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Title: Death Of A Piper Summary: Mulder gets a note from his contact who's tired of fueling his search for his sister. They fly out to Denver, Colorado and prepare for a final confrontation. I'm posting this aganst my better judgement; this is my first go at the x-files, and I'm not a very good writer...I apologize for any technical mistakes, and I'm a stickler for details, so if there's a problem, please tell me. Other than that...Enjoy!
Tuesday Evening Mulder picked up his phone. *Damn, I hate this.* But he dialed the number anyway. "Yeah, this is agent Mulder. Can I talk to Skinner?" "Please hold, I'll see if he's busy." There was a transfer click and a pickup. "Skinner here. What do you want agent? I don't have much time to spare." "Hello to you too. I need some time off. I know it's short notice but-" "Pardon me if I'm wrong, agent, but didn't you just take some time off, up in Norway?" Mulder gritted his teeth. "Yes, sir, but something's come up, and I really need the week off. Family emergency." He could tell it wasn't working. "I bet. Sorry, agent, you've had your time off, and I can't give you any to spare. Good day."<Click> He threw the phone down onto the receiver. He picked the book up off his kitchen counter, brushing toast crumbs off the cover. The note, crumpled already, fell out. Agent- After our last contact, I have determined that it is too dangerous to continue this childish and obsessed chase for your sister. The Truth is in Colorado. Get there soon or don't come at all.
Wednesday Morning Scully looked up from her desk. Tall dark and sarcastic, that was really the only way to describe him. Unless you wanted to put in the dark lines under his eyes and the dilated pupils he had right now. "Mulder, you don't look so good. What's going on?" He slumped down in his chair, right on top of a pile of papers, and began going through his desk. *If he's going to be like that...*But she continued anyway. "What's wrong? Can I help?" "Not unless you can sweet-talk Skinner into giving me my job back once I'm out of here." *Why am I bringing this up? Damn, it's hard to function on no sleep!* He tried to pay attention to what Scully was saying. "I said, where are you going? And If you've got to leave in such a hurry, why did you come in?" "Ummmm...Needed my camera. Left it here. Rockies...Catching the next flight out." He was either hung over or running on no sleep. Again. Either way, she wasn't going to let him in a car. "Not like this you're not. I'll drive you." He waved a hand. "Naw, M'awright...I'll sleep on the plane-" "Yeah, and in the car too. Can't have you crashing it on company time." She grabbed the keys from his hand. She practically had to shove him into his car. They never told her about this when she joined the bureau. But then, they hadn't told her about the little, green, fluid-sucking bugs, either...Or the delusional, 74 year old, *invisible* rapists, the Haitian witch doctors, and the mood-altering alien worms. *Or* that her partner was a psychotic loose cannon. Sure enough, two minutes out he was snoring in the seat next to her. Now if she could just talk him into letting her come with him. She really didn't know why she bothered butting in every time he went off alone, especially after the last time, when she was so frightened that they'd finally die-of old age, of all things. For once he'd let his guard completely down, just before he lost consciousness... *Don't even think about that!* her mind warned her. Emotion for a partner was something she couldn't afford, when every assignment put them in those rough spots. He just looked so sweet lying there, head on his shoulder, hair sticking up every which way, rumpled handkerchief sticking out of his rumpled suit pocket...*But Mulder doesn't HAVE handkerchiefs*. Scully reached over and grabbed the wad of paper out of his pocket. *No more late-night journalism shows for me* she thought as she guiltily poked her nose where it didn't belong. The freeway was nearly empty in the late morning; She read the note as she drove, then almost hit the rail as it registered. The jolt woke up Mulder, who started blinking. "What, who, where? Huh?" Scully smiled. "You're coherent. Go back to sleep." She slid the note under the seat. Mulder stared at her. "Can't sleep, didn't. It was all an act." "Right. Comedy doesn't work when you're unconscious. Just a little farther to the airport." "Drop me off anywhere." "Don't think so. I'm your partner, remember? If you're going to get Skinner mad, I want to come along." Words to live by, if you hung around a closed-mouth paranoid like Mulder, with a knack for getting in trouble. "Mulder?" He was asleep again, or faking so she wouldn't get an answer. Oh well. She managed to park at the airport and turn off the car without waking him. She went inside the main building, hoping Mulder wouldn't wake up before she got back. First counter, two for the next flight to Colorado, leaving in twenty minutes. She wondered if her credit card could hold them. "Mulder, wake up, I got you a ticket. Come on, you'll miss the flight." "Awright, I'm up. Where do I go?" Scully was sighing. "TWA, flight 113 to Denver. Gate twelve." "Right. Well, don't let Skinner kill you. See you when I get back." *Uh-huh, sure, Mulder. Just head for the gate and I'll follow. What have you learned about excluding me?* Scully smiled. She waited until he was about a hundred feet in front of her before she followed him. The nice thing about having Scully for a partner was having her there to cover for him, Mulder thought as he loaded his stuff into the overhead compartment. That and her legs. He must be really tired if thoughts like that were seeping into his brain. Not that they weren't true, he had just schooled himself from going there. Bad for work. But sometimes, when he was really, really tired, or lonely, it almost seemed worth it to...*Nope, sorry Fox, wrong answer, try again later, or better yet don't try at all. Just sit down and go to sleep.* Someone was sitting down next to him. "Hey, I wanted the window seat." Mulder forced himself to turn his head. "Scu-l-l-l-y. Can't I leave you behind?" He whined. He was angry-wasn't he? Then why did he feel better now that she was there next to him? *Hormones, nothing but hormones, that's all it is. Wake up for a minute, please, and remember who you're talking to.* The problem was that he remembered who she was all too well, and he didn't want to look like this in front of her. "Shut up and go to sleep, Mulder. I don't want to deal with your fatigue *and* motion sickness at the same time." He yawned. "Good idea. F'got my Dramamine." He tried to get back into her good graces before he drifted off. "Peanut? Complementary..." Scully opened her powerbook once they were in the air, and called up anything unusual on the Net about the Rockies. Amazing what you could do on airplanes these days with a credit card. She'd have to remind Mulder to put it on the FBI account when the mission was over. Damn, that's right, it was unofficial and probably disapproved of. Well, then she'd just have to get him to pick up half the tab. He stirred beside her, and started to snore. *A grand time traveling is had by all* Scully thought, munching on Mulder's peanuts. The plane hit some turbulence about ten minutes from Denver. The air compression woke him. "Aagh, where are we?" "Denver, remember?" He held his head. A cramp from sleeping sideways was firmly ensconced in his neck. "Mmph." "How do you feel?" "About as good as I probably look. Can I, uh..." He gestured to the aisle. "Oh, sure." She stood up, trying to flatten against the seat. Mulder slid out into the aisle. After a trip to the restroom he felt a whole lot better. He envied people like Scully, who never got sick from airplanes, or boats, cars, rollercoasters...He managed to lurch back and strap himself in to land. *Oh please don't let me throw up now oh please-* It was probably good he hadn't had breakfast. "Hello, anyone home?" "Sorry. What were you saying?" " I said, feeling better?" "Not much. Did you eat my peanuts?" She shrugged. "You did offer. How can you come into the office looking like the living dead, get four hours of sleep, and wake up fresh? The *normal* human body needs at least six." "It's a knack. Besides, who ever said I was normal?" He was trying not to choke. Static crackled on the loudspeaker.