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Changes 12
By Marv (MarVell71@aol.com) (12/?)
(Dedicated to Skipp/Spector)
There was something cold and wet and dead on the floor of Fox Mulder's
apartment. It lay there, partially obscured by the black plastic trash bag
that enfolded it. Light gleamed off it, cast by the open door behind him.
The grocery bag he carried dropped from his hands. Something shattered,
loud in the stillness. He took a step forward.
There was a bit of red hair and pale skin showing now.
He stopped.
He was now acutely aware of what had just been shattered.
He took another step. It was the hardest thing he ever did. Until the next
step.
It was her. His partner gazed upward with unseeing eyes. A faint trickle
of blood ran from her open mouth. It had been there long enough to dry,
some cold analytical part of his mind observed. He cursed it.
His shoulders began to shake as a cry that was equal parts rage and grief
tried to tear it's way free. He bit down on it, shoving it back down. He
had to know!
He had to know who was going to die for this.
He reached out to touch her face, his hand shaking slightly. As it touched
her, his hand jerked back, involuntarily. A layer of film held on to his
fingers, trailing back to her face. Her translucent face.
Her flesh was like jelly.
No.
The Virus.
Something behind him moved gracefully down from it's position on the
ceiling. Only the slight click of it's claws gave it away. He didn't need
to see the ragged, red wound where her abdomen had been to know what it
was.
Even retribution was to be unfulfilled.
He gathered her up, holding her as tightly as he dared. She was so
light...
He didn't even struggle as Dana Scully's terrible child tore them apart.
Mulder awoke with what might have been a scream, if he had breath for it.
He gasped, trying to breathe. His eyes darted about, seeking his
surroundings. He had to know...what was real.
It was a dream.
It was a nightmare.
He sat on the edge of his couch, his hand pushing his hair out of his
face. He mentally repeated the word 'dream' over and over. He hoped he
would believe it soon. It didn't seem to be working.
"Well. That sucked."
Still shaky, he staggered toward the kitchen. He had to lean on the door
frame for a second. His apartment seemed determined to spin for some
reason. He flipped on the light, and suddenly wished he hadn't. His eyes
felt as if they just might explode. Blinking rapidly, he opened the
refrigerator and grabbed one of his bottled waters. It was cool to the
touch. Cool was good. He took a pull from it. The sheer reality of the
taste helped push the dream, kicking and screaming to the back of his
mind. It was still there, though. Like a deep scar.
He suddenly wanted to hear Agent Dana Scully's voice more than anything in
the universe. Even if she were chewing him out for waking her.
No.
They had just been through a very rough day. A nightmare of the political
variety. A full day of reclaiming the X-Files, dealing with
"Agents" Fowley and Spender, and listening to another "be
careful" speech from AD Skinner. He liked Skinner, but the next time
he launched into that particular speech, Mulder was considering just
jumping Scully right there on Skinner's desk. Might as well do something
worth getting caught over. She had found the idea rather amusing.
It was a strange time for them both. Not only was their personal
relationship changing into something incredibly powerful, their
professional life was doing a dance all its own. They had decided to spend
the night separately, in hopes of getting some sleep. All before plunging
back into the fray in the morning.
They had decided.
That sounded really good.
He glanced out of the kitchen doorway, water bottle still in hand. He
spotted his cell phone, resting quietly on the table next to the couch.
No, he wouldn't call her. She needed her sleep. It was two in the morning.
She would kill him. She...
She was so light...
He picked up the phone.
*********************
Alex Krycek moved through the wide corridor like a shadow. In the long
forgotten Government building he traveled, little men in lab coats
scurried to get out of his way.
Sheep. Well educated sheep, but sheep nonetheless. He gave them no more
thought. He had a job to do here. A job assigned to him by his immediate
superior, the old man with all the Morley cigarettes. That meant only one
thing, as far as Krycek was concerned. He was a dead man if he screwed up.
So, he didn't screw up. Simple.
He moved down the corridor to a massive steel door. Two extremely large
men with automatic weapons stood guard. The door itself looked like
nothing short of a nuclear weapon stood a chance of getting through. And
yet, it had guards.
Krycek rolled his eyes. Redundancy, thy name is Government.
"Mutt?" He addressed the first guard, "May I call you
Mutt?"
