Date: Sat, 28 Jun 1997
"Stop At Nothing" 1/3
by Talia :-D (HyperTalia@aol.com)
Classification- MSR ('SHIPPERS RULE!) and, hoo boy, angst
Keywords- Post 'Elegy' and 'Demons', Mulder/Scully Romance
Rating- PG
Spoilers- Uhhh... 'Elegy' and 'Demons', as well as slight
references
to 'Duane Barry', 'One Breath', 'Talitha Cumi,' 'Memento Mori,'
'Terma' and 'Irresistable.'
Disclaimer- Come on. If I owned these wonderful characters,
would I
be sitting in front of the computer writing fanfic, listening to
Les
Mis and chowing down on Doritos? No, I would be accepting Emmys
for a
hit show. Which is what Chris Carter, who is privileged enough to
own
them, has been doing a lot of. So, everyone here on belongs to
him
and 1013 and FOX and David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson, who are
dusting off a lot of awards of their own! :-)
Summary- Mulder faces his feelings for Scully and his personal
demons
in a desperate attempt to trust the untrustworthy and save her
life.
Talia likes e-mail. Talia likes comments. Talia NEEDS
comments. Talia
will respond to all. E-mail Talia PLEASE ----------->
HyperTalia@aol.com
**********************************************************************
**
Stop At Nothing (1/3)
by Talia :-D
**********************************************************************
**
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington D.C.
10:14 a.m.
Dana Scully shifted through the masses of papers that lay on
the
desk and tried hard not to shiver as she felt her partner's eyes
on
her. It was hard not to. His intense hazel gaze was enough to
send a
million women swooning.
Mulder had changed- his words were softer, his voice lighter,
treating her as a fragile being that would snap in two in any
minute.
He would touch her more often, as if to reassure himself that she
was
still there. More than once had she caught him looking at her
when he
thought she wouldn't notice. It wasn't as if that hadn't ever
happened before, it was just that now the look in his eyes was
different. Softer, a little concerned, as if relieved that she
was
still there to be looked upon.
It had something to do with what had happened not long ago. Okay,
it
had EVERYTHING to do with it. They were treading on thin ice. She
never told him about the ghost in the back of the car. And
somehow
she knew that there was something that she didn't know, either.
But it wasn't as if hidden feelings were anything new.
Mulder was trying to reconcile for what had happened, she knew.
The
argument had passed without anything more; in fact, it reassured
her
to know that he knew of some of her fears.
*I know what you're afraid of. I'm afraid on the same thing.*
It wasn't long before they were torn apart again, more than
before.
A sick lump still rose in her throat when she remembered the
sight of
her partner, wild eyed, training a gun at her. Not as it was in
the
Modell case, when he was fighting something that was not his
will. He
had been drugged, true, but it had still scared the hell out of
her.
*Is this how much the truth means to you?*
The papers slid out of her hand and crashed to the floor, jolting
Scully out of her reverie. Mulder was staring at her with raised
eyebrows. She shot him a quick smile and bent down to pick them
up.
He stooped down, too, on all fours.
They picked up the papers in silence, their hands brushing more
than
once in the process. Softly, no more than a dandelion against the
flesh. With each contact the silence seemed to crowd in, to drive
them together, heavy and ominous, so tense that it made her heart
skip a beat.
As Mulder was busy rearranging the files, Scully took a moment to
be
free and look at him. His sleeves had been rolled halfway up and
his
reading glasses peeked teasingly out of his pocket. A tiny frown
furrowed his brow as he put the documents in order. Once again a
lock
of stubborn brown hair had fallen into his eyes, calling her. She
resisted the urge to brush it out of his eyes. It wasn't easy.
Okay,
it was near to impossible.
Scully felt remorse once again creep within her and she looked
away
quickly. How much time was left for her? How did she know that
that
wasn't the last time she would look at him?
How could she say goodbye?
**********************************************************
7:21 p.m.
Fox Mulder tried to push all thoughts of Scully out of his
mind as
he drove home that night. He wanted to hear her voice and know
that
she was all right. Similar feelings had been flashing through his
mind every night ever since she had told him about the ghost. He
didn't know if he was ever going to see her again, and he really
didn't know how to say goodbye. It wasn't really possible to let
go.
His mind flashed back to when she had first told him about the
illness. There had been so much hope then. Reading her journal
had
sent a torrent of emotions rushing through him. It had been so
easy
then, to believe. Holding her in his arms he had made a promise
to
save her. But it had been months since then and he could see that
her
hope, if not her strength, was visibly fading.
What had happened since then? She had told him that she was
afraid
and he had brushed her off. And then... Mulder remembered his
feverish state, crouched down on the floor, one hand gripping the
gun
and the feel of Scully's arms around him, and her head resting
against his back. She was relieved for both of them. The light
pressure of her body had pulled him back into reality, dispelling
the
clouds and the fog. And that was when the crushing guilt came
pouring
in, as merciless and unseen as a sudden thunderstorm. He knew now
that nothing, not even the truth, was worth sacrificing what he
had.
Nothing.
**********************************************************
10:31 p.m.
Scully tried to focus on the screen in front of her and
swallowed a
pill. Her head was killing her and she had started to feel a bit
nauseous and dizzy. *You're just tired* she told herself. *That's
all.
You'll feel better in the morning.*
She made her way to the bedroom and changed, feeling relieved to
lie
down and squeeze her eyes shut, waiting for sleep to come.
It didn't.
Her head was still pounding, and for some reason her heart
tightened
in apprehension. She swallowed and took several deep breaths when
she
felt something trickle down her lip.
A nosebleed.
As she sat up, her head reeled so hard that she almost fell back
down again. Her heart pounded harder and there was a shrieking
pain
in her head. The world started to spin and she shook from head to
toe
with fear.
*God no, please not now...*
She blindly lurched for the phone, seeing black dots in front of
her
eyes.
**********************************************************
11:21 p.m.
Mulder's eyes hurt from staring at the TV screen. His eyes
begged
for sleep but his mind was, as usual, wide awake. He never got
much
sleep in the first place, why should he expect to get it now?
Something was wrong. He sensed it. Tiredly Mulder rubbed his eyes
and sighed. Where would it end?
The phone jangled next to him and he debated whether or not to
move
and pick it up.
*Ring*
It seemed so far away and Mulder did not feel like moving.
*Ring*
The second ring seemed so loud and begging that he sat up.
Something
WAS wrong. He stood and made his way to the phone.
*Ri-*
"Hello?"
Silence, besides someone's raspy, tortured breathing.
"M-"
Fear clutched at his heart. "Hello?!" Deep down he knew
who it was.
"Mulder... I need..." her voice was so weak and
breaking he could
barely make out her words. "I need your help..."
