TITLE: The Mercy from Belief (many parts/total not sure yet)
BY: nychen
EMAIL: xfiles@nychen.com
WEBSITE: http://nychen.com/xf
CATEGORY: Vignette (Angst, Story, Torture, UST, MSR)
RATING: R-violence, profane language, etc.
SUMMARY: In the darkness of night, Agent Scully is taken deep into the netherworlds of the Conspiracy. Agent Mulder chases after the suspected shadowmen hoping to save his partner from an unknown future.
KEYWORDS: Just read…
SPOILERS: Everything takes place around Season Four, before Season Five and the movie.
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters herein are the property of Chris Carter, 1013, The X-Files, and FOX. No infringement is intended, only mere praise and admiration, and obsession and idolization.
ARCHIVING: V, A, S, R. This may be posted as long as this story remains as is and my name is attached as author.
WEBSITE: http://nychen.com/xf
WRITTEN: 12.23.96
UPDATED: 03.07.02
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[ The Mercy from Belief // Part 1 START ]
Dana Scully's apartment
October 5, Friday
3:17am
Smoke. That was the first thing registering in Scully's mind. It was dense, yet it filled her lungs. It burned her throat as she breathed it in. The bitter taste gradually awakening her from an uneasy sleep. She could taste the nicotine on her tongue.
She hadn't cooked in a week. She didn't smoke.
And then, she realized who was in the room.
He had his cigarette tucked casually inbetween the fingers on his right hand. He inhaled and exhaled the smoke leisurely; the smoke a part of him as much as he was a part of it. He watched the female agent as she tossed and turned in her king-size bed.
He loved watching her.
It was not only his job, but it was his obsession. It had become a pure enjoyment for him. He desired and lived upon. He was such a sadist.
He had always teased himself about her golden-red hair, and how it made her look, not unlike Goldilocks---he and his men as the three bears. Fierce bears that cautiously and constantly observed her. They surveyed every move she made, whether she be at work, Agent Mulder's apartment, her mother's, or even her home. He was there with her in public and private locations.
He had grown fond her Agent Scully. Since their first meeting years ago, he had almost thought of her as his niece. Someone to observe who was in his family, but there was no bloodline that linked her to him; so she could, and would be sacrificed anytime he chooses to do so.
Her incessant tossing and turning bored him now. The ashes fell to the ground and burnt their foul smell into the carpet. He glared at the agent's face; a pale glow in the dim moonlight from her bedroom window. Her body still shifting back and forth; he could tell she was dreaming. Having nightmares of her own unconscious being; the nightmares that were caused by none other than himself.
He couldn't deny the growing smirk on his face when he, at last, heard Agent Scully cough. He had stood there waiting at her bedpost for half an hour. His "men in black" were with him as he calmly smoked his cigarette in unruffled patience. Cancerman took another drag of his cigarette and motioned to the two men standing beside him.
The two MIB exhibited no facial expressions as they closed in on ; they just stood still waiting.
Waiting.
Scully warily opened her eyes when suddenly she knew; she expected her life to change immediately then. She quickly observed the fact that there were two looming figures standing beside her bed; hovering over her like monsters, like the devil's own. They closed in on her and she felt claustrophobic. Her eyes darted left and right, and in front of her stood her premonition of a ghastly death - Cancerman.
The window let in moonlight that shone on the men's faces, revealing heavyset eyes that seemed to bore into her skin as they stared back at her. The two arms that grabbed Scully from each side of the bed gripped her with fingers of harmful intent. Without much force, the two men were able to drag the agent out of her bed, to stand barefoot on the floor. Scully fought as much as she could, but the past few weeks worth of chemotherapy had worn her body strength thin.
And the two men took advantage of that. The Cancerman knew of her weakened state; that was the reason he was here.
"Well, my dear Agent Scully…We always do meet under unusual circumstances." Cancerman said, breathing another wisp of his cigarette as he sat down on her bed. He shifted his weight and made himself comfortable; he purposely invaded the female agent's space. He knew this agitated her, made her angry and apprehensive.
He could tell by the expression on her face.
"You bastard! What business do you have here?" Scully demanded, struggling against the tight hold she was in. Her silk pajamas were of no protection against the cold air she was feeling now. The taller MIB positioned himself behind her, shoving her elbows inwards together so that her back arched and her shoulders pulled at her chest. This awkward stance caused throbbing in her arms, which released itself in the form of a barely audible groan to slip from Scully's throat.
The smoke blew out from the Cancerman's mouth. He gave a little smile from the edge of his mouth.
"I'm here to catch up with you. I see you've been busy." The cigarette in his hand pointed to her dresser top. On it were a pile of files; folders and papers all stacked up alongside a couple of books. On the floor was a black videotape.
Cancerman motioned to the second MIB who quickly walked over to the dresser, bent down and picked up the tape. In one swift motion, the MIB walked towards the bed and handed the tape to Cancerman.
"What…exactly are you working on, Agent Scully?" Cancerman questioned. He waved the tape in the air, then brought it closer to his face to get a good look at it.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't you?"
"Besides, you should know, you son of a bitch! You're on that tape." Scully accused the smoking man in front of her. The man holding her gave her a hard shove in the back, increasing the pressure on her arms. Scully clamped her jaws shut as the pain shot through her shoulders, and she heard a small pop.
"Disrespect only earns you punishment, Dana." The Cancerman said motioning his free hand to the second MIB.
Before Scully could utter another word, the second man stepped in front of her and backhanded her across the face. The air broke with a scream as Scully received another heavy blow to her face. The slaps stung the left side of her cheek, crushing the strength inside her. She let slip a whispered whimper, and hung limply now in the tall man's arm.
"Next time, not the face," Cancerman warned. "Now, maybe you can tell me where you got this videotape?"
The throbbing in her arms now emitted from her shoulders up to her neck and face. The blows had surprised her, and knocked the wind from her. She gasped to regain her thoughts. She kept silent as she made the effort to stand up. She would not be beaten down so easily.
"This tape, where did you get it? I will not ask again, Dana."
"Sc-Scully," her name croaked from her throat. She was half standing straight now, half bent over as the tall man behind her still held her up by her arms. "I told you already, I don't know where – "
Cancerman threw the tape on the floor. It came crashing down against the hardwood floor and slid to stop at the female agent's bare feet.
At the sudden noise, Scully jerked back but the grip on her arm tightened around her, squeezing the skin all the way to the bone. She would have bruises there.
The female agent and smoking man stared at each other for a brief moment; the hatred brewing between them.
"That's not the answer I want to hear." The voice was calm and almost fatherly. His actions definitely caught her attention.
This time the pain came fast and even more agonizing. First, it was a knee to the stomach, then an elbow to her back, then the rest of the pummeling became a difficult blur as Scully collapsed to the floor moaning in pain. The two MIB towered over the female agent on the floor: one was kneeling on the floor next to her, his gloved fists pounding into her ribs; the other standing as he teasingly kicked the woman below the waist.
And just as quick as the assault started, it came to a complete stop.
The standing MIB took several steps and backed away from the crumpled woman on the floor, while the one kneeling grabbed the agent's hair and pulled it up to face the smoking man.
The room was spinning and spinning in her head. Intense pain slowly dulled to aching throbs all over Scully's body. She moaned quietly, trying not to be heard by her captors but the sounds seemed to escape without her control. The light around her appeared out of focus, almost like a white fog she couldn't see through. The figure closest to her caused the most pain; his fingers entangled in her hair, pulling tenderly at her scalp. Her head felt like exploding at the words that seemed incomprehensible to her at the moment.
She almost forgot where she was.
The rough voice spoke again, clearing the deadening silence in the room. Cancerman lifted his cigarette with one hand, pointing it at the woman in front of him. With his other hand, he lightly stroked the bedspread, feeling the soft textures with his fingers. It was warm to the touch.
"It doesn't have to be this way, Agent Scully. I don't enjoy it as much as you think I do."
He paused, taking a sigh to make sure she was following along, listening to his every word.
"This case, you're on…you and Mulder have been warned not to pursue it. Yet every time I warn you two, give you advice…Mulder convinces you to pursue it. I know you have a mind of your own. Try to use it sometime."
"You bastard. Leave Mulder out of th-this!" Her ineffective words slithered out like sandpaper on glass. It took a lot her leftover energy just to keep her attention focused. She wasn't sure she would have enough energy to fight off unconsciousness.
"Don't worry about Fox Mulder. Tonight is all about you. If I cannot convince you to tell me how you got the tape, I'll just have to pry it out of you, won't I?"
The last words echoed in Scully's head. She could see the videotape from the corner of her eye in the dark. She had only viewed it a couple of times, but still was not sure what Cancerman had seen that was so threatening to him that he was threatening her.
"Wh-What are you saying?" She said almost stuttering. Her body still hurt and ached as the cool air was seeping into her pajamas now.
"Again, that's why I'm here. I didn't just come for the tape, Agent Scully," Cancerman's face etched a wide smile on his face; the smoke bellowing from his lips. "I came for you."
By the time the truth shocked her brain, Scully was already being pressed facedown on the floor. She felt hands holding both her shoulders down, and another knee on her back. The man holding Scully's hair let go as she turned her head at the familiar sound of handcuffs jingling in the air. Just as the metal cuffs tightened securely around her wrists, the agent felt another hand grab hold of her golden-red hair.
The hands of Cancerman brought the videotape next to her face.
"Mulder won't be seeing this again. Nor will he see you again, if I get my way."
He pulled at the agent's hair, her neck straining backwards at the threat.
