Title: Five Years
Author: babos
Date: Jan. 13, 1999
Rating: R, I guess. Graphic violence and Muldertorture (Poor M!) Some bad language.
Spoilers: not really, maybe for "Pilot" and "Pusher"
Disclaimer: They are mine. I WISH! The wonderful characters of Mulder, Scully and Skinner belong to Chris Carter, Fox and the great actors who bring them to life, David (yummy) Duchovny, Gillian Anderson and Mitch Pileggi. 

To Shirley Smiley and all the authors and readers of MTA. I don't feel so alone anymore! Also to Rae, the best "Sis" I never had. 
Summary: Poor M gets kidnapped by a man he sent to prison. It's revenge time. 

Five Years 

The man crouched in the shrubs watching as the lights flashed around him and then moved on. He did not dare breathe. He couldn't be caught. There was no way he was going back to that place. He would accomplish his plan or die trying. The plan he had been working out since that day in the courtroom when the jury had come back with the verdict- "Guilty - murder in the 1st degree". 

Special Agent Fox Mulder had shown, without a shadow of a doubt, that the crime had been committed with malice and forethought by John Wesley Stubbs. The gruesome photos of the mother and her two children combined with Mulder's testimony had sealed his fate. Stubbs chuckled under his rancid breath. Not only had Mulder sealed Stubbs' fate but he had sealed his own. 

For five years Stubbs had survived in that hell-hole. For five years he had refined his plan for escape. For five years he had played the "games" of prison to survive. For five years he had memorized the newspaper article about his capture by Special Agent Mulder. For five years he had also memorized the face of Special Agent Fox Mulder as seen in the now faded photograph as Stubbs was led from the point of capture. The face of Fox Mulder, a handsome man with eyes that seemed to hold the sadness of the ages inside. 

Ha, what did an FBI agent know of sadness! Had he ever been raped by three inmates? Had he ever been knifed in the shower for a pack of cigarettes? "I'll give ya somethin' do be sad about, Mulder!" Stubbs said a bit louder than he had intended. Now that he was so close to his goal he was pumped with adrenaline and ready for action. 

After Stubbs had managed to hide himself in the prison laundry room until he could escape through the exhaust vent, he had stolen a razor from a convenience store and shaved his face and head. Now he looked like a lot of the other punks in DC. Since he was only 25 he figured he wouldn't have too much trouble blending in to the street scene. He actually looked more like a high school kid with his head shaved and no beard. Even though inside he felt like he was 80. 

Stubbs knew that Mulder liked to run on the track near the high school. He also knew that Mulder kept strange hours. He would run at any hour of the day or night. Eventually Mulder would show up at the track. If Stubbs could only be patient. Hell, he had been patient for 5 years. What was a few more days? 

Stubbs had stolen a van outside of Knoxville. People are so stupid at gas stations! Leaving keys in the ignition when they go in to pay. It had been so easy to just hang around drinking a soda until some fool pulled up for gas. It was a nice van, too. A "98 Voyager. A very common type. Even had a child's car seat in the back. The child's seat was a nice touch. Made the van less suspicious. Who would figure someone with a safety seat in the car for a serial killer! Stubbs grunted at his luck. 

Real easy to fold down the back seat, too. Not hard accommodate a 6foot tall FBI agent. And there were several places that he could tie down his guest as well. The carpeting was even red! Blood red. How much better could it get? 

Nobody noticed the Voyager as it drove along the road that passed the high school track. Of course, most people were in their beds at this time. Safe and sound and totally unaware of the crazed look in the driver's eyes. 

The runner on the track kept an even pace. It was easy to see he was used to being out here, even at 2:15 in the morning. The street lights gave enough light on most of the track and he was so familiar with it he never missed a step. To anyone who may have been watching it was easy to see the man was "in a zone" . He didn't seem to be even thinking about the run. He seemed to be working out his mind as much as his body. 

Stubbs pulled the van along the side of the track that was barely lit from the street lights. It was fairly near the gate to the track. It was a perfect spot to pick off the runner as he did his cool-down and finishing stretches. The runner was wearing long sweat pants and a sweat shirt with the sleeves cut short. He had left a hooded sweatshirt hanging on the fence near the gate. He would have to return for it. And Stubbs would grab him as Mulder pulled the hooded shirt over his head. 

