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Divested
"Scully, you have to understand that they're taking abductees. You're an abductee. I'm not going to risk ... losing you."
-- Mulder, Requiem
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Scully knew that if she turned around, she'd see Mulder. He would be covering ground rapidly with his long strides, taking in every detail of the area. He would be worried. No, she corrected herself, he would be frantic.
She could almost hear him now, in high, wavering tones: "Scullllyyy!"
She didn't turn around.
Is this what it was like, Scully wondered? Is this what it was like, the first time, when Duane Barry took her to Skyland Mountain, and they came? She didn't remember. She never had remembered. She wondered if she would remember this.
She should turn around, Scully thought. She should go. She should step back.
Standing in the beam of light she could see Theresa Hoese and her husband, other people from Bellefleur that she recognized, some that she remembered from seven years ago. There was Billy Miles, now, she noticed, and wondered idly how many officers the town's police force had left.
They looked so happy. Radiant. Welcoming. As though nothing in the world could compare to what they were about to do. Scully thought of Cassandra Spender, how she had been convinced that they were here to help, to do good. And she thought of the Twilight Zone episode, the one Mulder liked to watch when he was feeling ironic: How to Serve Man.
And, because in the end, there really was no choice, Scully went.
Goodbye, Mulder, she thought. I love you.
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Mulder looked at the charred husk of flashlight in the boy's hands. What could do this, he wondered? Radiation? Is there radiation powerful enough, directed enough to set a flashlight aflame, and leave the person holding it untouched?
"Scully," he turned to show her, to ask her, needing a scientific explanation before his mind concocted a thousand horrified possibilities.
She wasn't there.
He turned again, scanning the forest, looking for where he'd seen her last - there, an opening in the undergrowth, foliage creating a natural fork in the overgrown game trail they'd been following. No Scully.
"Do you see her?" he asked the boy. Richie. He looked around uncertainly and shook his head.
Mulder was moving now, almost running, over the log, around the trees, through the briars, thorns grasping hungrily at his jacket and slacks. "Scully?" he called. "Scully, can you hear me? Scully!"
Suddenly Mulder was brought up short. Almost imperceptibly, he felt himself rise above the ground. He started to shake, uncontrollably, spasming, limbs moving faster than his muscles had ever been forced to work. Worse than that: his brain was vibrating.
Mulder was aware, hyperaware, his barriers down, more open than he'd been even when the alien writing had granted him telepathy. He could feel Richie's confused, frightened mind, and the whole town of Bellefleur, and another, more familiar sense – someone he knew but couldn't place – and, far, far off, through fog and rain and a million lives, he could feel Skinner, taking the hit again for his and Scully's latest journey.
And he could feel Scully. Close. So close, her mind rapt and awed in a way he'd never known her to express, except once, under regression hypnosis. He felt like screaming, or crying.
And as suddenly as it had begun, it was over, and he landed hard on a tough, knotted root.
Richie slid through the leaves and landed at Mulder's side, shaking him. "Mr. Mulder? Are you okay? What happened?"
"Yeah," Mulder moved painfully, rolling over, and eased himself into a sitting position. He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed at his forehead. "It's out here, all right. It almost got me." He looked up at Richie, almost daring to hope. "You didn't see Scully anywhere else around here, did you?"
Richie shook his head, eyes wide. "Did – did they take her, too?"
Mulder took a deep breath and was about to answer – he didn't know what he'd say, but he had to say something – when his eyes fell on a glimmer in the leaves to his right. He reached out for it.
It was Scully's necklace.
Oh, God, he thought. No. No. How could he have been so stupid?
He closed his fist around the charm, tightly, the pointy end of the cross digging into his palm, and squeezed his eyes shut against the flood of guilt and remorse. Thoughts chased each other around his mind, fleetingly, reaching the conclusions his unconscious mind had already developed.
Three deep, ragged breaths later, he opened his eyes again. "Richie, your friend – Gary – did he – was he ever missing, before? Go away for days or months at a time?"
"You mean, was he ever abducted?" Richie's eyes flitted nervously through the trees around them.
Mulder nodded, mouth dry.
"Yeah," Richie whispered, frightened, licking his lips. "Twice."
Mulder nodded, and eased himself to his feet, placing Scully's necklace reverently into his pocket. I should have seen it, he thought. These aren't random abductions. They're taking abductees, and this time they're not coming back. Not coming back ... the phrase echoed ominously, piteously through his mind. Not coming back. Scully ....
He took a few steps forward, placed his hand experimentally in front of him. It flopped and flailed like a hyperactive fish out of water. He pulled it back. Scully. Oh, Scully ....
"Agent Mulder!" He whipped around at his name. Two Bellefleur cops were picking their way through the forest. "Detective Miles and his son! They're both missing!"
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Mulder's entire body ached, from the dull pain behind his eyes to the gaping emptiness in his gut. He fumbled with the hotel key, dropped it, tried again.
Billy Miles was still missing, of course; his father was found dead in the trunk of his own police car, dead for at least three days, the coroner said, though Mulder'd spoken with the man just yesterday.
Was it really only yesterday that he and Scully had come back to Bellefleur, the scene of their first case together? It felt like a century.
Skinner had called that afternoon, royally pissed at them for leaving in the middle of an audit. He'd commented that Scully wasn't answering her phone and Mulder had said, haltingly, yes, he knew that. Skinner had insisted on starting the search process, and now Mulder was due on a plane back to DC at 8 AM tomorrow morning, to give testimony.
The lock finally clicked open beneath Mulder's shaking fingers, and he staggered over the threshold, and leaned back against the closed door. He flicked the lights on. His suitcase was open on the dresser, a jumble of socks and underwear and the occasional tie. Towels and running shoes on the floor, scraps of paper and muddled notes covering every available surface. Scattered across the floor were all the photos and medical files on Ray Hoese's abduction experiences, fallen when he'd tucked Scully into his bed last night. Finally Mulder let his eyes drift across the unmade bed, to the pile of clothing at the foot of it, his and Scully's garments mingled together as comfortably, as securely as their bodies had last night, when Scully had recovered from her vertigo and warmed enough to roll over and press her full length against him, to tell him that no, there was no way she'd go back to Washington, not now, twining her leg around his, reaching first for his t-shirt, his mouth, his –
Mulder choked on a sob. No, he wasn't ready to relive that moment, not yet.
Mulder stumbled forward and came to his knees beside the bed, pressing his face into the sheets. They smelled like Scully.
Why?, he thought in agony, balling his fists into the covers, pounding at the mattress, small sounds of pain escaping from his throat. I should have pushed harder, I could have talked you into it, I knew this was coming, Scully, I could feel it, and you'd be safe now, Scully, safe at home ..
There was no way he'd be able to sleep in that room tonight.
Some time later, empty of tears and drained in his soul, Mulder rose and quickly, deliberately, packed up all of his things. All the papers, tucked into a briefcase; his clothes balled up and stuffed in the suitcase, his extra suit, and the one he'd worn today, hung neatly in the garment bag. As he grabbed clothes off the floor, he couldn't bear the thought of pulling his and Scully's apart, of taking hers next door and zipping them into her own suitcase, so into his they went, together.
And when he pulled off his suit to change into sweats, he reached into the pocket and gently lifted out Scully's necklace. The cross glinted in the warm motel room lights, deep and golden and sparkling; like Scully, Mulder thought. I'll find you. I have to. I can't live without you.
He clasped it around his own neck, slowly and carefully, remembering the last time it had hung there, six years ago, and how he'd never wanted to see it anywhere but resting on Scully's chest ever again. He tucked it under his turtleneck and sweatshirt, taking comfort in the cold metal against his skin, almost, for one tantalizing moment, feeling Scully's presence in the room with him.
Later, his bags packed into the rental car, Mulder unlocked Scully's room and did the same, deliberately, quickly. He didn't think about her, or how the entire room smelled of her, or the way all her clothes were perfectly folded and organized and unworn. He didn't think about the way her hair fanned out against the pillows, or how she looked in the three-inch heels he found on the floor of her closet. And he definitely didn't think about where she was now. He did smile at the sight of her laptop, still on, still blinking, waiting for her to type the next sentence of her case report. Always responsible, Scully.
