Title: The Entity
And I promise, Chris, they'll be just jim spiffy at the end of the story :-)
Also, I have no permission to use the following musical excerpts: "Somewhere Out There", from "An American Tale"; "This Used To Be My Playground", by Madonna; "Ice Cream", by Sarah McLachlan; "Near You Always", by Jewel; and "I Love You Always Forever", by Donna Lewis.
Rating: I am rating this story PG-13. It contains UST, angst, MSR, angst, violence, angst, strong and vulgar language... did I mention angst yet?<g>
Summary: It stalks humanity with a vengeance. It looks upon the blood of man with an insatiable thirst. It can bestow upon mortals the gift of eternal life. And now, it sets its sights upon Fox Mulder and Dana Scully...
DEDICATION: I would like to dedicate this story to a few people in particular. Thank you and bless you, Jennifer Frye. You are a sainted woman for editing and helping me with this story. And thank you Jackie Hilton for helping me out with any scientific inaccuracies. She considers me way too obsessed, but she kicks ass at nitpicking.
ArchiveRS: Anyone who wants to archive it is fine with me. Newsgroups, Gossamer Project, anywhere it goes is just jim dandy. Just remember not to tamper with the story and give me the credit.
Author's Note: This story takes place after "Momento Mori", and does have some M.S.R., and fourth-season spoilers up to the most recent episode. By the way, am I the only one who wants to know what in the name of *God* Mulder did with that vial of Scully's ova at the end of the episode? I'm sorry, but I have been having these scary thoughts of Mulder with a petrie dish and an issue of "Playboy"... okay, I have crossed the limit of good taste.
Whether you like it or not, you can only hold me and the little voices in my head responsible. Any flames and comments are to be sent to Auralissa@aol.com. I'll be wearing my asbestos underwear.
It tore into its prey with a hunger that had been long wasted. Its black, rotting fangs punctured the vein of the man, and rich, warm blood gushed as though from a fountain into its mouth. It reveled in the wonderful taste of the blood, and the man screamed in pain. The Entity smiled, a gruesome smile that expressed its joy in its domination of the man. Foolish mortal, innocently believing that he could lord over the Entity. The Entity was supreme, and its thirst overpowering.
The Entity had taught the man a lesson that the man was likely never to forget. But, then again, the man would not live to remember. The Entity savagely ripped open the man's throat, gashing into the skin and revealing the warm, soft, tender flesh. It listened with amusement to the man's pleas for help and mercy. The Entity knew no mercy.
The man's mouth spewed blood, which the Entity lathered like a mewing kitten would a saucer of milk. The man's screams and protests subsided, and the man died. His struggle for life was over, and it had won again. The Entity was victorious.
Moving away from the carcass, it returned to the shadows, where it watched from its lofty heights, spying with audacity at mankind, seeking out its prey with precise calculation. It had a great collection to select from, and there was not one alive who could stop it.
Not one living soul could stop its unholy conquest.
Except for the Ones.
The Ones, which were fated to enter into the Entity's domain, become one with the Entity, and destroy it. The Entity held fear of them and only them. But the Ones had never appeared, and the Entity had been preying on mankind for ages.
The Entity remained victorious.
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Special Agent Dana Scully looked with mock amazement at her partner. "You have to be joking," she said, holding up the manila folder. "Please, tell me that this is not an actual case."
Special Agent Fox Mulder shook his head, and crossed his arms over his broad chest, a half-smile spreading across his handsome face. "Afraid so, Scully," he said. "Skinner handed this one down about thirty minutes ago, and it's in our jurisdiction."
She thumbed through the file, and shook her head in disbelief, putting on her wire-rimmed reading glasses. "We have a total of seven homicides in the Manhattan area. Two prostitutes, one pedestrian, a homosexual couple, a female Caucasian stock broker, and an African-American tax lawyer. There have no connections between any of the crimes except for the manner in which they died."
"Exsanguination," Mulder supplied. She looked at him, and nodded. "Even the location of the victims has been varied.
The first prostitute on a park bench in Central Park, the second in a garbage can in Times Square. The pedestrian was found in a dark alley in the Bronx. The homosexual couple was found in their trunk outside of their apartment.
The Caucasian stock broker was murdered in her apartment, and the lawyer outside of the theater where 'Miss Saigon' was playing." He put up his hands. "Only link is the cause of death, and the range of time. They were all killed from the hours of 10 to 4 at night, and had their blood nearly completely drained from them."
Scully looked at the autopsy reports for the men and women. "The blood was drained from identical puncture wounds in the neck, then their throats were ripped open," she read aloud. "The coroner found levels of saliva in the wounds, indicating that the killer/killers used their teeth to open the veins." She looked abruptly at Mulder. "You have to be kidding. Please tell me that we are not going to New York City to investigate vampire attacks."
Mulder smiled. "All right, I won't tell you." She groaned, and put the file down on the desk, leaning toward him.
"Mulder, you know as well as I do that vampires were made up as ghost stories in Bavaria. A figment of Bram Stoker's imagination, fueled by the film industry. They've become so pop culture and commonplace that there have been outbreaks of copycat crimes and blood sports. Every single person out there has become at one time or another infatuated by the idea of eternal life and unfading beauty.
And some people act upon those desires." She held up the file. "This is just another example."
Mulder's next words startled Scully, even shocked her. "I completely agree with you," he said. "I've had enough experience with these so-called vampire attacks to tell the difference between actual and fantastic. If you asked me, this is just another person who wants to be Brad Pitt in 'Interview with the Vampire'. But we have to take the case."
Scully sighed, and took off her glasses. She met his dark green eyes with her blazing blue ones, and massaged her temple with her fingers. "It doesn't make any sense," she muttered. "Usually, all of the vampire killing cases go to V.C.S. without a look to us. They've taken cases with more evidence to the supernatural than this one. Why do we have it?"
Mulder picked up the file, leaned across the desk, and highlighted a name. "Stephanie Santiago was the daughter of prominent socialite and wealthy industrialist Richard Santiago, who has made some hefty contributions to our division in the past. Skinner wants Santiago to know that he has not made a mistake in investing in the two of us."
Politics as usual, Scully thought, angry. It didn't matter whether or not actual justice was being served, so long as the big money men were kept happy and generous. So, now she and Mulder would have to put off more important cases to go off and chase a killer that would be easier handled by the agents upstairs.
He watched her face closely for her reactions. There it was, the usual look of absolute disgust that was put upon her lovely face whenever she was angry. He always delighted in watching her get pissed off, so long as he was not the target. She would furrow her brow, roll her eyes, and clench her jaw in frustration.
It was an expression that he never missed.
Mulder loosened his tie, an atrocity of stripes and shapes.
Scully never knew where he bought those God-awful creations, but had to admit that she had grown rather fond of his quirky protest against the Bureau's dark uniform of the expensive Armani suit and polished leather shoes. She remembered one occasion in which Mulder had confined to the policy, and worn a plain, dark, sophisticated tie, and it just hadn't been the same. There wasn't a trace of rebellion and stubbornness that had always drawn her to him.
Scully pushed back the strands of red hair that had fallen in her eyes. "So, when do we leave for New York?" she asked, resigning herself to the case. He paused for a moment, and looked at the tickets in his hand.
"We're going at 7:00 AM," he replied, and handed her the tickets. "Here, you take these because I'm afraid that if I hold them, they might 'accidentally' end up in the oven."
She gave him an amused glance, and rolled her eyes. He was so melodramatic.
Mulder stood up, and stretched his arms up, and Scully was given the swift opportunity to rest her eyes on his lean, flat stomach, before once again being forced by modesty and conformation to avert her eyes to the airplane tickets.
"They could have made up for some of this with first-class tickets," she muttered, and Mulder shook his head.
"Not for us, Scully," he reminded, and he winced as a light bulb flickered out into darkness. "Dammit, that's the fourth one in the past week." He unscrewed the light bulb, and threw it in the trash can. "I'm telling you, Scully, the Bureau's trying to save money by giving us all of the light bulbs that the *more important* agents have used up."
She sighed, and ran a manicured, well-attended-to hand through her short, soft, red hair, shaking the tresses out in her hands. "And I'm telling you that you're paranoid," she retorted.
"Yeah, well, either way, we still have a broken light bulb," he said. "I'm going upstairs to borrow one. Be right back."
He left, and Scully turned her attention to the file. This was all ridiculous, she thought again. This was another time when the government merely assumed that the partners had nothing better to do than sit around in the basement all day and waste tax dollars on ghosts and aliens. It annoyed the hell out of Scully, and she knew that Mulder wasn't exactly thrilled, either.
Suddenly, two red, wet, spots fell onto the first page of the file. Scully looked down at them, and three more followed.
"Shit," she cursed, and her hand flew to her nose in a methodical manner. Her nose was bleeding again.
She quickly grabbed a tissue, and brought it to her bleeding nose, trying to stop the flow. Oh, but she was glad that Mulder wasn't there to see this. She could not take those concerned, protective, hurt green eyes looking at her as she feebly attempted to conceal the disease that plagued her body.
Scully leaned forward, and kept the tissue to her nose. The brain tumor that pushed against her sinus cavity, causing these humiliating nose bleeds. Just when she thought that she could beat it, there was nothing that she could do. She was helpless against the disease's progression.
Wiping the excess blood from her full upper lip, Scully stood up and walked to the ladies' room. Luck was on her side today, and no one saw her enter. The bathroom was vacant, and Scully could be left alone with her misfortune.
She looked in the mirror, and turned on the sink. Wetting the Kleenex, the petite agent carefully washed the red stain of blood from her face. Funny, but at that moment, cynical, skeptical, Dana Scully wanted the file to be real.
Immortality appealed to her at that moment. Time to finish her work. Time to be with her family. Time to say all of the things that she wanted to say.
Like saying those three magical words to her partner.
She rubbed a little harder on her lip, making the skin pink and raw. This had been almost as hard on him as it was on her. She had had a couple of these incidents in front of Mulder, and the look of distress on his handsome face hurt worse than the headaches that she suffered from. She had shared so many memories with him... and there would be no more memories to make.
She remembered the night in the hospital, after witnessing the death of Penny Northern. Scully had realized in that instant that Penny had taken her last breath that this was real. She had denied it before, but that poor woman was the future of Dana Scully. And that night had made it real for Fox Mulder, too. His eyes... God, would she ever forget his eyes? There was pain etched deep into his soul.
She threw away the tissue, and looked in the mirror at her face. The nosebleed had stopped, giving her that safety. But how much longer would she have to live? How many more days, or weeks, or months if she was lucky, would Dana Scully have upon this Earth?
He had held her in his arms that night, giving her shelter and support in the sanctuary of his embrace. She recalled the softness of his lips as they graced her forehead. How odd, that under the layers of flesh and bone, there was her murderer... the tumor that drained life from her body. And he had kissed her brow, soothing the fevered wound, and for a moment there was peace.
Could she find peace again under the fleeting promise of his touch?
Mulder walked into the basement, bearing the new bulb in his hand. He had fought Agent Carson for it, and won after bribing her with tickets to the opera. He could have received a new lamp if he had escorted her, but Mulder had declined. The opera had always bored him to tears, and his heart wasn't into taking Line Carson out.
It wasn't that Carson wasn't nice enough. She certainly was attractive, with her long, tanned legs and firm, toned body.
But Carson just wasn't appealing to him anymore. About five years ago, he would have jumped at the opportunity to go out with Carson to dinner.
But that was also before he met Dana Scully.
He looked around the room, but his partner was nowhere in sight. "Scully?" he called, a questioning tone in his voice.
Mulder walked to her desk, and looked down at the open file. There, prominently on display, were five drops of blood. He brought his finger to one of the droplets. Still wet. "Damn..."
There was no doubt about the origin of the blood. It was hers.
He had been a witness to those attacks, those constant reminders of her condition, on a few uncomfortable, heart-breaking occasions. They were always the same. His eyes would be drawn to her face, where warm blood flowed freely down to her upper lip from her nostril. She would notice the heat on her skin, or the heat of his eyes upon her skin, and quickly put a hand to her face, covering up the shame with her slim, white hand. She would mutter a lame excuse, and quickly excuse herself while Mulder averted his eyes, giving her whatever dignity she could salvage. She would return, and from the rawness of her nose and the water stains on her blouse, Mulder did not have to guess what she had been doing. For the next hour or so, the tension would be stifling.
She always thought that he would forget the prognosis for her. How could he forget? Each day, the same words taunted him in his mind. Inoperable. Fatal. Terminal. There was no thesaurus that dictated these dark medical terms. Each syllable was like the tolling of a funeral bell. With each and every letter, there was that reminder of how much time he had left with her, before he would be left all alone.
Within those words, there was the grim reminder of all of the minutes he would not share with her. All of the days that he would not spend at her side. All of the words he would not speak to her.
All of the kisses that he would not exchange with her.
Mulder put down the file, looking at the blood on the paper. He wanted to be the one to give her time and love, but feared the consequences at hand. He wanted to be the one to take the pain from her soul and her eyes.
He could be the one to replace that fear.
The door opened, and in walked Dana Scully, her upper lip pink, and a small stain of water on her blouse collar. Her head held high, and her chin proud, but in her eyes there was that shame, that pain, and that weariness.
The room was silent. Always, silent.
BY: Annie Jennings(Auralissa@aol.com)
(disclaimer in part one)
New York City, New York
3:44 PM, Wednesday
Rosanna Mender kneeled on the floor, and rubbed the beads of the rosary between her fingers. "Kyrie eleison," she prayed, and tears fell from her eyes as she began the Hail Marys.
She was not a particularly religious woman, but lately she had found some salvation in God. There was something to say for the religion of Catholicism, and she had become a devout Catholic woman since the disappearance of her daughter, Justine.
Justine had never been a bad girl. She had been such a kind, dear daughter, and the light in Rosanna's dim life.
Justine had become Rosanna's hope for a better hope in the country of America. The Mender family were immigrants from Mexico, and they lived in a world where there was little to no opportunity for a family that spoke little English, save for Justine and Rosanna's other daughter, Kinds. Rosanna's native tongue was Spanish, though Rosanna had struggled to learn whatever English she could.
Ever since she was a little girl, Rosanna Duarte had wanted to become a citizen of America. She had been a poor child, from an impoverished family. She had grown up in the fields, where she had learned only how to grow rice and reap the seeds that she had sown.
She had married young to her Mexican planter husband, and held great ideas and hopes for her children, naming them all with combinations of American and Spanish names. Amanda Justine, Candace Maria, Brandie Isabelle, Matthew Carlos, and Jimmy Antonio. Justine had adopted her middle name, refusing to blend into the vision of America, claiming that America was a corrupt land of opportunists and deceitful politicians.
Justine was such an individual.
Rosanna missed her eldest daughter with a fervor. Justine had been the most responsible, the most intelligent, and the most caring. She had been Rosanna's greatest hope, and now, Justine was gone.
New York City, New York
The Montague was an impressive, upper-class apartment building in the better section of the city. It was the building in which celebrities lived, and the building in which Richard Santagio lived. Mulder looked up at the building with irritation.
He had hoped on handing this stupid case to Greg Meringer, the agent who had taken all of the other phony vampire cases before. Meringer was a Grade-A asshole, and deserved to freeze his ass off in New York in March.
Mulder had always liked passing cases like this one up to Meringer in the past, and would have been completely happy to put Meringer in this position.
Mulder was supposed to be taking a case on UFO sightings in Palm Beach this week. He and Scully were supposed to be off to Florida, where it was always eighty degrees and he would have a chance to admire Scully's butt in some string deal on a white, sandy beach.
Life was always dealing him a shitty hand.
Didn't they deserve a vacation of sorts? What with Scully's newly discovered medical condition, they ought to be off in some kind of Club Med look alike, helping to take the tension off of each other.
God knew that Mulder had a few creative ways to take the tension out of her...
Mulder shoved his hands in his pockets, and exhaled. His breath froze in the air, and he felt like tossing up his hands and shouting "I give up!" in the streets of New York.
Scully knew that he was pissed off. She had worn that forest-green suit of hers that he had always commented on, and there was no snide remark for her attire that day. She almost missed his lecherous references that were full of sexual connotation.
Well, that was probably because she always wanted to hear his voice telling her to take that skirt off and let him interrogate her. Even if he was being sarcastic.
Mulder turned to her, and gave her a half-smile that was almost irresistible. "We're moving on up, Wheezie," he said, and she rolled her eyes. Leave it to Mulder.
The door man showed them to the penthouse of the Montague, where the head corporate of Santiago Enterprises resided in his lush, expensive head quarters.
Mulder was surprised when Santiago actually opened the door himself. No butler to take the heavy strain of twisting the knob off of this poor man's shoulders. Perhaps the strain of being poor had made Mulder bitter, but he knew that the instant he got his hands on some cash, he wouldn't toss it away on fancy penthouse apartments and condominiums in the Bahamas. He would save it, and never squander a single penny.
Santiago smiled, warmly, and Scully marveled at the miracles of plastic surgery. He seemed to be a clone of George Hamilton, with bronzed skin, white teeth, and jet black hair with graying streaks at the temples. The man seemed to be the embodiment of elegance and sophistication.
"Mr. Mulder," Santiago said, and heartily shook Mulder's hand. "I have heard so much of your work. And this must be your exquisite partner, Ms. Scully," he added, kissing Scully's hand. Mulder shot an amused glance in his partner's direction, a look that she did not miss.
Santiago led the two into his posh living room, inviting them to sit down on the velvet sofa. Obediently, Mulder did so, and Scully followed his initial move, sinking into the depths of the couch. For a moment, her knee brushed his, and they quickly moved away from each other.
"I have been a great follower and supporter of the X-Files division," Santiago began, and Mulder wondered if this was going to turn into some "tax dollars in work" lecture. If so, he was going to be forced to leave, regardless of who this man was. "Under different circumstances, I would have been ecstatic to see my money in work." Mulder mentally winced. "It's a pleasure to meet the both of you."
Scully marveled at how composed the man could be. He was suave, and cool, even when his only daughter awaited burial. "Mr. Santiago, what can you tell us about your daughter?"
Santiago took a deep breath, and folded his hands on his knees. "Stephanie was always the pride of the family. She was an excellent stock broker, very successful. She associated with the right people, and was very sociable. She donated to all the correct charities. She dated well-bred men. I don't understand how anyone could ever want to hurt her."
This speech was beginning to make Mulder nauseous. He was tempted to vomit on Santiago's "well-bred" ass, but remembered the sum of money donated to his division. But this man was a socialite, a shallow socialite, who considered Mulder and Scully to be beneath him. Like they were two orphans begging for shelter. He cared nothing for his daughter, and only cared for the future of his family's good name.
Mulder had grown up around such people, and had always been the underdog. His father was an alcoholic, which was acceptable by some standards, but not when his father was also reclusive. His mother was more sociable before Samantha had been taken. Mulder had never really cared either way.
Scully, too, was disgusted by the man's lack of affection for his daughter. He saw her as an asset to his popularity, not as his flesh and blood. Scully felt increasingly lucky that her own father had loved her so deeply.
"You were the one who requested that this case become an X-File, Mr. Santiago?" Mulder asked. "What would make this case any different than any other murder?"
Santiago nodded. "An excellent question, Agent Mulder. I believe that this was the work of vampires."
Scully's eyebrows slowly reached the top of her brow.
Santiago kept his perfect, elegant smile. "I know that the two of you will do a wonderful job on this case. I wish you luck. Good-bye." He stood up, and walked into the bedroom, leaving the two agents sitting on the lush couch.
Scully finally stood first, putting the pad of paper back in her trench coat.
"Normally, I would demand to continue the discussion, but I just ate," she said, and Mulder shook his head, amazed at the suave politician who had just lost his daughter. He sank into the depths of the sofa, stretching his arms out around the back of the couch, looking extremely appealing.
"Well, Scully, you have to admit that the guy's got great taste in furniture," he said, his tone sly as usual. She rolled her eyes, and he stood up. "Let's go."
Mulder leaned against the elevator railing, his hands shoved in his pockets. She looked in the mirrors of the elevator, and saw her own figure reflected in the many dimensions. All of these Scullys, each one alike, and after a few months, they would be no more.
Mulder's cell phone rang, and he pulled it out.
"Mulder," he answered. Scully watched his handsome face, amused at the varying expressions as he listened to the news. She crossed her arms, admiring the way he would twist and turn, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He never could sit still.
He hung up the phone, and put it back in his coat. "We've got a fresh one, Scully," he said, and she arched her eyebrow.