Suddenly her face collided with the floor with a thud. Next a groan and then a small voice pleading into the night.
"Nooo…Mul…der…"
The unconsciousness finally dragged her into the darkness.
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FBI Building, X-Files
October 8, Monday
9:00am
One day. It had only been one day since she was not here. He hadn't known why, but she had recently mentioned wanting to take some time off. She indicated that she needed to be alone, to be herself, to be. He didn't want to intrude into her space, but give her time to think. He felt she hadn't had time to think, at least not enough about her life, her family, her job, herself - her abduction.
He knew she openly denied the possibility of her abduction - of any such thinking. She believed in science, and an alien abduction did not sound rationale; it did not sound probable. She did not believe in an alien government conspiracy either; no, but she did believe in government organizations that were hidden from and unknown by the public, but not to the point of extreme, not a conspiracy.
Mulder knew Scully. Or he thought he did. But deep inside, he knew otherwise. He only knew her exterior - what she appeared to be. Her stone-faced expressions, her seriousness, her "arched" eye, her look of disbelief. He knew Scully lived upon control. She had to depend on only herself - and him. She was very conscious of her feelings, if she had them at all these day. He knew she despised having to show herself; opening up and being emotional was a sign of weakness to her. She must've learned that from her father. The Navy environment must've been hard to live in. It must've affected her every move, every thought, every decision in her life - especially the one to become an FBI. Her choices were difficult to decide on, and Scully chose to keep to herself, to keep quiet, to be alone.
He knew about loneliness. He was often alone, but not like he thought Scully made herself. He did not choose to be alone, it just happened. He had dedicated his life, did and still dedicates his life to finding the truth. With determination and love, he dedicated himself. This was his destiny, his fate, his reality. He may have wanted a woman; he did - and she appeared to him.
She was Scully.
He loved her. He found her attraction not only in appearance, but also in intelligence. She showed the same determination and love he had, except that her dedication was to science, and sometimes faith. She longed for the truth as well, but her truth was based on religion, on herself. His truth and her truth may be found in the same place, same life, same. Their truth was the same.
But they never felt thought the same way.
Something always seemed to stand in the way of their truth. He had tried to track down what it was that stood in their way so much of the time, but he never really found what it was. Not until he realized that the only things left to stand in their way were each other.
It had been a long weekend this month.
He hadn't much to do except go to the local bar and sit and drink. He'd spent more than $200 in two nights. He almost laughed out loud at the expenses he had: alcohol and porn. He hadn't always been so selfish, but ever since the X-Files had him locked in the basement, he had started up strange hobbies.
It was probably being alone all the time. Bad habits formed only when no one was looking. And before Scully, no one really paid any attention to him or his work. Sure, he had managed to piss off some other FBI agents and local law enforcements by showing up uninvited to their cases, but now he was proud to enter a roomful of authority and have Scully stand by his side.
She backed him up no matter his wild ideas and theories. She was there to support him even if he wasn't really there himself sometimes. He was proud to have Scully as his partner. More than his partner. She had become such a close friend and companion that on the weekends, he truly missed their verbal battles.
He always looked forward to coming back to the office.
But today, his perfect timing on entering the room whenever Scully was drinking her morning coffee turned up fruitless. He opened the door and smiled into an empty room.
She wasn't there.
He'd been too early probably. He never consciously knew he drove like a madman just to reach the office in time to see her face. One smile in the morning would last him all day.
Today would be no different. He was early and instead of panicking like the usual craziness he was in, he decided to just calmly wait for her to appear.
He looked at his watch again.
Mulder sat at his chair in the basement. His office, his life.
Clutters of paper were strewn everywhere. How in the world did he even manage to find case files? He ran a finger along the top of his monitor, then lifted the dust-covered finger to his mouth and blew. The dust particles flew everywhere.
"I definitely need a secretary!" Mulder said to himself. Careless thoughts of a sexy, voluptuous woman dressed in black and white cleaning his room entered his head. He smiled to himself, grinning into the air as he cleaned off his desk.
Mulder grabbed a pile of folders in front of his computer and shoved them to the edge of this desk. He heard something hit the floor as he rolled his chair out from behind the desk to see what it was.
On the floor was a bulky manila envelope.
The wheels on the chair squeaked as it came to a stop, and Mulder instinctly looked around the room.
"What the – " He muttered to himself. He was pretty sure he arrived before Scully did, so she couldn't have dropped off this package. He picked up the package and stood up to walk to the door. He poked his head out and looked around; seeing no one, Mulder turned and squeezed the package in his hand, trying to feel what could be inside.
Without further delay, he ripped open the envelope and dumped out the contents into his hand.
A black videotape.
Something inside his stomach turned flips and his mouth suddenly felt dry.
He walked over to the TV and VCR; he turned both on with a touch of a button. The tape in his right hand shook slightly as he slowly slid it into the player.
Mulder closed his eyes for a second and breathed deeply before pressing the PLAY button.
[ The Mercy from Belief // Part 1 END ]
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[ The Mercy from Belief // Part 2 START ]
Unknown location
Unknown time
The visions of dark swirl around me. I can almost see clearly through the darkness. But something keeps me from seeing entirely. Something evil.
Something I fear more now than death itself.
"Mm-Mul-der?"
I almost laugh at my own raspy voice. Can anyone actually hear me? Or understand me? Am I alone? I need help. That is the only thing I know. So I take another deep breath, ignoring the searing pain in my lungs and ribs, I try to call out.
"Muul-der? Please..."
I hear nothing else. Just my voice. Silent and alone. I close my eyes and try to take control of the pain and aches ripping through my head. The pounding. It won't stop.
I shift my eyes around the dark emptiness enclosing me. I cannot tell where I am.
I close my eyes for a few seconds, or minutes. I do not know how time is measured where I am. The last thing I remember is the smell.
Smoke. It all began with smoke. That Cancerman bastard entering my bedroom at the middle of the night. He took the videotape. The videotape was the only evidence Mulder had; he gave it to me to view and keep safe.
So much for safe. I don't even know where I am.
I can still feel the pain the Cancerman and his men inflicted on me.
I feel a slight wind blow into the air and I shiver. My body reacts indefinitely with goose bumps. Another devilish sign of where I am and where I'm going.
I can almost feel the bruises forming on my body, all along my arms and back. Probably even one on my face. The chill in the air cools my body temperature to an uncomfortable degree to which I shiver and chatter my teeth.
I gather my strengths to sit up, but I'm unable to. Something catches me and holds me down at my chest. I try to lift my head, but I can feel the dizziness swirling like a tornado inside and decide against it. I tug at my wrists and feet, but I'm rewarded with restrains holding me down.
As the cool air continues to blow across me, I can feel my skin crawl. It is almost an alien feeling, unable to move as I experience growing panic inside my thoughts. It is still dark as I stare into the air, maybe looking at the ceiling, but I'm unsure as I cannot see the end of where I started looking.
My body becomes weary as I just lay in thin air; my thoughts are empty and tragic.
I soothe myself to sleep with the hopes of Mulder coming soon.
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Unknown location
Unknown time
I am startled awake by a sudden noise close by.
I peer my eyes into the glowing darkness. I hear a door creak open and try to turn my head at the incoming noise. The details are blurry. They must have given me something to when I dozed off.
I have no idea what time it is. I wish I knew.
"I see you're awake. I'm glad. We can finally begin."
I am frightened. Frightened by the tone of the stranger's voice and the words he says. I direct my eyes and try to make eye contact, but to no success. The stranger continues to walk around my body, around and around the table. My eyes try to follow, but soon, I am dizzy from trying.
"She's ready. Prep her."
I open my mouth to speak, to protest the commands. But my mouth is dry, so dry. I can't seem to speak clearly. I speak, but I hear myself mumbling nonsense. I cannot understand myself, doubting anyone else can understand me. I panic at the thought. I need to communicate, if only I could think out loud.
The stranger pulls up something towards himself. His arm reaches out to it. I can see it; it's a some kind of metallic tray. As he pulls it closer besides him, I can hear the squeaking of the wheels. It frightens me. I feel paralyzed by fear and panic. The stranger calmly snaps on his latex gloves and sets the table's instruments in order. I can hear the clanging of the metal of the instruments against the metal of the tray. I see the stranger take hold of a syringe in one hand and a little bottle of liquid in the other. I gasp, wanting desperately to flee and hide. But I can't.
The stranger inserts the syringe needle into the bottle and extracts enough fluid to fill the needle. I watch, staring back and forth from the stranger's eyes to his hands. The syringe bubbles out the excess air, and the stranger grabs a hold of my restrained lower arm. I can feel my arm tightening in his grasp; his thinly gloved fingers clutching the skin near my inner elbow. The heat from his hand transfers to my cold body, and I close my eyes as I sense the needlepoint insert into my vein.
My last thought is a plea to the stranger.
"Please...tell me what you want."
"Shh...it'll only take a minute for the effect. It won't hurt as much as you think it will."
"What did you give me?" I manage to say before feeling tingling sensations flow throughout my body.
"Something to calm you down. To keep you quiet and obedient."
"What d-does that mean?" I gasp at a sudden pain; my back arching in protest. "Th-the p-pain is...I-I need s-s-shmm...mm.."
I cry out for mercy, but I do not receive any. I shut my eyes more tightly together, trying to keep the tears of pain from forming. I can feel the muscles in my body, especially my chest, tighten so much I can hardly breathe correctly.
Like before, as soon as the pain comes, it goes away again.
