Truthseekers by Leyla Harrison ******************************* OK to post to the newsgroup. ******************************* Disclaimer #1: I wrote this story A LONG TIME AGO, as in last summer. I was bored waiting for the Season 3 premiere in September, and as summers usually can be long, I had a lot of time on my hands. So I wrote a story about how *I* would have picked up where Anasazi left off. So there's no season 3 spoilers at all. In fact, this story is nice - everyone who's died in Season 3 was still alive when I wrote this. I finally dug it off an old disk and decided to post it, regardless of the fact that it's dated. Disclaimer #2: This story is a work of fiction and is entirely the creation of the author. It is based on characters and ideas created by Chris Carter. Those characters and ideas are licensed by the FOX Television Network. Any similarity betwen actual plot details and this story are purely coincidental. Disclaimer #3: Character bonding. a wee drop of romance here - but basically just deep friendship. Rating: PG-13 for some bad language. Enough said!!! On to the story. ************************* Mulder, I'm so sorry about your father, Scully thinks, rehearsing. She wants to somehow tell him that she understand how he feels when he gets back. She knows that what she said to him before he left was not enough. For her, the pain of losing her father is still painfully fresh in her mind. And although Captain Scully wasn't murdered, it was still a sudden death, with no chance for her to say goodbye. Now Mulder has to deal with the fact that he never really made peace with his father before he was killed. And worse yet, Scully thinks, to have him murdered by that asshole Krycek while Mulder was sitting in the next room. She is almost sorry that she let Ratboy get away. But Scully knows that she would have been sorrier if Mulder had shot Krycek with the gun that could have possibly been the murder weapon. Then Mulder would have not only been the prime suspect in his father's murder, but his fingerprints would have been all over the gun, and he would have been charged with two murders. Scully wants Krycek dead, though, with everything that is in her. And in a way, it scares her. She has never consciously wanted a person to die as much as she wants Krycek dead. For brief seconds, she has even contemplated having shot him when she had the chance. This frightens her. She is not used to having thoughts like that. But, she thinks, I am not the same person I used to be. So much has changed. But now she has much more to think about. Mulder's phone call from the boxcar was almost twenty minutes ago, when the connection was broken and she was left with a dial tone. She doesn't know what to think of what Mulder told her that he found. She is almost grateful that she didn't go along with him. The thought of seeing hundreds of bodies, possibly alien bodies, although intriguing, is not intriguing enough to make her want to climb into a musty boxcar with them. She knows that it is Mulder's mission, his search. He will give her answers when he returns. She wonders where he is, what has happened, why he hasn't called back. The door opens, and the teenage boy comes stumbling in. He is upset, mumbling. "Calm down," Scully says, going over to him immediately. "Where is Mulder?" she asks, starting to feel apprehensive. The boy tells her what he saw. The man in the helicopter, the one who wore a suit and tie. The soldiers tossing the firebombs into the boxcar. Dragging him back into the helicopter. Watching the boxcar and the surrounding area explode, then go up in flames. Coughing and sputtering as the man in the suit smokes slowly. Flying back towards town, where he is dumped off. Scully knows who it is. And she knows that she must get to Mulder, immediately. "I need you to take me there," she says urgently. Embarrassed but scared, the boy starts to cry, telling her that there is no way that Mulder could have lived through the blast. That Mulder was a nice guy. That he shouldn't have been killed. "He must have gotten out somehow. I have to go there," Scully presses him, and they get a car and the boy directs her there. He has stopped crying. There is no conversation. They drive over the bumpy roads and sand until the boy tells her to stop the car. "We can't drive any farther. I took my bike last time, but they left it there when they took me. We'll have to walk." Scully gets out of the car and obediently begins to hike behind the boy. All thoughts of Skinner, her job, the hearing, even the death of Mulder's father, have all vanished from her mind. All she can think about is Mulder. If he's alive. She wipes her eyes angrily with the back of her hand. She can't cry now. She needs to be strong. He's alive, she tells herself. He has to be. He's made it through before, she reminds herself. Finally they get to the spot. The boy looks at his bike and then at the areas where the entrance to the boxcar was. The fire is out, but smoke is still seeping from the ground, making it look as if the earth is steaming. It is a strange sight. Scully goes to the trap door and covers her hand with the boy's jacket, which he has handed over to her silently. The handle of the trapdoor is still hot, though. She can feel it through the light material of the coat. She pulls the trap door open and falls back on her haunches, overcome by the amount of smoke that comes pouring out of the boxcar. Oh, God, she thinks, there's no way he can be alive. Scully coughs from the smoke and covers her nose and mouth with the jacket. The boy pulls her back to an area where she can breathe. Her eyes are watering. She pulls the jacket away from her face and looks at the entrance to the boxcar. The boy looks at her. They are both thinking the same thing, that Mulder is dead. "No," Scully says aloud, and her eyes once again fill with tears. She suddenly senses movement on the ground, about three hundred feet away from the boxcar entrance. "Mulder!" she calls out and runs towards the spot, pushing layers of sand and dust away to reveal another entrance to the boxcar. "A whole train?" the boy asks out loud, astonished. Scully knows it's incredible, too, but all she can think of is Mulder. The boy helps her pull the second trap door open and she peers in. "Mulder!" she calls and hears her voice echo off the walls. There is a strange smell to the boxcar, a smell that she recognizes, but cannot place. Her nose wrinkles and her eyes drift off for a second as she leans back, away from the opening. "Scully," she hears Mulder answer her, and without another thought, she reaches her hands down into the darkness. She feels his grip on her wrists and pulls with all of her strength. The boy grabs Mulder's other hand and they pull him out together. Mulder is talking. "There's four boxcars down there. They're all connected. As soon as the trapdoor slammed, I made my way to the other end as fast as I could." "Oh, Mulder," Scully says. She can