Title: THE SPIRIT QUEST Author: Amy Schatz E-mail: starbuck@ptd.net or starbuck@intergrafix.net Classification: MSR Spoilers: "One Breath," "End Game," "Tooms," "The Blessing Way," and "Paper Clip." Archive: YES, anywhere as long as my name is attached. The full text of this story is available on my website. Go to: http://members.fortunecity.com/sloan/spirit_index.html ---------------------------------------------------------------------- THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz Notes and Comments Writing this story has been an emotional journey for me encompassing about four years. I vividly remember the summer night in 1997 that I started writing it. I can't remember the exact impetus for the story, but I do remember thinking that I wanted to write a type or kind of XF story that was new to me; something I hadn't done before. I began the story - and as stories are wont to do - it took on a life of its own and soon I had a full-blown epic on my hands. I worked on the story not steadily, but whenever I had time or interest. As time passed, so would my interest, and I would set the story aside - sometimes for months at a time. One day, I suddenly realized that the story needed to go in a whole different direction. Scrapping a fair amount of pages, I did just that and never looked back. What I found when I was finally finished was "The Spirit Quest." To me, it is a story about the deep bond and love that I had always seen between Mulder and Scully. It is a story that tests that bond and love, stretching them to their limits. It is a story that shows just how far a love like that can take two people. Also, this is most likely my last XF fanfic, so it is really special to me. For a long time, the X-Files was a big part of my life that brought me a lot of happiness and a lot of friends, and I will always remember it that way, and not what it has become. DISCLAIMER: Obviously, I don't own Mulder or Scully or anyone else from the XF world that you might recognize. I did create Grant Putnam, and I named him after one of my favorite soap opera villains. THANKS AND GRATITUDE: I would never have finished this story without the help of the following: the Mysterious & Suspicious XF fanfic mailing list (who first saw this story so many years ago in one of its first incarnations); Melissa Rabey (a good friend and also a XF fanfic author), Megan Reilly (who gave me such great early, helpful comments); and finally Molly Sergel Walker (who kept asking me about this story and when it would be finished). Look, Molly! It's finished! ;-) Thanks for pushing me, Molly! You'll never know how much you helped with me this story. CREDIT: I use two poems in this story. The first is "To a Young Poet" by Edna St. Vincent Millay, and the second is a poem I found tucked between the pages of my mother's Bible. She does not remember where she got it or who wrote it, so I've decided to title it "The Spirit." Even though I don't know the author, it was so beautiful, I had to include it in the story. ARCHIVE: Take it anywhere -- as long as my name stays attached to it. ;-) Just send me a note and let me know where it's going. SUMMARY: Late one night, Mulder gets the worst news of his life. But as time passes, he comes to find that not all was as it seemed. Can he put the pieces together in time, and can he and Scully ever be truly free to live their lives? STORY SETTING: This story was hard to place in the XF universe, because I wrote a lot of it before a lot of stuff happened. However, I think I've figured it out. This story opens in the spring of 1998, and in my mind it takes place before "The End," and "Folie a Deux," (which, according to the show, begins on May 10, as does my story). So, basically, it happens a few weeks after "The Pine Bluff Variant", and in this alternate universe, "Folie a Deux" (cute as it was) and "The End" NEVER HAPPEN. Also, nothing that happened AFTER those episodes happens. So, there is NO Diana "The Foul One" Fowley. Scully does not get sick. There is no fire in the basement. There is no X-Files movie wherein Scully is abducted (yes, again!). She isn't bitten by a bee, and there is no "almost-kiss." In short, this story is my vision of how the show might have continued on from "The Pine Bluff Variant" -- all the way to the end of the series. SPOILERS: Although I've said that this story should be placed after "The Pine Bluff Variant" and other such S5 episodes, it makes no mention of them since those parts were written before those episodes existed. The only episodes referenced herein are the old classics: "One Breath," "End Game," "Tooms," "The Blessing Way," and "Paper Clip." SPIRIT QUEST SOUNDTRACK: I used a great deal of song snippets in this story. They're not in the actual story, but they do begin each section. I don't know why I do this, except that I enjoy it and I think they add a little something extra to the scenes -- they become the story's soundtrack *** Okay, so can you tell I haven't posted in a long time? Sorry about this repost, but I just noticed that when I changed my MS Word doc over to text, it messed up my ellipsis, and that just really annoys me. It also effects the meaning of every sentence in which they appear. So I had to fix them and repost. Sorry, once again. *** ----------------------------------------------------------------- THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART ONE: THE BEAUTIFUL GOODBYE Mulder's Apartment Alexandria, Virginia May 10, 1998 1:45 am ------------------------------------------- I guess I thought you'd be here forever Another illusion I chose to create You don't know what you got until it's gone And I found out a little too late ------------------------------------------- The call came late one night. He was lying on his couch, dozing to the muted sounds of the television, when the phone rang. It rang five times before he was able to reach out to the coffee table and grab the phone, sleepily pressing the TALK button. "Mulder," he said gruffly. There was a strange silence before the caller spoke. "Agent Mulder?" Skinner. This was not what Mulder needed at this hour. "Sir, can this wait till tomorrow? I have an early meeting with the VCS about my profile." "No, Agent Mulder, it can't wait," Skinner answered, and then fell silent again. It was beginning to unnerve Mulder. Skinner always got straight to the point. He didn't hedge around things. Something had to be very wrong for Skinner to behave so strangely. "What is it, sir? What's wrong?" Mulder heard Skinner sigh. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this over the phone, Agent Mulder, but I couldn't come to your apartment, because of situations out of my control. I'm afraid I have some...news..." Mulder felt his throat tighten and his heart rate nearly doubled. In his mind, he ran down the list of things that could be wrong, but all he kept returning to was Scully. Even after all that had happened, his heart still remembered. All he cared about was if she was all right. Nothing else mattered to him. "What news, sir?" he asked, dreading the answer. He knew that whatever it was, it would change his life forever. "Is Scully okay, sir? What is it? What happened?" Skinner sighed again, and that's when Mulder knew that something was wrong with Scully. Something had happened to her. "Agent Mulder, tonight a call was put in to the Huntington, Virginia police office. The caller said that they were driving on the George Washington Memorial Parkway, and saw a car veer off the road and go over into the Potomac. This occurred at approximately 10:45 pm." Skinner paused, and Mulder could barely take it. He just wished that whatever it was, Skinner would say it before Mulder's heart exploded. Skinner took a deep breath, and continued. "When the police investigated, they found the car, upside-down, about 150 yards offshore. The windows were open, and the windshield cracked. The air bag deployed, most likely due to the water impact. They believe that the individual was thrown from the car. They didn't, however, find a body, and they don't expect to. The current is strong there." Skinner paused again, and Mulder thought that he would scream at any moment. He knew that this was about Scully. He could feel it down to the very marrow of his bones, and he just wished that Skinner would tell him so he could start to do something about it. If she was lost, he would find her. If she was hurt, he would heal her. If she was in trouble, he would help her. If she was- "Mulder, the car was Agent Scully's. I'm sorry, Mulder, but she's..." Whatever Skinner said next, Mulder didn't hear. The phone dropped from his suddenly numb fingers, and he stared out into space, his mind racing, his soul crying out. Skinner began to call out Mulder's name. "Mulder? Mulder, are you there? Mulder? Mulder, I know you're probably in shock, but you have to pick up the phone." Mulder somehow managed to come out of his daze and grab the phone again. "I'm here." His voice sounded dead to his own ears. "Mulder, I'm terribly sorry. Even despite recent events, I know that you two were close. This was an awful accident. Scully was one of the best agents I have ever had the privilege of knowing, and this shouldn't have happened to her. I just want to-" "Where - EXACTLY - was her car found?" Mulder asked, cutting Skinner off. "Mulder, you are NOT going to the scene. Leave this alone for right now. You're not in any state to drive. You'd only be a danger to yourself and others." Mulder was in the process of shutting down, and his voice was the first thing to succumb. It was dull and lifeless, as if the words he said meant nothing to him - no longer held any meaning. "Sir, if YOU don't tell me, I'll find out myself." Skinner was quiet for a few seconds, before he said, "Fine, Mulder. Do what you have to do." Mulder listened as Skinner gave him the approximate address of the accident, and then he hung up the phone. He slowly rose from the couch, but he didn't even realize he was doing it. He put on his jacket and sneakers without even thinking. In the span of a few moments he had been told that the only thing that had kept him alive, that had brought him happiness, was gone, and now he was alone forever. Scully was gone. There was nothing left to live for anymore. * * * George Washington Memorial Parkway Outside of Huntington, Virginia 2:15 am ------------------------------------------- The water's dark And deep inside this ancient heart You'll always be a part of me ------------------------------------------- Mulder stepped out of his car, ready for the worst. But there wasn't really anything to see - no carnage. No shattered glass scattered across the road. No spilled blood. No twisted metal to step over. There was nothing. Nothing but the blackness of the sky and river, the endless whisper of the wind, and deep cuts in the ground where the car had swerved before plummeting off into the river. Even Scully's car - which they had pulled from the river - though damaged, was as silent as a tomb, caught in those horrible last moments, as if in stasis. It turned out that the scene of the accident was just a little over three miles from Mulder's apartment building. During his drive he had been steeling himself in case they had found a body, and in doing so, had slipped into a kind of shock. He absently showed his FBI badge to one of the two policemen remaining, and then walked past them, his eyes glassy. Mulder pulled his gaze from the river and looked over at the car again - HER CAR. The tow truck was about to take it away. He walked forward, willing his feet to move and his body to function - just long enough until he could be certain. Then, when he knew the truth for himself, he could stop. He could stop everything... The car was battered and bruised and broken. As Skinner had said, the windshield was cracked, and the front of the car was dented quite badly. Water still ran in rivulets from the doors, hood, and trunk of the car. Mulder watched as it seeped away - like a soul slowly slipping from a body. He stood a few feet away from the remains, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. The wind suddenly stung his eyes. <...Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...> There weren't very many people at the scene now. Just two policemen finishing up their reports, the tow truck, and some lingering rubberneckers. The firemen and the paramedics had long since left. They were never really needed. Mulder turned away from the car and walked to the cliff's edge. He let his gaze drift back to the blue-black water. He couldn't understand what could have caused this. What had been wrong with Scully to make her lose control so drastically? He looked at the way the moon seemed to highlight every swell of the river. It seemed so soft and innocent and romantic, but beneath the surface there were dangerous depths. Fatal depths. Mulder blinked, tears slipping down his cheeks, and suddenly, he could see Scully's car flying off the edge of the cliff. In perfect clarity, as if it were some sick home video, he saw her car soaring through the air at a break-neck speed. Mulder was certain he could even hear her screaming inside - as if she knew that her life was about to end. He flinched as he watched her car hit, sending up a huge plume of water, like an explosion. And that's when he felt the bile rise in his throat, and he stumbled away from the cliff, onto the side of the road, falling down into the grass. His eyes swam shut and he cried out in pain, heedless of the people still around him. Not soon after, he rolled onto all fours and retched into the grass, tears streaming down his face. No one offered to help or console him. Maybe somehow they knew that the only person that could was already gone. He wouldn't take comfort from the feel of their arms around him, because theirs weren't the arms he longed for. After a few minutes, Mulder finally stopped, sitting down in the grass again, careful not to look at the water. He sighed. It was a deep, heart wrenching sound of grief. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, when he suddenly turned his gaze to the night sky. Its black expanse was dotted with stars whose light had long since burned away. Once in a while, in the past, he had looked up at the stars and wondered where Samantha was, but now, as he looked at them, he wondered if Scully was up there somewhere. <...Star light, star bright...> As Mulder sat there, he remembered the last time he had seen Scully. \\::\\:://::// Eleven Months Earlier Mulder's Apartment Alexandria, Virginia June 7, 1997 5:22 pm ------------------------------------------- Damn the angry voice that keeps us quiet The editor whose work is never done Keeping pretty words between my teeth And sweet confessions underneath my tongue ------------------------------------------- Mulder stood before her in disbelief. His hands were at his hips, and his mouth was hanging open - he knew it was. But he didn't really care. He simply could not believe what the woman before him had just said. "You're what?" he asked, his voice incredulous. Scully looked up at him, her face stoic. "I'm getting married." Mulder's expression did not change. "I didn't even know you were dating anyone." Scully shrugged, and turned from him, letting her gaze linger on his fish tank. "I have been. I just...didn't tell you." "Why not? I would have understood." Scully shook her head. "I just couldn't, Mulder," she said, and he swore he heard her voice crack on his name. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you, so you wouldn't be surprised when it happened." Mulder refused to think about all the implications then, so he focused on their immediate conversation. "You say that like you're getting married tomorrow." Scully took a step towards the door. "I am." "WHAT?!" She whirled on him, a pained expression on her face. "Look, Mulder, I don't think you have any right to judge me! This is MY life, and I've decided that I want to start living it!" Mulder was devastated. He couldn't believe that this was the same woman he had worked with for over five years. That she was the same woman who had stood by him, defended him, protected and saved him. He had even started to hope that she loved him. She simply wasn't acting like herself. "Scully," he said, his voice soft and calm, "are you sure this is what you really want?" When he asked that question, her face went ashen, and she had to look away from him to compose herself. After a few seconds of silence, she cleared her throat, and answered. "Yes, it is. Mulder, this is the most important thing I've ever done in my entire life. Everything depends on this." Now Mulder was truly confused. Besides hating the thought of another man marrying Scully, he was beginning to worry that something was really wrong with her. He gently touched her shoulder. "Why, Scully? Why does everything depend on this?" Scully looked up at him, and Mulder was sure that she was trying to tell him something with that silent communication they had between them. But in his distraught and confused state, he wasn't really up to figuring it out. "It just does, Mulder." He accepted that answer for the moment, but only because he had a much more burning question to ask. "Who is he?" Mulder swore he saw Scully's spine stiffen at that question, but it was gone a moment later, and he thought maybe he had imagined it. Soon, her forced laughter echoed through Mulder's apartment. Her laughter felt wrong to Mulder - like it would if the Smoking Man laughed. "My mother says he has a bit of the devil in him, and maybe she's right, but that's okay with me. His name is Grant Putnam." Mulder's eyebrows went up. Scully had NEVER even mentioned this guy. This whole thing felt terribly wrong to Mulder, but he found himself rather powerless to stop it. "Where's the wedding?" he asked, his tongue feeling thick and useless in his mouth. "At the courthouse. We don't want anything big. Just the two of us, a witness, and the justice of the peace." "I'll be your witness," said Mulder, and when he did, he couldn't believe he had actually offered to be a witness at Scully's wedding, when all he wanted to be was the groom. For just a moment, Mulder saw her iron control slip and some deep emotion flashed in Scully's eyes, but then it was gone, and the control was back in place. "No, Mulder," she said, her voice soft. "I couldn't...to see you standing there...I just..." As she trailed off, Mulder put a hand on her shoulder, convinced that something was wrong. If she were so much in love with this other guy, why would it bother her to have HIM there? "Scully, if you're having a problem with this, tell me. If you want to postpone it, or whatever, I'm behind you. Just talk to me, and we'll-" "Mulder, stop," she cut in, her eyes pleading. She lowered her head, apparently trying to compose herself again. When she looked up at him, the plaintive look was gone from her eyes, replaced by something hard and cold. "There is no WE - not anymore. There never will be again." She looked away from him then, seeming to contemplate the geometric patterns of the Native American blanket on his couch. When she spoke again, her voice was soft; mournful. "I'm asking you to accept this, Mulder. I'm asking you to let this happen - for ME. It's better this way. Can you do that? Can you do it for me?" How could he refuse any request worded in that way? He would do anything for her - even give up his own life, his own happiness. He was silent for a few moments, his head down, as he tried to collect his thoughts. When he looked up at her again, his eyes were pained. He nodded curtly. "If it's what you want, I can do that," he said, his control and gaze slipping away towards the end of the declaration. "I understand," he added, hoping it was what she wanted to hear. "You have to do this on your own." Scully nodded, and then shrugged. "Anyway, I should be going. Grant is expecting me." Mulder nodded, feeling as though his entire world was slipping away from him at light speed - spiraling down into a black hole. He couldn't think of anything to say to stop it, but he had to say something. "Scully, wait." She had made it to the door, but now she stopped like always. She always did what he asked her to when things were at their worst; was always there beside him when the wind died down and the dust settled, helping him to regain his footing. "What?" "What about work?" Mulder simply couldn't bear the thought of not being able to see Scully every day. "I put in a request for a transfer today." Mulder's world suddenly broke from its breakneck flight away from him and crashed to a sickening stop. He had been able to deal with this news of Scully's marriage by telling himself that she would come to her senses at the last moment, or that it wouldn't last. That she would eventually realize that she loved HIM. But this news was just too much. He couldn't deal with her leaving him totally. It would destroy him. "Scully...why?" Scully turned away again, and this time, Mulder was sure that it was to hide tears. "Because I just can't take it anymore, Mulder. We don't seem to be getting anywhere anymore...and I need to be somewhere, and do something that makes a difference. And I don't feel that I make a difference with you anymore." Mulder was at a total loss for words. "Scully...that's not true. Our work DOES make a difference. We're bringing vital truths to light that have remained hidden far too long. How can you think otherwise?" Scully opened the door. "I just do," she answered, almost echoing a long ago answer to him. She stepped out into the hall, and looked back at Mulder. And he couldn't shake the feeling that it was for the last time. "Goodnight, Mulder. Get some rest." She made it sound like a normal goodbye, but Mulder knew otherwise. It FELT different, and they both knew it. As she turned and walked out of his view, he rushed to the door, and looked after her, tears in his eyes. In the end, he said nothing. After all, how could he tell her he loved her when she was going to marry another man the next day? How could he tell her he knew it was the worst mistake she would ever make? How could he make her believe that he had loved her all this time, but was afraid to let it show? She would think he was lying just to stop her. Besides, he could never express the way he felt about her in the time it took her to walk to the elevator. And he knew he would never get over her in the time he had left in this life. She got to the elevator, and he was sure he saw her hand shaking as she reached out to push the button. When the doors opened, she walked on and didn't turn around. As the doors slid shut, locking her away from his view, Mulder felt something break apart inside his chest, and he knew for certain that it was his heart. And in the months that passed, even though he could sometimes convince himself otherwise, he never seemed to be able to banish her from his heart. Or from his soul. \\::\\:://::// CONTINUED IN PART B OF PART ONE THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART ONE: THE BEAUTIFUL GOODBYE (continued) She got to the elevator, and he was sure he saw her hand shaking as she reached out to push the button. When the doors opened, she walked on and didn't turn around. As the doors slid shut, locking her away from his view, Mulder felt something break apart inside his chest, and he knew for certain that it was his heart. And in the months that passed, even though he could sometimes convince himself otherwise, he never seemed to be able to banish her from his heart. Or from his soul. \\::\\:://::// Mulder's Apartment Alexandria, Virginia May 12, 1998 8:32 pm ------------------------------------------- If I could open the heavens above I'd be with you If I could hold you again in my arms I would tell you That I love you ------------------------------------------- The apartment was dark. The only sound was the filter from the fish tank as it went about its endless job. Mulder sat in a dismal corner, his head bowed, wishing that he would just disappear. With every moment that passed, he begged the universe to swallow him and take him from this blinding white torture. Take him from this world of pain and let him slip softly into blackness. He didn't want to go on - couldn't go on - without Scully. Nothing mattered anymore - nothing made sense. It hadn't even been this bad when she had left the X-Files and gotten married. At least then, he knew she was still out in the world, and living, and hopefully happy. The fact that he was miserable without her meant nothing. Though they never saw each other, he had still felt their connection. Somehow, he had made that enough for him. But this...this was torment. This was something worse than death - worse than Hell. Her death was the end of him. He knew it - could sense it down to the marrow of his bones. He felt like half of his soul had been ripped away, and its absence was killing him. His mind kept flashing back to that line in "Wuthering Heights" - the part where Heathcliff tried to explain that Cathy was a part of him - the best part. With her gone, it was like his life was gone - his soul was gone - and he couldn't live without it. Mulder couldn't live without his soul. He couldn't go on without the one person that made his life worth living. He couldn't continue without the person who turned his world of blacks and greys into brilliant color. A knock suddenly came to the door. Mulder didn't move. He didn't even react to the sound. Whoever it was would go away soon enough, and he could return to the dark void of pain that his life had become. "Fox, please open the door," a voice called softly. Mulder still did not move, but his heart quickened. He knew who it was. Mrs. Scully. And then the sound of a key in the lock came to his ears, and before Mulder could even think about getting to the door to hold it shut, she walked inside. Mulder stayed where he was, sitting in the corner, and some detached part of him decided that Mrs. Scully must have gotten his key from Scully's things. He didn't really care at the moment. Margaret took a deep breath and slowly walked over to Mulder, kneeling down beside him. "Oh, Fox, look at you..." He kept his gaze on the floor; his head bowed, and refused to move. Just the act of breathing made the stinging ache in his heart worse. It had been there since Skinner had told him the news, and he knew it would remain forever. It was his new companion. The ache replaced the spot Scully had filled in his heart, and the love he felt for her. When she had died, it had gone with her, and he had no more love to give or feel, and no desire to do so. "Fox, you can't go on like this. This has got to stop." For a moment, Mulder wondered why Mrs. Scully wasn't off with Scully's husband, consoling him. Why was she here with the ex- partner of her daughter? "Go away..." Margaret ignored that weak attempt, and reached out to take his hand. She spoke softly, but forcefully. "Fox, I want you to come to the memorial service. For your own sake, you NEED to come." He shook his head slightly, a barely perceptible movement. "Fox, Dana would want you there. You need to come to say goodbye, so you can move on with your life." At those words, his head shot up, and he fixed her with a menacing stare. "Move on with my life?" he asked, his voice bitter and scratchy from under-use. "Scully WAS my life...the only good part..." Margaret sighed. "I know that, Fox, but you can't sit in this dark place forever. Dana," she said, her voice breaking a bit, "wouldn't want that for you." "DANA," he said, venomously emphasizing the name he had so rarely spoken, "wouldn't have wanted to die. And she wouldn't want me to forget her and just go on like she never existed." "I'm not asking you to do that," said Mrs. Scully. "I'm asking you to come to the service and make peace with yourself, and with Dana." He looked away. "There is no peace anymore..." Mulder flinched when he felt her hand on his shoulder, but she didn't remove it. "Stop this, Fox. You can't hold all of this inside you. The service will help you deal with the grief, and it will allow you to pay your respects. If you loved my daughter as much as I think you did and still do, you owe her at least that much." Mulder looked up at her, not really shocked that she had guessed the secret he had harbored for so long. There was very little point in denying it. "How did you know?" Mrs. Scully smiled faintly, and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. "I knew from the first moment I saw you in her apartment that awful night so long ago." He nodded, and lowered his head again, realizing for the first time how long he had loved Scully. Lately, it was hard remembering a time when he HADN'T loved her. Long moments passed in uncomfortable silence before Mulder looked up at her again, his eyes shining with tears. "I was such a fool..." he finally said, fighting hard to keep the tears at bay. He didn't want to cry in front of Mrs. Scully. Crying was something he only did when he was alone...or with Scully. "Why do you say that, Fox?" asked Mrs. Scully, her pale blue eyes electric in the dark room, as if lit from behind. "Over the years I had so many chances to tell her - to make her understand - and I let them all pass by," he said, looking away to the fish tank. He swallowed dryly and ran his hands over his face. "I always thought there would be time for US later. I kept putting my quest - my search for the truth - ahead of Scully. She was a constant to me, and I took that constancy for granted." Mrs. Scully shook her head in disapproval. "Second-guessing yourself is not the way to understand this, Fox. Everyone is guilty of putting things off - of thinking that there will always be more time." Mulder looked back to her and a single tear streaked down his cheek, despite his will. "I - of all people - should have known better, but I never learned. Even when Scully told me she was getting married and leaving the X-Files, I convinced myself that, in time, she would come back. I stopped myself from telling her how I felt, because I was certain that I could tell her LATER, when she came back. I never ONCE stopped to think that there might not be later." Mrs. Scully did not respond, and Mulder fell silent, as well. What else was there to say? He had wasted his time with Scully. He had pushed her aside, left her behind, and kept her at arm's length because he was a selfish coward. Long ago, he had made the call that no matter how long it took to find Samantha - to find all the truths for which he searched - Scully would be there afterwards, waiting. But Fate was cruel, and had turned the tables on him. Now HE was the one waiting - waiting to die so that he could be with her once more. Finally, Mulder voiced his last concern. "I don't think Grant will want me at Scully's funeral." Margaret looked up at him, obviously shocked that he would care. "You just let ME handle Grant. You're going to be there, and that's the end of it." Mulder smiled weakly, but it soon slipped into a regretful frown. "Do you think she knew?" There was no need to say anything more. They both knew what he was referring to and why he had to know. "I know she did, Fox. And even though she married Grant, I know she loved you more than anything else." Mulder looked away after she had spoken. Her words, meant as comfort, rang hollow and meaningless in his empty heart. Even if Scully HAD loved him - in any way - he didn't deserve it. He felt a tremendous pressure on his chest, and wiped at his eyes before any more tears could escape. Grief, regret, and anger twisted into a heavy, knotted burden and took up residence in his soul. * * * 9:13 pm Margaret Scully closed the door to Mulder's apartment and leaned against it, her energy spent. Her heart - already broken and aching from Dana's death - felt as though it had received another fatal blow. She had never seen someone so utterly destroyed by another person's death. She had always thought of Fox as less than a whole person - in an emotional sense - because of his sister's disappearance, but the man inside that apartment was a shadow of the person he had been. There was truly nothing left - no vitality or spark. When she had reached out and taken hold of his hand, she had been shocked at how cold his skin was, and how lifeless. But what had scared Margaret most was that his eyes had been completely devoid of any emotion, save an unfathomable misery. She had known a long time ago that Fox loved Dana. It was apparent in everything he did. That knowledge was one of the reasons why she had been so surprised when Dana had come to her almost a year ago, and said she was getting married. Margaret had been sure that Dana loved Fox. At the time, she had been slightly suspicious of this new man. But when Dana had introduced Margaret to Grant, she had decided that if he was what Dana THOUGHT she wanted - even though Margaret KNEW her daughter would only ever love one man - she would go along with it. That didn't mean that Margaret had ever forgotten about Mulder's feelings for her daughter. So, she had come to make sure that he was all right, and thought that perhaps they could comfort each other a little. After all, this was hard for her as well; so hard. Two daughters gone in what felt like the blink of an eye. It wasn't fair. But she had found Mulder much deeper into despair that she had imagined. His normally intense soul was dull with anguish. She had wanted to reach out to him and pull him close to her, but she knew that he would never have allowed it. Fox Mulder was an emotionally private person. He was the type of person who cried in the shower, but appeared in control in front of others. His will over his emotions was very strong - so strong, that only one tear had broken through his defenses. He was like Dana in that way - stoic, with a wall around his heart. Somehow, Margaret knew that Dana had been able to break through that wall - as Fox had broken through hers. Now, with Dana gone, Margaret feared that he would build the wall higher and cut himself off from the rest of the world. Dana had been his salvation - his only lifeline to love, trust, friendship, and happiness. Without her, he was set adrift on a dark ocean, where everything good in life had no place and no purpose. * * * Two Days Later Arlington Cemetery Arlington, Virginia May 14, 1998 10:13 am ------------------------------------------- It's colder than winter I'm freezing inside And every time the sun sets I shed another tear And the lonelier I get Wishing you were still here ------------------------------------------- A stately black woman stood before the crowd, the dark blue of her robe setting off her dark eyes. She was one of Mrs. Scully's friends. Her hands were clasped together and held before her, as she sang the song that Mulder had picked out. He knew that it wasn't the normal thing to be sung at a memorial service, but it spoke to him. Mulder didn't care what anyone else thought. After some convincing on Mulder's part, Margaret had relented and said that it was all right with her. She had even pretended that it was HER selection so that Grant would have no reason to protest. And even though Mulder had fought hard for the song to be included, he barely heard any of it over the dark thoughts in his own mind. Mulder had also been the one to suggest that the service be held outside - instead of in a church. Amazingly, Mrs. Scully had also agreed to this, saying, "Dana was always happier outside." As the woman finished, Mulder reached up to wipe a tear away, but his face held no expression. He was holding it all inside. He was good at that - had learned some of it from Scully, actually. She had always been able to slip on an emotionless mask when things got tough. He hoped that Scully would help him keep that mask on today, so that these people wouldn't see any of his real feelings. "...If anyone has anything to say at this time, please come forward," said the priest, as he closed the Bible he was holding. The day was warm and beautiful. Spring was slowly winning its battle with winter, and the birds were singing, perched on the branches of blossoming trees. Only a few wispy clouds were present, and the sky was a deep blue that reminded him of her eyes. Mulder thought it appropriate that she be laid to rest on such an amazing day. He sat behind Mrs. Scully and the rest of the family. She had wanted him to sit beside her, with Grant on her other side, but Mulder had refused. He knew that if Scully had been HIS wife, he wouldn't want some other man - a potential rival - sitting with the family. So, Grant sat beside Mrs. Scully, and they held hands. Grant had on a charcoal grey suit, and he seemed to be coping very well for a man who had just lost his wife. Mulder, however, was not doing so well. He was wearing a black suit that only served to accentuate his gauntness, the dark circles under his eyes, and the pale pallor of his skin - features that had appeared since Scully had left him and had been escalating since he learned of Scully's death. Just then, Skinner stepped out of the group of non-family members and walked to stand next to the priest and the new tombstone. He placed a single white rose beside the stone and then turned to face the group of people who were congregated in the cemetery. "I knew Agent Scully for six years as her supervisor, and during that time, she proved herself to be one of the best agents ever to graduate from the academy. She was a consummate professional, a brilliant forensic pathologist, and had one of the most logical minds I've ever seen. She was an honest, caring, loving, and good person, and she will be missed greatly by those who knew and worked with her." Everyone was silent as they contemplated Skinner's words. Then, he walked away from the tombstone, and went to stand with the group of people again. There was a silence as everyone waited to see if anyone else would speak. Just as the priest was about to step forward to tell everyone that the service was over, Margaret slowly stood up. She walked to the front of the group, and bent down, tenderly placing a hand on the cold stone. "I love you, Dana," she said, so softly, that no one heard her except for Mulder and Grant. She finally turned to the group and unfolded a piece of paper she had had tucked away in a pocket of her dress. "I would like to thank everyone for coming," she said, her voice strong. "I know that Dana would appreciate it." She turned her gaze to Mulder, and smiled at him, as a mother would smile at her child. He was staring ahead, his posture straight, his face expressionless. He had withdrawn into that tiny world where Scully was still alive and they were still together. Then her gaze shifted to Grant, and she smiled again, but it was not as affectionate as the one she had bestowed upon Mulder. "I'd like to read something to you that helped me immensely to make sense of all of this. I was going through some of Dana's things, and I found this in one of her old college poetry books. When I saw it, I thought of Dana. The page was dog-eared and the title highlighted. It's almost as though she wanted me to find it. I decided it had to be more than a coincidence, and that it was a sign that I should read it here today." She held the paper in front of her and read aloud: 'Time cannot break the bird's wing from the bird. Bird and wing together Go down, one feather. No thing that ever flew, Nor the lark, not you, Can die as others do.' "Dana, I miss you and I love you. I hope that wherever you are, you are at peace and with your father and sister. I know that I'll see all of you again someday." She re-folded the paper and stood before everyone for a few moments, her head bowed. As Margaret sat down, Mulder looked to Grant, assuming he would be next. Grant was a tall man with blonde hair, a muscular build, and slate grey eyes. As Mulder studied him - seeing him for the first time, really - he saw how cold Grant seemed. And being as un-biased as he could be, Mulder simply couldn't fathom why Scully would ever marry such a man. When Grant didn't move, Mulder began to think that this painful event was finally over. He found it strange that Grant wasn't acting as he should be, but Mulder wasn't exactly in top-form, so it didn't really register. When someone else stepped forward, Mulder felt like he would never leave this place. The man was dressed conservatively, with a dark suit, red tie, and white shirt. His greying hair was combed nicely, and his black-framed glasses looked clean and polished. But, the man himself looked awful - as if someone had just told him that his favorite star had just died - gone supernova. Frohike stood before the gathering of people, his eyes red and puffy from crying. He looked to Mulder and he expertly ignored Grant. Mulder knew that Frohike would have been able to handle it if Mulder ended up with Scully. But some stranger? Not a chance. Frohike cleared his throat, and dabbed at his eyes with a tissue, before speaking. "I'm here today to honor Dana Scully," he said, not bothering to use her married name. Mulder looked to Grant, expecting to see him bristling, but Grant's face was blank. Mulder thought it strange, but the notion was gone before he even had time to really think about it. His mind was completely consumed with grief and he wasn't up to the task of figuring out a mystery. "I know she was married, but she'll always be Scully to me." Frohike paused to gather himself for what he was about to say next. "I would like to read a poem, now - actually, I was ASKED to read this by a certain friend of mine. I know he would have liked to do it himself, but I think we can all understand why he doesn't feel up to it. This is how he felt and still feels about Dana Scully." Mulder looked up at Frohike upon hearing this, his eyes wide, his face a question. He hadn't told Frohike to say that last part. It could be taken wrong - especially by Grant. But as Mulder thought about it, he realized he didn't care what Grant thought. This was about how Mulder felt about Scully, and nothing else. Frohike smiled down at his friend. "I'm honored that he asked me to read this for him. That's what friends are for, after all." Mulder smiled sadly, and nodded his head, thanking Frohike. Frohike nodded back. "'Never the spirit was born The spirit shall cease to be never Never was time it was not Ends and beginnings are dreams Birthless and deathless and changeless Remaineth the spirit forever Death hath not changed it at all Dead though the house of it seems...'" When Frohike finished, he let his gaze settle on Mulder, and Mulder knew that Frohike was wondering if Mulder was happy with how he read the poem. Mulder smiled thinly at Frohike and saw relief wash over the smaller man's face at the gratefulness in Mulder's sad eyes. Mulder was thankful that Frohike had told the world what he could not - no matter what separated them, even if it was a plane of existence, they still felt each other. Frohike breezed past Grant, and walked over to Mulder and patted his shoulder, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "Hang in there, Mulder. Don't give up. Scully would want it that way." Mulder looked up at Frohike and nodded, trying to put on a brave front. He grasped Frohike's hand, and shook it strongly, as another tear escaped. Frohike nodded and then walked through the crowd, which parted for him, and left the cemetery. Skinner watched him go with a curious expression. After Frohike left, an older man in a conservative blue suit stepped forward to stand before the crowd. In his sixties, he and had thin, light brown wispy hair that was receding slightly, a large, hawk's nose, and piercing, slate grey eyes. His face was surprisingly free of many wrinkles. "My name is Austin Davis and I am a partner in the firm Lowry, Grey, and Davis. I was Ms. Scully-Putnam's lawyer, and I am also the executor of her will. I know that this must seem strange to all of you, and I must say I am at a bit of a loss. Normally, wills are not read at funeral services, but I am upholding Dana's wishes." Mulder was taken aback by this development, and as he looked at Grant, it seemed that he was feeling the same way. This also struck Mulder as odd. As Scully's husband, Grant should have been aware of Scully's will. Apparently, though, he had not been. The man took out a legal document - the kind with the blue backing - and folded back the cover. He held it before him, coughed once, and began to speak. "Approximately three weeks ago, Dana came to me and made some changes in her living will. She also gave me the instructions that I am now carrying out." Mulder looked at this staunch man before him and wondered why Scully had suddenly changed her will. If he had stopped her the night she told him she was getting married - if he had MADE her talk to him - perhaps they would have gotten together, or at the very least, she wouldn't have gotten married. She wouldn't have had to change her will - for reasons he didn't understand - and she wouldn't have died. It was just one more pain added on to his immense list. "She asked me, that if the need ever arose, to read her will at her funeral. So, I will do so. "'I, Dana Scully, being of sound mind and body, declare this my last will and testament. In my life, I did not have time to accrue many material things, mostly because of my hectic work schedule, so I do not have many things to give. To the Federal Bureau of Investigation, I leave my gratitude for a wonderful education and an interesting and satisfying career.'" Skinner raised his eyebrows, obviously noting the affection with which her words had been written. The lawyer continued. "'To my mother, I leave half of the money from my life insurance policy, my father's copy of "Moby Dick," the personal things of Melissa that I have, and my love.'" Margaret wiped her tears away with a silk handkerchief, and slipped her arm through Grant's. He stiffened at her touch, but managed to cover it quickly. "'To Fox Mulder, my partner, best friend, and true protector, I leave these things: my apartment, and the rest of my material possessions. I also want you to have the other half of my life insurance, Mulder. And don't even think about refusing, because you can't. I want you to use it to continue our work, and our search. And finally, Mulder, I leave you the three most important things in my life: my cross, my trust, and my love.'" The group of assembled people stirred slightly at this, apparently thinking it a bit strange that Scully left everything to Mulder, and not her husband. But the most surprising comments came next. "'Finally, to Grant Putnam, I leave nothing, because he gave me nothing and took everything from me that I ever loved.'" The crowd gasped at the last statement. Mulder's eyes widened, and he felt his belly twist into a knot. It was the same feeling he got when he knew that the government was hiding something; covering up. The lawyer seemed a bit uncomfortable with that last declaration, but he pressed onward. He walked over to Mulder, and took Scully's cross out of a plastic bag. He placed the chain in Mulder's hand, and said, "She gave this to me when she changed her will. I thought it strange, but I didn't question her. I hope you can take some comfort from it. She was very adamant that you have it. She told me to tell you something when I gave it to you." Mulder looked up at him, gently taking the cross into his hands. "What?" Mr. Davis cleared his throat, and bent down so that the others wouldn't hear. "'For this son was dead, but now he is alive; he was lost, but now he has been found.' She said that when you lose hope, you should look to the book that comes from." After that, the lawyer walked away, and Mulder simply sat there for a few moments, still as stone. He didn't blink; was barely breathing. He held the cross so tightly he could feel the point of it digging into the palm of his hand. He couldn't seem to form any coherent thoughts. All he saw were images - quick snapshots of all the time he and Scully had spent together. Blinking a few times in quick succession, he began to tremble. He looked over to Grant, and saw, for the first time, emotion in the man's eyes. He was livid. The obvious foreign nature of such emotions in such a circumstance was enough to jar Mulder back into some kind of reality. His mind cleared up a bit, and he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of Grant. Slowly, it dawned on Mulder that Scully's marriage had been anything but happy and safe, and he cursed himself for the thousandth time for letting Scully go. He stumbled to the tombstone, and looked down at it, tears streaming down his face. Bending down, he put his cheek against the stone, smooth as her skin had been, and whispered, "I love you...always will." Then, he pushed himself up, and walked out of the cemetery quietly, one thought in his mind: he would find out what had REALLY happened to Scully. * * * CONTINUED IN PART TWO THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART TWO: SECRET AGENT MAN Mulder's Apartment Alexandria, Virginia May 14, 1998 11:21 am ------------------------------------------- She's out of my life Damned indecision and cursed pride Kept my love for her locked deep inside And it cuts like a knife She's out of my life ------------------------------------------- Mulder knew that he had to find out what had gone wrong with Scully's marriage - and why she had suddenly left him. But he was so tired and drained from her funeral that he decided he would have to try and rest first. As he walked to the elevator and stepped inside, he pressed the button for floor number four. As the elevator churned to life, Mulder remembered a certain ride that he and Scully had taken not so long ago. He had come back from the dead to find Scully and Skinner in a standoff. He had burst through the door, Scully had turned to see what new foe she would have to face, and had seen him. Her face had shown such pure shock and relief that Mulder almost forgotten what was going on in his own apartment. Then they had left Skinner behind and had walked to the elevator. Scully had stared at him, her feelings for him written all over her face. And when he had asked her how she knew he was alive, she had smiled that special smile of hers, and said, "I just knew." As soon as the doors had closed, Scully had wrapped her arms around him, and sighed in contentment. He had pulled her closer, kissed the top of her head, and said, "It's so good to see you again." She had looked up at him with that smile on her face again. "It's better to see you. I missed you, Mulder." "I won't leave you again, Scully. I promise." "I believe you," she had said. And they had spent the rest of the ride in silence, but it had been the sweetest moment of Mulder's life, because he had never felt closer to her. Now, as Mulder walked down the quiet hallway of his building to his apartment, he could barely keep the tears from turning into full sobs. The idea that he would never again ride in an elevator with Scully, never again sit with her in a diner eating greasy food, never again see her give him that look that said 'you are the craziest person I have ever met, but I still like you.' He walked inside and shrugged out of his jacket, closing the door without thinking. The blinds were drawn - had been since he had gotten that call from Skinner. Since that night, he couldn't bear the light. His last thoughts of Scully had been in the darkness, and now, she felt most real to him in the night. After putting her cross on, as he had done before, he walked over to the couch and sank down onto it, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He closed his eyes and her image sprang quickly to his photographic mind, drawing her in perfect and clear detail. Everything was there; every curve, every line, every angle. Mulder wrapped his arms around a throw pillow and allowed the tears to have the control they had been wanting all day. All he wanted was to see her again; her smile, her fiery hair, and he would feel whole. He slipped into a fitful sleep, and finally a dream. In it, he was lying in a dark room, his eyes open, but he couldn't see anything. Suddenly, he heard someone walking towards him. <...I wouldn't put myself on the line for anybody but you...