The X-Files: The Fox and the Howned

 Author's ramblings....

Well, here's another one. This one disturbed *me* when I was writing it so

I figured I'd warn you. There is at least one *very* disturbing scene and

the entire concept is disturbing but what the heck, it came out well.

Part of this story takes place *before* Mulder trips over the X-files so

keep that in mind.

    Thanks go out to MacWombat who helped me over some writer's block,

    I hope you like. My sister, aka Phenyx, who verbalized, succinctly,

    Mulder's change in character and also "boiling poultry". And also to

    the member's of my EMXC (E-mail X-creative Club) who patiently waited

    through serious delays waiting for stories while I was lost in writing

    this. Any comments, praise or flames should be directed towards me so

    please... let me know what you think!

As always: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and "The X-Files" are property of Chris

Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and 20th Television/Fox Broadcasting. All

characters used without permission and no (I repeat, NO) infringement is

intended.

The Fox and the Howned

by. K. D. Enriquez (SciNut@aol.com)

12/11/94        

Part one.

  What a wonderful day! Special Agent Fox Mulder thought to himself for

the hundredth time as he sat on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial. The

sky was a bright blue that usually accompanied Spring instead of early

December. Though the now beautiful sky had threatened it yesterday, D.C.

still awaited its first snowfall.

  Mulder sank deeper into his coat as a slight breeze blew across the

river. But even the chill would not be able to freeze his good mood today.

He and Scully had returned to D.C. yesterday after finally being released

from quarantine. They'd spent four long weeks in a large, sterile, white

room. After twelve hours, he'd started to miss, of all colors, green:

grass, leaves and little flowering plants.

  Mulder shook his head and allowed himself a nice long gaze at the grass.

(The trees had long since lost their leaves.) He'd become so damned

philosophical during quarantine. He sighed. It really didn't matter anymore.

They were out and he felt great, for once. He felt like celebrating.

  Suddenly, he bounded to his feet. He'd take Scully out for a victory

dinner. She'd be surprised that he was actually going to buy for once.

She'd been acting sort of strange after she'd finally returned to work,

but that was only to be expected. Though, he really didn't want to think

about it right now. That was one train of thought that could blow his good

mood right out a window. And he was really feeling just too damn good.

***

  Todd Howned watched from the shadows of the Jefferson Memorial as the

fox quickly stood and began to walk, with an easy and relaxed stride, back

towards the J. Edgar Hoover building. He laughed, quietly, to himself. He

couldn't wait to see the look on his face when the fox realized the Hunt

had begun again.

***

  Dana Scully sat at her desk and fumed. There was no way the Bureau was

going to do this to her. She read the memo once more just to be sure:

    From the desk of Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner

    Special Agent Dana Scully,

    It has been recommended that you take an extended leave of

    absence by the FBI psychiatrist.  Effective immediately.

  

  She waded up the bit of paper angrily. Nope, she hadn't misread the

memo. How could Skinner do this to her. She wanted to work, she needed to

work. She sighed and leaned back in her chair.

  The day she had first returned to work, Scully thought she would be able

to put the ordeal with Duane Barry behind her. Not that she'd never been

kidnapped before. Hell, she'd been abducted once by one of her closest

friends. But that's not what was bothering her. Besides, Duane Barry was

dead.

  But, she couldn't remember.

  No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to remember where that

month had gone nor what had happened to her during that time. It had been

taken from her and that's what disturbed her most. The time was gone and

there was no way to get it back.

  <It was only a month.> Her inner voice chided. But that wasn't the point.

  So much had happened in that month. Her mother had told her by the long

phone calls during quarantine. She could see it in the people around her.

She had told Mulder that she'd lost too much time already and now they were

going to force her to lose more time. She shook her head, sighed and

realized she'd really need a shrink if she actually took a vacation

right now.

  She was about to see if she could flick the waded paper onto Mulder's

desk (he would never notice it) when he burst through the office door.

  "Hey, Scully," he said with the largest smile she'd ever seen on his

face. "Let's ditch out of work early and celebrate."

  She couldn't help but smile. "Celebrate what?"

  "Anything, everything... pick something. I'm in a great mood so it

doesn't matter."

  "What, are you buying?"

  "Of course." He replied then paused. He eyed her briefly. "What's wrong?"

  Scully sighed and tossed the wad of paper at him. "Sure, we can cut out

of work early. I've been forced to take some time off."

  Silence settled in the office as Mulder read the short memo. Suddenly,

he grinned, "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it." He grabbed her

arm and pulled her out of the office.

  "What do you mean you'll 'take care of it'?"

  "Don't worry, we're celebrating. Where do you want to go for dinner?"

  

***

  Todd Howned watched them exit from the FBI building. He followed them

across town to a semi-decent restaurant. He sat at a table behind them and

listened while they ordered, ate and conversed. He could barely contain his

excitement. The Hunt would begin again and, this time, Todd Howned would

win.

***

  "It's a great place," Mulder said as he and Scully left the restaurant.

He had wondered if he could talk her into going for a couple of drinks.

She'd agreed rather easily and he was relieved that her earlier dark mood

had vanished.

  "I already said yes, Mulder." She replied with a smile. "You don't have

to convince me. Besides, it's been awhile since I went bar hopping."

  "It's not a bar," Mulder said defensively. "Bars are nasty dives. This

place is a pub."

  "Whatever you say, Mulder." She said in submission as she watched a

man, some distance ahead of them, turn into a dark alley. She turned back

to find Mulder staring at her again. "Would you please stop that?"

  "Stop what?" Mulder asked with false innocences.

  "Staring at me like that." Scully said a little uncomfortably.

  Guiltily, he looked away. "Sorry."

  "Mulder," Scully began, placing a hand on his arm she stopped walking,

bringing him to a halt. "I thought we covered this already. We should have

dealt with this fully during the quarantine but we weren't alone then." She

sighed. "It's over, it's done with. Move past it and get on with life,

alright?"

  He met her eyes and she saw a sadness there. "I've tried, Scully." He

paused and seemed to come to a decision. "You may not remember what happened

to you, but *I* remember what happened to *me*."