hardly hear him. All she can think about is how scared of fire he is. How terrifying it must have been, to have been trapped in there with all the bodies and the fire. And she thinks about the fact that he was lucky; that he shouldn't have lived through this. "I thought you were dead." She cannot stop herself from bursting into tears, and she impulsively hugs Mulder tightly. It is rare for her to have any physical contact with him, which is strange, considering that he is closer to her than anyone else in the world has ever been or ever will be. She also rarely has emotional outbursts, because she isn't the type of person to go to pieces. Mulder hugs her back, feeling amazement at how calm it makes him feel to have her arms around him. He also wonders why they never hug each other. He has touched her before, but only in situations when she had barely come out with her life. Touching her, her arm, her face, at those moments when she was safe, out of harm's way, always somehow reassured him that she was all right. And now a wave of peacefulness washes over him that is stronger than anything that he has ever felt. Scully is embarrassed by her tears and pulls away after a minute, but even though the physical contact is gone, the spell is not broken for either of them. Mulder looks at her and takes her hands in his, squeezing them lightly, looking at her. "You won't believe what's down there," he tells her. "But the fire..." she says. "The bodies must have been destroyed." "Not where I was," he says, and although he is obviously exhausted and in considerable discomfort, he has a small grin on his face. Then his expression turns serious. Scully looks at him intently. He looks back to the entrance that she just pulled him from, then back to her. She wonders what is going through his mind. She takes a deep breath. "I know it sounds incredible, Scully, but just listen. You told me that it was an international conspiracy after the war to keep these secrets, and that the secrets were buried down there. Well, they are." He pauses. "Cancer Man called me right before I crawled in there. He must have been nearby." Scully's eyes widen. "He said that if I exposed anything, I would be exposing my father." Suddenly it is all sinking in to Scully, everything Mulder has told her about his conversation with his father, everything that Cancer Man has said and done. She understands. "Mulder, your father was...somehow involved," she says. She doesn't know how he is going to take this. "He knew about all of this, the conspiracy." Mulder looks down at their hands entwined, then back up at her. "I know," he says. "And I think he knew about what really happened to my sister." This is obviously a painful admission for him, and Scully tightens her hold on his hands supportively. "The files, Mulder," she says to him. "We have to get back and read what they say. We have to find out for sure. The rest of it is all in the files." Mulder knows that she wants to know all of it, but she specifically wants to know what happened to her when she was abducted. He knows that he finally has to tell her what he knows before she finds out about it later. God knows what else there is to find out about, and she might as well hear some of it now, "Scully," he says to her, "when you were in the hospital, I showed your chart to the Lone Gunmen. They put everything into the computer and it showed that while you were gone, someone had somehow given you branched DNA. That it was inactive by the time you got to the hospital." He doesn't say anymore. He can see by her face that she can figure it out from there. "How did you know that it was true?" she asks. "They could have been wrong. Where did the Lone Gunmen get that information from?" Her voice is raised, and she struggles to stand up, to get her hands away from his. "You never told me." Her voice is low and accusatory. Mulder stands up as well, even though it's painful. He tries not to let her see him wince. "Scully, they got it from the biggest and best computer hacker. The Thinker. He's the same guy who gave me these Department of Defense files." She falls back onto her heels, leaning back slightly, away from him. "Branched DNA," she says quietly. "What was it used for?" "They didn't know. I told you, Scully. By the time you were brought to the hospital, it was inactive. It wasn't doing anything." He can still hear the Lone Gunmen, what they said to him when Scully was lying in a coma. *Whoever was experimenting on Scully, they're finished. It's a waste product now.* He almost doesn't hear Scully. "Mulder, there's more, isn't there?" she is asking. "We have to get back to the hotel. We have to look at those files," he says to her. She nods her head mutely. He doesn't know what else to say. He doesn't want to guess anymore until he knows exactly what test the file was referring to. But if it was administered to Duane Barry as well, he thinks, it can't be too good. It must be something terrible. He hides his fear from her well, though. "I need to know," she repeats, and he nods. They walk back silently towards the car with the boy guiding them. The walk takes longer because Mulder cannot move as fast as he would like to. His shoulder is throbbing and he feels dirty. He wipes his face as he walks. Scully looks at him. "You're covered in soot," she says. "I'm going to take a shower when we get back. I can still feel all those bodies up against me," he says, grimacing slightly. "There was a strange smell down there, Scully," he tells her. Scully jerks her gaze away from him and looks at the ground as she walks. She doesn't want to tell him that she recognized the smell. She thinks that she smelled it sometime after Duane dragged her up to Skyland Mountain, but she's not sure exactly where or when. The details are still very hazy in her mind. The last vivid thing she remembers is Duane pulling her out of the trunk of her car, dragging her up the mountain, standing in the drizzle and the fog. She was shaking from fear and from the cold. And then there was a flash of light. Scully remembers nothing else after this until she was at the hospital, when she had her out of body experience. She has never told Mulder about any of this, not because she doesn't trust him, because she does. She hasn't told Mulder because what she does remember, and what she doesn't, is still too frightening for her to even be able to mentally process herself. She has put her abduction in a far corner of her mind, somewhere where she can remember it, but far enough that it can't be reached. Scully can feel herself having to reach for it now. It scares her and she isn't sure that her fear is something that even Mulder can help her with. It is something that she has to face alone, and once she has done that, then she can allow Mulder in past the barriers and let him support her in the aftermath. She knows this. Mulder watches her walk and doesn't ask her any questions. He cannot believe that she has done everything