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Kyrie Eleison 2 Of 2

Part 5

"For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of
God...." Romans 3:23


21 Black Bear Road, Truckee, February 23 4:00 p.m.


Scully had left Skinner alone outside on the rear
deck, still concerned about
 him.  She returned gratefully to the warm cabin and
found Mulder still
asleep and Byers in the armchair deep in a novel.  She
peered at the
title: "War and Peace."

"Now where did you find that?" she asked.

Byers lowered the book and looked inside the cover.
"It belonged to
Michael Bailey.  I found it on the shelf over there."
He pointed to a
small bookcase standing against the far wall. "It's
been a while since
I read this book, it's good to re-read it again."
Byers lost himself
in the book again.

Scully wandered over to the book case and studied the
titles.  She found
classic literature, poetry, history-both ancient and
modern, and several
favorites of her own. Each of the books she removed
from the shelf had
Michael Bailey's name inside.  I wonder what kind of
man he was?
Scully pondered as she thumbed through a dog-eared
copy of Milton.

As she put the book back onto the shelf, she notice a
battered cardboard
box on the floor.  She knelt down and saw that it was
filled with the
mementos of a life.

"What'cha lookin' at?"  Mulder called from across the
room.

Scully picked up the box and carried over to the
couch. "I don't know.
It looks like a box of keepsakes." Scully lifted out a
small trophy and
read the inscription "Speech and Debate Club, First
Place, presented to
Michael Bailey March 12, 1978."  Mulder took the
trophy and handled it
carefully before giving it back to Scully.  

Mulder reached into the box and found a small photo
album.  The first
picture showed two young boys sitting under a tree,
the elder with his
arm protectively around the younger one.  Both wore
broad grins.  
The label on the back read "Mikey and Paul, June
1973."  Later pictures
showed the two boys, grown older but always together.
The last picture was
labeled "Michael at graduation, 1979" and showed a
proud young man in
cap and gown flanked by his equally proud little
brother.  Mulder looked
troubled and thoughtful as he handed the book back to
Scully.

Scully found a newsprint obituary dated August 1979.
"It looks like their
parents died together in an auto accident.  There were
no other relatives."


"Somehow when you do this kind of work, you stop
thinking of suspects as
people.." Scully said, closing the album and replacing
it in the box.  
She put the box on the floor next to the couch and
focused on Mulder.

"It must be serious, you have your 'professional' face
on."  Mulder
commented.

"Mulder, I wanted to let you rest a bit before I took
a close look at
your injuries.  There was always a chance we could get
you to a hospital
so that your wounds could be cleaned in a sterile
environment."

"Not gonna happen, huh?"  Mulder lay back against the
pillows.  "Is it
going to hurt?  How much?"

"I don't know.  That's the problem.  I don't really
know what your
condition is, except that you may have some internal
injuries, you are
feverish, probably shocky and developing some type of
infection."

"What if you just leave me as I am?"  Mulder looked
troubled. "I...I'd
rather not have anybody touch me just now."

Scully looked at him with compassion. "We could leave
you as you are,
but I don't think it would help your wounds any.  It
will be a few days
before we can get out of here.  Do you trust me to
help you?"

"Scully, I trust you with everything.... except maybe
my video collection."

"Hey, it was an accident, that copy of the Sound of
Music showing up
in your video cabinet." Scully grinned.  

"Yeah, inside the jacket that said 'Debbie Does
Dallas'?" Mulder snorted
then winced and paled.  He lay back again and said
nothing for a moment.  
"Ok, you're the doctor.  But, I'd like some privacy.
I haven't had much
of that lately."

"Okay.  Let me take a look and see what medical
supplies we have on hand."
Scully got up and went over to Byers and motioned for
him to follow her to
the kitchen.  

"Byers, could you read in the kitchen?  I'll need the
living room for a
while."

Byers nodded. "I heard.  Anything I can do to help,
just ask."  
Scully nodded and went outside.  Skinner was chopping
wood again,
but not as ferociously as before.  Well, she thought,
at least he's
keeping warm.  Skinner noticed Scully and put down the
axe.

"That's a good sized woodpile.  You feeling better?"
She sat down
on a weathered bench against the wall.

"A little.  But it still bothers me." Skinner eyed
Scully.  "And you don't
look too happy yourself.  How's Mulder?"

