Go to “The Way Series” selection page
The Way Series by MD1016 & KMNAHILL
The Way
By [email protected] and [email protected]
OK…here comes the usual legal stuff… get ready… This story is based on the characters and situations created by Chris Carter, The Fox Network and Ten Thirteen Productions. They are being used without permission, though no infringement is intended. All other contents are copywrited to the authors.
Lord only knows when this story was started (and it has since taken on a life of its own) but it takes place before Anasazi; before we knew about the implant, before other bad things happened – Melissa is still ALIVE. It is rated R for romantic situations (Mulder and Scully) and adultish content (nothing too graphic). You’ve been warned if you don’t like this sort of thing! Please send comments to the authors (unless they are negative. Then you can just send them all to KMNAHILL) but be nice—it’s our first time out and we’re nervous.
The Way
What is in the end to be shrunk
Must first be stretched.
Whatever is to be weakened
Must begin by being made strong.
What is to be overthrown
Must begin by being set up.
He who would be a taker
Must begin as a giver.
This is called ‘dimming’ one’s light.
It is thus that the soft overcomes the hard
And the weak, the strong.
‘It is best to leave the fish down in his pool;
Best to leave the State’s sharpest weapons
where none can see them.’-Tao Te Ching
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington, D.C.
The basement office in the J. Edgar Hoover Building seemed dimmer than usual that morning. Special Agent Fox Mulder sat behind his desk with his necktie askew and his sleeves partially rolled up. There was a file opened on his lap and a bag of sunflower seeds opened on the desk. As was his wont when working alone, there was a single lamp lit ; its light illuminating the pages. He wasn’t really concentrating well on the task at hand, however, as his mind kept wandering to past cases he and Scully had worked on together. He hated it when Scully was away. Nothing seemed complete. He didn’t want to explore the causes for this too deeply but he had his suspicions.
He sighed, shutting his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose.
His daydreaming wasn’t getting this case solved. After all, it wasn’t his partner’s fault that she was called back to Quantico for two weeks of refresher courses. It was odd that he hadn’t heard from her though.
Mulder looked up as the office door opened, then sat up as well, a grin spreading over his face.
“So how was school?” he asked his partner, Dana Scully, who stood in the doorway. “I didn’t expect you back until Monday.”
“You know Mulder, you are not personally responsible for the electric bill of the FBI. I really think they can afford a little more light.” She flipped on a couple more switches, lighting the room to more conventional levels. This was a long standing argument.
Mulder gave her his boyish smile, knowing that this was the expected response. He stood up and walked around the desk. He had a momentary impulse to hug her by way of welcome but suppressed it.
“How was it?” he repeated.
She turned away to hang her coat on the hook. She took a moment to pat her hair into place and then sighed. Mulder noticed the slight tremor in her hands. He took a step closer, frowning.
She glanced at him, smiled briefly and moved away. She retreated to his chair behind the desk and sat down.
“It was fine, Mulder. You know how these things are. Nothing really new.”
“So how come you’re back early?”
“As I said— nothing new. I’m going to get some coffee.” She practically jumped from the chair and hurried from the room.
Mulder frowned after her again.
Scully slowed down as she reached the hallway. She suspected that she had given herself away to Mulder. How could she not when she had run out of the office that way? She had to calm down. Nothing was happening. She was fine! There was nothing going on.
As she poured her coffee, she noticed her hands. They were trembling again and it was getting worse. Everything was getting worse. She wasn’t sleeping well. She was having nightmares; nothing that she could remember distinctly, but it was enough to wake her and leave her too frightened to go back to sleep. Her headaches were coming more frequently and this scared her as well.
It was becoming increasingly obvious that the exercises that Melissa and she had been practicing weren’t working as well anymore.
Worse yet to Scully’s thinking, her emotions were getting the better of her. She was losing control and Scully was a person who had always treasured her self-control. She had found herself actually yelling at an elderly neighbor who had irritated her. She apologized but the incident had left her shaking badly. When she’d gone to visit her mother during last weekend’s break, she had cried uncontrollably when she looked at a picture of her late father. Her mother was seriously concerned and it had taken all of Scully’s persuasion to convince her not to call “Fox.” Mulder and her mother had become close while Scully was missing for those three months.
NO!!! her mind screamed at her. I can’t think about that!
Nothing is happening now. Everything is fine. I’m just tired, that’s all it is. And if it is something more, I’m doing all I can to make it right again. If only I could remember…
“Agent Scully, are you all right?” asked a young agent standing behind her.
Dana jumped. She realized that she had been standing there, staring at her hands.
“Yes, yes. I’m fine. Just thinking,” she mumbled to the agent and then hurried back to the office.
If Scully had thought that her partner wouldn’t have notice her strange behavior, she was wrong. Mulder looked even more concerned as she stepped into the office, without her coffee.
“Scully are you sure you’re OK? Maybe you should go home for the rest of the day, start fresh on Monday.” Mulder tried to keep his voice neutral but failed dismally.
“I’m fine, Mulder.”
God, how many times had he heard that line, Mulder thought.
OK, maybe it was better if she stayed so he could keep an eye on her. Be there if she wanted to talk.
“OK. Whatever you want to do,” he replied. “Let me show you this case Skinner asked us to look at.”
They settled down and he began to brief her, occasionally glancing from the file to look at her face. Scully felt herself beginning to blush as he continued to talk. She was losing the thread of the conversation and his voice seemed to lull her into a reverie of random images. She felt so close to her partner. No, he was more than that, she thought idly. He was her friend. No, even more. What then?
She looked up at him as he continued his reading. Why is he reading, she thought dreamingly, why aren’t we doing what we’ve wanted to do for so long? A part of Dana’s mind was trying to pull itself together, to put a stop to this dangerous train of thought.
Something is wrong here, she thought, but she couldn’t hold on to the warning. She was too busy studying his face.
Mulder glanced up and was stopped by the look on Scully’s face.
She was staring but it was the something in her eyes that caused his heart to suddenly speed up. They were sitting next to each other and she was leaning over just a little too close.
“Scully?”
“Mulder,” she answered and began to kiss him. It was a soft kiss, hardly more that a fleeting touch of her lips to his, as unreal as her dreams had been. Yet, it was filled with a kind of tenderness that only seems to occur in old romantic movies and she sighed as might a leading lady of the thirties.
Mulder was stunned. He didn’t move because of his surprise and because he was afraid they would both fall off their chairs if he did something precipitous. Mostly, he was stunned.
The kiss was starting to become a bit more serious, weightier with reality, when Scully jerked away from him.
“Oh, God! What am I doing? What’s happening to me?” she moaned. Her face was flushed and her hands flew to her mouth to cover her embarrassment. “Mulder, I’m so sorry!”
This time she did jump from the chair and literally flew from the office. Mulder didn’t know how to react. He was always a little unsure of how to proceed when Scully lost her composure. It didn’t happen often. What the Hell was going on! He couldn’t answer that but he did know that his partner was in trouble. That was enough.
He got up to follow her out of the room.
Scully knew she should slow down. She was causing a commotion. Federal agents do not run down the corridors of a Federal building. But she couldn’t stop. She kept repeating the scene which had just occurred between her and Mulder in her head.
What had she done? Why? She had to get out, go home, figure all this out. There had to be a reason. It had to make sense, somehow.
I have to remember!
As she rounded a corner, she ran straight into the arms of Assistant Director Skinner. He had to hold her for a moment before she could regain her balance.
“Agent Scully?” His voice indicated his surprise, as did his raised eyebrows. “What’s going on here?”
Dana jumped back. Her usual response of, “Nothing, sir,” died on her lips. Obviously something was going on. She just couldn’t figure out what it was. All she could do was look at the man who was sometimes friend, sometimes not. There was no escape. It was becoming to strong to fight. Dana suddenly knew what she had to do, it was the only way to stop it, stop them. Oh Missy, Scully thought, I hope I do this right.
Just then, Mulder appeared around the same corner. He wasn’t going as fast as Scully had been so he had time to stop before causing another accident.
“What is going on here?” Skinner repeated, looking from one agent to another. He had just enough time for the look of worry on Mulder’s face to register before Scully collapsed in his arms.
Agent Mulder sat in front of Assistant Director Skinner’s desk with a distracted, worried frown on his face. He should be at the hospital. He needed to be there in case she woke up. He needed to be doing something. He sighed instead. This interview wasn’t going well. There was little to tell Skinner and that frustrated both men.
“All right Agent Mulder, let’s go over it again.” Walter Skinner wasn’t any happier than Mulder. He liked Agent Scully, thought her a definite asset to the Bureau, and a good person. She was good for Mulder as well. He didn’t like mysteries. What had happened yesterday was a mystery. Scully was still unconscious for no discernible reason. Before that, she was behaving, to say the least, out of character.
“Preliminary investigations report that orders had come through for her to go to Quantico for routine refresher training. We knew this,” Mulder began, hardly glancing at the files in his hand. He had committed them to memory long ago. “Agent Scully attended her classes for the first four days as expected. No noticeable problems.
Then her attendance had become more erratic. Her instructors had been told that she was on special assignment and that they should expect these absences. Further inquiries, however, revealed that no one could be sure where these instructions had originated. No one saw her during these unexplained assignments. She seems to have vanished off grounds.”
He paused to gather his thoughts and took a deep breath before continuing. “Several of her classmates and instructors verified that Scully was becoming more tense as time went on. She had been involved in a couple of arguments, nothing really major. She had reported on several occasions to the infirmary complaining of a severe headache. She told the base physician that she had been having difficulty sleeping. Since this wasn’t a new complaint among agents involved in the strenuous classes the physician apparently passed off her symptoms as stress related, gave her some mild pain relievers, and told her to try and get more rest.” He snorted his opinion of the base physician.
“Continue, Agent Mulder,” replied Skinner, though he held the same opinion.
“Two days before classes were scheduled to end, Scully packed her bags and left. Once again word came down that she was to be excused from further classes. No one can trace where that word came from. Until she arrived at FBI headquarters in Washington yesterday morning, Scully had had no contact with any known person.” He stopped as he finished the official report.
“That’s all I know, sir. I wasn’t expecting Scully until Monday. I hadn’t talked with her since she had left.” Mulder had told Skinner about her behavior when she had arrived in the office but not about the kiss. That was private. They would need to deal with that together.
Skinner looked up from the notes he had been taking to study the man sitting before him. Mulder looked like shit if truth be told.
He hadn’t slept, probably hadn’t been back to his apartment. There was something more that Mulder hadn’t told him Skinner assessed but trusted that Mulder knew what he was doing. If anyone could find out what was going on, this man could do it. Technically, Mulder should not be involved with this investigation. He was too close to the situation to be objective. On paper, Mulder wouldn’t be involved. In reality, Skinner knew how pointless in would be to tell Scully’s partner to back away. He didn’t even bother to try.
“That will be all for now Agent Mulder. Report to the hospital and check on Agent Scully’s status.” Mulder stood and headed for the door.
“Oh, and Agent Mulder, keep me informed.” Mulder nodded.
There was nothing more to say.
Mulder was relieved. He was half afraid that Skinner would order him to stay away from Scully. By sending him to the hospital, he was giving Mulder tacit permission to continue his search for the truth. The problem was he didn’t know where else to search.
As Mulder walked down the hospital hallway towards Scully’s room, he wasn’t surprised to see Margaret Scully standing in corridor. She was waiting for him. She watched him approach as she had all those times they met while Scully was missing. She even had the same look on her face. “What happened to my daughter?
her eyes seemed to say. There was never any blame in that look, just the question. That and the trust that he would find the answer.
“Hello, Fox,” Margaret said. She never called him Mulder.
Mulder nodded. “How is she?” he asked, afraid of what answer he’d get.
“About the same. The doctor just left but…” She left the sentence hang in midair.
Again Mulder nodded, there was little need for words when he was with Margaret. He smiled to himself. Like mother, like daughter, he thought.
Mulder opened the door to Scully’s room and stopped. There stood Melissa, Scully’s sister, holding a crystal over Dana’s body.
Mulder caught his breath. Memories flooded him. As he watched the tableau before him, his feelings of guilt and frustration overwhelmed him. Last time, Scully was dying. This couldn’t be happening again.
“Hello, Mulder. Come in and shut the door. I’ve been waiting for you.” Melissa looked up and smiled briefly. She and Mulder had never really gotten along but they weren’t enemies either. This was too important for past misunderstandings to interfere. She was used to people who held different beliefs and who were intolerant to hers.
“She’s not dying this time, at least not physically. This may be worse.”
“What do you mean by ‘ something worse?’” Mulder asked suspiciously. He had little patience for Melissa’s crap right now.
Melissa’s gaze was steady and held his eyes. The silence between them lengthened. It was Mulder who looked away. He owed her.
He may not believe in her methods, but he owed her a lot. Maybe it was time he listened to her.
She noticed the shift in his stance, could follow his thoughts by watching the play in his eyes. Melissa was always amused by people who would label her “psychic.” So much of her “talent” was nothing more than being quiet enough to listen to what was said and what was left unsaid. It was easy enough to fill in the blanks.
The hard part was being quiet.
Melissa drew that quiet around her now. She needed to focus on the man before her. He was the key to what was happening to Dana. Her sister had found her way home before. The cords which bound Dana to her family were strong but Melissa could almost see the silver links tying her to Mulder. How to make him understand?
How to explain this in terms he could accept? Words were a limitation.
Melissa slowed her breathing, reaching for calmness as she would for warm tea on a cold afternoon. While she acknowledged her impatience, she also realized it had no place in the current situation. It would only hamper her efforts.
“Why don’t we go somewhere and talk? Maybe I can explain,”
she said and tentatively held out her hand as if offering a truce.
Mulder glanced at Scully, torn between wanting to stay and yet needing to do something. Finally he nodded and followed Melissa out the door.
They met in a darkened room. One got the impression that light would only have mocked the conversation taking place. It was more appropriately held in the dark. They all wore finely tailored suits and didn’t fidget with their ties. It was if they were in uniform.
“Why isn’t she reacting as planned?” asked the older man, his voice assuming the tone he used when addressing underlings.
“That is not entirely clear, sir. Everything had seemed in order.
The results of the preliminary tests were quite positive. We had initial resistance, of course, but we expected as much. We were able to re-establish linkage once we overcame her defenses. Nothing should have interfered at that point.” This man was younger than the first, more unsure of his position, of his vulnerabilities.
“It was a mistake. It was a mistake to send her back so soon. It was a mistake to send her back the first time! I’ve said that from the start.” Although he spoke emphatically, the older man was smug that he was proved correct. “Separating her from Mulder was the best attack plan we had. He is less effective without her!”
The third man in the room leaned forward out of the shadows.
He slowly exhaled the cigarette smoke and smashed the butt into an overflowing tray. His action caught the attention of everyone else in the room.
“Mistakes can be corrected.”
It was a fine Spring day. One of the pleasures about this part of Washington is the number of little parks that dot the cityscape.
They play havoc with traffic patterns but they were nice to have anyway.
Mulder knew one such park, close to the hospital, and steered his companion towards it. The trees and bushes surrounding the bench gave an illusion of being in a quiet country setting. Even the noise from the city streets seemed muted.
They were quiet as they left the hospital and the silence, as they walked to the park, had become a solid encasement which isolated them from each other as well as from passers-by. Those who witnessed their progress thought them a striking pair. Both tall and handsome, Mulder and Melissa gave the appearance of metropolitan chic. Their isolation added the aloofness that completed the picture.
As Mulder seated her, he took a moment to study his partner’s sister. He rarely saw Melissa. Of course he rarely saw anyone not related to work. There was little physical resemblance between Scully and her sister. He had assumed there were few similarities in other areas as well. Slowly, he began to revise this opinion. There was a strength of character, a willingness to stand by her beliefs, that allowed him to see Melissa differently. Could she know something? Was it really possible or was this wishful thinking?
“Mulder have you ever heard of the Tao Te Ching?” Melissa finally asked. Of all the myriad of questions Mulder thought she would ask, of all the flaky statements she could make, Mulder was least prepared for this one.
“Is this a pop quiz?”
“No. The Tao Te Ching is a book of Chinese axioms, specifically describing the Tao, or The Way.” Mulder could hear the capital letters in her voice.
“The Way is a method of dealing with power by non-action, non-thought. The way of holding on to true power is by not holding on to it. More by giving it away. It talks about the illusion of dualistic thinking.”
Mulder started to shift impatiently. A discussion of Chinese philosophy wasn’t what he had in mind. Again he was caught by her steady gaze and forced himself to calm down.
“There’s a quote that says,’ Best to leave the State’s sharpest weapons where none can see them.’ Mulder, I think that someone is trying to use Dana. Turn her into a weapon. That’s what she’s fighting. You need to find the people doing this to her. You need to stop them.”
There were lights, some bright, some shaded, with color and without. Voices murmured in her ear but they were indistinct. At times she thought she heard her name being called. She tried to answer, tried to respond, but couldn’t remember how or why she should. If she focused, she could remember not to struggle, not to respond. What was it Melissa was trying to tell her, trying to explain? Action by non-action; being by not-being. Resist by not resisting.
She felt as if she were floating. Nothing was solid around her so she couldn’t claim to be in a room. She couldn’t claim to be anywhere except here, now, in this time; and yet she felt as if she were everywhere. She was safe here but was alone. Something was missing. Or was it Someone? She couldn’t remember but it seemed as if it was getting dark. She was suddenly afraid; afraid of being alone in the dark.
Perhaps it was time. Dana wasn’t sure but she had done as Melissa had suggested and it had worked. But she couldn’t stay here forever. She needed to come to this place of refuge. It had been the only way. She wished she could have warned Mulder what was happening to her, what she feared they were doing to her but it had sounded foolish, paranoid. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been time. Once she began piecing things together she knew she would need to act quickly. When she had kissed Mulder…Dana shied from the thought, the feel of that kiss. That had been the signal that she was finally losing control. She had to leave. Perhaps it was now time to return.
Dana began to marshal her strength and concentration. Her breathing deepened and she focused on the return of physical sensation. She could almost feel Mulder beside her. No, not Mulder! Someone else. Something was wrong. Suddenly the world around her exploded into fire and sound. She was lost.
Mulder could only stare at Melissa. Did she think he didn’t know that there were people, nameless, hidden people that would like nothing better than to rid the world of Scully and himself? If he could find them, expose them he would. He started to get up.
“Where are you going?” Melissa asked.
“Back to the hospital. If I needed you to tell me what to do, I could have saved us this walk.”
“Oh sit down, Mulder! We don’t have time for this. Now listen to me.”
Mulder sat down looking like a thunder cloud. He would give her two minutes to explain and that was it. He’d had enough.
“About a month ago Dana came to see me,” Melissa began. ” I don’t have to tell you how surprised I was to see her. Don’t get me wrong, I love my sister. More than you could probably appreciate.”
She stopped as she saw his wince of pain. “Oh God, Mulder, I’m sorry! Really! I wasn’t thinking”
He nodded he acceptance of her apology and urged her to continue.
“Anyway, Dana came by very upset. It was early . She told me that she had been having trouble sleeping. She was having a lot of nightmares. But she could never remember them when she was awake. She thought that memories of her abduction were starting to resurface and didn’t want to come to you about them.”
Mulder’s head jerked up. “Why?”
“I asked her the same question. If anyone would believe her and help understand what was happening, it would be you.” Mulder grinned his appreciation of Melissa’s support. “At the time, Dana was more concerned about what this might do to you, Fox. She feels the guilt you carry with you. It’s misplaced but you wear it like a banner and Dana , well let’s just say Dana didn’t want to add to it.
I did argue with her about it, thought it best that the two of you talk but…” Melissa shrugged and let the sentence hang there.
“What else did she say?”
“She talked about feeling as if she were losing control of her emotions. It was as if someone were erasing her ability to reason, to stay objective. Encouraging her to give vent to whatever emotion seized her. You know Dana better than any of us do, Mulder, you know what losing control would mean to her. She was more frightened than I think I ever saw her.”
Mulder winced again against the image that Melissa was drawing for him. He had seen Scully in frightening, terrifying situations and almost took a perverse delight in maintaining her composure. To think that she might be losing that… On the other hand, by the very nature of their work, it was possible that Scully was beginning to burn out under the stress. Sometimes everyone lost control.
“What made her think that someone else is involved in this? That someone is using her?”
“She didn’t. She thought she was being paranoid, cracking up. I know few saner people than my sister. She was being influenced by something or someone.” Melissa hesitated as if afraid to give voice to her next statement.
“I could feel this influence, see its aura, sense its maliciousness.
It intends to do evil. I also sensed that its ultimate target is you, Mulder.” Melissa barely said the words aloud. Her usual confidence in her beliefs sagging under the weight of responsibility she felt towards her sister. Somehow she had to convince Mulder of her sincerity and of the truth of her words.
Mulder sat, his look unfocused as if trying to hear some inner voice that would confirm the truth of Melissa’s words.
“You said ‘something’ or ‘someone,’” he said finally.
“Yes. I don’t know how they’re doing to Dana what they’re doing, drugs, machines, some other agency; I’m not sure. But I do know that there’s a human factor in this. There is a sense of the familiar about it. You and Dana know your assailants.”
Mulder started to rise again. He turned to assist Melissa but she shook her head.
“There’s more, Mulder. I know why Dana’s unconscious.”
Mulder was stunned. “Why?” he breathed.
“When I saw what was happening and convinced Dana that she wasn’t going crazy, I told her that there might be a way to counter what was going on. She didn’t believe me at first but was willing to try just about anything. I began to teach her certain meditation techniques which stress the importance of giving in to your opponent and thus defeat him. It takes too long to explain the theory fully but…” Melissa shook her head in frustration. “Think of it this way. If someone grabs you, what would that person expect you to do?”
“Pull away.”
“Right, but it’s a basic principle of most of the martial arts to push into the attack. Why?”
“To push the assailant off balance.”
“Yes! Exactly right. The meditation I was teaching Dana was designed to do the same thing, only mentally.”
“But what happened? Why can’t she wake up?”
“I’m not sure entirely. She was making good progress when she had to leave for that training school. She told me she would continue with the exercises but the techniques take years to learn. I can only guess that Dana was desperate enough to take herself to the very edge. If she’s still under attack, she’ll stay there. If you can find out where the attack is coming from, I can try to reach her and help her back.”
“Alright, I’m going to need…” Both of them jumped at the sound of Mulder’s cellular phone. Impatiently, Mulder pulled it from his coat and flipped it open. “Yeah, Mulder.” Mulder listened for a moment turning deathly pale. “We’ll be right there.” He closed the phone and grabbed for Melissa’s hand, pulling her to her feet in one movement.
“Fox, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“We have to get back to the hospital,” he replied grimly.
“Someone’s shot Scully.”
Mulder could never remember how he got them back to the hospital. Since the call had come Assistant Director Skinner, Mulder was not surprised to see him standing in the hallway by Scully’s door. Margaret Scully was there as well. Mulder noted that Skinner had an arm draped around Margaret’s shoulders to comfort her. There was something about the woman that demanded that she be comforted. Despite her strength, or maybe because of it, Mulder felt very protective of this woman.
Standing next to Skinner was a woman dressed in scrubs. Blood stained the left shoulder of the suit. She had long dark hair which had been pinned in the back but was beginning to fall. She held an ice pack to the side of her face where bruises were beginning to show.
Melissa instantly took her mother into her arms and moved her apart from the others. Mulder glanced at the other woman then looked to Skinner for explanations.
“How is she? What the Hell happened?” He was able to voice his questions without shouting but his intensity spoke volumes.
“Agent Scully was attacked by an unknown male. Apparently, he had been watching for his chance. Mrs Scully had just left to speak with the attending physician. Scully was alone.” Skinner glanced at Melissa and then returned to Mulder. The question in his eyes was not yet an accusation.
“We were talking. Ms. Scully has some theories about the cause of Scully’s condition.” Mulder knew it sounded lame but he was more concerned about Scully’s current situation than Skinner just now.
Skinner simply nodded, filing away the information for later.
There were more important things to consider at the moment. He turned to the woman next to him.
“This is Special Agent Michele Hardesty. We’d worked together at my last station and she recently transferred to Washington. I asked her to come over ,undercover, and keep an eye on things.
She got more than she bargained on.” Skinner paused and spared her a quick look and a grim smile.” As she walked into Agent Scully’s room, she found the suspect with a gun at Scully’s head.
She threw a chair and it deflected the shot enough to save Scully’s life. Unfortunately, she got clipped by the assailant as he ran.”
Mulder swallowed. It had been that close. Another few seconds and… But it didn’t happen. He had to hold onto that. He looked at the agent who had saved his partner’s life.
“You, OK?” he managed to ask around the lump in his throat.
“Yeah, fine. I should have grabbed the guy as he ran past but he was so damned fast. I’m sorry.”
Mulder could only stare. Skinner looked heavenward as if for inspiration. Or exasperation.
“Agent Hardesty, you just saved Agent Scully’s life, almost at the cost of your own. I don’t think we need to belabor the issue that the suspect got away!”
“How’s Scully?”, Mulder asked.
“She’ll be fine. The bullet only grazed her. The doctors have her sedated, however.” Skinner managed to look both relieved and concerned at the same time.
“She’s awake?”
“She was but she seemed disoriented. That’s why they sedated her. They want to run some more tests to be sure that the bullet didn’t do more damage.”
Mulder’s eyes connected with Melissa’s. She nodded and led Margaret into Dana’s room.
“Agent Hardesty, thank you.” The words sounded inadequate to his ears but Mulder didn’t know what else to say. He solemnly proffered his hand. “Thank you.” After a quick look at Skinner, he, too, went to check on his partner.
Skinner looked after him a moment, then turned his attention to Agent Hardesty, his eyes softening slightly.” Tough first day on your new assignment. You’re sure you’re OK, Michele?”
I’m OK, Walt. Quit worrying,” Michele responded, lightly touching his arm.
“You up to filing that report? I’d really like a more detailed description of this guy.”
“Sure thing. Let me get cleaned up then I’ll head over to the office. I can’t help thinking though that this guy wasn’t going to kill Agent Scully until I walked in on him. He wasn’t standing right.”
She shrugged. “I’ll head for home when I’m done at the office.”
She turned to leave.
“Michele?” Skinner said, lowering his voice and looking over his shoulder. “I’m glad you decided to come.”
Agent Hardesty smiled as she left.
Margaret was sitting by Dana’s bed, holding her hand. She couldn’t have gotten much sleep in the last couple of days, Mulder thought to himself. None of us have. He was suddenly overcome with feelings of fondness and warmth for her. They had been thrown together by their mutual fear for Scully’s life but now they were bound by respect and trust.
Melissa was standing on the other side of the bed, one hand resting lightly on Dana’s forehead. Her eyes were closed, her face calm. A self-satisfied smile appeared. She opened her eyes, sought out Mulder’s, and with a slight inclination of her head, indicated she wished to speak to him out of Margaret’s hearing.
Mulder followed her across the room. “I think she’s going to be OK, Fox. I don’t sense whatever it was that was trying to control her, at least not for now. I can’t be sure how long that will last though, or what else they might try.”
“You don’t think that’s because she’s sedated?”
“No. She’s only slightly sedated according to what the doctors told Mom. She’ll be waking up soon. It’s getting late and I want to get Mom to eat something. You’ll be here?” It was more of a statement than a question. He nodded.
“Mulder, you do realize that this attack may have been precipitated by the resistance that Dana was offering, don’t you?
They may try again. Dana has to try to remember what happened to her while she was gone. That’s going to be the key.”
“I know. You go eat. I’ll be here.”
Melissa and Margaret had left and returned. Mulder finally convinced them to go home and to try and rest.
“I promise to call when she wakes up,” he said. “Now go home and get some sleep. She’ll need you in the morning.”
That had been three hours ago. The hospital was quiet now, staff speaking in hushed voices so as not to disturbed their patients.
Mulder sat next to Scully, studying her face. He was glad to finally have this time alone with her. His face mirrored the feelings that he normally kept hidden, from her and from himself. It had been so close this time. He thought about Melissa’s feelings that this attack was ultimately directed at him. He had considered trying to dissolve his partnership for her sake, to distance her from his work. She might be safe then. But he knew that wasn’t the case.
She was too involved already, knew too much, had seen and had been through too much. It was safer if they stayed together, partners. They, whoever they were, would have to deal with Mulder and Scully together. That decided, Mulder could only wait.
Scully, her face pale but calm, stirred. Mulder sat up and leaned towards her. “Scully?” he said, his fingers brushing her cheek.
Scully opened her eyes and looked at him. “You’re here.” She smiled.
“I didn’t want you to wake up, alone, in the dark,” he whispered.
Agent Scully’s apartment,
Two days later.
Scully was asleep in her bed with a sheet covering her legs.
The bedroom door was cracked just enough so that Mulder could hear her gently breathing while he lounged on her sofa, remote in hand. Hours ago he had muted the TV, trying to convince himself that it would disturb Dana. Although he knew she was still groggy and, at the moment, sleeping so soundly he could be drilling holes in her walls and she wouldn’t stir. But, with the TV muted, he could hear her every sound. This made him feel useful.
The situation was frustrating for Mulder. The doctors said there was nothing more that they could do for now – the additional tests would take a couple of days so it was decided Dana would be more comfortable at home. And safer. Agents were posted outside the apartment building, and of course, Mulder was there with her. Skinner kept Mulder off of the primary investigative team citing rules and regulations and something about being too close to the heart of the matter and clouded judgment. At least here, listening to Scully sleep, he would be ready if she woke disoriented again. Or he could soothe her through a bad dream.
But, Mulder sighed, Scully was as self-sufficient sleeping as she was awake. He had been there for over twelve hours and she hadn’t needed him once.
He nursed a glass of ice tea, as he switched to another channel.
And then another. The door bell rang. Mulder looked through the peep hole, smiling as he opened the door.
“Mrs Scully,” he greeted her in a whisper. “She’s still asleep.”
“I know, Fox, but it’s my shift. 9 pm.” Margaret tossed her purse and coat on the kitchen table, and then turned back to Mulder who was still hesitating by the open door. He didn’t want to leave.
She saw the floundering look in his eyes as he searched for an excuse to stay just a little longer. If he wasn’t here, he thought, then he’d be sitting at home. Out of ear shot.
Margaret understood. “Fox, would you mind staying for a little while? I’m going to make some gingerbread cookies and I’ll need a taster.” His eyes whispered her a silent “thank you”. They both knew, instinctively, that there was really nothing to be done, and somehow tasting gingerbread cookies would pass the time.
By midnight, five batches of cookies were laid to cool on racks, the dishes had been done, the floor had been mopped (following a minor spill), and Margaret and Mulder sat at the kitchen table, a plate of cookies and two nearly empty glasses of milk before them.
“So, Dana went as an angel to the Halloween Party.” Margaret struggled to get out between giggles. “And her father was called at work…” she gasped. “And when he got her home, he bellowed: ‘I was called out of a meeting with an Admiral to pick up my ‘little angel’ from Sunday school! Dana, are you trying to tell us something?’”
The memory was so delicious for her, that Mulder took just as much pleasure in watching her tell the story as he did in hearing it . Margaret quieted down some and then added: “He never really understood Dana, but he did love her.” Her eyes lifted and met Mulder’s. “But you understand her.”
Mulder didn’t feel uncomfortable by this last statement. It wasn’t demanding anything from him, or forcing him into anything.
It was simply an observation and an accurate observation at that.
He nodded once and then finished off his milk.
“Mom? Mulder?” Dana stood clinging to the post that separated the living room and the kitchen, still groggy and unbalanced. Mulder bolted up and immediately steadied her.
“Dana, sit down. Are you OK? Sit. You should be in bed.
Here, sit in the chair.” Mulder helped her into the seat. Margaret poured her daughter a glass of water.
“Are you feeling okay, Scully? Scully?” Now that she was seated her eyes were foggy again and her features seemed glazed over. She wasn’t responding to him and it threw Mulder into a panic.
“Scully!” He held her head so she had to see him.
As her eyes finally came to focus on his, she felt a wave of nausea sweep over her entire body. Her arms lurched out and she balanced herself on the table. Margaret reached to her daughter and holding her arm, she pushed the glass of water closer to Dana, who, looked to first to her mother and then the glass. Slowly, she sipped the cool liquid. And slowly, as she emptied the glass, she felt her body steady and her thoughts work themselves free of the cloudy, sleepy, haze. Dana looked to Mulder crouching next to her, observing her closely, looking concerned.
She inhaled and smiled at him. “I smell gingerbread.” And he returned her smile. It grew from deep inside his stomach and reached out like a halo around him.
Margaret felt her daughter’s forehead, kissed the top of her head, and sighed. “You’re feeling better, now?”
Dana reassured her mother, “Yeah, fine. Tired. But fine.”
Tired was an understatement, but she wanted the fussing over her to end. For some reason Dana couldn’t pin down, she felt very self-conscience with Mulder and her mother here. What had they been talking about? Oh, GOD! Had she said that out loud? No.
Good. Dana’s head began to swim again.
“Then it’s time for Mulder to leave. Fox,” Mrs Scully said in her most maternal voice, “go home and get some sleep. You can come back and see Dana in the morning.”
Mulder looked up at Margaret with a six-year old’s eyes. “You do need to get some more sleep, Dana. But maybe I should stay here. Sleep on the couch. You know, just in case.”
“No, Fox,” corrected Mrs Scully. “I’ll be here…just in case.”
She wrapped the cookies in plastic, and cleared the table of the glasses. “And Dana and I will see you tomorrow.” she had that all-powerful “mother” look on her face – the look Mulder couldn’t argue with.
“Alright.” He surrendered. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” Mulder looked back to Dana, her round, blue eyes following his every movement. He saw she was smiling at him and he touched her cheek. “Sweet dreams.” he whispered.
Dana could smell the ginger on his breath and she inhaled deeply, feeling sleepy all over again. A hand went to her face as she stifled a yawn, and tears moistened her eyes. She knew that she had just woken up, but she honestly couldn’t recall when she had been sleepier.
“I am so tired.” was all she could get out. She began to lean forward against Mulder, slipping back into the realm of sleep.
He held her shoulders to keep her on the chair; but, as her head nodded forward, he slipped his hands around her waist and stood her up, supporting most of her weight. “Let’s get you into bed before you start dreaming.”
Margaret watched him scoop her up and carry her out of the room. She saw how Dana rested her head comfortably in the crook of his neck and smiled. They just naturally moved together.
Dana mumbled a small: “So tired…” and they entered the darkened bedroom.
Mulder laid Dana gently on the cool sheets and covered her.
“Mulder, wake me up in time for class.”
“Class?” Mulder grinned, thinking that she must already be sleeping. “I think you can miss class-”
“Nooooooo…” she breathed. “They made me miss class…” Her face twisted in frustration.
Leaning closer to her, Mulder asked, “Who made you miss class? Dana?” She breathed with effort and her lips opened but nothing came out. “Dana?”
“Let her sleep, Fox.” Margaret stood at the door. She was stern, and Mulder jumped up. Margaret lead him gently, by arm, to the front door. Mulder turned to her. “I think I should stay.”
“No.”
“But what if she…” he didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
He was back to feeling useless. “I could…if she…”
“If she needs you, Fox.” Margaret smiled. “I’ll call you.”
She understood his frustration, but Dana’s health was what was important now. The lost look in his eyes, the confusion leaving his lips, it would all be cured once Dana was well, again. So, for now, Margaret would see that Dana got well. And as far as she knew, until the doctors told her otherwise, that meant rest and peace and quite.
“You have my number?”
“It’s by the phone. Goodnight, Fox.”
“Alright.” His eyes dropped and he turned and closed the door behind him.
And after a moment, Margaret secured the lock.
Breakfast was laid out on the table when Dana woke the next morning, and Margaret and Mulder were, once again sitting and chatting. Dana stumbled into the kitchen. “Is this deja vu? Or am I still dreaming?”
“Good morning sweetheart.” Mrs Scully was surprisingly chipper on just a few hours sleep. Dana found a chair and threw her body into it.
Mulder handed her a glass of juice and smiled.
Scully had slept hard, and it was difficult for her to get her body to respond.
“I’m going to take a shower.” Dana put her hand to her face and brushed her reddish bangs back and out of her eyes. “And wash my hair.” She took a gulp of the juice and pushed herself out of the chair.
The water felt warm and clean against her bare back. She stretched and swallowed a deep breath. Showers have a way of cleaning off the day before and starting the new day fresh. Dana loved taking morning showers with her rose scented soap. She yawned again and thoroughly enjoyed her shower.
Margaret got up wiping her hands on a towel as the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Mom? It’s Missy.”
“Missy, how are you dear?”
“I’m fine, Mom. Is Dana OK? I need to talk with her.”
“She’s still very tired and weak. I don’t think this is a good time, Missy.”
“Mom, this is important. I have to talk with her about what happened.”
Margaret chewed on her lip for a moment. She loved Missy but didn’t want her upsetting Dana. The doctors had stressed the importance of Dana getting plenty of rest.
“No, Missy. Not now. Dana is in the shower and then I want her to relax. I’ll tell her you called and she can talk with you tomorrow.”
It was Missy’s turn to sigh. Mom was in her protective mode and short of storming Dana’s apartment, she wouldn’t be able to discuss things with her sister.
“OK, Mom. Just tell her I called and she can call me in the morning.”
“Alright , dear. I’ll tell her. Bye.” She gently replaced the receiver.
Once Dana was dressed, with hair blown dry, and light make-up applied, she looked like she always had – except now she was well rested. Mulder studied her over coffee and wondered why he’d never noticed how her hair glowed in the yellow morning sunlight.
The extra sleep, he reasoned. Margaret finished her coffee and announced, “Well, I’m off. I’ve got a full day. But I’ll be back by 7 o’clock to make sure everything’s okay.”
“Mom, I’ll be fine now, you don’t have to keep checking up on me.” Dana was getting that uncomfortable ‘center of attention’ feeling again. “Besides, I’m sure there’s plenty of work at the office that should have a dent put in it-”
“Scully, no work for you today.” Mulder was adamant.
“Mulder.” her protest didn’t get far.
“Scully, I’m sure as hell not going in today, and if you go in, you’ll make me look bad.” Mulder raised an innocent eyebrow.
Who could argue with that logic?
“Dana, you have to take it easy. Pop in a movie. Read a book.
The lab tests from the hospital should come back tomorrow.
Don’t do anything until then.” Mrs Scully collected her coat and purse. “Dana, promise me.”
With a huff, she responded a resolute, “Okay.”
“Alright, Dana. I love you sweetheart.” And with that (Dana’s word had always been enough for Margaret) Mrs Scully was out the door.
“I can’t watch any more of this movie, Mulder.” Scully lay limp across the couch, head in Mulder’s lap, suffering from a serious case of TV coma. “Turn it off.”
One click on the remote, and the TV blinked off. Other than the click, nothing else moved. Mulder had one hand on Dana’s head, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Scully had a hand on his leg just in front of her face and the other…must have been under her asleep somewhere…she couldn’t feel it any more. They just sat like that. For at least ten minutes. Mulder figured she must have fallen asleep and didn’t risk moving and waking her.
But then she sat up abruptly, and piped in with, “Let’s have ginger bread cookies.”
He watched her stand and make her way into the kitchen and out of view. And without even thinking he rose and followed her.
They broke out the cookies, each taking a bite and moaning with pleasure.
Scully reached in the fridge and retrieved the milk. Once she poured each of them a glass, she handed one to him. As Mulder took it from her, his long fingers grasped her hand by mistake. The sensation of his skin on her hand caused something inside her to jumped. This wasn’t the first time that had happened, but it took her unguarded and the glass slipped and shattered. She jumped again and steadied herself on the counter.
“Dana – are you all right? Dana?”
“I’m fine.” she breathed. And breathed again. Then she remembered the kiss. In the office. Before. It flooded through her head in slow motion. Eyes wide and mouth open she gasped, “Oh, God.”
“Dana?” he took a step closer to her, glass crunching under his feet. She reached out an hand to stop him, and it came to rest on his chest.
“I kissed you, Mulder.”
He froze. He had just assumed that she had forgotten; that they would deal with it at a later time. But she had remembered it now, and she seemed shaken. He wanted desperately to calm her. To let her know that it was all alright.
“No, Scully, you weren’t feeling well, you just…” he looked in her wide, open eyes and actually forgot what he was saying. The voice in his head blared: “Look away, look away and find something else to focus on to. Anything. Just look away from her eyes!” He glanced down at her hand on his chest, that was soon joined by another. “Well, almost anything.” the voice whimpered.
“And you kissed me back, Mulder.”
He opened his mouth to protest but the words didn’t make their way out.
She lowered her head and tried to remember why she had kept her distance for all these years. Bureau policies? Office politics?
Why did she force the distance between herself and this man, her partner and friend?
“Scully, you’re not thinking clearly.”
“Mulder, you’re right.” she took step back away from him and her socked foot graced a large piece of the glass. Automatically, she reversed, took a step closer to him – so close that he could smell the sweet ginger on her lips – and they froze. She stared up at him, her hands on his chest. She saw her fingers involuntarily trace across his chest, over his shoulders, up to his face. Mulder recognized the faint fear in her eyes. He stepped back. And she released him, too. They both stood there for a moment, not speaking, until the tension became unbearable. Mulder turned and headed for the door.
“Mulder.” she breathed, stopping him in his tracks, spinning him around to face her.
“Scully…” She looked so small to him, standing there, surrounded by glass. Her eyes were wide and questioning. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her. Mulder needed to fix the situation, he knew, but the fear of making things any worse kept him still and silent.
Scully stood her ground, but her eyes teared up. “Mulder, I’m sorry I upset you.”
His eyes blinked in confusion. “Upset?”
“I’m sorry I kissed you.” she whispered. Not wavering from his eye contact.
“Scully, you don’t have to apologize-”
“It’s just that things are happening around me.” She knelt.
“And I have so little control over them.” The shards sparkled in the afternoon light as she carefully picked them up and cradled them in her palm. “I need control, Mulder.” Each piece tinkled as it touched another. The tears finally rolled down her straight face.
“I need control.”
Mulder’s compassion for this woman became his primary focus.
He dropped to the floor and knelt in front of her. “Scully, I’ll go to the hospital, I’ll find out what the lab results say. We’ll find out what’s wrong. We’ll undo what ever they did-”
“Mulder I know what’s wrong. The tests won’t find anything.
There’s nothing you can do.”
He knew she was right. These men were too good to let a public hospital lab catch them. For god’s sake! They had SHOT her in the hospital and no one had caught them.
“Scully, what can I do?” The frustration was there.
She looked up to him and a smile grew on her pained face.
“You could help me clean up this mess.”
And he did.
By the time the clock read 6:18 pm, Mulder and Scully were back on the loveseat. Only this time, they were sitting at opposite ends, and neither of them were watching Casablanca, which was now in its second hour. Scully had her focus out the window watching the rain slide down the pane. Mulder had his focus on Scully.
In fact, he had spent the better part of the afternoon attempting to turn his mind to anything else. He had long since given up trying to find a way of getting out of the apartment and putting some distance between him and Scully. Every time he was about to say that he had forgotten about something important he had to get done, Scully would spoil it, and run an ivory finger across her bottom lip, or gently tuck her perfect hair behind her perfect ear.
Suddenly her every feature had an adjective in front of it. Mulder knew this wasn’t a good situation. Scully was his partner – his trusted partner. He needed that relationship. And now for some reason he couldn’t explain he wanted more. Had nearly kissed her again…and very nearly worse. And for all Mulder’s intelligence and maturity, he couldn’t stop obsessing over the way she felt in his arms…and hands…and on his lips…she tasted so sweet.
“Mulder.” Scully sighed. “I can’t stay in this house tomorrow.”
The gloom from outside had found its way in.
“Okay.”
She looked at him with her best ‘I’m serious’ look. “I want to go back to work tomorrow.”
Mulder paused. “Okay.”
Her brow tensed. He was using too much effort to say nothing.
She decided he was still worried about her, and he didn’t want her to know. “Mulder, what’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” He feigned interest in the show on the screen.
“Nothing.” God – why did she have to say his name like that?
Scully gave him a genuine smile and reached over and stroked his arm. “Mulder, I’m going to be all right. Stop acting so weird.
We’ll get back to work tomorrow and everything will fall back into place.”
His heart raced with her every touch. Her skin on his – stop it!
He kept telling himself. STOP! Calm down.
“Mulder?” Scully could see he wasn’t listening to her.
“Mulder?” What is wrong with him, she wondered. Was there something about the tests he wasn’t telling her?
The feel of her hand on his arm and her voice singing his name became too much for him, and he jumped up off the couch and muttered something about getting some air. Scully watched in bewilderment. He tried to explain about needing to do something important and an early start tomorrow, but all he could see was the distress on her face and it nearly broke his heart. He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t do this to himself. He began pacing the room, striding over to the window and then reversing his path, walked over to the bookcase.
Scully had had enough. There was something he wasn’t telling her and she intended to find out what it was. She placed herself directly in front of him. “Mulder, stop this!”
“Scully…” but the words didn’t come. “Dana…” without another breath he half leapt, half dove to her. He took her in his arms and pushed her towards the sofa. He caught himself with one arm on the back of the couch, the other arm locked around his partner and slowly lowered his body on top of her – waiting for any sign of resistance. None came. He stroked her hair back from her face and closed his eyes as he kissed her – gently at first, and then when she responded to his kiss with one of her own, he was more forceful, more insistent.
The weight of him pressing her into the couch, his mouth on hers, his hand running down her thigh – it was all so overwhelming.
She knew she had been the first to make the initial move, days before in the office, and then what ever that was earlier in the afternoon, maybe she wasn’t entirely innocent there, either. Had she brought on this…this…what WAS this? All she knew was she was laying on the couch, Mulder on top of her, his hands in, well, compromising places; and, actually, come to think of it, hers were inching their way into the back of his jeans and under his boxers.
The moment she recognized this thought, her hands recoiled back to the couch, obedient once again.
Scully turned her head and tried to catch her breath. And Mulder stopped his rain of kisses to study her response. She breathed deeply and looked up at him. His mouth was opened slightly, inviting her in.
“Mulder, ” she gasped, and he immediately began to lift himself and back away in anticipation of her opposition. But instead, her hand lunged to his pant waist to stop him, and then ever so gently pulled him back on top of her. She didn’t know who’s fault this was. She just wanted his weight back, holding her. Mulder was hesitant. He wanted to be sure of her. And when he saw the certainty in her eyes and the gently smile across her lips, he kissed them again and relaxed down on to her warm body.
As Scully felt him return, her legs parted and she wrapped one around his thigh. She pressed him to her and he responded with a gasp of pleasure. His hand made its way to her breast, and her hand went up to meet his. She held it for a moment, memorizing the sensation of his touch and then her fingers slid the buttons of her shirt out of the button holes. Mulder attentively watched her euphoric expression while he slid his fingers under the white satin of her bra and over the hard nipple underneath.
Then a hard knock rapped at the door.
Both Scully and Mulder froze. Several seconds passed.
Another knock.
Mrs Scully opened the door and poked her head in. “Dana?”
Mulder flew across the room and Scully scrambled to her feet.
“Mom?” She nearly screamed the word out. Her heart was racing. Margaret’s mouth gaped open at the picture that was laid before her. She watched as Mulder tried to straighten his clothing and hair and still look in control of the situation.
“Dana.” Margaret continued to stare at Mulder. “You left your door unlocked.”
Dana tried desperately to be comfortable by looking at everything in the room at once. “Yeah, well Mulder was here.”
She winced. Wrong response.
Margaret’s grin spread quickly as she turned to her daughter.
“Yes, I can see that.” She walked into the kitchen to set down the bulky shopping bag she was carrying, but couldn’t resist a motherly: “Dana, dear, button up your blouse.”
Scully’s eyes rolled in embarrassment and her fingers flew to her open shirt.
Mulder twitched like a puppy at the vet. “Uh, I think I should be going now.” he blurted while he was thinking: Why didn’t I say that ten minutes ago?
Dana breathed heavily. “Okay.”
Great. He was going to leave her there to deal with her mother’s… Dana actually wasn’t sure how mother would react.
She looked up and saw her emptying the grocery bag and placing the objects in their proper place.
Margaret paused only momentarily. “Fox. Come in here.”
Dana’s eyes widened. Oh, no, she thought, Mom don’t…please don’t.
Mulder responded to the summons. Maternal tones had always been able to hold him.
“Here.” Margaret place a head of lettuce in his hand. “Please clean this for me, and put it in a salad bowl, Fox. The rest of the salad vegetables are on the counter.” Margaret stooped down and searched for a frying pan.
With the lettuce in hand, Mulder looked to Scully. She shrugged and joined them in the kitchen. “Mom?”
“Dana.” Margaret found the pan. She stood and smiled at her daughter. “You’re feeling better?”
Scully paused. This was a loaded question. She had just been caught groping on the couch. That hadn’t happened since…had it ever happened? Oh, God, and with Mulder. He – she looked over to him – he was washing lettuce.
Margaret smiled. “I thought so.”
Dana shot a warning look at her mother. She didn’t know exactly how to respond to this situation, but she knew Mom wasn’t helping. Or was she? No, Mom DEFINITELY wasn’t helping.
The trouble was that all of it had happened so quickly. If it hadn’t, she would have stopped it. Why hadn’t he stopped it. She was developing a headache.
“Dana, dear, please set the table. As soon as Fox finishes the salad, I’ll have these vegetables sauteed and we can eat. Are you all right, dear? You’re looking a little pale.”
Mulder’s head shot around.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Well,” Margaret added with a smirk. “You’ll feel even better after you’ve had a healthy dinner.”
Dinner was…quiet. Scully found it almost painful. Mulder was definitely in pain. Mrs Scully was having the time of her life.
The thrill of knowing Dana WAS in love with Fox was enough to keep her singing for days. And if it had been under any other circumstances, she probably would have left them alone to sin all night long. But Dana had been very ill – in the hospital not two days before – and she needed rest and relaxation. Fox could wait.
Dana’s health was priority.
As Fox cleared the dinner plates, and Margaret heated the ginger cookies and poured three glasses of milk, she innocently asked, “So how was your day?”
Dana closed her eyes. “Fine, Mom.”
Fox grabbed two of the milk glasses and handed one to Dana as Margaret opened the microwave door and the smell of ginger hit him. The memory of sweet ginger on Dana’s lips just under his flashed before him, and his fingers relaxed around the glass before her hand actually touched it. It shattered on the tiled floor.
Margaret jumped and spun around to see Mulder backing away from Dana who sat frozen in the chair.
“Fox?” Margaret was concerned.
His eyes shot to Margaret. “I broke the glass.” His face was pure shock, pale.
“It’s okay. Glasses break.” This time Margaret’s tone didn’t stop the racing heart in his chest.
But Dana’s did. “Mulder.” Her soft eyes reached out to him.
“It’s okay.”
And instantly he relaxed and smiled. “It’s okay.” IT’S OKAY!
His heart soared. “IT’S OKAY!” Was he really laughing, or was that just his mind dancing?
Dana laughed out load at his exuberance. He radiated. So did she. “Yes, it’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay. It’s just a glass. Here’s a towel, Fox,” Margaret said.
“No.” Dana smiled at her mother. “Mulder has to leave now.”
“YEAH!” He was grinning like an idiot. “I have to leave now.” He backed out of the kitchen and pulled the door open.
Mulder looked back at Scully. He knew at that moment that he loved her. That this wasn’t a mistake. That somehow all of this would work. That together they would make it work.
“Tomorrow?”
Dana’s smile was like a light. “Yep, tomorrow.”
And Mulder was out the door.
Margaret’s brow frowned. “Tomorrow? You’re not going to work tomorrow?”
Dana closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the chair, smiling. “Yes, Mom, I am.”
Scully was freshly bathed and tucked snugly into bed. Margaret sat next to her. Dana was into her thirties now, but her mother could still tuck her in and make her feel safe.
Margaret reached over and gently stroked her daughter’s hair.
“I really wish you’d take another sick day, Dana and get some more rest.” She knew Dana was a better doctor than she was patient.
And she knew that Dana would never relax when she could be working. But she had to try anyway.
“Oh, Mom.” Dana protested. “I’ll go stir crazy if I have to spend one more day in this apartment. Besides, I’m having to get creative in entertaining Mulder.” The grin on her face set off a giggling chain reaction. And the remark let her mother know that the subject was no longer taboo. Dana was feeling better, there was no way around it.
“Yes.” Margaret said delicately, “I’ve been meaning to say something about that.” Her face got very serious in an instant.
“Dana, you know how much I like Fox.”
“Mulder.” Dana playfully corrected.
“And I’ve been watching the two of you for a while…” Dana’s mood began to somber up. “And well, sweetheart, I can’t really say this was a shock to me – “
Dana laughed. “Mom, we kissed. You act like…like…” she was searching for the right image, and frustrated, added, “what do you mean you’ve been watching us for a while?”
Margaret stood. “Just that.” She knew she could only be protective with her daughter so far before Dana started to resist.
“Good night, Dana.”
She kissed Dana on the forehead and switched off the light.
From behind the safety of the dark Dana whispered, “Mom, thanks for coming in when you did…things got a little carried away.
I’m not even sure – I mean – I didn’t think he felt…”
Margaret smiled a hidden smile. “He does. And so do you.”
Dana paused for a moment. Then she exhaled. “Good night, Mom.”
Margaret closed the door softly. In all the excitement, she had completely forgotten about Missy’s phone call.
Learn to yield and be soft
If you want to survive.
Learn to bow
And you will stand in your full height.
Learn to empty yourself and be filled by
the Tao
… the way a valley empties itself into a
river.Use up all you are
And then you can be made new.
Learn to have nothing
And you will have everything…– Tao Te Ching
The next morning.
Basement office.
Scully’s heels clicked on the tiled floor as she worked her way down to the basement of the Hoover building. It seemed like a year since she had last been here; so much had happened. And this reflection caught in her throat. She had no idea what to expect from Mulder when she went through the door and into her office.
A kiss? God, she hoped not. And she reassured herself that Mulder surely didn’t want that either. She loved her job, and he was obsessed with his. Neither of them was going to do anything stupid. Okay. She exhaled again as her hand turned the knob.
“Scully, come in and look at this.” Mulder had a collage of files open on his desk, a cup of hot coffee in his hand, and a grin on his face.
“What is it?” She placed her briefcase down on her desk and leaned over his shoulder. He smelled so good. Like soap and clean laundry.
Before them on the desk, were files and stacks of papers arranged in groups of three and four.
“It’s a lead, Scully.” He pointed to a file on top. “These are the medical reports from Quantico. You weren’t the only one who missed class time there. Although you definitely missed the most.”
She started flipping through the papers. “These are my medical files?” She was stunned. “How did you get these?”
Mulder gave a dismissing gesture.
“They have you down for everything from headaches and insomnia to pneumonia. You were there nearly every day.”
Scully’s face dropped. “Mulder, I don’t remember ever going to the infirmary.”
He studied her face. “Do you remember feeling sick? Headaches?”
She picked up another group of pages. “You mean other than the one I’m developing now? I think. Vaguely. My entire trip is very vague. “
She read through the reports of several of her class mates.
None of them seemed odd or excessive.
“Mulder, where’s the lead?”
“Here.” he handed her a folder that was well worn.
The report inside was labeled ‘Kellogg, Frank, Special Agent: Official Statement.’ Mulder stood back to watch her as he explained the story.
“Apparently, Agent Kellogg felt that he needed to leave a statement – an official statement – on what he saw at Quantico over the last four weeks before he was accidentally shot by a customer wanting to purchase a rifle in a bait and tackle shop somewhere in Maine. The customer has since disappeared, the autopsy report arrived unsigned, and no explanation for Mr Kellogg’s presence in Maine has been given.”
Dana stood frozen with a blank expression as she muttered, “He was from Chicago.”
Mulder’s ears perked up. “So you do remember him?”
“Uh…yeah. He was one of the decent ones.” Her eyes fell on the papers in her hands, but didn’t follow the type. “He didn’t try and hit on me, or make any sexist remarks.”
The implication that others had, indeed tried to hit on her and made remarks hit him from out of the blue. In Mulder’s experience, he had rarely noticed anyone say a disparaging remark about Scully. He respected her judgment and her professionalism and had assumed that everyone else did, too. He could hear in her voice that he was way off base on this one.
“When did he die?” Scully looked a little green.
“Oh, he’s not dead, Scully. He’s in the Nan Travis Hospital in Jacksonville, Texas.”
“What?” Scully’s eyes nearly fell out of her head. “What the hell is he doing in Texas?”
Mulder’s smirk and the twinkle in his eye told her everything she wanted to know. “Don’t you think we should go and find out?”
The flight from D.C. to Dallas was uneventful for Scully and Mulder. Mulder got the window seat, and he slept against it with a pillow in the crook of his neck and a pair of headphones blaring Adam Ant. Scully glanced over to him and smiled. He was so unpretentious when he had his eyes closed and mouth open ever so slightly. Oh, his mouth, Scully thought, his pouty, soft, salty mouth. And then she breathed deeply, closed her eyes and focused back on the piles of files on her lap that Mulder had, no doubt, already committed to memory.
The plane landed, and the two agents collected their luggage and transferred to a smaller “taxi” plane that held a maximum of six passengers. Scully was not pleased at the thought of spending forty-five minutes in this lifeboat of a plane. Mulder just smiled at her faintly green complexion. He didn’t mind flying, and didn’t understand her discomfort.
When they arrived at the Cherokee County Airport in Jacksonville, Texas, both of the agent’s hearts fell. There was a long strip of concrete which sufficed as the runway, and the rusty wooden barn was, Mulder guessed, the airplane hangar.
Scully turned to Mulder, standing on the side of the runway as the plane that had brought them ascended back into the air. “So now what?”
There were pine trees and red clayish dirt everywhere. Birds in the trees cooed. And that was about it.
Mulder dropped his shoulder bag and cocked a half smile.
“Don’t worry, I’ll ask directions in the control tower.”
He headed to the temporary building about a hundred feet away.
He disappeared for a few minutes and by the time Scully wiped the small beads of sweat from her forehead, he was back and feeling proud of himself.
“I’ve ordered a taxi. It’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Scully just looked at him and then offered a supportive, “Yeah.
Right!” No way was a taxi this lost. They were in the middle of nowhere.
“Mulder, how big is this town? Will they even have a motel?
Or are we going to buy a tent?”
“They’re big enough to have an airport.” His smirk was spreading. He was really enjoying this. “Hey Scully, where’s your sense of adventure? This is rural America. It’s a dying culture.”
She was about to retort when the most horrible grinding sound pierced their ears, and a moment later their taxi – a 1979 wood paneled station wagon, complete with a rusted luggage rack and a Jesse Jackson for President bumper sticker.
“Ah!” Mulder proclaimed. “Our love chariot has arrived.”
The car rental agency, know in these parts as Cousin Kenneth-Earl’s Friendly Car Place, was only a five minute drive, but the stench that permeated the taxi made the ride seem like an hour.
Kenneth-Earl’s was in a small strip mall that actually seemed to be relatively new. This was promising, Scully thought.
Inside they met Iona-Louise, Kenneth-Earl’s sister who explained that there was a run on rental cars in these parts and they only had Bessy-Mae, their powder blue baby left.
“Ten dollars a day, and full the gas tank before you bring it back.”
Mulder tossed the keys to Scully. “Bessy-Mae is calling.”
And he was grinning…until he saw the car. She sat out in the alley behind the strip mall, pouting from lack of attention.
Bessy-Mae was a powder blue 1973 Buick Skylark; a tank of a car – easily fifteen feet long and over six feet wide.
Scully groaned. “Well, if we can’t find a motel, we can sleep comfortably in the back seat -”
Mulder’s bright eyes flashed to her.
“Along with a family of six.”
Mulder slipped into the drivers seat and found the seat belt. He smiled at Scully, who looked six years old in the huge couch of a front seat.
She pointed gaping at the control panel between them. “What the hell is that?”
Mulder’s eyes lit up . “What’s the matter, Scully, don’t you remember 8-tracks?”
They found the motel, Tradewinds, which didn’t help Scully’s dolor, and reserved two rooms. The exquisite turquoise interior and bright orange paper machete flowers made her heart sink low; she thought that surely when interior designers weren’t accepted into hell, they were sent here. Mulder came into her room, and to Scully’s utter despair, he was still enjoying himself. He playfully plopped himself down on her bed, which groaned and collapsed in a cloud of dust.
She moaned. “Welcome to motel negative one.”
Mulder was afraid to breathe and have the mattress crumble underneath him.
“Uh…we can switch beds if you want…or share…”
Scully just rolled her eyes and heaved her heavy body up from the folding chair. “Come on, Mulder, let’s just go to the hospital and get the hell out of here.”
She was truly frightened of what they might consider a hospital here. But they did have a job to do, and the sooner they did it, the sooner she could get back to civilization.
Nan Travis Memorial Hospital was in the heart of downtown Jacksonville. It was the largest, most modern building around and next to the only stop light.
“Hey,” Mulder chimed in. “Things are looking up.”
Inside they talked with a receptionist who redefined the word English for them and directed them to “th’ laaaast rume awn th’
rayt.” And there, in the last room on the right, was SpecialAgent Frank Kellogg. Scully recognized him immediately. He had a large white bandage around his head and covering his right ear and eye. Several machines were connected to his bruised arms and legs, and to the lay person, Mulder thought, the man looked like a science experience.
Scully went to his bedside and spoke in low, nurturing tones.
“Frank, it’s Dana, from Quantico. Do you remember me?”
He looked at her and he did hear her, Dana was sure of it, but he said nothing. His mouth was still. His breathing consistent.
Scully bit her lip and found his chart on the inside of the door to his room. Mulder watched her as she read, page after page, putting the pieces together. Her eyes flickered with rage and hurt. He looked to the man in the bed who looked back at him.
The door opened and in walked a man in a traditional white coat signifying his rank as doctor. He stopped short when he saw Scully with the file open and snatched it out of her hands.
“Are you any relation to Mr Kellogg?” He was demanding and indignant.
Dana matched him stroke for stroke. “Are you the attending physician? What have you done to contact this man’s family? How did he get here?”
The doctor was adamant: “I will not answer these questions until I know who you are.”
Dana reached into her pocket and flipped out her ID. “I’m Special Agent Dana Scully, and I demand to know under what circumstances Agent Kellogg came to be here.”
Mulder stepped forward and offered a hand. “Hi. Agent Fox Mulder.”
The doctor blinked twice and took Mulder’s hand. “Dr Temple.”
Once they were seated in Dr Temple’s office, he began to explain.
“Mr Kellogg was discovered about four days ago by old Dolly.
She spends most of her day in and around the burned down Piggly Wiggly, and she found him along the back wall there. The police brought him to us. All we found was a drivers license. An attempt was made to get in touch with his family, but apparently they all died in a house fire about a week ago. There was no one who seemed to want the man. So we are letting him convalesce here.”
Scully’s temper was flaring. “Why didn’t you get in touch with the FBI?”
Dr Temple shrugged his bony shoulders. “The police made a missing person’s report, I guess, but there wasn’t anything on him to let us know he was FBI. How did you know he was here?”
Scully turned and looked at Mulder.
“Dr Temple.” Mulder changed the subject and began to rise.
“Some one from the Bureau will be in touch with you. Agent Kellogg, was a government agent, and he’s entitled to government pensions and health plans.”
Dr Temple pursed his lips. “Whatever. The gunshot wounds he received will keep him mute for the rest of his life, so someone will have to take care of him for a while, until he adjusts.”
In the hallway Scully’s earlier bad mood turned into fury. She made her way back to Agent Kellogg’s room ranting, “They did this, Mulder, to keep him quiet. They killed his family and left him for dead here.”
Mulder winced. “Why would they go through all the trouble of dumping him here?”
“Because they’re animals!”
She rounded the corner without slowing and burst into the hospital room like a bullet. She turned into doctor mode once she made it to Kellogg’s side.
“Frank, it’s Dana Scully, again. We’re going to get you out of here. Don’t worry.”
He just looked up at her and blinked. Whatever recognition was there quickly faded.
Dana squeezed his hand. “Frank, just try and get better.”
There was nothing else she could say to her friend. She couldn’t
promise him that everything would be okay, or that he’d be all right and not to worry. Feeling totally useless she left his room.
And down the hall she saw Mulder on the phone. He hung up as she approached.
“I called his partner out of the Chicago office, she’s going to make arrangements to have him moved up there. It’ll probably take two or three days, but that will give him some more recovery time.”
Scully hit the wall with the flat of her hand. “Damn it, Mulder!”
Then she looked at him. “Thanks for calling.”
Part 2
There wasn’t much left of the Piggly Wiggly. The back wall was there, almost, but the front wall and ceiling were completely gone. It would have been difficult to judge how large the store had actually been if not for the cement slab, which was now scorched and littered with debris.
Old Dolly was there (at least Mulder assumed it was her), as promised, pushing a rusted grocery cart around the slab. He estimated that she was roughly four and a half feet tall, probably in her early sixties, and filthy.
Mulder approached her, and she saw him coming, but she didn’t deviate from her course.
“Are you Dolly?” Mulder asked.
“Old Dolly,” corrected the woman with a squawk.
“I’m Special Agent Fox Mulder, and I’d like to ask you some questions about the man you found here.”
“Pass me the peas.” She pointed to what Mulder saw as thin air, and Martha saw as the top shelf of the can goods section.
“Where exactly did you find the man, Dolly?”
“Buy the rump roast. Now get me the peas.”
“Mulder!” Scully called to him from the back wall. “Come look at this.”
He turned and saw Scully crouched and inspecting something. And he soon discovered what. There was a large, crusty, brown stain on the concrete. “Mulder, I think it’s blood.”
“Right!” called Old Dolly. “Right next to the rump roasts. The Butcher left a mess for you.”
“Butcher?” Scully looked at the little woman. “Mulder do you think she saw anything?”
He just shrugged. Then his eyes fell on a dozen or so half smoked cigarette butts not three feet from the blood. “Bet you ten bucks these are Morely’s.”
“The Butcher did leave a mess.”
Scully’s back stiffened when she saw the butts pushed with his shoe.
Scully stood and walked to old Dolly who was selecting an imaginary box Nilla Wafers and placing them into her basket.
“Did you see the Butcher?” Scully asked.
Old Dolly was indignant. “Did I see the Butcher?” She scoffed as she checked the expiration date on a box of Oreos. “He’s one of the terrorists!”
“Terrorists?” Mulder’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think they were terrorists?”
“The terrorists bombed the Piggly Wiggly!” Dolly exclaimed as if this was common
knowledge.
Scully gave a frustrated look to Mulder. “Even if she saw him, Mulder, she would never be able to identify him.”
Mulder nodded. “No, but now we know what happened. We just have to figure out why, and what did they do to you that was worth all of this.”
Scully’s head dropped. This had been such a long disappointing, miserable day.
The two agents turned and walked back to the car.
Then Mulder glanced back to the woman pushing the squeaking cart.
“Old Dolly,” he called. “Here’s your peas.”
And he tossed to her a make-believe can of peas that she somehow managed to drop. The delight in her eyes and large toothless grin warmed Mulder’s heart. Some things, he thought, are so easy.
The storm that had been threatening to break all day long finally kept its promise. The Buick pulled into the Tradewinds parking lot and Mulder switched off the ignition; but neither of them moved. “There’s a reason why this culture is dying.” Mulder attempted to lighten the situation.
“It’s not dying fast enough.” They sat there watching the rain stream down the windshield until Scully nearly whined. “Mulder I don’t want to go in there.”
“The next nearest town is twenty minutes away. And the nurse at the hospital said they have nicer motels there. The town is bigger.”
“Let’s go.”
In fifteen minutes they passed a small green sign that welcomed them to Tyler, and promised a population of 25,609. Scully’s heart lightened.
Three minutes later they pulled in to the Wilhite Inn. The Architecture was early American Colonial and it looked clean and well kept. This was the best thing they had seen all day.
Mulder went in to get two rooms and came back with only one key.
“There’s some kind of Lodge meeting in town, and they only had one room, but they promised it’s clean and nothing will break underneath us.”
Scully snatched the key from his hand. “Sounds perfect. You can sleep on the floor.”
Scully’s face smiled. She breathed a sigh of relief as she dropped her weary body carelessly on to the firm, clean, cool queen sized bed.
There was a television, and a phone. Not that she was going to use either, but they were there.
“Civilization.” she exhaled again.
Mulder dropped his shoulder strap bag just inside the door and gazed at Dana laid out on the bed. She was so beautiful. No, he thought, this was still business; business was off limits. He had to keep the two separate. Keep things organized in his head. The trouble was, and Mulder knew this, he was just so bad at organization.
He did follow her lead, however, stretching out on the bed next to her. The long day was finally over and dealing with the trip, Scully’s miserable mood and everything else had taken a hell of a lot of effort.
He could feel the muscles in his back relax as his breathing slowed. His eyes closed naturally and he sensed his right arm had brushed up against Scully’s warm side. He hadn’t realized how tired he really was. He felt as if he could stay in this position forever.
“Mulder. ” She rolled towards him. “This bed is big enough. You don’t have to sleep on the floor. Mulder?”
He couldn’t already be asleep. She touched his arm and his eyelids fluttered briefly and then they relaxed again. “No Mulder, don’t fall asleep like this!” She shook his shoulder. “Mulder wake up!”
“What?” he gasped, but didn’t stir much.
“Mulder, put your head at the head of the bed. Mulder! Don’t fall asleep on top of the covers. Come on.”
Helping him roll into place, she pulled out the blankets from underneath him . She reached across him to grab his pillow before he became immovable and he grabbed her left wrist. The sudden move startled her.
“Agent Scully, you smell so good. How can you smell that good after the day…”
“Do you want your pillow, Mulder?”
His left arm grabbed her hip and pulled her on top of him.
“Absolutely.”
Scully didn’t struggle to free herself, and she didn’t encourage his flirtatious passes, either. His eyes were closed. She had seen the effort it had taken him to shift her weight on to him. She gently slid her right hand around the back of his head and cradled it as she lifted it up just enough to slide the downy pillow underneath.
“Oh, Scully…” he was barely audible now and his arms relaxed on top of her.
Poor Mulder, she thought, all tired out. Dana laid her head on his chest and relaxed into the steady rise and fall of his breath, the warmth of his body, and the occasional muscle jerk that kept him from complete unconsciousness. This kind of contentment she hadn’t felt in years…if ever. It was a sensation she tried to memorize, but her eyes were too heavy to really think any more. And just before she fell asleep, she rolled off of him, and into the cold sheets at his side. She covered the two of them up, careful that his feet weren’t poking out, and then she, too, drifted off.
When Dana finally woke up she was lying on her right side in the fetal position. Mulder’s right arm supported her head and he was curled around her; his left arm hugged her snuggly to him. It took her a long moment to come to the realization that all was still completely innocent.
But the fact that the two of them were still in their clothes from the day before reassured her.
Blue light broke through the crack in the drapes, but Dana couldn’t judge the time by this. And the small hotel clock was on the nightstand that her back was to. She could feel his warm breath on her bare neck.
She didn’t want to move, if she woke Mulder the moment might end.
Slowly, Dana twisted her arm to read her watch. Mulder responded instantly. The sound began deep in is middle, and Dana felt it before she heard it. “No.”
She froze. She waited a moment, but nothing happened. She breathed deeply – and no
response. So she tried again to check the time.
“Don’t.” She felt the vibrations with her back.
He didn’t want her to move, Dana thought. Was he sick? She wished she could see his face.
“Stop!” he bolted up abruptly.
Dana shrieked at his outburst. Her scream broke the hold of the nightmare. Now he was surrounded only by a darkened motel room and Dana’s alarmed expression.
It took at least a minute for the two of them to get their breath back.
When they did Mulder, embarrassed, said meekly, “I’m sorry I woke you.”
Dana smiled. The right side of his perfect hair was flat against his head.
“You didn’t. Actually, I think I woke you.”
“Oh.” Mulder fell back in to the pillow. “Then thank you.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. He knew he didn’t look particularly dashing at the moment, and he hoped Dana didn’t notice.
He looked over at her; she was staring at him.
“Bad dreams?” It’s probably the bed, she thought, he’s not used to a bed.
“Come here.” He held out a hand to her. Dana hesitated, not sure what he was intending. But then she chided herself, this is Mulder. She crawled to him and nestled in next to his right side.
“You want to talk about your dream?”
He smiled at the top of her head. “No.”
She was so warm next to him. And her hair still smelt faintly of berries. Mulder swallowed hard, and forced himself to fight the odd little urges that were taunting his thoughts. “We should try and take the three o’clock fight out of here.”
She looked at him quizzically but then nodded. “What next?” Scully asked dryly, “We don’t have any new leads.”
She was lying with the weight of her head on his shoulder. Her make-up had long since faded and the little freckles that speckled her face were smiling up at him. She looked fresh. Leads…how could he go out and look for leads when she was here, and safe, and in his arms?
Mulder didn’t care about leads. He knew he should, but he didn’t.
Mulder caressed her shoulder and arm. Leads. He forced himself to concentrate. Those bastards did something to Scully and he would find out who and why. And there and then he promised himself, she wouldn’t go through that again.
Scully gently shook him back from his thoughts. “Mulder?”
He gazed down at the beautiful woman with blue-blue eyes. Not a trace of the illness that put her in the hospital not a week before was left. And he was going to make damn sure it didn’t happen again.
“I don’t know,” he confessed.
He felt guilty for not bringing her torturers to justice. He pulled her even closer to him, wanting desperately to shield her from the world and keep his vow. Scully’s natural response was to slide her arm across his middle. His heart shot into his throat.
Mulder tried to swallow it down, but her voice whispered his name and he nearly choked. Without thinking, he leaped out of the bed and away from her touch. She sat up wide eyed. The frown on her face was questioning. Mulder knew that wasn’t the smoothest move he could have made. And he tried to cover.
“Uh…thought I saw something out the window.” His attempt was so transparent.
Scully’s mouth dropped open. She was absolutely shocked.
“Mulder…” she said slowly.
She wasn’t sure why he had startled so abruptly, but she had an idea.
And the more she considered this idea, the more a frown formed on her face. This seemed remarkably similar to what happened in her apartment just a few nights before. Her mother had interrupted them then. Scully’s eyes dropped. She screamed in her head: “Right. Here, mom couldn’t interrupt. Got it, Mulder. Loud and clear.”
She rolled off the bed and headed into the bathroom.
Mulder watched her and his heart dropped. “Scully.” he wanted to kiss her. “Scully, I’m going for a jog.”
She looked at herself in the mirror. Then she closed her eyes.
“Have a good time.”
Six Days Later
Basement Office of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.
It had been a long day, and then a longer flight back to D.C.. But nothing could compare to what the next five days had become, in Mulder’s mind; the week that refused to end.
It was nearly eleven in the morning, and Scully still hadn’t shown up for work. Mulder was worried. He had tried calling her home, and the machine picked up. When he tried to contact her by cellular phone, it rang not five feet away from him, tucked forgotten in the drawer of her desk. Slamming his fist on the desk, he hissed, “Damn it, Dana.”
“What?” Dana swept in the room, tossed her satchel on her desk, and picked up the mail that was bound neatly by a rubber band. “Cursing my name, Mulder? It’s not even noon yet.” She had a smirk on her face.
“Where the hell have you been, Scully?”
She looked up at him, stating: “Doctor’s appointment.” Then she continued filing through her mail.
“Oh.” Mulder had forgotten.
The first set of lab tests had come back completely normal, just as Scully had said they would. The doctors had insisted on another set, and Dana was sure the results would be the same. “How did it go?”