> He heard her voice clearly, as if she were in the room with him, close enough to touch him. "I'm here, Scully," he managed to mutter, through the tears that he shed, even in his dreams. <...The truth is out there, Mulder, but so are lies...> He nodded, feeling as though his throat was closing. "I know, Scully. I know..." <...Must be fate, Mulder...root beer...> "...Come back to me, Scully...I need you..." he murmured, reaching out blindly into the darkness. "Please...I can't go on without you..." <...You're stronger than this, Mulder. You can fight this...> He shook his head bleakly. "I don't want to fight, Scully. I just want to be with you..." <...I knew there was a reason to live...> His face twisted into a mask of absolute torture. "No, Scully. I don't want to live...not without you..." Mulder could almost feel her cool hand upon his forehead as she smoothed his hair back, and murmured soothing, calming things to him. <...One day you will be with me, Mulder. But not now. It's not time...> "But I feel like your spirit is moving away from me. You're going away and one day I'll forget you." He knew that she was probably smiling that soft smile that she saved just for him. <...Of course you will, Mulder. That is how it should be. You can't grieve for me for the rest of your life. You'll be all right without me. You'll go on...> Mulder reached out to pull her to him, and he was sure that he felt his arms close around her waist, as she came to him willingly. "I love you, Scully. Don't leave me again..." When he tried to pull her closer, she disappeared like a night mist; cool and fleeting. Mulder cried out and wrapped his arms around himself, tears falling again, as he woke from his dream. "Scully, no! Don't leave me!" But she was already gone. She had never really been there. * * * The X-Files Office Washington, D.C. May 15, 1998 6:02 am ------------------------------------------- I still run I still swing open the door I still think You'll be there like before ------------------------------------------- The next morning, Mulder somehow managed to go into work to begin his search for anything that might explain the strange feeling he was having. He left his apartment before sunrise, and hoped to get in and slink out before ten. The streetlights were still on as he drove to the Hoover building, wiping tears off his cheeks now and again. He pulled into his parking spot, and walked into the building, silent as a ghost. Walking down to the basement, he had to stop himself from looking to his side, expecting Scully to be there. Even though she hadn't been there in months, he still couldn't stop the reflex. And the knowledge that she wasn't going to be there ever again cut him to the core. He reached the door to his office - what had once been THEIR office - and opened it slowly, reverently. He hadn't been in the office for many months. After Scully had left him to get married, Mulder had quickly lost interest in the X-Files and was soon transferred back to VCS. However, he had kept his key to this office, and once in a while when the depression got to be too much for him, and his longing for Scully too painful, he would come down to the basement and sit in the office for a while. It seemed to help. Luckily, in the rush to close the X-Files, the Bureau had completely forgotten about the office and never even bothered to clean it out. So, the computer and files were still there. Mulder knew this would be the last time he would see this place - this small space that had been theirs and theirs alone. It had been a protective bubble for them - where their fears and troubles had no power. When inside, they were, for a while, in a blissful kind of amber. The rest of the world stopped and ceased to exist or matter. He would never come back after today. He had been able to take comfort from this place after she had left, because he had harbored the dream that she would come back to him one day, and so he had been waiting for that day. But she had died and taken that dream with her, and the office was now a cold reminder of that fact. He saw no reason to ever return. Mulder sank down into his old office chair, careful to keep his gaze away from Scully's desk. Turning to his computer, he switched it on, and tried to keep the tears at bay as it hummed to life. He had to keep his mind clear while he worked. After an hour or so of looking and finding nothing, Mulder took a break. He leaned back in his chair, and sighed. First he had checked out Scully's marriage certificate - it was legal. Then, he had reviewed her reports from her new job - after she had left the X-Files - but nothing in them seemed out of the ordinary. She had mainly done autopsies for the VCS, and taught a few classes. Nothing very exciting, and he couldn't help thinking it was a demotion for her. His last resort was to do a background check on Grant. It was something he should have done that night she told him she was getting married - but he had been too heartbroken to care at the time. Now, however, he couldn't care more. So, he logged onto the FBI's database, and did a search on Grant Putnam. * * * 9:10 am Mulder was so engrossed in his reading that he didn't hear his cell phone until the fourth ring. Picking it up, he said, "Mulder." "Fox, it's Mrs. Scully." Mulder didn't like the sound of her voice, and he immediately gave her all his attention. "What is it, Mrs. Scully?" "Fox, Grant's gone." Mulder's eyebrows went up. "What? What do you mean, he's gone?" Margaret sighed in exasperation. "He's just...gone. He's not at their house. I can't get him on his cell-phone, and no one at work has seen him." The knot Mulder had felt in his stomach at the funeral got ten times larger at her words. "Okay, Mrs. Scully, hang on and I'll be there. I have some news of my own about Grant. Where are you?" "At Dana's." Mulder felt his heart contract as he realized that he didn't even know where Scully had lived. "Um, Mrs. Scully, you're going to have to give me directions." "Don't you remember how to get to Dana's apartment?" Mulder was about to say no, when he realized what Mrs. Scully had said. "What do you mean, her apartment? Aren't you at her and Grant's house?" There was a silence. "No. Dana never sold her old apartment. She willed it to you - don't you remember? Anyway, this is the first place I came when I couldn't find Grant. I thought he might be here, but then I remembered that Dana never told him that she kept this place." The knot in Mulder's stomach was growing in leaps and bounds. "I'll be right there." * * * Scully's Apartment Annapolis, Maryland May 15, 1998 10:21 am ------------------------------------------- These tears I've cried I've cried a thousand oceans And I would cry a thousand a more If that's what it takes To sail you home ------------------------------------------- Margaret stood in the kitchen of Dana's apartment, her eyes glazed and her mind far away, a spoon forgotten in her right hand. Being in the apartment had brought back so many memories of Dana. This had been her first real apartment. She had had others, of course, but they were all when she was in school, and usually Margaret and William had paid the bills. But this was the first place that Dana had gotten after she graduated from the Academy - the first apartment that was hers alone. Margaret could remember helping Dana move here - lugging God knew how many boxes in from the car. She could remember them fighting over the placement of things in this very kitchen. Of course, the silverware should be close to the dishwasher, and yes, put the pots and pans in the drawers under the stove. She could still see Dana's face that day - happy and bright, so proud to be on her own. It seemed unbelievable that her baby was gone. Margaret had always relied on Dana - for so many things. When William had died, Dana had been a pillar of strength, helping her mother through the stages of grief. And Margaret knew that she would never have gotten through Melissa's death without Dana. Margaret remembered feeling a pang of sadness on the day of Dana's graduation from medical school. She had looked at her daughter - all grown up and perfect - and realized that the little girl she had been was gone. She had to let go of the freckle-faced, red-haired tomboy called "Starbuck." She had done so knowing that it was the right thing to do. Time pulls everyone along and children grow into adults that must lead their own lives. Saying goodbye to the children they had once been is a natural part of a parent's life. But Margaret never thought she would ever have to say goodbye to the beautiful, independent, strong, courageous woman that Dana had become. Parents aren't supposed to have to give their children over to death. It was supposed to be the other way around. A knock suddenly permeated her fugue, and she jerked, hearing something clatter to the floor. She looked down and saw a spoon. She must have dropped it. The knock came again, and with it, more surrounding sounds floated back to her. She heard the kettle whistling away on the stove - for how long, she didn't know. With a sniffle, she pulled the kettle off the burner and walked to the door, the tiniest amount of fear taking hold. "Fox?" "It's me," he answered. She could almost see him cringing at the use of his first name, but she knew he would never correct her. Dana had told her long ago that he hated his first name, and preferred being called Mulder, but Margaret had always called him Fox, and she always would. It was a constant - something both of them could always count on and in these chaotic circumstances that always brought them together, she welcomed a little predictability, and knew that he did, as well. She sighed and opened the door, hoping she didn't look as bad as she felt. But by his expression, Margaret knew that he was shocked at her appearance. "Come in, Fox," she said in a relieved sigh, stepping aside to allow him entrance. After he had passed, she turned and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the wall. She saw a haggard-looking woman, dark hair slightly tousled, blue eyes a little red from crying. She started to run a hand through her hair, but stopped. What was the point in pretending? They both felt awful and they both looked it. Margaret had noticed that Mulder's gauntness and pale skin had not improved since Dana's service. In fact, he seemed thinner than before. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Fox," she said. "I just didn't know who else to call, and I'm beginning to get a bad feeling about all of this." Mulder nodded, following Mrs. Scully into the living room. "So am I. Mrs. Scully, all of this just isn't adding up." Margaret sat down on Dana's white, blue-striped couch, and said, "I know. I don't know why I didn't notice any of this sooner." Mulder didn't sit down. Instead, he began to pace. Margaret thought that he looked very tired and should rest. "Fox, please sit down." He looked at her, shaking his head. "Can't," he said bluntly. "I do my best thinking on my feet." Margaret nodded, suddenly remembering something Dana had told her once about him: "You should see him when he's profiling, Mom. He paces forever. Sometimes I think he'll wear a path into the carpet. But it helps him. He gets inside their heads. He BECOMES them. That's how he solves the cases no one else can." Margaret hoped that Fox could do the same for this seemingly unsolvable case. She turned her attention back to him, realizing he had been talking to her. "Mrs. Scully, I think we should go through the events of the past year, and see what we find. Maybe we can make some sense out of all of this if we do." Margaret nodded. "Okay. Where do you want to start?" Mulder took a deep breath. "When did Scully first tell you about Grant?" "I remember that when she told me she was getting married to Grant I was shocked." "Why?" "Well, because she had only brought Grant over once before - and she had said he was only a friend. Other than that, she never mentioned Grant again until she told me she was marrying him. Not once. And I was shocked because I always thought that...well, that you and she would..." Margaret trailed off, realizing that what she was saying could only be hurting Mulder. And, true to her instincts, Mulder turned away at her words, and tried to compose himself. After a few moments, he cleared his throat, but kept his eyes on the street outside the window. "Can you remember what the date was when she told you?" "Normally, I wouldn't have a clue. But I remember that it was two days after Charlie's birthday. So that would make it June 7." Mulder's head snapped around to look at Margaret, and his eyes were wide. "That's the same day she told me." He began to pace again. "It's not like Scully to wait until the day before she's getting married to tell you. I was surprised she had waited so long to tell me." "This is very strange, Fox. The Dana I raised wouldn't have acted like that. I can't believe I didn't question it at the time!" said Margaret. "But she just took me by such surprise that I didn't even think about how strange it was." "Maybe that's how she wanted it," Mulder mumbled. "What?" asked Margaret. Mulder shook his head. "Nothing. Mrs. Scully, did Scully ever tell you why she kept this place after she got married?" Margaret shrugged. "Not really. I asked her a few times, but she would always ask me not to tell Grant about it, and then change the subject. One time, I pressed her and she said it was her 'vineyard.' I distinctly remember her saying that it was like her 'vineyard in bloom'." Mulder brow creased. "What? That doesn't make any sense." "I know, and I hate myself for not asking more questions, but I decided that it wasn't any of my business. I should have noticed that something was wrong," said Margaret, wondering why she had been so careless. Mulder looked at her sadly. "It's not your fault, Mrs. Scully. I think there was something much bigger going on here - but it was nothing that you could have figured out." "What are you saying, Fox? And what did you mean when you said you had news about Grant?" Mulder sat down next to her, and pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket. "I did a background check on Grant today." Margaret's eyes widened. "You did what?" Mulder looked at her sheepishly. "I had to, Mrs. Scully. I have a bad feeling about all of this, and I had to try and find out if it's just because of Scully dying, or if it's something more." Margaret nodded. "And which one is it?" Mulder looked away. "You know that Scully's death has...well, it's wrecked me. My life will never be the same. Scully was the only good part of my life. YOU know that better than anyone. But, when I checked up on Grant, I found some disturbing things." "Disturbing?" "He has virtually NO background on file. None whatsoever." Margaret's eyes crinkled, and she took the paper from Mulder. She skimmed it over quickly, and looked up at him. "What do you mean, Fox? This biography goes back to his days in elementary school." "Yes, but there's no record of his birth at all. And when I called his elementary school, they had never heard of a Grant Putnam." Margaret shrugged. "Maybe they forgot about him..." "No. They told me they have records of students going back to the '50's. If he went there, they'd have his name SOMEWHERE." "So they lost his file." Mulder sighed, seemingly a little disappointed. "There's more," he said. "More?" "Yes. It says here that Grant went to Penn State University, and graduated in 1983 with a degree in Biochemistry. I called the university, and they have records of two Grant Putnams graduating from their school. One was in 1952, and we know that's not the Grant we're looking for. The other one was in 1983, with a degree in Biochemistry." "There you go, then," said Margaret, happy that something was panning out. For some reason, the thought that there had been something terrible going on and she hadn't caught it, was too much to bear. "BUT," said Mulder carefully, "when I asked for a description of Grant, a girl in the office there happened to have known him. She told me he was tall, with dark hair, and was half Native American." Margaret suddenly felt her world spin out of control. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she sagged back onto the couch. * * * CONTINUED IN PART B OF PART TWO THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART TWO: SECRET AGENT MAN (continued) Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she sagged back onto the couch. * * * 10:40 am ------------------------------------------- In this room lives the sweet ghost Of a love gone away It comes to me, whispering Things you used to say ------------------------------------------- After making sure that Mrs. Scully was all right - he determined she had simply fainted and then fatigue had claimed her - Mulder laid her out on the couch, and covered her with a blanket. Then he made some coffee, and began to make some notes on all that he had found. He also wrote down all of the strange things that Scully had said to him and her mother. He hadn't thought them strange at the time, but now, after all he had discovered, he wondered how he could have taken them at face value. Then he called Skinner and told him everything he had found out about Grant Putnam. He also asked him to put an APB out on Grant - if only to find him and make sure he was okay, Mulder had said. Although, WHEN Mulder found Grant, he probably wouldn't be okay for long. When he was done, he decided to make a cursory search of Scully's place. She was everywhere in this space. Every shadow in every corner whispered her name. When it wasn't with him, her spirit lingered here, he decided. He thought back to when he had arrived earlier. After almost a year, Mulder had found it strange that sitting in his car outside Scully's place, he could close his eyes, and be transported back in time immediately - back to when they were still partners. After a few seconds, though, his mind had reminded him that this was the present, and Scully was gone - dead. Mulder paced again for a few moments, deciding on a plan. As he did, he refused to react to the fact that he was in Scully's apartment. He couldn't let it get to him. He couldn't allow himself to imagine her here, going about everyday life. If something unusual had happened, he owed it to her to notice it, and not be a basket case. He had to stay calm and professional. Finally, Mulder sat down at her desk, his gaze skimming over things that she touched every day when she had lived here: pens and pencils, Post-Its, disks, her computer, rubber bands...and he felt the tears threaten to spill over again. But he held them back. He had to do this. There might be something here; something that could help him figures everything out. So, Mulder worked for a time - almost an hour - the silence of the apartment closing in around him. He found himself starting at every little sound he heard in the hall; half-thinking it would be the sound of her heels clicking on the floor, announcing her arrival to him. But he never heard those sounds. He never would again. Finally, Mulder couldn't stand the silence any longer, so he turned on her stereo, and found a station that played softer music. He really wanted to put on a station that played loud, crashing music - maybe the Red Hot Chili Peppers or Metallica - something so loud that it would drown out his pain. He wanted to drown out his thoughts and memories - just long enough to finish the task of searching through Scully's belongings. But, he didn't want to wake Mrs. Scully. He knew that she needed rest - just like he did. After searching, and finding nothing of interest in her desk or in her computer, Mulder moved on to the small filing cabinet she kept. He opened the first drawer, and found nothing that would help him. He found the same to be true for the second and third drawers. He crouched down before the fourth drawer, and opened it slowly, knowing that this would be where she would have kept her most sacred things. The first thing his gaze fell on was a picture of him. It was his picture from his Academy graduation. Mulder had no idea how she had gotten it. He lifted that picture away, and found a picture of her lying there. She looked young in it - perhaps it was from her medical school yearbook? He didn't know. After lifting that up and away, what he saw next set the tears in his eyes free: her own X-File. It was a thick stack of reports, pictures, and forensic evidence from her abduction. He picked it up and stood up slowly, turning around to look at the whole room. The song playing softly suddenly registered to him, and he listened for a few moments. The lyrics spoke of a person who completely changed overnight. A tidal wave of emotions cascaded over him. It was true. The person who had been Fox William Mulder had faded away when Scully had died. Just as the Scully he had known for five years had seemed to wither away right in front of him that awful night she told him she was getting married. Mulder was no longer the man he was last year. Nothing was the same for him - nothing mattered - as long as she was gone. He began to shake as the song continued, the singer asking why they had ever learned to love. Mulder understood that feeling all too well. There had been times in the past year - and most certainly in the past few days - when he wondered if it would have been better if he had never opened his heart to Scully at all. And late at night, there were even times when he wished he never loved her - at least he would have been spared this pain. He should have known better than to let her close. He should have known that the moment he allowed someone close was the moment they left - or were taken away. As the song continued, anger built within Mulder. Anger that he had let Scully close enough that her leaving - her death - could wreck him like this. Anger that she had been taken from him, because he DID love her. Anger that he hadn't been able to save her. Anger that he had never gotten the chance to tell her he loved her; to hold her, kiss her, make love to her. Scully had been the only light in his dark world; the only beacon of hope in the storm-tossed sea that he had traveled for years. She was his guardian angel - his one true protector. She and she alone could have been the one that he would have let totally inside. She was the only one he would have allowed to love him. And she was the only one for whom he would willingly die. She was the only one he would ever love. Suddenly, the anger overcame him, and he threw her file across the room in a rage, feeling satisfied when it smashed against the far wall, papers flying everywhere. He saw the picture of her in Duane Barry's trunk glide to the floor, heard the papers and folders flutter to the ground, and his face crumpled. All of those papers were just another reminder of another time when he had failed her. Why hadn't he told her how he had felt long ago? Why had he let so much time slip by? They could have been together, but instead he had let his fear guide and rule him and now he would never get the chance to tell her. Never. A low moan escaped his lips as he sank to the floor, reaching for her picture - which had somehow floated back to him - and held it against his chest. Mulder didn't know when Scully had become such an intrinsic part of his soul. He didn't know at what moment his heart had reached out to hers, offering her love, but he felt like he had loved her forever. Now, he had lost her forever. He let the tears fall. * * * 12:33 pm ------------------------------------------- A heart full of words left unspoken I'd sell my soul to have this silence broken She was my once-in-a-lifetime Happy ending come true I thought she knew ------------------------------------------- Somewhere, he heard someone saying his name. His hated first name. "...Fox...Fox...wake up..." Mulder opened his eyes, and found Mrs. Scully looking down at him. She looked a little better than she had earlier this morning, and Mulder decided that the rest must have done her good. If only he could sleep so easily. Every time he tried, Scully's spirit made an appearance. "Fox, why don't you get up off the floor, and come rest on the couch?" Mulder nodded, and as they walked to couch, he noticed that she had picked up all the papers. He also noticed that he still had Scully's picture clutched against his chest. "I'm sorry about the mess," he mumbled, his head throbbing. Mrs. Scully nodded, and rubbed his back, as she helped him sit down on the couch. "It's all right. Don't worry about it." Mulder looked up at her, a helpless, pitiful, lost look on his face. "I didn't find anything, Mrs. Scully. Not in her desk or filing cabinet, anyway." "That's okay. I didn't think there would be anything in them anyway. If Dana were hiding something, she would keep it in a more private, personal place." "Like where?" asked Mulder, gently rubbing the picture he held next to his heart. Margaret moved aside the Bible she had been reading, and sat down next to him. "I'm not sure. In her bedroom, maybe." But Mulder's mind had already found a bit of something to make a leap. "Wait. Where did you get that Bible?" he asked, pointing to the book on the coffee table. Margaret looked a bit confused, but she answered. "From the bookshelves in Dana's bedroom." Mulder sat forward, carefully placed Scully's picture on the coffee table, and grabbed the Bible. "I can't believe I forgot..." "Forgot what? Fox, you're not making any sense." Mulder didn't answer as he flipped through the text, trying to find the passage he was looking for. "You said that Scully called this place her 'vineyard', right?" Margaret nodded. "Well, in the bible, in 'The Song of Solomon', there is a passage that mentions a vineyard." He fell silent again, as he skimmed through what were essentially love letters. "Here. The first time it mentions vineyards, it says: 'They made me the keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept.' Then later on it says: 'Catch the foxes, the little foxes, before they ruin our vineyard in bloom.'" Margaret's mouth fell open. "That has to be more than a coincidence! That must be a reference to you somehow." Mulder nodded. "I think so. And look, she has certain letters from both those lines underlined in red." "Which ones?" Mulder studied the lines for a few seconds. "M, P, F, H, E, X, O, L, and E again." "Well, I'll have to write them down, and try different combinations," said Margaret, rising to get a pen and paper. "I don't," said Mulder, stopping her. Margaret looked at him, and he almost felt more despair than on the day when she begged him to come to the funeral. "You know what it means?" He nodded, feeling like some great force was crushing his throat. "It says: FOX HELP ME." Margaret almost fell back onto the couch. "Oh dear lord," she said, tears in her eyes. "I can't believe this..." Mulder looked away from her and down to the book, wishing to give her a few moments to absorb this new information. As he stared at the pages, he noticed something new. "Scully also has a different phrase highlighted, but none of the words are underlined..." Margaret looked at him expectantly, but he could tell that she was afraid to know. "What phrase?" He sighed and touched the page gently, almost stroking the highlighted letters, and when he spoke it was hard not to imagine saying at least the first part to Scully. "'Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.'" "It seems like she was trying to tell you something, Fox. What do you think it means?" Margaret asked. Mulder ducked his head a bit, feeling the warmth of a blush spread across his cheeks. "To be honest, Mrs. Scully, I think she was describing ME." He finally managed to get the courage to look up at her, and found the shadow of a smile on her lips, despite the tragedy of their situation. Her smile faded all too fast, however, and she said, "But why would she feel the need to describe YOU to yourself?" Mulder shrugged. "She did that, at times. Usually when I needed a pep talk or a bolstering of some sort. It was her way of preparing me for what was to come." Margaret seemed confused and lost in her grief. "But, Fox, why would she try to prepare you for her..." Her words faded away and he saw tears cloud her vision, but she pushed forward after a few moments. "Why would she try to prepare you for 'what was to come' AFTER it had happened?" Mulder looked out to the street again, desperately trying to find a connection somewhere; anything that would make something make some sense. In the end, he could only say what he felt to be true deep inside; what he felt Scully wanted him to take from the passage. "I'm not sure, Mrs. Scully. Maybe something else is coming. Maybe she was preparing me for something else." He sighed. "I just wish I had tried harder BEFORE all of this..." Mulder sank back into the couch, and put his hands over his eyes. Silence reigned as they both tried to control their emotions. But control seemed to be eluding Mulder at the moment. He couldn't believe that all of these clues had been sitting here all along, and he hadn't even bothered to look. He had just accepted Scully's explanation, and left her life. Suddenly, he felt Margaret touching his arm. "Fox, I don't want you blaming yourself for this. None of this was your fault." He opened his eyes and smiled grimly. It appeared that all Scully women could read his mind like it was an open book. "It IS my fault," he said. "Scully left these clues for ME. And I didn't even know that I should be looking for them." Margaret nodded. "But that's just it, Fox. It's like you said. I don't think Dana meant for you to find these things until...after she..." Margaret's voice died away, and she was obviously unable to finish the sentence. Mulder looked away, one tear slipping down his cheek; making it through his granite defense. "I know I said it, but I can't seem to understand her motive, and that's what scares me," he said. "Why?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle as a feather. Mulder swallowed hard and looked down at Scully's picture laying on the coffee table. "Because, no matter what Scully did - whether I agreed with it or not - I could always find a REASON for it. It didn't mean I UNDERSTOOD it at the time or even long afterwards, but I could find the reason." Margaret looked at him seriously, her brow furrowed in a way painfully reminiscent of Scully. "And you can't find the reason this time?" He shook his head, feeling wretched. "Not this time, no. None of this makes any sense. What can I possibly do for her now? How can I help her now?" Margaret shrugged. "I don't know. Why don't we see if there isn't anything else she meant for you to find. Do you remember her saying anything that seems strange to you now? Anything at all?" Mulder thought back to the last time he had seen Scully - that awful night when she told him she was getting married, and leaving him. The night she said goodbye. "Actually, there was one thing," he said, looking back at Margaret. "What?" Mulder cleared his throat, and made sure he was composed and could talk about this. "Well, I asked her whom she was going to marry, since I didn't even know she was dating anyone. She said that you told her Grant had a bit of the devil in him." Margaret's brow furrowed, and she bit her lip. Mulder saw the look right away. "What? What's wrong?" "I never said that," said Margaret, shaking her head. "Never." Mulder sighed. "I knew it. I knew that when she said it, it didn't feel right. Scully doesn't talk that way." "Were those her exact words?" Margaret asked. Mulder nodded. "Yes." "Then she was obviously trying to tell you something. But she knew that you wouldn't figure it out until now." Mulder got up again, and began to pace with new vigor. "So everything she left for me, she did so knowing I wouldn't find it until now. After her...death." Margaret nodded, her eyes shining with tears. She cleared her throat. "Okay...anything else?" Mulder consulted the notes he had made. "Yes. One more thing. When her lawyer gave me Scully's cross, he told me that he had something to tell me. Something that Scully wanted him to say when he gave me the cross." "What?" "He quoted a line from Luke: 'For this son was dead, but now he is alive; he was lost, but now he has been found.' Then he told me that Scully said that when I lost hope, I should look to the book that comes from." Both of their gazes returned to the Bible. Mulder picked it up again, and paged through until he got to Luke. "More letters underlined," he proclaimed, when he found the right passage. "I don't know if I want to know what it says," said Margaret, fear in her voice. "She has the following letters underlined: F, T, I, A, D, B, N, W, E, I, S, I, E, T, A, D. But she also has one of the D's underlined twice. I think that means I should use it twice." Margaret had marked down the letters on a piece of paper, and looked at them carefully. After a few moments, she threw the pen down. "Fox, this is pointless! We'll never figure that out! There aren't any clues! How can we possibly know where to start?" Mulder looked at her, slightly disappointed that she was giving up so quickly. Scully would never have given up like this. "We just start," he said, his voice cold. Margaret sighed as she watched Mulder begin to put the letters into various words and phrases. "You amaze me, Fox," she finally said. Mulder was momentarily shocked by her candor, but soon recovered. "You must be the only one," he replied, still not looking at her. If he looked at her, she would see the pain and the tears in his eyes. "Don't be so self-deprecating, Fox. You are very dedicated - especially where Dana is concerned. She was lucky to have you as a partner." Mulder grunted in derision. "I didn't seem to bring her much luck when it counted," he said, blame worming its way around his heart, closing his throat with self-hatred and disgust. He should have been able to help her... But perhaps he could help her now. As Mulder worked, he hoped that Mrs. Scully couldn't guess his new secret as easily as she had guessed that he loved Scully. He was now harboring some new hope. A hope that maybe Scully wasn't dead. * * * 2:21 pm Mulder had been working steadily for two hours, and he had come up with many different words. But none seemed to strike a chord with him. None, when he said them to himself, sounded like something Scully would leave for him. He had just started in on a new round of words, when Margaret came into the living room carrying a cup of tea. "Fox, I think it's time to stop now." He didn't even look at her. "No." "Fox, you need a break. You probably aren't even thinking straight anymore." And suddenly, Mulder was up and close to her. He towered above her, breathing quickly. "I've never been thinking more clearly." Margaret's eyes widened and she took a step back, exhaling quickly. She moved back to the couch, put the mug down on the coffee table, and chewed a bit on her lip. After a few seconds of tense silence, Mulder decided that he had been a little harsh. "Mrs. Scully, I'm sorry. I-" "It's all right," she said, cutting him off. "I'm just not used to seeing you like this; consumed and intense." Mulder shrugged. "It's how I get when I'm on a case. It took Scully a while to get used to it, too. I'm sorry if I scared you." She shook her head, dismissing that last statement. "Fox, I just don't want you thinking something that's not possible." Mulder didn't answer her, but he could feel the anger he had tempered seconds ago firing to life again. Why was Mrs. Scully being like this? He walked over to Scully's desk, taking his paper with him. He had been close to the real message, he felt, when Mrs. Scully had interrupted him. "Fox, she's gone. You have to accept that." Mulder whirled to face her in a quick, violent motion. His hazel eyes were on fire, and his fists were balled. He shook his head sadly. "I can't believe you're saying that. There are clues here - messages that Scully meant for me to find. Now, maybe you're right and she meant them as comfort for me after...after she..." Mulder shook his head, and decided to skip that last part. "But maybe, just maybe, she had another idea. What if-" Margaret cut him off, her eyes teary. "Don't you think I would love to believe that? But I can't let myself, Fox. I can't let myself hope or think that she's still alive, and then find out that she's not. I can't go through her death twice. I WON'T." Mulder looked at her, shaking his head again. "Well, then that's where we're different. I would rather have hope, than accept something that might be false." Margaret sank down onto the couch. "Sometimes hope can be worse than accepting the truth, Fox. When Melissa was shot, I let myself hope for her recovery. I told myself she WOULD recover, but she didn't. Looking back, I think it would have been better if I had accepted her condition in the first place instead of deluding myself." Mulder felt all the breath leave his body in a whoosh. Is that what Mrs. Scully thought of him? Did she see him as an unbalanced UFO nutcase that saw little grey men in every shadow? Did she think he was delusional because he hoped Scully was alive? Mulder wanted to say more, but he couldn't think of anything else to say that would convince her. Instead, he went back to Scully's desk, and began working again. Five minutes later, his pencil dropped to the floor. * * * The Offices of the Lone Gunmen Somewhere in Washington, D.C. May 15, 1998 4:54 pm ------------------------------------------- I could let you slip away Just wait for rainy days But wouldn't that be failing us - letting go too soon When everything I am still holds onto you ------------------------------------------- The Lone Gunmen sat in stunned silence after Mulder showed them what he had found. Frohike, especially, was shocked. They sat in their half-lit office completely speechless. Mulder watched them, his eyes bright, his breathing quick - the way he behaved when he had found a big piece of the puzzle to a case. Finally, Byers found his voice. "Mulder, are you saying that you believe that Scully isn't dead?" Mulder nodded, and swallowed dryly. "That's what I believe." "If she isn't dead, where is she? And why would she let you believe she was dead?" asked Byers. Mulder shrugged. "I don't know. That's what we have to figure out. It's got to be something big. " Byers picked up the piece of paper that Mulder had shown them. "But how can you be sure that this is the right message?" Mulder shrugged. "I can't. But that's the only one that felt right to me. I guess we're just going to have to trust my instincts on this one." "Have you considered the possibility that you believe this message to be the right one, because it gives credence to what you most hope to be true?" "I have. But Byers, all the other configurations didn't make sense when I put them together. The words themselves were fine - but I couldn't put them into any sequence that meant anything to me. And I know that Scully left this message specifically for me." Byers looked again at the message. BE SAFE DIDN'T DIE WAIT "She's alive, guys," said Mulder, looking at them, and though there were tears in his eyes, some of the light had returned. "I can feel it." Frohike got up and left the room, and Mulder was sure he could hear him sniffling as he went. "So what do you need from us?" asked Langley. "Well," said Mulder, "I want you to find anything you can on Grant Putnam." "Scully's husband?" Mulder nodded. "Yes. Something big went on here guys, and it wasn't a happy wedding ceremony. Scully once told me that her mother said that Grant 'had a bit of the devil in him.' But I asked Mrs. Scully, and she said she never said that. Obviously, Scully was trying to tell me that Grant was not what he seemed - that he was somehow evil or violent. Now, I already did a background check on him, and nothing in his bio checked out. So I thought that maybe you guys could find something on him." Byers smiled, and patted Mulder on the back. "We'll do whatever we can to help you, Mulder." "AND Scully," Mulder added. Byers smiled again, nodding. "AND Scully." * * * CONTINUED IN PART THREE THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART THREE: REASON TO BELIEVE Four Weeks Later Mulder's apartment Alexandria, Virginia June 11, 1998 12:01 am ------------------------------------------- Little white flowers will never awaken you Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you Angels have no thought of ever returning you Would they be angry if I thought of joining you? ------------------------------------------- Four weeks later, Mulder sat on his couch in the darkness, a mostly empty bottle of Vodka beside him, as a CD played softly in the background. The song was morose and depressing and was about someone leaving someone. Mulder's face was awash in stubble and the circles under his eyes had grown darker each day. It looked like an artist had taken a great amount of black paint and smudged it under his eyes. His once bright, intelligent hazel eyes were, to all outward appearances, dead. He lifted the bottle to his lips for the hundredth time that night, and took a long drink. The bitter liquid burned a trail down his throat, and he savored the discomfort. He wanted it, because it numbed the pain that held his heart and soul in a terrible grip. In the weeks that had passed since he had made his discovery, he had found nothing else. Not one more clue. The Lone Gunmen had turned up nothing on Grant Putnam. For all outward appearances, the man didn't exist. At least he wasn't in any official records. Skinner's APB had produced no leads. He had worked long into the night every night for the past four weeks, searching every piece of evidence and every clue for some kind of lead. He had even tried to get in touch with his old contacts and sources from the X-Files. Most of them hadn't even bothered to reply, and the ones that had answered him, hadn't really tried to find him any information. Even good old Danny had found nothing. Mulder hadn't slept in he couldn't remember how long, and he only ate when he was too weak to keep working. But no trace of Scully had been uncovered. Mrs. Scully refused to believe that he was right, and she hadn't called him since he left her at Scully's place. He knew that in another week or two, she would start visiting Scully's grave. It felt all too familiar to Mulder. The memory of going with Mrs. Scully to chose a gravestone for Scully still haunted him. She hadn't been dead then, and for while, it seemed as though, this time, she were also still alive. But so much time had gone by with no leads or clues. Not even a sign. Nothing, except for the feeling inside him that she just COULDN'T be gone. She wouldn't have left those messages for him to find after she was dead. It didn't make any sense. What good would they do him if she were dead? But endless days had passed, bringing with them no new discoveries, and Mulder was beginning to doubt himself. He was starting to wonder if the message he had been so sure was right, was actually wrong. He was beginning to doubt that Scully was alive. After her abduction, when she had been returned to him, he had promised himself that he would never let something like it happen again. He would never again let her vanish without a trace...to fade away like a soft breeze. But that's exactly what she had done. And this time, he feared that something far worse than The Smoking Man had her. He feared that Death had her in its dark, timeless embrace. Her presence was all around him this night, as it always was. When he closed his eyes, he saw her. When he dreamed, she was there. When he woke from the fitful moments of sleep he managed to have, her image lingered. But she never stayed. She always left him. He couldn't bear it any longer. Leaving the bottle behind, he got to his feet and walked over to his desk. Opening the middle drawer, his eyes fell on the one thing that would set him free. The only thing that would cast him adrift and hopefully send him sailing off towards Scully - wherever she was. And for the first time since finding that message from Scully, he smiled. Mulder pulled the gun out of the drawer and moved back to the couch. Sitting down, he pushed the gun flat against his stomach, inhaling shakily. He had decided that he had been wrong - and Scully HAD died that night. If she had, then he knew that she was waiting for him. "I'm coming home, Scully," he said softly. There was nothing left for him here. He had abandoned the X-Files long ago - some months after her marriage. Without her to guide him - to ground him - he was useless. He had felt like a kite floating aimlessly once it had been let go. Without her science to lend them credulity, the files themselves became mere fodder for tabloids. Those things, coupled with his complete lack of interest, gave the FBI its chance to close the X-Files once and for all, and move him back to profiling for the VCS. When he had learned that the X-Files were finished, he hadn't even fought it. Without Scully, they didn't mean anything to him anymore. He could still remember how Skinner looked when Mulder told him he didn't care that the X-Files were being shut down - for good, this time. \\::\\:://::// Seven Months Earlier FBI Headquarters Assistant Director Skinner's Office November 12, 1997 6:32 pm ------------------------------------------- My hands are barely holding up my head I am so tired of looking at my feet All the secrets that I keep My heart is barely hanging by a thread ------------------------------------------- Mulder stood leaning against the wall outside of Skinner's office, his head back and eyes closed, his hands in his pockets. People passed by intermittently, unnoticed by him. He had been waiting, now, for over 15 minutes. He wondered why Skinner was making him sweat it out like this. All Mulder wanted was to go home, where some cold leftover Chinese take-out and another mindless episode of "I Love Lucy" awaited him. Opening his eyes, Mulder looked across the hall at the chairs there. How many times had he and Scully sat in those chairs, waiting to be called to the executioner? How many times had they sat there, Scully looking at him with worry and affection in her eyes? How many times had it just been the two of them against the world? And when she looked at him that way, how many chances had he had to take her hands into his own and tell her that she meant more to him than anything? So many times...so many chances...and he had wasted them all. Blindly, he had let them all pass by, certain that another opportunity would come along when he had time to deal with it. But there was always a case to investigate - always a conspiracy to untangle - and his chances came and went until Scully stopped offering them. Instead, she had met someone else and made the offer to him, and he had NOT let it pass HIM by. And Mulder was left alone to wonder how he could have been so stupid and insensitive as to take Scully for granted that way, thinking she would always be there. Suddenly, the sight of the chairs and the memories they held sickened him, and he closed his eyes again, hanging his head. He had to get out of there... "Agent Mulder?" Mulder looked up to find Skinner standing in the open doorway of his office. "Sir?" "You can come in now, Mulder. Sorry for the wait," Skinner said brusquely, as he turned and walked back into his office. Mulder nodded and followed, walking slowly. Skinner sat down in the plush chair behind his desk as Mulder sank into one of the hard chairs that sat before it. "I'm sure you're wondering why I've called you here," Skinner began, leaning forward, his arms covering a multitude of papers. He shook his head. "Not really." Why didn't Skinner just tell him whatever it was he had to tell him? Mulder just wanted to go home - now more than ever. "'Not really'?" parroted Skinner. "You aren't the least bit curious? You're not angry because I kept you waiting when I'm sure there's a new conspiracy brewing as we speak?" Mulder sighed and shook his head again. God, he was tired, and until that moment, he hadn't realized how *tired* he was of this whole game. The shady informants, the clues slipped underneath doors, the cases that never seemed to have any real answers, the thousand conspiracies...all of it was so tiring to him now. So pointless and useless - empty. "If there IS a conspiracy brewing, sir, I couldn't care less about it," he finally answered, his voice sounding old to even his own ears. He watched as something strange passed over Skinner's face. Mulder wasn't sure, but it seemed like a mixture of shock, disappointment, and sadness. Skinner leaned back in his chair slightly, obviously unsure how to proceed. "Is this about Agent Scully?" Skinner finally asked, his voice softer than usual, almost reverent. Mulder didn't look away, even though his chest constricted painfully and it felt like his throat was going to close up. He stared right at Skinner, his gaze unflinching. A few moments passed by in this manner, until finally, Mulder said, "If you're waiting for an answer, you'll be waiting a long time." Skinner nodded as though he had gotten the answer