Mulder finished, locked the door, packed the car, checked out of the motel. He put a hand to his chest and felt, through the layered fabric – like the princess and the pea, he thought – Scully's cross. I'll find you. I promise, Scully. I will. Don't give up.
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Mulder waved his flashlight through the trees, concentrating hard, trying to look everywhere at once out of the corners of his eyes. There! The beam seemed to end, wavering, diffusing itself into the air. Yes, this looks like the spot, he thought, glancing around, recognizing trees and fallen logs.
He walked to where the light disappeared, stretched his hand out again, watched it begin its spasmodic vibrations. He nodded to himself, pulled the roll of "Police Line - Do Not Cross" tape out of his pack, and knotted one end of it around the nearest tree trunk.
Mulder started walking, sketching out a wide, rough circle. As he went, he played the tape out behind him, keeping one hand inside the field, never reaching in deeper than his elbow, never losing touch altogether. In the end, when he reached the original tree again, he'd been walking for twenty minutes, outlining a circle of about 200 feet in diameter. In the moonlight, he could look through the trees to the other side of his circle, and see the yellow tape there, twisted around branches.
Well, he thought. There it is. I found it, I've marked it, and I know she's in there. What next?
He picked up a long stick from the ground, and experimentally thrust it all the way into the energy field.
Five seconds later, it bounced right back out at him.
All right, then. Mulder thought. He didn't want to risk a bullet – too much chance of being heard, or, worse yet, that it would penetrate the field and hurt Scully, or another abductee.
Mulder was at a loss. He sank to the ground and buried his face in his hands. Scully, he thought, and it was almost a prayer, but a prayer to Scully, directed not at the heavens but to someone less than two hundred feet away from him. Scully, I feel you so close to me, but I can't get to you. I need you so badly, Scully; please. Please come back to me. Please be all right.
"So you found it," said a clipped, guarded voice behind him.
Mulder leapt to his feet, gun out, pointed it instinctively. "I swear, Krycek, if you step one foot closer to me, I'll shoot you."
Krycek raised his hands slowly. "Hey now, Mulder. We're on the same side here."
"What are you doing here?" Mulder motioned with the gun for Krycek to step further into the clearing. He did so tentatively, never taking his eyes off the gun.
"The old man sent me," Krycek spat. "To find that."
Mulder blinked. "Did he, by any chance, tell you what to do with it once you found it?"
Krycek grinned ferociously. "Of course not. He doesn't know anything. He never has." Sarcastically, "He thinks he's dying. He wants his conspiracy back, he wants his power .. " Krycek's eyes glinted in the starlight. "I want the bastard dead."
Mulder's voice broke, but his hand didn't waver. "They took Scully."
"Did they?" Krycek's face fell. "Jesus, Mulder, I'm sorry."
"No, you aren't. You know nothing." Mulder replaced the gun in his waistband, and turned dismissively back to face the alien craft.
"I know you loved her," Krycek said, more gently than Mulder had ever heard him speak. "Isn't that enough?"
Mulder didn't respond.
"Look, Mulder, I can help you," Krycek said desperately.
"I don't trust you."
"Believe me, it's mutual." Krycek's tone was icy now. "I know things, Mulder. Things you've barely started to guess at. Things that can stop this, forever. You need me, Mulder. You know you do."
"I don't need anyone," Mulder turned, eyes flashing, "but Scu –"
The air suddenly came alive with sound and motion. Bright flashes of white light burned into Mulder's retinas as leaves swirled around the men in a whirling, rising vortex. Bits of police line were flapping in the wind, breaking off of their trees and rushing to join the mad, spiraling dance.
Mulder raised his hand against the light and looked up, up, and far away he saw the ship, its hatch still irising shut, and lights, so many lights. "Scully!" he shouted, but his voice was lost on the wind.
The ship seemed to hover for a moment, then soared off to the west, dwindling to a point of light that flared brightly just before it vanished.
In the clearing, the silence was oppressive.
"Scully," Mulder whispered. He fell to his knees, hands in fists, defiant. "Noooo!" he shouted. "Sculllyyy!"
And Krycek stood, perfectly still, wondering, watching, listening as Mulder's screams faded into the silence of the woods.
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Two mornings later, Mulder woke up in his own bed. Thankfully, he'd been so worn out by the fifteen-hour plane ride that he'd had no trouble getting to sleep. He showered and dressed in a haze, trying to prepare himself for the questions the investigative committee would ask; the same ones they'd asked six years ago, when Scully had gone missing the first time.
Mulder paused with his tie draped over his shoulders and scrutinized his reflection in the bathroom mirror. There were new wrinkles there, on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. I'm getting old, he thought. I can't do this again, Scully; I can't bear to wait and do nothing, I can't be the X-Files alone again, never knowing when you'll show up in some hospital with a tube down your throat, or worse ...
You have to, said a voice in the back of his head that sounded like Scully's. His voice of reason. You can.
Mulder stared deep into his own eyes, trying to find what Scully would see there, what reservoirs of strength and courage she would insist that he had within him. And he didn't move until he found it.
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Mulder burst into A.D. Skinner's office, fists clenched, eyes blazing. He carefully stopped himself from slamming the door behind him.
"What is going on, sir?" he asked tightly. "There are agents crawling all over my office! I can't get a straight answer out of them, and they won't leave!"
Skinner replaced the phone on its cradle. He looked harried. "I'm trying to figure that out, Agent Mulder. Believe me, this is not my idea. I just found out about it myself." He picked up a file from the table and paced back around behind his desk.
"Well, whose idea is it then! They didn't do this when Duane Barry took her! They're not gonna find her by running a," he waved his hands around, "an FBI manhunt! They know that! And you know that, and I know that .. "
Mulder slowed down and rubbed his cheek, mind racing.
"There's something else going on here. They're trying to cover it up. Somebody is already trying to bury this, and they're going to succeed. Sir, we have to do something!" Mulder crashed his hands onto Skinner's desk and leaned forward, eyes wild.
Skinner stood and put a hand on Mulder's shoulder. "Mulder, cool it. Just calm down. The Duane Barry case wasn't an X-File." Mulder looked at him hard, and Skinner backed down. "Well, all right, it wasn't officially an X-File. Your office was closed up; you and Scully were serving as consultants for the Behavioral Sciences Unit. There was no reason to look for clues in the X-Files. This week, you were on an X-File; and you, Agent Mulder, are the only witness to her disappearance." Mulder sank into one of Skinner's chairs, deflated. "It does make sense, Mulder. There's no – there's no deep conspiracy here."
"Sir, that doesn't change the fact that it's the wrong way to look. And I want my office back, exactly the way I left it. Who's running this investigation, anyway? Who've you got in charge? Why isn't it you?"
"Like I said, Mulder, I tried to put a stop to all this." Skinner sighed. "But this – investigation – is being handled by our new Deputy Director and his golden boy, John Doggett."
Mulder looked at him askance. "Our new Deputy Director?"
The phone rang, and both men looked at the digital display. "Kersh?" Mulder asked incredulously. "Alvin Kersh is the new DD? When did that happen?"
"While you were in Oregon," Skinner said distractedly, and picked up the phone.
Well, I figured that much out for myself, Mulder thought as he paced the room impatiently, half an ear on Skinner's conversation.
"Mulder," Skinner said finally, hanging up the phone, "Kersh wants to see us both immediately."
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"Sir, I am in no fit state to give a statement, after witnessing that performance," Mulder muttered to Skinner as they strode out of the DD's office. "If I walk back in there and pop him one in the jaw, would that be 'placing the FBI in a ridiculous light'?" His fists were clenching and unclenching themselves as he stalked down the hall.
Skinner smiled tightly. "I would join you on that one, Mulder, if it weren't both our careers on the line. This isn't about finding Scully, it's about covering the FBI's ass."
They stepped into the elevator, and Mulder looked Skinner in the eye. "I won't lie to them, sir. I won't say it didn't happen, and I won't say it happened differently."
Skinner sighed. "Agent Mulder, you can't help Scully if you lose your job. Think about it. She wouldn't want you to do this."
