"I'm sorry, Fox," she told him before he could get
a word in edgewise, "I'm so sorry. I never should
have agreed to a pawn in their game of human
preservation. I never should have allowed Him to
kill the Twelve, or to try and kill you." She
walked towards him.
Scully glanced quickly around the room. She picked
up the vase that had been a gift from her sister
on the day she moved to D.C.. Melissa had said that
it had some sort of holistic value, that the
earthenware had been obtained from a center of
peacefulness under the astronomical sign of her birth.
It was to bring her the serenity and security of her
home. "Stay where you are," Scully warned her, "or
I will be forced to take aggressive action."
Lauren continued walking towards her. "I did try to
stop it, Fox," she told him, "Before I met you, and
you changed my life, I realized that I was the only
one who could stop them from taking over, so I tried
to destroy the creations of my own making by burning
them and all the technology that birthed them to the
ground. But they survived the ashes, survived to
carry out their mission: to produce offspring capable
of living through the onslaught. But he knew I was
responsible, so I had to leave Washington, to become
another person with another profession, to become
anonymous in order to survive."
"Stop right there, or I swear to God that I'll
kill you."
Mulder, still tied to the wall, gazed into Lauren's
eyes, searching for the soul of the person that he
once knew. "Who found out about you, Lauren? Who
was the one behind this madness that spawned you?"
She smiled fondly. "The Chimney-Man," she said,
"the man who raised me after I was created. He may
not be my father genetically, but he loved me like
no other."
"Dick van Dyke was your father?" Scully asked
sardonically.
Lauren glared at her. "Of course not," she seethed,
"The Chimney-Man was my pet name for him because
he smoked so much."
Scully's mouth dropped in surprise as she looked
at Mulder. He nodded in acceptance. Nothing
surprised him anymore.
"You can put that down," Lauren said, turning her
attention to Scully, "I'm not going to hurt Fox.
And even if I did, a little vase wouldn't stop me."
"If you want me to trust you, why don't you tell
me where my gun is?"
"It's on the kitchen table."
"You're coming with me," Scully commanded, "Walk
in front of me."
Lauren complied, although she saw no reason to go
about obtaining a weapon that was entirely useless
against her. Lauren took her position in front of
Scully and walked slowly into the next room. There
was a look of extreme displeasure on her face. As
the passed through the doorway, Scully could see
her firearm lying on the table, right where Lauren
said it would be.
"Sit down, on your hands," Scully told her, and
Lauren did as she so politely asked. Scully placed
the vase on the table, grabbed quickly for the gun,
and kept it raised at Lauren's head. She slipped off
the safety and patted her down with the other hand.
She felt a hard object in her pocket and picking it
up, she discovered the cold, metallic stiletto
weapon with which Lauren had threatened Mulder.
Pushing the button on the side, Scully discovered
that the point was still wet with blood. "I don't
care what Mulder thinks about her," she decided,
"She's still a murderer." Scully gestured with her
head towards the doorway. "You first," she said.
Lauren walked out of the kitchen, followed by a
menacing-looking Scully with a gun in one hand and
the stiletto in the other. "Put your hands in the
air," Scully said, "Slowly."
As Lauren lifted her hands, her black hair
shortened and her pretty, thin features became
thick and strong. The Black-Haired Man turned
around quickly, arms flailing out towards Scully.
From the other room, Mulder gasped as he heard
three rounds fired and the ensuing sounds of a
scuffle. He heard someone drop to the floor,
sounding like a pile of bricks against the muffling
softness of the carpet.
"Scully!" he cried, "Scully, are you okay?"
He watched in dismay as the Black-Haired Man emerged
from the other room. "Your partner is dead," he said,
his voice hissing like a venomous snake, "And you
will soon join her."
"You bastard!" he spit the words out like a bad taste
in his mouth, "What the hell did you do to her?"
"I only did what was needed to be done," the Black-
Haired Man replied, "It is written that one shall
die at His left, one shall die at His right, and He
will pass with them. After the third day, He will
rise again, bringing redemption to the world and the
ascension of all souls on the Second Coming."
"What the fuck does that have to do with us?" Mulder
asked.
"This is Golgotha, Agent Mulder."
"The place of the skulls?" Mulder said, "Isn't
that a little facetious for the Son of Man?"
The Black-Haired Man advanced towards him. He was
now directly in front of Mulder, face-to-face with
the enemy. "You know, she asked to sit on my side
in Heaven before I took her," he said, only inches
away.
He thought of Scully, how if there was a God then
there was nobody more worthy than she to be seated
at His right hand. "Yeah?" Mulder replied, "Well
you can see me in Hell." With those words, he
summoned up all his disdain and spit on his forehead.
The Black-Haired Man wiped the spit of his brow,
planted his feet, and punched Mulder squarely in the
jaw. The force sent his head careening against the
wall. After carefully moving his jaw about to see if
it was broken, Mulder glanced back up at the Father.
He stared at him, eyes hardened and challenging.
After a minute, he positioned his head to the other
side.
"What are you doing?" the Black-Haired Man asked.
"I'm turning the other cheek," he said, "Isn't that
what your Son instructed?"
"Yes," he said, pulling the stiletto from his pocket,
"but He was just following my orders, and one must
always honor his father and his mother."
Mulder watched the weapon rise high above him and for
the second time that night he prepared to meet his
end. But this time, he faced the future with open eyes.
He was not afraid to go. If his life was over, then at
the very least it would be ended in fulfillment of his
mission, to find out the truth behind the disappearance
of Samantha. So many had died so that he could find the
answer to those questions he sought. Both of his parents
were gone, so was Samantha. And now Scully. She wasn't
part of his immediate family. She held no genetic ties
to him, no blood relations. But none of that mattered,
because their relationship transcended familial bonds.
She was his stability, his security, his humanity,
and now that she was gone.
"You can kill me now and it won't matter," Mulder told
him, a peacefulness coming upon him that he hadn't felt
for seven long years, "Too many others know the truth,
even if it is only bits and pieces. You've been too
messy, made too many mistakes. They will figure it out.
It's only a matter of time."
"There's nothing to figure out, Agent Mulder. Your
demise will ensure the events of the future.
Colonization will come and there will be no one alive
that shall tamper with fate. If survival comes, it will
not be at the price of the degeneration of the human
species."
"Only the people who are in a position to tamper with
fate desire that," Mulder said, "you know, like the
Smoking Man that created you? Regular humans like me
and, well, like me don't want to become like you. But
they should be allowed to have the information that
you have, to prepare for the future by taking means
alternative to those imposed by the people behind
Chimera."
"I do not wish it."
"So what," Mulder responded, feeling the anger rise
once more within him, "you just let them all die,
like you let Scully die? To what ends? To preserve
humanity, even if it means Armageddon?"
"You are a chosen people, Agent Mulder, we must
keep you pure."
"At any cost?"
"At any cost," he stated definitively as the stiletto
came down, aimed to pierce Mulder's heart.
Without warning, the Black-Haired Man's knees buckled
beneath him. Mulder watched with a mixture of awe and
relief as the Father fell to the floor next to a
bedraggled-looking Scully. Her white blouse was soaked
with blood, a victim of multiple stabbings, evidenced
by three distinct red, circular wounds. Her hair was
tousled, her skirt ripped, and burgeoning bruises on
her face indicated physical assault.
"Scully!" he cried out to her, unable to describe his
elation in any other words at seeing her alive. She
had managed to crawl her way into the room undetected,
being completely incapable of standing on her feet
due to her injuries. With a quick blow to the back of
the knees, she was able to knock her assailant to the
floor. Unfortunately, she knew the advantage her
surprise attack had given her would not hold out long
against her strong opponent.
"Scully!" he called out to her again, this time in
fear that the Father would dispense of her right
before his eyes. "Get the weapon, Scully," he
encouraged her, "Get the weapon. The back of his
neck!"
Feeling the sudden burst of adrenaline cascading
through her veins, she wrestled furiously with him for
the sharp stiletto. She could not let him win, risk
letting him take Mulder away from her again. She
grasped his clenched hands in hers, pulling at the
weapon. The two rolled over each other, banging into
the coffee table and sending the porcelain lamp
careening to the floor. He was on top of her now. He
turned the stiletto towards her and prepared to make
his final cut.
