Thanatos (Chapter 1 of ?)

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Title: Thanatos (Chapter 1 of ?)
Date: 11/4/99
Author: Rae (danaxfox@aol.com). If you liked this....feedback please!
If you didn't, let me know why.

Rating: R - some naughty words, graphic situations
Disclaimer: Anybody you recognize does not belong to me. Thanks to Chris
for creating these wonderful characters and David, Gillian and Mitch for
bringing them to life. It's been a WONDERFUL seven years.

Thanks to all my partners in crime - Carla, Barb, Margo, Kat, DJ and Pat
(who kept me well-fed and "honest"). And a sincere thanks to the people
who have taken the time to write and give me feedback on my previous stories
- "Scarecrows" and "Free Falling". You all made my day and are the driving
force behind my work, aka "a kick in the butt".

Summary: Mulder is lured into a deadly game with a serial killer from his
past - a killer who wants to make it "personal". (Hint - she has red hair,
short, non-believer...).

"It hath been said it is not death, but dying, which is terrible."
Henry
Fielding

Special Agent Dana Scully could feel the adrenaline that left her body being
replaced with a bone-tired weariness. She had her head bowed as she picked
her path through the snow-covered field. Her head hung not only from
exhaustion
but also as protection against the bitter north wind that stung her exposed
cheeks and burned her lungs with every breath. She could feel the heels of
her boots catching on the broken remains of corn harvested months ago, lying
just beneath the snowy surface.

As Scully moved towards the rental car, her auburn hair whipped around her
face.
Irritated, she pushed the hair from her mouth and eyes. She cursed herself,
wishing she had the patience to let her hair grow long or the courage to cut
it
short. Anything to keep it out of her face. It was the first time in eight
months she had allowed herself the luxury of thinking of something as
trivial
as her hair. It had been a grueling case, which had started well before the
eight months the FBI had been involved in it.

Scully opened the rear passenger door and slipped inside, thankful to be out
of the wind. She cupped her hands and blew into them, rubbing them
vigorously
to restore some circulation and warmth. When she felt the tell-tale pangs of
pain telling her circulation had returned, she reached for her briefcase and
pulled it into her lap. She slowly opened it, knowing what waited for her
behind the leather. Pictures of the last victims lay in brilliant 8 x 10
color
before her. A long sigh escaped her lips and her head dropped to her chest.
The
sisters, ages nine and seven, had been out sledding on the family farm.

Scully turned to look over her right shoulder out the rear window at the man
who
had reduced these innocents to lifeless, bloody corpses. The man was safely
in
custody, circled by no less than seven deputy sheriffs. They were standing
by
one of the three cruisers parked nose to tail fifteen yards away from her.
Two
of the deputies appeared to be having an animated conversation with the
suspect.
The man appeared disinterested and bored, looking over the officers' heads
towards the sheriff's car which was parked close to their rental car. She
watched the man's head turn slightly as he followed something in the
distance...

She was startled by a sharp rap on the window. Her partner, Fox Mulder,
opened the door and poked his head in. Scully quickly shut the briefcase
and moved over, offering the space beside her. She patted the seat.

Scully saw a faint smile appear on her partner's tired face as he slid in
beside her and closed the door. His cheeks, ears and nose were red, burned
by the frigid wind.

Mulder drew in a long breath and slowly released it. "It's almost
fitting..."
Scully turned to look at him. "...for it to end here. Have you ever seen a
bleaker place? Makes you feel damn near suicidal."

They stared through the windshield at the desolate, barren field. A row of
skeletal trees lined one side of the section. Only Spring would tell if they
had survived. The sky, the land, the trees, all blended together in shades
of gray.

Mulder reached for the door handle. "Unless you've got some hot chocolate
with marshmallows in here, I'd better get back. You call Skinner?"

She shook her head no. "I think my phone's with yours over in Sheriff
Jordan's cruiser. Good luck trying to get any kind of reception." She
nodded towards the car with a gold sheriff's star and Piatt County
Sheriff's Department written in bold letters across its sides. It sat
ten yards from their rental car.

"You did a good job Mulder." She saw the doubt and sadness in his eyes. "You
stopped him."

He glanced at her closed briefcase and then at her hand on his arm. He
raised
his eyes to meet hers. "Just not soon enough."

Mulder felt her squeeze his arm before he pulled free and slipped out of the
car.

Scully watched her partner walk towards the sheriff's vehicle, his
unbuttoned
overcoat flapping and dancing around him. She wished she could do more for
him.
She hated the way these cases pushed him to the edge as he opened himself to
the darkness of the predator's mind. It would take months for her to get him
back. No one but she would see the dark sadness in his eyes as he worked to
purge the evil from himself. She knew Mulder was well aware of the dangers
going in, but he was an honorable man, sacrificing whatever it took of
himself
to stop these killers.

These cases never ended quickly. Intelligent and psychopathic, blending
perfectly into an unobservant society, this predator had been doing his work
for a long time. People would now come out of the woodwork, bragging to the
media of their association with this man. Neighbors would proclaim him
'odd',
teachers would label him a 'loner' as if they had had insight to his deviant
behavior years ago.

