TITLE: Not Like This
AUTHOR: nikki
KEYWORDS: Scully, Mulder, Skinner, Krycek,
Margaret Scully, Cigarette Smoking Man,
character death
CATEGORY: Story, Scully-angst, conspiracy, ust
SUMMARY: Unexpected events have unexpected
consequences.
RATING: PG-13
ARCHIVE: Gossamer, Ephemeral, Xemplary, MTA--go
for it. Others, please let me know. Thanks!
SPOILERS: Pilot, Deep Throat, E.B.E., Miracle Man,
Ascension, Fearful Symmetry, The Blessing
Way, Piper Maru, Apocrypha, Memento
Mori, Tempus Fugit, Redux II, Detour,
Emily, The Red and The Black, Fight The
Future
Season 6 doesn't happen here.
DISCLAIMER: Do you really think CC and crew would
write this?
THANKS: Heaping, heaping thanks to Gerry, Suzi,
Sarah and Sally. This story was
vastly improved thanks to their input,
and if I'd followed all of their
suggestions, this story would be a
hundred times better, but I'm stubborn
so don't blame them.
NOTES: If you like stories with clear cut answers and
resolutions, delete this now. Ever have one
of those stories that you just work on and
work on and work on and it still doesn't feel
quite right and finally you just get tired of it?
I started this one in December 1998 and had
all of the plot elements done in early
January--it was the dialogue and descriptions
that kept changing. Once again, I just
wanted a story with Mulder out of the way
and Scully facing some major life changes.
Read on and you'll understand.
FEEDBACK: Always appreciated. nikoleaw@aol.com
Check out the rest of my stories at
http://members.aol.com/nikoleaw2/index.html
She stood unmoving for 20 minutes. Staring straight ahead while letting
the fierce winter wind whip her hair around her face and sting her eyes until
the tears came freely. Tears borne of a sadness for what she knew she was
about to do, the phone call she was about to accept. Her tears stopped as
suddenly as they began and she turned around slowly and walked away,
stepping gingerly, as though to avoid jostling free any loose pieces
remaining inside her. A casual observer might've mistaken her for an
ordinary woman, mourning her loss at the gravesite of someone dear to her.
They would have been right. And they would have been wrong.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was only in hindsight, after it had been pointed out to her, that she would
realize the strangeness of the situation. She and Mulder had been working
numerous cases, none of them especially harrowing to their admittedly
jaded sensibilities. But the most recent case had decidedly religious
overtones. She had spent hours driving around with Mulder, arguing
arcane religious theory with him, trying to recall long ago lessons from
catechism and other tidbits from her Catholic upbringing. In the end, she'd
given up, though Mulder had not. But for once, he seemed genuinely
interested in learning more about the particulars of why she believed the
way she did. During the drive home, Scully recalled a childhood missal
that she had treasured. Designed especially for young children, it gave
simple, if childish, explanations of certain prayers and devotions and had
been a great source of enjoyment for her as a child. She began to think that
perhaps if Mulder read this, he would gain some insight into those early
and basic beliefs that she had nurtured and further developed over the
course of her life. As a result, she did something she'd never done before.
Instead of simply allowing Mulder to retrieve her luggage from his trunk
and watch her climb the stairs to her apartment from the driver's seat of his
car, she asked him to come in with her, so that she could give him
something that she thought he might find interesting.
That had been weeks before, and quite frankly she'd forgotten all about it.
So that when they were driving home late on a Saturday night after yet
another fairly mundane case, he indicated that he'd like to stop by his place
first, to pick up her book, she was taken by surprise.
"What? Oh, don't worry about it, Mulder. Just bring it in with you to the
office on Monday."
"I've been trying to remember to bring it with me for nearly two weeks
now, Scully. For once, my place is on the way. It'll just take a minute.
Besides, then you can see my new fish. It's some rare tropical that the
Gunmen got me. It ate two of the other fish, but now it seems to have
settled down."
She couldn't help but smile at the idea that the Gunmen would give Mulder
a survivalist fish. She nodded in tired acceptance of his invitation and
silently, they completed the drive to his apartment.
As they entered, it briefly crossed her mind that it was the first time she
could ever remember coming to Mulder's apartment when she wasn't
worried sick about him. He hung his garment bag on the coatrack, along
with his coat and went to his desk to retrieve her book. Along the way, he
grabbed the remote control and turned on his television.
As soon as she heard the dialogue, she went and perched on the edge of his
couch.
"Ooh Mulder. This part is great. Do you hear that noise in the
background?"
"Hunh?"
"In the movie. That noise in the background. It's a herd of wild boars
squealing. It's a sound that humans are instinctively fearful of. There're
other parts in the movie where if you really listen, you can hear a buzzing.
They taped a swarm of angry bees--another sound that humans fear on an
instinctive level. "The Exorcist" was really very innovative as far as horror
movies go in terms of the tactics they used to incite fear in the audience.
In
addition to the traditional visual clues, they used numerous auditory clues
throughout the movie. Things that made us scared even though we didn't
know why. The director later claimed to have used multiple subliminal
images throughout the movie, after group hysteria started taking place in
theaters where it was shown. In reality, by using prolonged periods of
silence and soft dialogue, and breaking them up with loud noises like the
barking dogs or the ringing of the Church bells, what the filmmakers did
was cause tension and distraction in the audience, which led audience
members to ignore the visual and audio clues on a conscious level, and
instead register them at the subconscious level. Nothing subliminal about
it."
"You were scared by "The Exorcist"?
She raised an eyebrow at him as she answered. "I was 16. And it was a
good scared. Fun. You know, like when you're at the top of a
rollercoaster, and you know the ride is safe, but you start screaming
anyway."
Mulder suppressed a laugh and took a moment to look at her in the bluish
light cast by the television. She pointed at the screen and laughed. "See,
here's one of those scenes where they said subliminal imagery was used.
They said that a death mask flashes across Regan's face here. And if you
look, you can see it."
Mulder thought about the two times that he and Scully had encountered
"subliminal phenomena" and decided that it was time for them to go. But
Scully was having fun. She was unwinding and in no rush to get home. So
he took her coat, hung it next to his on the rack, and settled down into a
comfortable spot on the couch to watch the movie with her.
In the months to follow, while Scully would refer to the subsequent events
as a blur, she remembered each second with startling clarity. The movie
had ended and she and Mulder were engaged in a lighthearted debate over
whether or not the movie and the novel before it, was, as Mulder believed,
a fictional depiction of real phenomena or as she believed, a vehicle to
convey the message that God could love everyone. She'd gotten up to use
his bathroom and tripped over his feet, falling backwards, quite literally,
into his lap as he'd expounded on the recorded history of possessions. The
entire situation was so cliché that it was almost funny. Suddenly, there
they were, their faces inches apart, Mulder's arms wrapped tightly around
her in a protective embrace that had been meant to keep her from landing
on either him, or the floor too hard. She didn't know what thoughts ran
through Mulder's mind during those seconds, but her mind focused on the
fact that she was actually enjoying spending time with him engaged in non-
work related pursuits. And that's what she was still thinking as she raised
up to meet him halfway, as he leaned down to kiss her for the first time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Skinner groaned as the ringing telephone woke him. He squinted at the
clock as he fumbled for the receiver. The red lights glared out 4:12 am,
reminding him that he'd gone to bed less than an hour before. He muttered
to himself, "This had better be damned good!" as he lifted the phone from
its cradle. Ten minutes later he was dressed and out the door.
"When you came to, did you notice anything out of the ordinary? Any
noises, smells?"
"No, sir. The first thing that I remember thinking was that it was cold."
"And it hadn't been before?"
"No. We'd had the heater on."