Mulder closed his eyes, considering, and when he opened them again they were set. "You're wrong. Scully would want me to find the truth. And this is one time when a lie, at least that lie, won't help me do that."
Skinner took a deep breath. "I can't help you a whole lot, Mulder; I didn't see any of this, and I can't corroborate your story. I'm on your side, but the best I can be is a character witness. I hope you realize that."
Mulder nodded slowly. "I do, sir. And I thank you. But whatever I may need to do, I'm prepared to do it alone."
The elevator doors opened and Mulder stalked off, still muttering " .. 'comes at a stressful time' .. "
Skinner stared after him for a moment, sighed, then followed Mulder down the hallway.
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"Where's Agent Doggett?" Mulder shouted above the din in the room serving as HQ for the case. "I want to speak to Agent Doggett right now!"
Skinner entered the room too late to stop him, and was quickly pulled away for questioning.
A wiry-looking, middle-aged man with close-cropped brown hair and a pleasant expression walked up to Mulder and stuck out his right hand, shoving a file folder beneath his other arm. "Agent Mulder?" he had a very pronounced accent. "I'm Agent Doggett. What's the problem here?"
Mulder didn't shake. "What's the problem? What's the problem? The problem is that my partner is missing, my office is being ransacked, and the agent in charge doesn't have the first clue what he's dealing with!" Mulder's voice was out of control.
Doggett pulled his hand back and narrowed his eyes. "Well, that's just what we're tryin' to figure out here, Agent Mulder. You just step over here and tell us what happened, and I'm sure we can get it cleared up in no time."
"You don't want to hear what happened, Agent Doggett. You don't want the truth. You want a pretty little story that you can take back to Kersh, and if it ruins me in the process, hey, even better! Right? Am I right, Agent Doggett?"
Doggett's eyebrows were nearly climbing off the top of his forehead. "Agent Mulder, I think you need to calm down –"
"Calm down? No, I do not need to calm down." Mulder pointed a finger at the other man's chest. "You need to step back and take a close look at what's going on here, Agent Doggett, because if you aren't in on it with them, then you are being led. You need to take a good, long look at your own priorities before you continue, Agent Doggett!"
Mulder turned and began to stalk out of the room.
"Mulder!" Doggett called, and he turned back to face the man.
"What?"
"You need to do some thinkin', too, Agent Mulder," Doggett met Mulder's eyes fearlessly. "You need to think hard about how well you really knew your partner, and what she might've been doin' goin' off on her own like that."
Mulder blinked. "Oh, this is beautiful. This is just precious." He shook his head, disgusted. "So at least you don't think I killed her. But you actually believe Scully would just walk off, right in the middle of a crime scene no less, without a word to me or to anyone?" Mulder consciously lowered his voice. "Maybe I don't know Scully as well as she knows herself, Agent Doggett, but you know nothing about her. She wouldn't do this."
Mulder started toward the door once again, turned back when he thought of something else. "If you want to talk to me, Agent Doggett, I will be in my office tomorrow. And it had better be my office, Doggett, exactly as I left it!"
Eyes blazing, Mulder finally, purposefully strode out of the room.
Doggett exhaled slowly and blinked his eyes. So that was Agent Mulder, then. Well, after that exchange, the rest of this investigation ought to be a snap.
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Mulder lay back on his couch, restless, fingers tapping a quick tattoo on the soft leather. He'd already called the Gunmen, and they'd said they would compile a map of UFO sightings across the US over the past week.
Mulder needed to do something, to feel useful, to know that he was helping find Scully, some how, some way. Sitting on his couch doing nothing didn't quite cut it. He teetered on the verge of heading to the Lone Gunmen office and trying to give them a hand; he knew he'd just be in the way, though, as he had to keep reminding himself, and forced himself to sit back down and try, just try to find something, anything else he could do.
So, he thought about Scully. He thought of her rich, auburn hair, and how good she felt in his arms; he thought of how competent and self-assured she was, and how she never failed to give him a swift kick in the ass when he was barking up the wrong tree. He remembered when his mother had died, less than a year ago, and how Scully had sat with him all night as he tried to come to terms and accept his inability to change all the various ways he'd failed his family. And he fingered the necklace at his throat, and he thought of Scully's mother.
Maggie. He wondered if anyone at the FBI had thought to give her a call. That's something I can do, he realized. I need to talk to her, anyway ...
He dialed.
"Hello?" She didn't sound too good.
"Mrs. Scully, this is Fox Mulder. Are – are you all right?"
"Fox! Oh, I've been hoping you would call! What's happened to Dana? Is she okay? Where is she?"
"Mrs. Scully, I don't know what the FBI has told you – "
"They haven't told me anything, Fox, I just, just, two days ago, I started to get these feelings, just like that, that other time, and – Fox, she isn't okay, is she? Please tell me what happened!"
"Mrs. Scully, it – it is. She, we were out in Oregon on a case, and – well, they – they took her again, Mrs. Scully."
Mrs. Scully was quiet for a moment, and in the silence Mulder heard a couple of small, tiny clicks in the line.
"Oh – oh, my God. Dana." Mrs. Scully sobbed quietly into the phone. "I knew it."
"Mrs. Scully, I promise you I did everything I could." Mulder looked out of his window and saw a large, dark van parked across the street, with a shadowy figure in the driver's seat. "I still am. Everyone at the Bureau is working round the clock on this. We'll find her, Mrs. Scully. I promise."
"I know you're doing everything you can, Fox. I know you'll find her. You always have. Fox .. " she sniffled loudly and cleared her throat. "I know you're busy, but can we meet sometime? I just, I would really like to talk with you."
"That would be great, Mrs. Scully. In fact, I'd like to talk to you, too .. " He was investigating the bottom of his phone for hidden wire taps. "I don't think this line is secure. Can I come visit you tomorrow evening? Would that be all right? We can go to dinner somewhere if you'd like."
"That sounds fine, Fox. And don't worry, I'll make dinner." Mulder smiled at that. "Oh, and Fox?"
"Yes?"
"Call me Maggie, Fox."
"All right. Maggie." Mulder chuckled. "See you tomorrow, then. And Maggie, I promise you I'll find her."
"I know. Good night, Fox."
Mulder hung up the line and rapidly redialed.
"John Doggett."
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Agent Doggett? I want to see a copy of the court order that gives you permission to tap my phone."
"What? Who is this?"
"Oh, you have to ask. How many agents are you surveilling, Doggett? Is it really that difficult to remember all of us?"
"Ah. Is this Agent Mulder?"
"Thank you, Agent Doggett, that's all I wanted to know. I'll have your ass for this."
Mulder yanked the phone cord out of the wall and hurled the entire assembly across the room, where it fell to the floor and sat, dinging pitifully.
Well, that was worthless, Mulder thought, and threw himself back onto the couch, narrowly missing the fish tank with his foot.
I have to get out of here, he thought. I can't stand it here tonight. I won't stay here, alone and powerless, to be spied on.
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Mulder cracked open the door to Scully's apartment, half expecting her to come rushing from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, demanding to know what he was doing here at that hour of night.
But of course, Scully wasn't there; so Mulder stepped tentatively over the threshold, like a child tiptoeing into his parents' bedroom when they aren't home, locked the door behind him, and flipped on the lights.
Mulder hadn't consciously been heading for Scully's place when he left his apartment, but it must have been his unconscious destination; Scully's suitcase had ended up back in his car. It made as good an excuse as any, he guessed; returning the things she'd taken with her to Oregon. Of course, he didn't know where any of it belonged, and he didn't feel right poking around in her closet and drawers; so for now he carried it through her silent apartment to her room, and left the suitcase sitting at the foot of her bed. Some of it should probably be aired out and washed, folded, and hung, he knew; but not now. It could wait.
Mulder realized he was distracting himself with thoughts about her clothes, deliberately not noticing the empty apartment, the smell of absence, the lack of Scully. Just as he'd done in her motel room two nights ago. I have to face up to it, he thought. I have to see for myself that she isn't here. I need to internalize this and accept it. I won't be able to find her if I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting to see her there.
Mulder took off his overcoat and laid it over the back of Scully's green-and-white striped couch. All right, he thought, let's start with this couch. He caressed the back cushions with his hands. I've sat on it many times, and slept here; I kissed her here once, and once I stopped her from kissing someone who wasn't really me.