La Casa Blanca
New York City, New York
Sarah sat in her room, curling each brilliant red strand around her fingertips. Her legs were brought tightly to her chest, and she rested her chin on them, protectively. Sarah could easily protect herself, but she felt the touch of the Entity upon her lips again, and shuddered. It was surrounding her, and she could not escape. Sarah closed her eyes, and held on to her knees.
<<Sarah...>> the Entity's voice murmured into her mind.
Sarah shivered. Its voice carried with it the aeons of ice and age. <<Sarah, I know what you are thinking...>> <<What am I thinking?>> she thought back. The Entity's voice carried with it that taunting air.
<<You are thinking of defiance. Defiance, Sarah. I would not recommend it.>>
She opened her eyes, and they darted around the room, the great green orbs taking in all that could be seen. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death," she prayed aloud in her lilting Irish voice, and the Entity hissed at her.
<<You are no longer a child of God, Sarah. His rod and His staff cannot comfort thee.>> Sarah ignored this, and continued to beg her God for mercy. The Entity was amused at this folly, and with a swipe of its strength, brought the young woman to her back on the bed. She wrestled under the invisible touch, the oppressive hand that kept her pinned to the bed.
"No! No! Not this again!" she cried aloud, and the Entity's voice laughed into her mind. Sarah tried to bring her hand to the gold cross that hung about her neck, and turned her thoughts to prayer. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want..." she gasped, as the Entity brought itself to her slender body.
<<You will not turn from me this time, Sarah. For your foolish God cannot help you while I have you in my grasp.>>
The Entity materialized, and sank its teeth into her slender throat, drinking from the blood that it had once given her. It had bestowed many centuries ago the gift of immortality unto Sarah, and Sarah still resisted.
After the Entity had taken what it wanted from her, Sarah lay still. Her body quickly healed itself; the four circular wounds on her vein closing over, erasing all traces of an attack. Her system quickly began to create more blood, and Sarah was once again strong enough.
Fingering the crucifix, Sarah stretched her senses as far as they could reach. <<Please, God, send me an angel of light...>>
And for once in her long, weary life, her mind reached something. Two brilliant sparks of lightness and hope. She focused on the lights, and rubbed the golden cross.
Bringing the cross to her lips, Sarah concentrated deeply on these bright lights of hope. She then closed her eyes, and tears tinged red from her blood thirst fell upon her alabaster cheeks. "Praise be to God," she whispered.
The Ones had arrived.
New York Medical Center
New York City, New York
Mulder gave the room a skeptical look. His interest remained slight by the details of the death given by an equally cynical Scully. Brandie Isabelle Mendez killed just after ten o'clock, with no possible murder weapon. Same circular wounds to the throat. Scully circled around the body, and shook her head. "Well, Mulder, I still don't see any reason to suspect any kind of supernatural involvement," she said, and he nodded, placing his hand to his chin.
"The fact still remains that we have a murderer at large," he said, and she nodded.
"We can try to match blood type," she suggested, and he nodded.
"I suppose..." he said, and leaned down to the body. His sharp eyes caught a slight tear in the fabric of Brandie Mendez's blouse, and he put on a rubber glove, snapping the latex in Scully's face. She jumped, making him smirk.
Mulder reached into the tear, and pulled out a small, gold crucifix with odd, old-fashioned carvings on it. Scully leaned over his shoulder, looking at the inscriptions. Her breath blew slightly in his ear, and the hair on the back of his neck prickled. "That's odd," she murmured. "This is an old Gaelic cross. It's an antique. Why would a poor Mexican girl own something this expensive?"
Mulder let the crucifix swing in his fingers, and narrowed his eyes, straining to read the inscriptions without his glasses. "This seems to be a design," he said, and pointed to a crudely marked shape. "But the scratch is more recent. It seems to have been made in the last few days, while the rest of the engraving is older."
Scully took the pendant from her partner, and nodded. "The engraving is a line of scripture," she said. "A psalm. 'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.'"
Mulder put his hands on his narrow hips. "This could just be a family heirloom, Scully," he said, and she shook her head.
"This is a poor family, Mulder. A Gaelic cross like this would pay rent for years. Not to mention the fact that she already is wearing a crucifix."
A police officer entered the room, and the federal agents looked up. "Agents Mulder and Scully, right?" he asked.
Mulder nodded, and the officer nodded. "I'm Sgt. Franz with the NYPD. The mother of the girl's out here, and she wants to talk to the people who are handling her daughter's case."
Mulder put the gold crucifix in an evidence bag, and threw the rubber glove away. "I'll talk to her," he said, and looked at Scully. "You coming?"
She shook her head. "No, I want to get started on an autopsy. Get some samples analyzed."
Mulder nodded, and picked up the evidence bag, leaving Scully alone with the corpse of Brandie Mendez. She looked after him for a moment, her eyes lingering on his form, then sighed.
Back to work again.
Rosanna Mendez sat in the plastic chair, her eyes red with tears. Mulder walked to her. This was always the hardest part of his job. Telling a person that someone that they loved was gone.
He remembered all of the times when someone had told him that he had lost someone or someone had been hurt.
His sister... his mother had been the one to do that. He had waken up in the hospital, suffering from a concussion, when his mother had told him that Samantha had been taken away from him, and they could not find her. He remembered her exact words.
"Fox, Samantha's gone... She's just gone..."
Mulder remembered when his mother had suffered from a stroke. He remembered the call from Walter Skinner, every last detail. The mispronunciation of the coastal town's name. The apology that was weak and lacking of emotion.
And he remembered the hurt that had surrounded that.
But he remembered Scully's abduction with great precision.
He had gotten home and checked his answering machine.
There was that message from Scully, her voice full of awe and excitement, as well as slight fear. Then, the footsteps, the breaking glass... but the worst part of that message were her helpless screams. She had been screaming out his name.
Over and over again...
And he had been able to do nothing.
Once again, the loss of Scully had come from her lips when she told him that she was dying of cancer. That hurt him deeply, incredibly deeply and with a pang of guilt and anger.
How many times had he wondered over the events of that fated night? Wondering how things would be different if he had done just *one* thing differently. What would have happened if he had kept the piece of metal from Duane Barry's abdomen? Would he be the one that suffered?
Better him than her. What would have happened if he had gotten that message just moments earlier? If he had been on the line? If he had been home, talking to her?
All of these questions, and the answer was never to be known.
Mulder shook off his own personal memories, and walked to Rosanna Mendez. She was a thin, still lovely Mexican woman, with sad, worried brown eyes and long black hair.
"Mrs. Mendez?" he asked, and Mrs. Mendez stood.
"Si," she replied. Next to her, another Mexican girl stood up, her eyes also swollen and puffy. She put an arm around Rosanna Mendez's, and whispered something in Spanish to her. The Mexican girl smiled shortly at Mulder, and turned her attention to him.
"Senor, I'm Candace, Brandie's sister," the girl said, and Mulder shook her hand. "Mama does not speak English very well. I'll interpret for her."
Mulder nodded, and sat down across from Candace and Rosanna. "Mrs. Mendez, I'm going to need to ask you a few questions about Brandie," he said. Candace translated this to her mother, and her mother responded.
"This has something to do with Justine's disappearance, doesn't it?" Candace said. Mulder was immediately confused, and turned to the detective behind him. Franz nodded.
"Justine Mendez disappeared from the residence about three days ago," he said, and Mulder glanced at the family.
"We counted it as another teen runaway. There have been an outbreak of them lately. All Mexican teens from poor families."
There was something suspicious about this. Mulder turned his attention back to the family. "I'm sorry about your daughters, Mrs. Mendez. We'll certainly look into it," he promised.
Candace told her mother this, and her mother replied with rapid fire Spanish and hateful looks at Mulder. "First Justine and now Brandie," Candace said, an apologetic look on her face. "Who will be next? My children are good children. There has been no reason for this."
Mulder understood the woman's conviction and her frustration. "We're doing our best," he said, a little lamely.
"Mrs. Mendez, do you recognize this crucifix?"
He held up the gold cross found on Brandie's body, and Rosanna Mendez shook her head. "No, senor," Candace said. "Brandie never had a gold cross." Rosanna fished in her pocket for a moment, and brought out another old, worn piece of jewelry. A ring. Rosanna took Mulder's hand, and put it in his. When she spoke, it was in broken English with a heavy accent.
"I find this in Justine room after she go away," the woman said, and Mulder held it up, catching the ring between his slender fingers. "Same symbols. Same pattern. Not Justine ring."
Mulder looked at the ring. It looked to be Gaelic again, and again it seemed to have that more recent inscription on the ring. That design... He looked up at Rosanna. "Do you know where she could have gotten a ring like this?" he asked, and Rosanna shook her head.
"No, senor. Anita Marguiles lose daughter. Find same ring.
So do Rosa Lopez, Jeanine Hortez, Carla Valdez, and Lorena Leguizamo. I know not what do. I find ring after talk police. I keep ring. Tell other chicas to keep ring."
Mulder thumbed the ring, and shook his head. There was a connection here, and he was going to find it if it was the last thing that he did.
"I'll try to find Justine for you, Mrs. Mendez, Candace," he promised, and stood up. The bereft Mendez family did so as well, and Mulder returned to the autopsy lab. Just before he entered, he caught sight of her in a window, and stopped for a moment to look at her.
Scully stood in her green scrubs, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, cleaning a scalpel. There was nothing out of the ordinary in this scene; he had watched her perform an autopsy a couple of times before, and that had been enough for him. She had been amused at the shade of green that he had turned. "The mighty Mulder falls at the sight of the colon?" she teased. He had hurled in a waste basket as a reply, and had made sure that the closest he came to the autopsy table was when Scully was cleaning up.
But there was a look of contemplation on her face as she sterilized the blade, and it seemed as though she knew that one day soon she would lie on an autopsy table, the scalpel cutting into her own skin.
Such thoughts were disturbing to Mulder.
She turned her head, and he knocked on the door. She rolled her eyes, and walked to open it for him. "Still squeamish?" she asked, and he shrugged.
"You know me. I never have liked the sight of blood." He pulled out the ring, and handed it to her. "Look at this, Scully."
Scully held the ring, and looked carefully at the inscription.
"More Gaelic... that same phrase again. And this design, too."
"A ring exactly like this one has been left at the scene of various crimes involving the disappearance of young Mexican women in the Bronx," he said, and she looked up, startled.
"Why weren't we told?" she asked. Mulder shrugged.
"The police didn't have any reason to connect the disappearances of the women to the recent crimes. Besides, the mothers of the women kept the rings and didn't show them to the police," he said. "But it would explain the medallion on the body. There's someone who wants to get caught. The person has a strong sense of guilt, and a faith in God."
Scully shook her head. "Not person, Mulder, *persons*.
The blood samples and saliva samples came back, with some very interesting results." She took out the ponytail, and her red hair fell in a flattering matter about her thin, attractive face. "Come here."
She led her partner to a microscope, and bade him look inside. He did so, and frowned. "The blood is discolored," he said. "It's..."
"Black," she supplied. "The blood is black. The saliva is tinged red, and contains blood samples inside of it. This blood is a compilation of two different blood samples. The greatest amount resembles the blood of one Michael Reese, and the latter is a compilation of Margot Hemmingway, Justine Mendez, and Stephanie Santiago's blood. Mulder, the saliva indicates the same thing. The murderer of Brandie Mendez drank the blood of three others. Margot Hemmingway was also known as Olga-Olga Ogle, one of the prostitutes that was murdered in the past weeks. Justine Mendez was Brandie's sister. And Stephanie was another victim."
Mulder shook his head, and looked again. "This is incredible. But the blood of the victims shouldn't be in the bloodstream."
Scully shook her head as well. "That's another thing. The DNA of the blood sample of Michael Reese is altered in some way. It's taken the blood of the other women, and somehow mixed them all together. And the samples of the other murders all belong to different people, but they all have the same results. I've never seen anything like this, and it has me baffled."
He looked up at her with that old Mulder spark in his eyes.
A small, incredulous smile played on his mouth, and his hazel eyes were lit with spirit. "Immortality, Scully..." he said, and the intensity of his gaze unsettled her, and she turned off the microscope light.
"There is a gang of murderers, Mulder," she said, her voice slow and stern. "The age of Michael Reese is fifty-eight.
The others in the gang are around the same age, except for Dawn Rivera, who is eighteen. Our job is to apprehend them and bring them to justice before they kill more people, and to locate the homeless Michael Reese. There is no such thing as immortality."
He did not lose that sparkle in his eye, and for a moment she wondered if she ought to encourage it. He had been rather mundane these past couple of months, excepting the plane crash and the death of Max Fenig. It was a welcome return, that grin in his eyes that spoke of trouble and mischief.
He had had that gleam on her birthday, when he got a group of waiters at a bar to sing "Happy Birthday" to her.
Later, he had claimed that they wouldn't sing The Beatles version, and she had just smiled. He had had that dangerous look on his face, and that sly grin that personified the name that he hated. She still had that Apollo 11 key chain that he had gotten for her, and kept it in her pocket at all times.
Admittedly, it was not the nicest birthday present that she had ever gotten, but it was the one with the most meaning.
He had never remembered her birthday before. He, Fox William Mulder of the photographic memory, always ignored Scully's. She had been disappointed the first time, but then realized that he was just absent-minded about day-to-day things. He could memorize an entire file on aliens and UFOs, but when it came to anniversaries, dates, and birthdays, he just forgot. It was never intentional.
But this year, he had remembered. For the first day or so, she had wondered why he had chosen this year to remember her, but then she had figured it out.
He knew that this was probably her last birthday. She would most likely not make it to her next one.
He was beginning to notice that she was staring intently at him, and she turned her back. "You're right," he consented.
"We do have a case to solve, and I think that one member of this 'gang' wants out. One of them is leaving clues. A religious person, who seeks redemption for the sins that she is involved with. And I think that the symbol on the jewelry can lead us to him or her."
Scully noted that he never had agreed with her on the subject of immortality.
BY: Annie Jennings(Auralissa@aol.com)
See part 1 for disclaimers.
The Rose Motel
New York City, New York
3:54 AM, Thursday
Scully sighed, and turned off the T.V. She was exhausted, and brought the covers up to her chin. She really hated cases in big cities, especially New York. The hotels were worse than usual, and the local law enforcement was always busy with prostitution, drugs, and domestic abuse.
Just as she was falling asleep, she heard a knock at the door. "Scully?" she heard her partner call. "Scully, are you awake?"
"No," she called back, and got out of bed. Upon opening the door, she was reminded of her lack of clothing. She stood in front of him clad only in a white tank top and cloth shorts.
He, on the other hand, was wearing only a pair of blue jeans and socks. Completely ignorant to the fact that her attention was glued to his torso and not his eyes, he sauntered in. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were wide. He had obviously waken up with an inspiration, and was now eager to show her. In his hand was the map of the Bronx that was marked with the
"Scully, I just realized something about this map," he said, and she rubbed her eyes.
"Mulder, it's almost four in the morning," she muttered, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "I'm exhausted. Couldn't this wait until the morning?"
He ignored her complaints, and strode into her room, spreading out the map of New York on her bed. Scully sat perched on the bed, and watched him point out the dots on the map. "Each one of these dots represents an apartment building in which a Mexican daughter was kidnapped." He took out a red pen, and marked on the map. "Now, when you connect the dots, Scully..."
She leaned forward, and her jaw dropped. "Mulder, that's incredible. That's the shape on the design, except for..."
He put one dot in a blue pen, and finished the design. "It's an abandoned building in the Bronx called the Casa Panerosa." He circled the dot again, and capped the pen.
"I'd bet my badge that that's the location of Michael Reese and company."
Scully crossed her arms and arched her eyebrow. "Say that one around some of the other agents and they might take you up on it," she said, and Mulder grinned.
Sarah wrung her hands in her lap, twisting the thin, white palms together. "Michael, leave them alone," she pleaded.
"We know that they will come. We have known this for a while. When the Ones come, let them do their duty, as we have done ours. Let Fate take its course."
Michael Reese spun around from the window, the black curtains fluttering in the breeze. "Do you want to die, Sarah?" he sneered, his English accent soothing and scathing at the same time. "Do you want to be the one to end up in the penitentiary?"
Sarah looked carefully and defiantly at him, the Irish pride filling her eyes. "If that's what it takes."
He leaned to her and slapped her. Sarah flinched, and brought a hand to her pale face. "The Entity commands what we do, Sarah darling, and I will do what I must."
Mulder straightened his tie as he stood before the crumbling, run-down building. Scully glanced over at him, and her eyebrows shot to the top of her forehead. "Mulder, what in the name of God are you wearing around your neck?" she asked.
He grinned, and untucked it for a moment to show her. "I was wondering when you were going to notice," he commented. "It's one of those Magic Eye ties."
She gave him a disgusted look, and squinted at it. "What does it say?" she asked, and kneeled down to get a closer look, holding the silk atrocity in her hands. Her nose was centimeters from his torso, and the early morning sun brought out the brilliant red threads in her hair. She finally got the image and stood up, giving him the patented Look.
"Does that thing actually say 'Have a nice day'?" she asked, and his grin broadened, confirming her suspicion.
"That's just sad, Mulder."
The door creaked open, and Scully quickly stood up, dropping Mulder's hideous tie to his shirt. He tucked it in, and looked at the figure who had opened the door.
The woman was tall, and willow-slim, with a slender figure and creamy skin. Her clothing denied the old-fashioned look of the woman. She wore black jeans and a bare midriff. Her skin glowed with an inner light, and she had wide, cat-green eyes. Her lips were full and sensual, and she had cascades of bright red curls that fell down her back in spirals. She said nothing, just looked at the agents in awe. Her eyes widened, and Mulder and Scully exchanged glances.
Mulder pulled out his badge. "I'm Agent Fox Mulder, F.B.I.
This is my partner, Agent Scully." Scully pulled her badge out as well, and this only caused the girl to become more frightened. Mulder put back the badge, and the girl nodded at them, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. She gestured at the agents to come in, and brought her slim hand to a gold cross that hung around her neck.
Mulder gave a look to his partner, then took up the woman's offer. She sighed, and followed him.
The front room was full of attractive youths like the girl. A few were smoking, and Mulder could smell the marijuana in the room, along with various other drugs. The young girl who had answered the door was probably stoned out of her mind, or was afraid that the feds would arrest her for getting stoned out of her mind. The girl sat down in the corner, uptight and nervous, her eyes still glued in amazement to Mulder and Scully.
The two stood in the middle of the room, Scully's hands jammed in her coat pockets. Her eyes scanned the room, and her gaze was met with stares of cold detachment, interest, and a tinge of... seduction. Some of the men and even a couple of women met her blue eyes with looks of sultry curiosity. Mulder, too, was met with that mixed response.
One young man descended from the stairs, and Scully's eyes widened slightly. He was one of the most beautiful men that she had ever laid eyes on. He was young, in his mid-twenties, with aristocratic elegance that was astonishing. He was slender, with jet-black hair and dark blue eyes that stared with the intensity of burning sapphires.
Mulder noticed the look of surprise on his partner's face, and shifted his weight uncomfortably.
The handsome boy walked to the agents, and gave them a charming smile, smooth and full of confidence. Mulder fumbled for a moment for his badge. He had not known what to expect in the abandoned warehouse. Perhaps the dead bodies of the girls, perhaps the dead bodies of the killers. He certainly hadn't expected a scene from "The Lost Boys".
"Agent Fox Mulder, F.B.I.," he said, and the man nodded.
"We have been expecting you for awhile, Agent... Mulder," he said. There was something in his calm British tone that told Scully that the man had not been trying to remember her partner's name. He seemed to be mocking Mulder, taunting him.
Scully also pulled her badge. "Dana Scully."
The boyish Englishman turned his attention to Scully. He gave her a playful smile, and actually bowed to her, bringing her hand to his lips. "Charmed."
Mulder saw the slight flush to his partner's cheek, and wanted to smack the kid. The boy gave Mulder a sideways glance that was full of amusement at the agent's obvious discomfort.
He was not the only one in the room who was disturbed.
The youthful red-haired girl in the corner shuddered.
The man stood up, and straightened his shoulders. "What can I do for you?" he asked.
Scully gave a quick glance at her partner, and they both replaced their badges, taking a seat across from the man.
"You can start by giving us your name," Mulder started.
The man had a broad smile on his face.
"Of course. How rude of me. Michael Reese."