*Oh my God...* "Scully? Wha-"
"Please..." he heard something like a strangled cry,
then silence.
Scenes flooded back into his mind, rendering him unable to move.
A
similar phone call years back that had sent him running to her
apartment. He had been too late then.
*Shit*
Mulder dropped the phone and flung the door open, running to the
car.
His tires squealed in sudden protest but he didn't care.
Only one thing mattered now... he wouldn't be able to forgive
himself if he was too late again...
**********************************************************
He expected to see broken glass, police cars, and blood
everywhere.
There was nothing in front of Scully's apartment building.
Silence.
Everyone was asleep.
Mulder ignored the terrible stench of rubber he had burned from
reckless driving and took the stairs two at a time to apartment
402.
His hands were shaking so hard he couldn't find the key; he
resorted
to kicking to door down instead.
Darkness greeted him with a voice so loud it hurt his ears.
"*Scully?!*" God, his voice was so high pitched and
terrified. He
made his way through the apartment. "Scully? Scu-"
She was lying on her back in the hall, one hand still curled
around
the phone. Blood was gushing from her nose and had stained her
mouth
and neck. Her eyes were open wide with pain and her limbs were
convulsed and shaking.
"Oh my God. Oh my God." Mulder said it over and over,
kneeling down
next to her. Her head turned slightly at the sound of his voice.
He
gathered her into his arms, pressing one finger to her neck,
finding
only a weak pulse. She felt as delicate as a shina doll. Prying
the
phone away from her fingers, he desperately tried to remember the
number for 911. "Scully, I'm here... it's okay... you're
going to be
okay... hang in there..."
"What the hell..." Someone entered the apartment- a man
in his
pajamas with a woman in a bathrobe and hair curlers behind him.
"Oh
my God... Call 911."
911. That's it. Mulder's fingers were shaking as he punched in
the
number. "911, do you have an emergency?"
Mulder babbled something about Scully having cancer before the
man
yanked the phone away from him and gave the address. "She's
on the
floor... her nose is bleeding... you said cancer, sir?"
It took several moments for it to register that the man was
talking
to him. "Cancer. Brain tumor... terminal..." He was
cradling her in
his arms, unaware of the blood that was staining his shirt.
"Shit.
Shit. Shit." The pitch of this voice escalated. "She's
not breathing.
Shit. Oh shit. God, no. Don't. Please no. Don't let me lose
her..."
By now a small crowd had gathered in the apartment. The man was
still on the phone with the 911 operator. "Pinch her nose
shut..."
They all watched helplessly as Mulder pressed his mouth to hers
and
tried desperately to breath life back.
He barely even noticed when he was yanked away roughly by one of
the
paramedics. "Please move back, sir." He watched as they
forced a mask
over her face and loaded her onto the stretcher. They only got to
the
door when someone yelled, "Shocks!"
Out of nowhere a man appeared with them. "Charged?"
"Charged!"
"Ready? One, two, three!"
Scully's body lurched upward at they tried to make her heart beat
again. There was a pause and one of the men glanced at a screen
on
his left that had appeared in the hysteria.
*Beeeeeeeeppppppppp...*
"Oh God, Scully, please..." Mulder fought his way up to
the
stretcher again and took her hand. It was icy cold and limp.
"No..."
"Sir, please move away." He was shoved backwards again.
"One, two, three!"
Lurch.
*Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppppp...*
"Dammit, Scully, don't do this!" he didn't even realize
that he was
yelling. His surroundings rushed in again, sufocating and
pounding
hard in his ears.
"SIR!" He was being pushed away again but this time he
fought.
Another man appeared and pinned his hands behind him, forcing him
down in a chair. He felt like an imprisoned child. Tears started
to
run down his face. "But... but she's dying..."
The men ignored him and did not loosen their grip.
"Third times the charm... One, two three!"
Lurch.
*Beeeeeeeeeeeppppp...*
The man that seemed to be in charge shook his head and gave a
deep
sigh. "Time of death, 11:45 p.m."
Mulder lashed out and kicked one of the men that was holding him
hard in the shin. Only then did he realize that he had been
yelling
the whole time. "NO! Don't, please don't..."
"Sir..." they were starting to push him away, but all
he could see
was Scully, lying pale and lifeless on the stretcher. He had been
too
late again. Too late to save her. It was all his fault. She had
trusted him. And he, in turn, had loved her with all fo his
heart.
"Sir, please, calm down... take a few deep breaths..."
"Take a few deep breaths?! Calm down?! How can I? How the
hell can I?
Oh GOD..." Sobs started to rack through Mulder's body
relentlessly.
He felt like Prometheus, bound to a rock and being slowly picked
apart.
That's when he heard what was undoubtedly the best sound that he
ever heard in his entire life.
*Bee-beep... bee-beep... bee-beep...*
"What the hell-" The man rushed back to the stretcher.
He stared in
disbelief at the screen for several seconds. "We- we got
it!" he
yelled. "Let's go!" With a shove they rushed the
stretcher out of the
apartment and towards the ambulance, plowing through the crowd
that
blocked the door and the smattering of applause.
Mulder tried to stand but found he couldn't. The world was
reeling
and he felt nauseous. "Sir, are you okay?" one of the
bystanders
asked. He felt a blanket over his shoulders, someone shoving a
cup
into his hands. He was still shaking. The cup fell to the ground
and
he blindly pushed his way out of apartment 402, following the
ambulance.
**********************************************************
12:39 a.m.
Mulder didn't give a shit what they threatened to do; he was
oblivious to the rest of the world and refused to leave Scully's
side.
At least, HAD refused. Untill another one of those goddam
paramedics
had tried to pull him away.
Mulder beat the crap out of him.
Since then they had given him a shot and something hot to drink.
He
was pacing restlessly in the waiting area. The only others there
were
a woman and a young girl, clinging to each other fearfully.
Presently the door opened and a doctor entered, looking grave.
Mulder took a step towards him, findind that he had been
clenching
and unclenching his jaw unconciously.
The doctor passed by him and walked over to the woman. Mulder
breathed a sigh of relief, but instantly regretted it when he saw
the
woman's face. It crumpled and she sat upright, clutching the
little
girl's hand and trying hard not to break down. From him position
Mulder could hear the usual, "I'm sorry," and "We
did everything that
we could."
Yeah. That's what they always said. Mulder wasn't about to take
any
bull from any doctors about what happened to Scully.
His thoughts were rewarded with incredible guilt when he heard
the
sobs of the girl next to him. She hugged the woman tightly; the
woman,
in turn, was rocking her back and forth murmuring that it would
be
okay. Mulder was glad that the little girl couldn't see her face.
It
screamed otherwise.