  "My mother told me about it... as well as Melissa." Scully replied. She

understood that he was trying to be honest with her and that he realized

how selfish he sounded. But she knew that wasn't what he meant.

  "I'm sorry, Scully," he said gently. "But you weren't there."

  "Then you tell me," she pushed. This was what he needed. He needed

to talk.

  He looked away and she could see him forcing himself to relive that

month. "I went with your mother to pick out your headstone." He closed

his eyes.

  Scully just stared at him quietly. Her mother hadn't told her that part.

They had actually given up on her and it was clear that Mulder hated himself

for it.

  "I tried to give her hope," he said with his voice full of self loathing.

"But, I'd already lost mine. And then, poof, you were back. No one knew how

or when and 'they' refused to give me any answers. But I dug anyway." He

met her eyes and the rage she saw there scared her. "I know who was

behind it, Scully. I nearly murdered him in the name of 'justice'." He

made the word sound vile.

  "Why didn't you?" She replied shocked to hear this from him.

  "Because he was me, if I were to cross the line I had been treading and,

besides, revenge is a bitter tasting dish no matter how it's served. When

I realized how much we were alike... I couldn't stand it. I resigned. At

least I tried too. Skinner, of all people, talked me out of it."

  "Who was it, Mulder?" Scully asked finally.

  He sighed and looked away again. "Take your own advice, Dana." He replied

after a lengthy silence. "Let it go. Don't dig any deeper, it's not

worth it. Believe me, I know and it nearly ruined me."

  She felt her anger rise. How dare he not tell her. "What happened to the

'cause', Mulder?"

  He tried to met her eyes and couldn't. He knew she didn't understand,

couldn't understand. He sighed again, wearily, and studied his shoes.

  Scully watched half angry and half fascinated as grief and sorrow, at his

inability to tell her, passed behind his eyes. Her anger won as she bit

out, "What happened to finding the 'truth'?"

  She was ashamed at the small feeling of pleasure she felt as pain took

dominance on his features. She knew he didn't deserve this. She could

imagine the spiral downward that he had described to her. She did know

how he felt about her after all, she'd have to be blind not to see it.

But his reply sapped out her anger, squelched her feelings of guilt and

pleasure at his expense and made her realize just what kind of hell

he'd seen.

  "Sometimes..." He paused and took a deep breath. "Sometimes the truth

isn't worth the price." He was silent and then he turned to her again with

a forced smile. "Anyway, I thought we were supposed to be having fun, so

let's go."

  He turned and began to walk up the street once more. Scully watched him

for a moment before following him. She sighed knowing that he'd tell her

only when, and if, he felt ready. She knew she could never force him and

now, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Finally, Scully decided to do as

he had said. She let it go.

  She caught up to him fast enough, though Mulder felt his forced desire

to have fun begin to fade. He had known that particular topic of

conversation would kill his good mood. <Move past it> he told himself.

<Get on with your life.> He sighed and listened to himself. Damn it,

he was going to enjoy himself.

  He had nearly convinced himself when he passed a darkened alley and his

paranoid nature surfaced out of instinct. He pushed the emotion away and

tried to ignore it. He didn't see the man lurking there until it was too

late. He didn't feel the blow to his head that sent him to ground, stunned.

***

  Todd Howned drew his .45 and pointed it at the woman before she could

get her own weapon out. He shook his head and gestured to put her hands in

the air. She complied as he knew she would. He'd read the FBI manual too.

Sticking the police baton under his arm, he tossed a pair of handcuffs at

her feet.

  The fox moaned from the ground and started to get to his knees. Todd

grabbed him by his coat lapel and dragged him into the alley. God, Todd

loved D.C. There was no one on the street to see anything. He threw the fox

back to the ground.

  He turned back to the woman, who had finished putting on the handcuffs,

and liberated her from her weapon. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her further

into the alley as well.

  Todd giggled as the fox push himself unsteadily to his knees, again.

He grabbed his baton and delivered a powerful blow to the fox's shoulder.

"Do you remember me?" he asked watching as the fox's vision cleared.

"You should remember me." 

  Todd smiled as he saw recognition and fear cross the fox's features.

"Sleepy-time for the fox." He said raising the baton.

***

  Fox Mulder sat at a desk that was still too new to him. He looked at the

pile of paperwork that had already been completed and just awaited his

signature. Bless Reggie's heart, Mulder thought. He was glad he wouldn't

have to deal with writing up anymore reports on his first day back.

  The investigation into his actions during the confrontation with John

Barnett was over and the Board had declared Mulder did have justification

for shooting Barnett. While Mulder felt the investigation was rather silly,

considering Barnett had killed two people including Agent Steve Wallenburg,

he knew that it was important when the time came for Mulder to testify.

  Mulder sighed and played the incident over in his mind. He should've shot

sooner then maybe Wallenburg would still be alive. He could still hear

Steve's wife after she'd been told. She didn't blame Mulder, even though

he did.

  A rough slap to the back startled him out of his thought's. "Well,

Mulder. I can see you're daydreaming again. I thought I told you to think

about the ladies off work when you could actually go and chase them." The

gruff voice declared from behind him.

  Mulder smiled and turned to face the man who had been the first to listen

to a 'Spooky' idea. "Hi Reggie."

  Reggie Pardue was a very large, intimidating black man. Taller than Mulder

and twice as broad, he had taken Mulder under his wing when he first arrived

from Quantico even though, and he told Mulder this quite often, he thought

Mulder was full of 'it'.

  "Thanks for writing these up for me." Mulder added.

  "No trouble," Reggie responded as he grabbed a chair from an adjacent

desk and sat. "I know how much you hate filling that stuff out and since

anyone can do it... well, all you need to do is sign the stuff."

  Mulder made a show of grabbing a pen and signing the first sheet of paper.

Reggie smacked the back of Mulder's head as if he were a misbehaving

adolescent. Mulder smiled.

  After a long moment of silence Reggie spoke. "You know Mulder, I talked

to the Bureau psychiatrist."

