Title: Purgatory
Author: Gina Rain (ginarain@aol.com)
Rating: R (sexual content, language)
Category: X, MSR
Spoilers: General knowledge up to season 7. Requiem
never happened in this world, however. All ovens are
bun-less.
Archive: Sure, but drop me a line and let me know where.
I like to visit.
Summary: Members of Scully's old science club are
falling into comas. Will she be next?
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully (and the x-files, of
course) were created and nurtured by CC, 1013, Fox. .
.any and all of the above. But, for the next hour or so,
they are mine. It's like a visit to their maiden aunt. I
turn my head and let them do what they want. I'm sure
they'll have to pay for it when any of the
aforementioned get their hands on them again.
Disclaimer 2: This case file includes some religious
references. I have tried to handle them with as much
care and sensitivity as I can but if it's not your
thing. . .bail now, don't blame me later.
Thank you: To my beta, Christina, who always manages to
work her magic in spite of all the demands on her real
life. Thank you so much.

February 15, 1999
San Diego, California

She stood in the park, watching. They couldn't see her.
They weren't paying enough attention to anyone but
themselves to notice the rest of the world.

Her husband. Never mind the "ex." She married for better
or worse; richer or poorer; in sickness and in health
till death do us part. Death. Not divorce.

He was smiling down at her.

Janet. The "other woman."

Time hadn't changed her much at all. She was still the
nerdy science geek she was in school. Mousy brown hair,
glasses, a bit on the chubby side. He left her for this
nothing of a woman. What did she look like in bed? Did
she dress up for him? Did she moan constantly, making
her throat ache, endlessly waiting for him to come? Did
she act like the perfect little wife in every perfect
little way until her teeth ached from smiling and her
back broke from poking her bosom out like the little sex
kitten he wanted her to be? She doubted it.

Janet did nothing to deserve that smile. Nothing.

Except act superior.

Just as she had in high school.

Just like all of her kind.

They had all considered her a "bubble-headed
cheerleader." Nothing more. Dismissed her, like she
didn't have a worthwhile thought in her head or emotions
in her soul. But she did. They never even noticed that
she was bothered by their attitude. Felt their slights.
She sighed. High school was a long time ago but that's
where it started.

The trouble was, she still loved Gary--which meant she
couldn't do anything to Janet. He loved her now and it
would hurt him too much. You don't hurt the ones you
love. Poor fool. After all these years, he fell for
Janet's high and mighty routine. He probably was going
through an early mid-life crisis and she was there--
waiting. Offering something different. Something more.
He wanted someone "deep" and didn't stay long enough to
find out that Candi had plenty of depth. It had just
been hard to incorporate it into the Stepford wife
persona that he had seemed to want up until that point.
She was not going to do anything to make him unhappy.
Sooner or later, he'd realize his mistake and come
crawling back.

But that did nothing for her anger now.

Someone had to pay. Someone had to share in the depths
of despair she felt everyday.

The science geeks. Five girls who dared enter the
previously all-male domain of the high school science
club. Five girls who were virtually ignored in high
school. Five girls who virtually ignored Candi.

They thought she didn't have a moment's worth of
introspection. In reality, she knew that they were the
ones who had no need to think about what they were
feeling. They felt nothing. They lived in their ivory
towers, basking in the glow of their own brilliance and
carefully planning careers. Exciting careers. And when
the time was right for them. . .and only them--they
stole what was not theirs. They stole other women's
husbands.

Soon they would have plenty of time to think. Plenty of
time to delve into their inner lives. Face whatever they
didn't have time to face while on the fast track to
success. Bring it all to the surface. Their lives would
revolve around their conscience--their guilt.

Victoria, Elaine, Crystal and Dana.

The other four girls in the science club.

They would all pay. They would all pay for Janet's sins
because they were all the same. They liked going into
unchartered territory. They'd soon see how they liked
this exploration.

February 18,1999
Coronado, CA

Victoria could hear the phone ringing. Ceaseless
ringing. She felt little pin pricks on her back. Claws.
Her cat. Kneading. Worrying. She reluctantly opened her
eyes and looked around. She had passed out. Right on the
bathroom floor. The ringing stopped. Thank God. She
couldn't say it was giving her a headache because she
seemed to be in the middle of an Excedrin moment that
had lasted four years so far.

Blood and vomit. On the gray tiles, on the toilet seat,
on the towel she pulled off the rack to stop the
nosebleed. She had never had a nosebleed in her life and
this one wouldn't stop. It had scared her so badly she
lost the only food she had consumed in three days. Along
with the three-quarters of a bottle of vodka she had
drank that evening. She stumbled to her knees. She had
to clean the place up. Before the cat jumped off her
back and started walking in it.

She put the plug in the bathtub and let the water run.
The phone began to ring again.

Damn. It was probably her mother. If she didn't answer,
she would send someone over to check on her. She hadn't
been answering her phone in days.

She held on to the walls and managed to make it to the
couch.

"Hello?"

"Victoria? Victoria Johnson?"

"Yes. Speaking."

"You are in hell, Victoria," the soft female voice
stated, just before hanging up.

Victoria looked at the phone before putting it back in
its cradle.

"You don't know the half of it, you sick fuck."

She went into the bathroom and got on her hands and
knees. She pulled the remaining guest towel from the
rack and submerged it in the water. She cleaned off all
the surfaces that had been stained during the body-fluid
fest of a few hours ago. Lysol was sprayed and
resprayed, then she took her ruined towels and shoved
them in a Hefty bag. Her clothes were removed and added
to the trash.

"Gwendolyn," she said with a sigh as she lay back in the
nearly empty bathtub waiting for the water to rise a
second time. She was dirtier than the floors or walls or
towels. But she wasn't sure it was a dirt that could
ever be rinsed away. Her dark gray Russian Blue stared
at her with green, unblinking eyes. "Don't you have a
better class of person to hang around with?" The cat
leaned forward on the edge of the bathtub and quickly
rubbed her head against Victoria's shoulder before
jumping off and making herself cozy in the living room.
Victoria let out a sob.

Gwendolyn was the only one who understood--on some
strange animal level. Unconditional love. She wondered,
briefly, what everyone else would think if they knew
their golden girl was a down and out drunk. She was
blessed with what used to be called hollow legs. Cursed
with them, maybe. She could drink a lot and no one
knew. It would be so nice to just stay in the bathtub
and let the water rise while she kept her body below the
surface. But then, they'd know. It would be revealed
during the autopsy. She couldn't do that to her family.

She dried off and poured a very large glass of vodka to
still the tremors that were beginning to wrack her body.
Drinking off half the liquid, she slipped into bed
thinking about the hell her life had become.

An hour later, she didn't feel the cat insistently
kneading the skin above her chest.

She was already in a coma.

March 7, 2000
Hoover Building, Washington, D.C.
4:45 PM

Mulder wondered if he could get away with it. A meeting
with Bertram McGregor and twenty seven world -weary
field agents. Bertram McGregor. Head Bean Counter. Six
new rules were being added to the already endless list
they had to follow while filling out expense reports.
Six new impossible rules. Pre-approval, indeed. Half
their assignments were based on spontaneous moments
which led to spontaneous expenses. Not only was this
ambulatory abacus informing the assembly of these
ridiculous new policies, he was also going into
excruciating detail on why each was needed--peppering
his boring tale with side-splitting stories of what not
to do. Using the X-files division to illustrate. Mulder
was not amused. Since the new rules impacted everyone,
though, maybe they would just turn the other way if he
slipped out of his chair and pumped a few bullets into
the thick skull of old bean bag. Chances are, with
Bertie's personality, no one would be all that sure he
was gone for quite a while anyway.

Scully seemed to be taking it in stride. Seemed to. She
had brought a notebook and pen with her. She almost
always did. She was a random note taker. She kept
writing something down and crossing it out. No. That
wasn't quite the right expression for what she was
doing. She was obliterating what she wrote. Crossing it
out to the point where Mulder was sure there would be
pen marks on several pages unlucky enough to rest below
the top sheet. She was doing it in such a calm fashion,
no one seemed to notice at all. It gave him a delicious
little thrill to know her secret.

Everyone was starting to struggle to their feet. Shit.
He hadn't even noticed the meeting was breaking up. What
was the outcome? Oh, yeah. Beanie gave them new rules
which they would all steadfastly ignore, if not
downright break. Gotcha.

He was one step behind as Scully stalled in the doorway
due to the gridlock of agents trying to escape the
conference room. She had one hand up under her hair,
rubbing the back of her neck. Her other hand was at her
side, holding the pad and pen she had used solely for
her own amusement.

He leaned down a bit.

"Can I interest you in a backrub, Agent Scully?" he
whispered, nonchalantly.

She glanced over her shoulder.

"We'll discuss it."

He stopped in his tracks for a moment as she headed
toward the already crowded elevator. He caught up just
as the doors were closing and they both stared straight
ahead of them as they made their descent to the
basement.

He closed the office door the minute their bodies were
through.

"We'll discuss it?" he asked, letting a tiny spark of
hopefulness color his usually measured voice.

"Well, you got me on a good day, Mulder. I am so fucking
sick of rules. Especially idiotic ones."

He had to admit to two weaknesses. Scully in her
guttersnipe persona and Scully as rebel. Both stayed
hidden ninety nine percent of the time but were an awful
lot of fun for the short time she allowed them out to
play.

"Does this mean we might be bending a few of our own?"
he asked, highly doubtful. Scully was known to change
her mind and think sensibly if given a moment.

"No. It means we are going to break one. Rule number two
is a good place to start."

"Number two?"

"Yup."

He was impressed.

The adult equivalent of no partying on a school night:
no fraternizing on a work night.

Rule number two in their lovers' manual. Scully gave him
a copy after their first night together. Well, not
really, but they had discussed the ground rules and they
had playfully assigned numbers to the first five.

She looked over at him with a sly expression on her
face. He still looked partially stunned.

"I really need a good backrub, Mulder," as if that
explained it all.

"Oh, you'll get one, Scully. I can guarantee that."

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for a
moment. He loved that expression. The look of relaxation
and almost-- contentment. Scully. Content. He had lived
to see the day. She shook herself out of it and put on
her work face.

"We have to finish this expense report and get it
upstairs before the rules officially change. We wouldn't
want Bert to call another meeting to point out the error
of our ways."

"Do we have to?" He put on his best whiny voice for her
benefit.

"Faster we get to it, the faster it gets done, the
faster your magic fingers can start their assignment."

"All right, then. What are we waiting for?"

He put on a big show of adjusting the computer monitor
and keyboard and then looked across at her one last
time.

"Scully?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do we need to--stop by and pick up some clothes? For
you or for me?"

Her lips curved into the faintest trace of a smile but
he noticed. She had never spent the entire night with
him. She always picked herself up sometime around dawn
and left. He acted accordingly in her apartment, even
though she told him he could stay.

But as long as they were breaking rules, he thought he
might as well push the envelope and ask.

"I have some clothes in the trunk of my car, Mulder."

"You do?"

"Yes," she quietly acknowledged. He looked at her one
more time and then began working on the expense report.

Fox Mulder's apartment
7 PM

He was closing the door behind them when he felt her
hands encircle his waist from behind. She leaned her
head quietly against his back.

"Um--Scully? Are we spending the evening in this
position? Because generally speaking, I find I usually
have more options facing the other way."

He heard her laugh against the layers of his clothing.
Her small hands were going under his trench coat and
suit jacket and were busy pulling his shirt out of his
pants. She ran her slightly cold hands on his warm
stomach and he shivered at the touch. Now, he could feel
her laugh.

"I have to take a bath and I'm just working up the
energy to actually move on over to your bathroom."

"You don't need a bath, Scully. I like my women a little
grungy."

"I'm glad you confirmed what had only been a suspicion
up until now." She stroked his stomach lightly and
rubbed the side of her face between his shoulder blades.
"But I'd rather not be a member of that illustrious
group. I really do need a bath. I have to wash away that
meeting, for one thing. Sitting there for hours for a
bunch of nonsense. I'll be out soon."

She quickly kissed his back and was out of sight almost
before he turned around. She had taken her overnight bag
with her.

With a sigh, Mulder pulled himself together, ordered
food and went into his bedroom. He removed a pair of
sweat pants and a tee shirt from his dresser. He
supposed he'd have enough time to take a shower before
dinner if Scully didn't use up all the hot water in the
building with her bath.

Scully--in his bathtub. And she had just made herself
right at home. He could hear the sounds of the water
running and Scully moving around a bit. A Kodak moment
if ever there was one. He walked over to the door and
tried the handle. Locked.

He knocked.

"Scully?"

"Yeah?"

"Door's locked."

"I know."

"Don't you want company?"

"I think I already answered that question by locking the
door."

"I think I'm insulted."

"Don't be. I told you. I just want to wash up."

He sat on the floor and pressed his back against the
bathroom door. He removed his tie and threw it on the
bed.

"I ordered the food, Scully," he called to her, opening
a few buttons on his dress shirt and taking off his
shoes and socks.

"Great. Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you setting up camp outside the bathroom door?"

"Yes, I am."

"Why?"

"Because. I like this. I like the sounds of you in my
tub," he said, leaning back and concentrating on the
soft movements in the water. Imagining her soaping up,
rinsing off--normal, every day things that took on a
monumental significance in his mind because of her
location.

"I don't want to burst any bubbles, Mulder. But I'm not
doing anything in here."

"I know that. My mind isn't always tuned to the Spice
Channel, you know. I mean, I like the fact that you are
in my tub--that I am out here like a faithful St.
Bernard puppy, waiting for you to emerge all wet and
steamy."

He heard the sounds of her light laughter followed
abruptly by an "Oh, shit."

"What?"

"Nothing. It's. . .nothing."

"You didn't slip, did you?"

"No, Mulder. Everything is fine. Just--go wait for the
delivery guy, okay? I'll be out in a second."

He sat there for another minute. The harmonious spell
was broken. If he stayed any longer, he'd piss her off.
He lifted himself off the floor and went to the living
room.

Her second extended over a full twenty-five minutes.
When she emerged from the bathroom, her hair was dry and
she was dressed in a rather nondescript sweat suit.
Dinner had arrived and was laid out on the coffee table.

"Sorry I took so long."

"It's okay. Food's here," he gestured toward the table.

She looked distracted. As she approached the coffee
table, she seemed to make up her mind.

"I'm being an idiot, Mulder. Look--I got my period. I--
well, this is all so new and I just--I can leave if that
sort of thing bothers you."

"Why?" He had no concept of why she made the offer.

"Well, I know it's not always comfortable for men. . ."

It dawned on him.

"Scully. You've got to be kidding. First of all, we
don't have to make love if you don't feel like it. But,
as for me--put off by a little blood? I don't think so.
As long as you're comfortable. . ."

She smiled, "I am. Actually, I'm usually kind of in
overdrive."