"Anything after that? Take me through it step by step." Skinner stood
there, looming over her, looking more than mildly disturbed at having been
roused from his bed in the middle of the night. Scully was clearly
embarrassed at having called him, he could tell that much by the stiff way
she held herself and the distance she put between them, but the deed was
done, and she had no choice now but to tell him the story.
"I opened my eyes, looked over saw that Mulder was gone. I saw that the
windshield and the driver's side window were intact, both our doors were
locked, and the keys were still in the ignition and I tried to remember what
had happened. I remembered a blinding light, which I had assumed to be
the high beams of an oncoming truck. My guess was that we'd been in
some sort of accident and Mulder had gone to get help. But I was curious
as to where the truck and its driver had gone.
"I checked my face in the mirror and I didn't see any cuts or bruises. My
thinking was that the accident must've caused me to bump my head on the
windshield just hard enough to knock me unconscious for a few minutes.
Which made me wonder why Mulder would've left, unless the other driver
was seriously injured. But if that was the case, where was the truck? My
next thought was that perhaps there had been extensive damage to the car
and he'd needed to call for a tow. So I took the keys out of the ignition,
got
out of the car and examined it for damage. I didn't see any dents or
puddles of leaking fluids, so I got back in the car on the driver's side and
turned the key in the ignition. The car turned over and started as though
nothing was wrong. I checked all of the digital readouts to make sure there
were no alarm lights on, signaling some loss of pressure or fluid that I
might have missed, but I saw that everything was fine. Then I noticed the
clock.
"What about the clock?"
"Right before the truck came at us, we'd been fighting over the radio
station. Mulder insisted that no one in their right mind would want to listen
to the station I'd chosen at 3:19 in the morning."
"You're certain?"
Scully nodded and then said, "His exact words were, 'No one in their right
mind wants to listen to that lite rock crap at, what...3:19 in the morning! I
want to hear some good old fashioned rock and roll!' I swatted his hand
away from the dial and then..."
"What?"
"Then it was as if we hit some kind of pocket of electrical disturbance.
The radio wouldn't stay tuned to any station. A few seconds later, I saw
the truck."
"Can you describe the truck? Did it have any logos on the side?"
Skinner seemed almost relieved as she shook her head. "No. I didn't get a
good look at it. All I saw were its lights. I yelled at Mulder to swerve,
and
the next thing I knew, I woke up and Mulder was gone."
Skinner looked confused. "And this relates to the clock, how?"
"When the car started, the clock was blinking 12:15. Which would indicate
that everything, my losing and regaining consciousness and inspecting the
car all took place within 15 minutes of the accident. Assuming that the
car's impact with,...something, is what caused the clock to stop in the first
place."
"And did you check your watch, to see if it backed up your time estimate?"
Scully nervously looked away. "My watch appears to have been broken in
the accident. It's stopped at 3:20. But I noticed that when I took out my
phone to call you, the digital clock on it had also reset itself. It was
showing the time as 1:12."
"And you waited an hour before calling me, because..."
"Because, as I said, I believed that Mulder had simply gone to get help. I
tried calling him, but I got a recorded message that his cell phone is out of
range. And I thought it best not to drive off in search of him considering
that I wasn't certain which direction he went in. While it's logical to
assume that he continued on in the direction that we were heading, I'm not
familiar with this area. He could have turned down some driveway that I
might never have noticed while driving, or..."
Looking pointedly at her too large casual clothes, he cut her off. "I
understand. Now, tell me again why you and Agent Mulder were out here
at 3 in the morning?"
Scully suppressed the urge to fidget and calmly looked at him as she said,
"Agent Mulder and I were driving back from a case. Since we were
driving north we were going to pass Agent Mulder's home before mine. I
had loaned Agent Mulder a book several weeks ago in relation to another
case. Mulder wanted to return the book to me, and he indicated that he
kept forgetting to bring it to the office with him, so it would be easier for
him, if we just ran up and got it. We went up to his apartment and he
turned on the television while he went to get the book. The tv was showing
a movie that I enjoy. We wound up sitting and watching the movie."
Skinner looked at her again and said, "Must've been a hell of a movie."
"It was the "Exorcist". My favorite movie when I was in high school."
Scully then realized that Skinner's comment had been a sarcastic one, and
that he was looking for an explanation for why she was wearing clothes
that were obviously too big for her. "Mulder went to go change and when
he came back, I made a joke about it not being fair that he could be
comfortable and I couldn't, and so he came back out with a t-shirt and some
sweatpants."
Scully cleared her throat. "It had been a long day, and I didn't want to
wrinkle my suit any further sitting on Mulder's couch, so I took the clothes
and went to the bathroom and changed into them. I came back out and we
went back to watching the movie and then, a little while later I fell asleep.
When I woke up, it was about 2:45 in the morning and having woken up in
unfamiliar surroundings, I was disoriented and started moving around,
which woke Mulder up. He offered to take me home, so I could sleep in
my own bed, but he said he wanted to get something to eat first.
Considering that we hadn't stopped for dinner during our drive back, I was
somewhat hungry myself, so I agreed. He said there was a place in
Southern Virginia, somewhere near Roanoke that he liked, and that's where
we were headed."
"You were going all the way to Roanoke for breakfast?" Skinner looked at
her strangely.
"When Mulder decides that there's something in particular that he wants to
eat, it's difficult to persuade him otherwise. Usually, he'll eat just about
anything, so when he does want something, it's easier to just let him have
it." Scully hoped that she had managed to inject just the right tone of
"resigned indulgence" in her explanation of why she and Mulder were
driving to the middle of nowhere in the dead of night.
Skinner ground his teeth together and looked off into the night sky. "Is that
all you can remember, Agent Scully?"
"Yes, sir."
"All right then. I'll call some agents down here to investigate this area and
see if they can figure out where he went." Skinner turned to go back to his
car. Almost as an afterthought, he turned back around to face her. "Agent
Scully, is it possible that Agent Mulder got a phone call from some
informant while you were unconscious? A lead that he went to follow up,
or some crazy trip he's gone off on like when he went to Puerto Rico or the
Bermuda Triangle because he was dissatisfied with his job?"
Scully blinked at him. She thought about the information that she had
deliberately withheld from Skinner. The fact that she and Mulder had both
known that over breakfast, they were most likely going to have a
conversation that would forever change their relationship. Was it possible
that Mulder had decided that he wasn't ready for that discussion? That he
regretted what had happened between them? As much as she wanted to
answer otherwise, she knew Mulder. Guilt and regret were his constant
companions, particularly where she was concerned.
"Yes, sir. It's possible."
"But you don't believe that's the case."
She looked him straight in the eyes as she answered. "No, sir. I don't."
"Very well. I'll get those agents out here as soon as possible, as well as a
team to check out his apartment. If someone has taken him for some
reason, it's most likely because they want something, in which case, it's
likely that they've gone to his apartment to look for it."
Scully nodded. Skinner walked a few steps away and opened his phone to
make the necessary arrangements. When he was done, he walked back
over to Scully, who was standing listlessly by the side of the car. "Look,
Agent Scully, why don't you come sit and wait in my car until the agents
get here. When they get here, I'm going to need to go back home. It'll
probably be about the time I'd be waking up anyway. But I'll leave
instructions with them to take you home." Scully nodded and followed
Skinner to his car, unaware that everything in her life was about to change.
End Part 1
Not Like This by nikki (2/5)
Disclaimer and other stuff in part 1.
She had been both expecting and dreading the call. She'd convinced herself
that any lead, even if it led to an answer she ultimately didn't want, had to
be better than this strange limbo she'd been living in. When the call came,
she made it to the crime scene in record time. From there, she'd followed
Skinner in her car to a heavily wooded area 5 miles down the road from
where Skinner had met her that first night.