  Mulder looked up from the paperwork. "The one I had to see?"

  "Yeah, and he's right. You did what you could. Don't let it eat you,

alright? You're too good an agent for us to lose because of your own damn

guilt."

  Mulder looked down at the surface of his desk then smiled. "How do you

know I'm good? I've only been on one case."

  Reggie smiled in return. "Oh, I've an eye for these things." He paused

then glanced at his watch. "Come on, let's go to lunch."

  "It's only ten o'clock," Mulder chuckled.

  "Hey, I'm your boss. I make the rules here. Let's go."

  

***

  Scully glanced into the rear view mirror as she heard Mulder groan from

the back seat. After the man had beaten Mulder into unconsciousness, he

had forced her into the driver's seat of a tiny, old Dodge Horizon. He

had then tossed Mulder's limp form into the back seat, gotten in the

passenger side, stuck the barrel of his .45 in her side and told her to

drive.

  She had driven for about twenty minutes before Mulder began to stir in

the back seat. That was a good sign, she had thought to herself. She'd

been worried. He had received several dangerous blows to his head and,

for a moment, she had thought the last one had killed him.

  "Okay, stop the car." The man said from the seat next to her.

  Scully complied and pulled the car to a halt.

  "Get out," he ordered. When she hesitated he shoved the gun barrel

painfully against her ribcage. "I said get out."

  Scully glanced into the back seat and reached for the door handle, hands

still handcuffed. She didn't want to get out. If she did, she'd certainly

be leaving Mulder to die and if she didn't there was no doubt this man

would shoot her. She couldn't help Mulder if she were dead.

  She stepped out of the vehicle and gazed into the back seat. He was

laying on his side and blood covered his face. That last shot to his head

must have opened a very large wound.

  Seeing the man, from the corner of her eye, settle into the driver's

seat brought her attention back to him. He met her eyes and grinned a smile

of madness.

  "You tell Special Agent Reggie Pardue that the Hunt is about to begin and

the Howned has the Fox." With that he giggled and the car took off with a

squeal of tires.

  "But," Scully called realizing the man could no longer hear her.

"Reggie Pardue is dead."

***

  When Mulder finally returned to his desk, he was in a better mood. Reggie

knew him too well. He really did need to just talk to somebody other than

a psychiatrist. Mulder was a psychologist after all and was quite qualified

to analyze himself. But Reggie had a different outlook on life that he said

he'd gained after his wife had been diagnosed with cancer. From what he'd

told Mulder, she'd passed on sometime ago and it was obviously painful for

Reggie to talk about it. Mulder never pushed.

  Mulder looked down at the top of his desk to see a file, which hadn't

been there when he'd left. He opened it and discovered it was his next

case. Well, his second case. He read through it and, after each page,

he felt himself growing more and more nauseous.

  "I see you found our next case, Mulder." He heard Reggie say, again

behind him. Mulder was always amazed that the man could sneak up on anybody.

  "This... this is evil," Was all Mulder could say. He felt, rather than

saw, Reggie's nod of agreement. Mulder continued to read.

  Six times in the last four weeks a child had disappeared from a local

elementary school. All young girls between the ages of six and ten.

However, a week after the first disappearance, a foot had been found in

the small field between the school and the high school track. A foot which

the coroner had discovered as belonging to the first girl. Her other

remains were never found.

  So the pattern developed. A week after a child's disappearance a body

part would be found, usually a hand or a foot, but never in the same

place. The police had staked out the field where the first three parts were

found but then the remains began to be discovered in a different spot.

  The last child disappeared five days ago and as yet nothing had turned up.

The police then asked the FBI for assistance. The case had been assigned to

Mulder and Reggie as a supervising agent.

  "Well... let's get going." Reggie said as Mulder slowly closed the file.

  

***

  <Who says there's never a cop when you need one,> Scully thought to

herself as the cruiser she had flagged came to a stop. <Now, a phone on the

other hand...> Disgusted, Scully let the thought trail off. She'd been

walking for several minutes looking for a public phone with no luck while

her cellular was safetly tucked into her desk drawer at the office.

  "Ma'am?" The officer asked rolling down the window cautiously.

  "My name is Dana Scully and I'm with the FBI," she said as she held up

her cuffed hands. "My partner has just been abducted and I need you to

call in an APB and get me some back up."

  The officer didn't hesitate. "You have any I.D.?" He asked as he sprang

out of the car and released her from the handcuffs.

  She withdrew it from her coat pocket while she began to give him a

description. She was thankful that the officer was seasoned. "Can you tell

the dispatcher to get someone at the FBI to get all the cases my partner

and Special Agent Reggie Pardue have worked on for me, please?" She asked

as he grabbed the radio and began to call in to the station. He nodded in

response.

  Scully turned and looked in the direction the car had gone. She didn't

think he'd kill Mulder, not right away at the very least. The man's cryptic

final message gave her chills.

***

  Oddly, Mulder awoke to a ripping sound and a feeling of tightness around

his left wrist. The fact that his face hurt, a lot, came as an after

thought. He couldn't open his eyes even though he really didn't want too.

A place just above his right eye throbbed and he sucked in a breath which

brought to attention a stabbing pain in his chest.

  He heard the ripping noise again and felt something pull against his right

wrist. He twisted his hands gently and finally recognized the sensation:

duct tape. He took a deep, slow breath and concentrated on his

surroundings, which was hard to do between the throbbing in his head and

his apparent blindness.

  He knew he was sitting and, it seemed, restrained. His right hand was

secured, vertically, to the back leg of a metal chair. He felt its coolness

begin to sap the heat from his body through his clothing.

  His left hand, however, was secured on, what felt like, a stool at about

his chest level. It felt like the position the Red Cross used when he had

donated blood. He felt a cramp develop in his lower back and realized that

the position of his hands made it impossible to become comfortable.

  The floor was made of concrete and its frigidness made him aware that

his feet were bare. He wiggled his toes, relieved that his lower body had

escaped any damage. His face throbbed again reminding his brain that it was

still there.