He almost smiled at the last memory; he could have laughed at it, now, if only Scully had been there.
Christ, Scully, I feel so empty without you, he thought, and tears started to prick at the back of his eyes. All right. Next.
He walked to one of her tall floor plants and fingered the leaves. He'd thought she was silly, for keeping plants; any that he tried to raise always ended up dead within a few months. But then, she'd said the same thing about his fish ...
How often do they need to be watered, Scully? You told me once, but I don't remember. I'll find out, Scully, and I'll water them for you.
I could water them with my tears, he thought whimsically, and that was all it took. He sat down at Scully's desk and cried, cried until his heart ached a little less and his eyes were raw and red, beating at the desk and sobbing deep in the back of his throat.
So that was why it took Mulder a little longer than it should have to comprehend that Scully's desk was empty, that he really wasn't supposed to have enough room there to cradle his head on his arms.
They took her computer, he realized, fingering the extension cord that came from the wall, powering nothing. I bet they took mine, too. Well, that's certainly interesting. But you know, I don't think I really care.
Slowly, Mulder eased himself to his feet and wandered back down the hall to her bedroom, steadying himself with one hand against the wall. He'd never slept in Scully's bed before – she'd slept in his, yes, but never the other way around. It hadn't occurred to him to notice that, before, and he wondered if it was significant for only a second before he lowered his head softly onto her pillow. He felt a lump beneath the blankets and pulled out her pajamas, satin peach-colored drawstring pants and a matching buttoned top. He held them to his face, and felt the soft satin on his cheek, and smelled Scully. His breath hitched.
Mulder took off his shoes and belt and tie and burrowed deep under Scully's covers, feeling and smelling nothing but her. And though it hurt, so much, to be this close to her and yet so very far away, there was a comforting presence in her apartment that would ease him to rest, that he knew he'd never find in his own rooms.
I'll find you, Scully, he repeated in his head like a mantra, just before he dropped off to sleep. I promise.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Scully was in pain. Terrible pain. She was naked – God – her body strapped down to a slab of rock. In places the rock seemed almost to devour her alive. She was in a dark place, very dark, but bright lights beat down from every direction, catching each nuance and fold of her skin, bringing the sharp waves of agony that coursed through her into sharp relief. Oh, God, her wrists – there were poles going through her wrists, pinning her down to the slab, her hand scrabbling for a hold, for anything. Mulder could see her, he could see everything, and – no, fuck, no – her face, her face was being held open and up by six long wires embedded in her cheeks, and her eyes, her eyes were streaming with tears, rolling frantically, desperately, agonized. Mulder called her name and thought he saw her tense in recognition, but he couldn't hear his own voice, couldn't move, couldn't do anything but watch helplessly as the drill – God, the drill – moved relentlessly forward and entered her open mouth, whirring and whining and spinning and finally buzzing, and spray splattered everywhere and Scully screamed ...
Somewhere in the distance, an alarm was going off.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Mulder's eyes shot open. His chest was heaving, his body drenched in sweat. He sat up and rubbed one hand through his hair, the other over his face.
A dream. It was only a dream. "Scully," he breathed out through dry lips. It couldn't be true. She was okay. She had to be.
The phone rang.
Mulder jumped.
Without thinking, he stretched over the twisted, soaked sheets – testimony to his restless night – and lifted the handset from Scully's portable phone beside her bed.
"Scu-scully residence." Mulder swallowed and licked his lips, willing himself to stop shaking, to be calm and collected.
"Hi, this is Nurse Owens calling from Dr. Parenti's office! Is Dana home?"
Dr. Parenti's - ? I thought that was over with – "Um, no, she, she isn't here right now. Can I, uh, can I help you with something?"
"Well, the results of the tests she had done last week are in, and we have some good news! Are you, by any chance – " there was a pause – "Fox Mulder?"
"Yeah, that's me." Mulder swung his legs over the edge of the bed and massaged his forehead with his free hand. Good news from Dr. Parenti's office? She couldn't be – God, if she was –
"Dana's donor! Good. She's authorized us to release her information to you, Mr. Mulder, so if it's all right with you I'd like to leave her a detailed message."
"I, um .. " She's not here. She's gone. Mulder fumbled for a piece of paper and a pencil. "All right. Go ahead."
"Well, this was just a routine checkup, but both her blood and urine tests came back positive; so she needs to schedule her first prenatal visit – sometime within the next week would be best – "
"Wait, wait, whoa." Mulder let himself fall back onto the bed and screwed his eyes shut. "Are you saying Scully's pregnant?"
"Yes, exactly! I'm so happy for both of you, Mr. Mulder; I know how much Dana hoped for this."
"Um. Thank you." Mulder tried to sound like a happy parent. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. "Um, but – she told me that the in vitro procedure didn't work. How is this - ?"
"You must have made a baby the old-fashioned way, Mr. Mulder. Congratulations! Just have her phone the office as soon as possible, all right?"
Mulder breathed out slowly. "Um. All right. Thank you, Nurse - ?"
"Owens. Have a great day!"
"Yeah .. "
Mulder hung up the phone and let it drop next to him on the bed. Pregnant. Scully was pregnant. With his child. He covered his face with his hands.
He had to find her. Soon. That's all there was to it. If he waited, Scully could come back in any kind of condition, and if they found out she was pregnant, who knew what would happen to the child? Damn, what if it wasn't even her they wanted, but the baby? Mulder groaned.
"Agent Mulder, what are you doin' here?"
Mulder whipped around to face the bedroom door, immediately on the defensive. "I could ask you the same thing, Agent Doggett. First you tapped my phone, now you're following me! Or are you just here to ransack Scully's apartment, like you did to my office!?"
Doggett didn't back down. "Actually, I'm just doin' my job, followin' up a line of evidence that might help find her. You may be able to shed some light on this, in fact." Doggett reached into his pocket. "I heard voices. What are you doin' here, Agent Mulder?"
"I, uh .. " Mulder wiped a hand across his eyes, suddenly very conscious of the rumpled, sweat-encrusted dress shirt and slacks he hadn't gotten around to removing the night before. "I came by to drop off her travel bag, from Oregon." He indicated the suitcase at the foot of the bed.
"I see, and you were so tired you just decided to lie down and take a nap." Doggett sounded amused.
What an arrogant bastard, Mulder thought.
... Fuck it.
He sat back down on the bed, deflated, and cradled his head in his hands. "I miss her, Agent Doggett," he said softly.
Doggett blinked. Of all the possible responses he might have expected from Mulder, this quiet, forlorn desperation wasn't one of them. He walked around the bed and squatted down next to Mulder's bent form.
"Agent Mulder? My job is to find her. I'm gonna do that. Whatever you may believe my motives are here, all I wanna do is find Agent Scully and bring her back."
Mulder cleared his throat and breathed in loudly, and leaned back over the bed, stretching his back and neck muscles. His eyes were closed, his nose red. "If that's true, Agent Doggett, then I'm more sure than ever that you're being used." He wiped his nose and blinked, then met Doggett's steady, concerned gaze. "But that can wait. What did you want to show me?"
Doggett pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and handed it to Mulder. It was an appointment notice for Scully from Dr. Parenti's office. "You know anything about this?"
"Where'd you find this?"
"Sittin' on a shelf in the X-Files office. She must've left it there."
Mulder sighed, and tugged at his lower lip. "Yeah, I know about this. Scully was – well, you've read her file, surely you know that she was left barren when her cancer went into remission. Recently she learned that she might be able to conceive, after all, and she – " Mulder hesitated. Just say it, he thought; it's all going to come out anyway, and better it be sooner – "well, we, I should say – we were working with this Dr. Parenti," he waved the paper in Doggett's direction, "to try and help Scully have a baby."
Doggett eyed Mulder warily. "I'm surprised you're willin' to tell me all this, Agent Mulder. Thank you for bein' candid. .... I presume the treatment didn't work?"
"We thought it didn't. But that's why I had no choice but to tell you about it, Agent Doggett; it's suddenly relevant." Mulder sighed again, more deeply. "That call you heard me take? It was from Dr. Parenti's office. Scully's pregnant."