She got out of her car and followed Skinner to a site approximately 100
yards from the roadside. She immediately saw why she'd been called. The
tall grass was trampled and otherwise disturbed for what looked like a 10
yard radius. But most distressing was the sickly rust colored coating on the
grass in that area.
Scully took in the scene, noticing that all of the other agents were
surreptitiously watching her. As if they expected her to break into
uncontrollable sobs, or launch into a rant worthy of Mulder on a bad day.
She refused to give them a show. She was a highly trained, highly
competent investigator, and she'd seen scenes far worse than this one. She
silently retrieved numerous evidence bags from the trunk of her car, and
then reached into her pockets and withdrew a pair of gloves. She then
began methodically plucking grass blades and collecting soil samples from
evenly spaced intervals throughout the affected area. Each blade and each
clod of dirt was bagged separately and carefully labeled.
When she was done collecting evidence, she placed it all in the trunk of her
car and left the scene without a word to anyone.
Five hours later, Skinner found her in the Sci-Crime lab.
She turned around when she heard him enter then straightened her posture
when she saw who her visitor was.
"Sir. I was just finishing up here."
"Did you find anything?"
"Test results show that the substance on the grass is human blood, type AB
negative. DNA analysis is being performed right now." Skinner, who had
been following Mulder's case very closely, knew as well as Scully did, that
Mulder's blood type was AB negative. She nodded in the direction of a
series of cubicles just down the hall from the lab. "I had them run a
statistical model about an hour ago. Based on the dimensions of the
suspected crime scene and the quantity of dried blood that I could detect in
the soil samples, preliminary results show that more than 3 liters of blood
had to have spilled in order to achieve the degree of soil saturation that was
present."
Neither one of them vocalized the fact that human body could not survive
that degree of blood loss. Skinner, however, thought back to an encounter
with Mulder in a hospital lobby. An instance when he had told Mulder that
no one could survive losing as much blood as a specific crime scene had
yielded--only to have the suspect in question reappear several months later,
perfectly healthy, trailing his smoke behind him. Skinner thought of
sharing that information with Scully, giving her something hopeful to hold
on to, but then thought better of it. Mulder was not the Cigarette Smoking
Man, and it was better that Scully believe the worst, than spend the rest of
her life behaving like Mulder, chasing down slim leads and hanging to a
tiny thread of false hope. Having settled that in his own mind, he was
surprised by Scully's next statement.
"While highly unusual, survival, despite such significant blood loss is
possible. Depending upon the body's temperature, the exact positioning of
the body, the areas from which the blood loss was occurring...of course the
subject would be experiencing vasogenic shock, but beyond that..."
Skinner's brow furrowed. "Agent Scully, what are you suggesting?"
"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm merely stating a possibility. No avenues
of investigation should be prematurely abandoned simply because of this
finding. When I surveyed the scene, I noted an odd splatter pattern to the
blood. Actually, it was closer to an absence of a splatter pattern, almost as
if the blood were simply poured over the area. At the very least, it would
seem to indicate that the victim was unconscious or in no way resistant to
having their blood released over the area. And since, we still haven't found
the body or bodies that lost this blood, and as a result..."
"Agent Scully, I assure you, we will continue this investigation until the
matter is resolved."
~~~~~~~~~
She could tell from how tightly clenched Skinner's jaw was that she wasn't
going to like what he had to say. She'd been on her way out, to assist in a
raid, when he'd called her and said that he needed to see her, immediately.
"Agent Scully, after careful consideration by the Agent In Charge, Agent
Mulder's case has been closed." He held up his hand to forestall her
protests. "I personally went to see the Director, to ask for more time, more
resources, but the request was denied. It's been two months and no
progress has been made. There are too many other active cases, cases with
hot leads, cases that can and need to be solved to justify the continuing
devotion of resources to Agent Mulder. I currently have all of the files
related to the case, and I intend to go over them again, see if there's
anything anyone missed, anything..."
Scully stood up, her spine rigid and her eyes narrowed and blazing. "Sir, if
I might remind you. We've been here before. After the death of my sister.
A case that was *officially* solved due only to the fact that the perpetrator
later made an attempt upon your life. I had hoped that the murder of Agent
Mulder, as a law enforcement officer, would've sustained the interest of the
Bureau at least long enough for the murderers to be identified. I kept
telling myself that it was too much to hope for justice, but at least a
name..."
"Agent Scully, I do not intend to let Agent Mulder's case be..."
Scully took a step back, her burst of anger gone as quickly as it had come,
leaving her frustration and exhaustion evident in her slumped shoulders.
"Sir, we both know that your intentions, however well-meaning, won't lead
to anything, except perhaps some sort of harm coming to you as a warning
to leave the case alone."
Skinner wearily ran his hand across his forehead. "As I said, I intend to
review all of the materials related to Agent Mulder's case. In the meantime,
I'd like you to look over these. I've already seen them, but I'd like a fresh
perspective. We can discuss your findings later, maybe by then I'll have
some additional documentation for you."
Scully looked at the stack of folders Skinner had just given her. They were
pictures and reports relating to Mulder's case. As Mulder's partner, she had
not been allowed to play a major role in the investigative team. And unlike
when she herself had disappeared, she did not have Mulder's protected
status, nor his famed gift for catching criminals to use to bully her way into
being allowed to actively work on his case. So she had worked dilligently
on her own, reviewing every file in their office, starting with the most
recent and working back over the years, noting the names of any and
everyone who might have wanted revenge against Mulder. Despite her
awkward non-status on the primary investigative team, when they had still
believed Mulder to be merely missing, the agents had consulted with her
frequently--she knew him best, and accordingly had the most suggestions
of places to look, possible leads he might have unexpectedly decided to
follow. And three days after his disappearance, when the silent suspicions
of foul play became a near-certainty, the agents still came to her, asking for
the names of enemies, past and present, work-related and not.
Then, slowly but surely, Scully was left alone. Left to grieve for her
partner, and more importantly to her mind, left out of the information loop.
She had tried to follow leads on her own, and while the Lone Gunmen had
been extremely helpful, she'd found that without the considerable resources
of the Bureau behind her, her efforts were slow and largely unproductive.
And now, Skinner was giving her new information, facts that she had not
been privy to before. Even if she still didn't have the Bureau behind her,
she had Skinner and the new leads he was providing her with, and she was
determined. She would find Mulder's killers and bring them to justice, or
she would die trying.
End part 2
Not Like This by nikki (3/5)
Disclaimer and stuff in part 1.
"'94. Good year for Merlot. But I think you've had enough."
Scully's relaxing nightly bathing ritual was abruptly ended as she went from
comfortably reclined to rigidly upright in under two seconds. Then she
realized that doing so left her exposed. She crossed her arms in front of her
chest protectively and drew up her knees. "How in the hell did you get in
here?!? Get out!!!" Her eyes darted around the bathroom frantically in
search of a weapon.
He threw her a towel as he moved to stand at the head of the tub. "Like I
said, '94 was a good year, but I try not to drink too much. Dulls the senses
and slows the reflexes. And don't think about screaming or trying to run,
Scully. I could shoot you and be out of here before your head even hit the
back of the tub."
"Why the hell are you here?! What do you want?"
Krycek leered at her and said. "I want to go for a ride." He quickly
reverted to a no-nonsense tone as he added. "Get dressed."
Scully was trying to figure out how to wrap the towel around herself and
stand without getting the towel wet or exposing herself. In a voice
bordering on petulant, she asked, "And if I don't?"
"If you don't, your neighbors are gonna have a lot questions about why
you're walking out of here naked."
Scully stood slowly, holding her towel carefully so as to avoid revealing
any more than was absolutely necessary. For the first time in many weeks,
she regretted having indulged in drinking wine while bathing. She was
finding it difficult to react as quickly as she wanted to. She settled on a
simple stall for time, saying "I need to get some clothes."
