TITLE: The Damascus Files - File 1 AUTHOR: Katvictory DISCLAIMERS: They all belong to Chris Carter and Fox, I want nothing. Don't sue. There really is a Rustic, Colorado but there are no extremist living there. There really is a Sky Watch Bed & Breakfast but Mr. Wagner doesn't own it. I have tinkered with the history, geography, even the weather in this long story. No offense was meant, it was all done simply to advance the story. RATING: R SUMMARY: Mulder gains amazing and frightening psychic powers after suffering a debilitating, life altering head injury. The search for the truth, of where the powers come from lead the pair to Central America and some amazing discoveries about God, aliens and themselves. CATEGORIES: Mulder torture, Scully angst, MSR there toward the end, Post colonization in parts, Alternate universe. SPOILERS: Every dang episode clear up to the Unnatural. But no Biogenesis, Believe it or not, this story was started and first posted well before I saw this season's cliff-hanger. Everyone likes stores about space seed, alien astronauts, and Mulder developing third-eye-like Psi powers. FEEDBACK: Katvictory@uswest.net Note from the author: Eventually this story will be composed of three separate files, each one detailing a separate story. This is File 1. THE DAMASCUS FILES FILE ONE by Katvictory <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> "As he neared Damascus on his journey, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice say to him, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" "Who are you, Lord?" Saul asked. "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting," he replied. "Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do." The men traveling with Saul stood there speechless; they heard the sound but did not see anyone. Saul got up from the ground, but when he opened his eyes he could see nothing. So they led him by the hand into Damascus." <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> <><><><><><><><><> CHAPTER ONE <><><><><><><><><> FOX WILLIAM MULDER INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT - ONE November 26, 1999 WAGNER - You sure you're up to this Mulder? MULDER - Yeah. (cough, muffled laugh) I talk, it types? WAGNER - No, I'll get Kami to transcribe it. You don't have to do this, you know? We have enough on what happened to document it without you. Are you sure you don't mind? MULDER - I want to tell it. WAGNER - Okay, well, I'll leave you alone then. You got everything you need? MULDER - Yeah. Where's Scully? WAGNER - She went to Denver, remember? MULDER - Why? (pause) (Machine off/restart) MULDER - Okay, here we go. My last case as a Special Agent for the FBI was one I never should have taken. You know the old saying --fool me once, shame on you? I'd gone undercover once before. It was a lot like this case. I almost got killed that time, too. I hope this isn't too confusing for you, Mr. Wagner. If I could figure out a way to make notes, maybe I could keep everything in order. I'm sorry, maybe when Scully comes back she could help me... KAMI WAGNER - I'm here, Mulder. I'll help, okay? Just start at the beginning. Tell how you got assigned the case. Wasn't it your friend, Skinner? MULDER - Yeah, Assistant Director Walter Skinner. I never thought he'd do this to me, you know? Scully, that is, Special Agent Dana Scully was out of town when I left. They sent me to Kansas City first. I picked up my cover story there. I was Marty Fulcher. A professor of Sociology at Middlebury College in Vermont. I quit teaching to join the Brotherhood. KAMI - What was the Brotherhood? MULDER - The Brotherhood of Barnabas. An extremist group. They had a compound in a little town in the Rockies, Rustic, Colorado. It's not far from Fort Collins. We had an informant, who'd told us that they were planning something. That they were building up their fire power. That part was true. They were. I mean they'd gotten enough guns they coulda armed a small country. And they were going to hit several federal offices in Denver. Right before New Years was when they planned to do it. I was there with the Brotherhood for two months. I thought they'd bought my cover. They let me in on all their plans. I thought I was getting away with it. I was just biding my time, until I could surface. I'd learned everything. I did what I was supposed to. I had all the information. I did the job that they sent me there to do. Just like they told me. KAMI - It's okay, Mulder. Do you wanna stop? We can do this later. MULDER - No, I'm fine. Can I have something to drink? (pause) (Machine off/restart) MULDER - Aramis, that's Brother Aramis, he was our informant. He was the one who set me up, I guess. Did they ever find out for sure? KAMI - No, Mulder. He was killed in the raid. All of the leaders were killed. Remember? MULDER - I remember. You want me to tell about that day, right? We were supposed to be going to Laramie. To meet our contact, Mike, to buy some ammo. Brother Aramis suggested I go along. I thought he was giving me a way out. You know? So I could surface, and make my report. We left out early in the morning. It's a pretty canyon. The Poudre. Cache Le Poudre Canyon. You know the trapper's named it that because that's where they used to hide their supplies. It means, hide the powder in French. Ironic, huh? KAMI - The Brotherhood sure had enough guns hidden there. MULDER - Yeah, they did (laugh, long pause). KAMI - Mulder, do you wanna wait to tell this part? MULDER - No. No, I can finish. (pause) I should have known something was up, but I didn't leave the compound too many times in those two months. I didn't really know the area that well. I mean, I didn't realize we were on the wrong road. I saw the sign. I saw we were going to Glendevey. It just didn't click. We passed the Boy Scout camp before I realized what was happening. When I saw the Boy Scout camp, I started thinking I might be in trouble. KAMI - Mulder, what did passing the Boy Scout camp tell you? MULDER - You know, Kami... KAMI - Mulder, I know. But Dad wants you to tell this for the files. Tell me why passing the Boy Scout camp worried you. MULDER - Sorry. I'm sorry Kami. KAMI - Mulder, it's okay. Can you go on? MULDER - Yeah, I'm fine. (sigh) I knew when we passed the Boy Scout camp that they weren't taking the main route to Laramie. You can get to Laramie the way we were going, but why would anyone want to try it? Not during winter. We should have gone down 287. We were going the back route. Then I noticed nobody would look me in the eye. I knew something was wrong. My cover'd been blown. They were taking the back route to get rid of me. We turned off the main road. I could feel the sweat running down my ribs, underneath my shirt. When we stopped at an open field, out in the middle of nowhere, I knew I was dead. "Marty, it's over," David Moye told me. He had a gun. What could I say? For once in my life, I was too scared to say anything. I'd gone through this once before. The last time I had gone undercover. I started praying that history would repeat itself. That I would come out of this alive. Well, my prayers were answered. I'm alive. I've just learned to be a little more specific when I pray. They made me strip. I don't know why. Thank God it was only down to my long johns, but they still took my shoes and socks. They cuffed my hands behind my back and made me follow them. I was barefoot and shivering. We stopped in the middle of the clearing. It was more dramatic that way, I guess. They told me to kneel. I acted like I was going to do it. I don't really know what I was thinking. I knew there wasn't any place to run. I knew if I did run, they'd have a clear shot at me. But, I guess instinct took over. I pretended I was getting down to my knees, but I lurched against David. He fell into the snow and I took off. I made it exactly 12 yards. It said so in the report. The first bullet hit me in the back. It didn't really hurt. All I felt was the impact. It knocked me off my feet. Sometimes cold is a blessing, you know. And shock, shock helps a lot too. I got to my feet and tried to run, again. I was kind of stumbling. Falling down, getting back up. They had all the time they needed. They had a clear shot that whole time. They just wanted to have some fun with me. They wanted to watch me scramble. The second bullet took my life away. I don't even remember it hitting the back of my head. It went in here, just under my left ear. When it came out it left a three inch crater in my face. It took out my eye and most of my sinuses on that side. I fell face first into the snow. That saved my life, the cold kept me from bleeding to death. (long pause) I think that's all. I'm tired now. Can I stop, Kami? (Machine off). END SESSION -KWW- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X Report -For S.A.Wagner By Dana K. Scully, MD December 1,1999 I first discovered that Special Agent Fox Mulder had been given an undercover assignment upon my return from emergency leave. When I found out that it had something to do with the Barnabas Brotherhood, I was irate, both at Assistant* Director Skinner and Mulder himself. Agent Mulder, while an excellent field agent did not specialize in deep undercover cases and I felt the bureau was negligent in assigning someone with his lack of experience to attempt a covert operation this dangerous. I felt there was an ulterior motive for sending my partner into such a potentially disastrous situation so ill equipped. I was right. For two months I fought the system. I continued to run the X-Files to the best of my abilities, but my main focus was on trying to find out where they had sent Agent Mulder and attempting to convince the powers that be, to reassign him to his regular duties. When A.D. Skinner informed me on February 22, 1999 of Agent Mulder's hospitalization, I immediately booked a flight to Colorado and tendered my resignation. I left the hand written notice on Skinner's desk and walked out of the building. I have never returned. All correspondence with the bureau has been handled by my mother at my behest. Dana K. Scully *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X December 1,1999 Sky Watch Bed & Breakfast Wellington, Colorado Dear Mr. Wagner: I know this letter will wind up in your files. This is my unofficial report. Somehow, I feel more comfortable telling you what happened, about my feelings concerning the betrayal and Mulder's injuries this way. I think I have made my last official report. Anything else you want to know from me, it'll have to be this way. I am making this a prerequisite of my employment. Please, no more reports! Just newsy letters. I first want to thank you for all you've done for us. You've opened your home and your heart to us and I can never repay you for your kindness. I don't believe Mulder would have come so far in his recovery if it hadn't been for you. In six short months he has made such amazing leaps in his journey back. I honestly have hope now that he'll be able to make a life for himself. I read the transcripts of his report to you and I cried. I see a shadow of the old Fox Mulder there. Thank you for giving him back to me. So now, I'll tell the first part of my story. As I stated in my "Official" report, I booked a flight, gave Skinner my resignation, told my mother what had happened, where I was going and that I'd be in touch. I then boarded the flight at 6:00 PM, and fell into an exhausted sleep the moment we were in the air. I awoke when the plane touched down at DIA. I had chased the sun, and it was only 7:00 Mountain Standard Time. But, since it was wintertime, I drove to Fort Collins in the dark. I didn't have much information on Mulder's condition. Just that it was critical, that he'd been shot twice. Once in the head. And that it didn't look good. I'll admit to you I prayed, selfishly, that he wouldn't die. I didn't care at that point, how badly he'd been hurt. I just didn't want to lose him. I arrived at Poudre Valley Hospital at 8:30. I'm listed as Mulder's next of kin, so I was allowed to see him. If I hadn't seen his hands, I wouldn't have known it was him. They had found him the morning before. The rancher who owned the property near Glendevey had heard the gunshots. He had called the sheriff and Mulder was airlifted to PVH. I know his records already have a place here in your files. You know what the damage was. I can't really explain what it felt like to see him the way he'd been left. Mulder's face was so grotesquely swollen he didn't even appear human. The skin over his left cheek had actually split. There was nothing left of his ocular socket and very little of the upper bridge of his nose. Luckily the nurse saw me sway. I honestly believe I would have fainted if she hadn't slid a chair beneath me. I didn't see how he could live. That is when I first wondered whether Mulder would want to live, damaged the way he was. Not just the physical deformities. I knew there had to be brain damage. There was no way he could have escaped it. I needed to speak to his Doctor. I knew what his wishes were. It was my place as his next of kin, as his friend, to make sure his living will was honored. I reached out to touch his hand, hoping to let him know I was there and that I would do what he'd want me to do. When I saw those long tapered fingers, that hand I'd held so many times, it hit me. This was Mulder. My Mulder. I cried. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X LETTER FROM DANA SCULLY Written December 2, 1999 Kami, Thank you for being there for me last night. I'm so sorry I woke you. In answer to your question, yes...it's always the same dream. It started the second week after Mulder got hurt. That's before we found the right meds for his convulsions. At that point he was having upwards of 15 Grand Mal seizures a day. I was at my wits end. So was Doctor Raposa. You see Kami, Mulder reacts strangely to medication. He is such a fighter that he was never fully comatose and the doctor was afraid to put him deeper because of the reactions he's had. A good part of the time we were having to restrain him. She weaned him off the respirator the first week because he fought it so hard. I was so tired by that time. Kami, I hate to admit it but I was afraid he was going to live. There, I said it. Isn't it horrible? I didn't want him to have to live like this and I was afraid he wasn't going to get any better. That night I went back to the motel, the night I first had the dream, he'd had 18 Grand Mal seizures in 16 hours. I collapsed on the bed and fell asleep in my clothes. I dreamed. This is the dream, Kami -- I feel his touch. We've never been together like...that. But I love his hands. He has the hands of a musician. I feel those long, beautiful fingers gently caressing my skin. Feather light, they run down my side and over my hip. Half asleep, I squirm back and melt at the warmth of his flesh against me. I feel him grow hard. I want him. I turn over to face him and I see him as he was then. The way he looked right after he was injured. You never saw him like that, Kami, but his face was a bloody ruin of mangled flesh. He smiles and his lips split open. Blood trickles down his chin and still he grins. I touch the tear and his skin falls off in my hand. This is wrong! I'm making it worse! I need to help him. I have to fix him. But I can't. The more I try, the quicker the tissue slides off his bones. I know I'm losing him... It's better now Kami, but I still don't sleep. Now you know why. Dana *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FOX WILLIAM MULDER INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT -TWO DECEMBER 7, 1999 SCULLY - Mulder, Mr. Wagner wants me to ask you a few questions about when you were in the hospital. MULDER - We already talked about this. SCULLY - I know WE did Mulder, but the tape wasn't running. We need to do it again. For Mr. Wagner. MULDER - Why? Why does he wanna know this stuff, Scully? SCULLY - He keeps files, Mulder. Files on all kinds of things. You understand, Mulder? About files? MULDER - I know what files are, Scully. SCULLY - I'm sorry, Mulder... MULDER - I'm not a "thing," Scully! SCULLY - Why don't we just stop right here... MULDER - No. You still didn't tell me why he wants to know this stuff about ME, about US. SCULLY - We work for Mr. Wagner now, Mulder. MULDER - I work for him? How do I work for him? What do I do, Scully? SCULLY - Mr. Wagner, he -- well, he used to follow our work, Mulder. Back when we had the X-Files. MULDER - So what do I do now? Why does he want to know these things? He's always watching me Scully. I can feel it. He's always is asking me questions. You're always asking me questions. I'm tired of it. SCULLY - Mulder, you really don't want to do this today, do you? MULDER - No. SCULLY - What DO you want to do? MULDER - I don't know. I don't know what I want to do. What can I do? What can I do now, Scully? (Machine off) END SESSION -DKS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X December 8,1999 Sky Watch Bed & Breakfast Wellington, Colorado Mr. Wagner, I look at these files, all that you have on Mulder, and I'm stunned. He is making progress by leaps and bounds. I understand your interest in him. His recovery HAS been a miracle. It IS fascinating. I just transcribed the second interview. I don't know if you'll even want it. He talks about nothing. He was in a mood. He talks about nothing, but he says everything! I can't answer his questions. Where DOES he go from here? What CAN he do? Why did he live? I've known the man for 7 years. He has to have a purpose. Even like he is now. Can't you see that? Mr. Wagner, what is it you want from him? Do you think he still has a purpose? Some purpose other than being interesting reading for your files? I'll tell you, that's not enough for him, Mr. Wagner. He needs to have more of a reason than that to keep going. I need him to have more. -DKS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FOX WILLIAM MULDER INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT - THREE DECEMBER 14, 1999 ( NOTE - Dad, I talked him into this. He has agreed to talk to me as a brain injury patient, responding to questions regarding how the mind recovers from that trauma. He can deal with you wanting to know about his disabilities from a scientific point of view. The other day, his problem was he couldn't get past thinking you were probing him personally. We might try allowing me alone to do the interviews. Scully is just too close. While he talks to her about everything, he feels violated when she shares what he says with you. I'm going to color these transcripts up a bit, take notes and tell what he does during the session. I don't think we can quite get the true picture of what he says without more description of his emotional responses. That is another area where he is beginning to flower. He hasn't yet learned to control them, but now his range of emotions go beyond simple anger and calm. Read this transcript. See if you like how I flesh out the interview). KAMI - Mulder, what is the first thing you remember after you got shot? MULDER - Scully's voice. KAMI - Were you in pain? MULDER - No, I don't think so. I just remember Scully talking to me. KAMI - Looking back, can you put this in a time frame. MULDER - (M. pauses. Look of concentration. He chews his bottom lip. It's a habit he has). Ah-h-h...I think I was still in the ICU. Look it up, Kami. (He seems interested by where the interview is going. He is excited). KAMI - What, look what up Mulder? MULDER - (impatience) I know I still had the thing in my neck. What's it called? (He's frustrated. His aphasia has him unable to find the right word. He waves his hand, giving up, then demands of K). Look up when they fixed my neck. KAMI - (surprise) The ventilator? MULDER - (disgust, concentration) No, No...I mean before the closed that hole. I was breathing through my neck. I couldn't talk. (Stops surprised by K's information ) They had me on a machine? I don't remember that. I hate those things... KAMI - (checking records) Mulder they closed the tracheotomy March 7th. You were moved from ICU on March 23. MULDER - Okay, then that's when, sometime before they closed it. I don't remember what all she said to me. The words really didn't come through. But I would wake up and I could hear her talking. It was the sound of her voice. She was always there. Always. (Mulder begins to cry, silently). Can I have some water? Turn it off, Kami, please. (Machine off) (I suggested ending the session. Mulder was intrigued where this interview was going and the memories that were surfacing. After getting his emotions under control, Mulder chose to continue). (Machine restart) KAMI - Mulder, do you remember if you understood something had happened to you at this point? Did you have any idea you had been hurt? MULDER - No, I don't think I was really all there. I don't know if I thought about anything except waiting for Scully's voice and listening to her when she talked. KAMI - Well, when was it that you first realized that you'd been injured? MULDER - When Scully yelled at the man. I remember knowing something was wrong with me when he was there. I knew something had happened to me because he was talking to me but I didn't understand him. I was all mixed up...(M. becomes agitated describing his feelings about this episode). KAMI - What man? It's not in the files... MULDER -I DON'T KNOW! I don't know what man! The man! The man Scully yelled at! You know the man... KAMI - Mulder, calm down okay...just a minute. (Machine off) (I calm Mulder down. It doesn't take long. Then we talk. It is decided that Scully could probably help clear up the mystery. We ask her to join the session). (Machine restart) KAMI - Scully, Mulder was telling us that the first time he fully realized he had been injured was just before he heard you yelling at a man who was in his room. Can you clear this up for us? MULDER - Yeah, clue us in Scully. (He has brightened up since Scully came in. He is grinning). SCULLY - (a quick laugh) He's talking about when Donnelley tried to get a statement from him. It was the day after the Brotherhood raid. April 7th. MULDER - He got a lot out of me, huh? (there is a wry grin on his face). SCULLY - (Laughs and squeezes M's hand). Not at that point... MULDER - (His excitement makes him animated. He gestures flamboyantly with his good hand as he talks). I remember it, Scully. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. It was dark. I didn't know who he was. I couldn't really hear him that well and I didn't understand anything he said to me. It bothered me because I knew I should have answered him or done something...I, I, I can't explain it. I knew something was wrong with me. I knew this wasn't a dream. I knew something had happened to me and I wasn't like me anymore...I,I...everything was wrong... (Mulder's excitement turns to tears. Scully hugs him and waves for me to stop the session). (Mulder is calmed and given some water. He surprises both of us at how quickly he is recovering from emotional upsets lately. He claims he wants to go on). (Machine off/restart) MULDER - I remember when you came in. I could hear you screaming. You told him get out. I heard you. SCULLY - (dryly) The whole floor heard me. (We all laugh) MULDER- You told him to leave me alone. SCULLY - (She has grown serious, has tears in her eyes). Mulder, do you remember that was the first day you spoke? You said my name...