Mulder watched her as she hesitated briefly and kept her eyes on the form letter in her hands. “Oh, fine.”
Ten Hours Later.
Mulder sat hunched over his desk in the semi-dark of the basement office. Scully was at her desk, her back to him. He was painfully aware of her exhale as she turned nearly every page in the “official” report she had been able to get on Agent Kellogg.
In fact, she had read the damn thing five times. The case was at a stand still, and nothing new or pressing had been assigned in the last week or so. She knew there were mountains of files and paperwork that needed to be filled out and placed into storage where they would be forgotten the moment the drawer closed. But it seemed pointless to try and tackle it all. Let Mulder do it, she thought. Or better yet, let them stay in the six foot stack against the wall. They were just as useful there as anywhere else.
Dana sighed again and laid her head down on her desk.
Mulder’s eyes frowned. He saw how tired she was. Scully had not been herself these last couple of days. Hell, not since they got back from Texas. Before Texas, really. He swallowed a lump of guilt that was building in his throat. Normally he’d make a crack about her keeping too many late nights with those gentlemen callers, and she would respond in kind with a weary smile and a light “huh.” But this was a luxury that he had traded for that kiss with her. Well, okay, several kisses. But the one in particular, on the couch that had almost become more… . “Scully, you can call it a night if you want. There’s not much more we can do here anyway. I’m going to meet with the Lone Gunmen tomorrow, see if they’ve been able to dig anything up.”
She pushed away from her desk and collected her coat, leaving papers and briefcase where they lie.
“Send Frohike my love.” and with that she was out the door.
A subconscious hand went to Mulder’s heart. This was his fault, he thought to himself. It was because of him, and his lack of restraint that Scully was miserable. He should have dismissed what happened in the kitchen that day as a side-effect of Dana’s recent illness. He should have left her apartment all together and saved her from this depression.
How could he make this better? Things had to get back to normal. He needed Scully back, and once she was, he knew, this case would fall into place; they would find out who was behind all of the testing they’d done on her.
He couldn’t take back the kiss, he reasoned, but they had to talk this through. Scully was an intelligent, emotionally sound woman…most of the time. She could rationalize this. They could fix whatever it was that was broken. He decided to go to her.
Scully, once home, peeled off her shoes, hose and skirt as she made her way to the kitchen and found the Ben and Jerry’s New York Super Chocolate Chunk in the freezer. The blouse hit the floor as the spoon scooped up a mouthful of the ice cream. The bra was tossed across the room as she flopped down on to the sofa. Scully closed her eyes and relaxed into the softness of the afghan she pulled over her. The cold in her hands comforted her, for some unknown reason, and she pressed it to her face. Her eyes hurt. Her neck hurt. Even her brain was achy.
The knock at the door didn’t even cause her to blink. She continued to lick the cold from the spoon. The door bell rang. Twice. Then Mulder yelled: “Scully! It’s me! Are you home?”
“Yep,” she said to herself as she scraped another curl from the pint.
“Scully? Scully? Are you okay?” Mulder was knocking again, and becoming frantic with worry.
“I’m fine,” she exhaled. She knew he couldn’t hear her, and the tension in his voice seemed on the verge of hysteria. Guilt crept in the snug little world she had made. She closed her eyes and called out, loud enough for him to hear: “I’m fine Mulder. Go home.”
“Scully! Let me in!” He was trying the locked door repeatedly, hoping that the next time it would open magically.
“Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin.” She sat up and put the ice cream down on the coffee table. “Mulder, I’m tired. Go home.”
“No, Scully, we need to talk. Please…” And it was the please that pulled her eyes to the door. His tormented ‘please’. Her heart squeezed in her chest when she heard it.
Wrapped in the afghan, she opened the door to him, and he stood with a relieved expression when he saw she was in one piece.
“Do we have to talk now, Mulder?” Her tone was completely neutral.
He hated when she was like this. It was so difficult to judge what to do next.
He decided to go for it, but still put the ball in her court. “Don’t you think we should?” Nice, safe response.
“No.”
Mulder blinked. He hadn’t expected that. He shifted feet. “Well…”
Her body was blocking any entrance into the apartment – she didn’t want him in there. And her body, he noted was void of any clothing under the blanket she had around her.
“Well…I do.” Oh, he thought, good response. That was brilliant.
Say something else, Shakespeare, and dazzle your way in.
She stood there for a moment waiting for more to his retort. But nothing else came. She gave him a questioning look. His remained open and fixed on her. Okay, she thought, he thinks we should talk. She left the door and made her way back to the couch. “So talk.”
Mulder closed the door behind him and saw the discarded heels and hose like a trail in to the kitchen. His eyes widened. Dana’s immaculate house messy? Clothes on the floor? Was that her bra on the lamp?
Definite fire hazard. He casually lifted it from the shade and it dropped to the floor. Then he sat next to her on the couch. “Dana, you seem a little down.”
“I’m tired.” Her answer was not apologetic, nor was it condemning.
“Yeah, well, you’ve been like this for days.” He couldn’t look at her, but he knew her eyes were out the window again. “And I think this is my fault. And I need to fix it. I’m sorry about what I did…the other night…when you were still sick. I’ve been kicking myself over and over.
I’m sorry it ever happened.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, but her face remained stone-still.
“I need you back, Dana. It’ll never happen again. I have only the utmost respect for you…but you know that.” Mulder played with his hands, attempting to refocus on just what it was he was trying to say. He had considered planning it all out ahead of time, but figured she would have known he had done it, so the importance of what he wanted to say would be lost. He never wanted her to think he was just going through the ropes for her benefit.
“Are you saying, ” she said slowly, forcing her voice to remain completely even as the water from her eyes over flowed and cascaded down her face. “that you want to forget it, and pretend that it never happened?”
No! That’s not what he wanted! Mulder closed his eyes. But he guessed that was, indeed, what he was saying. “Yes.”
“I’ll be better tomorrow, Mulder.”
Mulder nodded. They hadn’t talked as much as he had hoped, but she had said what he hoped she would say. Maybe everything would fall into place tomorrow. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”
He rose from the couch and left.
Scully watched him leave, and as the door shut behind him she realized he hadn’t the slightest idea that she was crying.
The next day, by 11:45 am, Mulder had been to work, spent most of the morning listening to Scully’s phone line ring, driven by her apartment where there was no sign of her – and made it back to Skinner’s office just as he was going out for lunch.
“Sir,” Mulder addressed the AD. “May I have a word with you?”
The look in Mulder’s eye was enough to cause Skinner to turn on his heel and lead the way back into the office.
He took a seat behind his desk. “Agent Mulder, what seems to be the-”
“Scully’s missing. She’s not at home, she’s not answering her phone-”
Skinner put up a hand to stop Mulder before he went into complete hysterics. “She’s not missing, Mulder, she’s on vacation.”
He motioned for the agent to have a seat, which was completely ignored.
“Why didn’t she tell me? Is this another Quantico? What are they doing to her?” Mulder was about to lose control.
Skinner stood and tried in his calmest tone. “Agent Mulder, you are out of line. Agent Scully is, I believe, taking some vacation days to completely recover from her ordeal…” he looked down at the paper and read directly from her handwriting: “… and the recent investigation in Texas.”
Skinner looked back at Mulder who was staring at the sheet on his desk. “I believe she’s staying with her mother.”
Mulder nodded. He slowly turned and began to leave the room.
“Agent Mulder, stay away from Scully for a while. Let her rest. That’s an order!”
“Order, my ass,” Mulder grumbled under his breath as he slammed the door. “she’s my goddamn partner.”
Showing up on Margaret’s doorstep, unannounced made Mulder feel like an intruder. But when she answered the door she smiled sweetly and gave him a friendly hello. She wasn’t surprised in the least that he was here, although it was nearly two p.m., and she wondered what had taken him so long.
“I’d like to talk to Dana,” he said sheepishly as he tried to enter the house.
She stated simply: “No.” He stared at the woman, dumbfound.
He stammered, “I need to see her….I need to know she’s all right…”
Margaret nodded. “I know, Fox, but she’s not all right. She’s exhausted. You’ve got to give her some time.”
Mulder could see that although she was being gentle with him, she wasn’t going to give an inch. His eyes grew wide with panic. He couldn’t just leave her. Sure, he thought, she’ll be safe enough, but it would be like he was abandoning her. She needed him now. He needed her. He was her best friend. Surely Mrs Scully understood the necessity of friends during the healing process.
Margaret pursed her lips. “She’s sleeping out back. Come with me.”
She lead the way into the kitchen and through the bay window she pointed to Dana dozing in a rope hammock, a straw hat shading her eyes.
“She’s as pale as a ghost, the sun will be good for her.”
Fox just stood there staring at the small, limp woman rocking gently in the breeze.
“The Indian Summer was sent just for her, I think.”
Margaret sensed his shoulders relax at the sight of her daughter.
Years of mothering had taught her when to back off and let things take their course, and instinctively she knew this was one of those times. But after a moment, she knew she wouldn’t be able to just sit idly and watch these two crumble.
“Fox.” she felt her way in slowly. “the other night…when I walked in…” Mulder’s eyes flashed to Mrs Sully and then back to Dana through the glass.
“Dana said you talked and decided to forget that it happened.” She was quiet and serious.
Mulder took a long moment. Then he nodded. “I was to blame, I should have -”
“Blame?” Mrs Scully’s blue eyes rounded. “Fox Mulder, when two adults have strong feeling for one another, and they act on those emotions, there’s no one to blame.” Her voice was soothing, but she was speaking Greek to him.
“I kissed her and it ruined everything.”
“Did it? ” Margaret was careful with her word choice.
“Yes, she wishes it had never happened. She withdrew from me. I tried to talk to her last night and she..” he breathed with the strain of getting the sentence out, “…she…I…she didn’t want to open the door to me. She didn’t want to let me in.”
He looked out at Dana, she was so peaceful out there, on the other side of the glass, away from him. He turned away and it the counter with the flat of his hand. “I’m losing her.”
Margaret gave him a moment to breath and then asked: “When she did let you in, what did you talk about? Fox what did you tell her?”
He could tell by the way she phrase the question that she already knew the answer.
He swallowed. “I apologized.”
A nod came from the woman to his right. “Don’t you think, Fox, that it’s possible that Dana was trying to shut out the apology?”
Mulder turned to her, completely confuse. “Shut out the … what does that mean?”
“It means, Fox,” Margaret said in exaggerated movements. “that she’s in love with you, and she thinks you regret it. She thinks you…want to forget it.”
Her eyes pierced through the back of his head. And for all her mothering experience, her finely honed skills, Margaret couldn’t resist the last question. “Don’t you think that maybe she was trying to protect herself from that kind of rejection?”
Mulder squeezed his eyes shut. God! It made such sense! And the morning in Texas…oh, God! He cursed his idiocy, his blind insecurity, and all of his other million faults.
He turn back to Scully. Her hair blazed in the sunlight. A fragile hand hung limp over the side of the hammock. She was so beautifully dainty, he thought to himself, and he smiled. He’d never considered Dana dainty before.
“She loves me?” This was good. Very good. He would go out there and straighten this all out with three little words.
Mulder made a move for the back door, but Margaret caught his arm.
“Fox, don’t.” He turned to her. “She’s sleeping. Please, let her rest. I was telling the truth when I said she’s not well. She does need time.”
He nodded. And after a momentary glance at Dana, he turned and headed out the front door. “Okay,” he called with a spring in his voice, “I’ll be back for dinner.”
Byers and Langly huddled in the light of the computer screen.
Neither of them had been able to make much head way into any government activities concerning Quantico, Agent Kellogg, or anything else on the list that Mulder had faxed them.
Frohike, with his rounded face, eyes Mulder closely. “So where’s your better half, Mulder?”
Mulder sat up and flashed him a grin. “She sends her love.”
“No kidding.” Frohike chirped, “Cool.”
Langly swiveled to face Mulder. “This is going to take a while.
I’ve never seen such care taken by the government to safeguard documents or files. IF they’re there – and that’s a big if – they’re protected by several levels of security.”
Mulder’s interest was piqued. “What do you mean ‘if’ ?”
Buyers piped up. “If I was this desperate to keep things a secret, the last thing I’d do would be to make a hard copy of it for any hacker to happen across.”
Frohike nodded in understanding. “We’re looking in the wrong place.”
Mulder’s frustration was growing, “So where the hell is the right place?”
The I-don’t-know look from Frohike was not what he wanted to see.
“If it’s not in hard copy somewhere,” Langly reasoned, “then we’re not dealing with our government. They need the self glorification of print.”
Byers laughed, “Yeah, Mulder, don’t worry. We’ll find you something.
It just may take some time.”
“Okay, ” Mulder crossed the room and collected his coat, “You boys have a week.”
Scully woke from her afternoon nap in the hammock feeling better than she had in months. The sun as setting behind the old oak, and the cool air forced her to finally stir from the comfortable position. She stretched her arms and legs, rolled on to her feet, and sauntered back into the house.
Back yards were definitely something she missed about living in an apartment.
Margaret sat, with her feet tucked beneath her, in the comfy chair reading a novel. She had placed a plate of ginger bread cookies on the coffee table for when Dana woke from her nap. She smiled at her groggy daughter.
“Hey, Mom, ” Dana greeted her, “what’cha reading?”
Margaret flashed her the cover.
“You Can Heal Yourself by Louise Hay.” She scrunched up her nose at her daughter, “It’s brainwashing.”
Then she nodded, knowingly, “Melissa recommended it to me after your father passed away.” With a playful toss, Margaret sent the book across the room and patted the sofa next to her. “Join me?”
Dana relaxed into the couch next to her mother. She knew her mom had stayed home all day, and she was going to make sure this wasn’t a common practice. After all, she had a life, Dana reasoned, even if I don’t.
“You know, Mom, you’re not under house arrest. I’m just going to be sleeping a lot, so you don’t have to be here the whole time for my sake.”
“Oh, I’m going out to the movies this evening with Bill, Jr. and the boys.” Margaret picked a stray thread from her cut-off jeans. “But, Fox is coming for dinner.”
Dana held her breath. She searched her mother’s eyes for an explanation. “You invited him.”
One hand went to the pillow behind her and she pulled it to her chest.
“No,” Margaret corrected, “I did not. But he did come by earlier today, and I did talk with him.”
Dana’s eyes nearly popped out of her horrified face. In trying to recover she nonchalantly brushed a clump of hair behind one ear. “Oh.
What did you talk with him about?”
Margaret read her reaction with the clarity of experience. Dana was tense again. Her
shoulders were nearly up to her ears and her knuckles were white from grasping the pillow. Even her breathing was forced now.
So much for the relaxation, Margaret thought, she’ll have to go to the moon to find some peace. “I told him to let you sleep.”
Dana wriggled under the throw pillow. “What did he want?”
“He was worried,” She looked at her beautiful daughter curled like a pill-bug. “So he’s coming here for dinner to see that you’re feeling better.”
“Did you tell him what we talked about last night?”
Margaret’s lip bitten silence told her just how much she had told him.
Dana pressed a hand to her tight forehead. “Mom, you understand that he’s my partner and I have to work with him. You understand that when my vacation days are up, I have to face him again.” Her headache was coming back.
Margaret frowned. Her better judgment had told her not to get involved, and she had ignored it. She silently cursed herself as the doorbell sounded a loud DING-DONG!
“That’ll be Bill, Jr.” Margaret stood and slid on her canvas shoes.
“I cooked a lasagna and made a salad, they’re in the fridge.” She kissed her daughter on the head and opened the front door.
Before she was able to slip out, Dana shrieked, “Mom! You’re leaving?”
Margaret swung a shoulder bag from the foyer over her head, “I’m staying with my grandchildren tonight. After all, I’m not under house arrest.”
The grin on her face was a mixture of devilish-delight and a worried-protective mother. But she shut the door behind her.
Dana collapsed on the sofa, moaning: “Mom….”
The knock on the door startled Dana from the light reverie of pre-sleep. She was still on the couch, but the room had gotten considerably darker since her mother left. Oh, God, she thought, that’s Mulder. She briefly considered pretending she wasn’t there. But Mulder called out. “Scully?”
She sighed and stood. “I’m coming.”
She could see his silhouette through the smoked glass of the front door. She knew he could she her, too. Unconsciously, she paused. He was there, on the other side of the glass. What was she going to say to him?
Why was she scared? This was Mulder. Not someone she should be afraid of. No, she told herself, no. He’s my partner. This will be fine. She passed a lamp and turned it on.
When she opened the door, Mulder smiled down at her. He saw that Dana was rested and the color had returned to her face. She looked beautiful in the soft blue tee-shirt that fell carelessly over her jeans.
“You’re feeling better.”
He had intended it to be a question, but she looked so healthy.
“I’m feeling fine, Mulder.” She felt his stare and quickly turned back in to the living room. “I’m sorry I didn’t call to let you know I was taking some vacation days – I know I should have…”
She waited for him to cut her off – tell her it was all right. But he didn’t. He stood just inside the living room, watching her pace the floor. “It’s just that it was early when I put in the request this morning-”
“Four am.” Mulder offered.
She looked to him, “Yeah, well,” but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
He was hovering over there across the room, studying her. She thought for a moment that he looked almost scared, but when he finally took a few steps towards her, she saw only warmth in his eyes. And it caused her heart to race. Stop, Dana, she hissed in her mind, just stop it.
“Mom has gone out,” Dana babbled, “she’ll be right back.”
Why had she said that? She blinked, startled by the involuntary way her mouth spilled open and spouted lies. She could feel her breathing tighten and her face flooding with warmth. Mulder stepped even closer to her now, his lips nearly touching her, but not. She could feel his breath on her face. The heat from his body was like a blanket between them. She gave him a questioning look. This was not the way to ‘just forget what had happened’.
He reached out to touch her and her breath caught in her throat.
With his long fingers, he cupped her head in his hands and whispered the words that made Dana’s heart stop. “I love you.”
Her knees buckled and she caught herself against his strong arms. He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her to him.
She lost herself in the warmth of his eyes as he studied her face.
She couldn’t believe she had heard him correctly. Not after the other night. He had wanted to forget, he said …. She caught herself. He had wanted to talk, had been insistent on talking with her. She was the one who was silent and uncommunicative. She was so sure of what he was going to say that she hadn’t really given him a chance. Could he really mean it?
Could he…?
All thought of what he could or couldn’t do fled as he brought his lips to hers. They had kissed before but this one was totally outside of their experience. He started the kiss tenderly as if she would melt away from him as had so many others in his life. But she wasn’t leaving him.
She was real and solid beneath his touch. The kiss deepened as had their trust in one another. She moved her body closer to his and it still wasn’t enough. He gently pried her lips apart and tasted of her sweet mouth. As his tongue entered her, it was as if he had finally pieced her soul and they were joined. All of his love was found in that kiss. It ended all their questions, all of their doubts.
He finally pulled away from her slightly and gazed at her face. He kept a firm hold on her which was as well, Dana thought, or she might have fallen, she was so overwhelmed by her feelings. She sighed and opened her eyes.
Fox caught his breath. Her eyes had never shone so brightly, had never seemed so blue.
“I love you,” he repeated. Having said it once, it seemed only appropriate to say it as often as possible.
Dana smiled and her whole face was lit by it. Hell, Mulder thought, the whole room is lit by it.
He cupped her face again with one hand, his other arm still firmly holding her waist, and forced her head up. “Never look away, Scully. We’ve been doing that too long with each other. We’re here and we love each other and we need to talk about it. We need to be honest about it.”
She smiled, a mischievous gleam coming into her eyes. “You want to talk about it? Now?”
“No, not right now,” he answered with his own grin. He moved to kiss her again.
At some point they had moved to the couch although neither one could remember doing so. Mulder had lost his jacket and tie and most of the buttons of his shirt were open. Dana’s hair was mussed and her tee shirt was askew. Her jeans were also undone. They were lying together with Dana sprawled over Mulder’s long form. Both were breathing heavily.
“Dana, when did you say your mother was coming home?” Memories of a previous session on a couch were deeply engraved in Mulder’s mind and he had no wish for a repeat encounter.
“Um, she’s not.” Dana turned a darker shade of red. She was already rather flushed from their exertions.
“But you said…,” Mulder stopped as he saw her expression. “Dr Scully, you lied to me.”
“Well, yes, I suppose you could look at it in that manner. I suppose.” She tried to scrambled to a more upright position but Fox kept his hands wrapped around her, pinning her to his chest.
“I will need to think of a suitable punishment for this, you understand,” he said lowering his voice suggestively.
She laughed and realized that it had been too long since she had done so. The thought was sobering. He caught her change of mood instantly.
“Dana?”
“Mulder, I just…. I don’t know. This all feels so right. This is the way it suppose to be but… there are so many things that will work against us. I…” She didn’t finish the thought as Mulder brought his lips hard against hers to silence the rest of the sentence.
“Not tonight, Scully. Not tonight. We have something else to do.”
He gently pushed her over to the couch as he slipped out beneath her and stood up. He held out his hand, one question burning in his eyes.
She nodded her answer as she took his hand. Without another word she led him to the stairs and the bedroom beyond.
Mulder woke first. Scully had somehow fallen asleep face up, perpendicular across his body, and her heavy, sleeping head had cut off most of the circulation in his right arm. His wince gradually grew into a smile once he realized that his left arm was free and still responding to his commands. He gently ran his finger tips across her flat tummy.
She didn’t stir, but her skin puckered into goose flesh. He traced his fingers up her body and over her nipple, and it instantly became firm and solid. A wave of delight swam through him. He adored the knowledge that his touch had such a distinct effect on her. It was still unreal that she was even here with him; that they had spent the night together making love. And yet, here she was.
Dana inhaled deeply and slid to Mulder’s side. The movement caused sharp needles to shoot through his arm. He tried in vain to stifle the yelp that erupted from his throat. Scully jumped up instantly.
“What?” she demanded.
“My arm.” He moaned as the blood rushed through his veins and created a twisting throb in his dead limb. “I can’t move my arm.”
A hand shot to her lips as she realized the cause for his ‘discomfort’.
“Sorry,” she giggled. Then, with her small, sensitive hands, she massaged the blood back into place.
“Ah, Doctor Scully to the rescue.” He was smiling again.
She felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach. His smile. His beautiful smile. She leaned forward and let her breasts brush against his chest as she kissed him again. She felt his hands wrap around her hips and pull her on top of him. Briefly she pulled back and looked at him below her. He was looking up at her with such love. Watching her look at him. And she knew that she loved him.
Smoothing back the hair from his face, she whispered, “Mulder…I…love you.” And then she lowered her hungry body on top of his, and they made love till well past noon.
When the clock on the microwave read 12:47, Mulder had finished rummaging through the fridge and place the lasagna that was meant for last night in to be nuked. He was starving. The shower (after his morning’s work out) had left him feeling euphoric, and he knew that once Dana got out, she’d need nourishment as well. He hummed as he plugged in ten minutes and pressed start button and the microwave came alive with a hum of its own.
It really is no surprise that he didn’t heard the key in the lock, or the front door open, or even Margaret setting down her bag and keys in the foyer. But her gasp as she stood in the archway of the kitchen made him spin around. Mulder stood, towel around his waist, hair dripping down his chest and back, in total shock. It had simply not occurred to him that Margaret would be coming home – that this was HER home. He opened his mouth and “Aaahh…” spilled out.
Margaret, wide-eyed, nodded, “I’ll come back later.” And she turned to see Dana traipsing down the stairs, still wet from her shower, wrapped in a towel matching Mulder’s.
“Mom!” Dana jumped. “Oh, God.”
Margaret’s eyes nearly fell out of her head. She had left the two of them alone, hoping they would work out their feelings. That way Dana could get back to getting healthy again. She had even hoped that they would kiss a little and maybe Mulder would tuck her daughter snugly in to bed, and tell her that it would all be fine. But the sight of her naked daughter before her caused a pain in her chest.
“I’ll come back later.”
If a ruler behaves as if he’s invented the world He will do no good at all.
The earth is a sacred vessel –
and it cannot be owned or improved.
If you try to possess it, you will destroy it:
If you try to hold it – you will lose it.
Some are leaders, then, and others follow.
Some drift like the wind, and others drive hard.
Some are thick-skinned, and others have no armour;
And some are the destroyers, and others they destroy.– Tao Te Ching
They rode back to Scully’s apartment in a companionable silence, only occasionally breaking out into fits of giggles as they remembered the look on Margaret Scully’s face when she came home that morning. It was a toss up as to whom was the most embarrassed. Dana had recovered first and sent a red-faced Mulder upstairs to dress while she talked to her mother.
“Mom, um, I guess I don’t have to tell you that Mulder and I have, um, worked out our problems.” she said self-consciously, not sure what her mother’s reaction was going to be.
“Dana, you’re a grown woman and you know I like Fox. I want you to be happy, but are you sure this is the right time for you? You’ve been through so much. Are you sure this isn’t just, I don’t know, maybe, just a reaction to that?”
“No, Mom. It’s more than a ‘reaction’,” she smiled. “We’ve been fighting our feelings for each other for some time. I don’t think there will ever be a right time for us. We decided that the right time has to be now, that’s all we can count on. And I am happy, Mom. He makes me so happy.” Margaret’s response was to reach out and fold her youngest daughter in a fierce hug.
“I’m so glad for you Dana. So glad. Now I’m going to get out of here for awhile and let you two have some privacy. When should I come back?”
“Mom, you’re right about our needing privacy. We’re going to have some things to sort out about this relationship. I think I better go back to my place.”
She raised a hand to ward off her mother’s objections.
“Mulder will be with me. I’ll be fine. And I promise not to over do it.” Dana blushed at her mother’s raised eyebrows then laughed when she realized how her last statement had sounded.
Now that they had reached her apartment, Dana wasn’t sure what to do next. Her hand trembled slightly as she went to insert the key into the lock.
With a knowing look, Mulder gently brushed her hands away and turned the key, stepping aside to let her enter first. She had taken a few paces into the room when she heard him shut the door behind them. If only he would say something, she thought.
Mulder stood behind her. He knew she was feeling a little lost. So was he. They were going to have to find out what changes were going to result now that they had entered this new stage of their relationship. He took two steps to reach her and then enclosed her in his arms to comfort and be comforted.
Neither were sure how long they stood there embraced against the rest of the world but when they parted they felt more confident.
“I’ll go make us some coffee. Why don’t you put my bag in the bedroom?” she said as she headed for the kitchen.
“Bossy, already!” he replied with his usual grin.
They were seated spoon fashion on the couch, Scully nestled in Mulder’s arms as they watched the sunset from the living room window.
“Mulder, I need to know that this is OK with you. It happened so fast, I just need to be sure.” Dana’s voice was a whisper. She wasn’t used to sharing her needs, not even with her partner but they had promised each other that they would make an effort to be more honest with each other in this area.
“Dana, I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time now. I’m OK,” he finished simply. He guessed what her question had cost her.
She turned herself in his arms to stare into his face. Suddenly, she smiled.
“I’m OK, too, Mulder.”
She kissed him hard on the lips and felt his arms tighten around her. She let out a small gasp as his hand cupped her breast, his thumb lightly caressing her nipple.
“Um, Scully?” he mumbled against her mouth.
“You know the way to the bedroom, Mulder.” she laughed as he swooped her up and carried her to the waiting bed.
They had fallen asleep after making love wrapped in each other’s arms. Scully wasn’t sure what had wakened her and glanced at the alarm clock as she padded to the bathroom, tripping over one of Mulder’s shoes.
Eleven twenty-one. I should have guessed, she thought wearily.
She wrapped herself in the bathrobe she had hanging on the hook on the bathroom door and washed her face. She looked at herself in the mirror wondering idly if people at work were going to be able to see the change in her. She felt changed. She smiled at her reflection and at her own bit of whimsy. She was feeling so good. And hungry, she thought, remembering the left over lasagna she had stolen from her mother’s in the refrigerator.
Dana quietly left the bathroom and made her way to the bedroom door, pausing to stare lovingly down at her sleeping partner. He had a slightly smug look on his face and Scully smiled as she realized what had put it there. She left the door slightly ajar thinking that Mulder would worry if he woke and didn’t find her.
She pulled the pan of lasagna from the ‘fridge and placed it on the counter. She was opening the drawer to get a knife when the pain hit.
Gasping, she dropped the knife and clutched her head. The room swam as she fought to stay conscious. Oh God, it’s happening again, she thought desperately.
“Mulder!” she screamed although the effort made her head explode with renewed agony. She slid to the floor, not trusting her legs to hold her.
“Mulder.” This time her call was barely a whisper.
And then he was there. Naked, his gun in hand, he ran into the kitchen, his eyes quickly scanning the room for intruders. He put the gun on the table as he saw Scully on the floor curled against the pain knifing through her brain.
“Scully!”
He bent over her and gently took her in his arms.
“Scully, what is it? What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong.”
His quiet, panicked voice cut through the pain- induced haze and Dana fought to answer him.
“It’s happening again, Mulder. They’re trying to get to me again. Help me.” It was too much for her to bear. She gratefully slipped into the darkness, knowing that she was safe as long as Mulder was with her.
Mulder held the limp body of his lover against him. Through tears and clenched jaws, he begged, “Scully, wake up. Please, Scully, wake up.
Dana…” But she was lifeless in his naked arms.
The phone was across the room. He needed help.
“Those bastards!” He cursed as he tried to stand and carry her to the kitchen phone. “I’ll kill them, Dana, I swear I’ll kill them!”
He had to shift her dead weight in order to lift the receiver off the wall – carefully resting her head on his shoulder, dialed 9-1-1, and waited while the phone rang once…twice…three times…
“9-1-1. What is your emergency?”
“I need an ambulance! She’s unconscious. 3170 W. 53 Rd. #35.
Hurry!”
“Sir, an ambulance has been dispatch-” he dropped the phone and turned his attention back to Dana.
She was breathing, he could feel the light warmth on his wrist. He let her slide back down in to the cradle of his arms and with his face close to hers, he whispered to her delicately, “Dana, I’m here. Don’t worry, help is on the way. I’m here. Dana, I love you.”
Her hand whipped up and grabbed his arm. The intense pain that was once again shooting through her head, blinded her, but she could hear Mulder there…somewhere. Her grip tightened as another bolt ripped through her skull.
“Mulder…” she breathed. The blackness burst into red.
“Mulder…pain…” Her nails dug in to his arm, drawing small drops of blood.
Beads of sweat rose on her face, and her white cheeks blazed with heat. Mulder could actually feel her body temperature rise.
He smoothed her hair back, “I know you have pain, Dana, help is on the way.” He began to rock her trying to ease the pain by shear will.
“Mulder!” The shriek erupted and chilled him to the bone. Then she began to relax.
Her hand slipped down his arm causing his heart to thump in his chest. His first impulse was to hold her closer to his body – to keep her from slipping away completely.
“Dana!” he cried. “Dana!”
Her eyes sluggishly opened and came in to focus on Mulder’s face.
The intense agony that had riddled her was now just waves of ache.
“Mulder,” she mumbled and managed a weak smile. “There you are.”
“Oh, thank God.” She was looking at him, recognizing him, responding to him. “Oh, thank God.” He kissed her head. “Just hang on, Dana, the ambulance will be here soon.”
With whatever strength she still had in her, she began to struggle.
“No hospital! No, Mulder, please!” He held her down, and tried to quiet her.
“Scully, listen to me! You passed out, you’re sick, you need to go to the hospital.”
Dana couldn’t move anymore; all of her energy was gone. She laid motionless in his arms again and looked up at him with her blue eyes.
“Please, Mulder, not the hospital.” Her voice was weak and pleading.
“They’ll be waiting for me there. No hospital.” Mulder saw real fear in her eyes. “Please. Promise me…no hospital.”
“No,” he shook his head, she needed help. “Dana, I’ll come with you. You won’t be alone.”
She closed her eyes. He wasn’t listening to her. She knew she had to make him hear.
“Mulder,” she fought once again to hold her focus on his eyes, “they’re at the hospital. They are waiting for me. Please, Mulder. The doctors can’t help, anyway. They’ll just send me home again. Please.”
The look he gave her told her that he was at least considering what she was saying.
The door vibrated from the knocking. “Paramedics!”
Mulder could feel her shaking in his arms. Her lips trembled, “Please.”
In the space of a breath, he lifted and carried her in to the bed room. She laid so still on the cold bed. The knock came again.
“I’ll take care of you,” he kissed her forehead, “don’t worry, Scully, you’re not going anywhere.”
“Paramedics! Open up!”
Mulder hurried out of the room and grabbed a towel from the bathroom before he answered the door.
Scully could hear several voices but they seemed miles away, much farther than her front door. The room was dark still, and the crack of light that poured from the living room fell across the ceiling and twisted in to shapes. She felt the heat leave her body and a shiver worked its way up her spine. She could hear her breath leave her mouth and then draw back in again. And then she began to float up from the bed and the last thing she remembered was a warm hand on her cheek and the weight of a blanket pulling her down in to sleep.
Mulder must have fallen asleep sometime near dawn finally overcome by exhaustion, the dark circles under his eyes mute testimony to the battle he had fought to stay awake. The exertions of loving Dana the day before and then the emotional toll of finding her in pain on the kitchen floor had worn away the last of his strength. He was slumped in a chair in the bedroom, afraid that his presence in her bed would disturb her rest.
He did not hear her as she awoke and quietly slipped from the bed and walked into the bathroom. She emerged, discarding her robe, and reached into her closet to retrieve a dark blue suit and white blouse. She pulled underwear and nylons from a drawer in her bureau and dressed in the dark.
As she headed to the bedroom door, she paused as she looked down at her sleeping partner. A puzzled frown appeared on her face. Mulder? Why is Mulder here? Her brain sluggishly turned the question around in her mind but gave up the struggle when no answer was immediately apparent.
She was reaching for the front door to her apartment when his hand grabbed her wrist and turned her to face him.
“Dana, where are you going?” he asked, his voice still rough from lack of sleep and the tears he had shed while he kept vigil.
“Mulder?” she questioned turning glazed eyes to his face. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you dressed? It’s time for class, isn’t it?”
His eyebrows shot up.
“No, Scully,” he said gently. “There’s no class today. You need to go back to bed.”
He took her arm and began to lead her back but she pulled away from him. Her momentum made her stumble into the wall and she barely caught herself before falling. A look of fear and anger flashed across her features.
“No! Stay away from me!” she hissed. “I can’t miss class again. You can’t make me! Can’t you hear them?”
“Dana, sweetheart, listen to me. Listen. It’s all right.” His voice was pleading and he slowly reached for her again.
“Mulder?” recognition lighting her eyes. She suddenly stiffened and threw herself against the wall, her hands clutching her head in pain.
“Dana!” he yelled as he closed the distance between them.
He lifted her unresisting body and carried her to the bed. He should have sent her to the damn hospital, he thought, berating himself as he was trying to make her more comfortable.
“Dana, can you hear me? Dana?”
“Mulder?” she asked. Slowly she opened her eyes. “Oh, Mulder! What’s happening to me?” She began to cry softly.
“You’re going to the hospital,” he said firmly reaching for the phone.
“No! I can’t go to the hospital. I told you why I can’t go to the hospital,” she said almost panicking at his words. Her grasp locking onto his arm. “I’m OK. Listen to me! The pain is gone now but it will come back. I know it will! They’re trying to drive me into going back to the hospital. They almost killed me once there, let’s not give them another chance.” She had his attention now. He hesitated and then returned the handset to its cradle.
“What do you want me to do?” She rested back against the bed but held onto his arm.
“This is going to sound crazy but I want you to call Melissa. She knows what’s going on and I trust her. She was able to help for awhile before.”
“Yeah, some help. If she had told me what was going on from the start…”
“I asked her not to tell you, Fox. We don’t know that anything would be different now if we had told you sooner. Please, Fox, call her. Tell her to come over here. We’ll decide what to do once she gets here.” He looked into her watery, blue eyes and finally nodded his acceptance. Once again he reached for the phone and dialed. As he spoke into the mouthpiece, Dana reached up and brushed his hair from his face. Not breaking his conversation, he smiled down into her eyes , caught her hand and brought her palm to his lips.
“OK, Melissa. We’ll be here. Be as quick as you can.” He hung up the phone and turned his full attention on this woman who had so recently become his lover.
“She’ll be here soon. Let’s get you undressed.”
“Not now, Mulder,” she said giving him a tired smile. “I’ve got a headache.”
“And why did she not go to the hospital? What sane person would not go to receive treatment if the pain was as great as you are trying to suggest? Could it be that you have once again miscalculated; that you proved yourself useless to us again?”
The menace in his voice was unmistakable despite its cultured tones.
“Sir, I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Her conditioning should be sufficient to bring her back to us or else cause her tremendous pain. We had our people waiting at any possible hospital that she might have been taken to. We know that the paramedics had been summoned to her address but….”
“But, what? She sent them away? She was able to be coherent enough to convince them that she didn’t need their assistance? Then I would say doctor, that your techniques are flawed.
Dangerously flawed. I begin to wonder if this project is worth the effort.”
“Sir, please, you must understand….”
“Understand what, you bumbling fool? That first you bungled your task with Frank Kellogg and his family and now you’re well on the way of creating a similar disaster with Agent Scully. Is that what you want me to understand?”
His patience was at an end. He had heard that Scully and Mulder had found Kellogg and had made arrangements to bring him back to Chicago. He was still trying to analyze the ramifications of this event. He raised his cold, black eyes back to the doctor trembling before him.
“What do you propose to do now, Doctor? How are we to salvage this situation?”
“Mulder, you’ve got to calm down. Dana was probably right not to go to the hospital. They were able to get to her once there and they very well might have tried again. She’s all right for the time being. We’ve got to figure out a way to keep her that way.”
“Missy?” Dana’s voice called weakly from the bedroom.
Melissa rose from the couch where she had been sitting with Mulder reviewing recent events. She shook her head as he started to come with her.
“No. You wait out here. I want to talk with Dana. Alone,” she said firmly when he tried to protest. “Try and get some rest.”
Mulder’s energy was rapidly fading. He reluctantly stretched out on the couch and promised himself that he would only close his eyes briefly.
His mind wandered back to a happier time spent on this couch. Scully’s body under his as he kissed her, as he caressed her breast, her smell and taste…. He drifted off to sleep.
“Sis, how are you feeling?”
“I’m OK. How’s Mulder?”
“Dana, how do you think he is? He’s upset. He looks like shit and he’s beating himself for not sending you to the hospital. Now tell me how you’re really feeling.” Scully smiled as she reached for her sister’s hand.
“I’m really OK. The headache is gone, at least for now. And I’m not dreaming. I am scared, though, Missy.”
“Have you been doing the mental exercises we practiced?”
“No. There didn’t seem to be much point. I thought that…. I don’t know what I thought.”
Melissa sighed. She should have known that Dana wouldn’t have seen the value of continuing with something that couldn’t be explained with science. They would need to start over.
“You hoped it would be over. That they were done with you. I understand, Dana, but obviously they’re not. They took you away for a reason and whatever it is, they’re not done.” Dana eyes filled with unshed tears. As much as she tried to deny any after effects of her abduction, she knew that she was going to have to come to terms with those missing months. Melissa was right. Whoever these bastards are, she thought grimly, they aren’t done with me. Well, they’ve make a big mistake. Melissa was closely studying her sister’s face. She was pleased to see the fighting glint returning to Dana’s eyes. It was time to start fighting back. But where?
“Sis, we’ve got to get you out of here, soon. Too many people know how to find you here. Do you have any ideas of where might be safe?” Dana had been thinking of much the same thing. All of her contacts though were suspect. She could not trust that they wouldn’t be able to find her if she went to any of her friends. With a growing sense of hopelessness and frustration, she looked at her older sister. Suddenly, Melissa smiled. “I know just the place,” she breathed.
“Mulder, it will be perfect. No one would think to look for her there. There are woods, it’s quiet, so we can plan our next move….”
Melissa’s voice trailed off. She was getting tired of arguing with him about this.
“No, it’s too isolated. We’d be cut off from help if we needed it.”
“It’s a retreat house, Mulder. It’s a place for meditation and spiritual growth. It’s suppose to be isolated and cut off. And what do you mean ‘we’? You need to stay here.”
“Not on your life,” he said firmly. His eyes locked onto Scully’s. I won’t leave you, he thought. Scully only nodded. Don’t, was her silent reply. Melissa looked from one to the other. There was something different about their interaction with each other. Ah, she thought as the insight hit, it’s about time.
“OK,” she said. “We all go.”
The three Lone Gunmen stood in a huddle as a roll of paper spilled from the desk printer. They had been working around the clock for their friend, Mulder, hoping to get any information about what had recently happened to his partner.
“So how’s she doing?” Frohike bounced to the man sitting in the shadowy corner. “Is she recovering?”
Mulder nodded. “She’s taking a vacation. She’s resting.”
A boyish grin broke out on Frohike’s face, “Maybe she needs a good full body massage.”
Mulder gave him a stern look. “Down, boy.”
He wasn’t about to go in to details with these guys about the new relationship that had developed with Dana. It was none of their business, and besides, he knew about Scully’s thoughts about them – and he was confident that Frohike’s adorable puppy love wasn’t reciprocated.
Langly ripped the page off the machine and handed it to Mulder.
“This is it – so far. We can keep looking for you, but they’ve wiped the slate clean. Man, it’s gone.”
Mulder frowned at the scarce information on the document in his hands. There were some names, some numbers, some medical terms, and lots of white space.
“Thanks, guys.” He stood discouraged. He shook his head and walked toward the door.
Why was this so hard? This was the only case that he ever needed closure for and he couldn’t get it. How was he supposed to protect Scully when he didn’t know what or whom he was protecting her from?
“You’re not supposed to protect her,” Byers offered, “just help her.”
Mulder spun around. Oh, God, he thought, I said that aloud!
Langly nodded, “These people, Mulder, they’re not out to kill her, or she’d be dead by now. But judging from the incident in the hospital, I’d say they definitely want her back.”
Mulder hadn’t told them about the recent pains, either. He trusted these guys, but not completely. Not as much as he trusted Dana.
Mulder’s fist hit the wall, and everyone jumped. He exhaled and turned from the men, “Just keep looking. Please.”
Before he shut the door behind him, he mumbled to them, “You won’t be able to reach me for a while. If you find anything, leave the coded message on my voice mail. I’ll get it.”
Once the room settled again, Frohike’s face dropped and he shoved his hands into the pocket of his jacket, “Yep. He did her.”
Mulder returned to pick up Scully and her sister, and they drove for nearly five hours to an isolated forest deep in West Virginia.
Melissa’s best friend, Paul, had given her a key three years prior as a birthday gift; telling her she was welcome to use the two-room cabin any time she liked. Just to keep it clean and keep the wood store full. She knew that Paul was hiking through Germany for the next seven months, so the cabin would be empty. The perfect place. No one could possibly trace Dana to it.
Melissa slouched comfortably on a fallen tree that lay not twenty feet from the cabin. The sun was warm in the cool autumn air and the woods surrounding her were alive with birds and squirrels and sounds of life.
“Paradise,” she mumbled idly to herself.
With a swoop, she hiked her long, flowing skirt up above her knees and allowed the warmth of the sun to bathe her legs.
“Dana will get well here,” Melissa was confidant. “The healing forces are strong.” She allowed a smile to spread across her features, until she saw Mulder.
He closed the door to the cabin and once he spotted Melissa, skirt in her lap and legs sprawled open, he made his way to her and seated himself on the log beside her.
“We’ve got enough supplies for about a week.” With her eyes closed, she nodded a response.
“And I’ve got the CB set up in case we need any help.”
She turned to look at him. “I’m going to do a perimeter sweep and see what’s in our immediate vicinity, so stay near Dana in case she needs anything.”
“Mulder,” she sat up, “your negative energy won’t help her to get well.”
“Yeah, well, it won’t help her if we’re ambushed, either.” The sarcasm that trimmed his voice left a sour look on her face. “Look you help Scully in your way, and I’ll help her in mine. You don’t have to agree with my methods – I certainly don’t agree with yours – but she needs us both right now.”
Melissa’s eyes dropped to the gun on his hip. She knew, for what ever reason, Dana loved this man. And she could sense his commitment and love for her.
Arguing with him about ideas he just couldn’t see would be like teaching a dog to play the saxophone. “Alright. I’ll be here with her.”
Mulder stood and scanned the area, and then started for some point to the left of the cabin.
She watched him go and remarked to herself, “Well he’s handsome, I guess, and passionate. But sis, you’ve found yourself a blind man.” She had no idea just how far off she was.
The sun was setting through the trees and Melissa had a fire crackling in the hearth. Dinner, consisting of bread and vegetarian chili was waiting covered on the wide wooden table. Next to it, on the floor sat the two sisters, facing each other, eyes closed, hands resting comfortably on crossed legs.
Once Dana had awaken, Melissa was anxious to get her sister back into the mental exercises she had been neglecting. Mulder still hadn’t come back from playing FBI man, Melissa reasoned, so this was the ideal time for Dana to get started again.
The fire light played brightly in Dana’s red hair. The air in the cabin was still and warm, and Dana still felt very sleepy; almost hung over. Meditation was a lot more difficult than she had initially thought.
It took an enormous amount of energy to force herself to concentrate and sit still and relax. She had to will the muscles in her shoulders to release. And then, once she moved on to relaxing another part of her body, her shoulders made their way back up to her ears.
The slam of the door caused Scully to nearly jump out of her skin.
She reached instinctively for the gun to her right, which of course wasn’t there, before Melissa opened her mouth and, “Damn it, Mulder,” slipped out.
Mulder saw the two of them on the floor and pursed his brows.
“What’s going on?”
The two looked up at him, Dana with her hand clutching her speeding heart, and Melissa with a scowl that could scare the devil, himself.
“Scully are you all right?”
She breathed, “I’m fine Mulder.” And managed a smile. “Let’s eat.”
Over dinner, Mulder described what he had found. He had run across a stream running down the side of the mountain, just north and east of the cabin about two hundred yards. To the west about six hundred yards was a cliff that dropped down a hellova’ long way. And, as far as Mulder could tell, there was only one way up or down the mountain – the dirt road that brought the three of them up there in the first place. Tactically, this cabin did seem to be a good idea after all. The only problem was that the cabin was just so damn far away from civilization that (should Dana need one) it would take them at least three hours to get to a doctor.
Scully interrupted with a tongue in cheek, “Good thing I’m a doctor.”
She was the only one that let out a giggle.
The rest of the dinner was eaten in silence.
By 8:30, Dana couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She laid her head on the table and allowed the playing cards to fall from her hand.
“Time for bed,” Mulder announced as he slipped his arm under her legs and gently lifted her from the bench.
“Mulder, I can walk,” she yawned.
Melissa watched the scene develop before her with a great deal of interest.
“Let me carry you,” he whispered into her hair, and he felt her relax in his arms.
He took her in to the only other room in the cabin and placed her in the center of the quilted, queen-sized bed. When he released her, she clung to his hand as it surfaced from under her neck. “Is your headache gone?” She lifted an eyebrow to his sincerity.
“Yes…” she smiled at him, “…won’t you sit here with me for a while?”
“For a while.”
He unzipped her jeans while she watched and slipped them over her hips and down her legs. Then her socks came off, followed by her flannel shirt and under tee. In her bag in the corner he found a pair of long johns with a knit shirt to match, and carefully he dressed her in the warm blue material. She shivered as his hands worked their way up her thighs.
Mulder stopped and looked up at her, “Would you rather sleep in front of the fire? I could move the bed -”
“I’m not cold, Mulder.”
“Oh.” He broke eye contact and finished dressing her, trying not to enjoy it quite so much.
Scully relished all of this. “I should get sick more often,” she commented. “If I get this kind of special attention from you.”
He chuckled lightly and kissed her forehead.
“Is that all? God, I’m never getting sick again.”
His smile faded when her hand reached up and clutched his collar and pulled his face down to hers. They kissed, and all of Mulder’s fears and desires surfaced once again. He opened his mouth as hers opened and their tongues met . Dana released a small moan, lifting her head trying to get closer.
Tenderly, Mulder stopped the kiss and lowered her back to the pillow.
“Get some sleep, Dana.” He brushed the hair from her forehead.
“I’m not that sleepy,” she yawned. Her eyes closed. “Mulder, will you stay with me?”
He actually considered it, and then cursed himself for the hesitation. He had to be stronger than this. For Dana’s sake, he had to control the emotional flood that she release in him.
“No,” he whispered, “I’ll sleep on the couch in the other room.”
Dana’s disappointment didn’t surface to her face, but it was evident in her breathy voice. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”
“That I can do.” He sat on the edge of the bed, cradling her hand, watching her breath, until her lashes ceased fluttering and she eased in to sleep.
When Scully was finally dreaming, Mulder covered her with several layers of quilt, and wandered back into the main room where Melissa was unfolding the sofa-bed. It was so odd that this tall, mystical woman was even related to Dana. And the two of them were so close. There were still many things about his partner that he couldn’t quite understand.
“So I guess we get to fight over who gets the couch.” She cocked her head to him while fitting the pillow in to its case.
“No, you can take it, I’ll sleep on the floor.” He eyed the dusty wooden floor with little excitement.
Melissa glanced towards him, having expected a bout of witty repartee. Instead she saw a tired, angry man, who felt as though his world was on the brink of total collapse. She didn’t particularly like Mulder, but she respected him, and she understood that her sister needed him.
“Oh, Mulder, don’t be ridiculous. Why don’t you sleep in the bed with Dana?” His eyes widened, as he realized that she knew about Dana and him. And then smiled when he considered, that they hadn’t been exactly secretive.
“I don’t want to disturb her.” He pushed the bench farther under the table to make a larger space on the floor.
“You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Melissa’s curt responce stopped him, and he realized for the first time how tired she was, too. Recent events had been draining for everyone involved. Mulder continued to forget how closely Melissa really was involved.
She motioned down to the fold-out bed, “There’s enough room here for both of us.” She tossed him the pillow and began to slip the second pillow in to the white cotton case.
This whole situation hit him wrong. Sharing a pull-out bed with Scully’s sister while she slept soundly in the queen-sized bed just didn’t seem fair. But Dana needed the strength she would get from uninterrupted sleep. But then again, he thought, maybe it was possible to slip in the other room with out disturbing her and snuggle up to “Mulder, it’s not a thrill for me, either.”
His silence and shifting from foot to foot had told her what he was thinking. “Look,” she barked at him, “I’ll try to control myself, okay?
Hitting on my sick sister’s new boyfriend is not on the top of my ‘To Do’ list tonight.”
He took her remark for a challenge. He shrugged and remarked, “Well, as long as I’m not on your ‘To Do’ list…” and Melissa threw the second pillow at his head. He hurled it right back at her playfully with his toned reflexes.
“Hey!” she blurted in almost a laugh, and then lowered her voice remembering the sleeping woman in the next room, “At least we understand each other now.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”
They settled into the bed, each with their own blankets, neither of them able to sleep, both listening for any sign of distress from the other room, neither of them expecting anyone else to find them in the cabin, and individually the two of them waited for the sun to rise…sometime in the next nine hours.
Dana woke to find Mulder’s arms locked around her, his face nestled in her hair. She smiled to herself thinking how comfortably her body fit his. She considered letting herself drift back to sleep but was starting to feel restless.
As she wiggled to turn onto her back, Mulder’s arms tightened and he jerked himself awake.
“Dana, you OK?” he asked after orienting himself to time and place.
“Better than OK with you here,” she smiled. “I thought you were going to sleep on the couch.”
“Did you know that your sister snores?”
“She does not!”
“She does,” he replied. “Trust me.”
“Always.” She said simply. Then she grinned mischievously.
“And how do you know she snores? I thought she’d sleep in here with me.”
Mulder’s face reddened.
“You’re blushing, Mulder. Just what did I miss after I fell asleep?”
She gave him an arched look.
“Never mind,” he said with mock indignation.
He lowered his lips to hers. Their kiss was long and lingering. Her arms worked their way around his neck and pulled him closer with growing passion. His hands began to caress her
breasts through the material of her thermal shirt and she moaned her pleasure at his touch. The sound broke through his haze of emotion and he broke apart from her, disengaging lips and limbs.
“Mulder?” she whispered. Her face was flushed with her excitement. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He started to get out of bed but was halted by her strong arms wrapping around him.
“I’m not going to break, Mulder,” she breathed into his ear as she pulled herself against his back. She began exploring his body with hands and tongue.
He gasped and captured her hands, pulling her into his lap. He studied her face for a long moment looking for signs of pain or illness.
Seeing neither, he gathered her closer and kissed her hard, his tongue feeling its way into her mouth.
Melissa’s knock on the door caused them both to jump. Before they could catch their breaths, Dana’s sister opened the door and laughed at their discomfiture.
“Ah, there you are, Mulder. I’d wondered where you had gotten to,” she giggled. “Well, carry on.” She shut the door before they could respond.
Mulder looked angry but Scully diverted his attention with a quick kiss.
“Well, you heard her, Mulder. Where were we?”
By the time Mulder and Scully emerged from the bedroom, Melissa had fixed breakfast and brought more wood in from the pile outside. She wore a comfortable – looking, baggy sweater over a long skirt with her hair gathered in a loose bun at the top of her head. As she bustled about the kitchen area of the common room, Mulder sensed that she was perfectly at ease in this environment.
Dana moved to assist her but was waved away.
“Go start eating, you two. I’ll be there in a second.”
She handed them two bowels of thick oatmeal. On the table was a basket of berries, a pitcher of milk and a crock of honey. When Melissa returned, she carried warmed bread from the night before and the coffee pot.
The two women ate in companionable silence but Mulder was still feeling angry and embarrassed by Melissa’s intrusion earlier that morning.
He wanted to broach the subject but wasn’t sure how to do it without offending Dana. The matter was taken out of his hands, however, when Missy caught his arm as Scully was clearing the table.
“Mulder, I’m sorry about this morning,” she began but stopped when she saw his skeptical look.
“OK, not really but it won’t happen again. I’m glad for the two of you, especially now because Dana really needs you.”
It was enough. Mulder was willing to call a truce. While they would never be best friends, for Dana’s sake, they’d co-exist while they were here at the cabin.
Mulder nodded then walked over to his briefcase. He withdrew the papers Langly had obtained for him. Scully came up beside him and peered at the file.
“Mulder, where did you get this?” she asked taking them from his hands.
“The guys are doing a little digging. It isn’t much but it’s a start.”
Scully nodded, already interpreting what she was reading and trying to fill in the blanks.
“Mulder, there’s definitely something not right here. I can’t be sure what it is but there are biochemical changes here,” Scully said, finally raising her head and looking at her partner.
Her voice had assumed her cool professionalism but her eyes mirrored her fear. He placed his hand on her head to offer reassurance that he didn’t feel.
“Could these changes be causing the pain and the blackouts?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. There are too many unanswered questions,” she paused considering an idea.
“Any chance the guys could ‘dig’ up Frank Kellogg’s chart so I can do a comparison?”
He grinned.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he replied.
“I want it stopped,” he said in a quiet, menacing tone.
“Sir, please. We’ve come so far, all the work we’ve done…” the younger man pleaded.
“All the work you’ve done has meant nothing!” he sneered. “They are still out there, loose, with no indication that she’s responding to her conditioning. You think Mulder will stop if the only thing we succeed in doing is turning his partner into a mushroom. Nor am I sure we could explain to our superiors all the extra attention we will draw to ourselves if her mind implodes like Kellogg’s. That would be pushing the bounds of coincidence, don’t you think?”
He took a long drag on his never ending cigarette.
“Now end it.”
“Sir, we’re not sure how she’s been fighting the treatments but it must be causing her a great deal of pain. If we don’t get to her, at least do some deconditioning, the pain will force her to get medical treatment and I’m not sure we can hold up to the scrutiny of a thorough medical exam. Please, let us do that much.”
He studied the younger man through the haze of smoke that enveloped him. Saw the anxiety, weighed his options. Finally, he nodded.
“Very well. Take her,” he held up a finger in warning, “but only for the deconditioning. We cannot afford any more mistakes.”
“And if she fights the process?”
“We cannot afford any more mistakes.”
The younger man nodded his acquiescence.
By mid-morning, Mulder had taken the car an hour and a half outside the boundary of the forest and back in to cellular telephone range. He contacted the Lone Gunmen , giving them Scully’s request. The trio seemed confidant that they could get at the documents now that Kellogg had been moved back to Chicago and things were still fairly chaotic around him.
Two days, they had promised. Mulder smiled.
On the way back in to the mountains, Mulder stopped at a small grocery store to pick up some necessities that Melissa had forgotten to stock in the cabin. Namely, Doritos and sunflower seeds. Both were, as far as Mulder was concerned, staples for good health.
In the parking lot, as he placed the key in the door lock, Mulder was attacked. Two large men in dark suits threw him against the car and held him down while a third repeatedly asked, “Where is she?”
Every time Mulder quipped, “Who? I haven’t seen your sister in days…” he was kicked and punched. It wasn’t long before Mulder couldn’t see anything but the blood pouring from his forehead and cheek.
The taste of blood and vomit filled his mouth and nose. Mulder gasped for a breath and it was hit out of him, again. The physical pain he could endure. Scully’s safety was paramount. He knew with a steady confidence that he would die before he gave her away. But, the repeated blows to his head and chest took their toll.
Just before he passed out he heard a fourth, seemingly familiar voice grunt: “Forget him. We found her, boys. Let’s go get her.” Then the ringing in his ears overwhelmed him and he was lost.
For a moment Mulder was convinced that his teeth had been shattered, but as he made his way in to the sitting position, he spit bloody pebbles in to his hand, and realized that he woke with gravel in his mouth.
“Scully!” He remembered his attackers and leaped to the car.
He was on the road before the door was even shut, and the trip that had taken him an hour and a half before, became forty-five minutes. He wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious. The clouds were forming a thick storm, the wind was picking up.
“If they’ve done anything to her,” he hissed. “Scully, hide. Hide from them.”
How had he ever let Melissa talk him in to taking Scully so far from help? He should have known this would happen. He should have prevented this. His fist hit the steering wheel as he cursed his stupidity.
Mulder didn’t wait until the car stopped before he threw the gear in to park and jumped out.
“Scully!” His panic slipped a foot out from under him and he fell forward on the uneven ground. But this didn’t stop him. “Scully!” He recovered and made it halfway to the cabin door just as it opened.
“Mulder?” Dana flew out the door in response to his panicked tone, Melissa not far behind. He nearly collapsed when he saw her. “My, god!
Mulder what happened?” She pushed the blood-matted hair back from his face.
“I’ll get a towel,” said Melissa, heading back to the cabin.
“You’re safe,” he blurted as he hugged her to him. “Scully, I thought I’d lost you again.”
She held him, and let him shake in her arms. “Mulder, what happened?”
And in the next moment he pushed her away with such force that she fell back on her palms.
“It was a trick.” The realization was written all over his face.
“They said they knew you were here, but it was a lie. Now, I’ve led them right to you. Damn!”
His eyes rolled and a hand went to the pounding in his head. “We have to get out of here.”
He grabbed her arm and began pulling her towards the car as a jeep rounded the bend in the dirt road and barreled towards them.
Melissa looked on in horror as the jeep cut off Mulder and Dana from the car. She slipped further into the cabin. She had to think, figure out how best to help them. While she shrank from the thought of letting these bastards get a hold of her sister, she also realized that she must remain free to get reinforcements. It would solve nothing if she were taken as well.
She glanced out the window, standing off to the side so as not to be in plain view. Four men had gotten out of the jeep. All seemed armed. Two had grabbed Dana and were pulling her towards the jeep.
Melissa began to weep as she heard her sister’s frantic cries for Mulder. Oh God, she thought, what can I do?
The other two men were occupied with beating Mulder. He was down on the ground, trying to cover his head from the worse of their kicks and blows. Finally, one of his attackers straddled his battered body and hit him on the back of his head with the blunt end of the gun. Mulder lay still.
They checked his body then split as one went to the jeep with Scully’s assailants and the other hopped in Mulder’s rental. His keys were still in the ignition.
They were gone as quickly as they had come. Only now, they had taken Dana as well.
Melissa hurried outside to check on Mulder. She could see blood running from his nose and the cuts on his head. She was more concerned about the injuries she couldn’t see. He was unconscious but his pulse was strong and he seemed to be breathing OK. Now what, Melissa thought to herself. Ice, keep the swelling down. Melissa could almost hear Dana’s voice. There was no ice. No ice but the well water is almost as cold. She ran back into the cabin to fetch towels and water.
It seemed to take forever as Melissa sat there bathing Mulder’s head before he began to stir. He groaned and his eyes remained glazed but he was able to stand and walk to the house, leaning heavily on Scully’s sister. He didn’t speak to her and she was sure he was disoriented, not really aware of his surroundings.
She got him into the bedroom and lowered him onto the bed. By the time she got his shirt undone, he was unconscious again. His one side was turning ugly shades of blue and grayish green. His ribs were at least bruised if not broken, she thought. But he was breathing and he had been conscious for a while. Surely these were good signs.
As she was gathering more towels and fresh water, Melissa caught back a sob. Dana, oh Dana, what are they doing to you? Not now, Missy. Stay busy. You’ve got to help Mulder. Keep him alive for Dana. For when Dana comes home.
She had no doubt that Dana would come back.
Two Days Later
Mulder hurt everywhere. He couldn’t remember where he was or why he hurt but he was very aware of the pain. There seemed to faint memories of light and sweat and calling out for someone. Who? It was important but trying to force the recollections made his head spin. He was so thirsty.
He felt something heavy draped across his chest. He tentatively opened her eyes and saw an arm. An arm? A woman’s arm. Dana! It had to be Dana. But why was he hurting so much? He tried to reach for her but was caught by the pain in his side. He didn’t think he had groaned out loud but he must have done. The figure by his side was moving and he could make out a face swimming into his field of vision.
Melissa! Melissa? What was she doing here? Where was Dana? There was something about Dana he should remember. Where the hell was his eidetic memory when he needed it? He tried to talk but couldn’t make his mouth move. His face seemed swollen.
“Mulder? Oh thank God, Mulder! No. Don’t move. Let me get you some water.”
She went away but he could track her movements from the noise she was making. Pouring liquid, maybe spilling some by the muffled oath she made, rummaging through drawers. Over all the more common sounds however, he thought he detected the sound of crying. Crying? Why would she be crying?
When she returned she gently lifted his head to the glass she was holding. Mulder couldn’t remember water tasting better. His mouth had been so dry. The water also seemed to help clear his thinking.
“What?” his voice sounded foreign in his own ears.
“You’ve been feverish. It took me forever to stop your head from bleeding and then when you did wake up you were delirious. Oh God, Mulder!”
He looked at her and noticed what he hadn’t seen before. The dark circles under her eyes which were red from lack of sleep and crying. Her hair was dirty and there were lines of worry marring her face which had not been there before.
Bleeding. He had been bleeding? The memory of what caused him to bleed washed over him. Dana! They had been after Dana. He sat up and wished he hadn’t. The pain knifed through his body and he fought to remain conscious.
“Mulder! No! Lay back. Don’t you dare pass out on me again.”
He grabbed her by the arms as she was trying to resettle him in the bed.
“Dana? Where’s Dana?”
She sighed, debating his condition, her worry, and whether the truth would do more harm than good.
“Where is she?” His anger gave him the strength to shake her.
“They have her, Fox. I’m so sorry but they have her,” she whispered through her renewed tears.
Dana woke to a pounding headache but otherwise seemed fine. She was in the back seat of the car they had rented to come to the cabin. What was she doing here? She looked around and realized that the car was parked near the general store they had gotten some supplies at the base of the mountain. How did she get here? Where was Mulder? And Melissa? Why was she here with Mulder and Melissa?
She felt dizzy and let the thought go. She needed to find help. For who? She couldn’t concentrate. But someone had needed help. Mulder!
He was in trouble though she couldn’t remember why. She climbed out of the car and grabbed the car roof to steady herself as she stood. She felt so weak. She looked around the deserted parking lot trying to get her bearings.
She gave a start as she heard the sound of a car engine. Her first impulse was to hide but that would not get her the help she needed and why should she run? She wasn’t the one in danger. Was she? The dizziness washed over her again and she lost track of time. When she came back to herself, a pair of strong arms were holding her on her feet and she looked into the concerned face of a State Trooper.
“Ma’am, you OK? What’s wrong?”
Scully almost cried with relief. She gathered what little of her professionalism was left and straightened to her full height.
“I’m Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI. We’re going to need some back up.”
Melissa was having her hands full trying to calm Mulder and get him to stay in bed. After the initial shock had worn off, he was up trying to dress and figure out how to get to those who had taken his partner, now his lover. Missy was afraid that he would injure himself in his frantic attempts to do something.
The sound of car engines caught both of them at the same time. Could they be coming back?
Why, after two days? Mulder didn’t wait for the answers. He grabbed Melissa hand and started pulling her from the cabin, his adrenaline giving him the strength he needed to stay on his feet. There would be hell to pay later, he thought, assuming there was a later.
He crashed through the tree branches not minding the scratches they were causing to his already battered face. He had to put enough distance between them and possible pursuit because he knew there was no way he could stand up to another beating.
“Mulder! Wait!” Melissa called, slipping down the embankment he was pulling her through.
“Wait.”
“Not now, Melissa. We’ve got to keep moving.”
“No! It’s Dana! I know it’s Dana,” she said with such conviction that he paused.
“How do you know that? How can you possibly know that? Those men aren’t playing games, Melissa!”
“I just know,” she replied and shook herself free from his loosened grip.
She turned and began to scramble up the hill.
He was so angry he couldn’t think. He debated leaving her to face them alone but knew that he couldn’t. Despite his personal feelings, she was still Dana’s sister. He started to follow her.
As they crept closer to the cabin, they froze at the grumble of male voices. Mulder shot a poisoned look at his companion. If she brought them back just so they could be taken…. He turned to go, when he heard another voice calling.
“Mulder! Missy!”
It was her. Dana. She was alive! Relief almost brought Mulder to his knees. But was she OK? They had had her before, done things to her. It didn’t matter, not now. He and Melissa continued back to the cabin, trying to keep their noise to a minimum, just in case.
As they rounded the front of the building, they stopped in amazement.
There were at least four state cop cars and two unmarked vehicles. Men in uniforms and suits swarmed through the door and were beginning to head for the woods. In the center of the chaos stood Scully, her red hair catching Mulder’s immediate attention. He was moving towards her on instinct.
“They’ve got to be around here somewhere. Those bloody towels didn’t just materialize by themselves, dammit!” She had her back to him and was yelling at one of the troopers standing before her. The trooper saw Mulder’s approach and catching his distracted gaze Scully turned.
She had a glimpse of a swollen and bruised face but didn’t have time for a full assessment of his injuries before she was caught up in his embrace. However he might be feeling physically, he was better now that she had been returned to him.
Epilogue
“It’s gone, Mulder. I had gotten into the hospital’s medical records, no problem but as soon as I tapped into Kellog’s files— gone,” Langly said, shaking his head. He sat staring at his computer as if it had betrayed him.
“It’s over, Mulder. There’s nowhere else to look,” Scully said quietly.
They had contacted the Gunmen as soon as they had returned to Washington. The bruises on Mulder’s face and his stiff movements gave grim testimony to what had happened during their little “get-away” to help Scully recover.
They stood close to each other, closing ranks, letting no one else into their private world. Sensing this, Byers led his comrades to the other side of the room.
“Scully, it’s there. It’s got to be there,” Mulder said.
“Mulder, Frank is gone, taken right out of that hospital without a trace. His records are gone. The files we have are so incomplete they’re useless.”
“No. I’m not talking about records and files, Scully. The information about what’s been happening is there, in your head.” His whisper was a plea.
Scully paled.
“I can’t remember anything. I told you that.”
She started to move away from him but was stopped by his hand on her arm.
“Melissa told me you were refusing to continue the meditation exercises. You won’t talk to a therapist. Scully, why?”
He was trying to understand, to see it from her point of view. Trying not to let his own frustration get in the way of what was best for her.
“I just can’t. It’s not time. I know that sounds crazy but I keep getting the feeling that there’s more to come from this but if I push it before all the pieces are in place….” She shrugged knowing how nonsensical, how illogical, she was being.
Mulder nodded, accepting her feelings, at least for now, and drew her closer to him. He didn’t care who was in the room, who was there and saw.
They had agreed to keep this part of their relationship a secret for now.
It would only complicate things at work, give people an excuse to separate them, and it really was no one’s business. But, he needed to hold her and he doubted the guys would mind.
Well, except for Frohike….
The End
Difficulties Under Heaven
By KMNAHILL and MD1016
From: [email protected] (MD1016)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New: Difficulties Under Heaven 1/6 (The Way Sequel) Date: 25 Mar 1996 01:23:16 -0500
Difficulties Under Heaven: Part 1.
By KMNAHILL and MD1016
Hello, friends. This is the promised sequel to The Way (you really should read that story first. Trust us on this one). There are some third season spoilers (for our overseas friends), and this story takes place 9 months after the first (Mulder and Scully are a definate couple.) There is a lot of Scully angst, some sex, a little more plot than the first story, and a lot of Scully angst. Did we mention the Scully angst?
Of course, Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions (and we guess the Fox Network, as well) own the X-Files characters that you’ll recognize. Frank Kellogg (you’ll remember from The Way), Dr Moore, and Janet are the creation of MD1016.
KMNAHILL is responsible for the baby (and the baby bonding scene), most of the medical terminology, and the beautiful insight of the Tao. At this time, no one is taking credit for “the shower scene”, but if you like it, maybe we’ll put a few more like it in the third and final installment of this little story. (We didn’t actually write “the shower” scene, the pen slipped.) We’d also like to thank Dianora2 , for just being her.
Difficulties Under Heaven Part 1
Difficulties Under Heaven
Undertake difficult tasks
by approaching what is easy in them;
Do great deeds
by focusing on their minute aspects.
All difficulties under heaven arise from what is easy,
All great things under heaven arise from what is minute.-Tao Te Ching
January 28, 1996.
Washington, DC.
2:34 PM.
“Come in,” Walter Skinner’s voice was gruff, betraying his inner turmoil. He had not been looking forward to the interview.
Special Agent Fox Mulder and his partner, Special Agent Dana Scully entered his office hesitantly. Neither was certain what the meeting was supposed to be about.
“Mulder, what have you been up to now?” Scully had asked when the summons first came.
“Nothing, I swear.”
“Then what does Skinner want? You don’t think…”
“Scully, let’s not go through this again, OK? He can’t know about us and I’m getting tired of tiptoeing around the subject,”
Mulder interrupted. He ran his hand through his short, dark hair and took a deep breath before continuing, knowing his temper was only going to put his partner and lover on the defensive.
Again. “Dana, don’t keep doing this,” he whispered as he moved towards her. “We’ll just go up and see what he wants.”
Scully stood stiff in his arms ambivalent about whether to continue the argument or to let it drop. If only they could resolve this, she thought sadly. The secrecy surrounding their affair, compounded by his disappearance, return and the death of her sister, strained the relationship almost to the breaking point. If only they could be open and above board about their love like other couples, normal couples…. But there was nothing normal about them.
She shook her head to negate the bitter thoughts and relaxed into Mulder’s embrace. The facade had to be kept in place for safety’s sake, if for nothing else. She was at risk being his partner; there was no telling how much jeopardy she’d be in if “they” discovered the truth about her and Mulder’s relationship. As partners, they also had a responsibility to the X-Files. Their work was vital to their sanity; the answer to the questions which plagued both their lives. That they were lovers was all the excuse needed to separate them, at the least, or close the department, at the worse. Scully couldn’t help the jiggle of fear in her stomach when she considered what the chip in her neck might have betrayed to those who would use the information, her very thoughts, against her- no, against them. She snuggled closer into Mulder’s arms.
In the A.D.‘s office, facing Skinner, she struggled to maintain her professional demeanor. A glance in Mulder’s direction confirmed her suspicion that he too was not as comfortable as he’s protested. She noticed the slight tension behind his eyes, the tightening of his jaw. No, she thought, the effort of keeping these secrets was getting to both of them.
Skinner’s restless shuffling of his notes recalled her attention.
“Please, sit down,” he said, indicating two chairs with a nod of his head. “A case came across my desk this morning which I thought might interest you both.” A case then, Scully thought, relieved, then tensed again as she straightened in her seat.
Another case, another test of their resolve that there would be no romance while they were away on a case. With increasing frequency this translated into no touching, no friendly banter, hardly any eye contact. In an attempt to put their behavior above reproach, they had taken an extreme, opposite stance, she realized, closing her eyes to push the disappointment to the back of her heart.
“Do I have your attention, Agent Scully?”
“Yes, sir,” she responded, her head snapping up.
“I assume you both remember Agent Frank Kellogg?”
Mulder cleared his throat and sent a worried look in Scully’s direction. She was staring straight ahead, paling at the mention of Kellogg’s name.
“Um, yes, sir. He’d disappeared while recuperating in Chicago.”
Skinner nodded. “His body turned up yesterday morning in a city dump. Exact cause of death has not yet been determined but the coroner estimates that the time of death was approximately two days prior to his body being discovered.”
“He’s been alive all this time?” Mulder asked excitedly, sitting forward in his chair. “We’d assumed he’d been killed shortly after his abduction.” He turned expectant eyes on his partner.
This was a new, unlocked lead which might further explain what had been done to Scully during her absence from Quantico, nine months earlier.
Dana’s eyes were fixed on some distant point, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair tight enough to show the white of her knuckles.
“Agent Scully?” Skinner’s question cut through her fear choked haze.
“Excuse me,” she said as she bolted from the room.
Mulder was on his feet to follow before he was consciously aware of moving. The A.D.‘s voice pulled him up short.
“Agent Mulder, wait. Give her a minute.”
“With all due respect, sir…,” Mulder hissed, moving towards the door again.
“Wait, Mulder! I said, give her a minute!” Skinner’s command was like a whip.
“This is going to bring up painful memories for Agent Scully. I hesitated before calling this case to your attention.”
Mulder only stared, torn between his desire to comfort Scully and his need to hear out his boss. His own mind was reeling as he recalled the events stirred up by the mention of Kellogg’s name; Scully’s assignment at Quantico, her disappearance from the cabin, his own brush with death, the microchip, Melissa’s death, his father — his murder and the fact that he sanctioned the abduction of Samantha — the stress of case after case pushing at the world he and Scully had created for themselves, striving to drive a wedge between them. He was all too aware of how fragile their relationship had become but was unable to alter the events surrounding them. He ground his teeth in frustration.
“Sit down, Mulder.”
“Sir, I…”
“I said, sit down. There’s something I want to discuss with you.”
J Edgar Hoover Building, FBI.
Woman’s Washroom, 8th Floor.
Dana Scully gazed at the reflection in the mirror. She was grateful to find the bathroom empty. As empty as my life’s becoming, she thought. Stop that, Scully, she ordered, as she ran trembling fingers through her red-gold hair. “It’s bad enough I ran out of Skinner’s office, I won’t indulge in a bout of self-pity.”
A new lead. She could so easily read the anticipation in Mulder’s face. “This is what he’s been waiting for – what we’ve been waiting for,” she corrected. Wasn’t it? She turned her back on the questioning eyes in the mirror. Maybe it wasn’t. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask the question: Why? Instead, she straightened her shoulders, brushed her hair back behind an ear, and ran in to Mulder in the hallway.
“You okay, Scully?” His face revealed more than simple concern.
“Yeah,” she exhaled. “I’m just feeling a little under the weather.” Offering him a faint smile, she plucked the case file from his hand and started towards their basement office.
“When’s the body being delivered?”