  Suddenly, he felt a warm, wet cloth gently wipe against his face causing

him to gasp both in fear and pain. He'd forgotten that someone had put him

in this situation.

  "Wake-y, wake-y, Fox," he heard the deranged voice say sounding like a

three-year-old trying to wake his parents early on a Saturday. "Your face

got all dirty and that just won't do. Will it?"

  Mulder found he didn't have the energy to speak. He felt the cloth

reverently against his left eye and wash away the dried blood that had kept

it closed.

  Sight returned to him and as it did he wished he were blind again. He

had hoped that he'd been imagining the whole thing. He had hoped that the

pain in his head was just the result of a Friday night bender that he

couldn't remember.

  But it wasn't a delusion. It wasn't his imagination. Kneeling in front of

him, gently washing his face... was Todd Howned.

***

  "Come on, Mulder, don't dwell on it." Reggie said looking worriedly over

at his friend.

  "You can't tell me it doesn't bother you," Mulder returned still sounding

nauseated.

  "Of course it bothers me." He fired back only semi-serious. He did have

a self-imposed duty to lighten Mulder up a little. "If it didn't... aw,

hell you've heard this speech a thousand times already. But I don't dwell

on what happens to the victims of my cases. They're not men. They're not

women or children. You can't think of them that way or you'll go nuts.

They *can't* have names. That makes it personal. They're victims or corpses

or bodies. While you're on the job, at the very least, otherwise, you won't

be able to think clearly. You understand me?" Reggie finished from the

passenger seat of the FBI rental.

  "I'll try. It's easier for you though... you are a *little* older than

I." Mulder said with a small smile as he turned the car into the elementary

school parking lot.

  "Hey, I'm a *lot* older than you and don't forget that."He replied sternly.

  Mulder and Reggie stepped out of the car and greeted a short round man at

the entrance. He wore glasses, a tie and definitely suffered from male

pattern baldness in a bad way. He took a step forward and introduced

himself.

  "Hello, I'm Paul VanHuess... the principal." He spoke nervously.

  "Special Agents Pardue and Mulder with the FBI," Reggie answered

flashing his I.D. VanHuess shook their hands gratefully.

  "We can speak in my office."

  "Have you considered closing the school?" Reggie asked from a chair

directly in front of the principal's desk. Mulder sat by the door dutifully

taking notes even though he didn't need to.

  The principal shifted in his seat. "Yes, I've thought about it. What,

with many of the parents keeping the children at home the attendance is

barely enough to keep the doors open. But the school board doesn't think

we should, Bureaucrats."

  "You mean some parents are actually still sending their kids?" Mulder

asked somewhat dumb-founded.

  VanHuess' answer was merely a shrug. "As far as we know, the children

were being taken during recess. That was probably the best time because we

don't have enough teachers to watch them outside. The first class after

lunch is generally when they are missed. We've kept the children indoors

since then."

  "No one has seen any strangers?" Reggie asked.

  "No, no one out of the ordinary."

  "Could we see the school yard, please?" Reggie said as he stood.

  "Certainly," VanHuess replied standing as well.

  

***

  Scully sat at a desk in the nearby police station surrounded by

numerous agents. Sometime ago, someone had set a cup of coffee in front

of her but she had only stared at the steam rising from the dark liquid.

The steam had long since stopped as the coffee had cooled.

  She prayed Mulder was still alive. Scully couldn't explain why, but she

had a feeling that he was. He would call it a hunch, she called it instinct.

<Potatoe, potahtoe.> His voice echoed in her head and she found herself

smiling.

  The maniacs parting message confused her. Who was he? What was going on?

And why? But she could do nothing until those back files had been dug out

and brought to her. She felt as useless as the other agents standing around

drinking coffee and eating doughnuts.

  "Agent Scully?" a voice called out from the far side of the room.

  "Over here," she replied standing and turning in the direction the voice

had come.

  A young man, probably in his early twenties, raced to her desk and handed

her a stack of case files. "Assistant Director Skinner had me hot foot these

over to you."

  "Thank you," she said already dismissing the man and turning her attention

to the files. Mulder and Reggie had obviously worked well together. There

were at last twenty cases sitting before her.

  She picked one off the top and immediately put it aside. She *knew*

John Barnett had nothing to do with this. Barnett had been Mulder's first

case with the FBI. Barnett had been robbing armored cars and going on a

killing spree as well. Mulder had finally helped to catch Barnett only to

have him presumably 'die' in prison of a heart attack.

  Instead, Barnett had been experimented on and had been made younger.

Then he'd come back for revenge. In the process, Barnett had killed Reggie

Pardue.

  Mulder had taken Reggie's death badly even though he had held a tight

rein on his emotions when he was in public. Too quick to judge himself,

Mulder felt guilty for Reggie's death. However, when Barnett had tried to

kill Scully, Mulder had shot Barnett and, finally, the man was dead.

  Scully reached for the next case file. It was Mulder's second and upon

opening the file the first thing in the folder was one of Mulder's profiles.

She stopped confused. Psychological profiles usually went near the back of

the file but for some reason this one was out of order. <Probably just a

bad file clerk.> She thought.

  She lifted the profile out to look at the picture of the suspect that

should be the first thing seen in a properly organized case file. She

froze as a steely glare greeted her. When the man had first jumped her and

Mulder in the alley, she had noticed the eyes. They had gleamed with an

evil madness. This was him.

  Scully opened Mulder's profile and started to read.

  

***

Author's ramblings....

Well, here's another one. This one disturbed *me* when I was writing it so

I figured I'd warn you. There is at least one *very* disturbing scene and

the entire concept is disturbing but what the heck, it came out well.

Part of this story takes place *before* Mulder trips over the X-files so

keep that in mind.

    Thanks go out to MacWombat who helped me over some writer's block,

    I hope you like. My sister, aka Phenyx, who verbalized, succinctly,

    Mulder's change in character and also "boiling poultry". And also to

    the member's of my EMXC (E-mail X-creative Club) who patiently waited

    through serious delays waiting for stories while I was lost in writing

    this. Any comments, praise or flames should be directed towards me so

    please... let me know what you think!