He found himself pacing helplessly as the woman and the girl got
up
to leave. He stared dumbly after them, then sank down into one of
the
gray chairs that was made to be uncomfortable. His knee was
bouncing
up and down jerkily and he pressed his hand to his forehead,
trying
to soothe a pounding headache. He had a tiny bruise on his face
from
where the medic had so kindly returned the punch. Not that he
could
blame him. He was surprised that he wasn't being taken to court
for
assault.
Mulder's head snapped up at the sight of a familiar woman running
down the hall and his breath caught. She looked so much like--
"Fox?" Maggie Scully's voice was light and breathless.
He stood up.
"Mrs. Scully-"
Maggie Scully was torn between yelling, demanding answers, and
breaking down and crying. But when she saw the look on Mulder's
face
that all vanished. He was drawn up into a bundle of nerves,
looking
scared and terrified, and his eyes begged for some sort of
comfort.
Mrs. Scully grabbed his hand quickly and sat down. "How is
she?"
Mulder's face crumpled a bit. "I don't know. I- She called
me. I was
too late again-"
Mrs. Scully recognized self-inflicted guilt and knew how terrible
it
could be. She leaned towards him and forced him to look at her.
"Fox,
" she said sharply, "it wasn't your fault. There wasn't
anything that
you could have done."
His knee started to bounce up and down jerkily again. "They
said
that she had died... they actually said that Dana was
dead..."
Mrs. Scully's face softened at the unusual sound of her
daughter's
first name coming from this man's mouth. She squeezed his hand
tighter. "But she didn't die, did she?" she replied
softly. "Dana is
a fighter."
Mulder gave a short nod and took a deep breath. He slouched down
in
the chair and took several rasping breaths.
Then in the deep silence came in the resonant thuds of the
doctor's
footsteps coming towards them. Mulder raised his head. The doctor
was
short and pudgy and looked rather tired. His name tag identified
him
and Dr. Raymond.
Dr. Raymond had been a doctor at this hospital for thirteen
years.
He knew when he could get around the easy way and when he had
lost
the privilege to bullshit. As he walked towards the waiting room
and
saw the tall man stand to greet him, he knew that he was
currently
bullshitless. The man's eyes were glowing dangerously. Raymond
had
already received a warning from the medic that had gotten a sound
beating when he had tried to pull-- Raymond racked his brain--
Agent
Mulder away from his partner.
Raymond put out his hand. "Agent M-"
"How is she?" Mulder cut him off quickly. Okay, skip
the
introductions. Raymond noted the petite older woman that was
standing
next to him. He hoped that she would be one of those that would
whisper, 'Hush, let the man speak.' Instead she crossed her arms
across her chest and assumed fighting stance, pushing Raymond's
bullshit factor down into the negatives.
He coughed. "Well, um... what we did was-"
"I don't give a shit about what you did, I want to know how
she is."
Mulder's voice had a steely edge to it, rendering silence from
the
few employees that were scattered in the hallway.
Everything seemed to freeze and move in slow motion around
Raymond.
He licked his lips nervously. Easy does it. The last thing he
wanted
was to find himself beat up by some very pissed off FBI agent.
Deep
breath.
"Agent, ah, Scully's cancer has been spreading, which isn't
surprising considering she has, ah, refused treatment." He
paused,
wondering whether this was safe territory.
Apparently not.
"Yeah, okay, now tell me something that I don't already
know,"
Mulder snapped back. Raymond glanced at the woman for help, but
didn't receive any.
"Ah, well, Agent Mulder, basically the tumor has begun to
push
itself into her brain." Raymond took several moments to let
his words
sink in. Mulder flinched visibly. Mrs. Scully shrank back a bit
but
did not allow herself to be daunted by the news. "Presently
she's in
a coma. I can't really say how much time she has left... but I
can
say that it won't be long now. About... a week?" There. They
had
wanted him to skip the bullshit, and that's exactly what he had
done.
Mrs. Scully pressed her lips together. The intimidating
presence
that had been Agent Mulder was replaced with a drawn,
grief-stricken
face. It was the face that Raymond had unfortunately seen one too
many times in his line of work. It was never easy to inform
people
that they were going to lose a loved one.
But from the look on this man's face, it seemed impossible.
Something shook Dr. Raymond to the core. "I'm sorry,"
he mumbled.
"We did all that we could..." When in doubt, resort
back to the
bullshit.
"Can we see her?" The woman spoke for the first time.
Unlike the
Agent, who looked ready to fly off and fall apart, Raymond could
tell
that this one was made of steel. Considering how long the patient
had
already survived, it was probably her mother.
"Um... yes, you can. She's in a coma right now. We're not
sure that
she will wake up. Don't be-" he paused. "Don't be
flustered by the
machinery."
He led them down the hallway and opened door 24. It was dark as
Mulder stepped inside. Machines were everywhere. Scully was lying
on
the bed, looking so small and lifeless that he felt his lungs
crush
with a sudden unimaginable guilt. There were still light traces
of
blood on her face and neck. Her hair was painfully red against
the
sheet-white of her face. "Can she hear us?" It was Mrs.
Scully,
staring down at her daughter with an outward strength that Mulder
had
grown to appreciate.
Raymond fiddled with his glasses. "Yes, she can. At least--
yes,
probably. We're not sure of the extent of the coma, but, uh, yes,
I
think so..." Shit. He was sounding like a novice flustered
intern.
"Umm... if you need me I'll be down the hall." Raymond
turned on his
heel and exited as quickly as was humanly possible.
Mulder stared down at Scully and felt the world sway around him.
Then he remembered Mrs. Scully. Undoubtedly she would want some
time
alone with-- he swallowed-- the only daughter that she had left.
"Mrs.
Scully, I'll be outside," he mumbled. She turned to look at
him and
gave a slight nod.
Mulder returned to the uncomfortable chairs outside of the room.
Voices where hammering inside of his head. He massaged his
temples
and fought to stay awake.
He jerked upwards when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was
Mrs.
Scully. "Fox," she said softly, "you fell
asleep."
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"
"A little after five in the morning."
*FIVE!* "How is-" Mulder started towards room 24.
"No change." Mrs. Scully's voice sounded tired and
beat. "I just
thought that you'd like to see her."
Mulder caught her gaze for a moment. *She understands* he
realized,
*she always has*. Giving a light, almost imperceptible nod of
thanks,
he made his way back down to Scully's hospital room.
END part 1/3
Yes? No? Good so far? E-mail is God's gift to us... <hint,
hint>
HyperTalia@aol.com
"Stop At Nothing" 2/3
by Talia :-D
HyperTalia@aol.com
disclaimers and all that jazz in part one
Mulder found the beeps of the heart monitor almost reassuring
as he
sat down next to his partner and took her hand. It was so limp,
so
weak. So unlike her. Mulder subconciously let his hand drift to
her
face, gently pushing away some locks of red hair. He let his hand
linger over her face, feeling the anger and grief starting to
well up
inside him. With a little sigh, he brought her hand up to his
lips
and kissed it gently.
