Beyond the Seeds

by Singing Violin

Back at work after Mulder's death, Scully is confronted with a difficult case.

Title: Beyond the Seeds
Author: Singing Violin
Rating: K
Spoilers: DeadAlive, Beyond the Sea, Irresistible, Three Words, Dreamland, Triangle, Orison, Existence
Keywords: Mid-ep DeadAlive. S/Sk/D friendship. M/S UST. ScullyAngst.
Summary: Back at work after Mulder's death, Scully is confronted with a difficult case.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I don't even want some of them (you can guess which ones).
Author's note: Thank you to Darken. She knows who she is and all she's done for me, probably better than I do, but mostly I'm referring to her edits :) The dream sequence is all hers, used with her permission. I'm not listing her as a coauthor because I wouldn't want anyone to blame her for anything of hers I changed, or anything of mine that they hate, and she's never seen the final version of this story so she hasn't had a chance to object to anything!
Archiving: Already archived in Gossamer under a different author name (Pearl) but that name was taken here so I got another one. Feel free to post anywhere.

As the small woman collapsed into his arms, the bald man circled his strong arms around her and gently rocked her. This caring gentleman could not assure her that everything would be okay. The man this woman loved, although she would never admit it, and possibly the father of her unborn child, although she would never admit that either, would not return this time. Even as he held her, she did not weep.

Scully did not notice the chill of the air, nor the warmth of the body pressed against her, supporting her still slight weight and ever so carefully moving with her, back and forth, back and forth. A numbness had crept over her and obscured her soul, much as the light snow covered the frozen ground. Only one word escaped her lips, halfway between a strangled cry and a sob, yet whispered sotto voce: "Mulder..."

Six feet underground, although not yet covered with the cold earth, which lay in a pile beside the fresh grave, the soul of the man whose name this woman mercilessly called ached knowing it could not, and would never again, answer her pleading cries.

One week later.
The office of Assistant Director Water Skinner.

"Sir, I have to work." Her eyes begged him to allow her this mercy.

"Agent Scully, I don't believe this is wise. You have your child to think of now."

Her eyes darkened with anger, berating him for mentioning her new frailty and using it against her. Her weakness was her concern, and hers only, and yet she had failed in hiding it, even from the very first. Why had she told this man who had as often put her in danger as saved her life, before she had even undeceived her own mother?

She had no answer for herself, but she had one for him. "Sir, please. I need this. It will help me to, to..." She did not wish, nor need, to finish her thought. He knew.

And, against his better judgment, he indulged her. "All right, Agent Scully, but you will not be allowed strenuous field work. I need your word that you will not be chasing suspects or participating in dangerous raids. You will let Agent Doggett watch your back at all times."

"So I may still participate in forensic studies, interrogations, and interviews, Sir?" She had visibly calmed, and there was gratitude in her blue orbs.

"Yes, Agent Scully. And one more thing." His voice was gruff.

"Sir?" Fear and anticipation.

"If you are having any problems, you will not hesitate to come directly to me, at any hour, in any situation, whether at work or at home." Feeling a need to reassert his authority, he added, "Is that clear, Agent Scully?"

Pure joy shone in her face. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." And with that, she turned on her heel and headed straight down to her well-loved basement office.

10 minutes later.
The X-Files office.

"Agent Scully, I didn't expect to see you back so soon." Agent Doggett could not hide his pleasure in her return, however; the office had felt quite empty while she'd been gone after the funeral.

"I couldn't leave you alone here for too long, Agent Doggett. I was worried about the state of Mul...the office."

Her weak attempt at humor, and her failure even to complete the thought without correcting her wording, did not go unnoticed. Doggett frowned, "You sure you're okay with coming back to work, Dana?"

His use of her first name did not go unnoticed either. She recalled one of the first times Mulder had attempted to call her by her first name, right after her father's death. She'd answered him, but he'd sensed that it had made her uncomfortable, and had quickly returned to his usual method of addressing her. She was momentarily amused by the similarity of this man to her former partner, how they had each attempted to use a more personal level of communication when concerned about her emotional well-being, and how both had miserably failed at achieving intimacy in that manner.

When had she become more comfortable being addressed by her last name? Was it the day she had walked into the X-Files office for the first time, and had that very name breathed into her hair by a tall, handsome, passionate man whose trust she was strangely eager to earn? Or had it come later, after that towering, strong partner of hers had saved her life a few times, and allowed her to save his, and still had not called her 'Dana' more than a handful of times?