"I need to dress his wounds if I can.  He's asked for
some privacy,
so I'd like us to have the living room for a bit.  I
need to check the
cupboards to see if Bailey has anything stronger than
soap and water.  
I'd give my eye-teeth for a quart of Betadine and an
IV."  Scully looked up.
"In his condition I may cause as much pain cleaning
his wounds as Bailey
did causing them."

Skinner stiffened.  "If there's anything, anything I
can do to help......"

"I'll be sure to ask." Scully met Skinner's eyes.
"Remember,  Mulder isn't
Bailey's only victim here.  Your scars just don't
show."

Skinner nodded "Or yours."

Skinner followed Scully into the kitchen and joined
Byers at the kitchen
table.  Byers had found a deck of cards and was
playing solitaire.  
As Scully went into the bathroom she heard Skinner ask
him whether he'd
ever played poker before.

Scully opened the medicine cabinet and removed a
bottle of hydrogen peroxide,
one of aspirin, some cotton balls and a roll of gauze.
 She didn't find
anything else she considered useful except for some
clean towels and a fresh
bar of soap.  She tried to run hot water from the tap,
but got only icy
water.  She moved to the kitchen and happily found
some anti-bacterial
dish soap.  She stopped and surveyed the large iron
stove.

"I think it's an old fashioned wood-stove.  Bailey
isn't much for
luxuries, is he?" Byers commented. "That's why I made
the coffee on the
stove in the living room, it, at least was already
hot."
 
Scully sighed in resignation and went to get wood but
found herself meeting
Skinner at the doorway.  "I'll get that.  You just
fill a pan with water.  
I've used this type of stove before.  I'll set it up
for you."  Scully
found a large pot and filled it with the icy water,
then set it onto
the stove. She found Skinner lighting a fire in the
stove; she could hear
the flames roaring inside and the beginning of heat
radiating from it.  
Skinner shut the iron door with  a clang and stepped
back, dusting off his
hands.  

"I've put extra wood in the pile next to the stove.
Just add it as needed."
Skinner turned and went back to the table without
further comment.  Scully
was collecting her supplies together when she heard a
loud 'thud'
from the living room.  She raced into the living room,
followed closely by
Skinner and Byers, to find Mulder, wrapped in a
blanket, laying on the
floor breathing hard.  He looked up, his face twisted
with pain.
"I'm...sorry.  Had... to go... to the bathroom."

Skinner and Scully helped him up and back over to the
couch.  Mulder was
pale and sweating and seemed to have trouble keeping
his eyes open.
"Mulder, I'll rig up some kind of bedpan for you.  
I'm so sorry..."
Scully began.

"No, don't want a bedpan.  I can do this... if someone
can help me to the
bathroom." Mulder pleaded.

"I can help him." Said Skinner.  Mulder nodded assent.


"I can help too." Scully was puzzled as Mulder
vehemently shook his
head 'no'.   "Why not me?" she asked.

"You're a girl!" said Mulder scornfully.  

Scully smiled. "I think I just lost that battle.  Ok,
go ahead and
give Mulder a hand, but will you do me a favor..." she
pulled Skinner away
"tell me if he passes any blood in his urine.  It
could look red or
dark colored."

"You think he's bleeding inside?" Skinner asked.

"Possibly, and I don't think Mulder will volunteer the
information,
since I'd only worry about him and I can't do anything
about it."

Skinner grinned. "He's right, you will."

Scully smiled back. "Just a normal hazard of the job."

Skinner went back and, supporting Mulder under his
shoulders, walked him
into the bathroom and shut the door.

Twenty minutes later Skinner helped Mulder back to the
couch and settled
him in, then he went into the kitchen to wash his
hands.  Scully was ladling
out hot water into a smaller bucket half filled with
cold water.  She turned
when she heard Skinner come in.

"Well?" she said.

"Nothing that I could see. But if I do notice
anything, I'll tell you."
Skinner said.

Scully felt relieved, although she knew it was
premature.  Mulder could
still have internal injuries with blood loss on a
microscopic level.  
This just meant that it wasn't immediately
life-threatening.  Still,
feeling lighter, she picked up her bucket and towels
and went into the
living room.



Mulder was lying quietly when Scully pulled a chair
next to the couch.  
"So, how are you doing?" she asked. "You want to get
started?"  
Mulder gave Scully a nervous look and nodded. Scully
set the bucket of
warm water next to the couch, along with soap, towels
and gauze bandages.
She smiled reassuringly and unwrapped the blankets
from around him. She
helped Mulder lean forward and covered the couch with
towels, then helped
him lay back.

