

"Yeah," he said softly.  He met her eyes.  "When you were out 
calling it in, I looked at him on the floor and tried to 
think of one good reason I shouldn't cover for her."

She searched his face.  "And?"

"I realized it wasn't my place.  Eleanor wanted it to be over, 
and now it will be.  We cover it up and he'd always be out 
there, hanging over her everywhere she goes."

"She may go to prison."

Gingerly, he took her hand.  "I think she's been in prison a 
long time, Scully.  The scenery will just be a little 
different now."

She thought of her old Sunday school room with its large 
sunny windows and pictures bearded men decorating the walls.  
An eye for an eye, said the bible.  She thought of Eleanor 
spending years in a cell not much bigger than a closet.  A 
life for a life.

Mulder pressed his fingertips to his hairline, scratching as 
best he could.  "What do you say, Agent Scully?  Care to take 
a tired old man home and put him to bed?"

She gave him a sad smile and rubbed his shoulder.  "That's 
the best offer I've had all day."  

They walked in silence down the hall to the front door of the 
hospital, where the press exploded upon them in a frenzy of 
questions.  

"Agent Mulder, Agent Mulder, have you found any of the other 
bodies yet?"

"Is it true that Tipton was copying Brahm Michael Coben's 
murders?"

"Should Eleanor Kot go to prison?  Agent Scully, tell us what 
happened at the farm!"

Mulder said a few brief words.  Scully didn't even hear them.  
She blinked under the bright lights.  Presidents and serial 
killers, she thought, the only men who get called by all 
three names.  The bulbs flashed and cameras zoomed.

And somewhere out there was another little boy watching every 
lurid detail, taking notes and imagining his future.

XxXxXxX

Mulder woke up to a sunshine corona around his heavy motel 
drapes.  He had his own personal drape in the form of 
Scully's supple thigh.  Stitches be damned, it was not an 
opportunity he was about to pass up.  He slipped a hand under 
the hem of her T-shirt and traced gentle lines on her skin 
with one ungauzed finger.  Scully snuffled into his shoulder 
but did not wake.  He kissed her head and let her sleep; with 
their combined injuries, it was going to be a long trip back 
to DC.

He flipped on the news, muting the sound, and watched CNN 
detail Tipton's killing spree and capture.  The FBI came off 
well in the reports, so Kersh could hardly be too upset with 
them.  When the story cycle went into repeat, Mulder lost 
interest and began picking at his bandages.  The cuts 
alternately itched and stung like hell, but with no good hand 
to maneuver, he was reduced to ripping at the gauze with his 
teeth.

"Stop that," came a sleepy voice from beside him.  "Or I'll 
have to put one of those cones around your head to keep you 
from chewing."

"Kinky." He leered at her, and she hid her smile in the 
pillow.  Leaning over, he found her ear with his nose.  "You 
might find you like my chewing, Scully," he murmured.  She 
shivered under him.

They couldn't manage a real embrace, so he wished her "good 
morning" by sort of lying on top of her for a minute.  She 
pressed a kiss to his collarbone, and he took this as a 
signal that she had had enough.  Rolling away, he studied the 
bruises on her face.  "You okay?"

Her gaze slid to the silent media circus still playing on the 
TV.  She looked back at him.  "I'll live.  You?"

He held out his hands.  "I'm wondering who is going to return 
the rental car since neither of us can drive."

She snorted and stretched carefully.  "What time is our 
flight?"

"Not for another six hours."

"These days, it will probably take me that long to put on my 
clothes."

He grinned.  "If that's going to be a problem for you, 
Scully--"

She poked him and began the slow process of sitting up.  
Mulder rolled off the other side and went around to help.  A 
little breathless, she sat on the edge to recuperate from the 
struggle.  He sat next to her and squeezed her knee.  "Just 
take your time," he said.  She leaned her head on his 
shoulder and said nothing.  

"You can have the bathroom, if you want it," she offered a 
moment later.  "I'll be in there a while."

"That's okay.  I have a couple of phone calls to make.  You 
go ahead."

She sighed and hoisted herself off the bed.  He watched her 
retreat and lifted one hand to his mouth.  Just as the gauze 
touched his lips, she called back, "Cone!"

Mulder groaned and fell backwards on the bed.  Cone, he 
thought.  Hmmm.  He got up and went to knock on the bathroom 
door.  "Hey, Scully!  I've thought of something for us to do 
before our flight."

Two hours later, they stood in line at the Woodsbury Dairy, a 
converted red barn that now featured forty kinds of homemade 
ice cream.  Their battle scars meant curious looks from the 
townsfolk around them, but Mulder was glad to be surrounded 
by grumbling parents, happy kids and dogs planning stealth 
attacks on low-flying cones.  The breeze ruffled Scully's 
hair, plastering strands across her face that she could not 
brush off with one arm in a sling.  He clumsily tucked her 
hair back behind her ear, which earned him a slow smile.

"What are you going to get?" she asked.  "I don't see any 
rockets on the menu."

"I was thinking of something in fudge ripple," he replied.  
Fudge ripple was the flavor of Cape Cod summers, flying kites 
and laughter in the sand, long before he'd believed in 
monsters.  "You?"

"Chocolate chip."

He nodded.  "Classic, tasteful.  You can't go wrong with 
chocolate chip."

They reached the window and Scully ordered her cone.  As 
Mulder watched her receive the ice cream, he realized he was 
going to have a problem.  She licked her cone and regarded 
him.  "Aren't you going to order?"

He frowned and held out his wounded hands.  "Can't."  He gave 
her his best smile.  "Agent Scully, would you hold my cone?"

She laughed, ice cream in her mouth.  "Mulder!"

"Please?"

"I can't!  I only have one hand!"

"Oh."  He slumped a bit.  "Right."

Scully let him suffer a moment and then bumped their arms 
together.  "But I can share."  He brightened and followed her 
to the picnic area, where they sat on the table with their 
feet up on the bench.  Scully held the cone while they took 
turns eating.  Mulder leaned against her good shoulder.

"After this, can we get a fudge ripple?"

"That might be arranged."

"With jimmies?"

"Don't push it."

"Okay, jimmies only on my half then."

She rolled her eyes at him.  "We'll work it out at the 
counter, okay, Mulder?"

"Okay."  

Yeah, he thought.  Definitely jimmies.

XxXxXxXxX

The End.

Thanks to Amanda for proofing.  Any remaining mistakes are 
mine alone.

Feedback:  by all means!  Find me at syn_tax6@yahoo.com

I'm sorry for the long wait.  Life has been kicking me in the 
rear lately, and I haven't had much time for fun writing.  I 
appreciate your patience!