Chapter Text
"Scully, you have to understand that they're taking
abductees. You're an abductee. I'm not going to risk ...
losing you." -- Mulder, Requiem
Episode 1: Divested
Scully knew that if she turned around, she'd see Mulder.
He would be covering ground rapidly with his long strides,
taking in every detail of the area. He would be worried.
No, she corrected herself, he would be frantic.
She could almost hear him now, in high, wavering tones:
"Scullllyyy!"
She didn't turn around.
Is this what it was like, Scully wondered? Is this what it
was like, the first time, when Duane Barry took her to
Skyland Mountain, and they came? She didn't remember. She
never had remembered. She wondered if she would remember
this.
She should turn around, Scully thought. She should go.
She should step back.
Standing in the beam of light she could see Theresa Hoese
and her husband, other people from Bellefleur that she
recognized, some that she remembered from seven years ago.
There was Billy Miles, now, she noticed, and wondered idly
how many officers the town's police force had left.
They looked so happy. Radiant. Welcoming. As though
nothing in the world could compare to what they were about
to do. Scully thought of Cassandra Spender, how she had
been convinced that they were here to help, to do good.
And she thought of the Twilight Zone episode, the one
Mulder liked to watch when he was feeling ironic: How to
Serve Man.
And, because in the end, there really was no choice, Scully
went.
Goodbye, Mulder, she thought. I love you.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Mulder looked at the charred husk of flashlight in the
boy's hands. What could do this, he wondered? Radiation?
Is there radiation powerful enough, directed enough to set
a flashlight aflame, and leave the person holding it
untouched?
"Scully," he turned to show her, to ask her, needing a
scientific explanation before his mind concocted a thousand
horrified possibilities.
She wasn't there.
He turned again, scanning the forest, looking for where
he'd seen her last - there, an opening in the undergrowth,
foliage creating a natural fork in the overgrown game trail
they'd been following. No Scully.
"Do you see her?" he asked the boy. Richie. He looked
around uncertainly and shook his head.
Mulder was moving now, almost running, over the log, around
the trees, through the briars, thorns grasping hungrily at
his jacket and slacks. "Scully?" he called. "Scully, can
you hear me? Scully!"
Suddenly Mulder was brought up short. Almost
imperceptibly, he felt himself rise above the ground. He
started to shake, uncontrollably, spasming, limbs moving
faster than his muscles had ever been forced to work.
Worse than that: his *brain* was vibrating.
Mulder was aware, hyperaware, his barriers down, more open
than he'd been even when the alien writing had granted him
telepathy. He could feel Richie's confused, frightened
mind, and the whole town of Bellefleur, and another, more
familiar sense – someone he knew but couldn't place – and,
far, far off, through fog and rain and a million lives, he
could feel Skinner, taking the hit again for his and
Scully's latest journey.
And he could feel Scully. Close. So close, her mind rapt
and awed in a way he'd never known her to express, except
once, under regression hypnosis. He felt like screaming,
or crying.
And as suddenly as it had begun, it was over, and he landed
hard on a tough, knotted root.
Richie slid through the leaves and landed at Mulder's side,
shaking him. "Mr. Mulder? Are you okay? What happened?"
"Yeah," Mulder moved painfully, rolling over, and eased
himself into a sitting position. He rested his elbows on
his knees and rubbed at his forehead. "It's out here, all
right. It almost got me." He looked up at Richie, almost
daring to hope. "You didn't see Scully anywhere else
around here, did you?"
Richie shook his head, eyes wide. "Did – did they take
her, too?"
Mulder took a deep breath and was about to answer – he
didn't know what he'd say, but he had to say something –
when his eyes fell on a glimmer in the leaves to his right.
He reached out for it.
It was Scully's necklace.
Oh, God, he thought. No. No. How could he have been so
stupid?
He closed his fist around the charm, tightly, the pointy
end of the cross digging into his palm, and tightened his
eyes shut against the flood of guilt and remorse. Thoughts
chased each other around his mind, fleetingly, reaching the
conclusions his unconscious mind had already developed.
Three deep, ragged breaths later, he opened his eyes again.
"Richie, your friend – Gary – did he – was he ever missing,
before? Go away for days or months at a time?"
"You mean, was he ever abducted?" Richie's eyes flitted
nervously through the trees around them.
Mulder nodded, mouth dry.
"Yeah," Richie whispered, frightened, licking his lips.
"Twice."
Mulder nodded, and eased himself to his feet, placing
Scully's necklace reverently into his pocket. I should
have seen it, he thought. These aren't random abductions.
They're taking abductees, and this time they're not coming
back. Not coming back ... the phrase echoed ominously,
piteously through his mind. Not coming back. Scully ....
He took a few steps forward, placed his hand experimentally
in front of him. It flopped and flailed like a hyperactive
fish out of water. He pulled it back. Scully. Oh, Scully
....
"Agent Mulder!" He whipped around at his name. Two
Bellefleur cops were picking their way through the forest.
"Detective Miles and his son! They're both missing!"
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Mulder's entire body ached, from the dull pain behind his
eyes to the gaping emptiness in his gut. He fumbled with
the hotel key, dropped it, tried again.
Billy Miles was still missing, of course; his father was
found dead in the trunk of his own police car, dead for at
least three days, the coroner said, though Mulder'd spoken
with the man just yesterday.
Was it really only yesterday that he and Scully had come
back to Bellefleur, the scene of their first case together?
It felt like a century.
Skinner had called that afternoon, royally pissed at them
for leaving in the middle of an audit. He'd commented that
Scully wasn't answering her phone and Mulder had said,
haltingly, yes, he knew that. Skinner had insisted on
starting the search process, and now Mulder was due on a
plane back to DC at 8 AM tomorrow morning, to give
testimony.
The lock finally clicked open beneath Mulder's shaking
fingers, and he staggered over the threshold, and leaned
back against the closed door. He flicked the lights on.