"This time you're going to die for real," he seethed,
as the stiletto inched closer and closer. She threw
her hands in front of her as the weapon descended.
Creating a shield for her body, she pushed his hands
away with hers, but his strength was too much on her
weakened state. He saw the fear in her eyes as he
pressed closer and closer towards her neck. Holding
his hands with her left hand, she reached out with her
right and felt for the broken lamp shards on her carpet.
Finding one, she grasped it tightly and struck it sharp
edge across the face of the Father. He dropped the
stiletto on the floor as his hands reached up to cup
the newly-formed scratch in agony. Scully watched
horrified as he removed his hands and a green liquid
oozed to the floor.
"Scully, his neck!" Mulder screamed.
"Uhh," she moaned as the unbearable burning sensation
began to collect in her eyes, like the burning juice
of an onion that will never wash away. Summoning her
last bit of living energy, she grabbed the stiletto
and got to her knees. Inching her way behind him, she
held her left hand over her eyes and jabbed with the
right, praying to God that the blow would strike true.
She glanced up at her partner. "Mulder," she breathed
with her final breath as she collapsed on her side,
her blood staining the pristine carpet.
He looked at the stiletto that was still hanging out
of the base of the neck of the Father. He watched as
the Black-Haired Man was transformed into the face
of Lauren. Her face was contorted in pain as she
whispered, "Fox," as though she was frightened of
what her future portended. She fell forward and her
body instantly began its disintegration into a
green goo. He turned his attention back to his savior.
"Scully!" he cried, "Scully, wake up!"
Somewhere, deep in her subconscious, she thought she
heard him call her name, beckoning her back. She felt
completely at peace, though she wondered from where he
was calling her. She let the light envelope her as all
thoughts went blank.
St. Catherine's Hospital
Three Days Later
4:32 P.M.
The light which seemed to emanate from every direction
was gradually becoming more and more concentrated into
one distinct object. It appeared that the light was
sucked into the center of the great white place as
Scully's eyes began to focus more intently on the area
around her. She began to make out the rough edges of a
wall, no, it was a ceiling, and the light was pouring out
of a rectangular fixture situated in the center. She
closed her eyes and opened them up halfway. They still
burned and she was aware of an immense throbbing in her
forehead. She blinked them a couple of times, clenched
her teeth, and opened them wide in an effort to
determine her surroundings. It was useless. She
couldn't make out anything beyond the light.
"It's okay, Dana," she heard her mother's voice at her
side, "it's okay. You're in the hospital. You're just
fine now, close your eyes."
Scully did as her mother commanded, following her orders
as though she was still five years old. She gradually
became aware of the fact that she was lying on an
uncomfortable hospital bed, wearing only a flimsy sheet
of what passed for patient garb.
"Mom?" she asked, "what happened?"
She felt her mother's soothing hand brush her hair
against her head, starting at her aching forehead and
working towards the back. "You were found at your
apartment," she told her carefully, "you and Fox both."
"Mulder!" she cried, remembering in a flash the events
of that terrible night. She remembered the Black-Haired
Man beating her to the floor and stabbing her with the
stiletto. She remembered touching her wounds with the
tips of her fingers and seeing the large amounts of
fresh, red blood that gushed from her body. She
remembered passing out into unconsciousness as he bent
down to see if she was dead. She remembered waking up
to the sound of Mulder's soothing voice, of forcing
herself to make her way into her living room in order
to save his life as her own strength waned with every
passing minute. She tried to sit up but her mother
held her back.
"No, Dana," Maggie said sternly, "lay back down. Fox
is fine. They found him tied up, calling for help,
after the sound of gunshots alerted your neighbors to
an intruder." Scully couldn't see her mother's grim
expression. "Thank God you're okay, Dana," she blurted
out, "You're my only daughter left." She felt her
mother's hands drift down to her shoulders as her grip
suddenly got much tighter, erupting into a healthy
embrace.
"I know, Mom," she said, returning the hug, "I know."
After about a minute, Scully heard the sounds of two
light raps at the door, followed by the sound of its
squeaky hinges as it was opened. "Hello," she heard
a familiar voice say, "Would you like me to come
back at another time?"
She felt her mother pull away. "Hello, Fox," she
heard her say, "No, that won't be necessary." Maggie
kissed her daughter lightly on the cheek and whispered,
"I love you" in her ear.
"I love you, too, Mom," Scully responded as Maggie
stood up from the seat where she had spent three
fretful nights watching diligently over her surviving
daughter. She walked towards Mulder and clasped his
large hand in her tiny palms. "I'll give you some time
alone with her," she told him, a thin smile pervading
her worried expression.
"Thank you," he answered as she walked out of the room,
closing the door behind her. He walked slowly towards
her bed and sat down at her side.
Her hand lay at her side on the poorly-padded bed. He
reached over and grabbed it, holding her palm in his
as though he was afraid to let her go. Their fingers
intertwined and he lightly stroked her hand with his.
She turned her head to face him though she
couldn't see past the stinging.
"How are you feeling?" he asked her through an intensely
affectionate smile. A mixture of concern and elation
showed at the corners of his eyes.
"Like I was run over by a giant flukeman," she responded,
returning a weak smile. He chuckled warmly. "Well you
look amazing," he told her, brushing back her hair
behind her ear.
"Yeah. And Melvin and I have been having a passionate
affair."
"Please, Scully," he said with tenderness in his voice,
"I just ate." He bent over her and looked at her
longingly. Brushing a wisp of hair away from her face,
he permitted an awkward silence to pass slowly by as
he tried to determine his next course of action.
Caressing her cheek, he confided in her, "I thought I
had lost you."
"Mulder..." she began, but he interrupted her.
"Shh," he whispered, putting a finger to her lips,
"It's okay. I know you're afraid of ruining our
relationship, of pushing our friendship beyond what is
F.B.I. procedure, but I've got to tell you, I was never
a stickler for protocol." She smiled broadly as his face
became serious. "Since our first case together I knew
that I could give you my complete trust, that I could
bear my soul to you. That's something I've never been
able to do before. Since that time, I have developed a
level of intimacy with you that I have never achieved
with anyone else. You've shown me a side of myself that
I never knew existed."
"You always knew it existed, Mulder," she told him,
"You just never let anyone see it." His voice became
strong, almost insistent. "Scully, when he told me you
were dead, I didn't care about living anymore. What is
life but sharing experiences with someone you care
deeply about? If I couldn't share my life with you,
then I didn't want to live. And then when I saw you
alive, only to watch you die for real in so much pain,
trying to save my life, Well, I realized how much I've
taken your presence in my life for granted."
"Mulder," she said, her eyes watering, "it was you
who gave my life meaning. You've taught me a drive
for living that I never would have found within
myself." She wanted to be able to look at him, to
see his face. She reached up and felt the small
stubble about his cheek. "You taught a passion for
life that I would have never known."
Mulder leaned in closer. She felt his soft lips
against his, tender and passionate. She took him
in greedily, seven years of pent-up flirtations
erupting in one hot-blooded moment of sexual
ecstasy. Her lips were warm and moistened by the
time he finally pulled back.
They both breathed heavily, attempting to recover
the air lost from their lungs as desire
overruled involuntary biological action. She felt
his hot breath against her cheek. Once again, she
felt the urgent desire to see him, to gauge the
truth of his words in his eyes. She braced herself
and opened them wide. She saw his smile, his strong,
handsome features, and his eyes, his beautiful eyes
filled with love. She bit her lip as a single tear
rolled down her face. Putting his palm against her
hot cheek, he wiped it away with his thumb.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"It hurts so much," she mumbled as he reached in
and pressed his lips against hers.
Fox Mulder Residence
April 23, 2000
2:25 A.M.
Mulder held Scully in her arms. He grinned boyishly
with a familiar paradoxical look of machismo and
tenderness.
"I'm so glad you asked me to drop by," she told him,
leaning in to invite a long kiss. "I always have
time for you, Scully," he replied, accepting the
invitation, "as long as we make it quick. I have a
meeting in a half hour."