anyway, and for a brief moment, anger flooded through Mulder in a hot tide, and he curled his fingers around the arms of the chair so tightly, his knuckles turned white. He was about to say something that would probably get him in trouble when Skinner spoke. "I thought you were going to fight me about what I have to tell you, Mulder, but from your comments here tonight, I don't think you will." This time, Mulder did look away, down at his shoes. "I think I'm through fighting, sir. There doesn't seem to be much of a point to it anymore." "Mulder, I called you here tonight because of a memo I received this morning," Skinner said, holding up a piece of paper. "Memo?" "It's from Kersh. In it, he says, 'It has come to my attention that the X- Files Division has solved no cases in four months and filed no *new* cases in two. There is no evidence to support that this unit is active in any way. Effective immediately, the X-Files unit of the FBI will be permanently closed. Agent Mulder, the only agent still assigned to the X-Files, will be re-assigned to VCS, in a profiling capacity. There will be no motions or hearings allowed on this matter.'" Mulder listened closely, but none of the words really made an impact. He was long past caring about anything they referenced. Besides, they merely stated the truth: he had forsaken the X-Files. That which had once been his life's work had become a burden that he no longer cared to carry. "Mulder?" The sharp tone in Skinner's voice brought Mulder back to the present. He looked at his superior. "Sir?" "Did you hear what I just read?" Mulder nodded. "Yes, sir. I heard it." "Don't you have anything to say about it?" Mulder shrugged. "I think that Kersh is right." Skinner's mouth fell open, incredulous. "You think *Kersh* is right? Mulder, this is your life's work we're talking about. Every time they've tried to close the X-Files in the past, you fought them tooth and nail. What's different now?" Scully's gone, Mulder wanted to say. Can't you see that? She left me because I was a workaholic who always put his feelings aside. She's gone and without her, the X-Files don't mean a damn thing to me. He didn't say any of that. Instead, he stood up, running a hand through his hair. "That was a long time ago, Skinner. Back then, the X-Files made a difference, but everything has to end sometime. Everything outlives its usefulness. I think THIS is their time. Just let them die. They've been dead a long time now, for me." Skinner looked lost and confused and dazed. "Mulder..." he began, seeming to gather his thoughts for a debate. Mulder found it sadly ironic that the man who used to be their biggest detractor was now ready to convince HIM to fight for the X-Files. Maybe if Scully were still with him, Mulder would have considered it. If he had her strength and science and friendship and love to count on, he could have endured the hassles of breathing life back into the files. Without her, it all seemed so pale and shallow... In the end, Mulder only shook his head. "Just let it go, Skinner. It's over, and in a way, I'm glad. I don't think I could do it anymore - not alone." That was the only concession he would make to Skinner, concerning Scully and her absence. Before Skinner could comment on it, Mulder spoke again. "Let me go back to profiling. It's what I do best, anyway." Mulder turned, then, and began to walk out of the office. He got to the door before Skinner's voice stopped him. "Mulder?" Mulder looked back, feeling more tired than ever - as if he were one hundred years old. He felt like a lonely and forgotten soldier - old, world weary, and ready to live out his life in solitude and whatever measure of peace he could find. Mulder watched as Skinner's expression turned melancholy. "Profiling may be what you're best at, Mulder," he said. "But it's not where your heart is..." Suddenly, the pain was back in Mulder's chest, and he felt tears stinging his eyes. He looked down at his shoes again, an image of Scully in his mind. Wherever she was now, his heart was with her. Gulping down a thousand sorrows at what he had lost, he left Skinner's office without another word. \\::\\:://::// Mulder's apartment Alexandria, Virginia June 11, 1998 12:15 am ------------------------------------------- I close my eyes And there in the shadows I see a light You come to me out of my dreams Across the night ------------------------------------------- Mulder took another deep breath that was stronger this time, pushing the memory down, hoping some of the pain would go with it. The feel of the gun in his hand returned to him, and he moved the gun to point towards his temple. He closed his eyes, and his finger began to squeeze the trigger, as his thoughts shrank to only Scully and seeing her again. He felt as though each day that passed took her further away from him. He was sure that he didn't quite remember the exact tone of her laugh anymore, or the way she smiled at him, or the way it felt those few times she had taken his hand. Mulder didn't want to forget her - couldn't let her slip away. He would go to her. The CD played softly in the background. Mulder could feel Scully's memory drifting away from him each night. Each night, his dreams of her grew shorter and less vivid. Of course, if Scully were there, she would say that it was because he was usually too drunk to dream. He could hear her voice in his mind, vivid and bright, as she scolded him: "Mulder, do you really want to drink until you can't remember anything? You're only losing me faster." All Mulder knew was that he wanted to be with Scully again. Wanted to see her, touch her, and love her as he hadn't been able to do in life. That was his deepest regret: never telling Scully how he really felt. Never holding her close and telling her he loved her more than his own life. But he would show her now. Mulder thought of all the people who had sensed this desire in him - the possibility that he would do this, and they had told them that he had to be strong. They had patted his shoulder and said that if he had loved her enough to die for her, he should be able to love her enough to live. But that was a crock of shit, and Mulder knew it. They were preaching this to him from their comfortable houses, with their loved ones close and safe. They weren't sitting in a dark, lonely apartment, memories of the one they loved threatening to be lost from them forever. No, they didn't know how he felt - could never know. Only he knew what it was like to have to fall asleep and wake up with the same thoughts permeating everything he was: Scully was gone...he would never see her again...his soul was shattered. He could not live without his soul. Those people had no right to tell him what he had to do. And he had no reason to listen to them. He was so close. With each passing second, he squeezed harder on the trigger, waiting for death to come. Death and freedom. Freedom and Scully. The CD played on. Mulder couldn't let them drift further and further apart. She had already been lost to him in one way. He couldn't bear to forget her. He squeezed the trigger harder. Suddenly, his phone rang. His head snapped in that direction and slowly, he rose from the couch, gun held before him. Walking quietly to the phone, he looked at it as it rang. He wanted to do this in peace - not with Skinner or Mrs. Scully ringing the phone off the hook. He thought about letting it ring, or even shooting it, but then decided against it. No, he would answer the phone, and give whomever it was a piece of his mind. Teach them to let him the hell alone. With the gun in his right hand, he picked up the phone with his left. "Mulder." There was silence for a few seconds, and normally, Mulder would have made some smart-ass remark, and then hung up. But for some reason, he just stood there, waiting. Finally, he heard breathing. And then, a muffled, scratchy voice that sounded far away. "...Don't speak..." said the person on the other end. Mulder, still in an alcohol-induced haze, wasn't really in the best condition to argue. So, he waited. He could tell that the voice was female, and it sounded slightly familiar, in a dreamy kind of way. "...If you want...information on Agent...Scully's death...come alone to house 223 in Carter, Virginia..." The longer the woman talked, the more Mulder felt that he knew her. "Who is this?" he asked, his mind still not clear, but getting there. "...Not...important...come quickly..." Then the line went dead. Mulder hung up the phone, and was still for a few moments. Suddenly, he threw the bottle of Vodka across the room. It hit the wall with a satisfying crash, the liquid splattering in five directions - like a star. He hurried into his bedroom to change clothes. He had a trip to make. * * * Carter, Virginia House 223 June 11, 1998 12:05 am ------------------------------------------- You don't need a spaceship They don't know you've already lived On the other side of the galaxy ------------------------------------------- Everything had gone according to plan. Well, MOST of it had gone according to plan. Scully sighed, and shifted positions, ignoring the pain in her right arm. Her gun arm. She twitched at every little creak or groan she heard outside - every little gust of wind. She wasn't sure how long she had been hiding there, crouched in a corner of the dark kitchen, between the stove and the wall. But Scully knew that soon the blood that was running down her arm would begin to affect her. She needed to look at the wound, and try to stop the flow, but she was too afraid to let her guard down. She cocked her head to the right and held her breath as she heard a rustling noise outside. When she had decided it was probably just the wind, she exhaled in relief, and looked around the house. It was small, but that was what she had wanted. She had picked this place out of hundreds, hoping it would serve her well. She moved her right arm again, and a blaze of white-hot pain shot through her arm, blurring her vision with its intensity. Gasping, she tried to keep her arm as still as possible, to alleviate the pain, but it still took minutes for it to die down. "A l-little...pain..." she said to herself, her words slurring, "...and it will b-be over..." Somehow, her familiar mantra wasn't working as well as it usually did. The pain in her arm was severe and stole her concentration. She HAD to chance a look at the wound. But she was so scared. She had spent the last four weeks on the run, and those brief weeks had taught her a lifetime of caution and fear and paranoia. They had changed her from an aggressive, self-confident, strong woman into a wide-eyed woman whose heart nearly exploded at the smallest sound. Those four terrifying weeks had slowly raised her panic to mild hysteria. She had actually made it through most of those four weeks unscathed. Until today. Today, They had caught up with her. Actually, HE had. Grant. Her husband. Scully laughed morosely at that thought. Grant had meant nothing to her - but SHE had meant something to him. She was his life. Or rather, she KEPT him alive. It seemed that the success of their "marriage" had a direct affect on whether or not he would be going on to bigger and better things or to a cold box in the ground. Once she had discovered this weakness of his - this Achilles heel - she had begun to make plans to exploit it. And so, it had become necessary for her to die. When she had agreed to the Smoking Man's terms, she had known that she would never do as he said for the rest of her life. In the back of her mind, she had always had a plan. Back then it had seemed simple - flawless; foolproof. But now, when she looked back and saw what had actually happened, she wondered how she had made it at all. Another stream of blood began its journey down her arm. Scully knew that her time was running out. The wound itself wasn't fatal - but if she kept on losing blood like she was, she wouldn't last long. She looked around the kitchen, and finally spotted the phone. All the way across the room. Cursing herself for losing her cell phone earlier that night, she began taking deep breaths - readying herself for when she would have to move her arm. Finally, she decided that she was as ready as she would be, and using her good arm, she pushed herself up to a standing position. The pain in her arm, loss of blood, and the adrenaline still running through her body made her dizzy, and she swayed slightly, her gun hanging limply in her right hand. When the dizzy spell ended, she took a deep breath, and a step forward. She had to make her call before she lost consciousness. And from the way things were going, she didn't think she had long. She only hoped that he had found her clues, and was still alive. It was slow going, but moments later, mostly ignoring her pain, she was standing before the phone. She picked it up with her left hand, and dialed the number she knew by heart. As it rang, Scully remembered the day when her life had changed forever. \\::\\:://::// CONTINUED IN PART B OF PART THREE THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART THREE: REASON TO BELIEVE (continued) It was slow going, but moments later, mostly ignoring her pain, she was standing before the phone. She picked it up with her left hand, and dialed the number she knew by heart. As it rang, Scully remembered the day when her life had changed forever. \\::\\:://::// Fourteen Months Earlier FBI Parking Garage Washington, D.C. April 22, 1997 7:11 pm ------------------------------------------- This time I'm not gonna stay This time you have got to pay This time I must get away This time you've gone too far ------------------------------------------- It had been a long day, and all she wanted to do was go home. As she walked to her car, looking forward to some time away from Mulder, she suddenly felt as though someone were watching her. Thinking it was Mulder, she sighed and turned around, her expression somewhere between exasperation and affection. "Mulder..." But her mock admonishment fell away as smoke blew into her face. "Good evening, Miss Scully." "What the hell do YOU want?" she asked, her voice like acid. The Smoking Man smiled. "I only want one thing of you," he said, twirling his Morley around. "I want you to leave Agent Mulder." Scully said nothing for a few moments, as she studied him, deciding on whether he was sincere or just playing with her. "Go to hell," she said, even though she had decided that he was serious. She had to try a bluff first, or she would lose any kind of power she might have. Turning, she began to walk away from him. "If you don't, Mulder will be killed." She stopped dead in her tracks. "I thought that would attract your attention." Scully wanted to turn back and strangle the old man - squeeze until the last of the life was gone from his tired, useless body. Instead, she lifted her chin defiantly, and slowly turned back to face him. "If you really wanted to kill Mulder, you could have done it long ago." The man nodded. "Perhaps once, long ago, Mulder could have been killed and no one would have noticed. But now...now he has a spotlight on him. Killing him now is something I reserve only as a last resort." "That's bullshit," Scully said matter-of-factly. "You've killed lots of other people who had a 'spotlight' on them. You kill others without so much as a moment of remorse, but you allow Mulder to run after YOUR secrets every day. Why is that?" The Smoking Man took another drag on his cigarette, appearing casual, but inside, Scully knew he was scrambling for a better lie. At long last, he exhaled. "Very well, Miss Scully. Mulder has...a purpose." Scully couldn't believe that he had actually admitted something like that to her. Of course, she wasn't ready to accept it as gospel, but it was closer to the real reason than anything else he had told her before. "So then why should I believe that you'll kill him if I don't leave?" asked Scully, looking around the parking lot, making sure no one else was there. The Smoking Man took another drag on his Morley. "Because, Miss Scully, I am desperate." Scully's eyes widened. She had never expected this man to admit to desperation. "You're lying," she breathed, sure she was right. He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Mulder has gotten too close to the truth recently, and I can't risk him getting closer, no matter how important he might be. My...associates would not be very comfortable with his continued...persistence, and if they are upset, I get nervous...and desperate." Scully laughed hollowly. "Well, it seems that you have some problems, then." She turned again to walk away. "Don't underestimate me, Scully!" he called after her. "I have a man waiting in my car. If this little...discussion of ours doesn't go well, he WILL kill Mulder." Scully stopped again. She hadn't gotten very far. "You really are serious, aren't you?" she asked, her voice incredulous. "I am. Mulder must be neutralized...and I prefer it to be accomplished without killing him. You're the one person who can do it." She turned back to him. "My leaving won't stop Mulder. It will only make him worse." The Smoking Man shook his head, a sneer on his face. "Oh no, you're wrong again, my dear. The last time I took you from Mulder, he turned into a quivering imitation of the man he had been. He all but abandoned his work, in favor of wallowing in grief and looking for revenge, and that was only after two years together. I would have kept you from him forever, but that first time was simply an experiment - as much for him as for you. But THIS time, THIS way, will stop him for good. You have been through quite a lot together, and I imagine you are very close...bonded." Scully couldn't believe how casually he talked about her abduction, her pain, his plans to rip her from Mulder's life, and his part in all of it. His orchestration of it. "You have NO conscience, do you?" He smiled evilly. "At the moment, a conscience would only be a detriment to my agenda." Scully looked away, thinking it through. "If I do this - IF - how will I know that you just won't kill Mulder anyway?" "As I said, Miss Scully, Mulder is important to my cause. Besides, his death would only bring undue light onto my colleagues and myself. Therefore, it is not something I want to do. If you leave, Mulder will be safe. I am quite confident that your leaving will all but end Mulder's fervor to find the Truth." She nodded, suddenly accepting it. It was now obvious that he was serious. What choice did she have? She would do anything for Mulder, and if leaving him would keep him alive she would do it. It would break her heart and ruin her, but she would do it. "What do I have to do?" she asked, her voice soft, her spirit broken in a moment. The Smoking Man smiled again. He looked past Scully and motioned to someone. She looked to where he had, and saw a tall, blonde- haired man step out of a dark sedan. Mulder's would-be assassin, she knew. "This," said The Smoking Man, "is the man you are going to marry." Scully's whole world seemed to shift into slow motion, and she swore she could hear her own heart thundering in her ears. Marry? He wanted her to marry the man that they would have used to kill Mulder? Her stomach roiled in disgust. Her eyes widened in shock and she stepped away, ready to change her mind. "Getting married is part of the deal, Scully. It is the only way that your leaving can be justified." "No," she said, her teeth clenched, her eyes like blue fire. "The marriage won't be real, Scully. Mr. Putnam is just my way of keeping tabs on you." "You want me to...to marry the man that was going to kill Mulder?!" Scully shouted, her eyes as cold as ice. "I couldn't stand one minute with him, let alone marriage. You ask too much," said Scully, not able to bear the thought of marrying anyone but...and certainly not Mulder's killer. The Smoking Man looked down at her as he let his used cigarette fall to the asphalt. "I see. There are some things you will do to save Mulder's life, and some things that are just too hard. You put a certain price on his life." He squashed the cigarette with practiced ease. Scully looked horrified. "Of course not!" she hissed. "Then I don't see what the problem is. If you still want to save Mulder's life, you will leave the X-Files, and you WILL marry Mr. Putnam." Scully looked away, out at the road. She refused to look at The Smoking Man, or the tall man with the blonde hair. As she listened to the spring breeze blowing through the parking garage, she tried to think of an alternative. None came to her. She had no choice...Mulder's life was in her hands now. However, it just so happened that his heart was as well, and doing this would break it apart. "Fine," she said, her voice even and emotionless. "You have a deal." \\::\\:://::// Carter, Virginia House 223 June 11, 1998 12:16 am Scully was brought out of her reverie by the sound of the voice she had been missing for almost a year. "Mulder." He sounded a little strange, but he was alive. She took a deep breath to push the pain down as far as she could. "...Don't speak..." She cursed herself for not handling the pain better. It wasn't as if she had never been shot before, for God's sake! So, she gathered up all her strength, and spoke again. "...If you want...information on Agent...Scully's death...come alone to house 223 in Carter, Virginia..." She listened, and knew that Mulder was contemplating her words, deciding if she should be trusted. For that she was glad. She was fairly certain that he didn't recognize her voice. And she was pleased that at least he was still cautious. As the seconds passed, Scully felt herself growing weaker and weaker, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to talk for much longer. Finally, she heard him ask, "Who is this?" She couldn't waste time convincing him. "...Not...important...come quickly..." She managed to drop the phone back onto the cradle before she fainted. * * * Carter, Virginia Outside house 223 June 11, 1998 1:20 am ------------------------------------------- When I see you now I wonder how I could have watched you walk away If I let you down please forgive me now For that beautiful goodbye ------------------------------------------- Mulder stepped out of his car wearily. The drive had not refreshed him, as he had thought it would. Instead, he was more tired than he had been, and now he had the feeling that this whole thing was a trap, and he was no longer at the top of his game, as he had once been. Since Scully left him a year ago, he had grown careless and sloppy. He no longer spent his nights with an "X" taped to his window. He didn't wake and check his newspaper for some special clue or coded message. He didn't hear clicks in his telephone anymore. He didn't spend his days trying to uncover conspiracies, somehow avoiding death at every turn. Ordinarily, he spent his days writing and presenting profiles. At night, he usually got some take-out, but ended up eating half or none of it. Then he would lie on his couch watching the old sit-coms on Nick-at- Nite because they numbed his brain and let him fall into a dark, dreamless sleep. He just didn't know if he was up to the cloak and dagger routine tonight. Mulder sighed. Not for the first time, he wished he had been left alone to his task. He wished he were with Scully. But, he decided that as long as he had made the trip, he might as well look around. Pulling out his gun, he looked around the outside of the house. He saw nothing suspicious, so he walked up the steps slowly, listening to every sound. When he got to the door, he tried the knob, and was surprised to find it turn. As he pushed the door open, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Something was WRONG here. Death was here. Mulder's instincts also told him something else: someone needed help. He stepped into the house, and looked around. He couldn't see much - his eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the light, so he flicked on the small flashlight he had brought with him. He panned the room with his gun and light, and saw no one. In fact, the place seemed to be deserted. But then he shined the light on the floor, and he found himself staring at a body that was crumpled, face down, in the middle of the kitchen. Judging by the size of the body, it seemed to be a woman. He could also see a pool of blood around her right arm. Next to her right arm, mired in the blood, was a gun. He was about to step out of the house to call the paramedics, when he saw the auburn hair. Rushing to her, he kneeled down, and turned the small body over. What he saw caused a wave of dizziness to wash over him. It was Scully. SHE WASN'T DEAD. For a few moments, Mulder couldn't think, couldn't speak, and couldn't breathe. Finally, his wits returned, and he rushed to the door, locked it, and put a kitchen chair under the doorknob. Then he hurried back to Scully, easily gathered her up into his arms, and carried her off down the small hallway. Finding a bedroom and a bed, he set her down gently. Quickly, he put two fingers against her throat, checking her pulse. It wasn't very strong, but it was there. He watched her breathe for a few seconds, just making sure that she was all right. Then he stepped backwards and found that his knees were rubber and his legs could no longer support him. He sank to the ground, letting his head fall into his hands, and cried. But this time, they weren't tears of sadness or grief. They were tears of relief and gratitude and joy. They were the tears of the reborn, of the sinner saved, of a man who had been given his soul back. She was alive. He hadn't lost her. He wasn't alone. After a few minutes, he was able to stand again. He moved back to the bed and knelt beside her. He was wiping his eyes when he REALLY looked at her... ...and his breath caught in his throat. She was practically covered in blood - her hair, her face, her clothes. He could also see fresh blood on her right arm. And she was terribly dirty - as if she had crawled through the woods on her belly. He also noticed that she was wearing some sort of ripped jeans, and a bedraggled-looking t-shirt. They were both covered in dirt and grime, and half of the t-shirt was soaked through with blood. "God, Scully, what happened to you?" he asked quietly. Then his sluggish and shock-filled mind prodded: Why is she covered in blood? His eyes widened as they fell on many little cuts all over her arms and legs. The left side of her face was crisscrossed with little slashes, as if she had scratched it. She also had some nasty-looking bruises, and a bad cut on her forehead. But he was most horrified by the ugly wound on her upper right arm. He got up to get a washcloth, but then thought better of it. Moving back to Scully, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the thankfully clean bathroom. He closed the door behind him and gently set her down against it, touching her cheek as he did. Then he turned to the shower. And stopped cold. There's no bathtub, he thought, as if it were a revelation, feeling like his mind was filled with cobwebs. Why wasn't he thinking clearly? Maybe it's because you're still a little drunk, and you were about to commit suicide. And now the woman you love has returned from the dead. How about that? He made a face at himself in the mirror. He could argue with himself after he had taken care of Scully. There's only a shower, he thought. Mulder almost decided to take Scully back to the bed, when he stopped himself. He told himself that he was being an idiot. His decision made, he turned the shower on, and then turned back to Scully. She was still unconscious, slumped against the bathroom door, her head lolled to one side. And he could now see that the wound on her arm was in fact, caused by a bullet. Mulder knew she probably needed to go to the hospital, but he also knew that something bad had happened to her. He knew that the success of whatever plan she had enacted depended on him - on him not doing something stupid. He wouldn't risk exposing her. Mulder knelt beside her, wondering how he was going to undress her. Finally he decided to just rip the t-shirt off of her. It was stained beyond repair, he was sure. He grabbed it at the collar and pulled as hard as he could. Once he had ripped it, he pushed it off her shoulders and down to her stomach. He was relieved to see that she was wearing a bra. Now, with the dirty, blood-soaked shirt out of the way, he could get a better look at her wound. It was bad, but not as awful as it could be. He could tell that the moment he saw it. The bullet had passed right through the fleshy part of her upper right arm, along the outside. It had torn a nasty, deep gash in her arm, and was now - and probably had been - bleeding profusely. He imagined that it was very painful - and that pain, coupled with the blood she must have lost, was probably the reason for her unconscious state. For a brief second, Mulder wanted to find whomever had done this to her, and hurt that person - kill that person. But then his brain clicked on, and he realized that vengeance would have to wait until Scully was safe. So he went about the job of trying to stop the bleeding. Many minutes later, after compressing the wound and using gauze, Mulder felt sure that the bleeding had nearly stopped. He then bandaged her arm - luckily there was a first aid kit in the house. Idly, he wondered how this place was so well stocked, when it looked deserted. And then it hit him. Scully had done all this - had made sure that all the necessities were here. This was all part of whatever plan she had. Once he had her arm bandaged, he took the plastic bag that the cotton balls were in, dumped them out, and then covered the bandage with the bag. After all, they would be in the shower in a few moments, and he didn't want any water near her wound. After stripping Scully down to her underwear, he got up and carefully opened the shower door, and tested the water; making sure it wasn't too hot. Then he returned to Scully, nervously pulled off his shirt and jeans, and looked back at her. "I hope you don't kill me when you find out about this, Scully," he said to her softly, willing his eyes not to linger on her lean, curvy body, because she needed him to help her now. But to Mulder, she was beautiful even covered in dirt and blood. Bending down, he pulled her up against him, careful not to jostle her arm too much, and easily moved into the warm water of the shower. As the water hit their bodies, Mulder held her tighter against him so she wouldn't slip. He was in a state of euphoria. He couldn't believe that the person he loved more than anything, the best friend he had thought was dead, was in his arms after so long... She was alive! Scully was facing Mulder, her head resting against his shoulder. Slowly but surely, the dirt and blood were washing away, and she was beginning to look a little like the Scully he remembered. As he looked down at her, he felt tears sting his eyes and a constriction in his chest. "'Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah...'" he said, reciting the phrase from the Bible that Scully had used to warn him. As he did, he found himself slightly awed at the amount of love he felt for her - the immense power and scope of it. At that moment, he felt as if he could not love her more. He was sure his heart could not accommodate it. He gently turned her around in his arms, keeping her head on his shoulder, so that the water would hit her face and stomach, as he shielded her eyes from the spray of the water. Gently, he pushed some wet strands of hair away from her closed eyes, and couldn't stop himself from tenderly kissing her temple. He had to do it - even if she didn't feel the same. He had no choice when it came to Scully - not that he wanted a choice. He loved her, but it wasn't that he had chosen to fall in love with her. It was an unconscious, unchangeable part of him - like his heartbeat. And even if he had a choice, if some cosmic force he didn't understand DIDN'T draw his soul to hers, he would still choose to be with her. He was the moth bound to go to her fiery flame, to protect her with everything he had. Mulder knew that she probably didn't feel quite the same way, but he planned on finding out how she felt when she woke up. And he wanted to know what had happened to her - who had hurt her. Mulder vowed to never let her out of his sight again - never let her get hurt again. He would protect her. He would die for her. * * * A few minutes later, Mulder turned the water off and scooped Scully up into his arms, stepping out of the shower. Setting her down beside him, holding her against him, he reached for a large bath towel and wrapped it around her. He began to dry her off, being extra-careful when he neared her wound. It appeared to have stopped bleeding, but he knew that it would start again with the slightest bump. He also knew that Scully probably needed stitches. Under other circumstances, Mulder would have been worried about Scully's continued state of unconsciousness. He was hoping that she simply didn't want to face whatever reality she had been living for the past weeks, and had, for a time, turned away from the harshness of that truth. Mulder hoped that he could make her feel safe enough to want to come back. He wanted her to come back to HIM. They were sitting on the floor of the bathroom, Scully's back to Mulder, as he dried Scully's hair with the towel. Just as he had gotten it mostly dry, he first heard her mumble then felt her small hand upon his knee. Then she started to struggle against him - trying to move out of the protective circle of his arms. Mulder, wanting to calm her, bent down to look in her fluttering eyes. "Scully...can you hear me? It's Mulder. Are you awake?" The sound of his voice seemed to quiet her a bit, and she sagged against him, murmuring something. He moved his head closer to her and whispered, "Scully? Please talk to me...are you okay?" Mulder froze as he felt her turn in his embrace, so that she was sideways, and wrapped her good arm around his middle, nestling her head into his chest. "...M-Mul-Mulder..." she stumbled, "...you found me...you found me..." He tightened his hold on her, and said, "Yes, I found you, Scully. Come back to me. I'm right here. You're safe now. Come on back..." Her hand moved up to touch his chest, stroking the skin softly. Then, slowly, her hand made its way to his collarbone, up his neck, to his face. It stopped there, her thumb gently rubbing his jaw. It was then that Scully's head moved, and she looked up at him, her eyes open. Mulder stared down into their blueness, totally mesmerized by them, her closeness, and her touch. She was like a magic elixir for him - keeping him alive. Mulder knew he would never tire of looking at her, holding her, taking care of her, or loving her. He couldn't lose her again. It would destroy him totally. Mulder reached out to touch her cheek. Her eyes still looked a bit glassy, and he couldn't be sure if she was truly aware of her surroundings. "Scully, can you hear me? Are you with me?" She nodded slowly, her hand slipping from his cheek to wrap tightly around his waist again, as if in fear that he would disappear. "Are you okay?" he asked again softly, fearing that something more than he could see had been done to her. She stared at him for a long time, seeming to simply enjoy his closeness, the safety that his presence made her feel. "...Y-y-yes..." she managed. She probably hadn't spoken in so long. He watched as she looked down and found that she was very close to a state of total undress. Then he watched as her gaze moved to him. He was in much the same state. "Mulder..." He suddenly realized what she was thinking, and began to pull away from her. "I'm sorry, Scully..." But her left arm slipped around him again, keeping him close to her. "No, don't go. I want...want you to stay with me." She looked up into his hazel eyes. "I don't want to ever leave you again..." He melted right in front of her, and his eyes turned to a warm brown. "You won't. I promise. I...I love you," he blurted out in a whisper, having to tell her. She did not look shocked at this admission. "I know. I love YOU...always have..." Scully managed a small smile, and sat up straighter so that she could press her lips softly against his. At her kiss, Mulder thought he would stop breathing. Then, his instincts took over, and he slipped his arms around her, and kissed her back. After a few more moments together, Mulder rose, slowly pulling Scully up with him. He led her back into the bedroom, supporting her when she swayed a bit, and helped her climb into the bed. As she lay there, he walked to the door, checking all the locks again and the chair he had placed underneath the doorknob. Then he grabbed his gun from the kitchen table, and a glass, and walked back into the bedroom, locking that door as well. It wasn't as good as it should have been, but until tomorrow, he had no other options. Until he found out what had happened to Scully, he didn't really know what to do. In the bathroom, he filled the glass with water and grabbed three Tylenols from the first aid kit. He walked back to the bed, and looked down at Scully, who was still awake, but groggy. He handed the aspirin to her, and watched as she put all of them in her mouth. She held out her good hand for the glass, but Mulder shook his head. "I'll do it," he said, holding the glass gently to her lips. As she sipped, he said, "I'm sorry there's nothing stronger." She smiled thinly through the pain. "It's okay." Once Scully had swallowed the aspirin, he put the glass and his gun on the nightstand, and climbed into bed with her, pulling her close. She kissed him once before her energy gave out, and she collapsed against him. As sleep slowly overcame them both, Mulder said, "Scully, we have to talk tomorrow. I have to know what happened to you." He felt her nod. "I know. I'll tell you everything tomorrow. I promise." Mulder sighed, and closed his eyes. He knew he was still in a state of shock, and that in the morning, it would all come crashing down on him, but until then, he knew that he would at least be able to sleep. In this room - on this night - they were in their own little world. Scully was safe, and right next to him. In this room, everything was okay. As Mulder drifted off to sleep, he didn't know if he were more afraid that tomorrow wouldn't come...or that it would. * * * Carter, Virginia House 223 June 11, 1998 6:10 am ------------------------------------------- There is a ship that sails the sea It's loaded deep as deep can be But not as deep as this love I'm in I know not how I'll sink or swim ------------------------------------------- Mulder awoke as the early light fell on his face. He rolled onto his side, gently pulling Scully closer to him as he did. He felt her uninjured arm slip around his back to rest on his spine. A few moments later, her hand began moving slowly back and forth, stroking his skin. He moaned softly, reveling in her touch and her presence. Mulder marveled at how easily they had slipped into this new phase of their relationship - how natural it felt to wake up with her in his arms, touching him, making him feel whole. After a few more minutes, Mulder opened his eyes and carefully slid out of the bed. He knew that when Scully woke up she would need to eat and get her strength back. Before leaving the room, he turned on the radio that was somehow miraculously in the room. Scully had seemed to think of everything - even a radio for when she was lonely. After pulling on his t-shirt, he grabbed his gun and wandered out into the house, checking all the doors and windows to make sure that everything was secure. Once satisfied that no one was around, he walked into the kitchen and began searching for something edible. He was surprised once again, to find some canned goods, orange juice, bread, milk, and cheese. Near the sink he found a coffee maker and coffee. He quickly started some toast and coffee. He also poured two cups of orange juice and set them on the table. Near the table he saw a backpack on the floor and realized it had to be Scully's. Reaching down, he pulled it up onto the table and opened it. Inside he found some extra clothes, a brush, an envelope of money, and some other mundane things. But down at the very bottom, laid flat so that it wouldn't wrinkle, was a very strange picture of him. Colored only in shades of green, as though taken by a night-vision camera, the picture was grainy and confusing. It seemed to be a picture of him standing next to his car in front of the Green Panda. He was looking right into the camera, as if he had known it was there. But how could Scully have gotten this? Why would she carry such a strange picture with her? He couldn't make any sense out of it, so he put the picture back, along with her other things. He would have to ask her about it later. He walked back into the bedroom. As he walked in, his gaze fell on Scully as she slept, her fiery hair splayed out across the pillow. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully, and for that, he was glad. The night before she had woken almost every hour, from a bad nightmare, wild-eyed, afraid, and calling out his name. He wondered how many nights she had woken the same way, only to find herself alone. Or with Grant. The shock that she was still alive hit him again with powerful force, and he had to lean against the doorframe for support. He felt his heart quicken as tears burned his eyes. "I can't lose you again," he said softly, rubbing his eyes. Just then, Scully stirred and reached out blindly for him, thinking he would be next to her. When she didn't find him, Mulder watched as her face fell, and she seemed to slip back into sleep. He was about to return to the kitchen, when he heard her soft-spoken words. "...Kill...kill...you...pay for this..." he heard her murmur, tears slipping from her eyes. Mulder wondered whom she thought she was speaking to - surely not him? He had wanted to let her sleep, but it was obvious now that she wasn't really asleep. It was also obvious that she needed and wanted him as much as he did her. They had been separated for far too long as it was. He was immediately next to her, and noticed that her arms were by her sides, and she seemed to be struggling to make her arms move. It was as if she believed her arms were being held down, and she could only move her hands. He reached down and took her left hand in his, finding it hard to lift at first. Smoothing some hair away from her forehead, he whispered, "Shh...it's okay, Scully. I'm right here..." But she shook her head, obviously not convinced. "...Why...why...why kill him? You...promised...promised...we had a...deal..." she mumbled to someone. Seeing that this was taking an awful turn, Mulder slipped under the covers again and pulled her into his arms, careful not to jostle her injured right arm. All the while, he murmured soothing words to her, told her that he was with her, and finally, in desperation, that he loved her. Mulder hoped that the one truth he knew deep in his soul would bring her out of this total despair. "...Will...pay for this...I will...revenge...revenge..." she whispered. "...love...love him...never take him...away from me...always...always...with me..." Mulder was stunned by her dream words. To think that she felt this with such conviction was truly overwhelming, and shocking. Mulder had never thought himself worthy of love - not real, true love anyway. His parents could never seem to bestow in on him, especially after Samantha was taken. And he knew now that Phoebe never loved him. He was just a pleasant distraction for her - his heart just something to play with for a time. Actually, he had ALWAYS known that Phoebe didn't love him - even in their most intimate moments when she whispered that she did, he knew it was all a lie. But when Scully said it, even in a dream, and last night on the bathroom floor, he knew that it was true - that she felt it with all her heart and soul. He knew because it felt right. When she said it, he could hear the truth in her voice. "Scully," he said softly, "please believe me. You're not alone. I'm right here. I'm not dead. I'm REAL." She was silent for a time, and he knew that she was struggling to come out of the dream, and back into reality. A few moments later, Mulder felt her stir, and waited as she worked up enough strength to talk. "I thought...you'd have been up...already," she said haltingly. "I was...but I came back." Scully didn't miss the way he had said that. "You always do," she said at last, her hand on his chest. "So do you," said Mulder, and he smiled - the first time he had done so in a long time, if he didn't count the grim smile that had appeared last night when he had looked at his gun. "Mulder, last night-" "Scully, you don't have to explain. I know you were scared, tired, and maybe even drugged. I know you didn't mean what you said." Mulder hoped that he sounded convincing, because he knew that Scully HAD meant what she had said, but he didn't think she was ready to feel it yet, or understand it, so he was releasing her from it. Scully's eyes widened. "Mulder, I don't remember much about last night. But there are three things I remember very clearly: you told me you loved me, I told you I loved you, and I slept peacefully because I was with you. "Mulder, I meant everything I said last night." He tensed slightly. "But you were really out of it last night, Scully." She nodded and pulled back from him so that she could look at him. "Yes, I was, Mulder, but there were a few moments when I wasn't. And in those few moments, I was sure that I was dying and I wanted you to know the truth. I didn't want to leave you behind not knowing. I wanted you to know that I loved you. " Mulder was stunned. He could do nothing but look down at her, awed. Scully touched his jaw lightly, gently, and with loving affection. "I always will..." * * * CONTINUED IN PART FOUR THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART FOUR: FARE THEE WELL Carter, Virginia House 223 June 11, 1998 6:45 am ------------------------------------------- Who would sell their soul for love? Or waste one tear on compromise? Should be easy now To know a heartache in disguise ------------------------------------------- Mulder and Scully sat at the kitchen table eating in comfortable silence. It seemed to Scully that Mulder hadn't eaten in weeks, because he cleaned his plate in record time, oblivious to everything else, including her. Scully's appetite, meanwhile, vanished soon after she began eating, due to the pain in her arm. She pushed her mostly uneaten breakfast away, and settled for watching him as he ate. He looked terrible. His skin was pale, his cheeks gaunt and drawn, and he had dark circles under his eyes, and he looked a lot thinner than usual. "I'm sorry I had to put you through all of this," she said, when she thought he was done eating. He didn't look at her. "Scully, what happened? Why all the clues, and the lies? And why did you marry that guy?" Scully sighed, and shifted in her seat, careful not to unduly move her wounded arm. "Mulder, what I'm about to say will probably sound a bit...outlandish...even to you. But I have to tell you - you deserve to know." He finally looked up at her, telling her with his eyes, that he was ready. "In April of 1997, I was...approached by someone-" "Who?" asked Mulder, cutting her off. Scully closed her eyes, steeling herself for Mulder's reaction. "The Cigarette Smoking Man." "WHAT?!" asked Mulder, his eyes flaring in anger. Scully held up her good hand to stop the onslaught. "Mulder, please let me finish. I don't have a lot of time, and we have some decisions to make." Mulder was obviously confused by that comment, but he nodded. "The Smoking Man came to me and told me that you were going to be killed." Mulder's eyes widened in horror. "Unless," said Scully, "I would agree to leave the X-Files AND you." "He wouldn't have done it, Scully. You shouldn't have believed him." She shook her head. "I didn't, at first. But then he said that he didn't want to kill you if he didn't have to, because you served a purpose. All he wanted was for you to quit the X-Files - to stop your search for the truth. He said that my leaving would make that happen." Mulder looked at her sorrowfully. "He was right. After you left, I felt like all the importance in my life drained away. The X-Files became more like a painful memory to me of what was...or what could have been." Scully's eyes widened and a bad feeling formed in the pit of her stomach. "What are you saying?" Mulder looked down, almost as though he were ashamed. "The X- Files are closed, Scully. They've been closed for a while now." He looked straight at her, and Scully felt as though he was peering down into her soul. "I couldn't do anything without you; nothing worked." Scully felt her throat go dry, and she couldn't seem to make her mouth work. Mulder shrugged, his eyes big and sad. "I don't see why you bothered going along with the Smoking Man, though." Scully blinked, pushing past the huge swell of love that Mulder's words had caused. "Because he said that if I didn't leave, he would have no other choice but to kill you. He said that killing you was only something he would do in desperation - as a last resort. And Mulder, he made it very clear to me that he was desperate. He even had your would-be assassin make an appearance - just to drive the point home. So, I agreed." Scully knew what Mulder was thinking. He couldn't believe that she would do all of that just to save his pitiful, worthless life. Mulder confirmed her suspicions by his next words. "You shouldn't have done it, Scully. I'm not worth it." Scully ignored that comment and pressed on. "I asked him what I had to do, and that's when he pointed to your assassin, and said that I had to marry him and leave the X-Files." "Grant Putnam," said Mulder. "There's another piece of the puzzle..." "Yes," said Scully, a slight shiver going through her. "When I looked a bit apprehensive, The Smoking Man assured me that the marriage was simply a way for him to keep tabs on me - that it wouldn't be real." "Was it?" Mulder choked out. Scully shook her head again, tears in her eyes. "No. My so-called marriage to Grant was SURREAL, if it was anything. For the most part, Grant was barely a roommate. He was more like a warden. He basically left me alone." She had hoped that Mulder would let it slide, but he must have caught something in her voice just then. "Basically?" Scully looked away. "Once in a while, he decided that he wanted to have all the privileges that real husbands have..." Scully looked back in time to see him squeeze his eyes shut, and she knew that he was thinking the worst. She looked away again, unable to meet