"Hey Scully," he murmured. "It's me." He
paused, feeling incredibly
foolish. *I don't even know if she can hear me.* Best to go with
the
benefit of the doubt. But what was there to say?
"You're going to be okay. You know that. I'm not going to
let you
off the hook THIS easily. You still owe me a date." He let a
tiny
laugh escape his throat, not believing that he was saying this.
"The
football game, remember? That was so long ago, right when--"
He
stopped. *Right when Donnie Pfaster attacked you.* A lump rose up
in
his throat and he stroked her cheek again gently. "I'm so
sorry," he
murmured. "You don't deserve this. I don't deserve to have
you making
my quest yours. I never meant for anything to happen. If I had
known-
" he kissed her hand again lightly, "if I had known, I
would've
marched your ass right out of that basement." He allowed
himself a
small smile at the memory. "Sorry, nobody down here but the
FBIs most
unwanted..." Slowly Mulder's smile faded. "But then
again, you
wouldn't have let me, would you? You never did take any crap from
me,
or anybody, for that matter. You always were the strong one. Not
like
me- I'd fly off the handle at any minute. I just did, a little
while
ago. I
beat the crap outta that guy. But you-" he shook his head,
"you were
the strong one. You ARE the strong one. And always will be."
Mulder
was barely aware of the fact that he was still speaking; his
voice
was low and whispering. "You always gave me strength. I'm
sorry that
I couldn't return it. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He
stopped then,
his voice caught up in his throat, and allowed himself the luxury
of
pressing her hand against his cheek. He willed with all his being
for
her to move, for her eyes to open and for her to admonish him
lightly.
*I'm fine, Mulder.*
But there was nothing but the steady beeps of the respirator and
heart monitors.
The tears started to flow, unchecked. "I'm going to get the
sons of
bitches, Scully. I promise that to you now. I don't have anything
to
lose... I'm going to make them pay for what they did to you or
I'm
going to die trying. He pressed his lips to her hand again.
"I
promise..."
With one last lingering look her left the hospital room, and from
the look in his eyes people had the good sense to stay away.
*********************************************************
Parking garage by the Watergate hotel
1:57 p.m.
Marita Covarrubias paused to let her eyes adjust to the
darkness in
the garage. Once she had gotten used to the lack of light, she
scanned the area quickly. He wasn't there yet. At least not that
she
could see.
It had to be working, she thought. The plan. Agent Mulder had
seemed
a little distant at first, and there was a time that she thought
he
might actually reject her advances on account of his small red
headed
partner. But the fact that he had called her asking for a meeting
proved otherwise. This was a good sign. She had given up on him
for a
while, and had started setting her sights on Assistant Director
Skinner-- he was a lot more responsive. Then again he didn't have
any
redheads hanging around him. Marita had a way with these types of
things. In her time Marita had found that there was only one way
to
get anywhere. The Cigarette Man was a perfect example.
Marita shuddered, thinking of him. She hated that man. But she
had
her orders. There was only one way to get Agent Mulder on the
other
side. Her.
Suddenly Marita felt someone grab her from behind and she felt
herself being shoved against a wall. Her eyes widened with fear
and
she tried to spin around, but whoever it was had an iron grip on
her
neck. Once she was pressed against the wall she was released and
turned her neck to see who it was.
Mulder.
This was NOT what she had planned.
Then again, looking at him, nothing was what was planned. He
looked
awful- eyes bloodshot, clothes wrinkled, hair sticking out in a
dozen
different directions. Marita covered her surprise quickly and
assumed
her stance- mysterious and- she hoped- seductive.
**********************************************************
Mulder felt little pity as he stared down the tall blonde woman
he
had pinned to the wall of the garage. In fact, he now was immune
to
pity. He wanted answers.
Marita's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?" she
breathed. Mulder
tried hard to ignore the fact that she sounded like an actress
reading her lines- but then again, what was new. He still had his
hand on her neck and applied some pressure. "I think you
know what I
want."
Marita's eyes widened. Mulder read her thoughts and squeezed her
neck harder. "My partner is dying. You know how to save
her."
Marita found it hard to act seductive in this stance. "I
don't know
what you are talking about, Agent Mulder."
"DAMMIT!" He shoved her against the wall again and she
gasped. *Shit.
* Things were not going as planned. "Don't you DARE play
games with
me on this. I have been lead along like a dog on a leash by all
my
other informants, and I refuse to be led along on this one."
In a
flash he whipped out his gun and jabbed it in her face.
"Don't you
for ONE SECOND think I won't do it. I have nothing to lose at
all."
He pressed the tip of the gun into Marita's neck. "Let me
tell you
this- if Scully dies, you can expect to go with her."
For the first time in her life, Marita was afraid. It was obvious
that she was sorely mistaken about Mulder's partner. From the
wild
look in his eyes Marita realized that all of her attempts had
been
futile. Mulder was crazy angry, and he was going to stop at
nothing.
She shuddered as she felt the gun press harder into her neck.
"I
know you know," he whispered. "She is not going to die.
I won't let
her. But I won't have any lost tears over YOU."
Marita's temper flared. "So I'm not on your buddy
list."
"I don't trust you," Mulder replied simply. "And I
know you know how
to save Scully." He flexed his finger over the trigger.
"Well?"
Marita flinched. Too late to do anything. At least she could try
to
get something to her own advantage from this mess. "I
believe we can
make a bargain, Agent Mulder."
Mulder loosened his grip on Marita. "I'm listening."
"I can get this 'cure' you're looking for- because it does
exist."
Before she could continue she found the gun thrust in her face
again.
"Tell me."
Marita swallowed. "The alien/human hybrids- they have been
able to
counteract the splitting of the DNA that caused the cancer of
your
partner. There's a serom, but it only exists in small quantities
that
have been extracted. It should work if it's not too late
already."
The gun was jabbed so hard into her neck she almost cried out,
but
clamped her mouth shut, angry at being treated in such an
undignified
matter.
"You're going to get it for me."
Marita abandoned all orders of getting this guy in the sack and
stepped into Full Bitch Mode. "This is supposed to be a
bargain. I'm
not your slave."
"Funny, I had the feeling you were supposed to be."
Marita blushed.
"Don't think that a low voice and batting eyebrows will stop
me from
seeing through intentions." He lowered the gun a notch.
"Go ahead.
What do you propose?"
Marita gathered up her courage. "I'm sure you're familiar
with a
shadowy government official who always smokes cigarettes?"