<Attention, passengers, please buckle your seat belts for landing. Estimated time to touchdown is five minutes> "So where do we go from here?" Scully was looking at him. "Ah..." "Maybe I can help." Scully held up the note. W-O-N-D-E-R-F-U-L. Why was it he couldn't slip anything past her, no matter how hard he tried? "So you know then." "About the note, yes. But how do we know what to do from here? The Rockies aren't exactly easy to search." "He'll contact *me*, which is why I didn't want you to come." "I got the distinct feeling he didn't like me." "You met him?" Mulder's normally dark eyes were smoldering. Uh-oh. She masked innocence. "Yeah, didn't I tell you? I must have forgotten when I was saving your life." Best defense is a good offense, now if she could just-"No, actually, you didn't mention it. Did he call you?" No luck. "Not exactly." Scully wanted to change the subject. The plane touched down, skidding onto the tarmac. *Saved by the bell.*
They rented a car, this time on Mulder's credit, and checked into a cheap motel. After checking out her room, Scully knocked on Mulder's door. He hated it when it was like this, just the two of them, and him still half asleep. Vulnerability was not something he could allow himself, even after all they'd been through. He sighed. "Come on in, Scully." She walked in, jangling the car keys. "So now what?" "We wait until he contacts us. He knows what we do, Scully. He'll find us, don't worry about that." "I'm more worried about you. Do you think we...you'll find her this time?" "I told you; I don't know." *He's building walls...* "Sorry. Listen, I'm gonna go get something to eat. It may only be eleven here but my stomach's still operating on DC time. Want something?" "Naw, I'm fine." Yeah, right. As long as he has a chance of finding *her*. "I don't think so. You still need some sleep, and some food. Did you eat breakfast?" He looked sheepish. Scully crossed her arms. "Thought not. Why do you do this to yourself, Mulder? One of these days I'll actually get left behind, and you'll probably starve to death." She had that tone of voice, just like him mom after...it. And something snapped inside him. "Do you know...Scully, do you know what it's like to be completely alone in the world? To know the only person who filled your life is gone? And then to get the chance to *find her*? *Do you*?" He was yelling...not enough sleep, she was right, but then she always was when it came to that... He was frightening her. Mulder so rarely let anyone see what was going on inside him, but now his eyes were burning, and he was so *pale*..."Mulder, calm down, it's okay. Mulder, come on." She knew how embarrassing it was to him, or it would be later. No feelings, no emotions, and then a dam bursts...and later he'd be mortified about it, and shut down...Not this time. He closed his eyes and took a breath. "Sorry." Someone knocked at the door, interrupting the moment. Mulder stood up, trying to smooth his hair down. "Who is it?" The door opened, and a black man in a gray suit stepped in. "Cleaning lady." His eyes darted around the room. Scully tried to blend in to the chair. Not hard enough. "What is *she* doing here?" The man asked. "I thought we had an agreement, agent Mulder." He turned to leave. "Wait, please!" Mulder grabbed his arm. "What's going on?" "I'm sorry, agent. Good day." He shrugged off Mulder's grip. Scully was impressed. She knew what that hold was like. The she forced herself to return to the present. "No, wait. I'll leave." She stood up, surprising them both. The look on Mulder's face was enough thanks. His bloodshot eyes were desperate. "Just-tell him what you know. I never saw you, I don't know you, you weren't here." He turned around. "Out. Now. Take a long drive."
"I don't like this, agent. What was she doing here?" Mulder sighed. "She was following me. I didn't have a choice." "I will *not* tolerate sloppiness, Agent." "I understand. It won't happen again." "It better not. I assume you got my note." "I did. What did you mean?"
Wednesday Afternoon Scully knocked quietly on the door. She didn't want to disturb them if *he* was still in there. He shouldn't be, after five hours. She'd done some shopping, bought a few essentials, since she hadn't had time to pack. "Mulder? Are you okay?" No answer. She banged louder, in case he was asleep. "Mulder? Can you hear me?" *He must be asleep.* She opened up her own room and unlocked the door adjoining the two rooms. The room was empty; Mulder's carry-on was gone. A note was waiting on the bed. Ditched again. Now she had to go save him. She picked up the note and could have killed herself. Scully, It was go alone or nothing. Believe me, I regret leaving you here as much as you hate being left, but if I want to find her, I have to go alone. Thanks for coming with me this far, and if I can, I'll call you. If I do not return in a reasonable amount of time, *do not come after me!* Call my mother and explain the situation. She has a package for you which will explain everything. Don't get yourself killed. F.M. Scully leaned against the doorframe. "Shit."
Wednesday Evening "If I'd known I was going hiking I'd have brought my backpack." Mulder muttered as he shifted the carry-on bag from left to right hand. He didn't relish the situation he was in. Halfway up a mountain trail, freezing despite a heavy jacket, and not a decent shelter in sight. "I never realized before how much I truly hate the rain." He'd given up thinking to himself and started talking out loud, just to keep himself company. Some phrase from a psych textbook, about extreme isolation, popped into his head. He ignored it and kept moving. *God, I wish I hadn't left her behind* the voice in his mind kept saying. At least when Scully was around there was something to do, a joke to crack, a debate to be had. Now there was just him and the woods. And the rain. "Finally." He breathed as a wooden bunkhouse appeared around a bend in the trail. He stumbled in and dumped his bag on a bunk, too tired to even investigate the bedding on it. He flopped down onto the bed and curled into a ball to keep the drafts out
Scully found Mulder's mother's phone number in his daybook, in his suitcase he hadn't taken. She picked up the phone and dialed. Answering machine. She left a message and hung up. Dammit, what was she going to do? No instructions, no place where he could be reached; She tried his phone but it had been turned off. Why did he have to do this every time something personal came up? *Because he can't stand to show any emotion, or ask for help.* So where did that leave her? Alone in his motel room, clinging to a suitcase, worrying about him.