(She breaks down, crying softly into her hands). MULDER - Turn it off, Kami. (He waves at me frantically as he moves to comfort Scully). Off, Kami! (Machine off) END SESSION -KWW- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X December 15,1999 Sky Watch Bed & Breakfast Wellington, Colorado Mr. Wagner, I just read Kami's transcript of yesterday's sessions with Mulder. Tell her I really like the "color commentary." It works for me. I'm an emotional mess, so excuse this long and rambling report. He's doing so well. He's becoming Mulder again. A person again. A whole person, complete. You know, I can't believe I'm telling you this but, I feel complete now. I've felt so hollow, since his injury. I felt like 'I' would never feel normal again. He made Kami stop the tape, because I was crying. Do you know what that means in his recovery? It's such a big step. Mulder can now comprehend a reality apart from himself. He was able to recognize the emotions, the feelings of another person. That's the first step toward truly interacting with others. With his type of injury, the frontal lobe being involved like it was, I didn't think empathy was going to be possible. Let's see. I think I'll try to bring the file up to the point when we met you. That would be almost three and a half months after Mulder's injury. I see that was June 1, 1999. Mulder claims in Interview Session Three that he remembers me talking to him. I can confirm he was responsive, even that early, because while still in the ICU, he reacted to the stimuli of me squeezing his left hand by squeezing mine in return. As I've stated before, at no point was Mulder ever fully non-responsive. At three months post injury a complete evaluation was done just prior to Mulder leaving PVH Neuro Care Unit. At that point he showed classic left brain injury symptoms --i.e., weakness, paralysis of right extremities, loss of language skills both passive and responsive. He was totally blind. There was no sign yet of any vision returning to his remaining right eye. (The surgery of course came later, as you well know, you made it possible) The hearing loss in his left ear was total and permanent. His spatial perception was almost non existent, especially pertaining to his right side. What this all means is that Mulder was blind, partially deaf, he could not speak, except for monosyllables, nor could he fully comprehend what was being said to him. He was paralyzed on his right side, and his brain refused to acknowledge that he had a right side, so even sitting up was impossible. He could not balance. The medication had reduced his seizures and he had only had two Grand Mal in the entire month of May. He was fully conscious and aware of his surroundings. Emotionally, Mulder was either entirely passive or totally agitated. There was no middle ground. On his worst days, he was more than a handful. On his best, he was almost comatose. I knew that his time at the hospital was almost over. They'd done all they could for him. It was a primary care facility. He needed extensive rehabilitation, and if I was going to stay with him in Colorado, I needed a job. If I had to work, who would take care of him while I was gone? It would be a fight all the way with the insurance companies to approve home care with the extent of his disabilities. The most cost efficient route was clearly placing Mulder in a nursing home. I hated the decision that lurked ahead. I even toyed with the idea of having my mother come stay with us to help out. But she'd been ill and Mulder was just too much for one untrained person to handle. I knew I could find work in the Front Range area and there were several very nice rehabilitation centers right there in town all waiting to serve Mulder and his Blue Cross. It didn't make what I was going to have to do any easier. But I never had to make that decision. Mulder and I received a call from you. Within the month we'd moved into Sky Watch and Mulder started making his way back to me. -DKS- end 1/9 TITLE: THE DAMASCUS FILES FILE 1 PART 2/9 AUTHOR: Katvictory All disclaimers, summaries, etc., in part 1 The Damascus Files Part 2/9 by Katvictory <><><><><><><><><> CHAPTER TWO <><><><><><><><><> FOX WILLIAM MULDER INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT - FOUR DECEMBER 24, 1999 KAMI - Mulder, do you remember coming here to Sky Watch? MULDER - (who is very distracted on this day) Yeah,(pause) where's Scully? KAMI - She went into Fort Collins. MULDER - Why? KAMI- You always ask that. (laughs) I think she went to the doctor... MULDER - (quickly) Is she sick? KAMI - No, Mulder, sorry. She went to your doctor to reup your medication. Maybe shopping, too. I don't know for sure. So, Mulder, do you remember coming here...? MULDER - You asked me that already. KAMI -(Kami is getting a headache, so there is a pause so she can grab something for the pain). So, what was your answer then? MULDER - Yeah. How old are you Kami? KAMI - Not now, Mulder, let's get these questions answered, okay? MULDER - (Mulder sulks a bit, like a little boy). Okay. KAMI - At that point, did you think about your future? Did you realize how badly you were injured? MULDER - (rapid fire answers) No, yes. KAMI - What? MULDER - (He speaks as though explaining something to a child). No, I didn't think about the future. Yes, I knew I was messed up pretty bad. KAMI - (pause) Do you know you're an asshole? MULDER - Yes. (He is proud of this fact and gives Kami a grin that would melt Saint Mary's glacier in the winter). KAMI - (laughing) Mulder, I'm 18... (Machine off) SESSION END (You don't have to put this in the file, Dad). -KWW- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X December 25,1999 Sky Watch Bed & Breakfast Wellington, Colorado Mr. Wagner, I just read Kami's latest transcript. This is what you have to look forward to. Meet the real Fox Mulder -- true asshole. I love it. I've missed him. -DKS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FOX WILLIAM MULDER INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT - FIVE DECEMBER 26, 1999 MULDER - Let's try it this way, Kami. I talk, you listen. Okay? KAMI - (laughs) Okay. (pause, Mulder is silent). So talk already! MULDER - (He can blush. He laughs) Start at the top. Okay? (He forces himself to be serious. It works and his brow wrinkles in a frown). Did they have me on drugs when I first got here? KAMI- Well, let me see. Ahh, not any more than they have you on now. Why? MULDER - I guess it's the way I felt. It's like nothing felt real to me. My life, the world. I'm starting to remember things, but none of them seem real. Is this going to be real? What we say right now, is this going to seem real tomorrow, when I remember it? Will I keep feeling like it's all a dream? I don't like this. Kami, it scares me. Is it the medication I'm on? Or am I just going to be like this forever? (Mulder is deeply upset, but I leave the tape running. Maybe he is getting used to it, because he doesn't make me stop it). KAMI - Mulder, you gotta ask people about these things. Ask the doctors, ask Scully. Don't wait till we have a session. Ask them when you first think of them. When they first bother you. You want me to get Scully right now? Maybe she'll know if it's a side effect of something they have you taking? Let's ask her if what they give you is supposed to make you feel like this. MULDER - (a slight smile) No, she reads these things as soon as you type 'em up, Kami. She'll know. I'm okay. I'll ask her after she reads this. Or maybe she'll ask me. She's watching out for me. It'll get handled. (He reaches out a hand to let me know he's calmed down). I'm sorry, Kami. Scully'll take care of everything. Now that she knows. KAMI - Yeah, Scully'll take care of it. (pause) She's more than your partner, huh? I mean you two more than just worked together? (Machine off/restart...Dad, I really didn't mean to erase that part, all he said was he didn't understand what I meant. I promise, I won't get personal like this anymore). KAMI - I better get back to asking what's on the list, okay, Mulder? MULDER - Sure. KAMI - Mulder, what I need you to do is try to tell me what you remember of your stay here so far. MULDER - Does it have to be in order? And make sense? (laughs). KAMI - If you wander too far, Mulder, I'll bring you back. MULDER - You're not a redhead. I'm used to a redhead holding my hand. KAMI - Can you see my hair, Mulder? MULDER - Yeah, I know your hair's light. It looks like silver, Kami. I bet you have lots of boyfriends. KAMI - Yeah, you see them hanging around here all the time, right? (Kami sounds bitter. Ignore her, okay?) We gotta get back to the interview, Mulder. If I don't get at least some of what Dad wants, he'll kill me. MULDER - Sorry, Kami. I warned you. I still don't focus too well. (pause) Great. Give me a hand here. Get me started. KAMI - Mulder, you remember Dad sent you to Denver? He'd set up surgery for your right eye. For the doctors to remove some bone fragments that they'd missed. You stayed a week. Do you remember? MULDER - No, not really. I know it happened and I know I had the surgery to help me get some sight back. But really, the first time I think I realized I could see anything again was your birthday party. Isn't that weird? I couldn't see at all at first. Then I had the surgery and it made it so I could at least see shapes and light and all, but it didn't register with me that anything had changed. They did this light thing at the hospital but I'd noticed lights before the surgery. Maybe I followed it better so they thought I knew I was seeing. I don't know. I was just so out of it, it didn't sink in that I was seeing. I think it's the drugs, Kami. They make me feel dull, like I'm just going through the motions. Like I'm not really even alive. Does that make sense? I don't know if I'm explaining it right. KAMI - It sounds clear to me. MULDER - Good. I do remember little pieces of some things, like your birthday. You were dancing with somebody. Scully was sitting beside me, helping me eat some cake. I was still in the chair then. I saw the sunshine on your hair. I don't know, it just woke me up. I knew I'd just seen sunlight shine on a person's hair. I remembered it from before. So I knew I was seeing again. I looked over and saw Scully. I knew it was her. I remembered. I saw her different. But I knew it was her. I wanted to know who you were. I needed to put a name to what I could see, so I asked Scully. It surprised her. She told me, "Mulder, that's Kami. You know Kami, don't you?" She didn't know what had happened. She didn't realize I really didn't see her before. That was how long after the surgery? What, almost 2 months and that's the first time I understood that I was really seeing again. KAMI - You'd seen me everyday, Mulder. MULDER - But I don't think my mind was letting it sink in 'til then. I started to remember things more after that. I don't know if I was walking any before then. I guess I had to have been, in therapy. But I remember, I started with the walker about a week later. Scully took me out to the back yard and I looked around. I was outside again seeing the trees and all. Do people actually believe this is a Bed and Breakfast? I mean, who would come all the way out here to stay? There's nothing out here. It's in the middle of a cow pasture, for God sakes. KAMI- (laughing) Dad's family has been here forever. People in town have always thought the Wagner's were weird. The Wagner's owned almost all of North Colorado. At least they did back during the cattle baron days. I think everyone believes Dad is the Colorado Howard Hughes. So nobody has really even questioned what Sky Watch is. They figure if S.A. Wagner wants to build a ranch and call it a bed and breakfast that never has any customers, well, it's his money. He can call it whatever he wants to. MULDER - Okay, if you say so. (M. laughs puzzled, shakes his head). KAMI - Has Dad shown you the basement yet? MULDER - No, what's in your basement, Kami? KAMI - Just ask him to show you the basement. (pause) Let me see, what's next? (pause) Oh, Mulder, this isn't a question about what you remember. Dad would like to know how you feel about the surgery next month. MULDER - What surgery? KAMI - Ahh... (Pause, thanks, Dad. Didn't you realize he might not remember this?) You're supposed to have reconstructive surgery on your eye and nose next month, in Denver, Mulder. MULDER - Oh-h (Pause. His hand actually went up to touch the damaged side, Dad. He'd forgotten about that part of his injuries. Did you ever think we might have talked to him first? Kind of reminding him gently?) Can we stop now? KAMI - Okay. (Machine off) END SESSION -KWW- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X December 29,1999 Sky Watch Bed & Breakfast Wellington, Colorado Mr. Wagner, Sorry I didn't get this written up for you sooner. I've just been so busy. I have taken care of two of the three problems that showed up on transcript and I have an idea on how to solve the third. First, I talked to Mulder about his medication. I discovered that since the middle of November, almost six weeks now, he has been taking one fewer of each of his pills. I fussed at him and explained that is not how we adjust dosages. I talked to his doctor and Raposa said leave it. Mulder IS more lucid now. He has been since he pulled this stunt. We WERE over dosing him. I told Mulder we'd let it stay this way. He wants me to bring down the dosage even more. I reminded him how dangerous his seizures are and how he feels afterwards. Then we talked about how he has only been seizure free for two months. I suggested working on finding a new dosage after his surgery. That brought up the second problem. With his sight the way it has been, and with much of his awareness just now returning, I don't think he had really dwelled on his physical appearance. I remember him discovering the damage the bullet had done in the hospital. The only response he made upon touching the scars and ruined tissue was a faint grimace. That's all the attention I'd noticed him giving his disfigurement. But he has begun paying attention the last two days. I caught him trying to see his reflection in the mirror that first night. Since then when he thinks no one is watching, he is touching the scars, exploring what happened. He is distressed over the discoveries he has made. Before this happened, Mulder was not narcissistic about his looks, but I would definitely say he had a healthy, self-assurance that he was a good-looking man. Sadly, I don't think we've seen the worst of his heartache about this matter. I hope the surgery helps. He has been protected here from peoples, reactions -stares, rude comments, etc. We wouldn't want him to hide here at Sky Watch forever. More on this later. So we come to the final problem. I think I have a way to make sure we don't have a repeat of the "Erased Tape" matter. A camcorder. Let the two of them continue the interviews. Mulder and Kami, while not following your script, are very productive. Just have her transcribe from the video. And we will tell them both, no machine off. No stops, once they start. Mr. Wagner, I do think it's just a crush. Fox Mulder is an honorable man, even with all that has happened to him. He'd never do or say anything to hurt her. -DKS- ***** Kami, Mulder told me what happened between you two. Don't worry, your Dad will never find out from me. I think you should tell him though. You know he suspects that you erased the tape to protect Mulder? I'm not mad, Kami, but I think you should put your father's mind at ease that you are perfectly safe with Mulder. Don't you? I'm not mad at you. Your asking Mulder whether or not we had ever had sex, doesn't bother me. We worked together for a long time. I think everyone at the bureau was wondering the same thing. I know you were suprised he wouldn't have sex with you. I think he sensed it was a game with you, or a challenge. Mulder, even with his problems, still knows that you don't play games with your heart. It hurts too much to lose. Kami, some things go deeper than the physical. I think there's a certain bond we only find with one or two people in our lives. And that's if we're lucky. If you wait until you find someone with whom you can make that special connection, everything, even sex is better. Trust me, I know. I understand how you feel about Mulder, though. I've known the man for seven years. There's something special about him that defies explanation. Believe it or not, I am human. I completely understand what you're going through. He's fragile now, Kami. Be his friend. Love him. But don't play the games. Men are often easy to manipulate. Mulder was susceptible to feminine wiles, even before his injuries. But, I know you're above things like that. You're too mature to want a toy. And he's too good a person to be treated like one. Especially now, Kami. Don't do this to him. He trusts you. Dana (Dad, this needs to be in the file. I told Dana I was giving it to you). -KWW- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X January 1, 2000 Sky Watch Bed & Breakfast Wellington, Colorado Mr. Wagner, Well, I'm glad to see KAMIGATE worked out fine for all concerned. You've got a wonderful child there Mr. Wagner. You should be very proud. Mulder's appointment with Dr. Raposa went great. We're leaving the dosages as they are and still no seizures. He is doing well in all phases of his therapy. His walking has improved. He shuffles less and seems more sure of his balance. He's having less trouble with the aphasia. He's more able to modulate his tone, to compensate for the hearing loss. The aphasia has improved. The biggest miracle is in his memory and cognitive skills. It almost frightens me. I've been afraid to believe that he'd make it all the way back, but at the rate he's progressing that just might happen. He has already surpassed my hopes. The bad news is I am seeing signs of depression. I've tried to talk to him, to help him to bring out the pain he feels over all he has lost, over what has happened to him. But he either can't or won't express what's inside. I'm frightened that the more aware he becomes, the more he'll feel the part that has been taken from him. I watched Mulder change, in the blink of an eye, from the man/child who was left after his betrayal, to the person I know and love, and then back again. I know, as a doctor, the part of the brain that was most damaged was what we believe to be the seat of human emotion. I've seen patients who were lobotomized, witnessed the soulless creatures that are made by that surgery. When this first happened, it was my greatest fear that Mulder would be left like that. Thank God, it didn't happen. He surprised us all. He proved the doctors wrong. But I can't help wondering, where do we go from here, Mr. Wagner? He wasn't supposed to make it back this far. I don't know what lies ahead and it worries me. Do you know? Do you have the answer, there in your files? -DKS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FOX WILLIAM MULDER INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT - SIX JANUARY 1, 2000 MULDER - Well did you party like it's 1999? KAMI - Stick to the program, Mulder. Big brother's watching. MULDER - I guess that means you did. How's the tummy? Want some breakfast, Kami, eggs, bacon? KAMI - Look if I call you an asshole, I'M the one in trouble, so shut up. We can't even turn the camera off... MULDER - Camera? KAMI - Yeah, we are now under video surveillance... (Mulder has stumbled to the library door but I always lock it to keep people out while we are working. He doesn't know this and he is struggling to open it. He is panicked). KAMI - Mulder, wait I'll get it open for you. No, Mulder, what's wrong? Mulder, Just a minute let me undo the lock. Please, just let me get by... (Mulder will not let Kami undo the door. He doesn't hear her. He has a seizure). (Machine off) END SESSION (Why do you have to have the video of this too, Dad?) - one of the other subjects in your fucking files - -KWW- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X LETTER FROM DANA SCULLY written January 1, 2000 Kami, What happened today is my fault. Not your father's. Certainly not yours. I take the entire blame. I'm the one who suggested the camcorder. I never asked him how he felt about being filmed. It was me. You did great. You handled everything like a pro. He came through it fine. The blood was from hitting his nose on the carpet. He'll be up and around tomorrow. He wants to make sure you're okay, Kami. He feels bad about scaring you. If you feel up to it, could you drop by and let him know you survived okay? Thanks. Dana *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FOX WILLIAM MULDER INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT - SEVEN JANUARY 2, 2000 (This is from the video, I was not there for taping). MULDER - Kami, I talk -- you type. (he laughs). On my own this time. Scully set it up. Told me what we were supposed to cover that last time. (pause) I'm sorry, Kami, about what happened. I panicked. I just didn't want to be taped. I, I...Yeah. (pause) I, I don't know what I look like. I guess I shouldn't care but... I mean, shit... ( Mulder stops, and it's a good two minutes before he speaks again). (Enormous sigh) Sometimes, I gotta work at telling myself there's a reason I made it through this. Sometimes, I don't think I should have. That it might have been better for everyone if I hadn't. I feel like the fact that I'm still here is some big, practical joke. So, I keep hanging around, waiting for the punch line. Then I start thinking about you and your Dad, and Scully. It's like you all know something I don't know. You all know why I'm still here. Why I made it through. Like there was a reason I didn't die out there in that field, and if I don't keep trying, I'm gonna let you down. I think I've let too many people down in my life. So maybe this is how I pay all that back. You think? (Mulder stops and rubs a hand over his face. It lingers a second on his ruined side and he gives another sigh that is almost a sob). (This is said low, more to himself than the camera). Okay, I can do this. (He lifts his head) Used to have a pretty good memory. Maybe there's enough left up there so I can do this, huh? (clears throat) First question, what is man's place in the universe? (laughs) Nope, sorry. I'm joking. I just can't believe I have anything anyone would want to hear. Ha, (laughs again) I spent the last seven years trying to find the truth and be heard and now I say that. Back on track, Mulder. Mr. Wagner wants to know how I feel about the surgery tomorrow. Okay. Ummm. I don't really know how bad I look but if there is some way to repair some of what was done, well, I'm for it. (laughs) Is that good enough? Can I maybe get a nose like Brad Pitt? Or who's that new one, Leonardo de... not Vinci... Caprio? Yeah. I gotta figure out a new career for myself. I might as well try teen idol, huh? (There's a very long pause. Mulder has his head down, thinking. Suddenly he looks up, almost like he has heard someone call. At first you can read surprise in his face, but then there's a quick flicker of hurt which turns almost instantly into a dark scowl of anger). I do have some questions of my own, if anybody really cares. I guess not. I don't hear anybody saying anything. First off. Why are you so interested in us, Mr. Wagner? It's not like we have access to any high level information. From what I hear, we probably should've come to you -- years ago. It would have saved Scully and I a hell of a lot of time and trouble. I understand you have the secrets to the universe in your basement. And you're slick. We had no idea about you and your little set up here. As far as I know, neither do the gunman... or the FBI. Nobody knows. Ever think of that Scully? Have you ever wondered why they went to all the trouble of setting me up? Why me. Because, after seven years of searching and never finding shit, THEY...see I don't even know who THEY are...THEY are so worried about me, THEY decide THEY need to blow half my fucking brains out. But then Mr. Wagner here, who's just sitting in his little cow pasture, with his fucking mystery files in the basement...is allowed to continue his "search for the truth." Now, I gotta admit I'm one dangerous puppy, but doesn't that seem just a little odd to you Scully? DOESN'T IT? (At this point Mulder gets up from his chair and totally wrecks the camera. And the library. And we get to see it all, live on tape). (Machine off) END SESSION -KWW- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X NOTES FROM PAT BARNES R.N. on F.W.Mulder Post operative care, January 4,2000 "...you seemed to be resting comfortably, all vitals checked out, when you suddenly sat straight up. I turned and rushed over. You stopped me. Just by looking at me. I swear on all that's holy, it happened. Then you started babbling, it wasn't any language I'd ever heard. I don't know what it was. But you were looking right at me. Through the bandages, I knew you could see me... "Ah kuna na? Pat, vei guasha alhenu bahre, ah kunta nu?" I knew what to answer you..."It's not me." -FWM- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X February 2, 2000 Sky Watch Bed & Breakfast Wellington, Colorado Mr. Wagner, Well, I finally have time to write. I think, because of what happened the last two times, I'll do any interviews in the foreseeable future. I don't mind Kami being there, and I'm sure Mulder would want her, but you know how he has been. This last week has been easier. My mom has that effect on him. Isn't she great? Thank you for bringing her out. It was just what I needed. Okay. Catch up time. Got my notes, the charts, everything right here. I'll try to connect the dots. Looks like the reconstructive surgery -- here we go again --surpassed all expectations. Doctor Carter is an odd one but he's a genius. An artist. His skill in replacing the bridge of his nose and eye socket was unbelievable. Scarring looks minimal. I'm glad Mulder decided to go with the patch. It makes him look rakish. He has always had some kinda pirate fixation. Go figure. A note on the post op episode. Still don't know what caused it. It appears it was a onetime thing. Still frightening, though. That nurse quit, did you know that? Was it a drug interaction? Will we ever know? His blood chemistry is back to normal. And he's calm again, most of the time. As I said, my Mom is a life saver. She knows just how to handle him. Just what to say. He worships her. I hope she'll stay till at least after my birthday. One thing does bother me. Mulder has started dreaming again. He woke me last night crying out in his sleep, so it must have been a nightmare. I tried to question him about it, but he says he didn't remember any of it. I don't really know why it troubles me so much except that his dreams are still nightmares. I'd hoped since he has had to live through the nightmare of what happened to him, if he ever did get a chance to dream again, they would be different now. It just doesn't seem fair, he's finally making his way out of one place of horror where his mind had him trapped only to stumble back into his old land of night terrors. By the way, before I close. Has Mulder talked to you? He wanted to know if he could trouble you with getting him some information.I don't really know what has triggered his curiosity except that the blindness has him wondering if he could be developing a sixth sense to compensate for his loss of sight. Typical Mulder. Kami and I have read him some material from the internet, but it seems to be all hype. Mulder calls it "Fucking yuppie, crystal wearing New Age garbage." The man does have a way with words. He says he needs audio tapes on Edgar Cayce, Micheal Cremo and, believe it or not, the Book of Mormon. Hey, it'll give him something to do. Can you help him out? -DKS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM tapes - Wellington, Colorado It's Wednesday, February 2, 2000. Maggie Scully got me this, a get well gift. I think I'll use it to have someone to talk to. To keep my thoughts together. I'm glad they cut down on my meds...I, ah...I've halved the dosage again. Started two weeks ago. Everything seems to be fine. I'm starting to think maybe she wants me to be a zombie. I'm taking half of what she wants me to, and I haven't had a seizure since January first. What does that tell me? She knows how that shit makes me feel. Like I'm in ozone. Like I'm not real. I think she wants me drugged, so she can handle me. God, do I blame her? Shit. Shit. I was a pain in the ass before, what am I now? Why has she done all this for me? Why...my own mother won't deal with me. She called last month to tell me why she still couldn't come see me. Scully just might be the only person I trust. I don't know if I trust her now. No, I do. She just thinks she's doing it for me. All for me. She does it all for me. I know she does. End Tape - DKS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM tapes - Wellington, Colorado Wednesday, February 2, 2000. Great Day. Scully's mom got me this. A get well gift. Scully loves her being here. She looks a lot better, not so tired. Scully talked to Mr. Wagner. He's getting me some audio tapes he has on Cayce readings and he has the entire Book of Mormon on tape. I'm gonna give it a listen when I get done here. I never really gave it much thought before. The Book of Mormon. Great story, but not my type of religion. Not too big on choirs. But I keep having flashes of something I remember reading in there. I'm going to use this for notes and a kind of diary. Let Mr. Wagner have some of them, too. For his files. Hey, Maggie. Aren't I supposed to have two blank tapes with this? Dana Scully: (Barely audible) Mulder, you did when you opened it this morning. What'd ya do with them? If I knew that would I be asking your mother. (lower) Did I put them up? What... Margaret Scully: Don't worry 'bout it Fox, I'm always putting stuff up and forgetting where I put it. Don't worry. okay? Sure, thanks Maggie. Shit, now I forgot what I was talking about. Ohh, yeah...The Book of Mormon. I read it first when I was a kid. Had a friend who was LDS. I used to go over to his house after school. It was great. They had like 20 kids. Everybody loved each other. It was like a sitcom. His older brother gave The Book of Mormon to me. Hard going but it was pretty fascinating. Then my Dad caught me with it. Didn't sit to well with him...neither did I after he got done. Any way, I think this'll work out great. I'll make one of these a night. End Tapes -DKS- End 2/9 TITLE: THE DAMASCUS FILES FILE 1 PART 3/9 AUTHOR: Katvictory All disclaimers, summaries, etc., in part 1 The Damascus Files Part 3/9 by Katvictory <><><><><><><><><> CHAPTER THREE <><><><><><><><><> FWM Tapes Wellington Colorado It's February 22, 2000. Tomorrow is Scully's birthday. Have to figure out something for her (laughs). I can remember her birthday, now after I get shot in the head, yet before, I always missed it. I'm supposed to be brain damaged now, so, what was my excuse before, stupidity? It reminds me of that movie, "Regarding