As always: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and "The X-Files" are property of Chris

Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and 20th Television/Fox Broadcasting. All

characters used without permission and no (I repeat, NO) infringement is

intended.

The Fox and the Howned

by. K. D. Enriquez (SciNut@aol.com)

12/11/94        

Part two.

***

  Mulder turned the corner first and bumped into a wall of a man.

Barely shorter than Mulder, the man was solidly built with dark hair,

dark eyes and an army tattoo on his right forearm.

  "Sorry 'bout that," the man said moving out of the way.

  "That's Todd Howned, the school janitor," VanHuess offered. "Todd these

are the two FBI agents who are looking into the kids' disappearances."

  "Oh," Todd answered. "Well it's about time. Those poor kids... and the

police not being able to do anything."

  Something in the man's tone set off bells in Mulder's head. It was a

subtle emphases on a couple of the words. Mulder wondered if Reggie had

heard it.

  Mulder stuck out a hand, "I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder and this is

Reggie Pardue."

  Todd shook his hand firmly. "Fox, huh. Cool name."

  Mulder involuntarily took a small step backwards. Something was wrong.

All his inner alarms were going off. This guy scared him even though he

seemed very pleasant. Mulder gave the guy another once over.

  Todd Howned was dressed in blue coveralls that were typical with

janitorial work. He stood, rather relaxed, in front of a mop bucket which,

mysteriously, had no mop. His boots were a worn and faded shade of black.

He looked like the type of man who'd wear lots of gold chains but instead

had a gaudy pink thing, that looked like it was made of plastic, around his

neck. At the end of the 'necklace' hung a flat charm with a sticker of a

unicorn stuck slightly uneven on it's surface.

  "It's from my niece." Todd said fingering the charm. "She gave it to me

for Christmas last year. She made me promise to wear it all the time. The

little girl is just precious."

  Mulder smiled, "I'm sure she is." For some reason Mulder couldn't shake

the uneasy feeling that settled over him. "What's the tattoo from?"

  Todd glanced at his arm. "Vietnam," he said but offered no more than that.

  

***

  <When did I pass out?> Mulder thought to himself as he returned to

consciousness. He slowly opened his left eye while his right had swollen

painfully shut. <Where am I? What happened?> The memory slowly returned

and he felt an uneasiness surface at the speed in which it had taken.

He knew he had a bad concussion with the black outs and short memory

losses. He needed a hospital and he thought, as the right side of his face

pulsed, badly.

  "'Bout time you woke up again," he heard Howned say from behind him.

"This won't be very enjoyable for me if you can't stay awake."

  "Sorry," Mulder croaked through split and swollen lips.

  "Oh, that's okay." He offered cheerily as he walked to stand in front

of Mulder and patted the injured side of Mulder's face causing his head to

explode with little spots. Consciousness wavered and Mulder unsteadily

fought to stay awake.

  "What do you want?" Mulder asked after the pounding subsided.

  Todd turned cold eyes toward him, "Revenge, of course. I want the Hunt

back but first, I want you to feel what I had to feel in that pit of Hell

you call Greenside. Agent Pardue as well. Where is he anyway? I couldn't

find him."

  "He's dead," Mulder offered weakly as consciousness again threatened

to leave him.

  "Oh," Todd said sounding disappointed. "Well, that puts a little cramp

in my plans. I can't have a Hunt unless there's someone to chase and be

chased by now can I?" He sighed and sank into a chair across from Mulder.

"Well, I'll have to change my plans then. But first, the fun part."

  Mulder followed Todd with his eye as Todd bounded to his feet and crossed

to a cabinet along the wall. The room was only about ten by twelve and

Mulder didn't see any windows.

  Todd walked back over to him holding a syringe.

  "What's that?" Mulder asked nervously.

  "Unfortunately, not Thorzine. Do you realize how hard it is to get a

hold of that stuff?"

  "What is it?" Mulder repeated.

  "Well, in Greenside, they gave me Thorzine. I wanted to give you Thorzine

too but I couldn't find any. But, I'm told this has some of the same affects

and will work just as well. It's a lot easier to get, too." He bent over

Mulder's left arm and slipped the needle into his skin.

  "What is it?" Mulder asked again fear beginning to grip him.

  "Heroine," Todd answered with a self-satisfied gleam in his eyes as he

pushed down the plunger.

***

  "So, Mulder, any thoughts?" Reggie asked from across the table.

  They had gone to a diner after they had left the school. It was an

ancient, battle scared place but still served good food.

  Mulder sipped at his coffee. "The kids were taken in broad daylight

without anyone seeing anything. I think it's someone on staff."

  Reggie smiled to himself. The kid was good. "And why do you think that?"

  "Kids are too observant not to notice a stranger and none of them saw

anyone who didn't belong there. But someone who works at the school wouldn't

be considered out of place or out of the ordinary."

  Reggie nodded in agreement. After all, he'd already come to that

conclusion as well. "Any suspects?" This was the question that Reggie

really wanted to hear an answer for. Mulder always saw more than anyone

else. He picked up on the subtleties that even Reggie missed.

  "Well," Mulder paused. He had an entire list of suspects and decided to

narrow them down. "One would be the principal, VanHuess. He was just a

little too nervous I think."

  "Yeah, his hands were a little too sweaty."

  Mulder smiled, "You decide on suspects by how sweaty their palms are?"

  Reggie shrugged, "Everyone has their own methods. Any others?"

  "The janitor, Howned."

  "Why?" Reggie asked. He didn't think Howned was all that suspicious.

  Mulder shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know. He just rubs me the wrong

way... I can't explain it. He..." Mulder trailed off.

  "He what?" Reggie prompted.

  Mulder sighed, clearly uncomfortable discussing this. "I don't know...

he scares me."

  "What about Durren?" Reggie asked changing the subject. He was

unwilling to push Mulder into conclusions. Mulder could come up with good

ones given a little time. Besides, Reggie hated to see him squirm.

  "The P.E. teacher?" Mulder shook his head.

  "Why not?"

  "He doesn't seem the type." Mulder answered.

