Mandatory Intro: You must read this!

Category: Angst, MT, MSR, Slash
Rating: XXX or PG 30. Graphic violence, rape.
Spoilers: Nothing beyond season three.
Time setting: Shortly after the episode '731.'

Summary: Scully and Skinner must rescue Mulder from a bargain he could not refuse
but cannot endure.

Warning: This story contains graphic violence and sex. If you are under eighteen, you'd
better leave. I don't want you to read it. I don't want your parents to catch you reading it.
I don't want to hear from your parents. Go away now.

If you are of legal age but this doesn't sound like your thing, use your delete key.
If you are undecided, it's safe to read until chapter 5--there is nothing overtly graphic
until that point. If you read on, you'll know within about ten paragraphs what you're in for.
If you can't handle it, use the delete key. This warning is spelled out because I do not wish
to receive flames from people telling me how traumatized they are. Rational comments
can be sent to: lisby@earthlink.net.

Disclaimer: I do not own any character created by Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. I am
borrowing them for no profit whatsoever. I do, however, own Tina Hill, Jim and Bill,
Neil Preftakes, Carl Handford, and any other characters in this story who are of my creation.

Finally, Lessons was written with an anonymous collaborator to whom much of the credit
for the early chapters belongs. Scenes that were a collaborative effort are marked with *s.

This story is dedicated to my dearest Marlene and all the people who begged me to finish it all
these years (it was begun in December 1995). Among them are: Tina/The Great Muldini (who
created the amazing illustrations and served as my final proofreader), Lilliana/Logovo, Xanthe,
Amy Clayborn, Jessabelle, Lorilie, Gail H.(who talked me through all the medical stuff and who
ended up as a character herself for being such a patient sweetheart of a Lisby Stalker),
Circe/Lisa/Rosalita, Gizzie, Kim/JourneyToX, The SlashMulder girls, Mary Sebasky, Vyper,
Rev. Anna, Anne VanDerlaan, Joe Connel, bcfan, MaybeAmanda (even though she refuses to
read the damned thing until it's done, she did do the cover page), Shelba the "Encourager,"
Elizabeth Gerber, Valoise Armstrong, Medusa, Ishmael, Sandra Turney, Joey, callrachel2000,
Philiater, and many, many others. Your kindness truly humbles me.

Lessons
by
Lisby and Anonymous

"But then," thought Alice, "shall I never get any older than I am now?
That'll be a comfort, one way--never to be an old woman--but then--
always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn't like that!

"Oh, you foolish Alice," she answered herself. "How can you learn
lessons in here? Why, there's hardly room for you, and no room at all
for any lesson-books!"

--Lewis Carroll

Monday, 12/4/95, 8:10 P.M., 42-2630 Hegal Place, Alexandria, Virginia

Fox Mulder stared blankly ahead of him, drawing shallow breaths that
barely moved his chest, his eyes wide in the dim light. The violet glow
of the fish tank tinted his face and his expanded pupils reflected the tiny,
darting movements of fish scouting out the dregs of old meals from
crevices between the fuchsia pebbles on the aquarium's floor.

He blinked, shook himself. Finally saw the bright orange swordfish
nipping each other's fins in hungry irritation. Mulder shoved himself
to his feet and ran his fingers through unruly hair. Feed the fish.
Didn't feed them yesterday and no one will come until tomorrow--tomorrow....

There was sweat on his forehead; he felt it tracing down his nose, yet he
shivered and his guts were cold. "God, I can't do this." Mulder spun and grabbed
his dress coat, dizzy with the sudden speed of motion, scrabbling in the pockets
for keys and turning to let rushed steps carry him toward the door. Numb
fingers grabbed at the knob and its promise of freedom. "I can't do this!"
But he had to. He could because he had to. There was no choice. Even so,
he couldn't take his hands off the knob. Mulder drew a breath into his lungs,
then slowly sagged until his forehead hit wood. His long, wool coat
slipped to the floor, puffing up a little mushroom cloud of air. He still could barely
feel his hands--wasn't sure whether the buzzing in his ears was the fish tank
or the sound of panic. His knuckles and fingers were numb when he brought up
balled fists to strike the door and push himself away.