"Jee-sus...whoo, wha was thah..?"
"I'll check back on you in a few minutes, Dana."
Again, I'm left in the darkness with myself and my thoughts.
I feel so abandoned.
So alone.
So afraid.
I give a final soft sigh, and let the drugs take over.
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Unknown location
Unknown time
"Lock her in Compartment Three."
"But, sir, that area is - "
"Just do it!"
"Yes, sir."
The man dressed in gray releases a barely conscious Scully from the metal table. He takes her by the shoulders and pulls her steady to sit up, then lifts her not so gently off the table to stand. Her legs dangle in the air until they settle on the ground. She moans and mumbles something. The man takes a pair of handcuffs from his belt and secures Scully's wrists together in front of her. She struggles slightly in her half-open surgical gown, and her body wavers side to side. The man catches her before she falls.
"Let's go."
"Hmmh? G-g-go where...?"
The man grabs the woman by the ends of her elbow and pushes her forward out of the room into a long hallway. The woman is barefoot. Her feet make a soft pitter-patter against the cold cement floor. Halfway down the hall, her feet begin to drag and she is seen shoved forcibly forward by the man dressed in gray.
"Where?" Scully mutters again, feeling the blood rush to her head. The bright lights in the hallways make her head pound and her eyes squint.
No answer. Just silence.
When they reach the end of the hallway, a gate opens up and both the woman and man enter a smaller glass window room. An elderly woman walks towards the man in gray, and both take Scully and walk her inside the small room.
The man pushes Scully further inside and waits by the door. As the elderly woman enters the small room, the man closes the frost-plated door behind him and utters something under his breath.
"Nowhere."
The man in gray turns around to face opposite the room and stares blankly at the white walls.
"Nowhere."
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Unknown location
Unknown time
I do not know what is happening. My surroundings confuse me.
I cannot remember how I happen to be in this room, with this woman. I can see in her eyes, something strange. Maybe it's the innocence of an elderly. I try to focus my attention as I hear something behind me. I turn around just as the door closes, and I stare blankly into the woman's eyes.
I open my mouth and I try to plead my innocence.
"I-I-I'm an Agent with..with th-the...uh," I stumble over my words.
I can't remember.
Something catches in my throat.
I realize it's my own fear.
The elderly woman stares back at me, straight into my eyes. A sudden slap falls across my face and the force of it slams me into the wall behind me. I gasp at the shock and feel my cheek. It is burning hot. I lean against the wall for support, but the woman grasps me by the waist and turns me around and presses my face against the wall. I try to resist, but something inside me refuses to move. I can feel her hand move along my body, slipping underneath the gown and caressing me along my belly as my mind boggles itself with what is happening.
"Wh-wha arya doin'?"
At the sound of my voice, the elderly snatches a handful of my hair and wraps it around her fingers, twisting it and pulling my head back. I can feel the harsh strain on my neck as the woman continues to caress my belly with one of her hands.
Her cold fingers run across my belly, moving circularly. Her motions cause my skin to heat up despite how cold I feel. I can feel her thick, calloused fingers continuing to rub my belly; her body pressed against mine, my body pressed against the wall. My arms ache as I strain against the handcuffs, helpless to stop the violation. My hands clawing at the walls, my fingers cold from pressing against them.
The elderly pulls back tighter on my hair and starts pushing her hand into my belly, hard and rhythmically. I begin to have trouble breathing from the pressure, and then I feel it. Nausea and an urge to heave. The pressure builds within, so much now, that my body slackens against the elderly, who holds me close up against her own body. With one last push of her hand into my stomach, I heave and cough.
At first, it's dry coughing...then something warm and ferric-tasting emerges from my throat. I cough and cough until the liquid boils through my stomach, out of my mouth. The redness of it splatters everywhere on the wall and floor. The remaining tastes flow along the creases of my mouth down my chin.
Weakened and unable to stand anymore, the elderly slowly sets me down in the corner of the room. She pats my back and lets go of my hair, letting the strands fall upon my face. I cower in the corner, arms around myself, and shivering in agony and horror.
I'm covered in sweat; my head feeling feverish. I blink at the walls, my vision trying to focus on the walls.
The red. Red is on the walls and my face. I gather the energy to wipe a shaky finger across my wet lips and bring the results close to my eyes to see.
At first all is just a red blur, then I see it clearly.
It's blood.
My blood.
Everywhere.
I shiver again, this time agony and horror aside, but with wholesome terror at what truths lie before me.
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Unknown location
Unknown time
Moments pass before the elderly woman steps across the room and backs away from the woman collapsed on the floor. The elderly heads to the frost-plated door and knocks a couple of times before it slides open.
A few words are whispered and the elderly woman slips out of the room leaving the woman on the floor still coughing. Left alone in the blank room, the younger woman continues to stare at the door, confused and weak. She struggles onto her knees, and crawls over to the bottom of the frost-plated door and knocks. She imitates the elderly woman's knock and raps twice on the door.
But the door doesn't open.
I gather myself up to kneel closer to the edge of the door, and knock again.
Nothing.
I wait for a while as I catch my breath and say a quick prayer for myself.
There is mumbling outside the door. I can hear it from where I am, and I try to listen with all my might pressing my left ear against the frost-plated door.
The voices mention something about treatment and dosages, but I'm not able to decipher the rest as the more words I listen to, the faster they are swirling inside my head and soon I'm nauseous again.
I almost fall backwards, but I'm able to balance myself in time flinging my arms high in the air.
Then I hear a click, and the door in front of me slides partially open.
I see several pairs of legs dressed in white and dark-colored pants. Before I get a chance to look up and see their faces, the frost-plated door slides shut with a soft thud, followed by a click.
"No, wait!" I exclaim, grasping at the door handle, but my fingers feel nothing there.
There is no door handle.
Still on my knees, I try to jam my fingers inbetween the small edging of the door frame. But I'm unable to budge the door open.
"Please…I-I don't belong here," I proclaim, hoping someone outside the door would hear me.
"No! Noooo!" I scream as the voice I hear inside my head isn't my mine.
"PLEASE! Let me out!"
I start banging at the door frantically with my palms, not caring about the contusions I'll have there.
But no one at the door answers me.
No one.
I don't know how long I am on my knees pleading before I finally settle to sit with my legs drawn up to my body. I hug them close to keep me feeling secure, feeling warm; and I start crying with tears sliding down my face. My hands clasping at my head, rubbing against my temples, trying to compel the demons from within out.
I'm left alone.
Except for the voice inside my head.
The one that isn't my own.
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Unknown location
Unknown time
The dreams I have are close within reach inside my head. I can see impossibly far into the desert and the mountains; it's like I'm a bird flying high past all the beautiful scenery and nothing can stop me. My wings are spread wide and I let the wind carry me smoothly across the cloudless skies. I breathe deeply the clean air, and I'm able to enjoy the short distance between my god and the earth.
Then in the blink of an eye, the bright sky turns black, clouds coming in with thunderstorm and lightning flashing before me. The sun disappears behind a dark shadow and I cannot see where I'm flying and like an airplane without a pilot, I crash into the mountain exploding into a million pieces.
I jerk awake as the pain in my head explodes behind my eyelids and realize it's all a dream.
A nightmare.
But I wake to something worse. Something I cannot wake from.
Reality.
I find myself on the floor of the same room I was left in with the elderly woman. I'm still alone. Still cold.
I wipe the sleep from my eyes, and yawn as I still have the handcuffs around my wrists; the skin around them have worn pink and some layers of skin have torn. I must have done it in my sleep. As peaceful as it seemed, it must've been pretty bad for me to wrestle in my cuffs.
I lick my lips, feeling the cracked skin along my mouth. I haven't had any water since yesterday's instance. I hope they are not going to let me die of thirst or hunger.
I hope they are not going to let me die.
I hope I will not let myself die in their hands.
I do not fear death so much as dying here, where no one cares.
And without Mulder by my side.
Or maybe it is better for me to die alone.
I would not bring such suffering to anyone else, but myself.
I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the awful thoughts. The room I'm in is still lined with bright lights along the ceiling. I don't know how I fell asleep. Usually I cannot fall asleep in such bright lights, but the events of yesterday exhausted me.
I have not the energy I thought I did coming in here.
I should be standing and fighting; demanding to be released.
If I'm in prison, at least I get one phone call.
Here, no one will let me talk to them without being reprimanded.
I will have to figure out a way to contact Mulder, before they quash all hopes of escape.
I will have to survive in here without Mulder.
I will have to.
-----------------------
Unknown location
Unknown time
They made me wait several hours in the empty white room.
White, except for the wall with my dried blood on it.
They made me beg to use the facilities, and then I still had to be supervised.
I was not released from the room until I was shackled on my feet; a small chain of barely six inches long dragged between my ankles. I was allowed to walk into a small bathroom stall and crouch at the toilet. They didn't even give me enough time to finish before one of the male orderlies dressed in gray pulled me up and shoved me along the wall into an enclosed 5x5 foot room.
I was barely steady on my feet again when two of them grabbed me and one of them pulled my gown off, exposing my naked skin for all to see. I yelled at them, and my hands tried to cover up my breasts and groin area. But there was no use as soon as I realized what was about to happen.
The powerful stream of cold water hit me straight in the stomach and knocked me over. I felt like I was drowning in the water, it was coming down so hard on me. I felt every drop pelt me like rubber bullets out of a cannon. I tried screaming but the rushing water muted the sound.