"Just put on the pajamas you brought in here. You can wear your coat over
them."
"I'm not going outside in my pajamas."
"If you don't want to end up going out of here in a body bag, you'll shut up
and get dressed so we can go."
She remained silent and checked how securely the towel was wrapped
around her before quickly stepping in her underwear and then her pajama
bottoms. She then opened the towel and draped it across her back, letting it
fall across her chest as a cape. With deliberately careful movements, she
slid her pajama top up her back underneath the towel. She jabbed her arms
at the armholes, but in her anger and frustration, she kept missing.
He wanted to tell her that it was nothing he hadn't seen before, and offer to
help her, but wisely decided to stay silent. Finally, she succeeded in
threading her thin arms through the sleeves and buttoning the top. When
she turned to face him, he couldn't tell if her cheeks were reddened from
anger at his presence, embarrassment at the ease with which he had entered
her home and disturbed her in the most private of rituals, intoxication from
the near empty bottle of wine that was sitting on the side of the tub or some
combination of the three.
He nodded at her and waved his gun arm towards the door. "Get your
coat. And don't think I won't shoot you if I have to."
The glare she gave him was reinforced by the steely tone to her voice as
she strode past him to retrieve her shoes from her bedroom. "If there's one
thing I've never doubted about you, Krycek, it's your willingness to shoot
an innocent person."
After they had been driving for nearly half an hour, Scully broke the
silence. "So Krycek, why did you break into my home, and kidnap me at
gunpoint? I assume that you wanted more than to simply drive up and
down the streets of my neighborhood."
Krycek cracked what passed for a grin as he said, "Scully, I'm surprised at
you. You let at least three different great opportunities to escape pass you
by. I mean, I know they taught you unarmed combat and and how to
disable an armed attacker at the Academy. And yet you pretty much let me
take you without a fight." He put a mock air of disdain in his voice as he
said, "Mulder would be so disappointed."
She slowly turned her head towards him, and asked "Is that what this is
about? Mulder?"
"Ah. So now we get to the heart of the matter. You came with me
willingly because you think I have information about Mulder's apparent
murder."
She resumed staring straight ahead, her voice perfectly calm as she replied.
"No. I came with you because you had a gun pointed at my back."
"Details, details. Tell me, Scully, in the weeks since his supposed death,
have you given much thought to what happened right before he
disappeared?"
He gave her credit for the fact that she didn't even blink at his question.
"Of course I have. I've reviewed every case that we were working on,
looked for anything that might provide some clue as to who might have
wanted him out of the way."
He gave her a sardonic smile before turning back to watch the road before
them. "That's not quite what I meant, but it's as good a starting place as
any. I'm betting that you haven't come up with anything. That the cases
that you were working on were all routine."
Scully couldn't help but smirk as she archly replied, "There's no such thing
as a routine X-File."
"Ok. Have it your way. But nonetheless, there weren't any cases involving
aliens or conspiracies or anything like that, were there? Just simple stuff
probably. Ghosts or possessions or whatever the hell else it is Mulder
works on when he's not fighting aliens and the government."
Scully was silent.
He turned and gave her a knowing look. "In short, you couldn't find
anything in any of those cases that would justify a murder, could you?"
After a moment, Scully angled her head towards him and answered.
"Nothing concrete that I could use as a lead, no. And I suppose that you're
here now to tell me that I couldn't find anything because I didn't know what
I was looking for. Or, that Mulder wasn't killed, that it was just a
coincidence that most of his blood was found providing nutrients to a patch
of dirt in the Virginia countryside?"
"Nope. I'm here to tell you that you were looking in the wrong place. And
after all those years with Mulder, I would think that I wouldn't need to tell
you not to write someone off as being dead until you find the body."
Scully clamped down on her anger and frustration and bit off a terse "Do
tell."
"Oh come off it. You can't tell me that it never once crossed your mind as
being odd that just hours after the first time you sleep with Mulder, he
disappears?"
She continued looking at him in stunned silence. She was grateful that they
were driving through a poorly lit area at the edge of her neighborhood, so
that Krycek couldn't see the red flush her cheeks had taken on. Finally, she
exahled loudly and said, "I assume that Mulder must have missed some of
the surveillance equipment during his regular check."
Krycek laughed. "Actually no. He was pretty good at spotting it. So they
stopped setting it up in his apartment. Did you know that there are
satellites with such high resolution and precise directional aim that they can
read the year of minting on a dime that someone drops on the sidewalk?"
After a moment of silence, his voice took on a pitying tone. "For a guy as
paranoid as Mulder, he never could seem to remember to close his blinds."
Scully's embarassment was turning into anger. "And we're driving around
in this car and you're telling me this because...?"
"Oh, don't worry about the car. It's a rental. I picked it up right before I
came over. And if they'd put anything in or on it while I was inside with
you, my transceiver would have picked it up and let me know. And I'm
telling you this because you need to know."
"And just what is it precisely that I need to know?"
"There is a war going on Scully. A war that we are currently on the losing
side of. A war that Mulder was fighting in, even if he didn't know it, or
didn't want to admit it. And as scary and sad as it is, he was our four-star
general. What he knew, what he could do, what he still had to learn...he
was the key. You don't have the same contacts, the same access that he
did, but enough people know you, know how close you two were, that you
could do it."
"Do what? What in the hell are you talking about and what does this have
to do with why Mulder was killed?"
Krycek ignored her subtle insistence that Mulder was dead and began his
explanation. "All Mulder's talk about life from outer space? He wasn't
crazy. And I think you know that, even though you still like to pretend
otherwise. And his theories about the government working with these
aliens--he was on the right track there too. Only he was thinking too small.
He still hadn't quite accepted just how big this whole thing is. But he
knew. It was all in his head, we just hadn't figured out how to get it out
yet. There's stuff that was locked up in his brain that we might never
know, and we just have to hope that not knowing won't get us all killed."
"So, what? Am I somehow supposed to know whatever it was that he
knew, only I don't know I know it?" The sarcasm in her voice was thick
enough to suffocate a lesser man.
"No. What you know, is how to find who got to him. If anyone can do it,
it's you. But you haven't exactly been trying your hardest. You've been too
busy doing the grunt work they've been assigning to you, and drowning
your sorrows in a bottle during your off time."
Scully's anger was apparent. "I have worked non-stop trying to find out
who killed Mulder. Since the moment he first disappeared I have..."
"Don't play that song and dance for me, Scully. I know what you've done.
You've barely scratched the surface. When you were missing, do you
know the lengths he went to? Hell, the first two days you were gone, he
didn't sleep at all. He nearly killed us both falling asleep behind the wheel
driving up to Skyland Mountain. Shit, you must've read the file. In three
months, he closed one case. One. I think they assigned him something like
42, and he worked on probably two of them. The rest of 'em, he just wrote
up bullshit reports saying additional investigation would take more time,
yadda, yadda, yadda. He devoted all his time to looking for you." He
laughed ruefully. "And looking for me."
Scully turned her head away, looked out of her window, and struggled to
keep her voice neutral as she asked, "Why did you do it, Krycek?"
He turned to look at her, his face somewhat pensive looking as he
answered. "It wasn't supposed to turn out the way it did. There was a
plan. All along. But you, you messed it up."
Scully was indignant. "*I* messed it up?"
"Yeah. It all goes back to what Mulder knows. See, it was time. They
needed Mulder to do certain things. Things that he wouldn't do with you
around. They needed him off the X-Files and with a partner who could
help...steer him to do the things they needed done."
"And that *steering* partner was you." Her venomous tone made it clear
that even saying the word "partner" in conjunction with Krycek and Mulder
was abhorrent to her.