Long, quick strides carried Mulder back to his shelves, to the fish, to a wooden
picture frame. He reached with a tentative finger to trace through thin dust. Two young
faces stared out--boy and girl, a brother and his sister who had disappeared
twenty years ago. Mulder stepped back, swallowing as he remembered where
she might be now and the things she might have been though. His feet seemed
a long way away as his body folded down to a crouch--his gaze now level
with the garish, bright world of the tank. Mulder's fingers stroked the lid of the food shaker.
Stroked but kept no strength to pick it up. Suddenly, he blew out a hard, shaky breath
and stood again, stalked to the door, and yanked up his fallen coat. After a tiny hesitation, he
turned and threw it across the room. "Damn it. Fuck this! Fuck!"

Mulder stood and breathed. Made himself breathe. Eventually, deliberate, measured
steps took him toward the couch, where he picked up his coat and folded it
with elaborate care and laid it over the back of a chair. His knees finally gave,
dropping him onto the leather with a solid thump. "God." Mulder scrubbed at his face and
at his eyes until he saw vivid flashes of light. He dragged his hands over his features until
they cupped his chin, then looked back at the fish and down to his watch.

Someone was walking down the hall. One set of steps out there and his heart stopped.
Couldn't see. Couldn't feel. Then the rap on his door and Mulder thought his heart
would to explode and he was going to die right there. The rapping paused then began again.

It wouldn't go away.

As he reached the door, Mulder wiped sweating palms on his trousers. It took him
forever to grab the knob and make it turn, to face coming ordeal with
determined calm, thinking only of Samantha, not of himself, not anyone else--

"Hi. It's me." Like on the phone--as if he wouldn't know. Mulder blinked quickly,
feeling the blood return to his face. Scully. He wanted to reach for her
but he crammed his hands into his trouser pockets instead. The corner of Scully's
lips turned up slyly. "Do you make your informants wait out here, too?"

"Uh...I was just getting ready to leave."

"I won't take long." Scully rocked a little on her toes, swinging the shopping bag she carried.

Mulder held his breath then puffed it out, glanced up and down the hall, then retreated a step
so that she could enter. He'd closed the door, locked his knees and leaned back against
it when she reached under the shade to click on the endtable lamp. Light bloomed, making him
squint. He tried to keep his voice even and steady, fought the stutter that tripped his tongue.
"Sc-Scully." He took a step, two, then relied upon the breakfast table to hold him up.

Her smile and her copper hair were bright. "When does your flight leave, Mulder?"

"Uh--" He flailed for a moment, trying to think. "About an hour and a half."

Scully was watching him. Damn it. Mulder looked away and forced himself into motion,
mindlessly circling the apartment, checking the kitchen stove, the thermostat....

He could hear her behind him, pawing the contents of the plastic bag. "You're cutting it close."

He paused at the switch that shut the heat off. "Um-hmm." Flipped it and turned around to face her.

Her small hand offered him a thick hardbound volume. "I went over to Pentagon City
after work and I saw this new book on crop circles. I thought you might like to read it
on the plane. It's the same cover photo that's on the Led Zeppelin boxed set, right?"

"Zepp...Uh." Mulder tried to focus. "It looks like it, Scully." Mulder dreaded the eyes that
looked into his. He worked to sound happy, excited, and forced his lips into a smile again.
"Thanks. I-I'll read it on the way down...and on the beach."

Mulder ran his fingers over the slick paper cover, barely heard her through the fog.
"Don't get too much sun screen and salt water on it, okay? I'd like to look at it when
you get back. I can't keep up with you without doing my 'weird stuff' homework, can I?"

His finger traced the alien pattern. Around, down, swirl--fuck! She was suddenly in
front of him, staring into his face with that familiar puzzled expression--a line between
her eyebrows and her mouth held tight. He saw her tilt her head to search his face,
winced and hated to think what she was seeing. He was stock still, caught until she
glanced away and let him free. "You'll have to read it on the way down. You'll be
busy on Key West. Too many thongs to keep your mind on limp stalks of wheat."