"Oh, Mulder," she scolded, slapping him playfully
across his shoulder. He grabbed her by the arm and
pulled her in to him. "Just kidding, Scully, I know
you like it nice and slow."
She kissed him on the mouth and then ran her lips
down his cheek to his neck as she unbuttoned his
shirt. He grabbed her forcefully by the back of her
head and threw his lips hungrily on hers. He
reached to untuck her blouse from her skirt and
lifted it over her head. He touched her body but
instead of feeling soft skin, all he felt was
something wet on his hands. He drew back from her
and held them out in front of him. His palms were
covered in blood. He looked up expecting to the
excitement of the moment on her face but all he
saw was the pain. He followed her gaze to her
stomach. She stuck her fingers in one of the
three wounds on her torso. She lifted it up for
him to see.
"Blood," she said, the confusion apparent on her
face. Her eyes rolled back in her head and Mulder
could tell she was about to faint. He caught her
as her body fell backwards. "Scully!" he cried,
"Scully, wake up!" He looked up from where he was
squatting on the floor. Lauren's face stared back
at him. She held the stiletto high above her head.
"I did it for you, Fox," she said, "They all died
for you." She brought the blood-soaked
weapon down again.
Mulder awoke with a jolt as he clutched the cushions
on the sofa. "Scully!" he called out, but no one was
there. His back was soaked with sweat and his
favorite gray shirt clung to his body. He threw his
legs over the side of the sofa and rested his elbows
on his knees. He put his palms to his face and shook
of the uneasiness that came part and parcel with
the sleepiness. He was used to having nightmares but
never like these.
The ringing of the phone shook him gently from his
reverie and he bent over to pull it off the hook.
"Yeah."
"Mulder," a voice asked uncertainly, "it's me.
Did I wake you?"
"No, I was up. I was having a little trouble
sleeping."
Scully bit her lip hesitantly. "Mulder," she asked,
"would you mind coming over here? I'm having a bit
of the same problem myself."
"I'll be right over," he said. He put the phone back
on the hook and grabbed his keys off the coffee table.
He stood up and walked out of the apartment.
Dana Scully Residence
3:12 A.M.
"Thank God you're here." Scully allowed herself to
be swept up in a soothing embrace as she unlocked
the door and found Mulder at the threshold.
"Scully, what's wrong?" he asked, deep concern apparent
in his voice. He threw one arm around her back and drew
her close to him with the other, resting it lightly on
the back of her head. She gazed up at him. She was
shaking violently through her beige robe and her
beautiful blue eyes were wide with terror.
"Nightmares," she said simply, "terrible, terrible
nightmares."
With feet planted, he led her gently, swaying from side
to side. The danced a quiet, intimate dance as he
comforted her, "Shh, it's okay, I'm here." His mere
presence - the smell of his cologne, the calm,
gentleness of his touch - was enough to reassure her.
She stepped back, folded her arms in front of her body,
and cleared her throat, embarrassed by her actions.
"Thank you," she said uncomfortably, "Please, come in."
She extended her arm, directing him to be seated on the
sofa. As he positioned himself, he noted the switching
and sliding of various locks on the door, highlighting
her achingly apparent uneasiness. She approached the
couch and seated herself by his side.
"Tell me about it," he commanded, spreading his arm
across the top of the sofa and folding one leg over
the other.
"It was horrible," she confided, "I was here, in
this room, talking to you on the phone. You were
explaining to me about the massive outbreak of reported
close encounters within the last couple of months. Then
I saw a shadow on the floor and when I turned
around to look, it was, it was her, Mulder."
Mulder sighed deeply and looked down at the floor.
"I'm sorry, Mulder," Scully stammered.
"It's okay," he responded, looking into her eyes. He
placed his hand over hers, "Go ahead."
Scully squared her shoulders and took in a deep breath.
"I saw it again, Mulder. I see it every time I close my
eyes. All I can see is her, standing there in my apartment,
holding that weapon dripping with blood. I can sense her
anger towards me like a hot flame. Then I feel the weapon.
Over and over I can feel it going into my body, quick and
painful. I try to scream out to you for help but I drop
the phone. It happens in slow motion. I see the phone
falling down and down, farther and farther. I can hear
you calling me but I can't answer. The last thing I see
every night before I wake up is her, Mulder, and the last
thing I hear is you."
Scully gazed into his eyes. Piercing and blue, they
penetrated every core of his being. It was a strange
feeling, having someone know him so well. He felt
desperately unsettled, but somehow uniquely comforted
at the same time. He shifted uneasily as he began to
open up.
"I have the same dream, Scully. I can't escape it. I
just keep replaying it over and over again in my head.
At first I thought it was because I couldn't face the
truth of Lauren's true nature, but then I began to
discover the real reason why I have been so haunted.
It's the thought of losing you."
Scully blushed slightly and looked towards the floor.
"Oh, Mulder," she responded sweetly.
"I mean, just think about it, Scully," he grinned,
"what would I do without someone there to constantly
deliver one harangue after another regarding the
scientific foundation for the composition of
unexplained extraterrestrial entities? I might actually
succeed in getting booted once and for all from the
Bureau, and then who would Skinner have to take out
all of his sexual frustration?"
She smiled fondly, but his grin soon began to fade
into a dismal frown.
"Scully," he asked straight-faced, "do you think
that I deserve to be punished?"
"Mulder," she said, a shocked expression appearing
on her face, "why would you say such a thing?"
"Lauren told me that it was my fault, Scully, my
fault that so many people have suffered, and I
must admit that I have to agree. If it wasn't for
my ceaseless quest for knowledge, my father might
still be alive, and certainly my mother. Deep Throat
would be attempting to deflate the Smoking Man's
Syndicate, and X would be by his side." She heard
sorrow in his voice and regret in his eyes as he
continued. "Not to mention the pain I've inflicted
on you, Scully. You getting stabbed is just the
latest example. If it weren't for me, you never
would have been abducted, you could still bear
children, your sister would be alive, and you
wouldn't have found yourself facing death, what, it
must be about two-hundred times by now." He shook
his head in an outward sign of his self-denigration.
"Maybe she was right, Scully. Maybe my victims should
gain retribution for my sins. Maybe 'An Eye For An Eye,
A Tooth For A Tooth' is just as good a code of conduct
as any."
Scully chuckled softly. "I never had you pegged for
the obey-the-word-of-God-type, Mulder," she gently
teased.
"Scully, I'm serious," he responded. She could tell
by the look on his face that he was.
"You know, Mulder," she replied, "a wise man once
said, 'An eye for an eye would make the whole world
blind'."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Gandhi," he said
matter-of-factly.
"That's right," she answered, "and look what happened
to him. He got to be Mahatma of a whole nation. There
must be something to what he says." She draped her hand
lightly on his forearm.
"Listen, Mulder," she said sincerely, "You are not to
be blamed for the death of anyone. Deep Throat, your
mother, especially your father. They all made their
own decisions in life, just as you made yours. They
chose a path, and it led to a destructive end, but
you are still here, and I am still here, and nothing
they can do can ever change that. I left medicine to
find my place in the world, to do some good in my life
before I die. I could not have fulfilled that promise
to myself if I had found anyone else in that dingy
little copy room." She grabbed both of his hands in
hers and held them tightly.
"Don't feel sorry for me, Mulder," she said through a
brave smile, "You are not some harbinger of death,
sent to make my life a living hell." She chuckled
warm-heartedly,
"That's Skinner's job." She looked into his
hazel-green eyes. The warmth from them seemed to
overtake her entire body. Her face and voice suddenly
became solemn.
"You've made me feel more alive in these short seven
years than I've ever felt my entire life," she told
him.
Without warning or any inhibition, she leaned into him
and bestowed him with a long, hot kiss on the lips. Her
hands moved from his up behind his back, and then
behind his head. She strummed her fingers through his
hair as she beckoned him towards her. She twisted her
mouth and ran her tongue over his. She felt a surge of
heat run through her as she felt his hands press
against her back. "Mulder," she moaned breathlessly as
she drew back to look into his eyes. They were filled
with a mixture desire and affection. She saw them
glance back at her, down her neck and towards her chest.
