Glorious Exception

By Shawen A. Greer

Summary: How glorious it is–and also how painful–to be an exception. – Alfred de Musset

Rating: PG

Category: Mulder angst

Set Post-Requiem, Season 8 spoilers!

Feedback is always appreciated at shawen@altavista.com

Thanks as always to Georgia for attempting to make me look good…which can be a feat at times!

The darkness is almost impenetrable in this room, save for the blinding light that hovers over his tormented body, enveloping it and intensifying each bloodied and grotesque detail of his pain. They tell me that its purpose is for warmth, but it reminds me more of the showcasing of a great piece of art. For in fact that is what he is, what they all are. The existence of the human race lies in their hands, or more literally in their blood. Now it is Our responsibility to save them – at any cost.

My footsteps are silent in this vacuum-like environment They have created, and I approach him slowly, for fear of disturbing him now that he finally rests. The others didn’t endure the pain like he did. Those who were able to survive the treatments at all were unconscious just from the terror before they felt anything.

His strength for life and his quest for answers made him unwavering, even in the face of what had to have been excruciating torture. It seemed like hours that I stood just outside, my hands clamped to my ears to block out his screams, yet no matter how hard I pressed, it was never hard enough to keep them from piercing my brain. I was not created to feel emotion, but being aware that the blood in his veins is not so different from my own, I was unable to control the horror that I felt because of the distant bond that we share.

His ankles and wrists are stained with crimson streaks of dried blood, caused by the restraints that immobilize him for the treatments. The alloy is strong enough to drive through solid steel, yet it still amazes me how easily it can slip through human bone. He is thinner now than when he arrived, and the only color reflected on his pale skin are circles of bruises around his eyes, as much from his screaming as from the procedures themselves. The sorrow and pain is still evident on his once handsome face even in sleep, and his body rests weak and helpless having finally given up.

Carefully, I reach out and rest my hand next to his, side by side in comparison, but far enough away that he cannot sense my presence. His, of course, is much larger than mine, but there are definite similarities in our long slender fingers. My eyes fall again on the rods that suspend his arms, much like the arms of a puppet dangling from their string. The wounds are closed though the swelling remains, and through my distress, I remember why I have been chosen for this the final procedure.

Moving my hand closer, I gently cup my fingers around his, rubbing them softly with my thumb. Startling him could result in more pain if he tugs against the restraints, so I call to him quietly and wait for him to respond. His eyes flutter ever so slightly before opening into a mindless gaze directly at the light above.

“Fox,” I whisper again leaning into the light so that he can distinguish my features from the shadowy silhouette that I am at his side, and I smile in a vain attempt to comfort him the best that I can for now.

His eyes shift as they focus on me, and he stares in disbelief, which I suppose is only normal under the circumstances. His mouth opens in an attempt to speak, but closes again before any sound is released. His tongue darts out to wet his parched lips, but his dry mouth can offer no relief.

“Samantha,” he manages to croak this time, but the effort is too great to say any more.

“No, Fox,” I answer sadly. Right now, for his sake I wish that I were his sister. I know what he must be thinking as his eyes search my features. He has seen my image before in those who have gone before me, and always to a fateful end. In an effort to give him the hope that he so desperately needs I offer, “But she was my mother by all humanistic reasoning.”

I open the silver canister of water that I carried in with me and raise it to his lips. His thirst is unquenchable and I have to urge him more than once to slow down, but soon he is satisfied and clears his throat in a chorus of guttural sounds in preparation for his next attempt at speech.

Minutes go by as he rests, and I stand idly by giving him however long he needs to regain his senses and collect his thoughts. I can sense the mixture of fear, confusion and anger that churns inside him and I want terribly to ease his pain, but it is not yet time. He must deal with his inner demons before the process can continue. I hear him calling to her in his mind much like he screamed so many times during his suffering. The cry of Scully had escaped him as a prayer for salvation, and even now, it chills me to remember the resonating sound of her name.