Hers were scalpel words cloaked by innocent fluff. Mulder didn't--couldn't--find
the right response, not while trying to hear every sound in the building. He had to
get Scully out, fast. Mulder could feel his watch ticking and she kept staring at him.
Oh sonofabitch, he'd made it this far, made it weeks and days and today--the day that was
never going to be over and he never wanted it to be over--but it was falling apart
and she was going to figure it out. It took more than he knew he had to keep his
tone light as he picked up his coat. "Actually, I'm going to study alien anatomy at Gulf Breeze."

Scully's smile was quick, relieved, and a little of his tension bled away when she
nodded and wandered toward the bright aquarium. "Too bad Skinner is making
you take two weeks. I know you hate being knocked from the pedestal of Most
Vacation Time Ever Carried.... Mulder, did you leave me enough food for these fish?
I mean, enough of those meal worm cubes they really like? They get mean when they
don't get their meal worms." Scully's face stood in pale-moon profile as she peered
at the agitated orange swords. She reached for the fish flakes and sprinkled them over
the surface of the water. The fish swarmed to the top. "Last time, they ate their babies."

Mulder took her by the elbow gently but firmly and turned her toward the door.
He hoped she didn't feel his desperation through her sleeve. "There aren't any
babies; they'll have to eat each other. Let me walk you to your car."

"Oh...all right." From the corner of his eye, he could see her glancing around,
surveying the parquet floor. His cop instincts kicked in and he almost felt the
question before she asked it. "Where's your suitcase?"

Mulder had the lie ready as he yanked the front door open again. "It's in my trunk."

"Do you have your plane ticket?"

"In my pocket."

He felt Scully's arm tense just a little. "Could I drive you to National?"

"No." Mulder prayed he sounded smooth as he stepped into the hall,
pulling her along. "I'm flying out of Dulles. I don't want you to go out of your way."

"But I don't mind. Really. Besides, Mulder, I need to talk to you."

"Everything's already in my car and I need to get going, Scully."

Her look balanced between confusion and pain. "It'd save you parking, and I really
wanted...I need to talk to you, Mulder."

He stared down at her, feeling dizzy. She needed him and he was already
so far away. His heart rattled against his rib cage and a lump rose in his
throat as he scrabbled desperately for a wise-ass tone. "Scully, you
picked a lousy time to confess your unbridled passion."

One auburn eyebrow lifted and her mouth quirked. "I was going to tell you
there's mayonnaise on your tie." Mulder stopped then smiled a slow,
genuine smile that ached because it felt so good. He saw her grin grow
wider, too. "C'mon. Walk me out to the car."

The chunk-click of the deadbolt resonated through his bones as he locked
up his world. He walked a few feet with her before she hesitated, working
her lip between her teeth. "It'll be lonely down in the pit without you."

"You won't have time to work, Scully. All your friends'll be dropping by.
You might even get a date." He herded her along the hallway, hand on the
warm small of her back. The elevator was miles below. He could hear it
down there, inching up from the Fourth Circle of Hell. Mulder shifted
back and forth, foot to foot. Next to him, he saw Scully standing still,
hair thick around her face, fingers tight around the handles of the shopping bag.

"This thing is so fucking slow."

"You'll make your flight." Her reassurance was soft but barren. "You've been
under a lot of stress. Just forget about the 731, Mulder. Forget about...just...
You need this vacation, Mulder. Skinner was right to bully you into it."

"I'm okay," he huffed the lie. That fucking train and all those lies. When
Scully sighed her face returned to focus; he saw her watch the lighted numbers
change from one to two, then paused. He ran his fingers through his hair then repeated
the useless gesture. "Oh, fuck this," Mulder tossed his coat over his shoulder.
"Come on--we're taking the stairs."

The stairwell was cold and smelled of dead mildew from last summer's wet heat.
Scully's heeled pumps hammered the concrete behind him. They were the shoes
he knew she wore to be just an inch or two taller, to reach his shoulders, not
his armpits. His throat tightened and he winced at the sharp echoes of her steps and his own.