His suitcase was open on the dresser, a jumble of socks and
underwear and the occasional tie. Towels and running shoes
on the floor, scraps of paper and muddled notes covering
every available surface. Scattered across the floor were
all the photos and medical files on Ray Hoese's abduction
experiences, fallen when he'd tucked Scully into his bed
last night. Finally Mulder let his eyes drift across the
unmade bed, to the pile of clothing at the foot of it, his
and Scully's garments mingled together as comfortably, as
securely as their bodies had last night, when Scully had
recovered from her vertigo and warmed enough to roll over
and press her full length against his, to tell him that no,
there was no way she'd go back to Washington, not now,
twining her leg around his, reaching first for his t-shirt,
his mouth, his –
Mulder choked on a sob. No, he wasn't ready to relive that
moment, not yet.
Mulder stumbled forward and came to his knees beside the
bed, pressing his face into the sheets. They smelled like
Scully.
Why?, he thought in agony, balling his fists into the
covers, pounding at the mattress, small sounds of pain
escaping from his throat. I should have pushed harder, I
could have talked you into it, I knew this was coming,
Scully, I could feel it, and you'd be safe now, Scully,
safe at home ..
There was no way he'd be able to sleep in that room
tonight.
Some time later, empty of tears and drained in his soul,
Mulder rose and quickly, deliberately, packed up all of his
things. All the papers, tucked into a briefcase; his
clothes balled up and stuffed in the suitcase, his extra
suit, and the one he'd worn today, hung neatly in the
garment bag. As he grabbed clothes off the floor, he
couldn't bear the thought of pulling his and Scully's
apart, of taking hers next door and zipping them into her
own suitcase, so into his they went, together.
And when he pulled off his suit to change into sweats, he
reached into the pocket and gently lifted out Scully's
necklace. The cross glinted in the warm motel room lights,
deep and golden and sparkling; like Scully, Mulder thought.
I'll find you. I have to. I can't live *without* you.
He clasped it around his own neck, slowly and carefully,
remembering the last time it had hung there, six years ago,
and how he'd never wanted to see it anywhere but resting on
Scully's chest ever again. He tucked it under his
turtleneck and sweatshirt, taking comfort in the cold metal
against his skin, almost, for one tantalizing moment,
feeling Scully's presence in the room with him.
Later, his bags packed into the rental car, Mulder unlocked
Scully's room and did the same, deliberately, quickly. He
didn't think about her, or how the entire room smelled of
her, or the way all her clothes were perfectly folded and
organized and unworn. He didn't think about the way her
hair fanned out against the pillows, or how she looked in
the three-inch heels he found on the floor of her closet.
And he definitely didn't think about where she was now. He
did smile at the sight of her laptop, still on, still
blinking, waiting for her to type the next sentence of her
case report. Always responsible, Scully.
Mulder finished, locked the door, packed the car, checked
out of the motel. He put a hand to his chest and felt,
through the layered fabric – like the princess and the pea,
he thought – Scully's cross. I'll find you. I promise,
Scully. I will. Don't give up.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Mulder waved his flashlight through the trees,
concentrating hard, trying to look everywhere at once out
of the corners of his eyes. There! The beam seemed to
end, wavering, diffusing itself into the air. Yes, this
looks like the spot, he thought, glancing around,
recognizing trees and fallen logs.
He walked to where the light seemed to disappear, stretched
his hand out again, watched it begin its spasmodic
vibrations. He nodded to himself, pulled the roll of
"Police Line- Do Not Cross" tape out of his pack, and
knotted one end of it around the nearest tree trunk.
Mulder started walking, sketching out a wide, rough circle.
As he went, he played the tape out behind him, keeping one
hand inside the field, never reaching in deeper than his
elbow, never losing the touch altogether. In the end, when
he reached the original tree again, he'd been walking for
twenty minutes, outlining a circle of about 200 feet in
diameter. In the moonlight, he could look through the
trees to the other side of his circle, and see the yellow
tape there, twisted around branches.
Well, he thought. There it is. I found it, I've marked
it, and I know she's in there. What next?
He picked up a long stick from the ground, and
experimentally thrust it all the way into the energy field.
Five seconds later, it bounced right back out at him.
All right, then. Mulder thought. He didn't want to risk a
bullet – too much chance of being heard, or, worse yet,
that it would penetrate the field and hurt Scully, or
another abductee.
Mulder was at a loss. He sank to the ground and buried his
face in his hands. Scully, he thought, and it was almost a
prayer, but a prayer to Scully, directed not at the heavens
but to someone less than two hundred feet away from him.
Scully, I feel you so close to me, but I can't get to you.
I need you so badly, Scully; please. Please come back to
me. Please be all right.
"So you found it," said a clipped, guarded voice behind
him.
Mulder leapt to his feet, gun out, pointed it
instinctively. "I swear, Krycek, if you step one foot
closer to me, I'll shoot you."
Krycek raised his hands slowly. "Hey now, Mulder. We're
on the same side here."
"What are you doing here?" Mulder motioned with the gun for
Krycek to step further into the clearing. He did so
tentatively, never taking his eyes off the gun.
"The old man sent me," Krycek spat. "To find *that*."
Mulder blinked. "Did he, by any chance, tell you what to
do with it once you found it?"
Krycek grinned ferociously. "Of course not. He doesn't
*know* anything. He never has." Sarcastically, "He thinks
he's *dying*. He wants his *conspiracy* back, he wants his
*power* .. " Krycek's eyes glinted in the starlight. "I
want the bastard dead."
Mulder's voice broke, but his hand didn't waver. "They
took Scully."
"Did they?" Krycek's face fell. "Jesus, Mulder, I'm
sorry."
"No, you aren't. You know nothing." Mulder replaced the
gun in his waistband, and turned dismissively back to face
the alien craft.
"I know you loved her," Krycek said, more gently than
Mulder had ever heard him speak. "Isn't that enough?"
Mulder didn't respond.
"Look, Mulder, I can help you," Krycek said desperately.
"I don't trust you."
"Believe me, it's mutual." Krycek's tone was icy now. "I
know things, Mulder. Things you've barely started to guess
at. Things that can stop this, forever. You need me,
Mulder. You know you do."
"I don't need *anyone*," Mulder turned, eyes flashing, "but
Scu –"
The air suddenly came alive with sound and motion. Bright
flashes of white light burned into Mulder's retinas as
leaves swirled around the men in a whirling, rising vortex.