Scully's eyes widened in surprise. "Michael Reese?" she asked. "Michael Reese is supposed to be fifty-eight years old."
The boyish man smiled at her, and leaned into her face.
Instinctively, she shrank back, and Mulder looked at the two with growing concern for Scully and growing anger at the so-called Michael Reese.
"One kiss from my lips and you will feel kisses for an eternity," he said, a smirk on his mouth.
With these words, Mulder sprang to his feet, and grabbed his partner's arm, roughly taking her from the danger of the youth. She looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. "You've just crossed the line, sir," Mulder told the boy, and the boy narrowed his eyes. He snapped his fingers, and there came the attack.
Two of the young women grabbed Mulder, startling him with the unexpected attack and their incredible strength. He tried to dart out of the way, but the women quickly separated the agents and dragged him to the floor. Two other men jumped Scully, and pinned her down. "Mulder!"
she yelled, but neither agent was prepared for the awesome power that they were held victim to. Mulder's head was held by one woman, and another women sat on top of him, holding him to the floor of the building. He struggled, but the beautiful young blonde woman that held his head did not let him move.
The boy that had claimed that he was Michael Reese came to him, and smiled hungrily at Mulder. He kneeled down to him, and Scully desperately glanced over at him. One Hispanic man sat atop Scully, his powerful arms keeping her from moving. She tried to move her legs, but it was to no avail. Her gun had been removed from her holster, and tossed carelessly across the room.
"No, Agent Mulder, I think that you were the one who crossed the line," the boy said, his voice soft and cool in Mulder's ear. Then, the boy leaned to Mulder's neck, and bit into his skin. Mulder cried out, and Scully's panicked eyes raced to his face.
The boy took enough blood to satisfy his need, and each drink was like a needle-sharp stab of pain. Mulder groaned, and finally the boy released him. Scully tried to reach for him, but was kept just of touch. The boy looked down at the weakening Mulder, and wiped the remaining blood from his lips. He narrowed his eyes at Mulder, and looked at the red-haired girl in the corner, who was biting her knuckles in protest.
The boy snapped his fingers, and the four youths who were restraining the agents let them go. Immediately, Scully scrambled to her feet and attended to her partner. She brought her hand to his neck, and when she brought it away, it was stained red with his blood. "Mulder, are you okay?" she asked, worried.
He sat up, a little light-headed. His knees were wobbling, and he felt nauseous. "He bit me," he said, and the tone in his voice was almost comical. Scully helped him to his feet, and he leaned on her for a moment before regaining his balance.
She looked around at the men and women, a glare in her ice-blue eyes.
"Congratulations," she said, her voice cold. "You've just won a trip to prison."
No one reacted.
J. Edgar Hoover Building
7:09 PM, Friday
Mulder shook his head, and looked down at the blood samples. "It's all over, I guess," he muttered, and Scully put her hand over his, stopping him from turning the page.
"Yes, it is," she said, her voice firm.
The gang of "vampires" had signed confessions to the murders, and all had been identified. They were all in their mid-thirties to late fifties, except for three young teenaged women. Oddly enough, the red-haired girl was never arrested, and they could find no identification for her. The boy who had attacked Mulder was, in fact, Michael Reese, and had remained as stoic as he had been before while being taken away.
The agents had notified Santiago that his daughter had been killed by blood fetishists, and that no paranormal activity had been involved, and they went back to D.C. Another case closed.
But Mulder kept going back to those blood samples. There was something wrong with these murderers' genes, and he wanted to know what it was. Something that prevented Michael Reese from looking any older than twenty, and kept the others looking like perfect teenagers.
Scully knew that this case had been bothering him, and took her hand off of his. Should she tell him that for a while, she too had wanted the case to be real? Not just another hoax?
She could only jingle the keys in her pocket, and remain silent.
Mulder's hand strayed to the band-aid on his neck. There had been blood samples taken, and it seemed as though Reese had opened up his vein and drunk Mulder's blood. It was a disturbing piece of evidence to Scully, but just another piece of evidence.
"Mulder, we just need to concentrate on the new case at hand," she said, gently trying to bring him out of his current state of mind. He looked down at the new case. The one for Miami. Funny, but he had really been looking forward to a break from the chaotic air of the Bureau before the case in New York. This was obviously fake.
He wanted to spend time on the real case.
He sighed, and picked up his suit jacket and his trench coat.
"I'm exhausted, Scully, and I don't feel good," he admitted.
She knew that he must be telling the truth. Fox Mulder, insomniac supreme, tired? She worried over that bite. He had lost just enough blood to weaken him. "I'm going home."
She sat down at the desk, and pulled out the file. "This time, Mulder, I'll stay and look at the file."
He nodded briefly, and left the basement office.
Mulder walked out to the parking garage, and shoved his hands in his pockets. He had really wanted this to be the real thing. If not for him, then mostly for her. It seemed like such a close call... the blood, and the symbols... he had wanted some kind of proof. Just a way to maybe help her.
He couldn't go on living without her. He knew this. She was too important to him. Going to that little, cramped basement every day was highlighted by her beautiful face and her bright eyes.
Mulder had wanted that immortality for her.
His steps quickened, his shoulders hunched over in boyish fashion. He couldn't bear to return to that lonesome world without her. He remembered it all too well... those months alone, walking through life without Dana Scully to make life worthwhile, worth his time. He had to do what he could to prevent her from leaving his side again.
Suddenly, he was swept away from his reverie to the sound of high heels beating across pavement. "Mulder!" was the familiar cry from feminine vocals, and he turned around to see Scully running toward him, her beige suit a streak of light in the darkened garage.
She caught up to him, bearing a piece of faxed paper.
"Mulder, there's a development in the Reese case," she gasped out.
He furrowed brow. "Scully, what happened?"
She passed him the paper, and he looked down to see a photograph of two crucifixes, each with a word on it.
"Fox", read the first one, and the other one read simply "Dana". Alarmed, he met her eyes.
"Reese and the rest of his gang escaped from their cells three hours ago," she explained, breathlessly. "They just...
vanished! Mulder, the guards were on duty, watching them, and they disappeared! The police found these at the scene of the crime. Mulder, they're out there..."
He heard a car door slam, and his eyes widened. He grabbed Scully, holding her close to his chest, one hand protectively holding her head. She knew what he was thinking, and reached for the gun that was in his holster.
In an instant, all of the lights went out, and the garage was shut into darkness. Scully's eyes darted nervously around them, and Mulder held her tighter, not wanting her to leave his touch.
Then, faster than either one could have anticipated, the two were separated, Scully being tossed to the ground and pinned down again. Mulder was also held to the floor, and Michael Reese stood above them both, his eyes full of contempt and pleasure.
The pretty red-haired woman was tugging on his sleeve, and only Mulder heard her lovely Irish voice. "Michael, let them go! Don't do this!" Reese pushed her away, knocking her to the cement. Her head hit the floor, and she passed out.
One pretty brunette hissed at Mulder, and looked at Reese.
"Which one do you want?" she asked, and Reese smiled.
"Take Fox. I've already had a taste of his blood, and I liked what I tasted..."
Scully cried out in protest, but it was too late. To the sound of her screaming out his name, Mulder was dragged away by the others. He kept his eyes on her, and yelled out her name. "Scully!" he shouted, and she locked gazes with him for a moment. She had terror in those blue eyes, as though her nightmares were coming true by watching him being dragged off.
Mulder watched Reese stalk to Scully, and lean down over her. Scully looked up at the man, and he smiled at her.
"Beautiful Dana," he murmured, and sat on top of her. His weight was stifling, and she coughed for a moment. He took her arms, and pinned her down to the floor. "Beautiful Dana." He tore into her neck, savagely opening her vein.
She screamed out in pain, and futilely kicked her legs and arms. "NO!" Mulder cried, and with newfound strength, tried to tear away from his captors before he was thrown into the trunk of a Buick. Just before he was tossed into darkness, he caught a glimpse of Scully's blood forming a red puddle on the cement. Mulder blacked out.
Scully screamed again when she watched Mulder being put in the trunk of the car, but was thrown into the pain she was being forced to experience. She closed her eyes, and tears rolled down her face. Then, suddenly, the pain escaped her, and there was a thirst unknown to her before.
She was actually *enjoying* this... it was sensual, and rich...
Reese smiled down at her, and took one long, last drink from her. She moaned for a moment, and he broke away, letting the blood flow freely from her wound. Reese let go of her, but her strength was drained from her as well as her blood. She tried to lift her wrists, but could only lay there, her vision blurring. Michael Reese lifted her wrist, and used a small blade to open the vein, emptying more blood into a small thermos.
He leaned down to her, and kissed her ear. "Your Fox dies tonight," he whispered. She moaned again, and he smiled, leaving her for dead.
She heard a car drive away, and knew that she was alone there. Abandoned. Mulder was gone... God, he could be dead. She wanted to cry, but she didn't have the strength.
She wanted to hurt someone, to stand up... just open her eyes.
And Dana Scully passed out, her blood leaking onto the parking garage floor.
THE ENTITY 4/11
BY: Annie Jennings(Auralissa@aol.com)
Disclaimers in part 1
Georgetown Medical Center
Dana Scully opened her eyes again in a hospital. She felt weak, and disoriented. Her memories were gone... she remembered nothing.
Before her eyes was Walter Skinner, his eyes intense and set on her. She looked up, and swallowed. Where was Mulder? He should be there... he had always been there before. Where was he now? She always made sure to be there for him...
"You're awake, Agent Scully," Skinner said. "How do you feel?"
"Sick," she replied. "What happened..."
"At about 7:21, there was an anonymous call to 911, stating that there was a federal agent bleeding severely in the parking lot. The paramedics found you just in time, Agent Scully. You lost a lot of blood."
Her memory returned to her with his words, and her eyelids fluttered. "Mulder," she murmured. She remembered with sudden panic the sight of her partner being hurled into a car trunk, and Skinner flinched.
"Agent Mulder's blood was found in an abandoned car, along with a bent coat hanger, that also contained traces of his blood and skin particles. There were also sets of photographs, Agent Scully. He was strangled to death," he said, his eyes downcast.
Her eyes widened with growing horror, and she shook her head, her skin losing all of its faint color. "No," she whispered, and there was a catch in her voice. She refused to believe it. He couldn't be dead. Not Mulder...
"The body was never recovered, but he is most likely deceased," Skinner said. Scully closed her eyes, and Skinner reached out to touch her hand. "I'm very sorry, Agent Scully. I know how close the two of you were. This is an awful tragedy."
She nodded, accepting his sympathy, and he left her alone.
Dana turned her head in the pillow, and slowly, softly, wept.
He came back to consciousness in darkness. There was a scarf around his head, and a gag was shoved in his mouth.
His wrists were bound behind his back with rope, and his ankles and knees were similarly tied. He tried to struggle with the ropes, but it was to no avail. His suit jacket and coat had been discarded, and his tie was loose around his neck, exposing his throat.
Fox Mulder had been stuck in the trunk of the car for four hours as Reese and his gang of five others drove with him.
The Irish girl's voice had been desperately pleading with Reese's voice on behalf of Mulder's life, and on part for Scully's life. Reese had brutally abused the poor girl, and Mulder could hear the girl's soft whimpers in the backseat.
At one point, they had placed a wire coat hanger around his neck, and cut it into his skin. He had choked, and writhed in pain until he passed out. They had taken pictures of his pain, and left the photos in the trunk with the coat hanger.
They switched cars, and left the one in plain sight. Now, he had arrived at the destination, wherever that may be.
He lay on the concrete floor, with his captors standing over him. Mulder had once tried to escape, but had just gotten hit in the eye with the butt of his own gun. He would have a black eye from that blow.
Voices spoke from above his position on the cold floor.
"He's learned to keep quiet," said Michael.
The Irish girl spoke. "He's frightened, Michael. Please, let him go."
"You're foolish, Sarah." So, Sarah was Mulder's defender.
"You are foolish. Let destiny take its course. Don't condemn him to our fate, Michael."
There was a harsh sound of flesh against flesh, and a gasp from Sarah. "Let me alone. I'm going to sacrifice him to the Entity."
This was the first mention of the Entity. Were these people members of a cult of some sort? A sacrifice... Mulder rolled over, and pain shot through his injured face.
"No, Michael. Let me do it. Please... you'll be cruel. Let me do it. As an apology, I'll go through the pain."
There was silence, and Mulder guessed that Reese was thinking over Sarah's suggestion. Finally, Reese spoke.
"Fine. Take him to the spare room. Make sure that there are no interruptions."
Mulder felt the others pick him up, and carry him away. A gentle, soft, female hand swept a stray lock of hair from his face, and her hand lingered in Mulder's hair for a moment, staying there. He lifted his face to hers, but there was nothing that he could see.
Scully walked out of the hospital, a bandage on the wounds on her neck and another one on the cut on her wrist. She was tired, mentally and physically. The gang was still out there, and they had Mulder. She knew it. He was not dead.
He was still out there, somewhere, and she had to find him.
It was cold outside, and it made little difference to her now.
In fact, very little made any difference to her now. She had never felt so alone in her life, excepting the time in which he had been presumed dead in New Mexico. She felt as though a part of her had been taken away. There was a hole in her heart, and it would remain a void without Fox Mulder.
She crossed her arms, and kept her head bent low as she walked to her car. Skinner said that there were those that now wanted the X-Files closed, since there was no one to speak on behalf of them. She had looked up at him, anger in her eyes. She would speak for them.
The X-Files remained open.
She owed that to Mulder, for when she would see him again, things would have to be perfect. He had never said good-bye to her, and she had always thought that she was going to die before him.
Scully got into her car, and pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, closing her eyes. It was so hard to think of Fox Mulder as deceased. He was so vibrant, so lively... his eyes sparkled with life. She couldn't think of them dull and glassy.
And she had never told him...
She shed her few tears that were left in her, and her arms were stained with water. "Mulder..." she whispered.
She had never told him that she loved him...
The blindfold was removed from his eyes, and before him was the face of young Sarah, the girl who had been so kind.
Her eyes were sad, and the ends of her red curls tickled his nose. He looked up at her, looking pathetic with the gag in his mouth. She reached behind his head, her many bracelets dangling in his ears.
They were alone in the room, and he looked around. The room was bare, excepting for one wide circle drawn on the floor in chalk. Candles lit the room, and the two were in the middle of the circle. He started to speak, but she pressed her fingers to his lips. "Shhh," she murmured. "I'm going to take the gag off for your comfort, but you must be quiet. If you shout, then they will make sure that you never see your partner again."
The threat to Scully was enough to keep Mulder's silence.
His neck hurt from the coat hanger torture, and he wanted to wash the blood from his shirt collar. Sarah seemed to read his thoughts, and brought her hands to his neck, gently wiping the blood from his neck. "I'm so sorry that they did this to you," she whispered. "They want people to think that you're dead. They want to make sure that your partner doesn't find you. You won't die. Not actually."
He nodded, and spoke. "Why don't they kill me?"
She nodded. "Because you are the One. You and your partner. The Ones that are destined to destroy the Entity, and therefore end their reign over mankind. I have been waiting for you for decades, centuries even. It is my duty to protect you."
Mulder shook his head, ignoring the pain. "I'm not the One.
Neither is Scully. We're federal agents. We work for the government."
Sarah smiled softly. "I promise not to hold that against you," she said, and he flashed a small smile. His face hurt.
She brought him to her lap, and brought her lips to his ear.
"What I am going to do is something that will be done with mercy. I volunteered to do it, because the others would do so with pain. I don't want you to feel any pain. I'll explain to you what I am going to do as it goes along. I promise this to you: I will make sure that you go home to your partner."
He nodded, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "What are you going to do to me?"
The fear in his voice was innocent, and heart-breaking. My God, he was nothing more than a boy. She couldn't bear to hurt him. "I'm going to make you one of us, Agent Mulder," she muttered, under her breath. He gave her a sharp look, then slowly shook his head.
"What do you mean...?" he asked.
She cupped his handsome face in her hands. God, he was so handsome. So beautiful. She couldn't bear to think of him dead. She couldn't bear to think about this man doing what she had to do to get by. She was reminded of what Michael had told young Dana Scully in New York City.
One kiss from me, and you will feel kisses for the rest of eternity.
Scully stopped the car in front of her mother's house, and turned off the car. She just sat there for a moment, and looked at the street, and unbuckled her seat belt. The streetlight shone down into her car, casting a halo of light onto her head. The tears on her face sparkled like liquid diamonds, and her profile was cast in blue and violet shades. Dana's eyes turned heavenward, and was reminded of that old song that she had always loved.
"Somewhere out there
Beneath the pale moonlight
Someone's thinking of me
And loving me tonight"
Scully looked at the waning and waxing moon, so inconsistent and wavering. She felt the gentle touch of night upon her cheek, and yearned for that dark hand to lighten with the touch of Fox Mulder's slender finger.
She got out of the car, and walked to her mother's front door. She rang the doorbell, and Margaret Scully walked to greet her daughter. "Dana?" she asked, and Scully walked inside. She tried to keep her strength up, but then broke down, crying again.
"Mulder's gone, Mom," she whispered into her mother's ear. "He's gone."
Margaret Scully held her daughter, shocked and startled at Dana's news. "Oh, Dana," she whispered back, and gently soothed her tears. "I'm so sorry... I know how much you cared about him."
Scully shook her head, and clung desperately to her mother for support. "Oh, but you don't, Mom," she breathed. "No one knew just how much I cared about him... and the worst part is that no one ever will."
Sarah held the agent's body in the lap of her colorful peasant skirt. "You're going to feel some pain, lad," she said in her clear, musical voice. "Now hush, because at the end, as long as you aren't afraid, the pain will turn to pleasure. I promise to you."
Mulder had no choice. He had to believe her. She opened her mouth, and Mulder's eyes widened at the sight of her elongated incisor. She had fangs. Good God... she was a vampire. Sarah and her gang were all immortal. She had not lied.
She smoothed a strand of hair from his brow. "Hush, now.
Think of a focus. Something that calms you. Someone who calms you. Focus on that, and the pain will lessen."
Mulder's frantic mind turned to one person and one person only. Dana Scully. Her ruby bobbed hair that floated gracefully and elegantly around her smooth, delicate features. The smile on her face when he had thrown her her miniature birthday party. Her slender form, and her arms around his. The way she felt, and the way that she moved.
With his mind on Dana, Sarah moved in. She sank her teeth into his neck, and Mulder gave a whimper at her stinging entrance into his flesh. But it was brief, for she had only reopened the old wounds made by Michael, and he did not struggle. She drank swiftly, and he weakened, losing all of his strength and his will to go on. His head lolled back, and she continued to suckle from his wounds.
The pain was short, and there was a calming, peaceful serenity that washed over him in cool waves. He felt tired, but it was a kind, merciful sleepiness. A smile crept over his face, and he relaxed in her arms. He was floating, floating away on a cloud... and on that cloud was Dana.
As Sarah fed, the usual flood of visions ran through her head as she took his blood. She saw the young woman, Dana Scully, and all of the memories that Fox Mulder held of her. Her smile, and her cries of pain as she was being dragged away by a man named Duane Barry. Surreal images of a young brown-haired child being taken away from an adolescent Fox while bright lights flashed and shimmered filled her emotions with the fear that he had felt. With the taste of one person's blood, there was always a connection between predator and prey.
Sarah pulled away, and wiped the agent's blood from her rosy lips. He was so young. She gritted her teeth, and took out the dagger. She cut open the top of her white blouse, and then drew the dagger on along her flesh, revealing a berry red cut. "You're going to need to drink from me to live," she explained. "I'm going to give you my blood.
Hush, now, lad, and stay calm. For in my blood is salvation and damnation, all at once."
She lifted Mulder's head, and put his lips to her collar bone.
At first, he did not drink, but as the blood filled his mouth, he swallowed. Her blood didn't taste coppery like his did. It tasted sweet and musky... like a fine, aged wine. He drank then, greedily, the blood filling his empty veins. He brought his hand to behind Sarah's neck, and held her close to him, consuming as much as he could.
Finally, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he fell into unconsciousness. Her wound quickly closed up, and she touched his hair, so soft. "I'm sorry," she said again.
"I'm so sorry."
Scully opened the door to her apartment, and looked around. Mementos collected from her years as an F.B.I.
agent. Roses and flowers. Silly, girlish things. She did not feel like a girl. Funny, but she felt like a widow. And she had never been married.
But that was how she and Mulder had been. Like a married couple, standing up for one another. But she had loved him, and they had never been in love. Her heart was broken in two.