Henry". Proof positive that a bullet to the brain can make even a lawyer a nice guy. I know several people at the bureau I'd like to try this theory on. Holy shit. Damn, just a minute. Crap, that hurts. Feels like a knife right in the middle of my forehead. You know, science doesn't know why we have headaches. Maybe they should check Mr. Wagner's basement. He has the answer to every thing else down there, why not that? I wonder if I should show Scully how to shoot baskets this year. A little one on one. Dream on Mulder. It would be a case of the blind leading the blind. Damn, my head hurts. Can't think. Ah-h-h, where was I? Oh, today's the anniversary of my execution. Maybe I oughta get Scully to take me up to the field to celebrate. She probably wants to finish the job, then she could get a life. You're such a bastard, Mulder. Look at all you have to be thankful for. Oh God, it hurts. I can't take much more of this, it's driving me nuts. END TAPE -WSS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X February 22, 2000 Sky Watch Bed & Breakfast Wellington, Colorado Mr. Wagner, It was such a wonderful day today. I took Mulder with me into Fort Collins to do a little shopping. Nothing big. Just a stop at the grocery store and we poked our nose in at Long's Drug . The excursion went great. I was truly suprised, because Mulder's mood had been so foul this morning. He finally confessed he had a headache. I gave him a couple of Tylenol and after he rested a bit, he was fine. I was going on a supply run and suprised him by asking him to come along. HE suprised me by saying yes. It was his first time out in the public eye. Doctor visits don't count. He handled everything beautifully. It had to have been a culture shock after this long year of seclusion. I guess it was just something he hadn't had to think about in so long, but he almost cried when I handed him his old Visa.I knew that he'd been wanting to get me something for my birthday tomorrow. Now, that's sort of hard to do with me right there, but he struck up a conversation with a sales girl and I believe she helped him out. They had made their decision and she was about to ring up his purchase when Mulder realized -- there was nothing in his pockets. It's been a year since he's needed to carry his wallet. I saw his face fall. That's when I remembered I had his card. I walked up behind him and slipped it into his hand. He didn't smile 'til the girl called him by name. He must have thought it was my card I'd given him. You know how long it had been since I've seen Fox Mulder grin like that? He even treated me to lunch at "The Back Porch." This has been the best day I've had in, well, at least a year. You do know it happened a year ago today. I think Mulder knows, too. We didn't talk about it. I'm trying not to think about it. Still the memory of the way he was that first night in the ICU... No, I'm not going to do this. Just look at him now. Things are looking up! -DKS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM tapes Wellington. Colorado Today is February 22, 2000 and I feel alive for the first time in a year. Got up late and right off the bat Scully asked if I wanted to go with her to town. I couldn't believe it; no one has asked me before. I jumped at the chance. Gotta admit I had a few qualms when we first got out in public. I mean, I still don't know what I really look like. I didn't hear any screaming, and didn't notice that people stopped and stared, so I guess it's not too bad. Went to a drug store and picked up some tapes for this damn thing. I don't know what keeps happening to them. I must just put them up and forget where I put them. So much for my eidetic memory. I asked the girl who works there what type I needed, and it hit me that I might see if she could help me get something for Scully's birthday tomorrow. She said "sure", so we picked her out a little something. I got her a Celtic bracelet, a design called the Guardian Knot. It means forever. That's when I remembered, I wasn't carrying any money. I haven't been anywhere that I've needed it. I don't even know where my wallet is. Thank God, Scully was there. I hope she didn't see the gift, but I'm glad she was there. She saved my ass again. She slipped me a credit card, and I handed it to the girl. I thought it was Scully's card. I was relieved that I could pay for my purchase, and I knew I could just have her reimburse herself out of my disability check, but I hated making her pay for her own present. But what choice did I have? I gave the girl the card, she rang everything up then said, "Thank you, Mr. Mulder." That floored me. It was my card. One that I had before. A scene from a movie I'd seen somewhere, sometime, popped into my head. I think it was with Steve Martin, because I can picture him running down the street yelling "I am somebody!" That's exactly how I felt standing there. It made me feel...normal. Like I'm a real person again. Finally. I'm getting a life. I have money. So, I treated Scully to lunch. I can't believe how good I feel. END TAPE -DKS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM tapes I gave her gift to her tonight...wait a minute. O.k. Today is February 23, 2000. Scully's birthday. I gave her the gift. She cried. I think she liked it. END TAPE -DKS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X February 28, 2000 Sky Watch Bed & Breakfast Wellington, Colorado Mr. Wagner, I am furious. You won't believe it. I can't believe it. No, I do. I learned how things were years ago. Why doesn't this surprise me? Lies. Always lies upon lies. In the Denver Post, The Rocky Mountain News, The Fort Collins Coloradian. Jesus Christ! I can't believe they did this to him. There wasn't any reason. The raid on the Brotherhood went down without a hitch. There wasn't any need for a cover-up. There wasn't any public outcry. This wasn't like Waco, for God's sake. They did it just to put another nail in his coffin. That's all it is, plain and simple. Why are they afraid of him now? He can't hurt them anymore. Haven't they done enough to him? Mr. Wagner, you have to help me. We have to bring them down. You have the resources. Isn't this why you hired me? To find the proof? We can't let them get away with this. Please, help me bring the sons of bitches down. Dana *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM tapes Wellington, Colorado Today is February 28, 200...no, it's February 29, 2000. I have to tell her about my dream. I know what's happening now. I've stopped all my medication. I don't need it anymore. It makes me so I can't think. It makes it so the change can't happen. I want it to come! God, it's all so clear. I am Adam. I saw myself, in my dream, and I am Adam, the first. I've found the passages I needed. I listened to the Bible last night. Also Cayce's readings. Why didn't I ever see this before? It all ties in so perfectly. It's all connected. Each truth leads into the next. It's all so clear, if you open your mind. I want to tell her what it all means, but she won't believe me. I know she won't. She didn't believe me before. Now, she'll just think it's brain damage. This is a test. This happened to me, everything that was taken away, was my trial in the wilderness. You wander in the wasteland and you are given visions. They lead you to your destiny. I was blinded so I could see. But no one will believe me. "Now Jesus himself had pointed out that a prophet has no honor in his own country." That is so true. Nobody will listen to me. Wait. Mr. Wagner, I'll talk to him. I won't tell him everything. I won't tell how I found out about the power. But I'll show him the sign. He'll have to believe the sign, when he sees it. Scully wouldn't. She would find some way to explain it. If I went to her and showed her how the blood stops flowing and the skin closes, she still wouldn't believe. I know her. She is upset now. She has been all day. She thinks I don't know what happened. I know. I know they set me up. I know they put the blame on me. It doesn't matter. That was just part of the plan. The change. None of it matters. I know what's coming. END TAPE -WSS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FOX WILLIAM MULDER INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT - EIGHT February 29, 2000 SCULLY - Mulder, it has been a long time since we've dealt with this. I've been going through the transcript and I see there's one question that never really got asked... MULDER - (Interrupts Scully. She doesn't see it but he looks really tired, or maybe it's pain). What? We missed a question? I don't believe it? SCULLY - (She looks tired, too. She continues her thoughts). Mulder, do you believe you were set up that day out in the field near Red Feather? Do YOU think this was all just a plot to get rid of you? MULDER - (His face twists with irritation, he winces and rubs at his patch). Scully, what does all this matter any more? SCULLY - (His answer irritates her. All this matters to her. It matters very much to her). Well, we just need to know your thoughts on what happened. You know what came down afterward, don't you, after you were shot? You heard how they say the ATF stepped in and saved the day. Mulder, don't you understand, they're making you a fall guy. They're burying you. NOW, there's no record that you were even assigned to go undercover. NOW, Skinner's gone, and Kersh is saying that your being with the Brotherhood is one of your insubordinate stunts. Mulder, in the past year, their whole story has changed. They have you playing the crazy, loose cannon who almost blew their whole undercover operation. There's no mention of Aramis. You were supposed to have gone in there, against orders, like you thought you were the Lone Ranger. They say it was lucky you were so sloppy. They say it was good that the Brotherhood found out about you and took you out, or you would have blown the whole operation. MULDER - It doesn't matter. SCULLY - (She doesn't see it yet, she hasn't noticed the look on his face. he's smiling). What the fuck are you talking about, Mulder? They took your life away! Don't you see? Can't you understand? MULDER - You don't understand, Scully. None of it matters anymore. They can't hurt me now. Scully, I've changed. (Mulder gets to his feet. For some reason Scully backs away. It must be because she has finally noticed his smile). I need to show you something. SCULLY - (She is no longer angry. She is now frightened. She doesn't know why, so her brow is puckered with a puzzled frown, but she is afraid). What, Mulder? What's wrong? MULDER - Don't worry, Scully. Listen, we have to leave here. We need to find the answers. I know where they are and Mr. Wagner's going to help us. He promised to help after I showed him what I can do. Wait, just let me show you. (He walks over to Dad's desk. His back is to the camera and Scully). SCULLY - (Her voice is a thin, fearful whisper). Show me what, Mulder?...(She walks toward him. Louder). Show me what, Mulder? MULDER - (He turns. He is facing her and the camera. He has a pair of scissors in his hand. Scully moves closer). Watch. I have the power now, Scully. (Mulder places his right hand on the desk and stabs the point of the scissors through the middle of it. Scully screams. Mulder pulls out the weapon and shows her the wound as she makes it to his side). Now watch. (Scully is stunned speechless. Mulder's hand was bleeding. Now it has stopped). MULDER - The skin will close. I make it close, Scully. See... (He stops suddenly, there's a puzzled expression on his face. He is dazed. He looks down, concentrating on the wound. He knows that something has gone wrong. His face twists). No... (Mulder collapses to the ground. He is having a grand mal seizure. Scully checks to make sure he won't hurt himself, then runs to unlock the door, calling for help. Kami and Mrs. Scully run in the room. The two women do what they can for Mulder while Kami turns off the camera. We've seen enough). (Machine off) END SESSION -KWW-(What is happening to him, Dad? He said he showed you, told you. What is going on?) *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully February 29, 2000 Poudre Valley Hospital So, I finally succumb to adding to the chronicle. Will I show this to Wagner? Ask me tomorrow. I'm too angry at him today. No, better not ask me for a while. I think I'm going to hold a grudge on this one. This is not really about being angry, though. This is about not being able to trust that he has Mulder's best interest at heart. What makes it hard, though, is I'm going to have to start trusting him again sooner or later, aren't I? If I don't, then how can we stay here? If we can't stay here, where can we go? WE. Yes, it's still we. But, as much as I hate admitting it, Mulder scares me now. Why can I accept him with a damaged body, even a damaged brain and yet, I want to run, because I now find out his soul has been damaged. Why didn't Wagner tell me about his and Mulder's little talk? Wagner actually believes him. He said he saw Mulder heal himself with his mind. It makes me ill to think that he could sit and watch a disturbed person cut themself just so he could discover if they truly had special powers. Yet that's exactly what Wagner did. He watched Mulder slice open his thumb just to prove a point. But it did heal. I just looked and there is a faint, red, scar that wasn't there before. I know those hands like my own. I know each line, each mark and that thin etching on his left thumb is new. New from my birthday. A scant six days ago I kissed that thumb. He had given me my gift. I cried. His hand touched my cheek. I turned into it. And I touched that digit to my mouth. There was no cut or scar that night. And no hurt since could have healed so completely. Where did it come from? Can he heal himself? What has happened to him? I'm frightened. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X March 5,2000 Poudre Valley Hospital Fort Collins, Colorado Kami, Well, they've run the gamut of tests. Now they can't make up their minds. Left brain injury -- a schizophrenia type mental illness or congenital right brain defect -- bi-polar manic depressive. Should they flip a coin? One doctor claims we should be treating him for both. Mulder is relatively lucid right now. Why? Was there a miracle cure? No, he is back on his medication. It is as simple as that. Mulder has finally admitted he hasn't been taking any of them. Not a single one. His emotions are still unstable. They will be until he can get the medication back into his system. We have switched him from Zyprexia, which was causing him to suffer that drugged feeling, to Resperdal. I worry about that though, because there is an increased chance for seizures. Yet, if he rebels again and stops taking all his medication, he'll have seizures anyway. So it's kind of a damned if you do, damned if you don't, proposition. Resperdal has been seen to help more with the delusion factors of dementias so I'm pushing for it. Right now, Mulder is in rare form. One of the early side effects of this new drug is dizziness. It should fade, but he cannot even make it to the bathroom by himself, without toppling over. His weak side causes him balance problems, in the first place, so he is covered from head to toe with bruises, bumps and scrapes. We've tried to insist that he use a wheelchair, just 'til the vertigo passes, but in his mind, that would be a catastrophe. So he tries to walk and since he refuses to wait for assistance, a good bit of the day is spent picking him up off the floor. I suggested a Foley catheter -- if looks could kill I would be dead right now. So far, there have been no more delusion episodes. Mulder absolutely refuses to talk to me about what happened. He won't even discuss what he remembers about what happened with his therapist. I suspect he does have some memory of what he did to himself, because he has not asked question one about the wound in his hand. So he must know how it happened. I am not one of his favorite people right now, because I have insisted he stay in the hospital until his condition is stable in regards to his medications. As you know, he hates hospitals and is hell on wheels. Dana *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM tapes Wellington, Colorado I don't know what date it is. If I had thought of it, I would have drawn chalk marks on the wall, like in the old prison movies. That's exactly how I feel, like I'm in prison. The warden has left for the afternoon. Her mother is flying home today. So, I at least have a few minutes to myself. Okay, it was a crazy thing to do, cutting off my meds like I did. My problem is, I've got no way to pick and choose which one to stop. I don't know if they have the PDR on audio tape, but I doubt anyone would allow me access to it if they did. I hate this! I can't walk without falling over, I can't see 'cause of the mood lighting in this place, and the latest symptom from their frigging pharmaceutical roulette is chronic dryness of the mouth. I am constantly licking my lips. I don't have any control over it. My mouth has actually started bleeding a few times. The ointment they put on to help with the chapping tastes like shit. I just keep licking it off anyway, so I don't even know why they bother putting it on. This is fucking crazy! When is this all going to end? I feel like I'm being punished. Maybe I am. I know I did wrong, cutting my medication off. Scully tells me one of the drugs I was taking was to keep my heart rate stabilized. I could have stroked out. It's just that I gotta get out of here. I AM going crazy in here. I need to talk to Wagner. But how? He never comes to visit when I've been in the hospital. I don't think he ever leaves Sky Watch. If you wanna know the truth, HE should be up here, except he should be on the psyche ward. Well, at least that part has been good. They didn't admit me to the psyche ward. I'm on neuro again. I just have to go down there twice a day for therapy. I gotta get out of here. Scully wants me to stay 'til I've leveled out with my meds. That proves SHE'S crazy, too. I talked to Dr. Raposa and it could take six weeks before they know if all those pills are working right. I HATE THIS! I know there's something I gotta do. I keep having that dream, where I talk to Adam. But it's me. I'm talking to someone who looks like me. Adam tells me about the powers. He says they're here in my mind. They're supposed to be in everyone's mind, but you have to want to find them. I guess I needed to find them because I got hurt. It's like I knew I could use them to heal myself. It explains a lot. I should have been dead or at least almost brain dead after what happened. I know the powers are real. I had Wagner convinced I have them. I finally told him about talking to myself in the dream, and finding that my injury has given me special powers. God, it does sound pretty crazy. But I'm not crazy. I know the dream is symbolic. I know it's my subconscious speaking, but something really IS happening to me. I've changed. Maybe it's because I'm having to use a part of my brain I never used before. When I cut myself and showed Wagner, he believed me. I DID heal myself. There IS something going on. The key is the ruins. That's why I have to go there. If I go there, will I become this Adam? Is this the change that is coming? I can't figure out what it all means. But I know I have to go. I have to play it cool though. I gotta figure out how to convince Scully. Wagner would pay for us to go there. I know he would. If I could just show her how I've changed without scaring her. How can I show her? God, I hate this! I can't think now. It's the medicine again. I know it. I hate this. But, I'll play the game. I'll play HER game. I have to get out of here. I have to go to Mexico. Then I'll know what it is that's happening to me. I'll know the answers. The change is coming. END TAPE -WSS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully March 25, 2000 Poudre Valley Hospital For two weeks, life was hell. But I think we finally have a handle on Mulder's treatment. Okay, I know, I thought that before, but now it's been two weeks and his improvement is marked. The addition of Prozac to his Risperdal seems to be the magic formula. No signs of lethargy, he's not a zombie. No depression, no agitation, no delusions, no paranoia (are we really talking about FOX Mulder here?) no headaches. He seems well. Truly well. We go back to Sky Watch next week. I don't know what will come next. I've lost my trust in our benefactor. It's funny, I rarely speak to Wagner, but it appears that the man has become Mulder's new best friend. I can't believe it. Kami says the last time her father left Sky Watch was in 1997. That was to have gall bladder surgery. If they could have used the kitchen table, the eccentric recluse would have probably had it done there. Yet he has visited Mulder every day this past week. I have to admit it makes me nervous, but Mulder himself has reassured me that their meetings are only because he is now researching the illnesses they've diagnosed in him. I'll just keep my eyes open and watch him. Really good Dana, who's paranoid now? How many years was Mulder bi-polar? The CT scan shows that he just might have been born this way. I've known him for over 7 years and I knew he suffered from depression at times. I knew he bordered on being hyperactive. He always suffered from insomnia. At times he ate enough to choke a horse. At others, I couldn't get him to eat at all. And mood swings, oh brother. Why didn't I ever see it? Why didn't the doctors he went to for psyche evaluations ever see it? Did they pass the signs by because he was "Spooky" Mulder and his eccentric reputation preceded him? These last 3 months, we leaned heavily on treating him for schizophrenia because of the damage he suffered to the left brain and the way dementia presented itself. The Risperdal will continue to keep those symptoms in check and now, Prozac will help the depression. I don't expect a miracle cure. I know he'll always have some "bad" days. But God, what an improvement. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM tapes Wellington, Colorado Today is April 1 and I have been sprung. I'm actually outside, in the fresh air. It's great. Even if it smells like cow shit out here, it's better than the smell of a hospital. I'm actually alone out in the back yard. They're probably watching me from the window, but I don't care. That sounds really paranoid, huh? Now that's even worse. I'm paranoid about sounding paranoid. Fuck it! I feel great. I'm not experiencing any side effects from the meds. Of course, they've got me on about 20 pills. It's hilarious. They give me one pill, which causes a side effect, so they give me another pill to take care of the side effect. But that pill causes a different side effect. And they call me crazy. I don't care, I finally feel normal. I finally feel like a normal person. Sure, okay, so I'm blind in one eye, can't see out of the other. And you'd better talk to me in my right ear cause I'm totally deaf in the left. I walk with a limp that a drunken sailor would envy and my right arm is so weak, I can't brush my teeth with it but, hell, that IS normal for me. I have plans tonight. Mr. Wagner is going to help me. He's going to finance our trip to Mexico. We have it planned for late August. He wants a study done of the pyramids and ruins down there. And he knows I'm just the guy to do it. The new age, bullshit claims, are secondary. I've told him there are secrets to be found down there at these sites and Wagner believes in me. It's great. I'm back to work. It's an X-File. No, maybe we should call it a Wagner File. It doesn't matter. I keep dreaming of these ruins. What the dreams mean, well, I'm lucid enough now to not even try to guess. I just know I have to find out why I keep having them. I'm hoping that going down there will trigger my subconscious and maybe I'll discover why I am fixating on all this. I know Scully thinks it's the tapes I've been listening to. Funny thing is, the dreams made me want to listen to the tapes, not the other way around. Tonight I'll tell Kami about the trip. That way we'll all just gang up on Scully and convince her she needs a vacation. And Scully knows -- I'll want to go, because I need Scully. I always have. I think we can talk her into it. Maybe we'll even offer to take Kami. We'll just get her out of the house, too. I'll explain to Scully that it's a working vacation. She and Kami can go stroll down the Street of the Dead. Very educational. I'll gather information for Wagner's files. Maybe we'll stop off in Cancun. Scully would love it. We've never vacationed together. It'll be first class all the way and give us a chance to earn our keep. Well, I've convinced myself. Now, I have to convince my partner. Trouble is, she worries too much. After all, what could happen? END TAPE -DKS- End 3/9 TITLE: THE DAMASCUS FILES FILE 1/3 Part 4/9 AUTHOR: Katvictory FEEDBACK: dev1025@uswest.net Disclosures, ratings, etc. in Part 1 <><><><><><><><><> CHAPTER FOUR <><><><><><><><><> FWM Tapes 2002 (Exact Date Unknown) Wellington, Colorado How many times in my life am I going to have to search for a reason to go on? Skinner tells me I still have a purpose. I should take up where Wagner left off. His files are all here. The ranch is gone, but the files are here. Scully's not here. Wagner's gone. Dead. Kami. God, who's going to transcribe this tape for me? Oh, yeah, Skinner. He said he would do it. God, I'm so tired. We've nothing for pain, or my seizures. That's why Skinner won't let me up. He doesn't want me throwing another fit. Shut up, Mulder. You ungrateful shit. Skinner saved your fucking life, for God sakes. And don't let him hear you talking to yourself. Why not? He already knows I'm crazy. Oh, God, am I going crazy again? I think I am. It's not my fault this time, Scully, really. I'd take my meds if I had any left. I don't know how to get them anymore. Can't run down to the drug store after an apocalypse, can I? They closed all the drugs stores. The world is officially out of business. It's the end of the world as we know it. I remember that song. The end of the world. Joy to the world. Oh, God, Scully, where are you? Don't scare Skinner, Mulder. He tries to act like he's not watching, but you know he is. Hey, Walt, old buddy. This is just the manic phase, you'll get used to me. Think this is bad? Wait. Depression's just around the corner. Yeah, that's right, keep smiling you bald headed fucker. God damn it, Mulder. You can control this. You've got to. You know you can. Concentrate. Forget about pain. I need to work. Keep busy. The files. Got a new tape. How're my batteries? Fine. We're fine on those. Wagner's got plenty of those stored. We can keep going, and going, and going... Concentrate. Skinner told me to catch up on the file Wagner started on me. It'll give me something to do while I'm healing. He told me maybe it'll help. I've got nothing else to do. I don't think THEY'LL come back. Why would they come back? What did they want? Me? What the hell do they have to worry about from me? Nothing. So we don't have to worry about another attack. Right? Now we just need to pick up the pieces and go on. Go on. We need to go on. Fuck. Why? They killed Wagner. The mother