The guard looked at him with what was supposed to be naked hostility.
Krycek had seen worse.
"Now, Mutt, after you and Jeff open the door for me, I'm going to be
needing some help with a little heavy lifting."
Krycek leaned forward, locking eyes with the guard. "You boys up for
that?"
The guard held his eyes for a few seconds, then mumbled something
incoherent. He turned and began the complicated procedure to open the
door.
Sheep.
Krycek entered, glancing absently at the sign above the door.
Cryogenics.
****************************
Dana Scully was thoroughly irritated with life in general. Not only had
she spent a miserable day jumping through political hoops in order to
reclaim the X-Files, she had been required to deal with Agents Fowley and
Spender. There was only so much barely concealed hostility she could take.
A root canal would have been preferable. Once again she and Mulder had
received an almost paternal lecture from AD Skinner. Mulder had come up
with an interesting suggestion about that one.
She smiled.
To top it all off, she and Mulder had decided to be responsible tonight.
To take a breath and get some sleep. It had seemed so easy. Except, she
couldn't sleep. Oh, she had tried. She had tossed and turned. She had
memorized every imperfection in her ceiling. It had made her bored, not
tired. So now, she sat, watching some truly abysmal movie on late night
cable, while munching on saltines. She bet Mulder was sleeping just fine.
The bum. She glanced over at her phone. No, she couldn't. Still, how many
times had he called her late at night? With a slight smile, she reached
for the phone. Just as her fingers closed on it, the phone rang. Scully
sighed. Why was she always the serious one?
"Yes, Mulder?"
......
"Well, you're the only one who calls me this late and lives. Don't
abuse the privilege."
......
"No, you didn't wake me. Believe me , I'll let you know when you
do."
......
"Oh, some awful horror movie. I figured out who the killer was during
the opening credits. Yep. That's the one. How do you know this
stuff?"
......
"No, no, I missed all that. I was pretty much a textbook with legs,
or so my brothers called me."
......
"Sure. You can come over, but there's a price to be paid. I demand
ice cream."
......
"Yes, I'm serious. Chocolate will be fine. Stop laughing!"
......
"Mulder, are you all right? You sound a little..."
......
"Well, you can tell me about your dream when you get here. I'm not
going anywhere."
.....
"You're welcome. 'Bye."
Scully thoughtfully replaced the phone. That must have been some dream.
She had rarely heard him so unnerved, at least without the presence of
cockroaches. She hoped he was okay...
************************
Krycek moved through the cryogenics facility, occasionally checking a list
of serial numbers. The storage units varied widely in size, but all were
gunmetal gray and unpleasant looking. Steam blasted from unseen vents.
There was a constant low, nasty, rumble.
Nice place.
Krycek wondered if anyone he knew were sealed in one of those vats.
It seemed likely.
Krycek moved to one of the units, gave a cursory glance at the number
list, and yanked open an observation port on its front. He regretted it
immediately. Inside, he caught a glimpse of something bone white.
Something with a skull that seemed wrong somehow. Something that despite
being frozen solid, had eyes that were aware. And hungry. Something that
licked at his mind.
Alllleeeexxxxx......
He slammed the port closed.
Nope.
Wrong number.
Never saw that, did we?
After checking his list a bit more carefully, Krycek moved to a much
smaller storage unit. With a grimace, he pulled the port open. What was
inside wasn't the slightest bit frightening, but it was confusing.
The old man had lost his mind.
"OK, boys! Show time!"
***************************
Mulder stood in front of Scully's apartment door and hesitated. He didn't
know why, exactly. He felt stupid. He has a nightmare and goes running for
comfort. How twelve-years-old could you get. Perhaps, if he was lucky, she
would tuck him in and tell him a story.
Moron.
He should leave. Just suck it up and go home. A distant part of his mind
made sarcastic remarks about how he never used to have to rely on anyone
but himself.
He couldn't leave.
The ice cream would melt.
*************************************
Scully was waiting impatiently for the next coed to get on the wrong side
of a machete when there was a thump at her door. Not a knock. A thump.
Mulder.
She wrapped her robe around herself and headed for the door. She tiptoed
up to look out the peephole. Outside, Mulder held up two pints of ice
cream in each hand. He apparently had "thumped" the door with
his head.
Mulder worried her sometimes.