She looked down. Her robe had come slightly open during
their brief exchange. She grabbed his hand and put it
between the open flaps. "It's okay," she told him,
guiding his hand down the contours of her shoulder,
"I'm ready."
"Are you sure?" he asked, aware that they would be
crossing the boundary from partners to something more,
never to go back again. He wasn't willing to pressure her
into something that she was unwilling to handle, even if
it meant forgetting his desire to have her, to hold her
in his arms, to wake up next to her.
"I'm sure," she answered, leading his hands down her body.
At his touch, the robe fell listlessly at her waist. She
stood up, for the first time fully in touch with her
feelings for him, ready to commit to him bodily as she
had mentally and spiritually. Her hands pulled
him up from the couch and led him into the bedroom.
10:28 A.M.
Mulder opened his eyes groggily, attempting to divine
his surroundings from the accompanied haze and
confusion of sleep. The Sunday morning sunlight poured
in through the windows, illuminating the bright, white
decor of the room. He sat up and removed the tousled
spread from his waist. He suddenly remembered. He was
in Scully's apartment.
His mind flashed back to the previous night. He had
never before experienced someone so fully,
intellectually, socially, and now physically. Their
partnership had been one of equality. She provided
the sound, scientific background to his unconventional,
seemingly irrational theories and methods, though he
had always considered himself the conduit through
which she could begin to explore other channels for
which science provided no answers. In that respect, he
was the teacher, and she the student. Yet, last night
she had surprised him. He had long lusted for her in
his heart, but could never take the initiative until
she was willing to let go of her fears. But last night
it was she who had taken his hand and guided him to
the next level of their relationship. He remembered how
good it felt to feel her soft skin caressing him,
wordlessly informing him that there was nothing to
fear. She taught him a kind of peacefulness that he
hadn't experienced since he had found the truth behind
his sister's disappearance all those years ago. It was
as though he had hidden a piece of himself far away in
the darkest crevices of his soul and in one moment of
illumination she had found it and made him complete.
But that was last night. How would she feel about
their actions now? If he knew Scully like he thought
he knew her, she had most probably been contemplating
the pros and cons of their sexual relationship for
hours now, if not longer. He turned his body and looked
at the other side of the bed. She was gone. Was she
feeling remorse? Did she regret letting herself
transcend the safe confines of a strictly platonic
relationship?
He stood up and looked for the jeans that he had worn
to her house. He discovered them laying in a crumpled
ball on the floor behind a little table that bore the
weight of a lamp on it. He picked them up, shook them
out straight, and put them on. He then found his gray
shirt, and put it on as well. As he looked at himself
in the mirror on the opposite wall, he thought he
heard sounds coming from the adjacent room. He cocked
his head slightly and listened again. He slowly began
to decipher the sounds of a keyboard clicking.
He walked out of the bedroom and followed the noises.
Scully's back was facing him. She was seated at a
corner desk, typing away furiously at her laptop.
As he approached her, he contemplated how he should
handle the situation. Should he talk about what
happened or just ignore it and act like nothing
happened? He shot an apprehensive glance in the
direction of the door. Maybe he should have gotten
up early and left. Maybe there was still time.
Scully turned around in the chair and stared at him.
She was wearing the pair of oversized reading
glasses that proved as necessary as the computer
itself whenever she was writing up a case file. She
removed them deftly with one hand and pushed back her
fiery red hair with the other. "Is she waiting for me
to say something?" he wondered. He was still
attempting to make a decision as to what his next
course of action would be when a pleasant smile
crossed her face.
"Happy Easter," she said simply, pushing a plate of
deviled eggs towards him that lay beside her on
the desk.
"Happy Easter," he responded, unsure of what to say
or do next. By this time he was standing next to her.
He took a chance, leaned in, and kissed her on the
cheek. Pulling up a chair beside her, he grabbed an
egg, bit into it, and asked anxiously, "How are you?"
"I'm fine, Mulder," she replied, "How are you?" Her
right eyebrow arched greatly on her forehead as she
asked the question.
"Fine," he answered, "Just fine."
Scully looked at him for a moment as they sat in
silence. After a minute she reached out her hand and
placed it on his knee. "Well, this is a little
awkward, isn't it?" she asked. Mulder threw his palms
in front of his face, covering his eyes and mouth.
"Thank God you said so," he moaned, the words somewhat
muffled by his hands. He rubbed his forehead and slid
his hands down his cheeks and off his chin. "I was
worried I was the only one."
"You're not," Scully answered, patting his hand,
"We'll just have to get it better next time."
"Next time?" he questioned, looking up into her
smiling face. He returned the smile, grateful
for the humor to replace the desperate feeling
of uneasiness. "I don't know, Scully," he said,
"I don't think that it could possibly get any
better than last night." He looked as though he
had just won first prize at a science fair.
"Modesty becomes you, Mulder," Scully answered,
still grinning.
"So let me get this straight, just to avoid all
potential confusion and embarrassing situations
on my part in the future. We are planning on
making this a new addition to our daily
schedule, right? Days in the field, nights in
bed?"
"Well, we're more harmful to them together,"
Scully replied, "isn't that what Lauren said?
Isn't that why she tried to kill us, to stop us
from exposing the truth? And if we can only stop
the future by getting close, then isn't that what
we should be doing?"
"I can think of a few things I'd like to be doing
right now." His eyes gleamed with a mischievous
intent.
"Anyway, that's what I'm looking into as we
speak," Scully said. For the first time,
Mulder became aware of what was on the screen.
It was the DNA information that he had
confiscated from Chimera.
"What are you doing?" he asked, turning his
attention to the compound, "the case is over.
What are you looking for?"
"Answers, Mulder," she replied, "I'm looking for
answers. If we can just find something to
destabilize the bonds in the nucleotides, we
could potentially protect ourselves from the
future colonization that Lauren spoke of. I mean,
she was initially using some chemical compound
to kill her victims, before she ran out of time
and resorted to stabbing. That must mean that
there exists an organic compound, here on this
Earth that has the ability to destabilize, maybe
some, I don't know, maybe some sort of material
with magnetic properties, something that would
disrupt the electronegative charges found
in the samples of Purity Control."
Mulder leaned over and placed a palm to her
forehead. "Are you feeling well, Scully?
You seem a little sick."
She shook his hand roughly off her head. "I'm
fine, Mulder. Isn't this what you always
wanted? For me to believe you? This time I
would have to say that the evidence
overwhelmingly indicates Purity Control is of
extraterrestrial origin, and that Chimera
scientists have the ability to combine human
and alien DNA. Now, even if all that shit
about alien invasion and colonization turns
out to be a load of trash, at least we will
possess the power to halt the generation and
disposal of clones that were created for God
knows what by God knows whom."
"Maybe we shouldn't possess that power, Scully.
Maybe it isn't ours to decide what the future
holds. Maybe that would make us as guilty as
those men that financially back Chimera."
"What are you saying, Mulder?" she asked,
somewhat astonished, "Are you saying that
you want to give up and let time here run
its course?"
"No," he answered, "I'm not saying that at
all. As long as I have the strength I will keep
fighting with you to make the truth known. I
don't believe that there is one outcome
predestined by the beginning of time. Every
choice you make in life changes your future,
whether it be selecting the Bureau over a career
in medicine or electing to have a hotdog
instead of a hamburger for lunch. I think that
what's really important in life is the trip
along the way, the people that you meet and the
experiences you gather from those chance
encounters." He looked hard into her crystalline
eyes. "Whatever the future holds for us, Scully,
we'll face it together, without hesitation, without
fear for the future because it's constantly
changing. We change it, and together, we will make
a better
world."
Scully smiled gratefully as he leaned in and kissed
her softly on the lips. "Thank you," she whispered,
"Thank you."
"For what?" he asked softly.
"For opening my eyes," she said, looking through
his hazel-green eyes and into his soul, "For
opening them to you." Gazing out the window into
the morning sky, they held each other tightly in
anticipation of a future bright with the hope of
two people, remotely opposite, yet finding
themselves journeying on the same path of faith.
It was a future bright with the strength of each
other.