Scully walked to her closet, and looked around. Suits, and jeans, all dark and unrevealing. She had a few racier articles of clothing, and a bikini for those days when she would go to the beach with Melissa and gossip. Missy...
Melissa Scully had been the only one to know how Scully felt about Mulder. She had been Scully's confidante. Missy had always told her to tell him how she felt, especially after Scully had waken up from her coma. Scully had waited, putting it off and putting off.
She had waited too long. Now, her procrastination would follow her for the rest of her life.
She changed into her night clothes, and got into bed. She wanted to sleep, and dream. But she knew that only nightmares of the look of terror on Mulder's face would follow her to sleep, and reminders of her failure to save him would be there tomorrow.
She cried herself to sleep.
Mulder awoke, and felt the pain immediately. "Scully..." he groaned. Sarah knew what was happening, and held him tighter. She, too, could feel the Entity all around them.
Circling its prey like a buzzard. Sarah would have to make sure to keep him safe.
"Scully..." he croaked again, and she soothed him with her soft words. "Scully..."
Sarah knew that the only way to spare him insanity was to trick his mind for a while. She used her gift of shifting, and changed her appearance. Her long red curls became a smooth red bob, and her green eyes changed to china blue.
She changed from a willowy, tall woman into a slender, petite one. The Irish girl's clothing was large on the new woman, but Fox Mulder could recognize this feminine form.
She was Dana Scully.
And the Entity moved in.
Dana Scully was having bad dreams. Horrible, awful nightmares. She was in a warehouse, tied at the ankles, knees, and wrists, writhing in agony. Pain surrounded her like a rough blanket, and she bled freely from two small wounds in her neck. She cried out, and felt hands holding her in place. The hands were kind, though, and they were gentle.
There was a presence in the room. It was stalking her, probing at her mind. She felt a new power run through her veins, and felt all of her wounds be healed. And she closed her eyes again. One word ran through her mind.
A name escaped her lips, and it was a deep cry in the night.
She was thrown from the scene, and looked down at what she saw. Mulder, being comforted by herself wearing colorful, loose-fitting clothing. She had been inside of Mulder, feeling what he felt, and seeing what he saw. She was inside of him.
And he was alive, and in great pain.
She woke up in a sweat, and felt warm blood running down her neck.
The Entity circled him, and looked down at the One. This was one of them... the other was still at large. But the man belonged to the Entity... he was its possession.
The Entity smiled down at the man, who was being held by one of the women. She was one of the Entity's first ones.
Sarah. Sarah had changed her shape to look like the female One. Sarah was trying to comfort the man. The man would need comforting after the Entity was done with him.
It took its claws to clutch the man's mind, and the man groaned in pain, crying out the name of the other One. It smiled. This was going well. The Entity could do what it pleased with him, for he was at its mercy. It first mused over what gifts to bestow upon the man. It then decided that the man should possess all of the gifts that it could bestow. The man should be powerful, and strong. The man was given the ability to shift, and the ability to read thoughts. His senses were all heightened, and the man had the ability to use telekinesis and telepathy. He had the gift to control fire, and to control the weather.
But all of these gifts were made on the dependency of blood. The man would have that level to build from. His need for human blood would be greater than that of any other.
The man was given the gift of preternatural beauty. He was already handsome, but now he was stunning. His tanned skin was given a luminous glow, and his green eyes were graced with flecks and sparks of gold. His heavy, dark lashes lent his hooded eyes a more mysterious, appealing beauty, and his mouth grew more sensual and more desirable. His hair was turned from shining brown to a mixture of many different shades of color, with golden threads to make it shimmering. His beauty was greatly enhanced, making him nearly impossible to resist. Even his voice was given a hypnotic quality, drawing others in with its richness.
Now, the Entity would have to discover the man's fantasy to play off of. It stripped the man of all of his courage, his pride, his memories, his love, and his fear. With each veil of feeling, the man cried out over and over. The Entity smiled even broader when it reached what the man wanted.
The man wanted the woman. He was in love with the woman Other.
It gave him back his emotion, but made the man weak and powerless. The man would need blood, he would crave it.
His thirst for blood would be overpowering and overwhelming. He would be practically insane with that driving thirst.
And the Entity left the man no longer a man, but an Immortal.
by: Annie Jennings(Auralissa@aol.com)
Sarah watched as the Entity gave Fox Mulder his power, and saw how he had changed over that period of time.
"Shh," she whispered during his hysteria. She brushed his silken hair from his face, and marveled at how soft it was after the Entity's touch.
Mulder woke up, and his eyes were fascinating. They were like golden orbs of jade... yes, he had been condemned to her fate. The Entity had made Fox Mulder one of them.
His gaze was brought to her face, and his smile was disturbing. It was primal, and carnal, and also loving and kind. His white teeth sparkled, and before her eyes Mulder's canine teeth lengthened into fangs. "Dana," he said, his voice full of charm and love.
And with that animal smile on his face, he kissed her. His kiss was full of power, and full of passion. It took her breath away, and he fainted again, his eyes closed and his lips parted.
Sarah stood up, her knees wobbling from the loss of her immortal blood and from the strength of his kiss. Good God, he was in love with the other One. Dana Scully. She changed her form from Dana to Sarah, and looked back at the sleeping newborn vampire.
What had she done?
Her fledgling child, in a way... but that man held more power than she could ever imagine, and she would have to tell Michael that. Michael, who believed that he was the most powerful vampire alive. Michael already hated the agent; hated the both of them. Jealousy and rage would try to conquer the duo, and Sarah would have to protect her two avengers. Especially after she released the new vampire to his partner and would-be lover. Dana Scully would need her help when she saw Fox Mulder again.
Sarah took one last look at the sleeping creature on the floor, his skin glowing and bronzed. She shuddered, and opened the door to speak with Michael.
Michael put his hands on his hips, giving off a look of irritation. "Well?" he asked. "Did the Entity accept him?"
Sarah nodded, and looked straight into Michael's eyes.
"Yes, Michael. But he's weak, and he's tired. The Entity has given this man many gifts, and after he feeds, he will be more powerful than either of us could ever have imagined.
I could see the gifts given to this man."
Michael flinched. "Damnation... wake the bastard up, and bring him to me. I want to witness this abomination to my face!"
Sarah pleaded with the head vampire as the others dragged Mulder into the next room. Michael set his sights upon the man, and narrowed his eyes. The man was unnaturally handsome, and it was obvious that the Entity had been good to him. Michael brutally sat Mulder up, and smiled at the young vampire as he opened his eyes.
"Hello, Fox," he said, his voice oozing with false kindness.
"How do you feel?"
Mulder shook the drowsiness of short sleep from his eyelids, and looked around. Everything looked clearer to him... the angles of the walls, the way that shadows fell upon the beautiful Irish Sarah's red curls... he could smell her floral perfume from across the room, and could see the beads of sweat upon her brow, even in the darkness. They were tinged red, and moist.
The ropes that cut into his wrists felt even more painful, but the pain in his neck and eye had disappeared. He looked up with great clarity at Michael Reese. "Where am I?" he asked. His voice sounded odd to his ears, and the way Michael laughed sounded louder, and more layered.
"Good Fox, always good for a laugh," he said. "We're in Washington, old chap. Just around the corner from where your Sleeping Beauty lies. Dare I say that she misses you, Fox."
Mulder started to struggle with the mention of his partner.
He could feel strength flowing through his veins; greater strength than he had ever known before. He felt as though he could break the ropes with the mere will of his mind.
Michael's eyes turned into two black slits, and he used all of his might to hit the side of Mulder's head. Such a blow would break a mortal man's neck, but Mulder's new strength absorbed the blow easily. Sarah noticed this, and smiled for a moment.
"Leave Scully alone," Mulder said through clenched teeth.
There was a great amount of menace in his voice, and Michael clutched his hand for a moment. Hitting Mulder had made his hand hurt from the impact. God, this man was strong...
Mulder looked stubbornly at Michael, and Michael gave Mulder a kind smile. The man had no idea what Sarah had done to him, and Michael could use this to his advantage.
"Oh, I'll certainly leave dearest Dana alone," he said, his British accent flowing and calming. "But I'm wondering if you will."
Mulder gave him a look. "I'd never hurt her."
Michael smiled. "How are you feeling, Fox?"
Mulder didn't understand his question. He had already been asked that before. He felt tired, and weak, and very odd.
And he was thirsty. His mouth was parched. "I'm thirsty," Mulder admitted. A girl in the back giggled at his response, and spoke up above the others' chatter.
"So am I," she chattered, and Sarah gave the girl a Look.
The youth returned to her silent observation of their new member. Mulder licked his lips nervously. He felt like he could kill for a glass of water.
Michael stood up, and got a goblet of a red liquid that looked like wine from on top of a cabinet. He took a sip, and the liquid coated the side of the crystal glass. "Here, Fox," he said, and put the rim of the wine glass before Mulder's mouth. "Have a drink."
He looked down at the contents of the wine glass, and realized with disgust at what was in the goblet. It was blood. Human blood. His nostrils flared in distaste, and the aroma of the blood filled his senses. He was intoxicated by the very scent of it. He wanted the blood, craved its taste on his tongue. He lost his conscience for a moment, and greedily took the liquid into his mouth.
The sweetness and the muskiness of it filled his throat with crimson strength, and Mulder was swept up in visions of his partner. Her memories lay in this glass of blood, and he saw the terror of the night in which he had been taken from her, and could feel the pain of Michael Reese feeding upon her. Then, he saw Michael Reese slitting her wrist, and emptying blood into a thermos.
Mulder finished the blood, and craved more.
Michael smiled at Mulder, and there was a pleased look on his face. "Very good, Fox. You have just tasted your immortality."
Mulder was confused by this statement... immortality... and then he remembered the night before. All of the events that had taken place. The blood from young Sarah, the mind probing from the Entity, and the changing...
"No..." Mulder whispered, and Michael nodded.
"Oh, yes, Fox," he confirmed. "The Entity has accepted you as one of us, and now you are granted eternal life. We feed from the living, and you will, too. That's what you're thirsty for. Blood, Fox. Human blood."
Mulder shook his head, and looked down at his hands in desperation. No, not him... after all of those years of trying to save the lives of others, he couldn't be forced to kill for the rest of his life.
Michael studied the man's indecision, and decided that he was tired of the apprehension. He snapped his fingers, and the goons picked him up and began to drag him to the courtyard. "Resist, Fox, and we go to your partner for more of the blood that you just drank," Michael warned. Mulder moaned, realizing that the blood that had enchanted him was the blood of his partner. He had become intoxicated by the blood of the woman he loved.
The other vampires dragged Mulder to a hole in the ground, and untied him. He looked to bolt, but then remembered the warning from Michael. Scully... he would endure the damnation of his fate to save her from a similar one.
The vampires threw him into the hole, and he grunted as he hit the dirt ground. A wooden door was closed over, trapping Mulder in the old well. He jumped to his feet, and beat on the door, only to hear the teasing voice of Michael Reese. "Remember, Fox... what you don't do with mercy, we do with brutality."
Mulder looked around the room, and his enhanced vision immediately adjusted to the dark. It was easy to see the shapes around the room, and he saw the inhabitants.
"Senor..." a female voice whispered, and he saw the lovely face of Justine Mendez before him. She was thin, and starved with hunger. And so was he.
Mulder was tempted by the scent of blood beneath her pale skin. The small Mexican girl saw the animal hunger in his eyes, and cried out. "No! You're one of them! You're one of them!"
Her words hurt Mulder, because he knew them to be true.
The vampires had put him in this room to feed on the girls.
He knew it, and knew that if he did not kill the girls with his gentler way, the others would hurt them greatly.
Mulder bent down to her slender neck, and felt the weight of his canine teeth lengthen and sharpen into fangs, making it easier for him to break the skin of her tender flesh. Just before Mulder sank into her neck, one miserable thought raced through his mind.
<<I am a monster...>>
J. Edgar Hoover Building
9:56 AM, Saturday
Dana Scully opened the door to the basement office, and looked around. It was all there... all of the memories that they had made in that small room, full of sly looks and fiery words. She was glad that she had those memories, as well as the determination to make more.
She set down her briefcase on the desk, and looked at the name plate on it. Fox Mulder, Special Agent. She picked it up, and looked at the shiny gold enamel on it. Each letter had become as familiar to her as the man himself, and now she was supposed to be moving on.
"Mulder..." she murmured. Dead, now. Gone away.
She had seen the graphic photographs of her strangled partner, and each one was more painful than the last.
Skinner had fought to keep the pictures away from her, and she was grateful for his concern for her, but she had to know the truth. She had to know that he was really dead.
She had resolved to move on in his stead. He would have wanted it that way, for her to keep living without him. She had always thought that if one person really cared about another, then they would want the other to live as best as he or she could.
Scully put the nameplate in a box with the rest of Mulder's possessions. She had called Mulder's mother herself, and had listened as Mrs. Mulder wept on the phone. She had lost two children, and there had never been a body for either. Always, always, uncertainty.
Mrs. Mulder told Scully to keep what she wanted, and to send the rest home to her. Scully had been left with a difficult task. She wanted everything that was him, and everything that reminded her of him.
She pulled out the new nameplate, the name plate that now belonged on the door of the basement. Dana Scully, Special Agent. She had been given the full job of the X-Files, and had accepted them with open arms. As much as she hated to admit it, they had become very important to her.
She laid the name plate on the desk. She would hang it up later.
Dana walked to the stereo that Mulder had brought in one day. He had claimed that music helped him work, and she agreed. They had started out with two separate stacks of discs, but eventually melded the two piles together. Sure, there were the discs that Mulder owned that she had never touched, and vice-versa, but there were also the CDs that they both loved equally. She smiled, looking over the few open cases. His aftershave lingered in the office, as did his afterthoughts.
She picked up one of the discs, and put it in. It was a Madonna CD. Mulder had always claimed that the girl had talent after "Like A Virgin", but Scully had been skeptical until he had dragged her to "Evita". Now, she too listened to the so-called Material Girl, and had purchased a CD of Madonna's greatest love ballads.
She turned the CD on random mode, and the first song to play by chance was one that fit her mood perfectly. She sat down for a moment, and looked at the messy work-center that Mulder had created, listening to the voice of Madonna.
"This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need
"Ah, my friend
Why did it have to end
And why do they always say
"Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why because
Life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old and
Your heart is breaking
"Don't hold on to the past...
Well, that's too much to ask"
She closed her eyes, and everywhere in the office, there was a memory of him. She could see his face in the small, cluttered office. The memories of his face, stretched in an unfamiliar grin, as she suggested that he get some sleep after closing the Roche case involving some disturbing nightmares of his. She remembered his ironic laugh, just before he sought solace in her arms, wrapping his around her slender waist. She had kindly thumbed through his hair, then stopped to look down at the brown threads, lingering there for a moment. The situation turned slightly awkward, and she moved away.
How she regretted that now.
"This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need
"Ah, my friend
Why did it have to end
And why do they always say
But I wish that you
Were here with me, well then
There's hope yet
I can see your face
In our secret place, you're not
Just a memory
"Say good-bye to yesterday
Those are words I'll never say..."
Scully quietly tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and her hand fell on to her cheek, reminding her of the day of her father's funeral. He had uttered her first name, a name that he had used so sparingly, and cupped the side of her face with his long-fingered hand. She had been able to find some comfort in that gesture, a gesture of affection that had been rare from such a shut-out, wary man.
"This used to be my playground
This used to be our pride and joy
This used to be the place we ran to
That no one in the world could dare destroy "This used to be our playground
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
I wish you were standing here with me
"This used to be our playground
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
The best things in life are always free...
"Wishing you were here with me..."
Dana turned off the stereo, and looked down at the desk.
There was a brush of his, one that she had forced him to use whenever they had a meeting. She had claimed that he was always such a slob, and he had laughed at her, then finally consented to use it. To tell the truth, he had been incredibly sexy when disheveled.
She picked it up, and weighed it in her hand. She picked out one gleaming brown strand, and wound it about her pinky. It was soft, and silky, and she wound it tightly, until the thread of hair snapped in two.
Holding the two brittle pieces of her dead partner's hair, Scully examined the strands, musing over them. How fragile and delicate life was... gnarled and twisted too many times, it would break. Perhaps there was some explanation for the death of Fox Mulder in such a theory. His life was full of twists and turns, and was so distorted that it could be overwhelming. One twist too many...
Sighing with a heavy heart, Dana picked up the brush and packed it away. Dead now, she reminded herself. That one twist too many had come and it had gone. She was on her own. All by herself.
The day had no lighter hand without the gentle hand of her partner. She was alone in this world, and stumbling through life without a light.
It was impossible to forget the events of that night, and Dana wished that there was a way to forget. She only had to close her eyes to see the sight of her partner being dragged away from her grasp. She could still hear him shouting her name.
She slumped her shoulders for a moment, lost in thought and remorse, then straightened them. He was dead. The photographs had shone her that much, and she couldn't go through life thinking that somewhere out there, he was alive. She could not end up as a Fox Mulder clone, seeking out vampires like a female Carl Kolchak. Unlike that fearless, selfless man who had preceded her, she would be forced by her greater agenda to mourn and commemorate.
Out of the corner of her view, she noticed something small, black, and square-shaped being pushed under her door.
Like a wallet. She walked to the mysterious object, and bent down to pick it up. It was an identification badge.
Curious, Dana opened it, and her heart skipped a beat.
The police had never found it, and here it was before her.
She opened the door and quickly scanned the halls, seeking out whoever might have pushed the badge under the door.
No one was there. A missed piece of evidence? A small, folded-up piece of paper fluttered out, and she read it. It was written in the same handwriting that had etched in their names in the crucifixes. She read the note, and almost stumbled in her step.
"Just as memories live forever, we will never die. And never would we let one of our own die. I know that you believe him to be dead, but such a brilliant light would not die out with such speed. Do not give up, for he is in hands that would hurt him, as well as you. From your only friend, Sarah Reilly."
She looked down at the picture in Mulder's I.D., and the somber face of her partner stared back at her. The crooked position of his mouth could be interpreted as either a smirk or a smile, and his eyes indicated the boredom of having his picture taken.
"Mulder...?" she whispered.
Mulder groggily awoke on the dirt floor of the miniature dungeon for the Mexican women. Their dry, bloodless bodies were strewn about carelessly. He pulled himself to his feet, and looked around, his sharp eyes seeking out an exit.
Power seemed to flow through him, and he stood up, his vision clear and unmuddied. The vampires had threatened Scully. He owed her protection. She was the other One, and he had been corrupted against his will. He would have to find her, and find her soon.
Pacing the depths of his self-made prison, Mulder started to shout at the other vampires to let him out. He was furious, and knew that after feeding on the blood of the other children, he could easily kill them all off, therefore eternally protecting Scully from their touch.
He beat on the trap door with his fists again, hoping in vain for a response. "They're dead!" he tried. "They're all dead! I killed them!"
There was nothing.
Mulder's anger rose, fueled by the tight space and the blood of the victims given to him. They had put him in this room for nothing! He was put there to tempt him, and to keep him from Scully. His common sense and his rationality were robbed from him by his sheer power, and his temper added to that fire. Those bastards were probably in her apartment at that very moment, trying to burn her alive.
He would burn them first.
Mulder punched his fist through the wood, shattering the door and leaving it in splinters. It felt good to hit something, do some damage to something. He wanted to do it again. He wanted to use that strength to hurt his captors.
Mulder tried to climb out of the well, but the splinters cut into his arms and hands, forcing his blood to rise up in welts. The blood was thick, and darker than human blood.
Staring up thoughtfully at the well opening, Mulder jumped, using his sharp new reflexes to escape his prison.
His dress shirt was left in slivers and ribbons of fabric, and his silk tie hung loosely around his neck. Mulder looked back down for one moment, gazing down with sudden clarity and shame at the damage that he had done, realizing the damage that he was capable of doing.
He could not go to Scully. He could not go anywhere. All of mankind was at Mulder's mercy now, and he had no choice but to be careful and cautious of them all. Seclusion and isolation from the rest of the world was his only possible option.
Mulder resigned himself to the forest, his veins pounding with power and his heart heavy with the thought that he would never see Dana Scully again.
BY: Annie Jennings(Auralissa@aol.com)
Scully marched into Skinner's office, bearing the badge of her partner. He stood up immediately, seemingly surprised to see Scully at work. "Agent Scully," he said, and she did not acknowledge his words.