2 Wednesday Evening/Thursday Morning Scully had been up all night, trying to think about what to do. Now she knew how Mulder felt when she'd bundled him onto the airplane. Danger or not, she needed sleep, just like he had. She lay down on her bed and tried not to think about what could be happening to him right now, out there in the cold
What was happening to Mulder wasn't too unusual, given the circumstances. He hadn't been too pleased to wake up in a shack covered in graffiti, but he figured it could only go up from there. He was right about one thing, it did go up. The trail sloped upwards at a forty-five degree angle from the shack. At least it wasn't raining. He grabbed the carry-on off the foot of the bed and took a PowerBar out of the side pocket. He wasn't going out there hungry, that was for sure. Scully's words came back to him. "Someday I'll actually get left behind, and you'll probably starve to death." *No thanks, mom, I think I can do it on my own.* He hoped his contact hadn't frightened his mother too much when he dropped off the package. He hoped his mother hadn't read it, whatever it was. He took a deep breath and tried to remember just what, exactly, kept him going. Then he remembered looking up into the face of an alien and hearing it say, "She's alive." That must be it. The virus, the *cold*; waking up in the hospital bed with an enormous headache; Scully's face, the most beautiful sight in the world, as she asked how he felt, and cracking lame jokes about freezer burn. *That* had been a fun mission. But wasn't he doing the exact same thing now? Hiking around in the cold, ditching Scully (For her own good), running off without permission, and, his personal favorite, risking life and limb to go chasing after a shadow on the strength of a contact who was already fed up with him. Story of his life. He wondered if there was some sort of cosmic force doing it to him. He began to hike up the hill again, trying to find a comfortable way to carry the bag
Thursday Afternoon Scully finally made it through to Mulder's mom, around four o'clock. She picked up on the tenth ring. "Hello?" "Hello, Mrs. Mulder? This is Dana Scully, I work with your son. I left a message on your machine..." she refused to complicate matters by saying she was his partner... "Oh, you work with Fox? How nice. Is he all right?" Something about the tone in her voice told Scully she wasn't quite all there, and she wouldn't catch on to the partner bit. "That's what I'm trying to find out, ma'am. He told me you had a package for me?" "Why, so I do. A nice man dropped it off yesterday, and he told me not to give it to anyone but you. Er, where are you calling from, dear?" "Colorado." "Oh, that does make it hard, doesn't it?" Scully tried to keep calm. "Well, maybe you could read it to me?" "Now there's a good idea, it's nothing but papers anyway. Shall I start at the top?" "That sounds good." "All right, then. It says 'agent Scully-enclosed are the forms which will verify this account to you. If you are reading this, then I must assume that agent Mulder...is...*dead*?' Is that true?" "Not yet. Please keep reading." Scully was trying to keep her voice under control. "It says, 'I must assume that agent Mulder is dead, and therefore you must take over his mission. There have been an unusual amount of disappearances or abductions in and around the area of the Colorado mountains, at the location listed on the next page. We believe this to be due to extraterrestrial abductions'-oh, dear, dear me, this isn't right at all. Should I stop? I think it's one of Fox's practical jokes, I really do." "No, please, I need to know the rest. What are the co-ordinates on the next page?" "Why, they read 24577 by 45692. Do you know what that means?" "I think so. What does the rest of the letter say?"Scully grabbed a scratch pad to write the co-ordinates down. "Oh, here we are. 'These abductions may lead to clues about the whereabouts of...' Samantha Mulder? Oh, how could he. How could he be so cruel?" She was sobbing into the mouthpiece, outrage in her voice. She still thought it was a stupid practical joke, then. Scully sighed softly and clicked the phone down onto the cradle. Why did it always have to be aliens? Why couldn't his sister just have been taken by a child slavery ring operating in Venezuela, or something normal like that? She grabbed the car keys and headed for the hills, then, reconsidering, she drove back to the airport. Hopefully, the helicopter service took credit
Halfway there, just a little further...Mulder hadn't been so cold, and tired since, well...two weeks ago on that battleship up in Norway. Hard to feel miserable when you set a new record for pain endurance every two weeks. But he was There. Right at the place where the hot-spot was supposed to be. *Why can't they ever be near a nice, warm cabin?* He thought as he tried to find shelter under a tree. He pulled out a heat pack he'd bought at the drugstore and tried to get it to work. After a few minutes it started to heat up...then it burned his hand. He gave up and decided to get some sleep while it was still daylight and not as cold. He'd need to keep awake tonight, or freeze to death. Too bad Scully wasn't here, they could huddle together to conserve body heat...Not a good train of thought to be on, but what could it hurt now? She was miles away, probably eating dinner, and watching a movie in the motel room. Whereas he, in infinite wisdom, had decided to hike up a mountain and wait for a UFO to come and kidnap him. *Smooth move, Fox.* He leaned back against the tree and tried to sleep. The cold woke him first. Lights were flashing on the insides of his eyes as he tried desperately to remember where he was. He opened his eyes. Darkness. Almost total darkness, the kind you get when the fog blots out all the stars. He checked his watch-Ten p.m. What would he do if they didn't come tonight? What would he do if they *did*? He wasn't going to stay out here all week and freeze. He settled back against the tree, shifting his shoulders to work out the kinks. He took out his notebook and tried to doodle, but he kept coming up with the same thing-His pitiful rendition of Samantha's face, the one he'd seen on the face of the alien girl they'd sent to impersonate her. That and pictures he trained himself to ignore, the floating bodies and indistinct saucer shapes. The problem was that the bodies weren't *hers*, like they usually were. They were *Scully*. He didn't want to probe that deep in his own psyche. He put the notebook away
Thursday Late Evening Scully was not a happy camper. She'd tried everything; Flashing her badge, credit cards, the damsel-in-distress act. Then she found out that weather conditions made flight impossible anyway. She'd have to wait for morning to 'copter out to the coordinates. Where was Mulder now? Maybe lying somewhere on a trail, mugged and bleeding to death...No negative thoughts! He was probably sitting back in the motel room right now, eating sunflower seeds. And here she was, driving through the rain, trying to make out the road. She pulled into the parking lot, trying to see if there was a light on in his room. No such luck. Another dark night. *God, listen to yourself, you sound like a mother hen. Stop worrying and get a good night's sleep. He'll be back soon.* As long as she kept telling herself that, she'd be fine. And in the morning she'd get the copter and probably get there just in time to save his butt from whatever was out there
"Aaaaieeeeeegggggghhh!" Mulder woke himself screaming. The echo, unnaturally loud, bounced back to him, mocking. Damn. It was bad enough when he spooked the neighbors, but out here anyone within three or four miles would hear it. That nightmare again, the one he could never quite grasp enough to conquer. Thank god it hadn't happened on the plane, in front of *Scully*. His subconscious seemed to only act up when he was alone. Mulder never quite felt comfortable talking about his dreams; there seemed something, twisted, about doing so. Maybe it was just his dreams that were twisted. He knew, though, that if he didn't do something about them soon, that he'd be in trouble, and not just with the landlord for disturbing the people in the apartment next to him. He checked his watch again- twelve-fifteen. This was really getting to him. If the damned thing was a hoax, or coincidence, or simply *late*, he wasn't hanging around like an idiot to find out. He stood up, stretched, and beat his hands together to restore circulation. Suddenly, a blue light snapped onto him. He stared up, right into a black hole in the sky. So they were waiting for him, like he'd waited for them? Caught in a trap, just like the others he'd been told about. *Stupid, stupid, stupid!* his mind chanted. Well, this was what he wanted, wasn't it? Confrontation? The Truth? He fell to his knees as another bolt of light, a malignant red, snapped through the blue one, making his legs buckle in pain. He screamed once more, then fell, silently. At the SnowCap Motolodge, a single, white light came on in room 23. Scully sat upright in bed, deeply disturbed. Something had happened. She pulled the covers off her legs and went to get dressed
Friday Morning White lights, an operating table; No, more like a dissection table; *pain*, pale faces, a cruel familiar face staring at him; Then it wasn't what it was, it was himself...It was going to get Scully, no, not that, dammit, leave them alone, his family- He wanted to scream but couldn't-Overwhelming helplessness... Mulder woke up in a sterile white room, cold. His shirt was ripped, he could feel the grime on his face and arms, and his pants...were no longer pants. More like shreds. He uncurled from the fetal position he always seemed to wake up in, and looked around. His head was reeling. He tried to remember what had happened-The lights, the table, and *him*-He was going to kill Scully, he was going to kill his parents...and he looked just like him. He wasn't making any sense, but he knew what he meant. Where was he? He closed his eyes again, and the world stopped spinning. He marshaled his thoughts and went back over a sequence of events. First the room, before that a table, he was lying on it, then...a blue light, shining on him, waking up screaming...He must be in the thing that picked him up. So now he knew who he was, where he was, how he got there, and what had happened. Now if he could just find out what was going on, and how to get out. He opened his eyes and stood, swaying. He had to find a way out.