She answered Doggett in the way in which she would have answered her former partner. "I'm fine." Then she regretted it; how many times had these simple words caused him pain? Immediately, she sought to define a different kind of relationship with this new friend. "I mean, I will be. Working will help to occupy me and, um, well..." She wasn't very good at this, sharing her feelings, but Doggett had already held her while she cried, and carried her away from danger when she was unable to walk, all within the first few weeks he'd known her. Most importantly, she didn't feel that he needed her to be strong for him. He wasn't the abused child who had grown into a brilliant albeit single-minded adult who still needed someone to hold him, protect him, and even lie for him.

Sure, Doggett had lost a son, but it had been as an adult; he was a grown man and was not likely to dissolve into tears over the body of a small girl or run off on some wild goose chase without informing anyone of his whereabouts. In the past, Scully had only seen this maturity and opportunity for support in her superiors and mentors, as she fell repeatedly for father-figures who she knew would take care of her. It was refreshing to have an equal whom she could trust with her weaknesses, especially since she knew this was going to be a tough time for her. Now, all she had to do was remember how to let him in.

"Agent Scully? You there?" Doggett was peering at her, noticing her distraction.

"Uh, yeah...umm, is that a case file in your hand, Doggett?" She smiled a little, embarrassed at having been caught daydreaming.

"In fact, it is." He raised an eyebrow, asking permission to go on. A slight tilt of her head instructed him to continue. "Six deaths in two weeks. Cause of death: unknown. But all six victims were found with pocketfuls of...get this...sunflower seeds."

Scully's breath caught in her throat. Doggett didn't know about Mulder and sunflower seeds.

Her discomfort was momentary, but it caught Doggett's eye. "Are you okay, Agent Scully? Do you want to sit down?"

"Yeah. Thanks." She sat. She would not reveal, even to this trusted partner, her real fears regarding this case. "What's the theory?"

"There's no evidence of forced entry or struggle in any of the cases. No suspects have been named. And there's no evidence that the seeds were poisoned, or out of the ordinary in any other way."

Scully forced herself to focus. "Do we have any bodies I can examine?"

"Funny you ask, Agent Scully. There's one waiting for you in forensics right now."

Later that day.
Autopsy bay.

The body of this six-foot-three, dark-haired man, weighing one hundred eighty pounds in extremis, reminded the forensic doctor of another, similar body, which she would never see again. Suddenly, it was Mulder on the table, and she was slicing into him, as he cried out in pain for her to stop. Quickly, Scully squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against the wall, silently willing the apparition to disappear as she attempted not to let fall the tears collecting behind her tight lids. When she reopened her eyes, the body was again that of the sixth victim, but the agent felt quite shaken by her vision. She wondered when she would stop seeing her former partner in every corner. Perhaps when she finally understood what he was trying to tell her each time he appeared.

Scully pondered this for a few minutes before realizing that she had better get back to the investigation or Doggett and Skinner would be on her back, either angry at her for her slugishness, or overly concerned, neither of which was a prospect she relished.

Luckily, she had no more episodes during the autopsy, but it did indeed prove interesting. It was clear from the investigation of the stomach contents that the victim had been eating the sunflower seeds, but no known poison was obviously evident. There were signs of alcoholism, such as minor cirrhosis of the liver, but it did not seem that this man had died of a related cause. She would have to wait for the bloodwork to come back from the lab to be certain, but she was not hopeful as to a quick answer there.

Late afternoon.
The X-Files office.

Agent Doggett stared with displeasure at the computer screen, which bathed him in a sickly greenish glow. "Agent Scully, come here for a second," he called.

Her face was weary and told of horrible misfortunes suffered in too short a time period for adequate recovery. "I was just about to go home, Agent Doggett." As tired as she was, however, her ever-insatiable curiosity would not subside. "What is it?"

"These six men were all in a support group for abusive husbands who wished to reform. It seems that several of them suffered from acoholism..."

Scully interrupted him, "Yes, that would be consistent with the autopsy results." Feeling self-conscious as he eyed her, she signaled for him to continue.

"...And from an email posted to the forum, I picked up that a recent suggestion was for them to find something to do instead of drinking, such as chewing on sunflower seeds."

It was all Scully could do to keep from imagining Mulder as an alcoholic, without the comfort of the seeds as an outlet for his pent-up emotions. She almost relayed the connection to Doggett, but quickly thought better of it, wanting to keep the details of Mulder's private existence from Doggett's seemingly unsympathetic eye.