It didn't seem to stop until I was frozen in the corner of the shower stall, cowering again in the corner. I was shaking unbelievably, my hair was plastered to my face and my eyes were unable to open. I didn't want to move.
Two of the orderlies had to drag me from the wet floor, and lift me up before placing me on a prepared gurney. I tried struggling as much as I could, but the strength in me was gone. I could barely control my shivering.
I felt them strap the hard-clothe cuffs on my wrists, my ankles and another couple of straps wrap across my chest and waist. I didn't even remember I was still naked; I was too tired to notice.
I just hoped I could survive what they had prepared for me next.
-----------------------
Unknown location
Unknown time
The wind is blowing in my hair; cooling the room around me. Keeping me chilled.
Like in a refrigerator.
Like in a morgue.
My eyes flicker open to see shadow figures move around me. Every figure seems busy with something. I can hear sounds of metal clinking against metal. Those noises make me restless; I know those noises to be familiar in an isolated memory.
Memories I have tried to forget for many years. Memories I have tried to hide from myself. From others, from Mulder.
Now the memories flash back into my head from a secluded dark place, and that is exactly where I am.
A secluded dark place.
The shadow figures are not aliens. They are men. They are the conspirators who have taken so much from me that at times, I almost no longer miss what they have taken because I'm so lost on what I still have.
I close my eyes from the motions around me. I want to hide in my head, away from all the distractions.
I fight to stay calm and composed realizing whatever happens to me now is no longer under my control.
I'm still cuffed down to the gurney I'm laying on. I take a deep breath and reopen my eyes.
This time my sight blocked by a darker shadow figure, a man in a surgical mask.
He touches my face; his fingers pry my sleep-deprived eyes open and flashes something bright in them. He checks one eye, then the next without speaking to me. I hear him put down the flashlight and pick something else up.
He reaches out at me again, and I flinch.
He continues; his fingers pinch at my mouth and insert a Q-tip into my mouth. The cotton-swab brushes firmly against my gums and pulls out quickly, leaving me uncomfortable.
He makes me feel like I am not even there.
Like I'm just one of his million patients, without a name, without a face, without a worth to anyone.
Before I speak my lips quiver in shame, as next I feel him moving down my body to poke and prod at my inner most regions.
I feel his fingers push at my skin, making me so aware of my nudity.
Finally I gather the nerve to speak.
"You don't need to do this. Ple-please tell me what you're doing. I-I'm a doctor."
The fingers pause at inner thigh, and the man in the mask looks up at me.
His eyes are of a dark brown glare, deeply hypnotic as I stare back and feel his piercing look burn through me.
"I'm a different kind of doctor."
"Wh-what kind?"
He finishes up the examination and takes off his surgical gloves and throws them aside somewhere in the darkness I cannot see. He lowers his head close to my face.
I notice myself breathing faster now, almost afraid he will take a bite out of my face. I brace myself against the restraints for the answer.
"The kind that knows you must get out of here as soon as you can…The kind that will tell you, you cannot imagine the horrible things I've seen occur here – the horrible things I've done."
I was frightened now.
I was tense and scared of the truth this doctor was telling me.
He couldn't have been lying.
"Doctor!" I hear a familiar voice from the darkness call out; the doctor in front of me stands up straight and eyes me one last time. It's the look in his eyes that scare me.
"Doctor, we need to talk," the voice demands attention, and the doctor in front of me backs away and walks into the darkness to the voice calling him.
I turn my head up to get a good look at what is happening. I see the doctor walking off with another man in a suit, his arm on the doctor's shoulder.
I know that man in the suit.
He is the man who flatters you face to face, and when you turn your back, he is the one who stabs you. He is the man who kills your sister thinking it was you, and laughs at his silly mistake. He is the one you should fear most because he has nothing to lose, because he's already lost his arm.
He is Krycek.
"No! Don't go with him, doctor!" I scream out after the shadow figures that disappear behind a door before I can warn him. With my eyes on them, I didn't notice a new doctor approach me from the side until I felt the small prick of a needle in my neck.
Then it was already too late. I couldn't scream anymore; his gloved hand clamped over my mouth and pushed down hard. I could feel him pull the needle out of my neck, and I welcomed the familiar unconsciousness preferable to the upcoming unknown.
-----------------------
Unknown location
Unknown time
"How strong is she?"
"She's still lucid enough to fight the procedure. That makes it more difficult to extract the information, but I think we can do it."
"What about the second treatment?"
"I don't think that's necessary. I think we can give her a few dosages of the medication and –"
"No. I don't want to wait any longer. Proceed with the second treatment."
"But, Sir…I don't think it's necessary. I mean this will wear her – "
"Just do it! I want her weakened, in a state of hopelessness. Don't argue with me. I need that information."
"Yes, Sir."
The doctor stepped away, walking halfway down the hall before he turned the corner and coughed lightly.
"God, I can't stand him smoking in here." The doctor cleared his throat and headed towards the Bay 2 area. This was where the patients were kept before they went into the Chamber room.
Bay 2 was a quiet section of the facility. The overall purpose of Bay 2 was to acquaint the doctor with the patient; the doctor would personally be overseeing the patient for the next couple to three days. The doctor would examine the patient and prepare him/her for whatever was requested on the medical chart.
Today, the 50-ish year old doctor would be advising over the female agent that was brought in almost four days ago. He had had a chance to go over her charts earlier in the day; he was surprised at how unhealthy she really was. He had expected her to be in excellent health since he supposed government agents to be regulated and kept under tight restrictions of eating and exercising.
The chart he read revealed a different story. This female agent, Dana Katherine Scully, had undergone a lot of health problems. Not only had the chart recorded details of her life and habits, it documented information about every wound she suffered on her job and even every visit she made to hospitals.
And she did make a lot of visits. The medical file on his patient was quite thick; he couldn't imagine knowing more about her than she did herself.
The disheartening part about it all was that his patient had cancer, even underwent chemotherapy and radiation. He was glad to see that she wasn't too physically affected by the cancer, but could see that she was mentally affected in her job, her choices.
How else could she have ended up here?
He had been a practicing doctor for over 25 years now, and seen patients suffer from every kind of disease. To him, cancer was still the worst. It was the invasion in the body that made cancer so detestable; it could eat away at someone inside and no one would be the wiser. It was this secret disease that people feared the most; being abandoned by your body all the while trying to dress it up in pretty clothing and make-up.
The doctor sighed deeply; he was genuinely sorry for his patient.
She seemed to have such a bright future ahead of herself until she was caught up in this mess.
He was glad to be her doctor though; he genuinely wanted to help her.
And within the next few days and weeks, he would be doing just that.
The doctor continued walking now, nearing Bay 2 and his patient's quarters.
He had a smile on his face as he opened the door and entered her room.
He was excited.
-----------------------
Unknown location
Unknown time
I didn't know how long I had been out, but by the time I awoke, I felt almost relaxed.
Maybe it was what they gave me that put me out.
But the drugs were still in my system.
I was in a different room. I could tell by the lights above me.
My mouth felt dry. I had requested water and food hours before, but no one cared to give anything to me.
I was still strapped down; this time some additional care was taken to dress me in a gown.
I was thankful for that.
And that was the last time I would be thankful for a long time.
An overhead beam that shined parallel to where I was laying lighted the room; it was dark everywhere around me except on me. I hoped the doctors could see what they were doing, since I could barely see what they were doing.
Sometime when I was unconscious, an orderly must have put an IV in my arm since it dangled freely from a post beside my gurney. I also noticed my body had other medical devices attached to it: a blood pressure cuff was wrapped on my upper arm, EKG patches on my chest, a pulse monitor on my finger and something wrapped around my ankle.
I tried to sit up and look, but I felt someone push my forehead down to rest on the padding behind my head.
I queried inside my medical brain to see what scenario was about to take place.
I almost screamed as I realized what was about to happen to me.
"NOO! Please!" were the words they slipped out of my mouth first, the rest were screams of protest that echoed in the room. I thrashed against my bonds now, trying to free myself before I would no longer be able to.
"Please!!! I-I don't need this!" I insisted out loud. I turned looking at faces that blended together around me. None of which were understanding or hearing to me.
Someone neared me and I yanked my wrists, hoping to break the restraints and grab them. But I was unsuccessful. The face before me was hidden behind a surgical mask, like the others, and tried to hush me with her voice.
"Shhh…shhhh," was all she said over and over to me. I felt her fingers caressing my face, again trying to calm me. I looked into her eyes and could almost see regret. Her fingers gently touched my cheek and the side of my face.
Then I felt something cool touch near my scalp. Something I could smell.
It was rubbing alcohol.
I knew what was coming next.
I tried to tell her again. To beg her to stop all that was happening around me.
"Please don't do this."
But my words went unheeded.
Seconds later, I felt the electrodes being attached to my forehead and my right temple.
My lips were shaking now; I was truly scared. No more words came out of my mouth; they were all caught in my throat. My mind going blank as I prepared myself for pain.
During my studies in college, I had read reports of shock therapy and its effects, none of which I would ever want to experience. And yet here I was, moments away from experiencing it firsthand.
"Prep the patient with anesthesia, and then give her the muscle relaxant."
"Yes, doctor."
Those were the last words I heard before I fell asleep. I felt the fingers caressing my face slip away as felt the medications administered taking effect, and then I slowly lost the effort to fight it.
I slipped into an almost peaceful sleep.
Peaceful only because I did not know what happened while I was asleep.
[ The Mercy from Belief // Part 2 END ]
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-----------------------
[ The Mercy from Belief // Part 3 and 4 COMING ]
Please send feedback. Thank you!