his gaze - to see the disappointment he would inevitably feel. "Did he hurt you?" he asked her, and in his voice she heard a thousand other questions - a thousand other horrible thoughts - about what Grant might have done to her. Scully still wasn't looking at him. "There was just...one time...that I couldn't convince him it wouldn't be wise." "Oh, Scully...I'm so sorry..." he said, his voice full of heartbreak and anger; the thousand questions suddenly exploding into accusations. Scully finally looked back at him, the tears having run down her cheeks. Mulder looked straight into her eyes - into eyes that were now haunted. The other day she had looked at herself in the mirror and realized how truly cold and barren her eyes were. Her mother's eyes hadn't been so bereft even on the night Melissa died. "It's okay, Mulder," she finally said. "It IS. He didn't rape me. He really wanted to, I could tell that much, but I fought him so hard, I guess his desire was lost in his anger with me. He got very mad and I guess he decided I needed to be punished." "What did he do?" Scully sighed, her eyes sliding away from Mulder's hard look. "Well, he gave me this nice little scar I now sport," she said, gesturing to her left cheek. Mulder looked up at her and she saw him notice, for the first time, the thin pink scar that ran from under the outside corner of her left eye to the middle of her cheek. Scully tried to forget how hard Grant had hit her to break the skin and leave a scar. She could almost see Mulder's blood simmering towards a boil. "What else?" "He managed to give me a lot of bruises...a black eye..." She trailed off, gauging Mulder's reaction. His eyes looked like the gold and green in them had caught fire. Softly, she continued. "...He almost broke my nose...split my lip...broke one of my ribs...and gave me a concussion..." When she finished, she couldn't bear to look at him. She felt as ashamed as she had felt the day Grant had beaten her, and as though she had the bruises still. There was silence for a long time, and Scully started to wonder if he was going to say anything at all. Finally, he spoke, and his words were soft and low and dangerous. "If I EVER see Grant again, I WILL kill him." Scully looked up, tears still on her cheeks. "Mulder, no." "This is not a discussion, Scully. If I see him, I kill him. It's that simple." Scully just looked at him. She couldn't think of any response that would be appropriate. Mulder had just pledged to avenge her honor. How could she say anything to stop him? She didn't even know if she wanted to stop him. "Is that all of it?" Mulder asked, not waiting for her to say anything. "You're not leaving anything out?" His voice was tight with rage, and Scully could tell he was barely keeping it under control. She nodded and tried to smile. "That's all. It happened about seven months ago...I've made peace with it." Scully had no intention of telling Mulder about the MANY other nights that Grant had beaten her - beaten her for so many reasons - because she wouldn't let him rape her, because she spoke her mind, or because she didn't blindly obey him. Mulder would have enough trouble getting past what he thought was ONE incident. He couldn't handle more than that. And Scully promised herself that she would NEVER tell him about the other thing that had almost happened that night - about the awful dark thoughts and misery that had almost conquered her were it not for her memories of and love for him. "Why didn't you call me?" he asked, his voice broken. His words shook her out of her thoughts about the horrible night, and she answered him. "If I had, Grant would have known, and then it would have all been over. He watched me like a hawk, Mulder. And when I went to work, or out somewhere, he wanted to know where I was going, why, and when I would return. He checked my phone records, mail, and email. He was very thorough." Mulder momentarily bypassed this last comment. "Scully, I'm worried about you. This abuse didn't happen a million years ago. It happened half a year ago." Scully blinked. She knew when it happened. She was there, and she'd deal with it in her own way. Mulder pressed on. "If you push it too far down inside, you'll never get over it. You can't have made peace with it that quickly. Did you at least talk to someone about it?" Scully shook her head. "No. I couldn't call you, and I certainly couldn't tell my mother that my husband had physically abused me." Scully watched as tears filled Mulder's eyes, and his hands balled into fists. He was probably imagining hitting Grant until he was bloody and dead. It was something SHE had imagined many times herself. Long ago, she had promised herself that if she ever got Grant alone, she would do her best to show him as much kindness as he had shown her. Instead of commenting on Mulder's reaction, Scully continued on, forcing herself to put the memory of the abuse out of her mind. "I handled it on my own. But, it was after that - the very next day - that I decided I would never be in a position to let Grant do that to me again." Scully hoped she sounded convincing. Mulder could never know that Grant HAD beaten her after that night. Mulder probably already thought her weak and helpless, if he knew she had allowed it to go on for as long as it had, he would lose all respect for her. Swallowing dryly, she continued. "I had always locked my bedroom door at night, but then I began sleeping with my gun under my pillow. And I began to prepare my plan." "Your plan?" Mulder asked. Scully nodded. "Yes. When I agreed to The Smoking Man's deal, I never intended to just go through with it. So, I devised a way to get out of it. And the only way I could think of, was to die." Mulder shuddered. "You set all of that up? The car? The river? The witnesses? You did it all?" Scully smiled grimly. "You sound so shocked. I AM an FBI agent." Mulder nodded, acquiescing. "How did you make the wreck look so authentic?" "I spent months planning it, working out all the details. And I spent months working out those clues I left you, hoping you would find them. And every time I got scared that it wouldn't work, or that Grant would catch me, I'd think of what he did to me, and I wasn't scared anymore." Scully was shocked at the hardness in her own voice - the cold, calculating way in which she spoke. When she looked up at Mulder, she could tell that he was shocked, too. She let her words hang in the air a while before continuing - let some of the anger evaporate. Moments later, she continued: "Then, that day, I went to work as usual. Once I got there, I made sure that Grant was at the job the Smoking Man had set up for him. I had to know that he wasn't watching me. He was actually there. Most of the time, they sent him out and he took those opportunities to spy on me. I went out and bought the things I would need to make it here." "And then?" "Then when I was done at work, I drove home as if everything was normal. I drove to the Parkway, and got out to get everything ready." Mulder was amazed. "This is unbelievable..." Scully nodded. "Sometimes, I can barely believe I've done it..." And as she told Mulder about that night, it came back to her vividly. \\::\\:://::// One Month Earlier George Washington Memorial Parkway Outside of Huntington, Virginia May 9, 1998 9:05 pm ------------------------------------------- There's nothing left to lose There's no more heart to bruise There's no greater power Than the power of goodbye ------------------------------------------- She pulled to the side of the road; her fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, and took a deep breath. She could do this. She HAD to do this. There was no other way out. She had known that from the beginning. She checked her rear-view mirror, and smiled grimly. For the moment, she was alone. She would only need witnesses for the last part of her plan. There was a slight grade to the road, which would help her. She smiled to herself, and decided that it would help make the scene look more authentic. Turning the car off, she opened the door, and sat there with her feet hanging out. She reached down and slipped her pumps off, setting them back onto the floor, near the pedals. She hoped that her bare footprints wouldn't be noticed. Grabbing her pack, which she had filled with the barest of essentials, she hefted it into the brush alongside the road. Then she got out, hoping that a breath of fresh air would calm her nerves and give her the strength to see this through. She glanced up at the starry night sky, and wondered if Mulder was looking at the stars this night. As she studied Cassiopeia - the lady of the crooked "W" - she wondered if her life would ever become the straight line she dreamed. Or would it forever be the distorted, alien reality she had lived for the past year? She thought of what would happen after this night, and she tried to remember if she had covered all her tracks - cut off every loose thread. Because if Grant happened to find one, and come after her, she didn't know how long she would last. And she had to last long enough to let Mulder know that she was okay. Even if she died in his arms, at least he would know. "A little pain..." she reminded herself, "and it will be over..." Turning from the sky, she took another deep breath, and got back into the car, shutting the door. God, please let this work, she prayed. Okay, Dana, get it done. This should be easy for you, she told herself. Fishing deep into one of her pockets, she pulled out a vial filled with thick, dark liquid. Blood. She pulled out the stopper, and dipped her finger in, then smeared it onto the steering wheel, the visor, and put a little on the seat. Then she took off her shirt, and poured the rest of the blood all over it, taking care to make it look as though she actually had wounds. After all, if someone found the shirt, it had to look official. She had to be sure that the authorities thought she had died this night. She had to make sure that Grant thought she was dead - because only then would she be free. A small sob almost broke free from her as she remembered what he had done to her - what he had almost pushed her to do - but she held it at bay. This was no time for tears or weakness. She had to be strong if she was going to survive and get to Mulder. She shook her head quickly, hoping to clear away the worry and the anxiety, and reached down to turn the key. The car roared to life, oblivious that it only had moments left to live, and sat ready to take her wherever she wished. She looked again into her rear-view mirror, silently praying to see headlights. She couldn't go any further without witnesses. Witnesses were the final touches to her desperate plan that would convince everyone that she was gone. A few moments later, she saw a pair of headlights appear on the soft swell of the road behind her. With a last sigh, she offered up a final prayer to God, and put the car into motion, moving slowly. The car behind her had to be close enough to see what would happen. She knew that she would have to stay in the car until the last moment - to make sure that her car found its proper course. As the moments passed, she increased her speed, and was soon at 65 miles per hour. Once at this speed, she suddenly turned the car from the highway, and veered off towards the edge of the road and the Potomac looming below. She held her breath as the edge of the cliff came closer and closer, and moved one hand to the door handle, ready to open it at just the right moment. Seconds before the car flew off the cliff, Scully opened the door and threw herself out. It seemed as though she flew through the air for an eternity. It was as if she were an insect trapped in amber - lost between the cracks of time. She was pushed back into reality when she crashed to the ground, and heard the sickening sound of ripping and tearing, and felt a thousand things scraping and cutting her skin. She seemed to roll forever, and landed hard, her head hitting a sharp rock that was half-hidden in the ground. She groaned, and as quickly as she could, pushed herself up into a sitting position, bringing her hand to her forehead. She gingerly touched the cut there. Her fingers came away bloody, and she could already feeling a headache forming. Thankfully, she had missed the car flying off the edge and falling down into the dark, cold waters of the Potomac. She blinked a few times, and took stock of herself, making sure she wasn't seriously wounded. When she was sure she was somehow - miraculously - only bruised and cut, she dragged herself to her feet, but kept low so her carefully placed witnesses wouldn't see her. Luckily, the grass was high here, and she could crouch in it without being seen. It was obvious that the car that had been following her had seen her "accident" because they had pulled to the side of the road, and the car's occupants were now looking over the cliff, calling to her. The slight spring breeze lifted her hair from her neck, and a chill ran down her spine as she realized that she was looking at her own death. It didn't matter that it wasn't real. It didn't matter that she was still alive. Everyone else thought she was dead. She was a ghost now. Shivering, Scully scrambled around until she found her bag, and took out the tiny first-aid kit she had included. Taking out two bandages, she put one on her forehead and another on the laceration on her hand. She pulled an old pair of sneakers and a t-shirt out of her bag, and slipped them all on. Then she got to her feet, took out her flashlight for when she got further away from the road, and walked off into the night. The light of the moon lit her way as she went. \\::\\:://::// CONTINUED IN PART B OF PART FOUR THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART FOUR: FARE THEE WELL (continued) Shivering, Scully scrambled around until she found her bag, and took out the tiny first-aid kit she had included. Taking out two bandages, she put one on her forehead and another on the laceration on her hand. She pulled an old pair of sneakers and a t-shirt out of her bag, and slipped them all on. Then she got to her feet, took out her flashlight for when she got further away from the road, and walked off into the night. The light of the moon lit her way as she went. \\::\\:://::// Carter, Virginia House 223 June 11, 1998 6:52 am ------------------------------------------- Call the man who deals in once upon a time Maybe he can mend this broken heart of mine Shine a light ahead - now the future isn't clear Call the man, he's needed here ------------------------------------------- Mulder was totally speechless. All he could seem to do was look at Scully in pure wonder. "I...this...you..." Scully chuckled softly. "Well, now my life is complete. I've made the man who can expound upon any issue, at any moment, speechless." Mulder gave her a look, but his eyes were soft. "But that doesn't explain how you got that," he said, gesturing to the bullet wound on her arm. Scully looked down at her right arm. "That reminds me. Thank you for taking care of it. You did a good job." Mulder very nearly blushed - medical compliments from Scully meant a lot to him. "You're welcome." Scully sighed, and glanced at the clock. "Okay, I have to speed this up. I don't have a lot of time left." Mulder's brow crinkled. "What do you mean?" She waved a hand at him, dismissing the question for the moment. "After that, I walked until I found the motel I had picked out. I got a room under an assumed name, and turned on the news, waiting to see if my 'accident' had been reported." Mulder shook his head. "But you still haven't told me about how you got that bullet wound." "Well, I knew that I couldn't come here right away. I had figured that I would move from motel to motel for a couple of weeks, and then come here, and call you. However, it didn't work out that way." "Why not?" Scully shrugged. "Somehow, Grant figured out that I wasn't dead. I don't know how he did it, but he did. He must have found something I missed - some bill or something that clued him in. By the time the middle of the third week rolled around, he had found me. No matter what else, the Smoking Man had trained him well. "I had been walking back to my room at a cheap motel, when I saw his car pull into the parking lot. I immediately knew it was him, and ran to my room, grabbed my stuff, and snuck out of the bathroom window. I've been on the run since then. I finally made it here, last night. I had lost Grant about three days earlier, but he somehow found me here. "I ran out of the house when I saw him - and into the field in the back. He followed me, and shot at me. The first shot missed, but the second caught me in the arm. When he hit me, I fell, and rolled down the steep hill that's back there, pretending that he had made a fatal shot. It was dark, and he was about to come down after me, when a police cruiser drove by on a random check. I guess he decided not to chance it, because he left." "So that's how you got so dirty, and all those cuts and bruises," said Mulder, some things finally making sense to him. "Yes. Eventually, I crawled out, went back into the house, and hid for a while." She smiled. "Needless to say, I was a little out of it there for a while, and I couldn't exactly remember that I should be calling you." Mulder smiled back at her, but all he wanted to do was hold her, and suddenly, he felt the pressure of Scully's cross against his throat. Reaching up, he undid the simple clasp and gathered the chain into the palm of his hand. "I think this belongs to you," he said softly, holding his hand out to her. Her whole face changed and melted into soft affection and gratitude. "You put it on?" "I was keeping it safe while you were gone," he said, his face solemn as he remembered the last four horrible lonely weeks; the last horrible lonely year. Reaching out, Scully took the cross and chain from his hand. She stared down at it, her eyes shining with tears. "When you have this cross, I always manage to come back, don't I?" Mulder knew she was referring to her abduction, and the mere thought brought back a flood of dark memories that he had tried to put behind him. "You always come back, Scully," he said, reiterating his comment from that morning. She smiled, still looking at the cross. "Thank you for giving this back to me." He nodded. "It's a part of you, Scully. It belongs with you." Finally, she raised her eyes to meet his, and a tear traced its way down her cheek. "I think it belongs wherever WE are." Mulder wanted to answer, but his throat was suddenly tight with tears and emotion, and he could only smile weakly and nod. He watched as she gingerly put the cross on the table. "When I realized that my wound would soon cause me to lose consciousness," Scully finally said, after some moments of silence, "I made it to the phone, and called you. You know the rest." "But why do you keep saying you only have so much time left?" Scully looked at him as if he should have figured that out already. "Mulder, I know Grant. He won't let this alone. He'll be back to make sure I'm dead. I don't want to be here when he returns. One shoot-out a week is enough for me." Mulder nodded again. "Then let's get going." He moved to get up, but Scully's voice stopped him. "Mulder, wait." He sat back down again. "What?" "Mulder, I don't think you understand. I'm not going back to DC." He cocked his head to the left. "What?" "Mulder, I can't go back there. If They know I've broken the deal, you'll be killed, and I don't think I'd be welcomed with open arms. I'm leaving. I don't know where I'm going, but I'll have to lay low for a while. Maybe for the rest of my life." Mulder shook his head. "Scully, I will NOT let you ruin your life for me. Now, you're going back, and-" "No." She said it softly, but emphatically. "Mulder, I made this deal to protect you. I won't put you in danger now. Not after all I've done. I care about you too much to do that. I love you." Mulder's frustration melted away at her words. He reached across the table and took her hand. "I know, Scully. I love you, too. But this is nuts. You can't let the Smoking Man do this to you. You can't let him win." She looked at Mulder affectionately. "I've already let him do this, and he's already won. But by my score, I've won the biggest prize." He looked at her quizzically. "What?" "You," she said simply. "Your life. Nothing else matters." Mulder could have melted onto the floor. Tears dotted his eyelashes. "Scully, I can't let you do this. It's not fair to you." "Mulder, it's done. And I would do it over ten-thousand times if it meant saving your life." He nodded. "What were these decisions you mentioned?" She closed her eyes, seeming to summon her strength. "Actually, YOU'RE the one who has to make the decisions." "I don't understand." "Mulder, I know you said you love me, but I didn't take that as an absolute vow. I'm going to ask you something, but I want you to think about it before you answer." He nodded. "Okay." "As I said, I'm leaving. Maybe never coming back. I'll probably spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. And I know that that's no life, and nothing to offer, but I want to know if you want to come with me?" Mulder's eyes widened, and he sat back in his chair, releasing Scully's hand. "I hadn't even thought about that." "I know you didn't." He didn't know what to say. He wanted to say yes - God how he wanted to say yes - but then, the part of him that was still twelve reminded him of his responsibility to Samantha. Could he just abandon her? Give up the search after all these years? On the other hand, he loved Scully. How could he just let her walk off? He had promised himself last night that he would never lose her again; never let her be hurt again. How could he keep that promise if he let her go on alone? Scully watched him, and after a few moments, she pushed herself up. "Mulder, I know that this is a big decision, and I'm sorry for springing it on you like this, but I can't wait around much longer." He looked up at her, a little annoyed that she was pushing him like this. Had she forgotten about Samantha? As always, she seemed to read his mind. "Mulder, I haven't forgotten Samantha in all this. I know that you can't stop looking for her, and I know that I'll never be as important to you as she is, but I-" "Scully, you're everything to me," he said, interrupting her. "Mulder, I can see that you need more time with this. This IS a big decision. If you come with me, you'll have to leave the life you've had until now. You'll have to live from day to day, and always wonder if They're around the next corner. So, this is what we're going to do. I'm going to leave now, and you're going to stay here-" Mulder was up in a flash. "Scully, no!" She held her hand up, and he sat down again. "Let me finish. I'll leave. Once I do, you'll get in your car and get out of here before Grant gets back. Then I would appreciate it if you would call the Lone Gunmen and have them get me a new identity, and mail it to the post office in Window Rock, Arizona. It'll take me at least a week to get there. That should give you enough time to decide. When I get to the post office, either you'll be there, or just my new ID." Mulder looked up at her, totally at a loss. She touched his cheek. "Please don't feel as though you owe me anything, or that just because you said you loved me, you have to do this. What I'm offering you won't be much of a life - all you'll really get is me. I made this deal because I loved you and I wanted to keep you safe. I NEVER expected anything in return. I actually wasn't going to ask you to come with me. I was just going to see you one last time, and let you know I was all right. But you had to go and say you loved me..." She smiled softly. Mulder took her hand. "Scully, I..." "Mulder, I want you to really think about this - think HARD. And if you choose NOT to come with me, I WILL understand. I don't know what I would do if the situation were reversed. I can take care of myself - so don't think you have to be my chaperone." "What about Grant?" "If he finds me, I'll take care of it. I don't want to die, but if he does catch me, I'll go down fighting. I'd rather spend my last moments standing up to Grant than live the rest of my life on my knees begging him for mercy." Mulder's throat closed up at her words. He pulled her down onto his lap. "Don't talk like that, Scully. I can't stand it." She looked down at him lovingly, and smoothed his hair back. "Mulder, I've learned a lot in the past year. The most important thing I've learned is that life shouldn't be taken for granted or depended upon. It can be snuffed out in an instant. I want to live, but I'm not naïve. I know that it's very possible that Grant could find me and kill me, and I have to be prepared for him." "When you say things like that I never want to let you go. I want to go with you no matter what. How can I let you walk out the door?" Scully blinked back tears. "Because I can take care of myself, and because *I* made this deal, not you. Now it's my problem to solve." "But you did it all for me," he protested. She nodded. "Yes, but that was my prerogative. I did it because I love you. I made a decision, and I accepted the consequences. Now that's what you have to do. You have to decide if you can live with the consequences of whatever choice you make. And if you don't choose me, Mulder, it's okay. You won't be a bad person because of that. You'll have made the best choice for you - just like I did. I'll still love you." That said, she leaned down and kissed him tenderly, then stood up again, and headed back into the bedroom to pack her paltry amount of things. When she was out of the room, Mulder lowered his head onto the table, and let the tears come. * * * 7:20 am ------------------------------------------- I didn't come here to leave you I didn't come here to lose I didn't come here believing I would ever be away from you ------------------------------------------- Scully finished packing her things: just a flashlight, a first-aid kit, another pair of jeans and t-shirt, a heavier coat, a toothbrush, hairbrush, her knife, and her gun. Then she checked her money supply. Just 800 left - should be enough to get her to Arizona and beyond. She went into the bathroom to take a look at herself and see if any of her wounds needed to be checked. She found a flimsy sling in the first-aid kit she had bought for the house, and was about to put it on, when she noticed that there was blood on the bandage. Sighing, she prayed that it didn't need stitches and pulled the bandage away to have a look. Her eyes went wide, and she felt her stomach flutter. The wound was too deep. It would never heal without infection. She closed her eyes, feeling slightly nauseous at what she knew she would have to do. Grabbing the first-aid kit and her bag, Scully avoided looking at herself in the mirror, and walked back out into the kitchen. She would need Mulder's help one last time. She found him sitting in the same chair, sniffling as if he had been crying. When he turned to look at her, she could tell he had been crying. Her face crumpled and she dropped the bag. "Oh, God...I knew I should have never brought you into this..." she said, moving to kneel before him. "I'm so sorry...I put you in the middle. I should never have asked you to come with me." He shook his head, but she kept talking. "I should have let you think I was dead...it would have been easier that way. At least you wouldn't have to be choosing between your sister and me. Look - just forget I ever asked you. Better yet, forget you ever saw me." She touched his cheek. "I love you, Scully." She looked at him, and he looked so...broken; like a doll whose limbs had been torn off, and sewn back on the wrong way. She smiled at him, wanting to kiss him forever. "I know you do, Mulder, and I love you. But you know how they say that sometimes love isn't enough. I think this is one of those times." Mulder got up. "Scully, I can't live without you. I can't forget you." She looked away. "Sure you can, Mulder. Just pretend I'm dead. Pretend we were still partners, and I took a bullet in the line of duty." The look on his face told her that her words, although not meant to be cruel, felt like a sword flaying his heart wide open. "Jesus, Scully. How can you say something like that?" A single tear ran down her cheek. "Because it's for the best. You can't abandon your sister, and I can't ask you to. This is how it has to be, Mulder. Don't worry about me. I'll be okay. Just have a good life, and remember that I'll always love you." Mulder was about to say something, when she spoke again. "I just have one last favor to ask of you..." He looked up at her. "Anything." She held the first-aid kit out to him. "I need you to help me with my arm. It needs stitches. I'll have to do it myself." "Scully..." She shook her head. "There's no other way, Mulder. I can't risk going to a hospital, and without stitches, it will become infected, and then I'll have a bigger problem. It'll just be a little pain and then it will be over." She chuckled mirthlessly. "That's something I learned during my time with Grant. It's my new motto: a little pain and it'll be over." When she looked up at him again, his face was broken, and his eyes were full of sadness and pain. She realized that she had unknowingly hurt him again. Her apology was drowned out by his soft words. "I'll help you, Scully..." * * * 7:40 am Mulder watched as Scully gritted her teeth, and pushed the needle into her arm again. Tears streamed down her face, and he knew she was in terrible pain, but she never made a sound. She suffered, as always, in silence, intent on the job at hand. Mulder's job was to wipe away any blood that oozed from the wound, but he also took it upon himself to hold her hand, careful not to jostle her injured arm. Mulder hated the fact that pain and anguish had become such staples in Scully's life that she was almost used to them. He wondered if what Grant had done to her had been more painful than this. He wanted to know why she got a dark, lost look in her eyes whenever she spoke about Grant and that night. He wondered if Grant had damaged a part of her forever - had stolen a piece of her spirit away. Five more stitches later she was done. She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears, sweat dotting her forehead. Her face was lined with pain, and he could see that the hand that held the needle was shaking. But somehow, she rose above it all and managed to smile softly at him. "Thank you, Mulder." He smiled back, and then shook his head. "I don't know how you just did that, Scully." She busied herself with putting the needle and surgical thread away. "I tried to remove myself from the situation - to detach myself from the pain. I pretended I was back in med school sewing up someone else. It didn't take all the pain away, but it helped." "You're amazing," he said softly, his eyes shining with love and admiration. She didn't answer him; couldn't. Instead, she picked up the new bandage she had prepared, and handed it to Mulder. "Can you put this on for me?" Carefully, he covered the wound with the bandage, and then used medical tape to secure it. Once that was done, he helped her put the sling on and adjust it. As he did, he noticed her grimace. "What? What's wrong?" She shook her head, trying to downplay the pain. "Nothing, it just burns when I move it. It'll be okay." "You sure?" he asked, his voice soft and broken. She turned to look at him, her blue eyes icy. "Mulder, it's FINE." He didn't want to let that slide, but he did, and settled back in his chair, watching as she gulped down three Tylenol. He hoped that they would take the edge off her pain. She checked the cut on her forehead, and he saw that it was healing nicely. The rest were just bruises and little cuts that didn't need tending. He allowed himself to just look at her for a few moments, but suddenly she was on her feet, pulling her pack onto her good shoulder, and he realized he must have lost track of time. He got to his feet, and reached out, taking her good hand in his. "Scully, wait. There's still time. Don't go yet." But she shook her head, grabbing her cross, her eyes darting around the room. "No, Mulder, there isn't. I'm getting more edgy as the time passes. I can FEEL Grant getting closer and closer. I couldn't face him right now. I'm too weak. I need time to recover." "What about your mother, Scully?" he asked, trying to think of anything to make her stay longer. "Are you going to let her know you're okay?" She looked down at her feet, and he saw her shoulders quaking with tears and anguish. When she looked up at him again, her cheeks were wet. "No," she finally answered, her voice weak, her eyes wounded. "If she thinks I'm dead, she'll be safe. I have to think of her first. It's better this way." "A little pain and it will be over?" he asked, his voice faint and sad. Her serious expression softened as she squeezed his hand. "Goodbye, Mulder." Her eyes filled with tears, and she turned away quickly, walked to the front door, and opened it. "Scully!" he called out, a hard edge to his voice. She turned back to him, her eyes wide. "If you think I'm just going to let you walk out of here, you're crazy." At his words, Mulder noticed a change in her. Something washed over her. It was gone in a flash, but it was a frightening thing. It was like she had pulled a veil over her face, adding new shadows and dimensions; changing her countenance. For a few seconds, she wasn't the Scully he had known. Perhaps she was the Scully that Grant had crafted - or the Scully she had become during her time on the run. It was the Scully who could push herself through any amount of pain - no matter the cost to her - to reach whatever goal she had set for herself. It was the Scully who shoved her emotions so deep inside that she barely knew they existed. It was the Scully who only saw what had to be done, and didn't care how much it would hurt to do it. That Scully scared him. "Scully," he began, not sure how to proceed with her in her present state. But he fell silent, and watched as her eyes flashed over everything in the house - even him - not staying on anything for long. When she spoke, her voice was cool and calm. "Okay, Mulder. I guess I can stay a little longer." His brow crinkled at her sudden attitude change. "Really?" She nodded and let her pack slide to the floor, coming to rest beside the door. She closed her eyes momentarily, exhaling in one long breath. "Actually, I'm still pretty tired," she said, opening her eyes. "I guess I could use some more rest." Mulder couldn't believe that she was acquiescing, but he wasn't about to give her time to change her mind. He walked over to her and took her hand, smiling softly. "I'm glad you're finally taking care of yourself." Scully nodded quickly, and then looked away from him. "Will you come and lay down for a while?" he asked. "Then we can decide what to do." "All right," she said, her voice sounding a bit strange to him, muffled somehow. He dismissed it as pain, and turned, leading her back to the bedroom. They lay down together, and Scully put her head on his shoulder. After a few moments, he stroked her hair and said, "We'll figure a way out of this, Scully. You'll see." She did not respond, and he thought she had fallen asleep. He was surprised when, a few minutes later, she spoke. Her voice was soft but purposeful. "Don't ever forget that I love you, Mulder." His eyes were too heavy to open; the weeks of pain, sleeplessness, and drinking finally catching up to him. He found her hand and squeezed it. "I won't." "No matter what happens?" He sighed sleepily. "No matter what..." The last thing he remembered was the feel of her lips on his cheek as she kissed him. * * * 8:15 am ------------------------------------------- And if there is such a thing As winter in the spring Then I'll make angels And I'll see you in the wings Of this bitter, bitter cold ------------------------------------------- She took a cautious glance from side to side and then stepped outside. Scully wouldn't allow herself to think of him asleep in the bedroom, unaware of what she was doing. Unaware that she was walking out on him - leaving him behind. Even though she knew it was for the best, it didn't make her feel any better. Even though he had done it to her hundreds of times when they were partners, it made no difference. A ditch was still a ditch, even under the best of intentions. But she had to do it. There was no other choice. Her first mistake had been asking him to come with her. She should never have even broached the subject. Why she had done so was a mystery to her. Had she honestly believed that he would choose her over his sister? If she had, she would blame it on the pain of her injury, because in her right mind, Scully knew that Samantha was most important to Mulder. Samantha was all that mattered to him - hadn't he said that on their first case together? That had never changed. She looked back only once at House 223 in Carter, Virginia and felt tears threatening. She swiped at them coldly, knowing that she had done what had to be done. Yes, Mulder would be hurt and angry when he woke and found her gone, but there had been no other alternative. Scully had realized too late that she had offered him an impossible choice. Once she saw the error of her ways, she had decided that the only option left to her was to take the choice away - to make the decision for him. Mulder couldn't choose between Samantha and her, so she would choose for him. Scully chose Samantha for Mulder. She chose life for Mulder. When she had 'died' to the world, she had been reborn into a new life. A life filled with running, hiding, and looking over her shoulder. A life where fear and pain were her only companions. She wouldn't condemn Mulder to such a life - to such a living death. Scully remembered what Albert Hosteen had told her when Melissa died. He had said that sometimes, something must die in order for something else to live. At the time, it hadn't made sense to her. Why should her sister die for her? But now, Scully understood more than she could ever have known she would. Something must die in order for something else to live... Mulder HAD to live. So, she had to die. She was the sacrifice, the lamb, the life offered to God for the safekeeping of another. At first, Scully had fought this idea - this role - but now, she had finally accepted it. When he had told her that he wouldn't let her walk out, it had all become clear to her. In a rush, she had finally put all the pieces of the puzzle together, and understood her true purpose. When she had, she knew she could do whatever it took to keep Mulder safe. Once she had accepted this responsibility, it was easy to let Mulder go. It was easy to extricate herself from his arms as he lay asleep on the bed. It was simple to write him a note saying goodbye, and leave her cross with it. It was effortless to pull his picture from her pack and look at it; have that be all she needed of him. It was easy to walk out of the house and shut the door, sealing herself off from him - probably forever. All of it was painless, because all the while, she knew she was keeping him from harm. She was keeping him alive. When he woke, he might be hurt. He might be disappointed. He might be angry. But he would be ALIVE. A few minutes later, a semi stopped for Scully and she hopped inside. As the truck disappeared in a cloud of smoke and early morning fog, Scully wished Mulder a long, safe life filled with sweet dreams. * * * CONTINUED IN PART FIVE THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART FIVE: WHAT DREAMS MAY COME The Offices of the Lone Gunmen Somewhere in Washington, D.C. June 11, 1998 5:51 pm ------------------------------------------- I'm so afraid to love you but more afraid to loose Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose ------------------------------------------- Mulder stood apart from the others, unable to look at them. A silence had descended for some moments after he had finished his story, and he almost jumped when it was broken. "He's dead..." Frohike said matter-of-factly, his eyes on fire. Mulder looked at him hard, thinking maybe he shouldn't have told them what Grant had done to Scully. "Yeah, and I'M first in line for that job." Mulder had never behaved like this in front of the Gunmen before. He was concentrated - more so than usual - and all of his muscles were tensed, as if he were ready to run or fight at any moment. "Okay, Mulder, you win." Mulder nodded curtly, but his anger was quickly replaced with sorrow. "Scully asked me if you guys wouldn't mind making up a new identity for her, and sending it to the post office in Window Rock, Arizona." Byers nodded, moving over to one of their many computers. "Sure thing. Did she say what name she'd like?" Mulder's head cocked to one side. "No. I guess she hadn't thought of that. Hmm...well, I guess I'll have to pick one, then." "How about Brenda?" asked Frohike. "I've always liked that name." Mulder shook his head. "No, Scully doesn't look like a Brenda...she looks...like a Scully," he said, lost in thought. Langley shuffled over to help Byers. "Well, you've got some time. We have to download her picture from the FBI database, and make up all the ID's. So, take your time." Mulder nodded. "I remember when I first saw her, I didn't think she looked like a Dana." Mulder thought a bit longer. "Okay, I've got it." "What?" asked all three Lone Gunmen in unison. "Rachel," he said proudly. Frohike scrunched up his face in disapproval. "I don't think so, Mulder. Rachel? Where'd that come from? Scully's hot. She's worthy of a name like Stephanie or Tiffany." Mulder got an annoyed look on his face. "Just put it on her stuff. " "I think Rachel's a beautiful name. What about a last name?" asked Byers, furiously tapping the keys. Mulder shrugged. "I don't know. Just pick anything." Byers nodded. "All right, then. It's Rachel Marron." All eyes turned to Byers. Frohike rolled his eyes, and pointed at his friend. "And you guys call ME the sicko. I'm not the one with the 'Bodyguard' obsession." Mulder actually chuckled a little. "I hope you guys never change." There was a moment of companionable silence, the only sound the soft hum of the color laserjet in the background as it printed out Scully's new identity. Then Byers spoke again. "So, Mulder, when are you leaving?" Mulder raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?" Langley smirked. "Mulder, what do you take us for? Amateur hackers? Don't try to fool us. When are you leaving to meet Scully?" Mulder looked away at this question, swallowing convulsively, a deep despair lurking about him that he had been able to hide from the Gunmen until that moment. Mulder was an expert at hiding pain. He had been doing it all his life. "Don't tell us you're NOT going!" said Frohike, almost angry. When Mulder looked back at them, his face had transformed into a mask of terrible pain and indecision. "I just don't know what to do..." he said, knowing that tears were in his eyes. It was the closest to tears that any of the Lone Gunmen had ever seen Mulder. "What do you mean, Mulder?" asked Frohike. Mulder shrugged helplessly. "She...she asked me to come with her..." Mulder's three friends stood before him. "And you said what?" asked Byers. Mulder looked away, ashamed. "I couldn't say anything. She caught me off guard. For some reason, I thought she could just come back here, and everything would go on like before...before she left." "But Mulder, from what you've told us, Scully made a deal with the man that smokes all the cigarettes. If she came back, it would be like signing your death sentence," said Byers, logical as ever. "But that's what's not fair," Mulder lamented. "Why should she have to ruin her life for me? I'm not worth it. I think she should just come back here, and we'll deal with the consequences together." Frohike shook his head. "Mulder, she wouldn't put you in danger, and we all know it. She'd try to save you from a paper cut if she could." Mulder hung his head. "I know...I know..." "So, what did you decide?" Mulder's stomach roiled in sudden anger, and he absently wondered how much longer he could handle these violent mood swings. "*I* didn't get to decide anything," he said, his voice tight. He felt the anger like a bitter taste in the back of his throat, but then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the anger was gone and the pain returned. He knew that Scully had thought she was protecting him. She thought she was making things easier for him by leaving. He looked up at the Gunmen, his eyes wounded. "I asked her to lay down for a while - to rest some more - and she agreed. I guess I should have realized that she wasn't REALLY agreeing, but I was so glad she WAS that I didn't think about WHY she was for very long. Maybe a part of me knew what she was planning, and couldn't face it. Either way, I fell asleep. When I woke up, she was gone." Frohike's eyebrows raised. "Gone?" Mulder nodded and reached into his breast pocket. He pulled out a folded piece of paper. "She left this note." He reached under his shirt collar and lifted a gold chain into view. "And she left me her cross." "That's heavy," said Langley, voicing all of their thoughts. Byers nodded. "Scully does seem to confer almost talismanic powers upon that cross, Mulder. And if she left it with you..." Mulder nodded, his head lowering. "I know...I know what she meant when she gave it to me. She was leaving the cross with me to protect me and didn't want me to follow her where she was going." Frohike took the note from Mulder's hand and was about to read it when he stopped, looking to Mulder for permission. Mulder closed his eyes. "Go ahead, Frohike. Read it." Frohike swallowed, and then began to read aloud. "'Mulder, 'Don't follow me. Don't make this any harder than it is. Just go home. Forget about me and go home. I know you, Mulder. If you decided to come with me, you'd end up hating yourself in a few months, and then you'd start to hate me. It's better this way. I know you are going to be angry with me, but it doesn't matter. None of it does as long as you are safe. Just remember that everything I've done has been to keep you safe, and that I expect NOTHING in return. I know you would have done the same for me without thinking. One day when you find Samantha - and I KNOW you will - think of me, and know that I am happy for you. Please keep my cross. It will keep you safe and maybe one day it will bring me back to you - just like always. Thank you for being my friend. Take care of yourself. I love you.'" When he had finished, Byers looked to Mulder. "She thinks she's doing the right thing, and making this easier for you." Mulder nodded, looking terribly lost and alone. "I know...I know...but she had no right to take the choice away from me." "Mulder, you would've done - and HAVE done - the same thing to her more times than all of us could count," said Langley. Mulder nodded again. "I know, but all of this is because of me. Scully has no life because of me. Mrs. Scully has to live out the rest of her life thinking that her daughter is dead because of me. And in an ironic twist, *I* might never get to see Scully again...because of ME." "So she's out there alone right now?" said Frohike, his arms crossed. Mulder nodded. "Yes, and I hate the thought. I assume somebody picked her up. I should have known something was up. At the end there - before we lay down - she had basically decided that she couldn't ask me to come with her. She kind of said goodbye." Langley's eyes widened. "As in forever?" Mulder nodded, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I just do not know what to do. I promised myself that I'd never leave Scully - that I'd protect her always. But I also made a vow long ago to find Samantha. I wouldn't feel right just abandoning her." "But after all she's done for you, you have no problem abandoning Scully?" asked Frohike, very angry. "Not now, Frohike!" Byers scolded, favoring his friend with a hard look. Frohike didn't even look embarrassed. He continued on. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand why you're confused, Mulder. Agent Scully is alive, and real, and waiting for you. Samantha has been out of your life for over 25 years. I would think you could be with Scully, and look for Samantha as much as you have been since you met Scully." Mulder looked up, his suddenly eyes cold. "What does that mean?" Frohike shrugged. "Just that since Scully came along, you've spent more time on cases and with her, than looking for Samantha. When we first met you, you were totally consumed with finding your sister. But in the past six years, that intensity has waned a bit." Other men would have smashed Frohike up against a wall. But Mulder just sat there alone, his pain clearly evident - like a buoy marking his broken heart. "Are you saying that I've FORGOTTEN about Samantha? That I've given up on her?" Frohike didn't answer for a few moments. Finally, he shrugged. "No, Mulder. I'm just saying that Scully has become more important than even YOU'D like to acknowledge. I think that you've come to accept the fact that you could be happy if Samantha never came back, as long as you had Scully." Mulder's eyes got even colder; more barren. "That's NOT true. I want Samantha to come back. I want to have a sister again." Frohike shrugged again. "Believe what you want to, Mulder. I just think that this choice made you realize some things that maybe you didn't want to. That's why you couldn't give Scully the answer you knew you wanted to say." With that, Frohike walked out. Langley followed him, intent on calming him down. When he was gone, Byers coughed politely. "Mulder, there is one other thing you haven't thought of." Mulder looked back to him, ready for another fight. "What's that?" "If you just disappear, don't you think that the Smoking Man will think it a bit odd? I'm sure he'd realize that something was awry." Mulder thought for a moment, then nodded. "You're right. My sudden departure would stick out like a sore thumb. I hadn't even thought of that." Byers smiled softly. "I know. What I'm getting at is that if you decide to go with Scully, you couldn't just leave. You'd have to build up to it, and give a plausible reason for your resignation from the FBI." Mulder nodded again. "You could make it appear as though you were just burnt out, and that you'd given up on ever finding the truth. Then, after a few months, maybe a year, you could resign, and just recede into the shadows." "That's a good idea, Byers." He got up to go, but Byers stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Mulder, I know this will be the hardest choice you've ever made. I just wanted to say that whatever you decide, I'm behind you, and I'll help you. We all will. And I believe that Scully will understand if you don't choose her." Mulder smiled. "Thanks, Byers." Mulder turned, then, and began to make his way back to the main entrance. As he walked, Mulder honestly didn't know what he would decide. He loved Scully deeply - there was no doubt about that. He would give his life for her in an instant. But he had devoted most of his life to finding his sister, and a life-long quest was hard to give up - even for the love of his life. * * * Somewhere outside of Memphis, Tenn. Interstate 40 West June 11, 1998 7:52 pm ------------------------------------------- So take a good look at my face You'll see my smile looks out of place If you look closer, it's easy to trace The tracks of my tears ------------------------------------------- Scully looked over at the woman driving the truck. She had chin- length, straight, brown hair, and eyes of the same color. She was fairly thin, and wore a red t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Her jeans looked like they could use a good washing, but they seemed comfortable. She had some strange music blaring - it was a woman's voice, and lots of piano. Not much else. The music was spartan and simple, and Scully figured that the driver was much the same. Her truck wasn't decorated with copious amounts of stickers, pictures, and air fresheners - like other trucks Scully had been in. There was only one picture of a little girl and a man, standing together at a baseball game. Most likely the woman's family. The woman hadn't said anything to Scully since she had picked her up on the highway, but Scully liked her. Sighing, Scully turned from her study of the woman, and looked out at the countryside as it flew by. She wondered what Mulder was doing. She hoped he had already forgotten about her, and was on another case, another search for the truth. Maybe he even had another partner? Scully cursed herself now for even telling him where she was going. She wouldn't allow herself to think that he might try to follow her and meet her in Arizona. She didn't want him to do that. He might love her, but BEING with her wouldn't make him happy. He would end up hating her - she knew that. He could never forget his sister, and so he could never be happy with her until he found Samantha. Maybe after he found her - IF he ever found her - he could come to Scully, and be happy. But until then, Scully had resigned herself to a life without him. She wouldn't let him come with her out of some sense of duty. If he DID show up in Arizona, she would turn him away. For his own good. Scully was so deep into her own thoughts that she didn't notice the woman looking at her. "You look like you have some troubles," said the woman, her voice sounding older than she looked. Scully turned to face the woman, and forced a small smile. "You could say that." The woman's brow crinkled. "By the way, you never told you me your name. Mine's Amelie." Scully had decided that even though everyone except Mulder thought she was dead, it was better to be safe than sorry. "Kate," she said, offering neither her hand nor any other information. The truck driver smiled, seemingly happy to know Scully's name. "So, Kate, what's got you so worried?" Scully sighed, and pushed a lock of hair back from her face. "It's a long story." Amelie rolled her eyes a bit. "They usually are, aren't they?" Scully had to grin at that, but she didn't really feel comfortable spilling her guts to this woman - this stranger - no matter how nice she seemed. Amelie glanced at Scully quickly, and said, "I can tell you're missing someone." Scully made a noncommittal sound. Amelie nodded, as if she could empathize. "I can understand that feeling," she said as she gestured up at the picture of the man and the little girl. Scully followed her gaze, and studied the man and girl more carefully. The man was tall with sandy-colored hair, blue eyes, and a warm smile. The little girl had blonde hair that hung around her face in ringlets. She had fawn-colored eyes, and was smiling up at her father. "Your family?" asked Scully, feeling something break apart inside her. She knew she would never have a family. Not with Mulder - and he was the only one she would want one with. Amelie nodded, and clicked the turn signal on, to move out into the passing lane. As she did, the tape ended and churned a while, before turning over onto the other side. Soon, the singer's clear voice and piano filled the cab of the truck again. "I don't get to see them much, because of my work." Scully nodded, and returned her gaze to the woman. "So your husband stays home with your daughter?" "Yeah, and he does a wonderful job. He never complains. My daughter's almost six now." "What's her name?" asked Scully, embarrassed to find that there were tears in her eyes. Roads never to be taken... Amelie smiled, and glanced back up at her daughter. "Ella," she said. "Ella Marie." Scully felt her heart jump to her throat, and she turned to Amelie, eyes wide. "Wh-What did you say her name was?" Amelie looked at Scully strangely for a moment, as if unable to understand why Scully was so shocked. "Her name's Ella Marie." Scully was suddenly lost in memories of a long dark night that threatened to envelop her. Carefully, she tried to work herself free of the memories, and shook her head. "I can't believe it..." This had to be some kind of sign. It had to mean something. But what? "What?" asked Amelie. "Do you know somebody by that name?" Scully pulled herself out of her thoughts and memories, and wiped at her eyes with her good arm. "Umm...yeah...kind of. I once KNEW someone called 'Ella.'" "Really?" Scully nodded. "Yes. It's a pretty name." "You have kids?" Scully shook her head. "No...I'm not even married..." Amelie's eyes widened. "Come on. Someone as pretty and smart as you are? Why not?" Scully shrugged, and decided she had to give the woman some tidbit or she would appear too secretive. "There's only one man I'd ever want to marry, but he doesn't want to marry me." Amelie didn't seem to be able to comprehend this. "Why not? Is he already married?" Scully looked away at that question. "You could say that. If there's one thing he'd marry, it would be his work." Amelie made an 'O' with her mouth, and nodded. "One of those, eh?" "Yes. He's very dedicated. He's been looking for...there's something he's worked for his entire life, and I can't ask him to walk away from that," she said, thanking God that she had stopped herself before saying too much. Amelie nodded again as if she understood, but Scully knew she didn't. "Where are you headed?" Scully took a deep breath. "Window Rock, Arizona. I have to pick something up there, and then I think I'll take a little vacation - maybe down to Mexico..." "You be careful down there in Mexico. There are some bad places down there." "You've been there before?" asked Scully, not really interested, but it was better than silence. "Yeah," said Amelie. "I used to drive truck down into Mexico for the last company I worked for. I saw enough to know that it's rough down there - especially for a woman who's traveling alone." Scully patted her Smith and Wesson - the one that was hers and not the Bureau's - hidden under her jacket and smiled. "I think I'll be okay. I can take care of myself." "What happened to your arm?" Amelie asked. Scully looked right at Amelie, her expressionless mask in place. "Car accident." Amelie nodded, and moved on to the next topic. "Do you think you'll ever see him again? I'd like to see you have a happy ending. You seem so sad and lonely." Scully shook her head, blinking back tears, and wondered if everyone saw her as some pitiful lonely woman? Did she wear her heartache like a badge? Was it so easy to detect? "For his own sake," Scully said, "I hope I never see him again. Being with me wouldn't make him happy, and I think he's realized that by now. But I'll miss him every day." "Why wouldn't he be happy with you?" Scully really didn't feel like getting into it right then, especially with a stranger. "There's something from his past that he has to deal with, and until he does, I'd be no good to him." "Sounds like he has a lot of things to work out," Amelie observed. Scully agreed softly. "Yeah, he does. I just hope it all works out for him some day." "What about things working out for you?" Scully shrugged. "I can take care of myself. I can get through most anything. Like I always say: a little pain, and it'll be over." Amelie whistled through her teeth. "And I thought *I* had troubles." Scully swallowed dryly, wishing to put some distance between herself and the pain that Amelie had brought to the surface. "How did you meet your husband?" she asked. As Amelie told her the story, Scully hoped that wherever Mulder was, he was safe, and had forgotten about her already. It was the best thing for him. * * * Window Rock, Arizona June 13, 1998 8:02 pm Amelie smiled as she watched Kate jump down from her truck, taking only one bag with her. Before Kate shut the door, Amelie said, "You remember what I said! Be careful! And don't give up on him just yet!" Amelie saw the woman's eyes turn wistful, and then she nodded up at the truck. Amelie watched her wave goodbye, then turn and walk down the main street of Window Rock, the last few remaining wisps of sunlight making her hair stand out like a spark from a single match. As the last song on Amelie's tape ended, filling the cab with a deafening kind of silence, she prayed that Kate would be okay, and that she got all she ever wanted. Though the song was over, its chorus still seemed to be resounding in the truck's cab, and for some reason, the words made Amelie shiver: <...We'll see how brave you are...we'll see how fast you'll be running...> * * * Window Rock, Arizona June 14, 1998 8:05 am ------------------------------------------- Of all the faces in my heart There's only one I choose I come back to you Always you ------------------------------------------- Scully walked into the Post Office in Window Rock quietly, feeling as though everyone was looking at her; knew exactly who she was. She was sure that one of The Smoking Man's henchmen, or Grant, would burst inside at any moment and take her away to kill her for real. Stop it, she told herself. No one knows who you are. You don't look like yourself, remember? True, she had gone to great lengths to make sure that she would not be recognized. The night before, after Amelie had dropped her off she had headed straight for the local pharmacy and bought some hair dye. Then she had rented the cheapest motel room she could find, and set about hiding her natural auburn color. When she finished, she hadn't been able to believe how different she looked. She had stood before the mirror for a long time, just looking. Her hair was now a pale blonde, and during her time on the run, it had grown a bit longer than she usually kept it, so it looked a little wild. Finally, she had turned the light out, stripped down to her underwear, and wearily climbed beneath the covers, falling quickly to sleep. Now she stood in the Post Office in jeans and a tank top, sunglasses, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, holding her one bag in her left hand. She still wore a sling on her right. The second she had entered the building, she had scanned the room for Mulder, but didn't really expect to find him. She knew that she had made the right choice, and he was back in DC, back with the X-Files, back looking for Samantha. Still, it hurt, and she had to blink quickly to keep sudden hot tears back. You knew he wouldn't come. You made sure of it, the little voice inside told her. You know he's better off without you. You've got to do this by yourself. You're alone. Get used to it. When it was her turn, she stepped up to the counter, but soon realized that she had never told Mulder what name to use. How could she ask for her package if she didn't know who she was? "Can I help you," asked the woman behind the counter. Scully didn't dare ask if there was a package for a Dana Scully. She had no idea who was lurking in the shadows. She didn't know what to do. "Miss?" prompted the woman, quickly becoming annoyed. Scully was completely at a loss. There were millions of names that Mulder might have picked. She would never guess the right one. And she couldn't risk calling Mulder. If The Smoking Man found out somehow, Mulder would be dead in less than half an hour. No, she had made the mistake, and now she had to live with it. She would simply have to try and make it out of the country illegally. Maybe she could stow away on a boat, or a small airplane. Scully shook her head at the woman, and turned from the counter, tears of frustration and fear in her eyes. "Never mind," she said absently, already trying to figure out a way to get out of the country safely. She was so busy trying to find a way to make it to safety that she wasn't looking where she was going. She made a short sound of surprise when she bumped into a man. "Sorry," she mumbled, not wanting to look at him. "You look like you could use some help," he said, a smile in his voice. The moment he spoke, Scully's head had snapped up, and she found herself looking into Fox Mulder's hazel eyes. * * * 8:30 am They had quickly walked outside and around the corner, hoping for a few moments of privacy. Scully was ecstatic to see him, but also worried that he had taken such a risk. She also knew that there was no way she would let him come with her. Only because she knew it wasn't what he really wanted. So, she would make it easy for him to leave her. "Mulder, what are you doing here?" she whispered, looking quickly around them to make sure that no one was paying them undue attention. Mulder looked down at her. "I think that in this situation, I should be the one asking the questions. After all, YOU ditched ME." "I did it because I knew you couldn't chose," she said matter-of-factly. "I was trying to spare you the pain of even THINKING about having to choose." Mulder smiled a bit. "Scully, leaving me a 'Dear John' letter AFTER you asked me to come with you didn't exactly keep me from thinking about it." "I know," she said, running her hands over her face. "It was stupid. I let my heart rule my brain for a few moments, and now you're paying for it. I'm sorry." "Scully, I'm glad you let your heart have a say for once," Mulder said, taking her hand. She looked up at him, confused. "What?" "Did you think I was just going to let you walk out of my life?" She turned her back to him, her eyes bright with tears. "I THOUGHT that's the impression I would give you when I left. It would be best, don't you think? I can't come home, Mulder, and you can't come with me - I won't let you. So where does that leave us?" Mulder turned her around and gently touched her cheek. "Scully, I believe it was Spock who told Captain Kirk that EVERY problem has a solution." She nodded, "Every problem DOES have a solution, Mulder - on television." "No, Scully. I truly believe that we can find a way to work something out. " She sighed, and reached back to let her hair fall free. When she did, Mulder apparently finally noticed her new hair color. He reached out and took a few locks between his fingers, seemingly entranced. "You moonlighting as Goldilocks, Scully?" Scully pulled away a bit. "I have to take precautions, Mulder. And this is one of them. It'll wash out eventually." He nodded, and pulled her close. "I just miss MY Scully." She didn't want to return his embrace, but she loved him and couldn't help it. Her uninjured arm slid behind his back, and she held him tightly to her. "I love you, Scully." His words brought forth a sob, but she quickly got herself under control. "That's not going to do us a lot of good in this situation." Mulder pulled away. "What do you mean?" Scully looked around them again, feeling nervous and watched. "Mulder, you may love me, but you love your sister more." Mulder immediately shook his head. "You can't compare the two, Scully." "Mulder, we've had this discussion already, and I really can't bear to have it again. I would never be able to live with myself if I knew that you gave up your sister for me." He looked straight at her. "I've done it before, Scully." She was momentarily stunned, but then remembered to what he was referring. For a split-second, she was back on that bridge, and it was so cold, it hurt to breathe. She could feel the Bounty Hunter's arm around her neck, cutting off most of her air. She could see Mulder at the other end - close and yet very far away - standing there with his sister. She had looked into his eyes, expecting to see sorrow - sorrow because he just couldn't - WOULDN'T - trade his sister for her. And she had been ready to look at him in understanding, but Scully hadn't seen sorrow, or pity, or guilt. Just a fierce loyalty, resolute determination, and anger. Scully blinked a few times, bringing herself back to the present. "I know you have, Mulder. So there's no way I'll let you do it again." "Scully, Frohike said something to me that I hadn't really realized before." "What?" "He said that since we met, I haven't been as diligent in my search for Sam as I once was." Scully's eyes widened. "That's not true, Mulder." He held up his hand, silently asking her to let him finish. "He also said that if I came with you, I could look for Samantha just as much and as well as I have been. He further went on to say that recently, I have subconsciously accepted not getting Sam back, as long as I have you." Scully saw the look in Mulder's eyes, and she knew that Frohike had been right. "My, Frohike has become quite the pop psychologist." "He must be right, because when he said it, I got very angry." "Is that all that Doctor Frohike had to say?" asked Scully, a little brightness returning to her voice. "No. There's more. He also said that I knew all of that, and that's why I couldn't give you an answer right away, when you asked me to come with you." "You were scared," said Scully, just realizing it. Mulder nodded. "Yes. Scared, and probably angry with myself." Scully's eyes softened, and she reached up to stroke his cheek. "Mulder, you had no reason to be angry with yourself. I gave you an impossible choice, and I hate myself for it. I THOUGHT I fixed it when I left without you." Mulder shook his head. "No, Scully. I've given Sam over twenty-five years of my life. I think it's time I gave some to myself...and to you." He leaned close to her and kissed her softly. "Mulder, you're not giving up?" she asked, after the kiss was over. "No. Not giving up. Just letting go a little, and holding onto what's most important in my life. I'll still look for her, and I still love her and want her back, but it's time to move forward." Scully felt a tear slide down her cheek, and she loved the man before her more than she ever thought she could. "Mulder, are you sure? I want you to do what makes you happy." Mulder smiled, and pulled Scully close again. "YOU make me happy, Scully. Only you." Scully smiled. He smiled back at her. "There's just one problem, Scully." She looked up at him. "Only one?" He grinned a little. "Byers reminded me that I just can't disappear. It would look too suspicious." Scully lowered her eyes. "Oh, I see." Maybe he didn't want to come with her. Maybe he would tell her he would, and that he'd see her soon, but then never show up. No, she told herself. Mulder wouldn't do that to me. "What did Byers suggest?" she finally asked, when she was sure she had herself under control. "He said that I should do things gradually. Sort of give up slowly, and in the end, tell Skinner that I'm burnt out, still not over your death, and that I just want to leave, and put it all behind me." "How long did Byers say you should take?" "There's no easy way to tell you this, Scully." Mulder sighed. Byers suggested a year. Maybe two." Scully's reaction was true to form: quiet surprise, but then stoic acceptance. "Okay. I guess he would know best." Then she stepped back from him, and picked up her bag, feeling hot tears pricking at her eyes. "Why don't you give me my new ID and passport, and I'll see you whenever, then." Mulder looked in shock at her outstretched hand. "Scully, it's not what you think." She wouldn't look at him. "Mulder, if it's going to cause you that much trouble and time, why don't we just forget it? It's not worth it. I'M not worth it." Mulder seemed dumbfounded. He took hold of her by her shoulders, and made sure she was looking at him. "Scully, you ARE worth it. You're my entire world, and I'm not going to let you walk off into the sunset again! I've done that twice in my life, and I will NOT do it again!" he said, his voice rising a bit at the end. Scully looked at him, trying to see if he was telling her the truth, or just what he thought she wanted to hear. In the end, she sagged against him tears falling silently. "Okay, Mulder...okay..." "Now," he said after a while, "I can't NOT see you for a year, so we have to figure something out." "What?" she asked, her head buried in his shoulder. He looked down at her. "We'll think of something...we always do..." * * * CONTINUED IN PART B OF PART FIVE THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART FIVE: WHAT DREAMS MAY COME (continued) "Now," he said after a while, "I can't NOT see you for a year, so we have to figure something out." "What?" she asked, her head buried in his shoulder. He looked down at her. "We'll think of something...we always do..." * * * Ten Months Later Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island April 22, 1999 7:45 pm ------------------------------------------- When you love someone so deeply They become your life It's easy to succumb To overwhelming fears inside ------------------------------------------- Scully was panicking. The lovely dinner that she had prepared for him was ready, and if he didn't walk through the door in the next ten minutes, it would be ruined. After all, she could only hold the chicken for so long. After checking on it one last time, she rushed out to the patio, which overlooked the ocean, and tried to see if a boat was down there at the docks. She couldn't make anything out. Her small house sat high on the top of a hill, and overlooked the ocean and one of the small towns on Santa Cruz Island. When she had first come here, she hadn't felt particularly comfortable about living so close to an actual town. She had wanted to build a small house on Cocos Island, which was uninhabited and densely wooded, but in the end, she had realized that she would need people and supplies from time to time. Sighing in frustration and worry, she sat down on the adirondack chair and closed her eyes, praying that he was all right. A few seconds later she dropped her head into her hands, and tried to stop herself from crying. Maybe he wasn't coming. Perhaps he had just told her anything to get rid of her, and had no intention of ever seeing her again. Maybe everything he said in Window Rock had been a lie, and he was back in DC, looking for Sam, and not even having a passing thought about her. No, she told herself. He wouldn't do that. If he hadn't wanted to come, he would have told me in Arizona. Besides, they had formulated a plan. He had spent considerable time thinking about it, and working it all out. No, he had been serious when he told her he loved her and wanted to be with her. So, something else had to be wrong. What if They had followed him and hurt him? Killed him? Perhaps they were on their way to finish her off? If he was dead, she knew that she would have no reason to go on living. Oh, God, please let him be all right, she prayed. Scully suddenly remembered another time when she had been this worried about Mulder - this panicked about his whereabouts. She had been married to Grant about six months. Due to the constant surveillance he and the Smoking Man kept her under, she had no way to contact Mulder and only saw him in stolen glimpses when she had to go to FBI Headquarters, which wasn't often. By mid-February of 1998, however, it had been six weeks since she'd seen even his shadow. \\::\\:://::// Fourteen Months Earlier Scully and Grant's Residence Annapolis, MD February 14, 1998 10:25 pm ------------------------------------------ One day I'll fly away Leave all this to yesterday Why live life from dream to dream? And dread the day when dreaming ends? ------------------------------------------ Scully sat on the couch in the living room and did her best to appear confident and at ease, but her stomach was coiled into a knot of complete terror. Since her marriage to Grant and subsequent isolation from most everyone and everything she had ever known, she had done her best to try and find ways to keep tabs on Mulder. She managed to catch little outwardly innocent glimpses of him from time to time. She knew his schedules and routines well enough to be able to place herself in the FBI Headquarters lobby at a time when he would walk by. She usually never had to wait longer than ten minutes, and that wasn't long enough to arouse suspicion. Other times, she made sure to drive home by way of the Potomac, hoping to see him sitting on their favorite bench. Once, she had even risked walking by the Profiling Department and had seen him inside. And then, suddenly, she hadn't been able to find him anywhere. For six weeks, Scully had casually passed by his usual haunts and found nothing. Not a trace of him anywhere. She had even gone so far as to check the Office of Professional Review's schedule to see if Mulder had done something to warrant a suspension. It was as if some God had reached down and pulled him up into the clouds. Each route had led her to a dead end, and by the sixth week she had become frantic. Scully knew there was only one avenue left her. She had gone to Grant, and as subtly as possible, told him that before she would continue with their charade, she wanted updates on Mulder. Specifically, she wanted confirmation that he was alive as of some recent date. Scully had expected Grant to reject her demand out of hand, but surprisingly, after a mysterious phone call, he had agreed. So now, a few days later, she sat in a room with Grant and the Smoking Man, waiting for that which she had been promised. "Personally, I think you're being a bit overly dramatic, Scully," said the Smoking Man as he blew out a great cloud of smoke. He was not far from the door, leaning against the wall. Grant sat opposite Scully in an armchair. The Smoking Man rolled the cigarette in his fingers in an introspective manner. "I told you that as long as you kept your end of the bargain, Mulder would not be harmed." Scully stared at him, unflinching. "Forgive me if I don't take you at your word. You won't talk me out of it. Unless I get proof of life, I'll walk out of here tonight - damn the consequences." "Are you sure about those consequences, Dana?" asked Grant, his voice mean and chiding. Scully blinked furiously, fighting tears with every ounce of strength she had. Reaching up, she touched the cut on the corner of her mouth and tried to forget about the bruise on her cheek. Thinking about it made her feel weak and useless. Turning slowly to Grant, she said, "I'm sure, Grant. I get current proof of life or this whole thing ends tonight." "Show her," said the Smoking Man. Grant obeyed and put a tape into the VCR. Scully immediately sat up straighter and moved forward in her seat. The black screen brightened into the luminescent greens of a night vision camera. She could see a row of buildings in what looked like a strip mall. Cars zoomed in and out of the frame, and people rushed in and out of the three or four stores. Suddenly, her gaze was drawn to the third building and her mouth went dry. The Green Panda. It was Mulder's favorite Chinese restaurant. He went there at least three times a week, favoring pizza or cheesesteaks most other nights. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the Smoking Man, and nodded in approval. "That's Mulder's favorite Chinese place," she said. The Smoking Man looked down at her as though she were a small child. "Of course, which is why we chose it. As I predicted, Mulder has lost much of his interest in pursuing X-Files. Since your departure, he has steadily retreated from even the minimal social life he once had, and now spends all his time in his apartment when he is not at work." Scully nodded. At least that explained why she hadn't seen Mulder in so long. Something bad had happened, so he had gone into hibernation. Classic Mulder. Scully looked back to the screen in time to see a dark-colored car pull into a space in front of the Green Panda. She watched as the driver's side door opened, and held her breath as a man exited the vehicle. Was it Mulder? Could it be? Was he all right? Suddenly, the camera zoomed in quickly, closing in on the man's face as he stood by the side of the car, locking it. For a moment, he stared right into the camera, almost as though he knew it was there. And the moment the camera focused and the image became clear, Scully felt dizzy and giddy and reassured. She let out the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and put a hand over her heart. "Oh, thank God..." It was him. Mulder was safe. She watched as he stepped up onto the sidewalk, moving past a row of newspaper stands, and slipped into the doors of the Green Panda. But her happiness was cut viciously short when she realized that it could all be a trick. There was nothing in what she had seen that proved to her it was current. "Wait," she said, her voice hard. "Where's the proof?" Grant sighed and paused the tape. "Proof of what?" he asked. "You can see that Mulder is quite alive." Scully turned to look at him, her eyes cold. "Nothing in what I just saw proves that this was recorded recently. You could have taken this last year, for all I know." "You are relentless," Grant sneered, rewinding the tape a few frames. Scully watched in a slight state of detachment as Mulder walked backwards out of the Green Panda and got back into his car. "Watch," Grant said, and pressed PLAY again and, as before, Mulder walked up to the sidewalk, and passed the newspaper stands. At this point, the camera zoomed in even further - a fact that Scully had missed on the first viewing. Mulder opened the door to the restaurant and walked inside. After the door swung shut, the camera zoomed in on a piece of paper taped to the glass door, and Grant paused the tape again. The paper read: "Dish washer needed to work nights and weekends. Must start by 2/11/98. Inquire within." Scully gasped and her hands came up to cover her face as waves of relief passed over her. When she took her hands away, they were shaking. "He's alive," she said, finally. "He's really alive." "Then you accept this surveillance video as a current proof of life?" asked the Smoking Man. Sully didn't answer him. Instead, she reached out and took the remote from Grant, ignoring his petulant look, and rewound the tape back to when Mulder got out of his car. She paused the tape on the close-up of his face - a face she hadn't really seen for many months - and just stared at him. She found herself mesmerized by the fascinating and unending simple beauty of another human being. Mulder's face was especially beautiful to her and she felt her whole body ache at the thought that she might never see it again. She looked closer at his countenance and saw the sadness in his eyes and the pain etched in the lines around his mouth. She watched the way he held himself when he walked - as though he were not really a part of the world around him. He seemed separate - almost as though he walked THROUGH the world, rather than IN it. A tear slipped down her cheek and she felt the great well of sorrow inside her deepen even further, her soul shrinking and weakening. God, she missed him. She ached for his presence. How could she live the rest of her life without him? How could she go on living this horrible existence? She felt as though she would split into a thousand pieces if she were made to live out her days with Grant, the Smoking Man looking over her shoulder. This is all for Mulder, she reminded herself. If I quit, he dies. If I give up, he dies. With a deep breath, Scully gathered what courage and resolve she had left and said, "A little pain...a little pain...just a little pain..." The rest of her mantra faded as she found the strength inside and forced herself to look the Smoking Man right in the eyes. "Scully, is this video acceptable to you as a current proof of life?" he asked again, his voice tinged with annoyance. Scully nodded and wiped the tears from her face, her walls in place. "Yes, it is acceptable." "Thank God!" Grant exclaimed, sinking back into his chair. The Smoking Man smiled one of his sickening, out-of-place smiles, and reached into his coat pocket. "Good. I'm glad you're satisfied. Now," he said, pulling out an 8 by 10 photo, "keep this as a sign of good faith." He took a few steps forward and placed it facedown on the coffee table. Scully leaned forward and picked it up, turning it over. It was a screen capture of almost the exact frame at which she had paused the videotape. The sight of Mulder made her want to cry. How alone and lost he looked. Tears welled up in her eyes and she couldn't seem to blink them away. Looking back up at the Smoking Man, she said, "Why have you given this to me?" "Just as I said, Scully. It's an act of good faith." She looked down at the picture again, touching it gently. "Thank you," she whispered. "My pleasure, Scully," he said grandly, as though he had done something monumental for her; as though he had helped her out of some distress instead of being the one that put her in it. The tone of his reply and the meaning behind it angered her and her voice was icy when she spoke. "I'll expect monthly updates." She couldn't be sure, but she thought she caught a slight hitch in his breath before he answered. "Ahh...of course. You can expect them at month's end." "This is ridiculous!" Grant shrieked. "She has no right to ask for anything, let alone DEMAND it!" Scully looked up in time to see the Smoking Man shoot Grant a nasty glare. "Considering all that Scully has sacrificed for our cause, I don't think that her request is unreasonable." Grant looked away, sulking. "Fine. Whatever." Scully stood on wobbly knees, holding Mulder's picture to her chest. "Goodbye," she said to the Smoking Man, but her gaze was on the TV screen, the tape still paused on Mulder's face. As she turned to head towards her bedroom, she found that the anxiety that had thrived within her for six weeks had faded into a dull longing; heartache by a different name. \\::\\:://::// Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island April 22, 1999 7:50 pm Scully opened her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to chase away the memories of those awful times. She looked once more down at the small harbor. She saw the sun setting, and she swore she could hear it sizzling as it seemingly slipped into the ocean. She saw the palm and jungle trees swaying in the soft tropical breeze, and heard the small spider monkeys and gibbons chattering to each other as night fell on the island jungle. The sky was now a mosaic of red, orange, yellow, and deep, midnight blue. Soon, the rising moon would have reign, and cast a white glow upon the darkened tropical forest. After one more wasted glance down at the harbor, she bowed her head again, and begged God to keep him safe. * * * 8:00 pm Scully had almost given up all hope of ever seeing Mulder again. She knew she was probably being irrational - that Mulder had probably just been held up somewhere - but she couldn't stop her imagination from taking over. And it was merciless. In her mind, she saw Mulder lying in a ditch somewhere, his car overturned... She saw him running for his life, Grant's gun aimed at his head... She saw Mulder being thrown from the small boat that carried him to Isla Isabella, the sharks closing in... But the worst image that played out in her mind was the one where Mulder had decided not to come - not to ever see her again - and let her fade into his memory. Scully tried to tell herself that wasn't what had happened, but as the time stretched out, her optimism began to fade. After all, she told herself, he WAS better off without her. Well, if that was how it was, then she would have to accept it. She closed her eyes, sighing, trying to gather her strength. "Just a little...pain..." she began, her heart not really in it, "...and it will be over..." But Scully knew that it would be more than just a little bit of pain. It would take eternity and every last piece of her broken heart to get over losing Mulder. After taking a few moments to compose herself, she stood up and walked inside her small house. Her small, lonely, empty house. Scully looked at the table that she had so painstakingly decorated, blinked back tears full of pain, and blew the candles out. * * * 8:10 pm Mulder reached the top of the small hill where Scully's house sat, and stopped to catch his breath. The sun had set a few minutes ago, but he had had enough light to find what he had wanted. He knew he was a little late, but he was sure that Scully wouldn't be too worried. After all, flights to small tropical islands weren't exactly dependable, and the owner of the small boat that carried him to this island hadn't been ready to leave when Mulder arrived. Rested, Mulder walked towards the house, and only then did he notice that no lights were on inside. Immediately, he was on alert, and his breathing quickened. He dropped the precious bundle he had spent so much time gathering, and ran towards the house calling her name. Her real name. "Scully! Scully, where are you?" There was no answer. Silence pressed in on him from all sides. "SCULLY!" he yelled, louder this time. His heart was threatening to burst from his chest. He rushed towards the house as he thought of what COULD have happened to her. Behind him, forgotten on the ground, lay a bouquet of island flowers. * * * 8:12 pm Scully was lying down in her bedroom, in the dark, when she heard it. Her name. Someone was shouting her name. Her real name. She sat up - ramrod straight - as a thousand emotions and instincts ran through her. What if it was Grant? What if he had found her and was coming to kill her? Suddenly the shadows lurking in the room, which were comforting a moment ago, now seemed sinister and deadly. Someone could be hiding in those shadows. Someone could be waiting for just the right moment to pull the trigger and end her life. Scully shuddered, trying to push away her fear so she could think clearly. Instinct told her to run and hide - to make herself as small as possible and be as quiet and still as death. She rose from the bed, listening intently. "SCULLY!" "Oh my God!" Scully was running as fast as she could, her heart hammering away inside her chest, her breath gone. She ran to the front door, flinging the screen door open, calling his name. "MULDER! Mulder! I'm here!" Suddenly, he came into sight. He had been around the side of the house, apparently. When Scully saw him, a thousand tidal waves broke over her soul, and she felt a sob working its way up to the surface. Mulder's frenzied gaze came to rest on her, and she saw that he was panting, his whole body shaking with fear. He crossed to her in a few steps and she was in his arms before she could utter one more word. The moment she felt his arms around her, and knew that he was safe, her walls crumbled into dust, and she sobbed pitifully. She didn't stop for a long time. * * * Fourteen Months Later Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island June 9, 2000 6:03 pm ------------------------------------------- So call me a bitch in heat And I'll call you a liar And we'll throw stones until we're dead ------------------------------------------- She sat in a lounge chair on the patio outside her small villa, dozing. She wore a white t-shirt, black capri pants, sunglasses, and a large straw hat to shade her pale skin from the harsh sun. A tall glass of pink lemonade stood on a small table next to her. She was just about to truly fall asleep, when the cry of a few seagulls broke through to her, and she opened her eyes, thankful for the hat and sunglasses she wore. She turned to look at the ocean - the ever-churning water - and smiled. He would be coming soon. And he would never leave her again. This time was for keeps. Scully got up and stepped inside her small house quietly, pushing a few stubborn locks of auburn hair behind her ears. She kept her hair short, the same length as when she worked for the Bureau, but it still seemed too long in this tropical environment. She toyed daily with the idea of cutting it to Winona Ryder length. She padded silently into the kitchen - painted a pale, soothing green - and checked on the progress of the dinner she was preparing. Walking over to the stove, she peeked in the window, and saw that the chicken was cooking nicely. Then she walked over to the refrigerator, and took out some juice for herself. Suddenly the thought of lemonade made her queasy. As she stood in her kitchen, drinking grape juice and letting the smell of chicken, potatoes, and squash wash over her, she thought of how much had changed in such a short span of time. She was a different person. A person who could love Mulder freely. As Rachel Marron - she still chuckled over Byer's secret little obsession - she was able to love him as Dana Scully would never have been allowed. There were no Bureau rules for Rachel Marron; indeed, there was no BUREAU for Rachel Marron. And somehow, Rachel Marron seemed more comfortable with loving someone than Dana Scully had been. Dana had been a woman drawn to powerful men - men like Jack and Mulder - but too afraid to lose control to love them completely. But now it seemed that ever since she had died to the rest of the world, she had come alive to herself and been set free. When she had agreed to the Smoking Man's deal, all of her control had been stripped from her. Even now, she had little control over the course of her life, but somehow, it didn't seem to matter anymore. Maybe she had finally realized that control was cold comfort when your life was empty of love. Sometimes - even though she still thought of herself as Dana Scully - she thought that maybe a part of her had actually become Rachel Marron. Knowing that Mulder was coming home for good this time made her smile. It had been a long hard two years, with only two visits from Mulder. It had been all he could afford without seeming suspicious. She had spent so many long and frightening nights alone in this house, starting at every little noise, her heart in her throat. The worst was the night of Mulder's first visit. Scully smiled wistfully at the memory of that night. She had never felt as safe as she had at that moment in Mulder's arms. It was as if once in his embrace, the rest of the world and its problems drifted away and became meaningless - unable to hurt her. That night they had been together for the first time, and Scully smiled again, remembering the feeling of simple completeness that had swept over her. For so long they had been one half of a whole, but that night their souls had fused and Scully felt with a great certainty that not even death could tear them apart. It didn't matter if Mulder was across the room from her, or across the world. She always felt him - his essence, his energy, his soul. He was constantly there in the back of her mind - his crooked grin, his goofy hair, his laughing eyes, his brave spirit. Scully suddenly realized that Mulder would be arriving soon. She looked down at her watch, but before she could read the time, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and a cold chill skittered down her back. Something was wrong. Danger was nearby. Her breath hitched in her throat and before she could turn around to look, a strong hand clamped over her mouth and an equally strong arm snaked around her middle. Scully tried to scream but couldn't manage to make a sound. It didn't much matter if she had - there was no one nearby to hear or help her. The man dragged her into the living room and forced her to kneel on the floor while he tied her arms behind her back. As he did, Scully tried to stay calm and think of a way to get out of this - a way to turn it to her advantage. When he was finished, he dug his fingers into her shoulder as he turned her around to face him. All the color drained from her face. "Grant," she breathed, her eyes wide, her terror rising exponentially. She could have handled one of the Smoking Man's henchmen - or even the Smoking Man himself - but Grant was a different matter altogether. Grant had the ability to reach deep inside her and sweep all of her courage and strength away, leaving a great quivering mass of horror in its place. He could chase FBI Special Agent Dana Scully, M.D. back into the darkest recesses, leaving Dana alone and unprotected, with no idea of how to defend herself. Grant had been looking her over, and had not answered. Finally, his eyes came back to rest on her face, and he raised his eyebrows. "I see you've been busy," he said. His large hand reached out to her, coming closer with every second, until he was touching her swollen belly, now six months pregnant. "Get your hands OFF of me!" Scully hissed, falling onto her back in her haste to get away from him. She had no intentions of letting her and Mulder's child - even though still unborn - anywhere near the demon before her. She had been hoping he wouldn't notice, because even though she WAS six months along, she had not gained much weight. But she should have remembered that Grant was a professional. He missed nothing. She struggled to get back on her feet and onto the nearby couch, feeling like a turtle that had been flipped onto its back. Grant did not offer to help her and he did not seem to be put-off by her obvious hatred of him. "I must say," he said as he peeled his black leather gloves from his hands, "that I am impressed that you managed to evade me for so long." Scully smirked at him, having managed to get up onto the couch. "Gee, thanks. That means absolutely...NOTHING to me." Grant smiled breezily. "No, truly. You have been my best opponent. I tip my hat to you." Scully didn't even bother answering him. The whole conversation was ridiculous and she would not take part in it, but she did wonder at his convivial mood. Grant was a man filled with contempt and hatred, and she didn't think he could keep his cool for long. "You reneged on the deal you made," said Grant, changing subjects and tones in the blink of an eye. "And you did it in the most extreme way, didn't you? You were told to stay married to me and have NO contact with Fox Mulder. Instead, you faked your own death, and now here I find you PREGNANT with his child. You certainly were committed to disobeying your orders." Grant fell silent for a moment, cocking his head, and studying her as though she were a bug under a microscope. "It IS his child, is it not?" he finally asked, a scientific curiosity in his voice. Once again, Scully did not answer. Grant nodded. "Of course it's his. Your insipid notions of true love and soul mates wouldn't allow you to be with anyone else." Scully looked up at him, her blue eyes watery and full of fear. "I wouldn't expect someone like YOU to understand any of those things. You don't even have a heart, Grant." "Perhaps not," he agreed thoughtfully, silently pondering her words for a few seconds. "Well," he finally said, sighing, "I hope that you savored your time with your true love, Dana. You must realize that there will be repercussions for your deceptive actions." Scully's heart began to pound in her ears and she couldn't seem to catch her breath. "No, Grant! Please don't hurt Mulder! None of this is his fault. This was MY deal and MY lie. As soon as I have the baby, you can do whatever you want to me. Just let Mulder and our baby alone." Grant looked down at her disdainfully. "How touching and noble. I do believe that you're the closest thing to a Danielle Steele character that I've ever met in real life." "Promise me, Grant!" Scully shouted, her chest heaving with panic. "And how do you know that my superior hasn't already dealt with Mulder? You broke your promise TWO years ago." His words prompted Scully to look around the house. Long shadows loomed everywhere, telling her that the sun would be setting soon. Mulder should have been there by now. His absence only heightened her fear. "What have you done to Mulder?" she asked, her voice hard with pain and anger. Grant was busy checking his gun, and did not look at her. "I'm afraid I cannot discuss that with you. Suffice it to say that - unlike the last time - you will NEVER see him again. Not in person, not even in pictures." Scully felt her entire soul shrieking with agony - the cacophony pounded inside her skull, and she had to close her eyes against the pain. "Are you telling me..." she trailed off, the raucous agony inside overwhelming her for a moment. She tried again moments later. "Are you telling me that Mulder's dead?" Grant looked away, sighing with boredom. Scully knew Grant's body language well enough to understand what he meant by that. Mulder was dead - probably killed by Grant himself. She hung her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. As Scully sat there, her grief burrowed down to the center of her soul and turned the agony into a fire of hatred and vengeance. Grant was still looking away from her, and in one fluid movement Scully rushed toward him, her shoulder low, and rammed into his midsection. Her attack stole his balance and he fell backwards a few steps. Scully took this opportunity to run towards the kitchen, where she had her gun. She heard something hit the floor and break into a million pieces and knew it was the lamp and vase that had been sitting on the table next to the chair. She made it to the kitchen before Grant caught her again, his right hand wrapping around her throat, his thumb digging into her voice box. She struggled, gasping for breath, while his other hand came around her, knocking the glasses and plates from the counter, as he leaned her over the counter. She whimpered in pain and tried to wriggle free of him, thinking only that she wanted to get to her gun and kill him for killing Mulder. Because of Grant, the innocent life growing inside her would never know its father - never HAVE a father. Revenge consumed her. He moved his thumb and the moment he did, she was coughing and screaming and shouting. "You'll pay for this, Grant! I WILL kill you for this!" Grant chuckled behind her, as he wrapped more rope around