Mulder was mulling over a case in his head. He was frustrated and angry at himself for failing to see the missing links. The run had done nothing except stretch the muscles in his legs. His brain was still tense and going in too many directions at once. He decided to make one more lap before heading home to attempt some sleep. As he slowed down to a walk near the gate he stretched his arms over his head. He did not feel the eyes of the man standing behind the tree. The eyes that were boring holes in him. The eyes that held so much hatred and madness that the man could barely contain himself. Five years, five years, fiveyears... 

Mulder grabbed his sweatshirt from the fence and started to pull it over his head. Something heavy hit him squarely in the back and knocked him to the ground. Mulder tried to catch himself on the fence and swing around but before he could he was hit again by something that felt like a baseball bat. He faltered and went down into the blackness of the ground. 

Stubbs looked around quickly to see if anyone had heard or seen anything. Not even a dog was barking. He managed to drag Mulder over to the van by his shoulders. Tossing the body inside was not too difficult for a man who had been working out with free weights everyday for almost five years, five years, fiveyears... 

Just to be sure that Mulder wouldn't be a problem if he woke up during the drive to the country, Stubbs tied him to the frame of the passenger seat. Stubbs glared at Mulder's face when he had finished the knots. The blood that ran down the side of that face was just the beginning. The blood was a good match for the carpeting in the van. It was barely noticeable as it dripped from the side of his captive's head. 

Mulder's first feelings as he awoke was a need to vomit. Damn! What did I get myself into this time? And why do I always get whacked in the head? If Scully made a list of all my head injuries she would ... Scully. 

The vehicle was probably traveling on a gravel road by the sound of the pings and dings coming from the metal and carpeting under Mulder's aching head. It did nothing to alleviate his headache. 

After what felt like an eternity but was probably a few hours the van stopped. Mulder decided to pretend he was still unconscious, thinking that he might be able to catch the guy off-guard after he was untied. As the man got out of the driver's side the van sunk down and then leveled off. This guy is big! thought Mulder. I better be ready with everything I can muster. Mulder's plan was dashed when the man opened the back of the van with a deer knife in his hand. The man dragged Mulder's body down as far as the ropes on his wrists would allow. Mulder groaned from the movement and the scraping of his injured face along the carpet. 

"Glad to see you're awake, FBI. Saves me the trouble of carrying your sorry ass to the shed." 

The man gave Mulder a hard kick in the ribs for good measure then reached up and cut the ropes binding him the base of the passenger seat. Mulder tried not to retch. It felt like a rib had cracked and it left him breathless. Stubbs grabbed Mulder's still bound wrists and dragged his upper body from the floor of the van. He shoved Mulder forward
toward the van door and out onto the grass. Mulder managed to get his balance and avoided a crash landing. He squinted against the light of early morning. He guessed they had been driving for about 5 hours. They were in a wooded area. There was a small shed at the end of an overgrown path. Beyond that he saw nothing. 

The man gave Mulder a hard shove in the back to get him moving toward the shed. For the first time Mulder spoke to his abductor. 

"What the hell is this all about? Who are you?" 

"Oh, I ain't gonna make it that easy for you, FBI. But I promise you will remember me before we are finished! I want you ta say my name over and over as you beg for mercy." 

Mulder knew that once he was in that shed his chances of escape diminished quickly. He had to try for an escape before they got there. After about three steps away from the van Mulder slammed his body back against Stubbs. He managed to make Stubbs fall back to the ground only because he wasn't expecting it. But Stubbs was fast. He was on his feet again before Mulder made it a few steps. Stubbs hit Mulder with a flying tackle and brought him down. Mulder couldn't even get his hands up to break his fall. He landed face down on the ground without the use of his tied hands to protect him. Small stones made cuts on his already sore face. The wind was knocked out of him as he landed on his chest with a "woosh" sound. It took a few moments for his head to clear. When it did, he looked up to see Stubbs glaring at him with an evil smile and twirling the god-awful knife in his hands. 

"You're gonna pay for that, FBI." Stubbs said as he began kicking Mulder in the back and ribs. "This is for each year I spent in that prison. Five years! (Kick)While you were (kick) running around, drinking beer (kick) and fucking women. (kick) I rotted in a cell for five (kick) fucking years because of you, you little prick." 

Mulder could have sworn he heard his ribs cracking. He had never felt so much pain. He tried to roll into a fetal position to protect himself but he didn't have the strength. The man was too fast and too strong. Finally Mulder just let the pain take him to darkness. 

When Mulder woke this time he found himself lying on a dirt floor in the shed. It was really cold. He tried to focus on anything. He hurt everywhere. His hands and feet were tied but he wasn't tied to anything so he could, if he had the ability, get himself off the ground. That is a big IF, Mulder, he thought to himself. I can barely breathe. In fact, he thought a rib may have punctured his lung by the degree of difficulty it was to even take more than a short breath. 