BY: nychen
EMAIL: xfiles@nychen.com
WEBSITE: http://nychen.com/xf
CATEGORY: Vignette (Angst, Story, Torture, UST, MSR)
RATING: R-violence, profane language, etc.
SUMMARY: In the darkness of night, Agent Scully is taken deep into the netherworlds of the Conspiracy. Agent Mulder chases after the suspected shadowmen hoping to save his partner from an unknown future.
KEYWORDS: Just read…
SPOILERS: Everything takes place around Season Four, before Season Five and the movie.
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters herein are the property of Chris Carter, 1013, The X-Files, and FOX. No infringement is intended, only mere praise and admiration, and obsession and idolization.
ARCHIVING: V, A, S, R. This may be posted as long as this story remains as is and my name is attached as author.
WEBSITE: http://nychen.com/xf
WRITTEN: 12.23.96
UPDATED: 03.07.02
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-----------------------
[ The Mercy from Belief // Part 1 START ]
Dana Scully's apartment
October 5, Friday
3:17am
Smoke. That was the first thing registering in Scully's mind. It was dense, yet it filled her lungs. It burned her throat as she breathed it in. The bitter taste gradually awakening her from an uneasy sleep. She could taste the nicotine on her tongue.
She hadn't cooked in a week. She didn't smoke.
And then, she realized who was in the room.
He had his cigarette tucked casually inbetween the fingers on his right hand. He inhaled and exhaled the smoke leisurely; the smoke a part of him as much as he was a part of it. He watched the female agent as she tossed and turned in her king-size bed.
He loved watching her.
It was not only his job, but it was his obsession. It had become a pure enjoyment for him. He desired and lived upon. He was such a sadist.
He had always teased himself about her golden-red hair, and how it made her look, not unlike Goldilocks---he and his men as the three bears. Fierce bears that cautiously and constantly observed her. They surveyed every move she made, whether she be at work, Agent Mulder's apartment, her mother's, or even her home. He was there with her in public and private locations.
He had grown fond her Agent Scully. Since their first meeting years ago, he had almost thought of her as his niece. Someone to observe who was in his family, but there was no bloodline that linked her to him; so she could, and would be sacrificed anytime he chooses to do so.
Her incessant tossing and turning bored him now. The ashes fell to the ground and burnt their foul smell into the carpet. He glared at the agent's face; a pale glow in the dim moonlight from her bedroom window. Her body still shifting back and forth; he could tell she was dreaming. Having nightmares of her own unconscious being; the nightmares that were caused by none other than himself.
He couldn't deny the growing smirk on his face when he, at last, heard Agent Scully cough. He had stood there waiting at her bedpost for half an hour. His "men in black" were with him as he calmly smoked his cigarette in unruffled patience. Cancerman took another drag of his cigarette and motioned to the two men standing beside him.
The two MIB exhibited no facial expressions as they closed in on ; they just stood still waiting.
Waiting.
Scully warily opened her eyes when suddenly she knew; she expected her life to change immediately then. She quickly observed the fact that there were two looming figures standing beside her bed; hovering over her like monsters, like the devil's own. They closed in on her and she felt claustrophobic. Her eyes darted left and right, and in front of her stood her premonition of a ghastly death - Cancerman.
The window let in moonlight that shone on the men's faces, revealing heavyset eyes that seemed to bore into her skin as they stared back at her. The two arms that grabbed Scully from each side of the bed gripped her with fingers of harmful intent. Without much force, the two men were able to drag the agent out of her bed, to stand barefoot on the floor. Scully fought as much as she could, but the past few weeks worth of chemotherapy had worn her body strength thin.
And the two men took advantage of that. The Cancerman knew of her weakened state; that was the reason he was here.
"Well, my dear Agent Scully…We always do meet under unusual circumstances." Cancerman said, breathing another wisp of his cigarette as he sat down on her bed. He shifted his weight and made himself comfortable; he purposely invaded the female agent's space. He knew this agitated her, made her angry and apprehensive.
He could tell by the expression on her face.
"You bastard! What business do you have here?" Scully demanded, struggling against the tight hold she was in. Her silk pajamas were of no protection against the cold air she was feeling now. The taller MIB positioned himself behind her, shoving her elbows inwards together so that her back arched and her shoulders pulled at her chest. This awkward stance caused throbbing in her arms, which released itself in the form of a barely audible groan to slip from Scully's throat.
The smoke blew out from the Cancerman's mouth. He gave a little smile from the edge of his mouth.
"I'm here to catch up with you. I see you've been busy." The cigarette in his hand pointed to her dresser top. On it were a pile of files; folders and papers all stacked up alongside a couple of books. On the floor was a black videotape.
Cancerman motioned to the second MIB who quickly walked over to the dresser, bent down and picked up the tape. In one swift motion, the MIB walked towards the bed and handed the tape to Cancerman.
"What…exactly are you working on, Agent Scully?" Cancerman questioned. He waved the tape in the air, then brought it closer to his face to get a good look at it.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't you?"
"Besides, you should know, you son of a bitch! You're on that tape." Scully accused the smoking man in front of her. The man holding her gave her a hard shove in the back, increasing the pressure on her arms. Scully clamped her jaws shut as the pain shot through her shoulders, and she heard a small pop.
"Disrespect only earns you punishment, Dana." The Cancerman said motioning his free hand to the second MIB.
Before Scully could utter another word, the second man stepped in front of her and backhanded her across the face. The air broke with a scream as Scully received another heavy blow to her face. The slaps stung the left side of her cheek, crushing the strength inside her. She let slip a whispered whimper, and hung limply now in the tall man's arm.
"Next time, not the face," Cancerman warned. "Now, maybe you can tell me where you got this videotape?"
The throbbing in her arms now emitted from her shoulders up to her neck and face. The blows had surprised her, and knocked the wind from her. She gasped to regain her thoughts. She kept silent as she made the effort to stand up. She would not be beaten down so easily.
"This tape, where did you get it? I will not ask again, Dana."
"Sc-Scully," her name croaked from her throat. She was half standing straight now, half bent over as the tall man behind her still held her up by her arms. "I told you already, I don't know where – "
Cancerman threw the tape on the floor. It came crashing down against the hardwood floor and slid to stop at the female agent's bare feet.
At the sudden noise, Scully jerked back but the grip on her arm tightened around her, squeezing the skin all the way to the bone. She would have bruises there.
The female agent and smoking man stared at each other for a brief moment; the hatred brewing between them.
"That's not the answer I want to hear." The voice was calm and almost fatherly. His actions definitely caught her attention.
This time the pain came fast and even more agonizing. First, it was a knee to the stomach, then an elbow to her back, then the rest of the pummeling became a difficult blur as Scully collapsed to the floor moaning in pain. The two MIB towered over the female agent on the floor: one was kneeling on the floor next to her, his gloved fists pounding into her ribs; the other standing as he teasingly kicked the woman below the waist.
And just as quick as the assault started, it came to a complete stop.
The standing MIB took several steps and backed away from the crumpled woman on the floor, while the one kneeling grabbed the agent's hair and pulled it up to face the smoking man.
The room was spinning and spinning in her head. Intense pain slowly dulled to aching throbs all over Scully's body. She moaned quietly, trying not to be heard by her captors but the sounds seemed to escape without her control. The light around her appeared out of focus, almost like a white fog she couldn't see through. The figure closest to her caused the most pain; his fingers entangled in her hair, pulling tenderly at her scalp. Her head felt like exploding at the words that seemed incomprehensible to her at the moment.
She almost forgot where she was.
The rough voice spoke again, clearing the deadening silence in the room. Cancerman lifted his cigarette with one hand, pointing it at the woman in front of him. With his other hand, he lightly stroked the bedspread, feeling the soft textures with his fingers. It was warm to the touch.
"It doesn't have to be this way, Agent Scully. I don't enjoy it as much as you think I do."
He paused, taking a sigh to make sure she was following along, listening to his every word.
"This case, you're on…you and Mulder have been warned not to pursue it. Yet every time I warn you two, give you advice…Mulder convinces you to pursue it. I know you have a mind of your own. Try to use it sometime."
"You bastard. Leave Mulder out of th-this!" Her ineffective words slithered out like sandpaper on glass. It took a lot her leftover energy just to keep her attention focused. She wasn't sure she would have enough energy to fight off unconsciousness.
"Don't worry about Fox Mulder. Tonight is all about you. If I cannot convince you to tell me how you got the tape, I'll just have to pry it out of you, won't I?"
The last words echoed in Scully's head. She could see the videotape from the corner of her eye in the dark. She had only viewed it a couple of times, but still was not sure what Cancerman had seen that was so threatening to him that he was threatening her.
"Wh-What are you saying?" She said almost stuttering. Her body still hurt and ached as the cool air was seeping into her pajamas now.
"Again, that's why I'm here. I didn't just come for the tape, Agent Scully," Cancerman's face etched a wide smile on his face; the smoke bellowing from his lips. "I came for you."
By the time the truth shocked her brain, Scully was already being pressed facedown on the floor. She felt hands holding both her shoulders down, and another knee on her back. The man holding Scully's hair let go as she turned her head at the familiar sound of handcuffs jingling in the air. Just as the metal cuffs tightened securely around her wrists, the agent felt another hand grab hold of her golden-red hair.
The hands of Cancerman brought the videotape next to her face.
"Mulder won't be seeing this again. Nor will he see you again, if I get my way."
He pulled at the agent's hair, her neck straining backwards at the threat.