"He's still alive," she started off, and Skinner did a double take.
Scully unfolded the badge, displaying the face of the man that she had loved and lost one too many times. "A few minutes ago, this was pushed under my office door. I picked it up, and looked outside. The halls were empty."
After Skinner took in the identification, she pulled out the short note. "Then, I find this, claiming that Mulder is still alive. From one Sarah Reilly."
Skinner took the badge and the letter, and read each one over. "Agent Scully, I thought that you were taking a leave of absence for Agent Mulder's death," he said, drawing his words out carefully. "Why are you at work today?"
She knew what he was attempting to say, and resented the path he was trying to turn on to. "Sir, when the car was found, there was a list of objects that were left at the scene," she said. "This list included Mulder's jacket, trench coat, wallet, among other things. There was a specific note that his F.B.I. badge was not recovered." She pointed one elegant finger to the badge that Skinner held. "Here it is."
She crossed her arms, waiting for a response.
Skinner took off his glasses, and gestured to a seat. "Please sit down." She did so, and he sat behind his desk. "Agent Scully, when I heard the news that Agent Mulder was dead, I was shocked and disappointed. He was a bright young man. He was one of the most brilliant agents that I have ever had the honor of working with." He leaned forward, and gave a sympathetic look to Scully. "I know that no one has taken his death harder than you. The two of you had a very close relationship that not too many other agents had."
She bowed her head. Not close enough. "If your own personal problems are affecting your professional duties, I would recommend that you take the next week or so off to get over this."
Scully refused to back down. "My professional duty is to conduct a thorough investigation on any breech of law. I believe that Agent Mulder's case was not thoroughly investigated, and would like to continue a search."
"And why do you believe that Agent Mulder's case was not thoroughly investigated?" Skinner pursued. She arched her eyebrow, hoping to give the usual effect of intimidation and self-confidence, both of which she felt lacking in at the moment.
"I think that the answer to that is obvious, sir," she said.
"How many people in the Bureau have wanted him dead or tried to kill him? A death certificate and a cemetery plot are exactly what they would love to see. They believe that if you bury Fox Mulder, you bury the X-Files. I think that the investigation was too hastily closed, and that there were many avenues of inquiry that were left unexplored."
Skinner looked over at Scully, and nodded. "All right, Agent Scully. I'll give you this opportunity to reopen Mulder's case. But I don't want endless chases involving paper-thin theories and scraps of evidence from you. Find something more substantial than a scribbled note and his badge."
Scully nodded, and was excused.
Panting and wheezing, Mulder stopped for a breath. He put his hands on his knees, and bent over for a moment. The thrill and the rush of energy from the blood had gone down, and he was left weak and hungry for more. The desire for more blood also weakened him, and he felt ill and dizzy.
Using his heightened senses, Mulder spotted a small rabbit feasting on a weed on the forest floor, and sank his teeth into the rabbit's velveteen neck.
Apartment of Fox Mulder
The wind felt good on her cheeks as she walked outside, shoving her hands into her pockets. She had gone up for one last look around, looking for any clues or any kind of evidence. It had been hard to do so, with that apartment holding so many memories for her. His presence lingered there with the scent of his cologne.
Scully had parked down the street, and had a small walk to her automobile. She tucked a stray strand of red hair behind her ear, and her breath shone in the air. It seemed that everywhere she went, she was reminded of Mulder. Men who wore the same lopsided smile, men who had that same stooped, shameful, boyish posture, men who had the same air of vibrancy and magic about them. She would want to run to one of them and put her arms around him, confirming his identity with a passionate kiss.
But none of them were him.
She sighed, and continued along the sidewalk, before seeing a mysterious figure in the shadows.
The figure stepped out, and there stood the young, fiery woman from the abandoned building in Washington. She wore only a thin coat, and her red hair waved over her slender shoulders. "This was Fox's home..." she mused, and Scully's blood was chilled.
"Excuse me?" she asked, but the girl continued without acknowledging Scully's interruption.
"This was the place where he lived and slept, dreamed and worked... I should suppose that it would be simple, messy from simple lack of time, obscure and obtuse... am I correct, Agent Scully?" the girl asked, and Scully murmured a reply.
Sarah nodded, and took Scully's hand. "I must discuss the matter of your partner with you. You have to come with me to our so-called lair, our den. My home."
Scully's heart skipped a beat. Impulsiveness was something that Mulder suffered from, never the sensible Scully's disease. But now, she had her own impulse, and that was to chase any lead possible.
Anything to bring him home.
He curled up, asleep in the forest, weary of the eternity that he faced and dreaded. Dead animal carcasses littered the forest floor, and dried leaves made his mattress. His pants were ripped and stained, and his shirt sliced practically to ribbons. He did not seem the suave, urbane Mulder that the F.B.I. usually hated and adored.
Far off in the distance, Mulder felt a presence enter the warehouse that he had escaped. Scully. He felt the other vampires around her, preparing for an ambush...
Mulder leapt up from his makeshift bed, and began his race back to the vampires' circle.
Sarah guided Scully into an abandoned warehouse, full of dark circles and shadows. There were candles all around, as well as burning sticks of incense. Sarah had not spoken a word since her invitation to the warehouse, and Scully had felt extremely tense in the car.
Finally, Sarah gripped her arm, sensing something in the air. "Run!" she hissed, but it was too late.
Vampires encircled Scully and Sarah, pushing Sarah into the wall. Scully gasped, and stumbled to the floor, losing her balance. "Jesus!" she uttered, and tried to pull her gun.
The gun was knocked from her hand, and she winced, grabbing her hand. The vampires smiled sinisterly at her, and Scully leaned back, bracing herself for the attack...
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, a dark figure shot from the shadows and confronted the vampires, keeping a protective stance over Scully. The figure was dressed scantily in what seemed to be the remnants of an expensive suit, and was covered in leaves and dirt. She watched him intently, and a sliver of color caught her eye in the figure's back pocket.
Mulder's colorful tie...
"Mulder...?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern and awe. He turned around, and Scully jumped back at the sight of his handsome face shaded in grime. "Mulder!"
Mulder turned back to the vampires, and bared his teeth at them. The long, sharp fangs glistened in the candlelight, and he growled deep in his chest. The sound was primal and animal, and it took Scully back. She scrambled to her feet, and clutched at her still stinging wrist. Mulder kept a defensive stance, and Reese hissed at Mulder, baring his own fangs. Mulder snapped his mouth forbiddingly at Reese, and another vampire lunged toward him, aiming for the throat. Mulder easily threw him off, slamming the youth into the wall. Reese took a dive for Mulder, and the two men wrestled on the floor.
Sarah took this opportunity to grab Scully's arm, and pull her away from the madness. Scully took a last glance at the so-called dead partner on the floor, and realized then that there was something wrong. No man, no matter how strong or how well-trained, could have that much strength and agility. Mulder moved in a flash of grace and beauty, and easily knocked Reese out with his hands and teeth.
Sarah took Scully's arm, not wanting the shorter woman to see this. "Hurry, Agent Scully..." she pleaded. "You have to leave now. Now!"
Scully broke free of Sarah as the gang carried their impetuous leader away from the man who was curled up in pain on the floor. His shoulder had been ripped into by Reese's teeth, and Mulder clutched it with his hand. As Sarah watched the agent collect herself, she knew that now would be the time to rejoin her own and leave the woman with her partner, reborn.
Scully stood up, and saw her protector, who lay on his stomach, sprawled out on the cement floor. She kept her gun drawn, and swiftly rolled him over, exposing his face.
She cried out for a moment, taking in the handsome features of his face. Sensual mouth, slightly awkward nose, browned skin, and heavy, lazy eyes.
It was him.
Mulder was alive.
"Oh, my God," she whispered, and knelt down to his side.
She brought a trembling hand to his cheek, and stroked his rough, unshaven face. Oh, but it was him, all right. His clothes were in tatters, and he was dirty and sweaty, but it was certainly him. Why had he attacked her?
None of it really mattered. He was back to her, brought back to her. She was glad that she had never given up hope.
Hope, and blind faith had reunited the two, and she would never let him out of her sight again.
Scully put away the gun, and pulled out her cell phone.
She had to get him to a hospital, or at least to a doctor. But just as she began to dial the number, the phone suddenly disappeared from her hand, swiped away with such force that Scully's hair blew in her face, windblown from the swat. Looking down, she saw that Mulder's eyes were open, and she froze for a moment.
In the years that they had worked together, little other than compassion and gentleness, other than the occasional frustration and temper, had resided in those hazel eyes.
Now, his eyes were wide and furious, and animal. Scully was almost afraid of him for a moment. He glared heatedly at her, his eyes two green sparks of fury.
"Leave me the fuck alone," he hissed. Startled at his language, she almost fell back, but there was something in his voice that made her grow nearer. Something rich, and something hypnotic. She leaned into his face for a moment, then drew back.
"Mulder, it's me," she said, her voice strong and calm, even though she was not. "Dana Scully. Do you remember me?"
His short laugh was bitter. "How could I forget?"
She nodded, and brought her hand to his face, trying to calm him down. He was fevered, and probably hallucinating. She was afraid that he was suffering from exposure, or infection, or anything, but still had no idea of what exactly had happened to him since being thrown in Michael Reese's trunk.
Mulder's jaw twitched, and he once again tried to escape.
He felt both weak and strong at the same time. He had to try to control the hunger that swept through his body, controlling his common sense and his humanity. He had reached her, and she was safe. But now he realized the horrible truth of what Reese had said to him. He had known that the minute Mulder got around her, he would want her more than ever. Michael would not hurt Scully.
He had to get away from her, but the pain in the back of his head and the strength-draining thirst for blood kept him in his place. The touch of her hand on his face was too much for him, and he jerked his head to the side to keep from tearing into her wrist, spilling the blood for his own thirst.
His horror at himself only increased when he felt his canine teeth lengthen into the sharp, deadly fangs to make satiating his thirst easier. Hiding his mouth from her, he spoke again.
"Please, Scully," he begged, and she frowned at the way he spoke without showing his teeth, muffling his voice. "Just go away. Don't come back here again." His words hurt her, but Mulder knew that his bite would do more damage.
Stubborn as always, Scully shook her head. "You need a doctor, Mulder," she said. "You're sick. We need to get you to a hospital."
Oh, but that would be one hell of an examination, Mulder thought, his sense of humor returning for a moment as he pictured the look on the doctor's face when figuring out what in the name of Christ was in his bloodstream.
"No hospital!" he protested, his voice sharp. She sighed, frustrated. This was a typical response from a man who hated needles and shots. He whined like a baby every single time. "I mean it, Dana. No hospital, no doctor."
She was taken aback by the use of her first name, and the conviction in his voice was unusual for him. He usually kept his temper under tight reigns when speaking to her.
She decided to humor him for the moment, going against her better judgment. "All right, then, no hospital. But let me get you to your apartment, Mulder," she said. "I'm not going to leave you here like this."
Knowing that she meant what she said, Mulder sighed, fearing what he might do to her in this monstrous state that he was in. He mutely nodded, and she helped him to his feet. The world spun around him for a moment, and he leaned heavily on his partner's slender shoulders. She almost fell from the weight of the bigger man, but kept him steady. "It's all right, Mulder," she comforted, her voice soft in his ear. "You're going to be fine."
Deep inside, he knew that she was wrong.
Under the harsher lighting of Mulder's small apartment, Scully could now see the changes that he had undergone.
His skin, once handsomely brown and well-tanned from sunlight, emitted a bronzed, luminescent glow. His hair gleamed with a million different strands of color, and his entire face was more beautiful than ever. He kept his eyes downcast, not wanting to meet hers, and the dark lashes were heavier and more mysterious. He continued to speak with his voice slightly muddled, but his mouth was more sensual and full. He had returned from Reese's abduction with an enhanced radiance.
She kept him laid out on his familiar black sofa, covering him with blankets when he shivered and his teeth chattered, but in fits of fever, he kicked them all off and broke into a sweat.
Bearing a mug of iced tea, something to help during his fever, she walked to his side again, and stopped. She frowned at the sight of the sweat on his brow, and put the mug of tea on the table. Kneeling beside him, she brushed her hand over his forehead, collecting the beads of perspiration on her palm. She studied the moisture on her hand, and was immediately startled. His sweat had a red tint to it, like he was sweating blood. Her mind told her that that was impossible, but her eyes told her another. He was perspiring blood.
"Jesus," she whispered, and he kicked off another sheet.
"Scully..." he moaned, and she wiped the red-tinged sweat on her pant leg.
"I'm here," she confirmed. He shook his head, and closed his eyes, shielding his green gaze from her view.
"Get in the bathroom, Scully," he ordered. Confused, she shook her head. When she started to protest, he raised his voice. "Get in the fucking bathroom!"
"Mulder, I'm staying right here. I won't abandon..."
Her words were cut short when he arched his back under the sheets, and gasped again. His veins felt like they were cracking, parched... empty. Each moment pumped emptiness through his system, and his body was on fire from the scorching sensations. He was losing control in front of her, and he was forever reminded of the blood that ran through her veins. It felt like he was dying of thirst in a desert, and she was the teasing oasis. He had to get her to safety...
Finally, he lost that temporary sanity, and he snapped his face to the side, meeting her concerned china eyes with his scorching green ones. Her eyes widening, she locked gazes with him. His eyes were full of rage and hunger, and were glowing. "Mulder?" she whispered, finally afraid for her own life. He opened his mouth, and her skin paled, her blood draining from her face. Mulder's shining white teeth glittered at her, marked by the new presence of long, sharp, fangs.
He sprang from the couch, and she jumped back, terrified.
This was not the Mulder that she had grown to love and respect. This was a Mulder that was new to her. This was a monster...
As he made his frenzied way to her, she made a chase to the bathroom, all the while begging him to stop. She dove into the small room, and shut and locked the door, leaning against it with all of her meager weight. "Mulder, no!" she cried. "Stop!"
His inhuman roars followed her through the wooden door, and she heard the noise of furniture being destroyed, and lamps being broken. Frantically, she continued to cry out his name, pleading with him to let him help her. But he was not listening to anyone other than that carnal voice inside, and he was tearing everything in the apartment up, hoping that if he had no energy, he would not have that thirst anymore.
Scully listened to the sounds of her enraged partner destroying the contents of his apartment, and slid down to the floor, keeping her back to the door. "Oh, my God," she moaned, and brought her hand to her forehead. It was stained red from the blood-sweat that she had collected from Mulder, and she felt faint.
She had heard enough prattle from Mulder to know the bare beliefs of the existence of vampires, and seen enough movies to know some more. But this was not false. This was not fake. Something had happened to him while in the clutches of Michael Reese, and now he was a frightening beast, ripping his own home to shreds in fever.
Staring down at her sweat-stained palm, she threw up into the trash can, and passed out.
THE ENTITY 7/11
BY: Annie Jennings(Auralissa@aol.com)
Two hours later, the door to the bathroom opened, and a weak, ashamed, and sorrowfully lucid Fox Mulder stepped into his bathroom, and closed his eyes at the sight of his partner lying on the floor, asleep, her red palm facing him with the awful truth. He was tired, but the thirst for blood was gone, at least for a while. His inhuman strength was vastly blunted, but he was still more powerful than the ordinary man.
Her red hair was spread about on the tile floor, and there was vomit in the waste basket. He groaned in guilt, and leaned down to her, tracing the outline of her jaw. Softly, gently, with the tenderness that she had treasured, he caressed her cheek, stroking skin and flesh that he had almost destroyed.
Groggily, she stirred, and jumped back at the sight of his face. Her eyes flew wide open, and he shook his head, not wanting her to go away. "Scully..." he implored, and she shook her head.
"You're not who you were," she said. "My God, Mulder, what happened to you? You almost..."
He sighed, and stood up, his shoulders sagging with guilt.
"Yeah, I know," he muttered. His eyes were dejected, and he looked to the floor. "You'd better get home, Scully. I'm not any good for anyone like this."
At the sound of his voice, rational and disheartened, she gazed at him. His voice carried a new tone to it. It was hypnotic, almost, and seductive. She had trouble remembering herself when he spoke, and this element rather frightened her. Then again, he always had been able to take her breath away.
Still in a trance, she heard a note of the familiar, humane Mulder that she had fallen in love with. Though there was a new element of danger, he was not to blame for it. She should not fear him, she should help him.
She shook her head, and tried to meet his eyes. "No, Mulder," she said, quietly. "I'm not going to leave you. I could never do it."
"I'm asking you to go for your own safety," he said. She remained staunch.
"And I am staying for yours," she replied. It was a battle of wills, and in some way, a battle of concern. His concern for her safety would force Scully to leave him, and her concern for him would keep her at Mulder's side.
Mulder's quiet voice spoke up. "I don't think that you understand, Scully. You don't know what they did to me when I was thrown in that trunk. You weren't there, and I am *really* glad that you weren't."
"Then tell me, Mulder," she demanded. "Tell me, because I have a right to know. I've just watched you try to attack me, and I want an explanation as to why you did it."
He grew quiet for a moment, and nodded. "You really want to know? They put me in the trunk, and drove for a while.
They stopped it at one point, and had me pose for a couple of pictures with a coat hanger around my neck. Then, they switched cars, and took me to a warehouse. I passed out after a while, until they woke me up. They had me blindfolded and tied up. They brought me into a room, and argued over what to do with me, and talked about a *sacrifice*. Finally, a girl named Sarah-"
"Sarah?" Scully asked, and her mind clicked in with the badge. Mulder nodded.
"She was Irish. She took me into a small room, and drank my blood, Scully. She bit into my neck and drained me of it. Then, she took a dagger and cut her own skin, and made me drink it. I passed out for a while, and when I woke up, they dragged me out into the middle of a room. Asked me some questions. Then, Michael Reese passed me a glass full of blood. I wanted that blood so badly, Scully, so badly that I would have killed for it. And it was yours. Your blood."
She didn't want to hear anymore. She remembered that dream of a woman in Irish clothes that looked identical to herself holding Mulder as something probed his mind.
Closing her eyes, she asked him to stop. Mulder ignored her request, and continued.
"I drank the blood, Scully, all of it. All through it, I saw these images of you. Images of you being taken away by Duane Barry, images of you being attacked by Reese and having your blood put in a thermos. The blood gave me a rush, like a caffeine boost. Then, they put me in a basement or cellar, with all of the Mexican girls. They were for me, Scully. They were supposed to be food. And I killed them, Scully, every last one. I killed them with my bare hands and with my teeth."
She covered a cry with her hand, and shook her head. "Stop it, Mulder," she demanded. "I don't want to hear anymore."
"I killed them all, Scully, because I needed their blood. I needed it so badly that I couldn't think!" he said, his voice rising. "They made me into a monster! I don't know what I am! The closest word to what they made me is... is..."
With a sigh of breath, she finished his sentence.
"Vampire," he repeated, the word rolling over his tongue.
"Yeah, I guess so."
There was not any other way for him to put it. Mulder had been made into a vampire. He was no longer the man that he used to be, and he was afraid of what he had become.
Scully feared for him, too.
"Why do you want me to go?" she asked.
"Jesus, Scully, I can't risk this! What would happen one night if I woke up and had that craving again, and you were the only one here? I could kill you, Scully, kill you with my bare hands, just like I killed those poor girls," he exclaimed, showing her those same long-fingered hands which had just gently brushed her cheek only moments earlier. "Do you know what this feels like? It hurts a hell of a lot more than you could ever imagine."
When she spoke, her voice was calm, and full of strength.
"And do you know what it is like to walk down the halls of the building, feeling the stares of your colleagues on you, knowing that they know that your partner is dead? I've been alone these past few days. I have hated every minute of it, and I refuse to be alone again. We will work through this, and we'll figure out a way to do it."
Mulder marveled at the proud, strong, determined woman in front of his eyes. "What do you do when you have eternity, Scully?" he asked, quietly. "What do you do when time doesn't end for you, and forever is the span of your life?"
She put her hand over his, a gesture of companionship and comfort. "You live, Mulder," she responded, simply and softly. "And I'll live with you..."
A small trickle of wetness made its way down from Scully's left nostril to stain her upper lip. Mulder's heart almost broke in front of her as he saw her nose begin to bleed.
Hesitantly, he squeezed her hand. "Dana... your nose..."