her wrists. "I think not, Dana." "You underestimate me, Grant. You killed the only man that I ever loved. You killed the father of this baby growing inside me. I will not rest until you are dead." Grant pushed her down into a chair. "I'm afraid you won't have the chance. After I deliver you, I will finally be rid of you." The way he said those words scared Scully. "Deliver me? What do you mean?" "Everyone in D.C. thinks you're dead, Dana, thanks to your pathetic little ruse. The FBI...your colleagues...your mother...to them you are dead and buried." He smiled then, wiping some sweat from his forehead. "My superiors have decided to use that." Scully swallowed, her heart thumping wildly. "'Use that'?" He nodded. "You're being returned to your rightful owners, Dana. They can use you." Scully knew what he was saying. She was being taken back to whoever had her during her abduction. She would be experimented on again. Used as a pawn in tests and models and simulations - just as before. The last time they had nearly killed her. She shuddered to think what they would do with her now that she had betrayed them. Grant looked down on her, as if she were a prized lab rat. "And the baby? I'm sure that the product of the combination of your and Mulder's DNA will have all of our scientists running to their petri dishes." Scully couldn't even contemplate his words. "What are you talking about? Why is this baby more important than any other born into the world?" Grant rolled his eyes, snickering. "Honestly, Dana, I think all of this time spent running has caused you to forget all of your medical training." Scully's eyes became cold and hard. "That's NOT an answer." "You were abducted, Dana. Mulder was exposed to the black oil." Scully's eyes didn't waver from Grant's face. "Yes, those events seem to ring a bell." "Colonization is imminent. The date is set. The men I work for - the men who took you so long ago - have been working for a way to stop the aliens. Mulder most likely has immunity to the black oil and you survived numerous tests and the addition of branched DNA to your own. A child with such a genetic...heritage...would be very...precious...to the people I work for. Its body would surely hold some of the pieces to the puzzle." His words chilled Scully to her soul. She couldn't bear the thought of her child being whisked away to some cold, emotion-less lab and poked and prodded for the rest of its life. Scully knew she would never let it come to that. She wouldn't allow such a fate. She would do something drastic before she ever let them have her baby. Scully lowered her head to hide her frightened tears from Grant, not wanting him to see her weaknesses. She heard him dialing a cell phone, and waited to see what he would say. "The target has been acquired," he said a few moments later. He listened for a while before he spoke again. "Understood. I will have the merchandise ready and waiting." He hung up then, and Scully raised her head to look at him, the tracks of tears streaking her face. "We have to go," he said officially. "We have a rendezvous point to reach." He moved towards her and pulled her up roughly, checking the ropes. "Let's get going." But she didn't move. She looked up at him, her eyes broken and lost. "Why'd you do it, Grant? Why'd you kill him?" He sneered at her, his real self shining through for a moment. "I'm sure you know. You did not fulfill the promise you made. You knew that if you didn't, Mulder would be killed. It's not very complicated." Scully shook her head, close to oblivion. "No, no, no...it wouldn't have mattered. You're still going to take me away. I won't be with him. It would have still been what HE wanted. Mulder could have lived...he could have lived..." Her voice fell away then as the anguish overtook her and the tears came again. Grant let her cry for a few moments, and then he spoke. "This is all very touching, and I'm sure that a various number of romance writers would be envious, but we have an appointment to keep." He dragged her towards the door. Scully didn't really resist. A dark world had swallowed her when she had learned of Mulder's death, and she was lost in it. Mulder was gone and she was left alone in the world to protect their child. As they walked out the door, Grant looked down at her again. "All you had to do to keep Mulder alive was stick to your end of the bargain. But you thought you could outsmart the people that took you away from him in the first place. You brought all of this on yourself, Dana." She whimpered then, and all hope left her soul in a hurried rush, like a thousand doves flying away. * * * Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island June 9, 2000 7:52 pm ------------------------------------------- All my plans have fallen through All my plans depend on you Depend on you to help them grow I love you and that's all I know ------------------------------------------- Mulder walked through the door smiling and calling her name. The moment he stepped across the threshold, goosebumps crawled up his arms and his heart began to pound. There was something very wrong here. He was beginning to get a sense of deja'vu. Even though there were lights on inside the house - unlike last time - he got the distinct impression that something horrible had happened. He walked into the kitchen and the scent of something burning drifted to his nostrils. He made his way to the stove, but stopped cold when he saw the broken plates and glasses on the floor. Walking to the stove, Mulder bent down and looked inside. The now singed chicken and potatoes were black and crumbled in on themselves, and the squash that had been cooking on the stovetop had long since boiled over and the water had dried white and thick. He turned the stove and burner off as he looked around the house. "Scully?" he called again, hoping against hope that she had had an accident with the plates and maybe had fallen asleep. But he got no answer. Walking into the living room, his heart leapt to his throat when he saw the lamp and vase laying in a million pieces on the carpet. "No..." he said, as he bent down to examine the pieces. But he got no real help from the shattered glass and ceramic. There wasn't any blood on the pieces - no hair - not a shred of anything that would tell him what happened or what to do next. Pushing himself to his feet again he quickly checked the rest of the house but did not find Scully. The longer he searched, the more the realization that Scully had been taken dawned on him, and his heart began to race faster and faster. Scully was pregnant - almost six months now - and she couldn't take a lot of stress. When he thought about someone - and he knew that it was probably Grant that had found her - grabbing her or hurting her, a bitter taste formed in the back of his mouth, and biting anger coiled in the pit of his stomach. If Grant did anything to endanger the life of Scully or their baby, Mulder knew that he would kill him - no thought of consequences or morality. He WOULD kill him. Knowing that nothing would be gained from waiting at the house, Mulder walked towards the door, stopping at the threshold to look around. His gaze was caught by the mark of footprints in the soft earth to the left. There were two sets - one large and the other a little smaller. Mulder knew without a doubt that they belonged to Grant and Scully. Checking to make sure his gun was still in its holster, Mulder set off after them. As he walked, he glanced out at the ocean. The sun was setting, seeming to sink into the water, its blood-red rays reaching out for him. He shuddered and turned his gaze away from the sun. * * * CONTINUED IN PART SIX THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART SIX: HANGING BY A THREAD Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island June 9, 2000 8:30 pm ------------------------------------------- I had a good life Before you came I had my friends and my freedom And I had my name ------------------------------------------- Scully tripped on a large tree root and stumbled, trying not to fall. With her hands bound behind her, the extra weight of the baby, and the perilous route, it was hard to keep her footing. It was also dark now, with only Grant's flashlight to light their way. He walked behind her, his gun at the ready, and only shone the light in front of her every once in a while. They had been walking - on and off - for a little over two hours, and her back was screaming in protest, along with her calves. Her lungs were burning from the strain, and with every breath she took she was plunged into an icy river of pain, little shivering needles sinking deep. The longer she walked, the more she became aware of a cramping feeling down low on her abdomen, below her navel. Scully knew she was exerting herself too much. They were walking up a low-grade hill that wouldn't have been a problem normally, but it was the third one since they left the house. She realized that a helicopter was most likely going to pick them up, and so they had to get as high as possible, but she didn't know how much longer she could go on at this pace. "Grant," she said, her breathing ragged. "I need to stop. I can't go any further. It's not good for the baby." "Keep walking," he said, his voice even and unemotional. He wasn't breathing hard - wasn't even winded. Scully reached out for a tree branch, pulling herself up the hill. "Grant, please. I can't-" "It's not much farther," he said, cutting her off. "I have to deliver the goods on time." Scully's eyes narrowed in hatred. "Can you please refrain from referring to me as a product to my face?" Grant did not reply, and Scully was too exhausted to pursue the discussion. She stole a glance up at the stars, and in a rush it hit her all over again: Mulder was dead. Grant had killed him. She was now alone in the world except for their baby. The revelation felt like a huge weight thrust upon her shoulders, and it only made her more tired and blurred her vision with tears. It just didn't seem possible that Mulder was dead. She had always thought that if he died, she would feel different inside - that there would be a part of herself that he took with him. But she felt the same inside. She did not feel a gaping hole where Mulder's presence had been. How could she reconcile that with the fact that Mulder WAS dead? Was it her poor heart playing tricks on her? Was it simply that her broken heart was unable - unwilling - to acknowledge the truth of the situation? Would it ever be able to accept that Mulder was gone? They reached the top of the hill, but Scully was too lost in her thoughts to notice - or to see that a clearing had opened up. A clearing that was just big enough to allow a helicopter to land. "Stop and sit," Grant ordered, breaking into her reverie. With a heavy hand on her arm, he pushed her down into the soft green grass. Scully followed his orders without resistance, and even lay down on her side, hoping to give her back a rest. It was a little uncomfortable with her hands tied behind her back, but it was better than traipsing around the forest. Scully didn't even consider asking Grant to untie her. She knew he wouldn't. He wouldn't give her any kind of advantage. She looked up at the stars again, and felt a pang deep inside - so sharp that she had to hold her breath until the worst passed. Mulder had been able to bring about her deepest love for another person. It made sense that he would bring out her deepest grief. Mulder, she thought, a tear slipping down her cheek. Please keep us safe. She closed her eyes, and tried to gather herself as best she could, not wanting to appear weak in front of Grant. Her eyes snapped open at the sound of him dialing his phone again. Moments later, he spoke: "Rendezvous reached. Awaiting pick-up." He said nothing more and ended the call. Then he took the flashlight and put it between them, face-up, as some sort of odd campfire. Scully followed the stream of light as it arced up past the trees and disappeared into the inky night. "You've healed well, Dana. I'm amazed." Scully's head snapped back down to look at him, astonishment in her eyes. "Excuse me?" Grant sneered and slowly touched the corner of his eye, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, and his lips. He stroked them. "I said you've HEALED quite nicely." "Not quite," said Scully, her eyes narrowed in anger. "I still have one reminder of you," she said, referring to the scar on her cheek. Grant shrugged, obviously feeling no remorse for his actions. "It's most becoming...for a scar. It's some of my best work, though sadly, you can barely see it." Scully looked him straight in the eyes, trying to look strong, but deep down, she was beginning to shake with memories of too many horrible nights. "There are some scars that can't be seen, Grant." Grant sighed, apparently tiring of the discussion. "Don't worry. When you're back where you belong, emotional trauma will be the LEAST of your worries." His words scared her and angered her at the same time, and she had to look away, afraid she would say something that would bring out the Grant she knew so well. The Grant who had given her her multitude of scars - the seen and unseen. "Now, now, be good..." she heard him say. The words were like a switch, and they pushed her back into a memory she had tried so hard to forget - but one that always found her in her nightmares. \\::\\:://::// Two and a Half Years Earlier Scully and Grant's Residence Annapolis, MD December 21, 1997 11:34 pm ------------------------------------------ Look at me - at all I've done I've lost so many things that I so dearly loved I lost my soul - I lost my pride I lost any hope of having a sweet life So I cry ------------------------------------------ The porcelain felt cool against her forehead - like the cool cloth her mother used to place on her brow whenever she had a fever. If she tried hard enough, she could almost pretend that she was eight years old again and back there, in their house in San Diego. She could smell the wisteria-scented candle her mother would light, and feel the soft navy blue blanket against her skin - the velvety kind with the silk border. Her eyes fluttered when she heard her mother come into the room, carrying a tray. "Will you try to eat, honey?" she would ask, placing the tray on the small nightstand next to the bed. "I've got some soup here. Your favorite - tomato." The wonderful smell of the tomato soup and the security of her mother's love floated all the way to the cold, lonely bathroom and found her. She knelt before the sink in the bathroom quietly, her fevered skin soothed by the cool surface. She wore only a long, white, silk nightgown, and the cool temperature of the room had raised gooseflesh all over her body. Arms shaking, she took a deep breath, and pushed herself up to stand. A few seconds passed before she could gather the strength to open her eyes and look at herself in the mirror. She didn't know if she could handle what she knew she would find: a broken woman - her spirit shattered into a million pieces. It wasn't the physical damage that she didn't want to see. It was the damage that had been done to her soul. She was a shadow of the woman she once had been. Her confidence and self-worth had been stolen so long ago, she could barely remember them anymore, and trying to only made her lose herself faster. When she finally opened her eyes, a small gasp escaped her mouth at what she did see. There seemed to be blood everywhere - on her face, in her hair, on her nightgown. Her left eye was smudged with black and blue bruises, and there was a nasty cut under it that swept down to her cheek. The blood from the cut had run down her cheek, over her lips, and down her chin. From there, it had fallen to smudge the part of her nightgown that covered her chest, her heart. She cocked her head to the right, slightly dazed, and looked at the design the blood had made on the pristine white silk. It had blossomed in all directions like some kind of macabre orchid. All she could seem to think was that it looked like someone had ripped out her heart. In a way, someone had. Her nose felt as though someone had jabbed a knife into it, and her lip was split and bleeding. She reached for some tissues and felt a sharp pain in her side. One of her ribs was probably broken, and from her muddled thinking, she thought she probably had a concussion. But again, her thoughts returned to all the blood she saw. Her blood. Blood shed to protect another. As her life slowly bled from her day after day, she only hoped that it made him stronger and safer. She would gladly give all the blood she had if it kept him alive for even one more day. She wished she had a thousand hearts for them to steal from her. She felt tears threatening, and blinked furiously, knowing that he was lurking somewhere in the house. She was unwilling to let him catch her crying. She dabbed carefully at the cut under her eye, and was about to put a bandage on it when he walked into the bathroom. He caught and kept her gaze easily, as if it had not been he who had been beating her moments ago. She looked away from him, and was startled when she felt the heavy weight of his hands on her shoulders. She dropped the bandage, and her heart rate doubled, in fear that his anger would resurface. "Now, now, be good," he said. His voice was breezy, but there was an ugly undertone that made her shiver. She dared not look into his dark grey eyes, afraid of the evil and hatred she would find there. "I really do hope that you learned your lesson, Dana," he said. Scully nodded. "I did," she whispered, her voice child-like. Grant smiled thinly. "Good. We may have an unorthodox marriage, but the rules of courtesy still apply." She felt what remained of her courage surfacing, and bit her lip, trying to control it. "What you just did to me was not very courteous," she finally said, unable to forget his actions. His expression never changed, but her stomach coiled up as she watched him reach around her and abject horror took hold of her. She wondered what he was going to do. Scully didn't think she could take anymore tonight. Her knees felt like rubber and her will was even weaker. She was surprised when he picked up a wet washcloth and gently dabbed at the blood at the corner of her mouth. His gentleness frightened her even more, because she knew he was planning something hideous; some new and more terrible way to punish her. "Remember, Dana," Grant said as he cleaned her mouth, "that although you're suffering now, Mulder's suffering would be a thousand times worse." He cleaned away the last of the blood, and she looked into the mirror, and found herself caught in his gaze, unable to look away - like a tiny bird in a net. "Also remember that at any time you could be returned to your abductors. All it takes is one phone call from me. Keep that in mind the next time I come looking for what is rightfully mine as a husband." The words resounded in her mind like a funeral bell, and her gaze died as easily as a small bird might, and slid away from his and down to her clasped hands. she prayed, Grant threw the bloody washcloth into the sink and left the room as quietly as a demon must slink away from the eyes of God. The moment he was gone, Scully looked back at the mirror and her battered image. She tried to lift her chin - to be the strong, stoic woman she could still remember - but her face crumbled quickly, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. The tears seemed to throw a switch inside her, and a black despair grabbed hold of her. It was as if she had flung herself from a high tower, and was falling down into a dark, deadly river. She could almost feel the cold, suffocating water closing in around her, the swift currents stealing her breath, and all she wanted was to be free of it. Wiping roughly at her face, Scully pushed the door shut and locked it. She looked frantically around the small room. Her gaze fell on her razor, and soon she had it in her hands. In seconds, she had the cover off and was holding one of the razors between her fingers. As Scully looked at it, memories of the last autopsy she had done filled her mind. She had been asked to autopsy a seventeen-year-old girl who had committed suicide. Her parents hadn't been able to accept that their daughter, Ella, had killed herself, and through some FBI connections, had been able to get an entire forensic work-up done. Of course, Scully had found no evidence of foul play, and had been the one to tell the parents that, as horrible as it sounded, young Ella had indeed taken her own life - for reasons that probably none of them would ever know or understand. The girl had left no explanations except a note with one lonely sentence: "Just a little pain, and it will be over." At the time, Scully hadn't been able to understand what that note meant, but at this moment in the bathroom - battered, bruised, and broken - Scully understood exactly how Ella must have felt. Somehow, a misery must have worked its way deep down into the girl's soul. A hopelessness so bleak and dark in its power that it seemed unending and fathomless - inescapable. She held out her left wrist and placed the razor against it, pressing firmly. For a few moments, she did nothing but stare at the razor that would cut open her wrist, allowing her life to drain away. It didn't seem like it would be so bad. Anything would be better than this hideous existence she now endured. Even Mulder would be better off. With her dead, the Smoking Man would most certainly think Mulder no longer a threat. "Just a little pain...and it will be over..." she said softly, her words slurring a bit. Scully felt her world narrow to that small piece of metal that could let her slip from the black void her life had become and into the light. A torrent of fresh tears momentarily blinded Scully, and she felt as though she were seeing the world through a thick pane of glass. Then she blinked, the glass shattered and fell away, and her cheeks were covered anew in a salty river. Scully pressed harder on the razor, and watched with a strange detachment as a few droplets of blood appeared on her wrist. For a moment, she wanted to rip it across her pale wrist and be done with it, but then she felt her heart constrict in pain as an image of Mulder drifted into her mind. What would this do to him? How would he handle her death? She doubled over in agony, hesitating, and her broken rib stabbed at her unmercifully. The pain momentarily renewed her previous fervor, and she stood up once more, the razor at her wrist again. Had she lost even the strength to do this one last thing and free herself? "Just a little pain..." Scully said between the sobs that now racked her body, "...and it will be over...it will all be over..." More droplets appeared, and she pressed harder, but the image of Mulder's face would not let her go, and she cried out in complete anguish, throwing the razor across the room. "Oh, God," she moaned as she fell to her knees again, her head pounding. "Oh, God...please help me..." Collapsing onto her side, Scully wrapped her arms around her middle and let the tears flow, knowing that when she had looked at herself in the mirror tonight, she had seen her fate. She had seen her destiny. The very same scenario that had played itself out tonight would do so a hundred times more in the years to come. But if it saved Mulder's life, she would do her best to bear it. The thought of him brought new tears to her eyes. "Oh, help me...help me..." she sobbed. "...I need you, Mulder..." she cried, as her tears fell to the cold tile floor, mixing with the blood there. \\::\\:://::// Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island June 9, 2000 8:37 pm Scully sat staring out into the dark jungle depths, but her gaze was focused on the images she saw in her mind. Horrible, black, painful images that followed her soul wherever it went when she dreamed at night. The memories crawled after her and found her when she had no defense. They struck at her spirit when she dreamed - cutting and slashing any peace she might find. She began to shake as the bad memories took further hold of her, and they would have swallowed her whole, if Grant had not spoken. "Remembering all our good times together, Dana?" he asked. Scully blinked and whipped her head around to look at him, her mouth hanging open. He was smiling. The utter dichotomy of her horrific memories and Grant's smile caused a wave of nausea to sweep over her, and she looked away from him, her hand on her belly. Scully felt with a great certainty that the end - however that might play itself out - was drawing near. The end was coming. She could feel it moving towards them, deliberate and methodical in its pace. It was like a great black thundercloud floating across the plains. Neither of them could escape it, whatever it was. Scully knew very well that she might die, or that she might spend the rest of her life a slave to so many tests and procedures. Scully prayed that, somehow, her child would be spared. If not, she would spare the child herself. She only hoped that God and Mulder would forgive her. * * * Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island June 9, 2000 8:50 pm ------------------------------------------ I can't help feeling like a fool Since I lost that place inside Where my heart knew its way And my soul was ever wise ------------------------------------------ Mulder fell to his knees in the damp jungle greens, his face full of tiny scratches and scrapes. He had been trekking through the jungle for an hour and still, he was no closer to Scully. He didn't know the island very well, although he knew that Scully did. If she had any advantage, that was it. Surely Grant had no knowledge of the island. He didn't spend hours walking its little trails like Scully did. Mulder stretched his legs out in front of him and sat down, heedless of the fact that his pants were now soaked with moisture. The coolness felt good against his sweaty skin. He was panting a bit, having been walking at a steady rate for so long, and in such a treacherous environment. He had fallen numerous times, his feet catching on the many exposed roots, vines, and brambles. He could remember walking with Scully through the jungle, awed at how deftly she avoided all of its pitfalls. During her time on the island, she had adjusted so well to its landscape, that it was as if she had lived there her entire life. He pulled some large leaves together, briefly thinking that he felt the way a gorilla must, as they made their nest every night. He could travel no more now that it was completely dark. He hadn't thought to bring a flashlight, but even if he had, the jungle was too dangerous at night. He hoped he would be able to catch up with them in the morning. Mulder lay back on the leaves and let his gaze wander up to the night sky, feeling fear and anger deep in his belly. He was desperately worried about Scully and the baby. If Grant pushed her too hard, it might stress the baby, and Mulder knew that Scully couldn't give birth at only six months. The baby would never survive - especially not out in the jungle. Maybe if it were born in a top-notch hospital, with ventilators, incubators, and a bunch of doctors monitoring, but it wouldn't have a chance out here. Mulder hated himself for not being more careful - for not preparing more. He had known that Grant would eventually come looking for Scully. Scully had become more than just an assignment to Grant. She was now a matter of honor. Scully had fooled him - had bested him - and he couldn't let go of that. He had to have his revenge. Mulder asked himself again why he hadn't made Scully move somewhere less remote - especially when he had found out about the baby. She had been all alone out here for long stretches of time, only sending one email a month to the Lone Gunmen confirming that she was okay. Only now did Mulder truly realize how many times Grant could have surprised Scully and killed her - or returned her to the Smoking Man. So many times...And now Grant might take Scully AND their child from him and it would all be his fault. He felt hot tears in his eyes at those thoughts. Mulder knew he would never be able to get over losing Scully, and he didn't know if he could ever get over losing a child - and losing it before he even had it. Mulder wished he believed in God so that he could pray to him and beg him to keep his family safe. He remembered that when he first found out about the baby, he couldn't even think of himself as a father. He wasn't sure if he was genetically capable of being a good father. His own father had been so cold and distant, pushing all of his mistakes and problems onto Mulder. Looking up at the stars again, he thought back to that night that he had learned he would be a father. Of course, it hadn't been in the usual way that normal people find out, but nothing that he and Scully did was ever usual or normal. Somehow, they always found a way to make the mundane different. \\::\\:://::// CONTINUED IN PART B OF PART SIX THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART SIX: HANGING BY A THREAD (continued) Looking up at the stars again, he thought back to that night that he had learned he would be a father. Of course, it hadn't been in the usual way that normal people find out, but nothing that he and Scully did was ever usual or normal. Somehow, they always found a way to make the mundane different. \\::\\:://::// Six Months Earlier The Offices of the Lone Gunmen Somewhere in Washington, D.C. January 13, 2000 6:02 pm ------------------------------------------ If we don't understand What this life is made of We learn the truth When we find that kind of love ------------------------------------------ Mulder stood in the offices of the Lone Gunmen, his arms crossed over his chest. His body was slouched and his was head down. He was so very tired; tired of pretending, tired of doing a job he no longer had interest in, and tired of missing Scully. He had returned a week and a half earlier from visiting Scully and he felt her absence as keenly as a wound deep in his heart. It seemed inconceivable to him that he had been with her less than four days ago, and now, he was without her again. It seemed ridiculous. They were meant to be together. Surely even the cosmos must know this - from the grandest mountain to the smallest mouse. It was an undeniable truth; a law of the universe. Mulder and Scully were two names that cried out for each other. They were two names that seemed incomplete without the other. They were two souls that were lost without the other. "Hey, Mulder?" Mulder looked up at Langley's voice. "Yeah?" "Are you with us?" Langley asked, adjusting his black-rimmed glasses. "Unfortunately, yes," Mulder admitted, thinking again of Scully. "Careful, Mulder, or you might insult us," said Frohike, standing next to Byers, as they looked at a large computer monitor. The lights of the screen made the room gloomier than usual and shadowed their faces in many shades of blue. "Why did you guys call me here?" asked Mulder, running his hands through his ragged hair. He took a deep breath, waiting for one of them to answer him. At his question, the three of them turned back to the monitor, their hands stuffed in their pockets. They seemed to be unsure how to proceed, and their hesitancy scared Mulder. His heart began to pound and he felt his breath coming in short gasps. "Did something happen to Scully? Is she okay? What-" "Mulder, calm down!" Frohike shouted, cutting him off. "Scully's fine." Mulder let out a great breath of air, relieved. "Well then what's the problem?" Ever the adult, Byers called Mulder over to the monitor. "There's not really a problem, Mulder. Take a look at this." He pointed to an email message sent from Scully. "Now as you know, Mulder, Scully sends you an email - through US - once a month so you know she's all right. Normally, they are short, but not in any sort of code." Mulder's brow creased in confusion. "And this one was?" Byers nodded. "And we can't seem to break this code." Mulder looked dubious. "YOU guys can't break it?" At this point, Langley stepped forward. "This code is more personal in nature than most. We think that it can only be decoded by you." Mulder's eyes widened. "Me?" Byers nodded and had Mulder sit down in front of the computer. The message was brief, and the Lone Gunmen had been right. It was not the usual sort of message that Scully sent. He leaned in closer to the screen, making sure he read everything correctly. ---------------------------- from: rachel@hotmail.com to: LGM@hotmail.com Lo, children are a heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate. ---------------------------- For a few moments, Mulder couldn't seem to be able to make his lungs bring in oxygen. He thought his heart had unexpectedly taken up residence in his throat, and his vision blurred suddenly with tears. The Gunmen noticed his obvious distress, and crowded around him. "What's up, Mulder?" asked Frohike. "Were we wrong? IS there something wrong with Scully?" Mulder looked up at them, the light of the screen showing the tears that had run down his cheeks. Frohike put his hand on Mulder's shoulder. "Mulder, what is it? Do you know what her message means?" Mulder looked at the screen again for a second, and then turned back to the Gunmen, a small smile on his face. "I know what it means. It's a passage from the Bible. Psalms 127. Scully has always left me coded messages from the Bible when she has something REALLY important to say." Frohike rolled his eyes in exasperation. "We all dropped out of Sunday School Mulder. So, you wanna clue us in on it?" Mulder closed his eyes in his own little variation of peace, and when he opened them, the loneliness that had been haunting him earlier had evaporated. "Scully is going to have a baby," he finally said, saying each word carefully. The three Gunmen were shocked into utter silence, their mouths hanging open. Mulder thought their expressions were quite funny, and he chuckled slightly. "She IS capable of having a baby!" Mulder exclaimed, his eyes crinkled in laughter. As usual, Byers recovered first. "Yes, Mulder, we are aware of her abilities in...that area. It's just...strange, I guess, to think of Scully as someone's mother." "I don't know, Byers. She's been Mulder's mother for a while now," said Frohike, his eyes twinkling. Mulder shot him a look, and then sighed. "It IS a little strange. I'll have to say it a lot before I believe it. Scully's having a baby...Scully's having a baby..." "But you know what the REAL question is, don't you?" asked Langley. "What's that?" asked Byers. Langley shrugged. "WHOSE baby is she having?" This time, Mulder shot Langley a look. "Is that some sort of inference about my masculinity, Langley?" he asked. Langley pretended to be surprised. "Oh! You mean she's having YOUR baby? I guess that proves that even the improbable CAN be possible." Now it was Mulder's turn to pretend to laugh. "Clever, Langley." Byers stepped forward, grasping Mulder's hand. "Seriously, Mulder, we couldn't be happier for the two of you. Congratulations." Mulder inclined his head towards Byers in a gesture of gratitude. "Thanks. Thanks, guys." Frohike shook his head in mock disdain. "Wow, Mulder a father...is the world ready for this?" Mulder looked overwhelmed. "I don't know if I'M ready for it. It's a big responsibility." "Don't sell yourself short, Mulder," said Byers. Mulder shook his head. "I don't know, Byers. I have trouble just keeping my fish alive, and most of the time they don't make it." The Gunmen chuckled. "And there's also the fact that Scully will be alone throughout most of her pregnancy - alone in the jungle, on a remote island. What if something happened?" "We'll up the email messages from once a month to three times a month, and we'll find an excuse for you to go and see her again in a few months," said Byers. Mulder nodded. He felt slightly better, but was still worried that something would happen to Scully. He couldn't shake the feeling that he should just forgo the plan and fly down to be with her. He looked back at the computer screen, and read the first line of Scully's message again. "Lo, children are a heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward." Mulder hoped he and Scully would get to see that reward. \\::\\:://::// Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island June 9, 2000 9:01 pm Mulder blinked slowly, the memories of that day so many months ago both happy and frightening. He knew now that his instincts had been right. He should have come down here to be with Scully. If he had, perhaps all of this could have been avoided. Mulder looked up at the stars again, twinkling away in the inky night sky. He found himself thinking how odd it was that the stars that sent that light here could have been destroyed long ago. Perhaps most of them had already gone supernova, or maybe comets and asteroids had bombarded some mercilessly. Maybe even some were now a pale image of what they had been - their once lush green landscapes faded into dull greys and browns. The longer he looked at the stars and the strange southern constellations, the more connected he felt to Scully. As the moments stretched into minutes, he thought he could even get a clear picture of Scully's feelings. He could feel her fear and worry, and as strange as it was, some sadness, as well. Mulder closed his eyes and Scully's image formed in his mind. Her pale skin, blue eyes, and red hair were there in crystal clarity - perfect and precise. He relaxed his body, settled into the leaves that served as his bed, and let his mind wander. Mulder barely realized that he was falling asleep, the events of the day taking their toll. As he lingered on that twilight border, Scully's image lingered with him, and he felt somewhat at peace. But suddenly, her smiling face became frightened and lined with worry, and her eyes desperate. Mulder felt like she was trying to tell him something, and he tried to focus on her even more. Finally, she spoke: "The end is coming." The words were like a piercing lance that found its way right into the center of Mulder's soul, leaving fear and dread behind. Mulder's eyes snapped open and he sat up, ramrod straight, his heart pounding, his chest heaving. He looked around him, checking to see if there was any immediate danger, but all he could see was darkness and shadows. He tried to catch his breath, but all he could think of was what Scully had said in his dream. He wiped some sweat from his brow, and looked back up at the stars, so indifferent to those below them. Watching the stars blink in the sky, Mulder spoke Scully's words - almost as though someone else's breath pushed them from his mouth. "The end is coming..." * * * Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island June 10, 2000 5:17 am ------------------------------------------ Calling all angels Walk me through this one Don't leave me alone I'm not sure how this all goes ------------------------------------------ Scully lay on her side, her arms behind her, her hands still bound, and listened closely. She was almost certain that Grant was asleep. For the better part of the night he had sat up, watching her, never once even looking tired. She had drifted in and out of consciousness, the day's walk and the baby having sapped most of her energy. But now dawn was perhaps less than an hour away, and Scully knew that this was her only chance to try and escape. She was convinced that the sun would bring the Smoking Man's henchmen and they would take her somewhere from where there could be no escape. Scully would never let her baby be born into such a world; such a place. She would never let it live its life as a science experiment. She had to make her move NOW. All night long she had been stretching the rope that Grant had used to tie her hands. She had even tried to push her arms down around her bottom, but it wouldn't work. She couldn't pull her knees up enough - her belly was too big and in the way - and her arms just weren't long enough. She had to stand up, and get her arms down that way, and even though moving might wake Grant, it was a chance she had to take. Slowly, and as quietly as she could, she pushed her shoulder into the ground, and tried to rock knees under her. On the third try, she made it, and was soon kneeling across from Grant. She looked above the trees, and saw that the sky was beginning to lighten. Little wisps of light blues and greys were streaking through the blackness. Scully felt her heart begin to beat faster as she realized that precious time was slipping away. Grant could wake up at any moment. She could almost feel his hands around her throat...squeezing...squeezing... Scully shook her head quickly, trying to bring herself back to the moment at hand. She had to get her hands untied and get away from Grant and the impending helicopter that would most definitely take her back to those who had abducted her. She somehow managed to stand, and almost gasped when the baby kicked her hard, stealing her breath. Once she had recovered, Scully bent forward a bit, and inhaled, forcing her hands around her bottom to rest behind her knees. Once she had managed this, she got down on her knees once again, and then fell back onto her side. Extending her arms as far as she could, she managed to move her right leg backwards and through the circle of her arms. The left leg quickly followed. She stood again quickly, panting a bit, and smiled. Now, at least, she had some kind of advantage. She looked over at Grant and found him still asleep, the light of the flashlight dimmer than before, the batteries almost spent. Scully knew that she could just run off into the jungle, but Grant would awaken and quickly give chase. If she could wound him somehow, it would give her more of a lead and a better chance. She knew where she wanted to go. About a mile inland there was a cave where she could hide. It was one of her favorite spots. Once Grant had given up, she would make her way from there to the island's cattle stations. She would never return to her house. Grant would have someone waiting there for her. Scully was fairly confident that Grant would never be able to find the cave, and that after a few hours, he would stop looking, perhaps thinking she had fallen down one of the island's many ravines. Luckily, Scully had spent many hours exploring this island, and she could probably make her way to the cave blindfolded. But first she needed to find some kind of weapon lethal enough to wound Grant. Breathing quickly, she glanced around the edges of the small clearing. She walked to the perimeter and found a medium-sized stick with a very sharp end. It was no dagger, but it would have to make do. She snatched it up and then turned back to Grant. His chest moved up and down evenly, and she thanked God for allowing her the element of surprise. Slowly, Scully walked towards him, her heart pounding in her chest. Her enormous fear for the man before her might have crippled other women, but Scully was fighting for more than her own life. She was fighting for the life and freedom of her child. She was fighting to avenge Mulder's death. Nothing - not even fear - was going to stop her this time. She kneeled down next to him, holding the stick to his throat. The moment she pushed the sharp end into his skin, he awoke with a start, his eyes big and wide. Scully was looking down at him as a cobra might look at a rat. "Now, now, be good..." she said, her voice cold and vicious. She saw his hand moving for his gun, but had it before he did - even with her hands bound. Her fury was fueling her now, and she was in top form. Exchanging the stick for the gun, she pointed it at him, and backed away, wishing to be as far from him as possible. The very sound of his breathing made her skin crawl and clouded her vision with useless horror and panic. "I want to know how it feels to play YOUR part for once, Grant," she finally said, the gun aimed right for his heart. "But I have to wonder if you will be as convincing in MY role..." Grant smiled - that easy, carefree smile that hid the ugliness beneath. "You can NEVER know how it felt when I hit you - the power and the knowledge that I was crushing your spirit. You'll never know that feeling, Dana. You don't have the heart to be me." Scully's eyes looked like chips of ice, and her mouth was set in a harsh line. "You don't think so?" she asked, her finger moving to the trigger. Grant shook his head, apparently completely sure that Scully wouldn't shoot him. "No." Scully felt her anger filling her, completely overpowering every other emotion, and she took aim, hot tears falling down her cheeks. A moment later a gunshot filled the air, and Grant cried out, clutching his upper thigh. He squirmed around, sweat pouring down his temples, his face contorted in agony. This time, it was Scully who smiled, cocking the gun in case another shot was needed. "I don't know, Grant," she said grimly, "that felt pretty good." Grant was in too much pain to answer her, and she thought it harmless to move closer. She kneeled next to him again, wanting him to fully understand what she was going to say next. "I'd like to kill you, but I think that our mutual smoking friend will punish you in a much better way for the failure of this mission." Grant looked up at her, his dark grey eyes seething. "You'll pay for this," he said, his voice low. "When the others get here, we'll find you and take you back." This comment piqued Scully's interest. "Back to where?" she asked, thinking that if she could find out where she had been, she might be able to find out what had been done to her. "Back to those...back to your abductors," he replied, his words slurring from pain. "I know that!" Scully snapped. "WHERE is it?" Scully was so focused as she waited for him to answer, that she never noticed him reaching down into one of his pockets. "Grant, answer me!" Scully shouted, pushing the gun into his throat. "WHERE?!" Suddenly, all the pain left Grant's face. "You want to know where, Dana?" Scully nodded, almost able to taste the hatred in the back of her throat; almost able to see his blood spilling onto the soft jungle floor. "In HELL!!" Grant suddenly shouted, as he brought a small bottle into view, and sprayed it into her eyes. Scully fell back, the substance burning and stinging, but managed to keep hold of the gun. If she lost that, everything would be lost, along with her child's life and her own. Instinctively, she rolled away from Grant, knowing he would be hard pressed to follow. She could hear him yelling, but had to keep her eyes shut because of the pain. She felt herself near the edge of the clearing, and pushed herself to her feet, the gun clenched in her fingers. Stumbling into the forest brush, it felt as though her heart was banging against her ribs, so high was her panic. Scully could still hear Grant screaming, but did not hear him coming after her. She did not hear the telltale sounds of branches cracking and underbrush being trampled. Scully could only hope that the wound she had given him would incapacitate him long enough for her to get away and hide. Once she was deeper into the jungle, Scully paused to see if she could open her eyes. The stinging and burning had died down a bit. Leaning against a tree, she rubbed her eyes gingerly and opened them. Everywhere she looked, she saw only blackness. Immediately, she knew something was wrong because the sky had been light moments before. The sun would rise soon. Blinking, she took a deep breath and looked around again, and this time she noticed that ALL she saw was blackness. She couldn't even make out the outlines of trees and bushes...nothing. Holding the gun flat against her side, she tried to calm herself. It was then that Scully realized that Grant had had the last laugh after all. Whatever he had sprayed into her eyes had blinded her - either temporarily or permanently. In one second, he had stolen her sight from her and turned her into the victim again. He had switched their roles back again. Somehow, she always ended up the victim. Scully remembered thinking earlier that she could probably find the cave blindfolded. Now she wondered if she could find it BLIND. * * * Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island June 10, 2000 5:19 am ------------------------------------------ Looking at myself till the mirror shatters I hear a madman sing his tune He said, "It's only love that ever really matters." That's when I see the truth ------------------------------------------ Mulder sat bolt upright, his eyes wide, his heart hammering inside his chest. A gunshot had rung out through the jungle's depths, shattering the inky darkness. Suddenly monkeys and birds were chattering, shocked to be awake in the middle of the night. Mulder had to fight hard to keep complete panic from overwhelming him, because he knew that that gunshot could only be about Scully and Grant, and he couldn't bear to think about who had been at the wrong end of that gun. Mulder took a few quick moments to get himself together somewhat, and then attempted to stand. He wouldn't allow himself to think about the worst-case scenario. That wouldn't help Scully. He noticed that the sky was beginning to lighten. Wisps of light blues and greys trailed across the midnight sky. He decided that although it wasn't completely light yet, it would have to be good enough, because Scully needed him. If she had been shot, he had to find her quickly and help her and their baby, and if SHE had shot Grant, then she would be on the run. On the run and pregnant. He took a few steps in the direction of the shot, but stopped short suddenly, a strange sensation coming over him. He wanted to get to Scully, but he felt as though she wasn't in the direction of the gunshot. But if not, WHERE? He closed his eyes, and concentrated on her face. "Where are you, Scully? Help me find you..." And their connection - that unbreakable bond that allowed them to feel the presence of each other no matter how far apart they were - hummed to life. He could feel its power as he stood there in the jungle. Mulder stood there for a few moments, his eyes closed, his hands hanging limply. Moments later, he opened his eyes and, without hesitation, walked off in a direction that was inland - west of the gunshot. His strides were confident and purposeful, and his eyes were focused straight ahead. Left behind, their beauty crushed under his feet, were a cluster of island flowers. * * * Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island June 10, 2000 5:48 am ------------------------------------------ She has such an awful lot of soldiers Quite a lovely army all her own Night and day they stand before the fortress