  Reggie laughed, "Not the type? Just what is the type? The nice, quite

boy next door?"

  Mulder smiled. "That did sound silly, didn't it?" He paused. "I don't

know. It's like with the janitor... it just doesn't *feel* right."

  "Okay. Anyone else?" Reggie asked excepting the explanation for now.

He agreed Mulder could be 'spooky' at times but no one else had his

insight. Reggie guessed that was probably how the stupid nickname had come

about.

  Mulder thought, silently, for a few minutes before shaking his head.

"I want to talk to the last girl's family, though. 'Nothing' has turned up

yet and we could get lucky. This one might not be connected."

  "Alright," Reggie agreed even though he knew better. Mulder was still

'green' and he'd grow out of that kind of 'hope' soon enough.

***

  Scully shut the profile, disgusted. <How could anyone do that?> she asked

herself. Mulder had begun the profile by calling Todd Howned evil. Scully

had thought, at the time, the opening sounded a little too emotional and

spontaneous coming from Mulder.

  As she read further, however, Mulder had clinically and logically

described what evil was and used Howned's actions as his model. He had

backed everything up with strong evidence including his own eye witness

account that still left her a little weak to her stomach.

  By all rights, Todd Howned should have fried in the electric chair.

However, as she dug further into the case file, Howned's defence attorney

had gotten the consultation of a 'more experienced and 'more reliable'

psychiatrist. This psychiatrist had, supposably, interviewed Howned and

had him declared 'incompetent to stand trial'. Howned had been locked away

at the Greenside Mental Institution.

  Scully opened Mulder's profile again.

  "...Todd Howned served two tours of duty with the 101st Airborne Division

of the U.S. Army during the Vietnam war. According to Howned, during my

interview, he found a growing lust for violence. While most soldiers face

this same blood lust during battle, Howned confessed that he enjoyed the

'sport' of 'hunting' the enemy more than the 'kill'. Though he does agree

to have felt a certain degree of fulfillment at the act.

  "Upon his return to the States, Howned attempted to relive the 'Hunt',

as he calls it, by going on camping trips and hunting deer and quail. When

this approach failed to have the desired affect, Howned resorted to a more

violent method.

  "According to Howned, his first real 'kill' was a vagrant in 1981. Since

then, he states that he scheduled a 'Hunting season' for himself to

coincide with deer season. Thus making his killings less conspicuous..."

  Scully shook her head. Howned sounded perfectly aware of his actions to

her. But, since Mulder had been an agent with less than three months

experience and just off the Barnett case, the judge had listened to the

'qualified expert witness' for the defense. She felt herself grow angry

at the miscarriage of justice.

  <Mulder,> she asked him silently. <Where would he take you?>

  

***

  For the first time, in what seemed like an eternity, Mulder returned to

consciousness without pain. In fact, he was feeling damn good. Nothing

hurt and, with the exception of a little weakness, he felt like dancing a

little jig.

  <Jeez, Mulder,> he chided himself. <You are so freaking high the space

shuttle is jealous.>

  He attempted, somewhat unsuccessfully, to stifle a giggle. For one,

the thought wasn't quite that funny. Secondly, he didn't think he was the

type of person that would giggle.

  Mulder suddenly found himself wondering what he'd thought was so funny

in the first place. He inhaled deeply. He was finding it harder and harder

to get a lung full of air. <How much did he give me?> Mulder thought to

himself and quickly felt the coherent question slip away. Between the

concussion and the heroine it was impossible to think straight.

  "Well, good morning again, Fox," Mulder heard a voice say.

  "'Mornin'," Mulder slurred. He had a strange feeling that the source of

the voice was important but he couldn't remember. He leaned his head back.

He was really starting to feel weird.

  "And how do you feel today?" The voice asked pleasantly conversational.

  Mulder thought about the question for a second before answering. "Fine,

I think."

  "You think? You're not sure?" There was a pause. "Perhaps we should

discuss this a little further, don't you?"

  Mulder was momentarily confused. There were too many questions, too fast.

He couldn't concentrate. "I... my head hurts." He finally answered and

realized that it *did* hurt and it was getting more and more painful.

He started to wince and stopped as a streak of fire raced across his face.

Then, Mulder felt a stinging in his arm and a soothing warmth spread

through his body easing the pain. He let his head slump to one side as a

numbness settled over him.

  "Sorry 'bout that," the voice said apologetically. "Your medication

started to wear off there. I'll have to keep a closer eye on the time.

So... where were we?"

  Mulder lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

  "WAKE UP!" The voice shouted suddenly.

  Mulder didn't feel the blow that nearly broke his jaw, but the taste of

blood in his mouth brought his memory back.

  "What do you want from me?" Mulder asked weakly.

  "Hey!" Howned shrieked. "I ask the questions here!"

  "Why don't you just kill me and get it over with," Mulder responded,

proud that his drug fogged brain got all the words out.

  The cold stare Todd turned on him made his stomach turn. "Oh," Todd

said too quietly. "The patient is not cooperating. That does not bode well

for his treatment."

  Mulder watched as Todd walked to the cabinet again. He returned with what

looked like a car battery and a set of jumper cables.

  Mulder closed his eyes and forced his brain to think but to no avail.

"What's that for?" He asked, not really sure he wanted to know.

  "I saw this done in a movie once," Todd answered with a grin. "Time for

shock therapy."

***

  "Are you sure you want to do this, Mulder?" Reggie asked him as they

approached the front door.

  "Yes... absolutely." He replied as he raised his hand to knock.

  "What do you hope to find by interrogating this poor girl's parents?"

  "I don't know... maybe the suspect has been stalking her. Maybe they

saw something?" Mulder asked rapping lightly on the solid wooden door.

A slightly disheveled woman answered. She was attractive even though

dark circles marked the skin below her red rimmed eyes. She sniffled and

wiped her nose with a tissue. "Excuse me, please," She said gesturing to

her rumpled state. "May I help you?"

  Mulder shook his head at her apology and withdrew his ID. "Special

Agent Fox Mulder, FBI." He paused, allowing her to get over her shock.

