Genesis
Ally

Chapter 5

E-Z 8 motel, Route 49, San Diego. 3:05p.m.

By the time Mulder returned from retrieving their things from the previous motel he was feeling ready to drop, so much so that he was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the job in hand.

Despite the heat of the mid afternoon sun, he was freezing cold and every move he made sent a fresh wave of agony through his already aching body.

His throat felt as though he had eaten a handful of glass splinters and the pain cut through him whenever he swallowed. He had eventually made it though, and now he knocked wearily on the door which led to Scully's room. She answered it quickly and ushered him inside where he handed her the overnight bag which he had retrieved from her previous room. It hadn't even been unpacked yet so his task had been fairly straight forward. He had simply picked it up from it's position on the bed and carried it out to the waiting car, feeling it's slight weight pulling at his aching muscles as he did so.

He sat down heavily in one of the overstuffed chairs which graced the small room and gestured to one of the two single beds which jostled the other furniture for space in the cramped area. On it, covered over with a comforter, Christine Stevens lay deeply asleep.

"How's she doing?"

Scully sat beside him on the other chair.

"She's Okay. I treated the wounds on her wrists, cleaned her up and put her to bed. She's been sound asleep ever since, and I can't see her waking up any time soon. She was still extremely disoriented and confused, but my guess is that whatever sedative or tranquilizer she was on is only augmenting the condition. She's obviously deeply afraid of something though."

"Or someone," Mulder mused. He rubbed his hands across his face wearily, and Scully allowed herself to really observe him for the first time since his return.

"You look awful, Mulder."

"Well that's good then. Because that's exactly the way I feel."

"I'm serious."

He raised his head and regarded her through bloodshot eyes.

"Believe me, Scully, so am I. I feel like there's a racket ball game going on inside my head."

He flinched as Scully pressed her hand to his cheek.

"I think your fever's got worse. I need to check you over."

It was a measure of how bad he was feeling that he didn't protest, and Scully reached around to the small end table and picked up the thermometer which she had purchased earlier at the tiny supermarket attached to the motel grounds. Obligingly he opened his mouth slightly and let the instrument rest under his tongue, but despite everything he couldn't resist commenting.

"For a second I thought you were going to ask me to bend over."

Scully frowned at him sternly. "In your dreams, Mulder. In your dreams. Now shut your mouth properly or I won't get an accurate reading."

As she waited for the reading to register she gave Mulder a cursory examination, noting how swollen the glands were around the base of his throat and neck. Mulder flinched as she gently applied pressure to the area and Scully quickly dropped her hands.

"Sorry. I know they hurt. Is your throat sore too?"

Mulder nodded, unable to speak due to the thermometer.

"Do you feel nauseous?" More nodding. She reached over and pulled the thermometer from his lips, her brow furrowing slightly as she examined it.

"Are you experiencing any dizziness?"

Mulder shrugged.

"A little," he admitted. Scully replaced the thermometer back on the table.

"I'm not surprised," she informed him. "You have a temperature of a hundred and one."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning, Mulder, that you have no business walking around. I suspect you have some sort of viral infection. You need to rest and you need to keep warm."

"Is that it?" Mulder asked incredulously. "I mean aren't there any pills I can take?"

Scully smiled.

"Sorry, Mulder. All you can do is keep taking the Tylenol and drink lots of fluids. Nothing more magical than that. Nature will do the rest."

"For how long?" He couldn't help but recognise how bad his timing was. Getting sick in Washington was one thing. Getting sick here was something else entirely and as he looked at his partner he saw much the same conclusion displayed on her face. Nevertheless, she stood her ground.

"For as long as it takes. If you're lucky you'll be up and around again in a couple of days."

Mulder groaned. "I don't believe this. I don't have time for this."

"Mulder, listen to me. You don't play around with this kind of thing, because if you do you run the risk of it developing in to something much worse, and if it does it'll drop you in a second. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."

"Yeah, well. Four years of medical training has to count for something."

"Exactly. Now go to bed. I'll check on you later."

Mulder had long since discovered that it would be pointless to argue with her, so he held up his hands in mock surrender and shakily got to his feet, feeling Scully's hand on his arm as he swayed slightly.

He turned to face her, needing to affirm something before he left.

"How about you, Scully, are you Okay?"

She squeezed his arm reassuringly.

"I'm fine, really, and besides I've got enough to worry about right now not to have to worry about myself. Now try to get some sleep, you look like you could use it. I'm going to do the same. There's not a lot we can do right now anyway, at least not until Mrs. Stevens recovers enough to speak to us."

Mulder paused and glanced over at the sleeping woman.

"You have to promise to come get me when she does."

Scully rolled her eyes. "I promise. Now you need to sleep okay?"

He allowed Scully to take him by the arm and gently steer him to the internal door which connected the two rooms, leaving it slightly ajar as she crossed over the threshold.

"Just in case." She advised him before guiding him to the bed.

Mulder didn't bother to argue as she pushed him down into a seated position, standing over him as she watched him settle himself back against the pillows. Pivoting, she headed for the bathroom and returned with a tumbler full of water in one hand and two Tylenol in the other, both of which she held out to Mulder.

"Here. Take these before you sleep. They'll help"

She watched as he swallowed the pills, noting worriedly how he winced with every swallow.

"Small sips okay? Little and often is the key here."

He nodded slowly and placed the glass on the bedside cabinet and satisfied at last that he would do as she had asked, a ghost of a smile played across her lips as she turned to leave.

"Sweet dreams Mulder." She offered and was gratified at least to see her smile returned by her partner.