After he opened the driver's door to the cruiser, Scully saw Mulder slip out
of his overcoat and remove his bullet-proof vest. He flung it into the
passenger's seat and put his overcoat back on before sliding into the
vehicle.
Scully knew all too well how heavy and cumbersome the vests were, even for
the
men they were designed for. Men, not women.... especially a small one.
Scully
preferred to keep her vest on as added protection and warmth against the
cold.
She saw Mulder pick up his cell phone and place it to his ear. He quickly
pulled it away from his head and shook it in frustration.

She turned her attention back to her briefcase, drawing out the necessary
papers and tucking them into her coat pocket. She cast a glance at Mulder,
who had exited the car in an effort to gain better reception. He stood
wedged between the open door and the car frame, head bowed and one hand
cupped over his ear, the other holding the phone. Scully had just exited
the car and was straightening up when she heard several voices scream out
in unison.

Scully threw herself back into the car as she heard the explosion of two
gunshots. A volley of rapid gunfire followed. She was suddenly alive with
renewed energy as her heart banged in her chest and ears, her breaths coming
out in hard pants. Stretched out full length on the back seat, she
cautiously
reached out and opened the opposite rear door. She pulled herself out the
door
and across the snowy ground until she reached the protection of a rear
wheel.
With gun in hand, she peered around the car....

There was no doubt the shooter was dead -- the return fire had taken off
most
of the suspect's head. The concern now was for the deputy that lay under the
dead man, and the other officers threw the shooter roughly aside.

Scully had holstered her weapon and was already sprinting towards the fallen
deputy. The other officers parted and allowed her through, but their
expressions told her it was too late. Blood was everywhere. She opened the
officer's heavy overcoat and as a formality searched for a pulse. There was
none. It appeared the bullet had sliced through the carotid artery and
jugular. She looked into the deputies' faces and slowly shook her head.
One of the deputies sank beside her. He stared for several long moments
at the slain officer. He began shaking his head as his mouth opened to
speak. He had to swallow hard before he finally found his voice.

"No..... No.... This isn't right.... This isn't the way it's .... it's....
supposed to happen. Gary and I had plans..... Oh God, Cindy......
the baby......"

Tears streamed down the deputy's face as he began to moan. He quickly rose
and pushed through the other officers, stumbling behind one of the cruisers
where he doubled over and threw up. One of the deputies followed, placing a
comforting hand on his back. Scully watched them until tears blurred her
vision.

She wiped her eyes with the back of a bloody hand, then looked up at the
stunned and angry faces that surrounded her. The adrenaline that had
fueled her body now faded, leaving her more exhausted than ever. She felt
totally depleted, wanting nothing more than to collapse into a warm bed
with the covers pulled over her head.

Scully walked trance-like from the slain men. Her mind was numb, her body
barely responsive. She willed her head up and closed her eyes, drawing in
the cold air. She slowly opened her eyes and looked out across the barren
field towards the two cars. Mulder was facing away from her, only steps away
from where she had last seen him. Her eyes were drawn to the cruiser; the
door was still open but the window was shattered. She started walking
towards
him, too tired to comprehend the significance of it.

No response. She saw pieces of glass glittering in his hair and on his coat.
As she reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, her attention was drawn to
something by Mulder's feet - the red a sharp contrast to the white snow. Her
hand dropped to her side.

He slowly turned to face her. Scully watched in horror as his legs buckled
and he fell to his knees. He pulled his hands away from his chest and held
them out to her. Fresh blood covered them. She saw the startled look on his
face turn to bewilderment. Bloody, red froth ran out of his mouth and off
his chin.

He tried to whisper her name, but all that came out was a low gurgle before
his eyes rolled back into his head and he pitched face down into the snow
at her feet.

Scully collapsed by her partner. His head was turned to one side, cheek
resting in the snow. His eyes were blinking slowly, white flakes of snow
clinging to his long lashes. His mouth moved wordlessly.

Scully knew the officers heard. She could hear their frantic cries and the
sounds of heavy boots as they ran across the frozen field towards her. Car
doors and trunks were opened and closed, radios crackled to life.

She shoved his overcoat aside and pushed up the heavy sweatshirt and
t-shirt.
The bullet had entered just below his right shoulder blade. The other
officers
had gathered around, frantically tearing open packages of sterile pads. The
wind caught the empty packages and sent them dancing across the field.
Scully
snatched the pads out of their hands as quickly as they presented them to
her.
She layered them one over the other until the wound was packed tightly and
the
bleeding was under control. She struggled with the tape. It was not sticking
in the cold. She angrily wadded it up and threw it aside.

She heard a trunk opening and moments later a cold canister was pressed into
her hand. She set it aside and grabbed an officer's hands, placing them on
Mulder's wound, one on top of the other.

She grabbed a roll of tape and pulled a piece off, ripping it quickly with
her teeth.

Scully placed the sprayed tape over one side of the bandage and repeated
the process three more times until it was secure. She pulled his
blood-soaked
t-shirt and sweatshirt down and straightened his overcoat. Two officers
struggled with a tarp, trying to double it in the wind. They knelt opposite
Scully and stretched it out next to Mulder. The tarp would provide a barrier
against the frozen ground.