He looked at her bright eyes and the slightly pinkish
tinge to her cheeks. Their first sex talk. He had to
mark this down somewhere. Up until now, discussion had
not entered into it.

She sat beside him on the couch and he looked at her
sideways, tilting his head a bit.

"The. . .others. . .didn't. . .?" He didn't want too
many details, but he did want to know.

"Rarely. Maybe it was partly my old attitude. Maybe
theirs. I don't know. They pretty much waited until my
cycle was over."

"And the old guy called himself a doctor," he gently
scoffed.

"Daniel didn't just 'call' himself a doctor, Mulder. He
is one. And way beyond a good one."

"Yeah. He's a saint."

"Mulder. It probably was just as much my fault back then
as anyone else's. I mean, young girls hear old wives
tales and tend to go along with them until they know
better. I've changed a lot since then."

"Well, I still think the previous men in your life were
fools. Sex is messy anyway. What's the big deal?"

She looked at her meal for a moment, trying to quell an
almost unstoppable urge to laugh. He had seemed to be
annoyed that the "others" had not wanted to sleep with
her during a perfectly natural female cycle. Only
Mulder. Always fighting for a principle. She lifted a
forkful of her chicken to his lips.

"This is good. Try it."

He opened his mouth and she gently placed the lemony
chicken inside.

"It is good."

She leaned forward and kissed him softly. She moved
back and touched his hair. He could see a thousand
different sentences forming in her mind and she
discarded each one in split second decisions. She ended
up giving him another kiss and then spearing some pasta
from his plate.

"I guess--maybe I hung around some pretty grungy men,
when all was said and done."

She didn't look up for a minute but when she did she
caught one of his rare million dollar smiles.

"I've always suspected as much."

After dinner, Mulder took his shower. As he was emerging
from the bathroom he watched as Scully put down his
bedside telephone, a frown on her face.

"What?"

"I called for my messages. There was a call from my
mother who 'can wait' and then--well, I guess it was
just a strange crank call."

"What did they say?"

"It was a woman. She said, 'Dana Scully. You are in
hell,' and hung up."

"Crank callers usually don't use their victim's names."

"Well--I don't know about that, Mulder. There are ways
of getting even unlisted names and numbers. It's
nothing, I'm sure. Probably some kids a little bored on
a school night."

"If it happens again, we are running a trace."

She smiled.

"Okay. 'We' will."

He got on the bed.

"Come here and lay down. I owe you a backrub."

"You don't have to, Mulder. I'm fine now, really."

"Assume the position, Scully."

She removed her sweatshirt and lay on her stomach as he
pulled a bottle out of his night stand. He bought it two
weeks ago waiting for the opportunity to use it. It
smelled like jasmine and was supposed to warm as it was
rubbed onto the skin.

He poured some oil into his hands and rubbed them
together. It was warm. He put his hands on her
shoulders, kneading the way he used to see his
grandmother knead bread. His grandmother. . .

"Scully?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Do you want a hot water bottle?"

"What?"

"You know. . .to ease the cramps."

He had to sit back as she broke into what could only be
described as peals of laughter. He didn't know whether
to smile at her obvious bizarre delight or scowl over
her amusement at his expense.

She turned over, grabbed his forearm and pulled herself
up.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. It's just--sometimes I find it hard
to believe we've only been doing 'this' for such a short
while. Sometimes it feels like I've been with you my
entire life."

"And how do you feel about that?" They psychologist in
him just had to ask.

She moved herself up into his lap and draped her arms
over his shoulders. Her bare breasts pressed into the
flesh of his chest. She lifted her hand and smoothed
back the hair from his forehead.

"I only wish it was more than just a feeling."

He tightened his grip around her. He hadn't seen her
genuinely happy and carefree in years. It was almost
overwhelming to watch. He quietly stroked her hair,
kissing her gently on the cheek. Every ounce of pain. He
wanted every ounce of pain to disappear from her memory
banks. When she looked in his eyes, he saw that she knew
his mood was changing. He also understood that she was
determined to keep things light tonight.

"Mulder--I hate to be a nudge, but I think you still owe
me half a backrub and we better get to it. We need to
get some sleep before work tomorrow and well--there is
something else we should be trying to fit in this
evening."

Her eyes were glistening with suppressed laughter.
Great. Now she was handing him blatantly suggestive
straight lines. She in overdrive.

He picked up the bottle of oil and got back to work.

March 8
3 AM

Scully was dreaming but couldn't quite get a picture of
what she was dreaming of. There was a sound. A hollow
sound, growing louder and louder and a horrible feeling
of falling. No. More than falling. Being pulled down.
Down.

It was hot. Damned hot. She still couldn't see anything
and then she felt it. Fire. As soon as she realized what
it was, she began to see the red flames around her,
touching her. Burning parts of her although she remained
intact. She could hear screams coming from dark corners,
in every direction. She could hear her own voice joining
the chorus. Screams and burning. Then red. Only red.

She was telling herself it was a dream. Just a dream.
Wake up. Wake up. Her legs didn't move, her arms didn't
move. She willed them to move. One finger. One fucking
finger. One toe. Just one motion and the rest would
unfreeze. An eyelid. Open an eyelid and see the real
world and the red would disappear. The flames would
fade. Nothing moved. Nothing was able to move.

She wanted to scream but she had no voice. No ability to
open her mouth. No ability to speak or scream or
swallow. She couldn't breathe. There was something
holding her down. God. Oh, God. Something was holding
her down in this inferno. She would burn to death.

A vice-like grip was beginning to exert pressure on her
shoulders. Out of the nothingness she felt it. Pulling.
Pulling up.

She heard a voice screaming in a way she had never heard
another human scream. It was coming from her.

End of Part 1

Part 2

Mulder's Apartment
3:15 A.M.

"Goddamnit, Scully. Wake up." Whatever books he had read, whatever he had been
taught about waking people in deep sleep, he threw all the knowledge out the
window when he awoke to her choking sounds. She was completely unresponsive to
the nudges, the touches, the pleas to wake up. It was scaring the hell out of
him. As he took her body into his arms he felt her. Hot. So very, very hot. Her
skin was red and she wouldn't wake up. He lay her back down and took a firm hold
of her shoulders and started to shake her. Roughly. Screaming at her to wake up.

After a few seconds she let out an unearthly cry and her eyes opened.

She was gasping for breath and he tried to lay her back but she clutched his
shoulders and wouldn't let go.

"It was a dream," she said in a strained voice, trying to reassure herself.
"Just a dream. Just a dream."

Her eyes were wild and unfocused.

"Scully. I'm calling an ambulance."

"No. No, it was a dream. Give me a minute. I'll be fine."

He held her as she gasped in huge amounts of air. Her breathing steadied and her
heart rate slowed. As he held her, he could feel her fever dissipate. Quickly.
Abnormally.

He held her away from him, still gripping her arms.

"What the fuck was that?"

"It's--a dream. I had a nightmare. I guess."

"Scully--this was beyond a nightmare. I couldn't wake you. You were burning up."

She put a hand to her own forehead.

"I'm--everything feels all right now. I'm fine, Mulder. I just had a really
bizarre reaction to the dream. Sleep paralysis, probably."

He looked at her with doubt in his eye. He knew that sleep paralysis had
probably been part of the reaction but it wasn't everything. He had never seen
anything like it.

"Tell me about the dream."

"I--I'm not sure I can. It was not like. . .well, a story in your mind, no
matter how disjointed. It wasn't that at all. It was this feeling of being
pulled down. Like a vacuum being turned on and me being sucked into it. That was
the exact type of feeling. And then--this strange sound. Hollow. And everything
just turned red. There were flames everywhere and they were burning me, but my
body remained intact. I was on fire but not actually being damaged. I couldn't
move and I couldn't feel myself scream." She closed her eyes tightly at the
memory.

Mulder pulled her close.

"I want to take you to the hospital."

"No. Mulder. They will laugh us out of there. There is nothing wrong with me.
I'm certain of it. I had a nightmare. Night terror. Whatever you want to call
it. It--could be a reaction to spending the entire night in your bed. Or--that
oil you used that was warming my skin. Or--that idiotic crank call and the hell
remark. You know how the subconscious loves to take hold of these things and run
with them."

"The oil didn't give you a fever that was burning through my skin when I held
you."

"Mulder. You were frightened. Maybe you misjudged. . ." He cut her off.

"Please don't tell me how off my judgment is. You want to rationalize things,
fine. I know what I felt. I would have taken a thermometer and got you the
empirical proof but, unfortunately, I had my hands full."

"Don't be mad at me, Mulder. Whatever happened--it's over and there is no reason
to go to the hospital or to a doctor. It was just some bizarre reaction, all
right?"

He closed his eyes and let out a huff of air.

"I'm not mad at you, Scully. You just scared the shit out of me."

"Can we--not go to sleep, Mulder? Just have some coffee and watch tv or
something? I don't want to go back to sleep tonight."

He stared at her a long while. She did look fine. Rattled, but fine. He nodded
slowly and handed her the remote control. As he got up to put on the coffee, he
heard her channel surfing. By the time he came back with the coffee mugs, Scully
was curled on her side, sleeping peacefully.

8:30 AM

Oh, he was in for it, all right. He knew that much. She wasn't awake yet but
when she woke up, she'd kill him.

So be it.

He wasn't giving her an inch on this one.

She appeared in the doorway of his kitchen, wearing the shirt he wore to work
the day before. He could swear that woman was psychic.

"It's 8:30, Mulder. You aren't running around like a maniac."

She seemed pretty calm.

He walked over and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Sleep well?"

"Yes. I did. Thank you."

"Good. You missed your coffee break but you'll be happy to know that I didn't
keep the coffee on 'warm' all this time. I made a fresh pot."

"Mulder. What did you do? Why aren't we at work?"

"I called in and told them we were going to be running some background checks on
the Wilson case. Which I will do later. You are going to do nothing. "

"Really?"

"Don't get your hackles up, Scully. I didn't take you to the hospital last night
and I really should have. You would have done it with me."

"Maybe. But I'm fine today. Really."

She sat by the kitchen table. She really was remarkably calm considering he had
done what she hated more than anything else. She didn't like someone taking
control of her life. Not any phase of it.

He poured coffee and placed it before her. He knelt in front of her and swiped
the hair away from her face.

"You look fine," he smiled.

She closed her eyes.

"I'm not going to kill you, Mulder. And--do you know why?"

"Because I'm so darned cute?"

She smiled a bit.

"That, too. But the main reason is--I really was scared. I still am when I think
about it. I don't think I've ever had such a vivid dream. I still feel--
unsettled. I'm surprised I slept so well afterwards."

"So am I."

She looked at him and saw the deep bluish tinge under his eyes.

"You watched me like a hawk last night, didn't you?"

He nodded.

She leaned into him and let him put his arms around her softly.

"What can I say, Scully? I'm a fool for love? I could say it but that's not even
the half of it," he breathed into her ear.

She leaned out of his embrace and ruffled his hair a bit.

"I want to go to my apartment for my 'sick day.' But after you run down the
Wilson leads--I'd like you to come over. Bring some clothes, maybe. . ."

He smiled. Slow changes. Step by step. In the right direction.

Scully's Apartment
3 P.M.

Scully opened the door and her mother damned near burst through. That was the
best and really only way to describe it. After Scully returned her call and
informed her of her uncharacteristic day off, Maggie had announced that she
would be over as soon as possible and hung up. Her mother usually left her with
the option of refusal but Scully just resigned herself to the fact that the
moon or stars must be in fairly strange alignment since normally polite and
highly respectful people were determined to aggressively take control of her.
And the strangest part was, she had no desire to stop them.

Maggie's cheeks were flushed and there was a definite glow of excitement about
her as she sat on the couch, leaning forward in anticipation.

"I have an X-file for you," she announced.

Scully sat on her chair with her mouth slightly open.

"What?" she finally managed to squeeze out.

"An X-file. I'm not kidding, Dana. And you're involved--well, not really but
yes. You are. In a way. Sort of."

"Mom. . . "

"Okay, okay. I'm just a little excited. It's sort of awful but I bet you can fix
it."

"Mom. . ."

Maggie took a deep breath.

"All right, Dana. Let me begin at the beginning."

"Good place to start, Mom."

Maggie placed her hands, palms down, flat on her lap. It seemed to mentally
ground her.

"One year ago--a little over--Victoria Johnson went into a coma."

"Victoria Johnson?"

"You remember her? She was in high school with you. Very serious. She wanted to
be--I don't know--something in computers way before computers even became
popular. Remember?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. But it's not such an uncommon name. I just wanted to make sure
you and I were talking about the same person. So--why did she go into a coma?
Was she in an accident of some kind? How long did the coma last?"

"She wasn't in an accident. There was..." her mother stopped, a bit ashamed of
her
former exuberance, "she--was an alcoholic, Dana. No one knew. They initially
thought she went into a coma due to liver failure."

"Oh, my God. Victoria?" Visions of the young girl she once knew played through
Scully's mind. Long dark hair scooped up unceremoniously in a rubber band.
Tendrils always breaking free. Green eyes covered by wide gold rimmed glasses
that dwarfed her tiny features. Serious, but with a wicked sense of humor. About
everything. Especially herself.

"It's a disease, Dana," her mother said softly, her own visions of a beloved
uncle playing through her mind.

Scully bit back the retort that she would have given anyone else. She knew full
well it was a disease. That was part of the reason behind her reaction.

"I know, Mom. I just. It's horrible, that's all. So what makes them think it
wasn't an alcohol induced coma?"

"Well, the fact that within two weeks her extremely swollen liver shrunk to its
normal size and all scar tissue seen in the scans they gave her were completely
healed. And she was still in the coma."

"There must be some mistake."

"Nope. No mistake."

"Well, Mom. If all the tests were accurate, I guess medical science can't
explain everything."

"No, it can't. And, this is where the strange part comes in. This was about
thirteen months ago. Victoria's coma. Five months later, it happened again.
Elaine Chandler. Remember her? No accident, no alcohol. No anything. Perfectly
healthy woman. Coma. And just a week ago, Crystal Wahlberg. Same thing. No
reason whatsoever and she is in a coma, too."

"They were all in my class. Actually, we were all in science club together."

"That's why I came to you. I just found out about this now. I met Victoria's
aunt. She just received a call from her sister who is taking Victoria home
tomorrow. She's out of the coma, Dana."

"Well, that's wonderful."

"Yes, it is."

"What aren't you telling me, Mom?"

Maggie's eyes had that light in them again. The same freaking light that
Mulder's had whenever a case deeply intrigued him. She almost closed her eyes in
frustration. Now there were two of them in her life. God help her.

"Guess where Victoria said she has been all this time?"

"Where she's been? She's been in a coma."

"She says she's been," Maggie paused dramatically, "in purgatory."