“Scully-” he stopped her with a hand on her arm, “you’re not thinking of doing the autopsy yourself-”
“No.” She flipped the folder over in her hands, weighing whether or not to tell him about the sickly feeling in her chest. “I just want to know when we’ll have the results.”
Mulder eyed her carefully, noting the way she was avoiding any kind of direct eye contact. He recognized the stone-face she was wearing. Didn’t she know she never had to put up a strong from for him? Why was she hiding? The last nine months had been some of the happiest and most anguishing of his life, the last three in particular. Somehow an unspoken wedge had been place between Scully and him, and he couldn’t seem to work it free. And now he could plainly see how much this recent new about Frank Kellogg was bothering her, and she was openly dismissing it. He reached a hand out to touch her cheek; to let her know that he saw and understood, but she flinched away from him and continued the trek to the office.
“Not here.”
He watched her walking away from him, unable to stuff the pain down any longer. “Scully,” he said just as she rounded the corner, “Then where? We need to talk.” But before he even finished the sentence, she was gone.
January 29, 1996.
Chicago, Ill.
Radison Suites Hotel, room #618.
3:27 PM.
“Mom, I’m OK. Really,” Dana said to her mother after impulsively calling her from the hotel suite in Chicago. “No, there’s nothing wrong. We got here just fine. Mulder’s talking to the local authorities and I won’t get all the lab results until tomorrow so I just thought I’d call and see how you were doing.”
“Don’t lie to me Dana Katherine Scully. You never call while you’re away on a case. Tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I was just feeling at loose ends.”
There was a pause at the other end of the phone. “Dana, honey, is everything all right between you and Fox?” Margaret Scully asked.
Dana could hear the hesitation behind the question, knew her mother didn’t mean to pry, but flared into anger anyway.
“Why would you think this involves Mulder, Mom? Not everything in my life revolves around him, you know. I have to go. Talk to you soon. I love you.”
Dana let the set phrases trip over themselves as she quickly hung up the phone. Better to hang up than to fight with Mom, she thought, but was inwardly shaken by her show of temper. It was too close to loosing control, too much like… what happened before.
She shuddered, shuttering off those memories as she glanced around the room, more to distract herself than out of any real sense of curiosity. She was pleased. It was nice getting a case in a large city for a change. At least we have a decent hotel, she thought, no fighting for extra towels, access to a phone line for her modem…
“You’re wasting time,” Dana, she chided herself. There are reports to read, leads to follow. She tried to force herself off the side of the bed where she’d been sitting but failed. She felt so listless. “What’s the point?” a small voice asked. “We’ll find nothing. Again. An exercise in futility, another dead end; one more disappointment, another excuse for us not leading a normal life.”
And where was he anyway? A flicker of anger replaced the depression and weariness. What was taking him so long at that God damned police station? Why did he leave her behind?
Lately, she was always being left behind. “I’m his partner, damn it, not some lackey to show up whenever he deems me necessary.”
The reasonable part of Scully’s mind tried to remind her that they had agreed to split the work load – Mulder going to interview the witnesses who discovered Kellogg’s body, Scully reviewing the known lab and autopsy findings – but she was suddenly consumed by inexplicable rage and frustration. Damn Mulder, anyway!
She pitched herself off the bed and headed for the door but stopped midway across the floor. Where was she going?
Mulder had the car. There was no where to go, nothing for her to do.
“No!” she yelled, suddenly feeling trapped. She needed to do something, anything. She had to release this tension; this sense of helplessness. Her eyes darted around the room and lighted on the vase of flowers sitting on the small desk. With no thought, Dana ran across the room and snatched up the ornament, flinging it directly into the screen of the room’s television.
Sparks flew as the picture tube shattered and the water from the vase shorted out the electrical wiring. Dana listened to the hissing and tinkling of falling glass and breathed the smell of ozone in the air. Her face was blank as she surveyed the damage, all her energy drained as the remaining water dripped off the console. She turned her back on the destruction and stumbled to the bed, asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Chicago, Ill.
Police Precinct #17.
5:56 PM.
Mulder pulled his coat closed in the nip of crisp winter air as he left the precinct house. He glanced down the street to get his bearings, his mind wandering back to the flight from Washington. He’d had grave reservations including Dana in this investigation. He felt she needed some time off. But knew the futility of trying to convince her to stay behind. Skinner had told him that the Bureau’s psychologist and the head of EAP had not wanted her assigned to this case due to the possibility of stress related complications. Skinner wanted her partner’s opinion, and Mulder knew what he had better say.
She had pretended to sleep during the flight, he knew but he let her have her space. When she was ready to talk to him, he’d be there for her. Until then, he would watch over her and make this as easy as possible.
He found the car, unlocked it and pulled out into traffic.
OK, he thought, Scully should have had time to review the files so we can talk about the day and then get on to dinner. Maybe this business about us keeping our distance from one another while on a case wasn’t such a good idea after all. We need to be close right now.
Mulder was still weighing his options when he got to the hotel and parked the car. We’ll talk tonight, he decided and walked over to the elevator. In the back of his mind, he was hoping for a return to the closeness they had shared when they first discovered they had loved each other. He missed that if he was being honest with himself. They would definitely talk about it that night.
Radison Suites Hotel, room #618.
6:34 PM.
As the elevator doors opened to his floor, he could hear someone banging on a door down the hall. Without thinking, Mulder checked the accessibility of his gun and warily exited the car. He saw two men standing in front of Scully’s door and recognized the hotel manager.
“Ms. Scully, are you all right? Agent Scully?” the manager called through the door as Mulder hurried down the hallway, pulling out his badge.
“I’m Mulder. What’s going on here?”
The manager and the other man, a security officer, glanced at Mulder’s ID and began to relax.
“Agent Mulder, I’m glad you’re here. One of the housecleaning staff reported hearing a yell from this room and some kind of crash. Unfortunately, he didn’t make his report until he finished his duties on the floor. When I heard, I came up to check on the situation. I haven’t been able to get a response from Agent Scully.”
Mulder looked grim and pulled his gun. “Open it, then stand back.”
The security guard nodded and inserted his key.
“Scully!” he called as he pushed open the door.
The room was a shambles, the television broken and water was dripping onto the carpeting. In the bedroom, Scully was sprawled across the bed, her face buried in her pillow.
Mulder holstered his gun and hurried over to her. He gently lifted and turned her over, breathing only when she fluttered her eyes.
“Scully? Are you all right?”
“Mulder? What’s wrong? What happened?”
“You tell me.” He pulled away slightly to allow her to view the room. “Are you all right?”
“Mulder, I’m fine. I just fell asleep.” She pushed the hair from her face.
“Excuse me, Agent Mulder. Do we need to call an ambulance or anything? The police?” the manager asked anxiously.
Mulder looked closely at Scully, taking in her confusion, and debated with taking her to the hospital. He needed more information first, he decided.
He well remembered the danger that hospitals could pose for them. He turned back to Scully.
“Scully, you need to answer me. Are you all right? Do you need to see a doctor?”
“I’m fine really. I don’t need to see anyone.” Scully was actually shaking but didn’t want the manager to see. She trusted that she and Mulder could establish what was happening.
Mulder hesitated another moment, then nodded. “We’re OK, here. I’ll take care of notifying the police since this may involve the case we’re working on,” he told the man who was hovering in the background. It may or not be the exact truth but Mulder was anxious to get rid of them.
The agent walked the hotel employees out and murmured reassurances as he all but shoved them out the door.
Scully walked over to the bathroom and washed her face.
She felt so groggy. Drugged? Could she have been drugged?
She remembered talking to her mother and feeling tired but then events became hazy.
“Scully?” Mulder came into the bathroom and pulled her against him. She relaxed, reveling in the safety she felt when she was in his arms. “We need to talk,” he murmured into her hair.
“No,” she pulled away from him, not really wanting to, but not able to stay so close to him. “I don’t know what happened.”
Everything in her told her she didn’t want to know, either. Her father had always said, don’t ask unless you really want to hear the answer. And, for the moment, Scully wasn’t asking.
He watched her walk across the room, glancing from the TV to the phone. The tiny frown of her face, the slump of her shoulders, they told him what must have happened. “Okay, Scully, let’s talk about something else then.”
“The case?” Her eyes were distracted by some point just beyond the wall behind Mulder. “I didn’t get a chance to read the reports yet.”
Mulder’s throat tightened. Something must be horribly wrong with her. Even when she was falling apart, even when the world came crashing down around her, Scully always got her work done. She put it in front of everything. The consummate professional. But she stood before him now, hair messed, blouse partially tucked in, the shine of bare legs under a wrinkled skirt; just a shadow of the Scully he used to know. He tried to swallow. “You didn’t read them? Scully?”
“No, I just couldn’t -” She knew he was looking at her.
Watching her every move. She felt like a hunted rabbit that was finally cornered in a cave. The hungry red fox just inches away, licking his jowls. “Stop staring at me!” Her shrill scream raised goose bumps on the back of his neck.
“I’m not,” he stammered in reflex, and then he took a few steps to her. “Scully, I’m worried about you.” He reached for her and she ducked through his grasp. He tried to counter, but the lamp she grabbed and held poised to throw at his head stopped him in mid-stride. “Scully.” He tried to use the most calming voice he had, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Stay away from me!”
“Please listen to me, ” he inched towards her, his palms up to show her he meant her no harm. “Scully, you’ve been under a lot of stress recently.”
“You think I’m crazy!”
“No! I don’t think that.”
Her face twisted and tears swelled in her eyes, “You do! You’re trying to get rid of me.”
“Dana, I’m trying to help you.”
“You’re going to leave me! You’re going to run away.”
“I would never leave you, you know that, Scully.”
Her pitch screeched higher than Mulder thought was humanly possible. “Don’t call me Samantha!!!”
“What?” he shook his head, taking another step towards her.
“I said Scully. Scully. Dana.”
“NO!” she screamed and hurled the lamp at him, “I don’t need your help!” The cord caught behind the small table and the lamp fell short of its target. With a loud crash it shattered on the carpet, sparks sprinkling the inside of the shade for the instant it took the bulb to burst in the socket.
Chest heaving from exertion, Scully looked from the lamp up to Mulder who wore an expression of shock, apprehension, and fear. “Mulder?” Her unsteady whimper pulled his attention to her, “What’s happening to me?”
His mouth opened, but the words didn’t form. Blankly, he shook his head. There was no answer to give her. “I’m so tired, Mulder.” The energy drained from her body, and as her knees gave out, she fell forward to the floor. She was able to brace herself before her head hit the body of the ceramic lamp.
Mulder was at her side a moment later. He scooped her limp body in his arms and carried her to the bed. “I can hardly move.”
“Just lay still, Scully. I’m going to get you some help.” He dialed the Lone Gunmen’s number and waited while it rang.
“I’m glad I didn’t hurt you, Mulder,” her speech began to slur, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know, Scully. Just relax. I’m going to take care of everything.” He heard the click of the receiver on the other line being picked up, and Langley’s standard LGM greeting. “It’s Mulder. I need your help. Are there any doctors in Chicago that you trust?”
“There aren’t many doctors that I trust. Period. Why? What’s up?”
Mulder looked down at the woman on the bed. Her heavy lidded eyes trying to follow the one-way conversation. “There’s something wrong with Scully. I don’t want to take her to the hospital.”
Mulder heard another extension being picked up. “What’s wrong with Agent Scully?” Frohike’s voice mirrored Mulder’s in concern.
“Just tell me, do you know any doctors in the Chicago area that you’d trust with her?”
“Depends on the symptoms,” Frohike said, “Is it physical?
A lot of pain?”
“No, not this time.” Scully’s eyes finally closed, and her face relaxed in to sleep. “Wild mood swings. Violent behavior. Uh, maybe some memory loss -”
Frohike cut him off, “Sudden fatigue?”
Mulder nodded, “Yeah.”
“Call a man there, he’s just outside of the city, his name is Stanley Moore. Tell him I told you to call, and he’ll make a house call. Uh, let me get the number for you -”
Difficulties Under Heaven: Part 2
The space between heaven and earth,
how like a bellows it is!Empty but never exhausted,
The more it pumps, the more comes out.
Hearing too much leads to utter exhaustion;
Better to remain in the center.-Tao Te Ching
Room #618
8:39 PM.
Two hours later, Dr Stanley Moore stood over Scully in the bed. He was a short man, possibly 5′2″ with sparse white hair and a round face. Everything was round about him, his face, his hands, his cardigan-covered belly. Searching through the large leather satchel he brought with him, he pulled out a hypodermic needle and several tubes.
Mulder watched him work over Scully. Taking several vials of blood, some swabs of skin, samples of saliva, nail and hair -“Hey, is that necessary?” Mulder interjected when Dr Moore put the scissors to her beautiful reddish strands.
“I need to do a chemical analysis,” he responded in a cheery tone. Way too cheery for Mulder to be comfortable with. “Don’t worry son, I’ll take a little from the back. She’ll never know it’s missing.”
He checked all of the cursory stuff, like pulse and blood pressure and the normal things Mulder always had to go through whenever he ended up at the doctor’s office, or hospital, or emergency room, or wherever. But then, the little man took off her shoes and began moving her toes around. Then he moved up her calves. Then behind her knees. “What are you doing?”
Mulder eyed him warily.
“Just checking. You wouldn’t happen to know when her last cycle started,” Dr Moore turned to Mulder with a smile, “would you?”
“No.” The brows lowered over Mulder’s eyes.
“Hmmm.” Dr Moore hummed to himself. “Help me roll her over on to her front.”
“Okay,” Mulder obliged, and made a mental note to call Frohike and ask just where he knew this guy from, as he hiked up the back of her skirt and began to squeeze the flesh on the back of her thighs. “What the hell are you looking for?” The irritation in Mulder’s voice was obvious.
“Inconsistencies, discoloration, scars. The fatty tissues keep a fairly accurate record of the traumas the body goes through. The back of the knees, the tendons tell me how her mineral diet has been.” His round fingers brushed her hair from her neck. Slowly he felt down her spine to her tail bone, and then back up to the little scar just off center on the base of her neck. “She has the scar.” He looked up at Mulder, his demeanor suddenly serious. “Where is the implant now?”
Mulder shrugged, startled by the man’s abrupt contrast manner. “She has it somewhere. You know what it is?”
“No.” The doctor stood and removed his glasses. The he removed a small notebook from one pocket and began to scribble down his findings.
“You’ve seen this before, though?”
“I’ll discuss it with you and Ms. Scully when she regains consciousness.” He replaced the notepad. “Help me roll her back over, please.” Mulder straightened her body out on the bed, and covered her with the hotel comforter. Then he turned back to Dr Moore, who had collected his things. “Expect to hear from me by tomorrow evening.”
“What do I do in the mean time?”
The man shrugged, “She probably won’t remember much when she wakes up. Tell her I was here,” he headed for the door, “And keep all potential weapons away from her. If there are any bullets in that gun, I’d remove them now if I were you.”
Mulder stopped the door from closing, “Isn’t there some sedative or something that you could give her? To help her through until tomorrow night?”
Shaking his head, Dr Moore demanded, “No chemicals.
Her body is in a tremendous state of shock right now. Nothing with additives or preservatives. And no drugs. You hear me?”
Mulder nodded.
Back in the room he checked in on the sleeping Scully and picked up the brown leather handbag next to the night stand.
After a full minute of internal struggle, he plunged his hand in her purse, pulled out her gun, and removed all the bullets from the chambers. “it’s for your own good, Scully. And my safety.”
January 30, 1996.
Room #618.
12:56 AM.
It was hours before Scully woke again. The sun had long since gone down, and the dinners that Mulder ordered from room service were cold and flavorless. She sat on the beige couch, legs sprawled out before her, trying to keep her head from spinning. “I feel like I’ve been asleep for days,” she moaned and pushed away the plate Mulder had been trying to tempt her with.
“About six hours.” Mulder studied her face to make sure the time frame registered on her face. It did.
“Did you find any new leads with the witnesses?”
“Uh … possibly,” Mulder hadn’t expected her to go right in to the case as if nothing had happened. “There were two young women who believe they saw the body being dumped.”
Scully sat up mid-stretch, “That’s a good lead!”
“Well, not exactly, they’re both homeless, one has a baby, and both have been arrested in the past for drug possession, so they’re not very willing to talk.” Scully slumped back in to the sofa, in to the most unlady-like of positions. It wasn’t that Mulder minded being able to see up her skirt, but he was sure she was oblivious to the fact that he could. “Anyway, they may agree to drug testing and a polygraph, so we’ll see.”
Rubbing her brow, Scully asked, “Why in the hell would they agree to that?”
“They heard about the reward.”
“Reward?” It wasn’t standard Bureau policy to offer a reward on case involving Agents. Or was it?
“Uh, Scully,” Mulder took a deep breath, “earlier, when you trashed the room-”
“When I what?!” Her eyes rounded when she saw the gravity on his face.
“The TV, the flowers,” he pointed to the bare space against the wall, “and the lamp,” his hand referred her to the dark blue lamp that obviously didn’t match the decor of the room, “you smashed them all up and passed out.” Her head shook “No” but she sat silent, furrowing her brow in the attempt to remember what he was describing to her. “Well, I didn’t know what to do, Scully. I mean, you never loose control like that, and, I … well, I was worried as hell.” He sat down next to her on the sofa, “I called Frohike -”
“You WHAT?”
“And he gave me the name of a doctor -”
“I don’t need a doctor, Mulder, I’m fine.” She stood and marched in to the bathroom. Mulder followed.
“Well, he came anyway -”
The cold water splashed on to her face, before the phrase Mulder had muttered sank in. “He came here?” She looked down at her arm. There was a small Band-Aid where blood had been drawn. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? Her fingers went to it, and found the wound still sore. Her breath caught in her throat and she swayed a little. Mulder caught her before she could loose her balance and helped her to sit on the toilet lid.
“It’s like before.” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper.
“They took part of me without asking, and I didn’t remember.
But I know they did. I know ….” She looked up to find Mulder kneeling in front of her. “You were here, and you let him do this to me?”
Before he could answer, she back-handed him hard with her left – much harder than she had intended – and ran from the room. “Scully, wait!” Her coat was in hand, and her purse, when he stopped her at the door. “Let me explain!”
“Get the hell away from me, Mulder!” She tried to open the door, but he slammed it shut again. He was taller than she was, and physically stronger. “Mulder, don’t make me do something we’ll both regret!”
“Scully, you do what ever you think you have to do, but you’re not leaving his hotel room.”
“Are you holding me hostage?”
“No, Scully,” he tried to keep his voice reasonable, “you’re sick – and don’t tell me that you’re not! Tomorrow we’ll hear back from Dr Moore, we’ll know more then.”
“I’m not staying another second here with you!”
“Fine!” Mulder’s voice was rising, “then I’ll leave. But Scully, please, don’t do anything that might hurt you.”
“So tell me,” her words struck at him like a snake, “when that doctor was here, were you just standing and watching, or did you jump right in and hold the syringe?”
“I don’t deserve that, Dana!”
“NEITHER DID I!” Her voice cracked from the power of her yell. For a moment they both stared at each other, neither willing to blink, then all at once the phone rang and cut in to the silence.
Scully reached for it, tearing her eyes away from her partner’s face and the look of hurt and worry she saw there.
“Scully,” she said into the mouthpiece.
“Agent Scully? You feeling better?” asked Frohike. “I’m surprised you’re up and around so soon.”
“I’m just fine,” she responded in a tight voice. “I assume you want to talk to Mulder.” She could barely refrain from throwing the phone across the room but managed to hand it to him.
“Forhike, too?!” She then marched into the bedroom.
“Mulder,” he said as he watched her stiff back walk away from him. At that moment, he had an impression that made it seem she was going much further than the next room.
“She sounds upset.”
“Yeah, you could say that. What do you want?”
“Dr Moore get there?”
“Yeah,” Mulder said but was rapidly losing patience.
“Look….”
“And?” Frohike’s concerned voice interrupted.
“He said he’d get back to us tomorrow evening. Where do you know this guy from?”
“He’s a researcher out of Northwestern, though he was at NIH for a long while. He’s into studying the biochemistry of retroviruses. Got his MD from Johns Hopkins. His private research though involves studying the aftereffects of abductees.”
Mulder paled and tightened his grip on the phone, sending a guilty glance in the direction of the bedroom. He had not heard any movement in there for some time.
“Mulder? Mulder, are you still there?”
“Yeah. Are you telling me that Scully fits Moore’s profile?”
“I’m sorry, Mulder, but from the symptoms you described….”
“Wait a minute,” Mulder cut in, “Why haven’t I read about this?”
“You probably have but didn’t know the full story. Moore will be able to fill you in about it in greater detail. It seems there’s a small group of abductees who go through physical and/or mental changes, sometimes pretty drastic ones. Those are the ones Moore studies.” There was a pause on the phone, then a quiet, “I’m sorry, Mulder.”
Mulder hung up the phone, fingers suddenly nerveless and he groped his way to the couch.
But you’re fine, aren’t you Scully?
His words came back to him as he thought about their conversation upon her return from Allentown when she had told him about Bessy Hagopian’s condition.
But I don’t think you should freak out until we find out what this thing is.
She had been so worried but he had brushed it aside almost casually, too afraid of what might happen. Too wrapped up in your own investigation, jerk, his conscience reminded him.
And now – what was going to happen now?
Mulder glanced around the suite’s living room, seeing the broken lamp and the wreck of the television, the smashed vase and felt his life – and much worse: the woman he loved crumbling into a similar ruin.
He walked into the bedroom to find Scully sitting on the bed, case files spread around her. She was in her nightwear, her glasses sliding halfway down her nose as she read.
Watching her, he could barely reconcile his memories of her fury to the detached professional who sat before him. How am I going to tell her? Should I tell her?
“I need your account of whatever information you got at the station today so I can add it to the notes,” she said, refusing to look at him.
“Scully, I…,” he started quietly but stopped unsure of what to say. Instead, he moved across the room to crouch next to the side of the bed where she sat up against the headboard.
She tried to evade him by scooting across the bed but he was faster and grabbed her hands, forcing her to face him.
“Scully, we need to talk.”
“The only thing I’m willing to discuss with you, Agent Mulder, is your report about this afternoon’s interviews. Now take your hands off me.”
He dropped her wrists as if the coldness in her voice burned him. “Dana, don’t do this,” he pleaded.
“Don’t do what? Don’t stop you from setting all the rules? Don’t protest when you let a stranger take bits and pieces away from me and put them in little glass tubes? What exactly don’t you want me to do?” Her questions were all the more chilling for the quietness of her tone.
Mulder took a deep breath and stepped away from her, his own anger starting to build.
“Scully, I’m not sorry I called Dr Moore. I know you feel like I I’ve violated your privacy but you used to trust me; trust that I’d watch your back, trusted that I trusted you. You can be as angry as you want but I will take care of you, just like you’ve taken care of me.” He gave her a tentative smile. “Be glad I didn’t have to shoot you.”
She had no defense against this tactic. If he had yelled, if he had tried to defend his actions in any other manner, she would have…. What would I have done, she wondered. Feeling more clear headed than she had in days, Scully considered the destruction she had caused to the hotel room, the way she’d been behaving to Mulder and even to her mother. Something was definitely wrong with her and she needed to assume her judgment had also been impaired.
And here is Mulder, she thought. He looked at her with an open gaze not bothering to hide his worry, anger or his love. She could almost sense him willing her to believe in him, to trust him. She returned his look, measuring his options, their history, her love.
Without another word she held out her arms to him and was rewarded with his moan of relief. Files and notes were scattered in his rush to hold her. He gathered her to him, just delighting in the feel of her against him. She’ll be all right, he repeated to himself, again and again, like a mantra. She’ll be all right.
“Dana, we need to talk,” he murmured into her soft hair, still damp from her shower.
“No,” she whispered. “Not yet.” And brought her lips up to meet his. It had been weeks since he had really held her. The way she felt with his arms firmly around her; her hungry mouth kissing his neck and face. He worked hard to keep his mind focused on the problems at hand. But her hands running down the inside of his briefs were hard to ignore. He felt a wash of heat bleed through him. “We can talk after,” she mumbled in his ear. Any further protests were swallowed up by the night.
Room # 618.
6:45 AM.
Morning came too quickly for Mulder. The sound of the shower water turning off woke him, and an instant later he was on his feet, knocking on the door. “Just a minute.” She sounded almost like herself. The door opened and Scully walked out, towel around her hair and torso. “All yours,” she sang lightly as she passed.
“Uh … good morning.” Mulder watched her pull her ugly green suit from the closet. Then she retrieved a pair of hose from the suitcase. “Scully, I can handle the stuff at the police station, why don’t you get caught up on the autopsy reports today?”
Shaking out her hair, she nonchalant shrugged, “I know you can handle it, Mulder, but I’m coming with you.” She didn’t wait for his approval or even his response. She was an adult, capable of making her own decisions. Besides, she was feeling really wonderful after the frenzied love-making session the night before, and a solid eight hours sleep.
After a few moments of Mulder searching for a nonconfrontational way of persuading her to stay in the hotel room, she cut in to the silence, “Besides, Mulder, I don’t know how I’d explain it to Skinner if I broke another lamp.” The statement had been intended to be funny, but it hung in the air like smog, choking them both. Quietly, she put down her blouse and sat on the end of the bed. “Please. Please don’t leave me here again.
I need to work, Mulder. I need some semblance of my life back in my life.”
Mulder sat beside her, arms touching, staring down at the floor like she did. “I’ve been thinking, Scully, we don’t really need to investigate this case. You and I both know what happened. Who is responsible. They’ll never be caught.
They’re not supposed to be. In a few days we’ll be called back to DC, no closer to a solution-”
“We have to try, though, don’t we? We can’t just give up.”
Under any other circumstances, he would have said yes, but given Scully’s new condition, he wasn’t so sure anymore. The path that they had both willingly followed in their search for the truth had become too costly of late. Scully was the only thing he had left to loose, and she was the one thing he couldn’t afford to give up. He forced himself forward, picking up his tempo a little, “And it doesn’t really matter what that Dr Moore says, either. We should just get in the car and drive. Somewhere far away from here. Canada, maybe. Somewhere where they’ve never heard of the FBI, or government cover-ups, or aliens.”
Her head turned to him, “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? If anyone deserves a little happiness in their lives, it’s gotta be us. We’ve saved up for it. The way I figure it, we’re both due for non-stop bliss for the next fifty years.”
The way his face lit up, and the urgency in his eyes told her that he was not only serious, but that he’d given the matter a lot of thought. “Mulder …” her voice carried a tone of caution, “what aren’t you telling me?”
He stood, hoping that a little distance might give him the strength to tell her about the symptoms she was exhibiting, and how they matched the profile of abductees – about how they would most certainly get worse and not better. But the small distance between them created a pressure on his chest, that kept him mute. When he did finally say something, it was only to tell her he’d be out of the shower in ten minutes, and would she order up some coffee from room service?
Scully could see the gap between them opening like a rift.
Chicago, Ill.
Interstate 10.
7:25AM.
“When will they arrange for the polygraphs?” Scully asked as they drove to the police station.
“Sometime in the next forty-eight hours. They were hoping for today but the witnesses
wouldn’t commit. There was talk of holding them on drug charges but I convinced the locals to back off. I’d rather have cooperative witnesses than coerced ones.”
Scully nodded and lapsed back into the uncomfortable silence that had haunted them all
morning. Things were changing too fast for her. Last night they seemed to have reclaimed their happiness, their closeness and yet it had all disappeared with the light of day. Why won’t he talk to me? Why don’t you ask him, a small voice asked in return. I can’t, was her simple reply.
Mulder noticed her withdrawal but couldn’t think of how to prevent it without dumping his worries on her. He knew nothing definite to tell her and was fearful that speculation would only make a bad situation worse. Talk to her, a voice whispered in his head. I’m afraid.
Chicago, Ill.
Police Precinct #17.
6:05 PM.
Mulder sat on one of the uncomfortable benches outside the woman’s rest room on the main floor of the Police Station. It was the end of a long day that proved uneventful and frustratingly non-productive for both agents. They’d spent hours wading through files of similar, out-standing cases, hoping to find a connection. They both knew it was an exercise in futility.
With a bored flick of his tie, he pulled out his buzzing cellular.
“Mulder.”
“Fox, it’s Margaret.”
He instinctively sat up straighter. “Mrs Scully, is everything okay?”
“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me. I spoke with Dana the day before yesterday, and she sounded …. Is she feeling all right?”
Mulder closed his eyes, questioning how much he should tell her. He knew he couldn’t lie and insist that everything was perfectly normal – and not to worry. Margaret would see through that and the deception, no matter how well intended, would worry her more.
“Fox?”
“She’s not feeling well, no. But I’ve had her see a doctor here, and I’m sure everything will be fine.” He could sense the hesitation of the woman on the other end of the line. “Margaret, I’m with her. Don’t worry. I’m making sure she’s taking it easy.”
Scully took that opportunity to emerge from the restroom. “Here she is, now.”
He handed Scully the phone and mouthed “mother”.
She exhaled, “Hi, Mom,” with as much cheer as she could muster. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. Things have gotten a little … out of hand here.”
“That’s okay, sweetie. I was just worried, so I called to see how you’re feeling. Are you getting enough sleep?”
“Yes, Mom. Don’t worry. Really. I’m feeling better today, anyway.”
“All right, dear. But when you get back to Washington, I want you to come over for dinner. I want to see you. I miss you, Dana.”
The sentiment touched a smile to her lips. “That sounds great. I’ll see you soon, Mom.” Scully hit the disconnect button and tossed Mulder his phone. “Let’s get out of here, Mulder. I’m starving.”
“Sounds like a plan, Dr Scully,” Mulder replied, giving her a lop-sided grin.
After a brief hesitation, she grinned in return, then sighed.
“When is Dr Moore meeting us at the hotel?” she asked quietly.
It was Mulder’s turn to be serious. “I’m not sure. He wasn’t very specific.”
Scully nodded thoughtfully, took a deeper sigh as if coming to a decision, then plunged ahead. “Mulder, I want you to know it was the right choice to bring me here today. As irrelevant as all this was,” pointing to the files, “it was good for me to stay busy and to be with you. Whatever he tells us tonight, being with you will always be good for me.”
Mulder felt his throat tighten at her words lost in her blue eyes. He really didn’t deserve her, he reminded himself. “If it weren’t for me…” But the idea went unfinished. It led only to a dead end and he was so tired of dead ends. “We’ll find a way,”
he vowed. A new determination showed in his face.
“C’mon. Let’s go eat,” he said but Scully, looking in his eyes, felt a warm glow at all the words left unsaid.
Difficulties Under Heaven: Part 3
Sincere words are not beautiful,
Beautiful words are not sincere.
He who knows is not learned,
He who is learned does not know.-Tao Te Ching
Radison Suites Hotel, room #618.
7:15 PM.
Dr Moore bounced in to the room and with a light chuckle he took Scully’s hand in his and shook it generously. “Good to see you up and about!”
“Thank you,” she tried to hide the sense of violation that pulsed through her at the realization that this man was in the bedroom with her the day before while she had been unconscious. A cold shiver traveled up her spine and her skin puckered. None of this was lost on the doctor’s keen observation skills.
“Let’s sit down,” he said, more as a general comment than a suggestion. He lowered his heavy body on to the sofa, indicating Scully should sit beside him. Mulder took a seat on the love seat to their left. “First off,” he began to pull papers out from his bag, “I must commend you, Miss Scully, you are in excellent physical shape.”
“Thank you,” Scully said impatiently.
“What’s wrong with her?” Mulder asked, his voice edged with his intensity.
“It’s not what’s wrong, Mr Mulder, it’s what isn’t right.” He leafed through several of the print outs, first handing them to Scully before he continued. “First off, there are a variety of chemical and hormonal imbalances occurring. As I’m sure you are aware, the body’s systems act as a check and balance on each other- one thing goes out of kilter and other systems kick in to compensate. What seems to be happening in Agent Scully’s body is more of an ‘overcompensation’. And the cycle is escalating. Her corticotropin level is way off. Ammonia’s up slightly and the SGPT, SGOT and bilirubin are also elevated.”
“Speak English!” Mulder was at the end of his tether.
As Scully was lost in reading the analysis of her blood chemistry, Moore tried to explain. “There seems to be several problems happening at the same time. The corticotropin or ACTH level is a measure of how much epinephrine, you’d call it adrenaline, is present. It’s higher, much higher, than it should be. This causes tenseness, palpitations, over-aggressiveness.
Over time, it can cause severe fatigue, blackouts, other mental difficulties. Some of the other blood work suggests some, um, issues regarding Agent Scully’s liver. The liver, among other things helps to purify the blood of toxins.”
Mulder watched Scully sit back in the couch. In her eyes, the lights of her brain working, flickered. “So what caused this?” he asked.
“What’s causing the blood work or what’s causing the cause?”
Mulder looked confused but Scully looked stricken. She cleared her throat, trying to remove the lump she found there. “It could be a tumor of the adrenal gland causing the high ACTH level. The liver damage could be caused by a number of things.”
She fought to keep her voice level as her mind screamed the various ailments that could be wrong with her.
“Why is all this happening now?” asked Mulder, his eyes never leaving Scully’s face.
“My guess is the implant. Or the removal of it.” Scully’s entire body shifted from Moore.
“What do you know?” demanded Scully.
“Relatively little, I’m afraid. I’ve done some research on a handful of woman … who have found themselves in similar situations. They seem to effect each individual differently, producing a wide range of symptoms to various degrees.” He rubbed is round chin for a moment. “Most have physical problems. Cancer, hormonal imbalances, partial paralysis.
Sometimes the woman will just have an inconvenient tick, or develop allergies to common things she may have lived with all of her life. We’re not sure whether or not the symptoms would have developed if the implant had been left in place since they are inevitably removed when found.”
“Uh,” Scully worked the question out of her mouth, “do the symptoms ever … diminish?”
“Not that I’ve seen.” Dr Moore fished in his bag for a small blue folder and handed it to the paled woman beside him. “This is what I have so far. It’s not much.” Scully reached for the folder as if he were handing her a live snake.
“What can we do now?” Mulder questioned.
“More tests for a start. See just what we’re up against.”
“And in the long-run?”
“Mr Mulder, there are no easy answers to this. I’ve talked to a dozen women. They are all sick, some seriously so. In almost all cases, their conditions are worsening. I’ve even toyed with the notion of trying to re-implant the damn things to see if I could stop the progression.”
“No! I won’t have them using me like that!” yelled Scully, crossing the room to lean against the wall where the TV had been. She would rather have her body turn against her and die than to live as their human guinea pig.
“I’m not sure it would work in any case,” placated Dr Moore.
“But I would recommend checking into a hospital for CT scans and more extensive blood work.”
“No, no hospitals,” murmured Scully, visions of Frank Kellogg’s lonely figure rising in her mind’s eye like a specter.
“Isn’t there some kind of pills you can give her?” Mulder was clutching at straws, trying hard not to face just exactly what the little man was saying.
“No. The more chemicals in her body, the worse off she’ll be, I’m afraid. Her body is trying to regulate itself – that’s why she seems better today. If we start adding medications without a clear understanding of what’s going on, we could shut her down completely.”
Scully’s face twisted in agony, “Stop talking like I’m not in the room!”
“Oh dear.” Moore rolled to a standing position and calmly walked to her, “I had no intention of dismissing you, my dear.”
His voice was rounded and paternal and to Scully’s surprise, she found herself embracing him. “There, there,” he patted her back to calm her, “this has all been a lot to deal with at once.” She pulled away and nodded.
“What should we expect?” asked Mulder.
“Anything. Good days, not so good days. I understand your reluctance to go to the hospital, my dear,” he said as he patted her shoulder. “I’m assuming, since you contacted me through Frohike, there are certain… security problems. However, these symptoms cannot be ignored. There are a few more tests I can do but I’m limited in terms of diagnostics.”
Mulder walked over and took Scully’s hand. “Dana, it’s your call. We can shuck this case, get you into a hospital and see what’s up. I’ll be there. You won’t be left alone.”
“No, I want to see this through, Mulder. If there’s any way, I want to finish this investigation.”
Mulder spent a moment searching her face trying to find the answers they needed. Without taking his eyes from her, he asked,” Is there a danger in her continuing to work? Maybe you should go back to DC, Dana.”
“My boy, there’s a danger in either case. Send her back and whoever did this may be able to access her again. Keep her here to work on the case and her symptoms may get worse.”
“You said they might get worse whether I’m here or not,”
Scully interjected.
“True.”
“Dana?” Mulder asked.
“I want to stay.”
Mulder nodded. They would see this through together.
“Very well,” said Dr Moore. “I’ll do what I can from here.
There are certain markers I know to look for which seem to indicate when the symptoms will get worse. You have my number if something happens and I’ll check in with you tomorrow night to draw more blood.”
Mulder stood and helped the chuckling man collect this bag.
“Thank you for coming, Doctor.”
“Not at all. Frohike said she was a special lady. And there aren’t too many of those around these days.” He turned to Scully and looked deep in to the darkness of her eyes, “Write it all down. Keep a log. Notice the patterns.”
“I will.”
Once Moore left there was an air of uncertainty in the room.
Neither of them knew what to do next.
“Maybe you should go back to your room, Mulder,” she said without much conviction.
“You’re kidding right?” He walked over and wrapped his arms around her tiny frame.
“No. We decided and people might find out and there’d be talk,” she knew she was rambling as the words tumbled from her mouth.
He gently cupped her chin in his fingers and lifted her head.
“We were wrong, Scully. I was wrong. I don’t care who knows we’re together. It just doesn’t matter anymore. I realized that when Moore was here.” He dropped a feather light kiss on her lips. “We will find out what we can here and then concentrate on fixing you.”
“I’m not a car, Mulder,” she grinned.
“We will fix you and then we will deal with whatever consequences they try to pull about us being together. Is this clear, Agent Scully?”
“Like crystal, Agent Mulder,” she said, pulling his head down for a deeper kiss.
January 31, 1996.
Room # 618.
The phone call came in at about 4 AM. “Agent Mulder, Janet Filenstein is ready to talk. She’s here, and says she’ll only talk to you. Says you promised her a safe place for her kid.”
“Uh …” Mulder sat up to pull himself completely awake.
“Give her something to eat. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“She’s got the baby with her. What do I do with it?”
Mulder ran a hand over his face. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, I can’t very well put the baby in the cell. There are all kinds of rules against that-”
“Don’t put her in a cell!” Mulder’s voice raised, “give her a cot in an observation room. Jesus! She’s not a suspect-”
“We’ve got her on several counts of prostitution, drug possession-”
“Now you listen to me!” Scully sat up beside him and tried to follow the one sided conversation, “I am in charge of this investigation, and if you do anything to upset this witness, I’ll have your badge permanently removed and surgically placed so far up your ass you’ll be shitting metal for the rest of your life.”
The pause on the other side of the line told him either the officer was sufficiently afraid of him, or trying to figure out just what the hell that last bit meant. Mulder wasn’t quite sure himself. “We’ll be waiting for you, Agent Mulder.” CLICK.
“What’s going on?” Scully stifled a yawn.
“Get dressed. The witness is talking.”
Chicago, Ill.
Police Precinct #17.
The police station at 4:40 AM was surprisingly calm for being in the heart of one of America’s largest cities. Only a handful of officers sat at their respective desks, with the minimum of lights illuminating the main level sending a hush over the entire building. With little effort, Mulder and his partner found the small room Janet Filenstein was in. She lay in the fetal position on a cot in the corner of the room, cradling her infant against her chest. The young woman looked no older than, perhaps, eighteen. Her hair was filthy, as was the rest of her, and it hung down over her face. Scully knocked on the door to wake her.
“Good Morning, Janet.” Mulder sat at the table in the center of the room, “They said you were willing to talk, now.” She nodded briefly, crawling off the bed carefully, not waking her child. “Have a seat, then, and we’ll get started.”
She collapsed in the chair opposite Mulder and turned to Scully, “Who’s she?”
“I’m Agent Scully. Agent Mulder’s partner.” Scully’s tone was pleasant enough, but she made no attempt to uncross her arms.
“I’m going to be recording this interview, Miss Filenstein, is that okay with you?”
She looked at the machine in the center of the table, already blinking its red ‘record’ light, “Uh … I guess. I’m just gonna tell you what I saw. Right?”
“Right. We just want to know the truth about what you saw.”
“Well,” she looked down at the dirt under her fingernails, “I was with my friend, Sil, and we where over at the dump, trying to score some coats. It gets cold at night, you know?” She looked up at Scully, but received no response from the cold, blue eyes. “So, we were at the dump, over near where the river passes by the fence, and I sees this light, you know, like a star or something, ‘cept it’s movin’. And I says to Sil, “Hey, look at that!” And she says it’s nothin’ but a plane.” Her brow lowered over her wide brown eyes, “But I didn’t think it was no plane. It was movin’ funny, you know, like a bug or somethin’. And it was gettin’ closer. Ol’ Sil said it couldn’t be gettin’ closer or we’d hear somethin’, but I know that sometimes when planes go real fast, they pass by you and they’re gone before you ever heard ‘em comin’.” Nervously, Janet slipped her hands under her legs, “So anyway, like a minute later the light is huge, and I’m thinkin’ all of Chicago’s gotta be seein’ this, and it hovers over the far side of the dump for like, I don’t know, maybe 20 seconds, and then it shoots off, straight up. And Sil and I, we run over to where it was, thinkin’ the aliens must be dumpin’ some pretty heinous stuff if they’re coming all the way to Chicago to do it!”
She expected a laugh, but only received unblinking stares. Her stomach tensed, and she studied the scratches along the top of the metal table. “That’s when we found that man. Or what was left of him, anyway.”
“Then what did you do?” Scully asked with out the slightest inflection.
“We, uh, we figured that maybe there was some kind of reward or something. Or maybe his family would be so grateful that they’d, you know, put us up for a couple of nights. It’s been ages since I slept in a bed and had a real bubble bath.” Janet saw the perfect beige polish on Scully’s well-kept nails and added, “I used to be a real person, too. With a house and friends.”
Mulder steered the emphasis back on the sighting. “So the light didn’t make any sound?”
Janet turned back to him, and then closed her eyes in concentration. “No. Not at first. But then when it got closer, it looked more like a big, black, corn chip, with really bright lights on the bottom. And it made a sound like the wind.”
Mulder watched her reaction. “Are you sure it wasn’t the wind?”
“Uh-huh. There was no wind that night. The air was dead. Which, now that I think about it, is real unusual.”
“Did you see anyone at all?” Mulder was completely caught up in the senario unfolding in his head.
“Naw, no one.”
“What about unusual smells?”
Janet laughed, “Man, we were in the dump!”
“Miss Filenstein, what were you on that night?” Scully’s question bit the smile off Janet’s face.
“What?”
“I asked, what kind of drugs and/or alcohol had you taken that night?” Mulder turned his head to try and hide his gritting jaw. Why was she doing this? He should have made her stay back at the hotel. Scully was going to get the only witness they had to close off completely.
“I …” The young woman stumbled, “We just … you know, nothing major. No brain warpers. I know what you’re thinkin’, Lady, but I seen it just like I said. It happened. It wasn’t in my head.”
The anger in Janet’s voice bounced right off Scully.
“Um-huh.” She nodded, “And why did you decided to talk now?
Why not yesterday? or when you found the body?”
The young woman’s eyes grew wide with panic, and she looked over to her baby on the cot. “I don’t know.” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper.
“Miss Filenstein,” Scully caught her attention with the hard edge on her name, “who told you to give us this story?”
“No one!”
“How long did it take you to memorize it?”
“It’s the truth!”
“Do you know what will happen when we prove it’s not?”
Janet froze for an instant, and raised a defiant chin to Scully’s accusations, “You can take away my baby, and throw me in the deepest, darkest prison you can find, and starve me and beat me and it won’t be anything I haven’t experienced a hundred times already. I know what I saw. And what I told you is what I saw.”
Scully considered the woman, and then turned to leave.
“Thanks for the ideas, Miss Filenstein. We’ll be in contact with you.”
Mulder watched the door shut behind his partner, and looked back at the woman slumped forward on the table in front of him.
“How long did they have you, Janet?”
Her head shot up and she opened her mouth to deny the time loss she’d experienced, the strange scars on her baby that hadn’t been there the day before, the unexplainable pain that ached from deep inside her body. But she saw in his eyes that he knew that they were true. That he believed her story. “It seemed like weeks. Months, maybe, but Sil said it was more like a few minutes.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “You said that you could give us someplace safe to stay. For me and my baby.”
Mulder nodded. “You’ll have to stay here, until I can set it up.” Janet looked over at the infant sleeping soundly just a few feet away. “What about your friend, Sil? Will she need a place, too?”
Janet shook her head. “No. They took her last night. And didn’t bring her back. That’s why I decided to take your offer. Sil’s gone.”
6:01 AM.
Mulder joined his partner at one of the empty desks. Slowly she stirred the hot coffee, and then took a sip. “So,” Scully sighed, “did you pick up any more star-gazing tips?”
“I believe her.” Mulder eyes the coffee, wanting to stop her from drinking it. Dr Moore had said no caffeine. But he held back.
“I know.” Scully took a deep breath, “We both know, Mulder, that Frank Kellogg wasn’t abducted by aliens. Mulder, it was Cancer Man and his friends-”
“Why can’t it be both?”
Scully was exasperated. “What are you saying? That Cancer Man is working with aliens from outer space? That after they kidnapped Frank from the hospital here, they gave him to aliens and then once they were done with him, the aliens brought him back here – of all places – and dumped the body?”
“Think about it, it makes sense-”
“No, Mulder, it’s ludicrous! This woman is covering for someone. Did you see the look of panic on her face? She’s been threatened.”
“Yes.” Mulder jumped in, “I agree. But not by someone. I think she’s afraid that they’ll come back for her.”
“Oh! So now she’s an abduction victim, too? Mulder, not everyone in the world has been abducted besides you! This woman has track marks so far down her arm, they show at the bottom of her sleeves!”
“You’re not even going to consider the possibility?”
Scully sat back in her chair and sighed deeply. “I just don’t buy it, Mulder. Janet Filenstein is looking for an easy score.” She stood up and looked down at him in the chair, “And lucky for her she found you.”
There was a moment of painful tension between them, and then it melted in to a silent apology. Scully backed away a few steps and tried to clear her head. “I didn’t mean that last bit, Mulder.”
“I think you did.”
She looked at him. She had meant it. “But I didn’t mean it to hurt you.”
“I think you did.”
She shook her head, “No.” Scully exhaled, “I don’t want to hurt you, Mulder. But somehow, I always do.”
Radison Suites Hotel, room #618.
2:00PM
The tense silence hung like a curtain between them in the car as they drove back to the hotel. All the resolve of earlier disappeared in the reality of the investigation and the harshness of their argument. That’s what’s different, mused Scully. Before we could argue from our own points of view and still respect the journey; now, it’s personal. She wasn’t sure they could ever get back to their old closeness. It was a long drive back.
Neither agent spoke as they made their way up to the rooms, Mulder hesitating briefly before sighing and following her through the door. The hesitation did not go unnoticed.
“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be. Go catch up on your sleep. I’m OK,” Scully said, her tone edgy.
“We both need some sleep and some food,” Mulder temporized. “Dr Moore said he’d be back at six.” He glanced at his watch. “That gives us four hours. You want me to order room service?”
“No. I’m not hungry. Besides, I should probably be fasting for the tests, anyway,” she said distractedly. She wandered around the room, looking into drawers with an air of abstraction.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Scully?”
“Nothing. Go to your room and get some sleep.”
“I’ll sleep here.”
“No. I’m not tired and I’ll just keep you awake. Go to your own room.” More than a hint of impatience crept into her voice.
“I’ll be fine here.” Mulder held himself still as he watched her increasing agitation.
“I don’t want you here. I need some time alone.”
“Dana, I thought we’d agreed that we didn’t have to separate anymore. I’ll be in the bedroom and you can stay out here if you want some privacy,” he said quietly, reasonably.
Scully struggled to maintain her control. She could feel the anger just under the surface, fighting to break through, making her tense, clouding her judgment. He was right. She didn’t really want him to leave, did she? She shook her head, trying to clear the confusion. Damn! She had been feeling better, more like herself but now…. Breathe, just breathe! She could almost hear Missy coaching her through the anger, “Let it go, Dana, breathe.”
Missy, oh god, Missy …. Scully brought her hands up to her face as the felt the tears stinging her eyes and closing her throat.
Then he was there, holding her, being there for her. So strong yet gentle. Knowing instinctively when it was time to give her space and when she needed his strength. Scully leaned into his chest, resting her weight against his frame. A wave of weariness overtook her. She was so tired ….
Difficulties Under Heaven: Part 4
This part contains some NC-17 material.
The Way is empty, yet never refills with use;
Bottomless it is, like the forefather of the myriad creatures.
It files away sharp points, unravels tangles, diffuses light, mingles with the dust.
Submerged it lies, seeming barely to subsist.-Tao Te Ching
Room # 618.
She woke to find herself in bed with Mulder’s familiar weight curled around her. Her previous confusion seemed to have cleared and she felt her stomach growling, reminding her of its need for nourishment. She glanced at the clock. Five-thirty. Moore would be here soon.
Scully slipped from under Mulder, several months of experience had taught her how to do it without waking him, undressed, and stepped into the bathroom. She had just enough time to shower.
The steam made lazy whirls through the air currents as Dana allowed the hot water to sluice over her body, draining away some of her tension. She felt herself relaxing in the heat and closed her eyes, feeling the rivulets of water flow from her hair, down her back and over her breasts, falling in tiny cascades to her thighs and calves. She’d opened a pack of the hotel’s French milled soap and inhaled its fragrance as she began to lather herself, giving herself over to the sensuality of the moment.
Her mind wandered to another shower at an old inn she and Mulder had found on one of their rare weekend get-aways. He had touched her lightly, just here, she remembered, her slick fingertips trailing their way down the sides of her breasts. And his thumbs flicked over my nipples. Memory became action and she smiled as her rosy, peaks hardened. She was a little surprised at the warmth starting between her legs as she remembered what else Mulder had done with his hands. She rubbed the soap over her belly with one hand, taking delight in the feel of her skin, slippery and wet, the other hand beginning to stroke the inside of her thighs.
Her breath was coming a little quicker, a little harder, the warmth spreading from deep inside to her stomach and down her legs. Her nipples wore so taunt with her arousal, they were almost painful. Her fingers moved up from her thigh and entered her center, moist with hot water, soap and desire. A soft moan escaped her as she massaged her small, hard bud of pleasure; the steam adding a dreamlike quality to what she was doing.
They had placed candles around the bathroom that night and there was slow music playing, she remembered. They had lost themselves in the exploration of each others bodies and she could almost feel him enter her, so vivid were her memories.
She leaned back against the wall of the shower stall, most of the chill swallowed by the steam. The water pressure was stronger now as the stream fell directly onto her breasts and stomach. Her fingers continued to rub, now softer, now harder, now faster, as the memories continued to play out in her mind. She involuntarily bucked against the urgency that was building quickly and her tongue ran over her teeth and lips. She could feel the muscles in her groin and thighs tighten as she orgasmed, a small cry signaling her release.
Dana rested a moment, her breath slowly returning to normal, her pulse quieting, before straightening and turning off the water. The small smile playing on her face turned into an “O” of surprise as she pulled back the shower curtain aside to find Mulder leaning against the sink, his eyes dark with passion, his erection obvious through his black boxers. In silence, he wrapped her in a towel and pulled her close, nuzzling her neck but not asking for anything more.
After a moment, Dana pulled away from him, her eyes questioning. “Why didn’t you join me?” Despite her anger and confusion from earlier, his touch was still magic.
“You were so beautiful,” he whispered. “I couldn’t….” He looked away but had to return, his eyes bright with wonder. “You are so beautiful.”
She gathered him to her, kissing him hard on the mouth, her hand reaching down between their bodies to stroke his manhood. His breathing became more ragged as he picked her up and carried her to the bed, the towel coming undone and falling away unnoticed. He fell on top of her, burying his face in her neck, his hand almost frantic in his fondling of her breast.
Dana, with equal determination, was trying to remove his shorts, when they both froze at the sound of throat-clearing coming from the doorway.
Dr Moore stood there studiously counting the ceiling tiles while making his presence known. Scully hissed her surprise and embarrassment as she desperately tried to pull the blankets over her. Mulder used his body to shield her until she was covered, but jumped up and after the physician, as Moore moved into the sitting area of the suite.
“How the Hell did you get in here?” Mulder asked, his voice rough with anger.
“Old trick I learned in my misspent youth. Granted these new locks are a bit more complicated but….” The round man shrugged and grinned. “Relax, Agent Mulder. I knocked but I, um, guess you had your mind on other things. I knew you were here from the desk clerk and when you didn’t answer, I became concerned. My apologies for the interruption.”
“That’s all right,” said Scully as she emerged from the bedroom wearing a robe, her hair wrapped in a towel. Her face was a brilliant scarlet.
“My dear, Agent Scully. I’m sorry for your embarrassment but please don’t give it another thought. In fact, I’m very pleased to find you both, ah, getting along. I’d half expected you to be at each other’s throats…. so to speak,” he added as he recalled Mulder sucking on the neck of this young woman before him.
Scully blushed again but sent a guilty look to her partner as she replayed their argument at the police station.
“So, you have been fighting,” Moore said, correctly interpreting her look.
“We’re disagreeing on a certain witness’ testimony,” supplied Mulder in a carefully contrived neutral voice.
Scully looked away, biting her lip. ‘Witness’ is not what I’d call her, she thought.
“Witness? Something related to all of this?” Moore asked. Mulder had neither the time nor the inclination to fill the doctor in on the details of their investigation. His trust went only so far.
“Maybe.” “Not really.” They replied simultaneously. The agents looked at each other then turned away with equal expressions of exasperation.
“I see,” said Moore, then added under his breath, “Not.”
“There’s a woman who may have seen the return of a colleague’s body. She talked about seeing a bright light and feeling paralyzed. When the light was gone, there was the body.”
“A close encounter?” Moore’s voice sounded eager.
Oh God, not another one, sighed Scully. “The woman Agent Mulder is referring to is a known drug user. By her own admission, she and her friend were high on the night in question.”
“There were two witnesses?” Moore asked, apparently dismissing the possibility of a drug induced hallucination. “Where’s the other one?”
Another hard look passed between the two agents. Mulder spread his hands and inclined his head in mock defeat.
“According to our ‘witness’, her friend has disappeared. Quite conveniently.” Scully was getting tired of discussing the topic.
“Disappeared? Abducted?”
That’s it, thought Scully. “Dr Moore, there is no evidence that this woman is telling the truth. There is no evidence of an alien presence. There is no evidence. Period!”
“Scully,” Mulder started until she whirled to round in on him.
“You don’t know anything about this woman, Mulder, except for her criminal record, yet you’re so ready to believe her, you’d concoct a whole theory based on a government and alien conspiracy.”
“And you’re so rigid, you’d deny your own experience and the evidence of your own eyes. Hell, Scully, you deny your own memories rather than admit you’re wrong!”
Scully’s eyes widened and her face went red, then white. If he’d hit her, she couldn’t have been more shocked.
“Enough!” Moore interjected. He pulled Scully’s unyielding body over to a chair and forced her to sit though she initially resisted. “Where is this woman now and do you think she’d be willing to take a polygraph?”
“We made arrangements for her and her baby to stay at the station tonight and the polygraph is set up for tomorrow afternoon,” replied Mulder.
“She’s not too happy but we couldn’t come up with anything better under the circumstances.”
“She has a baby?”
“Yeah, a little girl,” Mulder answered but his eyes were on his sullen partner as she huddled away from them. “Scully….”
Moore held up a restraining hand. “Agent Mulder, go make yourself decent and get us some dinner. I also want you to arrange for me to take this woman and her child to my home for the night. I have plenty of room and can provide a certain measure of security.”
Mulder opened his mouth to protest but was again interrupted by Moore’s imperial manner. “I know all the arguments, Agent Mulder. Please spare me the bureaucratic hocus pocus. I would guess you’ve both had occasions to work outside normal channels so my involvement should not be a major blow to your systems. Between the polygraph and certain, um, tests I may be able to do, we should have a fairly good barometer of this woman’s reliability. Now go put your pants on, Mulder. I want to get Agent Scully’s blood samples.” The rotund physician moved across the room and began rooting through his bag.
With one further glance at Scully, Mulder stirred himself to follow Moore’s orders. Janet and the local police were both unhappy with her staying at the station and Mulder was concerned about leaving the baby there as well.
While not totally agreeing with Moore, his offer was a definite option. He decided to make the phone calls from the bedroom.
Scully hadn’t moved from her chair and barely heard the conversation taking place around her. She wrapped herself in a cocoon of pain and anger, afraid she might once again loose control and try to hurt herself or her lover. All her energy focused inwardly, replaying his words, trying to argue them away.
“Agent Scully? Dana?” Moore’s words were soft but penetrating, able to cut through the protective layers Scully had buried herself under.
Starbuck
She could almost hear her father calling her.
“Why are we doing this to each other?” Dana asked in a small voice. She was too tired to hide any more. Her pride was gone. “We’re killing each other with our words.” She was helpless to hide the tears.
“My dear Dana. There, there, go ahead and cry some.” Moore put a fatherly arm around the shaking woman, and made comforting noises.
Scully gave a few final sniffs and pulled herself upright.
“You love each other, don’t you?” Moore asked but it really wasn’t a question.
Scully stiffened in response, suspicion written in her face.
Moore laughed. “Agent Scully, considering what I saw when I came in here today and the way Agent Mulder hovered over you when I did my exam the other night, it’s rather obvious. I may be old but I’m not senile.”
The young agent blushed furiously but raised defiant, blue eyes to the older doctor. “Yes, Mulder and I love each other. I don’t see how that concerns you.”
“Stand easy, my girl, stand easy. I’m not prying. But it can’t be peaches and cream for you both with all this going on and, well, I had a daughter of my own once. If you want to talk this out, I’m here.”
There was something in his manner that struck a familiar chord in Dana, something that had been missing from her life for a long while now. She relaxed unknowingly in the warmth of his friendly gaze and slowly nodded, acknowledging his conclusion. “It’s not been easy, ever, but lately we’ve been sniping at each other all the time. The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. The last few days….” She looked around the room, once again noticing the empty space where the television had been.
“You both seem to have resolved some of the conflict earlier,” Moore said with a sly gleam in his eye.
This time Scully chuckled. “Yeah, well…. It’s funny but despite everything we’re still able to….” She stopped as she caught was she was about to say to a relative stranger.
“Dana, your bodies are just taking over right now because your mouths aren’t working right,” he explained gently. “You still have to love each other and if you can’t say it in words, it just comes out in other ways.”
“What if we can’t get the words right? What if I keep getting sicker and his being afraid pulls him further away?”
“Life’s too short for ‘what ifs’, Dana. You can lose an awful lot if you worry about ‘what ifs’.”
“You said you had a daughter,” Scully said with sudden perception.
“I did, and a granddaughter. I was too afraid by what I saw when I was at NIH and let my fears drive them away. I haven’t seen my daughter, Mary, for ten years, and my little Amber since she was eight.” His voice was lost in his memories.
“I don’t understand. What did you see?”
“What?” Moore looked up as if he’d forgotten her presence. “Oh, nothing. A story for another time. The point is, Dana, learn to accept what’s happened and what’s going to happen. There’s little you can do about either thing. Just worry about the now; it’s all you have.”
Scully nodded. How many times had Melissa said the same thing? And how many times had she fought against the idea?
February 1, 1996.
Police Precinct #17.
3:47 PM.
This was taking longer than they had expected. Scully restlessly paced the small office while she waited for the results of the polygraph which would no doubt prove that Janet was the opportunist she thought. It was just too convenient of a story, one which would certainly grab Mulder’s attention and divert him away from the men connected to Kellogg’s death.
The baby, was sleeping in a portable crib which the police station had provided. Scully’s temper flared briefly as she remembered Mulder blithely volunteering her for baby-sitting duty but she couldn’t hold on to it. She didn’t really want to witness Janet making a liar out of herself.
She watched as the tiny figure began to stir; jerky movements of arms and legs not quite under control. Four month olds were always so much fun, Scully thought. Funny faces gave way to an odd intensity as they studied the features of those around them. Too young to be worried about stranger anxiety, babies this age lived totally in the moment, accepting each sensation for what it was. Life should always be so simple.
She sighed as she thought of a line from the Tao which Melissa had so painstakingly tried to teach her:
The further one goes,
The less one knows.
God, if only she could find that kind of acceptance in herself. She tried but it went against her nature. Her father used to say she was born fighting. Now though, the more she fought, the less she had to show for her effort. There had to be another was to beat this.
Cooing caught Scully’s attention bringing her back from her gloomy reflections. The baby was awake and very interested in pulling off her socks.
“Ah, no, little one. Let’s leave those on. It’s chilly in here,”
murmured Scully as she bent to pick up the baby. She hefted the child’s weight, noting that, though the baby cloths were worn in spots, they were clean. Janet did at least that much for her child. Then again, they had spent last night at Dr Moore’s. This might have been his influence.
The baby seemed overjoyed to have someone paying attention to her.
She stopped pulling on her fingers and instead put them in Dana’s mouth, pinching her bottom lip. She laughed with delight as Scully moved her mouth, making “ma-ma’”
sounds. The baby’s pleasure was contagious and Scully found herself giggling as she joined in the made-up game.
Things had been so busy at work, Dana hadn’t much time anymore for visiting friends or family who had small children. She missed playing with her nieces and nephews. Like many career women, she thought she would want children of her own some day but it was always in some distant, future time. Besides, to have children, one needed to find a father for them.
That required that there be a man in her life. Her eyes widened in surprise. She had a man in her life. Mulder? Mulder as the father of her children? Funny how she’d never put that together before. The thought gave her a warm feeling.
Stop it, Dana! She shook the small smile off her face, unaware of when it had started. He’s never talked about marriage, let alone fatherhood.
And that was assuming she even had a future. Right now that seemed like a large assumption.
She swallowed the lump in her throat as she gazed at the small person she held so comfortably in her arms. It wasn’t fair. Janet, a single-mother, an admitted drug-user and prostitute, had this beautiful, perfect baby while she and Mulder… another shake of her head stopped that unproductive line of thought.
The gurgling baby was oblivious to the mood swings occurring in the woman who held her. Tired of mouth and fingers, she became fascinated by the gleam of Dana’s red-gold hair. With a sudden lurch, she made a two-fisted grab for the shining locks.
“Ouch!” Scully yelped at the surprisingly strong tug. “Let go, little one. That hurts.”
The baby laughed and pulled again. She’d found a new game that caused a larger reaction than the first.
Sitting in a nearby chair, Dana forced the child to sit in her lap while she disentangled hair and fingers. The change in the baby’s perspective brought her face-to-face with two – if not large, then well-shaped – breasts. The shapes being both comforting and familiar. She stared drooling intensely at Scully’s chest, looking from one rounded mound to the other.
“Oh, no,” Dana laughed. “I can’t help you there.”
Usually, the sound of a human voice was enough to divert the infant’s attention but not this time. And Scully found the intensity of her focus somewhat disconcerting. She tried to reestablish the finger game, and then, in a desperate measure, even the hair-pulling game. But the salivating mess of baby was
undeterred from her focus. Instead, she smacked her lips. Scully could feel the faint heat in her cheeks of a blush. This was getting ridiculous.
Without warning, the baby made a jerky lunge for Scully’s left nipple, mouth open and wet. Very wet. Dana pulled her back, caught between a laugh and a moan as she saw the round stain darkening the green silk of her blouse. She knew she should have kept her suit jacket on.
Not taking kindly to the refusal, the little girl grabbed aimlessly for her well-marked target. Scully caught her hand before the grip of death had her in its painful lock. Unfortunately, Scully didn’t realize that this child was only using the hand as a diversionary effort. With the woman pulling her fist from one possible meal, she lunged forward, mouth first, for the other. A squeal of pain erupted from Scully, which startled the child in to a frustrated cry.
With an exhale, she admitted, “I’d help you if I could, sweet thing, but I’m just not cut out for this mommy business.” She shouldered the baby and gave it a series of comforting pats on the back while she rocked her back and forth. “You’ve got good aim, though,” she allowed herself a chuckle, “and you certainly are persistent. I think you’ve been around Mulder too long,” and she began looking for something to dry the spots.
“I don’t think I’m always that accurate,” laughed Mulder from the doorway. “And I almost never drool.”
Scully blushed furiously as she now had two individuals focused solely on her breasts. She was saved from further comment, however, when Janet entered the room, behind Mulder.
Taking in the marks and its locations on Scully’s blouse, Janet couldn’t help a small grin. “I guess I better go feed her,” she said, collecting the baby from Scully’s arms. She quietly moved into the unoccupied office across the hall and shut the door.
A minute later, Dr Moore shuffled in to the room – stopping only momentarily to take in the wet circles on Scully’s chest and flash a side-ways grin to Mulder – and spread his charts and test results from his findings on Janet Filenstein and her child on the table in the center of the room. Scully, catching the look, calmly ran a hand over her face before putting on her jacket; all the while making threatening eye contact with Mulder daring him to comment. Mulder couldn’t help the grin as he came up behind her and hung over her shoulder as she flipped through the thick report. “She’s clean,” she said with a note of victory in her voice.
“Everything here says she’s completely normal.”
“Well, as normal as a twenty-four year old with a horrible diet, no shelter, and negligible hygiene can be.” Dr Moore reminded her.
“Yes,” Scully was insistent, “but there’s no sign of any abduction -” she threw an eye to Mulder, “whether alien or otherwise.”
Mulder chewed the inside of his lip. His partner was enjoying the findings a little too much for his comfort. The sense of I-told-you-so in her reaction that was so un-Scully, it made him cringe. He flopped down in the hard plastic chair next to Scully, and leafed through the file for himself.
“I did, however, find a small lump on her baby.” Moore slid out small two-inch x-ray negatives of what looked like a skull in silhouette.
“So I took a few pictures and found not only an implant, similar to yours, my dear, but one in her sinus cavity as well.”
Scully’s non-reaction pressed him forward. “I haven’t discussed this with Miss. Filenstein, yet. She was in desperate need of a good night’s sleep, and I wanted to be sure that she completely understands what this means before I explain it to her.”
Mulder lightly tapped his pen against the table, his eyes fixed on Scully. “You’re afraid she’ll want the implants removed?”
“Oh yes, indeed. And since I have absolutely no frame of reference for a subject this young ….” His voice trailed off. Mulder, too had seen what caught Moore’s attention. In Scully’s monumental attempt to control her anger, to refuse to give in to the fury that raged within her, she had pulled her muscles so taunt that she shook from head to foot.
Her eyes remained transfixed on the table top, but the stare was blank and pained.
“Oh, my god,” Mulder mumbled under his breath and turned to Moore for some kind of guidance.
Moore just sat in his chair, seemingly cool and collected. In a fatherly voice he soothed, “Breathe, Dana. Let the anger out in your breath. Breathe.” Over and over he repeated the phrase, until, at last, she did release. And Mulder slid another of the chairs under her body just as her legs gave way beneath her.
While still panting, she murmured, “It’s not fair … how can they do this … she’s just a baby ….”
Mulder’s initial response was to reach out to her, in hope of some how helping her through. But Moore signed for him to stay put. She recovered quickly, and sat back in the chair. With all eyes in the room on her, Scully tried to throw focus on a different problem. “She must have agreed to give us that story in order to get her daughter back.”
The expression of concern didn’t change on Mulder’s face. “What?”
“If her baby has the implants, ” Scully reasoned, her rhythm slower and tightly controlled, “then they must have taken the child at some point. The only thing that makes sense is that she collaborated on the story because she wanted to get her daughter back … or her friend, perhaps, was taken to persuade her.
They’re trying to throw us off the track.”
Mulder nodded, “That’s an interesting theory.”
“Damn it, Mulder!” She banged her fist against the table and stood up, “Don’t patronize me.” She paced the room with her hands on her hips.
“How can a government operate like this? They’re supposed to protect us!”
With a worried look from Mulder, Moore smiled at Scully and offered, “I suppose that’s why you’re here, Miss Scully.”
She stopped in her pacing and stared at the older man. How did he do that? How did he know how to say just the right thing to her? Her father used to be able to do that. He would look at her with his dark, wise eyes, and see right through her. No, not through her … in to her.
Even when she didn’t want him there. When she originally joined the FBI Academy, he looked in to her eyes and asked her if that was all she really wanted out of life. At the time she had thought it was because he didn’t want her to join the FBI – that he wanted her to stay in medicine.
But at that moment in the police station, three years and two thousand miles from where her father had died, she knew what he really meant. He knew on that day, that when she joined the Bureau, she would be giving up marriage and a family, and the safety and security that comes with it.
Mulder loved her, she knew beyond anything else in the world. And she loved Mulder. No question. But she also knew that in all likelihood, there would be no children with him, no house with a picture window and a real, working fireplace. That didn’t come with the package. No, with Mulder she got a dog, a cellular, and a cold basement office – some assembly required. “Batteries not included,” she said with a grin.
Mulder blinked, completely lost.
A rap in the door signaled the entrance of a small Asian woman, Officer Yukiko, who had, by that time, finished her interpretation of the polygraph. “Well, it certainly looks as if the suspect thinks she’s telling the truth.” She said spreading the chart out on the table.
Scully rolled her eyes.
“She’s not a suspect,” Mulder corrected the woman.
“Yeah, well,” the woman bobbed her head, “she’s convinced that she’s telling the truth.”
Shooting a hard look to Mulder, Scully bit out, “Of course she is.”
Then she stomped from the room.
Mulder followed. “Scully stop. Look, I want her to stay with Moore for a while -”
“She’s not a lost dog that you can just dump-”
“I’ve already talked to Moore about it, he thinks it’s a good idea.
He wants to run some more tests – and Janet is all for it.”
Scully stopped in mid-stride and pulled herself up to her full height to get right in to Mulder’s face. “You talked to the ‘witness’ – and I use that term loosely – about staying with Moore before we had the results back from the polygraph? What would you have done if she failed?”
“I knew she wouldn’t.”
She gave him a sarcastic chuckle, “Of course you did.” She continued storming down the hall.
‘Scully!” Mulder caught up with her, “Scully, wait! Are you mad at me?”
She slammed her briefcase on to the nearby desk. “NO!”
Mulder studied her face. “Yes, you are! You’re mad at me because she passed!”
Scully’s eyes closed in to slits, and her voice lowered an octave.
“For your information, Agent Mulder, the only thing that that stupid test proves is that she was under the influence of something stronger that night than the drugs she admits to – which isn’t surprising – because she believes that ludicrous story. You on the other hand, don’t have that excuse!”
Now on the defensive, Mulder demanded: “Me? When did this become personal, Agent Scully?”
“The moment I told you about the implant in my neck and you didn’t give a damn!”
“I didn’t what?” Mulder couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
She mimicked his words and threw them back in to his face, “‘Lets not freak out until we know what this is.’ Well, we still don’t know what it is, Mulder, but I’m freaking! I’m freaking like there’s no tomorrow!
I’ve been freaking out for a while now, and you never noticed. I love you, Mulder, but sometimes being with you is like being alone.”
Her last phrase hit him hard. Had he really been blind to her symptoms? Why hadn’t she said anything? Perhaps she was afraid to be dismissed again. Or worse still, maybe she did tell him, in her own way, and he had overlooked that as well. The wedge between them, could it possibly be all his fault? His ignorance to her needs and fears?
Somehow, without even trying, he’d been driving her away.
Scully sat down. That last bit of fury had drained a lot more energy than it should have. “Mulder, I’m sorry. I’m not being fair. You had no way of knowing.”
His eyes were dark with guilt, his voice low and steady. “How long?”
Resting an elbow on the desk, she propped her head in the palm of her hand, “How long what?”
“How long have you had symptoms?”
She closed her eyes, “Oh, I don’t know.”
Mulder knelt in front of her, “Scully talk to me.”
“I need to lay down, Mulder. I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“Okay, Scully. Lets go back to the hotel.” He helped pull her to her feet, and kept an arm around her to the car. If she needed to rest, then she would rest. If she needed an operation, she’d have that, too.
Mulder knew, that if she needed the heart beating in his chest, he’d give it to her. Heaven knew it belonged to her anyway.
Difficulties Under Heaven: Part 5
Understanding others is knowledge,
Understanding oneself is enlightenment;
Conquering others is power,
Conquering oneself is strength;
Not losing one’s rightful place is to endure, To die but not be forgotten is longevity.-Tao Te Ching
February 2, 1996.
Radison Suites Hotel, room #618.
1:58 AM.
Scully lay, that night, on her back, watching the shadows from the outside world play on the textured ceiling. The light seemed to fall haphazardly, not bothering with shapes. But, she knew, there was nothing haphazard about them. The light came from a specific source and was interrupted by defined objects to create the monsters looking down at her. It was all some great, calculated plan to terrify her. And it did. They did. The movements of darkness on the plain above her left her heart racing. She clutched her chest and called out, “Mulder!”
He sprang up beside her, “What’s wrong?”
She was sure her heart would burst, “Make them stop!” A hand went from her chest to point at the evil faces grinning down from the ceiling.
“Stop what?” He couldn’t see what she was scared of. When he looked back down to her, her breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, both hands clutching at her heart. Without thinking he flipped on the light, “Scully! Talk to me! What is it?”
He already had is cellular phone in his hand and was searching the night stand for the number when Scully leapt from the bed, screaming, “No lights!!!” She was in the other room before he could register what had happened.
He found her huddled in a corner by the door trying to catch her breath, hiding her face in her up-drawn knees. “Jesus, Scully, talk to me. What can I do?”
“It’s too bright, Mulder.” And when she turned to him he could see that her pupils were completely dilated. There was almost no blue left to her eyes at all. He raced back to the other room and flipped the wall switch, cutting the power to everything. Then he was back beside her.
“Is that better?” he needed her to talk to him. He didn’t know how to react to the gasping pile of Scully before him. He tried to put him arms around her, but she screamed as if he were scalding water. At a loss, Mulder ran back in to the bed room and dialed Dr Moore on his cellular. A sleepy hello answered.
“It’s Scully,” Mulder yelled in a half panic, leaning over her once again, “I don’t think she can breath!”
“It sounds like that’s all she is doing.” He chuckled lightly and then asked, “Is she coherent?”
“Yeah, I think so, but she’s not talking much.”
“Where are her hands?”
Mulder paused and looked at the phone, and then his concern won out, “At her chest.”
“Ask her if it’s her lungs.”
Scully shook her head no.
“Ask if it’s her heart.”
This time a firm nod confirmed the doctor’s suspicions. “This is part of the hormonal imbalance that I was describing earlier.
The norepinhrine has given her a rapid heart beat. It may take a while for her body to try and counteract. When it does, she’s going to go stone cold. She may pass out. She may throw up.
What ever happens, try to get her to drink some warmed water, if you can, and cover her up. She’s got to stay as warm as possible.”
Mulder nodded, making the necessary mental notes. “Is there anything I can do to help right now?” A small whimper was escaping between each gasp she made. “How do I get her heart to slow?”
“No. Just wait it out. Talk to her. Tell her a story, sing her a song. Just don’t ask questions she can’t answer. Yes or no questions. Got it?”
“Yes.” That wasn’t the response Mulder had hoped to hear.
“Good night, then, and call me if there’s another problem.”
CLICK.
For nearly twenty minutes, Mulder knelt beside Scully, describing the countryside in England, what his dorm room at Oxford had looked like, learning to play Cricket, and then the rules of the game. Slowly her breaths became deeper and more relaxed, until Scully slumped forward in to Mulder’s waiting arms. Her skin was like marble, smooth and cold. He carried her in to the bed room, and folded the blankets over to give her as much as he could. By the time he brought warm water from the bathroom for her to drink, Scully was asleep. He checked her breathing and pulse, and both were back to nearly normal.