Leaving him to rest, Scully exited the room quietly and returned to Christine Stevens. She checked once more on the sleeping woman, affirming to herself that she was resting peacefully and adjusted the comforter so it covered her more evenly. Christine didn't stir and Scully suspected that it would be some hours before she awoke. She decide to take her own advice and get some sleep, conscious suddenly that she hadn't had any rest for well over twenty four hours and of how tired she was.

Before she let herself succumb to the fatigue though she had to do one thing, and she crossed the room and picked up Christine Stevens' purse. She felt uncomfortably like a sneak thief as she rummaged around in it until her fingers found what they sought.

Gingerly she withdrew the photograph, the kind of image that every self respecting parent carried somewhere on their person, in a purse, in a wallet, in a briefcase, and traced her finger along the outlines of the child's sweet dimpled face. The same face that had once haunted her dreams at night and caused her on occasion to wake suddenly, screaming out her daughter's name.

The dreams had begun to abate. The pain of losing her had not. Scully doubted whether it ever really would. They had found each other for such a short time and yet the bond had been formed between them as Scully fought to save her life. Despite everything though she had ultimately failed her. She had let her daughter die rather than live half a life controlled and hunted by her creators.

She had watched her tiny three year old daughter slip peacefully away as the disease which gripped her had taken it's toll. The ultimate betrayal occurring when she had found that she had even been denied the opportunity to lay her appropriately to rest. Even that had been a sham and she would never forget the pain she had felt when she discovered that the tiny white coffin had been filled with nothing more than sand, looking closer as she had detected a hint of gold amongst the grains and finding her cross nestling unharmed beneath them.

And now as she held the photograph in her hands, looking in to Emily's face as it stared back at her, she vowed that whoever this little girl was, she wasn't going to let the same thing happen to her. This was her chance to put things right, to finally let her daughter find peace.

********************

10:13p.m.

"Who are you?"

The three words cut through Scully's consciousness and her eyes snapped open abruptly. Initially she thought that she had heard them in her dreams, but then she detected a slight movement out of the corner of her eye.

Three feet away Christine Stevens was staring at her fearfully, the comforter clutched protectively around her and Scully immediately swung around to face her, holding a calming hand up to the woman as she did so.

"It's Okay. My name is Dana Scully. I'm a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. My partner and I came to see you in the hospital. We brought you here. Don't you remember?"

"I . . . can't . . . no, I don't remember. Why am I here?"

Scully swallowed.

"We were asked to look in to your daughter's disappearance. We were told that you had information which could help us to find her. That you know who took her."

Despite Scully's conciliatory tone Christine's statement hardened.

"How do I know you are who you say you are?"

"I can show you identification." Scully reached in to her jacket pocket and pulled out her badge, heart sinking as the woman in front of her didn't even give it a cursory glance.

"No offence, Miss Scully. But I've seen enough so called I.D.'s to last me several lifetimes. Why should I believe yours is any different? The men who took my little girl had a badge just like yours, he showed it to me just seconds before he knocked me down and forced his way in to my house and carried my screaming child away with him, like she was no better than a rag doll. I hear her screams, see her face every time I close my eyes." She paused, looking at Scully accusingly. "Do you have any idea how that feels, to watch your child being taken from you and knowing that you're powerless to do anything about it?"

Scully winced at her words, knowing that this woman couldn't possibly know that she had experienced just that . . . and worse.

She forced herself to keep her voice steady.

"I know enough to realise that you're scared. But I *also* know that my partner and I are perhaps the only ones who can truly help you. You have to trust us, because there's no one else for you to trust right now and if you refuse our help now then your daughter might be lost to you forever."

Christine didn't respond for a while, but as she scrutinised Scully's face for even the smallest hint that she wasn't who she appeared to be, she saw the pain which she tried unsuccessfully to hide, creeping in to cloud her eyes, and an inexplicable feeling of empathy toward the young woman overwhelmed her.

"All right," she ventured uncertainly. "I'll tell you everything I know."

Scully relaxed visibly and got up from the bed.

"Where are you going?" The fear returned to Christine's voice and Scully gestured to the connecting door.

"To fetch my partner."

"No." Christine blocked her path. "I've seen what happens when people leave rooms. Call him instead."

Scully sighed. "Mrs. Stevens...Christine. My partner is sick. I need to check that he's Okay."

"So ask him when you speak to him on the phone, because if you leave this room I won't be here when you return. Believe it."

"All right. If that's what it takes I'll do it, but as I said before, you have to trust us."

"Trust has to be earned, Agent Scully. Now make the call."

Scully picked up the phone and punched in the number which would connect her to her partner's room, tapping her finger against the receiver as the line rang and rang.

The walls were just flimsy enough for her to be able to hear the phone through them and she heard Mulder pick up the receiver before the corresponding click echoed in her ear. His voice was heavy with sleep and he sounded slightly disorientated.

"Yeah?"

"Mulder, it's me. She's awake."

He didn't respond.

"Are you all right? Mulder talk to me."

To her intense relief his voice came back to her.

"Yeah. . .um . . .I'll be right there. I just need to get dressed. Give me a minute, Okay?"

He sounded weak and far away, and despite Scully being all too aware of Christine Stevens glaring suspiciously across at her, the well being of her partner overrode any mistrust directed at her from the woman.

"Are you sure you're up to this, Mulder?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just tired that's all."

Scully heard the lie which was so evident in his voice, but before she could question him further the line clicked, replaced suddenly with dead air as he hung up.

Scully shook her head, half annoyed at him for being so pig headed, but at the same time grateful that he wasn't prepared to let her do this alone. She replaced the receiver and turned away from the phone, meeting Christine's accusing stare.

"He's on his way." She informed her.

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