Disclaimer/Author's Notes: Two more characters appear, and I don't own them, either. Congrats to John and Monica, though; they do a great job, don't they!? In this chapter, I have shamelessly stolen lines from Stephen King's Firestarter, and Dean Koontz's magnificent From the Corner of His Eye. Thank you for not suing me. The epilogue may or may not follow depending on whether I can find it.
After Mulder's phone call, John Doggett and Monica Reyes were shaken.
"So Scully's... Scully has been kidnapped?" John asked his partner. He was repeating himself, but Reyes chose not to inform him. She slightly inclined her head.
"That's what Mulder said."
"They're in Iowa? Did he say where?"
"I'll get it traced."
Minutes later, FBI Agents Doggett and Reyes drove to Iowa. By some incredible twist of fate, they were currently the field investigators for a small case in southern Minnesota.
In less than an hour, they were outside the house.
The shot was fired, and Reyes made a brief search of the house, finding Scully in one of the upstairs rooms. Her shoulders were hunched, and the hospital gown she was still wearing from the night before hung off them, not touching the front of her body at all. Partially hidden by her hair, her face was ominously blank.
"Dana? Dana, are you OK?" Reyes asked gently. Scully's head tipped upwards to make brief eye contact with the other woman. Then, with absolutely no warning, Scully almost literally fell forward and sobbed tearlessly into Reyes' shoulder.
Monica embraced her acquaintance fiercely, allowing her puzzling emotions to calm. She asked what was wrong, perhaps a stupid question, but one she needed answering. Short silence followed, then Scully broke it with a voice tainted with both grief and hesitant hope.
"Mulder... isn't he... dead?"
"No, I don't think so, he seemed fine," Reyes said with honest bewilderment, holding the redhead at an arms length in order to watch her face. "No, why would you think so?"
A remarkable transformation occurred upon previous FBI agent Dana Katherine Scully's face. The features so recently torn, haunted with turbid, awful tragedy and foreboding lit up, little at a time, with the last and kindest of the fairies from Pandora's Box.
"He's not..." she began. And then, with rapturous delight, "he was WRONG!"
Never had Dana been so pleased at her partner's ignorance as she was now. She ate up the stairs, coming to a doubtful pause as she saw Mulder's motionless form on the sun-soaked floor tiles. Then he turned his head to the side, and she made a small, odd sound of joy, and rushed up to him.
"Fox! Fox! Oh, Fox Mulder, you're alive, you're alive..." she hugged him tightly, mercilessly; and when he groaned in discomfort, she drew back, squatted on her haunches, and demanded to know what was wrong.
"Nothing, it's just..." he rolled over and vomited on the floor, and Scully noted in horror that it was blood, blood he had vomited. She made him roll over again, and sit up, and she found the corrupt agent's legacy - a horrific knife wound in Fox's side. She wept then, and held him again, but did not take her eyes from his face. He could she not appreciate the lively vigor in the eyes that returned her loving gaze?
"Scully, I'm gonna die, aren't I?" Mulder asked her gently, but with strength unprecedented in a dying man.
"No, of course not," she told him, but they both knew the truth, and it frightened them more than any government conspiracy. "No," she repeated, but it was not heartfelt.
Urgently, he took her hand and they both cried a little, ignoring the frozen duo of Doggett and Reyes in the corner. Eventually, he said in a voice so near to a whisper she had to crouch closer to hear him say, "the pines... the pines outside. Were they pines?" A shadow of doubt passed over his features, and she squeezed his hand convulsively, and he smiled in relief. "Yeah, they were... stupid trees. Don't even know the difference between summer and winter. But anyway..." he belatedly returned her squeeze, and gave her a heartbreakingly tender smile. "They don't matter, do they? I've died... to save two great people. And thank you John, and thank you Monica, and say thank you to the big bald beautiful man for me too. But if I have any regrets, screw it. I've eaten enough sunflower seeds for whatever higher power there may or may not be to look kindly upon me, huh? So I have to say that I love you, Dana. I've... done what I can to prove that to you, and I hope you realize it, but..."
"Ssh," she murmured, pressing a finger to his lips, and he obeyed. "I love you too, Fox." Then she bent forward further, hand tightening on his, and kissed him for the last time, tasting the doom ridden blood in his mouth and uncaring, furiously blinking back the tears that inevitably came, as she needed to keep his precious face until the moment she could never have it again. They lay like that, a tableau, with the embarrassed bystanders barely able to comprehend the emotions they were witnessing, until Mulder finally lay limp in her arms, and his hand fell from hers. Even after his heart stopped, she held his body close to hers, her gorgeous red hair dramatically over his shoulder, golden in the sun and creating a contrast against his dark brown that was nothing short of beautiful.
Finally, Scully felt a hand on her shoulder and drew reluctantly back from the inanimate form of the man she had loved so much. She continued to weep silently, each tear for the pains and trials she had suffered in the past few months, and this concluding, terrible pain. As she watched him, suddenly, miraculously, he blinked and turned his head towards her, but his eyes didn't focus.
Still, he seemed to be talking directly to her when he said, "Your father's proud of you, Dana."
Then he clinically died for the second time that day, this time forever, and his words broke down a dam in her heart, and she fell to the floor and wept like she'd never done before and never would again.