"Agent Scully? I'm here with your monthly bribe. All small bills,
like we agreed, right?"
Scully opened the door, and just looked at him.
He looked back. He smiled.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Will you get in here, before one of the other tenants calls the
cops?" She was suddenly having a hard time keeping a straight face.
That was new.
She took one of the pints of ice cream and headed for the kitchen to get
some spoons. She didn't quite make it. Mulder caught up and gracefully
spun her around.
Everything with us is a dance, some part of her noted.
Mulder was a good dancer.
The kiss was fierce, passionate, and made her generally crappy day
vanish completely from her mind. In fact, it was getting more and more
difficult to remember how to do more basic things. Like standing up. There
was an edge there, though. An edge of fear that hadn't been there before.
With an effort, she pulled back.
"Look, Mulder. I thought you came here to talk. If you keep that up,
there are any number of things that we could end up doing, but I suspect
talking will not be on the agenda."
She smiled.
"Call it a hunch."
She was pleased to note that he looked as dizzy as she probably did. This
was going to take some getting used to. Not that she wanted to.
He laughed. "I see your point. Spoons?"
She nodded. "Spoons."
Mulder sat down on the couch with a sigh. On the TV, more teenagers were
dying. He paid them no heed. Scully returned with the spoons and sat down
beside him. They snuggled together, and ate ice cream to the sound of
televised screams. That's about right for us, she thought. Fitting.
After a while, she softly asked, "So, .....what happened?"
She could tell it was unpleasant. After a time, he told her.
It was far worse than unpleasant. She just sat there, stunned. Finally,
she picked up the remote and turned off the TV.
"Mulder, what do you think it means?"
"I guess it means that I don't want to see you die. Hardly
news."
"The feeling is very mutual. But, why now? Why so strong?"
He hesitated. She saw his mind working, attacking the problem the way he
did their cases. As always, he leapt ahead, to the answer. When he spoke
it was with a low rasp.
"I wonder if love brings with it an equal share of pain. Pain that
shapes and defines the joy that also comes. That shapes it by imparting a
terrible knowledge on the lovers."
He turned and looked at her. His eyes were wet.
"The knowledge that no matter how deeply one loves, no matter how
fiercely, no matter how completely..." He paused, gathering his
strength....."That there will come a day of parting. A final
separation. A separation that I....." He stopped, bowed his head. His
voice cracked. "That, Scul....Dana, I don't think I can withstand. I
don't know how anyone does. It.....paralyzes me." He sighed.
"Does any of this make sense?"
She took a moment before she could speak. She was close to tears, herself.
She took a breath, held it until her eyes cleared enough to see. Her voice
was shaky, but strong.
"Mulder, that day will come. There's nothing you or I can do about
it. What matters, what will shape and define the time we have, is what we
do with it. The memories and emotions that we share in this time, that we
have already shared, have such strength in them. It really isn't the
journey’s end that matters, but the journey itself. I'm as frightened as
you are, but I know, I know that memories of this moment, of the past few
days, of you sitting by my hospital bed, of us arguing over aliens, or
Bigfoot, or God knows what, will give me the strength to endure.
Even...even if you..."
She couldn't finish. It didn't matter. He kissed her, very gently. They
held there for a long time, foreheads touching, just breathing.
"I notice you didn't use 'Fox'." He said at last.
She laughed, wiping away tears. "There are some rules I am not yet
ready to break, Agent Mulder."
"At least Dana is a good name, Scully. You get all the breaks."
"Fox is a good name!"
"If you say so. Deeply disturbed network, though. I mean, King Of The
Hill on Tuesdays?"
They laughed. Eventually they finished their ice cream, watched some truly
awful television, and fell asleep in each other's arms. Not everything was
healed, nor was everything resolved, but it was a start. And they slept
soundly through what remained of the night.
**********************************
Krycek watched with some amusement as "Mutt and Jeff" wrestled
the cryopod into transport prepared for it. As they finished, he leapt up
into the back of the truck. He checked the various connections between the
pod and the truck. He made sure the temperature was regulated, then jumped
back down.
"Nice job, boys. There will be absolutely nothing extra in your
paychecks. Hit the road."
Krycek locked up the back of the transport. As he headed for the driver's
seat, he couldn't help wondering. What the hell did the old man want with
the frozen remains of a little girl?
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