The two men's eyes met over the top of the paper, tired hazel into shocked blue.
"We have to hurry," Doggett said hoarsely.
"Yeah," Mulder answered. "We do."
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Mulder stood up, carrying his plate from the table to the kitchen sink. "Thank you for dinner, Maggie; I really appreciate this. It was wonderful."
"It's the least I could do, Fox," Maggie joined him with some more dishes, smiling sadly. "You're working so hard all day to find Dana, and at the same time I know you miss her as much as I do." She put an arm around Mulder's back and looked up at him. "I'm so glad she has a friend like you looking after her at the FBI."
Mulder answered her with an equally sad smile. "Maggie, more often than not, she looks after me."
Maggie stepped away, nodding. "You're good for each other. I've always thought so."
Mulder leaned against the counter and reached into his pocket. "Maggie, I need to get back to work soon, but there's something I wanted to ask you." He pulled out Scully's necklace – he'd thought it might be inappropriate to actually wear it to her mother's house – and held it out to her. "I found this again."
Maggie nodded slowly, and reached out with one finger to touch the tiny cross. She pulled her hand back quickly, blinking away tears, and glanced up at him. "I want you to keep it again, Fox. Give it back when you find her."
He nodded. "I will. But that isn't what I wanted to ask you, Maggie. This is – this is the third time Dana's been taken. Every time, I've found this necklace left behind. I was just – I was starting to wonder if there's anything special about it. It seems like too much of a coincidence that the clasp just came undone – three times – when I've never seen it fall off her neck. Can – can you tell me anything interesting about this necklace, any special properties it's supposed to have, a particular store it was purchased from, anything at all?"
Maggie frowned. "Well, no, as far as I'm aware it's just a plain, 14-carat-gold cross necklace. As for where I bought it, that would have been – hmm – we were living on the base in California at the time, and I'm sure it was just a chain jewelry store at the nearest mall." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't ... well, wait here a minute."
Maggie left the room and went upstairs. In the meantime, Mulder put his hands to his temples. He was starting to get a pounding headache. He hoped it would go away on its own, and he hoped it was just a stress headache; he wasn't up to dealing with anything else right now.
When Maggie came back into the kitchen, she was carrying a long velvet-covered jewelry box. "When Melissa died – " she put her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes, choking on a sob. "I'm sorry, Fox, I'm just so worried for Dana; everything's coming back .. "
Mulder took her hand and held it, concerned, headache forgotten. "I understand, Maggie. It's all right."
Maggie nodded and swallowed sharply. "Thank you, Fox."
She held to him tightly for a long moment. Then with a deep breath, Maggie reclaimed her hand and wiped her eyes, smiling at him sadly. Mulder nodded back slowly, understanding.
Another brief moment to collect herself, and Maggie opened the container.
"This was Melissa's. She hadn't worn the necklace for a few years, and when I was going through her things, I found it in the original box. There might have been some information underneath ... " She pried up the velvet-covered cardboard on which the necklace rested, and pulled out a folded sheet of thin paper. "Ah-hah! I thought so! Well, there you have it, Fox; that's all I know."
Mulder took the sheet from her and unfolded it, smoothing out the creases. "'This pure gold cross serves as a reminder of God's eternal love, for our Lord and Savior' ... yadda yadda yadda ... 'the tiny sliver of lodestone in its heart will steer you on God's course as you navigate the turbulent seas of life.' ... Lodestone?"
Maggie shook her head. "I never knew. They must not have advertised that."
"Lodestone, like a compass, that's, that's iron, magnetic iron, magnetite. Hmm."
"Does that mean something to you?"
"No, no it doesn't. Hmm. Maggie, do you mind if I keep this?" Mulder's cell phone rang. "Excuse me." Maggie nodded and went back to the dishes.
"Mulder."
"Mulder, it's us." It was Frohike. "Can you get over here right away?"
"I'm on my way. What've you got?"
"Don't want to discuss it on the phone. See you when you get here." He cut the connection.
"That was a lead, Maggie; I need to get going. May I?" Mulder indicated the paper from Melissa's necklace.
"Of course, Fox. In fact .. I want you to take the box and necklace, too."
"Maggie, no. I couldn't."
"It's been on my dresser for five years, Fox; I'm not going to do anything with it. And when you give Dana's back to her, you may find that you miss the comfort of having it."
Maggie looked knowingly at Mulder, and he smiled sheepishly back; because of course she was right, as soon as he got back in the car to leave, Scully's necklace would be right back under his own collar. He didn't have the heart to tell her that any comfort he derived from it came from knowing that it was Scully's, and not from any religious power watching over him.
"All right, Maggie." He took the box from her. "Thank you. Thank you for everything."
"Fox, Dana's my only daughter now, but in many ways you're like a son to me." Maggie's lower lip trembled as she reached out to give him a hug. "Be careful."
Surprised, Mulder hugged her back. "I will. And I'll let you know if we find anything. Anything at all."
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Byers let Mulder into their office. "What've you got for me, guys?" he asked, stepping around tables cluttered with electronics and piles of back issues.
"Well, first of all," said Frohike, "we got the dirt on Agent Doggett."
"We knew you weren't likely to look him up on your own," Byers added.
"Yeah. That's the sort of thing Scully does," Langly put in.
The room went silent.
"Er. Yeah," Langly cleared his throat. "So. Agent Doggett."
"What kind of dirt?" Mulder asked.
"Well," Frohike said. "None, actually. He's an ex-marine. Served with the NYPD for awhile after his discharge. Quantico grad with honors. Divorced." He shrugged.
"He seems pretty clean," Langly added. "I dunno, Mulder; you might be overly paranoid on this one."
"Coming from you guys, that says a lot," Mulder tried to smile, then rubbed his forehead again. The headache was getting worse. "I talked with him for awhile this morning; I'm starting to think he'll work out ok. I'm just afraid someone's pulling his strings. And of course he isn't looking for her in the right places."
Byers nodded seriously. "We'll check into that."
"All right." Mulder screwed his eyes shut against the pain. Dammit, go away, he muttered to the headache. "What else have you guys got?"
"Voila!" Langly flourished a large map of the United States, with little dots of red marker congregated in the southwestern states. "We got your UFO activity right here, G-Man."
"This is all from the same ship?" Mulder asked, leaning over the map.
"Well, we see a clear trail of activity leading from Oregon right down the to Arizona desert. No reason to suspect otherwise," said Byers.
"If she's on that ship, she's there," Frohike said, pointing.
"How about – um." Mulder was having a hard time concentrating. "The abductees. Are they all multiples?"
"Seem to be," Langly answered. "That's one thing, though; many of the abductees show signs of abnormal brain activity."
"Like you did, a year ago," said Byers.
"Yeah. That's strange," Frohike added. "You weren't abducted."
"I'm not an abductee," Mulder muttered.
The guys exchanged glances. "How sure are you of that, Mulder?" asked Byers.
Mulder looked up, painfully. "Pretty damn. Why? You know some –"
His cell phone rang. He nodded apologetically and opened it.
"Mulder. .. What? Agent Scully? ... I'll be right there."
Mulder replaced the phone in his pocket. With one hand to his temple, eyes closed, he said, "That was A.D. Skinner. Two hours ago, someone entered the FBI using Scully's keycard, and removed something – as yet, exactly what is unknown – from the evidence room."
"Mulder – are you all right?" asked Byers.
"Yeah, I'm .. I'm fine." Mulder went on in a monotone, eyes still closed, thinking rapidly. "It's not her. It's the bounty hunter. He took our computers, too. Doggett knows that the computers are missing. They're disposing of evidence. They're taking abductees. Plausible deniability. They're looking for proof, proof that they exist, so they can destroy it. They're taking people like me – I don't know why they didn't take me." His voice broke. "I know what they want. They want Gibson Praise. He's in Arizona."