Mulder sighed in to the hotel phone and asked for another five blanket to be brought to their suit as soon as possible. Then he slid under the covers to share his body heat with her. There was no question in his mind that they had to find some way of relieving the symptoms; Scully’s tiny body would never hold up under this kind of abuse for long. No one’s would.
Chicago West Bank Land Fill.
Chicago, Ill.
3:33 PM.
By mid-afternoon of the next day, Mulder stood knee-high in refuge.
“I think this is the spot,” Janet called from the other side of the garbage heap. Both Moore and Mulder waded through the offensive stench, careful not to step any deeper than the top of the rubber boots the Dump Controller had offered. Janet surveyed the area looking for a frame of reference. “This place looks different in the sunlight,” she offered apologetically.
Moore nodded distractedly, “Now where was your child while you were here?”
Janet turned towards the entrance of the yard, “I left her sleepin’ in a box over there.” She pointed. “Remember, we wasn’t this close when the light-thing was here. We ran came over after.”
Mulder pulled out the familiar stop watch set and placed one in the large blackened circle that Janet had indicated. Then he followed Moore over to the box that had cradled the sleeping child. Other than a mildewy towel and a few newspapers, the box seemed empty and unimportant.
Scanning the skyline, Mulder quarried, “And you were here when you saw the light coming towards you?”
“Naw,” Janet pointed to the nearby rubbish heap, “We were on top of that pile. From up there, you can see the power station above them trees.”
Both Mulder and Moore’s ears perked up, “What power station.”
Janet lead the men up the garbage with expert skill, “See them chimneys? Well at night they’re all lit up. They make the sky a soft orangey color.”
“And that’s the direction you saw the approaching light-thing?” Mulder was careful to use her terminology.
“Uh-huh.”
Because of his height advantage, Mulder could see more of the plant than his companions, “That’s a gas refinery. I can see the steel drums.”
Moore’s face lost it’s open humor as the facts began to sink in. “So what does that have to do with the abductees, and the murdered man?”
Mulder shook his head. There must be a connect, he knew, it was just on the tip of his mind. He studied the yellow and black logo of the refinery. Well, maybe not, he decided.
Something was unsettling about all of this. The problem was he wasn’t sure just what. Except that Scully wasn’t here to see this.
She should’ve been inspecting the site with them. But after last night she was simply too weak to get out of bed, and when Mulder had demanded that she stay in the hotel to get some more rest, Scully agreed to rest without putting up a fight. They were able to get a reliable babysitter using the hotel’s directory, a woman who had also agreed to keep watch over the ailing agent. Scully was very pale when she had tried to get out of bed.
A taste of bile choked Mulder and he took in a gulp of putrid air to keep from vomiting.
Radison Suites Hotel
4:30 PM
They hadn’t found all they hoped for but Mulder was thoughtful as they made their way back to the hotel. For some reason that remained stubbornly hidden, the image of the power plant seemed hauntingly familiar.
He was leading the way into the hotel lobby, lost in thought, so he did not notice the commotion occurring at the concierge desk until Janet called out, “Mrs Rivera?”
When he looked up, he saw the woman they’d hired to look after Janet’s baby and Scully, talking excitedly to a man behind the desk. He had his hand on the phone as if preparing to make a call. Janet marched over, Moore following behind, and retrieved her daughter from the babysitter’s arms.
“Thank Heaven you’re back, Agent Mulder,” said the short man as he stood at Mulder’s approach. “Mrs Rivera just came down from Agent Scully’s room a few minutes ago and, well, there seems to be some problem with Agent Scully.”
Mulder turned to the matronly woman, trying to ignore the hammering in his chest. His questions were so clearly written on his face he didn’t need to ask.
“There is something very wrong with the lady. She was sleeping fine when you left. Even when the baby was fussy, the lady slept. Then, all of a sudden like, she comes out of the room but she’s not there, you know? I think maybe she’s sleepwalking, no? But then she starts talking to the corner of the room like someone’s there. Mister, there was nobody there, but she just keeps talking and calling for Missy….”
Mulder’s face was white as he ran for the stairway, not waiting to hear the rest. Moore moved surprisingly fast and was able to grab the younger man’s arm just before he could dash up the steps. “Mulder, wait. Who’s Missy?”
Mulder pulled his arm away. “She was Dana’s sister. She was shot about six months ago and killed, we think, by men who were sent to murder Scully.”
“Oh my God! Get up there but don’t interfere unless she’s trying to hurt herself. I’ll be right up.”
The agent nodded and took off, his feet barely touching the stairs.
Radison Suites Hotel, room #618.
“Missy, it’s so hard. I can’t think anymore; I can’t feel anymore. They keep filling me with this anger and telling me lies.”
Dana, you keep fighting things. How many times have I told you to let the emotions flow around you instead of trying to fight them head on?
“I don’t know how. They did things to me, Missy. I can’t remember all of it. I don’t want to remember. They hurt me so much!”
I know, Sis. I know. But eventually, you’ll have to accept even those bad memories. They’re a part of you now. “No, I won’t! I’ll never accept what they did; what they made me do! Never!”
Dana, it’s part of you now. It wasn’t your fault but if you keep trying to pretend it didn’t happen, they’re just have a stronger bond on you. If you remember, you can start to heal. “I’ll never heal, Missy. I can never be whole again. They took me and did things to me, horrible things, and I kept asking them to tell me why but they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t. And how can I stay with Mulder if I remember everything? He’ll hate me.”
Dana, their reasons don’t really matter. They may not even realize the truth themselves. Their actions will be repaid in their own time and manner. You have to let it go. And Fox will always love you. You know that.
“I know. But how can I let it go? They killed you, Missy, and now they’re killing me. I can feel it deep inside.”
Dana, please, listen to me. You’re wasting your energy trying to fight them. Remember what the Tao says, you win by losing. There’s another way to beat this, Sis, but you’ve got to practice what I tried to teach you. Find another teacher, Dana; someone who can lead you out of the darkness. “I think it’s too late, Missy. I’m dying.”
It was the resignation in her voice as she told her dead sister she was dying that finally broke Mulder. He had flung open the hotel room door, unsure of what he would find. There was Dana, with tears streaming down her face, talking to a vision of Melissa which only she could see. Only Moore’s warning him not to interfere held Mulder from going to her, holding her, bringing her back to him.
To hear her talking about her pain and anger was torture enough but to hear her accepting a death sentence …. His own tears went unheeded. He was good at getting into other people’s heads: that had been his job, what he was trained to do. What he saw when he looked into Dana’s froze his guts in fear.
Moore was at his side, breathing heavily, watching the young red-haired woman continue her conversation with the dead. He slowly moved into the room but waved Mulder back when he tried to follow. “Dana?”
Scully ignored the soft call of the physician. “I’m so tired, Missy. How much longer can I go on this way?” She tilted her head as if contemplating the reply.
Moore moved a little closer. “Dana,” he called in a stronger voice.
Scully turned to look at him. “Daddy?”
“Dana, it’s Dr Moore. You remember me, don’t you? What are you talking about with your sister?”
Scully shook her head slowly and studied Moore’s features.
“Dr Moore? I’m…, I’m talking to Melissa. She understands what happened. She’s telling me…”
“Telling you what, Dana?”
“She’s telling me that I have to remember.”
“Remember?”
“I don’t want to. She’s telling me that I have to remember so I can get well.”
“Dana, are you saying that if you remember what happened while you were gone, you’d get better? You know how to make yourself well?” There was an increasing excitement in Moore’s manner.
“No, I ,um, maybe… Missy?” Scully turned back to the corner but her eyes widened as if in surprise. “Missy? Where are you?”
The air that had held her sister’s form was suddenly empty.
“Dana? What’s wrong? Dana, we’re right here. Do you know where you are?”
“Missy? She’s gone. Missy!” Scully ran to the corner of the room searching frantically. Her frenzied hands running through the space Melissa had occupied. “Missy! Don’t leave me again!
Missy!” Then she bolted for the bedroom where she first saw her sister.
Moore moved to restrain Scully’s attempts to run into the other room, wrapping her in a bear hug. “Dana, stop it. Listen to me. You’re OK.”
Scully suddenly froze in Moore’s arms as if waking from a nightmare. She looked around the room, reorienting herself to place and time. “Dr Moore? What happened? Mulder?”
Her questioning gaze released Mulder’s stasis and he walked over, gently taking her from Moore’s loose embrace. He held her quietly for a moment knowing that what he next told her would upset her. “Dana, you were talking to Melissa. You thought she was here,” he whispered.
“Melissa?! I was…but she’s …. Oh God.” Scully sank into a nearby chair. “I … she was there in the corner. I was sleeping but I heard her calling me.”
“Dana, you remember what she was telling you?” Moore’s voice was still quivering with suppressed feelings.
“No, I, some of it, I guess. Why? She really wasn’t here.
What does it matter what I imagined her saying?” Scully’s tone was bitter.
“Actually, it might be very important. Your mind is giving us hints maybe, on how to help you. Somewhere the answer is in your memories.”
“My memories? How can memories help? You think they told me what they were doing? You think they cared? I can’t remember; I won’t.” Scully’s voice was increasingly agitated.
She didn’t want to remember; if anything she wanted to forget.
The truth held pain for her – only the lies held comfort.
“Enough now. You’ve had enough for tonight. I want you to relax. I think I have an idea and want to get Janet and the baby back to the lab. I want to check the results of the tests I began this morning.” His glance to Mulder contained a wealth of cautions.
“I’m getting worse, aren’t I? I know I’m right.”
“Dana, let me have a couple of days. I might have an answer for you. Then, yes, I want you to get into a hospital.”
Scully nodded slowly, acknowledging at least a part of what her sister was trying to tell her. She was learning acceptance.
Not five minutes after Moore left their suite the phone rang.
Scully, being the closest, picked it up on impulse.
It was Moore’s frantic voice, “Janet and the baby – they’re gone!”
Mulder was down in the lobby seconds later, with Scully close on his heels.
“The man behind the desk said he saw black sedans, and men in dark suits. They’ve got her!” Moore’s chest and belly heaved with panic. “God only knows what they’ll do to them.”
Scully questioned a few people while Mulder called in the local authorities. He wanted official statements and pictures of the tire marks on the pavement. This time the abduction would be documented.
Mulder looked up when he hung up the phone to see Mrs
Rivera eyeing his partner cautiously. When Scully tried to approach the woman to ask her what she’d seen, Mrs Rivera backed away from her and fled the hotel all together, muttering under her breath in Spanish, “Loco … loco ….”
Scully froze and tried to understand the drastic reaction.
Without even realizing it, she stiffened her back, and the muscles in her neck tightened. “I’m not crazy,” she said to herself and then ran out after the elderly woman. “I’m not crazy!” she bellowed repeatedly at the top of her lungs before Mulder could get to her side.
“Scully, come on, let’s go back up and lie down for a while.”
She resisted his gentle pull. “I don’t want to lie down! Let go!”
“Come on, Scully, the police are coming, so there’s really nothing more for us to do here, anyway.”
“No!” Her struggling became agitated. Mulder tried to pull her in to him, to squeeze her against his chest and keep her from hurting herself. But the more strength he used the more she fought. “Let go of me!”
“Okay, Scully, okay.” He loosened his grip and immediately she pulled away. “Just relax.”
She was straightening her blouse when Moore came up behind them. “Is everything all right here?” he asked with a careful eye on Dana.
“Fine,” she said with a lack of commitment. Then she lowered her head and a weak, “No, it’s not fine,” crept out. “I want to be a real person again.” When she looked up to Mulder’s browed eyes, she reminded him, “Janet said, back at the station, that she used to be a real person.”
“Scully, you’re the same person -”
“No. I’m not. Not really.” She hugged her arms tightly around her torso. “Mulder, for what just happend – I’m sorry ….”
He felt the turmoil spiraling inside her as clearly if it was his own. His first instinct was to wrap his arms around her and envelope the woman he loved in his protective arms. But he let her stand strong on her own, knowing that he was within arms length should she want reach for him. “Don’t worry about it, Scully. I can take it.” She looked up in to his eyes. His contagious half grin infecting her mood.
Moore watched with an approving nod and interjected, “I need to get back to the lab. The tests that I ran on Janet and the baby this morning should be nearly complete. Why don’t the two of you go lie down? I’ll call you with the results.”
Scully nodded her silent consent, and Mulder placed a shepherding hand on her lower back to steer her back to the hotel. Moore stopped him. “I’m going to call a friend that I have at the Presbyterian Hospital. She needs some serious attention. Tests and therapies that I don’t have the facilities to offer.”
“Do you trust this friend?”
Moore nodded. “I don’t know him well enough to trust him with my life. But I do trust him to do the right thing. She needs help. The symptoms are going to end up destroying her mind if we don’t intercede soon.”
Mulder studied the man’s honest eyes and gave him a nod of acceptance. Then he caught up with Scully and held the heavy glass door for her.
Room #618.
6:11PM.
They laid together on the couch with the soft, lulling music pouring from the small hotel radio. Mulder ran a lazy hand over her back. The fragrance of her hair and the warmth of her body on his calming him in a way that nothing else could. How could he let her know that she was the world to him? It was imperative to make her understand that giving up wasn’t an option; that since they were together, everything that effected her, effected him; that he needed her like he needed air.
“Mulder?” Her voice was soft against his chest.
“Hmmm?”
“I want you to promise me something.” She pulled up from him to look in his eyes.
“Anything.”
She repressed a small smile and pushed, “No, I’m serious. I need this from you.”
Mulder’s throat tensed. “You sound serious.”
She swallowed and collected her thoughts. “Mulder, if something happens to me -”
“Nothing is going to happen, Scully. We’re going to find a cure -”
She placed a delicate finger on his lips. “Please, let me say this.” Her eyes glittered with moisture as she felt his lips fall silent under her hand. “If we don’t find a cure, and I become … incapacitated … I want you to promise me that you’ll stay with your work.”
“Scully -”
“I don’t want you to become my nurse, Mulder, that has never been what our relationship has been about.”
He struggled for a moment. “I won’t put you in a hospital. I won’t allow you to be locked away somewhere.” He shook his head, “And it will never happen, so it’s a non-issue. You’re going to be fine.”
He tried to get up from the couch but she refused to be rolled off of him. “Mulder. Listen to me. I have to know that no matter what happens to me, that you will be fine.”
The opening of her heart, the reaching out of her soul created an ache in his own. “Scully. Dana, you have to know then, that I’ll only survive if you do.” She shook her head and tried to turn her grief ridden face away from him, but he forced her to look at him, refusing to hid his own tears. “We are connected, Dana. We have been for years. Not just emotionally, not just spiritually, but physically connected as well.
I will die without you, Dana.” A deep sob shook her chest, even though she tried to swallow it down. “But I refuse to die, and so you have to fight. Fight for your life, Dana. Because it’s more than just you, now, and it’s more than just me.”
He pulled her back down to him until he could feel her heart beating against his chest. She was crying against him, and he allowed himself to weep, too. They were shared tears of exhaustion and frustration and love and worry. And commitment. And the comforting knowledge that neither was alone.
Difficulties Under Heaven: Part 6
Cut out doors and windows to make a room,
but it is in the spaces where there is nothing that the usefulness of the room lies.
Therefore,
Benefit may be derived from something,
but it is in nothing that we find usefulness.-Tao Te Ching
Room #618.
11:58 PM.
The phone startled them back to reality. Scully leapt off of her partner and stumbled to the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, my dear, you’re sounding a little groggy. Did you have a nice sleep?”
Scully breathed through a smile at the joviality of Dr Moore’s voice and looked at Mulder, “Yes, it was wonderful.” Mulder, however, wasn’t fairing as well. The angle of the sofa’s arm had stressed his neck and shoulders at angles previously foreign to them. He growled and rubbed the tender muscles while he listened to Scully on the phone.
“Good to hear. Good to hear.” There was a mounting excitement in his voice that pulled Scully’s heart in to her throat.
“I need you and Mr Mulder to get here as soon as is humanly possible. I think I may have found a possible answer to your health problems, and I want to go over my findings with you. But first, write down this name and number.”
Scully scrounged the small desk for a pad and pencil, and took down the information Moore dictated to her. “You have an appointment tomorrow morning with this man. He’s a good doctor, and an honest man; and I need the new tests so I can monitor if this new therapy has any kind of significant effect.”
Mulder came up behind her and held his breath at the sanguine expression she wore. “We’ll be there soon, Dr Moore. Thank you.” Then she leapt in to Mulder’s arms.
February 3, 1996.
Chicago, Ill.
855 49th Street, plot # 11
12:30 AM.
The warehouse looked deceptively abandoned. Its dark, neglected features had long since lost their original color and sharp angles. The only light in the area came from the car headlights, as they cut through the bitter morning chill.
Mulder followed Scully’s directions, turning left and then right, and then following the alley until they hit the small circular enclosure. A bright green 1966 Buick, dulled by the blanket of night, sat precociously next to the waving figure of a little round man. Scully couldn’t resist a wave back to him, knowing that he couldn’t see her in the cabin.
Mulder pulled in next to Dr Moore and cut the ignition.
Without warning, without a sound, the blinding flash of light swept over them like a tidal wave. Instinctively Scully went to shield her eyes, but the very next conscious moment later, she was sitting several hundred feet from the car, enveloped in the cold and dark of the February morning.
Her head throbbed without mercy, her wrists and ankles ached with strain. The biting chill of the air stung her lungs when she called out for Mulder. When there was no response she wobbled to her unsteady feet and stumbled towards the headlights of the car. Somewhere between where she had been and where she was going, she fell over Mulder lying spread eagle on the cement.
“Ooh.” His breath response told her that he was still alive.
“Mulder! Mulder! Wake up! Are you okay?” Quickly her fingers scanned his body for obvious wounds.
“Scully? What happened?” He sat up, disorientated, holding her arms for balance and the comfort of knowing that she was still there with him. “There was a light ….”
All at once Scully bolted from his grasp and ran towards the cars. “Dr Moore!” she cried, his spherical form painfully absent from the area. “Dr Moore!”
“Scully,” Mulder called to her, before he could manage to get his legs to support him again. “Scully, wait!”
“He’s gone, Mulder!” Her voice was beyond panic, beyond terror. “He’s gone!”
“We’ve lost time, Scully. It was going onto one when we got here. It’s almost three now,” said Mulder as he glanced at his watch.
“What do you think happened?”
“You know the answer to that. The real question is what happened to Moore and what happened while we were out of it.”
He looked worriedly into her face. Moore had told them that he had news that could save Scully and now that news was gone, along with the man who might have had the answers for them.
“Where are you going?”
Scully had started moving to the door of the lab. “I want to see if there’s anything left that we could use.”
“Scully, I can come back here after we get you checked out at the hospital. I think that’s more of a priority right now.”
“Mulder, you’ve got to be kidding. There probably isn’t anything left in the lab but I’d be willing to bet that whatever might have been, will be gone by the time we get back. I’m fine.
Now, are you coming with me?” She moved with determination towards the door.
After a small sigh, Mulder followed, pulling out his flashlight.
It proved unnecessary, however, since Scully found that the electricity was still working by flipping the lightswitch. The room was surprisingly neat. “I thought it would have been ransacked for some reason,” said Scully as she moved to look through the paperwork on the desk.
“I have a feeling that Moore was carrying all the data he had about his theory. It was too important to him. I’ll take the hard drive from his computer, though. The guys might have some luck lifting the memory.” Mulder walked over to the machine to disconnect the cables.
Scully was looking over the books which lined the walls on floor to ceiling shelves. She stopped when she came upon a small picture frame with two yellowing photos tucked inside.
They were pictures of a young woman with dark hair and a small girl of about eight. She caught her breath as she recognized the eyes of Dr Moore staring back at her.
“What’d you find?” asked Mulder as he sidled up beside her.
“I’m not sure but I think I know who they are,” she answered in a distracted whisper. She put the frame into her pocket.
“C’mon, Scully. Let’s get to the hospital. I’ve got a headache that would stop traffic. I’d be willing to bet you have one too.” He grinned as she tried to deny it but couldn’t. Her head was throbbing.
North Presbyterian Hospital.
3rd Floor Waiting room.
10:45 AM.
“Nothing, Mulder. I can’t believe that there’s nothing wrong now!” Scully shook her head in disbelief. She looked through the lab reports she had commandeered from the hospital staff. “All the results are within normal limits; the ACTH levels, the liver enzymes, everything.”
“What did the scans show?”
“The same. Nothing outside of the normal parameters. For both of us, thank God.”
Mulder leaned forward to touch her cheek. “I told you I was OK, Scully.”
“Mulder, we had no way of knowing whether they took this opportunity to give you one of those implants. We had to know for sure.” She shifted on the hard plastic of the chairs which were common in most hospital waiting rooms. She was so tired.
Mulder grinned, then broke out into a chuckle. The incongruent sound rattled Scully’s frayed composure. Moore was gone; Janet and the baby were gone; whatever evidence Moore had compiled was probably gone, and Mulder was laughing!
There had been a light; they had lost time. Mulder might have been used as she had been, yet there he was — laughing.
“Mind letting me in on the joke?” she asked in a sharp edge voice.
In reply, he pulled her out of the chair and gathered her to him, coaxing her stiff body to relax against his. “I was picturing the look on the ER staff’s collective faces when you bullied your way in here and started ordering those tests. Skinner’s going to be soothing ruffled feathers for the rest of the week.” He kissed her forehead.
The man was insane. There could be no other explanation for it, she thought. On the other hand, if she had to be stuck with a madman, at least he was her madman. She smiled as she hugged him back.
They made their way to the seventh floor in order to keep the appointment Moore had made for them with Dr Haluji Kokaji. Both were weary from lack of sleep and emotional upheavals. Spending time becoming intimately familiar with the hospital’s lab, didn’t improve their mood. They knew, however, they had to find out what Moore had discussed with his colleague. They still might salvage something from this trip.
The elevator doors opened to chaos. On the far end of the hall, stood several doctors, nurses and orderlies gawking at uniformed police officers moving in and out of a nearby office.
The flash of a camera could be seen coming from the open door.
The agents glanced worriedly at each other as they reached for their IDs.
They flipped the badges to the first uniformed officer who directed them to a burly, African-American man wearing a slightly rumpled suit and tie. His name was Larry Burke.
“Detective Burke? I’m Fox Mulder. This is my partner, Special Agent Dana Scully. Can I ask what happened here?”
“FBI? We didn’t call the Bureau,” said Burke sourly.
“We realize that, Detective,” replied Scully in a placating tone. She forced the tired muscles in her face to smile. “We had an appointment with a Dr Haluji Kokaji regarding a case we’re investigating.”
“I don’t think Dr Kokaji will be keeping that appointment. We got a call about two hours ago. Housekeeping found the office ransacked. I mean this place was destroyed! Administration telephoned Kokaji to notify him and got no answer. I just got a call from the guys we sent to his place. Looks like someone left in a hurry. There was a half-eaten meal left on the kitchen table.” Burke gave the agents a sly look. “I don’t suppose you guys would be willing to tell me what you were investigating?”
“I don’t think we have anything you could use, Detective,”
Mulder replied. The grim expression on his face spoke eloquently of his frustration. He took a moment to look into the office and then pulled a card from his wallet. He handed it to Burke. “Please send copies of your report and the forensics to this address.” Before Burke could argue, Mulder put his hand under Scully’s arm and steered her down the hallway.
“Mulder, don’t you think we should stay here and see if we can find anything?”
“Scully, you know as well as I do that we’re not going to find anything. We’re too late.” He impatiently jabbed the button for the elevator. “I think Moore made a mistake in his estimation about Dr Kokaji’s honesty. It may be that phone call he made was what tipped off our friends.”
Scully hung her head, letting his words filter through mind.
She knew he was right. “Now what?”
“We go home. There’s nothing left for us here.”
Without another word, she followed him into the waiting elevator.
Epilogue
As the sun set behind the low fence, Scully sighed and rested her chin in her hands. It had been a long two weeks, and even though Mulder had been ridiculously adamant in seeing to her rest and recuperation for entire three days following their return from Chicago, Scully still felt a little tired and achy. Not that she’d ever admit that to Mother Hen Mulder.
Margaret slid the hot chocolate to her daughter and seated herself next to her at the breakfast table. Mentally, she noted the puffiness under Dana’s eyes. But the color in her cheeks and her dry humor was returning to the only daughter left alive and again she thanked god for Fox Mulder and his seemingly endless devotion to Dana. She didn’t know many of the details of their latest investigation, nor did she wish to. The simple knowledge that Dana was in trouble and Fox was there with her helping her – was enough. “How is Fox?”
“He’s fine, Mom.” Dana smiled her infamous toothless smile and cradled the steaming cup in her hands. “He’s finishing up on the paper work, believe it or not.” She swirled the dark liquid sinking a melted marshmallow with her finger. “I’m really enjoying his sudden burst of pampering. More than I thought I would.” She chuckled to herself and looked up her mother.
“You know, Mom, you must be the last person in the US who makes hot chocolate from scratch. I love that.”
“It’s worth the effort.” Margaret’s heart smiled and it was reflected on her face. “You’re looking better. Maybe pampering is what you needed. You wear it well.”
“Oh,” Scully chortled, “I’m not getting used to it, Mom. I’ll be back to finishing up the paperwork and sorting out his impossibly unorganized notes and all of the other stuff soon enough, I’m sure. Do you know he actually did my laundry?”
“No!”
With a satisfied nod she added, “He even separated the delicates from the colors, and folded my socks.”
Margaret laughed, clapping her hands. “Oh, Dana, marry him now! You can’t let him get away!”
Through a half-hearted smiled, she looked down in to her mug. “He’s not going to get away, Mom.” Without either of them knowing the exact reason why, the air in the room suddenly felt twice as heavy. Dana’s half-cocked smile tried to lighten the mood, “I’ve got handcuffs, remember?” The cover didn’t entirely work. Margaret caught the fleeting tightening of her daughter’s throat.
“Dana?”
Quickly trying to change the subject, Scully motioned to the mug, “How do you keep the chocolate from burning before it’s melted enough to add the milk?”
With one hand Margaret reached out and stopped the lame attempt. “Why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you, Dana?”
Giving her best evasive shrug, Scully said, “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine, Mom.”
Sitting back, Margaret eyed her daughter. Scully knew there was no way out of this conversation and she exhaled. “No, Dana. When I said that about you marrying Fox, I was just … I didn’t mean anything by it. He treats you well because he loves you so much, that’s all I meant.”
“I know.”
The innuendo wouldn’t lie still for long. Margaret raised her eyebrows and ran a finger around the lip of her mug, “Not that I wouldn’t like seeing you two married. Maybe with a baby or two.”
Dana shot up in the chair, “Mom!”
“Especially now that you’ve decided not to keep your relationship a secret. But if you two have decided for whatever reason,” Margaret raised her hands in mock defeat, “not to go that route, I certainly respect your decision.” Sipping her chocolate, Scully nodded and looked out the bay window. “You have,” Margaret was amazed at the courage she found to ask, “talked about it, though. And the two of you did make the choice together, right?”
Scully closed her eyes and slumped back in her chair. How did her mother do that? She always knew the right questions to ask – the ones Dana didn’t particularly want to answer. “We haven’t … actually talked about it, no.” She looked up at her mother’s caring eyes that didn’t betray one ounce of shock.
“Things hadn’t been going so well between us for the last few months. The strain of the job, the secretive relationship, they were difficult to deal with and keep the work from suffering at the same time.” Her mother nodded for her to continue. “And I wasn’t feeling … like me. And, well,” she inhaled deeply, “we never really talked about it.”
“But now that things are better -”
“No, probably not now, either.” Dana felt the question her mother wanted to ask, but none came. “Mom, things are too complicated. I’m seeing a doctor, a hypnotherapist of all things, to try and help me … work through the time that I missed. And then there is the doctor that we met in Chicago, the one who was abducted. His family is in California, and I want to go out there to find them. And then of course, there’s the normal work load that keeps us so busy. And the search for his sister -”
“I see.” Setting her mug back on the table, Margaret looked out the window to the empty bird feeder nailed haphazardly to the large hammocked pine tree.
“And anyway,” Scully added in a small voice, “I don’t think we’re really the marrying type.”
Margaret nodded, “Yes, I see. You both have a lot of really good excuses.” Scully’s eyes shot up at her mother’s remark, but only a sad look of realization met her. “Well, maybe someday, when you both aren’t quite so busy.”
Scully only nodded.
The knock on the door startled the two women, and they giggled at the small jump that shook them both. Margaret rose and answered the door with a smile. “Fox!”
“Hi.” He offered her a brief hug and his best shy smile, “I know you’re having a mother/daughter night, but I just wanted to stop by and pick up the photos from Scully.”
“Come in, Fox, you’re always welcome here.” She gently pulled him through the door.
Scully’s sheepish, “Hey,” greeted him in the archway of the breakfast room. Her head rested contentedly against the wall.
“You couldn’t stay away from me for a second, huh?”
He shrugged, “What can I say? I’m hooked.” He stopped across the room from her to take in the sight of her. “You look great.”
“I’m starting to feel like a real person again.”
He steped towards her, “You’ve always been a real person, Scully.” She shook her head, but he ran his palm across her cheek, and stepped in closer to her. His voice lowered to barely a whisper and the gravely tone caught in her ear. “You are the realest person in my life.”
She blinked the tears away and ran her hand across his. “I’ll get you the pictures. From her purse in the living room she pulled the two color photographs, and spoke in a careful, but decided voice. “I want to see them, Mulder.”
“What?” He quickly turned his attention to Scully and her determined face. It was clear of all the confusion and anxiety that had for the last week – no, the last year – lived there. She was becoming the old Scully again. The one he first fell in love with. Strong, and assertive, and damn hard to figure out sometimes.
She exhaled, “I guess I feel an obligation to them, and to Dr Moore. We have to find him; get him back.”
There was no question in his mind. “We will.”
Scully ran a finger over the dark chestnut hair of the woman, and her oval face turned to the pre-teen at her side. “He wanted to find them, Mulder. Now, I need to do it for him.”
Mulder shook his head, “Why? How do you know they want to be found? We don’t know the circumstances … people don’t become estranged for no reason -”
“Some people do.” She looked up to the sound of her mother’s humming in the kitchen. The clattering of plates on the table brought back memories of a bustling family setting down to their evening meal. “I can’t explain it, Mulder, but I need to see them. And talk to them.”
Mulder bit the inside of his cheek. This didn’t bode well. He was overjoyed that Scully was feeling better. But because of her returning health, she had adamantly refuse to take any time off at all to recuperate. He had acceded to her request for their normal work load with the stipulation that she would promise not to push herself too far too fast, and that she would see a friend of his who specialized in hypnotherapy. Looking up long-lost family members of an abducted doctor somehow never ended up in his version of the equation. “Scully, what about the hypnoregression?”
She looked up at him, “I’ll continue it once I get back.”
The concern on his face was easy to read, “Back?”
She knew what he was going to say, but she forged ahead, anyway. “They live in Oregon. I’m not sure where, but I don’t think they should be that hard to find.”
He placed a hand over hers, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.
I mean, what would you say to them, anyway? What would you tell them?”
“That he loved them.” She shrugged. “You’re not going to change my mind, Mulder, and I’d rather have you come with me rather than stand in my way on this one.” She watched his glance fall back to the photo, “If someone hadn’t told Missy all those years ago how much we loved her and missed her, she might never have come home.” Her guilty mind forced her to look down to the smiling face stilled in her hand, “Of course, then she wouldn’t have been ….”
“Dinner is ready. Fox, I’m assuming you’ll be joining us,”
Mrs Scully swept out of the kitchen, “And don’t think of making up some excuse. We’re having lasagna. I know you like lasagna.” She smiled her motherly smile that he simply couldn’t deny.
The three of them sat down at the table, and Mulder did the honors of serving the women in his life. Thinking idly how wonderful it would be to have his own mother at the table. And then of course, Samantha. God, Samantha. Scully and Samantha; his family.
The End.
The Gate of All Wonders
Title: The Gate Of All Wonders
Authors: KMNAHILL and MD1016
Series: The Way
Written: September 1996
Rating: NC-17
Category: TRH
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance
Summary: An assignment in Oregon turns out to be more than first expected. Humorous antics from the Lone Gunmen.
Hello, hello. This is the promised sequel to Difficulties Under Heaven, which was the sequel to The Way (do we see a trend here?). You really aught to read those two stories first. But if you choose not to, just know that Mulder and Scully are most definitely a couple (and have been for almost a year), and that in the previous story Scully had some bad side effects from the implant (3rd season spoiler) and was helped through them by a wonderful older gentleman by the name of Dr. Moore.
This story contains some NC-17 scenes (very explicit) and a lot of humor (we felt we all deserved something a little more upbeat after the last one). We’ve also thrown in a little plot for those of you who demand that sort of thing. And for those of you who’ve actually been to Ashland, Oregon: some of the places we’ve described are real, and some only exist in how we have chosen to remember them.
As usual, all of the cool stuff in this story probably belongs to Chris Carter and/or the people he works for. The other stuff we supplied free of charge, so there are no pangs of guilt on our part. Well, not many, anyway. Also, this was written pre-“Avatar,” and we have chosen to deny the whole Skinner-has-a-wife scenario (Is she dead? Is she a succubus? And what’s with the red coat?). Also, also, we have a fleeting MacSpooky (“Generations”) reference (which we didn’t get permission for, either). Don’t blink.
A special thanks to Nicole (NVRGRIM) for her time and comments which were amazingly on target and helpful. Enjoy!
The Gate of All Wonders Part One
Always be without desire
in order to observe its wondrous subtleties;Always have desire
so that you may observe its manifestations.Both of these derive from the same source;
They have different names but the same designation.
Mystery of mysteries,
The gate of all wonders.-Tao Te Ching
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Monday, April 1, 1996
12:07 PM
The sun was burning white behind the rounded head of Walter Skinner, but neither of the agents before him were enjoying the view. Their boss was mad – no, beyond mad. He was royally steamed. And he’d been venting for the better half of an hour, with no end in sight.
“Eighty-seven dollars for a lamp? Six hundred fifty dollars for a stereo color television? One hundred twenty dollars for room service? Just what the hell did you two do out there? And what is this about a babysitter?” He leaned forward to give the agents the full effect of his nostril flare.
A trait he was both proud of, and used without indemnity. “The case – and I use that term loosely -” he bit under his breath, “as I understand it, wasn’t solved? Is that correct, Agent Mulder?”
Mulder shifted in the uncomfortable pleather chair. His stomach rumbled slightly reminding him of the skipped breakfast. God. He wanted to be anywhere but sitting in Skinner’s office at that moment.
“Yes, sir.”
“So all I have to show for this whole fiasco is a bill for $5500 and a two page,” he stood and bent over his desk, “double spaced report.”
Mulder slouched a little lower in their chairs. It had been a vain hope that the AD wouldn’t pick up on the obvious attempt to pad the file. Skinner never missed a beat with his two ‘favorite’ agents.
And never missed an opportunity to pull them back in to line, Mulder chewed in his head. And from the look on Skinner’s face, he wasn’t done yet. “Agent Scully,” he breathed and sat back in his swivel chair.
“I must say that I am very disappointed. I expect more from you than this.”
Mulder’s protective nature reared up. “This isn’t Agent Scully’s fault-”
“Agent Scully can,” Skinner cut him off, “I’m sure, speak for herself, Agent Mulder.” Then he turned a hard eye to the woman facing him.
Scully inhaled, calm and collected. “Sir, I understand you’re angry because of the expense report-”
“And the lack of case resolution. Or a case,” he held up the paper-thin file, “for that matter! Now I know why you waited a month to turn in the expense vouchers!”
Mulder took this as his cue to rise, and pace the room, trying to gain some kind of control over the interrogation. “The money is incidental. The X-Files annually demands less financial backing than Violent Crimes – or any other department for that matter – with almost double the success rate.”
Skinner shook his head, “Not per capita, it doesn’t. You and Agent Scully are the two most expensive agents we have-”
A worrisome thought hit Scully hard. “Sir, have the expense reports been denied?” Her porcelain mask betrayed nothing of the anxiety that she held. Just the thought of finding enough money to cover their trip left her with a queasy feeling. She only had a little more than half of the sum in savings, and she was fairly sure that she was way ahead of Mulder on that one.
“No,” Skinner sat back in his chair and smoothed his tie. “The report was filed and approved. Barely.” He added with significant emphasis. “Now, I want answers to the gaping holes in both of your stories. Tell me again how the room got trashed.”
Mulder saw the sense of relief that settled in his partner’s shoulders and found his seat again. Better not create unnecessary tension, he thought idly, she’s looking a little tired today. Or was that preoccupation?
What was she thinking, staring up at their boss with such a calm in her eyes?
Mulder turned to the man behind the desk as well. “We don’t know, sir.
It was that way when Agent Scully woke from her nap.” He looked again to Scully but her gaze remained hard on their boss.
Skinner laced his fingers and tried another tactic. “What time was this?”
Mulder went to answer again, but Skinner cut him off before his mouth could open. “Agent Scully?”
“I woke at about 6:30 in the evening,” her voice was strong and even.
Mulder was amazed that Skinner hadn’t been able to ruffle her feathers yet. Although, since returning from Chicago, Scully had been more herself than she had been in almost a year…and the old Scully could take anything.
Skinner wrinkled his brow. “Why were you napping in the middle of the day, Agent Scully? Were you drunk?”
“No!” she insisted, not allowing herself to be thrown off balance by the question.
“Then,” Skinner pushed her further, “can you explain sleeping through the destruction of a thirty inch television, and a lamp, and a vase…” he picked up the report and read directly from it, “… containing a fresh cut flower arrangement?”
Scully shook her head. “No, sir, I can’t. I hadn’t been feeling well that afternoon, so I decided to rest while Agent Mulder went down to the police station to do the preliminary ground work with the witnesses.”
Skinner’s ears perked up. “Witnesses? Plural? There was only one listed in the report. And I see that she has since disappeared.”
“Yes, sir.” Scully’s voice was slow and deliberate, “Before Agent Mulder and myself could interview the first witness, she…disappeared as well.”
“Unbelievable.” Skinner sat back in the chair and rubbed the growing headache above is left eye. “Do you two ever read the reports you hand in? I’m seeing a pattern of missing people and bodies all around you two.”
“That is because,” Scully added in a steady voice, “we go where others refuse to. We see the things others are afraid to. The holes are there, sir, because there is nothing else to report. Our cases are our cases because no one else will touch them; they’re afraid of the holes.”
Mulder turned back to his partner. Her demeanor hadn’t changed from the first moment she walked in the room. Every move, every word she uttered was calculated and professional. And still, none of the power behind them was lost. She was amazing.
Skinner dropped the report on his desk and looked both agents over carefully. There wasn’t much to the evidence presented that he could rebut.
“However, sir, you are correct when you point out that this case, as it stands now, presents more questions than it answers. I would like to follow-up on some possible leads.”
Mulder straightened in his chair. He knew, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, where this was leading.
“I was unaware of any new leads, Agent Scully. You failed to mention them in your report.”
“Sir,” Mulder began.
Skinner forestalled him with the lifting of his finger. “What is the nature of this lead?”
“I believe I may have found Dr. Moore’s family. I think they’re living somewhere in Oregon.”
“Somewhere in Oregon?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I see.” Skinner flipped the top page of their report. “Dr. Moore was a ‘consultant’ you brought into this case? You were rather vague as to why, specifically, you needed an outside consultant as opposed to an in-house resource. Just how was Dr. Moore involved with this case? And why would the location of this man’s family concern the Bureau?”
“The witness we interviewed made certain claims as to what had occurred to herself and her child. She described what some might call an ‘abduction’ by an unknown agency. Dr. Moore had previously encountered other persons who made similar claims and was conducting research into these stories.” Scully shifted uncomfortably, finally betraying some of her inner turmoil. “He also disappeared during the course of our investigation. It is my belief his family may have further information about his work and research and this, in turn, will lead to our missing witnesses.”
“Just what kind of ‘abduction’ are we talking about?” asked Skinner, looking at Mulder, challenging him to tell him the whole truth for a change.
“An abduction similar to Agent Scully’s, Sir,” Mulder replied – challenge met.
“I see,” Skinner repeated. He leaned back, thinking rapidly. So this case begins and ends with what happened to Scully. Interesting. But it was time to rein these two in for a while. “I’m afraid I cannot devote any more of this agency’s resources to a case which has no solid leads.”
“Sir, Dr. Moore’s family…”
“May have no further information,” Skinner finished Scully’s sentence.
“Oregon’s a big state, Agent Scully, and you don’t even know where they are, let alone, where Dr. Moore might be.” He closed the case file. “That will be all.”
Scully opened her mouth to protest but her words died in her throat.
Without a glance at her partner or her boss, she walked out of the office.
Mulder looked as if he, too, wanted to argue with the AD, but simply followed Scully, shutting the door behind him.
–—
The door had no sooner closed behind Mulder and Scully when the intercom buzzed, startling Skinner out of his reverie.
“Yes?”
“Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but Agent Hardesty is here to see you.”
“Thank you, Kimberly, please send her in.”
Skinner stood and self-consciously straightened his tie. He smiled to himself as he remembered what usually happened to his ties when Michele was around. They still hadn’t found his blue and red striped one.
“Come in,” he said as she rapped on his office door.
“Director Skinner, thank you for seeing me without an appointment, Michele Hardesty said as she moved into the room, smoothing her cropped brown hair neatly behind her left ear. She waited for the click of the door behind her, allowing a glance back to be sure that it was closed tightly before she glided across the floor into Skinner’s waiting arms.
After a proper and somewhat lengthy greeting, Michele finally pulled out of his embrace. “I’ve missed you.” Her deep brown eyes scanned his face, noting the deep lines of tension that rounded his mouth. Her thick lips curved in to a cat smile before pressing against his again. If there was any stress in the man, she knew just how to relieve it.
His left hand ran through her hair; its silkiness pure pleasure against his fingers. “Me too. How did you make out in Houston?”
“About as we expected. Those guys could have handled things without our help. That new SAC should have let his guys lose on this instead of holding them back and calling us. There’s a lot of resentment brewing down there.”
He gave a thin-lipped nod. “I’ll take care of it. I had my doubts about putting him in charge but I was outvoted. Thanks for going down and checking things out for me.”
“No problem.” Michele ran a well manicured finger over the tip if his thick chin. “Except you owe me one very nice dinner and something special for dessert.” Her wicked grin told Skinner she wasn’t referring to food. “Was that Mulder and Scully I saw leaving here? She seemed upset.”
Skinner sighed. “Yes. They just got back from Chicago. Something happened there but you’d never know it from the report they submitted.”
He restlessly paced to the office window. “Sometimes I wish they would just drop their guard long enough to tell me the truth.”
“You know why they can’t, Walter. It may be best for you not to know everything.”
“Michele, I can’t accept that. They are two of my agents. I can’t protect them if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“I know.” Michele sighed as she walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest. “At least I hope they were able to work out their personal troubles.”
“What are you talking about?” Skinner turned to face her, keeping her close to him.
“Didn’t you notice? Things seemed rather ‘tense’ between the two of them for awhile. Everyone was talking about it. I just attributed it to the strain of trying to keep their relationship a secret.”
Skinner froze. “What relationship?”
“Walter, don’t tell me you didn’t know. You can be so unobservant sometimes.” She smiled to take the sting out of her words. “Maybe you should sit down.”
They moved back to the chairs recently vacated by the subjects of their conversation. Michele retained a hold on Skinner’s hand. She’d been gone almost three weeks and had missed his touch more than she cared to admit even to herself. “Walter, I don’t know for sure but I’d be willing to bet that Agents Mulder and Scully have been more than just partners for close to a year now. It would be my guess that things changed when they were involved in that Frank Kellogg investigation.”
“What makes you say that if you don’t have any proof?”
“Walter, all you needed were eyes! The way they looked at each other; they way they were always so aware of each other, it was obvious.”
“Oh, that,” Skinner scoffed. “They’ve always had a close relationship. I noticed that when Scully was missing those three months but they’d never…”
“I know they’ve been close. That’s not what I’m talking about.” She shook her head in exasperation. “Men can be so blind about things sometimes.
You’re going to need to trust me on this, Walter. Don’t be surprised if you get a wedding invitation from those two within the next year.”
“But they work together. They wouldn’t jeopardize the X-Files. Mulder worked too hard to get them reopened.”
“I’m sure that’s true. They’ve been very discrete. Actually, too discrete.
That’s what tipped me off that there might have been some trouble. I missed the normal kidding around. From what I’ve heard and saw just now in the hallway, things seem better.”
Skinner sat back in amazement. Now what was he suppose to do? He didn’t know he really wanted to do anything at all. Still…
“Walter, I don’t know what you’ve got boiling around in that rugged little head of yours but leave those two alone. If I ever saw two people who needed each other, it’s those two. So, as long as they do their job and are discrete, it’s none of your business.”
“You’re sure about all this, aren’t you?” Skinner was prone to agree with her.
“Yep. Leave them alone and see what happens. You’ll know how to help them when the time comes.”
Michele’s words struck a spark. Help them? He remembered the look on Scully’s face as she requested time to hunt down that consultant’s family.
There was something more there that she didn’t feel comfortable sharing.
He wondered if this had to do with her own abduction. Mulder had hinted that it did. What if this had been Michele? How would he feel?
“What?” Her voice gripped his heart as he thought about what it would be like if he’d lost her.
“Nothing. I was thinking that there might be a way of helping them now.”
He grinned as his thoughts took shape.
–—
Scully’s Apartment
5:48 PM
“Because I don’t think you’re ready! Okay? There! I said it.” Mulder stood leaning over a fuming Scully on the couch. Her arms and legs were tightly crossed, and her blazing blue eyes glared up at him.
“That is not your decision to make.”
Mulder slapped his thighs in frustration. “Not a month ago, you were huddled in the corner of some hotel room in Chicago talking to your dead sister!” Scully closed her eyes and set her jaw. He wasn’t playing fair to bring that up. Not fair at all. “And now you want to run all over the country looking for people you don’t know – and have no idea where to find, I might add – without any kind of Bureau backing for an undetermined length of time for no particular reason! Scully, NO!”
“Fine!” She screamed at him and leapt from the couch, only to march angrily in to her bedroom and slam the door.
Mulder paused for a moment. He wasn’t expecting that response. He put an ear to the thin wood door, listening for any sounds of distress…like a possible sniffle, or maybe even a whimper. Then, he could go in and apologize for yelling, and explain that he was only looking out for her and that he loved her. But no such sounds occurred.
Instead he heard her moving about, the closet door opened and shut once or twice, and there was a heavy zipper unzipping. And was that her dresser drawer slamming shut? He opened the door to find her dropping an arm full of undergarments in to a suitcase. “What the hell are you doing?”
She didn’t stop in her packing. “I’m going without you.”
“What?” She refolded the plaid silk blouse and neatly fit it in the suitcase over the two pairs of jeans and her folded black turtle neck. “Scully, can’t we talk about this?”
“Apparently not. You’ve been yelling for the last two hours. I’m tired of the conversation.” Her increasingly sarcastic tone told him he was in danger of completely loosing the reasonable side of Scully over to the rarely seen, but highly emotional and stubborn side of Scully. She tossed in some socks and pulled her travel alarm from the drawer. “I’ll call you when I find a motel.”
“Scully, you can’t go out there alone,” he tried to be as rational as he could. “We’re a team.”
“That’s what I’ve always thought,” she said, folding a night shirt over twice and stuffing it in between the sweaters and the jeans. “But, maybe this time, this is something I need to do on my own. You went to Alaska…and New Mexico…and got on that train…and-”
“And look what that got me!” He pointed out triumphantly, as if that one sentence made his case and point. Scully on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice he’d said anything at all. Mulder watched her disappear in to the bathroom and return with various bottles that carried a mixture of Scully smells on them. “Look, don’t make me say it.” His tone was harsh and low.
She stopped mid-stride and looked at him. “Say what?”
Mulder sighed. Well, she forced him to it. It wasn’t his fault. But he had to do it. Even Skinner had seen a trip to Oregon as a waste of time. And Scully didn’t need that. She needed to stay focused on recuperation, she needed to stay put and allow for a normal life for a while. In short, she needed to relax. Hell, he needed to relax. “I’m putting my foot down, Scully.”
Her eyes widened under raised eye brows. “Excuse me?”
“Scully, I forbid you to go.”
Her only response was a rich throaty laugh. She deposited the toiletries in to the suitcase and quickly zipped it up. Then she clumsily pulled it from the bed and walked it to the living room, and set it next to the door.
Laughing all the way.
Mulder stood in the doorway to her bedroom, not at all feeling as if she had taken his authority seriously. “Scully, I’m serious. I’m not going to let you go.”
She looked at him playfully and put her hand on her hips. “I’d like to see you try and stop me.”
His expression didn’t change. “I will if I have to.” The sincerity in his eyes caused a twinge of worry in her gut. In the span of a second, she reached for her purse, grabbed the suitcase, and was out the door.
Mulder was right behind her, “Scully!” What was she thinking? That she’d make it all the way down to the car carrying a forty pound suitcase, and get in to the locked car, and get it started and down the street before he could catch up to her? Was she out of her mind? Women. Go figure.
She didn’t even make it to the middle of the hall before Mulder caught up to her and with one arm, slipped her over his shoulder and carried her bodily back to her apartment; suitcase slamming against the back of his calves. Every step, the case nearly knocked him off balance, but she refused to give up her hold on it. “Let me go!” she screamed, “Put me down!”
The little old man in the apartment across from her peeked out his door.
Scully called for him, “Mr. Klein!”
“Do you want me to call the police?” His small weak voice asked from behind the chained door.
Without thinking, Mulder turned swiftly to the man and shouted, “No!”
Mulder’s awkward – and all too abrupt turn – slammed Scully’s head squarely into the door frame. She called out in pain, and released the heavy suitcase. Mulder reacted the second he felt the impact through her, and pulled her down in front of him, “Oh, geez, Scully, I’m sorry.”
“Bastard.” A hand went to her temple, and she wore a small pout on her mouth. No blood.
The door across the hall started to closed, and Mulder reached out a hand as if to stop it. “Everything is fine,” Mulder tired to convince the man, with limited success. He turned Scully to her neighbor.
“Scully tell the nice man you’re fine and not to call the police.”
Still holding her head, she swayed slightly in Mulder arms. “Everything’s okay, Mr. Klein.” Her knees wobbled a bit, and Mulder pulled her in to her apartment and closed the door before the situation could get any worse.
She fell back against the wall, her head throbbing with the profanities she wanted to scream. “Are you trying to kill me? There have to be less painful ways.”
He pulled her to the couch. “Sit down. Let me look at your head.” Her face was flush, and with a gentle finger he could feel a small bump rising just above her left temple, well past her hair line. “Do you want some ice?”
She flinched at the pain his touch caused, “Leave me alone, Mulder.” He sat back on the coffee table and waited for her to look up. And when she did, she repeated her last phrase. “Leave me alone.”
The ache of waking tears shot through his eyes at her gut-wrenching request, sending a burning sensation through his entire face. He shook his head. “I can’t.” Scully exhaled heavily, and sat back in to the couch, with a hand to her throbbing head. “I don’t understand this obsession with finding Moore’s family, but I guess I can’t really stop you from going.”
Scully looked up at him. “No, you can’t.”
“So, I guess, I’m going to have to go with you after all.” Mulder added silently as a mental note, “And maybe I can get you to relax a little; turn this in to more of a vacation.” A moment passed while Scully studied his eyes and a smile broke out on her face. Mulder added for her benefit: “Can’t break up the team.”
“Can’t do that.” Her face became very solemn again. “But Mulder, that crap about putting your foot down – don’t pull that again. That’s not how we work. That’s not how I work. Got it?”
“Understood, Agent Scully.” He gave her a mock salute to lighten the moment, but she didn’t laugh. “I’m really sorry, Scully. I won’t do that again. I just got scared that maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Male insecurities. I just want to know that my opinion matters to you.”
She smiled her Mona Lisa smile and leaned forward to him, ignoring the dull throb behind her eyes. “Your opinion does matter, Mulder. Even when I ignore it and go with my own.” And ever so gently, she brushed her lips over his, adding her own type of sugar to the medicine of her words.
They broke apart as her phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Agent Scully?” Skinner’s voice was the last one she expected to hear and was the last one she wanted to hear.
“A.D. Skinner? Yes, sir,” she answered tightly. Mulder looked up at her response.
“Agent Scully, I was looking for you and Agent Mulder when I was told you had both left for the day. I hope there’s nothing wrong.”
“Uh, no sir. There was just some work we decided could be done from home, ah, my home,” she corrected, blushing furiously. Mulder’s grin at her faux pas did nothing for her composure.
Skinner cleared his throat. “I see. Well, there’s a case that’s come to my attention that I want you and Mulder to look into.”
“A case?” Scully’s stomach sank with the implications. A new case meant postponing her trip to Oregon. Something she wasn’t willing to do.
“Yes. It’s not something you and Mulder normally investigate but nevertheless…”
“What does it involve?” she asked biting her lip.
“Tax fraud, and a possible illegal alien ring.”
There was a moments hesitation while Scully shot a bewildered look to Mulder. His brows rose and he mouthed a “what is it?”
“Sir, isn’t that a matter for the IRS? I don’t understand…”
“The file will be waiting on your desk, Agent Scully. I expect you and Mulder to arrange for transportation to Oregon as soon as possible.”
Scully sat back in to the sofa, not quite sure if she’d heard him correctly. “Oregon?”
“Is there some problem with this, Scully?”
“Uh,” she shook her head, “No, sir.”
“Good. Oh, and Scully, I do not want another incomplete report like the one I got from Chicago. I expect you and Mulder to stay out there for as long as necessary. Do I make myself clear?”
“Uh,” she stammered again.
“And when you and Agent Mulder return, I expect things to get back to normal around here. Or as close to normal at things ever are. Is that understood?”
She gave a tentative: “Yes, sir. We’ll stay out there as long as necessary…”
“Is there anything else?”
“No, sir. Just…thank you,” she breathed. Could he really be saying what she thought he was? Was he allowing them the time they needed to find Moore’s daughter and granddaughter? Another pause, then the clink broke the connection. She felt dazed by Skinner’s actions, by the meaning behind the words. “He knows,” she thought aloud.
Mulder was hovering over her, concerned but patient. He caught his breath when Scully looked at him with her face glowing with her smile. “Knows what?” he asked simply.
Her eyes were brilliant pools staring up at him, “Get packed, Mulder.
We’re going to Oregon.”
The Gate of All Wonders Part Two
Being and nonbeing give birth to each other,
Difficult and easy complete each other,
Long and short form each other,
High and low fulfill each other,
Tone and voice harmonize with each other –
it is ever thus.-Tao Te Ching
Tuesday, April 2, 1996. 9:34 PM
The Mark Anthony Hotel, room 502
Ashland, Oregon
The flight out to the west coast was a horrendous experience for both of the agents. After their original plane was grounded in Denver (instead of Portland due to bad weather), the airline put them on the next available flight out; which, after four hours of running around from gate to gate, happened to be a turbulent adventure to the ice covered Twin Cities or Minneapolis/St. Paul. From there they barely caught a flight out to Seattle, changed airlines and got down to San Francisco just as the fog was rolling in. Three hours later, the last leg of their trip – the propellered puddle-jumper – got them in to the tiny airport of Medford, Oregon.
All total, fifteen hours of flying (and not flying) had wiped them out.
Exhausted, they rented the last car in the lot, and drove to the nearby town of Ashland: their final destination.
Scully idly watched the view as Mulder drove down Ashland’s one main road on the way to the town’s only hotel. Small shops dotted either side of the street, each pin neat and expected in such a tourist attraction; a book shop, tiny clothing boutiques, a picture perfect ice cream parlor.
A fountain stood in the town square where the road forked in two directions, one leading up into the mountains, the other, back to the airport.
Most of the town was devoted to it’s main attraction; the theaters which housed the Shakespearian festivals. Flags, showing which plays were currently running, lined both sides of the street. Just beyond the theatres was a tall building, a large parking lot in it’s rear. The two weary agents checked in to the historic Mark Anthony Hotel.
In their magnificent room, Mulder laid himself across the bed and reveled in the feel of his lanky body stretched flat on the giving surface, “Oh, Scully, the bed is perfect.”
She sat, still in her tasteful navy pants suit at the small table next to the door. Lifting the top on her power book without a glance to her partner, she gave an indifferent: “Good. Keep it warm for me.”
Intrigued, Mulder propped himself up on his elbows. “What are you doing, Scully?” He could see her lips moving as she read from the tiny screen.
“Hey, Scully?”
“Hmmm?”
“Aren’t you tired? Come and lie down.” When she didn’t respond he seductively patted the thick, exquisitely intricate bedspread. “I can make it worth your while.”
She turned and lifted the phone by the bed. “I’m expecting an E-Mail from Agent Pendrell. He thought he could get me some social security records, and possibly some voter registration information.” She quickly connected her modem to the phone and the familiar squawk of initialization rang through their ears. Now that she was finally here, Scully could barely contain her impatience. She had waited for this since the trip back from Chicago after finding the pictures of Moore’s family in his deserted lab.
“Oh, come on, Scully. No more work today. There’s no point. Let’s order some pizza and watch a dirty movie, okay? What do you say?” But she didn’t say anything. She clicked through the menu program and began reading her mail. “Scully?” He laid back on to the bed and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. “So this is what it’s like to talk to the walls.” So much for the ‘getting-Scully-to-relax’ idea.
He shouldn’t have been surprised at her reaction; he’d seen it often enough in the past. Hell, most of the time, he was the “driven” one in their partnership. Mulder couldn’t let go of his memories, however of Scully, sick and confused, shaking in his arms when her symptoms were at their worst. She seemed fine now. The transformation in to wellness had been almost immediate after their encounter with a light just over a month before. The symptoms had disappeared. The distress was gone. The old Scully, in all of her beauty and glory, was back with him. And he wanted to keep her that way.
What she needed now, he mused, was a little diversion.
“You gave Frohike my new E-Mail address.” It wasn’t really an accusation, more of a statement of fact, but Mulder quickly sat up on the defensive, shaken abruptly out of his reverie.
“I most certainly did not.” He replied indignantly. “But he did ask.” She peered at him over her glasses. “I didn’t tell him, Scully! ” “Then why do you look so guilty?”
“Original sin?”
Scully scoffed and went back to the screen. “Well, he says here that they’re out west somewhere at a UFO convention, and not to worry if I don’t hear from him for a week or two. God, I hope we don’t run in to them.”
“A week or two? How often do you hear from him?”
“When he’s able to get my address – every day or so.” Mulder blinked and laughed. Poor Frohike. The guy just didn’t know when to let go.
It was time to put his plan in to action. With a seductive curling of the corners of his mouth, he lured: “Come on, Scully, come to bed.” But she was engrossed in the information flickering across the screen. “Scully.
Oh, Scullster…”
She didn’t look up from the screen. “Don’t call me that.”
“What? Scullster?” A new look of gentle amusement smeared itself across his face. “Don’t you want a pet name?”
“No.
He rolled his head back and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know, Scullster kinda fits you. I could call you the Scullinator, or Shorts-”
“Shorts?”
“Naw, I like Scullster.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Then come to bed.” There was a moment of a deep sigh and then the click of the computer and modem turning off before he felt her comfortable weight on the bed and then crawling over to him. “Okay, Mulder, I’m here. But I’m too tired to do anything except sleep tonight,” she slowly admitted, forcing her impatience to curb.
“Me, too,” he mumbled slipping his arms around her warm torso, pulling her up on top of him. He took in a deep sigh and breathed her in. God, she smelled good. How did she do that? More than half the day on a plane or in crowded, unfriendly airports and some how she still managed to carry the softest hint of flowers on the nape of her neck. She pulled herself up off of his chest, so she sat straddling him, her cotton pants capturing all of the heat from his groin. His hands found her breasts.
“Mulder, I said not tonight.” Her voice lowered considerably as his steady hands made small circles against the weighty mounds that rested in them.
She felt the pleasuring pain of her nipples tightening in response.
“Mulder,” she warned.
“Hmmm?” he asked, his hands slipping to her waist to unfasten the button there.
“Aren’t you tired?”
The zipper on the front of her pants slipped down without any resistance.
“Exhausted.”
She felt his hands slide under her pants, around her hips to squeeze the firm flesh of her bottom through her panties. The moan that escaped her lips simply couldn’t be helped. Neither could the grin that suddenly appeared on his face when she rocked her hips forward against him. “You don’t play fair,” she whined and lowered herself back down on to his body. He felt solid below her. And alive. And pleasantly aroused, which was infinitely more arousing to her. Until she felt a hand slip between then and sneak its way inside her panties. That, then, became the focus of all of her attention.
His thumb resumed a light stroke against her nipple. “Are you sure you’re too tired?” his words slurred together on a small yawn.
“… Too tired. OK?” she whispered. Her voice came out in a grunt.
“Fine,” he was barely audible.
She gasped softly as his fingers found her pleasure point and rubbed . She could feel more than hear his triumphant chuckle as they came away moist with the evidence of her arousal. Scully tried to control her breathing and heart rate which had both been steadily rising but decided she was fighting a losing battle. She rolled onto her back in order to allow him better access. “Alright, Fox. You convinced me,” she murmured, waiting for him to roll on top of her. “Fox?”
There was no response except for a small snore in her ear. His right hand lay between them, still glistening from her desire of him. “Fox?” she said a little louder. Another deep snore. She whimpered in frustration as she realized he had fallen asleep in the middle of his seduction. “Romeo, you’re a dead man,” she grumbled and tried to find a comfortable position, now wide awake.
–—
Wednesday, April 3, 1996
Room 502
Sunrise
Mulder stirred in his sleep, smiling as he dreamed of a warm, wet mouth between his legs; surrounding him, sucking firmly in a steady rhythm. He recognized the rush of blood to his groin, knowing he was getting hard as the pressure built higher and higher. His heavy hands made their way towards the source of his pleasure and encountered soft, long hair and the smooth skin of a cheek. Another set of warm hands moved his away, pinning them to his sides. A voice whispered, “Don’t move.”
“Scully?” He raised his head slightly reorienting himself to the room.
Early morning sunlight streamed through the window blinds.
“Who else were you expecting?” she laughed before resuming the careful attention she was giving his growing erection.
“Hmmm, so good,” he said, throwing his head back into the pillow. Small, involuntary thrusts moved his hips. “I think you have a definite talent for this, Agent Scully.”
“No pet names in the bed room, please,” she smirked as she cupped his balls, slowly fingering the sensitive skin behind them, never faltering in her rhythm. His thrusts became stronger. Moving to straddle him, she concentrated on his tip, flicking her tongue in darting movements, tormenting him with her teasing.
He reached up and clutched the rounded bottom that was just inches from his face. “God…” A tiny droplet formed at the opening of his penis which she quickly lapped, making Mulder groan.
“God, Scully! You’re making me crazy!” he cried.
“Good,” she said and hopped over him to head for the green marbled bathroom.
“Where are you going?” he gasped, suddenly void of her contact.
“Time to get ready for the day, Mulder. I’m taking a shower first.”
Suiting actions to words, she disappeared behind a closed door. He heard the lock clink into place.
“Scully? You’re kidding, right? Scully?” He couldn’t believe his ears as he listened to the water start in the shower. “Scully!”
The door opened enough for her head to poke out. “Tit for tat, Mulder.
Next time don’t fall asleep on me.” She gave him an angelic grin and ducked back into the bathroom.
Mulder’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t mean… he grinned wickedly.
“Two can play this game, Scully,” he laughed softly.
–—
“Mulder, damn it, stay on your side of the room,” Scully demanded as he once again pressed against her, supposedly knotting his tie.
“But this is the room’s only mirror,” he said reasonably, somehow managing to turn a kiss to her earlobe into a normal part of the neckwear tying process.
She knew what he was up to and loved him for it. It was their first case together since Chicago. The first one where they had openly opted for one room knowing what the consequences would be upon their return.
They discussed it on the trip out, renewing their decision to put their relationship out in the open. Keeping it a secret had almost destroyed them. Mulder’s games were a way of holding his fears at bay and diverting hers as well. The least she could do was play along.
“This is a double bureau with a mirror the size of Arkansas. A boy scout troop could line up in front of it and not touch each other.” His inadvertent caresses to her bare back were sending little jolts of electricity running up and down her spine. “Now move!”
He chuckled seductively and he obeyed her command, somehow brushing his panted, but still obvious, erection across her bottom. She sucked her breath in, trying to fight the urge to throw him onto the bed. You asked for this Mulder, she thought. She reached into the closet and brought out a deep blue silk blouse. It was one of Mulder’s favorites since it highlighted the color of her eyes. She slipped it on.
“Um, Scully. Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Like?”
“Like a bra,” he gulped.
“I’m not wearing one today,” she calmly stated.
“But, um, won’t it be, er, chilly?” he finished lamely, trying not to betray the added arousment that flooded through his veins. Don’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s getting to me. I can hadle this, I can handle this.
“I’ll be wearing a jacket.” She purposely left one more button opened than she normally would.
“Yeah, well…”
Glancing in the mirror for a final check on her hair and make-up, Scully grabbed her coat. “Don’t worry about it, Mulder. No one will realize what I don’t have on under this,” she flashed him a heavy-eyed, half-grin which she knew devastate him and walked out the hotel door, “but you.”
“This is going to be a long day,” he sighed, following her.
–—
The Caesar Room
The Mark Anthony Hotel
Ashland, Oregon
7:08 AM
They entered the restaurant just off the lobby of the hotel and found a quiet booth in the back of the room. The light plucking of renaissance music shifted through the rich textures of the wallpaper, casting an ambiance of eclectic art.
Scully pulled the heavy velvet chair from the table and sank in to the seat before slipping her purse on to her lap and retrieved the case file Skinner had left for them in D.C. “I’ve been thinking about it and I still don’t understand how we got this case.”
Mulder’s eyes flowed over the calligraphy on the short menu. “I thought you decided this was Skinner’s way of getting us out here without the Bureau getting bent out of shape.”
“I know but still… Look at this,” she said, handing him the memo she received from agent Pendrell that morning. “There’s only one count of what amounts to simple tax fraud. And no real evidence of aliens, illegal or other wise.”
Mulder wiggled his brows at her.
“The local office could have handled this by phone.”
He scanned the page. “We know for certain this Social Security number belongs to a woman who died five years ago?”
“Yes. Her family was quite upset when they found out someone had assumed her identity.” Scully brushed her hair from her eyes, and her blouse haphazardly gaped open. Mulder swallowed hard and diverted his attention by calling to the waitress, “Coffee.”
“How did they find out?”
“Believe it or not, her father was a long distance trucker and a friend of his drove through here about three months ago. Since there’s only one diner in town, this guy, of course, stops and is intrigued when he catches this woman’s ‘name’. He goes home and tells his friend, who does some checking, and tells another friend who has another friend, who has another friend in the IRS.” She sipped at the coffee sighing as the hot liquid slid down to warm her inside. Her lips traced the edge of the cup.
Mulder closed his eyes trying to erase the image in his mind. “Uh, yeah, he cleared his throat, “why did he bother?” He looked down at his watch, “There are lots of people with the same last name.”
“Apparently not this last name. The family has never been large and are very close knit. The father couldn’t resist finding out about a woman with the same name as his deceased daughter. When he found out she was using his daughter’s numbers for tax reasons, he contacted the Bureau.”
Mulder nodded. It would be bad enough to lose a daughter let alone find out someone had usurped her identity. “So we go check this out and then…?”
“We can focus on locating Moore’s family. I’m hoping Pendrell will be able to give us a starting point by tonight.”
“Ok, Watson. We’ll finish here and then head over to the diner.”
“A frontal assault, Sherlock?” she asked.
“Don’t see why not. At least we can go and ask a few questions of her employer and maybe a few of the patrons and other waitresses.”
–—
Natural Seasons Diner
Ashland, Oregon
11:15 AM
The Diner was located on the main street of the small town, less than ten minutes from their hotel.. Its cheery front window advertised vegetarian foods and friendly service, and Mulder was happy to see that the establishment seemed to live up to its promises. The soda jerk behind the counter, who couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen, explained with a smile that the manager of the place was a Mr. Fuller, and he could generally be found in his office in the back of the restaurant. And he was.
“Mr. Fuller? I’m Agent Scully.” Scully extended her ID with a small smile. “This is my partner, Agent Mulder. We’d like to ask you some questions about one of your waitresses.” Mulder flashed his badge in the surprised face of the balding, overweight man wearing suspendered pants, and a cigar butt stuck between his teeth.
“Yeah? Which one?”
“Angela Naifa.”
“Angie? What do you want with Angie?” Fuller moved to push papers and yellowing folders off the one office chair and indicated that Scully should sit with a nod of his head. She smiled her thanks.
“How long have you known Ms. Naifa?” Mulder asked, trying not to gag on the stale cigar smoke that hung in the air.
Fuller shifted the stained blotter on his cluttered desk. “About three years. I still don’t understand what this is about.”
“How well do you know her?” Scully slid her self to the front of the chair and recrossed her legs.
Her last shift was not overlooked by the heavy man, and he swallowed thickly. “Hardly at all. She’s a private person, you know? She don’t like mingling much. Spends her time either here or with her kid. Nice kid…sweet but really stupid. Angie, though, she was a good worker. I had no trouble with her the whole time she was here, you know?”
“Was? She’s not here?” Scully asked, sitting forward.
“Nah. She took off a couple of weeks ago. Just came in one morning and said something came up with her family and she had to leave. Still haven’t replaced her and the other girls are starting to get mad…but what’s a guy suppose to do?” He looked to Scully for sympathy. “It’s not like we’ve got an excess of waitresses around these parts.”
Mulder moved to stand behind Scully’s chair, cutting off Fuller’s whining complaint. “You have any idea where she was going?”
“Nah. Like I said, she just came in and asked for her pay and took off.
Had the kid in the car and said she was in a hurry, you know, so I gave her her money and she just took off. Didn’t even say good-bye to the others.”
“Do you know her address?”
“Yeah. I got it around here someplace.” Fuller started rummaging around in his desk drawer, throwing out an increasingly large amount of crumpled papers, old candy wrappers and half torn photographs. Scully smiled up at her partner. “Looks like your filing system back home,” she murmured.
A carelessly tossed picture caught her eye and Scully leaned forward to pick it up. “Mr. Fuller, whose picture is this?”
Fuller looked up from his search and glanced at her blouse hanging casually from the shadowed parting of her breasts. “Yeah, that’s her. That’s Angie.
And that’s her little girl.”
At Scully’s stricken look, Mulder was at her side, pensively scanning the photo. There in her hand was the image of two people, a teenager with her arms wrapped around an older woman. The family resemblance was astounding. It was the same resemblance he had noticed when he saw the photo from Moore’s lab. “Looks like we’re killing two birds at once, Scully,” he said quietly, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder. He looked up at Fuller. “Got that address yet?”
The Gate of All Wonders Part Three
The Way of heaven
does not war
yet is good at conquering,
does not speak
yet is good at answering.-Tao Te Ching
67 Hickorycrest
Ashland, Oregon
1:25 PM
The house was more or less what they had expected. A simple two story farm house styled structure with rotting wood planking and a rickety, unpainted service porch shading the entrance. The small sign that proclaimed ‘For Sale Or Lease’ along with a local real-estate number leaned wearily against the heavy oak. The property, as a whole was over grown and run down. A truly depressing sight.
Scully quickly jotted down the number and turned to her partner. “The neighbors?”
He nodded and pulled his sun glasses off. “You take the right side, I’ll take the left.”
Scully nodded and started for the passenger side of the street and stopped. “Mulder,” she got his attention, “If Mary and Angela are the same person, then this wasn’t just a simple case of family estrangement.”
“Right,” Mulder walked to her side of the car, “and I doubt she’s guilty of anything illegal – other than tax fraud.”
“Who are they hiding from? Moore? Or the people he worked for?”
Mulder squinted the sun out of his eyes, “I don’t know. Maybe the neighbors can shed some light on this.”
“Maybe.” No one was home at the first house that Scully tried.
Mulder, on the other hand, was greeted by about ten children, and a haggard, middle-aged woman with an infant slung over her shoulder.
Mulder went through the ritual identification process. “I’m looking for any information about the woman and the young girl who lived in the house next door.”
“That would be Angie and her girl, Jodie. Nice people. I was real sorry to find out they left.”
“You know when they left?”
“Yeah. Well not exactly. I didn’t know for sure until the real estate guy showed up. I walked over, you know, just to be a good neighbor but he says he don’t have any idea about where they was going and he couldn’t tell me nothing anyways.”
Mulder nodded politely, ready to move on when the woman continued.
“Jodie, she was a real good kid. Helped me out with the baby sitting sometimes. It was a real shame about her problem, you know?”
“Problem?”
“Well, we called it babysitting but it was really me watching her when Angie pulled a late shift. Jodie could barely dress herself, let alone be trusted with minding kids but she was real gentle-like. The kids liked playing with her since she was dumber than they were.”
A loud crash and a high pitched scream came from the inner recesses of the house. “Oh, damn, now what,” the woman asked with a long- suffering sigh. “Here.” Before he could protest, Mulder found the infant thrust into his arms.
Mulder stepped in to the dusty house, following the sounds of childish crying and the woman’s muttering, avoiding stepping on the feet of the two little red headed twins that found his height fascinating. Much too fascinating to move out of his way. “Those two are MaryJane.” The woman said over her shoulder. “Don’t know which is which, but they’re always together, so it don’t make much difference.”
Mulder navigated around the twins and walked into the kitchen. Dishes, pans and what looked like a week’s worth of dirty clothes competed for the limited space. An old dog, long past his prime, wandered over to sniff Mulder’s shoes in idle curiosity. The girls laughed in an adorable round of girlish giggles.
He had taken the child on impulse, but the sudden inactivity of watching the harried mother clean up the latest family crises, allowed him to take a moment to stare at the wide eyed, drooling, chubby, baby. He was flooded with a mild feeling of alarm. Mulder held the baby around it’s middle trying to decide just what do with it when it started making sounds.
Crying sounds. The woman looked up. “Oh, for heaven sakes, hold her against your body. She’s not going to bite!”
Mulder looked back at the child and pulled it against his chest. She instantly made a death grip for his lapels. With a little bit of shifting, he had the baby sitting on his right arm, while is left tried to work this suit jacket out of the Fists of Iron. Mulder made a mental note that the next time they went door to door, to let Scully take the left side.
–—
The second house that Scully visited was home to an elderly gentleman with a thick Russian accent. Or Ukrainian, she thought, at the very least. He was tall and gaunt, and when he grinned, there were only three or four teeth left, but his eyes held a genuine delight for his unexpected visitor. “Please,” he said, “come in. I was just sitting down to tea.”
“Thank you,” Scully replied hesitantly, “but I can’t really stay. I just have a few questions about the people who used to live in the white house a few doors down.”
“I see.” His whole physical frame seemed to sag in disappointment, but he politely continued. “The woman and her child moved on about two weeks ago.”
“Do you know where they were going?”
“No. No one even knew they were gone. One day last week, a man came and put the sign in the front yard. That was how we all knew they had moved. Are you sure you won’t have some tea?” He pointed to the enormous silver samovar against the dark wall in the adjoining dining room.
“I can’t. Thank you, though. Is there anything else that you can remember about them that might help us to locate them?”
The old man wrapped his tan cardigan tighter around his stomach, “Are they in some sort of trouble?”