Mulder paled visibly at the mention of the Cancer Man. His mind
raced back to the argument with his mother. *Who IS my father??*
"Yeah, I know who you mean."
Marita reached into her pocket and scribbled down an address.
"You'll find him here at nine o'clock tomorrow. One bullet,
no more.
If the deed is done I'll be here at ten with the cure."
"How do I know that you won't just walk away?"
Marita raised an eyebrow. "You don't." Mulder tensed
and she thought
he might whip out his gun again. "But what is the
alternative?"
There was the sound of skidding tires and Mulder quickly stepped
away. "Ten o'clock, tomorrow." His features darkened
and he leaned
towards her again, whispering harshly. "And if you're lying,
then I
swear to God..."
Marita knew in her heart what would make her the victor. "It
depends
on whether or not you can kill your own father." Rage flew
through
Mulder and it took all his strength not to strike her. But she
was
already gone.
Mulder's jaw clenched. *Good riddance.*
*********************************************************
Fox Mulder's apartment
6:07 p.m.
Mulder was going crazy. He was slouched on the floor of his
apartment, his face buried in his hands, heart pounding,
trembling
and trying desperately to clear his mind and the panicky voices
that
were jabbering within. His head was in complete and utter
turmoil.
He had returned to the hospital only to find that she was getting
weaker. Mrs. Scully had already accepted the fact that she was
going
to lose her little girl. So while she sat by her bedside, holding
Dana's hand and talking to her, Mulder was tortured by flashbacks
of
the meeting.
He didn't trust Marita, and didn't know how much of what she had
said he could take seriously. But what were the alternatives?
Marita said that a cure existed. She said that she would get it
for
him, in exchange for-
God. He tried to keep his hands from shaking. It wasn't easy. He
had
come close, very close, to killing the Cancer Man before. There
were
times when he wished that he had pulled the trigger when they had
first met face-to-face. Something had kept him from doing so. At
the
time he believed it was because Cancer Man knew the truth, and
killing him would leave them nowhere to go.
*If people were to know to things that I know, it would all fall
apart...*
But that was before he had started to remember things about his
past.
His mother and father arguing. His sister, frightened, crouching
down my the railing and watching them.
And a tall shadowy young man smoking a cigarette.
He had shamed himself and his mother by bringing up the subject.
As
a result he had torn what was left of his family even farther
apart
than before. He had needed to know. He had taken a huge risk,
putting
his life, Scully's life, his sanity, his partnership, all on the
line.
And for what? For the assurance that the Cancer Man was indeed
his
father.
The demons where torturing him ever since. Visions of the black
lunged son of a bitch and what he had done to his family haunted
him.
And he had never told Scully. He didn't want to have to put more
pressure on her than there already was, as much as it had pained
him
to do so. There were times when they needed to have some space
and
keep things from each other. Still, the only vision that was
going
through his mind afterwards, when she had driven him home, gotten
him
to the couch and sat there watching until she THOUGHT he had
fallen
asleep... the only scene that he could see whenever he closed his
eyes was his partner's face, her face calm but her eyes betraying
the
terror that she felt. And all he could think was,
*like father, like son...*
*NO!* Mulder was shaking hard now. He was NOT like his father. He
never would be. He wouldn't allow it to himself.
And now Scully was in the hospital, weakly gripping the fraying
rope
that was the only thing tying her to this life. She had told him
not
to blame himself (*don't ever think that there was something that
you
could have done...*) but he had given her the hope, saying that
it
would be okay and that the truth would save her.
*Maybe it will save both of us.*
He had promised that he would do anything to save her.
Even kill his own father? No matter what he had done to him, and
to
Scully, he was still his father. But would killing the Cancer Man
only make Mulder more like him?
Flooded with violent emotions, Mulder rocked back and forth on
the
floor of his empty apartment.
*********************************************************
*Do you want to smoke on that? Or would you rather smoke on
this?*
Eyes, cold, unfeeling, breath tainted with the sickening odor of
nicotine... *Do it. Do it, Agent Mulder.*
Those same eyes, with a flicker of shock behind them as Mulder
shoved the man down into the chair. Rage was seething through
him.
This man had killed his partner. She was dying, and it was all
this
man's fault.
*Tonight I'm going to ask the questions and you're gonna answer
me,
you son of a bitch!!!!*
Dark. Stuffy, muggy, dusty blackness with the aftermath of the
loud
clang of a door still in his ears. Fear clutched his heart and
instead of Scully's voice he had heard just static. Helicopter...
voices... and then,
*Burn it!*
The one quick flash of startling realization before flames came
crashing down around him...
Then calm. Peace. His emotions cooled down to a light simmer.
Scully
was there. She had always been by his side.
*You are the only one I trust.*
*Sucker.*
*I'm fine, Mulder.*
*Why don't you try to get some sleep...*
*I just want to know that you're alright.*
The bang of a gavel, and then she had spun around and come flying
into his arms...
Her voice in his head when he read her journal, feeling it press
against his throat and eyes relentlessly, until he felt that he
would
explode...
The peace slowly desolved and in it's place was turmoil. Quietly
begging him to put down the gun... he could see himself, training
the
gun directly at her. His features merged, mutated... and instead
himself he saw... the Cancer Man... and Scully still begging
him...
"Fox..." her voice light and pleading, like a little
child begging
to be forgiven for something that she did not do.
... but his -- the Cancer Man's -- eyes were cold and unfeeling
and
displayed no emotion as his finger tightened on the trigger...
"Fox..."
"NO!" he bolted upwards, shaking all over. He felt a
hand on his
shoulder and someone's cool palm on his forehead. It was Mrs.
Scully.
Her blue eyes were deep with concern.
"It's okay," she murmured, "It was just a dream.
Take a few deep
breaths." Gently she pressed a finger to his neck.
"Your pulse in
racing."
Irony combined with memory burst through Mulder at her gentle
words
and he lurched forward, sobbing like a child. He felt Mrs.
Scully's
arms around him holding him comfortingly. After a long time she
finally made him look her in the face and he calmed down.
"You okay?
"
Mulder nodded, feeling the sick feeling of a lie spread into his
stomach, rising up into his mouth. He felt like he was going to
be
sick.
"I tried to call... when I got no answer I got worried so I
came
over here. I was on my way home to pick up some things."
Mulder didn't reply.
Mrs. Scully felt a niggle of fear deep within her. Mulder
looked...
dangerous. A danger to himself. She knew the torture that he was
feeling. But he was torturing HIMSELF relentlessly. There had to
be a
reason. And no matter how worried she was about him -- she had
come
to think of him as a son now -- there wasn't much she could do.
Mrs.
Scully wasn't one to pry. She cleared her throat.