The wind bit through Scully's thin jacket as she walked out over the clearing. The police helicopter, touching down next to the chartered one, only made it worse. She'd expected to at least find some sort of evidence of a struggle, or foul play. Instead all she'd found was Mulder's bag. The only things missing were his gun and his phone...and him. What kind of weirdo kidnaps someone, doesn't leave a mark, and doesn't take the loot with him? *the kind we're always chasing* she thought. She knew Mulder would have put up a fight, but there was no sign, no blood, no crushed grass, even. She pulled herself out of her thoughts and greeted the officer in charge, Officer Enright. "Officer, thank you for coming on such short notice." She reached out and shook his hand. "It's nothing. I'm in charge of all disappearances in this area. You're agent Scully?" She flashed her badge. "Yes, but it's not an official mission. My partner left me behind and came up here to check out a lead, but..." She shrugged. "He seems to have...vanished. Has this happened a lot in this area lately?" He looked uncomfortable. "More than I'd like, but not that many lately. Mostly the disappearances were in the towns around here. We had a rash of them about three years ago. Whoever's taking them seems to target children." *Just like Samantha*. "So you think it's a kidnapper?" "What else could it be?" "My partner had-*has* a few more...extreme ideas." "Like..." "I'm not exactly sure yet." She tried to change the subject. "I've searched the surrounding area; no sign of him." "I'll have my officers look around. Did he...say...anything to you before he left? Anything unusual?" "Not that I can think of. Why?" *At least, not for him.* "Well...we have had some cases like this where the victim was severely depressed-suicidal?" "Agent Mulder was driven, maybe, but not suicidal." She couldn't even think about that possibility. "Very well, then." Enright turned to the men standing behind him. "Okay, fan out. You're looking for a Caucasian male, brown hair, hazel eyes, six one, parka and jeans, probably unconscious." He looked at her. "If he's around here, we'll find him. If he's not..." He trailed off. She stared out over the grass, and pulled her coat a little tighter.
Friday Afternoon It had been hours, and she was cold, tired, and hungry. And discouraged. She squatted next to a log and picked up a stick. Someone began to shout, drawing Scully's attention away from the pile of leaves she was prodding. One of the officers was waving, calling her. "I found something! I think it's him!" He was inspecting a patch of ground. *But I was just there...* Scully caught her breath. *Oh please let that be him.* Tan uniformed figures were converging on him. Scully began to run, tripping over roots. She pushed through to where the man was kneeling, brushing twigs off a crumpled form... "That's him. Is he alive?" She knelt to check his pulse. Slow, but strong. He was too cold, losing his body heat. She took off her jacket and wrapped it around him, trying to feel for broken bones or internal bleeding. He was filthy, but whole. "He's OK, but we have to get him to a hospital. He might be in shock. Grab his legs." She ordered one of the officers, putting her own hands under his arms. They carried him to the chopper. "Where's the closest hospital to here?" She asked the pilot. "Denver aid center. We'll take him directly here. Have you pilot follow us." She nodded. The helicopter ride seemed to take forever. She tried to watch what was happening in the vehicle leading them, but they were moving too fast. They touched down and someone jumped out, began running across the hospital roof. For help? No it wasn't an officer... it was *Mulder*, running like he was in a marathon. It was a wonder he could even move. She jumped out of the helicopter and started to chase him. At least he had some sense left, running for the stairs instead the edge of the roof. He jumped down, vanishing down the stairwell, two officers right behind him. *Delirium, or shock. He's out of his mind*. She hissed to herself as she ran down the stairs, listening for three sets of boots below her. A door banging...shouts, and...silence. They must have caught him. She dashed down the last flight and almost collided with one of the officers. They were blocking both stairways, but they couldn't get any closer. Mulder, pressed against the chained door, was facing them, hands out protectively. One of the officers was nursing a torn sleeve, blood seeping out. "Mulder, what are you doing?" *This is worse than the time I thought he'd killed that geologist, up in Icy Cape.* He was staring at her, blankly. No recognition, no mark of sanity in his face. Severe mental shock. "Mulder, it's me. Remember me? It's Scully. Come on, Mulder, I'm your partner. Scully, your partner." She started speaking softly, keeping her eyes on him. He was watching the two men, looking for a break. "Mulder, look at me. Mulder, relax, we're here to help you. Snap out of it." He blinked at her, and began to slide down the door. "Out of it?" "That's it, Mulder." "Mulder?" He was looking around, blinking. *Yes*. "Fox, Mulder, it's Scully. Remember me?" "Scully? Scully..."He was trying to say something else- "Scully, I-Agggh!" He clutched his head, yelling in pain. Scully pushed past the officer on the stairs, and crouched next to him. He was sweating, pale, and dirty. She had to get him to a bed, or *something*. "Mulder, come back. Wake up." He looked up at her, hands still in his hair. She stood up and held out her hand. "It's okay, Mulder. It's me." His fingers were freezing. A few hours later, Scully was getting a soda in the cafeteria. Mulder had drifted out of consciousness again after finally being convinced to lie down on a hospital bed. She paused, then decided to pick up an ice tea for him when he woke up. After paying the clerk she took the elevator back up to his room. He was asleep; his hair was soaked, plastered to his head. Someone had washed the dirt from his face and arms, and his shirt was replaced by a clean hospital gown. *Why is it I see him more in a hospital uniform than I do in real clothes?* She bent down to crouch next to him, trying to get out of earshot of the guard stationed outside the door. "Mulder?" she whispered. "Mulder, can you hear me?" His eyes snapped open and he tried to sit up, but the bindings on the bed held him down. A safety precaution, in case he...suffered a relapse. He dropped his head back down onto the pillow. "Scully, what am I doing here?" He croaked. Scully was surprised. "You don't remember?" "No. Did I do something wrong? Why are my hands tied down?" "We found you half-frozen under a pile of leaves. When we got you here you ran away, and nearly took a police officer's arm off." She reached down. "Ice tea?" "It's a little hard to drink when I'm strapped down. Think you could undo the cuffs?" Before she could answer, an orderly came in. "I don't think so, Mr. Mulder. Visiting hours are over." Scully looked up. "When can he be discharged?" "We'd like to keep him here overnight, just in case. Now, Mr. Mulder, it's time for a bath." Scully didn't want to embarrass him further. "I think I'll just leave now. Call me if anything happens." The orderly turned around to face 'Mulder', lying on the bed. The door shut, the guard was on a coffee break. "Come on now, let's just sit up, I'll undo the chest strap." The fabric on his wrists snapped. 'He' looked up, leering. "That's all right, why don't you let me do it?" *It* slid out of the bed, grabbing the orderly by the neck, lifting him off the ground as his face contorted into a mirror image of the man he was holding