End of part 2

Part 3

Scully's apartment
5:30 P.M.

How had she lost control of her life? All within the span of twenty-four hours?

She understood her quiescent behavior of this morning. She had been feeling very
unsettled and shaky over the idiotic dream she had the night before. She hadn't
wanted to argue with Mulder on principle when she knew, given the circumstances,
she would have thrown principle to the wind herself. And she always loved seeing
her mother so she didn't feel a great need for resentment over her decision to
barge in instead of waiting for an invitation that would have been forthcoming
anyway.

But now, due in part to this behavior, she was listening to stereo Mulders.
Mulder and Maggie were in the living room discussing the case of the California
coma people like they had been partners for years and Scully had to admit to
being--perturbed, at the very least. And that fact bothered her. They were their
enthusiastic selves and she was being a wet blanket. But, damn it, mothers
shouldn't automatically change overnight into exuberant x-file chasers. And
Mulder seemed to have more in common with Mrs. Scully than his recently
indoctrinated lover. Scully stood in the kitchen doorway watching Mulder
question her mother with all the gusto of a talk show host interviewing a hard-
to-book guest.

"And what else did the aunt have to say?" Mulder continued his inquisition.

"Well, I think she was a bit uncomfortable because of the alcoholism. You know,
there is still a certain amount of stigma involved but we really did know each
other quite well in the past, so she was truthful. She had a much younger son in
the same school Dana and the other girls went to, so we saw each other quite a
bit. It was a fairly small high school and we all got to know each other during
the endless functions we were asked to volunteer for."

"And these women remained in California?"

"Yes, apparently they did. Spread out a bit in the state but they are all still
in California."

"And Victoria just blurted out this purgatory thing?"

"Well, Rina--her aunt--really was a bit embarrassed by that. She thought it was
some sort of hallucination but the reason she mentioned it is because Victoria
came out of the coma a week ago and she's still hanging on to this story for
dear life. It's not like she's thinking twice about it but she keeps insisting
to everyone who visits that this is what happened to her."

"Wow."

"Wow, indeed," Scully said, coming from the kitchen into the living room and
sitting on the edge of Mulder's chair. It was time to inject some reason into
the proceedings.

"She's been through a lot. It is more than a possibility that she suffered brain
damage from her past alcohol abuse or the coma itself. Even if she didn't, she
may simply be using her imagination to fill in the blanks. I would imagine it's
very disconcerting to wake up and find you've missed a year of your life." She
frowned as a quick image of her own lost time flitted across her brain. She
shook it out. "I think a delusional statement made by someone who has been
unconscious for thirteen months is less of a mystery than why the other
seemingly healthy women suddenly slipped into comas and haven't come out."

"Okay--then I think we should investigate that," Mulder said.

"Me, too," Maggie said.

Scully just stared at her mother.

"I meant, Dana--that you two should investigate, of course."

Scully took a small breath of relief.

"Well, I would like to know. There has to be some reason behind the other two
comas and I would like to talk to Victoria. There must be an explanation for all
of this."

"Good. It's settled then. I'm calling Skinner and arranging things."

"What about the Wilson case?" Scully reminded him.

"Ah. Well, the ghost has been haunting the same abandoned house for five years.
I doubt it's going anywhere in the next week or so."

Mulder got up and went into the kitchen to use the phone in relative privacy.

San Diego, CA
2:45 P.M.

Agnes knew. She suspected with the first one. She knew with the second, and the
third was finally forcing her into action. She picked up the telephone and
dialed her daughter's number.

"Hi, Mom, " a cheerful voice greeted. "What's up?"

"What did I tell you about using your power?"

"You told me not to. And I haven't."

"You have. I'm not a fool. A third girl is in the hospital.

"And you automatically assume I had something to do with it."

"I know you did."

There was silence on the other end. Agnes knew her daughter carefully
constructed her lies before they actually spilled out of her mouth in words.

"Why did you do it? What did you have against these girls?'

"It's not what I had against them, mother. It's what they had against me."

Agnes had heard this before. Her daughter. Had to be loved by everyone and
couldn't understand why someone might not find her as wonderful as she found
herself.

"Stop it, CJ. That's all I'm telling you. You can't mess around with things like
this. You just don't know what could happen."

"Don't call me CJ. And, I know enough. But I think, maybe, it's over for now."

Agnes leaned back against her cushion. For now. Somehow, her daughter's phrasing
had not given her any peace of mind at all. There still was, however, very
little she could do about it. Very little she was willing to do about it.

Dana Scully's apartment
6 PM

Scully sat back and smiled at her mother.

"You are--remarkably Mulderish today, Mom."

"Don't you mean Fox-y? I like Fox. I think I can finally understand his
enthusiasm for some of this stuff. Not that I can go out and solve any of this
on my own, nor would I want to--but I know the two of you can do it."

Scully thought back on the day of her father's funeral. She had wanted
reassurance that he had been proud of her. Perhaps, given what her mother told
her just now, had he lived, he would have come to be. She could only hope that
was true and celebrate the semi-momentous victory of her mother's whole hearted
approval of her life's work.

"So, Dana. Just how long were you going to wait before you told me?"

"Told you what?"

Maggie smiled. Shit. She knew.

"You don't have to say a word, Dana. But if you think you're pulling the wool
over my eyes, you have another thing coming to you, is all I want to say."

"Mom..."

"Don't Mom me. What bothers you more? The fact that I know or the fact that I
actually approve?"

Now Scully was pissed. Not one flicker of an eyelash or pursing of a lip gave
her away but she was definitely pissed. Her mother had an uncanny way of cutting
through all the bullshit and that was not always a quality Dana admired. It was
no secret that Maggie had not liked any of Dana's former lovers and while she
probably had less reason to like Mulder than any of the men before him, she
liked him anyway.

Maggie got up and grabbed her coat from the dining room chair.

"I have to meet Rose and I'm already a little late. We're going to the movies.
That Mel Gibson one. I forget the name. You will tell me what's going on with my
case, won't you dear? Or do I have to ask Fox?"

"Very amusing, Mom. I will keep you up to date."

She kissed her mother and with a look of sheer amusement, Maggie called out a
cheery 'goodbye' to Mulder and left.

Mulder came out a few moments later.

"What's wrong?" he asked, seeing her staring morosely at the closed door.

"Nothing. I don't know. Nothing. Mom knows about us."

"You told her."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I. . .don't know."

Mulder sat on the couch.

"I made arrangements for us to fly to San Diego Saturday. That all right with
you?"

"Sure. Yes, it's fine."

"I booked us into a motel that leads right out onto the beach. A fringe benefit
for any down time we may have. Unless you'd like to stay with--your family."

"Bill? Oh, he's not stationed in San Diego anymore. Hasn't been for a year now."

"Really?"

"Um-hmmm. He's in Hawaii."

"And you didn't say anything to me?"

"I didn't think you wanted to keep tabs on the man, Mulder. He's not exactly one
of your favorite people."

Mulder sat down on the arm of the couch.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No. Of course not. Why would I want you to leave?"

"I thought you might be feeling claustrophobic about now."

Scully smiled in spite of herself.

"I was. But I'm not at the moment."

"Well, feel free to kick me out if you do."

He pushed his body over the side of the couch and sat on the cushions.

"Tell me about your high school days, Scully."

"What's there to tell? It was a high school. St. Clare's. It was a co-ed
Catholic high school. The only one in the city, really. Catholics usually like
to separate the sexes while they are in full hormonal blossom."

"That must have been--fun."

"It was, I guess. It was also awkward as hell. You know, those days just aren't
easy, no matter how you look at it."

"What were you like?"

"Probably very much the way I am now. Serious. A little bit of a freer spirit,
maybe, but still pretty serious. And smart. I can't say I've ever felt the need
to hide my candle under a bushel over that gift."

"Did you have a boyfriend?"

"I had a crush."

"Did you. . ."

"No, Mulder. I was ready to but we never did. Senior prom we came as close as we
were ever going to and frankly, after that fiasco, we just called it quits. Too
damned embarrassing for both of us."

He nodded. She looked at him in puzzlement.

"You're not going to ask?"

"About the fiasco? No. I'm not. Someday--maybe, I'll want to hear about the past
but not now."

"That's strange."

"Why? Do you want to hear about the women who shared my bed? Really hear about
them?"

"Well. . .I don't know. I haven't given it much thought."

"You haven't?"

"I don't know. Maybe a little. And, no, maybe I don't want to hear that much
about them. . ."

Mulder was thoughtful but, when he spoke, he spoke with a strange mixture of
humor and seriousness.

"I can tell you this, though. There were some women that were there for the
sexual release. That was their sole purpose. If it sounds sexist, well--that's
just the way it is. And it was mutual, so maybe it's not quite as bad as it
sounds. There were one or two--probably the ones you know about--that fulfilled
some idealistic crap that floated around in my mind. The way they destroyed
those visions left me with pretty bad memories of the relationships. So--in
conclusion, you don't have a lot to worry about, even if you do decide you want
to hear about them."

"And you think you do?"

"Hmmmm. . .let's see--two quick examples. We have Jack. The talented, handsome
and very dead Jack. Automatic sainthood bestowed no matter how awful or not
awful your relationship may have been. And, from what little scraps you've given
me, none of your relationships were really bad. And then, the ever popular
Daniel--excuse me, the brilliant Doctor Daniel. For whom we must all genuflect
at the very mention of his name. No. Nothing to worry about there."

"Mulder. You are such a dope."

"Yes. I know that. But that still doesn't mean I want to hear about some other
guy doing things to you that I waited almost too long to even try."

Now he was serious. She knew why he waited. Well, a few of the seemingly
hundreds of reasons he waited. One of which was the absolute sense of awe he had
over the depth of their feelings for each other. The depth of feeling he had for
her. He waited for her to give him some sign she wanted to go in the same
direction he did. The fact that she had traveled that road with others, and had
reached the decision to do so faster than she had with him, neither escaped his
notice or his concern. The thought that she might have felt more, at one time,
for someone else, terrified him.

She couldn't reassure him now. She just wasn't ready to take that final step.
The very fact that they were spending all of the last two nights together was a
large enough leap in their relationship. The words themselves would be too
terrifyingly real. He would just have to take her commitment on trust.

"You know, sometimes we talk way too much, Mulder," she told him as she sat
quietly on his lap. He reached out and stroked her back. It was nice, loving and
a cop-out. They both knew it.

End of Part 3

Part 4

Coronado, CA
March 11, 2000
2:30 P.M.

"Hello, Mrs. Johnson," Scully said as she walked through the doors of the rather
small ranch-style house.

"Dana. You look exactly the same. Exactly. Come on in, Victoria is in the living
room."

'Mothers,' Scully thought. They could lie through their teeth and still manage
to pull off the flawless Betty Crocker routine.

Scully knew she wasn't anything like the high school girl Mrs. Johnson
remembered and, as she glanced toward the couch, she saw the passage of time was
even more pronounced in her old schoolmate.

Victoria was fragile. She never seemed fragile in her entire life. A walker was
set up next to her on the couch. Her pale features were almost completely
dwarfed by the sheer volume of brown hair which, while long, was decidedly thin
and unhealthy. When she smiled, however, time disappeared.

"Dana! Well, look at you, the FBI's finest. Come, sit with me." Scully took a
seat next to Victoria and a rather huge gray cat. The cat stared at her with a
look that Scully could not identify but which automatically put her in mortal
fear for her new pair of nylons.

"This is Gwendolyn. Once she realized who the hell I was--she has not left my
side for more than five minutes. Gwendolyn--my old pal, Dana."

Gwendolyn gave Scully a blank stare.

"I think she likes you," Victoria said with enthusiasm.

"So--well, you know why I'm here, Victoria. First, I'm very sorry for everything
that has happened but since it seems to have happened to two other classmates--
well, you understand the need for me to delve into this further than is,
perhaps, my business."

"I have nothing to hide. Not anymore. Fire away."

"Okay. What do you remember about the night you went into the coma--or do you
remember it?"

"I remember. The alcohol was beginning to have an effect on my health. I felt
sick a lot. I had been in a very bad mood that day, and came home to a phone
call that upset me. I don't know why it did. I mean, it was about an old friend
with marital problems--but, it was second-hand information through another
friend and I hadn't seen the woman in question for years. I think it was the
alcohol playing havoc with my nerves, too.

I was trying to eat Chinese take-out, guzzle booze and talk on the phone. Multi-
tasking, as usual." She smiled softly. "After I hung up, I started to feel sick.
I had been vomiting so much lately that I just went to the bathroom and got into
position in front of the old porcelain bus. But, I felt something running down
my face. My nose had started to bleed. Dana--I never had a nosebleed in my
entire life. It scared the hell out of me. I couldn't get it to stop at all. I
don't know when it eventually did and I don't know when I passed out but after I
woke up I had something new to be upset about because Gwendolyn was walking
around and I didn't want her to walk on the mess I had made. So, I got up. I
think--I had to answer the phone. Yeah, I did. And, then--well, I cleaned up the
bathroom, took a shower, took a drink and fell asleep."

"And, then..."

"I had a strange sensation. Like being in an out of control elevator. Going down
really fast. And then--a lot of wailing and heat. I just remember burning and
thinking--somewhere in the back or front of my mind--isn't this funny? I'm in
hell--just like the phone call said."

Scully looked up sharply.

"The phone call?"

"Yeah-when I went to answer the phone, it was a prank call. Someone said
something about me being in hell and I thought it was ironic because that's
exactly what it felt like. My life, I mean."

"Male or female?"

"Female."

"Did she identify you by name?"

"I really don't remember, Dana. Is it important?"

"No--I don't know. Continue your story."

"Well--at first, I thought this was just the mother of all nightmares. I was
trying to wake up, but couldn't. And slowly, it changed."

"How?"

"Well, the burning subsided a bit and the wailing stopped. Everything got very
quiet and I felt completely and absolutely alone. But I knew I wasn't. And I
just suddenly knew where I was. It was purgatory. And I was being given a
choice. To stay there and atone for my sins or go back. And, Dana--there was no
choice for me. I can't say my motives were pure. They were not. It's not that I
even had a great need to be forgiven for sins I didn't even realize I had
committed. No, it wasn't that at all. My life was hell. Purgatory was a step up.
So I stayed."

Scully frowned.

"But you weren't dead."

"I wasn't alive either. I know it's trite, Dana--but, that bottle meant
everything. My entire fucking life revolved around it. That's not living."

"And then what happened?"

Victoria's green eyes went wide and her famous humor and smile kicked in again.

"You don't believe a word I'm saying. Well, you can check the medical records.
No brain damage, according to medical tests. And I'll take more if you want."

"Vicky, you have to admit..."