"I got a call from Mr. Skinner. He stopped by the hospital a
little
while after you left. He told me to tell you he won't be
expecting
you at work. He thinks it's better if you stay with Dana."
Silence. Mulder stared ahead of him with a blank expression.
"Fox," she tried again gently, "I know... how you
feel about my
daughter." Before she could go on he turned to look at her,
understanding and thanks in his eyes. She gave him a little
smile.
"And I know that she feels the same way about you. The two
of you
have something that others would find it difficult to understand.
An
understanding, a respect, a nexus, a love." She paused,
emphasizing
this last word. "No matter what, just know that... she
understood.
Really. There are some things that are spoken by actions, only
reinforced by words." Giving his hand a little squeeze, she
stood and
left the apartment.
When Maggie Scully returned to her daughter's room, she found
Mulder
in the chair by her bed, talking to her softly. What he said she
didn't know, but she let him sit there the whole night, holding
Dana's hand and not letting go.
*********************************************************
11:17 a.m.
Walter Skinner stood in the doorway of Dana Scully's room.
Mulder
had fallen asleep there about half an hour ago, and everyone had
recieved strict instructions from Mrs. Scully not to wake him.
She
said that he hadn't slept at all, keeping himself awake and
whispering to Scully throughout the whole night.
He had Skinner to thank for the fact that he wasn't kicked out.
His
boss had used his credentials to tell the nurses to let Mulder
stay
there as long as needed. Skinner knew that Mulder wouldn't last
long
without his partner by his side. He understood. Mrs. Scully had
thanked him tiredly himself.
Dana's mother had prepared herself for death. She was ready. She
could let Dana go. Mulder was a different story. Skinner watched
him,
slumped over in the chair still gripping Scully's hand in both of
his.
Mulder couldn't and wouldn't let her die. He would be finished
when
she died. Skinner frowned. By giving Scully cancer, his cigarette
smoking aquaintance had nicely killed Mulder right along with
her.
Mulder stirred and his eyes opened with a start. He sat up
quickly,
as if he had been having a nightmare. His gaze first fell on
Scully,
then travelled around the room and he noticed Skinner. "What
time is
it?"
"A little past eleven."
Mulder rubbed his eyes. "Did the doctors say anything while
I was
asleep?"
Skinner didn't answer, but his grim expression confirmed Mulder's
suspicions. He watched as the younger man gently touched his
partner's forehead. He turned and left the room, but not before
he
cuaght a strain of Mulder's whispered words.
"Forgive me for what I have to do, Scully... I know you
will. I know
you will."
Skinner found Mrs. Scully in the hallway. "Agent Mulder woke
up."
She didn't answer right away, but sighed. "I'm worried about
him."
"As am I. He's not taking this well."
Mrs. Scully looked him in the eye. "I never doubted that he
wouldn't,
Mr. Skinner, from the moment that I first found out that Dana was
ill."
Skinner glanced back at the door again. She was right, but she
had
realized it far before he had. "I need you to talk to
him." She
looked up, surprised. "He never trusted anyone but Agent
Scully and
you are the closest thing. If this continues on it's course,
Mulder
will become a menace to himself."
Mrs. Scully shook her head. "I tried, Mr Skinner. There's no
avoiding it. He's a grown man with a tortured past and a tortured
present. He's lost too many loved ones for one lifetime."
"I'm just telling you to be careful," Skinner replied.
"I've watched
the two of them working together, and I know how close they are.
But
Mulder is driving himself down. I don't know what he might
do."
Mulder's words echoed in his head. *Forgive me for what I have to
do,
Scully...*
**********************************************************
6:38 p.m.
"How is she, Mulder?" Frohike peered at his friend
over a glass of
God knows what. His eyes bloodshot and his speech slurred, he
reminded Mulder of a lovesick puppy whose master had just died.
He brought his fist down hard on the table. "Haven't you
heard?
She's dying. She only has a couple of days, and they don't even
know
if she'll wake up."
A loud silence followed. The Lone Gunmen cast their faces down
and
shuffled their feet. "I need one of you to help me." He
almost
expected his voice to echo.
Byers spoke up first. "Help you with what?"
"I can't tell you." Mulder shot him a steady look,
running a hand
over his shadowy jaw. A shadow that matched the one that loomed
over
his soul. "I just need-" he took a deep breath, "I
need one of you to
trust me, okay? To trust me and not ask questions."
More silence and more shuffling. It was not a secret to the
Gunmen
how seriously Mulder took trust. It wasn't something that was
gained
easily. And loooking at Mulder- desperate, tortured, sleepless,-
he
didn't give off the impression of one that could be easily
trusted.
Frohike spoke first. "I'll go." Mulder bombarded him
with his hazel
gaze, searching. "I'll go. I won't ask questions."
Mulder watched his friend for a while, then acknowledged him with
a
nod. It was more than a nod, it was a thank you. Frohike knew
that.
Mulder stood. "I'll be back in about an hour." He took
the glass out
of Frohike's hand, then turned to Langly. "Make sure he
doesn't drink
anymore, okay?"
Langly nodded. "Will do."
The three men watched Mulder leave, his back straight and muscles
taut. Lanlgy shook his head quickly. "Man, I don't like
this. I don't
like this one bit."
Byers didn't answer. Frohike looked miserable without his drink.
Langly continued, "I mean, why is he doing this? Look at
him. He's
killing himself."
Frohike spoke up. This time his tongue was sharp. "What do
you mean,
*why* is he doing this? He's doing it for Scully. It's all for
Scully.
.."
************************************************************
Mulder knew even before he reached the room that something was
wrong.
Mrs. Scully hurried out to him, trying to disguise the fact that
she
was frantic. "What is it?"
Her eyes swept over him quickly, noting the fact that he hadn't
changed and wasn't carrying anything even though he said that he
was
going home to pick up some things. "It's Dana," she
answered, her
voice trembling despite herself.
Mulder's heart quickened. Her tone wasn't right, like a piano
chord
with one note wrong. "Is she-"
"No. No, she's not." They never said the d-word. They
both knew what
they meant. "But her vital signs have dropped. They say that
she
might not make it through the night."
Mulder swallowed. Through the night? Oh no. He had had a chance.
He
needed more time. He felt rage seep into his blood, giving him
energy
with a rush of adrenaline. Without a word he brushed past Mrs.
Scully
and found his way to his partner's room.
The beeps were still there, though in Mulder's eyes they sounded
dimmer. The tubes had multiplied, her bloodless lips had been
pried
open to make room for a bigger respirator that pumped more oxygen
into her lungs. Her chest rose and fell along with the beeps. She
looked like a paper doll, subjected to the mercy of a child, and
was
left to dangle by a thread, tattered and torn.