He is finally ready to speak and he tilts his head forward as much as he can, which is very little.

“So, you’re one of them,” he rebukes almost immediately, “a clone.”

“Yes, Fox,” I admit quietly trying to gain his trust where I am sure he feels it is undeserved. “Your quest is almost over. I am here to assist you in the final phase.”

“So, this is where it ends,” he whispers and tears begin to glisten in his beautiful yet somber eyes. “I promised her I would be back. I didn’t even say goodbye because I told her it sounded too final.”

His threatening tears now break free and slide down the sides if his face, and I realize for the first time that he didn’t understand his purpose.

“The end,” I say, almost startling myself with the force that it held, “this is not the end, Fox, it is only the beginning.”

“The beginning,” he quips, “sorry but I’ve never been much for philosophical or spiritual bullshit. Now just do what you came to do and be done with it already.”

I have no doubt now why he was chosen. His strength wavers only to renew itself with determination, and I find myself in awe of this mortal man, this human, that cannot see himself for the exceptional thing that he is.

Following his direction, I proceed with the first of the tasks before me. The rod slips out of his arm with a small tug, and I have to quickly catch his hand to prevent it from slamming to his side. My lack of planning causes him more pain and he cries out from my touch. I move to his other arm, more concerned this time, and remove the rod and lay his limp hand gently on his lap with the other.

His head has dropped back, and I am unsure whether he is still conscious. It is immaterial though at this point, for the final moments of pain must be faced before there is healing. The process is easier with his feet because his legs can rest where they are after the rod is removed, so there is no further jarring to the injured limbs.

I walk around the severe device that has immobilized him for so long, and look down on his marred face, still handsome despite the bruises and the tubes that have intravenously sustained his body during the treatments. He fights to regain consciousness as I ease the tubes out one by one, still trying to reassure myself that any discomfort that I cause will be allayed shortly.

I allow myself one final look into his face and give in to the urge to touch his thick dark hair, running my fingers through slowly, like a mother would comfort an ill child. Though given the healing power that They possess, I have never been allowed to participate in this miracle until now. My greatest fear is that I will fail him, for such power is a great and perilous thing. They reassure me that I have been chosen because of my connection with him and my compassion, quite uncharacteristic for those of my kind, which surely has been tested in the face of his suffering.

Slowly, I press the palm of my hand to the deep gash on his chest. My hand tingles just as They said that it would and I can feel growing warmth at the contact. The skin seems to mend before my eyes, void of any scar or imperfection, and I watch with amazement at the wonderful gift that I have been given.

His body swells as he takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with life, and it seems that his body responds with the flow of blood throughout his extremities, creating the faintness of color to brighten his sallow skin. I laugh out loud, thrilled at the rejuvenation that I witness in what was, just moments ago, a dying and weary model of human DNA.

I position myself at the top of his body and place my hands on his face, my palms covering his darkened eyes and my fingers extending over the still open wounds from the monitoring tubes. Once again, the warmth returns and I can feel the energy leaving my body and entering his. I close my eyes and lose myself in this moment, where time stands still and pain and suffering are rewarded with strength and healing. The power of this moment is not in the energy but in the awesome rejuvenation of life.

The removal of my hands reveals his eyes, beautiful and starring at me with skeptical reverence. I sense his confusion, but there will be time for answers once he is restored. His wrists and ankles mend as quickly as the rest of his body, and with a moistened cloth, I wash away the remnants of blood that stands as the only remaining evidence of his wounds.

The light blinds him now in his fully conscious state and he shields his eyes with the back of his hand. I offer him my arm in an effort to help him rise from the seemingly torturous apparatus that has held him, and he steps away from the pain of the past and into the promise of his destiny. Once he is standing and I am confident that he is strong enough to be on his own, I retrieve the blanket from where I deposited it just inside the door. I open it widely as I can, and cover his naked body with its soft, white, warmth. With my arm around his frame, much larger than mine now side by side, I lead him to a table where there is more water and fruit to satisfy his hunger. Here we will begin to sort out the questions that flood his mind.