"I'll need to get this shirt off.  It'll probably be
sticking to you in
some places.  Let me know if you need me to stop..."
Scully began to clean
his injuries with the soap and water.  At first Mulder
flinched with every
touch, then, clenching his jaw, his face became
impassive.  After she had
been working for a few minutes, Mulder spoke.

"Scully, have you ever thought about evil?"

"Huh?" She asked.  "What about evil?  It exists.
We've both seen it.  
What more is there to think about?"

"Have you ever defined it for yourself?  Wondered
whether, with the best
of intentions, you're actually doing an evil thing to
somebody else?"
At Scully's stare, Mulder added. "Hypothetically, of
course."

"Well, I don't think you can ever see all the
consequences of your actions.
 If you tried, you'd go crazy.  I guess for myself,
when I question an
action I'm about to take, I just pray and ask for the
grace to make the
right decision."  Scully smiled.  "I know you're
allergic to religion,
but that's the way I do it."  She worked a little
longer, then stopped and
met Mulder's eyes. "You're thinking about Michael
Bailey aren't you?"

"Yeah.  Nothing much to do here on the couch but
think.  Scully, when I
wrote that profile I arrogantly assumed that he had to
be the killer.  
But I was so confident in my own judgment, I didn't
check all the evidence
thoroughly.  It simply never occurred to me that
somebody else might be the
killer."  He looked thoughtfully at the box, which
still sat next to the
couch.  "And I understand Michael's reasons for not
reporting his brother
to the police."

Scully sat back and watched Mulder's face with
concern.  "Mulder, I know
that Bailey's love for his little brother reminds you
of your relationship
with Samantha, but don't forget: Paul Bailey is a
serial torturer-murderer,
responsible for at least 10 deaths, if not more."  She
looked down and
tugged gently at a corner of Mulder's shirt, which was
sticking to his ribs.


"Ow! Easy there....I'm not saying that Paul Bailey
isn't a sick SOB or that
he's a choir angel.  What I'm trying to say is that I
think he has an
honest complaint against me."  Scully glared at
Mulder. Mulder went on.
"When I was hanging there and Paul told me about my
mistake, the only thing
I could think to say was that I'm only human and I
depended on the evidence.
 Was that a feeble excuse, or what?  I should have
looked more closely at
the 'evidence'. I made a snap judgment and made it
stick.  No wonder Paul
beat the crap out of me. I can't say I blame him...."

"Such that he's justified in torturing you half to
death?  That's ridiculous!
 Are you sure you don't have a head injury on top of
everything else?"
Scully's glare became, if possible, even more
indignant.  She stopped,
to choose her words carefully, and went on.

"Mulder, you asked about my definition of evil.  Well,
here it is.  
Evil is deliberately causing pain to another person or
persons  
for your own enjoyment, without regard for the
consequences of your
actions.  Has it occurred to you that what Paul Bailey
did to you
has repercussions beyond Fox Mulder?"  

Mulder looked puzzled and Scully went on.  "Skinner is
eating his heart out
because of what Bailey did to you.  He thinks he could
have stopped it
from happening and that he is responsible because he
couldn't.  And,
while we're at it, I don't enjoy having to see you
like this.  I'm a doctor
but we're miles from anywhere and there's very little
I can do for you here.
 That causes me pain." As Scully finished, she could
hear her voice
start to tremble.  She quietly continued cleaning
Mulder's wounds,
then felt his hand at her chin.  Mulder lifted her
face and met her eyes.

"I'm sorry Scully, if anything I've done or said has
caused you pain."
He said softly.  "I don't like you to worry about me,
but I'd be lying
if I didn't admit that I'm glad you're here."  Scully
grabbed Mulder's
hand and squeezed it, then continued treating him.  

Mulder went on. "I'm surprised that Skinner feels that
way, though.  I
wouldn't have made it without him.  While it was going
on, I could
look over and see Skinner, full of rage and
determination, trying to get
free of the ropes.  Just looking at his face helped.
I knew I could count
on him not to give up.  After the first...session...I
felt like I wanted to
die.  Bailey left and put Skinner on a long chain.
Skinner got me down,
kept me warm, gave me water and forced me to think
about getting out,
not giving up. He made me stop wallowing in pain and
analyze Bailey's
psychology to come up with a plan to talk him down.  I
owe him a lot."  
Mulder pondered a bit, then continued.

"Ok, how about life after death?"

Scully sighed.  She hated it when Mulder was in this
kind of mood.  
"So what about it? Are you asking if I believe in
heaven and hell?"