"Yeah. Except, you weren't out of the picture. And they hadn't expected
that. Mulder had 4 partners before you. They'd get sick of being laughed
at by the rest of the Bureau, request a transfer and be gone. He never put
up a fuss, never tried to keep in touch. Mulder was happy working alone
back then. When they split the two of you up, they figured the same thing
would happen. Then, I'd come into the picture and things could go as
planned. But you wouldn't leave him alone. Even after they split you two
up, he'd call you and ask you questions about the cases he was working on.
And that was a problem." Krycek glanced back over at her, his desire to
make her understand causing him to take on the expression and tone of a
patient teacher. "See, Mulder's like a little kid, who gets fixated on one
toy. It's like he can only trust one person at a time. And that person was
you. But we needed it to be me. And the only way to make that happen
was to get you out of the picture."
"And so I was abducted." Her raised eyebrow and disbelieving tone made
it clear to Krycek that he still had a ways to go to convince her of his
honesty. But right now, he knew he just needed to get all of the
information to her. She didn't need to believe it all yet, she just needed to
hear it.
"Yeah. Except no one expected him to freak out like he did. They still
couldn't get him to do what needed to be done, because he was too
wrapped up in finding you." He glanced at her then went back to watching
the nearly deserted streets. "They underestimated the depths of
his...feelings...for you."
Scully was offended by the smile she could hear in his voice as he'd said
those last words. It felt as if he were somehow belittling the bond that she
and Mulder had shared. But she was even more upset by the implications
behind his words. "So, my abduction was just a ploy to manipulate
Mulder?"
"Originally, yes. They were just gonna kill you. But one of the old guys
decided he liked you. You were so different from all of the other women
that they'd taken. He thought maybe you'd make a good subject for the
next stage of the Project."
Scully was silent. For nearly five years, she'd tried to convince herself
that
her abduction, the tests, the pain and suffering that these events had caused
her, had happened for a reason either greater or lesser than some
consortium's need to control Mulder. That she, as a unique individual held
some value for these men, or that she was simply unlucky, had crossed the
wrong people. To learn that this was not the case, that all of her suffering
had in fact stemmed from nothing more than her association with Mulder,
was both humbling, enraging and intensely painful, and made Krycek's next
words all the more unpleasant.
"Then you survived, and suddenly you were as important as Mulder, but
for different reasons. You proved that it was possible to survive the tests
without years of prep. The other women, they've been working on some of
them for over ten years. But you came in and went right into the Project,
with almost no prep at all. And that changed everything. They realized
that it meant they had more time than they thought. Which meant that the
pressure on Mulder could be eased up some."
Scully stared straight ahead, as she quietly asked "What, exactly were
these tests?"
"I don't know. At least not all of it. Mulder does."
Scully's head quickly swiveled around as she gasped out, "What?"
"He doesn't know it. But he does. It's one of those things locked up in his
head that I told you about. That's why it's so important that you find
whoever got him. We have to know what they know. How much, if
anything, they got him to remember."
Scully stared at him incredulously. "You're saying he *forgot* everything
that he supposedly knows about this?"
"No. He never consciously knew he knew it. It's all implanted memories.
Didn't you ever notice that every so often, something would happen and
there'd be 'missing time'?"
Scully flinched as Krycek removed his good hand from the steering wheel
of the car to bend and straighten his fingers to form his physical quote
marks around the term.
"At least once a year, for the last I don't know how many years, there's been
some short period of time that Mulder can't account for. Considering how
much time the two of you spent together, I'd think that you'd have been
there for at least one of them. It's not like these guys practice subtlety or
anything. It's like, a bright light, maybe a loud noise. Sonic and video
weapons to knock you out. The whole process is pretty quick. At least
with Mulder it is, because they did all the hard work years ago, back when
he was seeing that quack shrink Werber."
Although she could clearly remember an incident from their first case, as
well as disturbing memories about Mulder claiming missing time on cases
as varied as one involving zoo animals to the plane crash that killed Max
Fenig, her skeptcism and distrust of Krycek had returned to the forefront.
"So you're telling me that once a year or so, someone came around with a
previously unheard of weapon, knocked Mulder out, implanted information
in his mind and then disappeared, and that this was all possible due to the
hypnotic regression therapy that he underwent in his 20's?"
Krycek blew out a quick breath out in disgust. "Hypnotic regression my
ass. All Werber did was go in and plant what they told him to. Actually,
the hard work had been done by the folks who worked on him the first
time, right after his little sister was taken. He got *directed* to Werber
because it was time for him to start doing the work he was meant to do.
Werber just made sure that everything was still intact and added some new
information."
Scully mulled over this story. Unintentionally, she found herself
responding to him as if he were Mulder, presenting her with one of his
outlandish theories. "I'm aware of post-hypnotic suggestion but what
you're talking about just isn't possible. The brain's chemistry and memory
banks don't work..."
Krycek cut her off. "You and most other scientists don't have half a clue as
to how the human brain works. I know what I'm talking about here." He
exhaled loudly in exasperation. "Look, I don't know what to do to make
you understand this. To make you believe. But we don't have time for
this. This is serious shit we're dealing with. Mulder's killers have to be
found. Fast. We have to know what they know. And you have to find
them. I don't want to have to take you to Them, to have them fuck around
with your head some more to make you do it. But I will if I have to."
"Ah, let me guess--you'll have them erase nine minutes from my mind and
when I come to, all I'll be able to think about is finding Mulder?"
"I don't know how in the hell he put up with you for so long. Goddamnit,
don't you get it?!" He banged his good hand on the steering wheel. "All
the answers that he's spent all those years looking for, the proof that he
wanted to bring these guys down with--he's had it all along. And we need
it now. And I think whoever took him knows how important he is, and
that's why they want everyone to think he's dead."
Scully returned to staring stonily ahead. Even though she knew it was a
scientific possibility, the idea that Mulder might still be alive was simply
too
outrageous to seriously consider. She'd known that from the moment she'd
surveyed the crime scene. That knowledge had allowed her to focus her
efforts on finding his killers. But what Krycek was saying, that opened up
a whole new realm of possibilities. One that she wanted to consider in the
quiet privacy of her own home. Not here in a moving car with a man she
knew to be a lying murderer. So, she decided to turn the tables on Krycek.
She quietly asked a question that surprised him. "Why did you kill my
sister?"
Krycek's expression didn't betray his surprise. "I didn't. I was there, but
I
didn't kill her."
Scully once again turned to face him, her face a rigid mask. "I'm not up to
any more of your lies tonight, Krycek. I know you killed her. When I
arrested the man who shot Skinner..."
"He told you that I did it." Krycek almost laughed. "Yeah, and you
probably had him in a goddamned headlock with a gun pointed at his
temple. He'd have told you Mulder did it if he thought it'd save his ass."
He turned to face her again. "I didn't do it. Like I said, I was there. But
he pulled the trigger. It was a mistake. That whole plan was a mistake.
Like I said, they thought they had more time. They thought they didn't
need you or Mulder any more. They were wrong. Not the first time, and it
probably won't be the last."
Scully was silent.
"Aren't you gonna ask me why they need you?"
"Well, from what you said earlier, my role was nothing more than leverage
against Mulder. And now, you apparently need a bloodhound of some sort
and I seem to fit the bill."
"That's only partially right. It's true, but there's more to it. You have
certain, *abilities*, that could be very useful to us, not so useful to the
other sides."
"Who is this grand *us*, Krycek? Just how many *sides* are there, and
whose side are *you* on?"
Scully was almost frightened by the intensity of the stare he directed at her.
After a few seconds, he turned back to the road, and answered her. "I'm on
whatever side is winning, and if you know what's good for you, you will be
too."
Scully chose to ignore his warning. "And Mulder?"