It was only when they reached the first floor landing of the acoustically-charged
stairwell, the reverberations dying away, that Mulder heard the unmistakable
creak and slam of the apartment building's east entrance door. He froze as
heavy-shoed footfalls resounded in the lobby. Felt the color wash from his
features as he silently swore and prayed together.

Scully starred up at him. "Mulder? You're white as a sheet." She reached out,
fingertips cool on his forehead. "I think you have a fever."

No shit. He was on fire. He was in Perdition and it was too late to hustle Scully
off, unsuspecting. He dropped the coat and grabbed the door knob. The visitors
had paused at the elevator and Mulder stood still, holding his breath. Their words
were clear in the silence of waiting. "Let's take the stairs."

His eyes danced to Scully's face, watched her mouth draw into a frown, her blue
gaze darting to the door and back to him, suspicion dawning. Her tone was mercifully
low. "Who are they, Mulder? What's going on?" Scully moved to draw her service weapon.
"Mulder, if you know--"

Whatever else Scully said was lost in the crash of the door when he shoved it open,
stepped through, and slammed it in her face. It rattled with the drumming of her hands
as he set his back against it. In front of him, the two startled men blocked his path.
"Mulder!" Scully's shout was hollowed by the stairwell but he felt it in his spine
when her fist pounded again.

"Mr. Mulder?" A short man in front of him, dark and stocky. He had curly brown
hair, a scruffy beard, and careful eyes. Mulder felt as if heart might explode in
his chest. He was gasping, not sure he could find his voice. Scully had gone quiet
behind him but he could feel her. The dark man waited while his companion,
a taller, well-muscled blond, watched with the cold glitter of adrenaline. Mulder
closed his eyes as he forced himself to nod. "Okay. Then you know what we're here for."

It took everything and more to nod again and step away from the door. Then
the knob rattled suddenly and he whirled to grab it. Scully almost shoved it
open and the knob twisted in his sweaty palms, but he latched on harder,
leaned into it. She must have thrown all her weight against the opposite side
to win a hard-fought inch. He could see her, just a little of her face, whenever
she gained ground. Could feel the two men waiting behind him and pressed
his mouth into a grim line of determination.

"Mulder!" Scully was braced, glaring at him, trying to see past him. "Who
are they? What's going on? Tell me!"

"You were supposed to be alone. Who the hell's that?"

"Damn it, Mulder! What are you doing?"

"Scully, let go," he whispered fiercely through a small opening she'd forged--a no man's
land between his strength and hers. "Don't draw your gun. Nothing is happening
against my will. Wait 'til we're gone, then leave and act as if you were never here. Please."

Jagged edge of her words made him wince. "They're sure as hell not taking you
to Florida! Where are you going, Mulder?"

"Don't worry about me, Scully," he insisted, trying against all odds to convince her.
"I'll see you again soon."

He heard her breathing hard. "Promise me you'll come back?"

The words clotted his throat and made him close his eyes against the glimpse of October
hair and blanched, cream skin. "I promise, Scully. I promise I'll come back. I will."
He jarred against the door as her weight was gone and it banged shut. Heard her feet
taking the stairs, fast and up and up.

When Mulder straightened, the men were still watching, their eyes jumping nervously,
hands ready at their sides. "All right," he managed. "Let's go."

It was an impossible number of steps to the vestibule. The men brushed against him,
electrically close. The dark man shoved open the outside door, and the blond grabbed
Mulder's arm but he flinched away, snarling, "Don't touch me! Not yet!"

He didn't pause on the concrete stoop--couldn't if he wanted to postpone the
inevitable grasp of hands for a few sweet seconds. It wasn't so dark now with
the moon up in the clear, wind whipping tree branches below it, and sending
thin clouds scuttling across its silver face. The chill ate through his suit jacket
and trousers and white cotton shirt; it nibbled his ears and fingers and nose.

