TITLE: In The Interest Of Science AUTHOR: Katvictory DISCLAIMER: So what, if Chris Carter owns Fox Mulder and Dana Scully and The Lone Gunmen and Scully and Mulder's mom and the whole premise of the X-files and he's rich because he gets money for writing and I wouldn't dream of asking for any cash for this or any of my stories. So what? I still get to play with Sculder and Mully and love them and torture them and make them do all kind of fun things with them cause I wrote this disclaimer. So there. RATING: Gotta go with NC-17 because of the sex & subject matter. There's also a lot of profanity too. SPOILERS: Oh lord. It was written during the 6th season so I guess you'd better know up to there. FEEDBACK: Dev1025@uswest.net CATAGORIES: ANGST, it's coated with MSR, but it's still ANGST. Scully first person POV THANKYOUS: Laurie took this, my first and made it readable. She's always there, with a helping hand, a tip or two and wonderful advice. Thank you so much, for everything. SUMMARY: Scully becomes her partners lover, nurse and savior after a tragic accident leaves Mulder severely handicapped. In The Interest of Science by Katvictory ============ Chapter 1 ============ What happened to Mulder couldn't be blamed on the CSM. It wasn't retaliation against him for his part in trying to expose a secret, government cover-up. I think if he had suffered his injuries in his quest he might have been able to live with them, but then again, probably not. To Mulder, what happened to him was a fate worse than death. And he asked me, his closest friend, his would-be, should-be, could-one-day-be lover, his soul-mate, to kill him. It was a "They shoot horses don't they?" request. I helped him out...but not in the way he'd wanted. And I don't think he'll ever forgive me. Maybe that's for the best. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> May 21 Greeley, Colorado <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Springtime in the Rockies. It should have been almost a vacation for the two of us. The case Kersh had us investigating was our usual since the X-files had been taken away. We were investigating the records of a rancher who had purchased a large amount of fertilizer. What Mulder so charmingly called, "Shit Patrol." I tried to see the bright side. We were going to get to spend the weekend in Denver at the government's expense. Our next investigation, another record check in Cheyenne, wasn't until Monday and the mountains are beautiful this time of year. Mulder wasn't buying into any of my optimism. He was in a glass half empty sort of mood. "This stinks!!" my partner muttered as we trudged across the recently fertilized field back to our car. I paused in my efforts to keep up with his much longer strides to gulp some air. Greeley, while not as high as Denver, was at a higher elevation than D.C. and I was almost running to keep up with Mulder. It was a big mistake. He was right. It did stink. "Mulder wait!!" I cried angrily, silently cursing my "little legs" and pseudo-sensible heels. "Damn it! The car's not going anywhere!" He paused, a grin flickering across his full lips momentarily before he got his cruelty under control, and waited for me. He even offered a hand to the elbow, which I of course, shook away. "Sorry," he murmured, slowing his pace to allow me to keep astride. "Scully, I just get so pissed off at this 'shit detail' I could..." He left his threat hanging. "I know...but, you could quit taking it out on me." I retorted as we made it to the car. Mulder took the keys out and unlocked my door. I quickly took off my soiled shoes, handing them to him after I slid into the seat. As per our routine on assignments like this, Mulder unlocked the trunk, put our dung-covered footwear in the paper sack we kept for that purpose and brought out clean tennis shoes for us to put on. The trip back to the motel was always more pleasant this way. We drove west, back to Denver, in silence, which I guess was the for the best, because Mulder's mood did improve. He was actually smiling by the time we made it into town. We pulled into the motel parking lot at about 6 o'clock and my partner surprised me by hurrying over to open my door. He was flashing his little boy grin and it worked like it always did. "Scullee..." he smiled, knowing he was going to get his way on our menu choice for the evening. "Let me guess...Big Mac Attack..." I returned his smile as he helped me from the car. Mulder looked slightly offended by my guess. "Naw..." He shrugged, "I hear there's a place in LoDo that the Broncos frequent...an' the foods supposed to be great..." I laughed at his pleading look. Mulder had not been a Denver fan until Superbowl XXXII, but he had fallen, like half the country, for the underdog team's fairytale victory. "Sure, let's go change..." I smiled as we strolled to our rooms. "Hey, Mulder, does Elway go there??" ***** It was twilight by the time we left out. Mulder's sense of direction is no better than mine, so when we wound up on the stretch of freeway known as the Mousetrap, it was no surprise. I've never even found out, in these many months since, if our route would have taken us to Lower Downtown Denver. It was just our fate to be on that stretch of highway, at that given point in time. That's the only way I can look at it. Everything was just meant to be. The