"I know, I do. But, I can only tell you what I experienced. Okay--let me just
get on with this. I stayed in purgatory. The burning and wailing came back but
amidst all the pain, there was hope. I was suffering for a reason. Life was
waiting for me on the other side, and I'd be able to live it with a fresh start.
I knew this. The knowledge was given to me. You know, it's not like we thought
in school. I never really felt it was as much God's judgment on me as my own
judgment on myself. We make up our minds about when we feel our sins are burned
away. And when I felt that--truly felt that--I just woke up."

Scully tried to keep a completely neutral expression on her face. It was very difficult. Victoria reached out and grabbed Scully's
arm.

"Go, Dana. Look at my records, repeat the tests. Help the other girls, if you
can. But I really think they are exactly where they need to be. I don't know how
we got there but it's not such a horrible thing. Because now--I'm free. I'm not
in hell anymore. I have my cat and my house--my family. Sooner or later, I'll
get back my strength. The best thing is, there is no demon at my heels. That's a
pretty good deal, as far as I'm concerned."

Scully closed the front door behind her. Mulder was already waiting in the car.
Shit. She thought he'd be late and she'd have some time to herself. They had
agreed that Victoria would be more forthcoming with an old friend than with a
stranger and Mulder needed to pick up copies of medical charts from all three
women. She had no idea he'd be done so soon.

Purgatory. The final purification of the elect before entering the kingdom of
heaven. The cleansing fire that burns away one's sins. She had been a very
intelligent girl. All through school, she had questioned what was unknown to
her. Researched until she found the answers that satisfied her. But she had
never wanted to delve into this topic. It had frightened her on a gut level. Her
grandmother had recently died, and the thought of her burning instead of
enjoying the fruits of the labors of her life chilled her to the bone. It never
jelled with her vision of God. She had memorized the catechism definition,
passed her religion test by quoting it verbatim and never really thought about
it much since.

"Hey," she said as she got in the car, "you got them."

"Absolutely. Every last one."

"Thanks. Did you set up the other interviews?"

"Yes. Actually, we'll be going straight to Elaine Chandler's house. She's home
and being taken care of by nurses specializing in comatose patients. Crystal
Wahlberg's husband will see us tomorrow. He's still training someone to take
over his job. Temporarily, he hopes."

"It must be tough on the finances," Scully said.

"I would imagine."

They drove in silence as the California sun filtered through the windows. Mulder
had not asked about her interview with Victoria, knowing she would tell him in
her own time. Knowing there was something to tell.

They pulled up in front of a modest two-family home in San Diego. The front door
was open and a huge wheelchair that looked more like a partially raised bed on
wheels was being delivered. Mulder squeezed past the delivery men and presented
his badge. Scully followed.

Mark Chandler soon joined them in the living room. He was thin and had the look
of someone who never slept.

"Sorry, sorry. We just brought Elaine home a couple of days ago and we're still
getting a lot of equipment in here. This thing is supposed to be good for
getting her out of bed and putting her in front of the television or something.
Not that she can watch but they feel. . .it's some form of stimulation."

He didn't sound as if he believed it at all.

Mulder gave him a reassuring smile and sat next to Scully on the couch.

"Sir, if you could please go over the events of the day your wife slipped into a
coma. . ."

"I've gone over them many times. It was an absolutely ordinary day. She went to
bed and I couldn't wake her up. Nothing worked. I called an ambulance and they
rushed her to the hospital. They asked me if she was on medication--she was not.
They asked me if she had any diseases--no, she did not. Trauma, head injury,
abuse. . .nothing. She just went to sleep and never woke up."

"Was she upset about something recently?" Scully asked. A shadow passing over
Mark's face gave her the answer.

"She--we--had recently lost a baby. Our third miscarriage in less than 3 years.
It happened about two months before her coma and Elaine was still very upset. I
was trying to approach the subject of trying again, thinking that would give her
some hope, but she just didn't seem to have the spirit anymore. I couldn't blame
her but it's like it took over her every waking thought. Nothing else mattered.
This 'failure,' she seemed to think, was all hers."

"Sir, was there any phone call that you know of--a crank call--that she might
have received that day?" Scully asked and Mulder threw her a quick look.

"Crank call? I have no idea. I worked late. I only got home about ten that
evening and we went to bed at eleven. She didn't mention anything. Why?"

"Just looking for possible connections."

After a few more routine questions they were led into Elaine's room. They walked
into the room and were startled by a bright, overpowering light. When they could
focus, they saw a nurse flashing a 650-watt light bulb into the open eyes of
Elaine Chandler.

"Aren't you blinding her with that?" Mulder asked, shielding his own eyes from
the painful light.

"No, actually. . .it's designed to stimulate activity in certain parts of the
victim's brain." The young nurse turned off the glaring light and stood up to
shake the agents' hands.

"Have you had any success thus far?" Scully asked.

"We're not sure yet. She does swallow so we've been able to take her off the
feeding tube. Manual feedings are supplemented with the IV. We also give her
physical therapy for at least an hour a day. . .more, usually. Then, we have the
light therapy and there are other tests we perform to gauge her automatic
reactions. So far, they've yielded very little. But that's not exactly unusual.
It can take up to six months to see results."

Scully walked over and looked into Elaine's open eyes. There was no life in
them. She looked rather pretty lying back against the pillows. Peaceful. Like a
life-sized doll. A Sleeping Beauty doll. She was sure this was not a comfort to
her husband. Any more than it would have been a comfort for Mulder to see her
this way. The thought of Mulder's pain sent a palpable wave of despair through
her. Even more than seeing a childhood acquaintance in this sad state. It was
sometimes difficult knowing she was, in large part, responsible for Mulder's
happiness.

She turned and touched his hand.

"Come on, Mulder. Let's go."

Days Inn Motel
San Diego, CA
10 P.M.

"I'm not sure what I'm looking for," Mulder said as he looked over some medical
tests.

"Right now--anything that is in the abnormal range. Just highlight it and I will
go over everything after you are done. But I have to say that on initial
reading, there really is nothing there."

"That's what I thought. Face it, Scully, we are dealing with something that is
not going to be found in these charts."

"Where is it supposed to be found? In crank calls? In purgatory?"

"You tell me. I know very little about purgatory."

No, of course he didn't. Ask him about some weird ritualistic cult in the
jungles of the Amazon and he'd have volumes of information. But information
about one of the oldest and largest organized religions in the world, and he
came up blank. And expected her to fill in the gaps. She was just his local
Catholic expert. What really irked her is on this particular subject, she
couldn't give him more than a textbook definition and a very personal, highly
biased opinion. And that's where the information stopped.

"I don't want to discuss religion with you, Mulder."

"Okay. I think we should start a new rule book. I don't want to talk about your
ex-boyfriends. You don't want to talk about religion. Anything else?"

She put down the chart she was reading and glared at him.

"There is no discussion about religion, Mulder. Not with you. I can't talk to
you about it because I find myself strictly on the defensive. I can never tell
you exactly what I believe, what I have doubts about because I know you will use
it in your diatribe condemning my faith in its entirety. There. Does that spell
out my reasons for you clearly enough?"

He continued to look at her without much change in his expression.

"I'm trying to change, Scully."

"Why? Because sex has entered the equation?"

That seemed to have an effect. Since they had started this new phase of their
relationship, he had never referred to it as 'just' sex. She hadn't referred to
it in words at all.

"Sex entered the equation, as you say, because a firm foundation was built
first. A foundation built on mutual respect. I've come to realize a lot about
myself in the past year. When my mother died, I realized I knew nothing about
her. And I knew very little about my father, too. And yet, they were supposed to
be people I loved. I want to know and understand everything about you. I know
I've been closed-off about some things in the past, but I am trying to change.
I'm not about to throw myself into a vat of holy water and get baptized but I
would like to try to understand some of what you believe."

She narrowed her eyes. It was a reasonable request.

"Well, I have to warn you of one thing. I'm not out to convert you but if you
make one smart-assed comment, all discussion is off. I will no longer waste my
time in this manner."

"Fine. Tell me about purgatory."

"I don't believe I was in purgatory."

"No. I mean, tell me what you were taught about purgatory. What you believe it
to be."

She took a deep breath. How she hated this subject.

"Okay. I have to go into a little background. On the surface, the Catholic
Church tends to be somewhat dogmatic." She smiled to herself. Perhaps that was
an understatement. "While it can be constricting to some, there is a certain
beauty in the order of it all. There is beauty in its traditions--its
ceremonies. But as I grew older I found myself disagreeing with certain tenets
of the Church. I'm not my sister, I didn't leave it to pursue my own spiritual
path and I didn't discard the religion in its entirety over a few issues I have.
But I do question things and I've come to realize that this questioning has
deepened my commitment to my own spirituality, if that makes any sense to you. "

"It does."

"Purgatory is one of those issues. Essentially, I was taught that it was a place
where people who are saved will go in preparation for their entrance into
heaven. It has been depicted as a place of holy fire where your sins are burned
away."

"And you don't believe in this?"

"I have a hard time reconciling it with my vision of a loving, forgiving God. I
find the extreme punishment to be in great conflict with this vision. I have a
very hard time picturing my father or Melissa having to atone for anything. I
want to picture them happy in whatever afterlife there is. Not burning over
using swear words or eating meat on Fridays."

Mulder bit his lip and said nothing. Scully sighed.

"And, no. . .I don't believe those things are sins, Mulder. But what if I'm
wrong? What if there is a purgatory and that is exactly what we're atoning for?"

"That's not what your friend said. She said you decide what is keeping you back
and what your punishment should be. Right?"

"That is what she said."

"But you don't believe her?"

"I don't know. Do I believe she was actually in purgatory? Well, that would mean
I was, too. If only for a few minutes. And yet, I had no knowledge of that
experience being anything but a really lousy, scary dream. There was no great
revelation delivered to me. "

"That's because you didn't actually go into a coma."

"All right. Then why didn't I?"

"Victoria had a horrible life. She said so herself. Elaine was grieving over her
miscarriages. You just never know what troubles people have. And maybe, you
don't feel all that troubled at this juncture in yours."

She smirked.

"Because I'm finally 'getting some'?"

Mulder's face fell a bit. He didn't expect her to fully acknowledge her feelings
on the nature of their relationship, but he didn't expect her to reduce it to
its basest level, either. It was a defense mechanism but unlike other times in
his life, he was not going to allow that type of relationship to flourish. He
was not going to be the moony, "in-love" partner while she suggested she was in
it for the physical release. That wasn't the truth. They went into this
partnership as equals and equals they would stay.

For the first time since they became lovers, he did not want to be with her at
that moment. He needed his space.

"Yeah. Everyone knows that 'getting some' is the be all and end all of
everything. Right?"

He picked himself up and started cleaning off the remnants of their meal. They
had put their suitcases in one room but he picked his up and headed toward the
connecting door of the second room they booked.

"I'm just going to grab a shower and re-read this stuff. Then I'm going to
sleep. Thanks for the religion lesson."

"Mulder. . ."

"You need anything else?"

"No. Go ahead."

He didn't come back. She really didn't expect him to. She heard his television
go on sometime after the water stopped running and then saw the light go out
under the door. Screw the FBI. They should have gotten the one room in spite of
how it would look on the expense report. Then they'd be forced to deal with
things. Well, she'd be forced to deal with them. She was scared, and upset over
yet another horrible thing that could have happened and used the excuse of an
old slight to play with a new weapon. She should go to him and talk. Tell him
that she really did love him more than anyone. . .ever.

Well, maybe not. Maybe there had been too much togetherness over the last few
days. Take a step back before another one forward. They led two separate lives
for a very long time. Togetherness took adjustment.

She wasn't in hell. Nowhere near it. When all was said and done, if purgatory
did exist, she was sure she would have some things she had to settle before
going on to the next phase of being. But, for now, she was as far away from
purgatory or hell as she could be. The only thing keeping her from fully
enjoying it were the little walls she insisted on rebuilding every time one
crumbled.

End Part 4

Part 5
San Diego, CA
March 12
2:30 A.M.

Candi had almost given up her plot for revenge right
after Victoria. How was she to know she was a drunken
old maid who lived with a cat?

She felt bad about that.

She almost stopped. But then, she found out something
about Elaine. Her husband had been married before. She
was a homewrecker. Just like Janet and she had to be
stopped.

Of course, there was a grapevine in this town, if you
knew where to look. She did feel bad when she found out
about the babies. She really wished she had known about
the babies beforehand. Candi would have liked to have
had a baby. Gary couldn't. His fish didn't swim or some
such nonsense. It was always something.

She found out about Crystal through the same grapevine.
Crystal had killed a man. Simple as that.
Killed a man who still had time to reconcile with his
wife. Two kids depended on him. And now
he was gone. Through Crystal's callousness.

Crystal had to go. That left Dana.

Why was she angry with Dana again?

Oh yeah.

The ladies room. A week before graduation. They were
both standing by the sinks. Washing their hands. Dana
was scrubbing away and caught Candi's eye in the mirror.
Candi was putting on mascara and had a bunch of
cosmetics laid out on the thin silver ledge underneath
the mirror. Just a split second look. A look of disdain.

The nerve. The fucking nerve.

Dana didn't need to find herself a man. She had that
idiot Marcus tied around her finger. He was so far into
that tiny redheaded upstart that he couldn't see
straight.

Gary was the slow one of the group. Candi had done
everything she could think of and all he would do was
look at that stupid football. It wasn't until she
practically stuck her tits in his face one day that he
glanced away from the horsehide, or sheepskin or
whatever the hell they made those things out of.

Dana lived on the East Coast now. She was still a
"Scully," but that didn't mean anything. Women kept
their names nowadays. Well, some did. Career women. No
one seemed to know much about Dana at all. Still, she
had to be just as bad as the rest and she had to be
stopped before she broke up a marriage.

Yup. The only one who probably didn't deserve this was
Victoria. The rest did. Even the one who lost those
babies.

She only wished she knew if Dana received her message.
That might give her peace.

Day's Inn
San Diego, CA
March 12, 8:30 A.M.

She found him on the beach. Sitting back on his elbows,
looking at the water.

"Good morning," she said.

"Hi. Sleep okay? No bad dreams?" He asked. He looked
awful. She wouldn't have put it past him to have sat
against their adjoining doors all night, waiting for a
distress signal from her. She knew he was still worried
about her strange nightmare. Until yesterday, he had
been there--guarding her during her sleep. Last night,
he wasn't.

"No, I slept all right. A bit lonely. . ."

"Did you have breakfast?"

"Not yet."

"Well, maybe we can pick some up on the way to the
interview with Glen Wahlberg."

"Yes, actually that's why I came out to find you. It's
been moved up an hour."

Mulder brushed off his jeans.

"Okay, then. I better get dressed."

He stood up and she caught his arm.

"Wait. Afterwards, if we don't have anything case-
related, maybe we can come back here and relax for an
hour or two. Just swim or sunbathe. It would be nice
after the nasty winter we've had back home."