that she has in the last few days. Once again, she has saved him, from Cancer Man, from Krycek, from facing murder charges, and from himself. As far as Skinner and the Bureau goes, he doesn't allow himself to think of it. All he can think of is what she has risked for him and what he is risking himself. He fears what they may find in the files. He doesn't want to read that his father knew about Samantha's disappearance, possibly even arranged it. Samantha could have been experimented on. She may still be alive somewhere. Then again, Mulder thinks, she could have been killed right after her abduction. All the years of searching may have been for nothing. The fact that his father is dead and cannot answer those questions comes crashing back down onto Mulder's head. Mulder also wonders about what it says about Scully. He has read enough to know the grisly details about the tests supposedly performed on female abductees. He remembers what Duane Berry said about seeing the little girls, what was done to them. He doesn't want to have to know that something like that happened to Scully. He thinks about the branched DNA that had become a waste product in her system by the time she got to the hospital. Who was experimenting on you, Scully? he wonders, glancing over at her guiltily. If he had not let her get so close to him, she never would have gotten so deeply involved. Some of this might not have ever happened to her. They get to the car and drop the boy off at home. Albert is still working on the files, and he looks up as they enter. "Agent Mulder," he says. "I have been waiting for you. I need to speak to you privately." Scully raises her eyebrows, looking from the old man to Mulder. Mulder nods slightly at her. "I'll wait in the car," she says, and leaves. Mulder follows the old man to his desk and looks down at the scribblings. "Agent Scully," the old man says, "is someone very important to you." He says it as a statement, not a question. Mulder nods his head again. "She was concerned for you. She cares deeply for you. She is a good person." "I know," Mulder answered. His heart is beginning to beat faster. This can't be good news. "I have deciphered the latest entry. About the test that was administered to Mr. Barry and to Agent Scully," he says. "You'd better sit down." Mulder does and the man hands him a piece of paper. Mulder's eyes stumble over the old man's handwriting, but he can still read the words. He feels himself breaking out into a cold sweat. At one point, he thinks he is going to vomit. He covers his mouth with one hand and closes his eyes until the feeling passes. He reads the entire page and finally hands it back to the old man. "You're sure this is what it said?" Mulder asks weakly, and the old man nods. Mulder stands up and goes outside without saying anything else. He sees Scully sitting in the car, looking out the window and he feels a stab of pain go through him. How am I going to tell her? he wonders. He gets into the car, trying to act calm, like nothing is wrong. Scully doesn't ask him anything. Once back at the hotel, Mulder takes a shower and gets dressed in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. He sees that Scully has changed into a similar casual outfit. Mulder sits down on the bed and Scully comes to sit beside him. She helps him prop up some pillows behind his back so he can rest. "What did he tell you, Mulder?" she asks. Mulder looks at her. He cannot ever recall a time when so few words have passed between them, that there have been so many silences in their conversations. He doesn't want to lie to her, but he doesn't know if he can tell her the truth, either. "He told you what they did, didn't he?" she asks. Mulder nods slowly. This will be the hardest thing he has ever had to do. It's going to kill her, he thinks. "Mulder," she says to him, her hand resting on his forearm, her fingers wrapped lightly around the spot just above his wrist. Her eyes are calm. "Tell me what they did to me." Mulder recognizes this approach. She's trying to make him believe that she's fine, that she's calm, but her voice is trembling. Mulder feels his own heart pounding, thudding painfully in his chest. He doesn't want her to know what the files said. He doesn't think she can handle it. He's doesn't know for sure if he can handle it, for that matter. He feels a lump in his throat. It was hard enough for him to have to read it. He didn't even have to close his eyes. The image was already there, from when she had disappeared months before. Scully lying on the table, bright lights shining down on her. Figures standing around her body. She would have been unable to stop them. Mulder doesn't want to blink now and give away the fact that he's about to break down. He's trying not to lose it. He clears his throat. "Scully," he starts again, "I don't think you want to know." Her steady gaze and calm composure give way. She gets up from the bed. "Oh, God," she breathes, closing her eyes. Mulder can't even begin to imagine what is going through her head. He gets up, stands so that he is facing her. "Scully--" he says, and sees her swaying unsteadily and reaches out for her, taking her by the shoulders. "Come on, Scully. You're OK," he tries to reassure her. He shakes her gently. She opens her eyes. "Tell me, Mulder. Not knowing...imagining--it's worse than not knowing." Her voice is low, frightened. Her face has gone pale, her eyes trying to stay focused on his face. "I need to know, Mulder. Please." Mulder realizes that he's still holding her by the shoulders, but doesn't want to let go yet. He's still scared that she may collapse. He does, however, loosen his grip a bit. "Scully, please trust me. You don't want to know." "Damn it, Mulder, tell me!" she snaps, raising her voice. She is not crying, not yet, but she is close. He has never seen her this upset. "Scully," he says, and stares at her. "It was a test. They used the branched DNA to make you..." His voice catches and he closes his eyes briefly, then opens then again. He knows the words, but cannot say them. A flicker of recognition crosses her face and she gets very pale. Her eyes flutter. Mulder can only imagine what is going through her mind. Then, for the first time in her life, Scully faints. Mulder catches her before he hits the floor. *** When Scully wakes up, she is laying on her back on the bed in the hotel room. She sits up and looks around. No sign of Mulder. The door is closed. She feels as if she has been asleep for hours. She struggles to remember what happened. It all comes back to her, slowly. She looks at the bedside table. There is a glass of water and an envelope propped up in front of it. She snatches it up. Scully weighs the envelope in her hand and debates whether or not to open it. Her name is scrawled on the front in Mulder's handwriting. She can tell that there is only one piece of paper inside, although she has no idea what it says. The thought of Mulder writing her a letter is