“No, sir, nothing like that. Their family is trying to locate them.”
“Ahhh.” The man nodded, and looked to the only picture on the wood-paneled walls. “Family is important. It is the center of our society. The root of our learning.”
Family, Scully mused. Fascinating what that one word could mean to different people; a ‘center of society’ or a focus of pain and suffering.
She snapped her attention back to the older man standing before her.
“Yes.” Scully nodded. “It is important that we find them.”
He slowly nodded, and gave Scully possibly one of the saddest smiles she had ever seen. “That will be difficult. They do not wish to be found.”
“What? How do you know that? Did they say anything to you?”
The man shook his head. “Nothing needed to be said. If they wanted to be found, they would have left a forwarding address.”
Scully blinked. His simplicity made sense.
“[Bee-iz tru-da na-volo-vich rib-ku iz pruda.]” The man nodded to her knowingly. “If you do not bait your hook, you will not catch any fish.
Roughly translated, anyway.”
Scully turned back to the front door. “Thank you, for your help, sir.”
“Please, my name is Pavlon.” He held out a long thin hand that Scully promptly shook.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pavlon.” Her smile told him that the statement had been genuine, and not social.
“No, just Pavlon.” Scully nodded to the elderly gentleman and headed out towards the car, where Mulder was leaning on the hood. His suit (as well as his demeanor) looked as if he had seen a herd of elephants up close and personal.
“What happened to you?” Scully laughed.
“Scully, I’m warning you now, I’m not good with kids.”
“What are you talking about? Kids love you.” She smoothed his lapel.
“It’s the adults that you have to be careful of.” She couldn’t resist adding, “I’m sure if Cancerman was five years old, he’d be your pal.”
Her attempt at humor was lost on him. “What did you get?”
“Not much. It seems that our friends,” she motioned to the abandoned house, “left in a hurry two weeks ago. No warning to the neighbors.”
He squinted at the sun’s reemergence from behind the clouds. “Yeah, that’s what I got. And the lovely woman with the litter of wild children had this photo. It’s more recent than the one we took from Fuller, so now we know what Amber looks like now. Oh, and she went by the name ‘Jodie’ while they were here.”
“Angie and Jodie,” Scully murmured.
“You OK?” Mulder asked, sensing a change in his partner’s mood.
“Yeah, fine. I was just thinking of something Pavlon, the other neighbor, said about family.” She gave herself a little shake and straightened to her full height. “Why don’t we check out the reality agency. Maybe they have some sort of paperwork on Mary that could give us some information.”
–—
McMahn and Santri Reality
Ashland, Oregon
3:22 PM
The two-laned boulevard added to the quaint old-town feeling of Ashland, while the brightly colored flags hanging from the ornate lamp posts reminded all that it was basically a booming tourist trap for the nation’s Shakespeare-junkies. But then, the home of one of America’s largest classical theatre reparatory companies would demand nothing less.
A small almond colored sign hung just outside the thick oak door, both of which proclaimed: “McMahn and Santri, Reality Experts”.
The agents walked in and were immediately greeted by a tiny man behind a very large computer. His stature was similar to a twelve year-old’s, except for the lack of child-like innocence. In all actuality, the man behind the wood desk sign that read “Santri” was in his late forties. And his smile said as much.
“Hello.” He greeted in his impish voice, “Please have a seat and tell me what you’re in the market for.”
No nonsense, Mulder thought, good. Lowering himself in to the well padded chair, Mulder began the conversation by flashing his ID. “I’m Agent Mulder, and that’s my partner, Agent Scully.” He pointed with his chin to Scully, who was staring at some of the Polaroids tacked to the wall near the entrance door. “We’re investigating a case of Income Tax fraud.” Santri visibly flinched. “Don’t worry, it’s not you we’re investigating.”
The man behind the desk tried to hide his relief by giving a little shrug.
“So what can I help you with?”
“This house.” Scully pulled the photo from the wall and dropped it on his desk. “The woman who lived there, we need to see her records.”
Santri stared at the photo and then up at the two agents. “I’m not even going to ask if you two have a search warrant.” With one effortless push, he slid across the floor in the wheeled desk chair, and came to a calculated stop in from of the metal filing cabinet.
Mulder looked up at his partner, who was standing unprofessionally close.
She had her hands resting on her hips with her jacket swept open, revealing the hard points of her breasts peaking under the full curves of the silk. He cleared his throat and Scully looked down at him. Then at her chest. Quickly, she crossed her arms tightly against her torso, and cursed her momentary lapse in body awareness. She’d forgotten the choice she made hours ago to remain braless. Mulder, however, had not forgotten.
“That was the one on Hickorycrest, right?” Santri’s fingers picked through the files until her found the one he wanted and tossed it on to the desk for Mulder.
“That’s all that we’ve got. She was three months behind on the rent, and when I went by a week ago to try and get some kind of a payment out of her, there was days worth of mail in the box and a couple of papers on the porch stoop.” Santri rocked back in the chair and twisted the curly brown lock just behind his left ear. “We retain a set of keys to all of the houses we rent out. When I saw that no one was home, I let myself in to check the place out. Most of the personal belongings were gone.”
Scully studied the man’s nervous behavior, “And you assumed she’d left?”
Santri crossed his legs. “Well, I went and talked to her boss first. Over at the Veggie Diner. He said she hadn’t been in to work for a while. So yeah, I figured we wouldn’t be seeing her again. I put the house back on the market.”
Mulder stopped flipping through the folder and looked up at the man. And tried to sound like he had all of the authority in the world. “I’m confiscating this for evidence. You’ll have it back in a week or so.”
“Yeah,” the man nodded, “Sure, just make sure I get it back. Gotta keep the records current for good `ol Uncle Sam.” His nervous chuckle left a grimace on Scully’s face.
–—
They hadn’t gotten twenty feet from the squat building, Mulder’s eyes glued to the bobbing mounds beneath’s his partner’s jacket the entire time. She seemed to outwardly change without the simple undergarment. Her whole body language changed. She walked lighter, with more spring in her step. A spring, he noticed, that did incredible things to his libido.
Without warning, Mulder grabbed Scully’s upper arm, and pulled her off the narrow walk and against a tall shade tree out of sight of the office window.
His palms resting against the rough bark on either side of her head.
“You’re making me crazy,” he whispered to her while his eyes roamed the skin afforded him by the unbuttoned neckline of her blouse.
Scully smiled an evil smile and hugged the tree behind her. His lips loomed just a breath from hers. “I must have done something very bad for you to torture me this way.” Mulder wanted so badly to kiss her; to run his tongue across the sweet surface of her rounded lower lip. But he fought it in an excruciating effort to torment her just a little bit.
It was working. “Very bad,” came out from her mouth as a breathy moan.
Not at all what she had intended.
Mulder slowly brushed his cheek against hers until his lower lip hit the gentle slope of her ear lobe. “Let’s go back to the hotel, Scully, and let me finish what I started last night.”
The throbbing ache between her legs screamed for his touch. But he kept his body close enough for only his body heat to touch her. “Hmmm…well, if you learned your lesson…”
In one swift movement, she slipped from the cage of his arms, grabbed his hand, and nearly pulled him the rest of the way to the hotel.
–-
The Gate of All Wonders Part Four
The Way gives birth to them,
nurtures them,
rears them,
follows them,
shelters them,
toughens them,
sustains them,
protects them.
It gives birth but does not possess,
acts but does not presume,
rears but does not control.-Tao Te Ching
The Mark Anthony Hotel, room 502
Ashland, Oregon
4:25 PM
The moment the hotel door was shut, Scully reached for his tie. The day had been frustrating enough in more ways than one; there was no way she was going to suffer through the sweet frustrations of fore play if she could help it. But Mulder had another idea in mind. He placed his hand over hers and eased it off his person. Then he lead her to the bed and got her to sit. “Oh, Mulder, no more teasing.”
“No,” he said in a low, seductive voice, “I brought a surprise.”
Her eyes opened wider at the possibilities his last phrase evoked in her mind. A surprise? Uht-oh. Images of porno videos and magazines flooded past her eyes. Was his wild past finally working its way in to their love life? She’d been expecting something like that all along, the truth be told. But in the ten months that they’d been intimate, he never once so much as hinted at toys or sexual aids. How would she react if he pulled a pair of fuzzy handcuffs out of his bag? A wanton smile etched it’s way across her face.
When he turned back round to her, cradled in his arms was a plastic shopping bag. He sat on the bed beside her and spread the contents out for her to see. A wide assortment of perfumed candles, two pastel bottles of bath oils, a few packets of foam bath, a soft blue sponge, scented soaps and bath gels, and a CD. No quite what she was expecting. And she wasn’t sure that she was all that relieved, either.
“I got this stuff weeks ago.” He gave her his patented sheepish grin. “I was saving it for a special occasion.”
Scully picked up the CD. “Barry White’s Love Songs?”
“The man is a love magnet.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Or at least that’s that the checkout guy promised.”
Scully sighed. Mulder was trying to seduce her all over again. A new surge of love left a pang in her heart. Just when she thought she couldn’t want him any more, he went and pulled something so romantic that she could just burst. She looked up at him and tried to keep her lower lip from quivering.
The look in her eyes tensed his throat. Tears weren’t the reaction he had anticipated. A snide remark, most certainly; or maybe a kiss. He gave her a small head cock to one side and tried to insert his own dry blend of humor. “I would have like to have this all set up for you, but there was no place to dump you for twenty minutes.”
She couldn’t resist a small chuckle. “Oh, Mulder, you’re such the romantic.” Then she said something that five minutes earlier she would have thought impossible. “I’ll give you ten minutes, and go out for some pastries and lunch.” Then she planted a firm kiss on his mouth and released him with a small suck to his lower lip. “Ten minutes, Mulder, that’s all you get.”
“It’s more than I want,” he breathed in her perfume in the absence of her body. Then a moment later she collected her keys and was out the door.
Mulder wasted no time in setting up the bathroom. He pulled the shower curtain to one side and placed the candles all around. Twenty in all.
Then he filled the tub with pleasantly hot water, dropping the foaming bath under the faucet. The towels he refolded and placed on the toilet seat for easy access. What next? He looked around and saw the CD sitting lonely on the bed. Oh, shit! Where was he going to get a CD player? He dialed room service.
“Hello, front desk.” The man’s voice was cheerful. A good sign.
“Hi. This is room 502. Can I get a CD player sent to my room?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, but the hotel doesn’t stock CD players. We have extra radios, if that will help.”
“No,” Mulder sat down on the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt. “You see, I have this Barry White CD-”
“Barry White? Oh, man, I know just where you’re coming from. That guy is a miracle, I tell you. Trying to get in good with the Missus?”
Mulder hesitated, “Well, we’re not married, but yeah-”
“Oh, sorry. You’re girlfriend.”
Mulder hesitated again. He had never thought of Scully as his girlfriend. She was so much more than that. But a suitable substitution didn’t come to mind. “Do you know where I can get a CD player fast? It’s kind of a necessity at this point.” It wasn’t really, but Mulder figured looking a little desperate might help his current situation. Especially since the man on the line seemed sympathetic.
“Look, I’m just about to change shifts,” the man said as if Mulder were his new best buddy. “So, as soon as my relief comes, I’ll bring my player up to you. You can just leave it at the front desk tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, that would be great. Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
“No sweat, man. From one Don Juan to another. Right?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Then Mulder hung up the phone and unzipped his pants. “Girlfriend,” he repeated under his breath. There’s no way Scully would take that as a compliment. It sounded possessive, and trite. Debutantes were girlfriends. Scully was… What the hell was she? The knock on the door stopped Mulder in mid strip. He already had his shirt and pants off, and this briefs were around his ankles before it registered in his mind that Scully probably wouldn’t be knocking, and that it must be the generous man from the front desk. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and wrapped it around his waist before pulling the door open.
There, standing huddled like the Lollipop Guild from Oz, were the three Lone Gunmen. Mulder’s heart dropped. “This can’t be happening. What are you guys doing here?”
Frohike lead the way in to the room. “UFO convention, two towns over.”
He pressed his glasses farther up his nose and surveyed the room. No Agent Scully in sight.
“You wouldn’t believe the delusions some of those guys are under,” Byers interjected, following Frohike’s lead. He wandered in and pulled the thick, neutral curtains closed over the large window in the front of the room.
“Yeah,” laughed Langley, pushing aside the unopened bottle of scented rubbing oil without a second thought and having a seat on the bed. “Some real nuts, there.”
Mulder stood like a soldier on the front line, his hand on the open door.
“Look, you guys, you can’t be here.”
Frohike nodded and planted himself firmly in the chair next to the window.
“Don’t worry, we weren’t followed.”
“Although you may have been. You know how easy it is to track you and Agent Scully with your expense accounts.” Byers stuffed his hands in to the pocket of his slacks. “We can know within two hours what charges you make on your Bureau cards.”
“One room,” Frohike muttered under his breath. Mulder’s eyes rolled into the back of his head.
Then, in the open door, the man from the front desk appeared – enormous CD/jam box in hand, and an equally large smile adorning his rounded face.
“Here you go, sir,” he said smirking at the towel around Mulder’s hips and the white socks pulled up to his mid calf. The smirk, however turned in to a look of confusion as his eyes slid, first to Byers in the center of the room; then to a look of shock at Frohike in the Naugahyde chair to his left; and finally to a sickly scowl as his eyes landed on Langley sitting sheepishly on the bed. “Just leave it at the front desk,” he said and was gone before Mulder could open his mouth and insist that it wasn’t what it looked like.
Byers shifted feet. “Wow, he looked sick.”
“Mind if I use your bathroom?” Frohike jumped up from the chair.
Mulder yelped a definite, “Yes!” and practically leaped to block his path.
The candles and oils were more than he wanted to get into with Frohike.
But Mulder’s intervention in his cross to the bathroom didn’t seem to phase Frohike. Instead he looked up at Mulder with an almost stunned expression, “Do you smell flowers?”
“No!” Mulder snapped.
“What’s going on?” Scully stood in the doorway with a white box in one and a bottle of wine and two wine glasses in the other. “What are you doing here?“she demanded, making a mental note to never leave Mulder alone again. Too much happened while he was alone.
“They were just leaving,” Mulder’s voice cracked. He had to get the guys out of the room before Scully decided this was all his fault, and came up with more punishment. God, he thought, this has to be a new form of hell.
Langley jumped up, an uncomfortable grin on his face, “Yes, we’re leaving now.”
Frohike looked to his friend, “Already?”
“Yes,” Langley assured him, “we need to get back anyway. We don’t want to miss the psychic putting all of those abductees under hypnosis.”
Scully turned to the small table and set down the pastry box and wine.
“Well, don’t let me keep you,” she muttered.
“Yeah, wouldn’t want to miss the reenactment of the ‘Close Encounters’
scene, either.” Byers was suddenly animated. “What kind of pastries did you get?” Scully ignored him.
Frohike turned to Mulder, looking for some reason to hang out a little longer. “Would you and Agent Scully like to join us?”
Simultaneously, Mudler and Scully snapped, “No!” And Mulder added, in kinder tones, “We’re here on a case…”
“Yeah,” muttered Frohike, “Nice towel.”
There was an uncomfortable moment when Mulder thought his partner might actually loose her cool and club the little troll, but then Byers peeked in side the white box and asked again, “So what kind of sweets did you get?”
“Get out!” Scully screeched. “Get out now!
The startled Byers was out the door before any of them could blink, and Langley wasn’t far behind him. Frohike brought up the rear with an awe-filled, “What a woman…” and once they were clear of the door frame, Scully slammed the door shut and bolted it. Then she secured the chain.
Mulder sighed, leaning against the dresser bureau, trying desperately to come up with the words to mollify Scully for the unwelcomed intrusion. He couldn’t live through another day like the one that was just finishing.
God only knew what she wouldn’t wear tomorrow. “Um, Scully?”
“Hmm?” She sat on the bed, kicking off her shoes.
“Scully, I’msosorryIdidn’tknowtheywereanywherenearbyIswear, honest.”
She eyed him calmly, letting her gaze run lazily over his lanky form. “You know, Mulder, the socks really don’t do anything for that outfit.” She smiled.
He smiled in return.
They both burst out laughing as he dove on top of her. “Mulder!” she screeched as he began pulling at the buttons on her blouse.
“Scully, so help me if you’re not naked in the next thirty seconds, I will not be responsible for my actions.” It took less than ten.
Once her blouse fell to the floor, he set on the task of ridding her of skirt, hose and panties while kissing her passionately from mouth to toe. His hands slipped up her thighs as he realized there was no nylon resistance under his fingers. He looked down and saw what his fingers had already told him – no hose. “Now Scully, I know you were wearing hose this morning…”
“I took them off in the car, I didn’t want them to get in the way.”
“Ahhh.” His mouth worked its way around to her left earlobe. “You’re such a brilliant woman, Scullster.”
She kissed his neck, “Don’t call me that.”
Mulder’s hands slipped higher and encountered not the soft smoothness of satin and lace, but the already moist curls between her legs. “Uh, and the panties?” His voice was hoarse.
“In the car.”
“God, I’ve already missed all of the fun.”
“Not yet, Mulder.” She lifted her hips and let him slide her skirt off of her and instantly wrapped her hands around his torso, pulling him back down on to her. “But you’d better hurry, or you will.”
He kissed her mouth and ran a hand down her left thigh, pulling it up and around his hip, “I was going to run us a bath.”
“Later.” Scully opened her legs to him and locked her ankles at his lower back. There was no way in hell he was going to get out of her embrace before she had what she needed.
“Later,” he echoed her. “Later.”
–—
Two Hours Later
“Fox, the water’s getting cold again.” Scully grinned as she felt Mulder reach around her to run more hot water into the generously sized tub but didn’t open her eyes. It felt too good nestled here against him. The candles were burning low, the melodious sounds of Barry White drifted in from the other room and both partners were soaking in the pleasantly heated water.
Their previous session in the bedroom had taken the edge off their hunger for one another but it was only an appetizer. Scully looked forward to the main course.
“Think the oil is warm enough now?” he asked nuzzling her neck. Earlier, the bathroom had been flooded when Mulder poured cold body oil down her back without warning. Scully’s sudden jump up created a tidal wave of suds and scents. Placing the small oil tube close to a group of candles resolved the problem.
“Should be,” she murmured lazily. The heat from the water and their mingled bodies was making her muscles heavy and her mind float to some of their more erotic moments. She had a small satisfied smile on her face.
He reached a long arm up to the bottle and pulled it off the shelving.
Gently rotating it to evenly distribute the heat, he tested it in his hand. “Perfect.” He dribbled the oil over Scully’s chest, letting the drops glisten down her breasts. Keeping the bottle within easy reach, he began to massage the slick fluid into Dana’s skin, starting near her collarbone and working his way down. He loved the feel of her skin under his. He lowered his head to suck on her earlobe, his tongue skimming the inner ridges, his breath hot. As often as he’d held her, he still wondered how he got so lucky. When had she become so important to him? She was the air he needed to live. When did that happen?
Dana felt her heartbeat quicken as his fingers continued to work their magic having reached her breasts. He slipped his hands under them, gently kneading their weight, spreading the oil and heat with every caress. His thumbs lightly brushing her nipples caused her to gasp softly as they tightened in pleasure. He chuckled deeply. She was so responsive to his touch. His lips continued to explore her ear and the line of her jaw.
“Lay back and bend your legs up,” he suggested.
After she resettled with her head resting on his stomach, the tendrils of her hair floating on the water, he slowly poured more oil onto her knees, allowing it to run down her thighs. She practically purred as his strong fingers worked at the firm muscles, at once arousing and soothing. Scully turned off her mind, giving herself over to his touch, allowing her trust and love carry her further and further away on waves of pleasure. His hands made broad circles, tracing the front and side of her legs. He reached under the water and massaged her rear, pulling and pushing gently, until a soft groan escaped her lips.
Another anointing with the oil left tiny rivulets along her inner thighs.
Smaller circles, now, slow and sensuous. Scully bit her lower lip to stifle her moans. Oh God, Mulder, what are you doing to me, she wondered. She thought back to the look on his face when she discovered him watching her pleasure herself in the shower while they were in Chicago. This was something he’s been wanting to do since then, she realized, loving him all the more for his generous love-making. Her breathing was more ragged, her skin flushed with the heat of the water and her arousal. Mulder’s hands, slick with oil and sweat, moved higher, closer to the source of her pleasure. She felt a familiar pressure building as he continued to stroke her. “Oh!”
she gasped, unable to restrain herself as he touched a particularly sensitive spot behind her knee. Moving quickly back to her center, his hands persisted in his assault on her senses.
Scully started to squirm suggestively as his fingers teased and probed the folds of her skin, water lapping against her. She was enfolded by Mulder’s body, strong and protective, his free hand playing with her breasts and nipples. She thrust against his hand, silently begging for release.
Her entire being was focused on her body and the sensations his fingers and lips were causing. Her control slipped dangerously as he opened her, his thumb rubbing across her clitoris. She could feel his own arousal against her upper back, could hear his rapid heartbeat sounding in synchronization with her own. Her fingers tightened involuntarily on his legs which were spread to either side of her and she whimpered her frustration.
“What do you want, Dana?” he whispered, seductively. “This? Is this what you want?” His thumb vibrated against her sensitive nub as two fingers entered her. He loved her. He loved being able to give her this pleasure, knowing her so well that he could grant her wishes before she even knew she wanted them.
“Ah,” was best she could manage, beyond words and almost beyond thought. Her moans echoed off the bathroom tiles.
“Tell me, Dana. Tell me you want this.”
“Fox, oh God, Fox!” You, she wanted to scream. You’re everything I desire, everything I could ever hope to have. But she was too far passed the ability to voice her thoughts.
“Tell me.”
“I want this. I want you,” she gasped.
Mulder quickened the rhythm of his movements, countering the thrusts of Scully’s hips.
“Fox, I’m c-com…” She couldn’t form the words as she was swept under a tidal wave of passion.
“Yes, oh Dana. Come, baby. It’s all right. I love you, Dana,” he murmured, adding to Scully’s satisfaction. With a final rub, Scully let out a high pitch squeal and Mulder could feel her contracting around his two fingers. He very nearly lost his own control as her orgasm carried Dana on wave upon wave of pleasure. This was trust, he realized. She was so vulnerable right now but she trusted him to protect her, to love her, to care for her so she could give herself totally to the sensations and enjoy them to the fullest. The thought brought tears to his eyes.
After a while, Dana’s breathing and heart rate slowed to normal. She turned in his arms, reaching up to pull his head to hers for a long, deep kiss.
Her radiant smile told him all he needed to know about his ministrations, to thank him for his caring touch.
She carefully stood and stepped out of the tub, water droplets on her body dazzling in the candlelight. She held out her hand. “C’mon, Fox. It’s your turn,” she purred.
–—
She gently toweled him dry, paying special attention to his manhood, stroking his fullness until he was hard. Bringing the body oil, she pulled him back into the bedroom.
“I was wondering why you had me call for those,” he laughed as Scully busied herself pulling down the bed’s blankets and spreading clean, dry, fluffy towels across the mattress.
“This might get a little messy,” she said wickedly. “You don’t mind a little mess, do you, Mulder?” She poured some oil into her palms and rubbed her hands together.
He chuckled. “You’ve seen my desk, Scully. I live for mess.”
“On the bed, face down,” she instructed.
Looking at his aroused state, he moaned, “That might be uncomfortable.”
“I’m sure you can handle it. Down,” she said, pointing to the bed but staring at his erection.
“I don’t think that’s even in the realm of extreme possibility,” he smirked over the double-entendre but complied with her orders.
She straddled his hips, settling herself, still naked, on his buttocks.
The feel of her warm dampness against his bare flesh made Mulder swallow hard.
She practically had to spread her body over his back to reach his shoulders. Mulder knew she did this deliberately as the tips of her breasts danced teasingly. Other tantalizing bits of her anatomy coaxed his nerve endings into a state of hyper-sensitivity. He was pressed firmly to the mattress, his erection almost painful as the nap of the towel rubbed him.
Scully worked the oil into his shoulders and upper arms keeping up a running monologue of naughty and suggestive observations about each muscle group. “Fox,” she whispered in his ear, “did you know that this muscle right here,” she placed her lips on his shoulder, “bunches up every time you touch me? Or that you give a little twitch right here, another butterfly kiss, “right before you come inside me?” She ran a fingertip over his upper arm, tracing it with her tongue. “I love watching you as we’re making love. I love the look of your body when it’s making mine so happy.”
He was quivering in anticipation as Scully moved further down his body, pouring oil over the middle of his back. Her statements were whispered in a husky voice full of promise. “Do you know what it’s like, Fox, when you enter me? It’s like you piercing my soul whenever I take you into my body.
I love feeling you inside me, moving inside me, feeling you love me, taking care of me. How can I make you understand what that’s like for a woman?
For me?” Her words washed over him, drowning him in emotions. “And when you come inside me… Oh God, Fox.” She continued her massage, her movements as smooth and flowing as her words. She pleasured herself by rubbing against body, her hip thrusts miming the movements of love.
She repositioned herself by kneeling on the bed between his parted legs.
Without a word, she tugged back on his hips so that he too was on his knees but kept his head buried in the pillows. She rubbed the back of his thighs with firm strokes, moving up to his buttocks. She kneaded the muscles and gently separated his cheeks, reassuring him when he tried to raise his head. “Hush, now. Relax.”
He gasped as she placed a small finger, still slick with oil, in his rectum. She slowly moved it in and out, making small circles. Bending her body close to his, she was able to reach around him and encircle his manhood in her other hand. Using a counter- rhythm, she kept up this two-prong assault until he could stand no more. He moaned and bucked into her hand.
Summoning all his strength, he turned and grabbed Scully around the waist, throwing her onto the bed.
With a groan, poised over her, he caught her eyes with his own. Her eyes, dark with passion, looked like two sapphires.
“Now, Fox, please.”
It was all the encouragement he needed as he plunged himself into her savoring her warmth and tightness.
Neither was in the mood for gentleness. Nerves taunt from sex play, their thrusts were hard, fast and wild. His teeth grazed her shoulder, biting into the tender flesh. Her nails raked his back, sharp but not enough to draw blood. She wrapped her legs around his torso and he pushed himself into her as deep as he could go.
Scully came first, her scream cut off by his mouth clamped over hers.
Mulder’s cry of pleasure came a moment later.
He laid still on top on her, too relaxed to move, too content to leave the cocoon of her body. “Am I too heavy?” he asked.
“No. Stay.” She wrapped her strong arms around him. He was always amazed by her strength.
“Hold on,” he whispered. Holding her tightly to keep her in position, he turned to his side, staying inside her. “I don’t want to squash you.”
She laughed softly, causing her muscles to milk him gently. He kissed her neck licking away the salt of her sweat. She felt him growing hard again within her. “Mulder?”
He grinned by way a reply and started moving his hips. This time their love making was tender and when they climaxed together, it held the promise of their commitment to each other.
The Gate of All Wonders Part Five
Act through nonaction,
Handle affairs through noninterference,
Taste what has no taste,
Regard the small as great, the few as many,
Repay resentment with integrity.
-Tao Te Ching
Caesar Room
Thursday, April 4, 1996
10:02 AM
“What’s the matter with you this morning, Mulder? You’re moving like an old man,” Scully observed as they made their way out of the diner where they had breakfasted.
“Shut up, Scully. I’m not as young as I used to be and you almost killed me last night.” He lowered his voice as an older couple passed them in the doorway. “Besides, you can’t tell me you’re not at least a little sore yourself.”
“I beg to differ,” she said indignantly. In truth, it was all she could do to walk without waddling but she was not about to let him know that.
“Let’s get to the real estate office and get that key. I don’t know why, but I have the feeling something may have been left behind at the house that might give us a clue as to where Mary and Amber ran off to.”
“I hope so, Mulder. The sources I had and Skinner’s file got us here but I’m not sure where to begin if this doesn’t pan out.” A small frown marred her normally smooth brow. She had convinced herself that she’d find Moore’s family; that it was important for her to do so. But somewhere in her gut was the certainty that it was equally important to Moore, Amber and Mary that she find them soon.
“We’ll find them, Scully. It may take a little time but we’ll find them.”
“I know but I have the feeling time is something we’re running out of.”
–—
67 Hickorycrest
Ashland, Oregon
2:49 AM
Scully fumbled with the keys as she tried them, one by one, in the lock for fit. She couldn’t control the slight flutter she felt each time she thought of how close she and Mulder had come to finding Moore’s family. Two weeks. If only they had moved quicker. She cut off that line of thought as being too negative. Scully had been trying to practice some of the ideas she had read about in the books Missy had left behind. Wishing for things she couldn’t change would only make her angry and frustrated. But it was hard.
Two lousy weeks.
Finally finding the proper key, she turned the lock and opened the door.
Mulder was right behind her. Both agents kept their coats tight about them to ward off the chill in the air. Despite the furniture left behind, it was obvious the house had been deserted. Sounds echoed hollowly through the rooms; each of their steps magnified tenfold.
With a nod of her head, Scully indicated her intention of exploring the kitchen. Mulder headed for the stairs. Taking one at a time, he finally stood at the doorway to the master bedroom. The instincts he’d honed in VCS kicked in as he carefully took in the evidence of the hasty departure- the old tennis shoe which dropped unnoticed from an overstuffed box, the stack of Women’s Day magazines on the floor by the bed she’d used to help her fall asleep. A sweater draped carefully over a chair but still forgotten in the rush. He could sense Mary’s panic as she hurried Amber through her own packing. Would the girl be silently compliant? Or would she, with typical teen-age arrogance, be demanding of answers that Mary would be hard pressed to give. No, he knew from his interviews that she wasn’t a ‘typical’ teen. At best, she would quietly question Mary as to why they had to leave.
Mulder wandered into the second bedroom, located towards the front of the house. This would have been Amber’s room. He gazed around, absorbing whatever impressions were left, leaving his mind open to them all. The time for analysis and judgements would come later. He walked further into the room, focusing now on its erstwhile occupant. What was she like? Would she have had friends? Did this room hold the secrets of a young girl forced by circumstances to live covertly, hidden from the world. In his mind’s eye, he pictured her sitting on the bed doing girl things.
Did she giggle? It seemed that Samantha was always giggling but then she had been a happy girl and that was a long time ago. With the long gone laughter still echoing in his ears, Mulder picked up a discarded copy book partially hidden from view, under the bed. He flipped through the pages, his eyes widening after a moment as he grasped what he was seeing.
“Scully!” He headed for the stairs.
–—
“I don’t understand. What am I looking at?” Scully stared at the notebook full of mathematical formulae trying to decipher their meaning.
“Look at it, Scully. Look at the handwriting. If it weren’t for the content, how old would you estimate the writer to be?”
“I’d guess pretty young. Judging from the poorly constructed and oversized lettering, I’d say a child of about six or seven.”
“Flip to the front,” Mulder instructed. He was standing behind his partner, reading over his shoulder. The first page held the inscription “Jodie’s Book” written in smooth, flowing script. Under the heading, the name “Jodie”, was printed in the same childish handwriting seen throughout the rest of the book.
“Mulder, I’m still not sure what you’re driving at,” Scully said, a frown of concentration marring her brow.
“Remember what that neighbor said? She said Jodie had a ‘problem’. That she could barely dress herself. And Fuller, back at the diner? He called her sweet but stupid. Does this look like the work of someone stupid?” he asked, pointing to the notebook.
“Are you suggesting that Amber’s hiding her mathematical talent?
Pretending she’s retarded?”
“No. She’s lived here too long, knew the people around here too well to have kept that kind of deception intact.”
“Then what…,” Her head jerked up. “Maybe she’s an idiot savant.”
Mulder shook his head. “Savants can do some amazing things but they’re like parrots. They can copy what they’ve seen or heard or act like a calculator doing basic arithmetic but they can’t create new things.”
Scully looked back at the pages. “Well, maybe she saw this somewhere and just, uh, just copied it from memory.”
“Scully, look at this stuff. Where was she going to see formulae like this? I doubt Mary was auditing a course in Advanced Calculus and theoretical constructs.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m not sure yet but we know that Moore was involved with something at NIH, something that scared him enough to hide his family and force him into a completely different field.”
“You think this,” Scully nodded at the book, “has something to do with the project he saw?”
“Maybe.” Mulder paced the room, his mind turning over the possibilities.
“As much as I hate to say this, I think we need to give the boys a call.
I’d like them to take a look at this and see if they can find out what these equations are related to.”
“Mulder,” Scully groaned. She gave him a look but knew he was right. This was not something they could send through official channels. “All right.
But you deal with them, Mulder. I don’t have the energy.”
He grinned and walked over to give her a quick hug. Bending close, he whispered, “So you admit I wore you out last night.”
“Not in this lifetime, Mulder,” she replied primly. The sound of his chuckle followed her from the room.
–—
The Mark Anthony Hotel
Ashland, Oregon
5:23 PM
“There’s no sense speculating on this anymore, Mulder. You’ll just give yourself a headache,” said Scully as they walked from the car to the motel room. “Let’s change, have dinner and then we can decide what to do next.”
“You’re right. I still don’t believe that jerk at the real estate office though.” Mulder fit the key into the lock and opened the door, his head still turned towards his partner. “He knows more than he’s saying and…” Mulder’s voice trailed off as he surveyed the shambled which had once been their room. He pulled his gun, signaling for Scully to do the same.
Clothes were strewn on the floor, the file was torn apart, pages ripped in half. The linens were stripped from the bed as if in anger. Quickly scanning the room for intruders, Mulder headed for the bathroom, Scully at his back. Both rooms were empty.
Re-holstering their weapons, the agents made a more careful inspection of the damage.
“Mulder! The computer’s gone!” Scully moaned as she moved the wreckage of a lamp from the desk. “All our notes were in there.”
“You think that’s bad, Scully, imagine the look on Skinner’s face when we have to tell him we got another hotel room trashed — lamp included.”
“Knock, knock.” To their annoyance, Frohike stood in the open door with two pizza boxes balanced over his right shoulder. He gave once glance around the room as he made his entrance, “Redecorating?”
Byers came in behind him, “We brought over some dinner, Frohike’s treat.
What happened here?”
Scully rolled her eyes and plopped down on the bed. There was no escaping them. They were like the 90’s version of Montezuma’s Revenge.
Frohike, in his checkered vest and polka-dotted silk bow tie, turned a concerned eye from Scully to Mulder and tried to hush his voice, “She didn’t do this, did she?”
“I most certainly did not!” Scully’s indignant tone nearly bowled the little man over. “And as much as I may regret this later, Frohike, if you have something to say to me – then say it. Don’t talk about me as if I’m not in the room.”
Mulder nodded to his friend, “Yeah, and don’t call her Scullster, she hates that, too.”
“Shut up, Mulder.” Scully crossed her legs and surveyed the damage.
“Who the hell would do this? Who even knows we’re out here?” She eyed Byers, who, had seated himself at the small round table and was helping himself to the open pastry box. “Besides the Wonder Geeks.”
“Hey,” Langley protested, “that’s personal.” Then his gaze fell on the small silver disk, no larger than an dime, attached to the headboard. “I think I know how we can find out who did this…possibly…”
Mulder’s head popped up from under the bed, “How?”
Langley turned to Byers and grinned, “Blindman.”
–—
Five minutes later Frohike and Langley scurried around the equipment that had been hauled in from the van and set up on the round hotel table.
Cords and leads cris crossed the floor, but Scully didn’t care. She sat on the bed relaxed against a pillow and the headboard, chewing a piece of olive and sausage pizza. “Now, tell me, Byers,” she smacked, “who planted the bug again?”
“It’s not really a bug, as such,” Byers offered from his perch on the bureau. “It’s more of in information collection device. All of the audio information is stored digitally on the unit, itself, and then harvested at a later point in time. It’s cutting edge technology, really. With it we can distinguished over 78 million distinct sounds – more than the human ear. Anything from the make and type of a refrigerator kicking on to a mouse sneeze.”
“Hmmmm…” Scully chewed. Picking a small piece of cheese from the crust and tossing it in her mouth she asked casually, “Speaking of vermin…which one of you planted the ‘information collection device’?”
Byers swallowed a gulp of his soda and looked at Mulder for help.
Mulder, however, was distracted by the proximity of the tiny silver disk to the bed. He anxiously looked from the sedate Scully to the two men busily working on the other side of the room and then back to Scully again.
Mulder was no help. Byers did the only thing he could do under the circumstances. He pinned it on someone else. “Uh,” he stumbled, “I think it was Langley.”
“What?” Langley poked his head up from behind the small metal unit.
“Oh, nothing,” Scully gave a nonchalant shrug, “Byers was just letting me know who to thank for all of this.” She took another large bite of the hot cheese and gnawed thoughtfully at the small blond man. What interesting torments could she contrive for him? “Why?” Her eyes trained on the small bearded man.
“Why what?”
Why did you bug our room?”
Byers shrugged and examined his cuticles. “We had a new… We just wanted to try it out.”
“Boys and toys,” Mulder muttered, only half listening to their conversation.
“I think it’s ready,” Frohike said as he sat himself at the little table.
He slipped on a pair of large black headphones and began clicking buttons and turning dials. Langley inserted the tiny disk in to the small slit and they both watched as lights flickered all over the control panel.
“You know, Mulder,” Scully twitched her nylon-clad toes at him, “I’m not sure where this leaves us. We’ve come up with very little since we’ve been here on the whereabouts of Mary and Amber. Although,” she cocked her head to one side, “it’s going to be harder for them to move now that Mary’s alias won’t work.”
“Right. No social security number, no job or house. Their money will run out sooner or later.” Mulder allowed this idea to turn over in his mind.
What would he do? No ID, no money, no where to turn? He’d be pretty desperate. He would probably do something very illegal.
Byers, grateful for a change in conversation, asked, “So why are they running from you?”
“They’re not running from us.” Scully sipped her glass of ice water. Her brow tensed. “Mulder? Who are they running from? Are they running from us?”
“Uh,” Mulder hesitated. Didn’t he know this at one point? “From the people Moore worked with, right? They couldn’t be running from us.
They left town a week and a half before we knew we were coming up here.”
“Actually,” Scully corrected him, “I’ve known about this trip for about a month now.”
“I meant officially.”
“Yes,” Scully said, “but it wouldn’t have to be official, would it. If I repeatedly said I was going to Oregon to look for Moore’s family…” she glanced over to Frohike who was consumed by whatever it was that he was listening to. “…it’s not like it’s hard to bug our room.”
Mulder swallowed. Suddenly he was starting to feel a little guilty. “So, you’re thinking that someone tipped her off?”
“Possibly.”
Frohike’s eyes bulged like little, black hamster eyes as he pressed the headphones in to his ears. Everyone looked up to the sound of his breath grow ragged, and saw the flush in his cheeks work its way down to his neck and perspiration form on his forehead. A whimper broke from his thin lips, his eyes rolled back, and he slid out of the chair and on to the ground.
It took a second or two for it to register in Scully’s head that Frohike had passed out. She knelt beside him and felt for his pulse: racing. She patted his burning cheeks and spoke in practiced doctor tones, “Frohike, wake up.
Can you hear me? Frohike?”
With all of the excitement going on, Byers picked up the headset that had slipped off his unconscious friend and listened in. A flush rose to his cheeks as well, but his response was only to say, “My, my, Agent Scully. I never pegged you for a screamer.”
Scully’s eyes shot from the little bearded man to her partner. “Tell me he didn’t mean what I think he meant.”
Mulder, at a loss for an acceptable response to her demand, ripped the headset from Byers’ head and gave a growl, “I’ll do that.” Byers just shrugged and tried to pull the smile off his face.
–—
Once the door was securely shut behind the Lone Gunmen, Scully leaned against the door and gave a sigh. Mulder had been sitting hunched over the tape machine for the at least ten minutes. His face staring off in undaunted distraction while the events of their hotel room whispered their secrets. She gave him a half smile and a smug, “That good huh?” But her remark didn’t register on his face. She sat across the table from him and placed herself deliberately in his field of vision. He blinked her in and slipped the headset off.
“Listen to this, Scully, you’re not going to believe it.”
She looked questioningly at the device. “I was there, Mulder. And I still don’t believe it.”
His expression didn’t shift. “I think it’s Mary.”
Immediately she snatched the phones and pressed them to her ear.
What she heard was a crash, then a scattering of papers, and then a gasp, “How did they…Amber…you sons of bitches!” followed by more crashes and a rip of linen. Her mouth slowly dropped open as Mulder quickly rewound the tape just a fraction and allowed her to hear the passage again.
“It’s gotta be her, Scully. She found the pictures we had of Amber.” His steady hazel eyes telling her the truth she already believed.
“But why would she trash the room?”
“I don’t know, but she can’t be far. She knows we’re on to her, and she’s trying to detour us.”
Scully slipped the headset for her reddish head and sighed again. “Maybe Mulder…”
“What?” he prompted, but she just shook her head and crossed to the sink.
Her red-handled brush was tossed haphazardly in to the trash bin, and she leaned over to retrieve it. “Tell me, Scully. What?”
“I was just thinking,” her thoughts came out slowly, as if she was unsure she should be thinking them at all. “What if…what if this was the wrong decision. What if I was wrong in coming out here to find Moore’s family.”
The brush easily slipped through the short mass of hair, pressing it smoothly back in to place. “They’re hiding from someone, obviously, and she’s trashing our room…”
“We’re not here to hurt them, Scully-”
“No, but she doesn’t know that.” Scully slammed the brush against the counter and turned to her partner. “And what if, by our being here, we’re exposing her to the very people she’s trying to hide from. She wasn’t estranged from Moore. Moore helped her to hide.”
“What are you saying? You want to abandon the search? Do you want to let things alone and go back to D.C.?” She didn’t answer him right away.
Instead her brilliant eyes scanned the wall opposite. The change in events was nothing that either of them had counted on. Mulder wanted to hit himself over the head for not seeing it coming…of course they were running from the men Moore used to work with at NIH. Amber’s “problem”, as the neighbor woman had put it, was most likely a direct result of whatever they were working on. Mulder shook his head. “If we’re as easy to track us as Langley suggested, we should leave tonight.
Put as much distance between Mary and Amber as possible.”
Scully bit her lip. “But now that we’ve taken her identity, she won’t be able to get work. She has to have some way to stay alive.”
“Where do you think she got it in the first place?”
She shrugged. “Probably Moore helped her with that. I can’t think of how else a civilian would have access to those kinds of documents – birth certificates and social security numbers.”
Mulder nodded. “So we’re going to have to find Mary.”
“Yes,” Scully exhaled, “to help her go under ground again.” The expression Scully wore sent a pang of guilt through Mulder’s gut. He sat down on the bed with her, and put a comforting arm around her shoulder.
She laid her head against his chest. “I should never have insisted in coming out here, Mulder. We’re no closer to finding Dr. Moore, and I very well, might have put his family in jeopardy.”
“Now stop that, Scully. You had the best of intentions. We had no way of knowing what we would find before we came to Oregon.” He ran his right hand lightly over her head, sweeping the hair back from her face. His whole being ached for her, wanting to take her hurt away. He knew that she was going to blame herself for a long time now – whether it was justified or not. It was just a part of who she was; the conscience that made up her personality. But just a drop in the bucket of all of her qualities that made him love her. “Come on, Scully, let’s go down to that soda shop a few blocks away and have a hotdog. We’ll relax a little and regroup.”
“I’m really not hungry, Mulder.”
“Well, ice cream then.”
“I’m not in the mood for ice cream.”
He could have put money down on her response. “Yeah, well, I am.
Come keep me company, okay?”
They both knew that once she stepped foot in the shop and smelled the sweet in the air, there would be no way she could resist a double scoop of pistachio mint. She gave him a smile. He knew her so well, and somehow, that made all of the difference at that moment. “Okay.”
The Gate of All Wonders Part Six
If turbid waters are stilled,
they will gradually become clear;
If something inert is set in motion,
it will gradually come to life.
-Tao Te Ching
It wasn’t the sound of her terrified voice screaming, “Freeze!” that made them stop in mid stride in the parking lot behind the hotel. It was the gun pointed at Mulder’s chest at the end of two thin and quivering arms that stilled them. There was no question in either of their minds that it was Mary who had found them, and she seemed to be at the end of her rope.
“Why are you following us?” Tears streamed down her face.
Mulder raised his arms to show her he meant no harm. “Mary, we’re not here to harm you. We knew your father-”
The mere mention of her father sent her in to a panic, and Mary involuntarily closed her eyes and fired the gun. As soon as they saw they flash, both Mulder and Scully hit the ground. Scully fell in to a roll and drew her weapon. “Put the gun down!” She ordered.
Mary, seeing that she missed with her first fire, retrained her gun on Scully’s weapon. The two women stood less that twenty feet from each other, each staring down a loaded barrel.
“Don’t shoot!” Mulder begged. “We’re here to help!” He had to stop her.
He knew instinctively that Scully wouldn’t fire unless absolutely necessary, but Mary was terrified and ready to shoot at anything. And that anything was likely to be Scully.
“Yeah, I’ve seen how your kind helps!” She wailed, “You won’t hurt us any more.”
“You don’t understand,” Mulder continued to plead, “We’re not part of them. We’re trying to stop them!” He had to make her listen before someone got shot. “They’ve got your father, Mary. We are trying to get him back.”
“I don’t believe you,” she hissed.
“It’s true.” He insisted. “Scully, put down the gun.”
Scully’s head jerked to him. “What?” There was no way she was going to leave them defenseless, and Mulder hadn’t drawn his weapon.
“You heard me! Mary isn’t a killer, she’s protecting her daughter. But Mary, we’re not after your daughter. We’re not after you. We’re just trying to help your father.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
Scully allowed the gun in her extended arm to drop down at her side. She knew where Mulder was trying to send the conversation. “Because your father helped me.” There was a moment’s hesitation while Mary shifted from one foot to another. Scully had her listening. “A years ago, I was…taken. We never knew by who or why, but about a month ago, while we were in Chicago…I began having severe symptoms. Your father helped me through them. And I believe he was taken because of his involvement with me.”
“Why?” Mary pressed her, her tears beginning to dry on her cheeks. “Who are you?”
“I’m Dana Scully. I’m with the X-Files Division of the FBI, and we’ve been trying to debunk the forces that have been taking people against their will and using them in experimentation. We were close, Mary. Very close.
Mary’s arm, suddenly too heavy to lift any longer, dropped and the gun fell from her hand. “You’re telling me the truth?”
“Yes.” Mulder nodded. “Everything she has said has been the truth.”
Mary looked away from the pair of agents. “When was he taken?”
“About six weeks ago,” Mulder offered. “If it’s any consolation, we think he’s still alive.”
“Of course he’s still alive,” Mary snapped at him. “Who else could finish the project?”
Scully froze. “Project?”
–—
After dispatching the local police who had been called after Mary had fired her gun, Mulder and Scully sat on the edge of the bed opposite Mary, as her story began to unfold before them. “I guess I was thirteen when they first started the tests on me. Papa didn’t now, of course, and I really didn’t have any idea, either. I remember waking up in strange places…like in my bed when I knew I’d fallen asleep on the couch, or on the couch when the last thing I’d remember would be practicing the piano. Weird things like that.”
Scully crossed her legs and leaned forward on an elbow. “And you never mentioned it to your father?”
“No. We…during my teen years, we weren’t really that close. I became the phantom child. My mother died from cancer when I was ten. I guess I blamed him for part of that.”
Mulder’s ears perked up. Was Mary’s mother used as a guinea pig, too?
“Why did you blame him?”
Mary shrugged. “I had to blame somebody, and mama wasn’t around.
Anyway, as the testing became more progressive, things got worse. I stopped going to school, I withdrew from my friends. Eventually I moved in with my boyfriend. He had his own place – his parents kicked him out so it was easy just to crash there.”
Scully’s response was minute, but still a visible surprise. “You’re father let you drop out of school?”
“No,” Mary took a deep breath. “He didn’t have any idea. I know my father loved me. Loves me. But he was so caught up in his work.
Sometimes he’d stumble in at four in the morning and pass out cold fully dressed. I would go for days at a time without seeing him. I’d be in bed by the time he finally made it in, and many times he’d be gone before I woke up the next morning. So really it came as no big shock when it took him nearly a month to discover that I’d moved out of the house. And by that time, I was pregnant with Amber.”
Scully looked at the pictures that Mary passed to her. Smiling up at her from the photo was a beautiful little girl of about five with big brown eyes and straight brown hair. She held a fluffy grey bunny like a baby in her arms. “Amber was a beautiful little girl. She walked early and started to talk before she was a year old.” A pained look glossed over her face.
“By the time she was three she was having night terrors every night about men in white coming for her. I tried to comfort her, but the truth was that I’d had the same dreams – down to the smallest details she’d describe – ever since I could remember.”
Mulder nodded. Her experience wasn’t far from the typical profile of abductions. Many times they ran in families. “You felt they were taking your daughter?”
“I went to my father as soon as I put two and two together. That wasn’t an easy thing to do – but I had no choice. Those bastards were hurting my baby. I had no way of protecting her. And, after all, he was still my father, and I knew that that bond was there, even if we weren’t getting along so well.” Mary bite the inside of her cheek and took in a deep breath.
“But, Papa didn’t believe me. It was too much for him. After I told him everything he…he accused me of lying, of using drugs, he called me a bad mother…he threatened to have my daughter taken away from me.
And by that point, she was all I had left in the world. Her father, well, he left one day with the band. I haven’t heard from him since.”
Scully tried to comprehend the story that Mary was feeding her. She knit her brow and shook her head, “When your father didn’t believe you, what did you do?”
“I didn’t know what to do. I mean, you can’t really go to the police about nightmares. I was working as a receptionist in a doctor’s office, and I had Amber in day care all day. I was terrified that one night I’d go to pick her up and she’d be gone. But I had to work. I had to make a life for myself and my daughter.” Mary took a sip from the water glass Mulder placed on the table beside her. She looked the two agents over. They were roughly her age, she thought. Both had open eyes and a gentle manner. “I cried, mostly. That’s what I did. The feeling of helplessness was defeating. I didn’t know what to do.”
“I know that feeling,” Mulder mumbled under his breath and gave a fleeting look to the woman beside him. Knowing someone you love is hurting, knowing that untouchable people are responsible, and not being able to help. Yeah, he’d been there, done that. Got the tee-shirt.
Mary saw the look that freely passes between the two people sitting across from her. They seemed to be having a second conversation, offering apologies and reassuring gestures in that single lock of eyes. It was a feeling she understood, but had never experienced. “So, anyway, about two months later, Papa came to the office. He was in a panic – said something about being wrong and forgiveness, and how we needed to get to Amber right away. We rushed to the day care and got her, and we never went back.”
“To the day care?”
“To DC. Papa drove us to Charleston, West Virginia that night, and the next day we were somewhere in Kentucky. He had different names for us and social security numbers; he helped us get a place to live.”
Scully cocked her head. “Where did he get access to the social security numbers?”
“I don’t now. But every year or so, he’d show up again and we’d have to move to a different state, and I’d have a new name and number.”
Mulder organized the facts in his head and allowed Mary to take another sip of the water. “Before, you mentioned a project.”
“Project Einstein. Or, at least that’s what we called it. I don’t know the official top secret name. Originally, Papa wasn’t on their research team.
But after Amber started showing the symptoms-”
Scully’s heart leaped out of her chest. “She has symptoms? What kind of symptoms?” The horror of her days in Chicago were written clearly in her eyes; the physical pain, the emotional torture of one who knows beyond any doubt that they are dying.
“Uh…” Mary shifted under Scully’s intensity. “Well, Amber had always been a curious child. Always in to everything. But slowly – not so that I was able to notice right away – she became more sedate. Her motor function became impaired. Eventually, she began having trouble doing the simplest of things, like turning on the TV. Tell me how many six year olds can’t work a television clicker!” She sighed. “Then her speech deteriorated, and her vocabulary became about a hundred and thirty words.” Her fists balled and she smacked the arm of the chair. “This was a normal, healthy child. They did something to her. They destroyed her brain!”
How was this possible, Scully wondered. Her thoughts racing, she wandered over to the room’s window to stare out, not really noticing the view. Various medications given over a period of time destroyed brain tissue. Hell, any street drug could do that. But, if Mulder’s theory was correct, how did they stimulate the specific nerves to enhance Amber’s mathematical abilities? Maybe the abilities were always there and were simply not effected by whatever else they did to her. Scully concentrated on this particular piece of the puzzle, fearful that she would lose control if she dwelt on the type of men who would conduct any experiment, any test, on an innocent child.
Mulder followed his partner’s movements with his eyes, sensing what she was thinking but knowing she would have to work through this without him, at least for right now. He produced the notebook they’d found earlier that day and leafed through it, hoping to distract Mary from Scully’s preoccupation. “When did she start doing this kind of mathematical computations?”
Mary stared at the notebook and rolled her eyes to the back of her head.
“I’ve been looking all over for that.” She pulled it from Mulder’s hand and leafed through it, herself. “Uh, I don’t know, really. Maybe eleven.
Ten? I thought it was nonsense. I mean Amber didn’t really talk anymore, she couldn’t carry out tasks with more than three or four steps in them, I just thought it was gibberish. Then I began to see patterns in it, she’d write the same sequence of letters and numbers over and over like she was trying to figure out some kind of puzzle.”
“Did you ever ask her what they meant?”
“Yes. She just said ‘broken time’. I have no idea what that was supposed to mean. But Papa seems to think she’s dabbling in quantum physics.”
Mary laughed. “If one can dabble in quantum physics. God, I’d give anything to get her to dabble in Barbie dolls and Legos.”
Mulder checked his watch. 6:50 PM. “Where is she now?”
“I have her safe. She’s with a friend that I trust. But we can’t stay there for much longer. I don’t want to endanger anyone else. And we’ve already outstayed our welcome.”
–—
Two Hours Later
Farmer’s Market Road 260.
“Mulder, this is crazy. I’m not sure what you expect them to do,” Scully said in a whisper, her voice crackling with static as he drove under train overpass.
“You know those guys, Scully. I’ll just tell them we need two airline tickets to Washington on our flight, no questions asked, and they’ll take it from there. What’s she doing?” He cradled the cell phone against his ear as he navigated a tricky turn in the road.
“Sleeping. She’s exhausted, looks undernourished and, from what she told us, I can’t blame her. Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Do you think we have any other choice? If Moore was taken back to complete this project, then he’s got to be at the labs at NIH. We can’t turn Mary and Amber loose since they don’t have any ID. They don’t have any place to stay and there’s no way Moore could contact them, even if he were able. They’ve got to come with us.” They had already discussed this with Mary and Mulder worried why Scully continued to take issue with the plan.
She sighed into the phone and glanced at the pale woman laying across the bed. “All right. There’s no other way, I suppose, but I wish you didn’t have to bring them into it.”
Mulder chuckled. “You’re just mad because they found out you’re a moaner, Scullster.”
“Mulder,” she said dangerously quiet, “one more word about that tape and you’ll be moaning… from a hospital bed.”
“Seriously, Scully, I don’t think we have any options there either. We need the hacking program, if nothing else, to get the tickets. I’d also like them to take a look at the copybook.”
“I was wondering why you snuck that out under your jacket,” she muttered. “You think those computations actually mean something?”
“Don’t you?”
“I don’t know.” She paused and in Mulder’s mind’s eye, he pictured her switching into lecture mode. “There could be several conditions which may account for Amber’s mental deterioration. I’m not convinced that what we’re seeing is the result of some unsanctioned, government-sponsored experiments.”
“What about Mary’s story? The things she had to go through?”
“That’s just it, Mulder. Her story is full of holes. She hasn’t told us anything specific, has no evidence…”
“Scully, we’re here because you wanted to find her,” Mulder reminded her.
“I know that. I’m not accusing her of lying. She just might not have all the facts straight. You know how these men operate, Mulder, lies, hidden in with the truth. I’m sure she does believe what she told us. I’m just not sure I do.”
“Scully…”
“Moore obviously saw something he shouldn’t have,” Scully cut him off, “and it scared him enough to send his family into hiding. But that’s not the same thing as believing that the government, or whomever, has the ability to somehow change a person’s mental capacity. We don’t have that kind of technology.”
“We don’t have the technology as far as you know, Agent Scully.” He hesitated before asking this next question, unsure of the timing since he wasn’t physically with her but yet needing her answer. “Scully, are you sure you’re not rationalizing this because you don’t want to know what caused your own… symptoms?”
He heard the sharp intake of her breath. “Scully?”
Her silence frightened him. Damn, why didn’t he wait until he was there with her before confronting her with this? “Scully, talk to me!” His foot started to brake the car.
As if divining his intentions, Scully’s voice, soft and careful, came through the receiver. “I’m OK, Mulder. You think that what happened to Amber might be related to what they did to me?”
“I don’t know, Dana. We need to think about this though. You’re sure you’re OK?” he asked gently, his voice a caress against her ear.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just can’t shake this bad feeling…,” she sighed at her own fears. “And I’m tired.” Then with a smile in her voice she added, “Just try to lay a hand on me tonight.”
He laughed again. “So I did wear you out! I knew it!”
“I’m warning you…”
“So, um, Scully, you said Mary’s sleeping?” he asked innocently.
“Yeah.” Her tone bespoke her suspicions.
“Good.” He settled back into his seat. “So, uh, what are you wearing?”
–—
Motel 6, room 113
Kisshimont, Oregon
9:45 PM
Mulder paced the confined space of the dingy motel room the Gunmen were using as a base camp during the UFO convention. Tacky would be a kind description of the rundown, edge-of-town establishment. “You guys must have really pissed off your travel agent to get sent to a dump like this.”
“You kidding?” asked Frohike. “We got a group discount.”
“I’m sure.”
“Here we go,” said Langley as he studied the computer monitor.
Mulder glanced over his should and stared at the screen containing the passenger list of the USAir flights. “How long will this take?”
“Getting them onto your flight out to San Francisco won’t take long but the connecting flights are another story. I’ll see what I can do.” Langley bent his head back to his task.
“Mulder, do you have any idea what you have here?” asked Byers, flipping through the pages of the worn notebook which once belonged to Amber.
“That’s what I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”
“This is big time stuff. See this?” Byers offered Mulder the book, pointing out the first few pages. “These look like spatial time computations but they take quantum physics in a direction I’ve never seen. I’ve sent them on to someone I know at MIT but even she said it would take time for a full analysis.”
“She?” asked Frohike.
Byers ignored the interruption. “This stuff makes Einstein’s theories look like kiddie time at a Please Touch Museum. You said that you know who did this?”
“Yeah.” Mulder’s mind was racing with the possibilities now that he knew for sure this wasn’t just the fantasies of a brain-damaged child. Could this be evidence he needed to bring these bastards to justice for what they did to Moore? More importantly, for what they tried to do to Scully? His thoughts were as scattered as the tapping of Langley’s keyboard. He felt a sudden need to return to Scully, hold her for awhile, make sure she was all right.
“Do we get to meet her?” asked Byers hopefully, breaking into Mulder’s musings.
“What? Uh, no. That probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“You think they’re still being followed?” asked Frohike.
“I wouldn’t rule it out as a possibility.”
“It’s getting late and this might still take a while. We’ll call you once we have what you need,” suggested Byers. “I would like to keep this if you don’t mind,” he added, holding up the notebook.
“I don’t think…”
“We’ll keep it safe but we haven’t had time to scan the whole thing. I can’t guarantee an accurate analysis without studying it totally.”
Mulder was torn. He needed the secrets the book contained but he needed the book itself as well. He studied the smaller man before him and finally nodded. “I’ll see you back in Washington.”
“If we find anything important, we’ll call you.”
“What about the tickets?”
“I’ll call as soon as I’ve finished,” yelled Langley from across the room, never taking his eyes from the screen. “Uh, you’ll answer the phone, won’t you?” Langley gulped, suddenly going pale.
“If you boys think you can avoid what Scully’s planning for you for planting that bug, remember this. She kinda likes me and she still shot me. I would not favor your chances of escaping her forever.”
The hush that had fallen over the room was broken by Frohike’s fervent, “God, what a woman!”
The Gate of All Wonders Part Seven
Stopple the orifices of your heart,
Close your doors;
your whole life will not suffer.
Open the gate of your heart,
Meddle with affairs;
your whole life will be beyond salvation.
-Tao Te Ching
The Mark Anthony Hotel, room 502
Ashland, Oregon
10:40 PM
Mulder placed the bulky bag on the small round motel table and pulled out several Styrofoam containers. “Scullster,” he called in to the bathroom, “you said anything was fine, so I got Mexican.”
“Oh,” she reemerged, clipping her hair back in to a small barrette just behind her left ear and made a sour face.
“You like Mexican, Scully, don’t try and tell me you don’t.” He opened the cylindrical container and smiled down in to the thick green sauce. “Oooo, extra guacamole.”
Slipping the other barrette neatly in to place, she sat down and looked at the plate he was preparing for her. “It’s just that my stomach is still a little tight from all that pizza I ate earlier. But how can I resist spicy sausage?” She ripped a tortilla and dipped half in to the bowl of hot chile con queso.
“When did Mary leave?”
“Just after Byers called. She wanted to get Amber ready for the trip tomorrow.” She lifted the lid on the soda. The saccharine smell was unmistakable. Diet. She wondered if he was trying to tell her something.
“Byers got the tickets already? He thought it might take him hours to find a direct flight.”
“Well, he couldn’t find them a direct flight. They’ll be going in to San Francisco on our flight, but in San Francisco they’ll have to change to TWA and then to Delta in Denver before getting in to DC.” She made a face.
That was going to be one hell of a trip. “We’ll have a layover, of course, in Minneapolis/ St. Paul but we won’t even have to change planes.”
Mulder chewed his corn chip thoughtfully. “I don’t think we should split up with them.”
“Yeah, I agree. But there didn’t seem to be any way of getting the tickets discreetly, and Mary wouldn’t travel separated from Amber.”
“How much later do they get into DC than us?”
Scully spooned some refried beans in to her already-salsa’d rice and piled the mixture on to the other half of the tortilla. “We land at about 6 PM, they get in around 10:30 PM. Langley wanted to reroute the plane to get them in at 7 PM, but I was afraid of calling attention to it.”
Mulder snorted and took a huge bite of his burrito. He chewed and watched Scully dip hers in to the cheese sauce. She looked great. No sign of the sickness that plagued her just over a month ago was visible. With her hair swept away from her face, and the very light make-up, she looked almost school aged, again. “I like your hair like that.”
“What?” She looked up to find him staring with a lopsided grin on his face. “My hair?”
“Yeah. Why do you find that surprising?” He dipped another chip in the thick salsa.
She shrugged, “You’ve never commented on my hair before. In fact,” she took a sip of her soda, “you almost never comment on what I look like.”
“That’s not true. I tell you that you’re beautiful-”
“No, I know. That’s not what I mean.” She took other sip. She was just about to thank him for his comment when up from the depths of her belly erupted the roundest belch that Mulder had ever heard. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head, and her hands flew to her gapping mouth.
“Wow, Scullster, that was a definite 6.2 on the Richter scale.” He chuckled to himself and took another bite of his burrito.
“Excuse me.” There he was, paying her a real compliment for once – one where they weren’t in bed together – to let her know that he was seeing her and responding to her, and what did she do? She let loose a sailor burp.
God, how humiliating. “It’s the soda.”
He knew she was embarrassed, but Scully rarely allowed herself in to these kind of situations, so he wasn’t about to waste it. “I don’t know…I think I smelt some spicy sausage in that one.”
She looked at him, and seeing his pleasant mood, she knew that he was liable to carry on teasing her for a while. Better change the subject, and fast. “What do we do with Amber while we go to the NIH? Obviously we can’t take her with us, and we’ll need Mary once we’re inside.”
“How about your mother?”
Scully poked her fork at the tomato slice on her plate. “No. I don’t want her involved.”
Mulder’s eyes wandered up to hers. He could understand her reluctance to include her mother, but really the risk was minimal. All she would need to do would be to watch a retarded nineteen year old.
“Then what? Another baby sitting service?”
Scully rolled her eyes. “What made you think of my mother?”
“She’s local, and trustworthy. And no one knows that they’ll be back in DC, so there shouldn’t be any threat from any ‘outside’ agency.”
“My mother has better things to do than watch our case subjects while we play Indiana Jones.” She took another bite of her tortilla. The mention of involving her mother was leaving her with an uncomfortable feeling. She’d always worked hard to divide and separate her business life and her family life. But for about a year, Mulder had crossed the line, creating a new subcategory: Mulder life. He’d worked his way, not only in to her heart and her bed, but also in the heart and life of her mother, as well. And the fact that she didn’t feel threatened by this, worried her. “I don’t want her involved.”
Mulder shrugged. “Okay. I just thought it might make things easier.”
The he grunted. “I don’t know why, though, nothing is ever easy with us.”
Scully sat back in her chair and patted her stomach. “Delicious dinner, Mulder. Thanks. Much better than the usual Chinese Take-out.” Her comment was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.
“Hello?”
“Dana? Is everything okay?”
“Mom?” Scully sat up, instantly alert and ready for trouble. Mulder responded in kind. Margaret never called them while they were on a case.
And actually, the last case they were on, in Chicago, was the first time that Dana had ever called her mother while away. “Is everything all right, Mom?”
“Yes, of course. I just got home from the movies and a late dinner with friends and I just felt …, ” There was a long hesitation where Scully’s brows arched and Mulder took notice of the building tension.
“I just wanted to call and talk to you.” The hesitation on the line created a moment of doubt on Margaret’s part. “Am I calling at a bad time?”
“Oh, no.” Dana’s eyebrows rose, “We were just eating dinner.”
Mulder motioned to her to get her attention. “Scullster, ask her. Just to see what she says.”
“No, Mulder.” She gave him ‘the look’ and he sat back in his chair, and sipped at his soda, content that he’d pushed the subject as far as was safely possible. “And don’t call me that.”
“Are you two fighting?” The humor in Margaret’s voice was evident.
“What does he want you to ask me?”
“It’s nothing Mom. How are things in DC?”
“Now, don’t change the subject, young lady. This is your mother, you’re talking to. Dana…Hello?”
Mulder watched Scully drop the phone and rush in to the bathroom, just managing to shut the door before she exploded. Mulder picked up the receiver and tried to stifle his laughing, “Mrs. Scully?
“Is Dana all right? What happened?”
“She’s fine. She just had to make a break for the bathroom.” He heard her stern voice through the door demanding that he not explain in detail what she was doing. A command he had no intention of following.
“Oh, no. Is she sick?”
Mulder laughed some more as he heard his name threateningly shouted through the door. This was just too good. “Not sick. Gas. Scully had been indulging in some spicy delights for the past day or so, and I’m getting the pleasure of the result.”
Both of them enjoyed a good laugh at Dana’s expense. “You two really are starting to act like an old married couple!” Margaret heard Mulder go quiet on the other end of the line. “Fox?”
“I’m here.” A married couple. Like his parents? Or more like hers? Was there really that big of a difference? And what made up that difference?
“Fox, I didn’t mean anything by that comment. I’m sorry if I misspoke.”
“Not at all, Mrs. Scully. It’s just…did Dana say something to you?”
He hushed his voice so that the straining ear in the bathroom wouldn’t be able to follow his conversation.
Feeling that she’d just said something she shouldn’t have, Margaret was deliberately vague. “Say? Not recently, no.”
“Then she has said something to you in the past? What did she say?” The idea the Scully had confided in her mother and not him about her stance on marriage left him uneasy. Did she think about it often? Was she ready to take that next step? Was it the logical next step for them? Was she opposed to the idea? Or maybe just opposed to the idea with him? Maybe she just didn’t want to have children with him. Or didn’t want children at all.
Margaret wanted needed an out. She couldn’t tell Mulder what Dana had confided in her a month earlier, that they might not be the “marrying kind”. Somehow, she didn’t think her daughter’s fears would help progress the situation. Instead, she punted the ball back in to Mulder’s corner. “Don’t you think this is something that you should be discussing with Dana?”
Mulder frowned and nodded in compliance. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Frankly, Fox, I don’t understand why the two of you haven’t discussed this earlier. You spent all that time together…what do you do, if you’re not talking?”
Scully opened the door and slipped out from the bathroom, quickly closing it behind her once again. “Okay, now, what are the two of you whispering about?”
Mulder’s grin beamed from ear to ear. “I was just about to tell you mother how we fill our time, Scullster.”
“Oh, no you don’t!” Scully grabbed the phone from her partner, “Mom, whatever he told you, I deny it all!”
“He’s calling you Scullster?” Margaret was amused.
“Yeah, well, I plan on breaking him of that habit.” She turned an eye to Mulder, who was busy cleaning up the dinner stuff. “Mom! Oh, I almost forgot, we’ll be coming back to DC early, so how about Dinner on Easter Sunday after all?”
“That will be wonderful. I’ll invite your brothers and their families.
This will be good.” Her mother sounded happy at the thought of preparing an extravagant Easter dinner for a herd of people. “A family Easter again that’s what the spirit needs. Bring Fox.”
“I’ll try. Have a good night Mom.”
“Sweet dreams, sweetheart. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Dana hung up the receiver and looked at Mulder.
“You’ve just been recruited for Easter Dinner on Sunday.”
“Sounds good. Your mother is a great cook.”
Scully cocked her head to one side. He wasn’t going to try and get out of it? “The whole family will he there.”
“Does this mean I get to meet your brothers? Finally.” Mulder set the bag of garbage next to the door before join her on the edge of the bed.
He sounded like he was, not only willing to man an appearance, but excited to. “Of course, this means that you’ll be going to Easter mass with us.”
Mulder feigned a knife in his chest and then gave her his best smile.
“Can I wear my Bugs Bunny tie?”
Scully returned with her Mona-Lisa smile. “Yeah, but not the ears, this year.”
–—
Room 502
Friday, April 5, 1996
7:22 AM
“Scully, what time did Mary say she was coming with Amber?” Mulder crumbled the napkin from his lap and threw it on his empty plate. He pushed himself away from the small table where they’d had room service breakfast.
“I told her to be here by seven-thirty. The flight leaves at nine but I didn’t think it was a good idea for us to just hang around the airport.” Scully’s voice floated to him from the bathroom.
Mulder glimpsed at his watch. “Then get a move on, G-woman. They should be here soon.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth when he heard the sound of a timid knock on the door.
He opened it to reveal Mary, her hair pulled severely back from her thin face, carrying two small suitcases and a paper bag tucked under her arm.
Mulder stood back to usher her in, reaching for the bags. She handed them over and glanced around fearfully before turning back to the tall, waif-ish figure behind her. The older woman pulled her forward and gently guided her into the room. “This is Amber,” she said by way of greeting.
“Hello, Amber,” Mulder said quietly. “It’s nice to meet you.” He held out her hand but the young woman stood mutely before him oblivious to the social niceties. Her long dark hair was neatly braided and hung to the middle of her back. She wore faded jeans and an oversized cable sweater designed to hide her womanly features. Mulder bent forward trying to catch her eye. Instead, he saw the childish face of innocence, her gazed seemingly fixed on the floor. She must be shy, thought Mulder to himself.
“Amber, honey. Say hello to Mr. Mulder.” Mary came and put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, trying to get her attention.
“‘Lo,” Amber mumbled.
Mary’s eyes still reflected the old pain as she watched her girl, the hopes of something better for her offspring, killed with the passage of time and the machinations of men she’d never know. Mulder swallowed as he marked the silent observation.
“Good Morning, Mary,” Scully said as she came into the room.
“Shoes!” cried Amber suddenly as she leapt forward, falling to her knees before Scully’s feet. “Pretty shoes! Mama, pretty shoes!” She stroked the agent’s rust suede shoes. The smoothness of the brass buckle caused a hiss of excitement from the teen.
“Amber, stop that! Get up!” Mary rushed to Amber’s side and tried to lift her to her feet but Amber resisted her efforts. “I’m sorry. She’s fascinated by shoes for some reason,” Mary explained.
Scully cast a stricken look at her partner. While she knew what Mary had told them the night before, the reality of Amber’s limitations came as a shock. With horror, she realized that this was not the result of some act of nature, some random misfiring of neurons or a lack of some biochemical brain fluid. Somewhere deep in her soul, Scully knew this was the work of men. Men who would stop at nothing for their God forsaken ambitions, even if it meant sacrificing the mind of a small girl. She reached a hand down to stroke Amber’s soft, downey hair.
Mulder stepped up to assist Mary at pulling Amber to her feet. Once they had disengaged the child from Scully, he stood close to his partner, sensing her distress. Scully quickly squeezed his hand in acknowledgment and stepped away. “Let me just grab my stuff from the bathroom and we’ll be ready to go,” she announced.
Mary reached for the paper bag and extracted a tall container. “Amber, here’s your Kool-aid,” she offered by way of distraction since her daughter seemed intent in following Scully out of the room.
“Kool-aid?” Amber held the cup with both hands and sucked contentedly on the straw.
“She loves black-cherry Kool-aid,” Mary said abstractedly.
Mulder zipped up his own suitcase and pulled it from the rack. “Sounds good to me,” he replied. “Are you worried about going back to Washington?”
Mary sent him an angry glare. “Wouldn’t you be?”
Mulder held out his hands to diffuse her anger. “Sorry. That was stupid.”
His attention was caught by Amber’s sudden appearance at his elbow.
“Pencil?” she asked, looking him squarely in the eye.
“Um, what?” He glanced at Mary who started rummaging in her purse.
“Here, honey,” she said to her daughter, holding out a thick, oversized pencil. “She likes to doodle.”
Mulder nodded and watched as Amber took the pencil and picked up an unused napkin from the breakfast tray. Moving the tray to clear a part of the table, she carefully straightened the paper and settled to her work.
Her tongue poked out between her lips as she concentrated on her numbers, seeing equations in her mind’s eye and setting them down. Mulder was fascinated.
Scully’s re-emergence from the bathroom, broke his brooding contemplation. “What’s up?” she whispered, following his stare.
Mulder nodded towards the young woman who somehow symbolized their current quest. “Look at her, Scully. She’s creating a whole new mathematical formulation explaining space and time and yet she still has the mind of a small child.”
“We don’t know that for sure, Mulder. Let’s see what the Gunmen come up with before you start awarding her a Nobel prize.” She nudged him slightly before finishing her own packing.
“Mary, you ready?” he asked.
Mary replied by picking up her suitcases and packing up Amber’s drink.
“Amber, time to go.” She took the pencil out of her daughter’s fingers and gave her a bag to carry.
“Looks like it’s time to go.” Mulder followed Scully across the room, stopping only to slip the forgotten napkin into his pocket.
The Gate of All Wonders Part Eight
Beautiful words can be traded,
Noble deeds can be used as gifts for others.
Why should we reject even what is bad about men?
-Tao Te Ching
San Francisco Airport
Terminal A
9:52 AM
The four of them were rushing through the expansive San Francisco airport, Scully in the lead. People from all over the world bustled around them, each heading off to specific points all over the globe. It had taken then all of ten minutes to collect Mary’s luggage, which left them with less than five minutes to get Mary and Amber on board their TWA flight to Denver. They were just going to make it, with no time to spare.
Mulder had Amber by one elbow, one suitcase in his hand. Mary had her other arm, and suitcase; both trying to hurry her along. Much to Amber’s distress. Never in her life had she seen so many fascinating shoes, and she wanted to stop and study all of them. “Shoes shoes shoes shoes…”
“The gate is all the way down at the end of the jet way,” Scully called back at them. “I’ll get down there and make sure they wait.” She rounded the corner and ran smack in to a rounded, white man. The impact knocked her backwards to land hard on her butt. The man stumbled backward a few steps.