fuckers shot Kami. They killed Kami. They shot me. Kami tried to help so they killed her; then they set fire to the place. They burned it all. There's nothing left 'cept the fucking basement. They thought I was dead. They always think I'm dead. I might as well be dead. I should be dead. There's nothing left. Nothing. I thought it was bad before, but now... Did they find Scully? Why can't I feel Scully? Is she dead? Oh, shit. That man, he came from there. He said they burned D.C. to the ground. Was she there? Is she dead? Why can't I feel you? Scully? End Tape -WSS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM Tapes 2002 (Exact Date Unknown) Wellington, Colorado I'm better now. Skinner did a little recon down in Fort Collins. Gotta give the man credit. I guess I scared him so bad with that grand mal last week, when I was making my last tape, he decided it was time to do something. I needed help, big time. It was a bad one, I guess. He knew I couldn't take many more like that one. He looked in the files at what medications Scully said I was on. He then made a midnight raid on some store that he'd staked out when he was getting our rations. Way to go, Marine. We found a couple of Scully's Journals. She brought them home with her, I guess. Stuck them down here in the basement. That's all we have left of the trip. I lost all my tapes. Kami's videos never made it out of Guatemala. God, all those tapes. She thought she was Steven Spielberg (laugh). She filmed everything that moved those first few weeks. Oh, shit, Kami. FUCK! (A pause while Mulder composes himself). Just tell the fucking story, Mulder. Hey, don't worry. I'm okay, Skinner. You can relax. Another Xanax? Okay, so, maybe I'll relax instead. Back to work. We'll take it from Mexico. Between this and Scully's journals, we might be able to piece it all together. Start with Mexico? Okay, from the top. We went to Mexico... (Pause, Mulder consults with W.S. Skinner, who helps Mulder with dates). We got to Mexico City the afternoon of September 12th, 2000. I guess we should call it the calm before the storm. We were like tourists. The hotel was right across the street from the ruins. Club Med has a deal set with the Mexican Government. They're the only commercial venture allowed on the historical site. Of course, that makes the rates at the place sky high, but hey, we were being financed by the 11th richest man in the world. It was great. A working vacation. Scully didn't know. She didn't know that Wagner believed me. That he believed in my powers. Why else send a blind man down to look for ruins. I'm not an archeologist. What would I know about dating ancient artifacts? Except Wagner knew I could do it. He'd tested me. Scully never knew. Wagner and I started our little parapsychological experiments back when I was still a member of the Poudre Valley Hospital, "Cashew Club." You know, the nut house, or if we gotta be PC about it all for this report, when I was undergoing psychiatric evaluation. They finally figured out how much was "crazy" and how much was "brain damage" and then decided what pills it was going to take to fix me. I know it took a lot. Anyway, Wagner left the ranch to come see me. He never left this place. But he was intrigued. My little demonstration of psychic, self-healing had hooked him. So we did a few tests of our own, to find out if I might have a few more "metaphysical" gifts. It was tough going. They had me on so many different medications, trying to find the right combination that would allow me to function, my "gifts" were being muted. Our first success was with psycometry. We discovered that, when I put my hands an object, I could "read" flashes of it's history. I tried this once with a psychic named Clyde Bruckman, but we really didn't have too much success. At first, I was even less successful than Clyde. Wagner handed me a rabbit's foot. Nothing. Maybe it was the drugs I was on. This was still relatively early in my stay and I was still pretty "out there". But maybe, with a walnut sized brain, the bunny didn't know his history. I got a few, slight, sensory perceptions, but nothing you could call a "reading". Next, we tried an object that had never been animate. Wagner gave me a tiny chain he'd taken from around his neck. It had a little gold cross, just like the one Scully has. There was nothing at first, but Wagner was a patient man. He watched while I held the jewelry in my hand. I closed my eyes and concentrated. There were no flashes of insight, no great "vision" of where the bauble had been. After several minutes I gave up and handed it back to Wagner, with a sigh, assuming I didn't have any psychic talents in this area. I assumed we were on the wrong track. "No good," I told him, disappointed that our experiment had failed. "Either I don't have 'it' or your mom just didn't give a shit about jewelry this cheap." Silence. Wagner's face, to quote a golden moldy, went a whiter shade of pale. The pen he'd been diligently taking notes with clattered to the floor. I didn't know what was wrong. Too many drugs, I guess. "Mulder, how did you know this was my mother's?" Wagner finally choked out. I didn't know how I knew. I'd just assumed. It was not a masculine piece. So maybe I guessed. "Well, I just figured it wasn't yours, so it had to have been given to you by a woman, someone who meant something to you. Why else would you be wearing it? Mom's a logical choice, right?" A logical explanation. A sensible explanation. My years with Scully had rubbed off. Wagner didn't say anything for a long while. He just sat there, looking at the little faux gold necklace. It was snaked in a tiny circle on his open palm. I started to get nervous, which, in itself, was odd. With the amount of Xanax I was on, my nerves should have been vacationing somewhere between Shangri la and the Emerald City. "What?" I almost shouted, "What is it? What did I say?" At last, my own private Daddy Warbucks came out of his trance. He gave me a death's head grin and explained, his voice a soft, calm whisper, "Mulder, my mother never liked me. It was sad, but true. I excepted it. Mommy didn't like anyone in Colorado. She came from old money, back East. Except the family had lost most of what they'd had in the 20s. You know, 'the crash'?" I nodded, not yet understanding where his confessions of family dynamics and financial history were leading. Still, there was a certain tightness in my lower 'gut' that happens when a man feels fear. "Well, she married my father to save her family. Dad knew it. So did I. She married him for his money and never let him forget it. Well, to get to the point, Mulder, I gave my mom this necklace when I was twelve. I bought it on a field trip my class took to Cripple Creek. I was so proud of my gift. But she never wore it. She just stuck it away, in a box in her closet. I found it when I was going through her things after she died." He paused a moment and his voice grew even more haunted. "She did hate cheap jewelry, Mulder. But how would you know that?" I didn't know how I knew. I just did. "I guess the fact she kept it all those years, surprised me. I was touched. So I wear it." He sounded tired. I knew how he felt. Realizing that I did, in fact, now have some kind of 'gift' didn't excite me as much as I thought it would. To tell the truth, it made me understand why Clyde Bruckman put that bag over his head. Bruckman was right, that really isn't a bad way to make an exit. I'll keep it in mind. I kinda like the idea of coming and going at the same time. I think I'll take a break now, okay? End Tape -WSS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM Tapes 2002 (Exact date Unknown) Wellington, Colorado Skinner read back what he'd transcribed on my last few tapes and if I ever had any doubts before about my sanity, they're gone now. They prove I'm one sick puppy. Who else but a crazy man would want their deepest, darkest inner thoughts down on paper. Especially when they're bi-polar and suffer from seizures. They sound like a textbook case of the classic manic-depressive, epileptic without medication. So, I'm a masochist for posterity. Skinner got to a working phone today. He's becoming a regular Road Warrior. Good to know at least one of us is gonna be able to survive what has happened. Shut up, Mulder, you're embarrassing yourself again. Whatever future generation finds these files will know I'm a whiner, on top of everything else. Ha. Like they wouldn't have discovered that before now. Because we found those Journals Scully hid away, I think we'll have a fairly good, running commentary about the trip down South. My own tapes were lost with Kami's. So from here up to when they got us out of the jungle, will be Scully's tale. I'll add what I can remember in notes, when necessary, but I think Scully's version would be the most accurate. TAPE END -WSS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully September 27, 2000 Teotihuacan,Mexico A week at a Club Med resort. Sitting next to Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman at dinner. Mulder smiling, joking, laughing again. Have I died and gone to heaven? That's how these last two weeks have been and if this is all a dream -- please, God, don't let me ever wake up. Kami just came in to inform me she almost wet her pants. She says she bumped into Brad Pitt out in the courtyard. Seems they're filming scenes for "The Vampire Lestat/Queen of the Damned," here at the ruins. She and Mulder are going back over to the site, so I guess I'll have to spend another day lazing about the pool and hitting the gym. We're all in the best shape of our lives. All tan, (well, Kami and Mulder are tan, unfortunately that's another thing money can't buy, melanin for the "Irish Ghost" here). healthy and happy. Mulder just informed me during lunch that this is our last day here. We fly down to Cancun tomorrow. I idly watch him and Kami as they walk away, then it hits me. I'm stunned. He's made all the arrangements. I repeat -- HE'S MADE ALL THE ARRANGEMENTS. HE meaning MULDER. I'm amazed, because, well, I didn't realize he could. I mean, how is he capable? Where is this all coming from? God knows, I'm thankful he has recovered as much as he has, but...HOW CAN THIS BE? The man I watch, crossing the wide tarmac road, is not supposed to be where he is right now, medically speaking. His last CT scan clearly shows severe damage to the left frontal lobe. Now class, what does that mean? Well, we'd see a limp. Yes, that's true. His right leg is weak, though he's adapted his gait, so it appears more of a swagger that a true limp. Notice how he holds his right arm so close to his side. It's almost useless, no fine motor skills. But he's adapted to using his left so well, that if you didn't know for certain about his weak side, you might not notice. Now, the fact that he's vision impaired is obvious, he's lost an eye. He wears a patch. But watch him with the young girl, see the way her hand rests lightly on his elbow. Now if you didn't know, you would think that he was leading her to their destination, not the other way around. It has been 18 months since I first saw him lying near death there in that ICU. I remember thinking at the time, "God, please, just let him die. He can't live like this. Not Mulder. Not my Mulder." I know the facts of his case. I know where he's supposed to be. It's not here in Mexico, making up the itinerary for our vacation, strolling up the boulevard without a care in the world. I should be down on my knees; this is a miracle that I've witnessed. But, instead, I'm frightened. God help me, I'm so frightened. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully September 28, 2000 Teotihuacan, Mexico He didn't wake when I slipped away to answer nature's call. Old habits remain, so our rooms adjoin, and I carefully, quietly steal away to grab this book. I feel the need to sort through my thoughts. To commit this night to the permanence of ink and paper. They knew, the Ancients who lived there across the road, that some things should be made to last forever. He sleeps and I ask myself how I presumed to question God's mercy. I read what I wrote just a scant 18 hours ago and I'm ashamed. What had all my prayers been for? All those times, I'd opened up my heart and asked God for a miracle, why did I do it? God answers my prayers, and I question the hows and whys? I don't deserve what he's returned to me. Fortunately, God saw that Mulder deserves his mercy. The gentle candlelight casts soft shadows while I study the sight of Mulder dozing peacefully in his bed. What little sleep I found was here, in his arms. I find I can't stop smiling. Is this God's way of letting me know he forgives me my doubts? My lack of faith? Is this his way of telling me that Mulder and I are meant to be, no matter what "man" tries to tear asunder? Mulder claims this is fate, destiny. He says he knows, if not the future, at least when something is meant to be. Just before he fell asleep, he assured me that everything that happened was kismet. Why is it, when THIS man gives me that old line, I truly believe him? It started with a note, left on the door to my room, telling me I had an appointment with the hairdressers, masseuse, the whole Elizabeth Arden sort of treatment, here at the hotel. I figured what the hell, Kami probably made it for me. A little surprise, one girlfriend to another. She and Mulder would be gone all day, doing their Indiana Jones thing over at the pyramid. Why shouldn't I get a little pampering? It was heaven. Thank you, Kami! Five hours later, I was relaxed, shorn, coifed, manicured, pedicured... my pores are the cleanest they've been in my life. I opened the door to my room and there, spread out on the bed, was a beautiful peasant skirt and blouse. Beside the clothing was a bouquet of tea roses, tiny and red, (I made the connection, Mulder). with another note attached. A dinner invitation. 7:00 p.m., on the patio of my partner's room. It was 6:45 and I am nothing if not prompt. I dressed in my new outfit, slipped on a pair of sandals and strolled to Mulder's room, wondering if he would be able to see the grin plastered so broadly across my face. Mulder answered the door with a smile, happy that I had accepted. The room glowed with the light of a dozen candles. Mulder had been shopping, too. He was dressed in white, which set off the warm bronze of his recently acquired tan. His shirt was the style we called a "Mexican wedding shirt" during the late '70s'. The fabric was a soft, thin cheesecloth. His pants were simple slacks, low slung and loose-fitting. He was barefoot. "We've gone native," I murmured, as he ushered me inside. He blushed a bit and reached up to finger the bright cotton of my blouse. His eye squinted while he strained to see his gift in the dim light, "Do you like it?" "I love it," I laughed, turning so the skirt twirled about me. "Kami helped," he admitted. Another blush darkened his high cheekbones and I noticed for the first time how wonderful the man looked in a beard. He'd stopped shaving the day we arrived south of the border, so the beard was filled in and full. There were twin strips of white, that grew from the corners of his mouth to disappear under his chin, but the effect was strikingly handsome. His hair was lighter and longer than normal and the total picture, especially with the patch that covered his left eye, was that of a poet/pirate. A soulful rogue? A rakish scholar? "No magic mirror can erase, these lines of living on my face; lessons learned and lost. "Staring at his rough, rugged countenance, I thought to myself that Mulder was somehow more handsome now, that his pain had added a touch of grace to his beauty. It was less callow, so much deeper, more real. He led me out to the small patio and my smile grew even wider when I saw the intimate atmosphere he and Kami had created for this dinner. They'd thought of everything. All the pieces were in place for an evening of romantic dining, from wine chilling to music wafting from some hidden recorder. "Are you hungry?" Mulder asked, pulling out my chair. "Starved," I replied truthfully as I waited for him to lift the silver covers from our plates. I smelled chicken, chilies and lime. "Smells wonderful." Mulder reached for the wine and awkwardly poured me a glass. His own was filled with tea. "Wouldn't mix with the meds," he sheepishly explained to me, then blushed again when he remembered to whom he was speaking. His face darkened into a frown, "I keep messing up. This isn't going right. God, why can't I do this? It's only a dinner," he muttered. His head was down but his voice rose in desperation. "Maybe you're trying too hard, Mulder," I murmured, grabbing his hand. "Maybe we both are." "Scully, I wanted to make this special, you know? Like before." His voice was so low it was almost a whisper. "Things have been going so well. I thought I could do this now." "What don't you think you can do?" I asked, worry and confusion making my grip on his fingers tighten. "I thought I was ready. I just wanted us to have a night where we could talk, where we could be alone. Where we could be "us" again. Scully, this isn't how it was supposed to be. This can't be how it was before." Suddenly, I realized what was wrong. I finally understood the problem and was thankful the dim light would hide my smile. "But, Mulder, we've never done anything like this. You know? Before you were injured, we never had an evening alone, with candlelight, just the two of us. It was never like this. We weren't like this before." He leaned back in his chair, stunned. "But, I remember...Scully, we were close. We were. I know we were. I thought...We loved each other, didn't we? I know I love you, I know I've always loved you. This is the one thing I'm sure of, about before. Us. There was an "us", wasn't there? How can I be wrong about that? I remember." I watched him struggle against his tears, not knowing what to say. How could I explain what had been before when I hadn't even understood it myself? "Scully, then why are you here? Why are we together now, if you didn't...if you don't love me? Why did you stay? Through everything? If you don't love me, why are you still here?" We didn't talk. You never asked me. There was never time. It was never "the right" time. We had time, so why rush it. We knew it, we knew it was there, almost from the start, so why couldn't we ever say... "I love you," I whispered softly. The Earth didn't stop spinning. Not a single star fell from the sky. The ground didn't quake. The fountains still flowed water, not blood, and I was amazed. The world didn't end because I let Mulder hear me say those three small words. He almost smiled, but it died before it touched the corners of his mouth. "Why not then? Why not before? What stopped us? I don't understand, Scully," he sighed, his face etched with sadness. "I don't either, Mulder," I agreed, tears filling my eyes. I weakly pushed up, not sure my legs would hold me and stumbled over. I kneeled in front of him and took his face in my hands. "We're together now. Now is what's important, Mulder." "I've always loved you, Scully," he murmured, pulling me onto his lap. "Now," the word was breathed softly against my neck and he held me closer. "Now is when forever starts." *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM Tapes 2002 (Exact Date Unknown) Wellington, Colorado Skinner read to me from her Journal. I don't know if this part really belongs in the files, but I know I'll sleep better tonight, because he read it. It got to Skinner, too. When he got to that last part, after Scully and I talked about 'now', he just closed the book, put out the fire and climbed into his bunk. He's already long gone. I wonder if he's dreaming about her? I wonder WHAT he's dreaming about her? No, maybe I'd better not wonder about that. I hope I dream about that night. You know, it's funny, but for the longest time, after getting shot, I couldn't dream. Another part of the brain damage, I guess. What's really strange, is I know that before, I never slept, because I had too many dreams. Too many nightmares. Where do we keep our dreams? Where do they come from? They can't come from just one part of our brain, because now, I can dream. If it was only the one place and I'd lost that part when I was shot, then I shouldn't be able to dream now. I must have known before where our dreams come from. I know I studied the mind at Oxford. Ph.D. in Psychology. That's gone now. Almost totally erased. All that's left is like the burnt out shell of a house. If I get to close, I'm afraid that what's left will turn to ash, then disappear. I don't need to lose any more of myself. There's too much gone already. Pieces are gone, only pieces. But the whole picture will never really be clear, because of what's missing. You find ways of figuring out what you're supposed to see, to know, but you're never sure if it's right. Even with the power, I never really know. The powers came when the dreams came back. Scully would know about the dreams. She would know why they came back. I think she was afraid, when my dreams returned. I don't believe they were supposed to, after what happened to me. That frightened her. So much of what happened made her afraid. I made her afraid. That's why she left me. ***** This is to remember. You gotta remember this Mulder. Please, let me remember. I dreamed about Scully. She was crying. Someone told her that I'm dead. They told her we're all dead. She was alone and scared. She cried till she finally slept, then she dreamed she was here with me. I held her and spoke softly into her ear, "Don't cry, Scully. It's still forever." End Tape End File 1/3 Part 4/9 TITLE: THE DAMASCUS FILES FILE 1/3 Part 5/9 AUTHOR: Katvictory FEEDBACK: dev1025@uswest.net Disclosures, ratings, etc. in Part 1 <><><><><><><><><> CHAPTER FIVE <><><><><><><><><> FROM THE PEN OF - DANA K. SCULLY October 8, 2000 Cancun, Mexico We leave Cancun tomorrow for Merida. Even though we have enjoyed our stay these last 10 days, both of us are ready to move on. I think Mulder was ready after the second day, but he stayed for my benefit thinking it was the place, not his company, that I enjoyed. We were together constantly those first few days here. His and Kami's Mayan expedition was put on hold. Poor Kami, not wanting to intrude, graciously declined joining us that first morning when we went out to see the sights. Mulder and I got so caught up in each other, we didn't return for four days. Kami was stranded by herself at the motel. With these accommodations, it was hardly a "hard time", but still, I know from the loneliness and boredom of this past week, even if the cage is gilded, it still feels like prison. I guess I'm just tired of being a woman of leisure. I need something to occupy my time. I'm ready for the "vacation" to be over, and I'm thinking of asking my companions for a job. I know it's my fault I'm not involved in their daily chores out at the ruins. I'm still not on "speaking" terms with their employer, Mr. Wagner. I made it clear from the start, when he set up this jaunt with Mulder and Kami, I was only tagging along because Mulder might need me. I wanted nothing to do with the gathering of information for his files, or with him. After Mulder's breakdown this past spring, I don't trust the man and it's a thorn in my side that we are in his debt. I need to get off the subject of Wagner in order to be in the right frame of mind to talk to Mulder and Kami. I don't really even know if there's room for one more in their workplace because, to tell the truth, I don't exactly know what their duties are. I know they are gathering facts on Mayan ruins, but I don't know how they're going about the task. Even though both of them have chatted with me a few times about the sites themselves, neither has said a word about how they gather these facts that they put in their daily e-mails to their boss. I hate to admit it but ever since I started thinking about joining their little work "crew", my biggest question has been, "How exactly does Mulder search for clues at an archeological site when he is legally blind?" I hope they hire me because I really am curious about the answer. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X From The Pen of - Dana K. Scully October 9, 2000 Merida, Mexico We are staying tonight at, where else with our expense account, The Ritz. It's pretty impressive -- luxurious, but with a classic, old world charm. Our room is huge, comfortable, tastefully decorated and, well, ritzy. I almost sounded like a travel brochure there, until the end. Mulder's downstairs making arrangements with the hotel on helping us find a guide to drive us to Uxmal tomorrow. He already has our motel reservations near the site and the next day will be my first day at my new job. I'm excited and yesterday I grabbed a paperback guidebook on Yucatan ruins. It's not really a textbook, more of a tourist manual. I hate to admit it, but I am totally ignorant on the Mayan Civilization. I guess I shouldn't feel too badly because Kami was too, a month ago. Mulder had been listening to countless audio tapes on pre-Columbian Central America during the time he was falling so ill. He had a fairly detailed knowledge even before we arrived in Mexico and now he is almost an expert on the cities, the history and even the daily life of these ancient people. I found out last night how Mulder became so well versed on this subject when I finally asked him to give me an idea of what we would be doing each day. Unorthodox is a good way to describe the way we worked at the X-Files and Mulder hasn't changed his methods in his new career. He confessed to me how he unlocks the secrets of the ancient sites and gave me an impromptu demonstration. I guess I have to believe his claims, but no one would fault me my initial doubt. You see, Mulder is now psychic. There, I said it. That didn't hurt too badly. Oh, God. Through all these years, all the cases we've worked on, with all the strange, frightening, miraculous mysteries we've uncovered, I played the role of the skeptic. It has become second nature to me and it was a part that Mulder seemed to want me to...no, NEEDED me to accept. I admit, with my background in the sciences, I was the logical choice to be the devil's advocate. But I found it ironic that Mulder never questioned why I had become such a "doubting Thomas." I was the member of the partnership whose dossier listed a religious affiliation. I remember checking Mulder's, that day so long ago, when I'd been assigned to the FBI's most unwanted. Beside the query RELIGION, even though the question was optional, Mulder had boldly scrawled - capital ATHEIST, exclamation point. I interpreted this statement to be, not just the normal definition of "one who doubts the existence of God" but a defiant proclamation stating, "I refuse to believe in God." Hardly the credo on which his life's work was based. I have a theory as to why Mulder has always seemed so anti-religious. Now, it is just my opinion and purely speculation. To this day, we've never really had an in-depth discussion about the matter and it's not a subject easily broached, so my idea will probably remain unproved. You see, I think he developed his beliefs as a defense mechanism and his attitude evolved during his hellishly traumatic childhood until he finally adopted the tenet, "Since God doesn't believe in me..." Mulder knows that I grew up in a family that was unshakably devout. Even though I had seemingly abandoned the church as an adult, my childhood beliefs still colored my perceptions. I might have been a scientist and a self-proclaimed skeptic, but underneath I was...I am, the child who knows, that with faith, cheap wine becomes the blood of Christ, a sliver of a cracker, His flesh. Mulder has never understood that I cry "foul" so loudly because of fear. I was born with a mind that works in a straight forward, logical manner. It's a nice way of saying I lack imagination. I found little comfort, in my youth, from the stories and teachings of my faith because I tended to take them all literally. I never liked hearing about seas parting to kill people and people being struck blind. I knew the lesson being offered was, the guilty will be punished, but I could only focus on the supernatural manner in which this punishment was carried out. I never meant to sound sacrilegious or even flippant when I bared my soul to Sister Placita that day. She'd simply made the mistake of asking if there were any questions. Sister was a young nun, a rarity at my school. She seemed so wise, so "with it," and I had always thought of her as one of the good guys, because of the way she was able to communicate with her students. Without a second thought, I raised my hand, and when she acknowledged me, I just started in. "I don't think it was fair the way God stepped in for Moses at the Red Sea and killed all those men. Couldn't he have just given the Hebrews boats to get away? After all, He's God. Or maybe, make them able to walk on water like Jesus? I don't like it that in the Bible, it's like He's Santa Clause on a "Dirty Harry" trip. It makes me feel like we'd better be good or it's, "Go ahead, make My day." Well sure, the Pharaoh had it coming, but what about his men? They were only carrying out orders. And that last lesson, couldn't Jesus have found another way to stop Saul from persecuting His followers without coming out of nowhere and striking him blind? What ever happened to that small voice whispering to us?" I took her silence as interest, so I continued, "Sister, I know God gave us rules and He wants us not to break them, but how come He breaks the rules of science, that He gave us, all the time? I mean, I believe in Him without all the mystical stuff, like visions. Oh yeah, and what about things like vampires and werewolves, not that I believe in them, but the stories had to come from somewhere. Why does he let that kind of thing happen? How come..." I was on my way to the office before my next question could be asked. Needless to say, I never got my answers. I still don't have them, and I still don't like the fact there are unexplained mysteries. Why ARE there things that can't be explained? Things that can't be understood, can't be controlled? I like control, and logic, and order. Mulder has never realized that I do believe, I just don't really want to. I don't want to believe in Mulder's powers. It frightens me. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM Tapes September 2002 (Exact Date Unknown) Wellington, Colorado I sat the entire day just holding this book, stoking the fire and thinking of Scully. She's alive. I told Skinner I knew she was alive and even without being able to see his expression, I know he's now my resident skeptic. Scully claimed I feel I need one, so I guess the Marine will step up and do the job. God, did he know what he was getting himself into when he found me last month? Probably not, but he has assumed the role of my doctor, my nursemaid, my therapist, my psychiatric counselor and my friend with diligence and no complaint. Just awhile back, right after his drugstore raid, he told me he felt responsible for what had happened to me. I didn't say anything to him, but Scully and I both had thought the same thing at first. After all, he was the one who had given me the assignment. Earlier this year we discovered that he'd left the bureau the day after Scully, after his demand for an investigation on what had happened to me had been denied. I can't help but think Skinner's only sin was that he sat too long on the fence. He just didn't realize that sometimes duty and honor are on two very different paths. God, it's getting cold. We only have half a ceiling here in the basement. It's what used to be the floor of the kitchen. When Skinner helped me to the head this morning he told me there was already frost on the ground. We might have an early snow this year. Neither one of us noticed when summer left. Somehow it just disappeared while I was sick and he was busy keeping us alive. Talking to him this morning, before he left on a supply run, I found out that it has been six weeks now since the end. I remember when the announcement came over the news, it was August 9th. It was a worldwide press conference, and in each country it was announced: "We have assumed control of your government, after a bloodless takeover." Yeah, bullshit. Bloodless. What do THEY know about blood, God damn morphing, green, acid leaking mother-fuckers! How much of Kami's blood was on me when Skinner found me? How much of my blood soaked into the dirt before THEY dragged me into the house, so THEY could burn the bodies? Shit. (pause) Ah, God. (Continues after several minutes silence) I, ah, I made Skinner read a couple of pages before he left to get our supplies. I close my eye and I can hear her. It's like she's talking to me, going off on one topic or another. I had to laugh at "the little heretic and the nun" story. Her mom probably almost died of embarrassment. From what Maggie says, Scully had a way of getting under the sisters' skin at times. She told me Scully was expelled for three days her junior year because she wrote a report calling for a bill that makes condom use education mandatory in all accredited schools, including parochial. The problem hadn't just been that she had written it. The problem had come when she'd gotten friends at the school paper to publish it. And she always accused me of being a troublemaker! Ah, Scully! You know, she never told me she was scared, 'til she left. TAPE END -WSS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X From The Pen of - Dana K. Scully October 10, 2000 Merida, Mexico We haven't left yet. Kami and Mulder and our new employee are out equipping our expedition. When I last wrote, Mulder was making arrangements with the hotel to procure the services of a guide for the forty mile jaunt to Uxmal. It seems the man they recommended did not meet Mulder's high standards. He chose instead to enlist the infinitely superior taxi driver/guide/ex-drug smuggler we'd met when he'd ferried us about the city yesterday afternoon on a sight-seeing jaunt. This great, white path-finder, who by the way, is known around here simply as "Mohawken Jack," (the name stems from the product he once illicitly moved) had apparently impressed Mulder with his knowledge of pre-Columbian ruins, while he spirited us about, almost killing us with his reckless driving and total disregard for traffic rules. When asked WHY Mohawken Jack was hired over the other, seemingly more qualified, better referenced driver, Mulder simply replied. "He just felt right." I do believe we are carrying this psychic trip a bit too far. We are paying this criminal $3,000.00 per month, plus expenses, while we furnish the vehicle, supplies and all travel expenses. Personally, I think Mohawken Jack is the real psychic here, he sure saw Mulder coming. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X From The Pen of - Dana K. Scully October 12, 2000 Uxmal Ruins, Mexico "Do we speak something truthful here, Life Giver? We only dream, we only get up from the dream. It is only like a dream... Nobody speaks the truth here..." The quote above is from the University of Minnesota's Pre-Colombian Program. It's from a legend that tells of the birth of the Mayan Civilization. It's the story of a good but sadly twisted and misshapen god who throws himself into the flames of truth, as a sacrifice, to create the fifth sun, the sun that gives birth to the Mayans. The search for the truth is never ending. I've found I love this work, if you can even call it work. Basically, what we do is play the amateur archeologist tourist and wander the site. Our blind companion must, of course, use his touch to "see" what he can of the ruins, so no one takes notice. When Mulder stops at a place or an artifact he has found "interesting" we join him and wait 'til the crowd clears, at which time he gives us his "reading". It's fascinating what comes out of him - stories of people and places, facts about what the object or building was used for. At times, just lingering emotional "vibes" that speak for the long dead occupants of this city. It's like he's our window to the past. Uxmal is beautiful, surrounded by a rain forest canopy that filters light so the ancient stones are bathed in a faint, greenish glow. The Pyramid of the Magician, fabled to have been built by a magician dwarf with the help of his witch mother, rises up out of the jungle, its height deceptive till you reach the top. There you stand at a dizzying height, and view the miles upon miles of dense wilderness that stretch out as far as your eyes can see. The Mayans must have had tiny feet; the steps down are short and steep. My heart is in my throat the entire time I watch Mulder ascend, even with Jack's hand to steady him. Our driver doesn't know my partner's penchant for on the job injury. We are staying at a wonderfully picturesque lodge that carries the ambiance of the past but has all the modern amenities. I am afraid our next leg won't afford such comfort. I haven't discussed with Mulder where that might be, but I noticed our beat up, four-wheel drive Suburban is packed with camping supplies. When I remember the view of the endless jungle surrounding this city, and how much of what's here that is only now being reclaimed from the land's grip, my throat tightens. A person could venture into this forest primeval and easily be swallowed up, never to be heard from again. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM Tapes September 2002 (Exact Date Unknown) Wellington, Colorado When Skinner read this last entry, that part that tells about the God Nanahuatzin, he stopped. I know he was looking at me, just smiling. See, Scully paraphrased the legend, purposefully casting me in the role of the truth-seeking God, but I'm kinda offended that I'm so easily recognizable in the part. That part about ugly and misshapen, it kinda bothers me a bit. Not really good for the old ego, ya know? (laughs). Looking back, my memories are so clear of that period. God, Scully hated Jack. Well, at first she did, 'til she got to know him. Scully told me once he looked like he could have been Jerry Garcia's brother. (Kami asked, always the little smart-ass. "Don't you mean -- Cherry Garcia? The guy who makes the ice cream?") She was joking, of course. Her father, ever the collector, has all the Dead's recordings, on vinyl yet. Scully finally saw Jack as the fine, brave man he really is. We never would have made it out of Guatemala without Mohawken Jack Hart. I hope he has gotten himself lost, somewhere down in the Yucatan, riding this storm out. Maybe when Scully comes back and I'm well enough, that's where we'll go. God, I could picture Skinner and Jack together. They're about the same age. I'd love to hear them reminisce about the '60s and '70s (laughs). Hard to believe they're from the same planet, much less the same generation. In Uxmal, the rain forest and our journey, it was still light, the darkness came later. There's a certain feeling about the place. Scully and Kami didn't need me to sense that it was a good place, even with all the tales of magicians, dwarfs and witches. I think the feeling reflected the Mayan's culture at that point in their history; it was on the rise, it was their golden age. You feel peace in Uxmal. Man at one with nature and his world. They respected their Gods. All the houses were built to keep Venus, their God of war, in sight through the doors and windows. They knew who the enemy was and kept their eye on him, making sure he was held at bay. Everything was fine when we were at Uxmal. END TAPE -WSS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X From The Pen of - Dana K. Scully October 13, 2000 Uxmal, Mexico We only worked half a day, finishing up at the site, then we leave tomorrow for Palenque, a ruin far west of here. It's where the mountains first give way to the lowlands and the hot, humid jungle that is the Yucatan peninsula. Nothing but rain forests lie from Palenque to the Coast. I've adjusted to the fact that it's a logical point to begin the in-depth search for ruins, and I do feel a tingle of excitement just thinking about the adventure of it all. Uxmal has gotten me hooked; I am a Mayanist. But, deep down, though, there's a touch of fear when I dwell on how far from the modern world we will be traveling. Funny, I used to tease Mulder that he would lapse into catatonia without his cell phone. Now, I'm the one who frets about trekking into the wilds. It wasn't until we went to dinner that I finally realized the date today is the 13th. October 13, 2000, Mulder's 39th birthday. I quietly excused myself and silently snuck into the kitchen where I confided my dilemma to our host, Edwardo Martinez. He called his wife over, and she reassured me they would take care of everything. Sure enough, at the end of the meal, the kitchen door burst open and out strolled Maria and Edwardo with a beautiful cake. The top was ablaze with candles and along with the bus boy/dishwasher, Jose, they offered an off-key rendition of the Spanish birthday song. I've seen Mulder blush before, but I have never seen his face quite the vivid shade of red it was at that moment. Our fellow guest gave a nice round of applause for the birthday boy, who, head bent and ears bright scarlet, bobbed a quick, stiff bow in return. Embarrassed as he was, he still consumed two pieces of cake, forgiving me before the evening ended. La Hacienda de Quetzalcoatl sits right beside the ancient city. As Mulder and I strolled back to our cabin, I was overwhelmed by the sight of the Pyramid of the Magician, soaring up to tower over the tall, darkened trees, its rounded stones kissed by the silvery light of the enormous, full moon. "Mulder," I whispered, my tone a reverent hush, "Can you see it? The Magician, above the forest. It almost looks like it's glowing." I'd held his arm to stop him short and watched his face as he squinted in the direction I'd faced him. With an apologetic grin he shook his head, " Sorry, not enough light I guess. I can see it during the day. Sort of. Maybe if we were closer." With a sad sigh and a shrug he grabbed my arm again and we finished our walk to our room. Wide moonbeams cut through the French doors that opened to the back courtyard and I insisted we move our bedding to the floor, so we could enjoy the fresh air and the view of the ruins. We made love, and talked throughout the night. Dawn was just tinting the sky when I made the suggestion, " Mulder, why don't we start those lessons in Braille I have packed away. It'll give us something to do in the evenings after work. I'd like to learn too, I think." "You think," he murmured sleepily, nuzzling my neck. "Don't you want to learn? I know how much you used to love to read," I replied, a bit disappointed he wasn't more receptive to my idea. "Scully, I don't need to learn Braille," he replied, burying his face in my hair. "All I have to do to read a book is to hold it, you know?" I was stunned. That's right, his powers, "You can do that? Actually read the pages? I didn't know. My God, that's fantastic..." I'd pushed myself up to sit, excited over learning this new facet of amazing gifts. Unable to hold it in any longer, he fell back, howling with laughter. He rolled on the floor, cackling 'til he had to grip his sides from the pain. "Asshole," I hissed, trying hard to be angry. It was no use. I just couldn't bring myself to be mad at him. Not when he was finally able to laugh like this. I began to giggle and soon I was roaring as loud, if not louder than Mulder . He got me. He got me good. end 5/9 From: Date: Tue, 31 Aug 1999 11:23:44 -0600 Subject: xfc: THE DAMASCUS FILES Part 6 of 9 Source: xfc Reply To: dev1025@uswest.net From: TITLE: THE DAMASCUS FILES FILE 1/3 Part 6/9 AUTHOR: Katvictory FEEDBACK: dev1025@uswest.net Disclosures, ratings, etc. in Part 1 <><><><><><><><><> CHAPTER SIX <><><><><><><><><> FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully October 14, 2000 On the road to Palenque, Mexico It was a long but enjoyable road trip. I guess I'm getting used to Jack. He's so funny, in an off beat, hippie nerd (nerdy hippie?) sort of way. The man does know the Maya and the ruins, which is comforting. He really does have almost twenty-five years experience trekking these back roads, learning about the people and places, but Jack is totally insane. Well, maybe that is a little extreme. Let's just say "Mohawken" Jack Hart sees the world with a unique vision and marches to a decidedly different drummer. A journey with Jack is an experience not soon forgotten. First, there's the fact that if there is a lull in the conversation, he sings. His voice is actually not too bad, but then again, maybe being tone deaf is a blessing. At least, he sounds okay to me. Only...well, there is a problem with his volume. We keep putting Mulder beside him in the passenger seat. Since my partner's already deaf on that left side, no further damage can be inflicted by Jack's eardrum bursting renditions of his favorite vintage rock classics. Needless to say, keeping the conversation going is almost a must. Jack has an encyclopedic knowledge of meso-america but his interpretation of the facts is not what one would call mainstream. We were discussing our views on what might have led to the decline of the Mayan Civilization which began in the tenth century. The most common theory and certainly the most logical was that warring factions split the great empire and it was fragmented, thus, the society withered and died. "It's just proof of the age old axiom, 'United we stand'," I stated, my voice rising to be heard over the Suburban's engine. Our muffler had taken a beating on the rough, pothole ridden road and there was not a Midas in sight. "I'm not arguing with you, Scully," Mulder argued, keeping his voice low to make sure we would have to strain to hear him. "I just said the root of the problem lay with the corruption of the Mayans' old belief system. They fell away from their Gods. They stopped following the rules, so they were punished. It's that simple." "I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you," I yelled, aghast that Mulder was taking the side, in this never ending philosophical debate, that what brought about the ancient civilization's downfall was a breakdown in the society's moral structure. Wow, Mulder, pro-religion. Who would have thought? "We're not talking the Quakers here. Many of their ancient beliefs were, in themselves, counter productive to the culture..." "I can tell you the one true reason the Mayans died out," Jack called out, finally tiring of the controversy. "It all started with vanity." "What?" Mulder and I shouted our query in unison. We both found Jack's statement puzzling. It was the first time we'd agreed on anything in hours. "One of the Mayans' ideals of physical beauty was crossed eyes. So they'd hang a bead on their babies' forehead, forcing the kid to stare at it, so that by the time the kid was five or six, his eye muscles were trained to be permanently crossed. Kinda hard to go into battle and defeat your enemy when you're seeing double and don't know which one to kill." Silence. The only sound was the engine's rumbling. I glanced at Mulder. He was pretending to sleep. Kami withdrew deeper into the novel she'd been reading all morning. Was I the only person with guts enough to point out the absurdity of his claim? Jack waited, grinning in anticipation. "Shut up, Jack," I said with a sigh. The driver's face fell. Well, I thought, hunkering down in my seat to nap, at least he didn't start singing again. ***** We had wanted to press through, but by the time the light had almost completely faded, Jack was tired. We'd all gotten up at the crack of dawn, though delays had forced our time of departure to an extremely late 10:30 a.m. The long hours of driving over the rough, treacherous jungle highways had taken their toll on our driver. "We can either stop for the night, or you can pull over and let Mulder or me take the wheel, your call," I offered, leaning forward so he could hear me. He braked, rather suddenly I thought, and turned around to face me. "I know he has those powers, but he can use 'em to drive?" The near darkness helped me to keep a straight face, so I was going to continue my charade, but Mulder took pity on the guide. "She got you, Jack," he smiled. At least it broke the ice. Jack's laugh is as loud as his singing and the mood lightened as we broke to camp for the night. Jack helped me to ready the hammocks while Kami and Mulder sifted through the back of the Suburban gathering supplies we'd need tonight and in the morning. Night comes quickly this close to the equator. In a blink the day was gone and the sweltering darkness had swallowed up the last of the light. It caught me unaware and alone. I glanced up, straining to catch some sight of the twinkling stars through the tight filigree of branches overhead, but nothing penetrated the thick foliage. Never in my life have I been surrounded by a night as black as this, and a scream to light a fire rose in my throat. Kami pressed something into my hand. It was a flashlight and I felt a moment of mute embarrassment at my mind-numbing panic. * Just grab a flashlight. Right. Jesus, Dana! The first night's just starting and already you're losing it. * "Since you guys got the hammocks up already, Mulder and I figured these'd do. The lanterns are buried under too much stuff. Okay?" "Sounds great," I choked, catching sight of Kami's puzzled glance as she heard my tone. Thankfully, she just left me alone. I didn't really want to talk about it. "Scully!?" I turned and wandered over to Mulder. He was tossing his gear in his hammock. "I saved that one for you," he smiled, nodding to the large, string woven bed that hung one tree over. It hit me, as I watched his hand play over the fabric while he made his bed by touch, that he now lived in a world of utter darkness most of the time. I reached out and clasped his hand, squeezing it tightly. His brow lifted and he gave a puzzled grin before offering me a quick kiss. Since we all were dragging and no one was hungry, we all retired to our hanging, sleeping chambers. I hope our camp-outs are few. I know that hammocks are one of the best types of bedding, for orthopedic purposes, but I don't think I'm going to adapt to sleeping strung up in a tree. I think the sandman will have a hard time finding me tonight. I'm writing this by flashlight. Everyone else is down and the forest that had seemed so eerily quiet, after the growl of the Suburban had stopped, is now teaming with sound - it's loud, alive... The piercing screech of what I think is a howler monkey just almost made me drop my book. I believe my light is bothering him and since this is his jungle, I'm obeying his rules and shutting off the light. Goodnight. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully October 15, 2000 Palenque, Mexico We made it into the town of Palenque a little after noon. None of us slept too well our first night in the wilds so we all decided to rest here at the motel today. We can make the eleven-mile journey to the site tomorrow, rested and refreshed. I know Mulder had a rough night. He stumbled over to my side about 3:00 a.m. and asked if I minded sharing my bed. I hung on while he climbed in and snuggled up close. (What else can you do in a hammock but snuggle?) His long arms and legs wrapped tightly around me and we tried to get back to sleep. "What made you decide to join me?" I asked, finally realizing that what little sleep I'd gotten was probably all that was going to come this night. I knew Mulder was just lying beside me waiting for dawn. "I had a couple of nightmares," he sighed, idly brushing his beard over my cheek, knowing I love the feel of its rough tickle against my skin. "Bad?" I murmured softly, patting his hand to comfort him. He hadn't had a disturbing dream, at least none that he'd shared, since we'd started sharing our sleeping quarters. I'm sure of that. "Bad enough," he replied and wanting to change the subject, he began to lightly tease my neck with the tip of his tongue. "Maybe we just better lose one of these hammocks then?" I whispered into the warm comfort of his shoulder. Suddenly, I was glad the rain forest is so dark. It allowed us not to disturb our traveling companions and the monkeys didn't seem to mind, either. ***** Palenque, the modern city, could best be described as a tourist trap. While not offensive by any means, it's bland. Its sole purpose is to collect the travelers' money through its motel chains and souvenir shops. Except for the fact every building is designed in pseudo-Mayan styling you could be anywhere. It has no regional flavor like the other towns we've visited. I find it almost depressing for some reason. It could be my need for sleep and I return to the motel alone, hoping to catch up on some rest. I had just closed the curtains and retired to the bed, after a quick shower, when I heard a key in the lock, signaling Mulder's return. In the dim light I could see that he also looked like fifty miles of bad road, and after hitting the bath to clean off the day's dirt and dust, he fell in bed along side me. Being shrouded in his long, strong, always warm arms has become second nature to me now and it's only minutes before we're both sound asleep. I awoke to him screaming in terror. It was 5:00 p.m. by the cheap clock/radio time so fortunately the neighboring rooms weren't occupied yet. Mulder didn't even stir when I sprang frightened from the bed and I switched on the light in order to attempt to free him from whatever horrifying netherworld had trapped him. He came awake with a start, yelling something in another language. Spanish? It might have been Mayan. We had heard it spoken by native guides at Uxmal. Something like "Na...pita." Has he immersed himself in the work, in his visions, so much that he is now dreaming in Mayan? It worries me. I brushed his long, sun streaked hair back from his forehead and watched as reality slowly crept in, relaxing the hard lines of tension that had gripped his face. "Scully?" he murmured questioningly. Hearing my reply that I was there, his arms wrapped about my waist and he buried his face in my lap. I stroked his hair, whispering what I hoped were words of comfort. I am worried. Well, okay, let's temper that and say, I'm concerned. I think he's working too hard at the ruins. Oh, hell...with his handicaps, just having to function day to day is work. Just because he manages to make it look easy doesn't mean it isn't a struggle. Tonight's episode with the dreams reminds me of last fall, right before he stopped taking his medication. It was so much harder for him to express himself then, but I think I had more luck getting him to talk about how troubled he felt. Now, since he has recovered so well, his old habits of keeping things from me have returned. I have to find a way to draw him out now that the nightmares have returned. I have to find a way to get him to slow down, to rest. I have to do the impossible. I could use a hand here, God, okay? Please. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully October 16, 2000 Palenque, Mexico I'm so very tired tonight. We all are. I think we were all worn out by the long, cross-country journey, very little sleep and the unseasonably hot weather. Jack says it should have cooled down a bit by now. It has been hot and muggy our entire time in the Yucatan. But I hear they do have a "winter" season. Or maybe that's just a myth. I'm a bit crabby on top of tired. I should try to get out of my mood before Mulder gets out here, because I do want to try to talk to him about the nightmares and all. As weary as I feel, from the way he looked I'd say he felt 20 times worse. Yes, he's haggard, but there's a tightness about his face that makes me wonder if it's time to consider a little tinkering with his medications. We walk such a fine line with his body chemistry. I hate adjusting anything without him being seen by his own doctor at home. Not much chance of that. Maybe I'll call Raposa tomorrow and see if there's some way we can do it here, though I shudder at the thought of using the bandaid station/medical clinic they have in Palenque. Knowing our travels are just supposed to take us deeper into the wilds, this might be our last best chance for that in quite awhile. Oh, Lord, I think I'll just wait 'til tomorrow to write more. I'll catch up on our discoveries at work and tell what I've found out about Mulder then. X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X HANDWRITTEN REPORT BY KAMI W. WAGNER ON EVENTS HAPPENING AT PALENQUE, CHIAPAS, MEXICO -- OCTOBER 17, 2000 It was after lunch. We'd all eaten down by the "Bath of The Queen", a place where Mulder confirmed the queens actually did bathe. It's so much cooler in this part of the site, so many trees and a small water fall that empties into the pool that is the "Bath". Jack wasn't with us at the moment, but he was somewhere on the site. He'd decided to spend the day with a friend who operates a charter flight service out of Merida. (Which turned out to be fortunate for us). Scully took off back to the main plaza, down the path and across this wooden bridge. She told us she was going to check out the "Temple of the Cross". Mulder and I continued down the path a ways until we came to another temple. Checking it out, we discovered a low table in the center of the room. I led Mulder over and he squatted next to it and began to do his "thing", where he places both palms on something to read it. I noticed the little monkey sitting at the back of the room and offered it some of my left-over sandwich. These howler monkeys are all over Palenque. The ones around the site seem to live off what they can scavenge from tourists. They're supposed to be harmless as long as you don't get too close. The little guy was just sitting there, hunched, gnawing on the bread I'd tossed him, when suddenly he straightened like he'd heard something. He dropped the food and stood upright, arms stretched over his head. It was a defensive stance. I've heard they do that to make themselves appear larger and more menacing when they feel threatened. But I couldn't figure out what was making him feel nervous. Then he started the shrieking, moving toward me, his lips pulled in a tight grin that showed his teeth. Taking a step back, I called for Mulder. He didn't answer. This is the part I'm not sure of. No, that's a lie, I know what I 'think' I saw. At first I was angry that because you have to get express, written permission to video tape at Palenque, I didn't have my camera to back me up. I know the way things turned out, the tapes would have been destroyed in Guatemala, but at least Scully and Jack could have seen some of what happened. But, I didn't and this is why I never told the whole story to Scully, Dad, or the doctors...no one. I turned to Mulder to see why he hadn't answered me. He was hunched on top of the table, his back to me, and I swear he was surrounded by a red light that came up from the table. His white shirt reflected the warm glow. It looked like his face was covered with blood. This is what I saw. I know it sounds crazy, but I would swear to it if I knew they wouldn't take me off in a straight jacket, thinking I was hallucinating I guess the fact that I turned from it was a sign to the monkey that it was safe to attack, because he did. He landed on my back, near my right shoulder. I think I started screaming; I heard someone screaming and I knew it wasn't Mulder so it had to have been me. Mulder stood up and whirled to face me. Another thing I would swear to was he was looking at me when the monkey started biting me. I'd swear he could see us. I know I was probably in shock. I was wrestling with the thing. Its wiry little fingers were holding fast onto my hair, my skin, scratching me. Mulder was scowling. He lifted his left arm and the monkey went instantly limp. I threw the animal off me, not caring about the hair I lost from where its fingers were still tangled. It landed with a dull thud in the far corner. My legs finally gave way and I crumpled to the ground, crying. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up. It was Mulder. The REAL Mulder. He looked like he didn't know what had happened, like he'd just heard me crying and had come over to see what was wrong. He moved to comfort me, but I scurried away from him. I couldn't help it. I was afraid. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully October 21, 2000 Merida, Mexico I didn't even realize, until now, that I'd tossed this journal in my bag. Kami and I are back in Merida. On the second day at the site she was attacked by, of all things, one of those little howler monkeys. Luckily, Jack had a friend that flew us back to civilization to obtain medical treatment. I was afraid that the animal had been rabid, but the autopsy proved it wasn't. So she just got a lot of scratches, a few painful punctures on her right shoulder and one bad bite that tore her jaw just below the ear. I've assured her when we get back to the states, Dr. Carter, Mulder's plastic surgeon, will be able to take care of any scar it might leave. The poor kid is just now getting over the shock. She really won't talk about it too much. I do wonder who killed the monkey, because some puzzles exist as a result of the autopsy findings; specifically, the actual cause of death of the creature. But to tell the truth, I have too much on my mind right now to really give a damn how the monkey died! Mulder and Jack haven't made it to Merida. We decided, when Kami and I left Palenque, that Jack and Mulder would follow us here in the Suburban. It should have taken two days, tops. It's now the start of the fourth day, and there's no sign of them. I never got to talk to Mulder about adjusting his meds that night before all this happened. I fell asleep before he came in. Now, I AM worried. Did something happen to them on the trip? Did they wreck? Is Mulder ill? *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM Tapes Late September, 2002 (Exact Date Unknown) Wellington, Colorado Was it Palenque? Can a place itself be evil? Is it possible for a plot of earth to take on the dark energy of the sins that were committed on its soil and then contaminate a person who later walks there, unaware? How many died at the temple where Kami was attacked? How many captives of war; innocent children, and Mayan faithful, offering themselves to the gods, died on that table? All I remember is their blood covering me, then Kami crying. Did all that came after this, come from the city? Or was it me? Am I cursed? I'm sick again. A cold. How can I get a cold when the only person I see is Skinner, and he's not sick? Leave it to me to find a way. Shit. Skinner has moved us into this little out-building. Wagner used to call it his tinker shop. It's enclosed and will be easier to keep warm. He found this huge, cast iron wood stove in here, it keeps it pretty toasty. So between staying warm, and Skinner's hovering, I should recover quickly. I'd better. A long recovery might not be good for my old friend's health. He is driving me TOTALLY insane. I won't be able to add too much to the narrative of the file from here, until we make it back to Sky Watch, because of what happened to me. Some memories have come back; most, I think, never will. I really don't want to remember it, I guess. Was it Palenque? Or was it me? End Tape -WSS- end Part 6/9 TITLE: THE DAMASCUS FILES FILE 1/3 Part 7/9 AUTHOR: Katvictory FEEDBACK: dev1025@uswest.net Disclosures, ratings, etc. in Part 1 <><><><><><><><><> CHAPTER SEVEN <><><><><><><><><> FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully October 25, 2000 Western Belize Mulder and Jack showed up early the morning of the 22nd. They were fine, nothing wrong. The reason for their tardiness was simply taking a wrong turn. This excuse was from a man who has traveled these roads for a quarter of a century. I don't think Jack even expected me to buy it. But I did believe him when he said he didn't know how they happened to get on the wrong road. It was the 'simply' part that I didn't believe. But something HAS happened to Mulder. We are now in western Belize. How did we get here? Well, I remember the trip, I just can't remember why we all agreed to come. The minute Mulder and Jack got in, I noticed something was wrong, but I was angry. After seeing that they were okay, I lit into Jack, since he had been driving. Why did they take so long? Didn't they know we'd be worried? Didn't they know I do not need shit like this? Jack seemed dazed when I questioned him. It was almost like a person coming out of a deep sleep. He had the answers, but they were nothing more than rehearsed lines. They weren't HIS responses. That's the only way I can describe it. I was stunned. In frustration, I turned to Mulder to hear what he had to say about the matter. That was my first realization that something HAD happened. Somehow, Mulder was different. My angry words, the tirade I was going to hit him with for worrying me, froze in my throat when he seemed to gaze at me with his half-sighted eye. "We stopped by the ruins at Bonampek. There was something I needed to find out. Sorry we didn't let you know but we didn't find any pay phones around." Mulder's tone was calm, his lips played into a half smile as he spoke. I nodded I understood. It all seemed so reasonable now that he was standing there explaining it to me. I think somewhere, deep down inside, a part of me still wanted to rebel, because I hastily told him, "Mulder, you don't look good. You're not sleeping. The dreams are back. We need to get your medication adjusted." He nodded and the breath I didn't even know I'd been holding came out in a sigh of relief. "Okay, Scully. We'll all get checked out because we have a long trip ahead. I think I've found out where the Mayans built their original temple. Remember the legend ? 'Where the Gods Sleep and the Fires of Truth Burn?' I know where it is now." He spoke calmly, evenly, most of all, convincingly and I found all I could do was nod. ***** We all got physicals, Jack included, which we all passed. The doctor in Merida, after conferring with Raposa by phone, simply upped Mulder's Xanax. I said nothing to the fatherly, round-faced physician about how strangely my partner was acting. I couldn't. Mulder was there and he didn't want me to. We all had passports. We didn't need visas, being US citizens, so after paying the tax for our vehicle, we left for Belize. The fresh-faced border guards looked younger than Kami as they stood, with their rifles slung over their shoulders, checking our papers. There was a moment of discussion about our return plans, and bringing the Suburban into the country; but after Mulder explained our purpose, we were waved through without a second glance. We stopped for the night at a hotel in Orange Walk City to rest and replenish our supplies, then pressed on, rising early to beat the sun. We were going west to the border Belize shares with Guatemala. The place where it's said the Mayan Civilization was born. He didn't speak of 'Adam' until we left Orange Walk City, but my stomach sank at hearing the old delusions from his last breakdown resurfacing. He talked throughout the day, telling us of our purpose, of our plans. We all listened silently as he rambled on. No questions were asked. Mulder was in complete control. ***** He told us this evening that this is not our final destination. Tomorrow we press on to Tikal, in eastern Guatemala. He sleeps now, suspended in his cloth cocoon, alone. We haven't shared a bed since he returned from Bonampek. He seems so changed, I'm not sure if I know this man. I can write this now. Kami, Jack and I can talk in quiet whispers, because when he sleeps, we are almost free. He no longer wakes from his dreams screaming in terror. He says that's when the gods speak to him, telling him where to go. Telling him our future plans. I watch him thrash a bit as I write this. His face creases into harsh lines as he grimaces. Apparently, what he hears from the gods is not all good, but he doesn't awaken. And he's no longer scared by what he dreams. The dreams are no longer nightmares to him. I think that in itself is frightening. Jack, Kami and I are scared. When the tight strings of control loosen while he sleeps, we talk among ourselves. We try to understand what has happened. Theories are bandied back and forth during these rushed, hushed conversations, but no answers. No answers. And we never speak of leaving. He stirred just as I wrote that. I stop --heart pounding, breath held, my pen suspended above the paper, but with a mumbled groan he returns to his conference with the gods and I slowly relax. Kami and Jack know they're trapped by Mulder until he doesn't want them or need them any longer. I know I'm with Mulder forever. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully October 31, 2000 Near Chunchucil, Guatemala We have set up a camp not far from the ruins at Tikal. Mulder had Jack build me a sleeping platform as I fell ill right after our arrival and I just can't get any rest in the hammocks. I'm better now, but just so tired and weak. Mulder and Jack go out daily to find the temple, but no luck yet. I see I haven't written in here since we were at Palenque. When I feel a little better, I'm going to have to sit down and catch it all up to date. This is an adventure of a lifetime. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully November 3, 2000 ??? Near Chunchucil, Guatemala We have to leave here. I have to leave. Mulder is worse. He is unraveling. I don't know why. I make sure he takes his medication but, mentally, he slips further away each day. We're all tired. It's so hot. That might be part of it. He might be sick. I don't know. I don't know why we are staying here. Mulder is the only one who wants to stay. It seems we all do what Mulder wants now. Why? Are we afraid of him? I am afraid. There is a reason, one I am even too frightened to say aloud. Is he controlling our minds? There. It's out. I said it. Lord, I am so frightened. He is changing. I know he is. Or am I going crazy, too? Oh, God. I never thought I'd say something like that. He's not crazy, he's ill. No, I lie. I think he has gone insane and has taken me with him. I have trouble sleeping. I can't take the heat. I've been so sick. Did I write this all before? I try to read what I've written but it is all a blur. I'm sick. I can't sleep. But I slept last night, I think. I must have, because of the dream. In the dream I was lying on my sleeping platform. The mosquito netting was stopping what little air there was. It all seemed so real, so vivid. The heat made even my thin gown cling to my skin. I heard a sound below my bed. A voice calling to me in the darkness. I climbed down and HE was there. He was tall and bronze, his skin glistened in the moonlight. He reached out a hand and I took it, following him without question. We walked deep into the forest, further than we'd ever gone. There was a clearing. It was the ruins we'd searched for. It was the temple. There in the center of the circle was the golden altar. It was where the ancients sacrificed their chosen; where they were offered to their god. I removed my shift and let it drop to the ground. I took my place on the altar, feeling the rough, carved etching beneath my bare skin. Overhead, I could see the dark canopy of the night sky; millions of stars dusting the heavens in a milky spray of light. The god was here, standing over me now. He'd come for me. I reached out my arms to him and he came to me. His tongue caught the salty droplets that covered my neck. He tasted the moist flesh of my breast, slowly caressing each nipple with the lush warmth of his lips. His teeth pulled them erect and I softly moaned a psalm of pleasure. He slid over me. I felt the heat of his sweat-moistened flesh. He was so smooth. So strong. I wrapped my legs around his waist, hungrily seeking penetration. When he slid into me I gasped in exaltation. I grabbed hold from deep inside, grasping his stiff organ, relishing the sensation. My body began to tingle with his firm, slow thrust. My hands sought the hard muscles of his flanks and I pulled him closer, deeper. He leaned back and I followed, riding him when he moved to sit upright with me on his lap. We rocked together, the rhythm growing ever faster as our bodies steamed from the heat. I felt a hand gripping my buttocks, the long, slender fingers playing my flesh as an instrument; my body sang in worship. Sweat ran down my ribs, dripped off my breast and he bent to collect this offering to him, tenderly, with his mouth. I clutched him to me closer, wanting him to initiate that final tingle, to quell the itch that lay deep inside. At last, all feeling, every nerve, came to center on that one tiny, throbbing button. It burst with a fire so hot my back arched with the electric heat of the explosion. I stiffened, lids fluttering, eyes rolling up in ecstasy. I held on to the moment, embracing it, calling out his praises. My inner muscles gave one last twitch, then relaxed allowing the warm, wetness of my orgasm to flow. A benediction, my final offering of thanks. I collapsed against him and darkness claimed me. It was all so real, so vivid -- unlike any dream I've ever had. The angry sun was overhead when I awoke. No one had bothered me. They knew I had needed sleep. I sat up. My thin gown was sodden with sweat. Then, suddenly came a chill. I saw my feet. My feet which I had cleaned before I went to bed. My feet were covered with the leaves and mud of the rain forest floor. I'm frightened. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X EXCERPT FROM LETTER WRITTEN BY JACK HART April 12, 2001 Cancun, Mexico Hello, all. Yes, I'm here in the city of fun in the sun, where I said I'd never set foot again. It's also the city of la tourista dinero, so you got me. Old Jack's sold out. I've opened a company with Morrie Victor. Remember the guy with the plane? I'm now Mad Jack of the Victorious Heart Travel Service. I used the money you guys left me. I'm not much of a letter writer so I'll try to get the whole story to you now. My own mother hasn't heard from me since '89 and I don't think you want to wait that long for this report... ...That next morning I found Dana. She looked like she was in shock. Mulder was nowhere in sight. I mixed up a little cocktail for her. She'll probably want to kill me when she reads this but, well, the locals sell a little extract. It's a watered down version of what Mulder took for his vision quest. No snake venom or Jimsom weed, of course. I didn't want her tripping, just sleeping. Then Kami and I waited. Scully was lucid enough to tell me Mulder had found the temple. We knew he'd come back to tell us about it. We were right. When he wandered into camp that night, it was like he could see perfectly. I'd never seen him move like he did that night. I wouldn't say he moved like a cat, he still favored the bad leg and all, but Mulder walked right up to us, knowing we were sitting by the fire. I swear, his eye still had that blind, half-focused look, just like it always has; but from now on he didn't need that eye to see. He saw with his mind. No one said a thing. Kami and I just sat there, staring up at him and he just listened to us -- 'looked' at us expectantly, I guess you could say. Since Kami was too scared, I figured it was up to me to break the ice. "So, I guess you found it?" He grinned that crooked grin, the one I always remember. It kinda made me shiver, seeing that Mulder smile coming out of someone who didn't seem like he was really Mulder anymore. He nodded and it got quiet again. I fought it, but I couldn't help it, I had to ask. "Well, are the gods still there? Sitting around the fire? Did they talk with you any about another sun being born? We know just the god that can make it happen, don't we?" Mulder cocked his head, he had his face turned to me, 'studying' me and my skin crawled. This is really horrible to say but there's nothing quite as weird as being stared down by a blind man, and I've seen some pretty strange things in my time. "They're still there, Jack. No birthing baby suns in their plans. Lucky me, huh? They taught me how to 'see'. They're teaching me to use my mind the way we're supposed to use it." Mulder sounded a little smug when he said that and you know me, I just can't keep my mouth shut sometimes, so I just cut loose. "They gonna teach you how to grow a new eyeball, Slick?" I hadn't really seen what he could do at that point, ya know? If I knew then, what I know now...well, my mama didn't raise no fool. I was lucky, because nothing bad happened. It did get quiet for a minute, and I felt the old pump skip a few. I knew I'd pissed him off royally. Finally, he started to laugh. I'd never heard Mulder laugh like that. I kinda chuckled along with him in relief and turned to Kami, wanting to share the fact I'd gotten away with mouthing off to him. That's when it hit me, the kid was scared to death. She knew what he could do. I didn't know it at the time but she'd seen a look that could kill. Seeing her face, all white and her eyes so wide, brought me to my senses. I realized it wasn't too smart to fuck with a god, even if he did have a good sense of humor. "Is it everything you hoped for, Mulder? Did you find all the answers you wanted? Did you find what you've been looking for?" His laughter died away while he thought about what I'd asked. After another long, silent minute, Mulder smiled again. "I think so, Jack. Why don't you come with me and see? Kami can stay with Scully, can't you Kami?" Kami kind of cringed when he spoke to her, but she nodded. Mulder and I walked into the jungle and were swallowed up, not ten feet from the camp. I grabbed Mulder's arm, he was leading the way. The growth was thick around us and there wasn't any light at all. I stumbled on. I couldn't see, so I let myself be led by a blind man. I knew one thing for certain. This was not the rain forest Mulder and I had been searching for days. We were somewhere else. Valhalla? Mount Olympus? Heaven? Or were we just in the twilight zone of Mulder's mind? We walked forever until we finally saw a light. There was a clearing and it was like the sky had opened up. Overhead was the moon, huge and silver blue. The stars were like I remember as a kid. A milky white sheet, glittering in the dark, blue-black heaven. We just don't get stars like that anymore, ya know? Too damn many cities have turned off God's lights. I looked around and my mouth dropped open. It was a Mayan city, but not like I'd ever seen. It was new, like I pictured they looked in the golden days. There were all kind of buildings facing the plaza and at the end was the temple. It rose up, tier upon tier, higher than the trees. It was carved whole, from alabaster, and reflected the moonlight with a soft muted glow. In the center was a round, golden altar. It really was "Where the Gods Sleep". Then I looked around and realized, other than me and Mulder, the place was empty. "Where are they, Mulder? Where are your gods?" I don't know why I was so angry. Maybe I felt cheated, maybe I felt lied to, maybe I felt we'd been played with for too damn long to just let me see an empty city. Mulder listened...looked...whatever it was he did, and he, too, realized we were alone. The closest thing to a god I saw was standing right in front of me, with a sad, puzzled frown on his face. Suddenly Mulder looked tired and I noticed the lines of strain that were cut deep into his face. It's hard work being a god and controlling your world. Especially when your friends, the other gods, run out on you. I glanced over to the temple and noticed the dark vines slithering up the steps. The jungle was moving in to reclaim its place even while I watched. I knew if this god ever slept, if for one moment Mulder wasn't vigilant, this all would be gone. I felt sorry for Mulder. He was my friend and he was so very, very tired. I wasn't sure that he'd asked for this. Sure, he'd taken the ball and run with it, but who wouldn't given the chance? If we're truthful with ourselves, who wouldn't want the power of the gods, if only for awhile? "Let's go, Mulder." I grabbed his arm, ready to leave this silent, lonely place. "Nobody's home." He stood rooted to the spot so I tugged on his arm. I finally said the only thing that I knew would move him. "Mulder, you need to see Scully. I think you scared her last night. I think she needs you." Mulder gave a weary nod and took us back. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully, November 4, 2000 Near Chunchucil, Guatemala I woke up feeling that for the first time in a long time that my mind was my own. I ponder this now that he's gone, wondering if he is weakening or if it's because he has so much more now to control. It must be the latter, because even though he was tired tonight, I could feel his strength. And I think his power will just keep growing until...what? I truly don't know. Until he finds what he is looking for? When will this end? How will this end? Mulder was here when I got up. That might have been what woke me. I know when he's around. I sense him. Why not? He's been in my head enough lately, messing around, playing his god-like games. Did I ever mention in here, what drove me away from the church when I was young? The idea that God could be petty enough to play cruel games with us, His children. To give us rules, then not follow them Himself. To torture us with pop quizzes, testing our faith. Hey, Abraham...prove how much you love me and sacrifice your son. Oh, you will? Then, never mind. Now, that's not the God I discovered when I grew up. My God has a sense of humor, but He doesn't cruelly tease us. He doesn't play so fast and loose with the ones He loves. I climbed down the ladder, intent on letting Mulder know that if he planned on being a god around me, he needed some quick lessons on how to do it right. When I saw him, how pale and haggard he was, my resolve crumbled a bit. He was standing by the fire, talking with Jack, and I felt my stomach tighten when he glanced up suddenly as I walked near. Again, he wasn't looking at me, but he 'saw' me. I felt like pinching myself at the wonder of Mulder seeing again, no matter how he did it. Now I had the chance, though. For whatever reason, Mulder had set me free and I needed to let him know my feelings while I could. I had to get him to start taking on the responsibility that came along with his great powers. "Mulder, why did you trick me like you did?" I asked, making my voice as firm as possible. "You know I would have come with you if you'd asked. You didn't have to play with my head. Stop messing with my head, Mulder." A flash of pain flickered across his face and he sighed, "I didn't trick you, Scully, the dream was yours. You'd already started it. I didn't put the dream in your head. I only made it come true." My cheeks burned. Mulder was right, he told the truth. He has been in my dreams longer than I care to have him know. But he was missing my point. The problem was, the issue was, the very fact that he did know my dreams. He was privy to my thoughts and I wanted him out of my head. Now. And from now on, unless I invited him. He listened quietly, as I told him my demands, then he solemnly nodded that he would do as I asked. My anger abated even more. I studied his face. "Where's your beard?" I asked, stunned, just realizing his face was now smooth. I reached up to touch that finely chiseled jaw line and I took a moment to take him in. I saw that his hair now hung long down his back and surprised, I turned to Kami and Jack. They both were astonished, too. Either none of us had noticed, or this change in his appearance had just happened. Was this another game? Was he making himself into the image of the Mayan gods, the better to keep their company? Mulder's hand went to his face and a shadow of his usual grin tugged at his lips. He shrugged. My hand still lingered on his jaw and I jumped when he suddenly grabbed my wrist; but I relaxed when he broke into a real smile as he fingered the bracelet he'd given me so long ago. "Forever," he whispered softly to me, reaffirming the meaning of the knot. I mutely nodded, that word now having a meaning that made my hands begin to shake. What is forever to a god? My knees felt weak when I watched him touch the jewelry. For a moment the silver flashed bright in the moonlight then it muted to gleam warmly on my wrist when my gift turned to gold. "Water into wine?" Mulder smiled down at me. His lips brushed my cheek, then he was gone, disappearing into the shadowed forest. I sank down to sit beside the fire with my friends. The camp was blanketed in silence. "Hey, Scully, next time he stops by let him know the Suburban needs gas, okay?" Jack suggested, his eyes still wide. Our laughter may have been a little too loud, a little too long to be good. end 7/9 TITLE: THE DAMASCUS FILES FILE 1/3 Part 8/9 AUTHOR: Katvictory FEEDBACK: dev1025@uswest.net Disclosures, ratings, etc. in Part 1 <><><><><><><><><> CHAPTER EIGHT <><><><><><><><><> FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully November 5, 2000 Near Chunchucil, Guatemala I awoke this morning to find my guardian knot gone. Nothing was left but a sprinkling of golden dust on my skin, and across my pillow. Nothing is left of the miracle. Mulder didn't come by at all today and we have no hope of finding him. Kami, Jack and I believe he has set us free. The feeling that he is always there, watching, listening, always in our heads, is completely gone. It seems strange, like when I was young and lost a tooth. I remember my tongue constantly seeking the empty spot. Now, I find myself searching for the imprint of his will there in my head and it's gone. I hate to admit it, but I feel a certain longing, almost akin to grief, for what's missing. I am alone now. I need to know Mulder is all right. The three of us, his reluctant disciples, woke up this morning, bleary eyed and shell shocked. We ate breakfast in silence until Jack, as always, made a statement that opened a floodgate of debate. "Since this is all in his head, what if we drugged him, then kept him that way 'til we could get him out of here? Maybe to Guatemala City or back to Belize?" "You make it sound so simple. 'All in his head.' I'm not so sure that's all this is, and even if you're right, that it's all in his head, what he can do is definitely not imaginary." Kami argued the point, showing more heated emotion than I'd seen from her in weeks. I watch the two of them go at it, back and forth. They've been through hell these last few weeks, we all have, but they talk about Mulder as if he's a problem to be solved. A puzzle to be worked out. Like he's not human. Oh, God. He is human, isn't he? But no human can do what he can do. Can they? I spent 7 years investigating mysterious phenomena like this. Why is my mind blank right now? Over the years, we saw so many with special powers. Clyde Bruckman was one. Bruckman was psychic. I never wanted to admit to Mulder that I thought Bruckman was truly 'gifted', but Mulder knew I believed. I discovered the man had the power to see the future, specifically, a person's death. How horrible. It was a curse. Never to be able to see promise, love, hope, or happiness. Only the end. Clyde saw his own death, then he made sure it happened. Modell. Robert Patrick Modell. Mulder called his 'power' the whammy. Such a sad, pathetic man. He helped us though, before he died. But still, he died. Modell came to a tragic end. And Marty Glenn. She was blind. But she could see things she didn't want to see. She's in prison. Darren Oswald is, too. Samuel Hartley. Dead. Lucy Householder. Dead. All of them, their powers either corrupted them or killed them. Or both. And Luther Lee Boggs. Oh, yes. Boggs was given his 'gift' as penance. It was a punishment from God. Is Mulder being punished? What was Mulder's sin? ***** Still no Mulder. Kami and Jack have hashed and rehashed the situation. Is Mulder a god or isn't he? Nobody knows for sure. I've listened to their speculation until I could scream. We have become a house divided. None of us agree on what is happening or what to do. Jack, of course, wants to take action. He still believes we can drug Mulder and spirit him away from here. This idea was put forth when he and Kami were going through the "brain injury, miracles and messiah complex" conversation. That went on from right after lunch until right before dinner. I listened for a while, especially when I heard mention of brain tumors. But since my name didn't come into the long, heated discussion, I lost interest. I think I deliberately stopped listening when Jack started spouting off about autopsies and saints. Kami's view is that there is some kind of unknown force involved and, while she won't come out and say possession, I think that's the point she's trying to make. She never really offered any opinions on who the possessor might be. Perhaps she's not really even sure. She claims that she knows for a fact that Mulder is not acting entirely on his own. She won't tell us how she knows, but I can tell by her eyes, she believes Mulder has been touched by something that changed him. What is my opinion on all of this? What do I have to show for an entire day spent thinking of nothing but Mulder? Nothing. Nothing but questions. Could Mulder have always had these "gifts"? Is this proof that we all have amazing powers waiting to be released? Has Mulder truly been touched by some spiritual force, or were the messages he received nothing more than a chemical imbalance? Has all this come from the misfiring synapses of a severely damaged brain, or did his injury awaken a sleeping god? *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully November 6, 2000 Near Chunchucil, Guatemala "And God stepped out on Earth, and looked around and said, "I'm lonely, I'll make me a world." I think Mulder is lost now; between his two worlds. He strolled into camp to visit this morning. Kami and Jack didn't even speak to him. Their conversation, the debate that had raged since yesterday, died at his sudden appearance. Mulder noticed. He knows they don't see him the way they once did. He knows why their view of him has changed. It bothered him that the gulf between heaven and earth is so wide and he turned to me for council. Advisor to the gods was NOT in my job description, so I wasn't able to help him much. We took a walk; this time our destination was mundane. We found a spot down by the river where we could be alone. I found out Mulder is scared and confused and, worst of all, he's now utterly alone. His visions, his gods, have not come back and he's at a loss as to where to go from here. He wants to know why he was given these powers. He wants to know what his purpose is. The voices of his gods brought him this far, then deserted him. He tells me he needs my help. Great. Wonderful. Like I know where this is going. I don't even know how we got to this point. I'm rambling, I know. But something has to be done. Somebody has to help him. Mulder is too powerful to be left alone now and no one appears to be standing in line to fill this position. So, even though I'm not qualified, I'm taking the job. Where do I start? I'm the type of person who likes to have the full background on a situation. Mulder knew this and tried to help me. We didn't have our projector, sitting beside the river tonight, but it reminded me of when he used to brief me before a case...Me, sitting impatiently while he expounded on the alleged facts. The Gospel according to Fox Mulder. I had to smile, watching him pace back and forth. Waving a hand animatedly as he spoke. It was just like old times. Oh, God. How do I make sense of it all? Mulder admitted, after my gentle but persistent prodding, that he hasn't been on any medication since the day Kami was hurt. It was like a fist in my belly. My first thought was, "No wonder he's hearing voices. He has had another breakdown." But does that really explain all that has happened? All we've seen? Folie a quatre? I don't think so. I decided we need to stop focusing on what has given Mulder these god-like powers. What he needs to know now is how to control them. This is not something I was taught in medical school or at the academy. Over the years I have learned how to improvise and think on my feet. Because I want to make sure I'm the only one advising him, I think we should get away from here. I told him, "Mulder, stay at the camp tonight. You probably shouldn't try to go back to the temple. Tomorrow we'll start getting ready to go back home. Once we're there maybe we'll be able to find out what's happening to you." To my surprise, Mulder took my advice. So now I sit atop my sleeping platform writing in my journal, chronicling my latest adventure with Fox Mulder. As always, it has been a journey into the uncharted waters of the unknown and unexplained. And, as always, my part has been to be the voice of reason; what he calls his touchstone to the truth. He says I'm here to keep him honest. Well, I honestly don't know if the man who lies beside me, sleeping so peacefully, is ill or if he has truly been keeping the company of the gods. The rest of us in camp watch him warily. I know he is afraid that without me he is alone. He knows that I'll love him, always and forever. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM Tapes Late September, 2002 (Exact Date Unknown) Wellington, Colorado Houston, we have a problem. I don't think my cold is a cold. You know, I can feel Scully coming home. She's still pretty far away, can't tell exactly where. But she's trying to find a way to get a message to us that she's coming and she's trying to hurry. She knows our connection runs both ways. But I guess I'm not sending too well right now. I feel like shit. Shh, Skinner's worried enough as it is. He's turning into a damn fine thief, for a federal agent. He has ripped off so many supplies that our little shack's starting to look like a clinic. The problem right now is that I need antibiotics. They are impossible to come by. I have a feeling my 'almost cremation' didn't do my lungs much good and even though my friend has done everything he can to protect me, some bug just might take me out. He came in tonight with oxygen and I do feel better. I mean, I'm sitting up and making this tape. I haven't had the strength to make it to the head the last couple of days, even with Skinner's help, so there is an improvement here. The thing is, without some kind of a miracle, I don't believe what's wrong is going to go away. I never was that good at miracles, even when I was at my best. That part Skinner read last night about what I did to Scully's bracelet was proof of that. I'm just so tired. I hope Scully gets here soon, 'cause things have a way of working out when she's around. If I can just hang on 'til she comes home, it'll all be fine. -WSS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FROM THE PEN OF - Dana K. Scully November 7, 2000 Near Chunchucil, Guatemala If. I think the world turns on that tiny word. Every moment of our lives, from birth to death, can be changed by those two letters. If. If my mother had not been so health conscious and had not gotten her annual mammogram in February of 1999 would I still have wound up spending this November night in Guatemala, fearing for my life? If my mother had not known of the tiny cluster of cancer cells and not had the surgery when she did? What if I had not taken emergency leave to be with her during the surgery? If I had been there would Mulder have been given the undercover assignment with the Barnabas Brotherhood that almost killed him? If Mulder had not suffered that injury, would he have these powers? If. Chunchucil lies five miles northeast of our compound at the end of the small, dirt path that is our road out of the jungle. The village was originally settled over six centuries ago by the descendants of the Mayans who lived in the great cities of Tikal and Bonampek that sits across the river. It was built as a trade center. It lies on the slow moving waterway and grew into a good sized town. That was a very long time ago. It still gets occasional tourists because the settlers built the place around one of the oldest known Mayan shrines. The ruins are in a sad state of repair. A small altar is still there and the gigantic carved statue that gave the town it's name --Chunchucil, means literally, "to suckle." The massive, crudely chiseled idol represents the pre-history Mayan fertility god/goddess. This twin sexed deity rises up in the village square, twenty feet tall, proudly displaying an enormous penis AND two colossal breasts. Unfortunately, the statue's head was knocked off during an earthquake in the distant past. The huge face rests beside its body, staring up at the heavens with blind eyes. Nothing is left of the original town. Modern Chunchucil is only a few dirt roads filled with potholes, about 40 mud brick homes and two business. The first structure you come to when you enter the village from the cross-country highway, is a medium sized Quonset hut. It serves as the local cantina, restaurant and mercantile. Apparently, the owner of this establishment enjoys the local cervesa a bit too much because I have never seen the place open. The other business is an enormous cinder block garage and is the only spot in a hundred mile radius that sells gasoline. That is why we were in Chunchucil this morning, fueling up the Suburban for the first leg of our trip home. Jack was settling up the bill when a young man walked up and introduced himself. Since I couldn't understand his rapid mixture of Spanish and Mayan, I motioned for him to stop and he patiently waited with me until Jack could translate for us. The young man introduced himself as Roberto Esteban. He owned a farm about twenty miles west of Chunchucil and journeyed to town with his wife Felicia, who was 8 months pregnant with their third child. It seems that Felicia was feeling ill and because this pregnancy had been "bad" he'd decided to take her to a doctor in Tikal. But his old truck had broken down here in the village. He wanted to know if we could please take them the rest of the way to the clinic. The young farmer seemed very calm. I never expected that Felicia might be in labor or the severity of the problems she had been having during this "bad" pregnancy. Roberto led us to his dilapidated pick-up and I strolled to the rear, wanting to check out the mother-to-be. She lay on her side, in the bed of the truck, curled up in a tight ball. I could hear her frantically panting and smiled, knowing Roberto and Felicia would be parents soon. Leaning over her, I brushed a strand of sweat dampened hair from her face. The dark brown eyes that stared up at me were glazed and sunken. Her skin felt clammy and a faint bluish tint colored her lips. She grasped my hand when I reached to touch her taut belly and I gasped, seeing the blood. Warm, sticky blood that covered her hands, dripping slowly from her fingertips. Scrambling up over the side I gently pushed her over to move her onto her back. My heart jumped when the change in position revealed a bright red river that flowed heavily enough to soak the entire back of her smock in an instant. I stepped over her leg, moving to examine her, and found that my shoes were sticking in the thick, dark puddle that had pooled beneath her while she'd been on her side. "She's hemorrhaging," I announced. My cry of alarm seemed an idiotic understatement. It heralded the lethal deluge that began gushing from Felicia when nature forced her to push with the contractions she'd fought for so long. I'd positioned myself between her sprawled legs and crimson droplets splattered my face when she bore down with the pain. The young mother's bent knees bracketed my head. I cursed silently under my breath realizing just how "bad" this pregnancy must have been. How many times had she bled? Had she ever sought treatment? She couldn't have or she would have been told that the positioning of the placenta, totally covering the cervix, was a ticking time bomb. She should have been under constant medical supervision from her second trimester. There was no way she and the child would survive a vaginal birth. My heart sank for I gathered she had been laboring for a while and since this was her third child, the birth would be quick. I could see the clock had almost run out. I watched the glistening, brick colored flesh bulge out then smoothly retreat when her straining efforts suddenly stopped. The groan that had been a harsh, guttural, rasping testimony to her struggles died mid-breath. Her deeply exhaled sigh was followed by silence. Frantically, I laid my head against her belly, urgently searching for the sounds of life. I heard nothing. I felt no further movement from Felicia or the child still inside. I straightened, pushing myself up, stunned that it was over in an instant. I'd only blinked, and she was gone. I could hear the sound of voices, mutterings in English, Spanish and Mayan, but nothing came through the fog as I stared blankly at my patient. "Roberto wants to know what's happening," Jack's words teased my ears but didn't quite penetrate the murky haze that shrouded my brain. I watched the ocean of blood, Felicia's life no longer flowing from her, but still spreading out and away from her body. "Scully, what's wrong?" Jack asked, tapping my shoulder, finally breaking through to me. "She's dead," I murmured numbly. He winced and I saw his soft brown eyes mist over. "They're both dead." With a choking sob, Kami ran to me, throwing her arms around my neck to pull me close. Her face was wet against my cheek and with a shaking hand I patted her back in a weak attempt at comfort. Roberto stood in front of me, slack jawed and white faced. Had Jack told him yet? I knew he must have because Roberto felt my stare and turned to give me a look that pleaded for an answer I didn't have. Why? I couldn't meet his eye and leaned my face against Kami's shoulder, too weary to even hold my head up. Suddenly, Roberto let loose with an yell, angrily screaming at someone in his staccato mixture of Mayan Spanish. We all turned to see what had so enraged the grieving man. It was Mulder. My partner had climbed in the truck and had gathered Felicia's body into his arms. At first I thought his action was a sad, pitiful expression of grief over the death of the young woman, but as I moved closer I realized the truth. Mulder had both hands placed on the dead woman's chest, palms down, just like he did when he used his powers to "read" an object. I knew that was not what he was doing now. My mouth grew dry and I felt vaguely light headed as I hurried to stop him. "Mulder!" He didn't stir. I saw his lips moving in a silent chant and I grabbed his arm to stop the unholy act he was attempting. "Don't do this!" I ordered. Mulder finally turned to me and a slight smile played at his lips, "I can help her, Scully." The warm fall day turned suddenly cold at his words. I shivered and he pulled his arm back. He closed his eye and continued with his mute entreaty to the gods. I looked around, searching for someone to help me stop this horror. A crowd had gathered. Where did all these people come from? A sea of faces surrounded the truck, some angry, all silently watching Mulder bring the dead back to life. The quiet was broken when a loud gasp rose from the on-lookers. I whirled and felt as if my sanity was leaving me when I saw Felicia's arm was up, her trembling hand reached for the sky. "MULDER STOP! Please!" The tears that couldn't come with the young woman's tragic death fell at witnessing the sin of her rebirth. Thankfully, Mulder turned. Felicia's arm dropped down with a dull thud and I winced. "I can do this, Scully," Mulder whispered. He seemed saddened by my doubt. "Don't, Mulder. Please don't," I begged him, sobbing in fear. He gently moved the dead woman off his lap and eased over the side to hug me. I flinched at his touch then guiltily looked away at seeing the pain my reaction had caused him. "Then, what else should I use the powers for, Scully?" He murmured softly, the hurt making his tone raw. I never got to answer him. The first stone hit him square in the chest and he hissed a sharp curse from the pain. Glancing around I saw that the crowd of people had moved closer. I cringed from the hate that came from a hundred pairs of blazing eyes. I heard the heated mutterings of Spanish and Mayan and the one word I could decipher chilled me -- diablo. Other assorted missiles; stones, clods of dirt, bottles came flying from the crowd. None found their mark until I turned to grab Mulder's hand knowing we needed to try to escape. Something hit my forehead. I groaned and sagged against the side of the truck. I felt blood run down my face and out the corner of my eye. I saw Mulder stand up, his face creased in rage. That's when it happened. A gust of wind from nowhere blew through the crowd and the angry hum stopped instantly. A harsh, terrified scream rose from behind us and all eyes turned to see the miracle happen. Or was it a curse fulfilled? The idol's head was a good six feet in diameter, but it floated high in the air. I saw some of the villagers run in fear, but most were frozen in awe, like I was. Jack pushed through the crowd and jumping up beside Mulder, angrily grabbed his arm. whirling him around. I was torn between watching the head or my companions, but turned to see our driver shaking my partner. "Don't do this! Enough, Mulder!" Mulder's face was pure anguish and he shook his head. "I'm not doing this!" he cried. At that moment a rash of screams and moans shattered the morning and I turned to see that the head was now back on the massive idol's shoulders. Jack grabbed Mulder and half carried him over to the Suburban. "Kami! Scully! COME ON!" he screamed, trying to shove my partner into the vehicle. I ran to join them and Kami and I jumped into the back seat just as Jack revved the motor. "A bat out of hell" is an apt description of how Jack drove out of the village. Not a word was said by any of us until we suddenly stopped about half-way to the compound. Jack frantically twisted the key, trying to restart the vehicle. Neither his actions nor the stream of mad, blue curses he uttered were working. Mulder opened his door and silently slipped out. "They shouldn't see me with you," he said blankly to Jack. He turned to move away, but stopped and whirled to face our driver. "I didn't do that to the statue," Mulder bluntly stated. He pushed away from the Suburban, then lurched off into the forest. I moved to follow him, but Jack grabbed my wrist. Before I could unleash my anger at him for being stopped, Jack shook his head and held up a hand, quelling my tirade. "He's right. They'll kill us if they think he's still with us. Scully, the Mayans have a legend about that statue." He paused to make sure I was listening. I nodded to him I was and he continued. "It's said that when the god's head returns to its body, the world will end. Mulder swears he didn't do it, but because of what he did with the woman, I don't think they'll believe him." Jack turned back around and gave the key a quick twist. The engine immediately growled to life. ***** It's now almost midnight. We've had no visitors, so maybe Jack was wrong about how angry the townspeople were. He claims we should follow through with our plans of leaving tomorrow. Kami hasn't said so, but I think she agrees. I've told them both, I won't go without Mulder. End 8/9 TITLE: THE DAMASCUS FILES FILE 1/3 Part 8/9 AUTHOR: Katvictory FEEDBACK: dev1025@uswest.net Disclosures, ratings, etc. in Part 1 <><><><><><><><><> CHAPTER NINE <><><><><><><><><> From the Pen of - Dana K. Scully November 21, 2000 Orange Walk City, Belize I told Kami that I needed something to take my mind off 'things', to keep me from dwelling on all that has 'happened'. She brings me this book. Now, tell me, what does one usually write in a journal but the 'things' that have 'happened' in their lives. Sometimes I wonder about that girl. I have decided to just go ahead and finish the story I started. I don't know, but maybe someday I'll want to have a record of this trip. There were lots of good times, happy times. Probably though, I'll never read it. I've always hated tear-jerkers. I walked out on Terms of Endearment and Steel Magnolias. I figured I didn't have to see the end; I knew where they were going. I mean, we all have to sit through the tear-jerking parts of our lives. I don't really consider crying entertainment. The last time I wrote was November 7th. I remember writing that entry. It was late evening, long after we normally would have shut down the camp and retired. Immediately after I finished jotting down all that had happened, Jack came over to talk to me. I thought that the man knew me well enough by then to take me at my word. He