"I'm very sorry, Ms. Mason, but I was hoping that you could answer a few

questions?"

  She wiped at her nose again before opening the door wider and allowing

the two agents to enter the house.

  "Thank you," Mulder said stepping through the door. "This is Agent

Reggie Pardue."

  Ms. Mason nodded and shook both their hands, "Please, sit. Can I get you

anything? Coffee?"

  "No, thank you, we're both fine." Reggie replied.

  "Ms. Mason," Mulder began lightly. "Before your daughter disappeared,

did you notice anyone near the house? Maybe walking up and down the street?"

  Ms. Mason thought about it for a few seconds. "Not that I recall, why?"

  Mulder crossed the room to a fireplace with photographs aligning the

mantle.

  "We thought maybe the suspect might have be stalking the kids before

taking them," Reggie offered.

  "Have..."she paused collecting her courage."Have you found anything yet?"

  Mulder felt his heart turn in pity for this woman. She had no illusions

about the fate of her recently missing daughter. She knew her daughter would

never be *entirely* found and the look in her eyes was one of wishfulness.

Wishfulness that she'd soon be able to put her daughter to rest. Mulder

wondered if he would ever be that strong.

  "No, nothing yet," He heard Reggie answer as he turned to look at the

pictures.

  Mulder's gaze was drawn to one picture especially. A young blonde hair

girl smiled out at him. He knew from the police report that Jennifer Mason

had only been six years old but the picture that stared at him looked much

younger. Her shoulder length hair curled around her neck and ice blue eyes

seemed to bore into his soul.

  Again, Mulder felt an uneasiness surface. There was something in the

picture that was important and he stared clinically at the figure. Reggie

and Ms. Mason's conversation faded into the background.

  "Oh my God," Mulder whispered drawing Reggie's attention.

  "What is it?" Reggie asked coming up behind Mulder.

  Mulder pointed at the picture, his finger brushing the glass.

  There, in the picture, hanging around Jennifer Mason's neck, was a

pink plastic necklace with a unicorn stuck unevenly on the surface of

it's charm.

***

  Scully sat, staring at a map of Washington DC. She had forgotten how long

she had been sitting there, thinking.

  Todd Howned lived for the Hunt. Mulder had stated that fact over and over

in his profile. The hard part now was to decided where he had gone. She

had to keep in mind this guy's thrill of the chase. <Well,> she thought.

<What do hunters do?>

  They hunt, the other half of her, that always pointed out the obvious,

answered.

  <After that, moron,> she scolded. <After they've had a romp in the

forest, where do hunters go?>

  Well, her father had always gone to a lodge or a bar with his friends.

  <Bingo! You've hit the Jackpot!> Mulder's voice added in her mind.

  She shook her head. Maybe she *did* need a vacation.

  "Hey," she called to the nearest officer. "Can you get me a list of bars

that have shut down in the last couple of weeks?"

  "Sure thing," the officer replied bounding to his feet.

  He returned several minutes later with a printout. Scully took it from

him and began to scan the names.

  "Hey, why'd this one close?" She asked the officer who had been reading

over her shoulder. "It's called 'The Huntsmen'?"

  "A health code violation." He offered. "Something about dead cats, I

think."

  She checked it's location on the map of DC. "The Huntsmen" was near

where Howned had forced Scully out of the car. In fact, it was only about

two blocks south of the police station.

  "You think that's where this guy has your partner?" The officer asked.

  "Pretty sure, Officer..." she glanced at his name tag, "...Burke. Let's

get everyone suited up and over there."

***

  Mulder pulled the car to a stop by the curb in front of the small house

rented by Todd Howned. He reached inside his jacket and checked that both

his gun and the search warrant were still where he'd left them.

  As he stepped out of the car, he felt all his senses sharpen as adrenalin

began to pump through his body. He made his way up the walk to the front

door with Reggie right behind him. Other police cars began to pull up to the

house, their officers pouring onto the street.

  Mulder knocked on the door as the police brought up the 'door opener',

a huge steel ram that brought doors down with little trouble. Silence

answered Mulder's knock.

  "Todd Howned," Mulder called at the door. "This is the FBI, we have a

search warrant. Open the door."

  Mulder motioned at the door and the police broke it down with no effort.

They entered the house and began to search the first floor.

  Mulder eased into the kitchen, glanced around and froze in his tracks in

shock.

  Several pots were boiling on the stove. The aroma that drifted out and

filled the kitchen reminded Mulder of boiling poultry. But the sight that

greeted him made his stomach turn and he fought down the urge to vomit.

  Todd Howned stood behind a cutting table whistling while he dismembered

the body of Jennifer Mason. He was calmly de-boning the thigh and placing

the flesh into the boiling pots of water on the stove when he spotted Mulder

in the door way.

  Abruptly, the whistling stopped and Howned harrumphed in disappointment.

"Well, I guess Hunting season is over for the year, isn't it?"

  Mulder stared, horrified, over the barrel of his gun that he pointed at

Howned's chest. He nodded slowly. He heard an officer behind him retch.

  "You know, you could've waited 'till after dinner," Howned remarked

putting down the butcher knife and pointing to the pots on the stove. He

picked up a strip of bloody meat, popped it into his mouth and began to

chew. "Mm... this one's good. Can I just fry this up and take it with me?"

  Mulder shook his head, slowly, unable to look away from Howned's deranged

eyes.

  Howned sighed. "Alright, just let me wash my hands before we go.

'Cleanliness is next to Godliness' you know."

***

  Mulder awoke to a semi-lucid state of consciousness. He could feel the

skin on his chest beginning to blister from the electrical burns inflicted

by the car battery. It was a pain that the injections of heroine couldn't

quite mask. In a strange way, he was thankful for the heroine. He wasn't

sure how much pain he'd be in otherwise and the amount he was feeling now

was quite enough. It hurt to think. It hurt to move. It had begun to hurt to

breathe.

  A chill draft blew across his hypersensitive skin and he shivered

involuntarily causing all kinds of new pain to shoot up his body. The

shivering turned into small convulsions and he began to whimper in pain.