*THE END*
a word in edgewise, "I'm so sorry. I never should
have agreed to a pawn in their game of human
preservation. I never should have allowed Him to
kill the Twelve, or to try and kill you." She
walked towards him.
Scully glanced quickly around the room. She picked
up the vase that had been a gift from her sister
on the day she moved to D.C.. Melissa had said that
it had some sort of holistic value, that the
earthenware had been obtained from a center of
peacefulness under the astronomical sign of her birth.
It was to bring her the serenity and security of her
home. "Stay where you are," Scully warned her, "or
I will be forced to take aggressive action."
Lauren continued walking towards her. "I did try to
stop it, Fox," she told him, "Before I met you, and
you changed my life, I realized that I was the only
one who could stop them from taking over, so I tried
to destroy the creations of my own making by burning
them and all the technology that birthed them to the
ground. But they survived the ashes, survived to
carry out their mission: to produce offspring capable
of living through the onslaught. But he knew I was
responsible, so I had to leave Washington, to become
another person with another profession, to become
anonymous in order to survive."
"Stop right there, or I swear to God that I'll
kill you."
Mulder, still tied to the wall, gazed into Lauren's
eyes, searching for the soul of the person that he
once knew. "Who found out about you, Lauren? Who
was the one behind this madness that spawned you?"
She smiled fondly. "The Chimney-Man," she said,
"the man who raised me after I was created. He may
not be my father genetically, but he loved me like
no other."
"Dick van Dyke was your father?" Scully asked
sardonically.
Lauren glared at her. "Of course not," she seethed,
"The Chimney-Man was my pet name for him because
he smoked so much."
Scully's mouth dropped in surprise as she looked
at Mulder. He nodded in acceptance. Nothing
surprised him anymore.
"You can put that down," Lauren said, turning her
attention to Scully, "I'm not going to hurt Fox.
And even if I did, a little vase wouldn't stop me."
"If you want me to trust you, why don't you tell
me where my gun is?"
"It's on the kitchen table."
"You're coming with me," Scully commanded, "Walk
in front of me."
Lauren complied, although she saw no reason to go
about obtaining a weapon that was entirely useless
against her. Lauren took her position in front of
Scully and walked slowly into the next room. There
was a look of extreme displeasure on her face. As
the passed through the doorway, Scully could see
her firearm lying on the table, right where Lauren
said it would be.
"Sit down, on your hands," Scully told her, and
Lauren did as she so politely asked. Scully placed
the vase on the table, grabbed quickly for the gun,
and kept it raised at Lauren's head. She slipped off
the safety and patted her down with the other hand.
She felt a hard object in her pocket and picking it
up, she discovered the cold, metallic stiletto
weapon with which Lauren had threatened Mulder.
Pushing the button on the side, Scully discovered
that the point was still wet with blood. "I don't
care what Mulder thinks about her," she decided,
"She's still a murderer." Scully gestured with her
head towards the doorway. "You first," she said.
Lauren walked out of the kitchen, followed by a
menacing-looking Scully with a gun in one hand and
the stiletto in the other. "Put your hands in the
air," Scully said, "Slowly."
As Lauren lifted her hands, her black hair
shortened and her pretty, thin features became
thick and strong. The Black-Haired Man turned
around quickly, arms flailing out towards Scully.
From the other room, Mulder gasped as he heard
three rounds fired and the ensuing sounds of a
scuffle. He heard someone drop to the floor,
sounding like a pile of bricks against the muffling
softness of the carpet.
"Scully!" he cried, "Scully, are you okay?"
He watched in dismay as the Black-Haired Man emerged
from the other room. "Your partner is dead," he said,
his voice hissing like a venomous snake, "And you
will soon join her."
"You bastard!" he spit the words out like a bad taste
in his mouth, "What the hell did you do to her?"
"I only did what was needed to be done," the Black-
Haired Man replied, "It is written that one shall
die at His left, one shall die at His right, and He
will pass with them. After the third day, He will
rise again, bringing redemption to the world and the
ascension of all souls on the Second Coming."
"What the fuck does that have to do with us?" Mulder
asked.
"This is Golgotha, Agent Mulder."
"The place of the skulls?" Mulder said, "Isn't
that a little facetious for the Son of Man?"
The Black-Haired Man advanced towards him. He was
now directly in front of Mulder, face-to-face with
the enemy. "You know, she asked to sit on my side
in Heaven before I took her," he said, only inches
away.
He thought of Scully, how if there was a God then
there was nobody more worthy than she to be seated
at His right hand. "Yeah?" Mulder replied, "Well
you can see me in Hell." With those words, he
summoned up all his disdain and spit on his forehead.
The Black-Haired Man wiped the spit of his brow,
planted his feet, and punched Mulder squarely in the
jaw. The force sent his head careening against the
wall. After carefully moving his jaw about to see if
it was broken, Mulder glanced back up at the Father.
He stared at him, eyes hardened and challenging.
After a minute, he positioned his head to the other
side.
"What are you doing?" the Black-Haired Man asked.
"I'm turning the other cheek," he said, "Isn't that
what your Son instructed?"
"Yes," he said, pulling the stiletto from his pocket,
"but He was just following my orders, and one must
always honor his father and his mother."
Mulder watched the weapon rise high above him and for
the second time that night he prepared to meet his
end. But this time, he faced the future with open eyes.
He was not afraid to go. If his life was over, then at
the very least it would be ended in fulfillment of his
mission, to find out the truth behind the disappearance
of Samantha. So many had died so that he could find the
answer to those questions he sought. Both of his parents
were gone, so was Samantha. And now Scully. She wasn't
part of his immediate family. She held no genetic ties
to him, no blood relations. But none of that mattered,
because their relationship transcended familial bonds.
She was his stability, his security, his humanity,
and now that she was gone.
"You can kill me now and it won't matter," Mulder told
him, a peacefulness coming upon him that he hadn't felt
for seven long years, "Too many others know the truth,
even if it is only bits and pieces. You've been too
messy, made too many mistakes. They will figure it out.
It's only a matter of time."
"There's nothing to figure out, Agent Mulder. Your
demise will ensure the events of the future.
Colonization will come and there will be no one alive
that shall tamper with fate. If survival comes, it will
not be at the price of the degeneration of the human
species."
"Only the people who are in a position to tamper with
fate desire that," Mulder said, "you know, like the
Smoking Man that created you? Regular humans like me
and, well, like me don't want to become like you. But
they should be allowed to have the information that
you have, to prepare for the future by taking means
alternative to those imposed by the people behind
Chimera."
"I do not wish it."
"So what," Mulder responded, feeling the anger rise
once more within him, "you just let them all die,
like you let Scully die? To what ends? To preserve
humanity, even if it means Armageddon?"
"You are a chosen people, Agent Mulder, we must
keep you pure."
"At any cost?"
"At any cost," he stated definitively as the stiletto
came down, aimed to pierce Mulder's heart.
Without warning, the Black-Haired Man's knees buckled
beneath him. Mulder watched with a mixture of awe and
relief as the Father fell to the floor next to a
bedraggled-looking Scully. Her white blouse was soaked
with blood, a victim of multiple stabbings, evidenced
by three distinct red, circular wounds. Her hair was
tousled, her skirt ripped, and burgeoning bruises on
her face indicated physical assault.
"Scully!" he cried out to her, unable to describe his
elation in any other words at seeing her alive. She
had managed to crawl her way into the room undetected,
being completely incapable of standing on her feet
due to her injuries. With a quick blow to the back of
the knees, she was able to knock her assailant to the
floor. Unfortunately, she knew the advantage her
surprise attack had given her would not hold out long
against her strong opponent.
"Scully!" he called out to her again, this time in
fear that the Father would dispense of her right
before his eyes. "Get the weapon, Scully," he
encouraged her, "Get the weapon. The back of his
neck!"
Feeling the sudden burst of adrenaline cascading
through her veins, she wrestled furiously with him for
the sharp stiletto. She could not let him win, risk
letting him take Mulder away from her again. She
grasped his clenched hands in hers, pulling at the
weapon. The two rolled over each other, banging into
the coffee table and sending the porcelain lamp
careening to the floor. He was on top of her now. He
turned the stiletto towards her and prepared to make
his final cut.