boy in the blazer had gotten his license two weeks before. He was trying to impress his prom date, so he was speeding. The tandem truck driver had been on the road for too many hours. Mulder swerved to avoid hitting the boy as the Blazer spun out of control, directly in front of us. Our tire blew out when we hit the guard rail, but Mulder brought us to a stop safely, albeit sideways, still partly on the road. The airbags did their job. We were fine. Seatbelts in place, nerves jangled, we both heaved a huge sigh of relief. Other cars slowed and moved cautiously by, while Mulder drove us limpingly off the road. The truck driver never saw us, never slowed. He hit us, then slid us into him broadside as he tried to stop. It was over in an instant. I woke up in the ambulance. The paramedic smiled when he told me I was going to be alright. It took them four hours to get what was left of my partner out of the car. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> May 22 University Hospital Denver, Colorado <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> My mom was there when I next woke up. It was Saturday noon. She held my hand and offered me a smile. I felt glad to be alive. She assured me that I was going to be fine. My left leg was broken, but it would be fine. I couldn't quite think straight, but I was fine. Then I remembered. "Mulder?" Mom's face paled when I said his name. I felt my stomach sink. "Mom..." I thought my heart was stopping. It hurt to breath. "Mom...Is he dead?" I needed to scream, but my voice was a whisper. She seemed relieved that was my question and shook her head, a sad smile forcing its way across her face. I knew there was more. I didn't want to know. But I had to find out. "Mom...tell me," I was crying, shaking. She has always been easy to read, my mom. At least for me. "It's bad, Danie." My blood froze at her use of my childhood nickname. Bad news. The spoonful of sugar to soften the blow. That was what "Danie" meant. "Just tell me, Mom," I spat bitterly, stiffening away from her touch. I tried to ignore the hurt I'd just inflicted on her, but I couldn't. "Tell me, Momma," my voice became a strangled plea and she shattered along with me. "They think he's going to make it honey...it's just that," Mom took a deep breath and held my hand tighter. "He lost both his legs and an arm." I think I fainted then. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> May 23 University Hospital Denver, Colorado <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> I might have fainted after mom told me about Mulder -- maybe. Or maybe, I just shut down for a while. It was too much to take, I guess. I don't remember anything till the next morning, when I was brought my breakfast. Mom was there and was helping the nurse sit me up to eat, when I "came to". "No!!" I jerked away from them and their shocked expressions were the first things that registered on my brain. I didn't know where I'd been, but I was back and I wanted to see Mulder. I had to see Mulder. I told them this -- loudly. "I don't think they'll let you Danie. I don't think you're able. He's still not conscious." My mother's nos were running together and I was not going to hear them. "Mom," I said, gathering my reason about me in determination. "I am going to see him -- today." She and the nurse looked at me like I'd sprouted another head. I guess I hadn't been too lucid before and they were surprised my reason had returned so suddenly. Mom studied my face, then smiled. She knew I was back. "Okay hon," she said, finishing her job of righting me for my meal. "After breakfast, we'll tell the doctor." The nurse shot Mom a look of disapproval, but didn't say a word before she left us. I think she must have known it was best not to argue with my mom -- smart lady. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> May23 ICU University Hospital Denver, Colorado <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Mom pushed me up to his bed and I grabbed his hand. His right hand. It was so cold. I raised myself up to study him and Mom helped support me. There was a large, dark bruise on his forehead, the right side, and a tiny butterfly bandage, just over his brow. It was amazing that his face and head were almost untouched. * Thank God for seatbelts. * Mom eased me back to sit when I swayed and she winced at hearing my pained chuckle. I patted her hand to let her know I was all right, then pushed up to stand again. A sob caught in my throat. When I lifted his sheet a bit and saw the damage, the truth that this was real hit. His chest was a mess. "I want to see his chart," I murmured to no one in particular. No one listened and I knew I'd have to take it up with his doctor. It could wait. My own exam would tell me enough for now. I could see he'd had several surgeries -- tubes snaked out from under bandages on his chest, his abdomen. He wasn't on a respirator but his face was covered by a full mask for oxygen. A Foley drained blood-tinted urine. And -- I took a deep breath -- both legs had been amputated at mid-femur, the right about two inches higher than the left. His left arm had been taken high at shoulder joint, leaving no stump for a prosthetic. That entire side had been crushed. You could see the surgeons had done all they could. Mulder had most likely lost his arm at the scene of the crash. I sank back down in the chair, suddenly weak. It was just too...my mind couldn't grasp a word that could encase the horror I knew Mulder was going to feel. "Danie, let's go back to your room. I think it's time for a nap" Numbly, I realized Mom was leaning over me and I could only weakly nod that I agreed. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> May 23 University Hospital Denver, Colorado <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> I talked with most of Mulder's doctors later that day. They allowed me access to his charts. All in all, he was in amazingly good shape considering what had happened to him. His vital signs were strong and there had been no damage to head, they were keeping him sedated for the pain. The thoracic surgeon was pleased he was coming along so nicely after the repair of his punctured lung and crushed sternum. She saw a complete recovery in time. Mulder did lose part of his stomach, but his surgeon was a talented man brought up from Fort Collins who does amazing work on reconstructing digestive tracts. With care, Mulder's new plumbing would cause him little problems and was not life-limiting. He would have to learn to eat small meals to accommodate his new stomach and take supplements, because the duodenum had been bypassed, but almost all of his patients who'd had the surgery recovered and were having normal lives -- "normal lives... " I wanted them to keep Mulder sedated. I wasn't ready to face what had happened to him. I needed them to buy me the time until I was ready to deal with everything. Of course, Mulder, being Mulder, had other plans. I wasn't there with him when he woke up. I should have known better. I can cut myself a break and claim I was incapacitated. I was still weak from my own injuries. Bullshit. Mulder was with me when I faced death -- even though I pushed him away. I knew he was there...for ME. I didn't have the guts to make sure I was there for him. He woke up to discover the truth...alone. The nurses said they knew he was awake because his pulse skyrocketed. My partner is an amazing man. He was conscious enough, even with all the pain and medication, to realize what had happened to him. Oh, maybe not in the fullest extent. But he knew his life had been destroyed. That's why he screamed. Mulder screamed for ME. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> May24 University Hospital Denver, Colorado <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> They didn't tell me until the next day, that Mulder had regained consciousness. I badgered mom into taking me to him the following morning. I was feeling stronger and finally ready to face him. One of his doctors met me outside of ICU and explained what had happened. He reassured me that Mulder couldn't have been all together "there" because of all the medication he'd been given and that he probably wouldn't even remember waking up. Sure. I knew that memory -- better than anyone else on this planet. In tears, I moved to his bedside and to the amazement of every other person in the room, Mulder woke up the moment I touched his hand. "Scullee..." Everyone's mouths dropped open in wonder and they all marveled over the strength of my partner's will. I could only offer him a guilty sob as I reached up from my chair and grasped his hand, "I'm here, Mulder," Maybe, he could forgive me. "I'm here..." I stood up on my own, Mom's move to help me was a little slow. I guess Mulder had stunned her too. His lids were heavy and the hazel eyes a bit dull at first but they cleared when he spotted me. He gave a heavy sigh when he realized I held his hand and a slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Baseball." he murmured. His voice was soft but clear. I wasn't quite sure I'd heard him correctly. "What, Mulder?" I asked, leaning closer to better hear what he said. "Guess, I'm third base." A sudden hush fell over his visitors at his words. Mulder slid back into the comforting oblivion of sleep, leaving me to deal the wide shocked eyes and a room full of stunned silence. My partner has always had a talent for dramatic exit lines. "He's feeling better," was all I could say. ============ Chapter 2 ============ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> July 4 Denver, CO <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> I was released from the hospital at the end of May. My mom found me an apartment in Boulder and I found out that my stay and Mulder rehabilitation would be funded by Tina Mulder's deep pockets. Guilt is funny isn't it. Can't be with your son when his life is crashing down around him, so pay somebody else to watch the disaster. I'm one to talk, I'm the one she bought. And staying is my penance for being able to walk away. Yeah, guilt is funny. Mulder was the perfect patient. Now that in itself should have clued me something was terribly wrong with my partners psyche. But Mulder is good, very good, at hiding. It used to be, I could see through his charade. But in those days following the accident, my credo was, "I want to Believe." I believed everything Mulder put before me. He did his respiratory therapy, just like we told him. No pneumonia for our 'golden boy'. Grief counseling. Sure...he had the stages down pat. The psychologist, Mulder and I went through denial, anger, and so on...why, it