Very safe but very all alone ------------------------------------------ Scully fell against a tree, and cried out, her shoulders already bruised and sore from previous encounters. Leaning against the tree, she decided to rest a bit, and rubbed her right shoulder as best she could with her hands still bound. As she did, she noticed that her shirt was torn, most likely from the other times she had tripped or fallen. She also knew that her pants were torn at the knees, and her knees were cut and bleeding. She panted, and tried to catch her breath, terribly frightened that Grant would come crashing through the brush at any moment. She had no way of knowing how long the leg wound would keep him down. She only hoped it would be long enough for her to find the cave and hide. She had tucked the gun into the waistband of her pants, and didn't know how quickly she would be able to draw it. Opening her eyes, she looked around, blinking slowly. By some twist of fate, the darkness in her vision had receded with the night, so she wasn't truly blind. Her vision was very blurry, but not blank. Everything around her - trees, vines, bushes, sky, clouds, leaves - they all looked like great big, blurry blobs to her. But at least she could see SOMETHING. Thinking that she should get going again, Scully pushed herself away from the tree, and stopped dead in her tracks. The cramping that she had felt the night before had returned, and was perhaps a bit stronger. It was low in her belly, and seemed to move across her stomach in waves. She knew that she had been pushing it - with the heat, the exertion, and her struggle with Grant - but she had no choice. "Okay, take it easy," she told herself - and maybe the baby, too. "You've got to get to the cave..." A noise off to the left of her caught her attention, and she froze, her eyes wide. Her chest heaved up and down in frantic breaths as she listened carefully, praying that it wasn't Grant. Moments passed slowly in horrible anxiety, but the sound never came again, and she couldn't hear anything else. Finally, she decided that it must have been an animal, and it had been meant as a sign to her. A sign to get moving - no matter what - and find the cave. Once she found the cave, she would be safe. She was certain of it. Pulling the gun from her waistband, she held it at her side and pushed away from the tree a second time, and a second time she stopped. Inexplicably, she couldn't remember which way she had meant to go before she had fallen. Was she going to go left or right? She remembered that there SHOULD be a divergence in the path here, but which way was right? Her brain was fuzzy, and fear was clouding her judgment and making her doubt herself. She rubbed her eyes gingerly and blinked slowly, looking ahead. It seemed that there were two paths ahead of her, but she couldn't be sure. Everything was so blurry. What if she was imagining things, and she walked off the path and fell down a ravine? Scully had more to think about than just her life and safety. There was an innocent child involved that had no way of protecting itself. It was her duty as its mother to do everything in her power to get it out of danger. Slowly, she moved to the center of the path and closed her eyes. There was only one person she knew of that could help her now. It didn't matter that a plane of existence separated them now. Somehow, Scully could still feel him. It was faint - not as strong as when he had been alive - but she knew he could help her. She knew he would do everything in his power to help her and their baby. A tear slipped down her cheek despite her will, and she rubbed it away roughly. This was no time for weakness. Turning her gaze up to the sky, she said, "Help us, Mulder. Tell me which way is the right way..." A few seconds later she turned left and began walking inland - in a westerly direction. * * * CONTINUED IN PART SEVEN THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART SEVEN: LOVE BY GRACE Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island June 10, 2000 6:35 am ------------------------------------------ Lay me down and roll me out to sea Calling on a mighty wave to cover me Heaven if you're ready Shine your light on me ------------------------------------------ Almost an hour later, Scully pushed her way through a tangle of vines, and doubled over, breathing hard. Her face was crumpled up in a mixture of pain and exhaustion, and her right hand covered her lower belly. As she had walked - sometimes in circles - the pain had come and gone many times, but now it was back with a vengeance. Scully knew what it meant. She couldn't go on like this much longer. The exertion was just too much for the baby - and for HER. She managed to stand up, and found herself looking at a dark, blurry void. She THOUGHT it was probably an entrance to a cave - but was it the right cave? She really couldn't tell. She had been walking so long, and was so tired. Scully decided that it didn't matter if it was the right cave. Whatever cave it was, it would have to do. She only hoped that there was somewhere to hide and that Grant couldn't trail her too easily. Perhaps her confused wanderings would actually give her another advantage and keep her trail muddled. It was all she could hope for at the moment. With a deep breath, she stepped forward and soon entered the cave. The first thing Scully noticed was the drop in temperature - and for that, she was grateful. Perhaps the cooler atmosphere would help to alleviate the cramps. She simply refused to think of them as contractions. That word was too frightening, because she knew that she couldn't have the baby now. It was far too early, and out here on this island, the child would never survive. Mulder's face suddenly appeared in her mind, and she had to work hard to choke back a sob. Thoughts of their baby ultimately ran to thoughts of him - his smile, his eyes, and his newly mended heart. Mulder would never get to see the baby she was carrying. Their child would grow up fatherless - much the same way Mulder himself had grown up. Scully wondered if God was trying to teach her a lesson about history repeating itself. As she walked deeper into the cave, she kept the gun in her right hand. She realized that it would be a miracle if she found a good place to hide. Her vision had been poor outside, with sunlight to aid her, but in here, it was almost useless. Worse than blurry blobs, it looked like everything had been covered with dark, hazy gauze. Sighing, she moved closer to the cave's wall and reached out, her fingers grazing over the angled rocks there. If she was going to find a hiding spot, she would have to do it by touch. Then Scully remembered something: if this was indeed the cave that she had visited so many times, there would be a small pocket - a tiny bit of extra space - towards the back. It should be just large enough for her to squeeze into and hopefully small enough that Grant would overlook it if he found the cave. She walked slowly, her bound hands moving across and up and down the wall. As she searched, she couldn't stop her mind from contemplating the future. The years to come did not hold much promise. She and the baby would spend them in one of two ways. If Grant found her and returned her to her abductors, the remaining years of their lives would pass in endless torment: tests, experiments, pain, humiliation, and loneliness. And if she somehow managed to escape Grant, her baby would go through its entire life without ever knowing what a wonderful, amazing man its father was. As it grew, it would only know a mother mired in grief and pain - a pale imitation of the woman she had once been. Scully didn't particularly like either possibility, but Grant had taken any chance of happiness when he stole Mulder's life away. It was odd how much things could change in such a short amount of time. Only a few days ago, Scully had been planning a future with Mulder and their baby. Now all of that was gone. Scully's thoughts dropped off as the wall suddenly fell away from her hands, and she realized that this might be the small offshoot she remembered. For the first time since yesterday, a glimmer of hope sparked to life inside her, and she prayed that this was HER cave. Moving even closer to the wall, she blinked furiously, trying to see ANYTHING. But it was useless - everything was shades of purple and black. She reached her hands out again and found that there was a gap there. It was just large enough to crawl into and hide. A crashing noise - like someone pushing through the tangle of brush and vines outside - broke the almost reverent stillness of the cave, and sent Scully's heart rate skyrocketing. She had an overwhelming desire to run - to get away from whatever it was that was coming after her. She knew it was Grant. There was no way that Scully could run - not after her altercation with Grant, and then having stumbled around in the jungle for almost two hours. Doing her best to control her panic, she decided that she had to go with her original plan and get into the crevice and hope that he didn't find her. Scully had to lean over to get into the small crevice, and when she did, she gasped as cramps shot across her stomach in a blinding burst of pain. "Oh, God..." she moaned as she bent over, her arms cradling her stomach. "Please...not now..." Scully heard another sound - like branches being broken and trampled - and knew that her time was running out. "Just...a little...pain..." she said, hoping that her now familiar refrain would give her the strength and courage she needed to save her and her child's life. With a deep breath, Scully pushed through the pain in her abdomen, and moved forward, her hands groping for the entrance to the small area; that small space that had the power to save her life. The small space that could keep her child from becoming the human equivalent of a lab rat. But she wasn't prepared for the jolt of pain that crashed over her, turning the cramps she had been having into distant memories. She fell to her to her knees and put a hand against the wall to steady herself. Scully's eyes swam shut in agony, and she bit her lip hard, not wanting to cry out. Gone from her mind were thoughts of hiding... Gone were thoughts of Grant... Gone were thoughts of being abducted again... Everything faded away except for thoughts of Mulder and their baby. Even though she knew it would never be, in her mind's eye, she saw them together. Mulder was holding their baby - talking to it - and the child was gurgling at its father happily. And suddenly, Scully had the peculiar but distinct impression that she was not really in the damp, melancholy cave, but back in the bedroom of her little house, asleep behind the mosquito netting. Everything with Grant had been a bad dream and she and her baby were safe. She was dreaming all of this now, even her visions of Mulder and their baby. But even for a dream, their image was strange - out of focus. It seemed as if she was looking at them from a great distance, and she wondered if she were dying in her sleep, or if she had already died long ago and everything else - her love with Mulder and their baby - had been a dream; the dream of a lonely spirit wishing to live what might have been. As darkness overcame her, Scully decided that if it had been a dream, she wished she could dream it over again, because something had gone wrong. Something bad had happened and turned her happy dream of Mulder and their baby into a twisted, upside-down world where Mulder was dead and her baby would be given over to horrible men that would treat it as a genetic prize. She wanted to dream the dream again. * * * Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island June 10, 2000 6:38 am ------------------------------------------ Wake from your sleep And dry your tears Today, we escape We escape ------------------------------------------ Mulder stood before the entrance to a cave, his hands on his hips, his brow crinkled in thought. He had been walking for almost an hour and a half, and during that time, he had felt as though some force was drawing him somewhere. Now, he decided that the force had been drawing him HERE. The cave he stood before, seemed oddly familiar, and he even fancied that earlier, when he had asked Scully to help him find her, an image of this cave had flashed in his mind. It was strange, in a way, but almost from the beginning, he had felt that he and Scully - at their base - were alike; they were kindred. As time went on, and they investigated more cases together, that sameness became a kind of connection. Mulder believed in this connection wholeheartedly. They had had too many odd things happen to just chalk them up to coincidence. The first time he had noticed that their partnership had this bond - or link - was many years ago when Jack Willis had kidnapped Scully. From the moment she was gone until the moment he broke down the door and saw her there, handcuffed to the radiator, Mulder could FEEL her fear and her panic. He KNEW that she was thinking of him and praying that he would find her. Then, when she had been abducted - just when they were getting close and becoming true partners and learning to trust - Mulder had had a vision of what was being done to her. Standing there, in the lodge on Skyland Mountain, bone tired and numb from fear, Mulder believed that he had seen - only for a moment - through Scully's eyes. Somehow, his spirit had found hers - no matter how much distance was involved. He had been staring out the window into the darkness trying in vain to reach her in some way and had closed his eyes. The moment he had, it was as if hers had opened. He remembered a metallic room with shadows in every corner, and faceless men looking on as horrible things were done to Scully. Mulder remembered how her fear and desperation had flooded him as he saw a drill bearing down on her. Then he had opened his eyes and the images were gone, but he was never quite sure who broke the link. Had he done it? Had he been unable to control his OWN fear, or had Scully shattered their connection, not wanting Mulder to know what she was going through? Mulder had never quite found the courage to ask her about it. But it didn't really matter, because he HAD seen through her eyes - through her spirit. He realized now that their tie had strengthened as they began to fall in love, and when they admitted it to each other in that house in Virginia, the bond had hardened into unbreakable stone. He thought back to the boxcar fire, and remembered that afterwards, Scully had told him that she had KNOWN he wasn't dead. She had been so certain of it that she had told his mother - at his father's funeral - not to worry about him. Later, Scully had told him that she had dreamed of him and he had told her that he was alive and coming back to her. Scully had insisted it was a dream, but Mulder had always thought of it as a vision - just like he had had of her. And because Mulder trusted and believed in their connection, he believed that it had brought him to this cave, and he believed that Scully was inside. Then why was he hesitating? He took a step forward and felt his stomach fluttering and adrenaline pumping. He knew why he didn't want to go into the cave. He was afraid of what he would find inside, and afraid of what he might not. He was afraid of losing Scully, the baby, and the curious future that had been awaiting them before yesterday. They had known that their life wouldn't be normal, but it would have been a LIFE. Even though they would have had to pretend to be other people, deep inside, they would have still been Mulder and Scully, and they would have had a child together. For the first time in a long time, each of them would have had a true, full family. So, perhaps Mulder thought that by not going inside the cave, there was still a chance for that future - kept alive in some twilight land where all things are possible. But he couldn't wait forever on the threshold between knowing and not knowing. He had to step over that border and find out which way his life would go: together or alone; a family or nothing. Breathing deeply, he shook his head quickly, trying to clear it, and forced himself to walk into the cave. It was quite dark inside, but as his eyes adjusted, he began to make things out. Mulder was amazed at how much cooler it was inside the cave, and how quiet. It seemed like a sacred place, somehow. As though it had a power of some kind. As he walked, he let his hands roam the walls, and after a few moments, he got the distinct impression that Scully had come this way. Her spirit was all around him in this place. When he had thought she was dead, he had felt her presence in her apartment. It had felt like a comforting blanket spread around him. But this feeling was so much stronger. It was coming off everything inside the cave in waves, and it pulled him along, towards the back, where it was darker. The darker it became the more intensely Mulder felt Scully. Mulder was about to turn left and investigate the other side of the cave when a muffled noise caught his attention. He thought it was someone moaning or sobbing. He KNEW it was Scully. He took off in the direction of the sound in a slight jog, heedless of the fact that he could trip and fall at any moment. As he neared the far back wall of the cave, he heard the sound again, and slowed. It was definitely someone moaning - in pain. He took a few more steps and his eyes adjusted more to his pitch- black surroundings and he squinted, thinking that he saw something on the floor. And then, suddenly, she was there. In a flash, he could make out the lines and shape of her entire body, her hair, her arms and legs. Rushing to kneel beside her, Mulder held her head in his arms and bent down, trying to get a better look at her face. He didn't know what was wrong with her - why she was unconscious. Hoping that she didn't have a bullet wound, he moved his hands up and down her body, but couldn't feel any blood. He was surprised, however, at the size of her belly. He hadn't seen her since before she knew she was pregnant, and it was quite a shock to him. "Scully? Scully, can you hear me?" She moaned again, and the sound was filled with such pain that Mulder feared she had some injury he couldn't see. Even though he knew she was far back in the cave in order to hide, he had no choice but to bring her closer to the opening where he could see. He pulled her up into a standing position, and the second he did, she moaned again. Knowing that time was of the essence, he slung her arm around his neck, and with a groan, hefted her into his arms. "Boy, Scully, either I'm tired from traipsing around the jungle all night or this kid of ours weighs a ton," he joked, hoping that a little levity would calm his nerves. As he adjusted her in his arms, he nodded. "Yeah, I can hear you now: 'Mulder, it is perfectly acceptable for a pregnant woman to gain anywhere from 20 to 50 pounds...'" he said, looking down at her in a mixture of sadness and longing. In reality, she was not much heavier than she usually was, but Mulder had not eaten or drank in over a day, he was not accustomed to the climate of the island, and he was not used to spending all night in a jungle. All of those things had conspired to lessen his strength. He walked slowly, but with determination, towards the mouth of the cave and the light. He didn't want to set her down right at the opening, because he knew that Grant could be anywhere. Instead, he walked until it was bright enough for him to make out her face clearly, which was about halfway from the opening. He fell to one knee and gently let her slip onto the floor of the cave. In a panic, he placed his fingers against her throat, and sighed in relief when he found her pulse strong and steady. As he studied her longer, he could see that her face was crisscrossed with tiny scratches and her throat had two purplish handprints around it, mostly likely from Grant. Hatred and anger boiled within him at the thought of Grant strangling Scully - and after all he had done to her when they were married. Her shirt was torn at the shoulder and bloody. Her arms were also covered with the same tiny scratches as her face, and her pants were ripped open at the knees and bloody, as well. Mulder looked her over closely, but he couldn't see any sign of a gunshot wound. There were no big splotches of blood anywhere. Once he was certain that she didn't have a serious injury, he leaned down, stroking her hair, and kissed her gently on the lips. They were dry and cracked, but warm and she was alive. "I was so scared, Scully," he said, as he untied her hands. Once her hands were free, he looked down at her, devouring her face with his eyes, memorizing it, adoring it. She moaned again, and Mulder's gaze drifted once more to her stomach. It fascinated him. He had never really known anyone who was pregnant, and he couldn't believe that a tiny life was inside her, growing and waiting to be born. A life that was part of him - that HE had had a part in creating. It was unbelievable. He put his hand flat on her stomach and felt his throat tighten when he felt the baby move. Their baby. It was so strange to see Scully in such a condition. Ever since he had known her, Scully had been trim and lean, and now her belly was swollen with a new life. That little life was a miracle. It was a miracle that Scully had been able to conceive after all they had done to her when she was abducted. It was a miracle that he and she had finally admitted their love to one another and created such a life. It was a miracle that they had considered embarking on a future together - as a family. Mulder wanted to believe that their baby could pull off one more miracle and allow them to have that future. As Mulder looked down at Scully, he realized what Scully must have gone through to escape Grant. He wondered how she could have done it in such a condition? How had she kept ahead of him with the added weight and strain of the baby? It amazed him. "Ohhh..." Her eyelids fluttered and then slowly opened. Immediately, Mulder bent down and touched her face. "Scully? Can you hear me? It's me. It's Mulder." Her face crumpled at his words, and her eyes swam shut. "No...no...trick..." "Scully, it's not a trick. I'm right here. Please open your eyes." Her expression changed at the tone of his voice, but she kept her eyes closed. "M-M-Mul-Mulder...? Is it...really...you?" Mulder took her into his arms and held her close against him so she could hear his heart beating. "Yes, it's me. It's me. I'm here." She reached up and touched his face with her hands. Her fingers fluttered over his every feature, lingering on his jaw, cheeks, and lips. Then her hands dropped away, and he felt her shuddering in his arms; sobbing. "Grant...told me...he...killed...you," she said, her tears soaking the front of his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her tighter. "Shh...it's okay, Scully. He didn't kill me. He wasn't anywhere near me." But her grief was still in control, and she heard only what her broken heart told her. "I was all alone...just me and the baby...alone. He was going to give me back to The Smoking Man..." Mulder's eyes widened in shock at this news, and he felt fear deep in his belly. So that was their plan? To take Scully back to be experimented on again? "You're not alone, Scully," Mulder said, hoping that she would come out of this soon. "I'll never leave you alone. I'll always be with you, and I'll NEVER let them take you again. EVER. Not you or the baby..." At his words, he felt her stiffen in his arms, and she turned her head up towards him, her eyes finally open. "They want the baby, Mulder. They think it will be special. They think it will have the answers they've been looking for all this time." Mulder's fear tripled in an instant, and looked straight into her eyes. "WHAT? What do you mean?" "Grant told me that because it was OUR child, and because of all that's been done to us, its DNA might be the key to stopping colonization. Mulder, I won't let this baby spend its life in a laboratory - a guinea pig for tests and vaccines. I WON'T." He pulled Scully close again, his head on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Scully. Our child is going to be safe. Both of us will do everything in our power to make it that way." He felt her arms snaking around his waist, and she held him tightly. "I love you so much, Mulder." He sighed, loving the feel of her against him. "I love you, too." "When I thought you were dead..." she trailed off, shivering. "But I'm NOT dead, and I don't plan to be anytime soon," he said, and pulled away to look in her eyes. "Scully, I-" But his words fell away when he noticed something strange about the way Scully was looking at him. He had been too frantic to notice it before, but there was definitely something wrong with her. She wasn't actually looking AT him - just in his general direction. Her eyes weren't focused on anything. He remembered the way she had touched his face before. "Scully, what is it? Why are you looking at me like that?" He took her face in his hands and leaned closer to her, looking deep into her eyes. Normally, they were a brilliant, azure blue, but now the blue was pale, and her eyes were red and swollen. She could only seem to open them halfway. Mulder felt panic rising in him again. "Scully, what happened to your eyes?" Scully looked away from him - over his shoulder. "Grant sprayed something into my eyes." Mulder's eyes widened, and he grabbed her by her shoulders. "What? When?" "Earlier this morning, when I was trying to get away - after I shot him - he pulled a bottle out of his pocket and sprayed it into my eyes." "Are you blind?" asked Mulder, focusing first on her health. He could ask about Grant and the shooting later. He was relieved that it had been Scully who had had control of the gun. Scully shook her head. "No. For a little while, I was, but as the morning went by, my vision brightened. I can see, but everything is VERY fuzzy and hazy." "That's why you touched my face the way you did..." said Mulder, understanding. She nodded. "I was a little out of it, and I had to be SURE it was you, and not one of Grant's tricks. I may not be able to see properly, but I knew I would know by touch. Your face is ingrained into my memory." Mulder smiled down at her, and smoothed some of her hair away from her face. "Are you okay otherwise? I checked you over, but I want to be sure." Scully hesitated for a few seconds before saying, "I'm fine." Mulder was an expert at seeing through Scully's facades, and he knew instantly that her hesitation and stock answer meant that she was anything BUT fine. "Scully, don't lie to me. Not now. Not after everything. If something's wrong, I have to know." She closed her eyes for a few moments, and Mulder thought she was either deciding HOW to tell him or IF she should tell him the truth at all. "Scully, please..." he entreated again, touching her face. She opened her eyes, and looked in his general direction. "I'm going to tell you, Mulder, but only if you promise to try and stay calm. Can you try to do that for me?" Mulder held her tighter, and nodded. "I'll try." "Since last night, I've been getting some...cramps-" "Cramps?!" Mulder asked, his eyes wide. Scully couldn't give birth out here. The baby wouldn't have a chance. "Mulder!" Scully warned, "I asked you not to get upset." "Do you have them now?" he asked, ignoring her words. She shook her head. "Not right now." Mulder leaned close to her and looked into her eyes. Even though they were injured, he still felt certain that they could tell him if Scully was lying or not. She didn't look away from him, and after a few moments, he sighed, satisfied. "Okay. When was the last time you had them?" Her brow crinkled, and she exhaled. "The last time I remember having them is here, in the cave. I was trying to find this little hidden crevice in the back, and when I went to bend down to get in it, I felt an awful pain in my lower abdomen. Then I blacked out. The next thing I remember is waking up and hearing your voice." Mulder nodded, accepting her answer. Then he sighed. "Okay, we've got to get you out of here. I don't know how you got away from Grant and managed to find this place nearly blind...but I'm glad you did." Scully smiled palely. "I just did what I had to do...for the baby's sake. I won't let Grant and the Smoking Man get it, Mulder," she said, her voice hard and resolute. "No matter what it costs me, they're not getting this baby. I don't care what I have to do." Mulder held her by the shoulders. "Hey," he said, making sure she was listening. "You're not in this alone, Scully. Not anymore. This is really all my fault-" Scully sighed in exasperation. "Mulder, this is NOT your fault." "Yes, it is, Scully. I left you here alone on this island - FOR MONTHS - with no protection. There's no excuse for it." She put her hand on his cheek, tenderly. "Mulder, you did the best you could. So did I. We can't second-guess ourselves. I don't blame you for any of this." Mulder felt his throat tighten with love and adoration, and he looked at her sheepishly. "You never do. You've never blamed me for anything." "Because nothing was ever your fault." He looked away from her, and a vision of Scully, frail, weak, and comatose, with tubes and wires coming out of her filled his mind. The fear, anger, and anguish he had felt that day came rushing back to him, and he swallowed hard. He felt Scully's hand on his forehead, soothing and accepting. Never judgmental. "What is it, Mulder?" "Your abduction," he choked out, his breath gone. She stroked his temple. "Mulder, that wasn't your fault." "They took you BECAUSE of me, Scully. How was that not my fault?" He still wasn't looking at her, but he felt her move closer to him, felt the hardness of her belly. "Mulder, I was an adult. I made a conscious choice to work with you. Whatever came of that had NOTHING to do with you." He wasn't convinced. Deep inside, Mulder knew the awful truth: all of this WAS his fault, and Scully just didn't want to admit it. "What about this, Scully?" he asked, his voice slightly self-deprecating. "I'd love to hear your spin on how all of THIS isn't because of me - isn't my fault." "You're partly right, Mulder," she said. "I am?" he croaked, afraid of what she would say. He turned quickly to look at her, trying to decide if he saw hatred and blame in her eyes. But he couldn't. They were still pale and swollen, but all he saw in them was honesty and love. She nodded. "But not in the way you think. Mulder, if anyone is to blame for all of this, it's the Smoking Man. HE made this about YOU. HE exploited our relationship. YOU never have. In fact, you've always tried to keep me away from the cases that were personal to you. So how can you blame yourself for any of this?" Mulder shook his head, in his mind, a jumble of protestations. "But Scully, look at what you've lost because of me: your sister, your career, and now, your mother and your life. Because of me, you'll probably never get to see her again. You'll never have a regular life again." He sighed. "If you'd never met me, none of this would have happened." Scully's eyes went wide. "Do you really feel that way? Do you wish we'd never met?" Mulder felt as though someone had flayed his heart open wide - so piercing was his guilt and sadness for what had happened to Scully. He looked away from her, his eyes full of tears. "Sometimes I do." Just then, he felt Scully's hand on his. She guided his hand to her stomach, and placed it there. "Mulder, if we'd never met, we wouldn't have this child. We wouldn't have what we have between us. If we hadn't met, I'm convinced that both of us would still be alone in life, isolated." He knew she was looking up at him, but he didn't have the strength to turn his head and meet her gaze. He was ashamed of what his quest had cost her. "Mulder, we have a chance, here, to be a real family. Ever since my father and Melissa died, I've felt like I didn't really have a true family anymore. My brothers are rarely around. It was just my mother and I. Of course I love her, and she is my family, but it wasn't the same. It was like we were survivors from some war - refugees left with memories of what we used to have. There was something essential missing that makes a family a family. You know, the feeling that makes you look forward to holidays and gathering together and laughing. There was no one left in my family to gather. My brothers never came home much, even before. And my mother and I rarely laughed anymore. "But now, with this baby and you, I feel like the missing pieces have been given back to me. I feel the laughter coming back. I love the way I feel when we're all together, and I'll do whatever it takes to be a family. Don't you want that, too? Don't you feel the same contentment and peace that I feel?" He turned to her, and knew that there were tears running down his cheeks. Scully always had a way with words. She could change his mind at the last second - when he was convinced he should walk away for good. He pulled her close, and rested his head on her shoulder. "You know I feel the same. You know I want this..." he said. He felt her arms circle around his back. "Then stop beating yourself up about all of this. My abduction wasn't your fault. My sister's death wasn't your fault. And this whole thing with the Smoking Man isn't your fault. You left me down here alone because it was the only way you could leave Washington for good one day. You were protecting me in the only way you could. So, stop blaming yourself, and know that you deserve to have a family. You deserve to have love. All three of us deserve to be happy." Mulder pulled back a bit to kiss her on the cheek, and thought that he had never loved her more than he did at that moment, when she had absolved him of all the sins he thought he had committed. In a moment of love and total acceptance, she had washed away all his guilt and sorrow the way the spring rains wash away the ugliness of the winter. And in the wake of her selfless acceptance and love of him, she had taken him by the hand, and led him out into a bright, beautiful future filled with hope and promise. * * * 7:00 am Scully took a deep breath and prayed that the cramps wouldn't return when she tried to stand. She knew that they had to get moving. Bullet wound or no bullet wound, Grant would be on their trail. He wasn't one to let any kind of pain stop him. In that one way, they were alike, she supposed. "How you feeling, Scully?" Mulder asked from his spot at her side. With his help, she finally made it to her feet, and flashed a small smile in his general direction. He still looked like a big, cloudy blob to her. "So far so good." "No pain?" he asked, and the sweet concern she heard in his voice made her feel warm inside. She shook her head and put a hand low on her belly, rubbing gently. "Not yet." He took her hand and she felt him move close to her. She knew he was looking into her eyes, his gaze unflinching, and she knew that whatever he was about to say, it was serious. "The minute you feel anything, Scully - any kind of discomfort - I want you to tell me. No matter how inconsequential you think it is. Okay?" She squeezed his hand and smiled a bit. "I promise, Mulder. No hiding." "Good," he said, with a sharp nod of his head. Scully thought of his face, and couldn't stop the feeling of complete adoration from washing over her. Normally, she hated it when Mulder pulled his mother hen routine on her, but right now, after being so scared and alone, she welcomed it. Only last night she had thought he was dead, lost from her forever. Now that she had him back, she didn't mind his little quirks like she usually did. They just reminded her that he was alive and with her. "Mulder?" she asked, as they stood there, ready to set off. A thought had suddenly occurred to her. How in the world did Mulder ever find her? There were miles of jungle. How did he zero in on her so easily? He looked down at her, and she imagined the look of worry that would pass over his face like a dark cloud. "What is it? Is something wrong?" She felt his hands on her stomach, then her face. She shook her head. "No, no, the baby's fine. I was just wondering..." She imagined his eyebrows raised in question. "What?" "How did you find me?" "Actually, Scully, you'll probably get a kick out of this." She could hear the mischief in his voice. She put her hand on her hip. "Oh really?" He nodded. "Well...um...I was unsure of what way to go. So I closed my eyes and I thought of you, and all of a sudden, I saw this cave in my mind. I saw it perfectly. I knew where it was, and I knew you were in it." She looked up in his general direction in disbelief. "You SAW the cave in your mind?" "Yes. So I started walking...and it was like I was being pulled along by something...and I just let it lead me wherever it wanted. It led me here. The second I saw this place, I knew you were inside." Scully arched her brow and gave Mulder the Look as best she could, considering her eyesight problem. "I suppose you won't consider the possibility that you found me by using something more mundane than ESP, will you?" He sniffed and she thought he crossed his arms over his chest, but Scully could tell that, as always, he was open to her suggestion. "Such as?" "Couldn't it have been that you simply remembered this cave from one of your previous trips to the island? And that, coupled with the fact that you know I liked to come here, helped you decide on it and find it?" When she had finished, she couldn't seem to stop the giddy feeling that was bubbling up inside her. Here they were, in their familiar, well- worn roles. It felt like old times. Times so long ago. On some days, she missed those times. Other days, though, she knew that what they had now - no matter how tenuous or fragile - was better. Mulder chuckled, and Scully wondered if he was thinking the same thing. "Nice try, Scully, but you never brought me here." Her brow furrowed. "Yes I did. Your first trip here." She saw a flurry of motion, and decided he was shaking his head. "Nope. You were GOING to show me, but then it poured and we never got around to it." She almost felt like stamping her foot. "I swore I brought you here before..." He took her hand again, squeezed it, and turned to face the entrance. "Sorry. Never been here before." She sighed, and even through her hazy vision, she could tell that he was reveling in being right. Again. "Face it, Scully. We have a connection. I've been aware of it since almost the beginning. Jack Willis...your abduction...Donnie Pfaster. All those times, I had flashes of images...things you were seeing. I FELT what you were feeling, and SAW what you were seeing. How do you think I found you when Gerry Schnauz had you? I could FEEL you...out there...scared...tied in that chair. I looked at that picture of you, and closed my eyes, and suddenly, I saw the image of a dark enclosure and a bright light. I could almost feel the duct tape he used to tie you. It was the same earlier today. I could feel you and got a flash of something you had seen." Scully stared straight ahead, in that way that blind people do, and exhaled dramatically. "But..." She felt him lean close and kiss her temple. "No buts, Scully. Don't fight what we have. It's saved BOTH of our lives more times than either of us care to count, I'm sure. You know I'm right, Scully. You've experienced it yourself." Suddenly, an image of Mulder in a starry expanse flashed in Scully's mind. The grief and pain she had been feeling back then swept over her rapidly, as she remembered the words he had spoken: "...I have been on the bridge that spans two worlds...a truth which now binds us together... I have returned from the dead to continue with you..." She shook her head quickly, to trying shake off the anguish connected with those memories and focus on what Mulder wanted her to see. She remembered the fierce certainty she had felt then, that he was alive. She had even gone so far as to tell his mother that he was still alive. Scully realized now that she had been so certain because - through that vision of him - she had *felt* the presence of his soul. She had known instantly that it wasn't the desperate dream of an aggrieved soul. It was fact. Following that vision, Scully had had flashes of other things. During that day, when she had been most tired and had closed her eyes for a few moments, she had quick snapshots. A dark, domed enclosure...the smell of a fire...and an overwhelming feeling of fatigue and resignation. She HAD seen through his eyes, in a way. She had certainly been with him in that place where dreams play themselves out and souls solve their problems. Looking up towards Mulder, she wiped a tear from her eye and smiled softly. "After the boxcar..." she began. "You KNEW I was alive, Scully. You told me so," Mulder said, a note of pride in his voice. She reached out and felt for his hand, and squeezed it. "A truth that binds us together..." she said, echoing his dream-words. He pulled her close, and she knew he was smiling. "That truth is US, Scully. It's allowed us to feel what the other's feeling...to SEE what the other's seeing when we're in danger. Our spirit's are bound to one another...bound forever." Scully allowed herself to smile, and then, for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe. She gave herself permission to have faith in something intangible and mystical. She believed in the strange love that wound itself between the two of them. * * * CONTINUED IN PART EIGHT THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART EIGHT: IN QUEST OF THE SPIRIT Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island June 10, 2000 7:15 am ------------------------------------------ Devil and the deep blue sea behind me Vanish in the air you'll never find me I will turn your face to alabaster Then you will find your servant is your master ------------------------------------------ They came to the entrance of the cave and peered out cautiously. Scully couldn't see very well, so she relied on Mulder to check for danger. All she could really see were dark-colored globs and blurs. Her vision wasn't complete darkness, but it WAS fairly dark. Any colors she saw were murkier than normal and hard to interpret. She saw a lot of hazy forest-green and decided that it must be the canopy of the trees. Above that, was an expanse of gloomy grey with some...tinges of blue? The sky. If there were any clouds, she couldn't tell. The air was warm and pleasant - not heavy. It was a calm and silent morning, she decided, but deceptively so. This day had begun anything but calm, and she had a bad feeling that it would end the same. She only hoped that she and Mulder would find a way to survive it. Grant was out there, somewhere, following them or waiting for them. It was hard to tell. She didn't know how badly she had wounded him - only that he hadn't been able to follow her immediately. Unfortunately, Scully had an intimate knowledge of Grant's personality, and she knew that nothing short of death would stop him from attempting to complete his mission. Add to that his hatred of her, and nothing would stop him. She turned her head towards Mulder, and could barely make out his profile. The darkness of the cave further impaired her poor vision. She imagined him standing very still, his head cocked to the left, listening intently. Scully did the same, but heard only the chirping of the jungle birds and the calls of monkeys. She remembered all those old wives' tales about one sense overcompensating when another is lost. If it happened, it hadn't happened to her yet. Her hearing was the same as it had always been. She reached out until she felt Mulder's arm, and slid her hand up until she touched his shoulder. "I don't hear anything, but that means nothing," he said. One thing they hadn't lost was their silent communication. It seemed they didn't even need eye contact anymore, because Mulder seemed to understand what she wanted to know without her saying anything. He continued. "One thing we know about the Smoking Man is that he trains his henchmen well." Scully nodded, agreeing. "I wish I knew how badly I had hurt him, but he sprayed my eyes directly afterwards..." She felt his hand on her neck, rubbing gently. "You did the best you could. Right now, we have to think of a way to get somewhere safe. Where were you planning to go after here?" "A cattle station a mile inland. I know the family that owns it." "Do you think you can tell me how to get there?" he asked. Scully nodded. "I'm sure. I was pretty sure I could find it blind." "Okay," he said, sighing. "I don't hear anything, and we should get going as soon as possible." She exhaled nervously. "I know -I- don't want to be around when he gets here." Mulder gripped her hand and she immediately felt a wave of security pass over her. They could get through anything together. They were strong together. They had been through much worse together. They would get through this...somehow. She forced a small smile, and they stepped out into the morning sun. After the first step, they halted, and Scully realized that they had both been expecting an attack. When it didn't happen, they relaxed a little, and moved forward, walking three more steps before Mulder stopped. Scully cocked her head, listening, her heart banging against her ribs. "What is it?" She felt his whole body tense, and his hand tightened around hers. "Something's wrong..." he whispered. Scully listened again, trying hard to hear anything out of the ordinary. Nothing. "I don't hear any-" And then, in a sudden and terrifying rush, Mulder's hand was torn from hers and she was knocked off her feet. She landed on the ground with a thud, her shoulder bearing most of the brunt, and groaned. "Mulder?" she cried. "Where are you?" She blinked furiously, but it didn't help. Everything was a confusing haze of shadows and misshapen forms. Then she heard the sounds of a scuffle. It was nearby. She scrambled to her feet as fast as she could and tried to pinpoint the fight. "I'll kill you!" she heard Mulder shout, somewhere off to her right, very close Turning in that direction, she could suddenly make out the fractured image of what she knew had to be Grant and Mulder fighting on the ground. Scully watched the two fuzzy shapes roll around, each struggling for dominance. She tried to take a step forward, but felt fear sweep over her. She felt vulnerable on her feet when she couldn't see. Instinctively, she dropped to a crouch, slowly because of the baby's weight, and moved forward a bit. She had to help Mulder. "Mulder?" she cried again, worried because she hadn't heard him say anything else. Was Grant choking him? Had he wounded him somehow? She could still hear rustling and scraping, but it was hard to tell what was really happening. "Sc-Scully! G-G-Get ...away!" she heard him shout, exertion slurring his words Scully shook her head. There was no way in hell she was going to crawl off into the bushes like some coward, leaving Mulder behind to fight for his life. She was about to reply, when abruptly, all sounds of fighting stopped. All she could hear was the two men breathing heavily, exhausted. "Mulder?" she croaked, her breath caught. "Get up, Mulder," Grant commanded. More rustling, and then Mulder's voice: "I'll do whatever you want, just keep that gun pointed away from Scully." It was then that Scully realized that they had been fighting for the gun. Obviously, Grant had won. He would kill Mulder and turn her over to her abductors. She was certain of it. Her heart sank, and she felt her hope spiraling away, dwindling down to nothing, until she remembered: She had had a gun! She had shot Grant with it! That meant that the gun Grant now pointed at Mulder must be a smaller, one. A back up in case he lost the first. But where was the first? What had she done with it? Scully knew she had had it after Grant had sprayed her eyes. She had had it as she stumbled through the forest, unseeing. There was a small gap in her memory from when she entered the cave to when Mulder woke her. She must have lost it when she had blacked out in the cave. It was the only explanation. That meant it was somewhere in the cave. Somewhere... With a start, Scully realized that Grant and Mulder and been talking, trading barbs most likely, and she hadn't been listening. She got to her feet again, and strained to clear her mind, and pay attention. She heard Grant tsk - one of his many annoying personal habits - and then he said, "You just keep turning up like a bad penny, Mulder." "You just keep on looking, Grant," Mulder replied, his voice dripping with cold hatred. Scully knew what Mulder's face looked like when he said that. She had seen him filled with murderous anger before, and she knew that his hatred of Grant had been building for a long time. She knew his eyes would be narrow and dark, his hands balled into fists at his sides, his face slack. She heard the sound of footsteps drawing closer to her, but there was something odd about the sound. There was a step and then a scrape. And then Scully realized that Grant was limping, probably dragging his injured leg. So, she had hurt him! When Grant spoke again, she felt that he was no more than four feet from her. "And my dear Dana, you keep on defying me." His voice was tight with anger. She could feel it radiating off of him. Scully didn't bother answering him. She had engaged in enough of his wordplay to know that it never got her anywhere. Grant just enjoyed watching her squirm when he made his dire predictions and commandments. Scully was silent as he yanked her hands together and bound them roughly with rope. She knew that resisting was futile. Grant did not know the meaning of mercy. "Look at what all of this has come to," Grant said, when he was finished tying her hands. The normal, regal air had returned to his voice. "We're running around this hideous island in the heat trying to escape a fate that has been predetermined." Scully's hands moved to her belly. "You're not getting this baby, Grant," she said, finally speaking. "I don't care WHAT I have to do to stop you." "Oh, please, Dana! Enough with the heroic proclamations! What can you do?" "Don't test me, Grant. Just know that - one way or another - you will NEVER get this child. Never." She heard him chuckle, scoffing at her. "Forgive me if I doubt you. As I said before, Dana, you just don't have the heart." For the first time, Scully was glad she couldn't see, because she didn't want to see Mulder's face when he heard what she said next. She pulled herself up to her full height, and looked in the direction she thought Grant was. She did her best to school her expression into one of defiance