He pours himself a glass of water, which he quickly swallows, and then pours another. A golden yellow apple seems to have caught his attention, and the silence is broken as his teeth bite into the juicy flesh of the first food he has had in months.

“I am here to give you the answers to the questions that you have asked for so long, Fox,” I begin, taking a seat across the table from him. “There are many things that you already know, but they have been given to you in half-truths and lies.”

He sits quietly, listening for whatever information I am willing to offer, and seemingly grateful for the nourishment and the reminder of home as he places the remaining apple core on the table.

“There is to be a Colonization of Earth,” I continue, “but not as you have been led to believe. They are not here to destroy your planet, but to heal it – just as They have healed you.”

“Healed me?” he asked with his eyes narrow and cautious.

“Yes,” I smiled. “I cannot tell you everything, they have only allowed me to explain to you why you were brought here.”

“In 1947 a small faction was sent to Earth with the hope of establishing an alliance with your people. The men who were chosen from your government to carry out the necessary development of this project were unable to see beyond their own benefit and greed, and were even willing to sacrifice their children to their lust for power. Samantha, my mother, was one of those children.”

“Quite simply, those men were given the technology to heal your planet. Instead, they chose to use it for power, and continued the experiments that They began, in hopes to create a superior alien/human race. It is because of the deception of those men that The Project was abandoned and the evidence destroyed.”

“You and the others like you are the key to the future, so your survival and your healing was imperative.” I pause for a moment to allow my words sink in before unveiling the last secret. Though I am quite incapable of anxiety, it nevertheless intrigues me to wonder what his response will be. Though I would imagine it to be in human terms, “happy” news, it will be most definitely shocking.

“They have decided to make the offer again, but to the generation that you will leave behind. To be more specific, it will be offered to your son and to the children of the others that accompanied you here.”

There is no one emotion to satisfy the look on his face as he carefully processed that last statement. I knew his history. I had been well informed before I was sent in here, and I knew the questions that had to be racing through his clever mind. A son? I’m going to have a son? But how? And, more importantly, with whom? The only woman I’ve ever truly cared for can’t bare children! How could I be with anyone but her?

The deluge of questions disturbed him and he looked at me, those soulful eyes begging for answers, and my heart went out to him and I had to offer reassurance, though I wasn’t sure if that was part of my duty.

“Fox,” I whispered, gently covering his hand with my own, “I told you, They can heal. Life can be restored in what once was barren.”

His eyes leave mine, as he seems to search the dark walls around him for the answer. When they meet mine, again, they shine with restrained tears and he asks in cautious disbelief, “Scully?”

My nod confirms his suspicion, and he returns a smile that outshines the gleam of the tears that now flow freely down his cheeks. What started as a staggered chuckle quickly grows to laughter and I find myself unable to keep from joining in. “Scully’s gonna have a baby someday,” he says more for himself than for me. “My baby.”

“Someday may not exactly be the most appropriate word,” I correct.

His laughter ceases almost immediately and concern again furrows his brow. “No! No!” I exclaim quickly, “I didn’t mean that you were wrong in your reasoning. What I was trying to say is that someday might be sooner that you are expecting.”

“But how?”

“Well, I’m certain that you are more familiar with the details than I am or care to be.”

My attempt at sarcasm brings a slight grin to the corner of his mouth. He takes a moment to reflect on a night not long before We brought him here, knowing that in all likelihood conception could have occurred…if his partner Dana Scully was able to conceive. Again, I accepted the chance that presented itself before me, revealing more than I was probably allowed, but after all he had suffered, it seemed only right.

“There was a time that your partner left you not long ago, wasn’t there, Fox? She went off with one of those men that I spoke of earlier, didn’t she?”