"This time you're going to die for real," he seethed,
as the stiletto inched closer and closer. She threw
her hands in front of her as the weapon descended.
Creating a shield for her body, she pushed his hands
away with hers, but his strength was too much on her
weakened state. He saw the fear in her eyes as he
pressed closer and closer towards her neck. Holding
his hands with her left hand, she reached out with her
right and felt for the broken lamp shards on her carpet.
Finding one, she grasped it tightly and struck it sharp
edge across the face of the Father. He dropped the
stiletto on the floor as his hands reached up to cup
the newly-formed scratch in agony. Scully watched
horrified as he removed his hands and a green liquid
oozed to the floor.
"Scully, his neck!" Mulder screamed.
"Uhh," she moaned as the unbearable burning sensation
began to collect in her eyes, like the burning juice
of an onion that will never wash away. Summoning her
last bit of living energy, she grabbed the stiletto
and got to her knees. Inching her way behind him, she
held her left hand over her eyes and jabbed with the
right, praying to God that the blow would strike true.
She glanced up at her partner. "Mulder," she breathed
with her final breath as she collapsed on her side,
her blood staining the pristine carpet.
He looked at the stiletto that was still hanging out
of the base of the neck of the Father. He watched as
the Black-Haired Man was transformed into the face
of Lauren. Her face was contorted in pain as she
whispered, "Fox," as though she was frightened of
what her future portended. She fell forward and her
body instantly began its disintegration into a
green goo. He turned his attention back to his savior.
"Scully!" he cried, "Scully, wake up!"
Somewhere, deep in her subconscious, she thought she
heard him call her name, beckoning her back. She felt
completely at peace, though she wondered from where he
was calling her. She let the light envelope her as all
thoughts went blank.
St. Catherine's Hospital
Three Days Later
4:32 P.M.
The light which seemed to emanate from every direction
was gradually becoming more and more concentrated into
one distinct object. It appeared that the light was
sucked into the center of the great white place as
Scully's eyes began to focus more intently on the area
around her. She began to make out the rough edges of a
wall, no, it was a ceiling, and the light was pouring out
of a rectangular fixture situated in the center. She
closed her eyes and opened them up halfway. They still
burned and she was aware of an immense throbbing in her
forehead. She blinked them a couple of times, clenched
her teeth, and opened them wide in an effort to
determine her surroundings. It was useless. She
couldn't make out anything beyond the light.
"It's okay, Dana," she heard her mother's voice at her
side, "it's okay. You're in the hospital. You're just
fine now, close your eyes."
Scully did as her mother commanded, following her orders
as though she was still five years old. She gradually
became aware of the fact that she was lying on an
uncomfortable hospital bed, wearing only a flimsy sheet
of what passed for patient garb.
"Mom?" she asked, "what happened?"
She felt her mother's soothing hand brush her hair
against her head, starting at her aching forehead and
working towards the back. "You were found at your
apartment," she told her carefully, "you and Fox both."
"Mulder!" she cried, remembering in a flash the events
of that terrible night. She remembered the Black-Haired
Man beating her to the floor and stabbing her with the
stiletto. She remembered touching her wounds with the
tips of her fingers and seeing the large amounts of
fresh, red blood that gushed from her body. She
remembered passing out into unconsciousness as he bent
down to see if she was dead. She remembered waking up
to the sound of Mulder's soothing voice, of forcing
herself to make her way into her living room in order
to save his life as her own strength waned with every
passing minute. She tried to sit up but her mother
held her back.
"No, Dana," Maggie said sternly, "lay back down. Fox
is fine. They found him tied up, calling for help,
after the sound of gunshots alerted your neighbors to
an intruder." Scully couldn't see her mother's grim
expression. "Thank God you're okay, Dana," she blurted
out, "You're my only daughter left." She felt her
mother's hands drift down to her shoulders as her grip
suddenly got much tighter, erupting into a healthy
embrace.
"I know, Mom," she said, returning the hug, "I know."
After about a minute, Scully heard the sounds of two
light raps at the door, followed by the sound of its
squeaky hinges as it was opened. "Hello," she heard
a familiar voice say, "Would you like me to come
back at another time?"
She felt her mother pull away. "Hello, Fox," she
heard her say, "No, that won't be necessary." Maggie
kissed her daughter lightly on the cheek and whispered,
"I love you" in her ear.
"I love you, too, Mom," Scully responded as Maggie
stood up from the seat where she had spent three
fretful nights watching diligently over her surviving
daughter. She walked towards Mulder and clasped his
large hand in her tiny palms. "I'll give you some time
alone with her," she told him, a thin smile pervading
her worried expression.
"Thank you," he answered as she walked out of the room,
closing the door behind her. He walked slowly towards
her bed and sat down at her side.
Her hand lay at her side on the poorly-padded bed. He
reached over and grabbed it, holding her palm in his
as though he was afraid to let her go. Their fingers
intertwined and he lightly stroked her hand with his.
She turned her head to face him though she
couldn't see past the stinging.
"How are you feeling?" he asked her through an intensely
affectionate smile. A mixture of concern and elation
showed at the corners of his eyes.
"Like I was run over by a giant flukeman," she responded,
returning a weak smile. He chuckled warmly. "Well you
look amazing," he told her, brushing back her hair
behind her ear.
"Yeah. And Melvin and I have been having a passionate
affair."
"Please, Scully," he said with tenderness in his voice,
"I just ate." He bent over her and looked at her
longingly. Brushing a wisp of hair away from her face,
he permitted an awkward silence to pass slowly by as
he tried to determine his next course of action.
Caressing her cheek, he confided in her, "I thought I
had lost you."
"Mulder..." she began, but he interrupted her.
"Shh," he whispered, putting a finger to her lips,
"It's okay. I know you're afraid of ruining our
relationship, of pushing our friendship beyond what is
F.B.I. procedure, but I've got to tell you, I was never
a stickler for protocol." She smiled broadly as his face
became serious. "Since our first case together I knew
that I could give you my complete trust, that I could
bear my soul to you. That's something I've never been
able to do before. Since that time, I have developed a
level of intimacy with you that I have never achieved
with anyone else. You've shown me a side of myself that
I never knew existed."
"You always knew it existed, Mulder," she told him,
"You just never let anyone see it." His voice became
strong, almost insistent. "Scully, when he told me you
were dead, I didn't care about living anymore. What is
life but sharing experiences with someone you care
deeply about? If I couldn't share my life with you,
then I didn't want to live. And then when I saw you
alive, only to watch you die for real in so much pain,
trying to save my life, Well, I realized how much I've
taken your presence in my life for granted."
"Mulder," she said, her eyes watering, "it was you
who gave my life meaning. You've taught me a drive
for living that I never would have found within
myself." She wanted to be able to look at him, to
see his face. She reached up and felt the small
stubble about his cheek. "You taught a passion for
life that I would have never known."
Mulder leaned in closer. She felt his soft lips
against his, tender and passionate. She took him
in greedily, seven years of pent-up flirtations
erupting in one hot-blooded moment of sexual
ecstasy. Her lips were warm and moistened by the
time he finally pulled back.
They both breathed heavily, attempting to recover
the air lost from their lungs as desire
overruled involuntary biological action. She felt
his hot breath against her cheek. Once again, she
felt the urgent desire to see him, to gauge the
truth of his words in his eyes. She braced herself
and opened them wide. She saw his smile, his strong,
handsome features, and his eyes, his beautiful eyes
filled with love. She bit her lip as a single tear
rolled down her face. Putting his palm against her
hot cheek, he wiped it away with his thumb.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"It hurts so much," she mumbled as he reached in
and pressed his lips against hers.
Fox Mulder Residence
April 23, 2000
2:25 A.M.
Mulder held Scully in her arms. He grinned boyishly
with a familiar paradoxical look of machismo and
tenderness.
"I'm so glad you asked me to drop by," she told him,
leaning in to invite a long kiss. "I always have
time for you, Scully," he replied, accepting the
invitation, "as long as we make it quick. I have a
meeting in a half hour."