Mulder opened his eyes and looked at the Gunmen. "We have to – nnnnggggh!" Mulder felt as though a spear had pierced his skull. He slid to the floor, pressing his head between his hands. "Scully!" He could see her again, in flashes, still strapped to the slab, and slowly, slowly, a saw came down towards her chest – "aauuggghh!" – more pain, right behind his eyes – more for Scully too as the saw drew near – and they screamed together, anguished, and then, blissfully, there was nothing.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
When Skinner stopped by to see him late the next morning, Mulder was staring out the window of his hospital room and brooding on mortality. His parents and sister, Scully's father and sister, Scully's impending death, his own, their child's. It shouldn't have to end, he thought. There are things that just – should last forever. He fingered Scully's cross, which they'd returned to him that morning at his insistence, and wondered if he'd see her again. How many obstacles can you avoid, he thought, until finally one comes along and you say, enough, I'm done, this is the end, take me?
Scully, if you come back and I'm gone, will you forgive me for not being strong enough? Can you understand why I didn't tell you? Will you tell our – our son, our daughter – all about me? Will you teach him to grow up to be a better man than I was?
There was a plot waiting for him, next to his mother's and father's, and a tombstone on order that already had the final date engraved. This year. There's not enough time, he thought. There's never been enough time. I don't have enough time.
I don't want to leave you, Scully. Not like this. Not now. It isn't right. I need to see you again. I need you to see me. I need to know you forgive me. I guess I need to know you love me.
I only want to see you. I only want to hold your hand. That's all I ask. One last time.
Scully, I'll do it. Somehow, I will try. I will be here for you when you get back, and I will do everything within my power to hasten that day. I promise. I will.
Scully, I can't bear any of this alone ...
"Mulder?"
He didn't realize there were tears pouring down his face until he heard Skinner's voice in the doorway. "Sir," he smiled shakily and wiped his face on his sleeve. "Sit down. I was just – thinking."
"I see that." Skinner sat. "Mulder, are you all right? I've never seen you cry like this."
"Yeah, I'm – " Mulder nodded in Skinner's direction. "How's the investigation going?"
Skinner eyed Mulder skeptically, but accepted it for the moment. "We're following up your lead on Gibson Praise. Turns out his file is the only thing missing from the evidence room. Doggett's got a team down there right now; the Gunmen are with him. I'm catching a flight to join them in two hours."
"If we're going to find her any time soon, it'll be there, sir."
Skinner nodded.
"Book me a flight, too," Mulder hazarded.
"No way. I need you here, getting better. You're not going anywhere until your doctor says it's okay."
Mulder looked away. That wasn't likely to happen, at least not in time to help Scully. He took a deep breath and looked Skinner in the eye.
"Sir, my doctor is currently on board a UFO somewhere in the Arizona desert. When I find her, I'll be sure to ask if it's all right for me to leave this bed."
"Mulder – "
"Sir, listen. You need me down there. Doggett's fine, he's competent, but he doesn't have any idea what he's dealing with. The guys are okay, but they have very little field experience. You – you haven't seen it, sir. Whatever beliefs you have, are through me. I'm the only one that can do this. I'm Scully's best chance. Sir, you need me. Regardless of what my medical charts say, I am feeling fine. I have to do this, sir."
Skinner broke the gaze first. "All right, Mulder, you win. I'll book you a seat. But you be careful."
Mulder smiled, remembering Maggie. "I promise I will, sir. I've already promised."
For a few minutes, charged silence seemed to hang in the room like an oppressive cloud; then both men began to speak at once.
"You go first, sir."
Skinner nodded slowly. "Smoking Man's dead. Someone pushed his wheelchair down a flight of stairs."
Mulder turned back to the window, unsurprised. "Krycek."
"How do you figure that?"
"I ran into him in Bellefleur. He said he wanted to see the bastard dead."
"Well, we'll never prove it."
"No."
After a moment, Skinner stood up to go. "Mulder, I –"
"Sir, there's something I need to tell you."
Skinner bit his lip. "I already know. Doggett told me. We'll find her in time, Mulder; we don't have a choice."
"Doggett told you ..?" Mulder raised an eyebrow, confused.
"Scully's pregnancy ... ?"
"Oh, that." Mulder sighed heavily. "Yeah, you need to know that, too. But there's something else. And I'd – I'd appreciate it if you keep it quiet for awhile."
Skinner waited expectantly.
Mulder looked down at his hands, the window, the door, anywhere but Skinner. "Sir, I never fully recovered from the abnormal brain activity I suffered a year ago."
Holding his breath, he looked up to meet Skinner's eyes.
Skinner looked guarded, uncomprehending. "What are you trying to say, Mulder?"
Mulder sighed. "Sir, my – my brain is still functioning too quickly for my body. It's not to the degree that it was when I was institutionalized – I can't hear thoughts, and except when it gets really bad – like last night – I can think more clearly than most people. I've been taking medicine for a year, to control it, and going to doctors, but unless something happens to reverse it – " he shook his head. "I only have a few months to live. At most. Sir."
He glanced up at Skinner, whose face was registering shock and dismay.
Mulder looked at his hands. "I never told Scully," he whispered, his throat tight.
"Oh .. Mulder," Skinner rasped out. He shook his head. "I can't believe that. We'll find something. There has to be a way – "
Mulder looked at Skinner in defeat. "There isn't, sir. Believe me. I've tried everything. And you know me, that really means everything." He smiled wryly. "But you see why I need to go, sir. I have to see Scully again. I have to. And I need someone – you – to know just what it is that I'm fighting."
"Mulder," Skinner leaned forward and put his hands on Mulder's, stilling their nervous kneading of the bedsheets. He was the one about to cry, now. "I'll keep this to myself. Thank you – thank you for telling me." He squeezed Mulder's hands. "You sit tight. I'll be back in an hour, to get you on the plane." He stood up and wiped his eyes, started to say something else, then headed for the door.
"Sir?" Mulder asked.
"Yeah?" Skinner spun around on the threshold.
"On your way back over here, can you pick me up some sunflower seeds?"
Skinner's laugh turned into a sob. "Of course – of course I will." And he was gone.
Mulder pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head on his arms. I'm coming, Scully. One way or another, I'm coming.
Slowly, creakily, he pulled himself out of bed and began to dress for work.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
The school for the deaf was turning into a circus, Mulder thought. Agents everywhere, confused teachers, photos of Gibson strewn on the floor. He braced his arm against a wall and rested his head in the crook of his elbow, swallowing dryly. The heat wasn't doing anything for his headache.
He felt a tentative hand on his shoulder and looked up. It was Skinner. "Mulder, if you need to rest ..." he said in a low voice.
Mulder wiped a hand across his eyes and shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I'll be fine. Any sign of Gibson?" He squared his shoulders, pushing aside the momentary weakness.
Skinner's forehead creased, and Mulder let himself be led to one of the child-sized chairs in the middle of the classroom. "I don't think you're fine, Mulder. I want you to be careful."
"Dammit, you're not responsible for me! I'm FINE!" Mulder leapt to his feet, eyes flashing. He aimed a kick at the small desk, harder than he intended, sending it flying across the room and into the blackboard with a resounding crash.
After a moment of clenching and unclenching his jaw and his fists, Mulder shoved his hands in his pockets and looked hoodedly at Skinner. "I'm fine, sir," he said quietly. "Don't treat me like an invalid. I'm not. What about Gibson?"
Skinner righted the mistreated desk and sat on top of it, sighing. He shook his head, lips tight. "No sign of him. He was definitely in class, right here. We've got the whole school gathered on the lawn and all the teachers are being questioned. No one saw him leave, so far."
Mulder sighed, letting out a "whoosh" of air. "We can't be too late. We can't be."
Skinner opened his lips as if to answer, when Agent Doggett poked his head in the door. "Sir, can you come out here for a second?" Doggett looked cagily at Mulder but didn't include him in the invitation.
Skinner smiled tightly at Mulder and followed the other agent out, closing the door behind him.
Mulder stared at the closed door, then folded back into his chair and covered his face with his hands, rubbing at his temples again. Of course Skinner didn't believe him. Mulder never believed Scully, either, when she used that line. A small, impotent cry leaked from his throat.
Mulder stood up and began to pace across the classroom. I'm supposed to be able to solve this, he thought. This is my job; I find people missing under impossible circumstances every day. Think. I can do this.
He reached the window and tightly gripped the sill, staring sightlessly out at the desert. Not without Scully. Not anymore.