Suddenly her face collided with the floor with a thud. Next a groan and then a small voice pleading into the night.
"Nooo…Mul…der…"
The unconsciousness finally dragged her into the darkness.
---------------------
FBI Building, X-Files
October 8, Monday
9:00am
One day. It had only been one day since she was not here. He hadn't known why, but she had recently mentioned wanting to take some time off. She indicated that she needed to be alone, to be herself, to be. He didn't want to intrude into her space, but give her time to think. He felt she hadn't had time to think, at least not enough about her life, her family, her job, herself - her abduction.
He knew she openly denied the possibility of her abduction - of any such thinking. She believed in science, and an alien abduction did not sound rationale; it did not sound probable. She did not believe in an alien government conspiracy either; no, but she did believe in government organizations that were hidden from and unknown by the public, but not to the point of extreme, not a conspiracy.
Mulder knew Scully. Or he thought he did. But deep inside, he knew otherwise. He only knew her exterior - what she appeared to be. Her stone-faced expressions, her seriousness, her "arched" eye, her look of disbelief. He knew Scully lived upon control. She had to depend on only herself - and him. She was very conscious of her feelings, if she had them at all these day. He knew she despised having to show herself; opening up and being emotional was a sign of weakness to her. She must've learned that from her father. The Navy environment must've been hard to live in. It must've affected her every move, every thought, every decision in her life - especially the one to become an FBI. Her choices were difficult to decide on, and Scully chose to keep to herself, to keep quiet, to be alone.
He knew about loneliness. He was often alone, but not like he thought Scully made herself. He did not choose to be alone, it just happened. He had dedicated his life, did and still dedicates his life to finding the truth. With determination and love, he dedicated himself. This was his destiny, his fate, his reality. He may have wanted a woman; he did - and she appeared to him.
She was Scully.
He loved her. He found her attraction not only in appearance, but also in intelligence. She showed the same determination and love he had, except that her dedication was to science, and sometimes faith. She longed for the truth as well, but her truth was based on religion, on herself. His truth and her truth may be found in the same place, same life, same. Their truth was the same.
But they never felt thought the same way.
Something always seemed to stand in the way of their truth. He had tried to track down what it was that stood in their way so much of the time, but he never really found what it was. Not until he realized that the only things left to stand in their way were each other.
It had been a long weekend this month.
He hadn't much to do except go to the local bar and sit and drink. He'd spent more than $200 in two nights. He almost laughed out loud at the expenses he had: alcohol and porn. He hadn't always been so selfish, but ever since the X-Files had him locked in the basement, he had started up strange hobbies.
It was probably being alone all the time. Bad habits formed only when no one was looking. And before Scully, no one really paid any attention to him or his work. Sure, he had managed to piss off some other FBI agents and local law enforcements by showing up uninvited to their cases, but now he was proud to enter a roomful of authority and have Scully stand by his side.
She backed him up no matter his wild ideas and theories. She was there to support him even if he wasn't really there himself sometimes. He was proud to have Scully as his partner. More than his partner. She had become such a close friend and companion that on the weekends, he truly missed their verbal battles.
He always looked forward to coming back to the office.
But today, his perfect timing on entering the room whenever Scully was drinking her morning coffee turned up fruitless. He opened the door and smiled into an empty room.
She wasn't there.
He'd been too early probably. He never consciously knew he drove like a madman just to reach the office in time to see her face. One smile in the morning would last him all day.
Today would be no different. He was early and instead of panicking like the usual craziness he was in, he decided to just calmly wait for her to appear.
He looked at his watch again.
Mulder sat at his chair in the basement. His office, his life.
Clutters of paper were strewn everywhere. How in the world did he even manage to find case files? He ran a finger along the top of his monitor, then lifted the dust-covered finger to his mouth and blew. The dust particles flew everywhere.
"I definitely need a secretary!" Mulder said to himself. Careless thoughts of a sexy, voluptuous woman dressed in black and white cleaning his room entered his head. He smiled to himself, grinning into the air as he cleaned off his desk.
Mulder grabbed a pile of folders in front of his computer and shoved them to the edge of this desk. He heard something hit the floor as he rolled his chair out from behind the desk to see what it was.
On the floor was a bulky manila envelope.
The wheels on the chair squeaked as it came to a stop, and Mulder instinctly looked around the room.
"What the – " He muttered to himself. He was pretty sure he arrived before Scully did, so she couldn't have dropped off this package. He picked up the package and stood up to walk to the door. He poked his head out and looked around; seeing no one, Mulder turned and squeezed the package in his hand, trying to feel what could be inside.
Without further delay, he ripped open the envelope and dumped out the contents into his hand.
A black videotape.
Something inside his stomach turned flips and his mouth suddenly felt dry.
He walked over to the TV and VCR; he turned both on with a touch of a button. The tape in his right hand shook slightly as he slowly slid it into the player.
Mulder closed his eyes for a second and breathed deeply before pressing the PLAY button.
[ The Mercy from Belief // Part 1 END ]
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[ The Mercy from Belief // Part 2 START ]
Unknown location
Unknown time
The visions of dark swirl around me. I can almost see clearly through the darkness. But something keeps me from seeing entirely. Something evil.
Something I fear more now than death itself.
"Mm-Mul-der?"
I almost laugh at my own raspy voice. Can anyone actually hear me? Or understand me? Am I alone? I need help. That is the only thing I know. So I take another deep breath, ignoring the searing pain in my lungs and ribs, I try to call out.
"Muul-der? Please..."
I hear nothing else. Just my voice. Silent and alone. I close my eyes and try to take control of the pain and aches ripping through my head. The pounding. It won't stop.
I shift my eyes around the dark emptiness enclosing me. I cannot tell where I am.
I close my eyes for a few seconds, or minutes. I do not know how time is measured where I am. The last thing I remember is the smell.
Smoke. It all began with smoke. That Cancerman bastard entering my bedroom at the middle of the night. He took the videotape. The videotape was the only evidence Mulder had; he gave it to me to view and keep safe.
So much for safe. I don't even know where I am.
I can still feel the pain the Cancerman and his men inflicted on me.
I feel a slight wind blow into the air and I shiver. My body reacts indefinitely with goose bumps. Another devilish sign of where I am and where I'm going.
I can almost feel the bruises forming on my body, all along my arms and back. Probably even one on my face. The chill in the air cools my body temperature to an uncomfortable degree to which I shiver and chatter my teeth.
I gather my strengths to sit up, but I'm unable to. Something catches me and holds me down at my chest. I try to lift my head, but I can feel the dizziness swirling like a tornado inside and decide against it. I tug at my wrists and feet, but I'm rewarded with restrains holding me down.
As the cool air continues to blow across me, I can feel my skin crawl. It is almost an alien feeling, unable to move as I experience growing panic inside my thoughts. It is still dark as I stare into the air, maybe looking at the ceiling, but I'm unsure as I cannot see the end of where I started looking.
My body becomes weary as I just lay in thin air; my thoughts are empty and tragic.
I soothe myself to sleep with the hopes of Mulder coming soon.
-----------------------
Unknown location
Unknown time
I am startled awake by a sudden noise close by.
I peer my eyes into the glowing darkness. I hear a door creak open and try to turn my head at the incoming noise. The details are blurry. They must have given me something to when I dozed off.
I have no idea what time it is. I wish I knew.
"I see you're awake. I'm glad. We can finally begin."
I am frightened. Frightened by the tone of the stranger's voice and the words he says. I direct my eyes and try to make eye contact, but to no success. The stranger continues to walk around my body, around and around the table. My eyes try to follow, but soon, I am dizzy from trying.
"She's ready. Prep her."
I open my mouth to speak, to protest the commands. But my mouth is dry, so dry. I can't seem to speak clearly. I speak, but I hear myself mumbling nonsense. I cannot understand myself, doubting anyone else can understand me. I panic at the thought. I need to communicate, if only I could think out loud.
The stranger pulls up something towards himself. His arm reaches out to it. I can see it; it's a some kind of metallic tray. As he pulls it closer besides him, I can hear the squeaking of the wheels. It frightens me. I feel paralyzed by fear and panic. The stranger calmly snaps on his latex gloves and sets the table's instruments in order. I can hear the clanging of the metal of the instruments against the metal of the tray. I see the stranger take hold of a syringe in one hand and a little bottle of liquid in the other. I gasp, wanting desperately to flee and hide. But I can't.
The stranger inserts the syringe needle into the bottle and extracts enough fluid to fill the needle. I watch, staring back and forth from the stranger's eyes to his hands. The syringe bubbles out the excess air, and the stranger grabs a hold of my restrained lower arm. I can feel my arm tightening in his grasp; his thinly gloved fingers clutching the skin near my inner elbow. The heat from his hand transfers to my cold body, and I close my eyes as I sense the needlepoint insert into my vein.
My last thought is a plea to the stranger.
"Please...tell me what you want."
"Shh...it'll only take a minute for the effect. It won't hurt as much as you think it will."
"What did you give me?" I manage to say before feeling tingling sensations flow throughout my body.
"Something to calm you down. To keep you quiet and obedient."
"What d-does that mean?" I gasp at a sudden pain; my back arching in protest. "Th-the p-pain is...I-I need s-s-shmm...mm.."
I cry out for mercy, but I do not receive any. I shut my eyes more tightly together, trying to keep the tears of pain from forming. I can feel the muscles in my body, especially my chest, tighten so much I can hardly breathe correctly.
Like before, as soon as the pain comes, it goes away again.