She brought her hand to it, immediately, but with Mulder's sharper reflex, he stopped her, and brought his hand to it instead, staunching the blood. She looked up at him, surprised, and he held his hand against her upper lip, the side of his hand brushing her mouth for a moment. As the flow stopped, he brought his hand away from her nose, and brought the blood to his lips, swallowing the fluid from her nose. She watched this in fascinated horror, and he flinched in shame.
Turning away from him, she bent over the sink, and ran the faucet, washing the blood from her nose. He stood back, helpless and shattered, watching the only person in his life that had never let him down try to stop herself from dying.
"I'll walk down that road with you for as long as I can, Mulder," she muttered, feverishly scrubbing a reluctant bloodstain from her face, "but we both have known for a while that I won't be able to walk with you for very much longer."
Raising his hands for a moment, then dropping them futilely to his side, Mulder spoke. "I... I'm sorry," he said.
She shook her head, bitterly.
"So am I, Mulder," she grieved. "I'm sorry to know that I won't be around to see you find your sister. I'm sorry to know that I'm leaving a lot of things undone, and words unsaid. But you're going to have to do what you set out to do, and go on without me. It'll be a longer road than ever, I suppose, but that only means that there will be more opportunity for you to do all that you set out to do."
He could only stand there, and watch as she turned off the water, and braced herself against the sink, just watching the water swirl down the drain, tinged red with her blood.
Finally, he put his arms around her, and held her for a moment, keeping her tightly against his chest. Closing her eyes, she rested there, safely tucked away in the solidity of his arms. He rested his cheek on her hair, and his sensitive skin could greater appreciate the softness of each singular strand. He lost himself in that sensation, and nuzzled his cheek against the crown of her head. That soft, soothing motion caused Dana to lean heavier on him, and she felt as though she could fall asleep in comfort.
Breaking the embrace, Scully stepped back. "I'm tired, Mulder," she murmured. "It's been a long couple of days, and I haven't been sleeping well lately." Knowing that her insomnia was his fault, Mulder nodded, appeasing her request.
"See you around," he said, and she shook her head.
"I'm staying here tonight," she said, firmly. "I want to be around in case... anything happens." They both knew what she meant. She wanted to be nearby in case Mulder had another attack for blood. Little did Scully know that Mulder would rather die than kill her.
He cast his gold-flecked green eyes downward, and gave her the answer with his slight nod. Scully cupped his chin with her small hand, and brought his eyes to meet hers. For a moment, she felt lost in their depths, and quickly brought herself out of the trance his eyes put her in. "Hey, we're going to get through this," she comforted. "This will all work out in the end."
Smiling briefly, he put his hand on her shoulder, gently massaging her stiff bones. She would have let him continue, but the last thing that either of them needed at that point would be what they both secretly desired.
Instead, she asked Mulder for a shirt of his to sleep in. He granted her the requested shirt, and she walked into his bedroom to go to sleep.
"Hey, Scully..." he said, watching her trail off, bearing his pin-striped dress shirt. She turned around, and met his eyes.
"Lock the door."
Realizing what he meant, she shuddered swiftly, and nodded. "Good night, Mulder," she murmured. "I'm glad to have you back... no matter what the circumstances are."
He gave a short, fleeting laugh, and the two parted for the night.
Someone was knocking on Mulder's door. Scully yawned, and turned her head, disoriented and confused of her surroundings. The bed she was sleeping in was not hers, and the shirt that she wore was not one that belonged to her. But the scent that clung to the sheets and shirt were quite familiar to her nose, and she smiled when she recognized the smell. Mulder's scent.
Upon hearing the water running, she realized that she would be left to get the door. She swung her legs out of the bed, and made her way through the delightfully messy apartment to the door. She rolled up the sleeves on Mulder's shirt. Damn, he wore big shirts.
Skinner stood on the other side, completely dressed in a suit and coat. His eyes were stern, and his gaze suspicious.
She was immediately awakened by the sight of her boss standing before her, and mentally cursed when she realized what the scene looked like. There was the sound of running water in the background, and a barely-clothed woman in a man's shirt with tousled hair and sleepy eyes in front of him. And she was in her partner's apartment.
Good-bye, F.B.I. Hello, unemployment line.
"Agent Scully, what in the hell is going on?" he demanded.
She felt extremely awkward, knowing that the shirt was only partially buttoned and the length of it revealed her bare legs.
"Sir, this is not what it appears to be," she started, but Skinner interrupted her.
"And what would this appear to be?" he prompted. She opened her mouth, but all doubt was taken from Skinner's mind when Mulder walked through the bathroom door, naked from the waist up, wearing only a pair of navy blue boxer shorts with little UFOs on them. The only kind of response that Scully could think of was to dig a hole and crawl in it, but she just stood there instead. <<This is always good>>, she thought. <<This is always a *really* good thing to have happen.>>
Mulder just stood there, a razor in his hand, and thought of slitting his wrists with it. <<Oh, shit, I'm immortal, and so that plan wouldn't work.>> Feeling really sleazy, Mulder just turned around, and walked out of the room, still holding the razor in his hand, shaving cream on his face.
Skinner gave Scully a look of disbelief. "Was that the supposedly dead Agent Mulder just walking around in his underwear?" he asked. Were not the situation so serious, she might have laughed at the Assistant Director's phrasing.
Instead, she could only shove a hand through her disheveled red hair, and nod her head.
"Yes, sir," she muttered. Skinner gave her a close look, then clenched his jaw.
"Agent Scully, I don't know what the situation is, but I certainly think that you might need to explain yourself," he said, and she nodded, her eyes still glued to the floor.
"Yes, sir," she mumbled again, and Skinner left, closing the door firmly behind him.
Furiously, she walked into the bathroom, where Mulder was shaving himself carefully, not wanting to knick himself. "Well, we just slept together," she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.
"Was I good?" Mulder asked, not even pausing to look over at her. Exasperated, Scully threw up her hands.
"Mulder, I don't want to hear it. It would be pretty safe to assume that we just got fired."
"Well, considering the fact that I'm supposed to be dead, I thought that I was already out of a job," Mulder said, calmly. She knocked the razor out of his hand, and it floated in the sink amidst little islands of foam.
"Dammit, Mulder, I liked my job!" she fumed. "Oh, sure, the pay was kind of shitty and the person I worked with could manage to piss me off on occasion, but I still liked my job! Well, I guess that I can kiss my medical benefits good-bye. Oh, wait a minute, I would have to do that in a couple of months anyway."
Mulder turned to Scully, a scowl on his face. "That was low, Scully," he objected. She put her fingers to her temples, and massaged them.
"Yeah, well, I guess I'm feeling kind of low," she mumbled, and he put a soapy hand on her shoulder.
"Hey, remember? We're going to get through this. We just have to explain the situation... well, some of the situation to Skinner, and everything will be fine," he said. She looked up at Mulder, suspicious.
"What do you mean, 'some of the situation'?" she asked, and Mulder gave her a patented Scully look, something that managed to amuse her.
"Well, Scully, I can't just march in to the A.D.'s office and say, 'Well, here I am, good as new, except I'm never going to die and I could really use about a pint or so of your blood', now, can we?" he pointed out. Reluctantly, she nodded, and laughed shortly.
"Funny, Mulder, but the cynical Dana Scully for once in her life, believes in all of this," she muttered, and suddenly, they were both aware of the amount of intimacy that there was in that small room. He couldn't help but admire the way she looked in his shirt, the tails barely covering up her flowered underwear, her shapely legs revealed. She had to look away from him, clad only in his boxers, his hand clasped kindly on her shoulder.
How easy would it have been to create the scenario that Skinner believed was true? Mulder thought, and looked seriously at her, studying the way that her loose, untamed hair flowed perfectly around her face, blowing strands of red to tickle her small, perfect nose. How easy it would have been...
Sarah Katie Reilly paced the confines of her small, bare chamber. The sudden departure of the young Fox Mulder had been pleasing to her at first, until she realized that Michael was pleased by his exit, too. Now, she worried as to why Michael had been glad to see Mulder's escape.
Sarah felt the Entity swirl around her, and she closed her eyes. <<Damnable creature, what do you want of me?>> The Entity's purr showed surprise and indignation at the tone of the Irish woman. <<Sarah, Sarah, Sarah... You should know better than to challenge me so. One word in outrage, and I strike upon the other One.>> Sarah refused to back down. <<I know your plans for Dana Scully. Threatening her is useless. I am strong tonight, devil, and I will not tolerate your usual empty lies.>> <<I am sorry to hear that, my dearest Sarah. But you knew not of my plans for the other One, did you? The handsome One. The delicate One. Your fledgling Fox, who has refused feedings for the past day or so. He has not kept up his strength. He does not wish to harm his lovely Dana.
And his vulnerability could be the death of all of you...>> Sarah grew cold, and spoke aloud. "Agent Mulder..."
Her cell phone rang.
Breaking away, he picked up the razor, and continued shaving the stubble from his chin and cheeks. She blinked, and the moment was over, and she pulled down the shirt to cover her thighs a little better.
"I'll get it," she muttered, and picked up the phone.
The voice that replied had a musical hint to it, and was low and conspiratorial. "Agent Scully. I need to speak with you.
It is of great importance."
"Who is this?" Scully demanded. Mulder looked over at her for a moment, and went back to the mirror.
"It's Sarah Reilly, Agent Scully. I'm the one who gave you back your partner's I.D."
Swiftly stepping out of the bathroom, Scully walked into Mulder's bedroom. She had a few questions for Sarah Reilly that Mulder might not want or need to hear. "What in the hell is wrong with him?" she demanded. "He tried to kill me last night, for Christ's sake. Now, he's demonstrating powers and abilities, as well as physical changes, that no human being should ever possess. I want an explanation."
Sarah's lilting voice remained calm. "I will give you an explanation, Agent Scully, if you will remain calm. I have to speak with you and your partner as soon as possible if either of us wants to help him. I am very sorry for the pain that I might have caused."
"Yeah," she muttered. "I'm sure. Look, where do you want to meet?"
"I'll meet both of you in Nathan's Deli. Do you know where that is?"
Scully closed her eyes. Of course she knew where it was.
Mulder had dragged her there once, promising her that it was different from the usual greasy spoon that he frequented. Ever since she had said one good word about it, they had met there for breakfast and case reviews. "I know where it is."
"I'll be upstairs, at the table in the far left. I promise you privacy, Agent Scully. And I... am sorry for all that I have done wrong. I want you to know that anything that I did not do with mercy would have been done with malice." There was a pause, as though Sarah wanted to say something else, then she spoke again. "Meet me there as soon as possible."
The Irish voice ended, and the connection was lost.
Scully stared down at the phone, with a sudden wish that she could have stayed on the line with the girl. She was Scully's only connection to the vampires that was not hostile or cruel, and now that connection was lost. Sighing, she put the phone away, and walked back into the bathroom. Mulder had finished shaving by now, and had slipped into a pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt.
With his hair tousled and his eyes lowered, he looked both boyish and exotic.
"That was Sarah Reilly, Mulder," she said, and Mulder's eyes lifted to meet hers. Those piercing eyes scorched straight into her soul, and she felt herself becoming lost in their depths. She had to look away, or she could forget her original purpose. "The same Sarah that you knew."
"Sarah?" The name was familiar, and he connected the name to the sad, kind-eyed girl who had taken blood from his throat. She was the one who had given him her own blood. She was the girl who had turned him into a... a...
Why was he having so much trouble thinking of himself in any way other than human? He was certainly not the same as he had been. He was not human. He had to accept the fact that he was a... a vampire.
Fox Mulder was a vampire.
"Yeah, Scully, I remember her," he said, very quietly, running his hand over his freshly shaven face. Scully cleared her throat, finding a lump in it that prevented her from speaking.
"She just called and asked for me to meet with her at Nathan's. She wants us both there, Mulder. She sounded afraid, and she sounded honest. I don't know what you remember of her, but I think that she'll turn out all right."
Mulder nodded, and sat down on the edge of the bath tub.
"I suppose so..."
"Well, the first thing we would have to do is go to the vampires. See if there is anything that we can do. They would know best, wouldn't they?"
Mulder shook his head, sternly. "Scully, they want you next. Reese told me that. They have some kind of legend, and they believe that you and I are the only people alive who can kill them. They call us the Ones."
She shook her head. "I'm not one to listen to ghost stories or..."
"But look right in front of you, Scully," he interuppted.
"Aren't I the personification of every scary story that you and your friends told at slumber parties when you were twelve?"
She wanted so badly to take him into her arms, and wipe the pain from those sad, gold-flecked eyes. She wanted to tell him that she saw not a monster in those eyes, but a man so great that he could take her breath away.
Somberly, she took his hand. "I don't want to lose you, Mulder. And I'll do anything to keep you."
Nathan's Deli was unoccupied when the two arrived, Scully dressed more casually than usual in a pair of blue jeans and a navy blue shirt, her favorite jacket on her shoulders.
Mulder had shrugged into his well-worn leather jacket, and had attracted quite a few stares as he had entered the room.
Scully knew why. Ever since the "changing", he had become extremely appealing to her eyes. She had had trouble keeping her distance from him. Even liberally dressed in a simple shirt and jeans, Mulder was irresistible and enigmatic.
In the upstairs section of the deli, there sat Sarah Reilly, subtly dressed in a plaid flannel shirt and jeans, with a denim jacket that was slightly out of style, but yet it was also flattering on such a girl. Her corkscrew red curls flowed like waving wine down her slender back, and her emerald eyes were quiet and sorrowful. She seemed to be many years older than her youthful face and figure implied.
Sarah nodded to the couple, and Mulder and Scully took their seats. Sarah's maudlin eyes fixed on to Mulder's glittering, enigmatic green ones, and she shook her head, seemingly upset. "I never meant for any of this to happen," she murmured, and Scully realized that the Irish voice of Sarah Reilly had that same hypnotic hint that Mulder's voice had. It was spellbinding, and she spoke melodiously.
A waiter approached the table. "Would you care to order anything?" he asked, his tone polite. Scully ordered a bagel and coffee, and Mulder almost ordered a coffee as well, before Sarah shook her head, quickly.
"We'll just have orange juice," she said, and the waiter gave the table of three a wary eye before leaving them to their devices. Mulder gave Sarah a curious look, and Sarah took a dainty sip of ice water.
"This is your first lesson in vampirism, Mr. Mulder," she said, an apologetic note in her voice. "Warm drinks tempt and rouse the Bloodlust in you." Sarah said the word with an air of reverence that made the word seem more important. "Alcohol will do the same thing. I prefer citrus beverages because they sharpen the tongue."
Scully watched the look that Mulder gave her, and realized then just how embarrassed and uncomfortable he felt. They had once been equals, and now neither was sure of who was superior to whom.
"What else should we know?" Dana volunteered, and Mulder appreciated this almost as much as Sarah did. The younger woman was taking this well, and showing her devotion to her friend and partner. Sarah then remembered the kiss from her fledgling vampire, and it burned again on her lips.
Taking a sip of the water, Sarah began again. "There is a lot to know. The thirsts will come to you at night, Mr. Mulder.
They will come in frequency and abundance. You will feel panicked and should not try to deny these thirsts. About fifteen years ago, we had a vampire who refused to feed.
She lasted about three days before she went mad from the hunger, and we had to burn her. Burning is the only way to kill a vampire, by the way. Nothing else will work."
Mulder put his face in his hands, and Scully could tell that he did not want her to hear such things about him. He did not want her to know of his inabilities. He only wanted her to remember the best of him. Well, Dana, here is the worst... Scully's head was aching.
Sarah turned her sympathetic eyes to Scully. "I never wanted to hurt either one of you. I have been waiting for the two of you for two hundred and twenty-two years. You are my redeemers. My saviors for the sins that I have cast upon mankind. You are the Ones."
Scully shook her head. "Two hundred and twenty-two years, Sarah?"
The waiter brought the food and beverages to the three, and Sarah began on the sweetly sour juice. "I know that you do not believe me, Ms. Scully. I know that you think that all of the information that I am giving you is false. A load of bullshit, so to speak. But I can promise you that there is no lie. This is the truth. Remember, the pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple."
Scully had heard that quote before. Her instructor for forensics at Quantico had given the class that quote on the first day of class, reminding them that usually the road to the truth met was as arduous as the truth itself. On days with Mulder, she had been comforted by that piece of wisdom and advice.
Now, hearing it from the mouth of the vampire who had taken her partner's life from him was not as comforting as it was disturbing. The thought seemed plucked from Dana Scully's lips.
"Why do you say that we are the Ones?" Scully asked, shaking her head. Sarah nodded.
"It's a long story, Ms. Scully, but I have an eternity to tell it," she murmured.
THE ENTITY 8/11
BY: Annie Jennings(Auralissa@aol.com)
"I was born in a small Irish town in 1756. My family was poor, and we were farmers. We had a small plot of Irish soil when there was really no soil to be given out. The village we lived in was called Sinead.
"By birth, I was Catholic. The whole family was, as was my ancestors and so on. Our priest was a warm, hearty father, who would get drunk with the men of the village and give them Communion on Sunday. Father O'Halley.
"I had little ambition and a love of my own. Robert. Robert and I were planning on getting wed, having our own little farm and our own little plot of soil, in Sinead, Ireland.
"The murders began with my cousin. She was walking home from our home one night, and found dead the next morning. All of the blood was drained from her body.
"Rumors existed with a fever in those days. They flew around the village. Robbers, highway men, the British...
then Father O'Halley was the next victim. The British were eliminated from the list. Even they would not touch a man like our good father.
"A new priest came to Sinead, one who claimed experience with the exorcism of such murdering demons. We were God-fearing folk who left milk on the edge of the step for the fairies to drink from. We listened to this new priest with great attention and concern.
"He spoke to us a word we never heard before: vampire. He claimed that the demons would kill our entire village, and that their master was not God, nor was it Satan. It was the Entity. The Entity, who was all-knowing like God, but had no respect for life. The priest said that there was only one way to stop this treachery, and that there was a legend that was known through out all time.
"When the massacre and the murders grew to be too powerful, there would come two who would slay the Entity with the power of not God, but the power of life. They would murder the Entity, and with the Entity, murder the vampires.
"The priest tried to stop this band of vampires, but alas, the vampires murdered all of the village folk in one bloody slaying. And the priest, on his death bed, bade me to take the blood of the Immortal, and to watch for the Ones until they came. And when they came, I was to protect them and shelter them. With no family, and my fiancee dead, I had nothing. I wanted this to stop.
"I drank of their blood."
Sarah paused, and Scully could see the years in the woman's clear green eyes. The years that had been spent feasting on the blood of human men and women, and now were coming back to haunt and hollow her eyes.
"I wandered the world with the vampires, for I had to know where they were. What if they found the Ones before I did?
I always remained close to at least one of them, and then I met Michael Reese, about fifty years ago. He was a British soldier in World War II, tall and dashing. I lost my heart to this Michael, and I did something I have not done until now. I made another one of my kind.
"Gone was the compassion and the sensitivity. Mr. Mulder, before Michael was Immortal, the two of you were greatly similar. The same love for fellow man, the same gentle quality. But Michael lost his soul in the transfer of blood, and became the most brutal killer.
"I stopped loving him.
"But we are bound, like soul mates, to each other. I took an oath of spoken loyalty, and I am, in a sense, wed to Michael Reese. I cannot leave him, and he would not dare to leave me.
"And so I waited, waited for the Ones to save me. And here you are."
After hearing this tale of what Scully thought was a bad episode of "The Highlander", she sighed. "Sarah, this story is hard to hear and even harder to believe."
Sarah nodded. "Which is why I have proof. Evidence, Ms. Scully." Sarah pulled out an old, yellow-paged Bible, embossed with gold lettering and full of names. Scully took the Bible in her hands, and shook her head.
"Mulder, look at this," she directed. "This is ancient, Sarah.
Just ancient." She opened up the front page, and looked at the names and dates of births for generations of Irish men and women. And there, in the neat, elaborate handwriting of a proud father, was the name of Sarah Katie Reilly and the date that followed. 1756. October the sixth.
"You never could find an I.D. to match mine, could you, Ms. Scully," Sarah softly confirmed. "They did not take finger prints when I was born. I had no birth certificate. No criminal records. In many respects, I do not exist."
Scully shook her head, amazed. "This can't be... you're only a girl..."
Mulder finally spoke up, the first time that he had said anything during Sarah's miniature legend. "I really am a vampire, aren't I..." he murmured, and the eternal sadness and misery in his voice ripped Scully's soul in two. There was nothing that could be done for him. He was damned, damned, damned.
And she could not even give him solace.