and confidence, things she always had trouble with where Grant was concerned. "I will kill myself before I let the Smoking Man and his monsters have this child." From somewhere to her right, she heard Mulder gasp, and then: "Scully, no..." She didn't turn her head in his direction, couldn't bear even that. "I'm sorry, Mulder..." Then she turned her attention back to Grant. "I WILL do it, Grant. I swear to God, I will. Our child will not live a painful life filled with tests and simulations." "Scully, don't say this..." Mulder's voice floated to her, unearthly and preternatural, like a guardian angel whispering in her ear. She felt tears burning the corners of her eyes. "Mulder, I know what our child would live through. I KNOW. How can you want that?" "I don't want that," he said, his voice thick and watery; full of tears and pain. "But I DO want to give our child every chance I can." She shook her head. "Mulder, in THERE, there are NO chances. No redemption. No salvation. Our child would be a pincushion and a guinea pig until it served its purpose, and then it would be killed." "Scully...I don't want to lose either of you. If you were taken back to your abductors, I would never stop looking for you. I would search until my last breath. And both of you would make it because you're strong." Scully sighed, feeling the pain of the decision and Mulder's heartbreak slice through her lungs as painfully as a knife might. "Mulder, the last thing you need are two more Samantha's." She said the words before she really thought about them, and the moment they were out of her mouth, she knew she had hurt him terribly. She prepared herself for his anger. But there was only pain and worry for her and their child in his response: "Scully, there is always another way. Please don't do this." Scully felt his anguish like a cloud of blue pressing in on her, and she knew that he would be totally and utterly destroyed if she killed herself and their baby, but there was more at stake here. There was the innocent life inside her. What point would there be in allowing it to be born into a world of needles, examinations, inoculations, and pain? She couldn't relent. She had decided this long ago, and she knew it was for the best. She lifted her chin, praying that if it came to it and she had to do this, Mulder would understand one day. "Believe me, Grant. I'll do it. This life inside me is innocent and blameless. It does not deserve the future you and the Smoking Man would force onto it." There was a raw silence for a few moments, and the only sounds Scully heard were Grant's even breathing and Mulder's tortured sobs. Finally, Grant spoke: "What a wonderful performance, Dana! Bravo! And you too, Mulder. Well done! I'm sure the Emmy board will be calling." Scully felt anger swell up in her like a great tide. "God-dammit, Grant! This is no act!" But Grant ignored her, and said, "Now, now, be good." That phrase had the same effect as if he had thrown a bucket of ice water on her, and she stilled instantly, her head down. She heard Grant cackle. "I thought that would get your attention, Dana." Scully said nothing, her stomach twisted into knots as learned behavior and anger fought inside her. "I think it's time we adjourn to the cave. We have some business to attend to, and then you and I, Dana, have an appointment to keep." Scully knew what he meant by "business." She was trying to think of a way to stall him, when she heard Grant tell Mulder to get moving. She heard Mulder groan suddenly, and knew that Grant had hit him somehow, and abruptly, Mulder was next to her. He was a cold presence beside her as they walked back towards the cave. It was obvious that he was terribly angry with her. Scully knew that he allowed her to hold onto his arm merely because of her vision problem. Under any other circumstances, Mulder would have been as far from her as possible. She wondered, idly, if she had damaged their relationship beyond repair. She wondered if it really mattered if she had, because Grant intended to kill Mulder in the cave and then give her over to the Smoking Man. Her mind raced as she tried to think of a way to avert the coming disaster. Was there anything she could do to save Mulder? To lose him twice in one day would be too much for her to take. And then she remembered, and her mind latched onto her only chance: THE GUN. She had no way of telling Mulder about it without speaking, so it was up to her to find it and use it. But how? She couldn't see. Shaking her head, she decided to worry about that when the time came. The important thing was finding the gun. She had no memory of dropping it, but she knew that she had it before she went into the cave. It had to be in there somewhere. A few more steps and Scully's vision darkened and she felt the coolness of the cave's interior. She would have to use her feet to find the gun. She let go of Mulder, and he said nothing, confirming the anger she had suspected. Unfortunately, she couldn't worry about that now. She was trying to save his life. Scully moved closer to the cave wall, knowing that she would have walked in the same way, and so the gun would be near the wall. She brought her hands up to the wall for support, and walked slowly, sweeping each foot in an arc in front of her, feeling for the gun. They walked about fifteen feet into the cave. Far enough to make escape hard, but close enough that light still permeated. After all, Grant would need to see to complete his grisly task. "That's far enough," Grant said, and Scully could tell that he was to her left, probably in the middle of the cave. But Scully still hadn't found the gun. She chanced another step and sweep with her foot, and had to stop herself from crying out when her foot thudded against the heavy Sig. Immediately, she slid down the wall and came to rest beside the gun. She wasn't sure exactly where Mulder was, except that he wasn't right next to her. He was probably a few feet closer to the entrance. Now she had to get Grant's attention off of Mulder and onto her. She had to stop him from killing Mulder until she could grab the gun. What she would do with it once she had it, she didn't know. Maybe throw it to Mulder? That plan was squelched when she heard Grant speak. "Forgive me for this humiliation, Mulder, but I have to tie you up. I just can't trust you to sit still while I shoot you." Scully felt like her entire soul had seized up, and she found it hard to pull air into her lungs. How could Grant talk about murder so callously? He was just going to shoot Mulder straightaway - without any preamble or production. She had to do something to stall him. With a deep breath, she plunged ahead, hoping some brilliant plan would occur to her at any moment, but now, with Mulder tied, she would have to act on her own. "Grant, I'd think a minute before you do something rash." Silence, and then: "I'm afraid I don't understand," he said, his voice still regal, but also cautious. Scully shifted, moving so that the gun was snug against her, where she could reach it quickly and easily. "I'm sure you know that the Smoking Man considers Mulder...'special."' The sound of shoes crunching gravel drifted to her ears. Grant had taken a step or two towards her...and away from Mulder. "Special? How so?" Scully shrugged. "He never told me, specifically, but I know that he wanted to do everything to avoid killing him. I don't think he would appreciate you killing Mulder simply because you're annoyed." Grant was silent again, apparently considering her words, and Scully wondered, briefly, how Mulder was reacting to the way she spoke of him. He might be even angrier at her apparent casual attitude, but in fact, it was all an act. If she asked Grant to spare Mulder simply because she couldn't bear to live without him, Grant would kill Mulder just to hurt her. It was the Brer Rabbit Syndrome. She would only resort to begging if she had no other recourse, because she knew it was the weakest approach. Suddenly, she heard the gravel crunch again, and felt that Grant was even closer to her, probably looking down at her like a bug he intended to crush. "That was a valiant attempt, Dana, but I don't buy it," Grant said, and she heard a loud CLICK as he cocked the gun. "My employer told you that Mulder would be spared ONLY if YOU kept to your end of the deal. You didn't, and so Mulder's life is forfeit. Those were the terms." Scully knew that she had very little time, and only a few more ways that might get through to Grant. She thanked God that Mulder had been quiet so far. "How's the leg, Grant?" she asked venomously. "It's too bad I can't see the pain in your eyes. I know how much you enjoyed seeing ME in agony." She heard him suck in his breath in anger, and he made no response. Scully realized she had revealed a tiny crack in his armor, and would do whatever she could to break it open. "Not going to answer me? I can understand that. You're not used to your new role...as the victim. Trust me, Grant, it takes some time to get used to it." Before Grant could reply, Mulder's voice filled the cave. "Scully, for God's sake, be quiet! Think of yourself and the baby! Let him do whatever he wants to me!" Scully suddenly heard the sound of quick footsteps moving away from her, and then a strange thud as Mulder's shouting was cut off abruptly. Fear flooded Scully as horrible images came to mind, and she called out to him frantically. "Mulder? Mulder, are you okay? Mulder?" There was no answer. At long last, she heard Grant tsk and then sigh. "Now there's blood on my gun..." Another dramatic sigh. Scully's breath left her in a whoosh. "What did you do to him, Grant? Mulder??" Her breath was coming to her in little gasps, and her mind raced. "Grant, what did you do?!" "I didn't want to hear what he was saying, so I hit him in the mouth. That seemed to shut him up." Scully felt a murderous rage build up inside her, and she thought of the many different ways she could kill Grant...slowly, painfully. But she knew that any threats she might make to Grant would be meaningless and only make him hurt Mulder more. She had to make him forget about Mulder. "Grant, it's me you want. Forget about him. The baby and me...we're the real prize here, aren't we?" She knew he was smiling. She could feel that sick, evil smile down to the very marrow of her bones. "I suppose you're correct, Dana." Scully swallowed dryly, the pressure of the gun against her leg a slight comfort. "Then let's make a NEW deal." This seemed to pique his interest, because he was suddenly close to her again. "New deal?" She nodded. "Yes. If you promise that Mulder and the baby will be safe...you can have me." It felt like Mulder's frightened scream pierced her to her soul, and it took her a few moments to realize that he had not spoken aloud. She had heard his voice - albeit a little hollow and faraway - but somehow she had heard his thoughts in her mind. Maybe it was all a delusion concocted by her mind, but if it was, it was awfully convincing. Perhaps those theories that Mulder had told her about - how they could feel and see what the other did in times of danger - perhaps they had all gone to her head. But even if it was a delusion, Scully decided it was a slightly comforting one, and it gave her confidence in their bond. "Mulder, please," she said softly, sadly. "It's better this way. We were foolish to think that we could ever have a life - not with the Smoking Man on our backs. That's no life for you or our baby." He sniffed a bit and hesitated, and she knew he was wondering why she had responded to something he hadn't said, but perhaps thought. Finally, though, he replied, and after hearing his voice in her head, his real voice seemed loud and sharp. "Scully, do you think I give a damn? I've got nothing without you and our baby." She shook her head. "I've been MARKED, Mulder. They'll never stop looking for me. You and the baby would be better off without me. Running from city to city, always looking over our shoulders...that's not a life. It's certainly no life for a child." "Scully, you're wrong," he said, his voice soft and sad. "We're strongest TOGETHER. Don't you remember what we talked about earlier? Remember how I found you...how you found ME ...what you told my mother? Think about-" His voice fell away, and he groaned loudly. It was then that Scully realized that Grant had walked away from her again, and had hit Mulder - again. "Mulder? Oh, God, Mulder??" she cried, fearing that Grant had really hurt him this time. Grant's condescending voice filled the air. "Ooooh...head wounds are always troublesome. Isn't that right, Dr. Scully?" "You bastard!" she hissed. "Stop hurting him!" It was killing her that Mulder was being hurt and that she couldn't do anything to help him or stop it. "I'd like to end his pain permanently, Dana, but you keep putting it off," Grant said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather. "Grant, my offer still stands. If you promise that Mulder and the baby - after it's born - will be safe and together, I'll go back. All those scientists you told me about can have me and do whatever they want." His thoughts echoed in her mind again, but this time his voice was weak and thick, a darker version. Scully felt tears fill her eyes suddenly, and slip down her cheeks. She was in agony for him, and only wanted him to be safe. "Mulder, just be quiet from now on. Please...I don't want him to hurt you anymore." His words resounded inside her mind, and she could even hear the way his voice was handicapped by his slightly labored breathing. Scully was startled when Mulder's voice filled the cave, bouncing off the walls: "Remember what I told you and trust in that, Scully. If you do, you'll see the truth. You'll SEE..." Scully was shaken by his words, and she stilled. He was trying to tell her something, she knew - make her understand. She thought back to their conversation earlier. Mulder had been trying to convince her that they had a connection - that in times of need, they could feel each other, see what the other was seeing. Scully had dismissed it, of course, but now she wished it was true. Right now, in this awful moment where she might lose the person she loved, she would trade over every bit of scientific rationale she ever believed in for it to be true. Tears stung her eyes viciously. She heard the words in her mind as though he had said them with a sigh, and she bowed her head. "Mulder..." she whimpered. Her tongue felt thick and cottony. "Oh, please!" Grant's snicker broke the still moment and Scully jerked, unsure where he was. As unbelievable as it was, she had almost forgotten about him for a few moments. She and Mulder had been in their own world, blocking out everything else. Maybe he was right... Scully listened carefully, and could tell that Grant was pacing back and forth, agitated. "You two and your damnable 'bond' and 'true love'! It's sickening! It's pathetic and useless! Get over it!" Scully was hit with the powerful feeling of pity. She pitied Grant that he had never felt such an emotion - had never been so connected to another human being. She felt sorry for him that he had missed out on such an important part of life - perhaps the MOST important part. To think that love and relationships were useless was like thinking that the plot of a movie should supercede the characters. It just didn't make sense. Only a lonely fool would believe such a thing. "It's not pathetic, Grant," she finally said, her voice soft and almost sympathetic. "It is!" he shouted back at her. "All during our so-called marriage, you couldn't go a fucking day without talking about your precious link with Mulder. About the trust you shared. How he was the only man you would ever love...and my God, you carried that picture of him around with you like it was your lifeline!" Grant would never understand that that picture HAD been her lifeline - to so many things. It had kept her tethered, somehow, to sanity, strength, conviction, and most importantly, to Mulder and her love for him. That grainy picture of Mulder - so lost and alone - had kept her alive. She felt a whoosh of air suddenly, and then his hot breath on her cheek. "Look where your BOND has gotten you...both of you..." Scully lifted her chin, courageous to the end. "I wouldn't change a thing, Grant. I wouldn't trade what I have with Mulder for anything - not even for my life." Grant snickered. "Such foolishness..." She shook her head. "It is YOU who are foolish, Grant, for not being able to recognize what is truly important in this life." She hesitated, exhaling. "I feel sorry for you..." Instantly, she felt little bits of gravel hit her face and arms, and she knew that Grant was backing away from her quickly. He always ran away from any kind of positive emotion. "SHUT UP!" he screamed, his voice high and panicked. Scully knew she had gotten to him - had found his Achilles' heel. Grant's true weakness was his own hypocrisy concerning emotions. For as long as Scully had known him, he had used words like "love," "feelings," and "bond" in a pejorative sense. Somewhere along the way, however, Scully had realized that those were the very things he longed to have. But knowing he would never find them, he ridiculed them. Realizing that she had discovered the one thing that could make him lose control, she pressed forward. He had to be off-balance and unguarded for her plan to have a chance. She could hear the gravel crunching again, and knew he was pacing once more. Slowly, Scully let her right hand slip from her belly to the gun at her side and curled her fingers around it. "I really do pity you, Grant," she said after a few moments, her body tensed for whatever reaction Grant might have. "Pity is the LAST thing I want from you!" Grant shrieked. She heard more gravel being crunched as he paced back and forth, more agitated now, than ever. He was even mumbling to himself. She figured he was about fifteen feet away and directly in front of her. She had to keep his position pinpointed if she had any hope of shooting him. First though, she had to talk to Mulder. She had to chance it to make sure he was all right. "Mulder? You okay?" she whispered, hoping Grant wouldn't notice. There was a slight pause before he answered. "Yeah, just...bruised and bloody..." He seemed to be okay, as far as she could tell without actually being able to see him. At least he was coherent and not slurring any words or confused about time or place. Convinced Mulder wasn't seriously injured, Scully turned her head back in Grant's direction and focused on the only plan left to her. "Why don't you want my pity, Grant?" she called out, praying he would answer. She thought he had stopped moving while she had spoken to Mulder, and she was now unsure as to his location. The moment she spoke, the sound of his footsteps began again, and she focused on establishing his position. "I don't want anything from you," he answered, his voice less hysterical. "You're nothing to me but a commodity." Scully lifted the gun slightly, so its nose was pointed towards the ground, but the butt of the gun was resting on the top of her thigh. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, feeling that her aim would be better without any visual distractions. And with her vision as poor as it was, everything she looked at was a confusing distraction. she prayed. Then she took another deep breath, and spoke the words that she now knew would push Grant over the edge. "Well, Grant, that's too bad, because I've recently discovered that the ONLY thing I CAN give you is my pity." "YOU BITCH!" Grant howled, and the sound of gravel being crunched and thrown backwards filled the air. The next sound Scully heard was Mulder screaming her name aloud, his voice a tumultuous mixture of fear and anguish, as he tried to warn her. Scully knew Grant was charging her, and she knew that this was her only chance. If he got to her before she had a chance to fire the gun, he would shoot her in his murderous rage - baby or no baby. She hefted the gun into a firing position, and took aim in the direction his voice had come from. *** CONCLUDED IN PART B OF PART EIGHT THE SPIRIT QUEST by Amy Schatz starbuck@ptd.net PART EIGHT: IN QUEST OF THE SPIRIT (continued) Scully knew Grant was charging her, and she knew that this was her only chance. If he got to her before she had a chance to fire the gun, he would shoot her in his murderous rage - baby or no baby. She hefted the gun into a firing position, and took aim in the direction his voice had come from. At that moment, the familiar image of Mulder in an expanse of stars came to her, and for some strange reason, Scully felt a terribly strong urge to open her eyes. Before she had a chance to analyze or even wonder why, she opened them. When she did, she gasped and almost dropped the gun. She could see! But in almost the same instant that she realized she could see, she realized she wasn't seeing through her eyes, because the angle was slightly off. She was seeing through Mulder's eyes! It wasn't perfect, crystal-clear vision, but it was better than her own. She saw the outlines of the cave's interior, and she could see Grant running towards her, but it seemed as though time had slowed down and he were running in slow motion; almost as though he were running through water. She saw the whole scene as though white gauze covered her eyes, the edges blurred. But it was clear enough to allow her to take perfect, deadly aim. Her fingers closed around the trigger and she heard three shots ring out, echoing as the sound bounced off the walls of the cave. Scully wasn't sure she had hit him until she felt him collapse at her feet. She closed her eyes and sank back against the cave wall. And just when she thought he must be dead, she heard a strange gurgling sound and then his gasping voice: "When I am gone...you will have never been..." His words chilled her to the bone, and she felt her breath leave her in a great rush. "SCULLY?!" Mulder shouted again from nearby, his voice full of panic and hysteria. "Scully, are you okay?! Please talk to me!" Scully opened her eyes and discovered that her vision was her own again. Everything was dark and blurred, but she just could make out - albeit poorly - a large form lying at her feet; Grant. "I'm okay, Mulder," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm okay..." "Scully get the hell away from him!" Mulder shouted. "The nose of his gun is touching the tip of your sneaker!" Scully got to her knees as quickly and she could and crawled sideways a bit, doing her best to get out of the line of fire of Grant's gun. Even if Grant was dead, any involuntary muscle contractions could make the gun go off. Once Scully was safely away from the gun, she crawled a bit closer to him, her gun held out in front of her, ready to shoot again. Soon, she was within a few feet of his body. She had to be in order to see well enough. She could see that his right arm had been extended towards her, and his gun hung from his hand. She watched Grant closely, straining to see. Scully had to make sure he was dead. She had to see that his chest didn't rise and fall - that no breath pushed in and out of his lungs. She couldn't take any chances that he would fire on her when she turned her back to untie Mulder. "Scully, what's wrong? What are you doing?" Mulder asked. "Did he hurt you? Is the baby all ri-?" "Is he dead? Can you tell if he's dead, Mulder?" she asked, her voice wavering, her mind whirling. She ignored his questions, her whole being focused on Grant. "I have to know. I have to make sure..." "He's dead, Scully," she heard him say. "You shot him three times in the heart. Trust me, he's dead." Scully heard Mulder, but still her eyes did not leave Grant's body. "He has to be dead...he has to...has to..." she said, her gun still trained on him. "Scully, please tell me if you're okay," Mulder begged. "Are you having cramps again?" "Everything's fine, Mulder," Scully answered, finally turning her attention to him. "The baby and I are okay. I just had to make sure Grant was dead. I had to know." "I know," Mulder said, his voice soft. Now certain that Grant was no longer a threat, Scully pushed herself to her feet and made her way back to the cave wall. Once there, she felt her way to Mulder, using her hands to guide her. She placed the gun on the ground next to them. Her hands found his hair first, and she immediately dropped to her knees beside him, her fingers fluttering over his cheeks, jaw, lips, and brow. As she touched him, tears began to stream down her face. "Are you okay?" she asked, continuing with her survey. "Did he hurt you badly? Are you having trouble breathing? Do you feel lightheaded?" "Scully, I'm okay," he said, leaning his head on her shoulder. "Just some bruises and cuts, I think. I'll be fine." "Mulder, when he tied you up and was just going to shoot you, I nearly lost it," she said she as she untied him. Once his hands were free, he pulled her bound hands towards him and began working on the knot. The moment her hands were free, she slipped her arms around him and pulled him close, her tears working into sobs. Mulder wrapped his arms around her and held on tightly. "Shhh..." he said softly. "I know. I was afraid I was going to lose you and the baby." Burying her face in the hollow of his shoulder, Scully let the tears have their way. She had nearly lost Mulder twice in one day, and they had both nearly lost their future. She was powerless against all the fear, anxiety, hopelessness, and anguish that poured out of her in a great rush. "Scully, when I got to your house and saw everything broken...it was like I had been thrown back in time, and it was your abduction all over again. I felt like my soul had been ripped out. I was so scared..." She pulled back so that he could see her face, and stroked his cheek softly. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I hate Grant for what he put both of us through." Scully thought she saw Mulder shake his head slightly. "What?" she asked, smoothing some of his hair from his forehead. "I don't hate Grant as much as I hate the Smoking Man," Mulder said. "He's the one who put all of this in motion. He's the mastermind. Without him, none of this would have happened." Scully nodded. "That might be true, Mulder, but Grant is the one who decided to carry out his mission with such cruelty and pain. That year I spent with him was the worst of my life, and for that, I will always hate him." Mulder pulled her close again, and she closed her eyes, her face pressed into his chest. Flashes of her time with Grant flew through her mind, the memories of the pain and agony she had experienced intense and graphic. She shivered and held onto Mulder more tightly. "Hey," he said, a note of surprise in his tone. "What is it?" She kept her face buried in his shirt. "I feel like he'll always be in the shadows, looking over my shoulder. He'll always be with me, in my mind. I'm afraid that even though he's dead, I'll never escape him..." She felt him stroking her hair and back. "You will," he said at last, his voice hushed in her ear. "I'll help you and one day, you'll forget him." * * * Galapagos Islands Province Santa Cruz Island June 10, 2000 9:01 am ------------------------------------------ Seasons may change Winter to spring But I love you - until the end of time Come what may I will love you - until my dying day ------------------------------------------ Finally, Scully reached down for her gun and tucked it into the waistband of her pants. Then they helped each other to stand and holding hands began to walk towards the mouth of the cave. They had only gone a few steps when Scully stopped suddenly, her face stricken. "What is it?" Mulder asked, his voice tight with apprehension. "His gun," she said, her voice slack with dread. "We forgot his gun. We have to get it, Mulder." She felt his hand on her cheek, stroking it gently. "He's dead, Scully. He can't use that gun." A shiver of fear passed through her body and she exhaled shakily. "I don't care. I won't walk out of here without that gun." "Okay, Scully, okay. I'll go and get it," he said. He put his hands on her arms and moved her closer to the wall, placing her hands on the cave wall. "Wait right here." And then she heard gravel crunching again as he walked back to Grant's body. Moments passed slowly and it seemed an eternity before she heard the crunching gravel again, and even longer until Mulder returned to her side. "Do you have it?" she said, reaching out for his arm to steady her. "Yes. Once we're outside, I'll throw it down one of the ravines." Scully sighed in relief and rested her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Good. I want it as far from me as possible. I don't want to keep the other one, either, but for practical purposes, we have to keep it until we're safe." "Do you want ME to keep it, Scully?" Mulder asked. She nodded and pulled the gun from her waistband and held it out in front of her. "Take it. With my eyes, I can't use it anyway." Scully felt a great sense of relief and peace flood through her when Mulder took the gun from her hand. She even felt as though she might be able to put all of this behind her one day. They came to the entrance of the cave and paused, as they had done earlier in the morning. The air was heavy with tension and once again, they spoke in silent volumes. "It's like deja vu all over again," Mulder said wryly. Scully still had a hold of his arm. "Let's hope not," she said softly. "How does it look?" Mulder paused briefly before he spoke. "Looks good. We still headed to that cattle station you know?" She nodded. "Yes. They're good people and they'll help us." "We can trust them?" he asked. "Yes," she affirmed. "We can trust them." He tugged gently on her hand and said, "Let's go. As far as we know, Grant's friends are still on their way." Scully allowed him to pull her along and soon they were out of the cave and on their way to the cattle station. The day was still fairly early, but she knew that the sun was climbing and the temperature rising. She hoped they wouldn't have to walk too far in any intense heat. She was afraid for the baby. As they walked, a thought occurred to her. "Mulder?" she asked. "Yeah, Scully?" "Where do we go from here? Where do all THREE of us go? We can't stay here." He pulled her a bit closer and said, "You're right. This location has been compromised. We can't stay here." "So where?" she asked. "We'll find a place," he said gently. "We'll find someplace where the three of us can be happy. It exists, Scully. I know that now, and it starts with the two of us - our spirits will lead us there." Scully turned to look up at the sky, and through her muddled vision the sun's light was captured and split into a thousand prismatic shards. It reminded her, somehow, of one of the stained glass windows in her church that showed Jesus looking down on his flock, guarding them from all evil. She blinked back tears and said a silent prayer of hope. * * * 9:32am They had been walking for a little over half an hour, and despite the increasing heat and her condition, were making good time. She knew they had at least another half an hour's walk to go, and Scully decided that now was as good a time as any to clear the air. She took a deep breath, and decided that they had to talk about her promise to kill herself - for the baby's sake. If they didn't - if they let it slide like they sometimes did with important things - it would come between them one day and tear them apart. "Mulder, I know you probably don't understand why I said what I said about the baby," she started, slightly tensed for his reaction. But his body didn't change. He didn't let her go or become stiff with anger. He merely waited in silence for her to continue. "No I don't, Scully. Not really," he said. She sighed and slid her hand down his arm to take his hand. "Mulder, it's something I thought about ever since I found out I was pregnant. I promised myself that the Consortium would never have this child. I have first-hand knowledge about the kind of life our child would have had, and I told myself I would do anything - ANYTHING - in order to keep it from that life." "Scully, surely any kind of life is better than no life at all..." She stopped walking for a moment and shook her head, relieved that he hadn't taken his hand away. "Mulder, I lived that existence for three months, and I can tell you that that's what it is: an existence. It's not a life. It's an endless parade of tests, injections, simulations, and experiments. I had to live with the constant knowledge that I was not a person, but a specimen; a commodity, as Grant put it. I don't remember everything about my abduction, but what I do remember made me certain that I would never subject my child to it." Mulder put his other hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently. "I just can't believe you would have done such a thing, Scully. Not when we both know what a miracle this baby is, and not when you know what it would have done to me to lose both of you." Scully reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek. "That's exactly why I WOULD have done it, Mulder, and it's why I can't apologize for it. As this baby's mother, it is my duty to do whatever is necessary to keep it safe, even if that means not allowing it to be born." Reaching down, she touched her swollen stomach tenderly. "I would have been betraying what we've found with each other if I took the easy way out, and allowed my child to be tortured and then thrown away," she said softly, but her voice was strong and purposeful. "If I'd done that, I would never have been able to look you in the eyes again. Mulder, just because I was ready to end our baby's life doesn't mean I don't love it more than my own. It's BECAUSE I love it so much, that I would have been able to let it go. I had to think of its life first and before my own selfish love." She reached out, finding his face easily, and touched it tenderly. "I only hope that one day you'll be able to forgive me." Mulder pulled her close again, his cheek against her neck. "I don't think this is something I can forgive," he said, and Scully went on alert, all her muscles taut. If he couldn't forgive her, how could he love her? "What do you mean?" she asked, her heart pounding. "In your mind, you were going to do something to protect our child. You were behaving like a mother. How can I forgive that when you didn't do anything wrong? There's nothing to forgive. Now understanding...that's something different. I don't know if I'll ever understand it, Scully." Her tears soaked his shirt as she remembered her dark thoughts of that morning, and the torment she had felt when she had realized she might have to kill herself in order to protect their baby. Shuddering at the awful memories, she tilted her head to kiss his cheek gently. "I hope you never have to understand, Mulder," she said softly and sadly. "I hope you never do..." Then Scully kissed him again and told him the one truth she knew without a doubt: "I love you, Mulder." She could only pray that he would answer her back. Without hesitation, he kissed her cheek and said, "I love you, too, Scully. Always. Forever." Pulling back a bit, Scully wiped her tears away and smiled. "I've never felt like this before." She felt his arm snake around her waist and a feeling of warmth spread over her. "I know," he said. "I'm happy, too." She shook her head. "No, I didn't mean it like that - although I am very happy." "What did you mean?" "I've never felt such a sense of serenity before. It's like it's all around us - a blanket keeping us safe. We've beaten them, Mulder. We're finally free - free to live our lives, at last." She paused for a moment, breathing deeply. "We're going to make it this time, Mulder. I feel it deep down, right in the center of my soul." He pulled her close and she could feel his smile against her cheek. "I sense it too, Scully. I think it has to do with that life inside you. The baby was our missing key - the passport that helped us to move on and let go of all the pain that we just couldn't before. Our love created this baby, Scully, and it set us free." A moment later she felt his hands, palm down, on her stomach, and she placed hers there, as well. They stood there; foreheads pressed together, in silent communion with the sweet little life that had saved them both. * * * Eleven Months Later Somewhere on the Spanish Coast May 10, 2001 1:45 pm ------------------------------------------ Her skin is like a seashell You listen to her soul Like an old-time radio show Cause you know All you need is a heart to call to home ------------------------------------------ Mulder stood out on the patio, sighing in contentment as the soft breeze ruffled his hair. This place was so beautiful in the early afternoon. The sky was a blue so bright and breathtaking that he was continually awed. Looking down from his perch, he could see the sandy white beach and the azure blue ocean that lay just beyond their house. If he turned and walked to the opposite end of the small villa to the other patio, he would be able to see the city nestled between the mountains. In his mind, he could see the way the sun's light fell on the houses with their tile roofs, turning their stucco a creamy orange. He leaned back against the railing and closed his eyes. Somewhere off to his right a seagull called in its broken voice over the sound of the waves crashing onto shore. "You ready?" Scully's voice startled him, and his eyes snapped open as he exhaled sharply. His alarm quickly faded and he smiled softly, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her close. "You shouldn't sneak up on man who's been on the run," he said lightly, his eyes sparkling. She smiled back. "I have to keep you on your toes, don't I?" His joy was momentarily subdued by the thought of what they were about to do, and he looked at her, wanting to make sure she was okay with it. "Scully, are YOU ready for this?" She looked up at him and he thought he saw tears in her eyes, but she disguised it well. "I won't lie to you, Mulder. Am I scared? Yes. But do I want to do this? Yes. We owe it to our friends, to my mother, and most of all, Mulder, we owe it to her." She turned to look off into their living room and Mulder's gaze followed hers until it came to rest on Ella. She was eight months old with warm brown hair, pudgy arms and legs, and the sweetest blue eyes they had ever seen. Mulder watched her as she sat on the blanket Scully had spread out for her, playing with her stuffed lamb. Before she had been born, Mulder hadn't thought it possible to love someone with the same fierce devotion he did Scully. But the moment he had seen Ella, he had been forever lost. In that moment, he knew he would give his life to ensure that hers continued. "It's a miracle that we have her," he said finally, blinking back tears. Scully reached up to stroke his cheek and then rested her head against his shoulder. "SHE'S the miracle, Mulder." In the living room, Ella threw her lamb up into the air and giggled when it landed on its head. The bubbling sound of her laughter floated out to them and they smiled. Mulder pulled away from Scully a bit so he could look in her eyes, and reached out to push some of her hair behind her ear. He felt as though he could never tire of her face or her voice or the feel of her body against his. Scully let him look at her for a moment and then her expression turned quizzical. "What is it?" He reached out and gently touched the cross that lay in the hollow of her throat. "Looks like this really does work. It brought you back to me after all." "I told you it belongs wherever WE are." "I found my true spirit in you, Scully," he said at last. "In you and our daughter." She smiled softly and took his hand in hers. "All my life, I think I've been looking for the real me - the me I lost the night Samantha was taken. I think that's part of the reason why I found it so hard to let her go; to let go of the search for her." Scully's eyes widened. "Mulder, she's your sister." He nodded. "I know, and I'm not trying to diminish her importance in my life. I've just come to realize that a large part of my search for her was a search for ME. When she disappeared, a part of me did as well; the part that was open and loved and confident and happy. He just got lost in the chaos of her abduction, and since then I've been trying to find him. I guess I thought that when I found Samantha, I'd find him, and that's why I couldn't stop looking - even after 25 years." "Mulder, you're making it sound so selfish," Scully said, her brow crinkled a bit, her tone strong. "You devoted a major part of your life to Samantha. You put your life on hold for her. You took on a forgotten department in the FBI and gave away a promising career so that you could find her. Those were noble choices, not selfish ones." He grinned and moved to walk into the living room, pulling her after him. Once there, he bent down and swept Ella into his arms. He was still amazed by the fact that he had had a part in creating this life. Finally, he looked back at Scully. "You don't have to defend me against myself, Scully. I'm not saying that my search for Samantha was all about me, but that was a part of it." Scully opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "What I'm trying to say is that I always thought that once I found Samantha I would find myself, and then my real life could begin. But the ironic thing is that I HAD to give her up and begin my life to find the real me; my spirit." He looked down at Ella and then at Scully. "I'll always keep looking for her, but I'm done searching. I found myself when I found the two of you." She looked up at him as though he were the greatest man alive, and it took his breath away, because no one had ever loved him as much or as unconditionally. "It was the same for me, Mulder," she said, her voice wet with tears. His brow furrowed and Ella fussed a bit in his arms. "But you always seemed so certain, so sure." She chuckled slightly. "Mulder, there was only one thing I was ever certain of, and that's that I loved you. Everything else was a big question mark. You're not the only one who was looking for a part of yourself you'd lost." In a flash, Mulder knew what she was talking about, and he felt like someone had sucker-punched him in the stomach. "Melissa," he said, wondering how he could still manage to be so thoughtless sometimes. Instantly, tears filled her eyes, and she nodded. "Yes, and my father, but really it started long before I lost them. I was always trying to keep up with my brothers - to be just as good as they were, and somehow, I lost a part of the little girl inside me. Then I went against my father's wishes and joined the FBI and this rift opened between us. He died before we could mend it, really, and then my sister died because of me and in my place." She paused and took a deep breath, wiping a bit at her eyes. "All of that...it made me lose my faith in God, and that scared me because I truly believed that each person found their spirit when they found God. I thought that if I had lost my faith in God, I had lost my spirit." Reaching out, Scully stroked Ella's hair gently and caressed her cheek. "But now I know that you find it when you find the best part of yourself in someone else. I found the best part of me in YOU, Mulder, and I see the best parts of both of us in Ella." Mulder leaned down to kiss her, smiling against her lips. She pulled away slowly and looked up at him, a question in her eyes. "Mulder, you never asked me how I managed to shoot Grant - with my eyes as bad as they were." Mulder pulled Ella close and kissed her tenderly. "I didn't have to, Scully." Her eyebrow went up. "You didn't have to?" He shook his head. "No. I know how you did it. Scully, I told you that we have a connection - that in times of danger we can, for a brief instant, see and feel what the other is. You saw through my eyes, didn't you?" He watched her open her mouth to answer and then think better of it. She was flustered and he loved it. "You don't have to admit it, Scully," he said, laughter in his voice. "We both know the truth. That's enough for me." "But...but...you..." Mulder chuckled and held Ella out to Scully. "You're cute when you stammer, Scully." Shock blossomed on her face, and she took Ella and said, "You think you know everything, don't you?" He walked over to the coffee table and picked up a camera. Turning back to her, he said, "I have to keep you on your toes, don't I?" Settling Ella onto her hip, she smiled. "Touché." "Now," he said, walking back to Scully and Ella, "where should we do this?" "Out on the patio. The light's better out there," Scully said, already walking back outside. Mulder let her go, hanging back to watch the two most important people in his life. He smiled as he listened to Scully talk baby-talk to Ella, asking her questions about the birds and the sky, and he realized that everything he loved in the world stood ten feet from him looking at the Spanish countryside. They had a good life here - a safe life - and they were happy, but Mulder missed their friends and their old life once in a while. Scully missed them, too. He knew how much it had cost Scully to let her mother believe she was dead. The guilt still overwhelmed her at times. What they were doing today was a small way to assuage some of that longing and loneliness. Thinking back on the past few years, he wondered how they had made it through everything, Scully especially. And he wondered if the God he found a little easier to believe in these days, put them through it all so that they might understand that the quest for their spirits, once thought separate and distinct, began and ended with each other. Mulder smiled again, knowing that their true quest had only just begun. * * * The Offices of the Lone Gunmen Somewhere in Washington, D.C. July 4, 2001 3:02 pm ------------------------------------------ I've lived in this place and I know all the faces They mean me no harm but it's time that I face it They'll never allow me to change I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong I'm movin' on ------------------------------------------ Langley looked at the computer screen in disbelief and opened his mouth to call to the others, but he couldn't seem to make his voice work. He stared at the screen for a few more moments before he was able to yell for Frohike and Byers. The two other members of the Lone Gunmen appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, annoyed expressions on their faces. "What is it, Langley?" asked Frohike. "You know we were monitoring the police scanner." "Trust me, guys. This is more important," Langley said, pointing at the monitor. "This is earth shattering. THIS is unbelievable." Frohike and Byers, their interest piqued, stepped forward and looked at the screen. Their eyes widened in shock, and they turned to Langley immediately. "Are we sure this is authentic?" Byers asked, his eyes flicking back to the screen. Langley nodded. "I ran it through three different programs and it checks out. I tried to trace the email, but didn't have much luck. It went through about ten different anonymous usernames. Guys, I think this is the real thing." Byers covered his mouth with his hand and took a few deep breaths while Frohike got closer to the monitor, studying. "I never thought we'd hear anything so soon," Byers finally said, having regained his composure. Frohike nodded, agreeing. "I thought it'd be at least two years. They took quite a chance sending this so soon." Langley turned and picked up a piece of paper from the printer. "There was a note with it," he said soberly. Byers and Frohike turned quickly in his direction, giving him their full attention. Langley cleared his throat and read. "'Happy Independence Day, guys. We hope you're enjoying yours as much as we're enjoying ours. You are always in our thoughts and we miss you every day. Have some cheese steaks in honor of old times. We were thinking about having you give a copy to Margaret, but are now uncertain. You know how she has been handling everything. You know best, right now. If you think it's better she not know, we are prepared. But if you think she can handle more, then show this to her and try to make her understand that we did what we had to do, and never meant to cause her any pain. Make sure she knows we are safe and happy and finally free. We'll keep in touch; Frank, Rachel, and Ella Farmer." None of them said anything in response to the note. There didn't seem to be an appropriate reply to the overriding happiness and peace in the note. There would be time to think about Mrs. Scully later, and decide what was best. Langley put the paper down and went to stand between his two friends, his arms around their shoulders. Staring down at the computer screen, they simply stood in silence and looked at the picture of Mulder and Scully, smiling as they stood on a sun-washed patio somewhere far from where the Lone Gunmen were, their baby between them. And one by one, the Gunmen all smiled. THE END "We are not human beings on a spiritual journey. We are spiritual beings on a human journey." --Pierre Teilhard de Chardin SOUNDTRACK songs in order of appearance 1.) Hard Habit to Break by Chicago 2.) Lullaby by Billy Joel 3.) My Invitation by Sarah Slean 4.) Silent World by Donna Lewis 5.) Colder than Winter by Vince Gill 6.) She's Out of My Life by Michael Jackson 7.) Still Holding on to You by SheDaisy 8.) 1000 Oceans by Tori Amos 9.) In This Room by Leslie Tucker 10.) I Thought She Knew by 'NSync 11.) Souvenirs by Mary Beth Maziarz 12.) Gloomy Sunday by Sarah McLachlan 13.) Hanging By a Thread by Jann Arden 14.) For Always by Lara Fabian 15.) Black Dove by Tori Amos 16.) This Time by Janet Jackson 17.) Beautiful Goodbye by Amanda Marshall 18.) Water is Wide (traditional) 19.) That Kind of Love by Alison Krause 20.) Power of Goodbye by Madonna 21.) Call the Man by Celine Dion 22.) Love by Grace by Lara Fabian 23.) In the Wings by Tara Maclean 24.) I'll Remember You by Sarah McLachlan 25.) Tracks of My Tears by Smokey Robinson 26.) Always You by Jennifer Paige 27.) Butterfly by Mariah Carey 28.) One Day I'll Fly Away from Moulin Rouge 29.) Throwing Stones by Paula Cole 30.) All I Know by Art Garfunkel 31.) Taking You Home by Don Henley 32.) Hanging By a Thread by Jann Arden 33.) That Kind of Love by Alison Krause 34.) That Kind of Love by Alison Krause 35.) Calling All Angels by Jane Siberry 36.) Always You by Jennifer Paige 37.) My Invitation by Sarah Slean 38.) Lay Me Down by Barry Manilow 39.) Exit Music (for a Film) by Radiohead 40.) Wrapped Around Your Finger by Sting 41.) Come What May from Moulin Rouge 42.) Last Dance Rodeo by Jewel 43.) Movin' On by Rascal Flatts