"Jee-sus...whoo, wha was thah..?"
"I'll check back on you in a few minutes, Dana."
Again, I'm left in the darkness with myself and my thoughts.
I feel so abandoned.
So alone.
So afraid.
I give a final soft sigh, and let the drugs take over.
-----------------------
Unknown location
Unknown time
"Lock her in Compartment Three."
"But, sir, that area is - "
"Just do it!"
"Yes, sir."
The man dressed in gray releases a barely conscious Scully from the metal table. He takes her by the shoulders and pulls her steady to sit up, then lifts her not so gently off the table to stand. Her legs dangle in the air until they settle on the ground. She moans and mumbles something. The man takes a pair of handcuffs from his belt and secures Scully's wrists together in front of her. She struggles slightly in her half-open surgical gown, and her body wavers side to side. The man catches her before she falls.
"Let's go."
"Hmmh? G-g-go where...?"
The man grabs the woman by the ends of her elbow and pushes her forward out of the room into a long hallway. The woman is barefoot. Her feet make a soft pitter-patter against the cold cement floor. Halfway down the hall, her feet begin to drag and she is seen shoved forcibly forward by the man dressed in gray.
"Where?" Scully mutters again, feeling the blood rush to her head. The bright lights in the hallways make her head pound and her eyes squint.
No answer. Just silence.
When they reach the end of the hallway, a gate opens up and both the woman and man enter a smaller glass window room. An elderly woman walks towards the man in gray, and both take Scully and walk her inside the small room.
The man pushes Scully further inside and waits by the door. As the elderly woman enters the small room, the man closes the frost-plated door behind him and utters something under his breath.
"Nowhere."
The man in gray turns around to face opposite the room and stares blankly at the white walls.
"Nowhere."
-----------------------
Unknown location
Unknown time
I do not know what is happening. My surroundings confuse me.
I cannot remember how I happen to be in this room, with this woman. I can see in her eyes, something strange. Maybe it's the innocence of an elderly. I try to focus my attention as I hear something behind me. I turn around just as the door closes, and I stare blankly into the woman's eyes.
I open my mouth and I try to plead my innocence.
"I-I-I'm an Agent with..with th-the...uh," I stumble over my words.
I can't remember.
Something catches in my throat.
I realize it's my own fear.
The elderly woman stares back at me, straight into my eyes. A sudden slap falls across my face and the force of it slams me into the wall behind me. I gasp at the shock and feel my cheek. It is burning hot. I lean against the wall for support, but the woman grasps me by the waist and turns me around and presses my face against the wall. I try to resist, but something inside me refuses to move. I can feel her hand move along my body, slipping underneath the gown and caressing me along my belly as my mind boggles itself with what is happening.
"Wh-wha arya doin'?"
At the sound of my voice, the elderly snatches a handful of my hair and wraps it around her fingers, twisting it and pulling my head back. I can feel the harsh strain on my neck as the woman continues to caress my belly with one of her hands.
Her cold fingers run across my belly, moving circularly. Her motions cause my skin to heat up despite how cold I feel. I can feel her thick, calloused fingers continuing to rub my belly; her body pressed against mine, my body pressed against the wall. My arms ache as I strain against the handcuffs, helpless to stop the violation. My hands clawing at the walls, my fingers cold from pressing against them.
The elderly pulls back tighter on my hair and starts pushing her hand into my belly, hard and rhythmically. I begin to have trouble breathing from the pressure, and then I feel it. Nausea and an urge to heave. The pressure builds within, so much now, that my body slackens against the elderly, who holds me close up against her own body. With one last push of her hand into my stomach, I heave and cough.
At first, it's dry coughing...then something warm and ferric-tasting emerges from my throat. I cough and cough until the liquid boils through my stomach, out of my mouth. The redness of it splatters everywhere on the wall and floor. The remaining tastes flow along the creases of my mouth down my chin.
Weakened and unable to stand anymore, the elderly slowly sets me down in the corner of the room. She pats my back and lets go of my hair, letting the strands fall upon my face. I cower in the corner, arms around myself, and shivering in agony and horror.
I'm covered in sweat; my head feeling feverish. I blink at the walls, my vision trying to focus on the walls.
The red. Red is on the walls and my face. I gather the energy to wipe a shaky finger across my wet lips and bring the results close to my eyes to see.
At first all is just a red blur, then I see it clearly.
It's blood.
My blood.
Everywhere.
I shiver again, this time agony and horror aside, but with wholesome terror at what truths lie before me.
-----------------------
Unknown location
Unknown time
Moments pass before the elderly woman steps across the room and backs away from the woman collapsed on the floor. The elderly heads to the frost-plated door and knocks a couple of times before it slides open.
A few words are whispered and the elderly woman slips out of the room leaving the woman on the floor still coughing. Left alone in the blank room, the younger woman continues to stare at the door, confused and weak. She struggles onto her knees, and crawls over to the bottom of the frost-plated door and knocks. She imitates the elderly woman's knock and raps twice on the door.
But the door doesn't open.
I gather myself up to kneel closer to the edge of the door, and knock again.
Nothing.
I wait for a while as I catch my breath and say a quick prayer for myself.
There is mumbling outside the door. I can hear it from where I am, and I try to listen with all my might pressing my left ear against the frost-plated door.
The voices mention something about treatment and dosages, but I'm not able to decipher the rest as the more words I listen to, the faster they are swirling inside my head and soon I'm nauseous again.
I almost fall backwards, but I'm able to balance myself in time flinging my arms high in the air.
Then I hear a click, and the door in front of me slides partially open.
I see several pairs of legs dressed in white and dark-colored pants. Before I get a chance to look up and see their faces, the frost-plated door slides shut with a soft thud, followed by a click.
"No, wait!" I exclaim, grasping at the door handle, but my fingers feel nothing there.
There is no door handle.
Still on my knees, I try to jam my fingers inbetween the small edging of the door frame. But I'm unable to budge the door open.
"Please…I-I don't belong here," I proclaim, hoping someone outside the door would hear me.
"No! Noooo!" I scream as the voice I hear inside my head isn't my mine.
"PLEASE! Let me out!"
I start banging at the door frantically with my palms, not caring about the contusions I'll have there.
But no one at the door answers me.
No one.
I don't know how long I am on my knees pleading before I finally settle to sit with my legs drawn up to my body. I hug them close to keep me feeling secure, feeling warm; and I start crying with tears sliding down my face. My hands clasping at my head, rubbing against my temples, trying to compel the demons from within out.
I'm left alone.
Except for the voice inside my head.
The one that isn't my own.
-----------------------
Unknown location
Unknown time
The dreams I have are close within reach inside my head. I can see impossibly far into the desert and the mountains; it's like I'm a bird flying high past all the beautiful scenery and nothing can stop me. My wings are spread wide and I let the wind carry me smoothly across the cloudless skies. I breathe deeply the clean air, and I'm able to enjoy the short distance between my god and the earth.
Then in the blink of an eye, the bright sky turns black, clouds coming in with thunderstorm and lightning flashing before me. The sun disappears behind a dark shadow and I cannot see where I'm flying and like an airplane without a pilot, I crash into the mountain exploding into a million pieces.
I jerk awake as the pain in my head explodes behind my eyelids and realize it's all a dream.
A nightmare.
But I wake to something worse. Something I cannot wake from.
Reality.
I find myself on the floor of the same room I was left in with the elderly woman. I'm still alone. Still cold.
I wipe the sleep from my eyes, and yawn as I still have the handcuffs around my wrists; the skin around them have worn pink and some layers of skin have torn. I must have done it in my sleep. As peaceful as it seemed, it must've been pretty bad for me to wrestle in my cuffs.
I lick my lips, feeling the cracked skin along my mouth. I haven't had any water since yesterday's instance. I hope they are not going to let me die of thirst or hunger.
I hope they are not going to let me die.
I hope I will not let myself die in their hands.
I do not fear death so much as dying here, where no one cares.
And without Mulder by my side.
Or maybe it is better for me to die alone.
I would not bring such suffering to anyone else, but myself.
I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the awful thoughts. The room I'm in is still lined with bright lights along the ceiling. I don't know how I fell asleep. Usually I cannot fall asleep in such bright lights, but the events of yesterday exhausted me.
I have not the energy I thought I did coming in here.
I should be standing and fighting; demanding to be released.
If I'm in prison, at least I get one phone call.
Here, no one will let me talk to them without being reprimanded.
I will have to figure out a way to contact Mulder, before they quash all hopes of escape.
I will have to survive in here without Mulder.
I will have to.
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Unknown location
Unknown time
They made me wait several hours in the empty white room.
White, except for the wall with my dried blood on it.
They made me beg to use the facilities, and then I still had to be supervised.
I was not released from the room until I was shackled on my feet; a small chain of barely six inches long dragged between my ankles. I was allowed to walk into a small bathroom stall and crouch at the toilet. They didn't even give me enough time to finish before one of the male orderlies dressed in gray pulled me up and shoved me along the wall into an enclosed 5x5 foot room.
I was barely steady on my feet again when two of them grabbed me and one of them pulled my gown off, exposing my naked skin for all to see. I yelled at them, and my hands tried to cover up my breasts and groin area. But there was no use as soon as I realized what was about to happen.
The powerful stream of cold water hit me straight in the stomach and knocked me over. I felt like I was drowning in the water, it was coming down so hard on me. I felt every drop pelt me like rubber bullets out of a cannon. I tried screaming but the rushing water muted the sound.