"Well, yeah.  What do you think happens after you die?
Is all your life
geared toward earning your way into heaven?" Mulder
grinned at her
challengingly, then winced as she hit a tender spot.

"Mulder, unlike you I have a religious faith that I
believe in.  I believe
that if I lead a good life and trust God, I'll go to
heaven.  Who knows?"
Scully smiled. "If I'm there to speak for you, he
might even let you in."

Mulder looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.  "I've
never really believed
in life after death.  I mean, it's a great idea, but I
just could never
really believe in it.  I'm glad I don't believe in
hell, although having to
try to make amends for your sins while you're still
alive is even worse.   
I suppose that the most I've ever hoped for from my
life is to spend it in
a great cause.." He paused and went on. "Or give it up
for a great cause."

"The Truth?" Scully asked quietly.  "Just be sure that
the truth you die for
is really worth it, not more lies."

Scully stopped cleaning and picked up the peroxide.
"Ok, Mulder.  I've
finished cleaning the blood and dirt off your chest,
now here's the hard part.  
The best cleanser I could find was this.  I'm going to
apply it, and it's
going to hurt, a lot.  Ready?"

Mulder grinned weakly. "Boy, Agent Scully, you really
know how to show a guy
a good time. Ok, go." Scully saturated a washcloth
with peroxide and began
swabbing Mulder down.  He heroically grit his teeth
and held back his yelp.  
But when Scully had finished, he said whitely "You
really don't exaggerate
about these things, do you?"

"Never." Scully said calmly and picked up the soapy
water.  "I'm going to
change this for new water and I'll do the rest of
you."  

As she entered the kitchen she smiled to hear Mulder's
reply "Don't I wish!"

Scully entered the kitchen to find Skinner and Byers
deeply involved in a
poker game.  "Who's winning?" She asked curiously.  

Skinner glumly pointed to Byers. "He said it was his
first game ever, but
I owe him half a year's pay by now."

Byers just smiled quietly.  "How's Mulder doing?" He
asked.

"Pretty good.  I think I'll be done in about thirty
minutes, so try to
leave A.D. Skinner something to live on for the rest
of the year."  
Scully checked her watch. "It's about 7 p.m. and I'm
getting hungry.  
Which one of you gentlemen would like to cook dinner?"

Skinner got up. "I'll do it.  This way I might be able
to have at least
one paycheck to call my own.  I'll check the cupboards
and see what
Bailey has on hand."

Scully returned to the living room with more warm
water to find Mulder
reading a packet of papers from the box.

"What's that?"  she asked as she sat down.

"Letters Michael wrote to Paul from prison.  They're
very interesting.
It looks like Michael made Paul promise never to hurt
people again, and in
exchange Michael promised not to report Paul to the
police.  OUCH..."  
Scully had reached Mulder's abdomen, heavily bruised
and still distended
looking.

"Is that tender?" Scully asked and Mulder nodded his
head.  Scully said
nothing but continued her work. After another wash of
peroxide on his lower
body and extremities.. "Ow, Scully, take it easy
there, will ya?" ...she
helped him sit up and cleaned his back, applying the
same treatment.  
Then she wrapped the gauze bandage around his torso,
where the worst of the
lacerations were.  Some of them had started bleeding
again, but not heavily.
She had scrounged some shorts from Bailey's dresser
and primly averted
her eyes while Mulder painfully slipped them on.
Finally she wrapped
Mulder securely in his blanket and sat back.

"Ok, I'm done." Scully paused.  "Mulder, are you
really sure you want to
dig into Michael Bailey's past?  It's over and done
with, after all."


"Not while Paul is still out there.  Speaking of
which, what did you do
with him."  Mulder looked around a bit nervously.  

"He's out in the bunker.  We'll probably keep him
there until the authorities
 can take charge of him.  Skinner has volunteered to
take him his meals.
He's been restrained, don't worry. He won't get out."

"Good." Said Mulder with barely hidden relief.  "By
the way, did you bring
my weapon with you? If you did I'd...like to have it
back."

Scully looked at him curiously.  "Yes, we did bring
it.  I'll get it for you."
Scully got up and returned with Mulder's gun.  He took
it and put it under
one of the couch cushions.

The smell of food wafted through the room.  Scully
went into the kitchen to
find Byers stirring a pot of soup while Skinner made
sandwiches.  He looked
up as Scully came in.  "Everything ok?"