He shrugged.

"Sure, I guess."

He turned and went back to his room.

San Diego, CA
12 noon

If her mother called her "CJ" one more time. . . what
did she have against "Candi," anyway?

She looked in the mirror. She looked like a "Candi."
Young, fresh, vital.

What a waste.

She couldn't get her senior year of high school out of
her mind. Funny, she never used to think of it before.

She remembered a religious retreat where the girls spend
more of their time talking sex than listening to the
priests drone on and on about every endless topic they
could think of. The discussion on purgatory got to them,
though.

That evening's smoking break was filled with nervous
laughter and long winded attempts at denial over this
aspect of their religion. Discussion of what it could
really be like. Candi wasn't scared.

Candi had the power.

Half-assed power since she had to send people to hell in
order for them to land in purgatory. She was not, after
all, God. She couldn't judge them into their final
destination. She could, however, force them into a
position where they would have to look at their own
lives and decide for themselves what things they needed
to atone for. It was a power she had been forbidden to
use after that one time. A wild inheritance from her
experimental mom.

They had laughed at her when she said it didn't scare
her. They thought she didn't know enough to be
frightened.

"Oh, Candi. You probably think purgatory is ten years
without your blow dryer."

"Or five minutes without mascara."

She was smarter than they thought. She knew what she
wanted in life. It was just different than the things
they wanted at the time. She wanted a husband. Her
mother never had one. She wanted that security. That
love. And she knew how to get it, too.

Victoria, Elaine and Crystal. They had all been there
during that smoking break. They had joined in the
laughter.

Who was laughing now?

Days Inn, San Diego
4 P.M.

She had changed into a new one-piece blue bathing
suit. Pretty. She bought it with Mulder in mind.
Normally, she would have gone with black.

She hesitated, wondering whether she should knock on his
door and find out if he would join her. Somehow, she
didn't feel he would. Their trip back to the motel had
been a quiet one.

The interview with Glenn Wahlberg was pretty routine. A
very tired man with a very similar story. Wife went to
bed and didn't wake up. He had seen her receive a short
phone call and swear into the receiver, but before he
could question her, they were distracted by someone
coming to their front door and he forgot to bring it up
later. Then it was too late. She could no longer answer
any questions.

Unlike the others, the victim's husband knew of nothing
that made his wife unhappy.

Scully looked in on Crystal. Saw her among the feeding
tubes, IV's, and other miscellaneous medical equipment.
She took the woman's hand and squeezed it in her own,
uttering a silent prayer.

She picked up the blue mesh coverup that went with the
suit along with a book and her cell phone and decided to
head out on her own. Things would be okay. Sooner or
later.

She opened the door to a startled Mulder, in full 'just
about to knock' mode. He wore a pair of dark green swim
trunks. He had given up his speedos three years
ago, which suited Scully just fine since she had no idea
where to focus her eyes when he was wearing those
things.

She smiled.

"Sorry. I had no idea you were there."

"It's all right. I was just picking you up for our date
on the beach. Or is 'date' a word we want to be using?"

She ignored his rather lighthearted comment. He seemed
his usual sarcastic self. There didn't seem to be any
bitter undercurrent to his words.

They slowly made their way to the beach in silence.
Among the bundle of things in his hands, Mulder carried
a book, too. Fun date.

They got near the water and Mulder spread out a large
blanket.

"Is this okay, or do you want your own?"

"It's fine, Mulder."

"Good." He sat down and laid out the suntan lotion,
sunglasses, spare towel and book to his right. Scully
quickly took her position to his left. While she was
putting down the things she brought with her, Mulder
already started applying suntan lotion to himself. By
the time she turned around, his arm was in mid-
contortion trying to reach the center of his back. She
took the bottle from his hands and silently started
rubbing the coconut scented concoction on his skin.

She felt the tension in his spine, in spite of the fact
that his body looked relaxed enough. She finished his
back and snaked her hands around his waist to his chest.
She snuggled against his shoulder and they both looked
out at the ocean.

"You okay?" she asked finally.

"Sure."

She closed her eyes tightly. She didn't want him to
hurt. There was no need for him to hurt.

"It's all overwhelming, Mulder," she softly said.
"Still. I have moments when I feel like I'm going
to spontaneously combust from all the emotion. I know
all the things that I should be doing and
saying but I need to back away from the feelings
sometimes. I'm not used to this complete overload. Not
after all the years of keeping it all inside. And,
instead of being straightforward and telling you I need
to step back--sometimes I lash out instead."

That wasn't hard to say at all, she thought. Actually,
the words seemed to come pouring out easily.

"It's all a matter of perspective, Scully. I looked
through the door at your friend today. We don't have any
real problems compared to what could be happening. We'll
fix what needs to be fixed," he said, covering her
slippery hand with his.

She smiled against his skin. It didn't take much. To
make things better. To make things right.

"Um, Scully? I know you have an unnatural attachment to
my back but I have to warn you, if you don't stop with
the cape imitation, you're going to be as red as a
lobster. Come here and I'll help you."

She laughed softly at his attempt at normality and came
around to his side. She lay on her stomach and felt the
cold lotion hit her back almost immediately.

"Did you get the yearbook, Scully?"

"Yes, it was waiting in my room when I got back. There
were eleven members of the science club. Six boys and
five girls. I'm trying to get some contact information
on the guys and the one female who hasn't been affected
by this--yet. Her name was Janet Lauder. I'm not sure if
she's married and changed her name."

She felt his hands as they swept efficiently over her
legs and down to her feet.

"I also discussed something with the principal of St.
Clare's and I wanted to run it by you before actually
putting it into motion."

"Sure. Turn over. Let me do your front." He leaned back
on his haunches as she turned over. She looked in his
eyes but he had his usual bland expression on his face.
Not a hint of anything, even when his lotion-filled
hands ran over the cleavage exposed by the v of her
suit.

"Um. . .okay. Well, whatever the hell everyone is
experiencing, it all stems from the phone call. That is
what we have to concentrate on. So, I thought who has
access to our personal information? The alumni
association writes or calls at least once a year to
raise funds for the school. They pretty much have all
the updated information they could want. We need to
speak to them. But in an unofficial capacity. I thought
maybe we could talk to Glen Wahlberg and, with his
permission, I can say that Crystal and I kept our
friendship going long-distance all these years and when
I heard what happened. . ."

"You grabbed your FBI partner and high-tailed it to
Sunny California."

"No. I grabbed my. . .boyfriend and hightailed it to
Sunny California."

"Boyfriend?"

He was working on the front of her legs and just barely
lifted an eyebrow at her phrasing. He had changed
direction and was working from her feet back up her legs
again.

"Well, yes. Whatever the terminology is. We could go
into this without mentioning the FBI unless asked." She
gasped. "Oh, Mulder. . ."

His hands had reached her inner thighs just where her
bathing suit began and he abruptly lifted his hands,
applied more lotion and gently smoothed it over her
face. He tapped her nose as a final flourish.

"All done. You are all SPF-ed."

She shook herself a little wondering why he hadn't left
his hands where they were.

"I talked to Sister Agatha about a small fundraiser for
the coma victims. This way, she could get the alumni
committee together and we could check them out. At the
same time, helping to raise money for whatever
bills might not be covered by insurance. And, I'm sure
there will be a lot of them. With a lot of work, the
benefit could be set up for this coming Friday. Nothing
spectacular--just piped in music and cold cuts in the
gym."

"Good idea."

"I will give Sister Aggie a call."

"Do you know who is on the committee?"

"Yes. Pretty much who I expected. Six women who were
very rah-rah in high school. It's not surprising they
still have ties to the old place."

Mulder leaned back and closed his eyes. After placing
the call, she looked over at him. The sun was hitting
his skin, which somehow had taken on a light golden tone
even in the short time they had been there. She laid
down on her side and stared at him for a while before
reaching over and running a finger up the middle of his
chest. He opened one eye slowly.

"Can I help you?"

"I don't know. I think you may be on strike."

"No. I don't recall any great union dispute."

"Ah, but maybe negotiations were at a standstill."

"Just a misunderstanding was the version that got around
to me, Norma Rae."

She leaned over and kissed his chest.

"Yuck. It smells better than it tastes."

He smiled to himself and closed his eyes again. It was a
beautiful, lazy afternoon and they had nothing to do but
wait for information. A small amount of downtime before
the madness began again.

"You like it here, don't you?" Scully asked.

"What's not to like? Sun, sand, Scully."

"In that order?"

"I save the best for last."

She nuzzled closer to him and slipped her fingers in the
waistband of his bathing trunks. . .running her finger
lightly over his skin, under the elastic.

"You're not planning on taking advantage of me on the
beach, are you Scully? Because I have to warn you, I'm
going to make you find and remove every particle of sand
afterwards."

She laughed.

"You are such a romantic."

He opened his eyes and took hold of her wrist. He pulled
her fingers up from their current position and placed
her hand on his shoulder.

"Kiss me," he said.

"Just a kiss?"

"Oh, we can absolutely run amok with kisses, as far as
I'm concerned but yes. . .'just' kisses. We never get to
just kiss. Or does that bore you?"

She ran her index finger over his plump lower lip.

"How could it?" She leaned down and kissed the far left
side of his mouth. Then the far right. She kissed him
fully on the mouth--nudging her tongue against his lips,
which remained steadfastly closed. Okay. Some sort of
game was being played here. Perhaps payback from last
night, although that was not Mulder's normal M.O.

She moved to kiss his neck and he carefully guided her
face back to his. Once again, she parted her lips and
placed them on his, seeking entrance, and once again,
she was met with a still body and a firmly closed mouth.

She moved her face away.

"You want to tell me what this is about? You asked me to
kiss you and you're lying here like a lox."

He smiled softly.

"Kiss me for the first time. Not like you're rushing to
something else. Pretend--we've known each other for a
very long time. . ." The sound of his voice had a very
strange effect on Scully. Always. From the very
beginning, he would speak and there would be a tiny
lurch in the pit of her stomach. A spark of excitement.
If he had ever talked to her then, in the tone of voice
he was using now, things would have developed much more
quickly. She listened to his hypnotic little scenario.

"There was an attraction--right from the
start. Almost immediately followed by a deeper
connection. And somewhere along the line, more. And this
moment, you find your lips drifting--unable to stop
yourself, but so in awe of all we've shared, of all
we've felt that this one moment--this one kiss--becomes
so much more. It becomes a physical expression of seven
years of a relationship."

She found herself, indeed, drifting down to meet him. He
was waiting and their lips touched in a soft but
lingering kiss that was almost identical to the very
first one they had shared on New Year's Eve. Afraid to
move but trying to get all the feeling into that one
press of mouth against mouth. The final break of a
portion of wall allowing the tiniest amount of physical
contact. As they moved their faces away from one
another, the smiles were probably the same as that
night, too, but Scully felt a few tears welling in her
eyes and could see them shining in his.

Mulder was an odd duck. When the time came for them to
become lovers, there was nothing reminiscent at all
about their first kiss. They came at each other with
open mouths and hungry hands. While they had slow
encounters since then, it had never been as pure as that
first moment. When all they had was the kiss. And the
promise of more. It was a good time to revisit. To get
back to that very first moment of discovery. He had been
enjoying each step in their growing relationship and
while she had been trying to do the same, she was also
feeling bogged down with greater issues. The issues of
publicly "outing" their relationship--at least to family
and friends; the issues of shared time versus private
time. And, the very large issue of having him entirely
dependent on her for his happiness--as if that hadn't
been the case before. It just felt magnified somehow.
But when all the worries were stripped away, it still
all came down to Mulder and herself. That was what
mattered the most. Always. She lay her head on his
chest and closed her eyes. The warm afternoon sun shone
down as they took a brief nap and enjoyed the moment.

End of Part 5

Part 6

March 12
Janet and Gary Winter's house
7 PM

"You work for what division?" Janet asked in her typically arrogant manner as
she led them into the living room. She had called while they were still on the
beach, granting them an audience--in one half-hour. No more, no less. There was
time for a quick shower for two--practical, not romantic, and a change of
clothing.

Scully immediately remembered why she didn't like this girl. It was funny.
Joining the science club was somewhat of a ground-breaking thing to do in her
day. Most of the girls did it because they were good at science and wanted more
of a challenge than what was being offered in the classroom. Janet, for all her
intelligence and career aspirations, did it to get a guy. She did it,
specifically, for the man who was now her husband. Gary.

And even that wouldn't have bothered Scully. But, there was a great sense of
pretense with Janet. A superiority complex that was astounding and made no
allowance for anyone she considered inferior--which included just about everyone
she made contact with.

Old Gary who only had eyes for cheerleaders in those days but who probably
succumbed pretty quickly to Janet's 'charms' after graduation. Gary looked
tired. Almost as tired as the men whose wives were in a coma. He still looked
nice. Hair graying a little, thinning a little, pot belly slowly in progress.
But, not bad at all.

"The X-files division. We investigate cases that can't be easily categorized in
normal terms," Mulder piped in.

Janet stopped in the dead center of the room and turned in an overly dramatic
gesture to the couple on the couch.

"Junk cases? Dana--I thought you had high aspirations of becoming a doctor. Not
a scavenger."

"I am a doctor, Janet. And we are hardly working on 'junk cases.' We
investigate things that others have tended to give up on because of some unusual
element in them."

"Whatever. I really don't care what the government spends their money on. So,
you told me on the phone about the girls. And, frankly, I had heard some rumors
about the lushie Vicky and the other two. . .but now you think I'm going to be a
target? Why? Because of some asinine science club? Gary was in it, too. Why
aren't you warning him?"

"Well, I am, in a way. But we don't think whoever is behind this is targeting
men."

"Whoever is behind giving someone comas? What kind of a doctor did you say you
are?"

Mulder's fingers were turning white against the dark crimson upholstery. Scully
quickly tapped his pant leg in reassurance.

"My degree is really not your concern. I am here to inform you that rather
strange things have been happening to women in a group you once belonged to. You
could possibly be targeted as well. You can take that information or leave it.
The only thing I would like to know is if you've had any strange telephone
calls--crank calls?"

"No," she said, treating the question with the same outraged dignity she would
use if Scully had asked her if she had vermin in her home.

"There appears to be," Scully hated having to say this, even though she really
didn't care what Janet thought of her, "a female who calls these women. . .these
victims. . .and tells them they are in hell. This happens a few hours before
they slip into the coma."

Janet put her hand on her hip and looked at Scully sideways.

"And you believe this bullshit?"

"This is what has been happening."

Mulder sat there watching Gary, who said nothing. He didn't seem to have much of
an expression on his face at all. This witch probably sucked all the life out of
him.

"Well, it hasn't happened to me."

Mulder stood up.

"Good. And we hope it doesn't. Thank you for seeing us. Here is my card. I can
be reached any time-day or night. If you receive a call, do not hesitate to
inform us."