a little unsettling. He has only left her a letter once before. It had been a short note on his computer that she had been meant to find after her took off without her on a suicide mission to try to find out the truth about his sister. Funny, she suddenly thinks, that she has known him for two years and the only way she would recognize his signature is from the bottom of a case file or a Bureau requisition. It seems at that moment to be a sad note about their friendship. She hesitates another full minute before opening the envelope. The note has been hastily scribbled on notepaper from the motel they are staying at. Scully reads it quickly, too quickly. She doesn't give herself time for it to sink in; she is more concerned about where Mulder has gone. She reads the note again, slower this time. "I know that you want answers and explanations from me, but I don't know if I can give them to you. We have built our partnership on trust, and I hope that somehow you can trust me when I tell you that you do not want to know this. Scully, I hope that when the dust settles from all of this, when we get back to the Bureau, that you won't be held accountable for my behavior. I know that you made your own choices, but I can't help feeling as if you wouldn't have gone down this path unless I had shown you the way. I don't want us to be reassigned again, Scully. I can't handle another separation from you. You're the only person I can trust. For that I admire and respect you very much." There is a small spot of ink on the paper after that, as if Mulder had let the pen rest there as he thought of what to write next. "You must have an idea about how I feel about you, Scully. I care about you very much, probably much more that I will ever admit to myself or anyone else. Goethe once said that the first and last thing required of genius is a love of the truth. No one loves the truth more than you do, not even me. For once, though, try to understand that you don't always need to know what has happened. I'll be back soon." Scully refolds the paper and puts it back in the envelope as hot tears burn her eyes. She is angry as hell and scared. She is furious that he wants to make decisions for her regarding what she does and does not need to know. Most of all, she is stunned, which is why she is crying. He has never said anything like this before. They are all things that she knows that he feels about her, but seeing them on paper makes them more real to her. Then her anger comes back. If he respects me so much, she inwardly fumes, why can't he tell me the truth? Because he doesn't think I can handle it, she thinks. She swipes at the tears on her cheeks angrily. Damn you, Mulder, she thinks, damn you and your selfishness! Scully is about to crumple the envelope into a ball when she softens again. He cares about me, she reminds herself. Her tears start again, but this time she does not try to stop them. Mulder has disappeared again, and she has no idea where. She realizes that he doesn't want her to be hurt by the truth of what happened to her. She wonders, also, what he has learned from the document about his sister's disappearance and his father's involvement, and about the government's role in the cover ups. Scully suddenly feels guilty for have been so self-centered. There is more in the documents, after all, than just her and Duane Barry. She stands up and slips the envelope into her pocket. Then she closes her eyes and thinks. "It was a test. They used the branched DNA to..." he had said, and she struggles to think about what she has read, the case files he has shown her over time, the studies done by psychiatrists of people who claim to have been abducted. The transcripts of the hypnosis sessions. The words used to seem to be complete fabrications to her before, but they are suddenly not. She tries to imagine what the government, the very people she works for, would have done to her. Her eyes blink open. There is a clicking noise, the turning of a key in the lock. The door opens and Mulder steps inside. He looks weary, and is surprised to see her awake. "Where were you?" she asks, and he crosses the room and motions for her to sit down. They sit across from each other at the small round table. The only thing separating them is the globular hanging lamp that is dangling from the ceiling above the table. "How are you feeling?" he asks. "Mulder, answer my question. Where were you?" "With the old man. Reading more of the files." She suddenly notices the weariness again, as if he has aged before her eyes. He is tired looking, and sad. "My father knew about Samantha," he says to her, and her eyes widen, for a moment forgetting what is foremost in her mind. "Where is she?" Scully asks, holding her breath. "She's dead," he answers flatly. "She died two weeks after she disappeared." He pauses, and takes a deep breath. "They buried her in Washington State. Up near that facility we were at that they took the EBE to. I was so close to her, Scully, and I didn't even know it." He looks down at the table, his hands resting on it. He looks up at Scully after a long silence. "They took her there and did tests on her. Tests with cells from a supposed EBE. She wasn't strong enough to survive." Mulder looks back down at the table. "Tests?" Scully asks, her throat dry. "Tell me," she says, putting one of her hands over his. "Mulder, tell me," she repeats, her voice low. "Branched DNA, Scully," he says, looking up at her. "They injected her with samples of branched DNA from an EBE. But the tests didn't work. The DNA broke down and turned into waste products. Poison. It killed her." Scully feels sick. She leans forward in the chair, leaning against the edge of the table and grips Mulder's hand tighter. He knows what she wants to know. He has to tell her. "Please," she whispers. There is a long silence. Scully stares at Mulder's face so intently that her eyes begin to burn. Her rib cage is stinging from the pressure of the table edge. He will not look at her. "They injected you with the same stuff," he says. "They did tests to see...to see what would happen." "And what did happen?" she asks. Her heart is pounding. "They made you pregnant, Scully," he says. Scully releases his hands and slumps back in her chair, a look of complete and total horror on her face. "There's more." He pauses, looks at her. "Someone, somehow, decided that they should stop. That you needed to be back. So they forced a miscarriage. They knew full well that as the branched DNA broke down, that it would turn to poison. They knew that I wouldn't stop looking for you, but maybe as long as you turned up, that I might stop looking for answers, even if you did die." Scully's face is gray, her eyes blank. Her heart is no longer pounding. It simply feels as if she has stopped breathing, as if she has ceased to exist. She looks up at Mulder. He is crying silently. "I know you can't possibly ever dream of forgiving me," he manages to say. "Just like Samantha," he