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Auto-Erotic Humiliation (1-3)

Pages: 1

10 more steps to go, she thought. Maybe I didn't need to talk to Mulder that badly...

Agent Dana Scully, Federal Bureau of Investigation, currently assigned to the X-Files division, halted at the top of a narrow stairway and took a deep breath before setting off down the hallway. I hope he didn't decide to turn in early tonight, I want to get our reports ready before tomorrow.

She knocked twice and called out, "Mulder! It's me." Almost immediately a scream came from within the apartment. Scully started, surprised, and began pulling at the doorknob. "Mulder!" she yelled.

Abruptly the door flew open, knocking her off-balance just enough for a frantic blonde woman wrapped in a trenchcoat to push past her and down the stairs. Scully pulled her gun and moved quickly into the apartment.

"Mulder? Where are you?" Gun at the ready, she moved from corner to corner rapidly searching the rooms until she burst into Mulder's bedroom and nearly screamed herself. His bed was in disarray but Mulder himself was in the middle of the room, nude, handcuffed and apparently unconscious, held up only by a necktie attached to the ceiling fan. "Mulder!" she cried as she shoved her gun in its holster and ran to her partner's side.

He wasn't breathing.

Horrified, Scully began desperately searching for something, anything sharp and grabbed a letter opener on his desk. She slashed the necktie and barely managed to catch him before he collapsed to the ground. Scully straightened him out and began artificial respiration, trying to see any other possible injuries while blowing life-giving breath into his mouth. No obvious bruises, no visible bleeding. A small part of her mind noticed some results of his condition and marveled at how the human body fights to reproduce itself even at the point of death.

After a few timeless moments Mulder began to stir and breath on his own. Scully rose immediately and observed him carefully as he coughed and fought to draw in air. She let him settle down after she was certain he would continue breathing and performed some quick reflex checks before talking to him. "Mulder? It's Dana, can you hear me?

Just nod if you can." Mulder nodded and began struggling.

"Oh, right, hold still for a minute," she said, and she jumped up to find the handcuff keys. Fortunately they were on the bedside table and Mulder was soon lying still underneath a blanket, breathing deeply. Scully looked at him for a second, considering her words, before speaking.

"Mulder, I'd like to call an ambulance and get you to a doctor, but I need to ask, was this a suicide attempt?" Mulder shook his head violently no, then winced and held his head in his hands like a basketball and groaned. "Was it torture? Was... oh my God, that woman who ran by me!" Scully leapt to her feet and began to run for the door when Mulder's voice stopped her.

"Scully," he rasped.

"Let her go, it's not her fault. Oh, my head." He sat up and she stooped to help him, confused beyond reason. As he sat there, groaning softly, she started putting hints together and looked at him with new eyes. "Mulder, what the hell were you doing?"

He struggled to get up and after realizing he meant it, she helped him stand. He steadied himself by holding on the bedpost, then looked at her. "No hospitals, Scully. And I'd really rather not go into it right now." He took a few staggering steps towards the bathroom before turning back slightly. "Thanks." He disappeared into the bathroom.

Scully stared at the bathroom door for a few seconds in open-mouthed amazement before turning away and thinking furiously. Sure, fine, whatever. She looked around the room searching for anything that could shed some light on this new and unsettling aspect to her partner. What the hell did I just walk in on here? Dirty magazines are one thing, but...

Sheets and Mulder's clothes scattered about, the remains of the silk tie a bright spot in the middle of the floor, two empty glasses on the nightstand next to a half a bottle of whiskey, obviously the setting of an abbreviated romance. Scully suddenly felt extremely out-of-place. Keeping herself firmly in the "agent" mode, she looked a bit more carefully. One of the glasses had lipstick on the rim, most likely "hers". Or maybe I shouldn't make assumptions anymore... she thought to herself. She sniffed it; whiskey. On a hunch she checked the other glass and caught a whiff of something decidedly non-alcoholic. Nothing else in the room looked likely so she tried under the bed. Bingo! Looks like Blondie's purse spilled. A lipstick, an envelope and a small empty vial. Scully opened the vial, carefully brought it to her nose and immediately recognized the distinctive odor of chloral hydrate.

******

Mulder emerged from the bathroom to find Scully sitting on his bed waiting for him.

"Um, Scully, I'm okay. I'd just like to get some rest."

His voice was a bit thick, but at least he was breathing normally.

"She tried to kill you, Mulder."

"It's not like that, it was just an experiment." He pulled his robe a little tighter and thudded heavily on the bed next to her.

"Whose experiment?"

He sat quietly for a few moments. "It seemed to be a good idea at the time," he said finally.

Scully held up the vial.

"I'm sure it did. Chloral hydrate makes a terrible chaser."

"What?" He reached for the vial but she pushed his hand back easily.

"I think you've had enough, Mulder. You didn't know this was in your drink?" He shook his head. She took a deep breath. "I think maybe you'd better tell me what happened."

Mulder sat still for a long time, arms on his knees, head hanging down. She looked away to give him a little time. Finally he shuddered. "She came over and we had dinner. We came back here and talked for awhile. We had a few drinks and started sharing... stories."

"Stories?" One eyebrow arched into her hairline.

"All right, fantasies. She told me hers, I mentioned a few of mine, don't you do this on your dates, Scully?"

Scully, momentarily distracted by speculation on Mulder's "stories", was caught off guard. "What? Yes. No! All due respect, Mulder, my fantasies don't generally require life-saving measures."

Mulder smiled ruefully.

"Neither do mine, usually. I mean, I don't think they do."

"Who's idea was the... um, necktie?"

"It was all we could find."

"Mulder..."

He rubbed his hand over his face. "I honestly couldn't tell you. We were talking, and she was getting, you know, interested, and... I really don't know." He sat up straighter, a look of concern on his face.

"Scully, I really don't know."

"You were drugged, you weren't in control of your actions. What was she doing while you were, you know, up there?"

Good Lord, he was blushing.

"Well, she said I needed something to watch, so..."

"Never mind. That's all I needed to know. Mulder, you need to see a doctor."

"You are a doctor. And you have definitely seen me." Pause. "Are you blushing, Scully?"

"No. We need to get you to a hospital and get you checked out, there could be permanent damage." She stood up and turned back to help him.

He laid back on the bed and began pulling blankets over himself. "I'm all right, I'll be fine. I just need some sleep."

Scully hesitated, then said, "Okay. I'll be in the next room if you need me." She walked to the door and paused, then turned back. "Um, Mulder?"

A sleepy voice.

"Yeah?"

"We have to report this, you know."

continued in Part Two

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