He gritted his teeth and wiped that thought away. His hand migrated again to the cross at his throat. Stop it, he thought to himself. Stop wallowing. You'll never find her if you don't believe you can.
Mulder took a deep breath and stood up straighter. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he saw a sudden movement in the oppressively still desert. A quick motion, a flash of color, a shimmering in the air - he leaned forward and squinted, senses on the alert, self-doubt forgotten.
The door opened again and Doggett entered behind him. "Mulder, I don't wanna do this, but I gotta ask. ... What the hell are we doin' here? There's nothin' but a scared kid who ran off when he saw the feds were after 'im. There's no Agent Scully, there's no kidnappers - there's no aliens, Agent Mulder."
Doggett eyed Mulder warily, who was still focused intently on the desert. "Mulder, could she have known about this baby already? 'Cause she ain't here, Mulder. She ain't gonna be here. If she knew she was pregnant, she mighta been scared, she mighta gone -"
Mulder turned to Doggett and shoved a finger into his chest. "No way." He glanced out the window again. "I gotta go."
Mulder ran out the door, leaving a consternated Doggett behind, shaking his head.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Mulder rounded the top of the next hill and saw them. Only a few hundred yards in front of him - a small figure, and a taller, petite one with red hair, wearing a pantsuit. Gibson - and Scully.
It's not Scully, you idiot, he tried to tell himself. After so many days without Scully, just seeing her was like a potent drug, enough to wipe all of that out of his mind. He knew it wasn't Scully, but oh, how he wanted to believe it could really be her.
His breath caught in his throat as he continued down the far side of the escarpment. He could almost imagine he was watching Scully and their son, walking calmly down the beach in Martha's Vineyard on vacation, pointing out pretty shells and seagulls to each other as they waited for Mulder to catch up.
He rubbed at his eyes, and gave his head a firm shake. No. Stop it. If you ever want that to happen, get a grip on yourself, Mulder.
Gibson turned around, wide-eyed, still trying frantically to free himself from Scully's grip. He shook his head frantically at Mulder, who ignored him and ran forward, crying out Scully's name.
She stopped and turned around, never shifting her hold on Gibson.
Mulder slowed and halted in front of them. "Scully .. ?" he asked uncertainly.
A searing pain shot through Mulder's mind and he distinctly heard Gibson shouting "It isn't her!"
Mulder put a hand to his forehead and breathed deeply, willing the pain away by sheer force. I know, he thought, hoping Gibson could understand. I know. Ow. Geez. I know it's not her.
Gibson bit his lip and stopped struggling.
Raising his head again, Mulder turned back to Scully. "Let Gibson go," he said. "You're surrounded. You can't get away. We'll take you someplace where you can get help." Hopefully the bounty hunter didn't realize Mulder was on to him. "Now just let him go."
Neither of them moved.
Slowly, Mulder pulled out his gun. His arm was shaking, but he steadied it with a two-handed grip. All he could think about was a warehouse in DC, and Scully's lifeless body collapsing in front of him, a gun in his own hand. He made a conscious effort to keep his voice even when he spoke.
"Let him go." Mulder's eyes were desperate and dangerous - or simply scared. "I'll shoot. You know I will."
Please let her do what I say. I don't think I can do this. I can't shoot Scully. No matter what, I can't shoot Scully. Please, please, just let him go ...
But his hands and face didn't waver. "Let him go, Scully."
Slowly - thank God - her fingers loosened around Gibson's arm. As soon as he could move freely, the boy turned and fled into the desert. He glanced back once in trepidation, but Mulder wasn't watching.
"Okay," Mulder said, trying not to shake in relief. "Good. Now just come over here, and we'll get you home, Scully."
She took a step backwards.
What the -? "Scully, that's the wrong way." He tightened his resolve and his grip on the weapon. "Walk towards me."
She kept walking backwards, step after step, faster now.
Mulder glanced quickly behind her, and his eyes widened. "Watch your step! Scully, stop! The cliff - " He dropped his gun and ran to her, reason forgotten.
Too late. She took a final step, and just as he reached her side, tumbled gracefully, almost swooning, over the edge.
"Nooo!" Mulder shouted. He fell to his hands and knees at the edge of the precipice, watching as her lithe, small form crumpled into a heap at the base, a hundred feet below. Oh my God, Scully, no .. it can't be. He blinked away tears. Of course it isn't. It isn't her. It isn't her it isn't her it isn't her itisntheritisnther ...
He knew it wasn't her. He also knew he'd be watching Scully fall off that cliff in dreams for the rest of his life - no matter how short the rest of his life turned out to be.
Oh, God, Scully. He rocked back on his heels, wracked with dry sobs. I'm so sorry.
He felt a presence behind him, and there was Byers, looking stricken. The rest of the Gunmen and the search team were right behind. Skinner picked Mulder's gun up off the ground and silently handed it back to him. Doggett walked to the edge, and peered over at Scully's still form. He glanced at Mulder, swallowing, and rasped out, "We were right behind you, Mulder, but we couldn't get here in time." He kicked a loose stone over the cliff. "Mulder, I'm so sorry, I - "
Mulder just looked a him with bright, tortured eyes, and said nothing.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Mulder stared at the base of the cliff, eyes locked on the small depression in the sand where Scully – not Scully. Where not-Scully had landed when she – it. When it had stepped backwards off the hundred-foot-high cliff and plummeted to her death. Not to its death. Where it had stood up and walked away, faded away into the desert.
A pretty tableau they made, standing in the fading sanguine twilight of the desert. Mulder was slowly collapsing in on himself, as he stood perfectly still, arms crossed tightly over his chest, gazing greyly at the sand beneath him. The Gunmen stood to the side, huddled together, conversing among themselves in fits and starts. Doggett's men milled confusedly around the rented SUV. The man himself was staring perplexedly into the distance, hands on hips, eyes following the track left by the suspect until the sandy ground gave over to gravel. Skinner's forehead creased as he glanced from Mulder to Doggett and back again.
A cool breeze ruffled Mulder's hair, flapped the too-loose tail of his t-shirt, made him clasp his elbows more tightly to his body. Freeze, he thought. Pause. Stop now. I want to get off.
"I don't get it," Doggett walked over to Mulder, gesturing. "I mean, I've seen people live through a lot of dangerous shit. I'll buy she survived the fall. But got up and walked away? Ran away, accordin' to the tracks? What the hell's goin' on here?"
Mulder slowly raised his head and looked Doggett in the eye. "It's not her, Agent Doggett."
"I know what Agent Scully looks like, Agent Mulder. And that was Agent Scully."
Mulder just shook his head distractedly and turned away, taking a few steps in Skinner's direction.
Doggett waved his arms in consternation and followed. "What are you trying to get at, Mulder? If it ain't her, who is it? If that weren't her, where is she? Mulder?!?"
Mulder turned to Doggett and skewered him with a look. "You don't want to hear what I think."
Doggett blinked, but he recovered quickly. "Agent Mulder, look. I do want to hear. If it can help find Agent Scully, I gotta hear it. I don't know what you think I'm doin' here, but I'm not a spy, and I'm not tryin' to cover up anythin' - I am here just like you - to solve this!" He narrowed his eyes at Mulder. "Now you tell me what really happened up there, Agent Mulder, or I'll hafta arrest you for withholdin' evidence."
Mulder put his hand to his forehead again, covering his eyes and rubbing his temples. The headache was back again, and he suddenly had a memory of Scully saying those exact words, outside of a hospital in Bellefleur on their first case. They keep sending me spies who don't realize they're spies.
God, I'm paranoid. Scully ... -
Mulder looked back up at Doggett, a glint of humor in his grief-darkened eyes, a tiny smile trying to form at the corner of his mouth. He said it naturally. "It's a shape-shifting alien bounty hunter." Of course it is. What else would it be?
Doggett gaped. Mulder smirked and turned away again. Skinner rolled his eyes.
One of Doggett's agents shouted "Sir!" and pointed to a figure mostly obscured in the sparse brush just ahead of their position. Mulder whipped around and had his gun out and aimed before any of the other agents had started to think about reacting.
He aimed for the left shoulder - just in case. He felt the scar on his chest tingle where she'd shot him years ago as he pulled the trigger.