"Welcome back, Fox!" 

Mulder tried to focus in the darkness of the shed. The voice seemed to have come from the corner. The man shined a flashlight right in his eyes and Mulder turned away as quickly as his body would allow. He could hear the man get up and walk over toward him. 

Then there was a series of quick flashes in his direction. Flashbulb flashes. The man had an instant camera and was taking Mulder's picture. Mulder tried to turn away from the painful light but the man followed his slow movements. 

"Smile for the camera, Fox. You look so good. You could be a model... for 'Soldier of Fortune'!" Stubbs laughed loudly at his own joke. " The colors of your bruises should really look great on film." 

It was then that Mulder realized he was only dressed in his sweat pants. No wonder he was so cold. His body was scraped and bruised and he looked like hell. And that was just the parts he could see! 

"Come on, Foxy. You are a good-lookin' guy. Well, you used to be!" Stubbs shouted gleefully as he finished up the film. 

"OK, let's see how these turned out and then I have to take a trip into town to put them in the mail. Now, where did I put that address? Ah, here it is, Special Agent Dana Scully, ok. Got it. Oh, these are turning out lovely. She will be so impressed with my handiwork. 'Specially since she is one of those doctors on the dead. That should come in handy by the time they find you. Can't figger out how a good lookin' piece of ass like her wants to work on dead folks, anyway. I wouldn't mind doin' her myself." Stubbs looked at Mulder to see his reaction to that statement. 

"But... I want to give her a little more of a clue. I want her to find your scawny ass before it starts to stink up this place and while they can still rec'anize you! 'course, by then I will be long gone." 

Mulder could barely contain his anger while the man talked about Scully. He glared at the man but said nothing. He became very afraid when he thought that Stubbs had Scully's home address. If this guy touched her... 

Mulder was yanked out of his thoughts by Stubbs' hard pull on his left arm. 

"Yeah, this watch will work. I'm gonna set the time for the moment of your death. This should fit very nicely with these snapshots." The man practically giggled as his plan came together. 

Stubbs grabbed Mulder's bound wrists roughly and dragged him over to a support beam of the shed. He looped another rope through the rope around Mulder's wrists and tossed the long end over the beam. He grabbed the end of the rope over the beam and pulled Mulder up to a standing position. The beam creaked and groaned from the weight. 

"Ya know, this ain't the sturdiest of buildings. If you were to pull too hard it just might come down on your head. I hope ya don't pass out and bring it down before I am finished with you." 

After tying the two ends of the rope together, Mulder was left standing. His legs were forced to stretch to their full length which renewed all the pains in Mulder's side and back. With his arms over his head it was very hard to catch his breath. 

"Now you be good, Foxy, and maybe I'll bring you a treat from town." Stubbs said as he patted Mulder's bruised face. He used the tone of a mother talking to a 4 year old. 

Stubbs grabbed the pictures, Mulder's watch, and the keys to the van. He glanced back at Mulder who was trying to get into a more comfortable position. 

"You best try to stay still. This shed can't take too much of your moving around. See ya soon!" 

As Mulder heard the van drive off he weighed his options. He could try to pull on the beam and hope that he wouldn't get too badly hurt if/when the shed came down. He might be able to untie the ropes with his teeth if he could get a better angle. The latter seemed like the safer thing to try. He maneuvered himself around as much as he could manage to see the ropes. His arms were already falling asleep due to the lack of circulation from having them in the vertical position. As he moved he could hear the shed's beams creaking again. 

The knots were just too tight. He worked with his teeth until his lips bled from rubbing against the rough rope. The knots would not give. 

Mulder's arms and back were aching. It was hard to breathe and he was so cold without as much as his shirt on. He coughed roughly several times and just about passed out from the pain it caused. " Scully will find me. I just have to hang on, no pun intended," he almost smirked at his own sick humor. 

OK, Plan B. Pull down the shed. Just then he heard the van drive up. He gave a silent prayer that maybe it wasn't the van but the owner of the shed coming to check it out. Then he heard the side door slide open and shut and hope vanished. 

The shed door opened and Stubbs entered with an evil grin and a brown paper grocery bag. He took out his shopping treasures and laid them out on the old table in the corner of the shed. Most of the items were food. A six pack of beer, some pork rinds, a jar of pickles. Then Mulder saw an item that sent shivers down his already cold spine. It was one of those long butane lighters for starting a fireplace or candles. Why would Stubbs need that? He had a large flashlight not a lantern. Mulder figured he knew the answer to his own question but didn't really want to think about it. 