believed me when I told him I would not leave without Mulder. I think Jack wouldn't have left him behind either, not unless he absolutely had to. "You doin' okay?" Jack asked, plopping down on the log next to me. We had a huge fire going because it seemed fall had finally decided to put in an appearance. I nodded, throwing in a smile for added reassurance. "So, what's on your mind, Jack?" "I'm gonna take a walk tonight into Chunchucil to see what the weather's like there. I think Manuel at the garage will talk to me. Think you can hold the fort?" I chuckled softly and nodded. Jack bent down and reached into the knapsack that sat at his feet, removing a huge 357 magnum. "Used to carry this back in my prior life," he grinned, a slight blush darkening his cheeks. "I don't have to ask if you know how to use it, do I?" "I don't think so, Jack." I smiled and set the weapon on the log beside me. "It's loaded," he warned, his forehead wrinkling into a frown. "They always are," I murmured, and my friend nodded in approval. "If he shows up while I'm gone, you wrestle him down and hold him, okay?" Jack smiled, standing to leave. "Don't worry, I'm armed now," I joked and reaching up I gave him a quick hug. "You be careful." My little demonstration of affection embarrassed the man and, with a quick wave, he set off down the road. I watched Jack walk down the path until the night swallowed him and he disappeared from sight. ***** Man with the burning soul has but an hour of breath To build a ship of truth On which his soul may sail -- Sail on the sea of death For death takes toll Of beauty, courage and youth, Of all but truth John Masefield The first doctor that examined Mulder here at the Orange Walk Medical Center took one look at his injuries, turned to me and simply asked, "Why?" My first instinct was to answer him thus: "Exactly." Mulder is here, in this place, in this condition, because he felt he had to know 'why'. We talked before he lost consciousness that morning. I have an idea about what happened after he left us and disappeared into the jungle, but not the complete story. That we'll never know. Somehow, somewhere, Mulder found out about Na. In times of mental stress, the Ancient Mayans would seek the truth by undergoing the ritual of bloodletting, called Na. If one performed the rite dutifully the end result would be enlightenment in the form of the appearance of the vision serpent, who holds the spirits of our ancestors in its mouth. Mulder's wounds, and the results of his blood work, led me to do some research and I discovered what the ritual of Na entails. Mulder first prepared and consumed a mixture of Balche, a fermented honey drink, a Datura known as Jimson Weed and the venom of the Bathrops Asper. Now, the ancients usually used the local viper venom for their hallucinogenic brew. But, from the test done on Mulder to identify the toxin that still lingered in what little blood he had left, it was discovered he had used the venom of Barbamarilla, the most lethal of all poisonous snakes in the Americas. It seems Mulder's need for truth was worth the risk, worth any price he'd have to pay. Once the desired state of altered consciousness was obtained, the follower would have proceeded with the ritual cuts. The text I read was specific to the positioning of the seventeen points, and the wounds we found on Mulder matched exactly. Each tiny incision had been made the prescribed quarter inch width and the exact depth required to achieve a slow but steady blood loss. That, together with the elixir, would bring about the visions. Mulder would have knelt on the altar, allowing the initial spurt of blood from each wound to flow into the recessed font, so it would create the pool from which the serpent could emerge. I don't know what he used to make the cuts. The Ancients used bone knives, ornately carved, made especially for the rite. The first point, always on the temples, left, then right. Next was the soft tissue on the underside of the tongue, then onto the curve of the jaw, the base of the neck, the veins atop the shoulders, then on to the wrist. Always following the left side to the right, moving down to the skin on the stomach, there beside both hip bones then atop each foot. Had Mulder been female, there would have been twin cuts high on the inner thigh to bracket the pubis and the tongue would have been the last slit made. Mulder's final offerings to the font were the two incisions he made on the flesh of his penis, one on the shaft near the stomach and the other, the underside, near the head. Once done, all that was left, was to wait for the serpent to come. ***** Kami fell asleep by the fire. I found myself nodding, jerking awake each time my head bobbed forward. Jack was long overdue, and I was worried. Waiting through the long night had tired me. Staying awake was becoming a losing battle. I must have dropped off, right at dawn, because I didn't hear Mulder enter the camp. "Scully." His voice was a quiet whisper, barely audible, but I came awake instantly. I thought it was a dream. No, this would have been a nightmare. Mulder stood before me, bathed in blood from head to foot. He was nude; the dark wetness that covered his skin shimmered in the flickering campfire. He seemed to sway and, thinking it was part of the illusion, I didn't even move to help him until he toppled to the ground. Jumping to my feet I scrambled to him, cradling his head in my lap. His eye was glazed as he looked up at me. I don't know if he saw me, but he knew I was there. "Scully," he murmured, offering me a smile. With a sigh of relief, my fear eased as Mulder drifted into an exhausted sleep. Kami had stirred at the noise and stifled a scream at seeing Mulder's condition. "You want to get me some water, rags and my bag?" I asked softly, checking my patient's pulse. It was too rapid, too weak to suit me, but was slowing now that he rested. He stirred now and then while I cleaned and treated his wounds, even waking a few times with a start, only to drift off when he realized he was safe. I was appalled by what he'd done to himself; it was clear the cuts had not been accidental. He slept until almost noon, awakening only when I tried to move him from my lap. I helped him to sit up and watched with concern as he fought the dizziness the change in position brought. We needed to get him to a hospital. Jack had been gone for twelve hours, and I was now past worry. I was rapidly approaching panic. I looked up and noticed that Mulder was quietly watching me. I studied his face, taking in the gray pallor of his skin. He'd covered himself modestly with the thin blanket Kami had thrown over him after his bath. Forcing a weak grin he finally spoke, "Think I could get some pants?" Kami had been breaking camp, but hurried to comply at hearing his request. It took both of us to help him dress, and the simple task of slipping on his jeans exhausted him. I anxiously felt his forehead as he sank back down to lean against the log. Even though he'd broken into a sweat from his exertions, his skin was cold. He'd lost his patch, and my hands shook when I noticed that somehow the scars that once outlined his ruined eye socket had vanished. I couldn't help myself. Gently I touched the smooth, flawless skin where his eye had once been. Mulder couldn't replace his eye, but the damage that the exiting bullet had left was gone. "When the gods were more manlike; men were more godlike," he recited softly, lightly brushing his lips to my hand. A tear had rolled down his cheek from his lone eye and I felt my mouth begin to quiver. "Mulder, what happened?" I asked, forcing myself to gain enough control to speak. "I found answers, Scully, but I don't think I asked the right questions. The only truths she told me turned out to be ones I should have already known. You already know them; I think you always have." He gave my hand a squeeze as a sob escaped. I waited while he struggled against his pain. When he lifted his head, his face mirrored his anguish. "Samantha was in the serpent's mouth. She's dead, Scully." I pulled him to me and felt his body shake as he cried. I didn't understand what he had told me. It wasn't until I read the text describing the ritual of Na that I realized the connection between the vision snake and his sister. "How do you know this, Mulder? Maybe the voices aren't real. You're sick..." He gave a harsh, bitter laugh and pushed away from my embrace. "Yeah, don't tell me I go through all this and all I wind up having is a fucking delusion?" His laughter suddenly died. He grimaced, shoving me away before leaning off to the side to vomit. I rubbed his back while his body convulsed, then helped him to settle into my lap when the sickness finally passed. Kami pressed a wet rag into his hand. I took it from him and wiped his sweat dampened face. Nothing was said while Mulder recovered, arm slung over his face. I had so many questions, but not wanting to upset him, I forced myself to wait. There's always time later, isn't there? Kami brought some water to him and he gave her a wan smile as he sipped it. He looked so very ill. His face had a drawn, pinched look that I didn't like and my unease grew. I spotted broken capillaries in his eye, but I related their sudden appearance to his violent retching. Kami went back to packing our gear and I sat silently, thinking, idly playing with Mulder's long dark hair, while he dozed. "There is a God within us and we glow when he stirs us," Mulder informed me, grabbing my hand to still its motion. I laughed, "Are we dreaming in quotes?" "I'm reading Bartlett's, telepathically." His grin flickered on, then disappeared as he sighed, "Scully, she's dead. She told me she died that first year they took her; from what they did to her. All the others are her clones. She has been dead for 25 years. I know it now. I can feel in my heart that it's all true." I didn't feel we needed to discuss this now, so I simply nodded and continued to stroke his neck. Finally I felt his breathing slow and deepen and knew he'd drifted to sleep. ***** Jack sprinted into camp at about three, wide-eyed and panicked. He woke us with his yells. "We have to go now!" he screamed, shoving Kami toward the Suburban. "But I'm not..." she argued. "Forget it! Let's Go! Scully!" Jack finally turned to me and spotting Mulder, a smile started to spread across his face only to die when he noticed how sick he was. The driver rushed over, grabbed my partners arm, and pulled him to his feet. "We have to leave, NOW!" Jack ordered. I scrambled up, taking Mulder's other arm, and helped him into the car. I made him stretch out on the back seat, taking his head once more into my lap. Jack took off, tires spinning. No one said a word until we reached Chunchucil where we were to make the turn onto the highway that would take us back into Belize. "Oh, My God!" Kami gasped. Over two hundred people were angrily striding toward us. It must have been the entire village. Jack floored it, cranking the wheel to the left and we cut across a field, avoiding the mass of people who blocked our way. The vehicle bucked and bounced across the uneven ground and dried out corn stalks, tossing us about. I held on to Mulder, who was just now fully awakening, and turned to see the angry crowd start to give chase. They disappeared behind us in a cloud of dust. Making another skidding left, Jack put us on the paved road. My heart thudded in my chest. I watched out the back window until the village disappeared in the distance. Mulder's struggle to sit up pulled my attention from what lay behind us and I turned to help him up. "She's not dead?" Mulder gasped, leaning forward so Jack could hear him. I pulled him back to lean against me, dismayed by the way his heart was pounding and his breath rasped. I frowned, concerned about his rapidly deteriorating condition. Then the horror of his question hit me. Jack answered it and I listened to our drivers tale in amazement. "Yeah, the woman's dead all right," Jack responded, his tone chillingly calm considering his news. "It's just that the people in the village didn't like the way she flung her arms up in the air and sat during the rosary." Jack's reply seemed to sap the last of Mulder's energy and he sank back exhausted. I rested against the door, holding him upright because I didn't like the sodden sound of his lungs. "I guess I make a lousy god, huh?" Mulder sighed, settling into me. I remember thinking how funny it was that he never felt too heavy when he laid against me. It was so strange, because when he held me, he enveloped me completely. There was such a difference in our size, yet we fit so perfectly it never mattered which of us did the holding. I was relieved to feel his breathing smoothing out a bit. "We'll figure out how they work, Mulder. We'll find out what you should do with the powers," I reassured him. He accepted my comfort but I knew he would never let go of the guilt he felt over his mistake. Mulder didn't know how to let things go. "Samantha and I talked about the powers. She looked just like she used to, not much older. I guess it was because she didn't get much older." His body shook when he sighed and I knew he was crying. I rubbed his chest, trying to comfort him. Once again his grief made him sick and we pulled off to the side, to let him lose the little bit of water and bile that filled his stomach. We had to stop twice more in that hour for Mulder and the second time I noticed that blood was all he brought up. It wasn't much, but once more I lied to myself, wanting to believe that it was from his violent retching. This part is hard for me. I know there was nothing I could have done. There was no help around for hours in any direction. We got Mulder medical attention at the first available place. But it doesn't help the hurt. Nothing does. You see, I have trouble letting go, too *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X From the Pen of- Dana K. Scully November 28, 2000 Orange Walk City, Belize I'm nothing if not prompt. A week to the day and I've returned to finish my story. I AM going to finish it. I want to get it over. God, it has been a week of trying to wrap things up. Nothing has changed in the here and now. Nothing except that we turned off the respirator four days ago and Mulder still hasn't died. I told you he doesn't know how to let go. He isn't alive, but he won't die. Time to get on with the story, pressing on to the end. Those next few hours are embedded in my memory. It's actually like I recorded them with a camera because I can play them back anytime I want, in an instant. I wonder now if I knew this would be the last time we would talk. Did I have a premonition? Did my subconscious somehow register those small, telltale signs that I beat myself up with now, and make me grab hold of those last few hours? I remember the sound of his voice. The touch of his hand. Even with the horrible way it ended, I'm glad I remember. It's all I have left. It was starting to get dark when Mulder began to talk. Maybe he knew there wasn't much time. He told me that he had taken something to cause visions. Never in my life would I have thought of the venom. But I did start a mental list of his symptoms, comparing them to my knowledge of hallucinogens. His descriptions were vague, probably deliberately. I knew he was trying to keep from worrying me, trying to hide how sick he was feeling. That's another reason why I watched and listened so closely to him. "I asked her where the powers came from. It was funny, listening to this little girl, telling me about the mysteries of the universe. An oracle in pigtails. She said the Creator gave them to our people. We did fine with them at first. We did just what it wanted, we stretched and grew, settling other worlds. Like blowing on a puff-ball, she said. That's what Sam used to call dandelions. My omnipotent vision called dandelions puff-balls, Scully. I don't lack imagination do I?" He grinned up at me, his head once more in my lap. He had the most beautiful smile. Even now I'll touch those lips and remember how they looked teased into a smile. "By the time they settled here, they were straying. They'd bio-engineered a creature, that was part human, part beast. It could gestate in any carbon based, life form. Part of its life cycle was the black oil. Easily transportable. They used it to conquer worlds, Scully. Even the worlds they had originally settled." "But Mulder, what other worlds were settled? Were they made by the Creator, too. I mean if they weren't, then who created them?" "I can't tell you if we came from the first Creator or its mate, Scully. There once was one; but it's lonely being the only one. So the Creator made itself become two. It learned how lonely one was. It didn't make the same mistake again. Always it would make two from the one." I smiled down at him, "Mulder, I like that. We're separate but equal, because we came from one." "I didn't say equal, did I?" he teased. I played my part and looked sufficiently put out to get another grin. "Whatever, go on with the story." "Tell me where I was?" he asked, brow furrowed. "I don't remember what I just told you." It scared me, Mulder admitting that. I told myself he was just tired. After his injury, he didn't have the memory he once had. He was so sick right now. With all that had happened lately, I'd been forgetful, too. "They brought the black oil with them to conquer worlds," I murmured, swallowing hard to make sure my voice was strong. "They didn't plan on using it. It was put away and forgotten, 'til some of our cousins came looking for us. The cousins have changed themselves so much over the years, making improvements on the Creator's work. The Creator made us that way; always searching, always wanting to improve. But somewhere our kin have taken the wrong turn. They've come so far, Scully, but they've lost so much on the way. They can't smile. They can't laugh. They don't play baseball." "My God, the inhumanity," I laughed with him. I remember the sound of our laughter as it blended together. "They can't love," he murmured. For the first time I noticed a flicker of pain cross his face. His hand moved up to touch his head and the faint hitch in his breathing returned once again. "I gotta stop," Mulder pleaded, rolling off my lap. Jack and Kami were listening to our conversation so they heard Mulder's distress. The car came to a stop immediately but it was too late. We'd traveled far enough from Chunchucil and knew no one followed so we took our time cleaning up. Mulder was so embarrassed. He must have apologized to each of us a dozen times. I got some water down him, and it came up within minutes, mixed with more blood. I convinced Jack and Kami the floorboard was washed down enough and we continued. We had another delay at the border crossing. It was slow without Mulder being able to do the "whammy." Then it was back on the road. "There never was a missing link. We devolved, not evolved on this planet. But maybe it's for the best. Every time we build to a certain point, we destroy ourselves, over and over again. The Mayans. Atlantis." His speech was beginning to slur. It was like a clock-work toy running down. Still he told me what he "saw" in his vision. But the words came slower and lower with each passing mile. "Atlantis, Mulder?" I asked, my laughter came through tears. A soft, low chuckle, "Think Edgar Cayce, not Patrick Duffy." "Patrick Duffy?" I asked. He gave a real laugh. "Patrick Duffy...The Man from Atlantis? I guess you never watched TV as a kid?" "We got an hour a night, after homework," I confessed. "And I thought my family was dysfunctional," he teased. The smile was tired. "I had a crush on Donny Osmond," I confessed. "I used to watch their show for my hour. Him and Marie. Bill used to throw a fit." "For good reason. You're sick, Scully." He seemed to linger on my name a moment, tasting it almost. Then his face twisted and he began to convulse. I checked my watch, calling the time out to Kami -- 6:35..." *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X CLIPPING FROM THE DENVER POST November 9, 2000 ASSOCIATED PRESS - An earthquake, reported to be 7.6 on the Richter scale, hit Guatemala yesterday at 6:35 p.m. local time... *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X ...then tried to get out of his way. He drove me hard into the door as the rigidity made his long body stretch out. It was over quickly. It lasted a little less than five minutes. We didn't stop. We all knew we had to hurry. I have to laugh at the absurdity of life sometimes. Mulder and I have had some deep conversations over the years; from Genesis to Revelations. But our last conversation was about Donny and Marie Osmond. I think it's a inexplicable world. Mulder's next seizure came at 7:02, the next 7:49, and the final one was 8:18. After the last seizure he went into respiratory distress. Right before starting artificial respiration I remember noticing a sign that said Blue Ridge Creek, 12 miles. We were at the clinic in seven minutes. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X CLIPPING FROM THE DENVER POST November 9, 2000 ...aftershocks ranging from 3.5 to 6.9, the last measurable one coming at 8:18pm. The epicenter for the quake was a sparsely populated area of rain forest near the Mayan ruins of Tikal. There are reports that the village of Chinchucil, site of one of the oldest Mayan shrines, was totally destroyed. Forty fatalities have been reported as a result of the quake but local estimates say the number could be as high as four-hundred for the northeastern area. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X And so I'm sitting at his beside, waiting once again. Waiting for him to die this time. The last time it was different. I don't know how to explain it, except to say there was always a chance that he would survive. I've said before that what I feared, for the longest time, was that he would live and be left with an existence that would be a nightmare to him. I knew then that some part of Mulder was still trapped there. This time there's nothing. I know he's gone. The tests show minimal brain function at best. Mulder had a severe cerebral accident. Whether it was his prior condition that weakened him, the loss of blood, the toxin, an act of God, or what, several intracerebral arteries began to leak in Mulder's brain. He was dying when he first stumbled into the camp. The pressure built as the blood pooled into the brain parenchyma. They have the hematoma under control, but the damage was done by the time we arrived at Blue Ridge Creek. By the time they moved him here to the Medical Center, my Mulder was gone. I didn't need the EEG to tell me that fact. My heart already felt his absence. This time I'm the one trapped. Mulder is not really here; he has been released. I'm angry. That sounds so horrible, but it's true. I'm not angry at Mulder. He's a victim, too. I'm angry for him, because he had his life stolen away. A life spent struggling to overcome a childhood that held pain I can't even imagine. Struggling to bring the light of truth into the world and getting nothing for his efforts but ridicule and more pain. Struggling to come back from death and disabilities that would have crushed someone with less spirit. All the faith I rediscovered is gone now. God has me angry! The God I thought I found really doesn't exist. He is the uncaring, teasing, tyrant who vengefully punishes his wayward children. He punished Mulder for daring to fly to close to the light. Mulder didn't use his powers in a way that God saw fit so he was punished. This God didn't care about intent. Again, he's Santa Claus with a Dirty Harry complex. I'll give you these gifts but don't fuck up, for goodness sake. I'm being punished, too. I suppose for daring to question his will. He gave me a gift, then stole it away. And maybe I angered him even more than Mulder, because I've got a life sentence. How long does a god live? Forever is a long time to spend with a corpse that breathes. *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X FWM Tapes October 13, 2002 (Exact Date Unknown) Wellington, Colorado I finally got Skinner to read to me from Scully's journal again. He didn't figure the last few parts were exactly the kind of reading a dying man would find inspirational. He's probably right. Seems like every time I almost die I get a little depressed. I think I'm developing a Job complex. I wonder why all my psychoses have religious connotations, being an atheist and all? Well, I didn't die. I made it through to another birthday. I think I'll just ignore this one. I don't think Skinner knows and I'm sure as hell not going to mention it. I'm not quite well enough to take a chance at having the man serenade me with "Happy Birthday to You." He saved my life again. He has to realize that the debt he thinks he owes me has been paid back. He really should go on and try to find a life for himself. There's no need for him to be stuck here with me while I play the waiting game. I'd find a way to make it, I always do. Except I don't want to be alone, and I'd miss him. He's my friend. Not an over abundance of them around anymore. Yeah, who am I kidding? Skinner's all there is. Well, Scully, but she's still not here. I know she's okay now, but while I was sick I couldn't feel her at all, and as weak as I am I know she can't feel me. So she's alone. This is not a good time to be alone in the world. -WSS- *X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X From the Pen of- Dana K. Scully December 8, 2000 Orange Walk City, Belize We're going home, Kami, Mulder and I. Mr. Wagner came down and chartered a jet for us. We'll be flying home to Colorado tomorrow and should be back at Sky Watch by dinner time. Mr. Wagner and I had a long talk and we reached an understanding. I guess you can say I've forgiven him. I have. It's just that I'm so beat right now the thought of trying to work up enough energy to forgive someone is beyond me. All I can manage is acceptance. I accept the fact that while he didn't have Mulder's best interest at heart, he wasn't trying to do him harm. It was more an act of unthinking, self-interest. Mr. Wagner admitted that sometimes he has tunnel vision when it comes to his efforts at getting what he wants. It's not a vice limited to the very rich. I see the same flaw in myself, so I accept his apology. He has opened up his home to us again. He has informed me that Mulder's room has been re-equipped to meet his needs. I'll be in charge of taking care of Mulder there at Sky Watch, and Mr. Wagner has offered to pay for any help I might need. He agrees with me, there's no need for hospitals anymore. I've sent Dr. Raposa Mulder's records and she has offered to do the unthinkable -- make house calls. Everything is all set. Mr. Wagner has even arranged for my mom to be there when we get to the ranch. I'm grateful. I think I could use a bit of mothering right now. I feel almost like the last two years have disappeared and Mulder and I are back where we started. He hangs between life and death, his brain almost destroyed. I sit beside him, watching and waiting. We've traveled so very far to go nowhere. They say life is a circle. That frightens me. It means that this may never end. The End The Damascus Files File 1/3