says, "it's all my fault. I couldn't protect her, and I couldn't protect you. Fuck!" Mulder slams his hands down on the table, startling Scully. He bolts towards the door. "Mulder!" Scully yells, and is up and after him in a moment. He is already at the door, throwing it back so hard Scully fears that it will come right off the hinges. She has never before seen him this angry. She knows that it is the combination of everything. His father's murder, his sister, what happened to her, and overall, his helplessness to do anything about all of it. She chases after him to their rental car that is parked outside. "Mulder!" she yells again, but he is ahead of her, punching his fists angrily through the back seat window. "Goddamn it!" Mulder is yelling furiously, but Scully gets close enough to him to see the tears. She tackles him from behind, her arms around his waist. He stops struggling almost immediately. She holds him like that and he sobs. She knows she should be crying as well. Pregnant. With an alien fetus. No, she orders herself, stop. She can only think about Mulder. She leads him back to the hotel room silently, sits him down on the edge of the bed. His hands are bloody. "Oh God, Mulder," she gasps when she sees the numerous cuts, and rushes for the bathroom to get a towel. He has stopped crying when she comes back. Scully checks his hands carefully. There is a piece of glass imbedded just under the skin of his right hand. He seems not to notice the pain. With trembling hands, Scully removes it and wraps a towel around each of his bloodied hands. She sits down beside him, breathes deeply. The whole thing is too much for both of them. Because of the silence, thoughts come into both of their heads. Scully allows everything to wash over her. There is no stopping it. She feels lightheaded, as if the room is spinning. Mulder sees her swaying and knows that she needs his support, not his emotional breakdown. He helps her to lie down. "It's OK," he says. "Take it easy." "A baby," she murmurs, thinking. A little boy, maybe, that she could have named after her father. Then she remembers. A baby, a fetus made up of alien cells, just like the one she pulled from the canister during the whole Purity Control fiasco. "Oh, God!" she cries, and squeezes her eyes shut. Mulder holds her hand, looks at her, then closes his own eyes. There is nothing he can do for her now. She wrenches her hand away from him and bolts for the bathroom. He can hear her behind the closed door, retching. He stays where he is on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands miserably. He can do nothing to take away what she feels, and will likely feel, for the rest of her life. He looks at his hands. He has removed the towels, and the cuts are raw and aching. After a few more minutes, Scully returns from the bathroom. Her cheeks are moist, but whether it's from washing her face or crying he can't tell. She walks the length of the room slowly, calmly, then stops to turn around and face him. "What do we do now?" she asks. "I don't know." "I don't even know if I still have a job," Scully says, and Mulder nods. "Me neither," he answers, but at that moment, he hopes that he doesn't. As far as he is concerned, he never wants to step into the Bureau building again. Not after everything he has learned. He can never respect the governemnt again. Mulder gets up and walks over to her silently, and hugs her. She clings to him like a child, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. He strokes her hair and they are both silent. He knows that she is feeling alone, and scared, and in need of comfort. Finally he releases her and looks down at her face. She gets up on her toes, just for a moment, and kisses him lightly on the lips. "Dana," he whispers, "what are you doing?" "I don't know," she confesses, her head down. Without saying another word, he leans down and catches her chin with his fingers, tipping her face up, kissing her. She lets him. Her lets his lips trail over hers slowly, carefully. He knows exactly what she is dealing with, and he doesn't want to overwhelm or frighten her. But he can feel her lips responding, kissing him back. It is an exercise in discipline. He holds back from kissing her harder, for both of their sakes. He wants to hold her closer, run his cut hands though her hair, but he doesn't. This is Scully, he reminds himself, my partner, by best friend. He knows that he has been attracted to her in the past, but the job always distracted him from her, or from any woman, for that matter. But then again, he thinks, Dana Scully has gotten closer to me that any other woman in my life. He continues to kiss her. She moves her arms up around his neck, kissing him harder, pulling him closer to her. The kiss is gaining passion. "Scully," he whispers onto her lips, "be careful." She stops kissing him, breathless, disappointed. "Why?" she asks. "Scully, this is a mistake. I don't want to hurt you." He closes his eyes briefly and thinks of all she has learned in the past few hours. He opens his eyes again. She is staring at him. "I know," she says. "I'm sorry, Mulder." "No, don't apologize. We can just act as if it didn't happen." He knows as he says these words that he is hurting her, that he is lying to her, and to himself. He has never dreamed that he would ever kiss her. But now that he has, he can't stop thinking about it. She turns from him, her fingertips touching her lips, as if he did something to them. Her heartbeat is slowly returning to normal and her breathing is calming down. She doesn't have to close her eyes to relive how it felt to have him kiss her. "I'm tired," she says. "Why don't you lie down and sleep for a while?" "What about you?" she asks, turning back around. "I'll take the other side of the bed," he suggests. "It's big enough." Scully doesn't take long to agree with him. She is exhausted. She gets comfortable on her side, watching Mulder though half-closed eyes on his back, arms crossed and folded under his head. She doesn't watch him long. Her eyelids get heavy within minutes and she falls asleep. Scully awakens with a start. She looks next to her; Mulder is sleeping soundly. She gets up and goes over to the table, looking over the decoded files briefly, then putting them aside. She looks over at Mulder again and watches him sleep with a small sense of envy. She is just as tired as she was before she fell asleep, and had not slept well. Strange dreams had filled her head. She wants to feel some sense of comfort, anything. On impulse she gets up from the table and crosses the room, moving the bedside phone from the nightstand back over to the table. She lifts the receiver and dials a number, her eyes never leaving Mulder's sleeping form. The phone rings four times before it is answered by a weary female voice. "Hello?" "Mom?" Scully speaks softly, not wanting to wake Mulder. "Dana, is that you?" he mother asks, sounding scared. "Where are you, Dana? What's going