Friday Evening *Of all the stupid things you have done in your life, Fox Mulder, this is the worst.* For hours he'd been methodically checking the room, pounding on walls and the floor. Well, it *seemed* like hours. They'd taken his watch, so he couldn't tell. He'd wiped what dirt he could off his face, but his hands left dirty marks wherever they touched on the walls. There was a way in, so logically there was a way out. Wasn't there? He thought of an Edgar Allan Poe story he'd read in the seventh grade, about a man who gets walled up alive in a wine cellar by a vengeful merchant. It seemed like a good metaphor, if he could figure out what the crack in the wall was. He'd be willing to bet that none of the others they'd taken(And he was sure they *had* taken others) had done this. The only vulnerability he could see were tiny ventilation holes stuck up in a corner, out of reach and certainly not big enough for a grown man to fit through. *Maybe they're not vents. Maybe they're surveillance.* He sat down to think about a plan of action, scratching a cut on the back of his neck. At Denver aid center, Orderly Scott Katz checked out for the night at Ten o'clock...or the man who looked like him did. In room 322, designated as Fox Mulder's room, a slumped figure was carelessly thrown on the bed, wrapped in sheets. It wasn't breathing
Saturday Morning The nurse checked people at the beginning and the end of her shift. She was tired; her kids had kept her up most of the day, and she didn't enjoy graveyard duty. She figured if the patients were moving somewhat, but not too much, they were fine. In the darkenss she saw a form, wrapped in sheets. She didn't check it any more than that. It was four in the morning when the next nurse on duty signed in. She took it on faith that patients in rooms 320-340 were stable, and began organizing the files for the day. She did a cursory check just before visiting hours to make sure the patients were presentable; She passed room 322 almost without a second glance. "I'm agent Scully, I'm here to see the patient in room 322." Scully pulled out her badge. "Ah yes, agent. Go right on in. No trouble at all, slept like a baby the entire night." The desk nurse smiled. Scully checked her pocket for the bag of sunflower seeds she'd bought from the vending machine for him as she walked down the hall. She knocked quietly on the door. "Mulder? You up?" no response. At least she knew he was in there, instead of lying in a pile of dead leaves, freezing to death. She opened the door and walked over to the bed, where a sheet-bundled form lay. "Mulder, you're going to suffocate like that. Here-" She pulled the blankets off the uppermost part. A gray face with blue lips stared back at her. She suppressed the urge to scream until she realized it wasn't him. She backed out of the room, running down the hall. "Nurse? Has agent Mulder's room been switched?" Her hands were shaking. "No, ma'am. Why?" "Because there's a dead man in there, and it's not agent Mulder." The nurse looked up, alarmed. "What?" "The orderly on duty last night is wrapped in a sheet in his room, suffocated." Her hands flew to her mouth and she ran down the hall, calling for a doctor
Saturday Afternoon Well, he was either going to starve to death or die of boredom. Mulder was sure he'd gone over every inch of this godforsaken room, and nothing had happened. He was so hungry...all he could think about was the half-eaten PowerBar in his bag. He'd recited the multiplication tables backwards, twice, and was considering doing the alphabet. *Let's see-Z....Y...X...W...* his sense of humor was really going downhill. It must be near morning Sunday, at least. He thought. Some confrontation. Locked in a doorless room with nothing to do and weirdoes watching him through vents in the ceiling. *But if they're watching me...then they're monitoring me...then they know when there's a problem...* He liked that line of thought. He followed it for a while before he fell asleep again
Saturday Evening Scully sat in a daze in the operating theater, eating sunflower seeds. She'd finally convinced the doctors on duty to let her watch the autopsy of orderly Katz, though it seemed pretty straightforward. Lack of oxygen to the brain and heart due to strangulation. Her insane partner was on the loose, he'd strangled an innocent civilian, and now she had to find him before he hurt anyone else. On top of that, the media were onto the case and after her everywhere. What *had* Mulder done? Why? She didn't believe he could have broken the restraints, but then there were the loose edges on the bed. The search for fingerprints had come up negative, but it's near impossible to pull prints off skin anyway. "Agent Scully? We've concluded the autopsy. Nothing unusual." The doctors voice snapped her to attention. "Oh, right. Thank you, doctor Holm." "You're welcome. Is there anything I can do?" She looked down. "The police have an APB out on him, and they're pretty much ignoring me. I think I'd better just go back to my room and wait it out, maybe make a few calls." She thought about it as she drove back to the motel room. Something was wrong- Mulder had been tense, almost withdrawn. Usually he seemed almost cheerful to be in a hospital. But he hadn't even responded to her joke about the iced tea. That had been on their...fifth mission? Sixth? Later she noticed that he seemed to exist on soda and seeds. And the occasional double bacon cheese blood clot special from the local fast food joint. He must have suffered an unnoticed concussion, or brain damage. But there was no bruises on his head, and he'd seemed so...aware...when she had talked to him. Could it be that the stress had finally broken him? His bag, pronounced clean by forensics, was sitting on the car seat next to her. Maybe they'd missed something. She parked the car in front of her room and carried the bag in. She unzipped it and began to sort through it. Two and a half PowerBars, a burned-out heat pack, some various clothes (Leave it to Mulder to own black boxers) and...a small green book, tucked in the lining. His diary? She didn't think he kept one. A casebook of sorts? She didn't want to pry, but she had to know what had happened. The pages were covered with Mulder's precise script, small and neat. She ignored most of it, trying to get to the last entry. The page fell open to a drawing, and she sucked in her breath. It was a full-page, face front pencil sketch. A woman with curly hair, high cheekbones, and a patrician nose...She didn't need a picture to compare it with to see the resemblance. He'd sketched a perfect replica of Samantha Mulder's face, down to a slight cleft in the chin. Scully had only seen her twice, but she could see the closeness between her features and her brother's. She turned to the next page, filled with small flying saucers and floating bodies. *I might have guessed that*. But...the floating bodies, the faces...were *hers*. What had been going on in his head when he had drawn these? *When* had he drawn them? She flipped back a few pages to the last lines of writing, dated Thursday. <<I had to leave Scully behind. Again. Some thanks she gets for helping me out, but I need her as backup in case something happens. It's freezing up here-I never realized what a wonderful thing a parka is. Samantha *is* alive, I know it. He had no reason to lie to me; he was going to kill me anyway. I wish I'd told Scully that; Maybe she could have found some answer in it. I'm not sure that this is where I'll find Sam, but I have to look. I'm not sure about anything, even what side I'm on. My contact lied to me, and I'm beginning to wonder if Scully did too. Trust No One is clashing with I Want To Believe, and which one will win is anyone's guess. Tonight may decide it once and for all. I have to reach the hot-spot before nightfall! It's desolate-I wish there were someone to talk to. At least with Scully(sigh) we could have argued about what we'd find.