He shook their hands and ushered Scully out of the house all within the space of
two minutes.

"What a bitch. Was she your very bestest friend in school, Scully? 'Cause, you
know, I can feel the love."

Scully smiled as she walked toward their car.

"Why do I have this fantasy of the two of us, not having showered, sitting on
her expensive furniture leaving a trail of sand and suntan lotion behind us?"

"You are an evil woman, Dr. Scully. And just where did you pick up that degree
again?"

"The school of hard knocks."

"Really? I went there, too! What a small, small world. Just think, I could have
been your 'boyfriend' a lot sooner if we had met up then."

She playfully slapped his side as he went around the front of the car and got
in.

March 13
St. Clare's High School cafeteria
9:45 PM

When Sr. Aggie called last night she had almost dropped her casserole pan. Dana
Scully. Here in California. Not in Washington in a coma, as she assumed her to
be. Perhaps she never received her message. It was impossible for it not to have
worked, wasn't it?

Yet, here she was. Sitting in the cafeteria with the others, making phone calls
about the benefit on Saturday. She brought her "companion." What the fuck was
that supposed to mean? "This is my companion and partner. . .Fox Mulder," she
had said, almost blushing. He was cute, though. Just stood there looking down,
trying rather unsuccessfully to hide a smile or a laugh at his 'partner's' weird
choice of words.

Alive and well and not in a coma.

Dana told her she hadn't changed a bit.

Now, what the hell did she mean by that?

Five hundred phone calls. Split among eight people. It really wasn't that bad.
They got most of them and except for the long, drawn-out explanations for the
benefit of those who hadn't heard a thing about this case, most people were
willing to help. Some were even willing to show up, knowing full well that there
wouldn't be much of anything in the way of entertainment.

Candi had arranged with a caterer for free food, and Jocelyn arranged for the
services of a dj free of charge. So, really it was just a matter of decorating
the gym and collecting money. Someone else found out all the legal whys and
wherefores of setting up a makeshift charitable trust.

Scully went to look at the gym once again to figure out the logistics of the
tables and chairs they would have to rent while Mulder was assembling final
lists of phone calls they had made during the evening.

Mulder looked at the women of the Alumni Committee. No one leaped out at him as
being the least bit vindictive. One of them had to have been the one to phone
Scully yet no one gave any indication that they held any grudge against her.

Scully had looked tired. He could tell what she was doing. Trying to remember
every single encounter she had with one of these girls while he knew that she
probably was not a "friend" to any of them, any more than they would have been a
friend to her. They had different interests. He could tell that even now. Scully
was not a social butterfly and each of these ladies were.

He decided to stir the pot a little.

"So. . .I hear that Crystal had some real troubles lately," he dropped casually
over the list he was highlighting in multi-colored markers, as per Cynthia's
recommendation. Blue for "at home--will come;" green for "at home--can't attend-
-will send donation;" pink for "have to get back to;" yellow for "deadbeat."

"Really? I thought she was quite happy," Naomi said.

"No. Actually, I heard that there was trouble, too." Cynthia piped in.

"Her husband was rather vague about it and she only hinted at something in her
correspondence with Dana," Mulder added.

"Well. . ." Jocelyn said.

"Go ahead," Mulder prompted, still working on his list.

"She had this weird thing happen with her e-mail."

"E-mail?"

"Yes. I heard about it from a hairdresser most of us go to. Some people go to
the priest. Most of us in town go to this woman. She's practically an
institution. Anyway, a couple of months ago this guy Crystal used to know. .
.from years and years ago. . .contacted her. They were kids together in
Coronado. He was a few years younger. Anyway, somehow, he tracked down her e-
mail address and started writing. Sounded normal. . . So, she thought. . .what
the hell and she agreed to write and catch up with their lives over the last
twenty years or so. Really, she hadn't seen him since she was a kid. Like 12 or
13 or something but she got nostalgic over this little trip back to her
childhood days. At first, everything was fine. She told him she was married and
happy. He didn't seem to have any problem with that.

But, as she had told Jane--the hairdresser, he started getting weird in a few
weeks. No more friendly stuff. He was saying that he'd loved her since he was a
kid and wanted to have a relationship with her. That he was miserable in his own
marriage and wanted out because it's her that he'd always wanted. So, she wrote
him again and tried to tell him that this was all very flattering, yada, yada.
And he kept going. Each letter getting more weird."

"Really?" Mulder sounded suitably interested.

"Yes. And he threatened to kill himself. At which point, she wrote him a rather
firm letter telling him that he should seek some psychiatric help. That she was
sorry but she was not responsible for this guy's happiness, or unhappiness since
they barely knew each other as kids and didn't know each other now."

"Then what happened?"

"He killed himself," Candi said, flatly.

Mulder's head shot up from the lists.

"He did?"

"Yes," Jocelyn continued. "Jane said that Crystal was beside herself when she
found out. And, you know how she found out? His wife found the letters and wrote
her an e-mail saying it's all her damned fault. Can you imagine?"

"That' s awful. So, that's why she had some unhappiness recently," Mulder said.

"Sure. Guilty conscience." Candi stated.

"Guilty? Why?"

"Well, for the way she acted. I mean, she should have told him something else.
Maybe suggest he seek comfort with his own wife. She sent a weak man over the
edge."

"But. . .that doesn't make any sense. She barely knew him."

"She could see he had feelings for her. I mean, he told her that much. So, why
go stamping on them? What would you do if Dana didn't return your affections?"

He smiled.

"I would trust her and her feelings. Yes, I might try to bring out something if
I already knew it was there but no. . .I wouldn't force feelings on her. Not at
all."

Candi looked up and gave him a "yeah, right" sort of expression.

From the moment they walked into the school that afternoon, the very pretty,
strangely accurately named Candi had exuded nothing but sweetness and light. He
took note of the sudden cynicism. He'd have to discuss it with Scully later.

End of Part 6

Part 7

Candi Winter's apartment
March 14, 12:02 A.M.

Candi came home to her empty apartment. She didn't feel guilty. Not really. She
was raising money for them. She hadn't thought about the financial crunch the
families would be in. She'd admit that.

Dana Scully didn't seem like a horrid person. She came all the way out here to
help a friend, after all. Still, if Candi had been a coma victim, would she have
come? Hardly.

She felt the anger stir again.

Fox Mulder certainly wasn't Gary, was he? Same age, if not a couple of years
older, but he looked like a walking ad from the pages of GQ. No pot belly, no
receding hairline. No gray. And the man clearly, clearly adored Dana while you
couldn't tell what she was thinking or feeling. Well, she probably did feel
something for him--she'd be a fool not to--but it wasn't as obvious as his
feelings were for her.

She wondered, again, what had happened with the call to Dana's apartment.

She picked up the phone.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hi, CJ."

"Mom. I told you. . .stop calling me that. Candi or Candace even but not CJ. I'm
not some freaking man smoking a cigar and starting a conglomeration."

"I like CJ, it's cute."

"Mom. . ."

"All right. Hi, Candace. How are you? Put anyone in a coma lately?"

"Very amusing, mom."

"I'm not so sure I'm joking."

The thickly accented voice sounded peculiarly sad. Candi had no idea why her
mother was personalizing things so much. She didn't know any of these women. She
had worked while Candi was in school so she didn't have time to attend any of
the social functions the other mothers had. She had been to maybe one or two at
the most.

"Mom. . .does this thing always work?"

"What thing?"

"The power. . .you know."

Her mother sighed heavily into the phone.

"No. I don't know. What I do know is once I realized I had it, I stopped using
it. Once I realized you had it, I told you to stop. You don't listen to your
mother. . ."

"I did. For a very long time, Mom. You know that."

"But not now."

"I have my reasons. Tell me, mom. . .would it always, always work?"

"I did tell you. I don't know."

"Fine. Okay, sorry for bothering you."

"CJ. . ."

Candi put down the phone before her mother started another one of her endless
lectures. She should have known better than to expect a straight answer from
her.

Day's Inn
12:35 AM

"We now have a reason why Crystal is probably lingering in purgatory," Mulder
declared while Scully was making out yet another list. This one of decorations
needed for the fundraiser.

"Why she might be lingering in a comatose state, you mean."

"Oh, yes, of course. That's exactly what I meant. Thank you for reminding me."

He smiled and leaned back against the bed. No religious discussion. He learned
his lesson. Even if he was beginning to believe a bit of it, he didn't think it
would make her happy. She'd almost consider it a given that he would choose a
somewhat paranormal aspect to become fascinated with.

"What do you suppose your life would have been like if your mother named you
Candi, Scully? Hey. . .Candi Scully. I kind of like it, don't you? Special Agent
Candi Scully."

"Yes, I'm sure it would be a source of endless amusement. Actually, I met her
mother once. She didn't call her Candi at all. She called her by her full name
Candace Joanna. I think Candi chose the overuse of her own nickname. It fits
though. The blond hair, big blue eyes. . .body to die for. And the personality,
of course."

"Of course," Mulder nodded in a distracted sort of fashion. "Tell me what you
found out while Sister Aggie was giving you the grand gymnasium tour."

She looked up from her paperwork and smiled a secretive smile. She definitely
knew something he didn't.

"Okay. Of the six women who you met tonight. . .only two have done the actual
record keeping. They all make phone calls to the California residents. They get
together a few times a year and use the school or Church basement and work from
long printouts. Those of us who have moved out of state are on separate
spreadsheets. . .maintained by Jocelyn and Candi. The others don't have access
to it because, at the beginning, they were all working from one massive list and
they found there had been several duplicate long-distance calls due to a lack of
coordination and the extra expense was getting ridiculous."

"Then why two women now? Why not just one?"

"Jocelyn was pregnant a couple of years ago and in the early stages of
pregnancy, her morning sickness was so bad that she didn't always get to show
up. So. . .double access."

"I see. And their private lives? Or are nuns allowed to gossip?"

Scully smiled.

"Some nuns will gossip worse than teenaged girls, if given half the chance.
Sister Aggie actually does quite freely. Jocelyn is the mother of three
children--ages 9, 7 and 18 months. She is married to a real estate agent and
they live not too far from the school. She really--seems to be quite happy, from
what Sister Aggie says."

"And Candi?"

Scully smiled the smile of the cat with the mystery canary.

"Candi has no children and as June of 1998. . .no husband. She was married for
17 years. Someone straight out of high school. None other than Gary Winters."

"Janet's mousy husband?"

"Yes. Janet's mousy husband. See, this actually makes sense. I never thought to
ask because I knew that Janet had been after Gary in school. He was the reason
she joined the science club. He didn't have a great love for science but he was
good at it in class and needed the extra curricular credit to spice up his
college applications. She joined because she wanted him. He was very different
in school. Very much the cute jock that girls went nuts over. Janet was. .
.Janet. He didn't give her the time of day, but I thought after graduation,
maybe he started looking at her differently. I knew he developed quite a crush
on Candi shortly before graduation but I thought it had fizzled and died."

"So, just how did Janet take old Gary away from his wife of 17 years?"

"Well, according to Sister Agatha, it was a combination of things. Initially,
believe it or not. . .she suggested, well. . .sex. I guess she knew a thing or
two that maybe Candi didn't. I don't know. But once he was involved with her she
just made his world seem small. He could experience things he had never
experienced before and be with all the "right" people."

Mulder sat back and just stared.

"What?"

"I'm trying to wrap my mind around the fascination of having sex with a
piranha."

"Soooooo. . .two and two together, Mulder. . ."

"Yes, I came up with the sum the minute you told me Candi had been married to
Gary. Janet stole him. Janet was in the science club. The members of the science
club represent everything she feels she's lost. Doesn't quite explain why Janet
wasn't targeted though."

"Well, either she's saving the best for last, or she doesn't want Gary to feel
the pain of losing her."

"And it's all right for strangers to suffer?"

"I don't have all the answers, Mulder. And I doubt if Candi is thinking this
through all the way, either. I think she might just be lashing out."

"So, case closed."

"No. Not really. Not at all. Okay, you and I are pretty much agreed that it does
seem as if Candi is the one doing this. But. . .what do we do now? We can't
charge her with a damned thing. Not even malicious mischief over the crank
calls, since. . .if she followed the same pattern with the others as she did
with my call. . .she used a pay phone. And what else can we charge her with. .
.putting people in comas? Sending them, maybe. . ."

"To purgatory? No, I guess we can't charge her with that. So, where do you
suggest we go from here?"

"We have to find out more about what she does. How she accomplishes what she
accomplishes. I think tomorrow, you should get Gary alone--away from Janet.
Maybe visit him at work. I'm going over and seeing Candi's mother. I'm sure one
of them must know something about this."

"Okay, that sounds good."

Scully put away the paperwork and Mulder slid to the edge of the bed.

"You don't. . .you don't have to go, Mulder."

"We're on a case, Scully. We'd be violating rule number three."

She smiled.

"I guess all good things come to an end. . ."

"What?" Mulder looked downright panic-stricken until he saw the gleam in her
eye.

"Fox Mulder--rebel--turning into a rule-obeying Fed. This is the end of an era."

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her between his legs.

"I'm only obeying the rules you established, not those of the Federal
government. I know how testy you can get if I don't."

She ran her hands across his shoulders.

"I have an addendum to Rule number three."

"Oh, I didn't get that memo, I guess."

"If we're on a case but it's on the west coast and I'm in dire need of you
spending the night, well, then rule number three can be discarded."

"What if we're on the east coast and I'm the one in dire need?"

"Then, it can be waived, as well."

"Oh, I like that addendum."

"I knew you would," she said, pushing him back against the bed and climbing over
him until she was in the perfect position to do push ups directly over his body.
She draped her body on him instead and looked directly into his eyes.

"I'm not just in need of you spending the night. I'm in need of you. I need you
and want you, Mulder. You do know that, don't you?"

"I've had my suspicions."

She slipped her hand between them and slid it under his shirt, rubbing his
chest, then moved herself off his body and lay by his side. She pulled his shirt
up and watched as her hand continued its circular motion.

Mulder looked at her without saying a word.

"You were right. If all this had happened at some other time, I could have
slipped into a coma. I can't scientifically wrap my mind around the words of one
woman who has been unconscious for over a year. Not even with my own bizarre
experience to back it up. I don't know that where we went is purgatory, but it
is an altered state of being and if the criteria is unhappiness and guilt
feelings, I would have gone. Sometimes, I think I don't want to be so
responsible for your happiness but the fact is, it's just as frightening to
acknowledge how much of a role you play in mine. We've changed each other in so
many different ways. It wasn't like that with anyone else. Not at all. I always
felt a great separation. There was me and there was him. We could have good
times together or bad but I never felt that. . .I don't know--true communion
that I feel with you."

She saw him nodding, trying to keep his emotions in check.