"Yes, Mulder, I suppose so," she whispered, keeping her eyes away from his. If she had to meet those guilty green eyes, she would lose it completely. She had to be the strong one, and she certainly did not expect him to be particularly strong at the moment.
And it was so difficult to remain strong when he was breaking her heart.
Sarah looked away, her eyes fluttering. "You must be careful, Ms. Scully. They want you next. They chose to change him because they know that the hunger will either turn him to Darkness, or drive him mad. Killing him would not work. You would still remain."
Scully looked at her partner, and nodded. "What should we do? Is there any way to save him?" The questions were futile as hell, and Scully knew it. But she was still hopeful.
Sarah shook her head. "The only redemption lies in the death of the Entity. And the Entity will be very hard to defeat. Our blood is strong, stronger than any acid or antidote." She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at Scully.
"You're sick, aren't you, Agent Scully?"
Though she knew that she should not be, Scully was surprised at the girl's astute observation. "Yes, I am," she murmured, and Sarah nodded while Mulder flinched. The reminder of his partner's shortened life was damaging and cruel to him.
"You're dying... do you know that if the Entity accepted you, you would have no more pain? Eternal life, Agent Scully... it is a gift that is like many other gifts. A rose with its many sharp, deadly thorns." She stood, and dropped some money on the table.
"Good-bye, agents. I vow to you that as long as you live, I will be here to guard and guide you."
The Entity watched the interplay between the two agents and his Sarah from its perch above. The man, the Fox, was not reacting well to his newfound powers. Usually, the Entity had its chosen ones racing around their homes, performing inhuman acts on ordinary objects. The Fox had remained very silent, and had not been responding in the normal fashion.
The Entity looked down at the woman. Dana. The Danu, or the mother of living things. The Danu was very smooth, and had taken this all quite well. The Entity was interested in the Danu, for she and the Fox were supposed to destroy the Entity. The Danu would soon be one with the Entity.
But first, there was the matter of the Fox.
Back at Mulder's apartment, Scully prepared for another night of tossing and turning in Mulder's bed, praying to God that her partner's thirst for blood would remain satiated for the time being. She had not slept well the night before, despite the fact that she had been so near to Mulder. She knew as well as he did that she was no longer safe so close to him. Danger lurked in the corners of his small, cluttered apartment.
Rolling up the sleeves on the shirt that she had borrowed from Mulder, she sat Indian-style on the unmade bed. Dana had never felt so alone or so afraid for him before. Yes, she was extremely grateful to have him back, but she was also afraid of how he was now.
She went out to the small living room to check on him before she fell asleep, and found him pensively staring out of the window. "What are you watching, Mulder?" she asked, her voice soft and subtle.
"Just the city lights," he replied. "They look so beautiful to my eyes... I know that in every house, there is a person who lives there alone in the world, or with a family. And I remind myself that I am their only threat."
She watched this great man before her for a moment more before putting her hand on his shoulder, and bidding him a silent good night.
The last thing she said before slipping under the covers was a word that was unfamiliar and foul on her tongue.
Mulder lay on the couch, and looked up pensively at the ceiling. He could count each individual crack, even though all of the lights were out. He turned on his side, and closed his eyes. The thirst still haunted him, but the temptation was calm enough that he could control it.
Just as he was about to drift off, a voice entered his ear.
Alert and awake, Mulder sat up, and looked around the apartment. There was no one other than he and Scully. He leaned back again, only to be jolted awake by the sound of the smooth, calming voice. <<Fox, rise up...>> Mulder was now very disturbed, and his sharp eyes darted back around the apartment. "Scully?" he softly called, and there was a melodic chuckle in his ear.
<<No, youth. Your alluring treasure lies still. I speak to you through the bond that we share, my Fox.>>
Realizing that this bond did exist, Mulder used it as well.
<<The bond of blood, good Fox. The bond of hunger, and desire. You and I are quite alike, child of my darkness. We share that thirst for her. She teases and tempts you, like a beacon of light does to a lonely sailor.>> <<Scully...>> Mulder closed his eyes, and the image of her, practically drowning in his oversized dress shirt, was thrown against his eyelids. Lips parting, that desire for her came back, stronger than ever. He felt the changes take over, his teeth lengthening and sharpening, and his skin breaking out into a blood-tinted sweat. <<No!>> The voice in his mind sounded like water cascading over rocks, as melodic as a Nordic fjord. <<Oh, dear Fox, with every breath she takes, she becomes more seductive. End this torture, my loyal Fox. Free yourself from your self-made prison!>>
The door opened, and she stood there, small and fragile in the pin-striped shirt. "Mulder?" she questioned, and he turned to face her, panting and sweating, his fangs glistening in the moonlight. "Mulder!" she gasped, and closed the door.
Mulder lunged at the door, and through the fragile wood, he could smell the blood pulsing through her veins. She wouldn't miss some of it, he reasoned. <<She'll still be safe if I take a little...>>
<<Of course! Now, go to her, my son, and take what should have been yours long, long ago!>>
The door fell from its hinges, revealing a vulnerable, unprotected, titian-haired woman, crouched down on her knees. "Mulder, no!" she pleaded, and he ignored her feeble cries of help. She was not Dana Scully to him anymore, and he was not Fox Mulder. He was the predator.
And she was the prey.
Scrambling along the floor, Scully tried to get to the lamp.
She could knock him out with that, knock him out and make sure that he would remain in good distance from her.
"Mulder, stop!" she yelled, but a low, inhuman growl rumbled from his chest. "Mulder, no!"
He tackled her, and brought her to the ground. She struggled under the sheer weight of him, but one look from those hot, animal eyes brought her to the floor. There was nothing there for her.
He sank his teeth into her neck. Groaning in pain, Scully beat on his back with her small fists, and then stopped. The silkiness of his lips on her neck was more pleasure than she thought that she could ever receive. In that moment, she pressed her hands to his back, encouraging him to take more, to keep going, not to stop.
The blood of the slender woman before him coursed through his veins, and Mulder drank until the voice pulled him away. <<She needs your blood, Fox. Not too much, though. You don't want her to die, do you?>> He pulled away, and found the pale, beautiful face of his victim to be a familiar one. "Scully!" he choked, and looked frantically at the small, enraptured smile on her rosy lips. "Scully...!"
Savagely, Mulder tore into his own wrist with his fangs, and the thick black blood oozed out. He brought his wrist to her lips, and she eagerly tasted the sweet, musky blood of her partner. He fed her as much as he dared, and she continued to drink. The blood tasted so good to her...
He pulled his wrist from her mouth, and she kept her lips on his hand. Startled, he looked down at her, and she looked up at him. "You see what happens to me, Scully?"
he whispered, his voice dreadfully full of fear and self-hatred. "You see what happens? I almost killed you, oh God, I almost killed you..." His mouth still stained with her blood, his eyes were full of blood lust. "I am a monster."
And she leaned into his face, her eyes taking in that cruel, animal sneer, and she put her hands on his face. "You are not a monster." Closing her eyes, she brought her mouth to his distorted, inhuman sneer, and kissed him, fully and passionately. His fangs poked into her lips, but she cared not. The man was still there. Nothing had changed for that man. Behind the harsh, uncaring, monstrous fevers, there was still the sensitive, loving man that she had fallen for.
Stunned, Mulder almost pulled back, then lost himself in her sudden show of affection. He closed his eyes as well, and brought his hands to her cloud of red hair, entangling his fingers in it. She continued to kiss him, seas of relief, passion, and love coming to sweep the two away.
Finally, Mulder pulled back, and she almost fainted. He had stolen her soul in that kiss, so it seemed. She could only gaze in awe at him, her blue eyes starry. "Scully?" he asked, his voice breathless.
"Don't speak," she murmured. "Just kiss me again."
Mulder leaned in to grace her lips with his, and she was intoxicated by every touch of his mouth. She could see into a well of brilliance, a sea of passion, and the seducing force of his dark beauty. She kissed him harder, letting her soul mingle with his, and he responded with equal passion and strength.
With a thirst for more than the primal nature of blood, the two lost themselves in a seduction of forgotten paradises and long-lost sanctuary.
THE ENTITY 9/11
BY: Annie Jennings(Auralissa@aol.com)
"Your love is better than ice cream
Better than anything else that I've tried
Your love is better than ice cream
Everyone here knows how to fight"
The sounds of Sarah McLachlan mingled with the soft laughs of Dana Scully as the morning sun glowed through the window shades. Lying on the couch, Fox Mulder kneeled at her side, clad only in blue jeans and a tee-shirt, and fed her chocolates that he had bought that morning.
"And it's a long way down
It's a long way down
It's a long way down from the place
That we started from"
Scully licked the chocolate from his long, slender finger, and he picked up another one. "Mulder, these things are full of calories," she warned, and he pushed another one in her mouth.
"You're too thin. Shut up and eat."
Smiling seductively, she obeyed, and he pulled another candy out. "You're too thin, Mulder, you eat the damn things," she said. He smiled.
"But on me, it's attractive. Eat."
She laughed, and took the chocolate from his fingertips, and continued with the mock protests until the box was empty. "I'm stuffed," she moaned, and the handsome man beside her smirked.
"I'm starving," he replied, and she brought his neck to her throat, giving him blood in return for the exhilarating sense of him feeding on her. It was a pleasure unmatched in anything else.
"Your love is better than chocolates
Better than anything else that I've tried
Your love is better than chocolates
Everyone here knows how to cry"
"Well, we have to figure out how to change this condition.
And that means we'll have to sneak you into Quantico for a blood test. Which will be interesting, considering the fact that I worked there and you're a legend."
With the box of candy devoured and Mulder's thirst satiated, Scully stood in front of Mulder, her blue eyes wise and intelligent all at once. Mulder rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms over his broad chest. They had gotten somewhat dressed, Mulder still in his jeans and Scully in a tee-shirt of his. She had no underwear on, and Mulder was happily aware of this. They stood in his bathroom, where Scully had taken a long shower and Mulder had touched her soul again.
The almost contented vampire nodded, and then studied his face in the mirror. Using the last of his powers to do so, he changed the skin color of his face to a lighter shade, masking the bronze glow, and changed the color of his eyes from jade to brown. His hair lightened a few shades to a honey-colored blonde, and changed the shape of his nose to a smaller, better shaped one. Scully watched this transition with growing fear, and stood back. She watched as the man that she loved changed from his familiar, handsome shape to another one, one that was foreign and strange to her eyes.
At the end, the man that stood before her in jeans and a shirt was not the man that she had known for the past few years of her life. "Mulder...?" she asked, uncertainty in her voice.
"Yeah," he said, and his voice remained unchanged, providing her with a safeguard to fall back on. His velvety, rich voice was still his own, and she could remember that when he was not the same.
"How did... I..." She was at a loss for words, and was standing back, feeling very awkward and very, very small.
There were things that she had seen in her life that had posed questions that she never had wanted to face or answer, and now she had proof before her eyes. This was unnatural. This was impossible.
The man with Mulder's voice looked over her, and put his hand on her shoulder. It was not Mulder's hand, and she shrugged it off. There was hurt in the man's unfamiliar chocolate colored eyes, and she could not meet them. She had just been brutally reminded that though their love helped to guide them, there was still a long way to go. She was afraid of all that she had just seen, and she wanted nothing more than to leave. He knew that she was uncomfortable, and with ease changed his appearance into that familiar one of her partner.
Scully looked at the tall, handsome man in front of her with eyes full of relief. "We'll find another way in," she muttered, and turned on her heel, walking out of the room.
Scully prepared herself for the security checkpoint at Quantico Medical Center. She had put her hair up in a small, tight bun, and put on her reading glasses, entering with a very cool, conceited air. Mulder had respected her obvious discomfort at his shifting, and agreed to dress down in a tee-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He had covered his rich, shining hair with a baseball cap, and put on sunglasses to shade his gold-flecked eyes. Hoping that the disguises were enough to fool the security guards, she approached the medical wing.
The secretary let her through, and she made sure that Mulder trailed her, keeping his profile low. She had put on a medical coat, and had on a fake I.D. badge that Frohike had made for her a long time ago as a prank. If she had seen the little horn dog when she had put the thing on, she might have kissed him.
Well, maybe not.
Scully tried to look as official as possible when she walked through the Quantico building. She hated having to sneak into a lab, but she knew that the instant someone spotted her walking around with the notorious Fox Mulder, and then figured out what had happened, she would be as good as dead.
She walked to the security checkpoint, and smiled casually and confidently at the security guard. "Agent Bobbi Gentry," she said, flashing the fake badge. "I'm here with a medical patient for some blood tests."
The guard nodded at Mulder. "His name, please?"
Scully was a little thrown from this one, but Mulder stepped in, pulled off his sunglasses, and when he spoke, his voice was low, and soothing, hypnotic even. "You will let this woman and I proceed," he murmured, calmly. "You never saw either of us. We never entered this building."
Mulder locked eyes with the guard, and after about fifteen seconds, nodded the agents by, a dazed look on his face.
Scully had watched these proceedings with amazement.
Was there nothing that he could not do? She broke the tension with a small smile. "Remind me to have you around if I get a speeding ticket," she cracked, and he grinned, clasping his hand on her shoulder. She turned around, and Mulder lightly kissed her, leaving a warm smile on her face.
Though they had thought that no one recognized them, that kiss went noted by Tom Colton.
Once Scully had Mulder safely tucked away in an examination room, she took off the reading glasses and sighed. Mulder threw off the baseball hat, and sat obediently on the edge of the examining table. "Jesus, Mulder, I think I just showed the signs of an early heart attack," she groaned, and he ran a hand through his tousled hair.
"No thanks, please," he said, and she gave him a look which was all of the sardonic appreciation that he needed.
She looked around at her supplies, and picked up a syringe and a gauze pad.
"I'm going to have to take some blood, Mulder," she said, and he moaned. They both knew how much he hated being stuck with needles. <<For a man who always ends up in the hospital, he certainly has a low tolerance level for pain.>> Scully thought. She loaded up the syringe, and stuck his arm. In a flash so sudden that Scully couldn't see it, the syringe was knocked from her hand and shattered on the floor. She looked up at him, astonished.
"It hurt," he said, simply. She nodded.
"I guess," she replied. She tried again with a new needle, and got the same response from him. "Look, Mulder, if you didn't squirm so much, then it wouldn't hurt so badly."
"Well, Scully, if you didn't try poking me with sharp objects, then we wouldn't have this problem in the first place," he responded, and she gave him a patented Scully Look.
"What's it like to be you?" she asked, sarcastically. Before he had a chance to reply, she threw up her hands, and shook her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know."
Returning with the third syringe, she looked seriously at his face. "Now, Mulder, concentrate on something other than the needle, okay?"
"Concentrate on what?" he asked, and she looked around the room, exhaling slowly.
"I don't know, Mulder... that basket of potpourri, the vase full of flowers... I don't care, just pick something."
Mulder turned his attention away from the needle, and looked at the vase full of bright marigolds and daffodils.
Oh, it was quite obvious that they were plastic, but the miracle of silicon and industrial materials made the flowers seem quite realistic. But the buds should be more open... he could picture them, opening up like real flowers, almost flawless. He wondered what Scully would do if he had given these suckers to her for her birthday, complete with the "Ladybug!" pot.
"Hey, this is working, Scull..." he started, but was broken off by the look of wonder and shock on his partner's face.
Hovering in front of her nose, the simulated silky petals brushing her nose, was the pot full of perfect, blooming marigolds and daffodils. Quickly, Mulder reached out, and caught the pot of flowers before they fell, leaving her stunned and weak.
Telekinesis, telepathy, shape-shifting... he had demonstrated many of the same abilities that she had been so adamantly skeptical about during many of their investigations. Each one appeared right before her eyes.
She would not be surprised if a glowing flying saucer appeared in the sky and tried to beam Mulder up. At the moment, she felt as though all of her fears were coming true.
"How did you do that, Mulder?" she asked, her voice as small as a little girl's voice. Mulder shrugged.
"I just did what you told me to do, and concentrated on something else," he said, simply. "And I guess that that worked."
Yeah, she guessed so, too. She finally got the blood she needed, with a minimum of fuss. Mulder was too embarrassed to fidget, and she was too concerned to be sarcastic. She looked at the blood in the vial that she had collected, and frowned. "The color and thickness of this blood is off," she muttered. "It seems to be a darker red, almost black... and it moves too slowly."
The two caught each other's eyes, and Mulder turned away.
"It's the same stuff we saw with Michael Reese, isn't it, Scully," he murmured, and his statement was the final marker of his transformation. No more denial. Science and medicine were telling him now that he was not human.
She felt enormous waves of pity crash over her. What had he done to deserve such foul treatment? Nothing, nothing.
Because of his job, he would never be the same. And she had a feeling that she would never be the same, either. She looked away from those sad, jade eyes, and looked down into the vial of his dark, murky blood. "I'm sorry, Mulder," she murmured, and he put his face in his hands.
"What am I going to do?" he whispered. "I've spent the last eight years of my life trying to save lives, and now in order to survive, I'm supposed to take life away."
She took him into her arms, held him there, pressing her neck to his. Her smooth cheek brushed his rougher one, and she closed her eyes. She wanted so badly to be able to wipe the pain from those sad, gold-flecked eyes. She wanted to tell him that she saw not a monster in those eyes, but a man so great that he could take her breath away.
Somberly, she put the reading glasses back on. "I have tests to perform," she excused, and walked to the lab.
Later on, she sighed, and put her hands in her hair. She was completely perplexed from the results of Mulder's blood.
There was barely anything resembling human blood. She had gotten the same results from the stool and saliva tests.
Mulder had proclaimed that both tests were humiliating and degrading. She told him to shut up and sit still.
And now, there was nothing left to do but wonder how they were supposed to kill the Entity, as Sarah had said.
The bath water ran, and Scully slid in, bunching her red hair up to keep the strands from brushing the tips of the floral scented bubbles. The day had been long, and she was tired. She had a migraine coming on, and was saddened by this. Ever since the tumor had been diagnosed, she had been having some violent headaches. The doctors told her that there was nothing that they could do.
She knew that they were right.
And yet Sarah's promise of immortality and healing were brought to her memory. Sarah had spoken of life without ending, and Scully had believed her. But was Scully truly ready to hand over her soul for a chance to live forever?
The door opened, and Mulder walked in. Rifts of music floated to her along with the scent of his cologne, and Scully smiled. He had taken over the stereo with a mutual favorite, Jewel.
"Please don't say I love you
Those words touch me much too deeply
They make my core tremble
Don't think you realize the effect you have over me"
He kneeled beside her, and through the blood that they had shared, Mulder sensed her discomfort and her pain. The cancer again, making its course through her system, and causing her head to begin to ache. He folded his long legs under him, and lightly put his tapering fingers to her temples, massaging the pain away.
The heightened sense of awareness between the two helped Mulder to know what she wanted from him before she even knew. He trailed his fingers to the nape of her neck, catching the stray strands of red in his hand. She sighed, the hairs on the back of her neck rising.
"And please don't send me flowers
They only whisper the sweet things you'd say And don't try to understand me
Your hands already know
Too much, anyway..."
There was a sudden flash of pain, and they both winced in synchrony. She looked at him, realizing that he felt the same pain that she did, and she leaned her cheek on his hand. "Don't," she whispered, and he knew that she meant that he should stop worrying over her discomfort, although she thought that impossible to a man that thrived on self-condemnation.
Mulder brought his face to hers, and rested his lips on her neck. Still, he did not drink. He just rested there, lightly kissing her throat, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of his hair. He would be there, watching over her.
"Your hands are in my hair but
My heart is in your teeth baby now
Makes me want to make you near me always
Wanna be near you always..."
Colton stormed into Skinner's office, his eyes ablaze. "I just got back from Quantico Academy, sir," he said, and Skinner looked up.
"Excuse me, Agent Colton, but did you knock or have an appointment?" he demanded. Colton ignored the A.D. His news was more important than any hesitations of the bald man.
"I saw the presumed dead Agent Mulder with Agent Dana Scully," he said, his tone haughty. "They were sneaking into the building, apparently. Both were disguised with some degree of mediocrity. Discretion was not very important. They were... how should I put this... extremely affectionate with one another."
"I saw Agent Mulder kiss Agent Scully, and she showed absolutely no sign of resistance," Colton accused, and Skinner gave Colton a stern look.
"You seem quite proud of this achievement, Agent Colton," Skinner said, and Colton fumbled for a word before Skinner continued, not skipping a beat. "I would not be proud of an F.B.I. agent for eavesdropping and petty attempts at spying."