"Oh, Mulder," she scolded, slapping him playfully
across his shoulder. He grabbed her by the arm and
pulled her in to him. "Just kidding, Scully, I know
you like it nice and slow."
She kissed him on the mouth and then ran her lips
down his cheek to his neck as she unbuttoned his
shirt. He grabbed her forcefully by the back of her
head and threw his lips hungrily on hers. He
reached to untuck her blouse from her skirt and
lifted it over her head. He touched her body but
instead of feeling soft skin, all he felt was
something wet on his hands. He drew back from her
and held them out in front of him. His palms were
covered in blood. He looked up expecting to the
excitement of the moment on her face but all he
saw was the pain. He followed her gaze to her
stomach. She stuck her fingers in one of the
three wounds on her torso. She lifted it up for
him to see.
"Blood," she said, the confusion apparent on her
face. Her eyes rolled back in her head and Mulder
could tell she was about to faint. He caught her
as her body fell backwards. "Scully!" he cried,
"Scully, wake up!" He looked up from where he was
squatting on the floor. Lauren's face stared back
at him. She held the stiletto high above her head.
"I did it for you, Fox," she said, "They all died
for you." She brought the blood-soaked
weapon down again.
Mulder awoke with a jolt as he clutched the cushions
on the sofa. "Scully!" he called out, but no one was
there. His back was soaked with sweat and his
favorite gray shirt clung to his body. He threw his
legs over the side of the sofa and rested his elbows
on his knees. He put his palms to his face and shook
of the uneasiness that came part and parcel with
the sleepiness. He was used to having nightmares but
never like these.
The ringing of the phone shook him gently from his
reverie and he bent over to pull it off the hook.
"Yeah."
"Mulder," a voice asked uncertainly, "it's me.
Did I wake you?"
"No, I was up. I was having a little trouble
sleeping."
Scully bit her lip hesitantly. "Mulder," she asked,
"would you mind coming over here? I'm having a bit
of the same problem myself."
"I'll be right over," he said. He put the phone back
on the hook and grabbed his keys off the coffee table.
He stood up and walked out of the apartment.
Dana Scully Residence
3:12 A.M.
"Thank God you're here." Scully allowed herself to
be swept up in a soothing embrace as she unlocked
the door and found Mulder at the threshold.
"Scully, what's wrong?" he asked, deep concern apparent
in his voice. He threw one arm around her back and drew
her close to him with the other, resting it lightly on
the back of her head. She gazed up at him. She was
shaking violently through her beige robe and her
beautiful blue eyes were wide with terror.
"Nightmares," she said simply, "terrible, terrible
nightmares."
With feet planted, he led her gently, swaying from side
to side. The danced a quiet, intimate dance as he
comforted her, "Shh, it's okay, I'm here." His mere
presence - the smell of his cologne, the calm,
gentleness of his touch - was enough to reassure her.
She stepped back, folded her arms in front of her body,
and cleared her throat, embarrassed by her actions.
"Thank you," she said uncomfortably, "Please, come in."
She extended her arm, directing him to be seated on the
sofa. As he positioned himself, he noted the switching
and sliding of various locks on the door, highlighting
her achingly apparent uneasiness. She approached the
couch and seated herself by his side.
"Tell me about it," he commanded, spreading his arm
across the top of the sofa and folding one leg over
the other.
"It was horrible," she confided, "I was here, in
this room, talking to you on the phone. You were
explaining to me about the massive outbreak of reported
close encounters within the last couple of months. Then
I saw a shadow on the floor and when I turned
around to look, it was, it was her, Mulder."
Mulder sighed deeply and looked down at the floor.
"I'm sorry, Mulder," Scully stammered.
"It's okay," he responded, looking into her eyes. He
placed his hand over hers, "Go ahead."
Scully squared her shoulders and took in a deep breath.
"I saw it again, Mulder. I see it every time I close my
eyes. All I can see is her, standing there in my apartment,
holding that weapon dripping with blood. I can sense her
anger towards me like a hot flame. Then I feel the weapon.
Over and over I can feel it going into my body, quick and
painful. I try to scream out to you for help but I drop
the phone. It happens in slow motion. I see the phone
falling down and down, farther and farther. I can hear
you calling me but I can't answer. The last thing I see
every night before I wake up is her, Mulder, and the last
thing I hear is you."
Scully gazed into his eyes. Piercing and blue, they
penetrated every core of his being. It was a strange
feeling, having someone know him so well. He felt
desperately unsettled, but somehow uniquely comforted
at the same time. He shifted uneasily as he began to
open up.
"I have the same dream, Scully. I can't escape it. I
just keep replaying it over and over again in my head.
At first I thought it was because I couldn't face the
truth of Lauren's true nature, but then I began to
discover the real reason why I have been so haunted.
It's the thought of losing you."
Scully blushed slightly and looked towards the floor.
"Oh, Mulder," she responded sweetly.
"I mean, just think about it, Scully," he grinned,
"what would I do without someone there to constantly
deliver one harangue after another regarding the
scientific foundation for the composition of
unexplained extraterrestrial entities? I might actually
succeed in getting booted once and for all from the
Bureau, and then who would Skinner have to take out
all of his sexual frustration?"
She smiled fondly, but his grin soon began to fade
into a dismal frown.
"Scully," he asked straight-faced, "do you think
that I deserve to be punished?"
"Mulder," she said, a shocked expression appearing
on her face, "why would you say such a thing?"
"Lauren told me that it was my fault, Scully, my
fault that so many people have suffered, and I
must admit that I have to agree. If it wasn't for
my ceaseless quest for knowledge, my father might
still be alive, and certainly my mother. Deep Throat
would be attempting to deflate the Smoking Man's
Syndicate, and X would be by his side." She heard
sorrow in his voice and regret in his eyes as he
continued. "Not to mention the pain I've inflicted
on you, Scully. You getting stabbed is just the
latest example. If it weren't for me, you never
would have been abducted, you could still bear
children, your sister would be alive, and you
wouldn't have found yourself facing death, what, it
must be about two-hundred times by now." He shook
his head in an outward sign of his self-denigration.
"Maybe she was right, Scully. Maybe my victims should
gain retribution for my sins. Maybe 'An Eye For An Eye,
A Tooth For A Tooth' is just as good a code of conduct
as any."
Scully chuckled softly. "I never had you pegged for
the obey-the-word-of-God-type, Mulder," she gently
teased.
"Scully, I'm serious," he responded. She could tell
by the look on his face that he was.
"You know, Mulder," she replied, "a wise man once
said, 'An eye for an eye would make the whole world
blind'."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Gandhi," he said
matter-of-factly.
"That's right," she answered, "and look what happened
to him. He got to be Mahatma of a whole nation. There
must be something to what he says." She draped her hand
lightly on his forearm.
"Listen, Mulder," she said sincerely, "You are not to
be blamed for the death of anyone. Deep Throat, your
mother, especially your father. They all made their
own decisions in life, just as you made yours. They
chose a path, and it led to a destructive end, but
you are still here, and I am still here, and nothing
they can do can ever change that. I left medicine to
find my place in the world, to do some good in my life
before I die. I could not have fulfilled that promise
to myself if I had found anyone else in that dingy
little copy room." She grabbed both of his hands in
hers and held them tightly.
"Don't feel sorry for me, Mulder," she said through a
brave smile, "You are not some harbinger of death,
sent to make my life a living hell." She chuckled
warm-heartedly,
"That's Skinner's job." She looked into his
hazel-green eyes. The warmth from them seemed to
overtake her entire body. Her face and voice suddenly
became solemn.
"You've made me feel more alive in these short seven
years than I've ever felt my entire life," she told
him.
Without warning or any inhibition, she leaned into him
and bestowed him with a long, hot kiss on the lips. Her
hands moved from his up behind his back, and then
behind his head. She strummed her fingers through his
hair as she beckoned him towards her. She twisted her
mouth and ran her tongue over his. She felt a surge of
heat run through her as she felt his hands press
against her back. "Mulder," she moaned breathlessly as
she drew back to look into his eyes. They were filled
with a mixture desire and affection. She saw them
glance back at her, down her neck and towards her chest.