He nods and I could see that such a thought disturbed him greatly. “Your partner’s healing was much easier than the suffering that you had to endure. Well, quite honestly, you both had quite different ailments. Her healing was as simple as a minor reconfiguration of the implant that was placed in her neck. The “smoking man” as I believe you have referred to him, approached us with her situation. He wanted to come to terms with some of the things that he has done throughout his life and make right the things that he could. He knew that the only way was to lead her away from you so that the adjustment could be made. You see, Fox, he really did give her the technology that he promised her – only she didn’t realize that it was in the restoration of her own body.”

His eyes close tightly, and he rubs his temples with his fingers. “Why is it hard for me to believe that he would do anything that wasn’t in his best interest.”

“I think he did feel it was in his best interest. He was sick, and wanted to leave behind something that he could believe was noble. He wasn’t concerned about his own healing, only yours and Agent Scully’s. Your irregular brain activity was taxing your body so intensively that it just couldn’t continue suffering for much longer…but you already knew that didn’t you.”

He seems lost in some far off place by his distant gaze, and his shoulders drop in acknowledgment.

“I’ve told you all that you need to know for now, Fox, and probably some that I shouldn’t have. But, somehow I think Samantha would have wanted you to know.” I take his hands in mine and lean my head far enough to regain his attention. He meets me with a smile, which I quickly return. “And now, it is time to get you home.”

As if triggered by my words, one of Them enters the room, wearing a face that was familiar to Fox, but I wondered if it was in poor taste considering all he had been through. He rises to his feet quickly, taking his stance and bracing himself, as the man he knew as a bounty hunter approaches him.

“Is he ready for transport?” he asks me in his gruff way.

“Yes, thank you. I just need to attend to his belongings.” I answer, taking Fox’s arm and leading him past the intimidating man of his past. “I promise you Fox,” I whisper, “you are being returned to Earth. You are truly healed and no harm will come to you. You must believe me.”

I squeeze his arm a little for emphasis and we continue through the door to the outer chamber. My Associate follows slowly behind us and announces that the preparations have been made and would be carried out as soon as he was ready. I acknowledge Him silently and expect Him to leave, but to my surprise, He changes direction and comes nose to nose with Fox Mulder. I hold fast to him and feel him tense, and I wait for the exchange.

“Your strength of will and strength of character are to be commended Agent Mulder. I am honored to have met you.”

With that, He extends His hand in a human gesture of goodwill, a gesture that Fox reluctantly reciprocates. Then He takes His leave of us to see to the final details, but before the door closes behind Him, He turns once more to Our guest.

“You have been given life, Agent Mulder, which is a precious gift. Make the most of it.”

The door slides closed quickly, and we were again alone.

“Life,” he echoes, “I have been given life.”

I nod.

“My own as well as a tiny life that I have yet to meet,” he finishes with a smile brighter than any star I have ever seen.

“The first step is get you home.”

“Then let’s do it!”

I smile again in spite of myself. Truly, this man was different than the rest. Surely, Earth would have a future thanks to him, though I doubted that anyone would recognize that fact. “Fox, there is one more thing before you go. I must warn you, you will not remember anything about your time here – the treatments, or the answers I have given you.”

I knew that he had waited a lifetime for the story that I told, evident by the disappointment that he tried to hide, quite unsuccessfully. “But, I give you peace to take with you. And though I know that you desperately wanted the answers, They have chosen to give you a son instead.”

He thinks for a moment about all he had learned, reviewing each item as if to fight Our plan and commit it to memory somehow. As his mouth tugs slowly into a smile, surely provoked by the thought of his son, I am certain that there was no question as to the greater prize.

“I’m ready.”

“Your clothes are waiting for you in the transport room. They will send you as soon as you are ready.”

I slide the door open and he crosses the threshold to the transport. He pauses for a moment and then turns to face me. “Thank you,” he whispers.

I am suddenly overcome by a new emotion, one unlike I have ever experienced. Who was this man that he had such an effect on me? Surely, it was more than a small amount of similar DNA. “I was quite honored, Fox. Maybe we will meet again some day. Now go and be well!”

The bow of his head signals his agreement and the door closes closed leaving me alone with my memories and the thoughts of his future.