>> Scully closed the book. Two hours later she was still sitting there, watching the news reports on the television. The last five entries in, well, she guessed it was a diary, hadn't helped at all. They kept referring to a 'him' who'd told him his sister was alive. The alien clone-killer? She didn't want to penetrate further than what she'd already read; *some* things were sacred, at least. The news report blared on. "And the manhunt continues tonight for FBI Agent Fox Mulder, the alleged murderer of a hospital worker at Denver aid center. Although we have not yet obtained a photograph of this man, he is described as being Caucasian, six feet one inch-" She turned the TV off. Wherever he was, he was doing a good job of hiding. She started as someone began banging on the door. Mulder's voice. "Scully, let me in!" She picked up her gun and opened the door, leveling it at him. "Freeze!" His mouth opened slightly, but he stopped pounding. She lowered her voice. "Hands in the air, step inside slowly." He followed her instructions, and she closed the door behind him, careful not to turn her back on him. He still wore the orderly's uniform, but he'd thrown his torn coat over it. "Scully, I-" "Shut up! You talk when I say you talk. What are you doing here?" "Isn't this where we're staying?" "Yes, but this is my room, and you're wearing a dead man's clothes." She couldn't believe it. He was looking at 'his' shirt, 'his' pants, and then back to her. "I...what did I do?" *He must be delirious.* She stared at him. "You killed a man, Mulder. How did you get here?" His face went blank, then was covered with a plaintive expression. "I-I don't remember." She was convinced, and the gun lowered, slightly. "You must have a concussion. Sit down." He was dazed; following her orders without question. She was puzzled, too. "What happened to you up there?" He buried his face in his hands. "I can't remember. I can't remember *anything*." She sat down next to him, taking his hand. "Mulder, it's okay. But if you want to remember, you have to go back to the hospital. Do you understand?" He turned to face her. "Go back?" He echoed. He looked so tired, so young... In a fluid movement he had her by the collar, lifting her off the ground. She fought him, pummeling him with her fists, but he brushed them off. *Deja vu-* He had her hands. She was struggling for breath, but she managed to gasp out, "You...are...*not*...Mulder." He smiled at her. "Astute."
She was bound and gagged-he'd produced a length of wire from somewhere and tied her, hand and foot. He'd dumped her on the bed, while he went through his-through *Mulder's* bag, picking out clean clothes. He hadn't found his diary-yet. She tried to think how she was going to get away. It didn't seem like an easy task. *Where's the real Mulder when I need him?* She gave that *thing* the bravest look she could muster. "Trying to escape? Too easy, I'm afraid. You see, when Agent Mulder practically ran into our arms, I couldn't resist settling a score. No doubt he is receiving some treatment for his little problems as we speak. Unauthorized, but effective." *It's his face, his voice, but it's NOT him*. "So, what am I going to do with you before I kill you? Let's just call it a lesson in human reproduction. For me." Her eyes widened. "You see, I know everything there is to know about him, like we knew about his sister. The way he drives, the way he talks, his favorite tie. I know his likes, and his wants. Can you guess what they are?" He gave her Mulder's best sardonic smile, and began to unbuckle his belt.
The real Mulder had been psyching up for the last twenty minutes or so. If someone *was* watching, he was going to give them one hell of a show. He started by trembling and jerking, nervously. In a few minutes he was ready to go into full seizure. He began to slam against the wall and roll his eyes. *Come on, I know you're up there.* He kept it up...there was a whoosh, and a putrid breath of air. Forms began to surround him, staring haplessly. He began to inch towards the door. Suddenly he shoved one into the others and ran out the 'door'. He turned down a corridor covered with...something. Blind running, hopefully there was a hatch or something. Hopefully they were still on earth. He ran through a room with more white walls on the sides- there were *people* in the rooms. He began hitting what he hoped were access panels. Shouting-a crash behind him-and there were footsteps following him, a hand, a human hand, on his arm, pulling him towards another hallway-a hole in the floor, falling...He hit the ground and blacked out. He was being dragged, half stumbling through the undergrowth. The man in front of him was yelling. "Come on, you've got to run if you want to stay alive!" *Enough motivation for me* Shouts up ahead made him focus on the figures in front of him briefly before he sagged against the man next to him
Sunday Morning His mouth was dry and his leg was on fire. The sun bit into his eyes as it rose over the horizon, but he had to keep going. The man next to him insisted that they find shelter. They were on a fire trail, so naturally it should lead to a fire station. *Right, Fox, real funny.* The people up ahead began to run-there must be something around the bend. He picked up his pace, limping down the incline. Ahead was a tall brick building, silhouetted by the sun. The man next to him began to shout hysterically. Then they were all shouting. His vision blurred by pain, he could barely slump against the wall of the building and sit down. He received an impression of blue eyes and someone saying "poor man" before he fell into an honest to goodness sleep. Water was being poured on his face. No, more like dribbled. He shook his head, opened his eyes. Two vivid blue pupils were returning his gaze. She leaned back and he got the impression of an entire face, thin and dirty. She smiled. "G'morning, mystery man." His head pounded. "Is it morning?" Her eyes clouded for a minute. "I think so. Where does it hurt?" "My ankle. What happened?" A dark head pushed into view. "They said you weren't ready for a fall. You must have hit ground pretty hard."a badge flashed on the man's chest. Fire cheif? "Where am I?" "Colorado fire station 108. An ambulance is on the way." "For who?" "You, son. Y'all want me to leave you alone for a little while?" He could hear someone murmuring. He struggled to sit up, looking around at the assembly before him. He hadn't realized they were all children. They ranged from about ten to maybe eighteen, except for the man he remembered from the trail, who looked older. "You all right?" He was aware he'd been staring. "Yeah, yeah...I'm fine." "What's your name, friend?" "Mulder. Fox Mulder. I'm with the FBI." The man's eyes bulged. "Fox M-Excuse me." He left the room, muttering. The blue-eyed girl stepped forward again. "My-my name's Andrea. I'm the oldest- at least of the kids." She said it like a challenge. *Ye gods, children. Just like he said-* He was forgetting something, something important...*SCULLY!* He stumbled off the bed and into the arms of the Fire Chief. "Woah, what's the rush? You need to see a doctor." "No, I need to get back...someone's after my partner-" The Chief wasn't listening, he was calling for a medical kit. "You have to listen to me- She's-" "Fox?" Someone was standing in the doorway. Brown, curly hair, pale face, high cheekbones-*Oh, God-*Someone shoved a needle in his arm and the world went dark again.