She looked down. Her robe had come slightly open during
their brief exchange. She grabbed his hand and put it
between the open flaps. "It's okay," she told him,
guiding his hand down the contours of her shoulder,
"I'm ready."
"Are you sure?" he asked, aware that they would be
crossing the boundary from partners to something more,
never to go back again. He wasn't willing to pressure her
into something that she was unwilling to handle, even if
it meant forgetting his desire to have her, to hold her
in his arms, to wake up next to her.
"I'm sure," she answered, leading his hands down her body.
At his touch, the robe fell listlessly at her waist. She
stood up, for the first time fully in touch with her
feelings for him, ready to commit to him bodily as she
had mentally and spiritually. Her hands pulled
him up from the couch and led him into the bedroom.
10:28 A.M.
Mulder opened his eyes groggily, attempting to divine
his surroundings from the accompanied haze and
confusion of sleep. The Sunday morning sunlight poured
in through the windows, illuminating the bright, white
decor of the room. He sat up and removed the tousled
spread from his waist. He suddenly remembered. He was
in Scully's apartment.
His mind flashed back to the previous night. He had
never before experienced someone so fully,
intellectually, socially, and now physically. Their
partnership had been one of equality. She provided
the sound, scientific background to his unconventional,
seemingly irrational theories and methods, though he
had always considered himself the conduit through
which she could begin to explore other channels for
which science provided no answers. In that respect, he
was the teacher, and she the student. Yet, last night
she had surprised him. He had long lusted for her in
his heart, but could never take the initiative until
she was willing to let go of her fears. But last night
it was she who had taken his hand and guided him to
the next level of their relationship. He remembered how
good it felt to feel her soft skin caressing him,
wordlessly informing him that there was nothing to
fear. She taught him a kind of peacefulness that he
hadn't experienced since he had found the truth behind
his sister's disappearance all those years ago. It was
as though he had hidden a piece of himself far away in
the darkest crevices of his soul and in one moment of
illumination she had found it and made him complete.
But that was last night. How would she feel about
their actions now? If he knew Scully like he thought
he knew her, she had most probably been contemplating
the pros and cons of their sexual relationship for
hours now, if not longer. He turned his body and looked
at the other side of the bed. She was gone. Was she
feeling remorse? Did she regret letting herself
transcend the safe confines of a strictly platonic
relationship?
He stood up and looked for the jeans that he had worn
to her house. He discovered them laying in a crumpled
ball on the floor behind a little table that bore the
weight of a lamp on it. He picked them up, shook them
out straight, and put them on. He then found his gray
shirt, and put it on as well. As he looked at himself
in the mirror on the opposite wall, he thought he
heard sounds coming from the adjacent room. He cocked
his head slightly and listened again. He slowly began
to decipher the sounds of a keyboard clicking.
He walked out of the bedroom and followed the noises.
Scully's back was facing him. She was seated at a
corner desk, typing away furiously at her laptop.
As he approached her, he contemplated how he should
handle the situation. Should he talk about what
happened or just ignore it and act like nothing
happened? He shot an apprehensive glance in the
direction of the door. Maybe he should have gotten
up early and left. Maybe there was still time.
Scully turned around in the chair and stared at him.
She was wearing the pair of oversized reading
glasses that proved as necessary as the computer
itself whenever she was writing up a case file. She
removed them deftly with one hand and pushed back her
fiery red hair with the other. "Is she waiting for me
to say something?" he wondered. He was still
attempting to make a decision as to what his next
course of action would be when a pleasant smile
crossed her face.
"Happy Easter," she said simply, pushing a plate of
deviled eggs towards him that lay beside her on
the desk.
"Happy Easter," he responded, unsure of what to say
or do next. By this time he was standing next to her.
He took a chance, leaned in, and kissed her on the
cheek. Pulling up a chair beside her, he grabbed an
egg, bit into it, and asked anxiously, "How are you?"
"I'm fine, Mulder," she replied, "How are you?" Her
right eyebrow arched greatly on her forehead as she
asked the question.
"Fine," he answered, "Just fine."
Scully looked at him for a moment as they sat in
silence. After a minute she reached out her hand and
placed it on his knee. "Well, this is a little
awkward, isn't it?" she asked. Mulder threw his palms
in front of his face, covering his eyes and mouth.
"Thank God you said so," he moaned, the words somewhat
muffled by his hands. He rubbed his forehead and slid
his hands down his cheeks and off his chin. "I was
worried I was the only one."
"You're not," Scully answered, patting his hand,
"We'll just have to get it better next time."
"Next time?" he questioned, looking up into her
smiling face. He returned the smile, grateful
for the humor to replace the desperate feeling
of uneasiness. "I don't know, Scully," he said,
"I don't think that it could possibly get any
better than last night." He looked as though he
had just won first prize at a science fair.
"Modesty becomes you, Mulder," Scully answered,
still grinning.
"So let me get this straight, just to avoid all
potential confusion and embarrassing situations
on my part in the future. We are planning on
making this a new addition to our daily
schedule, right? Days in the field, nights in
bed?"
"Well, we're more harmful to them together,"
Scully replied, "isn't that what Lauren said?
Isn't that why she tried to kill us, to stop us
from exposing the truth? And if we can only stop
the future by getting close, then isn't that what
we should be doing?"
"I can think of a few things I'd like to be doing
right now." His eyes gleamed with a mischievous
intent.
"Anyway, that's what I'm looking into as we
speak," Scully said. For the first time,
Mulder became aware of what was on the screen.
It was the DNA information that he had
confiscated from Chimera.
"What are you doing?" he asked, turning his
attention to the compound, "the case is over.
What are you looking for?"
"Answers, Mulder," she replied, "I'm looking for
answers. If we can just find something to
destabilize the bonds in the nucleotides, we
could potentially protect ourselves from the
future colonization that Lauren spoke of. I mean,
she was initially using some chemical compound
to kill her victims, before she ran out of time
and resorted to stabbing. That must mean that
there exists an organic compound, here on this
Earth that has the ability to destabilize, maybe
some, I don't know, maybe some sort of material
with magnetic properties, something that would
disrupt the electronegative charges found
in the samples of Purity Control."
Mulder leaned over and placed a palm to her
forehead. "Are you feeling well, Scully?
You seem a little sick."
She shook his hand roughly off her head. "I'm
fine, Mulder. Isn't this what you always
wanted? For me to believe you? This time I
would have to say that the evidence
overwhelmingly indicates Purity Control is of
extraterrestrial origin, and that Chimera
scientists have the ability to combine human
and alien DNA. Now, even if all that shit
about alien invasion and colonization turns
out to be a load of trash, at least we will
possess the power to halt the generation and
disposal of clones that were created for God
knows what by God knows whom."
"Maybe we shouldn't possess that power, Scully.
Maybe it isn't ours to decide what the future
holds. Maybe that would make us as guilty as
those men that financially back Chimera."
"What are you saying, Mulder?" she asked,
somewhat astonished, "Are you saying that
you want to give up and let time here run
its course?"
"No," he answered, "I'm not saying that at
all. As long as I have the strength I will keep
fighting with you to make the truth known. I
don't believe that there is one outcome
predestined by the beginning of time. Every
choice you make in life changes your future,
whether it be selecting the Bureau over a career
in medicine or electing to have a hotdog
instead of a hamburger for lunch. I think that
what's really important in life is the trip
along the way, the people that you meet and the
experiences you gather from those chance
encounters." He looked hard into her crystalline
eyes. "Whatever the future holds for us, Scully,
we'll face it together, without hesitation, without
fear for the future because it's constantly
changing. We change it, and together, we will make
a better
world."
Scully smiled gratefully as he leaned in and kissed
her softly on the lips. "Thank you," she whispered,
"Thank you."
"For what?" he asked softly.
"For opening my eyes," she said, looking through
his hazel-green eyes and into his soul, "For
opening them to you." Gazing out the window into
the morning sky, they held each other tightly in
anticipation of a future bright with the hope of
two people, remotely opposite, yet finding
themselves journeying on the same path of faith.
It was a future bright with the strength of each
other.
*THE END*