She kept coming. Her blood oozed green.
The second time, he aimed for the neck.
Mulder calmly replaced his gun in the holster as she fell. He held himself calmly, tightly composed, as all the other agents and the Gunmen stared, shocked, between him and Scully's body.
Doggett recovered first and ran to her side. As he knelt at her head, her body began to writhe and bubble; her face collapsed in on itself and became a fluorescent green mass, and the rest of her body quickly followed suit, sputtering and roiling and dissolving itself away, finally, into nothingness.
Doggett looked at Mulder, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. So did everyone else, for that matter; even the Gunmen.
"Well," Mulder shook his arms out and glanced casually around at the sea of shocked faces, as though shooting an alien who looked like his partner was something he did every day, and announced calmly, "I'm going to find Gibson."
He strode out of the canyon and into the darkening night.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Mulder walked west, toward the sunset, until the light had faded and the stars were out and he couldn't walk any more. He didn't think about anything; just put one foot in front of the other.
When he finally stopped and sat on the ground, his back against a large rock, he couldn't keep the thoughts out. He'd shot Scully. He hadn't thought he was capable, but he'd done it, with his own hands, he'd shot his partner. He'd shot and killed the woman he loved. He looked at his hands, spread out in front of him, pale in the starlight. They shook in grief and despair and self-loathing; and even the starlight, the light that had been a comfort to him since he'd realized Samantha resided there, seemed accusing. He could imagine Sam saying in a bratty little-sister voice, "You failed her, too, Fox!" and flouncing away.
Even as he'd pulled the trigger, he'd known it wasn't Scully; but that knowledge couldn't soothe him as he sat, shaking from head to toe. He was capable of shooting Scully, what kind of a monster did that make him? If he could shoot her today he could shoot her any time. All he had to do was convince himself that she was an alien and he'd do it.
He moaned and clasped his hands around his head. How can this be me? he thought. I can't - I could never hurt Scully. I love her. I love you, Scully!
It can't be. It can't be me.
I fucking SHOT her!!
Mulder's breath came in short gasps as he rocked back and forth. He couldn't stop shaking. He took out his gun and held it loosely in his hands, between his knees, and it shook wildly along with the rest of him. I'll end it, he thought. Right here, I can stop this. I'll be dead soon anyway. It'll be clean and quick. They might never even find me. I don't want to be the sort of man who'd shoot Scully, good, well, I won't be. I'll never hurt her again.
If I shoot myself, I'll never find her.
I'll never find her anyway. She's gone. They aren't coming back this time and it's too late. Even if she does come back, I'll already be dead.
Mulder leaned his clammy forehead against the cool barrel of the gun, still shaking uncontrollably, still sobbing disjointedly. Scully, I'm so sorry ...
From this angle, head down, all he could see was Scully's cross against his chest.
He couldn't do it.
/Stop it, Mulder. Stop it!/
He dropped the gun as though it were a red-hot brand, and with one final, wracking shudder, his shaking calmed and stilled. Scully ... ?
/Stop it, Mulder. You did what you had to. I believe in you. I know I'll see you again. I love you, Mulder ... /
Scully, I'm so sorry ...
/No apologies, G-Man./ He could hear her smile. He could feel her cool fingers against his forehead, smoothing his hair. /You can't get away from me that easily, Mulder./
Apparently not. Mulder smiled, though he was crying openly now. You'll have to shoot me yourself if you want me out of your hair, Scully.
/I'll keep it under advisement. Just remember, Mulder, I'm the only one who gets to shoot you. Deal?/
Yeah. He laughed brokenly. Deal. Scully, will you come back to me?
/Mulder, I will. I know I will. ... Mulder, we're leaving now. Don't give up ... /
"Scully!" Mulder shouted and raised his head.
Gibson was sitting next to him. "I heard you in my head," he said by way of explanation.
Oh, no, Mulder thought. He'd been thinking such dark thoughts ..
"It's okay," Gibson shoved his glasses farther up his nose. "I don't mind. I wanted to help you, so I brought her here."
"Scully? You brought Scully here?" Mulder latched his hand onto Gibson's shoulder and looked at him intently. "Where is she?"
"I brought her in my head," Gibson answered calmly. "I helped her talk to you. She hurts, but she didn't want to tell you that."
That was real, Mulder thought wonderingly. That was really Scully.
"Does that mean they're gone now?"
"Yeah," Gibson answered. "They had to go. They're late."
"For what? You can read their thoughts?"
"I don't know. They're just late. And yeah - I can. Not as easily as yours, but I can."
"Okay. ... But what about you?"
"They couldn't stay long enough to try again." Gibson shrugged. "They don't need me that badly, I guess. I don't know."
Mulder didn't answer, and the two of them sat in silence for awhile. Mulder looked at the stars and picked out Orion, Cassiopeia, the Big Dipper. Scully had promised that she would be back. He would have to hang on to that.
It could keep him going for a long time, that tiny shred of hope. A last word from Scully that he hadn't dared hope to receive.
She said she loves me, too.
"Gibson," Mulder said, breaking the quiet. Gibson turned and faced him, though Mulder knew he could pick the rest of the sentence out of his mind, if he wanted.
"Thank you. You saved my life tonight."
Gibson blinked behind his thick glasses. "It's okay, Mulder. I like you."
Mulder smiled and put his arm around Gibson, pulling him near. Almost like father and son.
Mulder had his eyes on the stars, thinking about Scully, when the helicopter landed, bringing Skinner, Doggett, and a medical team.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Two days later, Mulder was back in the same hospital room.
They said he'd be able to leave that afternoon - his neurologist was not pleased with him for going to Arizona, but he was prescribing a stronger dose of medication that should let Mulder go back to work - for real - within the next week.
Mulder supposed he should be happy about that - at least he'd spend his final days working, not trapped to a bed in an institution. But he still didn't want to face his basement office alone. He hadn't been back since he'd found Doggett's men searching it, and the thought of taking an actual case, without Scully - without even the possibility of calling her in the evenings - wasn't really something he could conceive of doing, ever again.
Mulder looked up at a knock on his door. "Come in," he called, expecting Skinner.
It was Agent Doggett.
"How're you doin'?" Doggett asked, looking concerned.
"I'm fine," Mulder answered, keeping his eyes hard. "What are you doing here, Agent Doggett?"
"Well, uh ... " Doggett fidgeted. "I thought you'd want to know a few things. Gibson Praise is right now a ward of the state, but I asked for special protections, as I assumed you would yourself. What remained of .. Agent Scully -" Doggett looked warily at Mulder - "was unidentifiable. And, uh .. the case has been shelved, pending further leads."
"I could have guessed all of that, Agent Doggett. Why are you really here?"
Doggett looked at Mulder, a pinched expression on his face. "You were right, Mulder. Kersh promised me a promotion if I solved this, but he never wanted me to. I defended our actions to him, not two hours ago, and- " Doggett raised an eyebrow. "He's assigned me to the X-Files, Agent Mulder."
Mulder let out a breath. "No way. I work with Scully or I work with no one."
"Mulder, I don't think we have a choice on this."
Mulder shifted higher in bed, raising himself up. "They're putting an official seal on her disappearance. I won't stand for it." His voice was tight. "They think they can just assign me a new partner, and business as usual? No way. You tag along with me if you want, Agent Doggett, but Scully is my partner."
".. I know." Doggett nodded resignedly. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I didn't ask for this."
Mulder snorted. "Of course not. No one ever asks to be assigned to the X-Files. It's a fast track to nowhere, and if you have a shred of ambition in you, you'll try as hard as you possibly can to get transferred out as soon as possible."
After a moment, Doggett spoke again. "Mulder, I don't believe in aliens, I don't believe in ghosts, I don't believe in whatever-the-hell else you deal with down there. But I've seen enough on this case already - whatever we differ on, we'll find her. That's what I'm here for, and I'll do it."
"You find her, Agent Doggett, and you can kiss your career goodbye."
"I don't care. I keep my promises. .. See you Monday at work?"
Mulder nodded with a resigned sigh, and turned back to the window, already thinking of Scully again, as Doggett closed the door behind him.