Mulder groaned loudly. His warm blood had melted a patch of snow beneath
him.
Scully jumped up and switched sides with several of the deputies. She spread
his coat open and again pushed up his sweatshirt and t-shirt. She gasped.
She could hear the sound of rushing air as he exhaled and a sucking sound as
he inhaled. Bloody foam gurgled from the larger exit wound.

It appeared as if the bullet had hit something solid, sending it on a
downward
spiral and causing it to exit from the lower right side of his chest. She
wasn't
sure whether the bullet or possibly a rib had punctured his lung.

Mulder's body began to shake uncontrollably. She quickly pulled his shirts
down and placed both hands over the wound. Officers had shed their coats,
piling them close to Scully. One officer had bunched his coat under Mulder's
feet to elevate his legs.

"Grab his head, keep it turned to the side!" she yelled to no one in
particular.
She didn't need him choking on the bloody foam that continued to spill from
his mouth.

"I need a piece of plastic or foil. This big." Scully showed the officers
with her hands on Mulder's chest the dimensions she needed. It needed to be
large enough so it would not be sucked into the wound. "More tape too,
something heavy."

Moments later a deputy appeared, red-faced and out of breath. "I found a
plastic bag and some duct tape."

She pulled back Mulder's clothing, wiping his shirt across the wound to
remove
some of the blood. She pressed the bag tightly over the wound.

She held the tape up for the officer to spray and placed each piece along an
edge of the bag. When she was confident that she had created an airtight
seal,
she turned to the closest deputy.

"Patch me through to the ambulance. They need to know what they're dealing
with.
Repeat what I tell you. Exactly." She looked the man directly in the eyes.
"Exactly."

"The victim...," Scully's voice caught.
.
< Mulder.... the victim..... keep going, Dana. >

"....is a 38 year old male. Through and through gunshot wound... we have a
pneumothorax... going hypoxic fast. Exhibiting respiratory distress and
intense pain. "

She saw Mulder's head jerk with each breath as the sharp pain coursed
through
his body. Before Scully started laying the jackets over Mulder, she reached
a
bloody hand up to palpate his throat. His trachea had shifted from its
normal
mid-line position. She reached down and shoved up his shirts, and ripped
open
one side of the crude bandage. She listened to the hiss of air being
released
and quickly reached up and felt the trachea return to its normal position.

Suddenly Mulder was struggling, trying to cry out, to breathe. Scully could
see
the panic in his face and body as the primitive instinct of survival took
over.
The officers reached in to restrain him, and Scully watched helplessly as he
tried to arch his back against the pain. She pulled one of his hands free
from the tarp and wrapped both her hands around it, holding it tightly as
she bent protectively over him to whisper in his ear. In the distance she
could hear the wail of the sirens.

There is a precise moment called "death", but "dying" is a process which may
take seconds or hours or days. As much needed oxygen fails to reach vital
organs, they start failing, one after another...
_________________________________

It was funny. The car window shattered and something hit him in the back
with
such force it knocked him against the frame of the car. There had been no
pain.
His first reaction had been of surprise. It took him several seconds to
realize
the blood on the paint and interior was his, and then he knew exactly what
had
happened.

The phone that had been knocked to the ground lay half buried in the snow.
He
could hear Skinner shouting his name. Mulder took a step to retrieve it, but
decided his priority was to find Scully. He moved cautiously along the side
of the car, not trusting his legs to hold his weight. He turned his head to
call out to her, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was bloody
froth. He wiped a hand across his mouth and looked at it. He then forced
it under his sweatshirt and t-shirt and felt the blood. As his hand moved
to clasp the wound, the pain hit and he staggered backwards.

Mulder carefully inched forward, extending his right hand out, searching
for support from the car while his left hand clutched his chest.

His bloody right hand slid across the car, leaving a smear of blood on the
rear passenger window. He could see her in the window moving towards him.

Mulder heard Scully call his name. On weak, trembling legs, he turned to
face her. He tried to take a step towards her, but his left knee buckled
and he collapsed to his knees. He held his blood-covered hands out to her.

Everything started to spin.... then coldness. Scully's cries for help
sounded faint and distant. He knew his face was in the snow, but he
didn't have the strength to raise himself up. As she bent close, he
could feel her hair brushing across his face, her breath warm on his
cheek. He could hear Scully talking to him, encouraging him, pleading
with him to hang on. Inwardly he smiled at her confidence in him to
defy the odds.

Now he was having a difficult time breathing. He could not fight off the
resulting panic. Every labored breath brought excruciating pain. His breaths
were becoming more rapid and shallow. He could feel hands on his body and
then there was blackness...

Mulder woke with a start. He was suffocating, choking. He coughed, then
opened his mouth to cry out in pain, but he felt the foam being sucked back
into his throat. He gagged and started to choke again. He tried to sit up,
but strong hands held him down. He arched his back as his fingers clawed at
the tarp. He felt her hand slip into his and squeeze tightly. His panic
eased as he heard her whisper in his ear.