Footsteps and Mulder knew that Mrs. Scully was behind him. He let
him hand drift over Dana's face, gently carressing her cheek and
his
thumb brushing away invisible tears, ignoring the hindering tubes
that were in the way. He bent down and let his lips linger over
her
forehead. "Hang on," he whispered. "Please. Just
hang on, Scully.
*Trust* *me*..." His breath stirred the copper strands
around her ear
and suddenly Mulder felt weak. It was time. There wasn't anything
left.
He straightened, passed a hand over bloodshot eyes, and made his
way
out of the room. Mrs. Scully looked frightened. "Where are
you going?
" She stepped in front of him. "Fox, you can't leave.
Please, don't."
She watched helplessly as he strode away from her and out of
sight.
She glanced back at her baby daughter and for the first time in
what
seemed like centuries Margaret Scully sat down and sobbed,
praying
that God take care of her little girl.
END PART 2/3
I like e-mail, oh yes I do.
HyperTalia@aol.com
Stop at Nothing, 3/3
by Talia :-D
HyperTalia@aol.com
Disclaimers and all that stuff that nobody reads in part one.
9:07 p.m.
1121 42nd street
Mulder stared at the battered building in front of him. *This*
was
where he lived? He glanced at Frohike behind him. "Stay
here," he
said in a low voice. "and don't move no matter what
happens." Frohike
nodded and Mulder felt a wave of thanks for the loyalty of his
friend.
He stepped out of the car and the darkness enveloped him in a
cold
embrace, with a glove made of sandpaper. His fingers closed
around
the handle of his gun as he made his way up to apartment 3.
Everything was quiet. Too quiet. No voices, no scampering of
little
feet. Nothing. Silence. A silence as tangible as a heavy tapestry
draping everything around him.
The door to number 3 was as normal as any other that was there.
Mulder took a deep breath and tried the knob. To his surprise it
was
unlocked.
Carefully he turned it, his fingers tightening around the gun.
His
body hit the wood, and he stumbled into the brightly lit
apartment.
Cigarette smoke tainted the air. There was some furniture, not
much.
An old fashioned plush red couch was by the window, blocking the
television screen. From his angle Mulder could see the man's
head. It
did not turn to acknowledge his presence, and for a brief moment
Mulder wondered whether the Cancer Man had been waiting for him.
His
body felt light as he made his way over to the couch, so that
even
his clothes seemed heavy against his skin. The handle of the Sig
felt
slippery and Mulder knew that he was sweating.
When the gun was about an inch away from the back of Cancer Man's
skull, he turned. His eyes were even more bloodshot than
Mulder's.
One hand curled around a cigarette while another was around a
glass
of whiskey. He was drunk, Mulder realized. His eyes barely
registered
that Mulder was there.
And then he saw the television screen. Black and white, slightly
blurry. A small hospital room. A bed, and a small woman lying in
it.
Scully.
The Cancer Man was watching her die.
Rage shook Mulder, a force stronger than any he had ever known.
It
shook his mind and his body, making the gun tremble along with
him.
THIS was not his father. No. This lying, cheating, smoking,
drunk,
killing son of a BITCHing BASTARD was not his father. He was a
worthless piece of shit who lived his life while turning his head
from pain, from suffering. He caused it. He killed Mulder's
partner.
He had almost killed his own son more than once. He had done
deeds
more horrific and terrifying than could be imagined. He was
responsible for what happened to Scully. And to Samantha. *He is
NOT
my father!* A little voice shrieked within him as he watched the
television screen. Mrs. Scully entered the screen and sat down
next
to her daughter.
All of it, all the suffering of so many people, it had been all
HIS
fault.
Mulder's finger curled around the trigger. The Cancer Man watched
him without expression. Rage was so great Mulder found it hard to
stand still. He was shaking from head to toe.
For Samantha.
For Scully.
Mulder closed his eyes shut and pulled the trigger.
************************************************************
He dropped the gun even as it recoiled and a tidal wave of guilt
and
jabberings almost knocked him from his feet. The force was
staggering.
Blind eyes stared down at the man that was slumped down in the
couch,
blood trickling down from his forehead. The cigarette burned into
his palm with a light hiss, while the odor of the alcohol that
had
sloshed around was almost overpowering.
He had killed him.
For some odd reason, Mulder had the overwhelming urge to scream,
to
run around, anything. Something in side of him was pulsing,
threatening to tear him apart.
Then he heard a slam, and a gasp. Only seconds had passed since
the
trigger had been pulled, and Mulder spun around, finding himself
face
to face with Marita. She had emerged from the other room. Her
eyes
widened with horror. "Oh my God..." The expression on
her face told
Mulder that she had never expected him to carry through with the
deed.
He was angry again, terribly angry, as he watched Marita turn and
run from the room. He grabbed up the gun from the floor and
followed
her.
They ran in the opposite direction of the footsteps and shouts
that
were pounding towards apartment 3, Mulder following the sound of
her
running. Eventually fresh outside air hit him square in the face,
giving him renewed strength, and he burst ahead and caught
Marita's
arm. He could tell she was frightened, but right know he didn't
give
a damn. He was desperate.
Shoving her into an alley, Mulder once again had the gun up to
her
temple. He was holding her by a fistful of blonde hair and not
even
realizing it, not even when she cried out. "Where's the
cure," he
snapped. "Where the hell is it?" He gave her hair a
little yank and
she started to cry. But she did reach into her pocket and pull
out a
little vial. "That's... that's all I could get a hold
off," she
gasped shakily. "Inject it... if it's not too late..."
As Mulder
slipped it into his own pocket, she added, "You son of a
bitch."
The feeling of rage had been present so often now that he didn't
surprise him anymore. But something in her eyes brought back a
flash
of memory. No matter how tempting... he would not turn into the
cold
evil person that was his father. With a deep breath, he stepped
away
from her and released his grip. Sirens were close as well as
shouts
and footsteps. "Get out of here," he mumbled. "The
Consortium is
going to be after you."
Marita raised her head and looked him square in the face. She
didn't
say anything, and without looking back slipped into the shadows.
*****************************************************************
Mulder's thoughts were a blur of excitement. He returned to the
car
and he and Frohike sped through the streets back to the hospital.
Mulder was silent the whole way there, fingering the small vial
of
greenish liquid that would save his partner.
He hoped.
Frohike kept his promise and held his tongue, but from the look
on
his face it ws apparent that he had pretty much figured out what
had
happened. It wasn't that difficult, with the sirens and the
police
and the people milling about.
Mulder could barely contain himself by the time they got to the
hospital. His fingers were closed tight around the vial. He
practically yanked Frohike out of the car and they hurried up to
Scully's room.
It was empty.
Fear greater than what he had ever known was driven into the core
of
Mulder's very being. He looked around and finally spotted Mrs.