was almost a textbook case... so easy...why, thank you, Fox Mulder...star patient. And with hard work and intestinal fortitude, this young man was on his way to being a physical challenged, wonder-boy. Why, he even had a sense of humor, albeit sick, he told everyone to call him Ahab. He laughed, everyone laughed. I laughed, damn it. I laughed and believed, until July 3. That was the day I got my cast off, the day I bounced, yes, bounced, into his room, blathering about how great my apartment was and how great, the rehab center was and how great, his life after his stay was going to be. It was at that moment, I think he triggered it with a slight wince at my blithering words, when I opened my eyes and really looked at his face. I looked at those eyes I once knew so well. I looked into the depths of those beautiful, soul reflecting orbs I once read like my own self and saw the pain --pain that knew no end. My running mouth snapped shut with an audible click. The sound brought up Mulder's mask instantly but it was too late. I knew. The truth was in there, in those eyes and I'd seen it. "Ah, Scully...you going to watch the fireworks?" Mulder forced a grin, a lame attempt at subterfuge. I just shook my head slowly and grabbing his hand, searched his face. His countenance was pure bland inscrutability. He pulled that hand away and patted the top of mine then sighed. "Everything's gonna be fine Scully," he murmured. I grabbed his hand again and searched that face, but it was cold. So was his hand. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> July 20 Rocky Mountain Rehab Center, Boulder, Colorado <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> July 20th was a red letter day. The Denver Broncos started training camp in good old smelly Greeley, and Fox William Mulder began his rehabilitation. Mulder's facade was crumbling and I believe he looked forward to the first day of his new chance at life with even less enthusiasm than the world champs did their twofers. Mulder was getting tired. I could see it in his eyes. He was tired of playing the role of perfect patient, tired of trying to hide his pain, tired of pretending the life he was going to have to work so hard to rebuild, was one that he even remotely wanted. And I, in my role as his ever-faithful companion, was at a loss to know what to do to help him find the strength to go on. I rode in the ambulance with him to the center and stayed by his side as the super-cheerful aide helped "settle him into his new home." It was a very, very nice room. Deluxe standard that two G-persons were not accustom to. I glanced at a menu that read like a 4-star restaurant's and held it up for him to see. "Jeez, Mulder" I exclaimed with a wide, silly grin. "Can I stay for dinner" He was even to weary for a rejoinder. He nodded, then looked away, out the big picture window that offered a view of the Flatirons that was to die for. His thin frame seemed to dissolve into the thick egg-crate mattress. Mulder had always been thin but he was melting away after his gastric surgery. Even eight meals a day and little activity couldn't keep the weight on. The doctor had assured us that the weight loss would level off soon and his increased activity during rehab would help build up his appetite but I didn't know if soon was going to be good enough. He had lost all interest in food, along with almost everything else. I ambled to his side and joined him in his silent perusal of the view. He suprised me when he grabbed my hand and I couldn't help smiling down at him. God, I loved him. I'll love him forever. I knew it then, I hope he knew it too. I brushed his shaggy bangs off his high, smooth forehead and felt my love well up even more when a silent tear escaped down the side of his sculpted cheek. "Scully," his voice was ever so soft. I lowered the rail and eased up beside him, leaning close so we could talk as quietly as he wished. A lovers' conversation. "Scully." His voice was stronger, but it was breaking. I raised up and the dam broke from my own eyes when I saw his face wet with tears. " If it doesn't get any better...promise you'll help me end it." My hands were shaking as they held his own, warm for once. I brought the long slender fingers up to kiss them one by one as I nodded my answer. He smiled. And through my tears, so did I. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Late Summer & Early Fall Boulder, CO <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Summer flew by with ups and downs -- pain and yes, some true happiness. I know there was happiness for me and dear God, I do believe Mulder was happy - at times. He was. Truly. Mulder was nothing if not a fighter. He started gaining strength in his arm. This helped him to swim. God, he was amazing. He could beat me in laps by the first of September. Sick puppy that he is he bragged that he beat me one arm and both legs tied behind his back. No, Dana Scully is not a water baby. I got so sunburned, because he loved the pool. I think it was because he could move so freely there. But it was hell on my skin. I had freckles on top of freckles and I was peeling...the alligator man had nothing on me. I was a mess. But Mulder thrived on it. Those were good days. Call them the happy days. We had some good nights, too. The center was amazing, (With what Mrs. Mulder paid, even