Scully swam back to consciousness slowly. She was wrapped in a sheet; barely decent. She must be on the floor-a body was tossed on the bed. Mulder's contact stood over her, looking down. "Congratulations, agent Scully," he said mirthlessly. "You are the first woman to be successfully raped be an alien." "He's dead?" she whispered. "Yes." "He-he was going to kill me." "I know." He dragged her and the bag out of the room, into the one next to it. Then he was gone. She could see the body beginning to corrode through the open doorway, and she wasn't hanging around if that retrovirus was still active. *How had he killed him?* she saved that for later. She shut the door, wrapping the sheet tight around her. Her clothes were torn, falling into shreds. *Mulder's clothes* his suitcase was in the room next to her, but his bag was right there. There had to be something she could wear. His face, Mulder's face, as he leered down at her-*NO!* She couldn't think about that right now. *He* was dead, and she had to find the real Fox Mulder. Ten minutes later, dressed in a huge Academy sweatshirt and an equally oversized pair of jeans, she called Officer Enright and went to wait outside. He promised her transport; she told him her money had been stolen. She didn't bother about the alien, except to hang a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door. There went their security deposit...Hugging herself, she went over everything they'd found. There must be something she was missing. His diary was under the sweatshirt, cool and comforting. Her mind wandered to what would happen if-*when* they found him. He was up for murder, unless they could explain the shape-shifting alien rapist who corroded into a pile of goo when killed. How had the contact done it? She shivered, trying to forget what had just happened. She'd passed out for the most part, for which she thanked her stars. She wondered if she would ever be able to look Mulder in the eye again.
Sunday Afternoon "Now, we mustn't tell anyone where we've been yet." She looked around at the ring of boys and girls sitting on the hospital floor. *My children; the ones they made me take care of. Me and Mark.* Just like she'd been taken care of when she was kidnapped. "You do understand why, don't you?" Angie, the youngest, spoke up. "Cause they won't b'lieve us?" "Exactly. Your parents have been called, they should be here any minute." She smiled at them; they still had parents. Alex, who was thirteen, turned his serious young eyes on her. "Momma Samantha, do you know the man who saved us?" She looked out into the hall where his hospital room was. "Yes, Alex, I do. He's my brother." "Like 'Lexis n'me?" "Sort of, except we haven't seen each other in a long time." The doctor came into the room. "Miss Mulder, I need to check everyone over, and their parents are here. Is there anything I should know?" "Be careful when you check them. They all have implants-Sinus, navel, maybe index finger. Some of the older ones have neck, too. They must be removed *immediately* or they could be in serious danger." "And what should I tell the parents, the press?" "Nothing for now. Don't comment at all." She turned back to the circle. "Hey, everyone, your parents are here! Why don't you go see them?" They filed out somberly. If she'd been told that, she'd have run from the room as fast as possible. She didn't even know if her parents were still alive. How long had it been? Fox was *old*. She supposed she was too... Across the hall was his room, and she peeked in the window. He hardly looked at all like the older brother she remembered...but then she didn't remember much anyway. Geordi, the last one to enter her group, said the year was 1993, but that was a while ago-It would make her twenty eight, and Fox...Thirty. "Ma'am?" The nurse was standing next to her. "Ma'am, would you like to go in?" "Yes, please." He was so *mature* looking. He still had that little boy haircut, but on him it didn't look so little-boyish anymore. "He's been sedated heavily, so he might not respond. We've been trying to find out who he is. Maybe you can help?" "His name is Fox Mulder. Beyond that, who knows?" "So you don't know of anyone we can contact?" "His parents, but I wouldn't have a clue as to where they are." *Now, anyway.* "He was saying something about his partner. Can't you do a fingerprint check or something?" "Not until the police detective gets here. You want to be alone for a minute?" "Thanks, that would be nice." The nurse left, closing the door. She stood by his bed. The education and love she had received after her abduction was excellent, but no substitute for an older brother, or a life on earth. She tried to remember him as her brother; her wonderful big brother who could do anything. *If he can find and rescue me, he certainly can.* "Fox? You in there?" His head shifted slightly. "Mantha? 'sat you?" "Sure is, big brother." "I've been looking...so long..."a tear streaked his cheek. "It's okay, I'm here." "Momndad know?" "Not yet." She brushed some hair off his face. "Are they still alive?" "Dunno...he went to kill them-have to find *her*..." "Who's her? Who are you talking about?" "M'partner...Dana...Scully..." "Where is she?" "Motel...s...s...SnowCap?" He was trying so hard to remember. "Samantha...don't leave..." "Sssh. I'm not going anywhere." *For now...*
Scully was screeching down the freeway at about twice the legal limit, in a borrowed police sedan. In front of her was an identical vehicle, with Enright at the wheel. *He's found, he's alive, he's okay...he's been charged with murder.* The fingerprint confirmation had come over the police band about half an hour ago. But it got weirder. *Don't they always?* He'd shown up sixty miles away at a fire station, with two other adults and eight missing kids. They had to sedate him to keep him from running away on a broken ankle. And only one person had claimed to know who he was-she'd given her name as Samantha Mulder. *He's done it, he's found her, he's saved her. So now what do we do?*
He was slipping, falling through darkness towards a metallic saucer; he clawed the air, fighting for breath. *Dana...Samantha...* She was there, she wasn't there, cold hands on his cheeks- "Come on, Fox. Just for a minute." Samantha's voice. "Samantha?" His eyelids were like lead. "I'm here. You were having a nightmare. Your partner's on the way." "Scully? But I thought..." "You're under sedation. Just sleep." *NO, I have to wait for Scully, she's coming. And if she's coming, then she's all right, it was just a hallucination. She was never in any danger at all...* He wanted to ask her when she was coming, how he got there... "Mantha?" "Yes?" "I missed you." "I missed you too. I love you." "Love...you..." She said nothing-she held on to his hand for dear life.