Bits of police line were flapping in the wind, breaking off
of their trees and joining the maelstrom. Mulder raised
his hand against the light and looked up, up, and far away
he saw the ship, its hatch still irising shut, and lights,
so many lights. "Scully!" he shouted, but his voice was
lost on the wind.
The ship seemed to hover for a moment, then soared off to
the west, dwindling to a point of light that flared
brightly just before it vanished.
In the clearing, the silence was oppressive.
"Scully," Mulder whispered. He fell to his knees, hands in
fists, defiant. "Noooo!" he shouted. "Sculllyyy!"
And Krycek stood, perfectly still, wondering, watching,
listening as Mulder's screams faded into the silence of the
woods.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Two mornings later, Mulder woke up in his own bed.
Thankfully, he'd been so worn out by the fifteen-hour plane
ride that he'd had no trouble getting to sleep. He
showered and dressed in a haze, trying to prepare himself
for the questions the investigative committee would ask;
the same ones they'd asked six years ago, when Scully had
gone missing the first time.
Mulder paused with his tie draped over his shoulders and
scrutinized his reflection in the bathroom mirror. There
were new wrinkles there, on his forehead and at the corners
of his eyes. I'm getting old, he thought. I can't do this
again, Scully; I can't bear to wait and do nothing, I can't
be the X-Files alone again, never knowing when you'll show
up in some hospital with a tube down your throat, or worse
...
You have to, said a voice in the back of his head that
sounded like Scully's. His voice of reason. You can.
Mulder stared deep into his own eyes, trying to find what
Scully would see there, what reservoirs of strength and
courage she would insist that he had within him. And he
didn't move until he found it.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Mulder burst into A.D. Skinner's office, fists clenched,
eyes blazing. He carefully stopped himself from slamming
the door behind him.
"What is going on, sir?" he asked tightly. "There are
agents crawling all over my office! I can't get a straight
answer out of them, and they won't leave!"
Skinner replaced the phone on its cradle. He looked
harried. "I'm trying to figure that out, Agent Mulder.
Believe me, this is not my idea. I just found out about it
myself." He picked up a file from the table and paced back
around behind his desk.
"Well, whose idea is it then! They didn't do this when
Duane Barry took her! They're not gonna find her by
running a," he waved his hands around, "an FBI *manhunt*!
They know that! And you know that, and I know that .. "
Mulder slowed down and rubbed his cheek, mind racing.
"There's something else going on here. They're trying to
cover it up. Somebody is *already* trying to bury this,
and they're going to succeed. Sir, we have to *do*
something!" Mulder crashed his hands onto Skinner's desk
and leaned forward, eyes wild.
Skinner stood and put a hand on Mulder's shoulder.
"Mulder, cool it. Just calm down. The Duane Barry case
wasn't an X-File." Mulder looked at him hard, and Skinner
backed down. "Well, all right, it wasn't officially an X-
File. Your office was closed up; you and Scully were
serving as consultants for the Behavioral Sciences Unit.
There was no *reason* to look for clues in the X-Files.
This week, you were on an X-File; and you, Agent Mulder,
are the only witness to her disappearance." Mulder sank
into one of Skinner's chairs, deflated. "It does make
sense, Mulder. There's no – there's no deep conspiracy
here."
"Sir, that doesn't change the fact that it's the wrong way
to look. And I want my office back, exactly the way I left
it. Who's running this investigation, anyway? Who've you
got in charge? Why isn't it you?"
"Like I said, Mulder, I tried to put a stop to all this."
Skinner sighed. "But this – investigation – is being
handled by our new Deputy Director and his golden boy, John
Doggett."
Mulder looked at him askance. "Our new Deputy Director?"
The phone rang, and both men looked at the digital display.
"Kersh?" Mulder asked incredulously. "Alvin Kersh is the
new DD? When did that happen?"
"While you were in Oregon," Skinner said distractedly, and
picked up the phone.
Well, I figured that much out for myself, Mulder thought as
he paced the room impatiently, half an ear on Skinner's
conversation.
"Mulder," Skinner said finally, hanging up the phone,
"Kersh wants to see us both immediately."
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
"Sir, I am in no fit state to give a statement, after
witnessing *that* performance," Mulder muttered to Skinner
as they strode out of the DD's office. "If I walk back in
there and pop him one in the jaw, would that be 'placing
the FBI in a ridiculous light'?"
His fists were clenching and unclenching themselves as he
walked. My hands certainly are getting a workout today, he
thought wildly.
Skinner smiled tightly. "I would join you on that one,
Mulder, if it weren't both our careers on the line. This
isn't about Scully, it's about covering the FBI's ass."
They stepped into the elevator, and Mulder looked Skinner
in the eye. "I won't lie to them, sir. I won't say it
didn't happen, and I won't say it happened differently."
Skinner sighed. "Agent Mulder, you can't help Scully if
you lose your job. Think about it. She wouldn't want you
to do this."
Mulder closed his eyes, considering, and when he opened
them again they were set. "You're wrong. Scully would
want me to find the truth. And this is one time when a
lie, at least that lie, won't help me do that."
Skinner took a deep breath. "I can't help you a whole lot,
Mulder; I didn't see any of this, and I can't corroborate
your story. I'm on your side, but the best I can be is a
character witness. I hope you realize that."
Mulder nodded slowly. "I do, sir. And I thank you. But
whatever I may need to do, I'm prepared to do it alone."
The elevator doors opened and Mulder stalked off, still
muttering " .. 'comes at a stressful time' .. "
Skinner stared after him for a moment, then followed Mulder
down the hallway.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
"Where's Agent Doggett?" Mulder shouted above the din in
the room serving as HQ for the case. "I want to speak to
Agent Doggett right now!"
Skinner entered the room too late to stop him, and was
quickly pulled away for questioning.
A wiry-looking, middle-aged man with close-cropped brown
hair and a pleasant expression walked up to Mulder and
stuck out his right hand, shoving a file folder beneath his
other arm. "Agent Muldah?" he had a very southern accent.