"Fine, sir." Scully washed her hands at the sink.  "I
think we can move
back into the living room now.  "Mulder's a little
groggy, but ready for
company."

Scully looked into the pot of soup, chicken noodle,
good choice.  She
spooned some broth into a mug, and broth plus noodles
into a second.  
She gave the first mug out to Mulder, who looked at it
suspiciously.

"What's in it?"  He sniffed at it.

"Chicken soup.  Try a little and see if you can keep
that down.  If not,
we'll put you back on water." Scully began eating her
mug of soup.  
Encouraged, Mulder took a sip, then slowly finished
the mug.  By then
Skinner and Byers had joined them in the living room.


February 23, 10:00 p.m.

By common consent they decided to spend the night in
the living room.  
Nobody wanted to sleep in Bailey's bed.  Scully made a
pallet for herself
next to Mulder's couch, although he had generously
offered to share.  
Scully had just laughed and said "In your dreams!"

Skinner and Byers made their beds closer to the
kitchen doorway.  Before
retiring for the night, Skinner locked and bolted all
the doors and windows,
then made sure that the weapon he'd taken from Bailey
was loaded and near
to hand.  Then he lay down to rest.

Scully quietly followed Skinner on his rounds,
double-checking the locks.  
She felt silly sleeping with her gun under her pillow,
but did it anyway
because it made her feel better.


February 24, 3:00 a.m.

Scully's dreams were haunted by a voice, pleading for
rescue, then she
gradually realized that this wasn't a dream, at least,
not hers.  
She blinked in the dim firelight.  Skinner and Byers
were asleep,
but she could hear Mulder. "Please, no...no, I haven't
done anything
wrong...no...God it hurts!"  

Scully got up and went to Mulder.  "Mulder, it's okay,
it's just a dream."
She stroked his forehead until his eyes opened.

"What..?" Mulder's eyes were blank with terror, then
he recognized
Scully and relaxed. "Oh. Scully...I was having a
nightmare wasn't I? I'm
sorry to wake you." Mulder looked very tired and
frightened.

"You were dreaming about Bailey, weren't you?" Scully
asked gently.

"I was back in that room, but I was alone with Bailey
this time, and I
wasn't coming out again."  Mulder shivered and Scully
wrapped the blanket
around him more tightly. "I suppose I should expect
this for a while, post
traumatic stress reaction."  Mulder looked bleakly
around the room.  "Think
I'll sit up for a while..."

"You want to talk about it?" Scully wrapped her
blanket around herself and
sat closer to the couch.

Mulder's eyes anxiously scanned the room. "I guess I
feel like my...well...
personal security is violated, for lack of a better
term.  I don't feel safe,
even though I know I'm surrounded by friends." He
grinned. "With guns."  
He looked troubled and couldn't meet Scully's eyes.
"I wonder what I'd do
if  I met Bailey again; whether I'd
just...collapse....with terror. I see
him in every shadow,  I jump with every strange
noise."

Mulder looked down at the floor. "And I'm afraid that
I won't be able to do
my job as an FBI agent because I'll be starting at
shadows, for fear of
getting hurt again." Mulder took a breath and went on.
"And even being
touched...I can't stand it.  Just having you dress my
wounds was awful.  
I...wanted to run just so that you wouldn't touch me,
and I had to keep
reminding myself that it was you...Scully...my
friend."

"I don't think that there's anything unusual in the
way you're feeling."
Scully said calmly. "You've been through a trauma.
And your personal
security WAS violated, in a terrible way." Scully
gently cupped Mulder's
cheek with her hand, forcing Mulder to meet her gaze.
"I felt that way
after Duane Barry.  I knew that my body wasn't the
same as it had been
before, that I had been changed forever."

"Why didn't you tell me you felt that way?" Mulder
said in a hurt tone.

"What could you have done?  Any more than you were
already doing?  Mulder,
every time I turned around you were there, watching
over me protectively.  
I couldn't get rid of you!" Scully grabbed Mulder's
hand and held it.  
"The important thing is that you were there.  I knew I
could trust you,
and I knew you would be there for me if I needed you.
That's what kept me
going; that and the work.  It gets better after a
while. If you ever need
to talk about anything, remember that I'm here."
Mulder relaxed back
against the pillows, his hand still in Scully's, but
some of the haunted
look had drained from his eyes.

"Mulder, you need to rest." Scully pondered.  "Would
it help if I climbed
in there with you?"