He couldn't go through with this, just couldn't do it. His legs slowed a little
but the dark one's hand was on his back, guiding, like the hand he'd rested
on Scully's. The loathing of a more insistent touch kept him moving toward
a white Lincoln idling at the curb, its exhaust pipe puffing misty fumes.
Hard strong arms suddenly reached around his hips, hands sought and grabbed
his wrists as he jumped and jerked. "Don't fight me, meat," the blond's cold voice
whispered. "From now on out, don't you ever fight me."

Hairs rose on his neck. Muscles tightened so thoroughly that he managed just one
shake of his head. The hands dragged his wrists behind his back, twisting them,
grinding flesh against bone, then moved up to dig into his arm muscles while he
was braceleted with cool, clasping steel.

Mulder saw the blond reappear on his right, yanking a roll of duct tape from an
olive-drab coat pocket. A surge of panic made Mulder struggle against the cuffs
until the metal bit his skin and his shoulders burned with strain. The blond ripped
a strip from the roll and pressed it over his mouth. Mulder stood there, breathing
fast through his nose, bound and gagged and ready to be taken.

A winter windgust set him shivering under the stars, made him remember why he'd
said yes and refused to remember to what and the panic washed through him and
away until it was one more thing like the cold and the wind and the tape on his mouth.
The tension left his body slack with sudden relief, and he let his chin sink to his chest,
feeling the thick edges of the duct tape push up and wrinkle under his nostrils.

"Let's get going," the smaller man said. Mulder looked up again at him, then around the blank, brick
face of the apartment building. A flash of motion caught his eye, movement at his window
and he knew that shape. Moonlight silvered a pale face, shadowed eyes and moving lips,
the black oblong of the phone obscuring her jaw. Just then fabric rustled and a band
of cloth blinded his eyes. The instant's final vision: his partner, his rented home. Mulder
couldn't keep from struggling as the blindfold pulled taut and was tied off. Hands on
his head and arms bent him down, shoved, and the sounds changed with the altered space
around him. Firm upholstery, now, and the musty smell of a car. The frame shook with
the door's slam. Mulder felt the car rock, heard the scrapes of cloth on cloth and harsh
breathing. Doors banged shut--once--twice--and the engine revved.

Scully's running steps and her shout were oddly clear. "Federal agent! Stop or I'll fire!"

"Sonofabitch! Gun it, man!"

Rubber squealed on asphalt and the lurch of movement threw him against the back
of the seat. Hands clawed at him, grabbed his shirtfront. The collar dug into his neck
as he was hauled forward and the hands shook him like a rag doll, rattling his head.
He couldn't get enough air; his lungs and head hurt as the blond man screamed at him,
"Who the hell was that? Tell me!" The back of the front seat thudded his chest as the
bastard pulled him forward.

"Take the tape off his mouth." The other voice was calm and a little to Mulder's left.

The hands tightened on his shirt, strangling him, as he felt the car move
sharply--helplessly swayed with it. One hand let go and fingers scrabbled
at his mouth, dug under a corner of the tape. Mulder winced at the burn as
the sticky gag was ripped away. "Who was that?"

"M-my p-partner." Mulder's voice shook. The hands shoved him and he
lurched back against the seat, smothering a groan as his weight fell on his
cuffed wrists. His anger rekindled. "If you wanted a kidnapping called in
you couldn't have done a better job. Pull over and let me off. I'll try to stop
this fuck-up before it gets any more out of control."

The car made a sharp left that rolled Mulder off the seat onto the floorboard
and mashed the metal cuffs into the base of his spine. He yelped and flexed
his body, trying to stop the cut of the metal into his wrists, then tried to reason
with them. "I'm an FBI agent and your master knows it. I didn't expect my
partner to show up but she did, and now the only thing to do is stop this before
she starts a manhunt. I'll arrange to be picked up again later from a different location--"

"Shut up!" The angry voice was over his head again and hands jerked Mulder
up off the floor, shoving him back onto the seat. The tape was smacked back
down over his mouth. "Just shut the fuck up!"

The other, calmer voice cut in. "We were told to make a pick-up, Number Six,
and we've made it. You're going to keep your appointment. It's too late to turn back now."

********