Scully,
curled up in the waiting lounge, fast asleep. Not wanting to wake
her, he asked a nurse.
She gave him an odd look in response to his hurried, breathless
speech and disheveled appearance. "Ms. Scully had some sort
of
siezure, so they moved her to the other side of the wing to be
monitored more closely."
Mulder was off in the direction that she was pointing even before
the words had left her mouth.
He was stopped by a young doctor as he opened the door, who said
that no one was allowed in there. Mulder whipped out his badge,
making sure that the young man had caught a sight of the gun. He
hurried away with no more protests.
Mulder and Frohike slipped into the room. it was smaller, more
cramped, darker and more somber. This was the room for those that
were going to die soon. Mulder wasted more time. He hurried to
her
side and took the vial out of his pocket. His hands were shaking
so
hard that he almost dropped the vial. Frohike, who had been
standing
agape at the sight of Scully in the state that she was, grabbed
it
from him and quickly injected the contents into her arm.
Almost as he drew away, she started to shake. Hard. The machines
on
either ride started to go berserk. The room was flooded with
doctors
yelling even before Mulder could take a breath. they crowded
around
the bed, yelling.
"We got a code blue over here!"
"What the hell happened?"
"Out of my way, please..."
"Who did this?" someone fumed.
"Shit." It was the young man that had stopped Mulder
outside. He was
trying to stop the seizure. "Shit. SHIT!"
Mrs. Scully burst into the room. "Oh God. Oh God." She
stared, not
able to move, at the proceedings.
By the time they shoved Mulder out of the room he was ranting.
"OhGodOhGodIkilledherIkilledher....
nopleasenotakemeinstead...
ohGoditsallmyfaultIkilledher..." He ran away, stumbling,
before
finding himself on the stairwell.
IkilledherIkilledherI'masonofabitchingbastardandIkilledtheonlypersont
hatevermeantanythingtome....
pleasegodIcan'tlivelikethisIkilledherIkilledherIdeservetodie...
His fingers closed around his Sig and as he placed it to his head
the cold metal was like a searing burn against his flesh. It was
too
much. It was all too much. He had killed her. Why had he trusted
Marita? Why had he done any of the things that he had?
WHY?
The trigger felt reassuring. His finger inched towards it.
Then there was a startling blow to his stomach, causing him to
double over, and the gun was snatched from his hands.
"*MULDER*!" It
was Mrs. Scully, her eyes wide with fear and suprise. Frohike had
gotten the gun from him and kicked it as far away from Mulder as
possible.
He was still ranting, but he didn't even understand what he was
saying, pacing around, babbling like a madman. Hell, he had
probably
lost his mind years ago.
Mrs. Scully's small form barrelled towards him, pushing him into
the
corner. She was sayign his name over and over, trying to say
something. Finally she grabbed his chin and forced him to look at
her.
"Fox. Fox, she's alive."
Silence. He stared back at her, not understanding what she had
just
said.
Maggie Scully smiled up at him. "She's alive," she said
softly.
"Dana's alive."
Silence hung among the three people in the stairwell. And then
Mulder slid down to the floor and started to cry.
**********************************************************************
*
One week later
Mulder had recieved the call early in the morning, but waited
untill
the night to come. He knew that everyone would be there as soon
as
they heard, crowding around and wearing her out. It was better to
wait.
The hall was relatively empty. Everything had quieted down since
the
hysteria of a week ago. Mulder's footsteps sounded loud in his
ears
as he made his way down the hall.
The door to her room opened easily, and he peeked inside. Flowers
were everywhere, obscuring his veiw of her face. He moved inside,
and
then saw her. She was asleep, eyelids fluttering as she dreamed.
No tubes. No beeps besides the steady drip of the IV. Her cheeks
had
regained some color, though she was still pale and had circles
under
her eyes.
Mulder sat down beside Scully's bed, watching her as she slept.
His
fingers itched with the need to touch her, to reassure himself
that
she was real. Alive. With one hand he gently touched her cheek,
then
let his finger drift around her lips. He almost expected them to
curve into a smile at his touch. She shifted a bit in her sleep,
but
did not waken.
Sitting there, staring at Scully, Mulder remembered the madness
and
the torture that had accompanied her illness. He had descended
into
his own personal hell.
Life was too short to hide true feelings. It denied happiness,
whether the feelings were returned or not. Life was just too
short.
Suddenly he didn't care about is job. About the FBI. About the
virtual consequences of what could happen. All that mattered was
that
he had come this close to losing Scully, and learned that she was
as
vital to his survival as the air that he breathed and the food
that
he ate. Mulder leaned down and kissed her ever so gently on the
lips.
She awoke then, opening her eyes and expelling light butterfly
kisses against his face. One of her hands fluttered up and rested
against his cheek, then around and ended up pressing her palm
against
the hape of his neck, kissing his back. The kiss was light, but
expressive just the same. It made Mulder a little dizzy.
After a few moments Mulder pulled away and found himself staring
into her blue eyes, still a little light headed after what had
just
transpired. His breath floated over her face, silky and
reassuring.
Scully blinked the rest of the sleep out of her eyes. He caught
one
of her hands and held it between them, massaging it lightly.
Softly,
"Welcome back."
A light flush had tainted her white cheeks. She ran a finger
along
his jaw. "You too."
He caught her gaze and held it. She took the time to look him
over.
He was pale, though some of his color was returning. But his
eyes...
they were the eyes of someone that had been to hell and back,
only
now to be shown a glimpse of heaven.
She didn't remember much. She remembered calling him, then
darkness.
She remembered some pain, not much, but there just the same. She
remembered a light, dazzling and beckoning. But something made
her
resist. She remembered hearing her mother's voice, and Mulder's,
too,
whispering quiet words of love when he thought that she couldn't
hear.
She had been through some of it with him. She had witnessed
the
torment and the pain that he had felt. All of it. Emotions
flooded
and she was surprised to feel tears pressing against her eyes.
She
bit her lip hard, but a few escaped just the same. Mulder wiped
them
away gently. "Don't cry," he murmered. "What's
wrong?"
*Wrong?* She smiled, then shook her head lightly.
"Nothing."
They sat there for a long time, not saying anything. Eventually
Mulder layed his head down against her, enjoying the feel of her
fingers playing in his hair.
Scully could feel that he was drifting off. "Mulder?"
she whispered,
holding her breath.
"Mmm?" he could barely hear her, the things around him
were slowly
dissolving with sleep.
She shifted and pressed a kiss into his temple. "I love you
too."
As Mulder drifted to sleep he knew that the demons were gone. All
of
them. And they'd never be back.
END PART 3/3
E-MAIL ME!!
HyperTalia@aol.com