It was as close as they could possibly get at the moment. And it was very close
to everything he had ever wanted.

She leaned over and kissed him lightly, right under his hair line.

"You'll stay?"

"Of course I will."

"And you promise to actually try and sleep a little?" She didn't want him to
continue in his role of faithful watchdog guarding her sleep.

"Well, I can try."

"I'll help," she smiled, reaching for his belt buckle.

He closed his eyes and reveled in the sensation of her fingers gently unzipping
his pants, slipping inside his clothes and then the sweet oblivion of non-
thought as she placed her mouth on him and all he could do was feel.

End of Part 7

Part 8

Gary Winter's Office
March 15, 9:45 AM

"Power? Candi? Are you saying she's somehow sending these women into a coma?"

Gary seemed to have some emotion in him after all, Mulder thought. He was seated
behind his rather large desk in his spacious office. Nice set up. No hole in the
basement for him.

"We are not suggesting anything of the kind, Mr. Winters. We are just looking
into the backgrounds of anyone who might know anything about what happened to
the coma victims. There has been a suggestion that your ex-wife might have had
some interests in the paranormal, for lack of a better term."

"Candi had interests in homemaking. That was it. She was the quintessential
homemaker. If she had money, backing and five years lead time, she would be
making just as much as Martha Stewart and wouldn't be so damned annoying in
those commercials."

Mulder smiled a bit.

"She never had outside employment since your marriage?"

"I believe she does now. Hell, I know she does now. She works as a receptionist
for a hairdresser in town. She's good with people and while I pay her alimony,
she really didn't take everything she could have in terms of support, so I
imagine the extra cash is helpful."

"But while you were married. . ."

"No. She didn't work outside of the home."

"Did she belong to any groups, clubs. . .that type of thing?"

"Just the alumni association at our old high school. She loved high school."

"Did she attend college?"

"Junior college for two years after we were married."

"And she didn't feel strong ties toward that school?"

"No."

"Her home life? Before you got married."

"Look. I'm really not comfortable answering these questions. She hasn't done
anything wrong so I don't see a need to tell you things she should be choosing
to tell you, or not tell you, herself."

Mulder couldn't exactly argue with that.

"This is an ongoing investigation into the unexplained illness of three women.
Your ex-wife does not know us as investigators. She knows us as people who are
trying to raise funds for the victims, which we are. I cannot order you to keep
this under your hat, but I really wish you would. You don't know what possible
reaction she may have had to your divorce and we need to step back and observe
in as unhindered a way as possible. She is not about to be arrested because, to
our knowledge, no prosecutable crime has been committed."

Gary looked at Mulder suspiciously.

"I haven't been in contact with Candi much since the divorce. Phone calls on
birthdays, that's about it. My birthday is in September and hers is just before
Christmas. You're safe till then."

Mulder nodded in acknowledgment.

"Candi is an only child of a single mother. They got along just fine, as far as
I could tell. Her mother would come over from time to time. She was nice. Little
odd, perhaps--very old country in spite of the fact that she's not that old
herself. Still, it was tough on a little girl not to know her father at all. I
think she desperately wanted to have a strong family life."

"And your breakup. . ."

"Was a surprise to her. She didn't see it coming. I'm not sure I even saw it
coming. Janet came back into my life and I became disenchanted with what I had.
The unknown is always more appealing than the tried and true, you know. Until
you experience it and want what you had back. Well, actually. . .I don't know
that's what I want but I do acknowledge that my second marriage has been much
more difficult than anything I ever experienced with Candi. Much more work."

Mulder watched as Gary seemed lost in his own little world. He felt a lot of
sympathy for him. It was all too easy to make mistakes in any relationship and
it took a lot of conscious effort to keep things going in the right direction.
Somewhere, Gary made a very wrong turn.

Agnes Zleinek's home
2 PM

Agnes was troubled. Dana Scully was sitting in her living room telling her the
truth. She was looking into possible connections between the coma victims and
her daughter. Agnes knew that she was not a very convincing liar but when Dana
sat back and told her about what almost happened to her, in graphic detail, she
gave up the pretense.

"It was me," the doe-eyed woman said, sadly.

"You? You did this?"

"In a way, I guess I did. It's a long story."

"I have time."

"I didn't grow up in America. I guess you can tell from my accent. I grew up in
a very tiny town in a very small country in Europe. You grew up being taught
more about superstitions than about actual facts and figures. My mother and
father were very strict. Very. I was wild. A wild teenager. Not very unusual. .
.even for my country. I snuck out to meet my boyfriend. He was older than me. By
five years. He worked in a store in the city. When I told him, one day, that I
was having a baby. . .he told me the truth. He was married already, and had two
children by his wife. He wanted nothing to do with me and said he would only pay
for an abortion. They were, of course, illegal and done by someone with a coat
hanger, probably. I don't know--I wasn't interested. I wanted a little baby.

But, I also wanted this man punished. And no man would punish him. And I didn't
believe God would either. God judges at the end of men's lives. . .not in the
beginning. I was young. So young. So stupid. 16 years old. So. . .I turned to
the dark. I didn't know what I was doing. I took books on spells and mixed it
with superstitions and stories I had grown up with and tried to summon the
darkness and hurt this man. Send him to hell.

I performed this big ritual and felt very proud of myself. The next day, I heard
he was in a coma. I was so scared and so sorry. I didn't really want this. I was
angry. Nothing more. He came out a few months later and went straight to me. I
cowered in the corner, thinking he would kill me. . .would kill my baby. But, he
thanked me and begged forgiveness. He told me he was in purgatory and his sins
had been forgiven by God and he forgave himself. . .now, he only needed to make
amends to me. I was so shocked and glad he was alive, I forgave him. He paid for
passage to America and I thought I would start over, as a 'widow,' in a new
country and forget what I had done."

"But you couldn't?"

"No. The first few years of CJ's life, we lived in a tenement building in New
York. It was fine. People were a little crude, I think you call it. Used curses
all the time--always "go to hell," "shit" "damn." CJ heard it all but knew she
wasn't allowed to use such language. One time, a little boy knocked her over
during play time at school. She told him to "go to hell." The teacher told me
when I came to pick her up. She was just four. This was not the language that
she wanted the whole class to be using. I talked to her and told her not to use
the language but she said that she was doing more than that--she wanted this
child to go to hell. Literally. I actually didn't think much about it because I
know children get angry and I had no idea that my dabbling in whatever I had
dabbled in could be passed on to her."

"And it was?"

"The child went into a coma that night. He came out within twenty four hours and
they said it was probably due to some concussion that no one realized he had but
I knew. I knew. I told her that this is what happened when she said things like
that and that no one but God could judge. It just wasn't right. Even if I had
started it. . .no one but God should do it. . ."

"And she didn't do it again."

"Until now. She's obsessed. Gary was her whole life. She never wanted more than
to be his wife and keep a good home for him. When it fell apart, she was so
angry. And when I heard about this happening--I've tried to stop her, I really
have. . ."

"It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is. God forgave me enough to make sure that what I was experimenting
with didn't go through completely but what I ended up with is still more power
than any human being should have. It's a curse, and one I have to live with as
penance. The fact that my daughter has to live with it as well. . .well, that is
the true trial in my life."

San Diego, CA
3PM

Candi was feeling better. The phone call made her feel a bit better.

The events of the morning swirled through her mind. Gary had driven past her,
stopped his car and got out. was in the passengers seat.

"Hey, Candi," he called out to her.

She still got a small rush at the sound of his voice. Amazing. After everything
that had gone before.

"How are you?"

He looked like her really wanted to know. She could bet that Janet was busy
shooting daggers at her from the car, but she was enjoying the moment too much
to look at her and confirm that suspicion.

"I'm fine. You look tired."

"Yeah, well, you know. Work and all. Listen--I'm not supposed to be saying
anything to you and I--well, the thing is, we have history and my loyalty has to
lie with you."

Her blood started rushing in a nice sort of way at the introduction of his
statement but turned ugly mid-way.

The lying bitch.

Dana. Miss Goody-two-shoes-out-to-save-a-friend. No, she was really out here to
get Candi in trouble.

She had gone straight home in a daze and started her meditations. She could feel
herself entering the darkness and it, in turn, blackened her soul.

She picked up the phone. There was more than one way to play the revenge game.

St. Clare's Gymnasium
4:30 PM

Scully decided to head over to Saint Clare's and see if the chairs and tables
had all been set up. It wasn't going to be a massive event. About a hundred and
seventy five people were due to show up for the actual fundraiser. More had
agreed to simply send in a contribution. Still, it wasn't bad considering the
extremely short lead time.

Scully got the keys to the gym from Sister Aggie. There were no more extra
curricular activities planned for the week so the gym was all theirs to work
with. One more day until the benefit.

She heard her heels as they clicked against the floors. She supposed she should
have removed her shoes. Actually, her heels were out of place in this town
anyway. The order of the day seemed to be some sports shoe but Scully still
couldn't quite get used to the idea of losing her extra few inches of height.
She sat on one of the lower levels of the one set of bleachers that was opened,
trying to picture some way of making the place look a little less like a gym.

"We have a disco ball that we'll put up." The voice startled Scully from her
thoughts. Candi came in and sat down beside her. "It will look nicer."

"I guess if the lights are turned down low enough. . ." Scully said.

Candi mirrored Scully's position. . .sitting forward slightly with her hands
clasped lightly over her knees.

"It wasn't nice of you to lie, Dana."

Scully immediately went on alert. She didn't think Candi was dangerous, face to
face, but frankly, whether she believed she had this power or not; or believed
in where the power sent people--she didn't want to take a chance.

"Lie about what?"

"Your FBI job. Your asking my ex-husband questions. Well, actually--your partner
asking questions. It's two-facey. I almost believed you weren't like the
others."

"Because I was trying to find out why three innocent women were put into comas?"

"They were not innocent. Well, maybe Vicky was. . .but, not in high school. She
laughed at me in high school. And, well--Elaine stole her husband away from
another woman. He was married to the other woman first. That was not right. It
just wasn't. And Crystal and that poor man. She just told him, bold as brass, to
leave her alone after she probably enticed him into writing to her."

Scully looked at her. Candi was working herself up into a state but it seemed
like the type of tantrum a child might throw.

"Do you believe what you are saying, Candi?"

"What? Of course I do." She seemed startled by the question.

"I don't think so. I think you are mad at one person and taking it out on
others. Others who have nothing to do with the real issue. The fact is, we all
got laughed at in high school, Candi. I only got here at the end of junior year
and I joined the science club, of all things. Just how popular did that make
me?"

"You smirked at me in the ladies room one day. Looked at me applying my makeup
and smirked."

Candi was actually pouting. Scully looked at her incredulously.

"If I did anything of the kind, I was probably smirking to myself because no
matter how much makeup I could use, I'd never look half as good as you did
without it. Candi. . .you have no idea what you've done."

"I just. . .got revenge. It needed to be done."

"These women, Candi--they have all had their problems. You have no idea what
another person has been through and you had no right to punish them. It's not
your place."

"Then why do I have this gift, huh? And, they come out better people. Vicky has
a regular cleaned out liver now, and is not drinking. She's going around town
happy as a clam. Well, I'm sure the other two will do the same thing."

"And, in the meantime--you've taken away 9 months of Elaine's life. During which
time she could have conceived and been close to delivering a baby. You're
sending Crystal away as punishment for what she said to a stranger. A stranger
to herself and you. You are not God, Candi. You can't do this. Be mad at who you
have to be mad at. Yell, scream, get therapy. I have no idea why you were given
this 'power' or 'gift' or whatever you want to call it but you've got to stop--
now. "

Candi looked down at her hands. She was wavering.

"Maybe I should. But, I did something you should probably know about."

Three minutes later, Scully's car was tearing out of the school parking lot.

End of Part 8

Part 9

Days Inn
4:55 PM

She quickly put her car in park and ran for the beach. Her mind had been on
temporary hold driving back to the motel but now the thoughts flooded back.
Mulder. Candi had called Mulder. She had told him he was in hell. If he had
fallen into a coma--with the amount of guilt he carried, she wouldn't get him
back again until they were both ready for geriatric housing.

Her footsteps came to a halt as she saw Mulder lying on the blanket near the
water--asleep or...

"Mulder!" It came out as a controlled scream. No response. She started to run
and screamed his name again--this time with a little less control.

As she dropped to her knees before him, he partially lifted his waking body into
a sitting position.

"Were you calling? I fell asleep."

She sat back on her haunches, hands on her thighs, trying to regulate her
breathing.

"What's wrong? You didn't run into Candi, did you?"

She nodded softly.

"Oh, well, she's at it again, in case she didn't tell you."

"She told me."

He reached out his hand and touched her face.

"Nothing happened," he said.

"But you had to test it anyway. Without me here."

Her tone was more of disbelief than anger. Once again, his limitless curiosity
amazed her.

"I was tired."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm not unhappy, Scully. And I'm too busy enjoying life at the moment to stop
and take stock of all I might have done wrong."

She moved the hand that was still caressing her face and cupped it between both
of hers.

"I guess--if I'm even partially responsible for this bizarre improvement in your
internal makeup; that--other feelings outweigh your feelings of guilt--I've
accomplished quite a bit in this lifetime."

Mulder gave a short, highly amused laugh and then stood up and pulled her to her
feet.

"Come on. Let's get some dinner and then we'll have to figure out how to handle
Candi."

He started walking but she pulled him back into her arms.

"I was so afraid, Mulder."

"I know, but the only ones who can send me to heaven, hell, or anywhere in
between would be you and God--assuming He exists, of course. Although the two of
you would have vastly different methods of transport, I'm sure."

She leaned back and looked up at his face. His smiling, lovely face.

She took a deep breath and loosened her grip on him. The personal threat to both
of them was over. She now could focus on stopping a person who was determined to
be a menace to the female population of San Diego. It didn't seem as daunting a
task as it had been on the way back to the motel. She wasn't going to be in the
struggle alone. They began walking toward the motel.

Candi Winter's home
10:17 PM

Dana had been jealous of her. She should have known. It was, really, only
natural. How foolish she had been to let the opinions of others taint the way
she felt about Dana. She was really a very nice person. She really was. She
hoped Fox would come out of his coma quickly so they could hurry up and get
married.

While she regretted jumping to conclusions on the basis of what Gary had said,
she didn't regret seeing him again. It was lovely. If that bitch wouldn't be in
the car...if that bitch wouldn't be in his life. . .

Victoria. Sweet drunken Victoria. Not too much damage done. Not really. She had
actually done her a favor, in a way.

Elaine and Crystal. She didn't completely believe in their innocence. Dana
seemed to be much more gullible to the ways of the world than she was. But maybe
she should have thought more about the effect it would have on the husbands.
That wasn't really fair, she supposed. They were still married to these women
and something like this could ruin them financially. She hoped they could raise
a lot of money tomorrow to help them out. That would make up for a lot.