"I'm Agent Doggett. What's the problem here?"
Mulder didn't shake. "What's the problem? What's the
*problem*? The problem is that my partner is missing, my
office is being ransacked, and the agent in charge doesn't
have the first *clue* what he's dealing with!" Mulder's
voice was out of control.
Doggett pulled his hand back and narrowed his eyes. "Well,
that's just what we're tryin' to figure out here, Agent
Muldah. You just step over here and tell us what happened,
and I'm sure we can get it cleared up in no time."
"You don't want to hear what happened, Agent Doggett. You
don't want the truth. You want a pretty little story that
you can take back to Kersh, and if it ruins me in the
process, hey, even better! Right? Am I right, Agent
Doggett?"
Doggett's eyebrows were nearly climbing off the top of his
forehead. "Agent Muldah, I think you need to calm down –"
"Calm down? No, I do *not* need to calm down." Mulder
pointed a finger at the other man's chest. "*You* need to
step back and take a close look at what's going on here,
Agent Doggett, because if you aren't in on it with them,
then you are being led. You need to take a good, long look
at your own priorities before you continue, Agent Doggett!"
Mulder turned and began to stalk out of the room.
"Muldah!" Doggett called, and he turned back to face the
man. "What?"
"You need to do some thinkin', too, Agent Muldah," Doggett
met Mulder's eyes fearlessly. "You need to think hard
about how well you really knew your partner, and what she
might've been doin' goin' off on her own like that."
Mulder blinked. "Oh, this is beautiful. This is just
*precious*." He shook his head, disgusted. "So at least
you don't think I killed her. But you actually believe
Scully would just walk off, right in the middle of a crime
scene no less, without a word to me or to anyone?" Mulder
consciously lowered his voice. "Maybe I don't know Scully
as well as she knows herself, Agent Doggett, but you know
*nothing* about her. She wouldn't do this."
Mulder started toward the door once again, turned back when
he thought of something else. "If you want to talk to me,
Agent Doggett, I will be in my office tomorrow. And it had
better be *my* office, Doggett, exactly as I left it!"
Eyes blazing, Mulder finally, purposefully strode out of
the room.
Doggett exhaled slowly and blinked his eyes. So that was
Agent Mulder, then. Well, after that exchange, the rest of
this investigation ought to be a snap.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Mulder lay back on his couch, restless, fingers tapping a
quick tattoo on the soft leather. He'd already called the
Gunmen, and they'd said they would compile a map of UFO
sightings across the US over the past week.
Mulder needed to do something, to feel useful, to know that
he was helping find Scully, some how, some way. Sitting on
his couch doing nothing didn't quite cut it. He teetered
on the verge of heading to the Lone Gunmen office and
trying to give them a hand; he knew he'd just be in the
way, though, and had to keep reminding himself of that, and
forcing himself to sit back down and try, just try to find
something, anything else he could do.
So, he thought about Scully. He thought of her rich,
auburn hair, and how good she felt in his arms; he thought
of how competent and self-assured she was, and how she
never failed to give him a swift kick in the ass when he
was barking up the wrong tree. He remembered when his
mother had died, less than a year ago, and how Scully had
sat with him all night as he tried to come to terms and
accept his inability to change anything that had happened.
And he fingered the necklace at his throat, and he thought
of Scully's mother.
Maggie. He wondered if anyone at the FBI had thought to
give her a call. That's something I can do, he realized.
I need to talk to her, anyway ...
He dialed.
"Hello?" She didn't sound too good.
"Mrs. Scully, this is Fox Mulder. Are – are you all
right?"
"Fox! Oh, I've been hoping you would call! What's
happened to Dana? Is she okay? Where is she?"
"Mrs. Scully, I don't know what the FBI has told you – "
"They haven't told me anything, Fox, I just, just, two days
ago, I started to get these feelings, just like that, that
other time, and – Fox, she isn't okay, is she? Please tell
me what happened!"
"Mrs. Scully, it – it is. She, we were out in Oregon on a
case, and – well, they – they took her again, Mrs. Scully."
Mrs. Scully was quiet for a moment, and in the silence
Mulder heard a couple of small, tiny clicks in the line.
"Oh – oh, my God. Dana." Mrs. Scully sobbed quietly into
the phone. "I knew it."
"Mrs. Scully, I promise you I did everything I could."
Mulder looked out of his window and saw a large, dark van
parked across the street, with a shadowy figure in the
driver's seat. "I still am. Everyone at the Bureau is
working round the clock on this. We'll find her, Mrs.
Scully. I promise."
"I know you're doing everything you can, Fox. I know
you'll find her. You always have. Fox .. " she sniffled
loudly and cleared her throat. "I know you're busy, but
can we meet sometime? I just, I would really like to talk
with you."
"That would be great, Mrs. Scully. In fact, I'd like to
talk to you, too .. " He was investigating the bottom of
his phone for hidden wire taps. "I don't think this line
is secure. Can I come visit you tomorrow evening? Would
that be all right? We can go to dinner somewhere if you'd
like."
"That sounds fine, Fox. And don't worry, I'll make
dinner." Mulder smiled at that. "Oh, and Fox?"
"Yes?"
"Call me Maggie, Fox."
"All right. Maggie." Mulder chuckled. "See you tomorrow,
then. And Maggie, I promise you I'll find her."
"I know. Good night, Fox."
Mulder hung up the line and rapidly redialed.
"John Doggett."
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Agent Doggett? I
want to see a copy of the court order that gives you
permission to tap my phone."
"What? Who is this?"
"Oh, you have to ask. How many agents are you surveilling,
Doggett? Is it really that difficult to remember all of
us?"
"Ah. Is this Agent Muldah?"
"Thank you, Agent Doggett, that's all I wanted to know.
I'll have your ass for this."
Mulder yanked the phone cord out of the wall and threw the
entire assembly across the room, where it fell to the floor
and sat, dinging pitifully.
Well, that was worthless, Mulder thought, and threw himself
back onto the couch, narrowly missing the fish tank with
his foot.