“Grampy!” Amber screamed and broke free from her guides. She ran in to the older man’s arms, and they quickly closed around her in a tight embrace. “Grampy Grampy Grampy…”
Scully looked up in to the smiling face of Dr. Moore. “What…?”
“Papa?” Mary stared with disbelief. “You’re here!” When Amber broke away from him, suddenly focused on the Hush Puppies of a passer-by, Mary hugged her father. “Papa, I was so worried about you.”
He let out a small chuckle that shook his whole body. “Nothing to worry about, my child. I came here to get you.”
Mulder helped Scully to stand. “What happened to you?” she demanded, gripping her partner’s hand as she stood. “Where have you been?”
“It’s a long story, and we don’t have much time.” He looked at the worn woman in his arms. “Mary, we must get Amber back to NIH immediately.
There’s a private jet waiting to take us.” His jovial face was edged with a tired seriousness that didn’t seem comfortable on his features.
Mary pulled away from him and placed a protective arm around her silent daughter. “What! No!”
“Don’t tell me you’re working for them,” Scully’s stomach dropped.
“After all the lives they’ve ruined.”
“They convinced me that my work with them was unfinished. I think we might have a treatment for Amber, and some of the others who have been taken. But I need to do some more tests-”
Mary pushed her daughter behind her, “No, Papa! Please! I won’t let you touch her!”
“Neither will I!” Scully stepped in front of Mary and held out her arms.
“She’s suffered enough. We’ve all suffered enough.”
Moore stuffed his hands in his pockets. “That’s easy for you to say, my dear. You’ve already benefitted from the therapy that I’ve devised.”
Mulder took a step forward. “What are you talking about?”
“Her symptoms are gone, are they not?” Moore reasoned with a soft, urgent voice, “You can’t honestly think they just disappeared.”
Mulder’s eye went wide and then locked with his partner. “That night in Chicago…we lost time.”
Scully looked demandingly at Moore. “That was you?”
“Not me, alone, no. But yes, I had a hand in your cure.” He looked in to her clear, questioning eyes and smiled. “You are looking quite healthy, my dear. No signs of your illness at all.”
Scully waved his diversion aside. “How can you let them use you again?
You know what they are; what they do.”
“I know they are offering me a chance to make right something that has been horribly wrong for a long time.” His glanced flicked to his daughter and granddaughter. “That’s something you can’t ignore.”
“You trust them?” Mulder scoffed. He’d toyed with trying to determine how this portly scientist found them but pushed the thought aside as irrelevant. If he was working for them, he’d probably been able to follow their moves from the start of all this.
“Trust doesn’t enter into this. It’s an even exchange.” Moore looked nervously over his shoulder. “We don’t have time to debate this.”
“What’s the matter, Moore? Your watchdogs have to be let out?” Mulder asked sarcastically.
“An even exchange?” Scully interrupted. She was having trouble shifting her views of the man who’d saved her life to this being who would bargain with his granddaughter’s life. “What are you doing for them? How many other Ambers are there going to be before they let you stop?”
Mulder went to grab Moore’s arm but the older man brushed off the attempt.
“Hopefully, none. But whatever the price, I’d pay it for them.” He nodded his head in the direction of his family. “It’s really not your decision to make, Agent Mulder. Or yours, my dear.”
Mary gently pushed Scully aside. “Papa, you can help Amber? Are you sure?”
He place both hands on her upper arms. “My child, I have no guarantees.
But I feel very strongly that she will only profit from my intervention.”
Scully pulled on Mary’s shoulder and turned her to face her. “No. Think about it, Mary. Amber has brain damage. You can’t ‘fix’ brain cells. He can’t restore her intelligence.”
“Not yet, perhaps,” Moore’s eyes almost twinkled with the possibility, “but soon, my dear. Very soon. We have already begun to regenerate dead nerve cells, and rewire how our brains work. Amber’s motor skills will certainly improve. And I hope, through this new therapy, that we can reteach her mind how to think. That we will be able to help her ‘regain’
her intelligence, if you will. Not restore it.”
“It’s not therapy! It’s science fiction,” Scully insisted.
“Not at all.” He said confidently. “It is a necessary reality.”
“And her ‘enhanced’ abilities?” Mulder questioned, his eyes boring into the older man, challenging him to deny the truth.
Moore looked away uncomfortably. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
Before Mulder could give a reply, Mary looked from her father to the two agents who she’d met the day before. The decision wasn’t her’s to make.
If there was any possibility in helping her daughter, she had no choice but to try. “I believe you, Papa.”
“Very good, my dear.” He ran an affectionate hand over her gaunt cheek.
“We must go.” There were no good-byes to the agents. Moore and Mary simply picked up the suitcases, and pulled Amber by the hand.
When they disappeared behind the corner, Scully shook her head and exhaled, “I can’t believe that just happened.”
Mulder gently tugged at her arm, “Come on, Scully. We’ve got a flight to catch.”
“He’s one of them, Mulder.” She looked up at his for some kind of comfort.
“I’m not really sure that he is.”
“But he said-”
“I know, Scully. But I’m beginning to think that things aren’t simply black and white. What if really can help her?”
“What if he can’t? Does she spend the rest of her life in a lab? Waiting for the future that’s never going to come?” Her voice cracked with emotion.
Instantly she walled herself up and took in a cleansing breath. “You’re right. We’ve got a flight to catch.”
–—
USAir flight # 221
Somewhere over the Midwest.
The drone of the air plane engines hummed inside Scully’s head, setting the pace of the thoughts that flooded her mind and helped to release some of the tension gripping her stomach. Her search was over, after only four days of pursuit. Over without a fight. And over without any kind of resolution.
Who acts fails;
Who grasps loses.
Scully inwardly winced. The words of the Tao which Melissa had practically forced her to memorize came back to haunt her. Had she acted precipitously? Had the information they’d discovered changed anything after all? No, what she was really asking was: was the truth worth the price? The thought of simple little Amber staring at the white walls of the lab for years and years to come made her shutter. Was it worth it? She might never know for sure.
My words are
very easy to understand,
very easy to practice.
But no one is able to understand them,
And no one is able to practice them.
What the hell did that mean? How can you practice something that can’t be practiced?
You just do it, Dana.
Scully closed her eyes as the familiar pain of missing Melissa washed over her. She could still hear the words as she replayed the argument they’d had as her older sister tried to patiently explain the foreign concepts. Yet despite the differences in their world views, everything seemed clearer when Melissa said it.
You find your calm place, Dana, and act from there. You do what you have to because it’s the right thing to do at that moment. If you act from anyplace else, though, from anger or hate or worry, then whatever you do will be wrong.
Is that what happened this time? Had she wanted to find Moore and his family for her own needs and fears rather than from her “calm place”? God, she was so tired!
The image of Moore’s face rose unbidden in her mind and, with it, an overwhelming sense of betrayal. As quickly as it came, the feeling faded as another passage rang through her head in Melissa’s strong voice.
Between “yes, sir” and “certainly not!”
how much difference is there?
Between beauty and ugliness
how great is the distinction?
Scully knew with her whole heart that Moore was paying another kind of price for his choices. She had had to sacrifice family for the sake of the truth; he was sacrificing the truth for the sake of his family. Just “how great is the distinction” when you looked at things this way? The rage she was feeling receded, just a bit.
The unyielding and mighty shall be brought low;
The soft, supple, and delicate will be set above.
Maybe there was another way to the truth; one which came from a healing place where the Ambers of the world wouldn’t be hurt. Scully felt the tightness in her chest loosen as she let go of her anger. It was time to move on with her life.
But that brought her to her other search; Mulder’s search (which had quickly become a permanent fixture in her life.) Would it end much the same way as Amber’s? Was this search coming from a “calm place” or from Mulder’s guilt? And, if so, would it end as badly? Twenty years down the line would they find Samantha only to learn that she’d lived her own life, had her own family, oblivious to their efforts to locate her. Or, perhaps she would show up one day, after years of watching the two of them from afar – knowing all the time how hard they worked to find her, and finally willing to be found. Or maybe she would never return. Maybe there was no one to return. Maybe they were chasing the shadows of a hope that was better left untouched.
True words seem contradictory.
Scully shifted in her seat and turned to her partner, knowing too well how furious he would be if he knew what she was thinking – but also knowing that similar thoughts must be running through his head. His hand hung limp off the edge of the arm rest between them. She delicately placed hers above it. She’d found at least part of her answer; maybe she could help him find his. It was time for them to move on with their lives.
Mulder looked down at her gentle gesture and then in to her clear eyes.
Her skin seemed especially bright against the yellow light streaming past him from the rounded window to his right. He gave in to the urge to lean forward and place a kiss on her forehead – his small gesture of affection.
How did it happen? How did he get so lucky? Why did such an amazingly wonderful woman fall in love with him? He couldn’t even begin to form a logical answer. But he knew – he felt in the heart of his soul – that she did love him. Just as he knew that he loved her, and that knowledge made him love her that much more. God! It was all so intangible. His desire for her, his uncontrollable need and thirst for her wasn’t something that he could rip apart from his being and show to her. There was no way for him to explain. And yet, some how, she knew. Scully knew.
“Scully, you’ve met my mother, haven’t you?” She nodded slowly. “I know we’re having Easter dinner at your mother’s, but I’d like to invite my mother.”
Over run by a second of shock, Scully nodded again. “I think that would be wonderful. You’ve never actually mentioned her to me before, so I didn’t think it appropriate to ask…but I know she’d be welcome, Mulder.”
“Yeah, I know.“He turned and looked out at the billowing pink and orange clouds below them; all of which looked like a Rorschach test gone awry.
“It’s just…well, I mean…I’ve – we’ve never really been that close. But she’s got no one now…hasn’t for a long time.” He turned back to the enchanted woman beside him. “And I’m starting to understand the importance of having some one.”
Her Mona Lisa-smile framed her words, “Anyone in particular?”
He looked down at his hands and chuckled. “I want her to know you, Dana.”
Without knowing what to say, Scully sighed and dropped her eyes to their joined hands. “That would be nice.”
Mulder’s eyes fell forward on the folded lap table and his free hand played with the plastic catch. “I think about her future, you know, and she’s not having any more kids. And I don’t see her dating – although I wish she would. So, she’s pretty much alone.” He took a breath. What was it he was trying to say to her? Collect your thoughts, Mulder. What’s the point? “Do you think about the future, Dana?”
“Sure. Sometimes. More recently than I have in a long time.” The misty look in her eyes was so distinctly un-Scully, and yet he instantly recognized it a strong part of her. She turned away from him and studied the no smoking sign above the seat in front of her.
“Scully. Dana, what do you want your future to be?”
“Oh, you know,” she gave a little shrug.
“No, I don’t know, Scully. Tell me.” But Mulder did know, or at least he had an idea. He was hoping she was wanting what he was, but he wanted to hear her say it first. He knew, somehow, if she said the words, it would all come together and be real. For both of them. He looked at her with his deep hazel-brown eyes.
The quick glance at him told her she wasn’t going to be able to brush the subject off so easily. “Mulder,” she sighed and shifted in the seat; but he cut off her attempt to evade the question.
“Tell me,” he repeated and ran a finger down her cheekbone and along the line of her neck.
“Come on, Mulder. I don’t want to talk about this now.”
“Why not?” She just sat there, watching the steward and stewardess rolling the coffee cart down the narrow aisle. Not daring to look back to him, not daring to acknowledge her throbbing heart in her chest. Did he know how easily his touch could affect her? “You trust me don’t you?”
She turned to him stunned by the question. “And you love me…” her eyes
rounded, “…I know you do.” He shifted his torso to face her while she sat frozen, with a look of terrified uncertainty on her face. “So, what is it that you can’t tell me?”
“It’s not that I can’t tell you, Mulder.”
“What could you possibly want so badly that you’re afraid to tell me?” He ran his left palm across the tender softness of her cheek and in to the thick silkiness of her hair. “Tell me, Dana. What do you want for your future?”
Her lips trembled. She heard her voice as a separate entity from herself.
The words, “Marry me,” fell out of her mouth and filled the cabin.
Mulder smiled. His eyes looking in to the depth of her soul. His heart pounded, fighting for dominance in his chest. “In a heart beat.”
“What?” her lips moved, without a whisper of sound behind them.
“Scully, breath.” She sat marble white against the brown print of the seat. “Scully?” Mulder shook her shoulder, “Scully, breath!”
Air flew from her mouth and her chest heaved as she sat back in the seat.
Mulder felt a sweet tinge in his heart for her. She was really nervous, and after all of the years they’d been together, biblically or not, it was sweet that she would still work herself up in to such a state over him.
“Did I just ask you to marry me?” Her voice was back as strong as ever.
“Yep.” Mulder felt like the cat who swallowed the canary. She nodded, setting things right in her head.
“And what did you say?”
“I said yes.” Her arms flew around his neck. “But,” he began and she pulled away from him to look in his eyes, “just because you asked, doesn’t mean I’m going to change my name.”
Scully giggled with nerves and edgy joy, “That’s okay. I’m not going to change my name, either.”
“Fine with me, Scullster.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He pulled her close to him again. “I love you,” he whispered in to the soft red of her hair. “Dana will you marry me?”
“In a heart beat,” she sighed. And then they kissed. The sweetest, most passionate kiss either had ever experienced.
The Gate of All Wonders Epilogue
To withdraw when your work is finished,
that is the Way of heaven.
-Tao Te Ching
Saturday, April 6th, 1996
Mulder’s Apartment
The dim light that seemed the signature of Mulder’s building greeted Scully like a friendly face. They had done so much traveling lately – and when they were home they usually opted to spend the night at her spacious apartment – that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in front of the door that proudly bore the number 42. More than a month, at least. She shifted the paper grocery bag in her arms, and pulled her key from her coat pocket.
The lock turned, but the door caught on the chain.
“Mulder?” She tried to peek in the darkened room. “Mulder, why is the door chained?”
“Uh…Scully! Hold on!” She heard a distinctly female moan and then the click of the VCR tape stopping.
Scully rolled her eyes and shook her head, “Mulder, you’re not at those tapes again, are you?”
He opened the door wide enough for her to slip by him. “What ever do you mean, Scullster?”
“I mean,” she set the bag down on his kitchen counter, “the flush in your cheeks and the chain on your door. You never chain your door, Mulder.”
“Accident.” He pulled out two thick, orange-ish-brown, root-looking things from the top of the bag. “What the hell are these?”
“Yams. For dinner tomorrow night. Mom asked if I would bring something.” Scully brushed past Mulder and headed straight for the TV.
“What is it that you find so interesting about this stuff, anyway? Are you doing research?”
Before she could press the ‘EJECT’ button and pull the video from the machine, Mulder stepped in front of her and tried to steer her from the TV. “Why don’t you show me how to cook yams. I’ve never made yams before.”
She smiled up at his squirming. “I’ve never been so modest before, Mulder. What could possibly be on that tape that you don’t want me to see?” He tried to think up a lewd remark, but she beat him to the punch. “Have you been trying out some new positions?” Her brows wagged at his open mouth. “You wanna teach me what you’ve learned?” She leaned in to him and ran her hands down the sides of his thighs. “Lets watch it together and see if we can beat the clock.”
“Scully!” Mulder was at a loss. Was this the same woman who used to be his prudent partner? “My god! I’ve corrupted you.”
“Yeah, I think I owe you some thanks for that.” He leaned forward and kissed her lips. They tightened underneath him in to a smile. A second later she slipped away from him and dogged his hands, finding the ‘PLAY’
button on the VCR, and the picture instantly came to life. “Oh…my…god.”
Before her was a woman – completely naked – straddling the hips of a man – who, for all intents and purposes, was also nude – rocking vigorously back and forth, her arms behind her on his upper thighs, his hands kneading the full flesh of her exposed breasts.
“Oh, Scully!” the TV moaned. “Oh, Scully, faster. Faster, Dana!”
To which the woman obliged, slamming her body onto his at an even faster rate.
“Yes, DANA! YES!!!”
Mulder looked from the TV screen to the horror on his partner’s face.
How was he going to explain this one?
As the man on the screen orgasmed, the woman screamed out a very clear: “FOOOOOOOX!” and collapsed forward over the man. Her red hair obscuring the view of the camera.
Scully hit the ‘POWER’ button on the TV and stared at the blackened screen.
“Scully, it’s not my fault. I had no idea that they’d done it. I went to drop off the napkin that Amber did the doodling on, and they gave me this.
Byers said they found Frohike watching…Uh, well, Byers said there are no other copies. They were just trying out some equipment…I threatened them with some serious violence…they were pretty scared.
I don’t think they’ll do it again…and…I’m really sorry. Dana?
Dana, honest. I had nothing to do with this. This isn’t my fault.”
“Just shut up.” She stood and walked calmly in to the kitchen. Too calmly. Much too calmly. She pulled some marshmallows from the bag on the counter and threw then to the small round table.
Mulder swallowed. This wasn’t at all good. She wasn’t ranting and raving. She wasn’t accusing and blaming. So, she must be plotting revenge.
“Dana? Sweetheart? Talk to me. Please.”
She pulled a tub of margarine and a bag of cookies from the bag, and refuse to look at him. “What do you want me to say?”
“What ever you want. Tell me it’s all my fault, I don’t care. Just don’t give me the silent treatment.”
“Is it your fault?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t blame you.” She grabbed the bag and folded it neatly, creasing the edges flat. She opened the cabinet under the sink and threw the bag as far in as she could, and then she slammed the door shut.
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad?” She looked at him. “Mulder, I’m mortified. When I make love to you, I don’t want an audience.”
“I feel the same way.”
She shook her head. “Frohike is a pervert.” She took out a thick knife from the carving block and looked down at the heavy yams on the counter.
“Not to mention a dead man.”
“Like I said, I scared them pretty good. I don’t think we’ll have any more trouble from them.”
She nodded and ran the hard root under the tap, rinsing away the dirt and scum from the uneven skin. “You know what the worse part is?”
He winced. “I came before you did?”
“No, that was fine. The worse part was they didn’t even get my good side.”
The End
Bending of the Bow
Source: geocities.com/mdsfanfic
Disclaimer: This is the fourth (and final) story of this series. You should read “The Way”, “Difficulties Under Heaven”, and “The Gate of All Wonders” (you can get these at the new Gossamer Project: http://fluky.gossamer.org/) before you read this, as we refer back to all of them at one point or another. Chris Carter came up with most of the characters you recognize, and Jen, Caroline, and Shannon are real people. We take credit and blame for the rest of it.
Barbara, thanks for proof reading it.
We rate this PG for language. No sex this time (Kathy had a headache.) Mulder angst and Scully angst GALORE, and yes, as you know from the previous stories, they’re very much an item. In our world, none of the 3rd season surprises (and 4th season, too) have happened, so there aren’t any spoilers after, say, “Anasazi”. If there is something in there, we’re sorry, but we’ve already forgotten about it.
Please don’t E-Mail us with tons of praise and let us know that the last FIVE months of our lives weren’t for nothing. We hate validation.
Bending of the Bow Part 1
As it acts in the world, the Tao
is like the bending of a bow.
The top is bent downward;
the bottom is bent up.
It adjusts excess and deficiency
so that there is perfect balance.-Tao te Ching
Prologue
Immaculate Heart of Mary R.C.Church
September 1, 1996.
6:11 PM
The hush of the church was marred by the scuffling of feet that moved slowly from the pews and the constant hiss of whispers. The noise was almost enough to push Margaret Scully over the edge. She glanced up at the stained glass windows, the sunlight making the colors all the more vivid, trying to find some solace, some answers to the questions troubling her peace. There were answers, she knew that with every fiber of her being, but just now they were out of reach. She sighed in frustration.
The air was heavy with the flagrance of an altar full of flowers and the mingling of too many odors emanating from the bodies pressing about her.
She was feeling confused and more than a little disjointed but she was certain of one thing – if one more person she didn’t know came up to her insisting on shaking her hand and saying, “I’m so sorry,” in tones as false as the eyelashes she was wearing, she would scream. Of that, at least, she was sure.
She looked around the emptying church and noted the fluttering of tissues clutched in Ruth Mulder’s hands as she wiped away the seemingly ceaseless tears. Margaret sighed again, this time in sympathy, understanding the woman’s feelings, yet glad that Ruth’s friends were taking her in hand. The head of the Scully clan had her own emotions to contend with. Though the past hour had helped her regain an outward semblance of her usual calm, the facade was only skin deep. Inside, Margaret railed against whatever had caused this, her fears and worries burned away in the furnace of maternal rage and her grief for her youngest daughter.
“Let’s get out of here,” rumbled the deep voice beside her.
She turned her gaze to the tall man supporting her elbow and gently pulling her to the door leading to the priest’s office at the front of the church. “I really should stay and help the kids. They shouldn’t be left to answer all these nosey questions.”
“They’ll be just fine and you’ve had enough to do. Michele?” He glanced to the dark haired woman standing behind him, interrupting her conversation with Margaret’s oldest son, Bill, jr. “I’m taking Mrs Scully to find someplace away from this mob. You’ll be okay?” His eyes looked at her tenderly.
“I’ll be fine,” she responded with the same hint of tenderness in her voice. “I’ll stay out here and lend what help I can. We’ll find you when things quiet down.”
Skinner nodded brusquely and guided Margaret away from the confusion with a sure touch. Before they could slip away, however, the shrill voice of Madeline McKinna, an old Scully neighbor halted them.
Skinner felt rather than heard the long-suffering groan that escaped Margaret’s lips and he noticed the definite tensing of her shoulders. So this is not going to be a friendly offer of support, he thought grimly and moved to hover protectively behind the older woman as she turned to face the neighborhood’s worst gossip.
“Oh, Margaret! I’m so sorry. I couldn’t believe my ears as I listened to Charles. Is it really true? What happened? Did you know anything was wrong before hand? No, of you didn’t, you poor dear. Having to face all these people. How awful for you!” Madeline’s words tumbled out of her mouth at a rate which made Skinner’s head spin. He could only imagine what Scully’s mother must be feeling. His expression became even more daunting than usual.
“I was just taking Mrs Scully somewhere quiet. I’m sure you’ll excuse us,” Skinner cut in as Madeline stopped to take a breath. He hustled Margaret into the office and shut the door in the old biddy’s face before she could protest.
“Really Walter, that was somewhat rude, don’t you think?” Margaret asked at the same time drawing a deep breath of relief.
“You want me to let her in?” he asked, a gleam of mischief in his eye.
“Don’t you dare!” laughed Margaret, wearily, sinking into the soft armchair which occupied the space next to the room’s sole window. “I know I’ll regret this later when word gets out but I don’t think I can cope with Madeline just now.” She rubbed a tired hand across her forehead, feeling a little heartsick.
“She’s that bad?” asked Skinner, hoping to distract her.
She afforded him a sad, little smile. “We don’t call her Rex Reed for nothing,” Margaret quipped.
Skinner laughed then became serious. “You want to tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know more than what the girls told me. I fully expected them to turn up here, maybe late, but here.”
“I’ve put out the word to keep our eyes open for them but I can’t really do more than that officially. As far as we know, they’re fine.”
“I know, Walter, I know. I’m sure they are fine. I would know if they weren’t, I think.” She reached out to pat his arm. “All I know is, it had to be something important. Something important enough for Dana to miss her own wedding.”
“Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me again? Maybe I can fill in some of the gaps.”
Margaret smiled at the man kneeling beside her. She appreciated more than she could say his strength and support but she had the feeling that whatever her daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law were up to, it would resolve itself in its own good time and not before.
She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by the door being flung open by two young women, obviously in the midst of an on-going argument.
“I knew it! I knew wearing black to a wedding was bad luck. I don’t know how the hell I let you talk me into this!” hissed the taller of the two, though both women were petite in stature.
“Shows what you know,” retorted the other. “Black and white weddings are very chic. I guess that’s a concept beyond you.”
The first woman flung back her dark blond hair with a flourish. “And what’s up with this damn thing?” she asked, pointing to the bow embellishing the form-fitting, sleeveless dresses. “This thing makes my ass look huge.”
“Will you stop obsessing about your damn ass! I’m sick of hearing about it!”
“Excuse me,” Skinner started to say before he was brushed aside by two.
“Mom, are you all right? The guests have all gone and the priest wants to close shop.”
Margaret smiled wanly at her daughter-in-law’s choice of words. “Jen, Caroline, I don’t know if you remember Assistant Director Skinner, Dana’s boss. Walter, this is Caroline and Jen, Bill’s and Charlie’s wives.”
Skinner proffered his hand but it was ignored by the two women glaring at him.
“So what the hell was so important that you had to send them out of town? It couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” Caroline asked, belligerently.
“I’m as much in the dark as you are about the whereabouts of Agents Mulder and Scully. Probably more so,” Skinner said in his most intimidating voice. Few agents could hear that voice without a shudder but Caroline was unfazed.
“Yeah, sure!”
“I knew we should have had a rehearsal. This wouldn’t have happened if you would have listened to me.”
“How could we not listen to you? All you do is talk. And where’s the best man? That’s what I’d like to know. He should be here helping out.”
“I don’t know anything about him except that his name is Danny. I guess Mulder talked to him,” Jen offered. “And what do you mean I talk a lot?
That is so not true!”
“That’s enough, both of you. I was just about to tell Walter what you told me this morning. Maybe you both should fill him in since you’re the last people to have seen Dana.”
“Well, Shannon was there too,” Jen interjected.
As if on cue, the door opened, revealing a tall, slender woman, her hair cut in a short bob. “I think someone better get out here and talk to the caterers. Bill has them on the phone and they want to take back the booze,”
she said is a soft Southern drawl. “What if Dana shows up? She’ll be wanting a drink.”
“Oh my God!” Jen exclaimed as she stalked out behind Shannon, Caroline close on their heels.
Skinner shook his head in bemusement at the sudden silence. He felt as if he’d just survived a whirlwind. And Mulder was going to join this family, he realized. Oh God! He returned his attention to Margaret. “Maybe you better just tell me.”
The Tao is like a well;
used but never used up.
It is like the eternal void;
filled with infinite possibilities.-Tao Te Ching
September 1, 1996.
Interstate 64,
Heading West.
The setting sun acted like the stoked fire of a brick oven in their grey Taurus. Scully flipped on the air conditioning without a word and went back to the map spread out on her lap. Virginia, Pennsylvania, and most of the eastern sea board lay sprawled before her, the creases and wrinkles refusing to be ironed out with the flat of her hand. On the dashboard in front of her lay the note.
What are we doing? She shot a hand to anchor the rumpled paper as Mulder sped around a Lexis that refused to break the 70 mph speed limit.
The chicken-scrawled map and instructions that Moore had copied down for them holding her eye. It was the key: the holder of the answers that they had been looking for – he had been looking for his whole life. Or was it? Moore had said that he believed Samantha Mulder lived at the address he’d scribbled down. Or perhaps someone who would know where to find her. Or perhaps not. Scully chewed on the inside of cheek. It wasn’t like Moore to be vague. Well, the little she knew of him, at least.
Was he working for them? Steering them wrong? No. She shook her head. She refused to believe they were off on some wild goose chase.
That they’d stood up their own wedding for nothing.
Scully glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 6:00 PM. By now the guests would have already gone home. They were probably ripping down the decorations. Caroline would be livid, of course. She was the one who designed the decorations, after all, spending all of those weeks bringing sprigs of flowers and cloth swatches for color and texture approval. God. Caroline had really gone over board. But then, Scully expected nothing less from her. A fleeting smile crossed her lips. She was going to be in serious trouble when she saw her sister-in-law again.
And her mother. Scully’s head lolled forward at the thought of her mother’s disappointed face. I can’t believe, she repeated for the Nth time in her head, I’m not showing up for my own wedding. They hadn’t even signed the marriage license, opting to do the honor in front of family and friends just before the ceremony. It wasn’t like she was worried or anything. Mulder wasn’t going anywhere. At least not with any other woman. There was no question in Scully’s mind that he loved her.
Marriage wasn’t a necessity, it just seem like the next logical step. It was just that … it was supposed to be their wedding day. The day that all little
girls dream about. And there they were, in a car, on the Interstate, weaving in and out of traffic, not even saying a word. Her stomach knotted a little more.
Scully looked at her partner. His jaw was set and his expression fixed. He wasn’t with her any more. He was driving on auto pilot, lost in his head, figuring possible scenarios, remembering long buried visions of his sister.
Samantha.
If it had been anything else in the world, it could have waited until the day after their wedding. Or at least later that night. But Sam came first. She’d always been painfully aware of that. And it wasn’t as if she resented it.
Not really. But she did fear it. Because what if this promised lead turned up nothing. Or another hoax, like the clone. Would she always play second fiddle to a dream? Scully pulled the note in to her lap and reread the beginning. “This is a treasure map of sorts. It leads to the person you’ve been looking for.” Another shot of jealous shot through her, and guilt forced her to acknowledge it. Scully’d always hoped that she would be able to fill all the gaps. That she’d be the only person he’d ever really need to look for. And that she’d always be right there in front of him, ready to be found.
God that’s horrible, she yelled at herself. That’s possessive and selfish.
After all, Sam was in his life long before she was. Sam was his sister for godsake. She wasn’t in competition with her! But somehow, that’s exactly how it felt to her. Like she was competing for his attention. Jesus. She couldn’t keep the emotions still in her stomach.
**…that’s my belly now…**
Scully’s Apartment
September 1, 1996.
1:55 AM.
The bachelorette party had been in full swing for over seven hours.
Clubs had been visited, exotic dancers had been ogled, the police had been by – twice -, and more alcohol had been drunk than Scully had ever seen before. Giggles had come and gone several times by the time Scully had settled on the sofa, her feet resting over the arm, her head in Jen’s lap – trying to swim away.
“You know, Dana, it’s not too late to back out of this wedding thing,” Jen kept reminding her, screw driver in hand. “He’s not good enough for you.”
Caroline, lying prostrate before them on the ground pulled one of Scully’s arms over the side of the couch and held it against her turbulent stomach. “Doc, it hurts right here.”
“You drank too much.” Scully murmured dryly. “So did I. I’m going to look like death in the morning.”
“Why don’t you want Dana to marry Fox?” Shannon called from the comfy chair. Her straight, narrow nose poked out of the blue blanket draped around her. “I like Fox … he’s got a cute belly.”
“Hey!” Scully protested with a raised hand and attempt at a fist.
“That’s my belly now!”
Caroline laughed, “Awfully possessive, aren’t we?”
September 1, 1996.
Interstate 64,
Heading West.
Scully poped back out of the day dream, as Mulder threw the car in to the right lane, narrowly missing a large hunk of rubber from an abandoned tire on the side of the road. She braced herself against the door handle and looked over to him again. Mulder had been silent since the moment the note was read aloud. Refusing to look at her after the decision was made to “postpone” the wedding. Refusing to acknowledge her once they began the drive to Kentucky. He’s anxious, nervous, scared; she tried to reassure herself that his with drawl wasn’t because he didn’t want her there. He was closing down as a defense mechanism, she rationalized. But it left a knot in the deepest part of her stomach that kept her from downing the coffee she’d ordered that the last rest stop — four hours before.
With a sigh she settled back in the passenger seat and allowed the memory from the night before to replay in her head.
Jen tucked a handful of her straight, shiny, close-cropped hair behind one ear and sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want her to get married to him,” she had said. “He’s fine, I guess-”
“I’ll say he’s fine!” Shannon’s southern drawl slipped out making the room giggle again.
“It’s just that well,” Jen cocked her head and considered how she could make her point before proceeding. “It’s just that Dana is here,” she raised her hand about two feet above Scully’s head and drew out the imaginary plateau that she sat on. “And Fox-”
“Mulder.” Scully corrected, her tongue having trouble getting all the way around the “er”.
“Fox is only about here.” Jen’s arm dropped dramatically, hovering just above Scully’s face.
“Oh, he’s gotten closer than that!” Scully shrieked and sent the room in to another bout of giggles.
“Tell! Tell!!” Shannon begged.
“No!!” Cried Caroline, “Too much information!” Her red face twisted in to mock fear at the possibility of learning more than her delicate sensibilities could handle. An idea that led them all – even Jen into more laughing and giggling until their sides ached and their breaths gasped.
Then the knock on the door silenced them. And their sudden silence made them laugh even more. Shannon was the first one up, her slender, well-tanned legs finding it difficult to navigate through the discarded boxes and bottled and party debris. “Who’s there?” She called through the door. “This party is for invited guests only.”
The obviously male voice rumbled back. “Mulder.”
Caroline sat up too suddenly at the name, “No!”
Jen leaped up from the couch dropping Scully’s head hard in to the cushions, “No! You can’t see her until the wedding!”
“Open the door,” came back stern. He was not at all in the mood to be toyed with.
Scully recognized the tone in is voice even through the layers of fog in her head, and waded her way to the front door, fighting off Jen and Shannon along the way. She flipped the lock and stood face to face with Mulder … and Doctor Moore. Her gasp of surprise carried too much oxygen to her brain, and she wobbled on her feet.
Mulder reached out and steadied her, feeling the need to state the obvious, “You’re drunk, Scully.”
“This is my bachelorette party, Mulder. I’m getting married tomorrow, remember?”
He looked over her face, seeing the smile slowly fade as she remembered Dr Moore standing just behind him. Caroline still sat on the floor between the coffee table and the couch, Shannon stood just behind Jen; all three women resenting his intrusion.
“Scully, Moore has something for us.” His straight face focused with an intensity that Scully hadn’t seen in a long time. The seriousness in his eyes scared her. “It can’t wait.”
Without ripping her eyes from his, Scully addressed her guests with breathless authority, “The party’s over, guys.”
Complaints came from all around, but the moment Dr Moore crossed through the threshold and into the room, all protests ceased. The look of tension and a pensive frown on an otherwise jovial face let them know that something important, if not critical, was about to happen. They placed a hand on Scully’s shoulder one by one, and collected their purses.
Jen turned in the doorway, “We need to get started on your hair by noon tomorrow,”
“Right,” Scully absentmindedly nodded, her attention still fixed on Mulder.
“We’re meeting at the Chapel Dressing room, Dana. 11:45. Don’t forget.” Shannon shook her cropped hair when Scully failed to respond. “This is a bad omen, guys. A bad omen.”
Bending of the Bow Part 2
Success is as dangerous as failure.
Hope is as hollow as fear.-Tao Te Ching
September 1, 1996.
Interstate 64,
Heading West.
The sun was blinding as it set just at the horizon they were traveling towards. Mulder squinted behind his sunglasses, and tried to ignore the sunspots that danced in front of him on the dark asphalt. They’d been traveling into direct glare for almost an hour, and it was becoming hard to distinguish the hovering balls of blue and pink from the brake lights of the cars traveling in front of them. But he couldn’t stop now. They’d wasted too much time already. Scully had insisted that they stop at a rest stop a couple of hours back, but that wasn’t what he’d meant by wasted time. He meant the quarter of a century that Samantha had been away. All the nights spent dreaming of finding her again; all of the days of trying to realize the dream.
Next to him was a flash of movement and he saw Scully’s head loll forward from the corner of his eye. She must be exhausted, he thought.
She hadn’t had any sleep for at least 36 hours, and she never really had a chance to recover from that hangover she was working on when he reached her apartment early that morning. But still he hadn’t heard her complain once. Not about the headache she obviously had, not about leaving without telling anyone where they were going, not even about missing their wedding. Mulder inhaled deeply to help the guilt go down just a little easier. It was his fault. They should have gotten married a year ago. Or six months ago. He’d kept putting it off; reasoning that she was too ill, or she wouldn’t want him. But that wasn’t the real reason he’d tried to avoid it. Marriage was a legally binding contract that said that he was giving himself to her completely. Even that small part of himself that he tried to save for Samantha.
Samantha.
He exhaled on the thought of her name. For years now her name was a symbol of how unfair life was … she was the martyr in his life. That eight year old little girl; the prissy brat he resented all those years ago.
She was alive. She was waiting for him to find her. To rescue her from the clutches of the evil men … the aliens … they were all one and the same to him now. They were the enemy. It was him against them.
And Samantha, of course. And Scully.
His thoughts slipped back to the woman at his side. How would she react to Samantha? Like a sister? A friend? He tried to picture the two of them, standing together next to the heavy oak in his mother’s back yard.
His mother nearby. The three of them talking and laughing. But he couldn’t picture Sam as anything but the eight year old in the pictures he’d stared at for the last twenty-some-odd years. Sam all grown up? Living all those years without him? Growing and learning?
Time passes too quickly, he thought. And I’m … I’m driving … away from my wedding … and my bride … Scully …. His foot lifted from the gas peddle and eased down on the brake.
Slowly Mulder guided the car over to the shoulder. In his ears Scully’s voice echoed through his thoughts from the Easter dinner a few months back: “You’re getting cold feet.”
Washington DC.
Margaret Scully’s house.
April 7, 1996.
Easter Sunday.
Mulder looked around the dinner table at his soon to be in-laws.
Directly across from him was Bill Jr. A tall, solid, dark man who laughed easily and seemed ever attentive to his two young sons. To Bill’s left was his wife, Jen, who looked remarkably like a brunette version of Scully. She was smiling, and offering witty commentary at the appropriate times, but mostly she sat back and watched the events around her. Next to her sat Scully’s other brother, Charles.
He wasn’t at all what Mulder had expected. He was a small man, and as red as Dana. Mulder thought (at first glance) that he was possibly related to Agent Pendrell in the computer lab back at the Bureau. No wonder why Scully always seemed to like Pendrell.
His mother sat in the seat to Charles’ left, quietly slipping the peas on to the back side of her fork. She seemed … contented with these people. Perhaps even a little included. She’d worn the small clock pin Scully had helped him pick out the previous Christmas as a sign of her willingness to play a role in his life now.
After so much isolation. Mulder smiled. She seemed almost happy.
To Mulder’s right sat Scully in her green print Easter dress and pretty drop-pearl earrings. She looked so happy cutting her thickly sliced ham and chatting easily with her mother, who sat to Mulder’s left. “I can’t believe you’re still planting a vegetable garden after that disaster with the lettuce last year, Mom.”
“Yeah,” Charles shot her a broad-toothed smile, “I still can’t eat Swiss cheese, Mom.”
The whole table laughed. Except Mulder. There was a lot he was going to have to play catch up to with a family that size. He looked to the woman on the other side of Scully. Caroline. Charles’ wife.
She was a dish-pan blond with a rounded face and an angelic laugh.
Mulder actually knew very little about her, except that she was a screen writer for some high-rated romance show, and that she and Jen seemed to be the best of friends. Which made sense, he thought, since Jen edited romance novels for a living.
Their children played out back on the hammock, and laughing and screaming for fair play was heard above the adult conversation.
Mulder could see them through the lace curtains. Scully’s nieces and nephews. Soon to be his. Family and children. Family with children. He looked back to the woman on his right and she instantly met his eyes.
“Mulder?” Her face turned to immediate concern. “Mulder, are you …?” Before she could get the question out, he’d pushed away from the table and ran in to the half bath just off the mud room. The sound of him retching was her answer. Scully grimaced. “Must have been the yam casserole. My cooking has that effect on him.” The excuse was feeble, she knew. It was her only contribution to the meal. And she didn’t want to tell them the truth; or, at least what she feared was the truth. “I’d better go and check on him.”
She knocked on the door and felt the knob give way under her hand. He stood hunched over, both hands firmly planted on either side of the porcelain bowl. She wetted a small hand towel, and waited until he was ready to stand up. But even then he was still looking a little green. “Feeling better?” She placed the cool towel over his face and allowed him to wipe his chin clean.
She turned on the faucet so he could rinse his mouth out.
“I told them it was the yams.” She watched the muscles play in his back as he splashed rivers over his face. The thin cotton shirt was obviously wet from his sick. “Here,” she pulled him upright to face her and began unbuttoning the front.
He brushed her hands away but refused to meet her face, “I can do it.” He wasn’t in the mood to be babied. Babies. GOD. He leaned against the towel rack and wondered why they had to make that particular bathroom so small. Scully was standing practically on top of him.
“So,” her voice was expectant. “Was it?”
“Was it what?”
“The yams.” Mulder unfastened the last button and slid the shirt off his shoulders. Suddenly he felt very self conscious in front of her.
Which seemed odd to him, since it had never really bothered him before. She wasn’t even looking at him in a particularly ‘obvious’ way – but then, perhaps that was what was different. “I didn’t think so.”
“What?”
She watching him snap back from a million miles away. “You’re nervous, aren’t you? About telling them.”
Mulder balled up his shirt. “I’m telling them?”
Scully felt for the knob behind her and opened the door, “Right after dinner.” Then she pulled him by the wrist and opened the clothes washer’s lid. “Before dessert.”
“I have an idea,” Mulder tossed his shirt in, and found the powdered detergent on the shelf to his left. “Why don’t you tell them, after I leave. I’m not feeling well.”
“Oh, no, Mulder, we agreed. You’re telling the family and I’m telling Skinner.” She bit her lip before continuing, “Unless of course … “
“What?”
“You’re getting cold feet.” She watched him measure out a small amount of soap, and start the machine. “Do you want out?”
Mulder turned to her and looked her squarely in the eye.
“It’s not too late, you know. No one has to know … if you’ve changed your mind.” She turned and leaned against the humming machine, and stared down at her feet. “I mean, really it’s understandable. I understand. Our relationship is fine the way it is.”
She turned to leave, unable to take the twisting in her stomach, and unsure how she was going to face her family and pretend everything was fine. But Mulder placed a hand on her shoulder and stopped her.
“Dana.” She tuned to meet his gaze, eye to eye. “It sounds like maybe you’re getting cold feet.” She shook her head. “Really?”
She nodded. “Good. Because there is no way on Earth that I would let you off as easily as you just tried to with me.”
“I just … I can’t loose you.” Her voice was hushed with emotion, but still strong with conviction. “And if this is too much … if this instant family thing is too overwhelming … I can’t loose you, Mulder. I can live the way we have been forever if I have to, but I can’t loose you.” Scully knew she wasn’t going to cry, but she wasn’t so sure about Mulder.
He pulled her tight against him, and felt her arms squeeze him even closer. “I love you, Scully.” He kissed the top of her head. “And now I’m going to tell our family as much.” She looked up just as his lips came down, and they kissed slowly, gathering strength and reassurance from each other.
“Let me get you another shirt first,” she winked at him, and slipped out the door.
September 1, 1996.
Interstate 64,
Heading West.
“What’s the matter?” Scully sat up, immediately concerned when her partner pulled the car over to the side of the highway, jerking her out of her reverie. “Are you tired? Do you want me to drive for a while?”
“No.”
Her throat tightened when she saw him switch off the ignition and pull the key from the steering column. “Mulder …?” But when he opened his door and stepped out on to the freeway, she nearly leaped out of the car.
What was he doing? He wasn’t going to run out in to traffic, was he?
“Mulder, talk to me!” He visored his eyes with his hand and walked in front of their car, the gravel gritting coarsely beneath his feet. Scully could see the stiffness in his spine from hours of sitting behind the wheel.
Maybe the monotony of the highway finally became too much for him. Or the anticipation of meeting his sister again. “Mulder, let’s get a motel and rest for a few hours. Regroup. It’ll be hours still before we hit the Kentucky boarder, and even then, we don’t know how long it’s take to get to the address. Or what we’ll find there -”
“What? What do you think we’ll find, Scully?” His eyes were hidden behind the black of his shades, keeping his thoughts hidden from her.
“I … I don’t know. Maybe nothing.”
With his hands on his hips, Mulder hung his head and hissed, “I don’t believe it. You think this is some kind of wild goose chase?”
The pitch in her voice went up a half step. “No, of course not, Mulder. I just … I don’t trust Moore, that’s all I’m saying.” All of a sudden she felt
on the defensive. And she didn’t like it.
“Moore saved your life!” His words were harder than he intended. Or at least Scully hoped they weren’t intended to cut that deeply.
For a long moment she was silent. Then she raised her head to him. “I’m on your side, Mulder. Tell me what’s really going on. Where is all of this anger coming from?”
Hugging his arms close to his body, Mulder turned from her and looked to the pink and orange sunset. Well, she’d pegged that one right. He was feeling a tremendous amount of anger. But he honestly couldn’t say why.
It wasn’t Scully. Well, not her exactly. But there was a small part of him that felt guilty towards her, too. And that he resented. “This isn’t my fault.” His voice was almost ragged in her ears. “I didn’t plan for this to happen.”
Scully’s brown furrowed. “Mulder? What isn’t your fault?”
“This!” He threw a hand up, gesturing to the trees that surrounded him.
“This!” Another hand went to the car beside them. “All of it, Scully. I didn’t … Jesus. I’m so tired.” His arms hung limply from his shoulders as he turned away from her. “I’m sorry.”
A small hand ran up the small of his back; firm and confident. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. Mulder, I don’t blame you for anything. As far as I’m concerned there wasn’t a choice. You were given the possibility to find your sister … there was no choice.”
“There is always a choice, Scully.”
“Right.” She walked around to face him, her brilliant eyes forcing him to see her. “And I’ve chosen to be here with you. So we didn’t get married today. So what? It doesn’t mean that you chose against me, Mulder. It means you chose for Sam.” She ran a hand up his chest and neck and cradled his thin, stubbled cheek. “Now, lets get some dinner and get back on the road. You don’t want to be late for your date with destiny.”
He tried to hide the smile that was forming just inside his heart. How did she do that? “So now you’re believing in destiny?”
“I’m believing in you.”
About twenty minutes up the road, Mulder pulled in to a small roadside diner that catered to large, truck-driving clientele. The neon yellow walls and purple vinyl stools must have been designed to keep the customers awake and alert, Scully figured. The monotony of the open road was hard to keep fighting, and she was afraid that both she and Mulder were losing that battle.
Scully was feeling the draining exhaustion that came from being alert and immobile. She wanted to fidget against the thick Naugahyde seat, but she didn’t have the strength. Not even the grilled cheese and fries on the huge plate in front of her could tempt her to move. And Mulder didn’t seem to be fairing much better. He stared down at his burger – one bite missing trying to will it away. Of course, the food stubbornly refused to vanish.
“Not hungry?” Scully offered up a lop-sided smile as she balled up her paper napkin. Mulder’s answer was a glance down at her full plate and a sigh. “How long has it been since you slept?”
Again, Mulder didn’t speak. He leaned back in the over-sized seat. He knew what she was leading up to, just like she knew how he was going to respond. He watched her shoulders climb an inch closer to her ears as she prepared for his resistance. Resistance that, though he regretted it, he had no choice but to giving.
“I’ve been up for 42 hours, Mulder.” Her voice was low and heavy. “I think we should stop for -”
“No.” One syllable, carrying harsh tones and all the intensity that he could muster.
“Mulder, listen to me -”
“No.” He pulled the coffee mug off of the chipped saucer and sipped the last of it away.
“Mulder.” Her eyes pinned his over the rim of his mug and dared him to cut her off again. Her humor was completely gone. “I’m exhausted. I can’t drive any more.”
“I’ll drive.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on. You’re just as tired as I am -”
He leaned in over the table and spoke in a grumble of his normal voice, “I’m not stopping, Scully.”
Her lips remained tightly closed against the phrases she wanted to scream at him. It wasn’t the time to remind him that Sam wasn’t the only person in the world that needed him. And even if it was, he wouldn’t listen, she told herself. She could see the drive in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. She wasn’t going to win this argument by forcing him in to anything. And she couldn’t have him close up on her like he had been a few hours before.
There was too much at stake this time.
Sitting back in the booth, Scully played the only card she had left. “Okay, Mulder. But I’m trusting you not to push this too far. I’m trusting you to know your limits, to not get us killed on the road.”
Mulder’s eyes narrowed and he chewed the inside of his cheek. Damn it.
Damn it. Damn it. He pulled out his wallet and dropped a $20 on the Formica. Damn it all to hell. His eyes lifted to his partner; her darkened eyes expectantly watching him, trying to analyze just what he was going to do next.
“Scully -” he couldn’t take her eyes. She could look right through him.
Right into his soul. He picked up a fallen fry from the table and pinched it between his thumb and fore finger and studied the grease that bubbled through the fried skin. “I can’t stop now. She’s so close, Scully. I can’t stop now.”
Then, he pulled himself up from the seat, his legs protesting all the way.
Scully watched him go out of the diner and shook her head. The man had waited twenty four years, he could wait one more day …. She stopped that thought. She wasn’t being fair. If some one had said to her that Missy was alive, and that she was at the other end of a scribbled address, how would she react? Would she allow a motel stop? Or would she insist that they continue? Would she risk it?
Slowly she stood, stretched her back, inhaled a deep breath, and followed him.
The coolness of the night felt soothing against Scully’s neck. Lately, it seemed like she was always hot. The summer had been a long one, and now that fall was just a breath away, it was luxurious to run a hand through her hair and feel the breeze on her scalp. And then she saw Mulder and stopped dead in her tracks. He was leaning against the passenger side of the car, arms crossed, hair mussed.
He tried to smile, but it wasn’t in him. Instead he mumbled, “So where’s the nearest motel?” Tears prickled in Scully’s eyes, but she swallowed them down. This was the Mulder she knew and loved. “Just on the outside of the parking lot.” She caught the keys that he slid across the roof of the car. Then she looked up at the stars and thanked God for letting Mulder listen to reason; keeping him alive and safe just one more night.
The motel room was pretty much like any other of the countless motel rooms that the two agents had come across on their travels. Two double beds, a TV, a small bathroom and vanity. In silence, Scully splashed water over her face and stripped down to her bra and panties, Mulder to his briefs. Neither one bothering with the heavy suitcases in the trunk of the car. They curled up together on the bed farthest from the door, and pulled the thin comforter up and over their shoulders. Not exactly how Scully had always pictured her wedding night. But then, it really wasn’t her wedding night, was it? She looked up at Mulder’s tense face and kissed his nose.
His eyes fluttered open and unfocused, and he ran a hand behind her lower back and pulled her closer.
Scully blinked, cursing herself for forgetting the lights before she got so comfortable. Well, she decided, it didn’t really matter. Mulder was already on his way to oblivion, and she – well, Scully would follow, just as she always did. She smoothed a finger across his furrowed brow, and it slowly began to relax against her gentle pressure. God. If Mulder ran blind into a burning building, she would probably follow him there, too.
So, she reasoned with a small yawn, she was just going to have to keep him pointed away from the blaze.
Bending of the Bow Part 3
She trusts people who are trustworthy.
She also trusts people who aren’t trustworthy.
This is true trust.-Tao Te Ching
September 2, 1996.
Route 60,
Kentucky.
The road out to the farm was not in the best of repair and Scully was feeling a bit nauseous as the car jostled from hitting yet another pothole.
She had known that French Toast was going to be too heavy for her but Mulder had insisted they have a good breakfast to avoid having to stop again for lunch. She glanced at her partner. He didn’t seem as manicky as he had yesterday but with each passing mile he’d grown quieter, more tense and withdrawn, as if the reality of finding his sister required all his energy.
She hated these times – always had. He was so detached from everything, including her. They were more infrequent now, almost non-existent since they had become engaged but she knew if she reached out and touched him, he’d jump in startled surprise, having forgotten she was even in the car. What was he thinking, she wondered. What memories were replaying themselves in his mind? Were they about Samantha, about the night she disappeared? Or were they of more recent events, the quest itself and the price he had paid to find her? Did he ever wonder if the price was too high?
“You’re staring, Scully,” he said softly, belying her perception of his present state of mind.
“Sorry,” she said, blushing as if she’d been caught having some immoral thoughts. She looked down at the hand-drawn map they’d obtained when they last stopped for gas. She couldn’t suppress a small grin as she remembered the stereotypical mechanic, Mr Frank S. Farley, as he’d proudly introduced himself, who’d been delighted to give them directions.
After all, “those roads through them hills could be downright tricky.”
“You okay?” she asked.
He nodded but his jaw remained clenched.
“Mulder….” She reached out and touched his hand.
“I’ve just been waiting for this so long, Scully, so long….” His voice trailed off, once again caught in the grip of his memories.
They continued on in silence which was only occasionally broken by their grunts as they bounced over particularly rough patches of ground.
After another half-hour, they turned a bend and saw their destination.
Sitting back from the road, partially obscured by huge hardwood trees, was a large, well-kept farmhouse, its white clapboards almost glowing in the autumn sunlight. Mulder stopped the car and sat, staring at the sight. He was having trouble organizing his thoughts. It just… it just looked so damned normal! He could make out a porch, trimmed by a flower bed and a huge barn behind the house, further up the hill with a cornfield off to one side. He knew Sam was living on a farm but he really hadn’t considered what that meant. Now it looked… substantial. How could she live out here, running a farm by herself? Moore told them she was going by the name, Conner, but Mulder assumed it was an alias. The files didn’t contain any details, other than this address, more recent than 1984. That was when they had lost track of her. Now they had found her again, were threatening to take her again. But he’d gotten here first! They wouldn’t get to her again. Without a word, he turned the car up the drive.
The approach to the house was in better condition than the road itself, mused Scully, taking in the well-maintained vegetable garden, some of the bounty ready for harvesting. The house looked old, almost defining the word, homey. Although they had not talked about it, neither one wishing to speculate on what they would find, Scully knew Mulder was expecting to see his sister, and only his sister. Scully was having serious doubts about this as she took in her surroundings. This may turn out more complicated than she thought it would be. She sighed. Why should this be any different than anything else they’ve been through?
Scully’s Apartment
Sept. 1, 1996
1:30 am
“Mulder, what the hell are you doing? Why would you bring him here? Why would you even listen to him?” Scully’s brain, still fuzzy from too many screwdrivers, refused to comprehend, to even acknowledge the rotund figure standing in her living room.
Mulder took her by the elbow and guided her none-too-steady form over to the couch. “I know this is a shock, Scully. I’m sorry but I couldn’t chance a phone call.” He looked over at Moore before turning pleading eyes back to the woman he still hoped would take him as her husband, assuming she was speaking to him by the time they were finished. “I found him trying to leave me a God damned note. I made him tell me, Scully. Now you have to listen too. This is important.”
She nodded before the intensity of his gaze.
“My dear, I know I’m the last person you wanted to see, especially tonight. May I offer my best wishes, by the way?” Moore approached but was halted by the frozen look of mistrust on Scully’s face. “I knew I wouldn’t be welcomed here. This was a mistake, Agent Mulder, and I need to leave soon, in any case. I’ve told you what I know.”
“You told me,” Mulder snapped. “Now you’re going to tell her!
You owe her that much.”
“So you mentioned before but I don’t acknowledge the debt. I did what I thought best. I didn’t have a choice and I’ve paid for my mistake.” Moore’s face twisted in unfamiliar lines of bitterness.
“Amber?” Scully’s heart did a flip-flop of panic as she thought of the young girl’s innocent face.
“Is well – at least as well as she was when you knew her.”
“Then her condition was irreversible?”
“Yes.” With one word, Moore killed Scully’s hope – the one justification which might have
saved him in her eyes.
“Where is she now?”
“In hiding, with her mother. I’ll be joining them as soon as we’re through here. You’ll not be bothered by me again.”
They were going on the run again, Scully knew. She merely nodded, angry for what had been done to Amber, for the life she and her mother would now be forced into. “And the project?”
Moore tensed as if in pain. He swallowed hard. “Goes on. But without me! I’ll not be a part of it. Never again! Never… not after what I saw them do!”
Mulder moved to sit next to Scully, putting his arm around her shoulder, giving comfort for what was about to come. Without taking his eyes from Scully’s face, he spoke directly to Moore. “Tell her,” he demanded.
Moore hesitated, seeming searching for the right words but gave it up.
There were no right words for what he was about to say. “They killed Janet’s baby and they returned Janet to the streets of Chicago.” He paused before adding in the same monotone, “I’m afraid her addiction is much worse now.”
“Those bastards!” Scully’s response was immediate and definitive.
She was on her feet, blue eyes flashing fire. “And you helped them,”
she accused. “You helped them kill an innocent baby and now you think we’re just going to let you walk away?” She looked around her frantically, scanning her apartment for her gun.
“Scully, wait!” Mulder was again by her side, arms out, trying to deflect her furious movements. “There’s more.”
Scully’s eyes searched his face, desperate for answers. Mulder had listened to this person, this erstwhile friend, and had heard something important enough to come here on the eve of their wedding. She trusted Mulder; she would listen, too. She knew this but her head warred with her heart, her sense of justice at odds with her trust. She sank down on the sofa, waiting.
“You need to understand something about the way these men are organized. There are several projects scattered throughout the United States, possibly around the world. Each project has a separate team and there is no exchange of information, at least not at my level. I have no proof of anything but I can guess what some of these experiments pertain to given the findings of my previous research with abductees. I found out about Janet and her baby quite by accident but it was enough to show me that what I was trying to accomplish was folly.” Moore began to pace the room, becoming increasingly agitated as he continued. “I started to do a little exploring of my own, not an easy thing to do, I assure you. I was hoping to find…. well, none of that matters anymore and I’m running out of time. I found this.” He looked at Mulder who pulled a set of papers from his coat pocket. “It’s not a complete file, you understand and I couldn’t chance staying there trying to sift through it, but the name grabbed my attention.”
Mulder handed her the papers.
She shuffled through them, scanning each page carefully before turning bright eyes to her partner, her lover, the man she wanted to spend her life with. “My God, Mulder, this is Samantha’s file.”
Mulder didn’t respond with words but his eyes told her all she needed to know, both his hope and his fear.
She turned her attention back to Moore. “Why?” It was all the question she needed to ask.
“This file belongs to a woman who is in a project marked for termination. I don’t think I need to tell you how thorough these men are when it comes to covering their tracks once they are through with their subjects.” Moore took another turn around the room, coming to a halt in front of Scully. “Perhaps I spoke hastily when I said I didn’t owe either of you a debt. You tried to help my family – a misguided attempt but a sincere one, nonetheless. When I saw this file, and realized the fate in store for this woman, I had to come. I had to atone in some way for what I had done to my own family.”
Scully couldn’t hide the unbiddened tears which threatened to overwhelm her fragile composure. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe, it was the reinstatement of her trust in the man before her, but Scully felt profoundly moved. “Is there anything we can do?” she asked, thickly.
“Nothing,” Moore replied and with that he was gone, disappearing into the night.
September 2, 1996.
Conner Farm,
Rush, Kentucky.
They pulled up to the front of the house, neither speaking or even looking at the other as they exited the Taurus. A little girl of about nine ran around from the side of the building before either agent could decide on a course of action. All three froze in place, surprise on the part of the child, shock plainly registering on the faces of Mulder and Scully. Scully had seen pictures and the image of the face standing before them was engraved in Mulder’s memory. It was Sam’s face!
The long, dark hair, the expressive eyes, the tilt of her head were identical to the Samantha of Mulder’s memory. It was if time had froze. He half expected to see his mother come out the front door and call them all in to dinner. With the blink of an eye however, the facade of the past faded and Mulder returned to the present. Another blink and the young person standing before them took on her own features. While the resemblance to Sam was strong, this child was not his sister. He let out a deep breath.
As if this was her cue, the girl took half a step forward, cautiously watching the two strangers.
“Hi there,” offered Scully in the tone used by adults not used to dealing with children. “I’m Dana and this is Fox. What’s your name?”
Ignoring the question, dark eyes flashed to Mulder’s face. “Your name’s Fox?” she asked incredulous.
“Yeah.”
She giggled. Mulder hunched in automatic response, looking for all the world like a shy schoolboy.
Scully couldn’t resist a small smile of her own at this interchange but kept it carefully hidden from her partner. “What’s your name?” she repeated.
“Karen.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Karen. Do you live here?” Scully took a step closer and crouched down to be at eye-level with the girl.
Karen nodded but she was obviously fascinated by the man with the weird name. Mulder was looking increasingly uncomfortable but couldn’t help returning the girl’s gaze. She was so much like Samantha.
Scully glanced to both of them and sighed softly. Mulder’s brain seemed to have gone on hold. It was going to be up to her to get the information they needed. “Karen, is your Mom home?”
Mulder’s eyes flew to hers. Then back to Karen’s. Then back to Scully’s.
Scully could almost hear him turning this question over in his mind, ideas and preconceptions screaming as they reshifted themselves in his brain. The barely perceived tensing of his stance alerted her to his acceptance of the probability that Karen was Samantha’s daughter.
Karen shook her head. “No, but my Dad’s around back.”
Thud! Scully’s stomach dropped and she could only imagine Mulder’s reaction. This was going to be bad. A daughter, a little Samantha, Mulder could cope with, but a husband? Scully risked a look to see his face pale, his jaw working as if he were literally chewing on this new piece of data. Okay, thought Scully, let’s take the bull by the horns. “Karen, what’s your Mom’s first name?”
Before the child could answer, a strong baritone broke into the conversation. “Can I help you?”
Scully straightened to get a better look at the newcomer. He was as tall as Mulder, more deeply chested, with sandy blonde hair and walked with a slight limp. His brown eyes spoke of openness and honesty – here was someone who knew his place in the world and was content with it. For some reason Scully was glad Samantha had found this man. If it was Samantha, a little voice nagged in the back of her mind. She tried to push that thought to the side for the moment.
She looked over at her partner trying to gage his reaction but he was hiding behind the neutral mask of an FBI agent. Scully faltered for a moment, unable to slide smoothly into their partnership due to the conflicting emotions she was experiencing. She felt disoriented – the professional mein clashing with his personal demons. What role did he want her to play? How could she ease this for him? Mulder remained silent.
“Mr Conner?” Scully asked, taking Mulder’s silence to mean she should take the initiative.
“Yes.”
“Mr Conner, I’m Dana Scully. This is Fox Mulder.” A pause but they received no reaction to the Mulder name. Scully floundered, unsure of what her partner wished to reveal to this stranger.
“We’re with the FBI,” supplied Mulder, speaking for the first time, his eyes never straying from the man’s face. With practiced ease, he displayed his badge. Scully followed suit.
“FBI?” Conner repeated. “What’s going on?”
Mulder swallowed hard, the emotion in his voice noticeable only to Scully.
“We’re looking for Samantha… Conner. We have reason to believe she’s living here.”
“Sam? Sam’s my wife. What’s this all about?”
Concern, a mild defensiveness, showed in Conner’s eyes but not panic, Scully noted; no paranoia that they work for the government which they might have expected given Sam’s abduction. Could it be that he didn’t know?
Mulder took another breath. “There’s a chance … we believe …, that is, we think that Samantha may be my sister.”
The silence following Mulder’s statement was profound. Scully could never remember hearing a sound. It was as if the birds themselves had fallen silent, waiting to see how this drama would unfold.
It was Karen who broke the tension by stealing into her father’s arms and looking up at him. Quietly she asked, “Is this Momma’s brother?”
Conner looked down at his daughter and then back at Mulder, searching his face for clues to the truth. Apparently satisfied for the moment by what he saw, he answered, “Maybe, honey, maybe.”
Shaking himself as if to break the spell which had befallen them, Conner looked over to Scully. “Let’s go into the house. Sam’s in town getting groceries but she’ll be back in less than an hour. She’d skin my alive if I didn’t at least offer you some hospitality.”
Without waiting for a reply, Karen lead the way, her father holding open the screen door for them to enter. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light after the bright sunshine, Mulder took the time to try and settle his thoughts. Sam. Was this person they were waiting for really Sam?
His Sam? She had a husband, a daughter. Shit! She had a life! If this was Sam, did he have a right to barge in here and mess that up? Thoughts of Scully lying in a hospital bed after she had been returned to him, knowing what they had done to her, silence his thoughts. If he could stop these bastards from getting to Sam or her family, he had to try.
“You all just have a seat here in the parlor. I’ll go get us something cold to drink. Karen, honey, you come with me,” Conner instructed. Karen looked as if she wanted to protest but followed him into the kitchen, leaving the two agents alone in a comfortable living room.
Mulder wandered over to a shelf which was filled with picture frames of various sizes. Photos of the family stared back at him, smiles and obvious warmth mocking his loneliness, his quest, the emptiness of his own family life. A picnic in a park. Karen, as an infant, asleep in her crib.
Another, with them all dressed in Halloween costumes. They were shades of what-might-have-beens which haunted Mulder’s dreams as much as the nightmare of her disappearance, leaving him shaking with desperate longing.
Scully slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. He reveled in her touch, her mere presence fending off the darkness of his mood. For the millionth time, he thanked God or whoever else was responsible for bringing her into his life. He turned and hugged her tight, breathing in the smell of her hair, allowing her body to comfort his soul. “I love you, Scully,” he whispered. “If I didn’t tell you that today, I’m sorry.”
“Are you okay?”
He pulled away and picked up a photo of the family at Christmas. “I should be in these pictures, Scully. If this is my sister, I should have been here to take these, to help them open their presents, to….” He stopped as his voice cracked.
“I know, Mulder, I know.” Scully reached up a smoothed back his hair. “If it is her, there will be new pictures for all of us.”
Scully moved over to the well-stuffed sofa, noticing how the tasteful print picked up the colors in the ceiling border that ran around the room.
The furniture was practical and was polished to a high gloss but this was a room that was lived in. It spoke of order, and love, and welcome and was obviously someone’s home in the finest sense of the word. Scully felt comfortable here, despite the circumstances. And she realized with a start: These people would be her in-laws. Scully smiled, dazed by the idea for some reason.
Easter Dinner, 1996.
Scully Residence.
When Dana returned from the mud room, she walked briskly walked to the sewing room and retrieved one of Mulder’s tee-shirts from his suitcase, and tossed it back in the laundry room, The whole family watched and noted the hum of the washer. Margaret sipped her tea as her daughter settled back at the table. Dana was trying her best to act as if nothing had happened at all.
“What’s wrong with Fox?”
Stabbing a piece of sliced ham on her fork, she smiled sweetly.
“Nothing. He’s fine. It was just something he ate.”
Caroline perked her nose up and folded her arms tightly across her chest. “Are you sure, Dana? He looked like he wanted to run.
Something’s got him spooked.”
Jen ripped another roll apart, and added, “Yeah, he wasn’t talking much tonight.”
Then Caroline sat up with serious intent. “You think he’s got some bad news? Maybe he didn’t make finalist for the Publisher’s Clearing House.”
Bill Jr. couldn’t resist getting in on the needling and offered up a dry, “He shouldn’t have ignored that chain letter I sent him.”
“He’s fine.” Dana focused on her plate and pretended the people around her weren’t having a good time at Mulder’s expense.
Jen put the roll back down on the plate and leaned on the table, studying Dana’s nonchalance. Her eyes narrowed to slits. There was something more there that Dana wasn’t telling them. And she was dying to know what it was. “What do you think she’s not telling us?” All eyes landed on Margaret. If anyone could tell what was going on in the mind of Dana Scully, it would have to be her keenly-observant, often-confided in, mother.
But Margaret rested her elbows on the table and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Jen blurted out, “Are you pregnant?”
“No.” Scully answered without a second of hesitation.
Caroline leaned it to her. “Are you sure? You can tell us.”
Scully gave her a cold look. “Of course I’m sure. I’m a doctor.”
Then she stuffed a new potato in to her mouth.
“I think she’s pregnant.”
“I’m not pregnant.”
Excited, Jen insisted, “Give her the test.”
Caroline’s head wagged. “I can’t give her the test without a lemon.”
“I have a lemon in the fridge,” Margaret offered.
“Mom, don’t help.”
With a definite nod, Caroline announced, “She’s preggers.”
But Bill Jr. put his fork down and glared across the table to his over-confident sister in-law. “My sister isn’t pregnant, she’s not even married. That’s not possible.”
His wife, sharing a knowing look with Caroline, playfully smacked his arm. “Oh, Bill, this is the nineties, get with it.”
He looked at Jen, hurt and completely confused. “What are you saying?”
“Unplanned,” mouthed Caroline in exaggerated size.
Scully bit off a hunk of roll, determined to keep cool and collected.
She’d faced fat sucking mutants, she could handle her in-laws. “I’m not pregnant.”
Bill considered the information laid before him, and sighed, a sad but resolute authoritative tone to his voice. “If you are pregnant, Dana, we’re going to have to beat up Mulder, you know.”
Mrs Mulder spoke up. “What? Why?”
“Well, if someone goes and knocks up your baby sister, you’re supposed to do something, aren’t you?” His logic was crude to say the least. But it earned a great round of laughter from both Caroline and Jen.
“Yeah, like buy a rifle and force him to marry her!” laughed Caroline.
Jen squealed with delight, “Ooooo a shot gun wedding!”
“I’m not pregnant.”
“She’s not pregnant.” Mulder stood behind them with a half smile on his face. “As far as I know.” The room’s scrutiny went from Scully, to the man over her left shoulder, and then back to Scully again.
She wiped her smiling mouth but refused to turn to look at him.
“Thanks for the confidence in that, Mulder.”
“She is, however … going to marry me.”
The eruption of screams and shouts of excitement and laughter bordered on hysteria. Only Scully and Mrs Mulder remained seated. The rest took turns hugging Mulder and welcoming him in to the family. Caroline whined a little when she gave him her congratulations. “I still think she’s preggers.”
Scully looked up from her plate to find a quiet, wistful mother sitting and staring at her. Mulder’s mother. The woman smiled and nodded slowly, not bothering to wipe the tear that ran down her cheek. “This is good,” she said. Scully leaned forward and gently placed her hand on the hand of her soon-to-be-mother in-law.
The connection was made.
Bending of the Bow Part 4
Can you deal with the most vital matters
by letting events take their course?
Can you step back from your own mind
and thus understand all things?-Tao Te Ching
Connor Farm.
Her revery and Mulder’s brooding were interrupted by the arrival of Karen and her father, each loaded down with a tray. Scully quickly moved a stack of magazines off the coffee table to allow enough room for the refreshments to be deposited. Karen set out two plates of fresh-baked cookies, while her dad’s tray was loaded with ice filled glasses and a pitcher of lemonade.
“Here we go. I hope I got this right,” Conner started as he straightened his back. “Sam’s the hostess of the family.” He turned to glance over at Mulder, obviously uneasy with his silent moping, then looked back at Karen. “Honey, get your snack and go out on the porch. I need to talk with these folks for awhile.”
“Aw, Dad, can’t I stay too?”
A raised eyebrow was all the response needed as Karen picked out two crispy treats and dragged herself over to the door. Every movement was a protest. As the screen door banged shut behind her, her father permitted a smile of amused tolerance to light his face.
“Please, help yourselves,” he offered, turning back to his guests.
Scully reached for a chocolate cookie, her gaze locking with her partner’s.
How should we handle this, her eyes asked. He gave her a barely perceptible nod. It would be her show for now while he observed.
“Mr Conner, if you don’t mind my saying so, you didn’t seem very surprised by the possibility that Agent Mulder may be your wife’s brother.”
“I’m not, and, please, call me Randy. ‘Mr Conner’ was my father.” He gave Scully a disarming smile before he continued. “You see, Sam, she doesn’t remember much about when she was little. She was raised by the state as an orphan.”
Mulder’s eyes burned into the back of Conner’s head but he held his silence.
“I see,” said Scully, shifting uncomfortably, aware of Mulder’s glare.“Maybe you can tell us a little more about that.”
Randy sipped his glass of lemonade and sat back into the sofa’s cushions.
“Yeah, sure. I met Sam when we were in college. She was there on a full scholarship. She’s real bright, my Sam.” Pride infused Sam’s husband’s tone.
Mulder stiffened.
“We hit it off right away. She was real quiet and shy. Not like some of the other girls. When she wasn’t in class, she was working as a waitress in this diner I used to go to.
We started going out after awhile and she told me
about when she was a kid.”
“You said she ‘didn’t remember much’,” Mulder prompted.
Randy jumped a little, almost as if he were surprised that Mulder was still in the room. “Yeah. She told me her earliest memory was when she was about twelve. She was in some kind of institution with other kids. The only thing she could remember was that her name was Samantha. Nothing about having any family or where she came from.”
“She never tried to find out as she got older?” Mulder’s voice was slightly raised.
“I asked her about that one time. It was right before we were married. I thought…, well, this might sound a little silly, but I thought she’d want some of her family with her on the day of her wedding.” Randy ducked his head shyly.
“What did she say?” asked Scully softly, her mind flashing to what her own family was doing about now.
Randy hesitated, glancing over at the dark, moody man standing in his living room. He was apparently embarrassed by what he had to say. “She said that she had no interest in finding a family who had abandoned her.
She said I was all the family she needed. We never… we never talked about it again.”
Mulder reacted as if he’d been punched in the stomach. It certainly felt like something had hit him given the pain he experienced at Conner’s words. Air rushed out of his lungs and he was having trouble breathing through the lump that had closed off his airway. A sudden rage blinded him, turning his vision red. He had to get away, move, use up some of this energy before he started punching out the walls. Had to get away from all of the trappings of
normalcy. He felt his legs pumping as he dashed out the door, needing to be alone with the anger
which consumed him.
Mulder wanted to curse but wasn’t sure who his target was. He was having a hard time remembering who his enemy was – “them”, the shadow government who hounded his career, putting not only his life but Scully’s in jeopardy? His father, who for reasons of his own had chosen to give up one of his children? Some beings he couldn’t understand but wanted to believe in? Samantha, for her lack of faith in him? Or was the real enemy himself? Didn’t he work hard enough or fast enough or thoroughly enough to find the truth? To
find Samantha so they could share their lives as a family.
He found he was breathing hard. It felt as if he’d run five miles but when he looked around, he saw he was standing across the large front yard of the Conner house. He couldn’t bring himself to even think of it as a “home”.
The afternoon sun was burning his eyes as he blinked back the moisture he found there.
He expected to find Scully positioned on the porch, waiting for him, watching over his actions, ready to save him from himself. She wasn’t there. Mulder wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved.
“Fox? Are you okay?”
He looked down in the worried face of Sam’s daughter. My God, his niece! I might have a niece, he thought, dazed by the implications. Fox?
Uncle Fox? Uncle Mulder? He put off that decision for later.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied.
“You look kinda sick.” Out of the mouths of babes….
“Maybe a little. But I’ll be okay.”
Karen nodded wisely. “I’ll tell Mom when she gets home. She can always make you feel better.”
Mulder smiled weakly, “I hope so, Karen.”
“Is he going to be all right?” Randy had jumped to his feet when Mulder had run out the door. He was obviously concerned, something which Scully appreciated, but was equally uncertain about how his concern would be received.
“I think so,” said Scully with more confidence than she was feeling. Every molecule of her being wanted to go to Mulder, hold him, protect him from what he had to be going through. She also knew she couldn’t really help.
She couldn’t take away his pain as much as she wanted to and she knew she would be more helpful if she stayed where she was, doing damage control. She couldn’t
let Mulder’s brother-in-law see him as some kind of basket case. “He’s been under a lot of strain
since we learned of Sam’s whereabouts. He’s been through this before and has been disappointed.”
“I don’t understand.”
Scully sighed, reluctant to give this relative stranger too much information.
“Mulder’s never stopped looking for Samantha. Others have used this against him in the past.”
“But…”
Scully held up her hand to interrupt. “I’m sorry. As much as you want to know about Mulder, I can’t tell you. It’s his story to share and he might want to wait until Sam’s here.” She let Randy digest this information before she continued with her own questions. “Does your wife remember anything about her early childhood?”
“What? Oh, um, nothing much. She has nightmares sometimes but she won’t talk about them. In fact, she got pretty angry once when I suggested that she go talk to someone about them. She says she can handle it and doesn’t want some damn busybody poking around where they don’t have no business being.”
“Does she have these dreams often?”
“They sort of come and go. Sometimes they’re real bad, almost every night.
Then they seem to get better and she’ll go months without having any.
Sometimes….” He paused as if unsure he should continue.
“Sometimes?” Scully encouraged. She had the feeling Randy wanted to talk about this and was more worried about his wife’s condition than he wanted to let on.