"How ya doin', Foxy? Oh, looks like you got hungry while I was gone. Ya don't need to eat rope. Here, have a pickle." Stubbs tried to force a long dill pickle into Mulder's mouth. 

When Mulder wouldn't open his mouth Stubbs gave up and laughed. Then he turned around to go back to his purchases. Just after he turned, he quickly swung back around and gave Mulder a brutal punch to the stomach. Mulder gasped and tried to catch his breath. The beam overhead groaned as Mulder swayed below. Both men looked up and held their breath. 

"Guess we should get ya down from there. I don't want this thing comin' down on me." Stubbs said as he picked up the deer knife. 

_________________________ 

Scully had not been too worried about Mulder until he didn't show up at work on Monday. She had spent the weekend with her mother and she knew he was planning to go to a Redskins game with the Lone Gunman on Sunday. He had made a deal with a friend of a friend to get the tickets. Scully was glad he had something fun planned for the weekend. It made it easier for her to relax, too. 

When she got back to her apartment she found that Byers had called and left a message on her machine saying that Mulder had not shown up with the game tickets. The Boys were not happy. Everyone figured Mulder had gotten side tracked by something and taken off. He could be so single-minded that he would forget everything and everyone else sometimes. 

Scully tried his apartment several times and only got the machine. She tried his cell number and got nothing. "Why can't that man remember to turn that thing on?!" she complained to herself. 

When he was not in the office by 9:00 on Monday she began to worry. An hour later she was calling The Boys. By noon she was in Skinner's office, trying to stay calm, explaining the situation to him. 

They had nothing to go on. No way to know if he had just gone off on some wild alien chase or if he was, indeed, in trouble. Scully went to Mulder's apartment. She checked and found that his overnight bag and toilet kit were still there. Everything seemed to be in it's normal disarray. His running shoes were not there. She was not sure what that might mean, though. He could have just worn them to go out, although he usually wore his sneakers for going out and saved his better running shoes for just that. 

She went back to the office to find a few letters on her desk, or rather on Mulder's desk, since she didn't have one. Most were addressed to him but one padded envelope had her name on it. She slit it open carefully and gasped. Out fell some instant snapshots, some small pieces of paper and Mulder's watch with the crystal broken. She grabbed a pair of latex gloves and carefully turned over one of the pictures. 

"Oh, My God!!!" Scully screamed as she looked at the photo of the broken and bruised man cowering on a dirt floor. His face was battered and there was blood on the side of his head. She quickly called a team in to dust the items and envelope for prints. Then she called Skinner's office. He came down within a few minutes to find Scully shaking and trying to hold back tears as she watched the forensics team. 

When he looked at the items he, too, paled. There were 5 photos in evidence bags. The broken watch was in a bag as well. The time on the watch was stopped at 5:00. There was no return address on the envelope and the postmark had smeared so it gave know clue as to where it had been mailed from. Scully looked at the small, hand cut pieces of paper. They were all little "Fives" cut from newspapers and magazines. Some were the number 5 as if one would find printed in an advertisement. Some were papers cut in a 5 shape. But what did it mean? How could five have anything to do with this? She picked up one of the photos in the bag again. It was dark and hard to see detail but she could see Mulder's face well enough. Even though it was bruised and bleeding she could see the defiance and determination in his eyes. "Stay strong, Mulder. We will find you." Scully said to the photo with a strength she did not really feel. 

__________________________ 

Mulder fell to the dirt floor with a thud and a groan. His legs and arms felt like Jell-O. He had no strength left in them from the position that he had been in for so long. He just rolled over to his back and tried to breathe. At this point even that was a challenge. 

Stubbs watched his victim as he stuffed pork rinds in his mouth and washed them down with beer. He thought about what he would try next. He looked over at the butane lighter. That had been a new twist. He hadn't thought about that until he saw it in the store. That might be fun. 

After he had finished his third beer, Stubbs took up the lighter and fiddled with it. Mulder seemed to have passed out or, maybe, he was just sleeping. Stubbs could hear his labored breathing from across the shed. The agent was tossing around and mumbling. He was sweating and shivering at the same time. He also appeared flushed. Guess he's sick, thought Stubbs. Oh well. My work here is almost done anyway. 

Stubbs got up and walked over to Mulder. He stuck a toe in the agent's side and received a groan in response. "Wake up, Shithead. Time to play." When he didn't get the response he wanted, Stubbs poured one of his cold beers on Mulder's bare chest and face. 
"Come on, asshole. Get up!" 