"If nothing else turns up, I think we ought to question the support group leader, and possibly the wives as well. This may be a homicide."

Scully just nodded, lost in her own thoughts.

That night.
Mulder's apartment.

Since the funeral, Scully hadn't had the heart to arrange for his apartment to be sold. Part of her still couldn't believe that he wasn't just chasing some lead on a dubious tip, that he wouldn't be back without a word, allowing her to teasingly berate him for ditching her through her relief that he had returned safe and sound.

She still slept in his bed occasionally. She told herself she was visiting the fish, that she needed to feed them. One mollie had already been sacrificed to neglect. But really, she came here because, despite his absence, it made her feel safe.

Her stomach rumbled, and she was reminded that she was, as her mother kept reminding her, eating for two. She wondered whether anything edible was left in Mulder's kitchen, and walked towards that room with the intention of either finding something to eat or cleaning out the refrigerator. She had been slowly cleaning various parts of the apartment, when she felt inspired, ever since Mulder's disappearance. At first, she'd figured he would appreciate coming home to a clean apartment, but, as his safe return became less and less promising, and finally improbability became impossibility, she realized she was putting things in order for her own peace of mind and comfort for when she stayed here.

It was in his refrigerator that she saw them: several bags of Mulder's infamous seeds. No longer able to control herself, she closed the door and collapsed against it, sliding down to sit on the floor. Her head in her hands, she sobbed unabashedly for the first time since the funeral.

The next morning.
The X-Files office.

Doggett walked into the office holding a folder. "Agent Scully, I think we got something. All of the victims were consuming the same brand of seeds. Nabisfresh. Which, incidentally, is a subsidiary of Morley tobacco. Agent Scully?"

She looked up, visibly upset. "Excuse me, Agent Doggett." Quickly, she walked to the ladies' room and locked herself in a stall, leaning against the wall in an attempt to compose herself. Mulder used to love that brand. He claimed he only bought them because they were cheap, and she even discussed with him once the demerits of buying food made by a tobacco company. Why did he love these seeds so much, and why were they now killing people? Deep breaths. If Mulder were still alive, could they have killed him too? Count to ten. Could the tobacco beetles that had threatened Mulder's life less than a year ago have something to do with this? Calm down.

When she felt better, Scully exited the stall, washed her face, and left the bathroom. Looking down as she walked, she bumped straight into a large male body. Fighting the urge to cry out, she felt hands on her shoulders and looked up to see the Assistant Director staring down at her. "Agent Scully, are you okay? Doggett told me that you bolted out of the office."

"Sir, I'm fine." He winced, knowing full well that this meant not that she was actually fine, but just that she did not want to talk.

"I'm sorry, Dana, but against my better judgement I allowed you to come back to work extremely soon in light of our recent tragedy. I need to know that the stress of this case isn't going to cause harm to you or your baby."

She was fighting tears, and had no words with which to reassure the AD. He cupped her chin and lifted her face so that she would be forced to meet his eyes with her own, much in the way that Mulder had done years ago after the Pfaster case. The result was also similar, and Scully found herself sobbing against his shoulder in a very unprofessional show of emotion.

As he had done at the funeral, Skinner now held this woman again, rocking her back and forth, stroking her hair, and feeling responsible for her pain. Then, he spoke. "I want you to go home."

"No!" she cried, and drew back from him. "Doggett needs me on this case...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to..." Her eyes were as desperate as they were tearful.

"Scully, when was the last time you got a good night's sleep? Ate a proper meal? Spent a few relaxing hours not thinking about a case?" One of his hands was back on her shoulder, the other stroking her hair. She winced and stepped back, and his hands fell back down to his sides.

"I...I don't know, sir," she admitted, resigning herself to his overprotectiveness.

"Come to my office, Dana." His voice was quiet, intimate. "I can make sure you won't be disturbed if you want to lie down and nap for a while. Then, you can return to Agent Doggett, refreshed and calm, and help him with the case."

The proposition both frightened and reassured her, as she feared a relapse into her long-forgotten dependency upon older men who cared for her, but was grateful for that very care which she so urgently needed right now. "Okay," she whispered, and proceeded to follow him upstairs.

Half an hour later.
A.D. Skinner's office.

In her dream, they stood together, faces shadowed in the half-light of a rental car's twin beams. Mulder and she. Only Mulder wore another man's face, another man's clothes, another man's body...but she knew, with a certainty that seeped up from her inner being and pervaded her dream, giving it solidity: this was Mulder. And she knew that he was saying goodbye.