“Sometimes she has nightmares when she’s awake.”
Scully eyebrow rose in inquiry.
“She’ll be standing in the kitchen, staring at a knife, just staring and then start screaming. When I try to talk to her, she says it was nothing, just a bad memory. But she can’t say what she remembers. And sometimes, we’ll be in town and she’ll think someone’s following us. It doesn’t make any sense but she just won’t
deal with it.” Randy rubbed his face wearily. “She can be damned stubborn sometimes.”
“I know how that can be,” Scully smiled, glancing towards the door where Mulder had disappeared.
“Like sister, like brother?”
“Maybe. We still have to decide about that.” Scully was rapidly coming to the conclusion that they had found Mulder’s sister, however. She was worried about these flashes of memory Sam had, especially the feeling she was being followed. Given the shadow people who were interested in finding her, she may very well have been correct about this. It was important that she and Mulder talk to Sam and her husband and warn them about the danger they might be in now that they knew where she was.
“When do you expect Sam to get home?”
“Any time now.”
They were interrupted by Mulder’s return. Karen was leading him by the hand as if he were an errant child. Scully was hard pressed to hide her amusement as her eyes caught Mulder’s embarrassment. Before she could comment however, they heard the sound of a car pulling up the drive. Her levity died as she
picked up on her partner’s tension and felt her own pulse quicken in response.
Sam was home.
Karen rushed to the door and flung it open before anyone could stop her.
Worried glances flew among the three adults, revealing their concern about the news that was about to be declared and how it would be received.
“Let’s get out there,” Randy said, the others needing no further encouragement.
They reached the porch as Karen was grabbing the car door.
“I’ll do that, honey. You go play,” Randy yelled before Karen could blurt out her announcement.
“But Daddy….”
“Go on now. We grown-ups are gonna have a talk and we don’t want any Miss Busybody underfoot. Go on!”
Karen moved off, her entire body in as open rebellion as the nine-year-old dared. Randy walked over to the car to lend a hand bringing in the groceries as Mulder and Scully hung back, rooted to the porch. Scully idly wondered why her heart was racing and if Mulder could hear it. Probably not, she thought. His is beating even louder.
Mulder felt frozen in place. The agent had a passing thought he might never move again. Perhaps he was really asleep and, in this nightmare, he’d be able to see Samantha but not be able to reach out to her, touch her, tell her what she meant to him. There was a roaring noise in his ears, blocking out sound and his peripheral sight went hazy as all his attention focused on the dark-haired woman emerging from the car. He hoped he wasn’t having a stroke since everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.
He was trying, without much success, to contain his excitement. He’d been burnt before and used the anger he’d felt then as a talisman against further disappointment. But it was hard to keep his guard up when every fiber in his being wanted this to be true, wanted this woman turning to look at him to be his sister.
Mulder couldn’t hear what Conner was saying to her – he was leaning in close and speaking softly- but she gave him only a fleeting glance, more interested in the two strangers standing on her porch. She handed out two bags to her husband and took a third for herself before marching up to greet her guests. She was tall and thin and moved with an easy, bouncing grace. Mulder was reminded of Sam’s fondness for skipping.
“Hi, I’m Samantha Conner. Randy said you wanted to speak with me?” She gave them both a warm but non-committal smile. It was the kind of smile one gave to a passing acquaintance who bought cookies from you at a bake sale. There was no recognition, no wonder or joy at finding a lost brother.
Mulder gave a nod and reached to take her package. He needed the movement to cover his rush of sadness.
“Thank you,” Sam said, leading them back into the house. “Randy, you couldn’t fix them something better than cookies? And on those old plates!”
She rolled her eyes as she took in the remains of Conner’s hospitality.
Randy had the grace to look sheepish but the gleam in his eyes was unrepentant. “I told you she was the hostess of the family,” he said in a loud aside to the two agents. He took his bags into the kitchen.
“Please, sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I won’t be but a minute.” She whisked herself into the other room after seizing the bag out of Mulder’s grasp before either could defend Randy’s abilities as a host.
“She’s a bit of a whirlwind,” Scully said, keeping her voice carefully neutral. Mulder nodded again and walked to stand in front of the large picture window. His hands deep in his pockets, he studied the rug beneath his feet.
“She has your eyes,” Scully pointed out, determined to get Mulder to respond to her. Damn it, this regression of his into isolation and self-absorption was not going to help this situation.
Mulder looked up at her comment. “Does she? Too bad she can’t remember we get them from our grandmother on our mother’s side.”
Scully was taken aback by the bitterness in his voice. She came quickly to his side and stared into his troubled face. “Mulder, what did you expect?
Randy told us she couldn’t remember her childhood; that she’s repressed what few memories she did have. Did you think all she would have to do was look at you for everything to be all right? God, think this through!
You’re the psychologist. If this is Sam, how can we help her regain what’s she’s lost?” Scully had reached out and held onto his arm, part of her itching to shake some sense into him. Leaning forward with her body, she tried to convey her love and support.
Mulder looked down, seeing her with fresh eyes. Her sincere wish to help Sam, to focus on the immediate problem rather than his jumbled emotions, helped bring him back to the reality of the moment. It was so easy for him to get lost in the darkness, he thought, borrowing the phrase from Melissa, appreciating anew Dana’s ability to light his way. “And you’re cheaper than those damn flashlights we’re always losing,” he whispered aloud, as he caressed her cheek, smiling at her confused expression.
“Just go check on Karen. I’m sure we’ll be just fine without you for a few minutes,” Sam was saying as she backed into the living room, loaded down with another tray and obviously talking to her husband. Mulder hurried forward to relieve her of the heavy load while Scully rearranged the items on the coffee table.
The odor of fresh-brewed coffee arose from the delicate, blue-flowered patterned pot which was surrounded by matching china cups and saucers.
A plate of brownies accompanied the cream and sugar.
“I wish I’d known you were coming. I’d have gotten in something special,”
Sam muttered, clearly displeased with her offering. “Would you like something more substantial? I could make sandwiches.” She was slightly out of breath, a testament to her scurrying in the kitchen in an effort to be hospitable.
“No, really, we’re fine,” Scully reassured the woman. “You shouldn’t have gone to any trouble.”
“Nonsense. Randy and I don’t get many visitors and I don’t get to fuss as much as I’d like to. Please, sit down.”
Scully sat next to Samantha on the sofa and helped her pour the coffees as Mulder situated himself in a nearby armchair.
Once they were settled, Sam looked at Scully. “Now, how can I help you?”
Scully stole a glance at her partner but he had once again retreated to his role as observer. “Mrs Conner, I’m Dana Scully and this is Fox Mulder.”
She paused, waiting for a reaction which never came. “We understand from your husband that you’re an orphan and were raised as a ward of the State. Is that correct?”
Sam straightened and her friendly face became more guarded. “Yes.”
“He also told us you have few memories of your early childhood.”
“Yes. What’s this all about?”
“Mrs Conner, can you tell us anything at all about what you do remember, regardless of how slight. It might be very important.”
“I don’t remember anything. Who are you people?” Samantha had moved further away from Scully and was growing increasingly agitated.
“Mr Conner said you had ‘flashes’ of memory. We might be able to help you recover some of your past,” said Mulder softly. The intensity of his gaze pinned Sam to the sofa, belying the gentleness of his voice.
“I don’t want it recovered, don’t you understand? It’s dead and buried and I don’t want to dig it up! I won’t! Now, who are you and what are you doing here?”
“Mrs Conner…, Samantha, I come from a small town in Massachusetts,”
Mulder began, his eyes never wavering from hers. “I grew up there with my mother, my father and my sister.” He swallowed hard. “One night, when I was twelve, someone came and stole my sister. We never found her. There were no clues, nowhere to look. It tore the family apart.”
Samantha was on her feet, unconsciously tracing the path Mulder had made towards the window. She glanced at Scully but Dana was lost in her own memories of a stormy night, wrapped in a blanket, listening as her brand new partner told her the same story he had just related to Samantha. Sam turned back to Mulder.
“I’m sorry about your family but it has nothing to do with me.” Her hands were turning red from her wringing them together.
“Samantha, we have reason to believe you might be my sister.” He said it simply, no evasion, no embellishment, studying her carefully and checking for her reaction. He didn’t know what he was expecting but it wasn’t this.
Her pale face gleamed with sweat, her body trembled. She was breathing hard and fast as if it were difficult getting the air past her tense muscles.
She stared at Mulder, a flash of something crossing her features, only to be replaced with cold suspicion.”
“You’re crazy! Who sent you here?” she hissed.
“Mrs Conner, please, come and sit down,” Scully encouraged, “we’ll explain what we can.”
Samantha threw her a look but returned her attention to Mulder.
“Answer me! Who sent you here?”
Before Mulder could speak or offer her comfort, Randy appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on here?”
“Did you know? Did they tell you why they’re here?” Sam demanded.
“Yeah, Agent Mulder here thought you might be his sister. I don’t understand. I thought you’d be happy!”
Samantha reacted as if she’d been slapped. “Agent? What kind of agent?
Who are you people?” She backed away, trapping herself in the corner of the room.
“Sam, honey, it’s all right. They’re not crazy. They work for the FBI. If anyone could….” He got no further as Sam snatched a poker from the fireplace, holding it before her like a weapon.
“The government?” she screeched. “They work for the government and you let them in here? You let them find me? Get out! Get out of my house, you bastards!” She scanned the room, keeping close watch on Mulder’s and Scully’s positions. “Are there more of you? Hiding? Waiting for me?
Get out!” She started to cry, the poker shaking in time with her sobs.
“Honey, listen to me.”
“I’ll listen to you when they leave!” Sam cut him off.
Mulder took a step towards her, his hands held in supplication, his insides being ripped apart as he watched what was happening, knowing that his presence was unwelcome. He wanted to make things better, to take away her pain, to make things right for her.
Sam raised the poker, fear foremost in her eyes. Randy rushed forward to stop her, grabbing hold of the rod, as he wrapped her in a hug. At the same moment, Scully reached for Mulder’s arm, pulling him back. He glared down at her. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded through clenched teeth.
“Mulder, this isn’t helping. Look at her! She’s scared to death!” Scully pulled him around trying to get him to listen. “She needs time. I think we should leave,” she whispered.
“She needs me to be here!”
“Look at her,” she repeated. “She needs time.” She stepped back as if to allow Mulder a better view of Samantha and her husband even though the tall agent could easily see over her head.
Randy held Sam in a bear hug, trying to keep her restrained, murmuring words of reassurance which had no effect. She argued, demanding that Randy get rid of them. He had removed the poker and put it aside. His eyes told the pair to leave.
Mulder’s jaw tightened as he took in the scene. Guilt and envy ate at him in equal measures with a fair dose of frustration thrown into the mix. How could he leave her like this, he wondered. But Scully was again tugging at him.
“Mulder, we can come back tomorrow. Think about what she needs, not about what you’re feeling.”
That hurt. This was his sister, damn it! It wasn’t selfish to want to be with her when she was hurting. But he didn’t have much of a choice. Without saying a word, he turned on his heel and left, pulling his arm out of Scully’s grasp. She silently followed, feeling his anger in the pit of her stomach.
They were almost to the car when they heard the porch door slam shut.
Turning, they saw Randy approaching them warily. When he got closer, he stopped, looking at the ground, putting his thoughts into words. “I’m sorry about this. If I had known she’d… well, I can’t…,” he floundered before trying again. “Let me talk to her, try and calm her down some.” Mulder refused to make eye contact and instead stared off across the fields.
“We’d appreciate anything you could do,” said Scully, exasperated with Mulder’s obvious attempt to ignore the gesture Conner was making.
Randy gave Mulder a final glance before patting Scully’s arm affectionately.
“Come back tomorrow afternoon. We’ll try and get to the bottom of this.”
He retreated back into the house, as Mulder got into the car.
Scully sighed, knowing she was in for a long ride back to the motel.
Bending of the Bow Part 5
He who stands on tiptoe
doesn’t stand firm.
He who rushes ahead,
doesn’t go far.-Tao Te Ching
September 2, 1996.
Route 60,
Kentucky.
Mulder sat in the passenger side of the car, not trusting himself to speak.
The frustrations of the last quarter of a century were piercing his skull, drilling their way through his forehead. But it wasn’t the mounting headache that left his whole body in knots. It was the simple fact that he had seen her – talked to her – and she denied him. His own sister had refused to acknowledge his right to know her. He knew she’d remembered.
At least partially. He’d seen the look of recognition; a little flash of … something. But then, she withdrew. Deny everything. That last thought made Mulder wince.
He watched the grassy pastures roll by with little regard. The last place he wanted to be was in a car, driving away from her. It was ridiculous. To find her only to discover that after all he’d gone through – after all he’d suffered and forfeited for her – that she didn’t WANT to be found. To see the life that she’d made away from him. The woman his sister had become, so different from the little girl she was.
Next to him he heard a feminine voice. A question was put to him, but the words slipped around him refusing to sink in. The look of abject horror on Samantha’s face repeated before his eyes, keeping his ears deaf to anything but the sound of her husband – HUSBAND – wrapping his arms around her, and in a smooth, bass voice, consoling her. That man consoled her when she wouldn’t even let Mulder touch her. Or her daughter. His niece.
Karen, his niece. Poof. Instant family.
He turned to the woman next to him, this time he could see her lips moving, but the sounds were unrecognizable; almost non-existent. Like he wasn’t anywhere near her.
He closed his eyes and let his head flop back against the head rest. She shouldn’t be here, he thought. Scully doesn’t know what to do. She wants to help, but she can’t. She’s demanding attention that I can’t give her right now. I’m sorry Scully, but I can’t. I have to do this alone. I can’t split my focus. Everything is so out of control. I can’t deal with you now. I can’t share this with you. I’m sorry, Scully, but I can’t ….
And his silent apology rolled on and on until she turned off the car in the motel parking lot.
Without a word, she climbed out of the car and entered the motel lobby.
She didn’t see him slam his fist on the dashboard, didn’t hear him curse himself. “Damn it, Mulder! She loves you! She doesn’t deserve to be treated like she doesn’t count in all of this. Like she doesn’t have a right to be here.” The timber of his voice boomed in the empty car cabin. “She deserves so much more.” We all do, he added quietly in his head.
When she returned, a coppery key on the end of a huge green key chain tightly gripped in her right hand, Mulder made an effort to smile at her.
And she returned the favor in kind. “I got us a room on the ground floor.”
She turned the ignition and he placed a hand on her arm. She looked up to meet his eyes, but they were focused straight ahead, some where off in the distance.
He inhaled before he spoke. “Scully.” He wasn’t sure where to go after her name. “Scully … Scully, I’m having some trouble …I mean, Samantha … she … I can’t … I want you to know … that …”
With more tenderness than Mulder had ever seen in his life, Scully placed a hand over his and murmured a soft, “I know, I understand.”
No. No you don’t, Mulder thought as he pulled his hand away from her.
She didn’t understand. She KNEW her sister, she had years to know her, watch her grow. Scully didn’t have any idea what he was going through, of the torment she was putting him through, insisting that they leave to give Sam time.
Sam didn’t need time. She’d already had too much time. If Scully understood, she would know that without question.
Mulder needed to be with his sister. To help her to accept him; help her to remember whatever she might have forgotten. He had to tell her that he never stopped looking for her – that she’d been part of his life for the last twenty-five years, even if she didn’t know it. He needed to tell her that he loved her. But more importantly, that he was sorry. He needed her forgiveness for being a bullying older brother who didn’t have the courage to save her. That he HAD tried, but in the end, his attempt hadn’t been enough.
“I’m sorry,” he said aloud, and started at the sound of his own voice reverberating through him.
“It’s okay, Mulder. I understand.” Scully switched off the car and gave him another smile, this time it was returned with a vacant stare. Mulder blinked, clueless to what she was talking about.
Leaning against the motel headboard, Mulder stared past the moving image on the screen from across the room. Scully sighed. He’d made no attempt to communicate with her since that odd conversation in the car, over four hours ago, and she was beginning to worry. It wasn’t like Mulder to be so lifeless. He didn’t even put up a fight when she demanded to drive. When she’d gotten the room, she had considered, albeit briefly, if maybe Mulder would be more comfortable in his own room. If maybe he needed his own space to be alone. But she had reconsidered when she thought that it would be better to be within ear shot, should he decide to talk … or within arms length should he decide to do something that wouldn’t help the situation at all. Like going in the middle of the night to try and see her again. Having Sam think her brother was some kind of crazy stalker was the last thing Scully wanted. It would take time for her to come around, but Scully knew that eventually she would. Who could resist Mulder indefinitely?
She sat across the room at the small table, her laptop pulling her E-Mail off line beside her. Mulder’s features were frozen. His tie hanging loosely down either side of his opened work shirt He looked hung over. Or in pain. Or mad as hell, Scully surmised. He wishes I’m not here. He feels I’m holding him here, keeping him from her. She leaned forward, resting her head in her hands. God, this was hard. She knew in her heart that she wasn’t really denying him his sister. If anything, she was helping to smooth things between them. Sam had been upset by their arrival, and Mulder’s insistence that she was his long lost sister didn’t help. Scully trusted that Samantha’s husband would be able to calm her down enough that they would be able to talk calmly in the morning. And it was her job, Scully’s job, to make sure that Mulder was ready for that talk, too.
She sighed and looked at him. His eyes traveled from the muted TV to the ceiling. Scully had always figured that when Mulder found his sister – IF he found his sister, that he would finally be at peace. That he would be able to relax. To live and enjoy life without some childhood trauma shadowing his every move. That he’d finally be happy.
But he HAD found her, or at least someone they both believed to be Samantha, and he wasn’t happy. He looked tired. Haunted, almost.
Angry. The muscles in his jaw popped as he gritted his molars. The ceiling still held his focus as Scully sighed again. What was he thinking?
“She’s beautiful.” The thin film of his voice barely made it to Scully and she wondered if he was talking to her, or just talking. “Don’t you think?”
Scully nodded and gave him a small smile. He missed them both. “Yeah.
She doesn’t look as much like you as I had expected.”
Immediately he sat up and demanded, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The force of his tone caught Scully off guard. “Nothing.” She caught herself before she stammered, but not before the look of utter shock was able to register on her face. “It was only an observation. She looks more like your father -”
“And just what do you know about my father?” His eyes were ablaze.
Scully’s heart squeezed in to the back of her throat. With wide eyes she insisted, “Nothing.”
The moment that followed was tense and painful. And Scully, for the life of her, didn’t know what was going on. What had gotten in to Mulder?
Why was he verbally attacking her? Then the moment passed, and Mulder leaped up from the bed, declaring that he was going for a jog.
It wasn’t until he was out the door and she heard the engin rumble to a start before she questioned him running in his dress shoes and pants. She bolted out the door just as their Taurus skidded out of the parking lot and on to the small access road.
“Damn it!” she cursed, slamming her fist in to the door jam. “Damn it all to hell.”
Before he knew what he was doing, Mulder was in the car and speeding away from the motel. He had not intended to leave Scully with such a blatant lie – he had no intentions at all. He was just acting and reacting; feeling lost and alone. Just like that night half a life time ago when his nightmare first began.
The first heavy drops splattered across the windshield and he automatically flipped on the wipers. They scrapped across the mostly dry surface with a protesting groan. A storm was most definitely coming, Mulder knew, and he left the wipers on in preparation.
“She will listen to me,” he repeated to himself endlessly, the sound of his voice as ineffectual as the creaking wiper blades. “She has to listen.” She was his sister for Christ sake! How could she ignore that? Even if she wasn’t readily accepting to that idea, she couldn’t ignore the possibility.
“Randy will help.”
That last thought stuck in his mind. How could she have a life without him? How could she go on, when he hadn’t? Well, not until recently.
How could his baby sister have a baby, herself? They’d robbed him. All of them: his father, the shadow men, Samantha – they’d all denied him.
“NO!” Mulder slammed his fist in to the steering wheel and the car wobbled in to the passing lane. “Stop blaming!” he reprimanded himself.
“Stop hating.” He’d found Samantha. That was all that mattered. His sister was alive and safe and just a minute away. He’d sit her down, they’d talk. He’d find out how much she remembered. He’d make it easy for her; help her accept him. He’d be the brother she always deserved to have.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it. The sight that stopped his heart in his chest.
Fire.
The dark fields surrounding the two story farm house were like a void surrounding a blazing star. Tongues of red and yellow stretched from the upstairs bedroom windows. The roar of the blaze rolled over Mulder as he turned on to the long, dirt driveway; his foot slamming down against the floor board.
He had his gun out even before he saw the front door broken off the hinges, and the gaping holes left by a high powered gun. Black smoke poured from the top of the door frame. Just the thought of rushing in to the heat burned his eyes. God, fire. Why fire? The heavy smell constricted his lungs. Anything else he could have handled. Anything but fire.
And then he heard a scream. Or what he thought was a scream. The constant roar of the blaze drowned out and distorted the sound, but instantly Mulder thought of his sister and knew what he had to do. He refused to lose her to his fears again. Not this time. Not ever again.
With his shirt sleeve, Mulder wiped his face and hunched down. Then he took in a gulp of air, and plunged forward in to the burning house.
Like an expert, he swept through the darkened foyer and front room. The visibility was down to nothing in the dark haze. The smoke billowed from the stairway like a thick cotton blanket.
Mulder tried to feel his was in to the living room with his feet, nearly tripping over a large object. Mulder bent down to try and see what he’d run in to. A body. In a dark suit. He rolled the man over; another faceless shadow-government pawn.
Mulder pushed himself up and away, desperate to continue his search for Sam.
But then, from his left, Samantha emerged. Her daughter held ungainly in her arms; both clinging to one another. Behind them, Randy lurched forward, nearly knocking the three of them off balance, but Sam recovered quickly and helped to steady her husband. Behind him, another man in a dark suit held a large gun.
Mulder reacted before he knew what was happening. He felt the hot iron of his gun recoil in his right palm. A stifled scream erupted from his smoke-swollen throat. Then a second scream and a third; one on top of another; and then both Randy and the would-be kidnapper fell to the ground. Samantha was the next to scream, dropping to the floor next to her husband, repeating his name. Karen still clinging tightly to her body, crying uncontrollably. A second later, Mulder was there, too, assessing the damage and cursing his actions. The bullet, it seemed, ripped through Randy’s left arm and
carried on straight in to the chest of the suited man. “Shit.”
Struggling deliriously, Randy tried to sit up. Mulder wrapped his arms around the wounded man and pulled him up to his feet. “Get her out!” He screamed above the roar of the encroaching fire, “I’ll help Randy! Get out of the house!”
“Get away from him!” she screeched, “You shot him!”
The hatred in her eyes shot through Mulder like a thunder clap. He felt his body go numb around the tunnels that watched the scene play out before him. Through the choking smoke, Mulder heard himself say, “Fire! Damn it! Get out! I’ve got him!” He saw Randy put an arm around the ‘other’
Mulder, and Sam hesitating for less than a moment before struggling to her feet and scurrying with her daughter in to the coolness of the night.
The two men followed closely behind, all four coughing and hacking the soot from their lungs.
The rain was falling steadily, and Mulder stopped a few feet outside the door to try and clear his head enough to think. Sam reappeared at Randy’s side after loading her daughter in to the back seat of the black Jeep Cherokee. She gently pulled her husband towards the car, Mulder following blindly, supporting the majority of Randy’s weight … and then all of it when his legs gave out.
Somehow they got Randy in the vehicle, next to a still weeping Karen, her tiny body convulsing around each sob. Randy did his best to assure her that everything was going to be okay. But the little girl couldn’t take her eyes off of her daddy’s arm long enough to hear him. Sam ran around to the driver’s seat and Mulder crawled in the passenger side next to her.
“What are you doing?” she demanded as the engine turned over. “Get the hell out!”
“I’m going with you,” Mulder heard himself say, “you need protection.”
She turned to the man beside her and lashed out: “We need protection from YOU!” Her frantic, random swings knocked the stick shift out of ‘PARK’
and when the car jerked in to motion, Randy let out a cry behind them.
Karen whimpered, “Daddy, don’t die!”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” his words echoed more hope than his voice could carry.
“No one’s going to die!” Sam’s determination helped to put a little hope back in to their daughter. Then her focus switched to her husband.
“Randy, how bad is it?”
“Lot of blood.”
Sam winced at the slur in his speech. He didn’t mention the pain, but it was clear to everyone in the car that there was a lot. “Damn!” She ran around to Randy’s door. “Let me see.”
A lot of blood was an understatement.
Rivers of fluid gushed from the wound, dampening his shirt, jeans, and half of the seat. Sam yanked off her belt, and tried to secure it, tourniquet style, around his upper arm. He cried out at the intense pain that surged through every molecule of his being. Then his head lulled to the right.
“Stay with me, Randy.” Sam tugged at his cheeks to get some blood back in his pale face. “Christ! Randy! Talk to me!”
“Daddy!” Karen rocked back and forth as she cried, scared to touch her father.
Suddenly, like a jolt of lightning through a carcass, Mulder jerked back in to himself. The horror and terror was pushed away, and the immediate concern of saving Randy from his terrible aim smacked him in the face.
Hospital? Where? They were in the middle of nowhere.
“Get in the car!” Mulder leapt out from the passenger side of the car and pulled his sister off from her husband, and shut her in the front seat. Then he ran around to the driver’s seat. Scully could help. She would know what to do. He threw the car in to drive and stepped hard on the gas, sending the car away from the engulfing blaze behind them, and hurdling into the emptiness of night.
Why did it always have to be so dark?
June 29, 1996.
Pennsylvania, SR 2920.
The night seemed to engulf everything around them on the little-traveled back road. The old iron bridge that stretched lazily across the dry river bed was less than 100 yards away, by its blackness was silhouetted against the moonless, starless night.
Mulder couldn’t see a thing; not the bridge, not his partner sitting a few inches to his right, not even his hand held an inch from his nose. He reached across with that hand and encountered a shoulder clad in a linen blazer. And a whisper came back at him, “I’m still here.”
Feeling for his watch, a small light flicked on Mulder sighed. “It’s only 10:30,” his whisper leaning closer to her ear than intended.
“It feels like we’ve been here for hours.”
“We have been here for hours,” she whispered back. “Where the hell are they?”
Mulder settled back in his seat. In his mind it was quickly becoming obvious that the mysterious tip had been a hoax, and their chief suspects were not, in fact, meeting with the ‘pay off’. At least
not at this particular bridge on that particular night. Damn!
Everything had been so carefully calculated. Every possible detail carefully scrutinized. Together, he and Scully had gone over a hundred possible scenarios, hoping for a real break to catch the villains in the act. What would they do when the group didn’t show?
Scully’s hushed voice washed though the car. “We’ll just go over the facts again. Find the one scenario we obviously didn’t think of.”
Mulder held his breath. “Why did you just say that?”
There was a small hesitation on Scully’s part, caught off guard by his question. “Well, it just stands to reason that we must have missed something if they didn’t show up tonight. I mean, even if the tip was a hoax, to throw us off their trail -”
“No,” his mouth came carelessly close to her ear, and she could feel his moist breath against the left side of her neck. “What I mean is, how did you know what I was thinking? I didn’t say a thing.”
She paused again and replayed the conversation in her head. “Of course you did. You asked what we were going to do if they didn’t show -”
He stopped her. “No, Scully.” The thrill in his voice was plain, ” I THOUGHT it, but I didn’t SAY it.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Their voices were abruptly interrupted by the steady white beams of an approaching car. Then the quiet rumble of another. Without another second, both agents were out of the car, weapons drawn, eyes and bodies focused on the newest arrivals to the scene.
The stark light cast a minimal wash over the surrounding area, and with their dark-accustomed eye, Mulder was able to signal for Scully to take the right flank and she nodded her acceptance of the plan.
Just ahead of them, on the bridge, and partially obscured by the solid iron girders, several dark men in dark suits stepped out from their dark cars and into the light.
Then all hell broke loose.
A flash of red from the bushes on the far side of the river bed sent men scattered in every direction. Car doors slammed, more gunfire, angry screams and curses rang out. Mulder felt the low rumble of a car barreling towards him and he instinctively threw his body out of the car’s path, landing on a rock incline.
Somewhere he heard Scully’s voice screaming for someone to “HALT! FBI!” and several shots fired again as he tumbled down the slop and hit the dried mud hard. With his face. And then the darkness, the inevitable darkness that seemed to follow him, swallowed him, too.
Bending of the Bow Part 6
The hard and the stiff will be broken.
The soft and the supple will prevail.-Tao Te Ching
Motel 6,
Wayvern Road.
Sept 2, 1996.
11:02 PM.
Scully sat on the bed against the headboard, a warm glass of tap water in her hands. She ran a tired palm over her face and kicked off her shoes.
What the hell was she going to do? Leave? Stay? Be resentful or understanding? Remain intact or crumble like a discarded paper bag?
She was inclined to opt for the latter, knowing full well that in the end, she’d resort to the former. It wasn’t the first time Mulder had run off without her. And no matter how hard she tried to kid herself, it wouldn’t be the last. Mulder was Mulder. And when the goings got tough for him, he invariably left her behind.
Only this time she was stranded at some motel in the middle of nowhere Kentucky. This time she knew with almost guaranteed certainty where he was running to and what would happen when he got there. And no doubt, she’d have to be there on the sidelines waiting to pick up the pieces at the end of the day.
She sighed heavily, her chest feeling constricted inside her bra. Why did she put up with his crap? She knew that she would never leave him willingly, no matter how many times she threatened to when he ran off without her. They were empty threats, and they both knew it. And she felt diminished by them. Weak. Ineffectual.
So she would have to wait. What other option would she allow herself?
Ignoring the fact that this was supposed to be their honeymoon … and somehow her thoughts always came back to that: the wedding that never was. The elegant white dress hanging adoringly from the brass hook in her bedroom. Lace and satin. And those thoughts, the ones that resented the situation they were in, or more importantly, the ones that repeated ‘it is no accident that this happened now’, made her feel selfish and guilty.
Mulder was finally going to get his sister back.
Scully clutched at her turning stomach. There was no doubt in her mind that Mulder loved her. None. So why should one Catholic ceremony matter in the long run? Because. Because the vows said much more than a simple confirmation of love. Maybe in her heart she feared that the commitment was too much for him – that the phrase ‘for better or worse, `til death do us part’ was too much for her to expect. Maybe a ‘through good times and bad, as long as it doesn’t get too bad’ would be easier for him to deal with. Or maybe a ‘for today and tomorrow, but we’ll wait and see about the next day’ would work. Damn him!
The glass hit the night table hard and she grabbed the phone. She stared at it for a moment wondering just what she was planning to do. Call Sam?
Call her Mom? “Oh, yeah. Call Mom. How old am I again? And just when did I become so dependant on my mother?” She moaned aloud to herself, “I should probably call her.” And after a brief weighing of the pros and cons, she decided in her mother’s favor. There was no reason for Margaret to suffer while she sat waiting for Mulder’s return.
As she dialed the number, Scully briefly considered: What if he doesn’t come back tonight? What of he doesn’t come back-
“Hello?”
“Mom? It’s me.”
The frantic voice of her mother sent a flood of guilt through Scully’s stomach. “Dana! Are you all right? Is Fox okay? What happened?
Where are you?”
“I’m fine, Mom. And Mulder’s okay, more or less. What happened is a little more difficult to explain.”
Margaret didn’t miss a beat. “Did you two elope? Are you married?”
Scully couldn’t tell if she heard hope or annoyance in the rapid fire her mother was sending.
“No, Mom, we’re not married. We, uh … we found Mulder’s sister. We think.”
Margaret shrieked, “What?!? She’s alive? You’re kidding! That’s wonderful, honey! Is she okay? What’s she like?”
“Yeah, she’s been living in Kentucky. She’s got a farm. A family.”
“Kentucky? Dana, is that where you are?”
“Yes.” Scully took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about not calling sooner, but for a while we were scared we might have been followed ….”
“Followed? Dana? What aren’t you telling me?”
There was a moment where Scully considered lying, simply to save her mother some unnecessary grief. But she couldn’t do it. “Mom. There’s a lot I’m, not telling you.” Then her voice caught in her throat and cracked.
“Oh, Mom. It’s all falling apart.”
The concern in Margaret’s heart doubled at Scully’s last statement. Rarely had Margaret ever seen Dana emotional, and the whimper on the other end of the phone line sent up all of her flags. “What’s falling apart, sweetheart?”
“Mulder. Us. Everything. You realize, of course, that now that he had Samantha back, he doesn’t need the X-Files. And me.”
“Dana -”
“No, really! I’m not his wife. He’s not my partner anymore -”
“Of course he is, Dana. Things like that don’t change over night.”
“Yes, they do. Your whole life can change with one word. One blink of an eye, and -” Scully choked down a deep sob and tried to brush the tears from her eyes.
“Did the two of you have a fight? Is Fox there now?”
“No. He’s being unreasonable. Expecting too much too fast. He took the car and left, Mom, and my first instinct was to get the hell away from this place. I almost called a cab and came home.”
“What?!”
“He doesn’t want me here.”
“Dana, honey. Calm down. I’m sure that’s not the case. Fox loves you.”
And Scully laughed a deep, painful chortle. “Yes. Yes, he does. Mulder loves me. But I’m wondering: Is love enough?”
There was a moment of silence and then Margaret asked, “Enough for what?”
The question hit Scully off guard. “Are you saying I’m wrong? That I’m being … unreasonable?”
“Of course not, Dana. I’m simply asking what you really expect. What do you want from him?” Margaret swallowed, “because it sounds like you’re wanting more than he’s giving-”
“Or can give?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that. I think Fox is a man who is capable of a lot of giving.”
And finally Scully smiled. “That, he is.”
There was a comfortable lull before she spoke again. “Mom, I’m sorry about the wedding, too. I didn’t mean … I had no intention for things to turn out the way they did.”
“I know, honey.” Margaret cleared her throat. “Should I try to reserve a new date for the church? Father Christopher said the schedule towards the end of the month looks light.”
Scully’s face twisted in agony. “I don’t think so, Mom.”
That was the one response Margaret didn’t want to hear. “Well, just let me know. We’ve saved the cake, just in case.”
Nodding, Scully wiped fresh tears from her eyes, “Thanks, Mom. I bet it was beautiful.”
“It is. Shannon really out did herself.”
“I’ll have to thank her.”
“Yes, you will.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, baby. Be safe.”
And as Scully hung up the phone she whispered, her own personal plea.
“Mulder, be safe.”
Scully didn’t think it was possible for her to sleep in her agitated state but realized she must have dozed off when the screech of tires and a clap of thunder jolted her awake. She settled back down, trying to slow the pounding of her heart. It wasn’t the Taurus. She snuggled into the pillows, hoping to recapture the warm place where she had been.
Mulder’s abrupt entrance, his shirt front stained in blood, yanked her to her feet, however. She was by his side in a heartbeat, trying to simultaneously pull at his shirt and push him into a chair.
“My God, Mulder, what happened? Sit down and let me see,” she snapped when he resisted her prying fingers.
“It’s not my blood! I’m fine. It’s Randy!” He grabbed her arm, propelling her to the door. “It looks bad.”
Splashes of wet assaulted Scully’s face as soon as she stepped out from under the small overhang above the doorway. She briefly wondered if she was trapped in a nightmare as lightning creased the sky, revealing the mud-spattered jeep. Sam was reaching into the backseat, dealing with Randy, Scully assumed, though she couldn’t see him. But it was Karen’s forlorn look of despair which caught at her heart. The child was standing by the car, oblivious to the downpour, staring into the rear window, tears and raindrops coursing down her cheeks.
“Mulder, get Karen out of the rain before she catches a chill. I’ll take a look at Randy.”
Mulder shook his head. “You’ll need help with him. He was dead weight when we got him in there.”
“Is he conscious? What happened?” Scully had to raise her voice to be heard over the storm as they reached the car.
At the sound of her question, Sam spun around. “What happened?” she shrieked. “He shot my husband! That’s what happened! You bastards burnt down my home! That’s what happened! Get the fuck away from us!”
Scully didn’t have time to react to Sam’s accusations, though she noticed Mulder’s flinch. She was looking past Sam, seeing Randy’s pale, waxy-complexioned face, the blood soaked interior, his short, labored breaths. “Listen to me. I’m a doctor. Your husband is going into shock. If you don’t let me in there to treat him, he might die.”
Sam studied Scully for what felt like a minute, fear and helplessness warring with her suspicions, before nodding her head and stepping to one side.
“Take care of your daughter,” Scully ordered before ducking inside to attend to Randy.
Sam refused to make eye contact with Mulder as she hurried around the back of the jeep, scooping up Karen as she went, running with her into the motel room. Mulder followed her with mournful eyes full of apology.
He stood there until Scully tugged at his sleeve. “I don’t like moving him but I can’t do anything until we get him out of the car. Can you handle him?”
Mulder nodded, not trusting himself to speak, his knees trembling with exhaustion. He reached all the way into the jeep, almost cradling Randy’s body as he positioned the barely conscious man. Sitting him up with his legs hanging out the car door, Mulder leveraged him into a fireman’s carry, almost slipping in the mud, until Scully helped to balance him.
Giving the two men a quick, worried glance, Scully went ahead into the room, wanting to pull down the bedcovers. Randy was going to need their warmth.
Mulder followed carefully. He was blinded for a moment by the room’s light but squinted enough to gently lower his burden onto the bed, holding him upright until Scully could tear away his bloody shirt.
“Okay, get his feet,” instructed Scully, pushing away the pillows. Once Randy was flat, she grabbed the discarded cushions and placed them under his feet. She then pulled the blankets over his body, leaving his wounded arm exposed. A cursory exam had revealed a ragged, gaping hole.
Assuming Randy lived, Scully knew he’d lose at least partial use of the arm due to muscle damage. “Get me the extra blanket. And we’re going to need more towels.” She looked around, noticing Sam and Karen shivering in the corner of the room, both soaked to the skin. “We’re going to need more blankets too.”
Mulder hurried to the bathroom, grabbing all the thin motel towels he could find and then reached into the closet for the heavy thermal blanket.
He spread the blanket and then walked over with two of the towels to give to Sam. Neither spoke, as she snatched them out of his hand.
“I’ll see about getting more blankets,” he muttered to no one in particular.
Dashing through puddles, he made his way to the office, only to find it locked for the night. Damn, these one-horse towns, he thought fiercely, looking around to see if he could find the manager’s apartment. He noticed that the motel was mostly deserted, especially the block of rooms near his and Scully’s. He ran back the way he came. Hell, I didn’t want to answer a bunch of questions anyway, he thought, as he kicked in a door to an empty room. He removed the linens he needed and repeated the process in the next room. What is it with us and motel rooms, he wondered grimly? He remember the lecture he received from the finance department head after their last room was trashed in Oregon. It had been Skinner’s idea of punishment. At least this bill would go on his personal charge instead of the Bureau’s.
Scully was still examining Randy, probing his arm, occasionally checking his vital signs, when Mulder returned. He gave two blankets to Sam, along with an armful of towels, and then moved to talk with Scully. She had her medical bag opened on the side of the bed within easy reach. He knew from personal experience it was better stocked than most doctor’s bags and that Scully started lugging it around sometime after New Mexico. She had laughingly told him she wanted to be prepared in case she ever needed to shoot him again.
“How is he?” he whispered.
“He’s lost a lot of blood and I still can’t guarantee that he won’t go into shock. The mucosa around his nose and mouth is very irritated as well.
Mulder, it’s almost as if he’s been burnt.”
“It was probably the smoke,” he replied, more to himself than in response to her observations.
“Mulder, what the hell happened?”
Mulder took a moment, staring down at the prone figure before him. Scully had the feeling he wasn’t really seeing Randy.
“Our ‘friends’ were there. One was already dead in the living room. Another was herding the family out of another room. The house was already on fire…. there was smoke…,” he paused, his eyes revealing his fears at the memory. “I guess they didn’t see me. I…, I pulled my gun. I went through him,” he pointed to Randy’s arm, “to get to the bad guy. Shit, Scully, I wasn’t even thinking.”
Scully placed a hand on his arm to gentle him. “Mulder, you did what you had to. If you didn’t shoot, they all could be dead.”
“And if you’d have left us alone from the beginning, none of this would have happened,” hissed Sam. She was standing behind Mulder. Scully jumped, not noticing when she had joined them.
“Sam …,” Mulder started.
“Shut up! Haven’t you done enough?” Sam snapped.
“That’s enough,” Scully said bristling. “We don’t have time for this.
Samantha, this may have turned out much worse if we didn’t come. They knew where you were. They had your address. That’s what we came to warn you about. It was only a matter of time before they would have come for you.”
“So you say now, but I didn’t hear anything about that this afternoon!”
Scully sighed. Nothing was going to break through this woman’s anger and the young agent didn’t have the energy to argue. “As I said, we don’t have time for this. We’ve got to get Randy to a hospital.”
“We can’t,” Mulder said, startled out of his black thoughts. “You know how easy it would be for them to get to him in a hospital.”
Images of Frank Kellogg’s pathetic, broken form and the assassination attempt on her own life flashed through Scully’s mind. “Mulder…”
“He’s right,” Sam interjected. Scully looked at her in amazement before she continued. “I don’t remember much but I do remember a hospital room. He can’t go to a hospital.”
“They can’t control every hospital,” Scully argued. “He needs attention that I can’t give him here.”
“We can’t even stay here,” Mulder said firmly. “There are two men dead but these bastards travel in packs. There’s no way of knowing if we were followed.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“Scully, these guys are invisible when they want to be, you know that. It wouldn’t take much to track us. We’re too vulnerable here.”
“Then call Skinner. Get us some back-up. He needs to go to a hospital!”
Mulder put his hands on his partner’s shoulders. “Scully, how long do you think we could keep them protected? Skinner can’t help.”
Scully closed her eyes in silent acknowledgment. “He’ll never make it all the way back to Washington.”
“We can’t go there either. They’d expect us to do that.”
Mulder, it will be perfect. No one would think to look for her there. There are woods, it’s quiet, so we can plan our next move…. Melissa’s voice trailed off.
No, it’s too isolated. We’d be cut off from help if we needed it. *It’s a retreat house, Mulder. It’s a place for meditation and spiritual
growth. It’s suppose to be isolated and cut off.*
It was an old argument. Close to a year ago. She’d been sick; something to do with the implant she learned later. She, Mulder, and Melissa stood in her living room, trying to think of a safe haven. A place where she could heal. She looked down at Randy and then at the brother and sister who were standing before her now, glaring at each other. There was a lot of healing needed again. Thank you, Melissa, Scully silently breathed.
“The cabin,” Scully whispered. “We’re not that far from the cabin.”
“Cabin?” Mulder looked at her blankly.
“Melissa’s cabin. They may not remember it.”
Sam had crouched next to Randy, smoothing back his hair, careful not to jar his bandaged arm. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s an isolated cabin about five hours drive from here. It has everything we’ll need until we can figure out what to do,” Scully answered.
“I don’t like this but Mulder’s right about taking Randy to a hospital. He’d be an easy target. I think he’s stable enough to travel to the cabin and I don’t think they would expect us to go there. We should be safe.”
Sam didn’t bother asking who “they” were. “You’ve got to be kidding! You come barging into my life, get my home burnt down, shoot my husband….
What makes you think I’ll go anywhere with you?”
Mulder opened his mouth to protest but Scully’s hand on his arm forestalled him.
“For one simple reason,” Scully said coolly. “I’m the doctor. You can’t trust anyone else for Randy’s care and there’s a good chance he’ll die without it. You’re going to have to trust us that much and that means coming with us. Understand?”
Sam scowled up at Scully, a mix of rage, frustration and defeat vying for dominance on her face. She glanced over to the chair where Karen’s frightened eyes peeked out of the blankets in which she was nestled.
Finally, as seconds ticked by, she gave a reluctant nod.
Scully slowly exhaled. “Fine. Mulder, start packing our things. I want to give Randy a few more minutes rest before we have to move him. I want to be sure he’s stable. Bring all the blankets. We’ll probably need them.
Samantha,” she waited until the other woman raised her head. “I saw the back of the jeep was already packed, so I’ll assume you were planning to leave.”
Mulder jerked around to stare at his sister. In all the confusion, he hadn’t noticed the suitcases.
“Randy…, Randy argued with me but I knew we had to get away,” she said, almost defiantly. “We were in the middle of packing the car when they came.”
Scully walked over and looked out the room’s sole window. “It’s stopped raining. You and I will go out and rearrange the luggage so we can fit our things in the back. Then, I’ll figure out how to position your husband so he’ll be most comfortable. Let’s go.” She almost marched out of the door, Samantha following slowly.
Mulder followed with his eyes as the door shut. Maybe Scully would be able to bring them through this mess after all.
Bending of the Bow Part 7
It flows through all things,
inside and out, and returns
to the origin of all things.-Tao Te Ching
Back road,
Somewhere in West Virginia.
September 3, 1996.
4:02 AM.
The headlights cut through the night though the darkness gave way grudgingly. There was no moon and a wispy fog lent a proper atmosphere to their getaway. That’s how Mulder was thinking of it – a getaway. On the run, again, from nameless, faceless men who wanted to destroy everything he most valued. Sometimes he wondered if he’d ever get to stop running.
He’d hoped that marrying Scully would have been a start. He glanced in the rearview mirror, hoping to catch her eye, to reconnect however briefly. But she was checking her patient again, fussing with the blankets which they had wrapped around him. He restrained himself from asking how Randy was doing since the mere sound of his voice sent his sister into a paroxysm of rage.
She was quiet now. She’d resisted getting into the passenger seat next to him but knew Scully could do more for Randy than she could. Karen was tucked on her lap, sleeping.
He envied the child. Mulder knew he could run on adrenaline for days, had been doing so, but he was exhausted in body and spirit. His sister’s constant antipathy was unexpectantly hurtful and draining. He needed to escape it for awhile and could think of no better place than a bed. A big bed. A big, soft bed with Scully in it….
“Look out!” Sam harshly muttered.
Her voice snapped Mulder out of the light doze he’d been drifting in to in time to brake for a deer which had crashed through the brush on the side of the road. With a nimble jump, the creature disappeared again into the night.
“Thanks,” he murmured, mindful of the sleeping girl.
Sam responded with a snort and deliberately turned her head away to face the darkness.
Mulder sighed and accelerated slowly. This time, when he looked into the mirror, Scully was there – her eyes full of assurance and love.
And when she caught his searching eyes, she knew he needed her there and wanted her there. All of the self-doubting from earlier in the evening seeped out of her in an exhale.
June 29, 1996.
Pennsylvania, SR 2920.
The gunfight had been chaotic and random, and when the dust finally settled, three men were in custody, two hand cuffed together and to the bridge, itself; three men lie dead in small pools of their own blood; and four or five more had run blindly in to the surrounding forest. Neither car had escaped Scully blasting holes through the tires, but at the moment Scully didn’t care. After the initial round of gun play, Mulder had disappeared from her sight line.
But then things had been crazy, she rationalized. There were twice as many men as they had initially anticipated, which meant twice as many guns being wielded. Scully’s eyes surveyed the dead men spotlighted by the headlights and mused how that many men could possibly fit in just two cars. There must have been another group waiting – like she and Mulder had been waiting – for their opportunity to strike.
“Mulder!” she called out, refusing to allow her panic to edge its way in to her voice. “Mulder! Where are you?”
No answer came back.
Next to her, one of the bound men hiss, “You loose your boyfriend, sweetheart? Maybe he took a bullet like my pal, Stan, over there.” His hateful chuckle was broken by the handle of her gun striking his left cheek. “Shut the hell up, asshole!” There was no confusion in her command, and the man stayed silent.
She back tracked to where she had last seen her partner and called his name again, with the same results. Her heart and mind began to race. Had one of the escaped men come across a wounded Mulder and taken him hostage? Had Mulder taken off after one of the fled men? Would he leave her? Not possible. Or was it?
Quickly, Scully ran back to their car, called for back up and grabbed the flashlight from the glove compartment. Then she began her search for her partner.
It wasn’t until several police cars, and an ambulance had arrived that she found him, face down, on the bank of the dead river. He didn’t move when she touched him and didn’t respond to her use of his name. She checked for a pulse, holding her breath, and found a strong beat in the side of his neck. “Oh, thank God. Thank God.”
Not daring to move him, for fear that he’d broken his neck or back, she called up to the road, “I’ve found him! I need a stretcher here!”
The paramedics’ response was almost immediate.
Carefully, the three workers loaded the still-unconscious Mulder on to the collapsed bed, and lifted him up the side of the river, and loaded him in to the truck. Mulder had needed medical attention, but he had been lucky that night. They both had been. She knew it in her heart. And it didn’t have anything to do with reading minds, or paranormal activity. She loved him. She knew him. It was as simple as that.
September 3, 1996.
A Cabin off of Grand Philmore Road,
Hunket, West Virginia.
The early morning light filtered through the thick forest by the time the Jeep stopped in front of the cabin. From their approach, Scully could see that very little had changed from the last time she’d been there. Even the rusted key to the front door lay undisturbed in its hiding place in the shallow hollow of the lone hickory. “Please let this work,” she half mumbled, running to unlock the door. Shards of rust stained her fingers brown as she inserted it in to the heavy lock. Just behind her, Randy’s guttural groan for his daughter sent a chill down her spine.
“Karen!”
He’d been delirious for nearly half an hour, one minute calling for water to put out some imaginary fire, and the next, begging for someone to save his little girl from the flames. His fever had spiked around a hundred and five, Scully guessed. Dangerously high without the proper medication and facilities to treat it. And the worry in her gut screamed that their immediate surroundings were less than adequate.
The ancient door swung open with a groan of its own. Inside the small cabin, the air was stale and thick, the layer of dust covering everything showed it had been several months since anyone had ventured there. “Put him in the bed in the back room,” Scully instructed, before she ran back out to the car to retrieve her medical bag. But even outside she could hear Randy’s fevered cries.
Between Mulder and Sam, they carried Randy’s dead weight with as much care as the awkward position could allow. Karen, with her stuffed animal still clutched tightly to her body, ran ahead of them and opened the bedroom door.
“Karen! Get out of the house! Stay away from the fire, Karen!” Randy’s sweat poured down his face and neck. “Karen! Can you hear daddy?
Where are you, baby?”
Unsure what to do or say, the terrified little girl huddled in the doorway between the two rooms, afraid to answer. Her father had been deliriously calling for her, and no amount of persuading from her mother could convince him that she was safe.
In a sudden spasm, Randy grabbed his wife’s arm, “Sam! You have to get Karen out of the fire!” His gasps and wild, dark eyes chilled Mulder to his very core. The man showed no sign of acknowledging to the undoubtable pain in his shoulder. He moved his arm as if muscle and bone were still intact. Randy’s only thought, his only concern was his daughter’s safety. “The fire, Sam, get out!”
“Karen’s safe, Honey. Calm down.” Sam’s low tones were helpless in soothing her frantic husband. She ran a palm over his forehead and tried not to watch as Mulder stripped off Randy’s bloodied shirt. “Honey, you have a fever,” she tried to reason, “you need to relax.”
Mulder couldn’t suppress the wince that contorted his face. The temporary bandage that Scully had created in the car had grown layer by layer as the hours passed, as each subsequent pad had leaked through. There was no way to get the shirt completely off his shoulder and arm without cutting it, but Mulder figured at this point, who the hell cared?
He rushed in to the kitchen and slammed through the drawers looking for anything that resembled scissors.
Scully ran in, black leather bag in tow, calling to her partner as she passed him. “Mulder, boil some water for herbal tea. I know Melissa would have had some Camomile in here some place.” With an elbow, she pushed Sam from the wounded man to make room for her to work. Her mind completely focused on the man in front of her. From the medical bag she pulled a syringe and a small clear bottle and inspected the safety seals on both before ripping in to them and measuring out a dosage.
“What are you giving him?” Sam demanded from over her shoulder.
“Samantha,” Scully, attempting a diversion, didn’t look up from her patient, “I’m going to need some more towels and blankets.”
“Answer me!” Sam’s shrill scream threatened to stop Scully physically if she didn’t receive an answer. And with at least half a foot advantage, she probably could.
Scully’s head jerked around. “His fever is too high. We’ve got to bring it down or we’re going to loose him. Now, I need blankets!” The threat worked like a charm, and Sam was off to the bathroom, searching feverishly for blankets and sheets.
It took only a second to swab down the inside of Randy’s arm and another second for him to backhand her off her feet without even knowing she was there. Both syringe and bottle went flying, one bouncing against the wall beside her before rolling under the bed, and the other – the pointed other embedded itself in her right thigh. “Damn!”
Mulder ran in when he heard the impact. “Scully!”
Without batting an eyelash, she yanked the needle from her leg and was on the floor to retrieve the vial. “Hold him still, Mulder, I need to set up another shot.”
Sam was back by the time she was ready to inject the thrashing man, with an arm full of towels and blankets, as instructed. “Let’s try this again,”
Scully’s tight voice resonating the buzz of fear and energy in the room.
Mulder held Randy’s upper body still, and Scully seemed to have his left arm fairly secure. So, Sam dropped her load, and without being asked, she grabbed her husband’s legs and kept them from flailing as Scully injected the clear substance into his arm.
It took several minuted for Randy’s body to begin to react to the medicine.
But, when it was all over, the other three relaxed slightly. Samantha and Scully silently pulling thick blankets tight across the patient. With one of the dampened towels in hand, a cool compress was made, and Scully handed it to the other woman. Worn out, Sam sat down next to her husband, and gently brushed the hair back from his forehead. “It’s okay, honey. I’m here. Karen’s here. We’re safe now.”
Eyes still tightly closed, Randy managed to get out a feeble, “Karen’s safe?”
His tongue slurred the words. “Where’s Karen?” And on cue, out from a darkened corner of the room, the teary-eyed little girl cautiously approached and put a hand on his. I’m here, Daddy.”
Scully looked over the family. The three of them huddled so closely together; homeless, but alive. Randy’s bandage really did need to be changed. The wound needed to be carefully inspected now that they had him stationary. But she’d give them a minute. They needed some time just to be reassured that they were all going to be okay. God, she thought, let them be okay.
She turned and saw Mulder watching her from across the living room.
Blood and sweat stained his shirt and his hair hung down over his forehead.
The dark circles under his eyes told her exactly how he was feeling. How they were both feeling.
Mulder motioned with his head, “How’s the leg?”
“Leg?”
“It looked like you got the first dose of whatever it was you gave him.”
“Oh. That.” An absent hand went to her thigh and the tingle reestablished itself. “It’s just an antibiotic to help with the fever. No real harm done.”
“Penicillin?”
A small smile played over her features, and she made her way to the kitchen sink to wash her hands. “No. You’re allergic to Penicillin, and I keep most of this stuff around for you.”
Mulder mocked embarrassment. “Okay, Dr Scully. Now what?”
The cold water smelled faintly of sulfur, as she splashed it liberally over her face. “Now we rest. Go ahead and make up the sofa bed, here, and I’ll see if there’s not some kind of sleeping bag in the shed out back.”
Mulder shifted in place. “And then what?”
Scully sighed. All of the towels were in the other room with Randy, she was dripping over the sink with wet arms and face. “And then you and Sam and Karen are going to get some rest, and I’m going to change Randy’s bandage and sit up most of the day with him until his fever goes down enough.” She ran her hands over her pants and tried to dry her cheeks on her sleeves.
“And then?”
Scully bit the inside of her cheek. “And then we should think about some food, I guess. How stocked are the pantries?” She crossed to the other side of the kitchen table and pulled open both cabinet doors at once.
“And then?”
“And then?” Scully turned and looked at her partner, finally catching on to exactly what he was asking. “And then I don’t know.” She sighed at the one can of tomato soup and the unopened jar of pickled peppers that looked down at her. “But something is going to have to be done soon.” She collapsed down on to the bench next to the table and sighed again. “God. How did this happen?”
Mulder turned to look in at his sister. Samantha. And her family. And then back to Scully, her head in her hands, resting over the kitchen table as if it were the only thing holding her up.
Nine Hours Later.
The late afternoon air was thick with humidity. All around the cabin, birds called out from the dense trees. And Fox Mulder heard none of it. He sat on the large dead tree that lay some twenty feet from the front of the cabin, staring off at the seemingly endless forest around him, contemplating the unbelievable situation he found himself in.
His sister slept with her daughter just on the other side of the wooden door. That concept was still hard for him to grasp. At times when he was in the room with her, he found himself stealing sideways glances just to make sure that she was still there. And she was.
Even though she didn’t want to be.
That was one thing Mulder had never counted on. In all of the years he’d been looking for his sister he never once thought that she didn’t want to be found. Don’t all people who are abducted want to be returned? Returned to what? Ahh. That was the real question.
There was no doubt that his family basically split apart the instant Sam was taken from them, but life had never been peaches and cream for the Mulder family. Dad was always moody, and Mom … well, she was Mom. Trying to be helpful and motherly, but never really succeeding. Mulder had always supposed that compared to other families, his wasn’t so bad.
No one was ever beaten. He and his sister had their own rooms. They had plenty of toys to play with; an allowance if they did their chores. And the other stuff. The yelling late at night when the parents thought little Fox was asleep. The small nod of the head instead of a hug. The missed Little League games and forgotten birthdays and unrewarded achievements.
A full 180 degrees from Scully’s upbringing.
His thought was interrupted by the opening of the cabin door and the meek exit of little Karen. Her hair was in a fresh braid, and she was sporting a fresh set of clothes. There’s something right about children in cotton teeshirts and jeans. Traditional. Comfortable. The expression on her face, however, was wary. “Why are you out here all alone?”
Mulder tried to offer her a smile. “Just thinking. Sometimes I like to sit alone and think.” Karen was near the same age that Sam was when he’d last seen her. God, had they ever been that young?
Karen nodded. “Me, too.”
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“Can’t sleep. And the lady … “
“Scully.”
“Yeah. Scully.” The words sat oddly on the little girl’s lips. “She said to make sure you hadn’t gotten in to trouble.”
“No trouble here.”
Karen ran an absent finger over her bottom lip with her left hand, and found a scratch on her left shoulder with her right. “So, are we your prisoners?”
Her simple, child-like question stopped his heart. Mulder shook his head and sighed. “No. Not at all. Is that what you think?”
She considered the man in front of her with a tilted head. “I don’t know.
Mommy doesn’t like you, and you shot Daddy -”
“I didn’t mean to, Karen. I don’t want to hurt any of you. I was afraid that those men would take you -”
“You took us.”
“I was trying to help.” Mulder paused at her bluntness. She had accurately assessed the situation with amazing clarity. “A long time ago, my sister was taken away from me by … bad people. And then I found her, Karen.
I found my sister. And it’s been twenty-two years. So long … ” he ran a hand through his hair and rested his head against the elbows on his knees.
He debated about how much to tell the little girl. How much information was too much? “And when I saw the man, with the gun on my sister and her family … I didn’t steal you, Karen. I did what I thought I needed to do to keep you safe … and so that I don’t have to wait another twenty four years to see my sister again.”
Mulder looked up at Karen. Her little freckled nose really did look like the picture of Sam he’d been carrying around for a better part of his life. Her little wisps of baby hair framing her face played in the light breeze. “You know what I think?” Mulder sat up and inhaled, preparing for the brutal honesty that only a child can give. “I think you’re a lousy shot.”
Mulder chortled. Brutal was right.
“But I don’t think you’re one of the bad men. And you’re too tall to be one of the little men.” She sat down beside him and, in her most adult voice, she patted his leg and explained. “Mommy will come around. She just has some issues.”
“Issues?” Mulder had to work hard not to laugh aloud. “Where do you get an idea like that?”
“Oh, you know.” Karen used all the authority she had in her high pitched voice, “Oprah.”
Then what she said repeated in his head. “Karen, what do you mean by ‘one of the little men’?”
The door to the cabin swung open again, and Sam’s sudden appearance sent Karen flying to her feet. “Get in this house right now, young lady!”
The stern tone of a mother made even the agent wince. “I can’t even close my eyes for a second without you running off somewhere,” Without a moment’s hesitation, Karen bolted for the door and disappeared inside.
“And you,” she address Mulder with a bite, “I don’t want you alone with my daughter.”
“What?” Mulder was on his feet, indignant and wounded. “You can’t possibly think – I’m not going to hurt her!”
The color in her cheeks was starting to come out, and a vein in her neck popped up. “I can think whatever I like! I know nothing about you – or your partner in there, for that matter -”
“Samantha!” Mulder’s exasperation bubble up, “I’m your BROTHER.”
“So you say.” She turned from him and opened the door. “I say I don’t have a brother. Stay away from my kid!” She disappeared from sight and Mulder just stared after her.
Was it supposed to be this hard? What was the point of finding Sam again if she was going to refuse to have anything to do with him? Mulder sighed.
His eyes and neck ached, his head throbbed, and he was starting to feel a little light headed. It was definitely not the time for him to be thinking semantics. And yet, for some reason, he couldn’t seem to help himself.
Somehow he was going to have to convince the woman that not only was he her brother, but she should love him and accept him in to her life as such. No mean feat. A blood test? Matching fingerprints? And what would he tell their mother if he couldn’t convince her? Could he allow her to live out the rest of her days thinking that Sam was gone forever? Or worse, that her only daughter had died all those years ago and lay in some unmarked grave? Could he do that?
It was too much. Mulder rolled his head and stretched out his shoulders as he rose from the log and made his way to the cabin.
Bending of the Bow Part 8
When there is no desire,
all things are at peace.-Tao Te Ching
Scully stood against the sink when Samantha stormed back inside. She dried off her hands and watched the strange, dark woman pacing around the room. “He’s not against you, you know.”
“What?” Sam’s head snapped to her in more of an accusation than a question.
Scully was patient, though. She knew that subtlety and tact were required if the volatile situation was ever going to be extinguished. “Mulder. He’s not the enemy. You should stop blaming him.
He’s not responsible for your house -”
“He shot my husband!” The fury that shot out from her mouth wasn’t enough to keep Scully from defending her partner.
“Trying to save your family! And he feels as guilty as sin about it, too.
Mulder is a kind-hearted man. His methods may be a little questionable, but his intent never is.” Sam’s anger ebbed a little as she studied Scully’s features. Her mouth and eyes softened a bit and her shoulders relaxed.
Scully wasn’t sure why, but she felt as though the woman was looking clear through to her soul.
Then Sam nodded, her full lips rounding around the newest of her realizations: “You’re in love with him.”
The statement caught her off guard, but Scully didn’t take it as anything but an observation. “I am.” Exhausted, Sam looked around the room before she finally decided to have a seat on one of the benches at the kitchen table.
Scully took the bench opposite her. It was time that the tension was doused with a good deal of rational talk, and while she was glad to be the peacemaker, Scully couldn’t help but think that Mulder should be with her to witness it. But then, there would be time for that later. First thing, first.
“Look, he’s really not asking for much. He just wants to talk; touch base.
He’s been looking for you for twenty-five years. The first night on our first case, Mulder told me about you. How nothing else mattered in his life except finding his sister.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know. Mulder tends to take the world’s blame on to his own shoulders. Maybe he was trying to make amends. Maybe he was trying to prove something to himself. Maybe he loved you. Why don’t you ask him?”
Sam looked towards the door. “Why does he think I’M his sister?”
Scully bit at her upper lip. How much to tell? “We were given your address by … a man who was working with a group who, we think, may have had something to do with your abduction.”
“What? And he just gave you my address and said, here you go, Fox.
There’s your sister?”
“Well, not exactly. He wasn’t … Well, at least, I don’t think he was a party to what the group was doing … but even if he was, we have reason to believe that there are in fact several organizations within the group -”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just not sure how to answer your question. Why don’t you ask him?”
“I don’t want to ask him!”
God! Scully wanted to scream. The woman was infuriating! “What are you going to do? Avoid him? Refuse to return his calls?”
With out warning the door behind Samantha gently swung on its hinges and Mulder stepped over the threshold. And stopped. The tableau of his partner and his sister sitting at the kitchen table together, talking … it
was all a little too normal. Like that two story house that had been reduced to ashes.
The two women turned to see Mulder fidgeting; not entirely sure what to do with his hands. His expression shifted from initial apprehension to disorientation to that of a nervous little boy who knew he was treading where he wasn’t supposed to be. “Uh, hi.”
Scully turned back to Sam and gave her a weary smile. “If you leave now, you may be able to loose him at the sofa.” Then she stood and announced to the room, “I’m going to check on Randy.”
Then the two of them were alone. Brother and sister. The first time since THAT night. Mulder thrust his hands in to his jeans pocket and leaned up against the wall near the stove. “You know,” he began, desperate for any kind of contact at that point, “You’re about Mom’s height.”
Sam closed her eyes and turned from him. “Stop it.”
Well, that was smooth. Why don’t you beat her over the head and drag her back to Chilmark by the hair? But she was, Mulder tried to defend – to himself, or the world in general, he didn’t know – she WAS about his mother’s height.
Pursuing that line of thought, however, was somewhat obsolete. At least at the moment. Give her time, Scully had said. Time. Geez. “So, where’s Karen?”
Immediately Sam’s head bounced up and looked around. “Karen?” She crossed to the bedroom and called again, “Karen? Answer Mommy.”
Nothing. Accusing eyes shot back at Mulder, but the instant concern in his eyes surprised her.
“She’s not outside,” he said, “I was by the door the whole time.”
Then a hushed voice traveled down through the rafters to them. “I’m up here, Mommy.”
“Where?” All eyes scanned the wood paneled ceiling and gradually gravitated past the sleeping man in the bed, to the small ladder hidden in the farthest corner of the darkened bed room. It traveled up the wall and through a small opening that none of them could remember seeing before.
“Come up, Mommy, it’s wonderful!”
Before her ascent, Sam tested her weight on the narrow, wooden ladder. It seemed solid enough, if not just a little bit dusty. But she was completely unprepared for the shimmering white light that radiated down from a small circular window in the ceiling. The dust Karen had kicked up hung lazily in the air and shimmered like fire flies in the sun’s rays. And the sweet little dark haired girl sat in the center of the beam, like an angel in the lights of heaven, smiling broadly at her mother, and then at Scully as she poked her head up through the hole.
The crawl space itself was roughly half the size of the bedroom below it and no more than four feet high. Just big enough to store a decent supply of dried food and canned goods. There were several brown paper bags and a box lined neatly against the wall nearest the hole.
“Isn’t it wonderful, Mommy? Like Anne Frank’s secret little attic. When she was hiding from those really bad German men. Can I sleep up here?
Please!”
Sam pulled her legs in to a cross and looked around, “Why do you want to do that, baby?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted reluctantly. “But I’ll be out of your way up here, and I’ll be able to see the stars, just like Anne Frank could see the top of that church from Peter’s room.”
Sam ran a hand through her hair. “I knew you were too young to read that book.” And with a heavy sigh, she patted her leg, “Come here, baby.”
When her daughter was comfortably seated in her lap she brushed the wisps of hair back from her face. “Now, Karen, I don’t want you to be scared. This isn’t like what happened to Anne Frank at all. We’re all going to be fine.”
“Oh, Mommy,” she said in her most grown up voice, “I know THAT.
Uncle Fox is going to take care of everything.”
Once again, Sam’s eyes rolled shut. “Oh, he is, is he?”
“Yep. He’s going to protect us from the bad men. And the little men, too.
You know he’s been looking for us for a hundred years!” her voice grew in exaggeration. “Do you know how long that is? That’s forever!”
Scully smiled to herself and ducked back down in to the bed room to give them some space. Well, damn it if Karen wasn’t on his side, too. Mulder certainly had a way with children. And what was that theory that no one could resist him indefinitely? Sam would have to crack, just like the rest of them. And when she did – well, they’d get to that when it came. But Scully was pretty sure she wouldn’t have to wait too long.
Crossing over to Randy, who was lying as still as a stone in the bed, Scully quickly checked his temperature and pulse. Mulder, from the other side of the bed watched her with a wary eye. “Everything okay up there?”
“Just fine.” Scully graced him with a small smile. “And I think our immediate food problem has been solved. There are several bags of pasta and rice and dried fruit up there. It’s not Thanksgiving dinner, but we’re not going to starve.” With one hand she felt Randy’s pulse in his wrist, the back of the other swept gently over the man’s forehead, checking for fever. “And Randy’s doing better,” she slipped a careful hand under his shirt to check the bandage. “He should be awake and alert by morning.”
“How much damage did I do?”
The heavy guilt in his lilt made her sigh. “We’ll know more when he wakes up. Initially, there’s going to be some loss in mobility, of course. But long term … I’m thinking he should be pretty much okay. We’ll have to wait and see what kind of nerve damage there was, if there was any.”
Mulder nodded, and turned away from the man in the bed and left the room.
Karen scurried down the ladder and called up to her mother, “Okay, Mommy. I’m ready!” Then an arm reached down from the hole, and lowered a paper bag half full of food. Karen cradled the bag in her arms and ran in to the kitchen. “I’m so-o-o-o-o-o hungry!” she announced with glee. “Let’s eat!”
Scully couldn’t help the small chuckle that came from Karen’s just being a kid. It’s been a long time since she saw anyone enjoying life as much as Karen seemed to, despite everything that had happened to her in the last few days. Children were amazing that way: so full of life and love, and love of life. Karen would do them all some good.
Dinner was eaten mostly in silence; not from the tension that everyone at the table could feel, but more from hunger and exhaustion. Mulder cleared the dishes and rinsed them out, Scully pulled out their sofa bed again, and Sam helped her daughter make up a bed in the little loft. Then, just an hour after sundown, the cabin snuggled in for the night, each person in their respective beds.
Except Scully, who still sat at the foot of the pull out, her head in her hands. Mulder, already under the covers, looked over her back with concern. “You’re tired,” he said, “come to bed.”
Scully looked up at the ceiling and inhaled deeply. “There’s something that I have to tell you, Mulder. And I think I should tell you tonight, before we go to sleep.” Her reasoning wasn’t foolproof; in fact, she was aware that it probably came out of a completely emotional response directly linked to her lack of sleep. But she needed to tell Mulder about her conversation with her mother. Just why, she couldn’t say. But she felt a deep sense of guilt from telling her mother things that she should have been talking to him about, instead. And perhaps there was a small part of her that felt ridiculous for always running home. “Mulder, I think it’s important that you know ….”
Mulder’s body tensed involuntarily at the heaviness of her voice. What could she possibly have to tell him? Something that she didn’t want to say, but felt she needed to, from the tone of her voice. Was she still mad at him about leaving her at the motel? How mad? Mad enough to do something drastic? “What is it?”
“Uh …” she still kept her back to him, and she curled a lock of hair behind her ear. Just tell him, she scolded herself. Then we can both get some sleep. It’s not like anything was said that shouldn’t have been said. It’s not like there’s a big secret. Tell him you called you mother. “When you … left me, Mulder -”
“Wait.” Mulder threw the covers off from his body, and scooted to the end of the bed to sit by her. “I think I know what you’re going to say, and before you do, please hear me out.” Without another word, she turned to him, the confused expression on her face throwing a wrench in his thought process. Maybe he didn’t know what she was going to say. But, he figured, he should apologize anyway. No matter what she was going to tell him, he couldn’t go wrong with an apology. Besides, she deserved one.
Like always.
Taking her hand, Mulder pulled it to his lips and kiss it gently. Where to begin? It didn’t really matter, he decided. He could apologize to her indefinitely and still never make up for every injustice he committed against her. “I take you for granted, I think.” His eyes slid down to her chipping nail polish. “You deserve better than that; better than my running out on you at the motel.”
“Yes, I do.” Her quite tone wasn’t biting, but her words stung just the same.
“I love you, Scully.”
Breathing heavily, she gently pulled her hand from his. “I know you do. I don’t doubt that, Mulder. Even when you ditch me and run out on your own.”
With a hopeful glance to her, Mulder asked, “Then I’m forgiven?”
There was a long moment where she chewed on her lower lip. The optimism Mulder had expressed just a second before quickly ebbed. Then she stated with a resigned sigh. “Aren’t you always?”
“No. Apparently not.”
“Look, Mulder. If you want me to say that you are forgiven for leaving me at the motel – you’re forgiven. If you want me to say it’s okay and that I’m not hurt by it – well, I can’t do that. It always hurts when something important happens in your life and you shut me out. It hurts when you don’t want me around.”
“Jesus, Scully. It has nothing to do with that.”
In frustration, Scully stood. She paced the small space and leaned against the heavy wooden table. “Mulder it has everything to do with that. When it becomes inconvenient for you to have me around you try and distract me, and when that doesn’t work, you leave me entirely.
“I will NEVER leave you entirely.”
“I want to believe that.”
“Scully, I love you. I would never leave -”
“I’m starting to think, Mulder, that the two aren’t as mutually exclusive as I originally thought.”
There was a moment’s hesitation on Mulder’s part. Was she really saying what he thought she was saying? Originally he was worried that she might’ve wanted to call off the wedding. But with the new information buzzing around in his head, it was starting to sound like she was calling off a hell of a lot more. “Tell me in English, Scully. Just exactly are you saying?”
For a long minute she didn’t respond at all. She didn’t know what she was saying. And she was afraid to open her mouth again. They were skating dangerously close to disaster, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to survive if that happened. How had this come up, anyway? She was just going to admit to him that she told her mother not to re-book the church. Now it was sounding like everything was at stake. Their relationship, their partnership. All of the fears that she’d admitted to her mother …. The knot that swelled in her stomach fought to stream down her face, but she closed her eyes to it, and tightened her grip on the table behind her.
Mulder, however was two steps beyond the fear stage and well into panic.
Was she trying to tell him that it wasn’t working out? Was she saying good-bye? Impossible! Or was it? They had no idea how long they were going to have to be on the run. Was she bailing out? Not HIS Scully. But then, he remembered, she wasn’t exactly HIS. “Scully?” Mulder prodded, “if this is about the wedding, as soon as we get back -”
“Back? How soon is THAT going to be, Mulder?” She couldn’t help herself. The words were tumbling out of her mouth faster than she could edit them. “As soon as the shadow men in their shadow government stop hunting us down? And even if, for some bizarre reason they suddenly weren’t interested in us anymore, we’re AWOL, Mulder!”
“No, we’re not! Don’t you remember? We’re on our honeymoon. We have another week before we have to be back to work.”
“Oh, that’s right,” sarcasm dripped from her lips, “our honeymoon.” And there they were, back at the heart of the matter: The Wedding That Never Was. It was odd how entire chunks of her life could fit so easily under an umbrella title. Pre-Mulder, Post-Mulder, The Abduction, The Illness, The Engagement, The Wedding That Never Was. “Look, Mulder,” she started again, clearing her head back to her original reason for their little talk.
“Let
me just say this so we can get some sleep. We’re both exhausted. I’m so tired ….”
She looked up to see the fear of a marked man staring intently at her. His body remain immobile, even with the pounding vein running over his forehead pulsing a steady beat. “When you left the motel … I was upset -”
“And you had every right to be.”
“I know. That’s not the point I’m trying to make.” She crossed her arms in front of her, and rested her chin on her chest. “Just let me tell you this, so we can get some rest, okay?” The snap in her voice closed his mouth, and he sat, as she’d asked and braced himself for the worst. “Before I knew what was happening … with your sister and the shadow men … I made a phone call.” There was an uneasy silence in the room. “I called my mother.”
His question was delayed by the unanticipated statement. Was that all?
Was that the dreaded admission? “How is she?”
“She wanted to know if she should reschedule the church for the wedding.”
Mulder sat back in the bed, his head hitting the back of the sofa. So that WAS it. “I guess, by the lack of eye contact, that you told her no.”