Mulder felt the cold liquid over his face and body and jerked his eyes open. Damn. He was still in the shed. He had been dreaming of being with Scully on a stakeout. He and Scully were sitting in a car watching a phone booth. It was cold. Scully was asleep with her head on his shoulder. He was so cold. He wanted to cuddle up against her and join her in sleep. But he was freezing. 

Stubbs had a sneer on his face as he looked down at Mulder. He kept flicking that damn lighter on and off, on and off. "Five years, five years, fiveyears..." 

____________________________ 

What can this number five be referring to? Skinner had assigned six men to the team with Scully. They were looking through old X Files and VCS files that Mulder had worked on. They just couldn't see a connection. 

"Mulder would see it." Scully said to herself. "He has this insight into things. It is spooky." She looked up to see the other agents looking at her. She hadn't even realized she had spoken out loud. 



Everyone returned to their work. She started to think about her first meeting with Mulder. How cocky he had been when he challenged her thinking about the kids in Oregon. "That's why the put the 'I' in FBI." he had said to her with a smirk. She thought he was the biggest smart ass in the world but she was also thought him to be
very attractive. 

Little did she know then how they would become the best of friends and partners. How they would come to count on each other through all the trials to come. She would not have believed that when she had looked at him as he hunched over a desk lightbox going through slides. She remembered how much she liked the way he looked in his glasses. The way he had teased her as he carelessly tossed the glasses off onto the desk. "What did you do to get stuck with this assignment, SCULLY?" 

Five years ago. It was hard to believe it was that long ago. All the adventures and sadness they had been through since then. Five years. Five years, fiveyears... 

"That's it! It has to be the connection!" She shouted to the other agents to look again at case files from five years ago. Mulder had done some profiling work with the VCS even though he was officially on the X Files. 

They pulled out some case files. Several cases had resulted in the suspect going to prison. Now they had to check on the status of those criminals. They ran everything they had through the computer database. They came up with the name John Wesley Stubbs. He had escaped from prison 8 days ago. For some reason, the FBI had not been notified. Local authorities were embarrassed by the ease that the man had escaped and were trying to save face by going after him by themselves. 

Scully was furious. She knew this man had Mulder. He had been gone for 3 days. Chances are he only had 2 days left. Now, they had to make a connection as to where he could be. Five... five... five miles, Highway 5, five hours drive, a town with Five in its' name. They made as many connections as they could make with the number five. It was the five days that had Scully frantic. 

Laying out a map of the eastern seaboard they used a compass and calibrators to make calculations of any type that they could come up with. 

___________________________ 

Mulder watched the man through bleary, pain-filled eyes. He didn't know how much longer he could hang on. The first burn to his chest had caused him to scream bloody murder. The smell of hair burning was making him nauseous. He gagged and tried to roll over. 

Stubbs came down hard with his knee to keep Mulder on his back. Mulder gasped for air as he watched the lighter come closer. As Stubbs held the lighter against Mulder's chest again he watched his victims face. The FBI agent was strong. He had his eyes clamped shut but this time he didn't scream. And when Stubbs pulled the lighter back again Mulder spit in his face. Stubbs wiped the spittle off his chin and slammed Mulder across the mouth. Going for three. Again the lighter came down, a couple inches from the last burn. Mulder contained his scream for as long as possible. God, it hurt so bad. He could almost hear the sizzle of flesh through the ringing in his ears. 

As Stubbs came down for the fourth burn he chuckled maniacally. He was losing it. It was such fun to take revenge. The man beneath him was barely conscious. His eyes were blurry and the pupils were dark and wide. This time the man only whimpered. Even that seemed like it was exhausting him. There wasn't much left in him. He seemed resigned that he was going to die. 

Mulder wanted to just pass out but for some reason his brain wouldn't let him. He merely tried to focus on anything but the pain on his chest. His eyes would not focus clearly on anything. It was all a huge blur of pain and bad smells and noise. The noise... There was Stubbs chanting like a monk "fiveyears, fiveyears, fiveyears..." there was the sound of gunshots and then the sound of a voice. He knew that voice. It was soothing and comforting and sweet. Then there were gentle hands lowering him to a soft lap. And a cool glass of water at his lips. And a blanket covering his cold/hot chest. And then there was Scully. Her soft blue eyes looking at him with concern and tenderness and love. He was ok. He let her soft voice soothe him into the darkness. He knew he would wake to her lovely face.



That's all, folks! Thanks for reading.
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