I have to get out of here, he thought. I can't stand it
here tonight. I won't stay here, alone and powerless, to
be spied on.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Mulder cracked open the door to Scully's apartment, half
expecting her to come rushing from the bathroom, wrapped in
a towel, demanding to know what he was doing here at that
hour of night.
But of course, Scully wasn't there; so Mulder stepped
tentatively over the threshold, like a child tiptoeing into
his parents' bedroom when they aren't home, locked the door
behind him, and flipped on the lights.
Mulder hadn't consciously been heading for Scully's place
when he left his apartment, but he must have had it in the
back of his mind because Scully's suitcase had ended up
back in his car. It made as good an excuse as any, he
guessed; returning the things she'd taken with her to
Oregon. Of course, he didn't know where any of it
belonged, and he didn't feel right poking around in her
closet and drawers; so for now he carried it through her
silent apartment to her room, and left the suitcase sitting
at the foot of her bed. Some of it should probably be
aired out and washed, folded, and hung, he knew; but not
now. It can wait.
Mulder realized he was distracting himself with thoughts
about her clothes, deliberately not noticing the empty
apartment, the smell of absence, the lack of Scully. Just
as he'd done in her motel room two nights ago. I have to
face up to it, he thought. I have to see for myself that
she isn't here. I need to internalize this and accept it.
Mulder took off his overcoat and laid it over the back of
Scully's green-and-white striped couch. All right, he
thought, let's start with this couch. He caressed the back
cushions with his hands. I've sat on it many times, and
slept here; I kissed her here once, and once I stopped her
from kissing someone who wasn't really me.
He almost smiled at the last memory; he could have laughed
at it, now, if only Scully had been there.
Scully, he thought, and felt tears start to prick at the
back of his eyes. All right. Next.
He walked to one of her tall floor plants and fingered the
leaves. He'd thought she was silly, for keeping plants;
any that he tried to raise always ended up dead within a
few months. But then, she'd said the same thing about his
fish ...
How often do they need to be watered, Scully? You told me
once, but I don't remember. I'll find out, Scully, and
I'll water them for you.
I could water them with my tears, he thought whimsically,
and that was all it took. He sat down at Scully's desk and
cried, cried until his heart ached a little less and his
eyes were raw and red, beating at the desk and sobbing deep
in the back of his throat.
So that was why it took Mulder a little longer than it
should have to comprehend that Scully's desk was empty,
that he really wasn't supposed to have enough room there to
cradle his head on his arms.
They took her computer, he realized, fingering the
extension cord that came from the wall, powering nothing.
I bet they took mine, too. Well, that's certainly
interesting. But you know, I don't think I really care.
Slowly, Mulder eased himself to his feet and wandered back
down the hall to her bedroom, steadying himself with one
hand against the wall. He'd never slept in Scully's bed
before – she'd slept in his, yes, but never the other way
around. It hadn't occurred to him to notice that, before,
and he wondered if it was significant for only a second
before he lowered his head softly onto her pillow. He felt
a lump beneath the blankets and pulled out her pajamas,
satin peach-colored drawstring pants and a matching
buttoned top. He held them to his face, and felt the soft
satin on his cheek, and smelled Scully. He moaned sharply.
Mulder took off his shoes and belt and tie and burrowed
deep under Scully's covers, feeling and smelling nothing
but her. And though it hurt, so much, to be this close to
her and yet so very far away, there was a comforting
presence in her apartment that would ease him to rest, that
he knew he'd never find in his own rooms.
I'll find you, Scully, he repeated in his head like a
mantra, just before he dropped off to sleep. I promise.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Scully was in pain. Terrible pain. She was naked – God –
her body strapped down to a slab of rock. In places the
rock seemed almost to devour her alive. She was in a dark
place, very dark, but bright lights beat down from every
direction, catching each nuance and fold of her skin,
bringing the sharp waves of agony that coursed through her
into sharp relief. Oh, God, her wrists – there were poles
going *through* her wrists, pinning her down to the slab,
her hand scrabbling for a hold, for *anything*. Mulder
could see her, he could see everything, and – no, fuck, no
– her face, her face was being held open and up by six long
wires embedded in her cheeks, and her eyes, her eyes were
streaming with tears, rolling frantically, desperately,
agonized. Mulder called her name and thought he saw her
tense in recognition, but he couldn't hear his own voice,
couldn't move, couldn't do anything but watch helplessly as
the drill – God, the drill – moved relentlessly forward and
entered her open mouth, whirring and whining and spinning
and finally *buzzing*, and spray splattered everywhere and
Scully *screamed* ...
Somewhere in the distance, an alarm was going off.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Mulder's eyes shot open. His chest was heaving, his body
drenched in sweat. He sat up and rubbed one hand through
his hair, the other over his face.
A dream. It was only a dream. "Scully," he breathed out
through dry lips. It couldn't be true. She was okay. She
had to be.
The phone rang.
Mulder jumped.
Without thinking, he stretched over the twisted, soaked
sheets – testimony to his restless night – and lifted the
handset from Scully's portable phone beside her bed.
"Scu-scully residence." Mulder swallowed and licked his
lips, willing himself to stop shaking, to be calm and
collected.
"Hi, this is Nurse Owens calling from Dr. Parenti's office!
Is Dana home?"
Dr. Parenti's - ? I thought that was over with – "Um, no,
she, she isn't here right now. Can I, uh, can I help you
with something?"
"Well, the results of the tests she had done last week are
in, and we have some good news! Are you, by any chance – "
there was a pause – "Fox Mulder?"
"Yeah, that's me." Mulder swung his legs over the edge of
the bed and massaged his forehead with his free hand. Good
news from Dr. Parenti's office? She couldn't be – God, if
she was –
"Dana's donor! Good. She's authorized us to release her
information to you, Mr. Mulder, so if it's all right with
you I'd like to leave her a detailed message."
"I, um .. " She's not here. She's gone. Mulder fumbled
for a piece of paper and a pencil. "All right. Go ahead."
"Well, this was just a routine checkup, but both her blood
and urine tests came back positive; so she needs to
schedule her first prenatal visit – sometime within the
next week would be best – "
"Wait, wait, whoa." Mulder let himself fall back onto the
bed and screwed his eyes shut. "Are you saying Scully's
*pregnant*?"