"Sir, I'm not lying..."
"Oh, I believe you," Skinner said, a note of dry irony in the man's voice. Colton did not understand this.
"Then what are you going to do?" Anxiously awaiting the deserving punishment of unbridled love, Colton put his hands on his hips, and was immediately astounded at the director's answer.
Dreams of damnation... dreams of blood shed and the fateful Bloodlust... these were the dreams that raced through Mulder's mind as he slept by his beloved Dana.
There was a sense of urgency, and of a fate that was black and cold... and then the scene opened in a dark place. There was no sunlight, there was no moon. There was only a pale, beautifully sculpted face, with blazing blue eyes staring back at him with a new life in them.
And there was the lonesome, maudlin face of Sarah, standing next to her, a hand on her arm. "Fox..." the Irish girl moaned. "Fox, hurry... come to me... before they take her..."
The dream image of Scully opened her mouth, and roared, showing her long, white fangs.
Mulder was jerked awake, broken out in a blood sweat. His thirst for blood was safe for the moment, but he remembered the demanding aura surrounding the nightmare.
Sarah had called him to the warehouse. The vampires were going to get Scully if he did not go.
Scully woke up to the emptiness around her, and the absence of her partner. He was gone, and she was left alone in the bedroom. Dana sat up, and softly called his name. He did not reply. She called louder, and there was still no answer. She jumped out of bed, and took a blouse and a pair of pants from the dresser. "Mulder!" she said again, and slipped into the clothes. He was gone, and this was never a good thing.
Her head throbbed.
As she sped by the table, a white sheet of paper caught her eye. It was a note from Mulder to her, telling her that Sarah wanted him at a warehouse in Washington. "Shit!" she cursed, and ran a hand through her red hair before dialing his cell phone number.
A strange voice answered the phone. It was a low, masculine voice, with a Spanish accent. "Buenos noches, senorita," the leering voice said. "This is the pretty chica, si?"
"Where the hell is Agent Mulder?" she demanded. The headache took away all conventional matter and politeness, and she was openly rude and to the point.
"Pretty chica, your little man is out cold," he jeered. "Sorry, sweet chica. Sweet chica-chica. You want the stupid son of a bitch back, chica- chica? That's right, I know you want him. Senor Mulder is a whiny bastard, isn't he? He keeps screaming and screaming, chica. He keeps screaming your name. 'Dana Dana Dana Dana...'"
The thought of him wailing her name over and over again was terrifying, and she closed her eyes, her face contorted in mental pain and anguish. "Stop!" she pleaded. "What do you want?"
"You come down here and shut him up, chica-chica. I want to see that red hair in person again. Like a road of blood, si? Camina de sangre."
The road of blood... she shivered at the thought.
Her breath froze in the air, shimmering little ice crystals that fogged the clear winter night. She kept her hands in black leather gloves, and had them shoved in her trench coat pockets. Hidden beneath the coat was her trusty Smith & Wesson.
Dana Scully was not taking any chances.
She let the vampires know that she was there with the clicking of her high heels, and the steady exhalation of her dry, slicing breath. "I'm here, Reese," she called, and from the darkness, the vampires stepped out to meet her. Reese shook his head at her.
"Dana darling," he said in his elegant, cultured voice. "How lovely it is to see your face again."
"Cut the shit, Reese. Where's Mulder?" she demanded.
Reese ignored her question, and continued the path that he chose to walk down.
"Do you like the new Fox that we sent you? Isn't he charming? I tell you, Dana, he certainly has made quite an impression tonight. Bawling like a child when we tied him up. He was very upset that you were not here," Michael said, his voice conversational.
Scully mentally winced at the mention of Mulder's being restrained. "You called me down here, Reese. There must be a reason other than your curiosity of the condition of Mulder."
"You *do* own a thesaurus. I called you down here because I like you. I like how you tasted, Dana darling. I liked how you felt. I liked it a lot. You are the One."
Scully's skin crawled at the snide mentions of her taste and skin. Michael continued. "And I want more, Dana. You've been sharing with Fox. We're all like family here, Dana.
We all share with our kindred. We're all entitled to the blood of our siblings' lovers. Now, darling Dana, beauty of the Bureau, Ice Queen and Mrs. Spooky, we want a piece of you."
Eyes widening, she reached for her gun, but it was too late.
Michael grabbed her arms and held her to him, his lips bending down to her neck. He tore into her throat, disregarding the precise wounds that Mulder had made.
Scully cried out in sharp, unrelenting pain. There was no pleasure to this. There was only Bloodlust and death.
She was passed around the circle, each face becoming a blur as her blood was drained from her body. She grew dizzy, and cried out Mulder's name before she saw him in a flash. Tied up, gagged and bound in the corner, his green eyes feeling her pain as she was milked of her blood and her life. "Mulder... Fox..." she whispered, and passed out.
The vampires circled around her, and Michael Reese slashed his wrist to feed to the dying young woman.
THE ENTITY 10/11
by: Annie Jennings(Auralissa@aol.com)
Disclaimers part 1
Scully arched her back and howled as she awoke in the bottom of the pit. Her veins were scorching and dry, and she roared in hunger. Her eyes scanned the room, adjusting immediately to the darkness and the dankness.
Sweating from heat, she ripped off the trench coat and the suit jacket in a savage act. She looked around, and stumbled as she stood. She was weaker than she thought that she was. Touching her fingers to her throat, Scully remembered something.
Circle... and her blood being spilled...
Camina de sangre.
Her eyes detected movement, and she threw her gaze to that direction. Curled up in protective fetal position was Mulder, tied at the ankles and wrists and gagged. The chains were strong and seemingly unbreakable.
"Mulder," she gasped, and her voice sounded different to her own ears. She limped to him, and bent over him, removing the gag from his lips. His only words were lucid, and clear.
"I'm sorry, Scully," he whispered. "I'm so sorry..."
Shaking her head, she moved to the chains. There was a lock, and she cursed under her breath. "Dammit..." Then, with nimble fingers, she moved to the lock, and placed her fingers on it. Heat was transferred from her hand to the lock, and the lock melted away. Startled, she stepped back.
Trembling, she removed his chains, and held him in her arms. He embraced her, burying his face in her hair.
"Scully, why you?" he whispered. Her lips moved against his neck.
"They did it to me, too, didn't they, Mulder?" she whispered. "Made me into this... a vampire like them and like you..."
He fingered her hair, the red and gold blending together flawlessly. Scully cried out, and the two vampires held each other in the darkness, comforting each other on their fate and their eternity.
"It's just you and me, Scully," he whispered. "Always and forever."
"Wasn't it always, Mulder?" she softly responded, and her words touched him more than he ever thought words could.
"Wasn't it always and forever love?"
Mulder and Scully stood, and inspected each other. His hair was lighter to Scully's eyes. Scully's hair was longer to his eyes. They were definitely different, and they stood apart, looking the other one over with eyes that saw forever.
Scully stumbled on her feet, her heart aching. She was just as damned as Mulder was now, and she knew it. She was going to have to wander through life as a vampire, feeding on the living and living with the dead. There was no future for her as an F.B.I. agent. They would both have to resign as soon as possible.
Turn in the gun. Turn in the badge.
Turn in her humanity.
Her headache was gone, and she suspected that part of that was due to the vampirism. And that was when she really realized what had happened to her.
She was not going to die. She would live longer than any human ever would, and this thought frightened her. The things that she would see during the course of life would mystify and baffle her, and the sights that she would see...
and she would see them all with him.
Mulder looked in sad adoration at the new woman that gazed back at him. This woman had porcelain skin, twinkling blue eyes, and vibrant red hair that brushed her slender shoulders, the gold and red blending together flawlessly. She glowed with preternatural beauty, and there was a breathless, enchanted quality to her sensual mouth, that same mouth that had kissed his soul.
Mulder stood behind her, and slipped his arms about her willow-slim waist. "We have to beat the Entity, Scully," he whispered into her alert ears. "It's the only way to end all of this."
Scully gazed at the cold, icy woman in the fiery man's arms. "And when we end it, Mulder, what will happen to you and me?" she mused. "Will we just go back to work and pretend that nothing ever happened to us?"
He shook his head, his nose breezing against her tendrils of hair. "We can't do that, Scully. Too much has happened.
We know too much to keep this quiet. Look at us. We're proof that there is eternal life."
"But what if we kill the Entity? Mulder, if we destroy it, what if... what if my cancer returns? What if I end up in that same position I have been in?" she asked, and Mulder turned her to look into his eyes. Vampiric eyes, like hers.
They held no fear for her now.
"Scully, no matter what happens, I'm going to be by your side, for as long as you'll be by mine. I love you, Dana Katherine Scully," he confessed, and she moved her hands to the back of his neck.
"I love you too," she whispered back, and they held each other.
"What can we do now?" she asked, and Mulder had no answer.
There was a soft cough, and the partners looked up to see Sarah Reilly at the top of the hole. "Mr. Mulder?" she asked. "ms. Scully?" She looked down at Scully with a broken heart. The last hope was extinguished, converted, and there was only one last ember left to keep Sarah wanting to live. "They got to you, too," she whispered, and Scully did not speak. The look about the woman was self-explanatory.
Sarah helped the agents out, and handed Scully her gun.
Scully accepted the weapon gratefully, but knew that the true power rested in her sharp teeth and in her powerful mind.
The vampires circled them, and there would be no escape.
"Hello, Dana, Fox, Sarah..." Michael Reese said, his voice dripping with sinister charm and grace. "Dana, darling...the night becomes you. You look enchanting. The Entity was kind."
"I will not be kind to it," she said, her voice low. Michael arched his eyebrows at the newborn vampire. Mulder secured his arms around her waist, and the two unnaturally beautiful vampires were striking together. Sarah stood next to them, the cloak flowing in the breeze.
The vampires lit candles, and brought each candle to illuminate their sunken, beautiful faces. They stepped one step closer, and the three rebellious vampires realized that they were standing in a circle.
The vampires began a low, ominous chant, and Scully felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight. Michael lit a candle as well, and the light flickered on his bared fangs. "Time stands still for the undead," he said. "Hours pass, days pass... we never see or feel them. Time is endless for those of my kind. Time is endless for you, Ms. Scully, and you, Mr. Mulder. The Fox and the Danu.
"We see all, and we conquer those weaker than us. Now, the Entity beckons to you. We all are connected by the unbreakable bond of blood. You are his children; his beloved ones. Why destroy what created you? Be grateful for your gifts. Be grateful for the eternity that lies before you."
Reese paused. "The Entity... it speaks..."
The wind blew around the two lovers, and a low, ominous voice could be heard by all. "Fox..." it murmured. "Dana...
come to me, my children... I will seal your fate. What makes children cry in the night? It is evil that stokes their nightmares."
Scully clung to Mulder, and he held her head to his chest.
Her red hair blew up into his face, and they looked skyward at the swirling, gathering mist. "I am everything you fear...
everything you have feared... and everything you will ever fear... I am the Ultimate Nightmare."
Knocked to the ground by the force of the Entity, Sarah looked at her two terrified saviors as they, too, were brought to the earth. Mulder crawled to her, clutching her hand desperately. "Scully!" he cried, vainly seeking her voice. She called out his name, and the winds picked up, flattening the two.
"I can't breathe!" Scully choked, and Sarah thought as quickly as possible about the Entity's weakness. A being of evil, a being of darkness, a being of hatred...
And Sarah realized then what the two possessed that was so powerful that it could bring light and goodness to the world. They possessed love.
As the two fledgling vampires crawled nearer to each other and the wind picked up, swirling around them, Sarah brought herself to her knees. Lightning crackled, and the wind made a cage made from nature's fury. Scully wrapped her arms around Mulder's waist, and he held her as tightly as possible, keeping her close to him.
Knowing that the circle surrounding them was unbreakable and binding, she dragged herself to the swirling maelstrom of rain, thunder, lightning, wind, and death. Michael laughed, and the Entity roared.
"Eternity with me and my servants!" the Entity shouted.
"Eternity with the Darkness! Join me now!"
Sarah opened up her throat, and screamed out to them, and was drowned out by the roar of the storm above them. She closed her eyes, and sent a message through her mind...
<<Listen to me!>> she sent, power behind her mental voice. <<You must destroy the Entity before it gets too close! Love! Love is the answer!>>
Upon receiving the message, Mulder looked carefully at Scully's eyes. Her eyes widened, and he helped bring her to her knees, struggling against the wind. <<I love you...>> he sent to her, and she clasped her hands around the back of his neck.
<<I love you too... Always forever...>>
She swiftly fastened her mouth to his, and they embraced in the midst of the torrential rain. With thoughts of only love in their hearts and minds, they drowned out the fear, the rage, and the thirst for blood.
The Entity roared, and the storm began to subside as the kiss went on, seemingly for an eternity. "Why, my children... why?"
The vampires began to fall to their knees, and crumpled on the floor. The storm had one more clap of thunder, and a brilliant flash of lightning, and Mulder and Scully collapsed in each other's arms.
She awoke first, numbly aware of the silence that surrounded her. The air was still, and there was not even the lightest breeze. She brought herself to a sitting position, and brought her hand to her head.
She had a headache.
Her vision was not as sharp as it had been only minutes ago. Visions were clear, but blurred by the shadows of the night and the darkness. She looked down at her partner's still features. Beautiful still, but lacking the preternatural glow that he had possessed. Mortality and simple human bliss were shining from his face. He was mortal, wonderfully and brilliantly mortal.
He opened his eyes, and gazed upon her pale, wet face. Her red hair hung in dripping red strands, and they were back to the regulation length of the Bureau. Her china eyes were blood-shot, and her skin was wet and clammy.
She had never seemed so beautiful.
Seeing the truth in each other's eyes, the two held each other, lying amidst the dead corpses and carnage of the servants of the Entity.
It was all over.
Two Days Later
Walter Skinner sat before Dana Scully, looking over her carefully. She was a little paler than usual, but that was probably from the trauma that she had recently gone through. And he noted the rosy tint in her cheeks. She fairly radiated a bright, sunny glow.
Colton had been right. But Skinner really did not care.
"This is one of the most bizarre cases that you and Agent Mulder have ever handed me," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know what to make of it, but it seems to be legitimate. The blood samples from Mulder and the bodies of the so-called 'vampires' do show some abnormalities."
"I assure you that this is the whole and honest truth," she promised. Skinner put the thick file aside, and looked at the empty seat next to her.
"Where is Agent Mulder?" he asked. Scully was cool.
"He is taking the day off due to sickness," she said. The lie was cool, and Skinner decided that now was the ideal time to call her on it.
"Agent Scully, we knew that you had brought Agent Mulder to Quantico," he revealed, and she masked her surprise. "Agent Tom Colton saw you and Agent Mulder there that day. He saw you engage in a suspicious activity, and reported it to me."
"I see, sir," she said, her voice low and resigning. "And what have you decided to do?"
Glad that she had opted not to attempt to lie, Skinner continued. "I have chosen to do nothing," he said, and this time Scully could not mask her surprise. "I will permit this relationship to proceed, as long as it does not affect the success rate of the X-Files."
She shook her head, not expecting this kind of response.
"Sir, don't treat me any differently because of my condition..." she began, but Skinner cut her off.
"I'm not making this any easier on you, Scully. If anything, this could prove to be very difficult," he warned. "I am expecting nothing more than the best from the two of you, simply because I have never received anything less from the best. And I'm not doing this to make it easier on you during your last months. I'm doing it to make it easier on me."
Scully's eyebrows arched, and Skinner took off his wire-rimmed reading glasses. His stern and distinguished face was open and honest. "I have a strict belief on making the lives of those that have made my life happy at peace.
This will take some of the grief off of my shoulders, Scully.
I will know that I somewhat contributed to your peace in the last time of your life."
Scully did not know what to say. She had just been told by her own boss, one of the sternest and strictest leaders in the F.B.I., that a rule was being bent just for her and her partner.
"Thank you, sir," she whispered, and gave him a short, brief, yet radiant smile, including a rare flash of pearly white teeth, before leaving his office with a new spring in her step.
Skinner watched the demure, powerful, and incredibly strong woman walk out of the room. Probably going home to "nurse Mulder back to health". He pictured Mulder's face when Scully told him the events of the meeting, and pensively gazed at the portrait of the President.
He wondered if devils remembered promises.
White Sands Beach Miami, Florida
Suns set and they fade, and the moon waxes and wanes.
Very few things remain stable and certain for a long period of time, and yet love can keep intact and reliable. It is one of the few constants in a world of insanity and turmoil, and such a pleasant constant it is.
As the sun set on the clear blue ocean, Mulder took the slender white hand of Scully and slowed from the jog.
After a long, cold time in the city, Mulder had gotten his trip to Miami. The phony case had been easily explained, but no one really needed to know that for quite a while.
Scully remembered still the carnage and the corpses of the dead vampires, and did not regret their deaths. Except for one... Sarah. The Irish village girl had struggled through her thirst for blood with faith in God and Christ intact, and had only sought to do the world better.
Scully had admired her.
The dream case had truly passed in a euphoric daze for the partners. She had declined to wear the thong that Mulder had teased her about, claiming that she did not require dental floss in such areas, but the skimpy, elegant, ice blue bikini that she had donned instead had been very satisfying to Mulder's little fantasies. Scully had to admit that the sight of Mulder in that ridiculously small excuse for a swimsuit was extremely appetizing. She had already blessed the inventor of the Speedo many times during that stay.
The days of stretching out on the warm Miami sands and tanning(while being especially careful not to burn Dana's more sensitive porcelain skin) had been rewarding for the trials and tribulations earlier in the month of March, but the nights were filled with only each other. Starting with the evening walks on the beaches.
Scully looked up into those soulful green eyes, and reached up to finger a strand of rich brown hair that had fallen onto his brow. He caught her wrist, and kissed her pulse point.
He then kissed her lips, mouth upon mouth, the red sunset casting light onto her titian hair.
After breaking away, Mulder looked into her eyes, and smiled broadly, a grin that showed his shining white teeth and small, rarely seen crinkles around his heavy-lidded eyes. It was the proud smile that a man gave when he knew that the breathless look on another woman's face was because of him.
"I love you, Fox Mulder," she murmured. "I love you always forever."
"And I love you, Dana Scully," he whispered back.
To the lovers, the heart-filled confirmations were as solemn and as sacred as marriage vows, though the groom was wearing a backwards Knicks cap and the bride was barefoot. The setting sun and the gently swelling tide were their chapel, and they said their vows in greatest trust and confidence.
But as he bent down to kiss her again, a warm trickle of blood ran its way down to her lips from her nose.
Immediately noticing, Scully covered the lower portion of her face with her hand, ashamed at shattering the moment with her own physical weakness.
Looking up at him with uncertainty at herself, Scully wiped the blood from her face. The pain that she felt did not scar her skin, but her soul instead. In a tender and heart-felt gesture, Mulder cupped her elbow with his hand. "Always forever, my love," he murmured, and the lovers held each other in the twilight.
Time had betrayed them as much as mankind had. There would be little time for happiness, and even less time for eternity. And what time does not fulfill, memories often do.
With the precious and meager days that they would spend in each other's arms, many memories would have to be made with love, tenderness, and loyalty. But love lasts forever.
"Feels like I'm standing in a timeless dream Of light mists Of pale amber rose
"Feels like I'm lost deep cloud of heavenly scent Touching Discovering you
"Those days Of warm rains come rushing back to me Miles of windless Summer night air
"Secret moments Shared in the heat of the afternoon Out of the stillness Soft spoken words
"Say, say it again "I love you always forever Near and far, closer together Everywhere I will be with you Everything I will do for you
"I love you always forever Near and far, closer together Everywhere I will be with you Everything I will do for you
"You've got The most unbelievable blue eyes I've ever seen You've got Me almost melting away
"As we lay there Under a blue sky with pure white stars Exotic sweetness A magical time
"I love you always forever Near and far, closer together Everywhere I will be with you Everything I will do for you
"I love you always forever Near and far, closer together Everywhere I will be with you Everything I will do for you
"Say you love, love me forever Never stop, nothing whatever Near and far and always And everywhere and everything
"Say you love, love me forever Never stop, nothing whatever Near and far and always And everywhere and everything
"Say you love, love me forever Never stop, nothing whatever Near and far and always And everywhere and everything
"I love you always forever..."
-Donna Lewis "I Love You Always Forever", Now In A Minute, 1996
THE END, ALWAYS FOREVER