She didn't get up the next minute, or even the next hour, but when she did she didn't cry about Mulder's death, or anything else that had happened in the past, again.
After Mulder's phone call, John Doggett and Monica Reyes were shaken.
"So Scully's... Scully has been kidnapped?" John asked his partner. He was repeating himself, but Reyes chose not to inform him. She slightly inclined her head.
"That's what Mulder said."
"They're in Iowa? Did he say where?"
"I'll get it traced."
Minutes later, FBI Agents Doggett and Reyes drove to Iowa. By some incredible twist of fate, they were currently the field investigators for a small case in southern Minnesota.
In less than an hour, they were outside the house.
The shot was fired, and Reyes made a brief search of the house, finding Scully in one of the upstairs rooms. Her shoulders were hunched, and the hospital gown she was still wearing from the night before hung off them, not touching the front of her body at all. Partially hidden by her hair, her face was ominously blank.
"Dana? Dana, are you OK?" Reyes asked gently. Scully's head tipped upwards to make brief eye contact with the other woman. Then, with absolutely no warning, Scully almost literally fell forward and sobbed tearlessly into Reyes' shoulder.
Monica embraced her acquaintance fiercely, allowing her puzzling emotions to calm. She asked what was wrong, perhaps a stupid question, but one she needed answering. Short silence followed, then Scully broke it with a voice tainted with both grief and hesitant hope.
"Mulder... isn't he... dead?"
"No, I don't think so, he seemed fine," Reyes said with honest bewilderment, holding the redhead at an arms length in order to watch her face. "No, why would you think so?"
A remarkable transformation occurred upon previous FBI agent Dana Katherine Scully's face. The features so recently torn, haunted with turbid, awful tragedy and foreboding lit up, little at a time, with the last and kindest of the fairies from Pandora's Box.
"He's not..." she began. And then, with rapturous delight, "he was WRONG!"
Never had Dana been so pleased at her partner's ignorance as she was now. She ate up the stairs, coming to a doubtful pause as she saw Mulder's motionless form on the sun-soaked floor tiles. Then he turned his head to the side, and she made a small, odd sound of joy, and rushed up to him.
"Fox! Fox! Oh, Fox Mulder, you're alive, you're alive..." she hugged him tightly, mercilessly; and when he groaned in discomfort, she drew back, squatted on her haunches, and demanded to know what was wrong.
"Nothing, it's just..." he rolled over and vomited on the floor, and Scully noted in horror that it was blood, blood he had vomited. She made him roll over again, and sit up, and she found the corrupt agent's legacy - a horrific knife wound in Fox's side. She wept then, and held him again, but did not take her eyes from his face. He could she not appreciate the lively vigor in the eyes that returned her loving gaze?
"Scully, I'm gonna die, aren't I?" Mulder asked her gently, but with strength unprecedented in a dying man.
"No, of course not," she told him, but they both knew the truth, and it frightened them more than any government conspiracy. "No," she repeated, but it was not heartfelt.
Urgently, he took her hand and they both cried a little, ignoring the frozen duo of Doggett and Reyes in the corner. Eventually, he said in a voice so near to a whisper she had to crouch closer to hear him say, "the pines... the pines outside. Were they pines?" A shadow of doubt passed over his features, and she squeezed his hand convulsively, and he smiled in relief. "Yeah, they were... stupid trees. Don't even know the difference between summer and winter. But anyway..." he belatedly returned her squeeze, and gave her a heartbreakingly tender smile. "They don't matter, do they? I've died... to save two great people. And thank you John, and thank you Monica, and say thank you to the big bald beautiful man for me too. But if I have any regrets, screw it. I've eaten enough sunflower seeds for whatever higher power there may or may not be to look kindly upon me, huh? So I have to say that I love you, Dana. I've... done what I can to prove that to you, and I hope you realize it, but..."
"Ssh," she murmured, pressing a finger to his lips, and he obeyed. "I love you too, Fox." Then she bent forward further, hand tightening on his, and kissed him for the last time, tasting the doom ridden blood in his mouth and uncaring, furiously blinking back the tears that inevitably came, as she needed to keep his precious face until the moment she could never have it again. They lay like that, a tableau, with the embarrassed bystanders barely able to comprehend the emotions they were witnessing, until Mulder finally lay limp in her arms, and his hand fell from hers. Even after his heart stopped, she held his body close to hers, her gorgeous red hair dramatically over his shoulder, golden in the sun and creating a contrast against his dark brown that was nothing short of beautiful.
Finally, Scully felt a hand on her shoulder and drew reluctantly back from the inanimate form of the man she had loved so much. She continued to weep silently, each tear for the pains and trials she had suffered in the past few months, and this concluding, terrible pain. As she watched him, suddenly, miraculously, he blinked and turned his head towards her, but his eyes didn't focus.
Still, he seemed to be talking directly to her when he said, "Your father's proud of you, Dana."
Then he clinically died for the second time that day, this time forever, and his words broke down a dam in her heart, and she fell to the floor and wept like she'd never done before and never would again.
She didn't get up the next minute, or even the next hour, but when she did she didn't cry about Mulder's death, or anything else that had happened in the past, again.
