Author's notes: Okay, so I've been busy, as I'm sure the rest of you have been too. This story is an AU of Sixth Extinction and that whole trilogy. Notice I said AU, so it's gonna be different. Not sure what to rate it yet, because I haven't decided quite yet how to end it (although I do have a general idea). So maybe I'll just leave it open and put it where mature audiences can read.
So Cold
Chapter 1
Scully entered the cold, metal-filled room to finally find what she had been looking for—Mulder lying on the table in front of her. She had only found this place because someone had slipped a badge under her door earlier today—otherwise Mulder would still be lost to the world, and quite possibly would end up dead within the next few days. She approached him, stealthily but cautiously, wondering if he would be able to make it out of this place.
His eyes were closed, and he did not respond when she stroked his face and talked to him, urging him to get up. "Please, Mulder, you've got to help me," she begged him.
It was only when a stray teardrop fell from her face onto his that he finally opened his eyes. Aware now, he looked at her and croaked, "Agent Scully. Help me."
Agent Scully? But she did not have time to ponder the significance of the manner in which he addressed her. She would have to work through the details later—right now they had to get out before they were discovered.
She was not at all sure how they made it all the way to the car. Mulder could barely walk, even with her help, and he stumbled and fell twice on the way out of the facility. But each time, she managed to encourage him to keep going, and he gave up every bit of his energy to do so.
Once they were safely in the car and driving away from Mulder's place of captivity, she pondered whether or not to try and talk to him. He was so worn out—she knew he needed to rest until he could get proper medical attention. But a part of her wanted so badly to know what he had experienced, and what was going on in his head right now. Was he the same Mulder she had known before the "abduction" by the cigarette-smoking bastard? Or had he suffered brain damage in this ordeal? What exactly had they done to him?
And even though she knew it wasn't as important as his overall health, she was dying to know—had this affected his feelings towards her in some way?
She decided to risk fatiguing him further, and probe into his mind a little. "Mulder?"
She looked over at the seat next to her, where he was reclined as far as they had been able to get the seat back, his head hanging limply as he tried to rest. "Huh?", was all he could muster.
"Do you…do you remember anything I said to you while you were in the hospital?"
He rolled his head back and forth, and she could not tell if that was a "no" or if he was trying to wake up. Finally, he spoke. "The last thing I remember," he paused, exhausted, "is my wedding. Where…where is she?"
"Who, Mulder?"
"Diana. Where is my wife?"