It didn't seem to stop until I was frozen in the corner of the shower stall, cowering again in the corner. I was shaking unbelievably, my hair was plastered to my face and my eyes were unable to open. I didn't want to move.
Two of the orderlies had to drag me from the wet floor, and lift me up before placing me on a prepared gurney. I tried struggling as much as I could, but the strength in me was gone. I could barely control my shivering.
I felt them strap the hard-clothe cuffs on my wrists, my ankles and another couple of straps wrap across my chest and waist. I didn't even remember I was still naked; I was too tired to notice.
I just hoped I could survive what they had prepared for me next.
-----------------------
Unknown location
Unknown time
The wind is blowing in my hair; cooling the room around me. Keeping me chilled.
Like in a refrigerator.
Like in a morgue.
My eyes flicker open to see shadow figures move around me. Every figure seems busy with something. I can hear sounds of metal clinking against metal. Those noises make me restless; I know those noises to be familiar in an isolated memory.
Memories I have tried to forget for many years. Memories I have tried to hide from myself. From others, from Mulder.
Now the memories flash back into my head from a secluded dark place, and that is exactly where I am.
A secluded dark place.
The shadow figures are not aliens. They are men. They are the conspirators who have taken so much from me that at times, I almost no longer miss what they have taken because I'm so lost on what I still have.
I close my eyes from the motions around me. I want to hide in my head, away from all the distractions.
I fight to stay calm and composed realizing whatever happens to me now is no longer under my control.
I'm still cuffed down to the gurney I'm laying on. I take a deep breath and reopen my eyes.
This time my sight blocked by a darker shadow figure, a man in a surgical mask.
He touches my face; his fingers pry my sleep-deprived eyes open and flashes something bright in them. He checks one eye, then the next without speaking to me. I hear him put down the flashlight and pick something else up.
He reaches out at me again, and I flinch.
He continues; his fingers pinch at my mouth and insert a Q-tip into my mouth. The cotton-swab brushes firmly against my gums and pulls out quickly, leaving me uncomfortable.
He makes me feel like I am not even there.
Like I'm just one of his million patients, without a name, without a face, without a worth to anyone.
Before I speak my lips quiver in shame, as next I feel him moving down my body to poke and prod at my inner most regions.
I feel his fingers push at my skin, making me so aware of my nudity.
Finally I gather the nerve to speak.
"You don't need to do this. Ple-please tell me what you're doing. I-I'm a doctor."
The fingers pause at inner thigh, and the man in the mask looks up at me.
His eyes are of a dark brown glare, deeply hypnotic as I stare back and feel his piercing look burn through me.
"I'm a different kind of doctor."
"Wh-what kind?"
He finishes up the examination and takes off his surgical gloves and throws them aside somewhere in the darkness I cannot see. He lowers his head close to my face.
I notice myself breathing faster now, almost afraid he will take a bite out of my face. I brace myself against the restraints for the answer.
"The kind that knows you must get out of here as soon as you can…The kind that will tell you, you cannot imagine the horrible things I've seen occur here – the horrible things I've done."
I was frightened now.
I was tense and scared of the truth this doctor was telling me.
He couldn't have been lying.
"Doctor!" I hear a familiar voice from the darkness call out; the doctor in front of me stands up straight and eyes me one last time. It's the look in his eyes that scare me.
"Doctor, we need to talk," the voice demands attention, and the doctor in front of me backs away and walks into the darkness to the voice calling him.
I turn my head up to get a good look at what is happening. I see the doctor walking off with another man in a suit, his arm on the doctor's shoulder.
I know that man in the suit.
He is the man who flatters you face to face, and when you turn your back, he is the one who stabs you. He is the man who kills your sister thinking it was you, and laughs at his silly mistake. He is the one you should fear most because he has nothing to lose, because he's already lost his arm.
He is Krycek.
"No! Don't go with him, doctor!" I scream out after the shadow figures that disappear behind a door before I can warn him. With my eyes on them, I didn't notice a new doctor approach me from the side until I felt the small prick of a needle in my neck.
Then it was already too late. I couldn't scream anymore; his gloved hand clamped over my mouth and pushed down hard. I could feel him pull the needle out of my neck, and I welcomed the familiar unconsciousness preferable to the upcoming unknown.
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Unknown location
Unknown time
"How strong is she?"
"She's still lucid enough to fight the procedure. That makes it more difficult to extract the information, but I think we can do it."
"What about the second treatment?"
"I don't think that's necessary. I think we can give her a few dosages of the medication and –"
"No. I don't want to wait any longer. Proceed with the second treatment."
"But, Sir…I don't think it's necessary. I mean this will wear her – "
"Just do it! I want her weakened, in a state of hopelessness. Don't argue with me. I need that information."
"Yes, Sir."
The doctor stepped away, walking halfway down the hall before he turned the corner and coughed lightly.
"God, I can't stand him smoking in here." The doctor cleared his throat and headed towards the Bay 2 area. This was where the patients were kept before they went into the Chamber room.
Bay 2 was a quiet section of the facility. The overall purpose of Bay 2 was to acquaint the doctor with the patient; the doctor would personally be overseeing the patient for the next couple to three days. The doctor would examine the patient and prepare him/her for whatever was requested on the medical chart.
Today, the 50-ish year old doctor would be advising over the female agent that was brought in almost four days ago. He had had a chance to go over her charts earlier in the day; he was surprised at how unhealthy she really was. He had expected her to be in excellent health since he supposed government agents to be regulated and kept under tight restrictions of eating and exercising.
The chart he read revealed a different story. This female agent, Dana Katherine Scully, had undergone a lot of health problems. Not only had the chart recorded details of her life and habits, it documented information about every wound she suffered on her job and even every visit she made to hospitals.
And she did make a lot of visits. The medical file on his patient was quite thick; he couldn't imagine knowing more about her than she did herself.
The disheartening part about it all was that his patient had cancer, even underwent chemotherapy and radiation. He was glad to see that she wasn't too physically affected by the cancer, but could see that she was mentally affected in her job, her choices.
How else could she have ended up here?
He had been a practicing doctor for over 25 years now, and seen patients suffer from every kind of disease. To him, cancer was still the worst. It was the invasion in the body that made cancer so detestable; it could eat away at someone inside and no one would be the wiser. It was this secret disease that people feared the most; being abandoned by your body all the while trying to dress it up in pretty clothing and make-up.
The doctor sighed deeply; he was genuinely sorry for his patient.
She seemed to have such a bright future ahead of herself until she was caught up in this mess.
He was glad to be her doctor though; he genuinely wanted to help her.
And within the next few days and weeks, he would be doing just that.
The doctor continued walking now, nearing Bay 2 and his patient's quarters.
He had a smile on his face as he opened the door and entered her room.
He was excited.
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Unknown location
Unknown time
I didn't know how long I had been out, but by the time I awoke, I felt almost relaxed.
Maybe it was what they gave me that put me out.
But the drugs were still in my system.
I was in a different room. I could tell by the lights above me.
My mouth felt dry. I had requested water and food hours before, but no one cared to give anything to me.
I was still strapped down; this time some additional care was taken to dress me in a gown.
I was thankful for that.
And that was the last time I would be thankful for a long time.
An overhead beam that shined parallel to where I was laying lighted the room; it was dark everywhere around me except on me. I hoped the doctors could see what they were doing, since I could barely see what they were doing.
Sometime when I was unconscious, an orderly must have put an IV in my arm since it dangled freely from a post beside my gurney. I also noticed my body had other medical devices attached to it: a blood pressure cuff was wrapped on my upper arm, EKG patches on my chest, a pulse monitor on my finger and something wrapped around my ankle.
I tried to sit up and look, but I felt someone push my forehead down to rest on the padding behind my head.
I queried inside my medical brain to see what scenario was about to take place.
I almost screamed as I realized what was about to happen to me.
"NOO! Please!" were the words they slipped out of my mouth first, the rest were screams of protest that echoed in the room. I thrashed against my bonds now, trying to free myself before I would no longer be able to.
"Please!!! I-I don't need this!" I insisted out loud. I turned looking at faces that blended together around me. None of which were understanding or hearing to me.
Someone neared me and I yanked my wrists, hoping to break the restraints and grab them. But I was unsuccessful. The face before me was hidden behind a surgical mask, like the others, and tried to hush me with her voice.
"Shhh…shhhh," was all she said over and over to me. I felt her fingers caressing my face, again trying to calm me. I looked into her eyes and could almost see regret. Her fingers gently touched my cheek and the side of my face.
Then I felt something cool touch near my scalp. Something I could smell.
It was rubbing alcohol.
I knew what was coming next.
I tried to tell her again. To beg her to stop all that was happening around me.
"Please don't do this."
But my words went unheeded.
Seconds later, I felt the electrodes being attached to my forehead and my right temple.
My lips were shaking now; I was truly scared. No more words came out of my mouth; they were all caught in my throat. My mind going blank as I prepared myself for pain.
During my studies in college, I had read reports of shock therapy and its effects, none of which I would ever want to experience. And yet here I was, moments away from experiencing it firsthand.
"Prep the patient with anesthesia, and then give her the muscle relaxant."
"Yes, doctor."
Those were the last words I heard before I fell asleep. I felt the fingers caressing my face slip away as felt the medications administered taking effect, and then I slowly lost the effort to fight it.
I slipped into an almost peaceful sleep.
Peaceful only because I did not know what happened while I was asleep.
[ The Mercy from Belief // Part 2 END ]
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[ The Mercy from Belief // Part 3 and 4 COMING ]
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