on? Are you all right?" At the sound of her mother's voice, Scully lowers her head and feels as if she is going to cry again. "I'm fine," she lies, holding back her tears. "Dana, the FBI was here. They're looking for you and Fox. Is he with you?" Scully bites her lip. Should she trust her mother? She closed her eyes briefly and shakes her head angrily that she would even winder about something like that. "Yes, he is." "Dana, they want to talk to you, to both of you. They want to know where you are." Scully suddenly notices the tension in her mother's voice. And then, a click on the line, and a rustling sound in the background. It happens so quickly that Scully almost doesn't catch it. "Dana, are you sure you're all right?" "Yes," Scully answers, her mind racing. "Dana, please be careful. You and Mulder be careful," Margaret Scully says firmly and very deliberately to her daughter. "I love you, Dana." Scully abruptly hangs up the phone. She isn't sure is she was on the phone long enough for the call to have been traced. She crosses the room and shakes Mulder's shoulder. "Mulder, wake up." He comes to life quickly, his eyes snapping open. "What's wrong?" "We have to get out of here. The Bureau is looking for us." "Skinner, or Cancer Man?" he asks. "I don't know." "Then how do you know--" "I called my mother," she answers sheepishly. "The call was being traced. She was trying to warn me." "How do you know?" "Something she said," Scully says impatiently. "Mulder, come on, we need to get going." "Scully, where are we going to go? Think about this for a minute. Skinner's probably pissed that you didn't show for your meeting. But there's a lot more at stake in my case." Scully stares at him. "What are you suggesting?" "Scully, you should go back to Washington. They're only interested in where you are so that can find me. You'll get a slap on the wrist from Skinner and that will be the end of it." "And what about you?" "I'm going to stay here and find out more about those bodies in the boxcar. About my sister's death. And my father's murder." "By yourself." "Yes, Scully." "You can't be serious, Mulder." "Scully, the longer you are gone, the worse you are making it for yourself. If you go back now, the repercussions probably won't be as bad." "I am not leaving here without you," she says softly, but her tone is firm. "If you stay, you're as good as dead. You know that." "I probably already am," he says. "What do you mean?" she asks, almost afraid of what his response will be. "Think about it, Scully. All the roads I have been on, looking for answers, the truth...it all eventually would have led to this anyhow. I would have never gotten to know everything." He lowers his head and then after another moment lies back down on the bed and closes his eyes. "You should get back to Washington as soon as possible." Scully is angry. "How can you give up so easily?" she asks him. Mulder opens his eyes again. "I'm not giving up, Scully. I'm going to try as hard as I can to find out what I need to know. But after that, there's nothing I can do. They're probably going to kill me anyway." "I'm not leaving you here alone," she repeats. "I don't care about the Bureau." "Yes, you do," he says, sitting up. "You care about your job. You took a big risk coming out here when you did. But Skinner won't get rid of you. He likes you." Mulder gets up and puts on his shoes. "Come on. We're going to the airport. Don't argue with me on this, Scully." Scully's mouth remains open a bit. She is stunned by his about face attitude. Nevertheless, she follows him out to the car and they make the drive to the airport, stopping for gas and directions. At the airport, Mulder buys her a ticket for the first available flight to Washington. The flight has a connection in St. Louis but doesn't leave for a few hours. He walks her to the gate and they sit down. "Scully--" "No, I don't want to hear it," she says, still hurt and angry. "I'm going to get on the plane. You don't have to sit here and make sure I don't change my mind." "I just want you to be safe. I have to do this for me. You already found out what you need to know," he reminds her gently. She looks at him, her eyes tired and sad, telling him that the reminder is unnecessary. She looks at her lap. "When will I see you again?" "I don't know," he answers truthfully. He really doesn't want to be apart from her, not now. He needs her, needs her strength. But he knows that it is safer for her to go. Mulder and Scully both know that this may well be the last time they see each other, and they are both silent for the three hours that they wait for the flight to board. Finally, the boarding announcement is made. Scully has dozed off, leaning her head against Mulder's shoulder. Scully hears the boarding call and wakes up. Mulder gets up, watching her out of the corner of his eyes. Watching her stand up, quickly giving herself the once-over. She's beautiful, he realizes, stunned. He has always known that she has been attractive to him, but he has never fully realized just how beautiful she is. She looks up at him. "Mulder," she says, "please. Come back to Washington with me." "I can't," he answers. He wishes he could. But he still has the obligation to find the truth, at whatever cost. He has to stay. "You'll be OK," he tells her, seeing the look on her face. He knows that look. She is going to cry. Please, Scully, he thinks, don't. It will make it impossible for me to let you go. Mulder hugs her tightly. It is the same kind of hug they shared at the boxcar. He can feel her body trembling in his arms. He is sure that she is crying now, and he hates himself for putting her though this. He places his hand on the back of her head, holding her closer. He needs to remember this. When Mulder releases her she decides to kiss him again, and so she does, gently. It stirs something in him that he cannot describe. She pulls away and touches his face with her hand. "Please be careful," she says. She is trying to tell him everything else she is feeling with her eyes, that he should call her or come back to Washington if he needs her. Mulder nods his head slightly. Somehow, he understands. He knows. Scully straightens herself up and heads for the jetway, ticket in hand. "Bye," he calls, the word choking his throat. She doesn't turn around. As soon as she is on the plane, Mulder knows he should leave, but he can't. He stands with his face pressed against the glass of the window, watching the plane until it backs up and heads for the runway. He can see it speed down the runway and takeoff. I'm sorry, Scully, he thinks regretfully, and turns to leave the airport. On the plane, Scully looks out the window, ignoring the flight attendents as they review emergency procedures. I can't let him do this, she is thinking. She reaches for her cellular and starts to dial. "I'm sorry, but the use of cellular phones is prohibited until fifteen minutes after take off," a flight attendant says, appearing suddenly