"Yes, exactly! I'm so happy for both of you, Mr. Mulder; I
know how much Dana hoped for this."
"Um. Thank you." Mulder tried to sound like a happy
parent. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his middle
finger. "Um, but – she told me that the in vitro procedure
didn't work. How is this - ?"
"You must have made a baby the old-fashioned way, Mr.
Mulder. Congratulations! Just have her phone the office
as soon as possible, all right?"
Mulder breathed out slowly. "Um. All right. Thank you,
Nurse - ?"
"Owens. Have a great day!"
"Yeah .. "
Mulder hung up the phone and let it drop next to him on the
bed. Pregnant. Scully was pregnant. With *his* child.
He covered his face with his hands.
He had to find her. Soon. That's all there was to it. If
he waited, Scully could come back in any kind of condition,
and if they found out she was pregnant, who knew what would
happen to the child? Damn, what if it wasn't even her they
wanted, but the baby? Mulder groaned.
"Agent Muldah, what are you doin' here?"
Mulder whipped around to face the bedroom door, immediately
on the defensive. "I could ask you the same thing, Agent
Doggett. First you tapped my phone, now you're following
me! Or are you just here to ransack Scully's apartment,
like you did to my office!?"
Doggett didn't back down. "Actually, I'm just doin' my
job, followin' up a line of evidence that might help find
her. You may be able to shed some light on this, in fact."
Doggett reached into his pocket. "I heard voices. What
*are* you doin' here, Agent Muldah?"
"I, uh .. " Mulder wiped a hand across his eyes, suddenly
very conscious of the rumpled, sweat-encrusted dress shirt
and slacks he hadn't gotten around to removing the night
before. "I came by to drop off her travel bag, from
Oregon." He indicated the suitcase at the foot of the bed.
"I see, and you were so tired you just decided to lie down
and take a nap." Doggett sounded amused. What an arrogant
*bastard,* Mulder thought.
... Fuck it.
He sat back down on the bed, deflated, and cradled his head
in his hands. "I miss her, Agent Doggett," he said softly.
Doggett blinked. Of all the possible responses he might
have expected from Mulder, this quiet, forlorn desperation
wasn't one of them. He walked around the bed and squatted
down next to Mulder's bent form.
"Agent Muldah? My job is to find her. I'm gonna do that.
Whatever you may believe my motives are here, all I wanna
do is find Agent Scully and bring her back."
Mulder cleared his throat and breathed in loudly, and
leaned back over the bed, stretching his back and neck
muscles. His eyes were closed, his nose red. "If that's
true, Agent Doggett, then I'm more sure than ever that
you're being used." He wiped his nose and blinked, then
met Doggett's steady, concerned gaze. "But that can wait.
What did you want to show me?"
Doggett pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and handed
it to Mulder. It was an appointment notice for Scully from
Dr. Parenti's office. "You know anything about this?"
"Where'd you find this?"
"Sittin' on a shelf in the X-Files office. She must've
left it there."
Mulder sighed, and tugged at his lower lip. "Yeah, I know
about this. Scully was – well, you've read her file,
surely you know that she was left barren when her cancer
went into remission. Recently she learned that she might
be able to conceive, after all, and she – " Mulder
hesitated. Just say it, he thought; it's all going to come
out anyway, and better it be sooner – "well, *we*, I should
say – we were working with this Dr. Parenti," he waved the
paper in Doggett's direction, "to try and help Scully have
a baby."
Doggett eyed Mulder warily. "I'm surprised you're willin'
to tell me all this, Agent Muldah. Thank you for bein'
candid. .... I presume the treatment didn't work?"
"We thought it didn't. But that's why I had no choice but
to tell you about it, Agent Doggett; it's suddenly
relevant." Mulder sighed again, more deeply. "That call
you heard me take? It was from Dr. Parenti's office.
Scully's pregnant."
The two men's eyes met over the top of the paper, tired
hazel into shocked blue.
"We have to hurry," Doggett said hoarsely.
"Yeah," Mulder answered. "We do."
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Mulder stood up, carrying his plate from the table to the
kitchen sink. "Thank you for dinner, Maggie; I really
appreciate this. It was wonderful."
"It's the least I could do, Fox," Maggie joined him with
some more dishes, smiling sadly. "You're working so hard
all day to find Dana, and at the same time I know you miss
her as much as I do." She put and arm around Mulder's back
and looked up at him. "I'm so glad she has a friend like
you looking after her at the FBI."
Mulder answered her with an equally sad smile. "Maggie,
more often than not, *she* looks after *me*."
Maggie stepped away, nodding. "You're good for each other.
I've always thought so."
Mulder leaned against the counter and reached into his
pocket. "Maggie, I need to get back to work soon, but
there's something I wanted to ask you." He pulled out
Scully's necklace – he'd thought it might be inappropriate
to actually *wear* it to her mother's house – and held it
out to her. "I found this again."
Maggie nodded slowly, and reached out with one finger to
touch the tiny cross. She pulled her hand back quickly,
blinking away tears, and glanced up at him. "I want you to
keep it again, Fox. Give it back when you find her."
He nodded. "I will. But that isn't what I wanted to ask
you, Maggie. This is – this is the third time Dana's been
taken. Every time, I've found this necklace left behind.
I was just – I was starting to wonder if there's anything
special about it. It seems like too much of a coincidence
that the clasp just came undone – three times – when I've
never seen it fall off her neck. Can – can you tell me
anything interesting about this necklace, any special
properties it's supposed to have, a particular store it was
purchased from, anything at all?"
Maggie frowned. "Well, no, as far as I'm aware it's just a
plain, 14-carat-gold cross necklace. As for where I bought
it, that would have been – hmm – we were living on the base
in California at the time, and I'm sure it was just a chain
jewelry store at the nearest mall." She shook her head.
"I'm sorry, I can't ... well, hang on a moment."
Maggie left the room and went upstairs. In the meantime,
Mulder put his hands to his temples. He was starting to
get a pounding headache. He hoped it went away on its own,
and he hoped it was just a stress headache; he wasn't up to
dealing with anything else right now.