Five Months Later The jury began to file back into the courtroom. The judge looked up from his desk. "Has the jury reached a verdict?" "We have, your honor." "All rise." Scully's finger tightened, one on Mulder's shoulder, the other...in Mulder's hand. Samantha Mulder's hand. This would decide Fox Mulder's job, reputation, and life. His shoulder shook slightly. The foreman gave the paper to the judge, who read it slowly. "Count one-Assault with intent to kill. Not Guilty. Count two-First-degree Manslaughter. Not Guilty. Count three-Second degree manslaughter. Not Guilty." Muld-Fox turned around, unbelieving. Then half the courthouse erupted into chaos. Fox was hugging Samantha, his lawyers were shaking hands all around-Reporters were everywhere. Then Scully found herself wrapped in his bear hug, pounding him on the back. Sam was crying, his parents were hugging him. Her mother was there too, shaking hands with his parents. He was *crying*, the first time since the trial began that he had shown any real emotion. The first time she'd ever seen him openly cry. He smiled at her. "We won, Scully. I can't believe it." Sam was jostling through. "It's over, it's really over." Mulder looked at her through his tears. For the millionth time Scully cursed the inefficient bureaucracy that forced them to have a public trial. *You ran off without bureau permit.* Skinner's words burned. *If the family wants to press charges, there's nothing I can do. I'm sorry.* He had closed the x-files though, temporarily, to give them a chance to finish the trial. And they had his personal guarantee of their jobs back if he won. "Scully?" Mulder was leaning towards her. She gave him a tired smile. "Yeah, I'm here." *He looks so pale; that orange jumpsuit doesn't help any.* "I've got to go get some *real* clothes on. Keep an eye on my parents for me." He didn't need to add *and Samantha*. Sam was scratching the scar at the back of her neck; the remnant of the operation to remove the implant. Mulder's identical one, and the cast on his foot, were rapidly disappearing out a back door, heading back to his cell to change. Her mother came up from behind. "Hon, these reporters are murdering us. We're heading out to the cars." Mulder's parents were already leaving. "I think I'll wait for Fox." Samantha was saying. "I'll stay with Sam." The reporters crowded in as her mother pushed through. "Agent Scully-" "Miss Mulder-" They tried to field the questions that were fired at them from all sides. The trial was a media circus-A killer who didn't remember being in the hospital at all, a defense witness who had been missing for over two decades, eight kidnapped children reappearing(some after over four years), and an FBI involvement. It was the biggest stir since OJ Simpson. Mulder was back, dressed in a sharp gray suit. Scully and Samantha were waiting for him. *What did I do right to get friends like them?* They flanked him as he walked through the crowd, pushing microphones and cameras away. They climbed in the car and Scully managed to drive through the reporters. He leaned against Sam, exhausted. "So, where to?" Scully looked in the rearview mirror. "Anywhere you say, I'll take you." "I just want to go home." "Closest thing-the hotel, and your parents." "Fine with me." Scully pulled the car onto the freeway. Sam was next to him; she'd never go *away* again. He wasn't a murderer-there were times he had wondered. Scully was in the front seat, taking him to see his parents as a free man. What more could he want? *Well, there might be one thing...*
One Week Later Scully was nervous; hyperactive. She might as well put it to work. On the way in she looked at the bulletin board; there was a newspaper clipping, dated a week ago. It was a photo from the front page, of her and Mulder hugging across the wooden rail of the courthouse. A note in the margin read "Welcome back Mulder and Scully." *sweet of someone to remember.* Scully went to open the office door, but it was already open. Dust hung in the air, and papers and boxes covered the floor. A sort of trail led to Mulder's desk; a muffled grunt came from behind a box. All Mulder's posters, pictures, books were on the floor... "Anybody here?" She stepped around a huge box. "Huh?" Mulder popped up from behind it, paper in hand. He was wearing a faded blue shirt and jeans covered with dirt and cobwebs. Lint stuck in his hair. "Scully, what are you doing here? It's Saturday." "I was about to ask you the same thing." She looked around, heart sinking. "I thought this might happen. Turned in your official resignation yet?" "No, no..." He scowled. "It's not like that. I wanted it to be a surprise-" "Well, I'm surprised." She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Dammit, will you listen to me for a minute?" He was angry, she could see that. Since the trial he had been more...open. Not cold and commanding; more sweet and happy than she'd ever seen him. Maybe it was finding Samantha. He'd done what he came to do, and now he was going to leave. *The X-Files, the bureau, me; All tools, used and thrown away.* "Scully!" He grabbed her by the arms, pinning them to her sides. A flash of the *other* Mulder, holding her down- "It's okay, I understand." she said. "No...you...*don't*! I'm not resigning, I'm cleaning." "You're...cleaning?" "Yeah, *cleaning*." a wry grin passed over his face. "I wanted to have the office clean when we came back to work. But there's so much *stuff*. I never realized what a packrat I was. Spare memos alone took two bags," helet go of her, his smile turning serious. "This wasn't just some scam to help me find my sister. This is my life, and you-" He took a deep breath, gathering strength. "You, Dana Scully, are the most important person in it. There is still truth out there, and I don't want to look for it alone." She looked up at him, remembering-and turned away. "What's wrong? What happened to you, Scully?" She heard the concern in his voice but... "He came, he came and-" "Who? Why didn't you tell me?" "Him, the alien-" "Sit down, sit down," hepushed a box off the chair, and sat her on it. "Why didn't you *tell* me? I thought I had just imagined it-" She blinked, trying not to cry. "There was the hospital, then the trial-I didn't want to worry you. He's dead, anyway." "Well, I'm worried. Tell me now, beginning to end." He leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms. Slowly, as she told the whole story, he slid down until he was level with her. She could see him shudder when she told him what he'd' said. She ended her story, gulping. "He-he said all those things, and it was *you*...and-" He leaned forward, his eyes inches from hers. "I would never do that to you. *Never*." "But was it true? Did he really know those things?" *She looks so tired-*He sighed. "I don't know. I suppose it's possible." "No, I mean what he said, about what you wanted-" She couldn't bear the look on his face. "Sc-...Dana, what ever he said to you, or did to you, were the twisted actions of a twisted mind. You are my partner, and you are my friend. I will not put that in jeopardy because of anything he has done. I want to keep looking; Just like I want to believe. And I believe..," hecoughed. "I believe that it's time to start a new part of my life. I want you to be there when I do." He extended his hand. She took it. "For once you're not leaving me behind." He smiled. The End
-Will you stay with me? Will you be my love? upon the fields of barley; We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky As we lie in fields of gold.- -Sting(Fields of Gold used without permission) (Aw, ain't dat sweet?* gag*) So, now that it's over I can have a life again. Hope you enjoyed; I'll keep you posted on an alternate ending. PS Did I do right in letting Samantha stay on earth? I'm not sure if I broke a rule or something by doing that. Obviously this ends any hope of a continuation of *this* story, at any rate.
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