at her side. Annoyed, Scully flashes her badge at the young woman. "Federal government," she says with out pausing as she dials the number. The flight attendant backs away. Scully listens as the phone rings, then as a recording comes on. "We're sorry, the number you are calling is temporarily out of service," the mechanical voice says. Scully presses the end button. Mulder's phone could have been damaged in the fire at the boxcar, she thinks. Or he could have turned it off. But he's never turned his cellular off, she thinks. But things are not the same anymore, she reminds herself, and realizes that not only doesn't he want her help, the interruption of service on his cellular could possibly mean that he doesn't want her interference, either. Scully sighs heavily, and presses the power button on her phone. It is the first time she has ever turned her phone off since she started working on the X-Files. She leans back in her seat and rests her head on the seat back as she watches the takeoff. Her eyes are blank. ************************************* It is the same dream Scully has had since she returned home from New Mexico. In it, she is in her house, sitting in bed, reading. She is waiting for Mulder to call. She knows that he will, even though it has been so long. She is calm, knowing that he is all right and that she will be able to see him. A crack of noise from outside startles her. A gunshot? No, she thinks, a car backfiring. She shakes her head a bit and goes back to her reading. Suddenly, the lights go out in the apartment. Scared, Scully crawls under the blanket, afraid to move. It is them. They have returned to take her again, to test her. She can hear a pounding on her front door. No, she thinks, go away. Leave me alone. Scully opens her eyes. The dream it over and the noise is real. She gets out of bed and staggers through the living room. The pounding on her front door is still intermittent. Please, God, she thinks, let it be him. She cannot imagine who else it would be. She gets to the door and hesitates. "Who is it?" she asks cautiously. "Scully, it's me," he answers back and she breathes a sigh of relief. It has been five weeks since she has seen or heard from him, and knowing that he is alive and on the other side of her door makes her weak with happiness. She removes the chain and unlocks the door, flinging it open. "Mulder, I--" she manages to get out before she sees him. He is slumped against the doorframe, his eyes half closed. He is wearing a pair of jeans and a white shirt, a leather jacket, but there is blood, fresh blood, all over the front of the shirt. His hand is clutching his chest. "Mulder!" she gasps, pulling him inside, onto the couch. She finds the cordless and calls the paramedics. Then back to him on the couch. He is in and out, eyes flickering. "Tried to get a hold of you sooner..." he whispers loudly, but doesn't finish. "Who did this?" she asks him. "Mulder, who shot you?" He doesn't answer. Instead, he grabs for her hand and squeezes it tightly, so tightly that she winces. "Don't stop, Scully. Don't stop looking for the truth." "Mulder, damn it--" "Please." She strokes his face gently. Don't let him die, she prays. Where are the fucking paramedics? "Mulder, I've been trying everything to find you. Skinner, the Lone Gunmen, your mother..." "Only been in Washington for two days," he gets out. Scully grabs the first thing she can get her hands on to put pressure on the bullet wound in his chest. It is a small throw pillow from the couch. She can see him shivering. She covers him with a blanket as best she can. "Tried to call you on your cellular and here...got no answer." "Why didn't you leave a message?" she asks, cursing herself for the times she forgot her cellular in the car during the last five weeks, for the times she shut it off because she was sick of answering calls from the Bureau higher-ups, checking on her every five minutes. "Didn't know if the Bureau was looking for me, too. I thought the lines would be traced." "Oh, Mulder," she says. She doesn't want to tell him the truth, not now. Not that Skinner had written his dismissal with no possibility for reinstatement from the Bureau less than a week after her return. That when she had returned, Skinner had grilled her about Mulder's wherabouts. She told him the truth, that Mulder was somewhere in New Mexico the last time she saw him. Skinner thought she was lying and she had been suspended, only returning to work a week before. Skinner had finally decided to believe her and reinstate her to her previous status. She had been staying with her mother for two weeks, then back to her place because she was starting to worry more and more about not hearing from him. That was when Scully had started trying to track him down, even though Skinner had expressly forbidden it. A few days later, she had heard on the news about the shooting death of an unidentified man. The picture of him stunned her. It was Mulder's mystery contact, Mr. X. When she inquired about the investigation, she learned that the body was likely not going to be identified and the case was closed. She didn't want to tell him that the X-Files had been officially closed until further notice, probably permanently. "Scully," he whispers, "it hurts." "I know," she says. Damn it, where are they? She looks for the phone, to call again, but he senses it and stops her. "No," he says. "Mulder, please." "Scully, don't let the X-Files get buried again." He must have read her mind. He always could, she thinks. "Mulder, you're going to be fine." "Everything...Samantha...I don't want it to have been for nothing. It wasn't a waste of time." She nods her head. "Of course it wasn't. You didn't know she was dead, Mulder." "Went to where her body was buried." He closes his eyes, squeezes them tightly shut. It must have been terrible, she thinks. "It was really her," he says, not explaining how he knew that. She can only imagine the exhumation, Mulder having to look at her small body, decayed and rotted. He opens his eyes after a few moments. "I came here to talk to you. Someone got me out on the street, someone must have been waiting for me to get back to Washington." Scully puts her fingertips to his wrist and takes his pulse. Weak, getting weaker. She thinks she can hear the sirens of the ambulance, but they sound so far away. Please, she thinks, please hurry. "Do you know who it was?" she asks. He shakes his head. He is trembling harderm now, his teeth chattering. "Cold. I'm cold." "Oh, Mulder, I know," she says, starting to panic. There is no telling how much blood he has lost. He is obviously in shock. "Please, Mulder, hang on. The paramedics are almost here." "Don't forget what I said. The X-Files. Don't let everything I did...everything I believed in...be for nothing." Tears fill Scully's eyes, but she keeps them from falling. "I won't," she promises. I swear to you, Mulder, she vows inwardly, I won't forget. He looks at her again, trying