When Maggie came back into the kitchen, she was carrying a
long velvet-covered jewelry box. "When Melissa died – "
she put her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes, choking
on a sob. "I'm sorry, Fox, I'm just so worried for Dana;
everything's coming back .. "
Mulder took her hand and held it, concerned, headache
forgotten. "I understand, Maggie. It's all right."
Maggie nodded and swallowed sharply. "Thank you, Fox."
She took her hand back and opened the container. "This was
Melissa's. She hadn't worn the necklace for a few years,
and when I was going through her things, I found it in the
same box it came in. There might have been some
information underneath ... " She pried up the velvet-
covered cardboard on which the necklace rested, and pulled
out a folded sheet of thin paper. "Ah-hah! I thought so!
Well, there you have it, Fox; that's all I know."
Mulder took the sheet from her and unfolded it, smoothing
out the creases. "'This pure gold cross serves as a
reminder of God's eternal love, for our Lord and Savior'
... yadda yadda yadda ... 'the tiny sliver of lodestone in
its heart will steer you on God's course as you navigate
the turbulent seas of life.' ... Lodestone?"
Maggie shook her head. "I never knew. They must not have
advertised that."
"Lodestone, that's, that's iron, magnetic iron, magnetite.
Hmm."
"Does that mean something to you?"
"No, no it doesn't. Hmm. Maggie, do you mind if I keep
this?" Mulder's cell phone rang. "Excuse me."
"Mulder."
"Mulder, it's us." It was Frohike. "Can you get over here
right away?"
"I'm on my way. What've you got?"
"Don't want to discuss it on the phone. See you when you
get here." He cut the connection.
"That was a lead, Maggie; I need to get going. May I?"
Mulder indicated the paper from Melissa's necklace.
"Of course, Fox. In fact .. I want you to take the box and
necklace, too."
"Maggie, no. I couldn't."
"It's been on my dresser for five years, Fox; I'm not going
to do anything with it. And when you give Dana's back to
her, you may find that you miss the comfort of having it."
Maggie looked knowingly at Mulder, and he smiled sheepishly
back; because of course she was right, as soon as he got
back in the car to leave, Scully's necklace would be right
back under his own collar. He didn't have the heart to
tell her that any comfort he derived from it came from
knowing that it was Scully's, and not from any religious
power watching over him.
"All right, Maggie." He took the box from her. "Thank
you. Thank you for everything."
"Fox, Dana's my only daughter, but in many ways you're like
a son to me." Maggie's lower lip trembled as she reached
out to give him a hug. "Be careful."
Surprised, Mulder hugged her back. "I will. And I'll let
you know if we find anything. Anything at all."
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
Byers let Mulder into their office. "What've you got for
me, guys?" he asked, stepping around cluttered tables and
piles of old magazines.
"Well, first of all," said Frohike, "we got the dirt on
Agent Doggett."
"We knew you weren't likely to look him up on your own,"
Byers added.
"Yeah. That's the sort of thing Scully does," Langly put
in.
The room went silent.
"Er. Yeah," Langly cleared his throat. "So. Agent
Doggett."
"What kind of dirt?" Mulder asked.
"Well," Frohike said. "None. He's an ex-marine. Served
with the NYPD for awhile after his discharge. Quantico
grad with honors. Divorced." He shrugged.
"He seems pretty clean," Langly added. "I dunno, Mulder;
you might be overly paranoid on this one."
"Coming from you guys, that says a lot," Mulder tried to
smile, then rubbed his forehead again. The headache was
getting worse. "I talked with him for awhile this morning;
I'm starting to think he'll work out ok. I'm just afraid
someone's pulling his strings. And of course he isn't
looking for her in the right places."
Byers nodded seriously. "We'll check into that."
"All right." Mulder screwed his eyes shut against the
pain. Dammit, go away, he muttered to the headache. "What
else have you guys got?"
"Voila!" Langly flourished a large map of the United
States, with little dots of red marker congregated in the
southwestern states. "We got your UFO activity right here,
g-man."
"This is all from the same ship?" Mulder asked, leaning
over the map.
"Well, we see a clear trail of activity leading from Oregon
right down the to Arizona desert. No reason to suspect
otherwise," said Byers.
"If she's on that ship, she's there," Frohike said,
pointing.
"How about – um." Mulder was having a hard time
concentrating. "The abductees. Are they all multiples?"
"Seem to be," Langly answered. "That's one thing, though;
many of the abductees show signs of abnormal brain
activity."
"Like you did, a year ago," said Byers.
"Yeah. That's strange," Frohike added. "You weren't
abducted."
"I'm not an abductee," Mulder muttered.
The guys exchanged glances. "How sure are you of that,
Mulder?" asked Byers.
Mulder looked up, painfully. "Pretty damn. Why? You know
some –"
His cell phone rang. He nodded apologetically and opened
it.
"Mulder. .. What? Agent Scully? ... I'll be right there."
Mulder replaced the phone is his pocket. With one hand to
his temple, eyes closed, he said, "That was A.D. Skinner.
Two hours ago, someone entered the FBI using Scully's
keycard, and removed something – as yet, exactly what is
unknown – from the evidence room."
"Mulder – are you all right?" asked Byers.
"Yeah, I'm .. I'm fine." Mulder went on in a monotone, eyes
still closed, thinking rapidly. "It's not her. It's the
bounty hunter. He took our computers, too. Doggett knows
that the computers are missing. They're disposing of
evidence. They're taking abductees. Plausible
deniability. They're looking for proof, proof that they
exist, so they can destroy it. They're taking people like
me – I don't know why they didn't take me." His voice
broke. "I know what they want. They want Gibson Praise.
He's in Arizona."