He'd never said goodbye in real life.

The dream was fuzzy. They said words, things she couldn't remember. She deliberately did not smile at one of his jokes. He touched her, somehow, but with the body that was not his, smiled at her with the face that belonged to another man, and peered into her thoughts with eyes that were the wrong color but still held the soul of her partner.

She turned away. Her vision blurred, but perhaps that was just the dream, fading. But no...he called her back, and in her dream it was his voice, saying her name in a way no one ever would again.

He handed her something, a handful of small objects that pricked her palm when she squeezed them, desperate to hold on to something of him.

Sunflower seeds.

She looked down at her hand, knowing what it held but needing to see just the same. Then, dreamlike, she raised her arm, turning it, letting that handful of Mulder fall...fall through the air, and it was a handful of soil, shimmering in the winter sunlight, taking her heart with it as it left her hand to soundlessly tumble into a cold grave in the midst of a barren, snow-covered landscape.

Panting, she sat up sharply and was disoriented for a few seconds before recalling that she had fallen asleep on Skinner's couch. Luckily, the Assistant Director was not at his desk, and Scully was thankful that she would not have to explain the nightmare to her overly-concerned boss.

Wiping sweat from her brow, she tried to recall the dream. She was sure Mulder was trying to tell her something. Mulder. She had to stop thinking about him, and trying to be like him. It would drive her nuts. She wondered briefly whether he knew how much he meant to her. She would never have a chance to tell him now, and she wished for just one moment so that she could tell him what was in her heart.

Five minutes later.
The X-Files Office.

Doggett scrutinized Scully as she returned, and she felt naked under his gaze. She sighed, and he responded, more gently than she expected, "Dana, you feeling any better?"

Now she was getting annoyed at the constant watchfulness of her coworker, and resorted to her usual method of dealing with such concern. "I'm fine, Agent Doggett. I think we should go question that group leader."

Doggett nodded, still unsure as to whether it was right to keep Scully on this case when she seemed to be having so much difficulty focusing. He didn't blame her for her unease; he himself had been unable to work for several months following the death of his son. However, Skinner had ordered him to indulge her by letting her work, and Doggett, unlike his predecessor in the X-Files office, was never one to flaunt the orders, or even wishes, of his superiors. That is, until he was faced with Deputy Director Alvin Kersh. However, Skinner he respected, and trusted with Scully's well-being, seeing as how the Assistant Director had known both her and Mulder for many years.

Two hours later.
A clinic outside of Washington, D.C.

The group leader was a Native American man, in his sixties. His hair was worn in long, gray braids that reached to the middle of his back. He was tall, and his eyes shone with the wisdom of a thousand years of oral tradition and holistic medicine. He sat at an antique desk, with Scully and Doggett side by side facing him.

"I myself struggled with alcoholism in my youth, Agent Scully. It is a weakness my people did not know until the White Man came to take our land and give us disease and liquor," he stated, surprisingly with only sadness, not anger. "It is comforting to know that the White Man also has suffered from his own blight, but no suffering is condoned by the gods. It is my calling to help these men, even though their sickness is of their own making."

"Sir," Scully started, wanting to get straight to the point, so that she could go home and rest, "do you know anything about the company Nabisfresh?"

"Why no, Agent Scully. Why do you ask?"

"These six men," she pulled out a set of pictures, "were found dead in the last two weeks, all having reportedly consumed Nabisfresh sunflower seeds."

The old man's face blanched. "Keani..." he whispered.

Scully looked at him inquiringly. "Sir? What is Keani?"

"It is a myth, Agent Scully. It did not come to mind until now."

Scully implored him to go on.

"Keani was the daughter of Kitra, the Goddess of love, and Sundi, the most handsome mortal in the land, who was also given the curse of anger by the jealous God of Fire, who claimed Kitra as his wife. Naturally, Keani was very beautiful and coveted by many men.

"However, Keani's father would not allow her to choose her future husband. Instead, she went to the highest bidder, and unhappily married a man who treated her as his property and nothing more.

"Meanwhile, she fell in love with a poor farmer's boy, and became pregnant with her lover's baby. When her husband found out, he beat her until she lay bleeding to death on the cold hard ground.

"With her last bit of strength, she crawled into her mother's temple and asked for assistance. Her mother, taking pity upon the child, turned her into a tall, elegant flower, as beautiful as the girl had been. The flower was fated to always follow the sun during the day, in hope of a brighter future, but to look down in shame during the night, to commemorate the time when Keani was forced to lie with a man who brutalized her. Keani's unborn child was turned into edible seeds that were borne from the face of the flower.