"Mulder was on whatever side had the most use for him at that moment in
time."
Scully's eyes narrowed as she hissed back, "Mulder fought for the truth.
For justice."
Krycek smirked. "That he did. But what do you think he'd be doing if he
was still around?"
Scully looked at him questioningly.
"Remember what I said about the timing of his disappearance? I think
whoever took Mulder tried to put some new ideas in his head and they
didn't work, and now they've got to keep him in order to keep him quiet."
Scully stared at him in amazement. "You're crazier than Mulder was."
"No. I'm a realist. I think somebody got worried that Mulder was losing
his focus. I mean, there were a couple of times when They wanted the two
of you to get together, and you didn't. After awhile, we all figured the two
of you never would. And then you turned around and did it. And it was at
the worst possible time. We couldn't afford for Mulder to get distracted,
and even if the two of you had decided to just pretend like that night never
happened, which I can almost guarantee you, Mulder would never have
agreed to, he'd still have been more focused on you than on trying to bring
these bastards down." He turned and smiled at her. "Of course, the
opposite could be true. They might have been worried that he'd become
obsessed with getting them out of the way so that he *could* focus on you.
All I know is that the two of you sleeping together is the reason he's gone
now, and without whatever it is that he knew, we're all dead."
End Part 3
Not Like This by nikki (4/5)
Disclaimer and stuff in part 1.
"Agent Scully."
She was so startled to hear his voice she nearly dropped her keys. But
anger overtook the fear and within seconds, in a move that surprised them
both, she had him up against the concrete support pole with her gun firmly
lodged in the hollow of his throat.
"You bastard!"
"I wouldn't use that term so lightly, Agent Scully."
"What happened to Mulder?!?!"
He remained calm, dropping his cigarette to the ground and feeling around
for it with his foot to step on it. He nodded slightly and said, "I wouldn't
want you breathing in all that secondhand smoke. I hear it's not healthy for
the fetus."
Scully's eyes went wide and she jabbed the gun even more forcefully into
his throat, effectively cutting off his air supply. That he was here, that he
already knew that which she had just learned herself, meant that her doctor
had somehow been suborned. The sense of violation she felt was immense
and further fueled her rage. Her voice was nearly a growl as she
demanded, "What do you know about all of this?!"
His gasp for air alerted her that if she continued, while she might get the
satisfaction of killing this man, she wouldn't get the information she
desperately wanted. It took her a long moment to decide that the
information would ultimately be more gratifying. She lessened the
pressure of the gun by just a fraction.
"Agent Scully, surely you understood that that which gives you life, also
gives life to others."
"I'm not in the mood for your cryptic clues. I am not Mulder and I refuse
to play his little game of following your breadcrumbs. You tell me what
you know and you tell me now, or I will shoot you where you stand and
tell everyone that you tried to attack me while I was getting in my car."
He smiled at this. "I've come to extend an invitation to you. Come work
for me, and I can guarantee protection for you, and your child."
Scully looked at him coolly. "And why would you want to do that?"
"Because I like you. I liked Agent Mulder too."
"Yes. And we always kill the ones we like."
"Agent Scully, I had nothing to do with Agent Mulder's unfortunate
demise. As I said, I liked him. I once extended a similar offer to him. I
had hoped that one day, he might come to understand the benefits of
working for me.
"Now, that gun in my neck is getting quite uncomfortable. So either kill
me now, or let me get on to my other appointments. Though it would be
wise to remember that if you choose to kill me now, you will be
permanently eliminating a potentially valuable opportunity. Think it over.
If you decide not to accept my offer, you can always kill me later."
Scully wondered what the repercussions of killing him would be. Ballistics
would link it back to her in no time. And without Mulder to pull one of his
rabbits out of a hat, she doubted she'd be able to get away with it. Besides,
she suspected that he was lying to her about Mulder, and she didn't want
him dead until she had the truth. Without another word, she yanked the
gun down, turned from him and stalked away, hearing him call after her,
"Agent Scully, I'll be in touch."
As she drove home, she thought about his words, about his mention of
having made an offer to Mulder and Mulder refusing. Was that rejection
the ultimate cause of Mulder's death? If she refused, would she meet the
same fate? She let her mind unroll a scene of the self-righteousness Mulder
would've displayed in turning them down, never once considering the idea
that perhaps he could do them more harm from within their own
organization than he ever could from within the FBI. That was a
consideration that she would be careful to remember. She then recalled
Mulder once telling her that to live the lie, you had to believe it. She
didn't
know if she agreed with that any longer. Sometimes, she thought, you
needed to live the lie to follow the road to the truth.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Miss Scully?" The nurse looked at her questioningly.
Scully quickly stood. "Yes."
"If you'll follow me."
Scully followed the nurse through the double doors and into an examination
room.
The nurse handed her a paper robe that was somewhat thicker and more
concealing than standard hospital fare. "Take off all of your clothes and
put this on." She handed Scully a small cup of water and a tiny pink pill.
"This is a Valium. It will help you stay relaxed."
Scully's face took on a concentrated frown. "Isn't that the point of the
anesthesia?"
The nurse looked at her solemnly. "I'm afraid when there are no other
underlying difficulties, such as completing a spontanteous abortion,
anesthesia isn't usually given for the procedure. As a doctor, I'm sure
you're already familiar with the basics of a D & C. It's really much easier
if you're awake to let us know if something goes wrong. It's fairly quick,
and not much more painful than dental work."
Scully maintained her calm exterior despite her racing heart. "Yes, but I
generally receive anesthesia when I'm having dental work done."
The nurse smiled understandingly at her. "Don't worry. Just take the
Valium. Everything will be fine. I'll be back in a few minutes." The nurse
closed the door as she left.
When she returned less than five minutes later, the Valium still sat next to
the untouched cup of water, but Scully was gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As Scully drove home, she thought about her afternoon. She'd fled the
doctor's office in a rush of guilt and horror at the act she had been prepared
to commit. In the week before, she'd convinced herself that an abortion
was the best thing, for both herself, and her unborn child. She had too
much work to do, answers to find, to stop her life as she knew it and raise a
child alone. And somewhere, in her darkest thoughts, she suspected that
the Consortium would never expect her to make such a decision. That they
most likely believed that she could never bring herself to so blatantly break
the rules of her religion, and destroy the one tangible reminder of the bond
that she and Mulder had shared--a miracle child that should have never
existed. She'd convinced herself that if she had this child, they would find
a way to manipulate her with it, just as she'd been used to manipulate
Mulder. And if there was something wrong with the child, if the tests done
on her caused her to give birth to another little girl like Emily...she knew
she couldn't survive another such loss.
She'd spent many hours of quiet contemplation in an out of the way
Church, reconciling her decision with her heart and her God and had gone
to her appointment still convinced that she had made the right decision.
However, the knowledge that she would be awake, alert and aware as this
miracle was taken from her, was too much for her to bear. She would have
this child and she would protect it from the Consortium, by whatever
means necessary. She walked out of the patients' exit to the office, curtly
telling the billing clerk to send her the bill in the mail as she shut the
door
firmly behind her.
From there, she'd gotten in her car and started driving. She knew there was
no turning back from her decision now. Even if she went straight home and
tried to set up another appointment elsewhere, any reputable doctor would
make her go through a one-week waiting period, to make sure she didn't
change her mind. And by then, she'd be entering her second trimester,
making the procedure more complex, and doctors more reluctant to even
perform it. So she drove, and began to accept the fact that she was going
to have a baby.
Five hours later, she was on her way home, from her mother's house. She'd
driven around for an hour after leaving her doctor, and somehow, she hadn't
been surprised to find herself parking in front of her mother's home. She
knew that telling her mother was, in effect, making a public declaration that
she was in fact going to have this baby.