Dana could have been a mistake and Fox was a big mistake. She had never even
tried it with a man before and well. . .he was cute and sweet and she really
wished she hadn't done that. He hadn't done anything to her. That was. . .what.
. .misplaced aggression. Like that Rottweiler they had owned earlier in their
marriage. Used to nip at her hands when he was angry with the mailman.

Misplaced aggression.

She never hated Dana. She really hated Janet.

Gary had looked so damned tired. He didn't look all that happy. Not the way he
did that time in the park, when they first got together. When he was living in
some kind of fool's paradise. Now, he lived in the reality of life with a bitch.

If Janet was out of the picture, she and Gary still might not be together. He
still might turn to someone else.

But she would feel better.

Candi picked up the phone.

March 16
8 PM

The disco ball didn't look too bad, Scully had to admit. With it on and the
lights turned down, the illusion of a high school dance was somewhat successful.
The chairs and tables were decorated and the buffet tables were set up.

When Mulder and Scully arrived that afternoon, the other ladies were already
bustling around. Candi had been a no-show so far.

"I wonder what this is all about," Mulder said.

"She probably thinks you're in a coma, Mulder. Maybe she thinks I'll either
arrest her or murder her or something."

"Maybe. Still, I think we should go to her apartment. At least, haul her in for
questioning. Scare her a little. God, I really don't even know what we should do
with her."

They had spent quite some time the night before trying to work out a strategy,
coming up with a half-hearted plan that took for granted her absolute shock at
finding Mulder in a fully conscious state--thus being more receptive to a
lecture on how grown women should effectively channel their anger.

"I think we have to talk to her, Mulder. But, if she doesn't show tonight, we'll
go over and do it quietly after the benefit. I think having you show up on her
doorstep will have the same shock factor we were aiming for if she had come
here."

10 PM

The night was rather a nice one and the turnout good. Mulder and Scully did all
they had to do behind the scenes and then they just relaxed as Scully caught up
with old, semi-familiar faces. Some had aged well; some were virtually
unrecognizable due to rather unkind encounters with Father Time.

Mulder was waiting for the "partner/ friend/ date/companion" introduction.
Instead, she was introducing him as "Fox Mulder"--no explanation unless asked.
"Your boyfriend?" "Your significant other?" was responded to with a soft smile
and a "You could say that." He was dying for someone to ask if he was the love
of her life, but that was highly unlikely. Besides, he thought he was pretty
certain of the answer to that question already.

And then there was Marcus. He expected a balding man with a pot belly the size
of Texas. Instead, he was just a regular looking guy. Didn't age badly. No great
character or personality flaws. He grabbed Scully and hugged her before
introducing them to his wife.

"Dana and I went together for a few months in high school, honey."

"Oh, is she the one. . ."

"Yes," he cut her off, for which Mulder was rather grateful. He still didn't
want details.

"So. . .you two are. . ."

"A couple," Scully said simply.

They danced shortly after Marcus and his wife hooked up with some old football
buddies. As a couple. In public.

"So, he was nearly your first, huh?"

"Nearly."

"Do you regret that he wasn't?"

"No. Not really. It doesn't really matter who was first, Mulder. I think what
really matters is who is last."

"Ah...well, you know I do have certain tortoise-like qualities."

"I've noticed. So do I."

"Slow and steady..."

"Wins the race."

He leaned over and gave her a very chaste kiss on the lips and was happy he had
curbed his natural instincts because Sister Agatha was already tapping Scully's
shoulder. He wondered, briefly, if he could get a rap on the knuckles with a
ruler if he wasn't a Catholic.

"Dana. . Glen Wahlberg is on the phone for you. You can take it in my office. He
says it's very important."

They both left the gym in a hurry.

"Agent Scully. . .Crystal is out of the coma," he said as soon as she identified
herself.

"My God, that's wonderful. How is she?"

"She okay. A bit dazed but okay. She doesn't remember anything. Not a thing."

"She didn't. . .say anything about where she was?"

"You mean like Victoria's purgatory story? No. I was half-expecting it. But, no-
-nothing like that."

"Well, I can't even tell you how happy I am for you but listen--you really
didn't have to call us now. It's not like we have to call off the fundraiser or
anything. There is still Elaine."

"No--that's exactly why I'm calling. They brought her in for testing and
evaluation. She came out of her coma this morning, too. I saw her about five
minutes ago and knew I had to call you immediately. Is that the weirdest thing
you've ever heard of, or what?"

11:45 PM
Memorial Hospital

Weird didn't even begin to cover it.

They got to the hospital about twenty minutes later. Sister Agatha and the
ladies of the Alumni Association had everything under control and neither Mulder
or Scully gave them the news of the two women's miraculous recoveries. Not just
yet. Not until they could see it with their own eyes and question them briefly.

Crystal was up and eating a bowl of jello with gusto when they were allowed into
her room.

"Never thought I'd have an appetite for this sweet slime, but it tastes like
heaven now."

"Um. . .Crystal. Do you have any memories of where you were?"

"Glen told me about Victoria's experience and I just--it didn't happen to me.
Not that I recall. I don't actually remember anything except the events of the
day I went into the coma and today. I was thoroughly surprised to find myself
here."

They could hardly grill this woman so after a few pleasantries and a "call us if
you remember anything pertinent" they walked back to the nurses station and
found Elaine's room number.

Scully went in alone since Elaine had been in a coma much longer and might be in
a more emotionally and physically unstable condition than Crystal had been. As
she walked in, she found her lying back, stroking her sleeping husband's hair as
he lay his head on the bed near her left hand.

"Dana...I heard you were here. Amazing the things they tell you when you wake up
from a coma. God, I can't believe I just said that. It's so unreal."

"How are you feeling, Elaine?"

"I'm tired but I'm almost afraid to go back to sleep, to tell you the truth. But
they took a whole bunch of tests today and. . .well, they say it won't happen
again. Of course, they don't know why it happened the first time. Neither do I."

"Well, we can go into some of that later. Do you have any memory of being in the
coma, Elaine?"

"They told me some of what's been going on. Actually, I told Mark when I woke
up. I remember the fire. . .the screaming. And then--a calm peacefulness. That's
what I remember. And then I woke up. I honestly thought I had been asleep for
just the night, though. There was no sense of time passage. . .certainly not
months." She tightly shut her eyes. That thought was painful to her. Scully
could definitely sympathize.

"I had been depressed, Dana. But--well, maybe it's too early to tell but, as
tired and weak as I am, I don't feel that anymore. There is a certain lightness
I haven't felt in a long time."

Scully took her hand and squeezed it.

"I'll visit again before I go back to Washington. Just a social visit next time,
I promise. Take a nap now. Everything will be okay."

She walked out the door and quickly told Mulder about the conversation.

"This is just bizarre. Come on--we can call Sister Agatha on the way out of here
and find out if we need to go back and help clean after the benefit. Well," he
smiled, "I guess if the expenses already accrued are not high enough, we'll be
giving out refunds for the next year or so."

"Mulder--wait." She grabbed his arm.

She was looking at a tiny woman huddled into a corner of the admitting area.

"Mrs. Zleinek, what are you doing here?"

"I did it. I had to."

Scully did not like the sound of that. She lead the woman into the hospital
cafeteria.

End of Part 9

Part 10

Hospital Cafeteria
12: 35 AM

It took a while to calm Agnes down. She was sobbing into her hands and Mulder
and Scully had somehow only garnered that she had put Candi into a coma.

"I had to. . .I had to."

"Because she was out of control?"

"No. Well, yes. It was partially that but she didn't understand what she was
playing with. She never understood what she was playing with. She called me last
night. She said she did something very wrong and put you (she nodded toward
Mulder) into a coma and she really felt bad about that because you did nothing
to her. She was just mad at Dana and she later found out she shouldn't have
been. I know my girl. She's not always thinking straight. She thinks with the
heart of a three year old sometimes. But she's not a bad girl. She was just
given a gift--or a curse--she never should have been given. She's too immature
to make decisions on how to handle it. This is not her fault. But yesterday, she
wanted to mess with Janet. And that could not happen."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Zleinek. I just don't quite understand why going after Janet
made you act. I mean, you told me you knew she was doing this for quite a while
and you never stopped her before. . .and, logically, if she were to have revenge
on anyone--this would be the person she should have placed her anger on in the
first place. So. . .why now?"

"Because I knew you girls would not be going to hell. Not a chance. When it
comes time for Candi to be judged, all she would be guilty of is forcing you to
decide whether or not you wanted to take stock of your life and atone early.
With Janet--there is something I feel in my bones. I'm not so sure if Candi sent
her to hell--she wouldn't qualify to go. And, if she did�she would have given
final judgment. Something that is only God's job. And she'd have to suffer the
consequences for that arrogance. She's my baby. I couldn't let that happen."

Scully reached out and touched the woman's hand and Mulder just stared at her
for a while.

It was a strange experience for him. While he had been pretty open from the
start about the existence of purgatory, even though he didn't necessarily even
understand his own religious beliefs or disbeliefs, it was bizarre seeing these
things talked about freely. Seeing Scully fight against the concept while
believing on some frightened level. He was beginning to understand some of what
she must feel when he had backup for some of his more bizarre theories and she
was the complete outsider trying to make sense of it all.

On their way out of the hospital, they went into Candi's room. They were a
little surprised to find a visitor. Gary was sitting by her bedside, just
watching her. He looked less tired than the last time they had seen them. God
works in some very mysterious ways, Scully thought.

She walked up to the head of the bed and looked down. Candi was a very beautiful
woman�even without her ever-present makeup and with all the tubes in place. She
touched her shoulder and said a silent prayer that she would recover quickly and
fully realize what she had done. And most of all, "sin no more."

She turned to Mulder as they got back out into the hallway.

"I think we should go home tomorrow afternoon. Check in the morning to make sure
the benefit went well and that someone will make sure the money will go where
it's needed. . .probably back to Candi now--and then leave this bizarre high
school version of Knot's Landing. Frankly, I'm exhausted."

He smiled as they made their way back to the parking lot.

Days Inn
3 AM

The water was cold. Damned cold.

Probably not the smartest idea. A moonlight swim. Sounds romantic but in
actuality, Mulder found it a bit alarming. There was no telling what could be
lurking in the water and after encounters with all and sundry forms of life
procreating, gestating and parasiting in the stuff, his imagination didn't have
to run rampant in order for him to get some pretty vivid pictures playing in his
mind. And worse, romance was really out of the question. Really. Scully was
making that discovery.

"Not a chance, huh?" she asked him as she stroked him inside his swimming
trunks.

"You'd have to thaw them out at this point."

Her laughter rang out as she gave his testes a soft caress and moved her hand
back up to his shoulder.

"Oh, well. Too bad we don't have a hot tub around."

"You have a water fetish today, Scully?"

"I guess I must."

"Can we go inside before the deep freeze turns into frostbite?"

"Oh, we definitely can't let that happen."

She started to walk out of the water but as more and more of her skin was
exposed to the cool night air, the temperature finally began to have an effect
on her. She suddenly broke into as quick a run as she could with the water
swirling around her feet and then bolted through the sand and up to her room. By
the time Mulder followed, she was already in the shower.

He joined her as quickly as it took to remove his trunks.

"Hold me, I'm cold," she shivered.

She huddled into him as if he could entirely envelope her body. The water was
warm and steamy but they both knew the shower would pretty much remain
functional rather than sexy.

Scully turned off the water, grabbed a towel and bathrobe, and with a muttered
"fuck this," she ran to the bedroom where she quickly turned up the heater and
snuggled under the blanket.

Mulder soon followed and was again summoned to warm her.

"You are a very pushy woman, Scully. Did I ever tell you that before?"

He spooned around her body and rubbed his hands up and down over her terrycloth
covered arms.

"Whose bright idea was this midnight swim in the icy waters of the Pacific?" she
asked through teeth that were just past the verge of chattering.

"I believe that was the idea of the woman who spent a good deal of her formative
years in said water. And it's way past midnight, by the way."

"Oh. See. That was my mistake. The temperature drops dramatically after the
witching hour."

"I think the temperature rises much higher when the damned sun comes out. Much
better to do that kind of thing in broad daylight. Sun--good. Moon--bad. For
warmth, anyway."

He snuggled closer to her.

"We could live here on a beach somewhere, you know."

She couldn't tell from his voice if he was serious.

"What?"

"We could. We could sell margaritas on the beach. I would flirt with the old
lady tourists for bigger tips and you could show the old guys some thigh. We'd
make a living."

"I would most definitely do nothing of the kind. And I don't condone serving
alcoholic beverages to the elderly in the hot sun. They could have bottled water
or juice."

"I can see who will be making the money in this enterprise. Well, you know, it's
always been the traditional role of the male to bring home the bacon. . .or tofu
or whatever the hell you are into this week. So. . ."

She turned in his arms.

"Would you really. . .ever do this?"

"Sell margaritas on the beach?"

"No. I mean, leave the FBI. Stop the madness."

"I don't know. Right now, I don't think we're doing an awful balancing job. But,
if you were unhappy�and actually let me know, which would be a first--or if we
both just found ourselves working without passion--yes. I guess I would. If you
would go with me, of course."

"Of course."

"Well, is that something you would like to do? Someday?"

"Not right now. I guess I also don't feel it's necessary. We're in a redefining
stage of life, that's for sure and I think that scared me. I know that scared
me. I think I felt that we needed very clear boundaries between work and our
relationship but--really, that's exactly what we've done all these years and
that didn't make us happy. We've sort of naturally been blending the two in the
last few weeks and it's been nice. And, the fact that we are comfortable enough
with each other to still yell, scream, pout, and get the hell away from each
other is a very healthy sign."

"Very healthy," he agreed. She felt him nod against the top of her head. She
slipped her hands under his robe to encircle his waist.

"I do love you, Mulder. You are the last one for me."

His arms tightened around her to the point where she could barely breathe. She
returned the squeeze. It was a nice sort of mutual discomfort.

The words weren't such a big deal after all. The world, for the second time so
far in this millennium, did not end. In fact, it had several new, small
beginnings.

The End.

Author's notes:
I was thinking about "Candi" yesterday. How a little power in the wrong hands
can lead to loads of trouble. The same holds true for a certain novice fanfic
writer who, pumped up from kind and generous feedback, decided to take on--oh,
say nice contained little subjects like life after death, eternal retribution
and wayward cheerleaders.

The life lesson I learned from this particular story is--ignore inspirations
received at bus stops. When the little voice starts up with the old familiar,
"wouldn't it be interesting if. . ." forget the bus and start walking. Exercise
will chase those wayward thoughts back where they belong.

Thank you for taking this bizarre little trip with me.

Text file Source (historic): geocities.com/ginarainfic

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