Mulder opened his eyes and looked at the gunmen. "We have
to – nnnnggggh!" Mulder felt as though a spear had passed
through his skull. He slid to the floor, pressing his head
between his hands. "Scully!" He could see her again, in
flashes, still strapped to the slab, and slowly, slowly, a
saw came down towards her chest – "aauuggghh!" – more pain,
right behind his eyes – more for Scully too as the saw drew
near – and they screamed together, anguished, and then,
blissfully, there was nothing.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X
When Skinner stopped by to see him late the next morning,
Mulder was staring out the window of his hospital room and
brooding on mortality. His parents and sister, Scully's
father and sister, Scully's impending death, his own, their
child's. It shouldn't have to end, he thought. There are
things that just – should last forever. He fingered
Scully's cross, which they'd returned to him that morning
at his insistence, and wondered if he'd see her again. How
many obstacles can you avoid, he thought, until finally one
comes along and you say, enough, I'm done, this is the end,
take me?
Scully, if you come back and I'm gone, will you forgive me
for not being strong enough? Can you understand why I
didn't tell you? Will you tell our – our son, our daughter
– all about me? Will you teach him to grow up to be a
better man than I was?
There was a plot waiting for him, next to his mother's and
father's, and a tombstone on order that already had the
final date engraved. This year. There's not enough time,
he thought. There's never been enough time. I don't have
enough time.
I don't want to leave you, Scully. Not like this. Not
now. It isn't right. I need to see you again. I need
*you* to see *me*. I need to know you forgive me. I guess
I need to know you love me.
I only want to see you. I only want to hold your hand.
That's all I ask. One last time.
Scully, I'll do it. Somehow, I will try. I will be here
for you when you get back, and I will do everything within
my power to hasten that day. I promise. I will.
Scully, I can't bear any of this alone ...
"Mulder?"
He didn't realize there were tears pouring down his face
until he heard Skinner's voice in the doorway. "Sir," he
smiled shakily and wiped his face on his sleeve. "Sit
down. I was just – thinking."
"I see that." Skinner sat. "Mulder, are you all right?
I've never seen you cry like this."
"Yeah, I'm – " Mulder nodded in Skinner's direction.
"How's the investigation going?"
Skinner eyed Mulder skeptically, but accepted it for the
moment. "We're following up your lead on Gibson Praise.
Doggett's got a team down there right now; the Gunmen are
with him. I'm catching a flight to join them in two
hours."
"If we're going to find her any time soon, it'll be there,
sir."
Skinner nodded.
"Book me a flight, too," Mulder hazarded.
"No way. I need you here, getting better. You're not
going *anywhere* until your doctor says it's okay."
Mulder looked away. That wasn't likely to happen, at least
not in time to help Scully. He took a deep breath and
looked Skinner in the eye.
"Sir, my doctor is currently on board a UFO somewhere in
the Arizona desert. When I find her, I'll be sure to ask
if it's all right for me to leave this bed."
"Mulder – "
"Sir, listen. You need me down there. Doggett's fine,
he's competent, but he doesn't have any idea what he's
dealing with. The guys are okay, but they have very little
field experience. You – you haven't seen it, sir. Whatever
beliefs you have, are through me. I'm the only one that
can do this. I'm Scully's best chance. Sir, you need me.
Regardless of what my medical charts say, I am feeling
fine. I have to do this, sir."
Skinner broke the gaze first. "All right, Mulder, you win.
I'll book you a seat. But you be careful."
Mulder smiled, remembering Maggie. "I promise I will, sir.
I've already promised."
For a few minutes, charged silence seemed to hang in the
room like an oppressive cloud; then both men began to speak
at once.
"You go first, sir."
Skinner nodded slowly. "Smoking Man's dead. Someone
pushed his wheelchair down a flight of stairs."
Mulder turned back to the window, unsurprised. "Krycek."
"How do you figure *that*?"
"I ran into him in Bellefleur. He said he wanted to see
the bastard dead."
"Well, we'll never prove it."
"No."
After a moment, Skinner stood up to go. "Mulder, I –"
"Sir, there's something I need to tell you."
Skinner bit his lip. "I already know. Doggett told me.
We'll find her in time, Mulder; we don't have a choice."
"Doggett told you ..?" Mulder raised an eyebrow, confused.
"Scully's pregnancy ... ?"
"Oh, that." Mulder sighed heavily. "Yeah, you need to
know that, too. But there's something else. And I'd – I'd
appreciate it if you keep it quiet for awhile."
Skinner waited expectantly.
Mulder looked down at his hands, the window, the door,
anywhere but Skinner. "Sir, I never fully recovered from
the abnormal brain activity I suffered a year ago."
Holding his breath, he looked up to meet Skinner's eyes.
Skinner looked guarded, uncomprehending. "What are you
trying to say, Mulder?"
Mulder sighed. "Sir, my – my brain is still functioning
too quickly for my body. It's not to the degree that it
was when I was institutionalized – I can't hear people's
thoughts, and except when it gets really bad – like last
night – I can think more clearly than most people. I've
been taking medicine for a year, to control it, and going
to doctors, but unless something happens to reverse it – "
he shook his head. "I only have a few months to live. At
most. Sir."
He glanced up at Skinner, whose face was registering shock
and dismay.
Mulder looked at his hands. "I never told Scully," he
whispered, his throat tight.
"Oh .. Mulder," Skinner rasped out. He shook his head.
"I can't believe that. We'll find something. There has to
be a way – "
Mulder looked at Skinner in defeat. "There isn't, sir.
Believe me. I've tried everything. And you know me, that
really means *everything*." He smiled wryly. "But you see
why I need to go, sir. I have to see Scully again. I
*have* to. And I need someone – you – to know just what it
is that I'm fighting."
"Mulder," Skinner leaned forward and put his hands on
Mulder's, stilling their nervous kneading of the bedsheets.
*He* was the one about to cry, now. "I'll keep this to
myself. Thank you – thank you for telling me." He
squeezed Mulder's hands. "You sit tight. I'll be back in
an hour, to get you on the plane." He stood up and wiped
his eyes, started to say something else, then headed for
the door.
"Sir?" Mulder asked.
"Yeah?" Skinner spun around on the threshold.
"On your way back over here, can you pick me up some
sunflower seeds?"
Skinner's laugh turned into a sob. "Of course – of course
I will." And he was gone.
Mulder pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head on
his arms. I'm coming, Scully. One way or another, I'm
coming.
Slowly, creakily, he pulled himself out of bed and began to
dress for work.
X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X