As she drove home, she pondered the afternoon she'd spent with her
mother. Maggie had been momentarily speechless at Dana's announcement
but she quickly recovered.
"Dana, I'm, I'm surprised. I thought you'd said..."
"I know mom...I don't know how it happened, how it's possible, but it's a
miracle that I think we just need to be thankful for."
"Well...yes." Maggie shifted in her seat somewhat uncomfortably. "Dana,
you hadn't mentioned anyone, significant, in your life. The baby's father,
he knows?"
It was Scully's turn to look uncomfortable. She'd known that this part was
going to be difficult. There were no guidelines on how to tell your mother
that you were carrying a dead man's baby.
"Mom, it's Mulder."
Maggie made no effort to hide her concern. "I knew that both of you cared
deeply for one another, but I didn't know you were...pursuing a deeper
relationship."
Scully was torn. She wanted her mother to understand what had happened,
yet she resented feeling as though she needed to explain her circumstances.
And she could think of no way to present the events that didn't somehow
cheapen what had happened between she and Mulder.
"Well mom, it was, very unexpected and...very new. We hadn't made any
decisions as to whether or not we were going to pursue it."
Maggie's tone was crisp as she said, "Well you obviously pursued it to
some degree."
Scully took a deep breath and prepared to try and better explain it to
Maggie. But Maggie forestalled her.
"Dana, you're a grown woman. You make your own decisions, live your
own life. As I said, I knew you two felt strongly for one another..." She
sounded resigned as she continued, "Honestly, I'm somewhat surprised that
this relationship didn't develop sooner."
Maggie reached across the table and grasped Dana's hand. "I haven't
always understood or agreed with the choices you've made in your life.
But I've always tried to respect them, and I've always respected you. I
know you wanted a child, but this isn't going to be easy. Not for you, or
me, or the baby, or anyone else. I know that you wanted a child of your
own, and I prayed that someday, somehow, you might be able to have one.
But I have to admit, I never imagined that Fox would be the father, and I
certainly never thought it would happen in circumstances such as these."
Maggie's tone was beginning to bother Scully. "Mom, do you think that
this is how I wanted things to turn out?!"
"Of course not, Dana, but..."
"Yes, mom, there had been feelings between Mulder and I for a long time,
but I never expected to act on them. And I never expected him to act on
them either. It was just a matter of timing and circumstances and, and, and
fate. And I certainly never wanted things to end up like this."
"Dana..."
Scully was highly agitated and had was fiddling with her teacup with her
free hand. Her voice was thick with the tears she was desperately trying
not to shed, as she went on. "And yes, yes, I wanted a baby, but not like
this. Never like this. Not by myself, or, or..." She finally realized what
was bothering her about her mother's comments.
"Mom, what are you trying to say? You sound like Bill, like you don't like
Mulder, like you don't approve of our relationship."
"Dana, I liked Fox. He was a very nice man and it was obvious that he
cared for you a great deal..."
"Then what is it? Why do you seem to feel that what happened was so
horrible? Was it because we weren't married, because what we did was
something that the Church wouldn't approve of?"
"Dana, life is short and sometimes we have to take our joys in whatever
form they come to us.
Sweetheart, you're my daughter. I can't help but worry. And the work that
you and Fox did..." Maggie was silent for a moment as she stroked Dana's
hand.
"Do you know that the only time I ever spoke to Fox was when you were
sick or missing?"
"Mom, that's the nature of the work. It wasn't Mulder's fault any more than
it's mine."
"I know that. But as your partner, wasn't it his responsibility to protect
you?"
Scully was shocked.
"Mom, Mulder and I had the same training. It was *our* responsibility to
look out for one another. And we did. I can't tell you how many times
Mulder saved my life, or how many times I saved his. The things that
happened to me didn't happen because Mulder wasn't a good enough agent
to prevent them, or because I wasn't a good enough agent to prevent them.
They happened because ruthless criminals have no respect for the law, and
because those same criminals feared just how good Mulder and I were and
would go to any means to stop us." Scully rose from her chair.
"I think I need to go now."
Maggie rose from her seat and went across the table Scully. Wrapping her
arms around her daughter, she said, "Dana, I don't want you to feel like you
have to go through this alone. No sweetheart, don't ever think that. Just
because I may not understand your decisions doesn't mean that I won't do
everything in my power to try and support you, to support your right to
make your own decisions." She stroked Scully's hair. "Oh baby, I'm sorry.
I know this must be awful for you." She was silent for a moment. "I
assume that you never had a chance to tell Fox about the baby?"
Scully could no longer keep her tears at bay as she answered. "No. I never
even got a chance to tell him that I loved him." And at that point, she could
hold back her tears no longer. She cried for her child who would grow up
fatherless, for the fact that she'd nearly given up her opportunity to
experience motherhood, for the fact that she would never know how
Mulder felt about what had happened between them that night, and because
she now knew with a fierce certainty, that she would do anything to protect
the life of this child.
End part 4
Not Like This by nikki (5/5)
Disclaimer and stuff in part 1.
As Scully entered her apartment, her mind drifted back to the question that
her mother had first asked her. The same question that she had been asking
herself continuously for the last few weeks. She'd told Margaret that she
didn't know how her pregnancy was possible. She'd reminded Margaret
that sometimes, doctors are wrong, misdiagnoses do occur, and that she
should just be grateful that this time the error had occurred in her favor.
She quelled Margaret's fear about a return of her cancer, or possible birth
defects with reassurances that she would be seeing the doctor on a regular
and frequent basis, and that she intended to submit to a full battery of
tests.
But alone in her apartment she couldn't help but wonder.
It was something she'd spent countless hours pondering. Considering that
the Cigarette-Smoking Man had known of her pregnancy seemingly sooner
than she herself had, and remembering her experiences with Drs. Scanlon
and Calderon, she still felt it was reasonable to assume that her doctor was
one of Them. From there, it wasn't hard to believe that her doctor had
previously falsified her medical records and lied to her about her ability to
conceive. She could discern no reason for such a deception other than to
rob her of just a bit more of her hope, to add one more brick to what had
been her ever-growing wall of resentment towards Mulder. Even so, her
conclusion that her doctor was not to be trusted was far more palatable than
a second possibility that had slowly been taking root in her mind.
She'd been unable to shake the Cigarette-Smoking Man's cryptic words.
More and more often she found herself remembering a night of clarity, the
night when she had first believed as Mulder once had. That night, she'd felt
compelled to visit a stranger with whom she'd felt some unnamable sense
of kinship. That night, she'd warned Cassandra Spender not to remove the
chip from the back of her neck. That night, she'd given in to Mulder's
madness and allowed herself to believe that the removal of the chip in her
neck, and the appearance of her cancer had been somehow related. In the
last three months, she had found that without Mulder's physical presence,
without him there constantly innundating her with outlandish theories and
ridiculous slideshows, it was not only easier, but strangely comforting, to
make a home for herself within the walls of paranoia where he had once
lived.
She had begun to entertain the thought that perhaps the chip served some
function aside from acting as a homing device or a memory bank--perhaps
it did have some greater effect on her health. One night, she'd gone through
her medical records, reviewing the various injuries and illnesses, both
major and minor, that she had suffered since her cancer had gone into
remission: a twisted ankle from falling into a hole that may or may not have
housed pre-historic "mothmen"; the burns on her face and arms from her
encounter with what may or may not have been alien rebels; the frostbite
she'd gotten in Antarctica; various cuts, scrapes and bruises that were all
just part of the job--all of them had healed more quickly than doctors had
expected. She began to form a hypothesis about the chip's ability to affect
the human body's regenerative powers. If the chip could somehow
stimulate certain areas of the brain, convincing the body to replace
damaged tissue, what might that mean for her lost ability to conceive
children? //...that which gives you life, also gives life to others.//
She'd abandoned that line of thought as being too fantastic, but with each
passing day, she'd found herself thinking about it more and more. In the
last two days, she'd even found herself postulating how such a restorative
trait might fit into Mulder's, now Krycek's, grand plan of resistance to alien
colonization. Now at home, and feeling somewhat more at peace after her
visit with her mother, she found herself wondering, if people could
regenerate destroyed tissue quickly enough, perhaps that could somehow
thwart alien gestation? When she realized the path her thoughts had taken,
she smiled ruefully and looked over to her mantle, at a photo of herself and
Mulder at a crime scene, and felt the loss of Mulder more acutely than ever
before.