His head throbbed and all memory of why he hurt, how he hurt, where he was

and what had happened fled. All he knew was that *everything* hurt.

  He heard a voice but could not be sure if it was addressing him. It was

vaguely familiar and sounded slurred to his ears. He couldn't make out what

it was saying and it hurt too much to concentrate on the sound in order to

figure out what it was.

  Then he realized he didn't care who was speaking. For a reason he

couldn't remember, he didn't want to know who it was. He didn't want to

feel this pain anymore. So Mulder gave in willingly, once more, to

unconsciousness.

***

  "Mulder?" Scully said worriedly as she stared at his convulsing form.

He was strapped to a metal folding chair with duct tape. The right side of

his face was completely swollen with a nasty laceration above his right eye.

His shirt had been unbuttoned and hung from his shoulders giving her a clear

view of the dozen or so large, red, blistering burns that dotted his chest.

As well as the ugly black and blue patch that suggested broken ribs.

  She shone her pen light into his left eye. The pupil was dilated and

barely responded to the light. He was going into shock and she covered him

with the blanket Officer Burke handed her. She briefly considered cutting

him out of the duct tape but decided it would be safer for him to stay

confined until the paramedics arrived and made the convulsions subside.

  Scully could hear the sirens wailing in the distance as well as other

police and FBI searching the condemned "Huntsmen" bar. The sirens began

to grow louder and she urged them to arrive faster.

  Mulder's left arm jerked weakly and she noticed several puncture marks

dotting his inner elbow and forearm.

  "Officer Burke," Scully called hurriedly. "Look around, Mulder's been

injected with something and the paramedics are going to need to know what

it was."

  She heard the EMS unit pull up outside and she went out to hurry them

inside.

  As the paramedics went to work on him, Officer Burke approached Scully.

"I think it was heroine." He said from behind her.

  She turned to see him holding most of the material needed to have 'a good

time'.

  "Oh, Jesus, Mulder," she whispered as the paramedics strapped him to a

gurney and took him out to the ambulance.

***

  Mulder came to three days later in the Intensive Care ward of a hospital.

He blinked in confusion, <How the hell did I get here?>

  His mouth was dry and his throat felt like sandpaper. He tried moving but

realized he didn't have the strength for it. And he felt... warm. He

remembered being extremely cold before but couldn't remember where.

  He was completely numb, though he was beginning to feel the early stages

of a massive migraine. He shut his eyes tightly against a slight throbbing

that had started.

  He heard a door open and recognized two distinctive feminine voices.

  "When?" He heard Scully ask with a mixture of concern and relief.

  "Just a couple of minutes ago," a voice answered that sounded like

Scully's mother, Margaret.

  Scully came into his line of sight. "Mulder?" She asked worriedly.

  His first attempt at speaking failed. He licked his dry lips and

finally whispered, "Where am I?"

  Scully sighed relieved as her mother put her hand on Scully's

shoulder. "You're in the hospital, Mulder. Again."

  He closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness hit him.

  "How you feeling?"

  He took a breath and pushed down the nausea. "My head hurts and I feel

like I'm gonna be sick..." His voice trailed off weakly.

  "You sustained a skull fracture, Mulder. Just don't move around too much

and I'll call the doctor." Scully turned but her mother was already on her

way out the door. She looked back to Mulder.

  He was looking a little green around the gills, but that would

eventually pass. There was a white gauze bandage that covered the

seventeen stitches above his right eye. Hopefully, he wouldn't scar too

badly. Plus, the doctor had said that the three broken ribs were knitting

well. But it had been the skull fracture that had everyone worried.

  Just then, the doctor walked into the room. "Good, you're awake. Now

we can see how bad the fracture was," he said picking up the chart at the

end of the bed. "My name is Doctor Ryan Johnson... Do you remember what

happened?"

  Scully watched as fear and pain entered his eyes before he answered

quietly, "Yes."

  "Do you know the assailant's name?"

  "Todd Howned," he croaked.

  "Do you know what he injected you with?"

  Mulder paused before answering, "He... he was upset at not having

Thorzine but I don't really remember what he did give me."

  Dr. Johnson sighed. "This is important, Mr. Mulder. Howned gave you

heroine and because we don't want to risk any kind of chemical dependance

we are going to have to limit the amount of pain killers we give you.

You can heal without them. As soon as the medication we used to sedate

you wears off you will, no doubt, suffer withdrawal. Just a warning, try

not to shout at the nurses, they're being nasty today. Do you know what

the burns are from?"

  Mulder sighed, weakly."I have a vague memory of a pair of jumper cables."

  The doctor nodded. "Good. There doesn't seem to be any brain damage.

The slight memory loss is normal, under the circumstances, but I'm going

to order another CAT scan anyway. We'll move you to another room and keep

you until Thursday for observation, but I think the fracture will heal fine

on it's own." He stood and wrote something in the chart. "I'll be back in

a little while to check up on you."

  Silence decended in the room following the doctor's departure. Mulder lay

with his eyes closed, looking too pale. Several minutes passed and Scully

thought he'd drifted back to sleep.

  She began to make her way towards the door when she heard him whisper,

"Where is he?"

  "Who?" Scully asked, a little startled.

  Eyes still closed, he repeated, "Where's Howned?"

  "I don't know, Mulder." She answered. "He wasn't there when we arrived.

He's gone."

  Mulder opened his eyes and slowly turned his head towards her.

  "Get some more rest, Mulder." She said. "I'll see you later."

  Mulder watched her leave. Get more rest, she says. Sure, he thought,

he'd need it. He had a feeling that Todd Howned was willing to wait.

The End.

(or is it?)

End Notes:

  Yes, I am working on a second part which is tentively titled "The Hunt".

I'm trying to think of a suitable end for Todd Howned. I'm not quite sure

I made him 'nuts' enough, though I'm pretty sure I got close. I do sort of

have a working outline and I may have it finished by the end of next month...

we'll see.

I hope you liked it... email me your thoughts, comments.... whatever.

-SciNut(o'tay!)