to focus his eyes. The shaking has slowed down. She is still holding his hand. "Everything you did for me, and I never really noticed..." he trails off. "Noticed what?" she asks. "That you are a truly beautiful human being, Scully," he says, and she knows what he means. It is the most deeply flattering compliment she has ever received. She closes her eyes briefly. She doesn't want to lose him. He is her best friend. Her throat is tight and her chest feels hollow and empty already. She knows that they will not be able to save him. But she doesn't want to give up. "Hold on, Mulder." Scully looks down at him again. She squeezes his hand as he struggles to keep his eyes open. "I'm trying..." he whispers. His eyes close and his fingers have lost their grip on her hand. She tries for a pulse again. There is none. Scully stares at his body for a few moments. The wailing of the ambulance is getting closer, but she doesn't even hear it. She is crying. Her one link, the one person she connected with more than anyone else is gone, and she feels it in every part of herself. ***** WASHINGTON, D.C. AUGUST, 1995 Special Agent Dana Scully opens the door to the basement office and takes a deep breath. Her first trip to the old office since before Mulder's death and since they were shut down. She expects for there to be ghosts, but not the kind Mulder used to hunt. Just memories, of him, of the work they did together. It was a fight to get the X-Files reopened. In a meeting, the Section Chiefs had wanted Scully dismissed without a chance of reinstatement, as Mulder had been. But Skinner had gone to bat for her. She believed that he was doing it not just for her, but for Mulder, as well. She thought that maybe he did have a heart, somewhere, after all. Then she had to get the X-Files reopened. Teaching at the Academy for the month until now was not something that made her happy anymore. She had known that from the first time she and Mulder had been reassigned, but this time the feeling of dissatisfaction was worse. She wanted to keep her promise to Mulder. She wanted the X-Files back, even if she had to work on them alone. That was what made her happy. And finally, Skinner had relented. He made her vow that everything would be by the book. She sensed that he had a feeling that she was becoming more like Mulder than either of them had ever dreamed she would. The office is musty. She wonders what it must have been like when the X-Files were reopened while she was gone. Mulder down there alone, thinking she was dead. And now the tables are turned. The funeral had been hard for her. Her mother and sister had come, and Mulder's mother and father were there as well. Skinner showed, and a few other Bureau agents. A few Congressmen. A forgettable moment for those who didn't care about Fox Mulder. At the end of the ceremony, Scully had stood alone, dropping the single white rose onto the top of the coffin, and she was the only one there with dry eyes. She had cried enough the night that he died. She heads for his desk, sits down in his chair. She can still remember what he looked like sitting in this chair. She can still remember everything. She gets up and begins to pull sheets of plastic off of the desk, the filing cabinets. Everything has been rifled through, but seems to be otherwise intact. There is even a bag of stale sunflower seeds in the top drawer. Scully looks around the office. She knows that she is not the same anymore. There is nothing to smile about, no reason to laugh. There are memories everywhere in the office. She has a lot to think about. Scully leans over the edge of the desk and flips Mulder's Beach Girls calendar to the correct month. Then she looks around thoughtfully. She has a lot of work to do in the office before she can get to the real work outside. WASHINGTON, D.C. DECEMBER, 1995 An attractive young woman in a tailored suit walks down the long hallway to the end, her briefcase in her hand. The door in front of her is closed all but a crack. She hesitates, then knocks. There is no answer, but she pushes the door open and walks in anyway. Inside, a auburn haired woman is sitting at the desk, bent over a photograph. She is analyzing it intently with a magnifier. "Agent Scully?" the young woman asks. Scully looks up from her work. "I've been assigned to work with you." "Yes, of course. I was expecting you. Please, sit down." Scully points at the unoccupied desk. "It must be nice for you to be doing this again," the young agent says, looking around the office. A poster is tacked up on one wall. It says in capital letters, I WANT TO BELIEVE. There are photos of UFO's tacked up around it. "I thought I had heard back at the Academy that the X-Files had been shut down." "They were reopened," Scully says, her answers short and to the point. She isn't used to the idea of sharing her work with someone else yet. "I should probably ask you a few questions before we get started. What do you know about the X-Files?" The agent thinks. "They have to do with unexplainable phenomena. You have been investigating them for a few years, and 'Spooky' Mulder used to be your partner, until he was killed." Scully fixes her with a hard stare. No one has dared to speak Mulder's name in her presence since after his funeral. She is still conducting her own private investigation into his death. "You're just out of the Academy, aren't you?" Scully finally asks after a silence. The young agent nods. Scully wonders if she was sent down here to spy, just as Scully was back in 1992 when she first was assigned to the X-Files. There is no way of knowing if she can be trusted. If only there was a sign, she thinks. Mulder, what would you do? Would you trust her? "Agent Scully? Are you OK?" the agent asks. Scully wasn't listening. She realizes that there is no way of knowing. Mulder is dead. He can't help her anymore. She now fully understands what Deep Throat had said to her. Trust no one. "Agent Scully?" the agent repeats. "Yes, I'm sorry. I don't think I got your name." "No, I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Samantha. Samantha Parker." Scully smiles at her. Trust no one, she thinks. That's what I call a sign, Mulder. *I changed it to trust everyone - didn't I tell you?* She turns her attention back to the young agent in front of her, who is looking at Scully with concern. "Let me ask you something, Parker. Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?" END -- "Why do you you always get to drive? Because you're the guy? Because you're the big macho man?" "No, I was just never sure your little feet could reach the pedals." -Mulder and Scully, The X-Files ************************************ "You're a good friend." "You too, sweetie, you're the best." -Thelma and Louise ************************************* "Dick, permission to bitch." -Sally, 3rd Rock from the Sun ************************************* "Where I lay my trust in others, where it lies the ground is thin." -Sarah McLachlan