She defiantly met his gaze and held it. “I didn’t know what to tell her. I keep thinking that maybe …”
“It’s okay, Scully.” He couldn’t keep the pain from his voice, but he held out a hand to her and silently begged her to take it. And reluctantly, she did. “It’s okay to be scared. And we don’t have to get married, if you don’t want to-”
“Me?” She pulled back a little. “I was worried about you. That the vows would be, well, not what you wanted to commit to. ‘For better or worse’ ” “`Til death do us part, Scully. I’m already committed. I can’t promise you that I won’t freak out from time to time, but you’re stuck with me until I finally keel over. Married or not, I love you.” He pulled her close, and she allowed him to wrap his arms around her shoulders. “And you love me.
There is nothing else.”
Shutting her eyes around his last statement, she laid her head on the firmness of his chest. “At this moment, Mulder, I believe … that love is enough.”
“Then, Dana, you will never be wanting.”
Bending of the Bow Part 9
Rushing into action, you fail.
Trying to grasp things, you lose them.
Forcing a project to completion,
you ruin what was almost ripe.-Tao Te Ching
September 4, 1996.
The Cabin.
As Mulder slowly drifted up from a hazy sleep, the comfortable realization that he lay on his right side, snugly spooned by the love of his life gave him the necessary boost to pull him in to complete consciousness. He looked down to see her left arm draped delicately over his midsection, much the way it had hung limp off the hammock on a quiet afternoon. That had been the day that he realized that Dana Katherine Scully was in love with him.
The warm buzz from that cherished memory flooded his body.
A sleepy hand made its way to hers and slowly ran along the soft arm that held him. She stirred behind him, burrowing her head deeper between his body and the thin mattress. Her fingers ran gently over his clothed stomach before relaxing again. It was moments like these that he lived for.
SMACK!
The bedroom door opened with a bang; the wooden frame having shifted in the coolness of the night causing the door to stick. The noise set off a trained reflex in Scully, but luckily Mulder anticipated her move and rolled over her to grab her wrist before she reached the gun on the floor beside the sofa bed. Pulling a gun on Karen would NOT make for a wonderful way to start the morning.
In bounced the little girl, hair still stringy from sleep, nightshirt a mass of wrinkles, her beaming face looking as if it were Christmas morning.
“Hello, Uncle Fox!” She climbed up on to the bed beside him before he and Scully had a chance to catch their breath. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Not as good as you, from the look of you. How was your bed?”
“I can see thirteen stars outside my window! And this morning, the water on the glass made little rainbows all over everything!
I love this place! I think it’s magical.” She leapt off the mattress and landed squarely on the wood paneled floor. Quickly surveying the lack of cooking happening in the kitchen, she turned back to the two adults lying or rather, trying to sit up and demanded, “So who’s making breakfast? I’m starving!”
With Scully’s hair running every which way, she allowed for a mammoth yawn before kicking the covers aside. “What time is it, anyway?”
Samantha emerged from the back room with an apologetic smile, “Around eight, I think. To Karen’s credit, she’s been keeping herself entertained since dawn.” Her night shirt hung down past her mid thighs and she pulled a red sweater up over her shoulders to ward off the chill.
“I should check on Randy, anyway,” Scully headed past the taller woman, but was abruptly stopped by a hand from Samantha.
“He’s in the bathroom.” She pulled her arm back, not the least bit embarrassed at the protective nature of her last move. “He’s feeling much better. Sore and tired, but his fever is gone and he was able to get out of bed on his own.”
“That’s gotta be a good sign.” Mulder murmured under his breath, the palm of his hands rubbing at his sleepy eyes. “Maybe he’ll feel well enough to eat something.” Mulder looked from his sister, and followed her glaring gaze to Scully.
Something was going on between the two of them; something definitely female, and vaguely territorial. The only women that Mulder actually saw Scully interact with were people connected to their cases and her family. It was true that she didn’t have many women friends. Well, friends that he knew about. Mulder found the new side of Scully fascinating to watch.
Without even noticing it, Scully ran a hand through her hair and took a step back from Samantha. “I’ll fix something for us to eat,” she mumbled Samantha backed away, too. Just a step, but Mulder caught the gesture as if it were highlighted with fusca neon lights. “I’ll check and see if he’s up to eating.” She quickly ducked back in to the room and the tension in the room dropped back down to normal levels.
“What was all that about?” Scully was annoyed by the smirk on Mulder’s face.
“What was what about?”
Could she really be oblivious? Or was she just not ready to deal with it?
After all, they all HAD just woken up. He’d leave it alone. Maybe it was nothing more than what it had been: a prolonged glance between two people who were practically strangers.
Anyway, his stomach was rumbling. “So, where can we get some eggs and bacon?”
Several hours later.
Outside the cabin, Mulder found Samantha sitting on the log, much as he had done the previous day. She looked up when she heard him coming, and offered a small smile. “This place is beautiful, if nothing else.”
“Yeah, well, if you like peace and quiet.” It was a feeble attempt at humor, but an attempt all the same. “Can we talk?”
He could feel her body tensing next to him, and her shoulders rose half an inch. “Uh … what about?”
“What do you mean, what about? About why I came to find you in the first place. About what you remember.”
“I don’t remember anything.”
Well, this wasn’t getting him anywhere fast. Should he push her? Would she clam up all together? “So you’ve said. But I think you remember more than you’re letting on.”
“Why are you here? Why after all this time?”
“It’s not like I’ve been partying, Sam, I’ve been looking for you. The moment I got your address, I got Scully and we headed straight for you.
Christ, I even took her from her own bachelorette party.” Sam’s eyes shot to his, surprise stared up at him. Mulder shrugged it away. “So, she’ll have another. I do intend on marrying her, you know.”
“Good. She’s … she’ll make you happy, I think.”
“She does.” Mulder took a moment for the thoughts to mature before he sprang the next bombshell on his sister. “I’d like, when we do get married, for you to … stand by my side and be my best … sister.”
Sam’s eyes rolled to the heavens, “This is a bit ridiculous, don’t you think.
I mean, we don’t really know if I’m your sister.”
Mulder was confident in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. “You are.”
“Says an address on a piece of paper.”
“Says me. And says you, I think. You remember, Sam. I know you do.”
“You don’t know anything!” She balled her fists. “I refuse to talk about this with you.”
“Then let’s talk about something else. Something safe.” She shook her head but the beating heart in his chest told him not to give up on her so quickly. “Please. Anything you like. The weather, Karen, music, anything. Maybe you have some questions for me. What can I tell you?” He ran a hand through his hair and skimmed through all the things he always promised himself that he’d tell her once he found Sam again. “How did you meet Randy?”
“How did you meet Dana?”
Mulder laughed. “Touche. She was sent to be my partner and debunk the work I did on the X Files.”
“He was a graduate student who came in to the cafe that I worked in at college.”
“We worked well as a team, and she didn’t do a lot of debunking.”
“He ordered a lot of tuna melts, and I did a lot of serving.”
They both laughed. “Come on,” Sam motioned towards the cabin, “let’s go in an see how Dana is making out.”
And inside they went. Mulder felt like he’d tackled a real hurdle in getting her to laugh. The girlish chuckle that he’d remembered so vividly as a boy was now a womanly tittle, but the heart was the same. The soul.
Inside, Scully sat at the kitchen table, Mulder’s billfold in her hands, counting out bills. “Well, with the four of us together, we have a grand total of $379. That’s not bad, but if we’re going to have to buy gas and food for five on that, it’s not going to last us long.”
Sam, from the sofa, hugged a small throw pillow to her chest. All of our bank cards and checks are gone”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mulder cut her off, “you can’t touch your bank account. They monitor those things.” He sat opposite his partner, with his back to the table. Karen sat on the orange shag rug at his feet.
“Can’t you get money?” She look up at him, her big blue eyes brimming with admiration, “From the government?”
“Not this time, I’m afraid.” Over his shoulder, Mulder asked, “The Gunmen?”
Scully shrugged. “At this point, I’m even thinking Skinner.”
“You’re kidding.”
With a sigh, Scully switched in to rational mode. “Look, Mulder, we’re not going anywhere on this.” She dropped the money on the table in front of him. “And frankly, I don’t know WHERE it is we’re supposed to go.”
“We need a safe house or something.”
“For how long?” Her lips pursed in momentary consternation. “How long do you plan on living on the run?”
Mulder turned from her and sank back in to the thick wood behind him.
She was right. Of course. They had to DO something. Running wasn’t going to get them anywhere.
From the couch, Sam’s maternal tones filled the room. “Karen, sweetie, why don’t you go and tell Daddy a story.”
The precocious child’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Sam’s face broke in to a prideful smile. “Yes, I am. Now go check on your father.”
With a groan of protest, she marched from the room and bounced on to the bed with her father. “Hello, Daddy!” They heard her say, “I’m here to keep you company.”
Then Sam sat forward. “Look,” she addressed both Mulder and Scully, “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way actually, I don’t really care how you take it but I refuse to play these cat and mouse games. These people never bothered us before you showed up, so if you’ll leave us to go our merry way “
“They won’t leave you alone.” Mulder’s voice was low and steady.
“They’ll find you, no matter where you go.”
“Well,” Sam stood, her hands fisted on her hips, “if that’s the case, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Mulder wasn’t about to give in. “They’ve taken you before, they’ll take you again.”
“So you’ve said. I guess I’ll just have to take that risk.”
Mulder’s eyes bore in to hers, “Are you willing to risk Karen, too?”
Sam started, taken aback. “Karen?” And a second later she composed herself. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re trying to scare me.”
“Yes, I am,” Mulder admitted without hesitation, ” but I DO know what I’m talking about. Karen mentioned ‘the bad men’. Has she talked about them before?” Sam’s look of horror told him she had. “Men in black, or little men in grey coming in to her room. Did she tell you that? Did you know it was happening?”
“NO!” Sam gasped, “She didn’t … she had nightmares, that’s all. All little kids have nightmares.” Her head shook fiercely. “No, you’re trying to scare me.”
“Does she have the scar, Sam?” Behind him, Scully’s eyes widened at his allegations. “At the base of her neck, or on her belly? Did she tell you about the lights?”
“Lights? Wait a minute … little grey men? Are you …. What are you saying? Are you hinting that my daughter was abducted by aliens?!”
“I’m asking if she ever told you about them. If you knew it was happening.”
“YOU’RE INSANE!” And with that the conversation ended. Sam stormed out the door, and Mulder slammed his fist into the table.
And immediately regretted it.
“Damn!” Scully was at his side in a second to assess the damages. All she needed now was Mulder with a broken hand and Sam thinking he was more of a looney than before. But he pushed her away, his anger still too fresh to deal with his physical pain. “Damn it, Scully. She knew!”
Leaning against the wall, she gave him the space he needed. “I don’t think she knew, Mulder, anymore than you do. So a kid says she saw men. My nephew says he sees Santa Claus. That doesn’t mean Santa’s real.”
He headed for the door, “I’ve got to talk to her.”
“No!” She caught his arm. “Give her a chance to process what you’ve been telling her.”
“I’m going to finish this, Scully!” His eyes were wild with passion.
And Scully’s eyes matched his, emotion for emotion. “Don’t argue with me, Mulder. You can’t afford to have everyone against you! Take some money. Go down to the store “
“No, Scully.”
” get some milk or bread or something. I don’t care. Just take a few minutes to relax. Think things through a little more.”
“We can’t afford to waste “
“At this point, Mulder, it doesn’t really matter. What we can’t afford is for all of these emotions that you’ve been bottling up inside of you for decades to come crashing out and destroy any possibility of a relationship that you might have with your sister.”
What she said made sense, Mulder decided. Well, of course it did. Damn it. She did it again! “Okay. Okay, I’ll get some bread. Fine.”
“Thank you.” On tiptoes, she reached up and kissed his cheek. “This is going to be okay, Mulder, if we all can keep our heads.”
He nodded, not knowing what else to do, and set out on his quest for the loaf of white bread. Or maybe a nice rye.
“Bread,” Mulder repeated silently to himself as he slowly maneuvered the jeep down the steep, curving roadway cut into the mountainside. “And milk. Karen needs milk. Maybe I should pick up some cookies as well.
What’s the point of milk if you don’t have cookies to go with it?” He found himself smiling when he thought about her upturned nose and quick mouth.
Shit, how did I get to be Uncle Fox? Assuming Sam would let him be Uncle Fox.
His smile turned into a frown as he replayed their last fight. She remembers, he thought fiercely. She may not remember everything but she remembers more than she’s letting on. And she knows about Karen. Some part of her had to know. Why was she still fighting him on this? He wasn’t twelve anymore. He could protect her and Karen. Couldn’t he? Unbidden images of Scully’s pale face, tubes helping her breath, blocked out the sun dappled road until he banged his hand hard on the steering wheel. The pain helped him focus. He had to stop this. He’d find a way to salvage this. He had to.
He slowed to a stop as he reached the end of the cabin’s cut off. Another turn and he’d be on a road that actually showed up on the map. The small general store was across the way, another hundred yards to the right.
Mulder wasn’t expecting trouble but the jeep might be recognized by the local police. He had no doubt that someone was on the lookout for their car. Exiting the vehicle, he made his way parallel to the ditch lining both sides of the street, keeping wellwithin the concealing foliage.
Shit! Fuck! He pulled back further, hiding behind a large tree. Peering around slowly, Mulder studied the movement of dark sedans and army trucks as they pulled into the store’s parking lot. It looked like a staging area for a fucking allout assault. Several more cars were heading in their direction. Mulder didn’t wait to see their passengers debark. Heart in his throat, he ran back to the jeep.
Bending of the Bow Part 10
Confront the difficult
while it is still easy;
accomplish the great task
by a series of small acts.-Tao Te Ching
“Where’d Uncle Fox go?” Karen’s voice cut through the tension which had hung like a pall over the cabin since Mulder’s exit.
“He went to get some bread,” Scully answered. She couldn’t help but notice Sam’s flinch at the sound of her brother’s name. Alleged brother, Scully corrected herself firmly. We still don’t know anything for sure.
“Good. I like bread,” Karen replied, oblivious to the currents flowing around the room. “I found some wild parsley and onions just like you showed me at home, Mommy. Can we cook them in dinner tonight?” She held up a grubby hand full of greens.
Sam’s head snapped up. “Karen, what have I told you about wandering away? You’re to stay near the cabin!”
“But, Mom, I didn’t go very far. I wanted to get them for Uncle Fox.”
“Stop it! Stop calling him that!” Sam hissed. “He’s not your uncle!”
Karen took a step back from her mother’s sudden outburst. She slowly lowered her new-found treasure as her eyes brimmed with tears.
“Sam…,” Scully started.
“You stay out of this! I’ve had it up to here! He’s not my brother and he’s not her uncle!”
“Samantha!” Randy stood by the doorway leading to the bedroom where he had been resting. His tone was stronger than it had been in the last couple of days, testimony to his returning strength. “That’s enough!”
“Randy, don’t you start.”
“I said, that’s enough! Whatever Agent Mulder is to you, he got us out of that house and away from those bastards!”
“And shot you in the process.”
“Let it go. We’re alive. That’s all that matters. There’s no reason to keep sniping at him and taking it out on Karen.” He walked over to where she was standing, still clutching her herbs. Placing his hand on her head, Randy seated himself on a bench. “Come on, honey. Show me whatcha got.”
Scully watched as Sam struggled to regain her composure. Her compassion for the woman’s situation warred with her growing irritation over Samantha’s recalcitrance. And
something more, though Scully was loathe to identify it, even to herself.
“Listen to me Karen,” Randy continued after examining the greenery. “It’s important that you stay right here, close to the cabin. These aren’t like the woods near home. You don’t know what’s out there, okay?”
Karen nodded, sagely. “There might be lions out there.”
Randy gave a small chuckle. “That’s right, honey. There might be lions.”
“Daddy? Do you think there might be bad men out there? They aren’t going to take me away again, are they, Daddy?”
Scully felt her world tip over. Her arms ached to hug the child to her, to keep her safe, even as her fingers itched to examine her for scars. Oh God, no! Nonononono, her mind screamed. Bright lights and masked figures.
Pain. Other beings in the background, never quite seen but felt. Garbled voices which only added to the terror. Nononononono……
“What do you mean, honey?” Randy asked softly, though his eyes were locked onto the pale, frozen countenance of his wife.
Mulder’s entrance through the door prevented her answering. “We’ve got to get out of here! Now!”
With the small fragment of his mind that wasn’t occupied with moving three adults as quickly as possible to the waiting jeep, Mulder wondered why everyone always asked the same questions at times like this. ‘What’s going on’ and ‘what’s happening’. He grabbed Karen, physically carrying her, knowing that Sam and the others would automatically follow. It would save a lot of arguing this way. Still, Sam was shrieking about leaving their stuff behind.
“Mulder, stop! What’s going on?” Scully demanded. She continued moving, however, already guessing what he would answer.
“There’s an army waiting for us at the bottom of the hill but I don’t think they’re going to wait much longer. We need to get out of here now.”
“How did they find us?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they guessed. I don’t want to stay here and confirm their suspicions, however.” He dumped Karen in the backseat, before turning to face her mother. Without waiting for her to draw breath, he jumped into his instructions. “Get in and hold Karen down. Brace yourself in. This is going to get rough.”
Maybe it was something in his eyes, maybe it was her own sense of survival and the need to protect her child – Mulder was never sure which – but Sam climbed into the jeep without further argument. Randy was right behind her.
Scully got into the front seat and drew her gun. God knew she didn’t know what she planned to do with it but she wanted to be sure it was ready, just in case. “Mulder, how are we going to get passed these guys? There’s only one road down from here.”
“I guess we’re about to see if these Jeeps really are ‘The only one.’”
He took one final look in the backseat to be sure that his sister’s family was as secure as possible and then threw the car in gear.
Dirt flew up behind them as the tires gripped the path, partially obscuring their view of the cabin. Scully glanced back and mentally vowed to come back and restore it to its former order as soon as all this was over. She owed it to Missy’s memory.
“Mulder, this isn’t Puerto Rico. These woods are solid with trees. How are you going to get down this mountain?” Scully asked, almost having to yell to be heard over the noise of the gunned engine and wind.
“I saw a dry stream bed on my way back up. That’s going to have to do.”
“But you don’t know where that will lead us to. There are dozens of those stream beds up here. Most of them just stop when the water goes underground.”
“Scully, we don’t have time to debate this.” He effectively ended the discussion by making a hard left and turned off the road.
Refusing to brake, he compromised with the physics of gravity by downshifting and hoped for the best. Branches slapped at the windshield as the jeep leapt over small bushes. Scully banged her head against the roof once after a particularly nasty jolt which almost overturned them and she tried to look in the backseat to see what damage was being done to their passengers. All she could see was bodies tangled together, each one trying to anchor the others to the seat. Randy’s arm was bleeding again but there was nothing she could do about it now.
A small scream escaped her as Mulder swerved to avoid a rock outcropping, throwing them all to one side of the vehicle. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she could hear Mulder breathing hard. The world flew by, a green and brown blur of rushing sound. Light and dark merged as they passed through the shady forest. And still down they went, following a path that wasn’t really there.
“Get down!” Mulder ordered, pushing her head to his lap, hunching over her as best he could, as he steered the Jeep between two large oaks. The sound of metal scraping ground Scully’s rapidly fraying nerves.
She had lost all sense of direction by this point but hoped they were angling far enough down the mountain that they could bypass the troops sent to find them. God knew it would be easy enough to figure out which way they had gone seeing the damage they were causing to the surrounding trees.
“Mulder, what if there are road blocks?” she gasped out.
He grunted but didn’t answer her directly. Just keeping the jeep with most of its wheels on the ground at any given moment was taking most of his concentration.
Finally, he saw a break in the undergrowth and what looked like asphalt.
Now if only they were far enough down the highway…. Mulder remembered the ditch he saw earlier but didn’t have time to avoid it. “Hold on!” he yelled as the jeep took one last bounce before spinning out onto the roadway. There was no sign of any pursuit.
“Everybody okay?” he asked, not really ready for an answer. “Randy, how’s the arm?” He’d noticed the blood when he looked in the mirror.
“Just keep going. We may be out of the woods but I don’t think those fellows are going to give up so easy,” came the reply.
“I think we’ll be okay if we put enough distance between us now.”
“You don’t think they’ve notified the locals?” Scully asked, still scanning the area for signs of trouble.
“These guys work alone. They can’t set up roadblocks in daylight. It’d draw too much attention to themselves.”
“And a mass gathering at a general store is inconspicuous?” Scully responded skeptically.
“I’d bet they had a good cover story for that. Notifying the cops though is another matter. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble between here and Washington.”
“Washington?” Scully and Sam asked simultaneously.
“Scully, we’re out of options. We’ve got to get help on this.”
Scully bit her lip nervously, knowing he was right but wondering what “help” he was referring to. “Skinner?”
Mulder shrugged. “Maybe. But we need to find out what’s going on first, what he’s been told.”
“We can’t go back to the apartments,” Scully said, thinking out loud.
“What are you talking about? We can’t go to Washington!” Sam complained as she tried to tighten Randy’s bandage.
“We don’t have a choice!” Mulder responded in kind, more sharply than he intended. He turned back to his partner. “The apartments are probably being watched. They won’t be safe.”
“Where then?”
“You’re not going to like this, Scully, but I don’t think we have any other options.”
She looked at him in confusion until she noticed his lopsided grin. “Oh, Mulder, not…”
He nodded. “It’ll be okay,” he assured her as he stepped on the gas, following signs for the interstate.
September 5, 1996.
1:04 AM.
LGM Office.
“Mulder!” Langly’s voice broke in surprise as he opened the door to the Gunmen’s latest office and stepped back to allow everyone to enter.
“Boys,” Mulder nodded to the others to include them in his greeting.
“It’s good to see you, buckaroo,” Frohike said as he got up from his desk, ignoring the flow of data that was streaming across his computer monitor.
He limped over to shake hands with the two young agents and then looked questioningly at Sam and her family. “We were starting to get a little worried.”
“What’ve you been hearing?”
“Only that a small motel, in a remote part of Kentucky, was ransacked for no apparent reason and that two of the occupants left under mysterious circumsatnces. The police found towels covered with blood, though testing revealed that it did not match that of a pair of rogue FBI agents, reportedly seen in the area,” Byers said as he came in from the back room.
“I’m assuming this is the source of the blood?” He looked pointedly at Randy’s blood soaked sleeve.
“You assume correctly. I suppose it’s too much to hope that you have a first aid kit here?” Scully said, pulling off her jacket and moving Randy into the nearest seat.
“I’ll get it,” volunteered Langly. His bruises had finally healed, Scully noted clinically, studying the young man as he left to fetch the supplies.
She involuntarily recalled the message waiting for them in their email that Easter Monday morning after they returned from Seattle. Van wrecked while driving back; Frohike’s leg broken; Langly in the hospital with severe head trauma; a certain copy book missing. Byers, who had stayed behind to tend to “business” for a few additional days and was planning on flying to Washington later, had heard the news on his portable police scanner. He started the process of damage control, figuring that they had been made by the bad guys, and moved their equipment to a new office. He’d also been the one to notify the agents that their hard evidence was missing as well as the copy which had been sent to MIT. The only thing left was a crumpled napkin that Mulder had shoved into his pocket. So far it had revealed nothing that might hint at what Amber had been trying to tell them. There simply wasn’t enough information to work with.
“Is there somewhere I can work on Randy’s arm? I want to make sure we didn’t do any more damage during that ride down the mountain.” Scully moved closer to her patient, earning an angry look from Sam. Scully ignored it. If she still wanted to crucify them, there was nothing more Scully could do.
“Right back here,” offered Frohike as he opened a door at the rear of the room. “There’s a couple of cots if you want to crash and the bathroom’s through there.”
Scully nodded, herding Randy and the rest of his family towards the back, grabbing the kit from a returning Langly. If nothing else, she was grateful for their restraint in not asking a lot of questions. She’d leave that for Mulder, she thought wearily, knowing she had her own battle to fight with Sam.
“So what gives?” asked Byers as the door shut behind Scully’s retreating figure.
“Can we just leave it that they’re friends, running from the bad guys and we need your help?” Mulder collapsed in the nearest chair and instantly had to right himself as it tilted alarmingly to one side. He threw a disgusted look at Byers who snickered.
“Whatever you say, Mulder. What can we do for you?”
“Mi casa, es su casa,” added Frohike for good measure.
Mulder relaxed slightly. Whatever else they might be, he was finally among friends. “Food for starts. It was a long drive back and I didn’t want to risk stopping.”
“Done,” said Langly, reaching for the phone.
“What else have you heard?”
“Nothing much. There’s been an unusual amount of troop movement from a base in southern Virginia, heading west. We figured they were going in your general direction.” Byers went and fetched a map from one of the more cluttered desktops.
“There was a fire at NIH,” Langly continued with the briefing. “Burned one of the buildings to the ground, despite a pretty quick response from the local fire department. The official story is the building housed some flammable chemicals that must of leaked and that’s what cause such an intense fire. Funny thing is, I have a friend that told me the building was unoccupied but very hands off. Tight security. Why all the fuss for a storage facility?” Langly asked clearly skeptical with the “official”
explanation.
Mulder nodded, leaning his elbows carefully against the nearby desk, and placing his head in his hands. Moore knew. He’d told them that the project was getting too big to be contained at NIH for much longer. With his defection, Mulder assumed the players involved in all this were afraid of a security leak and destroyed the evidence by their favorite method – fire.
God, this was so frustrating! Always three steps behind these bastards!
“Anything else?” he asked without taking his hands from his face. He really didn’t want an answer but had to ask the question anyway.
The three men glanced at each other before Frohike spoke quietly, “After we heard about your disappearance, we went over to Agent Scully’s mother’s house. Just to be sure she was okay, you know?”
Mulder’s head came up as looked around him in disbelief. “You went to….
how is she?” Mulder didn’t want to think about what Margaret Scully had been going through. First the wedding, or rather lack of wedding, and then their leaving. Scully did call her, he knew, but one quick call wasn’t really enough, was it? And his own mother…. what was he going to tell her about all this?
“She seemed okay. She had some people over so we didn’t stay long,” Frohike explained. “She invited us in when we said we were friends of yours.”
“Yeah, Mulder, I’d worry about that if I were you,” Langly smirked. “She didn’t even bat an eye.”
“Who didn’t bat an eye?” asked Scully as she slipped in the room. She shut the door quietly behind her.
“Seems the boys went to see your mom,” Mulder said, as matter-of-factly as he could. The picture of these three sipping tea with Scully’s mom was almost enough to send him over the edge.
Scully blinked.
“She’s a real nice lady,” supplied Frohike, even as he edged away from her.
There was still the little matter of a certain video tape, after all, and he didn’t want to take any chances.
“Scully,” Mulder said softly, reaching for her as he stood and moved away from the audience, “I think you should go to your Mom’s. Make sure she’s alright.”
“So you can ditch me again?” she asked, half in jest. Her smile faded as she noticed the expression on his face. “You were going to ditch me! I don’t believe this!” Scully, hands on her hips turned from him and tried to dissipate the anger bubbling up in her.
“I have to get Sam and her family away from here and I don’t know how long that’s going to take. I can’t ask you to go with us. You’d be jeopardizing your career, the rest of your life. We could be on the run for a long time.” The words tumbled over themselves until he finally looked up to see the steely expression on her face.
Her lips were pinched so tightly their color bled away. With sarcasm dripping from her voice, she baited him. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that since you don’t know when we’ll see each other again, I shouldn’t wait for you and when I meet some guy who treats me right -”
“Scully -”
“Cut the dramatics, Mulder! You are not leaving me again. Understand?
Now, let’s get something to eat and then think this through.” She left him standing in the corner, his mouth half open in surprise and grudging admiration.
Bending of the Bow Part 11
Do you have patience to wait
till your mud settles and the water is clear?
Can you remain unmoving
till the right action arises by itself?-Tao Te Ching
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Mulder asked Byers for the third time.
He didn’t like this scenario but they had run out of options.
“We know that these guys would probably recognize Langly and Frohike from the accident. I’m the only one who can get into your apartment without being spotted right away.” He straightened his tie in the mirror before heading for the door. “Are you sure this is going to work?”
“No. But I can’t think of anything else to do. We need his help for this, so we’ve got to let him know I want a meet.”
Scully bit her upper lip as she stared at the equipment surrounding her without really seeing it. She was feeling a little better, now that she had changed her clothes, borrowing an outfit from the ever-helpful Frohike, and had had something to eat. She tugged at the oversized pants, trying to tighten the belt another notch, relieved that Mulder’s sister and her family had fallen asleep in the back room. She wasn’t feeling good about this plan to contact Deep Throat’s successor, however. He’d helped them in the past but always for his own agenda and always with an attitude. She couldn’t trust him and it didn’t help her confidence that her partner didn’t really trust him either. But he was right. They had run out of ideas.
The snap of the door’s closing behind Byers brought her back to the present. Catching Mulder’s eye was enough to bring him to her. “You don’t like this,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m not sure what you’re hoping to accomplish by this.”
“I’m not either but I guess we’ll find out.”
It was dark. Most of these meetings were always in the dark, Mulder realized as he paced by the empty play ground. It was ironic that this emergency meeting site was a place so alive during the light of day and so dead as soon as the sun went down. So like his life until recently. Until he found Scully….
August 2, 1996.
6:07 PM
It had been a lousy end to a lousy week, and Mulder was looking forward to going back to his small, shabby apartment and turning on the Sci-fi channel, and not moving from his couch for the entire weekend. After the mutant-serial killing- soda jerk had not only escaped his arraignment without incident but somehow managed to vanish from the face of the Earth in the process, Mulder was just going to need some time to himself. He wanted to be alone. To relax and enjoy the controlled quiet of nothing happening around him.
Of course, Scully had suggested that they go away together for the weekend. Since everyone knew about their upcoming marriage there was no need to sneak around, and they could enjoy each other’s company at some small bed and breakfast in Massachusetts somewhere.
But Mulder shook his head. “That sounds great, Scully, but I’m really wanting to go home and crash for a few days.”
She collected a file from his desk and leafed through it before extracting two pages from the autopsy report and placing them in her briefcase. “That sounds good. You want me to pick up a movie or two? Maybe some chicken?”
Taking her hands from their busy work of packing up for the night, Mulder pulled her to him in an uncharacteristically sensual way. At least uncharacteristic for office behavior. At home how they related to each other was more or less how any couple in love might act.
Touching, quick kisses in passing, long love making sessions, cuddling, fighting, laughing. But never at the office. Never when their jobs were pushed to the front.
He cradled her hands and raised her smooth knuckles to his lips and kissed them chastely. “Scully … Dana. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I need some time alone. I just want to lie on my sofa and do nothing.”
She took a moment and searched his eyes, but found nothing but honesty and a little guilt. “You want to go home alone?”
He nodded and focused his eyes down on her hands. Her perfect, flawless hands. How did women have such beautiful hands? “It’s not that I don’t want you to come home with me -”
“No,” she shook her head resolutely, and offered him a hint of a smile. “I think it’s a good idea. We’ve been spending a hell of a lot
of time together lately. More than I think may be good for us.”
Mulder took her cue with a shocked glance up at her face, “You think it’s bad for us?”
Again, she shook her head, this time lifting a finger to the locks that
had fallen haphazardly on to his face. “I just mean that, well, we see each other nearly every waking – and not waking – moment.
You need some time alone. So do I.” She pulled from his embrace and grabbed the handle of her briefcase and planted a firm, quick kiss on his lips. And smiled. Very unprofessional. “Go home, Mulder. If you need me, or if I need you, we know how to get in touch.”
He nodded absently thinking he got off the hook on that one much easier than he’d expected. Then she was out the door, and he was alone. And the silence of the basement office at 6:15 PM on a Friday night in August was nearly enough to drive him mad.
So, after running a quick check of his e-mail, he shut down the computer, pulled a few files into his arms, turned and clicked off the light.
And then clicked it back on again. What was he doing? Taking work home with him? Again? No. Not this time. He dropped the files in the chair next to the door, and locked the office.
And on his trip out to the car, he planned his evening.
“Gotta pick up dinner,” he told himself, “and some toilet paper, and some juice.” The mental checklist he created dictated at least three stops he was going to have to make. Unless he went to the grocery store, and actually COOK dinner instead of getting something to go. And he could live without videos, he decided. The kind they had at the supermarket were more Scully’s speed than his, anyway.
And of course, that lead to thoughts of her and what she might be doing.
“I should call her tonight,” he sighed, “just to wish her a good sleep.” Deciding that that WAS, in fact, what he was going to do, Mulder unlocked his car, and set off on his weekend.
When he arrived back at his bachelor pad, a small note was hanging from his door. Scully, he thought with a smile on his lips, as his eyes surveyed the familiar script:
Mulder –
Thought you might enjoy a real dinner instead of that frozen stuff I know you were planning on eating. Enjoy your weekend.
Love, Dana
He tucked the note in to his shirt pocket and unlocked his door.
And immediately his senses were overcome by the most extraordinary aroma of baked lasagna. Mulder’s stomach rumbled in response. “Scully,” he mumbled, “why are you so good to me?”
Slipping off his shoes, and throwing the bag in his arms on to the small wooden chair, he gasped as he entered his small, brick-lined kitchen. On the oak table rested not only a place setting for one, not only the still-pipping hot lasagna and a small caesar salad, NOT ONLY a six pack of Samuel Adams, but also a large arrangement of wild flowers with every shape and hue of the rainbow represented. Next to a perfect white daisy, he found the small card.
“Sweet dreams, my love”
How the hell had she made it to his place and set this up before he’d had a chance to get there?
Twenty minutes later Mulder was in front of her apartment, the dinner in his hands, and love swelling in his eyes. He knocked tentatively at first, knowing once he was there he probably wasn’t going to be leaving, and the desire to spend some time alone had been an honest one. If she’d hadn’t left the flowers, maybe then he would’ve made it through. But then, wasn’t that her intention all along? To lure him back to her place, and then lock him inside for their two days off?
Mulder grinned wickedly, until he heard the familiar voice.
“Mr Mulder, you’ve been a busy man,” a deep, gravelly voice reached him out of the darkness. “You wanted to see me.”
The voice startled Mulder back to the present. “I need your help.”
The dark man merely nodded. “You’ve found your sister.”
“You…. she is my sister?”
“Surely you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t believe that already. Don’t waste time you don’t have.” He moved from the tree which kept him in shadows.
“You are in serious trouble, Mr Mulder.”
It was Mulder’s turn to nod, swallowing the growing frustration he was feeling. He really didn’t need to be told the obvious.
“Dr Moore’s defection came as a deep blow to several important, though irregular, projects your smoking friend had personally approved.
Unfortunately for him, those who oversee the bigger picture had not authorized them. Indeed, several, like ‘Project Einstein’, of which you are familiar, had been ordered shut down.” He handed Mulder a digital tape.
“What’s this?”
“Proof, Agent Mulder. You now have a choice. In your hand, you hold all that you’d need to prove everything you’ve been working for, including what was done to your partner. You can release the information in whatever fashion you see fit.”
“You said a choice?”
“Or you can return this tape to the men who will use it to deal with our cigarette smoker and be willing to deal for your sister’s life. There is a phone number on this paper that will work one time only but it will put you in touch with the man you need to meet. I should warn you. This tape can be decoded once but it will be obvious to anyone you show it to after that.
The men you’ll be dealing with will not appreciate any sort of duplicity.
That is your choice.” He turned and began to move off into the night.
“Wait. Why are you doing this?”
The man walked back and stood inches from Mulder’s face. “I do not answer to you, Mr Mulder. I never did and I never will.” Without another word, he was gone.
September 5, 1996.
LGM Office.
8:53 PM.
Scully examined the tape as if she could divine its secrets by wishing hard enough. Everything they’d worked for, everything they paid for in lost time, blood and tears, was right here in her hand. All the unanswered questions, both for herself and her partner, and for all the “Ambers” that had suffered at the claws of those monsters. It seemed such a little thing to have such a high cost. And now? What were they going to do now?
Perched up on a desk, she unconsciously swung her legs, an old habit from childhood she slipped in to whenever her feet didn’t touch the floor. The Gunmen and Mulder had their heads together trying to find a way to decode the tape while preserving its encryption. While her scientific nature applauded their efforts, Scully knew it was wasted. Those bastards were too good, too careful. The time would be better spent in deciding which path to follow. It would not be an easy decision to make – for either of them.
“There’s no way, Mulder. Once this code is broken, we won’t be able to restore it to its original state,” said Langly, straightening his spine with a stretch that should have dislocated several vertebrae.
“There’s got to be!” Mulder responded, pacing the room as if he were frantically searching for an answer.
The Gunmen looked at each other in an effort to confirm their group consensus.
“I’m sorry, Mulder,” Byers said sympathetically.
“C’mon Mulder,” said Scully, slipping off the desk. “Let’s go for a walk. I’m sure the boys won’t mind keeping an eye on things for a few minutes.”
Mulder glanced at the closed door, behind which huddled his sister and her loved ones. She’d made it quite clear that she didn’t include him in that list.
He didn’t know what to do, what to say, to reach her. He wanted so much for them.
“C’mon, Mulder,” Scully repeated, tugging on his sleeve.
The breeze had an unusual hint of moisture in the air for a crisp Autumn night in Washington. The stars were hidden by the lights of the city and Scully regretted that for some reason. She wanted to see the stars tonight.
Without a word between them, Scully and Mulder turned together and headed for their bench near the basin. Walking in silence, Mulder reached out for her hand and kept it firmly in his.
“What do you think?” he asked when they finally reached their destination.
He knew deep down what they had to do, no, what he had to do, but he needed to be sure Scully would be all right. It wasn’t a choice for Mulder.
His sister came first. The choice was whether or not Scully would see it the same way.
“I don’t know, Mulder. I really don’t. We have a duty, an obligation, that’s bigger than just our personal situation. We need to bring these men to justice. That’s got to count for something. On the other hand, if we try to prosecute them, they’ll kill Sam and we won’t be able to protect her.
Not forever. You know that. We both do.” Scully looked out to watch the water flowing by them. The water didn’t care what they decided, she realized.
“She’s my sister, Scully. And even if she wasn’t, can we just turn her over to those bastards? And what about Karen?” Mulder started to pace by the water’s edge.
“If we don’t stop them, there will be more Karens,” Scully pointed out softly. “And more Ambers. If we don’t stop these thugs, who will?”
He met this comment with silence.
Scully had one final argument. With tears in her voice, she offered it. “You know they’ll close the X Files, Mulder. All your work will have been for nothing.”
Mulder ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Scully, do you remember when you accused me of looking for the truth with nothing but a shovel?”
Scully looked up, startled, unsure where he was going with this. “I believe I changed that to a backhoe.”
Mulder gave her a small grin. “I found out later that Skinner had just told you that they were closing Melissa’s case. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Mulder, I….”
“You thought I didn’t see you, Scully. Wouldn’t be there for you, didn’t you?”
“Mulder, that’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. Your greatest fear was that I was going to betray you. Even now, whenever I go off without you, there’s a little part of you that thinks I won’t be coming back.” He walked back to the bench and kneeled in front of her, taking her hand. “Scully, I always saw you. I always knew when you were keeping something from me. And, Scully, I will always come back to you.” He kissed the palm of her hand. “Always.” He looked deeply into her blue eyes, willing her to believe him. If I have to leave you for awhile, he thought, to keep my sister safe, know, dear God, please know that I’ll find my way back to you.
“Mulder,” she whispered, more mouthing his name than actually speaking it, she bent down touching her lips to his.
“I can’t make this decision without you, Scully. You’ve paid your own way on this ride. I need to know what you think.”
She rose from the bench and walked towards the edge of the tidewater.
Scully didn’t answer right away, instead focusing once more on the water.
Flowing by them, uncaring, its course set by nature.
Nothing under heaven is softer or weaker than water, and yet nothing is better
for attacking what is hard and strong,
because of its immutability.
The words came back slowly as she continued to watch the water. All her study of the Tao, which she had undertaken at her sister’s death, returned.
They didn’t really have a choice. It wasn’t the time for the truth to come out or it wouldn’t be so difficult. They were talking about Sam’s life and that of her daughter, and she and Mulder would have to find another way to protect all the future Karens and Ambers.
“Make the deal, Mulder.”
Mulder breathed, whether in relief or stress, Scully didn’t know. He walked up to her, folding her gently in his arms. “Are you sure? What about you?
And Melissa?”
“Missy’s dead. They can’t hurt her anymore. And whatever they did to me, well, we’ll deal with it when we have to. You need to save your sister and her family.” She smiled up at him. “Our family,” she amended.
He kissed her long and hard. “Let’s go make that phone call.”
Bending of the Bow Part 12
The Master can keep giving
because there is no end to her wealth.
She acts without expectation,
succeeds without taking credit,
and doesn’t think that she is any better
than anyone else.-Tao Te Ching
September 6, 1996.
10:11 PM.
Well, it happened again, Scully thought to herself as she stared blankly at the flood of garble that swept over the monitor. Mulder was out to God knew where, with the nameless man. Alone. And once again he’d left her behind. Alone.
And the Gunmen weren’t any better. Conveniently, they’d left on unspecified “errands”. “Yeah, you’d better run,” she hissed in the empty office, “I’m not done with you guys yet.” The more she thought about it, the more she was able to remind herself just how pissed she still was about the whole secret video thing. If Frohike thought that something like that didn’t happen without repercussions, she’d just have to set him straight.
So, Scully was left in the LGM office as the designated babysitter. Well, at least it wasn’t her that needed the supervision this time. She stood from the computer chair, bored with the mindless tasks that Mulder had contrived to keep her occupied while he was gone, and paced the tight space allowed by the office. Every wall, including those covered with blinded windows were blocked by shelves and cabinets full of computer hardware. Wires hung from the exposed ceiling tiles and as snakes under the well-worn gray rug. The remnants of their meal was still stacked in and beside the huge porcelain sink.
On the wall near the entrance door, there hung a small utility calender with certain dates highlighted and circled in different colors. Of course, there were no words to give any hint of their significance. To the right of that were three metal filing cabinets, all locked, Scully discovered. Briefly she considered testing her skill at jimmying small dead bolts. But the emergence of Samantha from the back room startled her, and any secrets that she might obtain in the Gunmen’s absence was completely forgotten.
Instead she feigned interest in the computer screen again, and hoped she would take the hint.
Sam was able to pick up on the small red-head’s startled – and then quickly covered – reaction. The tension between them was unmistakable, and as she watched the other woman cross the room, putting tables and machinery between them, she couldn’t help but comment. “Why are you doing this for us, if you don’t like me?”
“There’s more than just you at stake,” Scully shot back crisply. “And my personal feelings have nothing to do with the situation. You’re Mulder’s sister -”
“There is no proof of that,” Sam retorted without missing a beat. Scully had to close her eyes against the wall of fury the parroted phrase raised in her. Scully’s tolerance for the hateful woman was quickly finding its end.
“He’s the only one who believes that, and he’s the same guy who believes I was abducted by aliens. He’s a lunatic!”
And that was the last straw.
“How dare you!” Scully growled, her composure completely lost. “How dare you insult him that way? He’s turned the world upside down for you!
He’s given up everything for you! His career, his life,” finding it hard to get her chest to move all of a sudden, she breathed heavily, before blurting: “His marriage!”
“Oh, please,” Samantha dismissed her tirade with a swat of her hand, “He’s going to marry you. He loves you.”
“I KNOW THAT!” Her face was ablaze with the most violent of crimson; her neck lined like a spider’s web as she fought for control that evaded her.
The pitch of her voice rose nearly an octave and it reverberated through the metal in the room. “I know he loves me!”
The color had drained form Sam’s face. That response wasn’t what she was expecting from the Agent before her. Anything but. A second later Randy was in the door behind her, groggy but ready for action.
Scully saw him and dropped her eyes. A new frustration with herself throbbed through her temple. “I’m sorry I woke you, Randy.” She managed to get out weakly, pulling herself back together. “I didn’t mean to … wake you.”
Touching her husband gently along his midriff, Sam looked up at him with her cloudy blue eyes. “I guess I pushed the wrong button. Go back to sleep, sweetheart. You need to rest.”
“Why don’t you come back with me?” He looked over both women. The fuse had seemed to have died down, but he wasn’t wanting to take any chances. “You look tired, too.”
“I will,” she placated, “as soon as I finish my talk with Agent Scully.”
His eyes narrowed, “Why don’t you come back with me now? You can have your talk tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow we might not be here -”
“Samantha.” He cut her off, “We already discussed this. We can’t go to my father’s place. I won’t involve him in this.”
Scully’s ears picked up.
“What about Karen, Randy? We can’t keep her in the line of fire! We’ll leave her with your father. She can’t live on the road forever.”
“If they were able to get to her before, they’ll find her there, too.”
Sam pulled away from him. “Not you, too! No one got her! No one got me!” She backed in to the island of tables and a stack of floppy disks tumbled to the floor. “Just because that man, that LUNATIC,” she pivoted and screamed at Scully, “says that’s what happened doesn’t mean that it did!”
“You remember, Sam, I know you do!” Randy’s voice was stern with his wife, but his eyes were tender and worried.
“I remember NOTHING!”
“But I remember.” The meek little voice came from behind that tall man.
he stepped aside, and picked up his little girl. “Daddy, they hurt me.”
“Who hurt you sweetheart?”
“The bad men. And the little men. The light. I don’t want to go to Grandpa’s, Daddy.”
Scully came from around the table, her eyes straining to catch a glimpse of anything obvious at the base of the little girl’s neck. “What light, Karen?”
The little girl, eyes tearing look up at the woman and shrugged. “Just the white light. It hurt my eyes, but I couldn’t close them.”
Sam held out her hands for her daughter, “Come here, baby.”
Karen went willingly to her mother, but quietly insisted, “They hurt you, too, Mommy. Don’t you remember? Those men with the masks?”
Running a shaky hand over her daughter’s hair, she pulled the child’s head to her lips and kissed her forehead as if to keep away the unseen evil spirits that surrounded them all. “That’s enough of that, Karen. I want you to lie down for a nap.”
“Wait,” Scully stopped her with a hand to her arm, “I’d like … ” she began but caught the look of death from the other woman, ” … if you ‘ll allow me, to make sure that Karen really is okay.”
“You’re not touching my baby!” Sam turned defensively away from her.
“No, I’m not going to hurt her. They may have slipped a tiny piece of metal behind her neck, or in her belly. It would be just under the skin, easy to feel -”
“Why the hell would anyone do that?” Randy’s anger sparked.
Scully shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a kind of marker. There was a sliver of grooved metal that was removed from my neck -”
Karen gasped. “The bad men took you, too! Does Uncle Fox know?”
“Yes, he does.”
“Stop this!” Panic was worming it’s way in to Samantha’s voice. “No one is touching my daughter, least of all YOU!”
Randy reached out for his wife. “Now, Sam, maybe it’s a good idea to let her take a look, if she knows what she’s looking for -”
“NO!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “She’s fine!” Then she tore past them and kicked the bedroom door closed behind her.
To Scully’s surprise Randy didn’t simply kick the door down like Mulder probably would have. Instead, he ran his right hand through his full head of hair and turned to the petite woman behind him. “I know Sam isn’t giving the best of first impressions, but she really is a wonderful person.
She’s bright and funny and usually very easy to get along with.” He turned to the heavy door and waited a moment for any sounds that might make their way through to him. Nothing did. “She’s just scared,” he turned back to Scully. “And exhausted. And with the fire and the men and the … well, the appearance of you and your partner, she’s … uh, her protective instincts have kicked in. Samantha is terrified of heights, but I’ve seen her climb up on to the roof of a three story barn when she thought Karen might have been stuck up there.” He chuckled briefly at the memory. “As it turns out, it was an old dress of hers that some how escaped the clothes line during a storm.” He pulled back in to the present and caught Scully’s gaze head on. “What I’m trying to say is that she’d do anything for that child. Anything for me.”
Scully slowly nodded. “I think I understand. I’d die for Mulder.” She turned and sat on the computer chair, resting elbows to knees, and then head to palm. “But Randy, you have to know that we’re not the bad guys, here.”
“I do. And I think she does, too. She’s feeling helpless; and Sam is a strong woman. She’s anything but helpless. She needs to put her back up against something. Or someone. And lucky you, guess who she picked?”
Randy gave her a wide grin that exposed a small dimple in his right cheek.
Then he turned back to the door, and rapped his knuckles lightly over the wood. “Samantha. Sam, let’s talk.” He opened the door just enough for him to slid through, and then he disappeared behind it.
Scully sighed. Randy was a good guy. Level headed and caring. He balanced off Samantha’s emotional responses with quiet perfection.
Samantha was lucky to have a man who loved her so much. Just like Dana knew she was lucky to have Mulder. That thought tickled something inside of her. As much as she had been doubting his intentions to marry her, and questioning the sanity of such a move, she’d never really contemplated life without him. He was hers. No question. And she was his: mind, body and soul.
August 2, 1996.
6:49 PM
She slammed the door with a satisfying thrust of her hip, a small paper bag proudly advertising ‘Tony’s Pasta Place’ snuggled under her left arm. With a satisfying smile she flipped the keys in her right palm until the door key slid between her forefinger and thumb.
Mulder had been brooding for nearly a week, and when he’d told her at work that he wanted some time alone, she’d taken it as a positive sign of self healing. After all, Mulder wasn’t known for self
preservation. Scully considered this her influence on him.
So, she’d have to spend the weekend alone. So what? She’d done it before – countless times – and she’d always survived. And anyway, the solitude might do her some good as well. Seeing one person night and day for weeks on end would but a strain on any relationship. Yes, they both needed a little time.
So, in preparation for their weekend apart, she’d quickly scurried to her car, phoned in a double order of lasagna, and made a quick stop at the liquor store. Which, as luck would have it, was located in the same strip mall as a small florist shop. And at that point, she decided to go a little wild.
It was important for him to understand that just because they were getting married didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed his private moments.
Mulder had been alone for so long, she didn’t want him to feel smothered. Protected and loved, yes. But never smothered.
She was able to set the table and make it out to her car across the street in time to watch him pull up next to his building. She chuckled to herself, feeling like she’d accomplished an impossible task: surprising Mulder.
In the brightly lit hallway, Scully was about to unlock her door when a peppy, familiar voice erupted behind her. “Dana! Glad I caught you!”
Scully grimaced. Not because she wasn’t happy to see her friend, but because she knew that Caroline’s unannounced visit meant only one thing: the dreaded wedding questions.
“Not tonight, I have a headache,” Scully slipped out with a dry humor that Mulder would be proud of.
“You keep canceling appointments at the boutique – God, I hate that word – so, I boxed up some samples of China and brought them to you.” And on cue, she shoved the heavy box in to Scully’s arms; the bag of dinner plopped unceremoniously to the floor.
“This is too heavy!”
Caroline grabbed the keys from her sister-in-law, and swept up the discarded, grease-soaked bag, and flew in to the apartment.
“Mmmmm, what’s for dinner, huh?”
With a sigh, Scully reluctantly followed. And made it across the living room before she felt the inevitable. “Caroline!” her voice was frantic, “I’m dropping -” before she could find a place to deposit the China it crashed to the floor and she swore at the top of her lungs.
Caroline rushed in to the room, late as usual, just as Scully’s door sprang alive. “Scully!” It was another familiar voice. This time decidedly male. “Dana? Are you okay?”
She pulled the door open and the bright face of her fianc smiled a
worried smile down at her. “Mulder? I thought you were taking the weekend off.”
“I heard a crash -”
“From your apartment, you heard the crash?” She was skeptical and then noticed the covered tray in his arms, “You didn’t like the dinner?”
“I loved the dinner,” he edged his way closer to her, pushing the food against his left hip, and taking her waist in to his right arm.
“I
loved the flowers.” He lowered his face towards hers and brush his lips like a feather over her nose and eye lids. “I love you.”
From somewhere behind her, Caroline shrieked, “Ooooo, kissing!
Can’t you guys do that on your OWN time?” Mulder looked up curiously to find a small woman, hundreds of fabric swatches pinned to her shirt, her thick, straight blond hair pulled tightly back
into a pony tail, and at her feet a card board box that looked as if it
had seen the inside of a trash compactor.
“Hi, Caroline,” he said with a strain, and then turned back to Scully, who was pulling the lasagna from his hand. “What’s going on here?”
“Girl stuff,” Caroline happily sang out, but Scully made a face at her on her way to the kitchen. “Mulder, what do you think of this color for the bride’s maid’s dresses?” She pointed to a triangular piece of fabric that shimmered a translucent green against her white cotton sleeve. “Dana thinks it’s too much, but I’m thinking she’s way off base here.”
“It’s too much,” Scully heard him say from the kitchen. She was slicing off a large piece of the pasta pie when she felt him come up behind her. “Dana,” he said, coming up behind her, “why didn’t you tell me you were doing wedding stuff tonight? I would’ve come over to help.”
No, you wouldn’t have. And neither would I. “It was a surprise to me.” She pushed the power button on the large black plastic box and turned to her man; her hands resting comfortably against the arms that pinned her against the counter. “Besides it’s tedious and mind numbing. She brought over cina patterns to pick out.”
“China? Like dishes?”
“I think we’re turning into my parents, Mulder. We’ve got to fight this.” She shook her head wanly and rested the top of it against his chest.
“I can think of worse people to turn in to.” He ran a hand through her silky reddish strands. “But really, Scully? China? I hope you’re not expecting me to cook or something.”
“Mulder the only thing I’m expecting out of you is to keep me happy. Whether or not the cooking gets done, or the laundry, or the children get bathed is a minor thing that we’ll work out on a need to do basis.”
“Does that mean you’re going to do the laundry?”
She gave him a stern look and slipped out from his arms and back in to the living room where Caroline could be heard sorting out the pieces of china from the box and lying the pieces out on the nearby coffee table.
“Hey, Scully?” he followed behind her like a puppy dog. “Did you say children? As in plural?”
She smirked. So he was listening. “Must’ve been your imagination.”
“HEY!” he plopped down next to Caroline. “I like this … shard.”
He held up the piece to the light, “Are these aliens in this pattern?”
“What?” Caroline grabbed the china from him.
“Looks like aliens in a congo line to me.”
Yep, Scully chuckled to herself, that’s my guy.
The memory faded suddenly, and Scully felt a wash of overwhelming dread seep through her chest. Her watch told her that Mulder couldn’t possibly have made it to the drop-off point yet, and still she felt in her bones that something was wrong. Her eyes skimmed the low table and landed on her black cellular, the desire to press “MEMORY 1” itching in her palm.
**Don’t call me, Scully,** he’d said. **No matter what happens, we can’t let them trace the call back here.**
But if he wasn’t there, yet ….
No. Don’t call him. Don’t risk anything more. But then, there was nothing more than Mulder.
The door to the make-shift bed room creaked open, and a fearful little face peered up at Scully.
“Do I … have the metal?” Karen’s weak question was followed by a sob from the anguishing mother behind her.
Looking from both parents down to the trusting green eyes of the girl, Scully answered honestly. “I don’t know. May I look for you?”
Slowly Karen nodded, her pony tails sweeping her shoulders. With a gently smile, Scully lifted the little girl up on to the table and placed her practiced hands on the base of her neck. Then she slid her fingers down the child’s back. Nothing but smooth, tanned skin.
“Karen, can I look at your tummy?” The little girl nodded and lifted up her shirt willingly for Scully to inspect. Other than the fact that she was an outtie, there was nothing for Scully to comment on. “You look good to me,” Scully gave a wide toothed grin to the child, and immediately Karen flew in to her arms. She hugged the little girl to her, tearing at the relief that rushed through her veins. Of course, she wasn’t able to check all of the places They could hide implants, but knowing that Karen didn’t have the marks that her own body was scarred with, renewed her hope in an unjust, uncaring world.
Randy took his daughter from Scully and led her in to the back room. Nap time had been postponed long enough, and both of them needed rest.
Samantha, on the other hand, simply stood staring at the woman before her, tears silently running down the course of her cheeks. “I was so afraid,” her voice wavered and she stopped for a moment, collecting another breath. “Why … why do you do it?”
Scully’s brow tightened. “Do what?”
“You put yourself in danger. You purposely walk in to Their line of fire.
Fox … he’s out there, risking his life for me. For my family.”
“He believes he’s doing it for his family, too.”
Sam shook her head. “Why?”
Scully sighed. “Because that’s what he does. That’s what we do.” She tried to find a way to explain a little of what made her Mulder tick.
“He’s spent his life trying to understand the things that aren’t meant to be understood. Like your disappearance. He studies them, dissects them. That’s just what he does. And the X-Files allow him to do that. To keep other Samantha’s at home with their families. To keep other Mulder’s from having their families ripped apart.”
“And you?”
“I follow him. He drives me nuts, pushes my buttons, tests my beliefs. But he also fills my life. He gives me a reason to fight against the men that took me. Without him there, I’m nothing. I know that. Without the XFiles, he’s nothing. So I do everything I have to, to keep the department open, and he does what he has to save the world, one person at a time.”
“So now he’s trying to save me?”
Scully smiled. “Of course. To him, you see, you are the ultimate truth.”
Bending of the Bow Part 13
All things end in the Tao
as rivers flow into the sea.-Tao Te Ching
September 7, 1996.
7:21 AM.
They took his gun, well, both guns; but Mulder wasn’t surprised at that. He seriously doubted he’d be allowed to attend this meeting armed. He also knew that they would expect the gun so he brought it along and played out the game. No sense in disappointing them.
He looked around the room, appreciating the decor. Scully would love this, he thought. The dark paneling shone with recent polishing, the chairs were covered with fine leather, probably butter soft to the touch. Mulder was sure that the old wood was a perfect cover for the video cameras and taping devices he assumed covered the room. A nicely decorated prison.
There was no doubt in his mind that he was a prisoner. One glance at the two neanderthals guarding the door confirmed that. They were both well-over six, three, definitely armed, and probably weighed in at over two-fifty.
“Mr Mulder,” said a gray-haired man in cultured tones, “I must say this is a surprise. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me how you got this number?”
He was dressed impeccably, every hair in place, his tie a masterpiece of refinement. Mulder had met him before.
“I don’t think so, if you don’t mind. Good contacts are so hard to find these days,” Mulder quipped.
“So true, so true. Well, it’s no matter. I’m sure you know that we tend to move fairly often and this office was about to close anyway. What can we do for you, Mr Mulder?” He waved the young agent into a nearby chair, and chose a seat for himself.
Now that the time had come, Mulder was at a loss for how to proceed. His confusion must have shown on his face.
“Allow me to assist you. I understand you have recently found your sister.
Is this correct?”
Mulder’s expression turned to stone.
“Really, Mr Mulder, you should have known we would be interested in why you were contacting us,” the older man chided. “We have our own methods of gaining information. I assume this has something to do with her.”
Mulder nodded. “I want you to leave her alone. I want you to leave her family alone,” he said, grimly.
“I’m sure you do. No brother could want otherwise for his sister. But you must know, Mr Mulder, that your family has long held a special interest for us. Much time has been spent on them. Surely you can appreciate my reluctance to make you such a promise.”
“I don’t care what you do to me,” said Mulder, “I want you to leave them alone.”
“So noble, as always. But we’re not interested in you. That choice was made long ago.”
Mulder jumped to his feet, ready to strangle this smug piece of shit right where he sat, until the quick movement of the guards, pushing him back into his chair, reminded him that this was not the time to be losing his temper.
“Fox, may I call you Fox? Allow me to give you some advice. You must learn to control your emotions. They only cause you to make mistakes in the long run.” He nodded to one of the men in the room, who left through a side door. “We’ve been following your movements through a colleague of ours for some time. We knew when you found your sister, and we know how you found her. We know you rescued her from the, er, more enthusiastic maneuvering of said colleague. But for you to call us, that came as a surprise, as I mentioned before. I had to ask myself why, you see. So I gave certain orders last night after your telephone call.”
The door opened to reveal the return of the guard who was now holding another figure – Sam! She was barely conscious, leaning heavily to one side, seemingly unaware of Mulder’s presence. Mulder leapt to his feet, ready to rush to her but was again prevented by a pair of beefy hands.
Scully! My God! Sam was with Scully! “What have you done to her, you son of a bitch! If you’ve hurt her… if you’ve hurt Scully….”
“Calm yourself, Mr Mulder. Your sister is fine. So is your lovely partner.
And your friends for that matter.” The older man waved his hand negligently. “You must excuse the rather time consuming directions we gave you last night but I needed that time, you see, to be sure we could retrieve your sister. She only just arrived. I wanted to be sure I got the truth from you, Agent Mulder, and I was sure that your sister being here would guarantee this. Now suppose we begin.”
Mulder’s stomach was in knots and the lump in his throat threatened to choke him. “I have a tape,” he said in a sickened tone of voice.
“Ah, yes, this one I believe.” The man reached into his suit coat and pulled out the digital tape which Mulder had left in Scully’s safekeeping.
Mulder was lost. He had nothing now. Nothing to bargain with. Nothing to hope for. He looked helplessly at his sister. I’m sorry, Sam, he thought. I’m sorry I let you down again. That I couldn’t protect you now, any more than I could when I was twelve.
“I have not had the time to decode this. Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me its contents and save us all the trouble.”
“I, … I don’t know the entire contents. The person who gave it to me told me that it contained information about certain projects that are ongoing; projects which are not totally sanctioned.”
The gray-haired man leaned back, his eyes narrowed, thoughtfully. “And you had decided to give us this tape? You expect me to believe you would not use this tape for yourself? That you, and your partner, would give this up for a sister you don’t even know?”
Sam was reviving now, Mulder noted. She did not struggle in her captors arms but instead was gazing intently at her brother, listening to the on-going exchange.
“Well, Mr Mulder?”
“We were going to give you the tape in exchange for your promise to leave Sam and her family alone.”
“I see.” The older man rose to his feet and paced around the room. “And you would have trusted our word?”
Mulder shook his head. “You don’t know where I got this tape. You don’t know that there isn’t another copy. If you ever bothered my family again, all deals would be off.” It wasn’t much Mulder knew, trying to bluff his way out of this, but it was all he had.
“True. You make an interesting opponent, Agent Mulder. I am inclined to accept your deal.” He held up a hand when Mulder’s head shot up in surprise. “I am inclined. But, I cannot speak for my colleagues. Wait here.”
He nodded to the man holding Sam, who moved her to a chair. By the time Mulder looked back, the older man had disappeared through the door.
The waiting stretched out interminably for Mulder. Questions to Sam were met with silence though she gave him a slight nod when he asked if she was all right. Despite the reassurances of his “host”, he couldn’t help but worry about Scully and what she was doing. If Sam was gone, how would Scully have reacted? What would Randy do? Hold on, Scully, he prayed.
Don’t do anything yet. Wait for me. Wait.
The door opening gave Mulder a jolt. The last few days of too little sleep and too much tension were taking there toll.
“Your offer has been accepted, Mr Mulder. The tape has been decoded and we noted that it had not been tampered with.” The older man moved with confidence into the room. Settling into a deep burgundy colored chair, he looked thoughtfully at the young agent. “You should know that the projects involving your sister have been over for some time. That was why she was released when she was still a child. In fact, she would have been returned to your family but there were old debts that had to be paid and she was the price. I don’t expect you to understand that but I thought you should know.”
“And the project involving Samantha’s daughter?”
Sam’s head jerked up.
“I’m not at liberty to tell you about that, Agent Mulder. But you needn’t worry. Your deal included young Karen. She will not be bothered in future.
None of your family, current members or future members, will be bothered.” He stood up and Mulder stood with him. The older man pinned him with his gaze. “I trust you understand, Mr Mulder, that we, of course, do not intend to be bothered by your interference in the future, either.”
Mulder nodded slowly, know he was finally sealing the fate of the X-Files.
The man smiled. “Good. You’re free to go.”
Mulder walked over and helped his sister to her feet. Dazed with the suddenness of it all, Mulder realized the running, the terror, the nightmare was over. It was all over. Without a word, they left the room together.
September 7, 1996.
Interstate 95.
The morning sun was clear and cool around the car, as Mulder piloted back to DC.
His
immediate concern for Scully and the others had been eliminated by a brief call.
**No, we’re fine, Mulder. Well, all except for Frohike. I’ve duct taped him to a folding chair and I’m forcing him to sit through a couple of hours of “Sightings”and “Murder She Wrote.”** There had been a palpable taste of revenge in her voice.
The man would never be the same again.
Scully had briefly explained that one minute she and Sam were talking and the next she was trying not to breath in the green gas that seemed to come out of nowhere. The next thing she could remember, Frohike was crouched over her, trying to give her mouth to mouth. Of course, he hadn’t bothered to check to see that she was, in fact, already breathing. The duct tape had been lying on the floor within arm’s reach. The rest was history.
It had been more than twenty minutes since he’d hung up the phone with Scully, and not a word had been spoken in the cabin of the car since. Once Mulder thought Sam might say something, but instead she turned to stare off into the pastels of the countryside, running her fingers lightly over the passenger door’s arm rest.
“We’ve got about an hour’s drive back to DC.” His voice seemed unnaturally loud against the quiet hum of the engin.
“Hmh.”
Was she chilly? Should he turn on the heat for her? Was she thinking about Randy and Karen? Or maybe how her life might be different with a brother in it? Or was she coming up with a way to get as far away from him as possible? He had to know. “Maybe we could talk a little bit about what you remember. If you have questions, you know, I could fill in some of the gaps.”
She sighed and ran a hand down her neck. The drugs in the gas she’d been exposed to seemed to be wearing off, but her voice still sounded as if her throat was bothering her. “It doesn’t matter what I remember … IF I remember -”
“Of course it matters! Sam, why are you so adamant about this?” He tried to keep his voice just below a roar. But she was just as exasperating as an adult as she had been as a child. “You remember me. You know I’m your brother. Jesus! Samantha, we have so much catching up to do. Do you want to see Mom?”
“Mom?” The hesitation registered as a small intake of breath. Then she shook her head. “Why do you want to dredge up the past? The sooner we begin to rebuild our lives, and look towards the future, the better.”
“I totally agree,” Mulder’s serious tones incited her more. “So tell me what you remember, Samantha. And we’ll build off of that. Tell me the truth.”
She laughed at his sudden passion. “The truth? You don’t want the truth.
You want your version of the truth. And Fox, you can search until the day that you die and you still won’t ever find it. Because it only exists in your twisted, warped memories.”
“What are you talking about?”
She gave him a look that every older brother knows like the back of his hand. That let-me-tell-you-how-stupid-you-are patent expression. “Aliens, Fox? Space ships?”
“I know what I saw. I saw the lights. I saw the aliens!”
She countered without thinking. “You saw Dad’s cronies in white contamination suits -”
“They were aliens! I couldn’t move!”
“You were drugged.”
“NO!”
“Yes! And so was Mom. And so was I. They gassed the whole damn house.”
“NO!”
“YES!”
“I remember -”
“You remember what they wanted you to remember! What you chose to remember!”
“NO!”
“When you can’t deal with an experience, you change it. You twist it. You always have. You warp it in to something you CAN deal with. Ghosts, monsters, magic, aliens …. And what’s really scary, Fox, is that you choose to believe that your sister was abducted by aliens who performed horrible experiments on her and held her hostage for twenty five years rather than accept the fact that your father was a bastard. That’s beyond denial. That’s sick.”
The car swerved to the side of the road and came to an abrupt halt on the grainy shoulder of the highway. The muscles in Mulder jaw rippled in waves as he ground his molars into the frustration and anger that flashed through him. Anger? No, not anger. Torment. Men in suits? Gas? All those endless years of vainly searching.
George Hale had been searching for elves.
Sam released a tremendous breath and dropped her hands from their brace on the dashboard. She wetted her lips and spoke again. “Fox.”
“Sam -”
“No. Let me say this before … before I change my mind.” She crossed her arms tightly against her body, and her voice shrank down to almost a whisper of the ferocity that she’d shown earlier. “Fox. I’m not your sister.”
“Yes, I you -”
“Samantha Mulder is dead.”
His throat ceased up and constricted around the words that he was wanting to say. The denial. The rejection of that last utterance out of her mouth.
Mulder fought gaging as the entire contents of his stomach balled up and slammed against his lungs. He managed a weakened, “No.”
“When she was taken from her home and family, she begged for them to take her back.” Idly, as if she were relating some distant even, Sam’s left hand ran down the seat belt across her chest. “They never listened, though.
Instead they tortured her.”
“What are you -”
“Then one day – maybe a month or two after – her father came. He didn’t talk to her, but he as there in the room, watching over her. She looked up from the table … or chair … whatever it was that they strapped her to, and she tried to reach out for him. She begged for him to save her. To take her home. Not to leave her there. She promised that she’d be a good girl from that moment forward.”
“He was there?” Mulder’s disbelief left his voice airy. “He knew all along?” This is the truth, he told himself. And the truth was making him sick.
Samantha shrugged. “He left her. That man left his daughter with strangers who were hurting her. He heard her cries. He heard her pleas.
And it was at that moment Samantha Mulder died.”
What she was telling him was worse than anything he could have imagined.
Worse than the horrible, hateful things he had feared his father might have been a part of when he first found out about the elder Mulder’s involvement with the Consortium. Mulder shook his head and leaned it back against the rest. “But you didn’t die, Sam. You’re a survivor.”
Her eyes focused on the nothing that waited for them just beyond the reach of the still headlights. Mulder could see that she was remembering, but her stony face revealed nothing of what she might have been feeling. “I used to blame myself for what was done to me. I thought I must’ve done something horrible. That I was horrible. Then I blamed him. Them.
But as I got older, I decided that it really wasn’t anyone’s fault. Not mine.
Not his. Not yours. It was just chance. Rotten luck that I happened to be born the daughter to a father who didn’t love me, and a mother that wasn’t strong enough to.”
“I loved you, Sam.”
She dismissed his gentle revelation with closed eyes. “You hated and resented me.”
“No, I -”
Her eyes snapped open and pinned him to the seat. “You were a big bully, Fox.”
“I was twelve. That’s how older brothers are.”
Sam’s look softened, and in her face he saw something new, something that he recognized from a long forgotten dream. A small, sad smile in the corner of her eye. His sister, Samantha, had the saddest eyes. “Maybe.”
“When they took you, Sam, I tried to help. You were calling for me to help you -”
“I remember calling for you. You said my name, but you didn’t help me.
I was sure you hated me.”
“Hated you?” His throat erupted in a chortle. “You can’t know how hard I looked for you. I devoted my life to finding you.”
“I know. Your … partner …” there was a small smile on her lips as she said her name, “Dana gave me an idea. But don’t you understand, Fox?
You devoted your life to finding the eight-year old who was taken out of her bed twenty-five years ago. But I’m not her.”
“Of course you are. Time doesn’t change that.”
“Time changes a lot.” In her eyes he caught a glimpse of just what she might have been trying to tell him without saying the words. The pain and fear, and loneliness. Things he knew all too well; but in a way that could never match her experiences. What he saw scared him. “Look, I can’t be the sister that you lost. I’m simply not that person any more. That little girl died on the operating table. She died the second her parents abandoned her. She’s gone.”
Then, as if a veil of light broke through the despair in her soul, a ray of hope gleamed from her face. “But, Fox, if you want … maybe … you and I could try being friends. Then maybe … maybe I could learn to be your sister again.”
Maybe was a promise of a chance for a future. “That’s all I can ask for.”
“Good. Because for now, that’s all I can give.”
Epilogue
September 16, 1996.
Scully Residence.
It was more than a week later when the welcome home party was thrown in Sam’s honor, along with her family. The general understanding, however, was that it was also a welcoming back for Mulder and Scully married or no. Early in the evening toasts had been made celebrating unity and family and friendship and love. As Scully had hoped, it was a good night for healing.
In the comfortable living room, the atmosphere was light and warm, as was typical for the Scully clan. Outside the French doors, the children played in the backyard and Karen had happily found herself included in a mud war – boys against girls – as all pre-pubescent games should be.
With the squeals of laughter that came from her daughter, Samantha actually found herself smiling.
Scully spied Mrs Mulder and Randy in a quiet corner, chatting quietly after he’d brought her a fresh beer. Nothing like getting to know the inlaws, Scully thought. His wife, however, was finding it hard to relate to a mother after so long. She sat across the room, half watching her daughter playing like a healthy nine year old. Scully recalled that in their initial meeting, Sam had commented on how much Mrs Mulder had changed, and her mother sadly smiled, and with a nod, remarked how Sam had changed as well.
That first meeting had been brief, but emotional. The next day, they’d tried spending the day together and ended up sitting in silence for hours with nothing to say. Well, nothing that either was willing to say. But Mrs Scully had reminded Dana, “She needed time to open up to Fox. She’ll need some time for her mother, as well. She hasn’t had a life that leads to easy trust.” Truer words were never spoken.
So it came as no surprise that Sam was a little distant. And even though everyone was painfully aware of the odd tension being generated, no one mentioned it.
Most of the focus was thrown to the center of the room where Jen and Caroline, the chatter boxes, sat bickering over an X-Men board game that had been meant for the grandchildren.
Jen had already selected her piece and was trying to decipher the box top when Caroline whined, “I want to be Rogue. She’s got the best butt.”
“Oh my god.” Whimpered the small woman next to her, and she held up her hand in defiance.
Scully rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Such different worlds. Like night and day.
From her spot on the couch, sandwiched between her brothers, Scully frowned at her partner sitting quietly by the darkened fireplace. He’d started out the evening quietly observing and joining in on the occasional quips passed playfully between family members. But Scully recognized the warning sign of his withdrawal in to his own little world – his set jaw, and darkened eyes – and she handed her soda off to Bill, Jr. and pulled herself off the couch.
Mulder watched her stand and cross to him, stepping over the board game with a few minor protests from it’s players in the process. Leave it to Scully to make her presence known. He’d noticed how much she enjoyed sparing with her sisters-in-law. It was good that she had some friends, he thought. Some female companionship to help balance the male dominated world of her professional life. And private life, he added with a smug smile.
When she stood over him, he reached for her hand and pulled her down to him, settling her comfortably in his lap. Her body eased close to his, and he tried to remember when he’d held her last. In the motel that night when they’d both been so tired? No. It’d been weeks since he’d really held her.
Weeks since he’d made love to her. That realization left his brow furrowed.
With a light kiss to her ear, he whispered sweetly, “Randy and Mom seem to be hitting it off.”
She nodded with a smile and looked up at his serious gaze. “Hey, why the long face, sailor?”
His eyes seemed especially green in the soft glow of the living room lamps.
“I could ask the same to you.”
She shrugged. It wasn’t that she was necessarily blue. It was more like everything in her life was radically changing. “I don’t know. I guess … the X-Files. They’ve been so much a part of our lives for so long. I love them. I love working on them with you. But now …. They’re essentially over, aren’t they?”
“I sold out … to the highest bidder.” His eyes fell on Samantha, and somehow it didn’t seem like such a high price.
“Do you regret it?”
“I have my sister back, and a niece, and a brother-in-law I never knew about -”
“And lost a father, and my sister.” Her voice was quiet and reminiscent.
“Do YOU regret it?”
“I have you.”
The End.
Here ends The Way saga. Thanks for playing.
EX-LIBRIS: X-LIBRIS
This file has been downloaded from x-libris.xf-redux.com. It contains work/s of X-Files FAN FICTION and FAN ART which are not affiliated with Ten-Thirteen or The Fox Network. No income is generated from these works. They are created with love and shared purely for the enjoyment of fans and are not to be sold in any format. The X-Files remain the property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen and Fox, unfortunately.
Individual stories and art remain the property of their talented creators. No copyright infringement is intended. Any copyright concerns can be addressed to [email protected].