"The magical fruit would allow Keani to pass romantic wisdom to any soul who chose to eat of her seed. However, to avenge her death, there was also a curse associated with this activity: if a man who had abused or taken for granted a lover ate from this flower, he would die quickly, so as to spare his wife or any future lovers any more pain."

"We need to find that flower," Scully mumbled to herself. She thought about what Mulder might have been trying to tell her in her dream, and that perhaps Keani could tell her whether he knew what she had always intended to tell him, but had never quite been able to say before it was too late.

Ignoring the illogic of it all, she let herself give in, for once, to hope: the hope that Mulder was trying to tell her that he knew what she had never told him.

At that moment, Doggett rose. Bending down, he whispered to Scully that he thought they had enough for an arrest. The red-haired agent was not so sure, but she did not want to argue with him in front of their suspect. "Could you please stay here, Sir?" she implored. "I need to have a chat with my partner."

As she got up to leave, the aged man put his hand on hers, stopping her. "You want to eat of Keani's fruit. You want to know something about the man whose child you bear."

Scully gasped, and glanced down at her still relatively-flat belly. "Oh no, don't worry Miss Scully. Your partner won't be able to tell. I know, because my father's fathers were medicine men."

One Week Later
Federal Prison, Washington D.C.

Scully glared at the wizened old man, silently accusing him with her eyes not of the crime for which he had been placed behind bars, but of the crime of taking the blame for deaths that were not his doing. In the bottom of her heart, she knew it was easier this way, for the authorities would never believe that a former goddess turned flower was the actual culprit, but she longed for the wisdom she believed she would gain if only this man could lead her to the tall plant that knew what hid in Mulder's heart.

"Why did you confess?" she asked. "I know you are innocent."

"It is my fault, Miss Scully. I should have known..." His voice trailed off with a heaviness of emotion that could only come from ruminating about a tragedy and incorporating the guilt for the death of one's fellow man into one's own being.

"It is not your fault. You didn't intend for them to eat Keani's seed."

"Can I be sure of that, Miss Scully? Would the court believe it?" he asked, knowingly.

"No," Scully admitted, "the courts wouldn't believe it. But I know you are innocent. How can I live with the guilt of knowing I put an innocent man behind bars?"

"You've done it before, Miss Scully," the old man replied. "And you have killed the guilty, even though he was unarmed."

"I might still be able to find evidence in your favor, if I can just find that flower."

The wise man chuckled then, and looked into Scully's eyes, which burned with the passion of one who wants only to do what is right, but cannot figure out how. "You will not find that flower now," he said simply.

It was true; the company had recalled the remaining seeds, and someone had broken into the X-Files office to retrieve the few she had saved out of the pocket of the sixth victim. The data still existed for those that had been sent to the lab, but no anomalies had been found. For all she knew, the field in which this treasured flower grew was being burned, the legend and the magic being sanitized from the world forever.

"I have to try," she said, reaching.

He shook his head. "You already have the knowledge you seek, Dana. And I...I am old. You need not worry about my welfare."

Later that day.
The X-Files office.

Doggett noticed the dejected look on Scully's face as she sat, reviewing the file hopelessly as she attempted to write a report. "Are you sure you don't want me to do that, Agent Scully?" he asked. "You look tired."

She glared at him for thinking her weak. Her gaze spoke of a lingering thread of mistrust that would always separate them where she and Mulder had been joined completely. He sighed, knowing he would not be able to convince her.

"You still think he's innocent," Doggett stated. It was not a question, and she did not answer. She did not even look up.

But she spoke one sentence that nearly broke his heart. "I just wanted to know whether he knew how much I..." She didn't need to finish the sentence. Doggett knew. Yet he felt compelled to push forward.

"And you found out?" he asked.

"I knew all along. Of course he did."

Doggett questioned her with a raised eyebrow.

"He was my partner. It was his job."

She did not weep as she finished the report and closed her laptop. Brushing past her partner without a word, she headed for Mulder's apartment, knowing for certain for the first time that the man who was her everything would want her to be there, because he knew how she felt.

No flower needed to tell her why this place was, and would always remain, her sanctuary. And once in his bed, she fell asleep, and dreamed happy dreams of Mulder, herself, and a beautiful baby, who slept in his father's arms as the handsome man leaned down and kissed his child's mother with all the passion of one who knows not only how much he loves this sweet and beautiful woman, but how much he is loved by her.

END