~~~~~~~~
"Mom, I'm fine. Really. You promised you'd go home and get some
sleep." Scully didn't even bother to opne her eyes as she began what had
become a nightly debate with her mother.
A week earlier, her doctor, concerned with the stress the pregnancy was
putting on her body, had admitted her to the hospital, where she would
remain until the pregnancy was over. The doctor had assured her that there
were no complications, other than the ones expected whenever a petite
woman found herself pregnant with twins. She had been monitored closely
throughout the pregnancy, and she had taken great care not to exceed the
physical limitations placed upon her by the doctor. She'd continued to
search tirelessly for any news about what had become of Mulder, but she'd
forced herself to rely more on computer reports, and phone conversations,
rather than simply going off to visit sites herself. And she'd steeled
herself
to ask for help, enlisting Skinner to make a few visits to potential
informants in her stead. Despite all of her precautions, she'd found herself
cooped up in a hospital bed with three weeks to go before she would have
any hopes of going home. And her mother's constant hovering had passed
the point of being irritating and was now absolutely maddening.
"Agent Scully. You're looking well. I was glad to hear that your current
indisposition is merely a precaution and not anything serious."
Her eyes flew open and her hand fumbled for the control that would allow
her to raise her head. She'd known he would come eventually, yet his
presence was still an unwelcome surprise.
"Why are you here?"
He gave her his best benovelent smile as he answered. "To find out if
you've given any consideration to my offer."
"And which offer would that be? The one where I willing agree to become
as corrupt and evil as you, or the one where I do it unwillingly?"
"Agent Scully. No one will ever ask any more of you than they would
expect of themselves."
Scully's sarcasm was evident as she answered, "I hope you're not offended
when I say that I find that oddly non-reassuring."
The Cigarette Smoking Man remained silent and simply looked at her.
Scully began to feel desperate. She'd accepted long ago that she would
deal with him to keep her children safe, but now that the time had come,
she felt an irrepressible urge to stall.
"I won't consider anything, make any...arrangements, until after I leave
here. Until after I know that my children are...healthy."
"The perhaps it would ease your mind in the meantime to know that
mothers with your particular...condition...do not pass that condition along
to their children."
Scully stared at him coldly, and inwardly cursed the monitors that she was
currently attached to. One glance at the readings would alert him to her
racing heart and rising blood pressure.
Gesturing to the bed and the IV line that was dripping nothing more potent
than saline and vitamins into her, she said, "As you can see, I currently
have other concerns and am not in the best position to make any major
decisions about the future."
"Ah, but now, now is the ideal time Agent Scully. However, I can
understand that your mind might be otherwise occupied." He walked up to
her and took her hand. "I do hope that all ends well for you." He then
turned and left.
It took her nearly five minutes to get her heartrate back under control.
Only then did she open her hand and unfold the piece of paper he had
placed there and look at the phone number he had given her.
~~~~~~~~~
She heard the door quietly open, and then a whispered conversation
between Byers and Frohike.
"She's still asleep, we should come back later."
"We will. But I just want to put these down. It'll give her something pretty
to look at when she wakes up."
She didn't have the energy or the desire to open her eyes and face her
guests. The nurses had been kind and had allowed her to wallow in misery
for nearly 24 hours now, but she knew that that was coming to an end.
They were encouraging visitors to go in and sit with her now. They
wanted her to begin to face her loss, to grieve and move on. She knew that
she couldn't afford to. She couldn't afford to lose the razor sharp edge that
her feelings had to them now. She wanted that sense of loss, of pain and
the clarity that it brought. But most importantly, she wanted her guilt. She
wanted to use it as a beacon and energy source to guide her through the
maze of lies and deceit that she was willingly about to enter. And she
knew that as soon as she started talking to her visitors, they would begin
trying to assuage her conscience. Attempting to make her feel as if this
death was just one more that was fated by forces outside of her control.
But she knew the truth.
She knew that the last time she'd been faced with a tragedy, she'd given in.
Rather than tamping down those feelings of hurt and anger and loss and
using them to fuel her quest for answers, she'd allowed those feelings to
rise to the surface, and she'd been unable to cope.
Without Mulder to provide her with his endless stream of inanities, his
sarcastic humor, and his seemingly endless drive, she'd found herself
turning to alcohol for support. Anticipating with more and more desire the
end of her day, when she could relax in her bubble bath with a nice bottle
of wine and map out her investigative strategy for the coming day. In the
two weeks before she'd found out that she was pregnant, she'd found
herself getting sick before she'd even drank enough wine to relax, yet she
craved the release that it seemed only her nightly ritual could provide.
After more than 14 hours at work each day, she would relax in her bath
with some wine. Never for longer than an hour, as she was diligent about
spending a minimum of another 3 hours each night digging through
computer records, constantly searching for additional clues that might lead
her to more information about what had become of Mulder.
After she'd learned of her pregnancy, she'd immediately stopped drinking,
stopped skipping meals and started forcing herself to spend at least 8 hours
each night in her bed making at least an attempt to sleep. But now she
feared it hadn't been soon enough. The damage had been done. Her son
had only lived for 52 hours before inexplicably going into seizures and
dying. The doctors had no real explanation, save that he was simply too
small and too weak to live. They'd carefully explained to her that
sometimes, things like this happened for no reason. But in her heart, Scully
knew that she was to blame.
And in what she felt was the cruelest twist of fate, his twin, a girl, was
steadily improving in health, and the doctors anticipated that Scully would
be able to take her home within three weeks.
~~~~~~~~
This was her first visit to Mulder's grave since she'd brought Melinda home.
She'd been up there a few weeks earlier, to bury their son. Mulder,
dreamer though he was, had been at times, frighteningly practical. He'd
purchased adjacent burial plots at a cemetery in Connecticut. One for him,
one for Samantha and one for his mother. Though there was still no body
to inter in Mulder's plot, Scully had purchased a small headstone for it.
Thanks to some questionable maneuvers by the Lone Gunmen, she'd been
able to purchase another spot, at Mulder's feet, for their son.
As she got in her car, she wiped away the last remnants of the tears she had
had just shed. She thought about all of the time that she'd spent at
cemeteries in recent years. She vowed that she would not be adding any
new names to her list of her dearly departed. Most especially, her
daughter. She had mourned enough. It was time to make sure that her
loved ones had not died in vain. By not resisting the strong tug of desire,
by not questioning Mulder, not forcing him to stop, she'd allowed a terrible
chain of events to be set in motion. By not resisting the desire to find
chemical solace and behaving irresponsibly, she'd further compounded her
error. One of her children had paid the price. She would make certain that
her surviving child would not suffer.
After she turned the key in the ignition to start the car, she dug in her
purse,
pulling out her cell phone and a pack of cigarettes she'd purchased on
impulse during the drive to the cemetary. She lit the cigarette and inhaled
lightly. Then she picked up her phone and looked at the small piece of
paper she'd been carrying around with her for weeks. As she pulled the car
out of the parking lot, she said dialed her phone and spoke only four words,
"When do I start?"
The End (
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