"Why, Agent Scully, I believe that my dreams are
coming true after all..."
Mulder tried to smirk but couldn't hide the longing in
his face.

Scully snorted. "Agent Mulder, I am confident that, in
your present
condition, my virtue is safe from you.  C'mon, scoot
over."  Scully
snuggled against Mulder on the couch, tucking her head
under his chin,
and listened to his heart as she dozed off.  
 
Mulder stayed awake a little longer, watching the
patterns of firelight on
the ceiling.  Then he, too, went to sleep and had no
more dreams.



February 24,  7:00 a.m.

Scully got out of bed to find that Skinner and Byers
were already up.  She
left Mulder sleeping and sat down at the kitchen table
with the coffee cup
that Byers handed her.

"Where's Skinner?" She asked. "And how's the weather?"

"He took some food to Bailey.  He should be back soon.
 It stopped snowing
and the weather report says it's expected to be clear
today but he roads
are still blocked. I'd planned to start out pretty
soon."

Scully nodded. "I hope you made yourself a lunch.
It'll be a long walk."

Byers picked up a small knapsack.  "Already packed."
He put on his down
jacket and shouldered the knapsack. "Well, I'll be on
my way.  Good luck!"

"You too.  Be careful." Scully called after him.
Scully finished her  
coffee then decided to find out what was keeping
Skinner.  She grabbed a
jacket (Bailey's) and holstered her gun, just in case,
she told herself.  
She looked in on Mulder and found him still asleep.
She quickly penned a
note: "Skinner and I checking on Bailey. Byers has
gone for help.  
Back soon."  Lacking a better place to leave it, she
pinned it to the couch
next to Mulder's cheek.

Scully walked quickly to the bunker, following the
tracks of Skinner's
footprints in the snow.  When she got to the wooden
doorway to the mine,
she paused.  There were loud scuffling sounds coming
from inside, as though
a struggle were going on.  When she heard a loud
"oof!" in Skinner's voice,
she drew her gun and ran inside.  For the second time
in 24 hours she flung
open the bunker door and was shocked at what she saw.


Bailey lay on the floor, chained by his ankle to the
pipe, with a bleeding
nose and a black eye.  Skinner had turned around when
the door opened and
looked guiltily at Scully as he rubbed the knuckles of
his right hand.  
"I can explain..." He began nervously.

Scully stared coldly at Skinner and silently turned
around and walked out
the door, marching fast for the cabin.  Skinner had to
run to catch up with
her, and she fought him as he grabbed her arm.  She
stopped and turned on
him.

"Just what do you think you were doing in there?" She
demanded furiously.

"He mouthed off at me!  He deserves it, it isn't half
of what he did to
Mulder."  Skinner's voice trailed away when he saw the
rage in Scully's face.


"So that's it then, an eye for an eye?  A torture for
a torture?  That's
what you were doing, you know.  Causing pain to
somebody for your own
satisfaction."  Scully gave Skinner a long, scornful
look and continued
walking to the cabin.  "I'd have thought better of
you." She said to the air
in front of her.

"I don't understand why you're defending him.  That
man is a monster!"  
Skinner shouted at Scully's tense back.

Scully turned and stopped dead.  "That's right, he IS
a monster.  But you
aren't.  Don't you see that when you behave like that
you're no better than
a Paul Bailey.  I'm going back to the cabin and get
some first aid supplies
and give that monster some medical treatment, because
while I do have a
grudge against Bailey, I am not a monster."  Scully
turned around and began
to run for the cabin.  Skinner followed more slowly.

Inside, Scully furiously packed the gauze, soap, a
washcloth and peroxide
into a paper sack.  Ignoring Mulder's sleepy
questions, and Skinner's pleas,
she marched back out of the cabin and down to the
bunker.  Skinner followed
her at a slower pace, hoping to give her time to calm
down, and conscious of
a nagging sense of guilt.

When Skinner arrived at the bunker he found the door
open and Scully kneeling
near the pipe which had restrained Bailey.  The pipe
had been twisted from
the wall and Bailey was gone, as were the various sets
of restraints that
had littered the room.  Scully turned a calm face to
Skinner.

"I think you weakened the pipe enough that Bailey was
able to break away,
finally."

Skinner knelt next to her and examined the pipe. "I
worked on the damned
thing for 12 hours, I guess I was making more headway
than I thought."
Skinner paused, then met Scully's eyes as the truth
dawned on them both.

"Oh my God..."Scully whispered.

"Mulder.." Skinner got up and ran out the door, Scully
running close behind.

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