after insurance covered some, it had better be, I guess). We went to concerts. Mulder hated being in public, what with rude people's stares. But he gave in to an Ozzy Osborne concert at Red Rocks. Not my type of music, I'm more into techno, but Mulder loved it and the setting was heavenly. And there were the trips to the mountains. Now, Mulder thrived on those. The scenery, the quiet, a chance to clear your head in the cool, clean air. It was one place he could find a few moments of inner-peace. I guess that's what I remember most about those, oh too short weeks, before winter's chill came and stole the life from the year. The closeness Mulder and I found made our time spent together better than it had ever been. I remember telling Eddie Van Blundht, incognito, that Mulder and I never really talked. We did then -- about everything. I even went to a Broncos game with him. Go Orange and Blue. And we talked about us. US. Because even though we'd been together for six years, it had always been, me and him. That summer and fall, we finally became "us". Mulder's stumps gave him hell. I don't think prostheses would ever have been a viable option for him. The scar tissue was just too tender. The damage to the salvaged nerve and muscle was just too raw. It was about the first of August when he finally broke down. He had gone back to his room with an orderly to change after a really bad session of PT. Normally, he would get changed and come down to the pool to loosen up. But that day I waited for him...and waited...and melted...and waited. Finally, a nice toasted pink I went to his room. And found him alone and sobbing. I had never heard anyone cry like he was crying. It was the end. He heard me come in, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. I walked over to his chair and he collapsed against me. All of his strength to remain upright left him and we sort of melted to the floor, where we stayed for ever, it seemed. I just held him and he held me and we cried. Finally, he managed to push himself up and he looked at me. His eyes said it all. I felt suddenly cold. "Remember your promise?" His voice was a breathless sob. "No" I said, shaking my head. "You promised," it was an anguished cry of betrayal. I lay on the floor next to him and made him look at me. "Not yet, Mulder" I begged, my own tears cutting the evening stillness. He grew quiet and searched my face. I felt hope. "Please, not yet. Please. It's gotten better. It still can get better. We're together. Not yet" I pleaded. My soul was raw and still I begged. "There's still time." He reached his slim hand to brush my tear-soaked hair away from my face and nodded. "Oh, God, yes," I cried, laughed and giggled ."Thank you Mulder. Thank you." My arms were wrapped around him in a smothering embrace of love and gratitude. I let him go and he fell back with a tired but happy smile. "Thank you, Scully," he whispered ,as I lay my head on his chest. I fell asleep beside him on the floor, lulled by the warmth of his soft touch on my skin. ============ Chapter 3 ============ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> September Rocky Mountain Rehab Center Boulder, Colorado <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> That night in August brought us closer than we'd ever been. I began to stay over at the center. The staff, of course was as always accommodating. Most of the patients family stayed over on occasion. Some even lived there. September 12th was the night everything changed. I had brought with me a video for us to watch. "Interview with the Vampire," one of Mulder's favorites. It was one of my favorites too, of that genre, at least. Charles, Mulder's night shift orderly was helping him ready for bed, assisting him in the bedtime routine of teeth-brushing, nightly meds, etc. And I was doing the same in the bathroom. By the time I finished, the lights were out, the movie in and Mulder was sitting propped up, waiting for me. He was so handsome. His face had filled out, the Doctor was right, his weight was stabilizing. The summer sun he'd gotten during his swims had given his skin a warm golden glow and his smile was slow and welcoming. Was it planned what happened next? I don't really believe so. Was it necessary? Absolutely. I climbed in beside him on the extra wide, comfortable, hospital bed and snuggled against the warmth of his chest and arm. We began watching the film in silence and just about the point Tom Cruise gave Brad Pitt the "Dark Gift" I began to feel Mulder's slender fingers smoothly caressing my inner thigh. The soft, tender touch soon melted my legs apart and in the flicker light of the television, I watched Mulder ease over and down. Balancing deftly upon his elbow he pushed the fabric of my panties aside, with a practiced care. My hand came down to guide him and I eased of my undergarments, eager to feel his hot breath on my skin. "Scully," He murmured with a smile, " You really are a redhead." I gave his hair a teasing yank, then pulled him into me, gasping when his tongue parted my moist folds. I moaned, and he probed deeper, excited and hungry. I could feel him trembling, too, while he explored me with a slow burning need. I felt my passion build, then explode in a warm, pulsating gush and Mulder tensed, then melted in response, his muscles twitching as the moment ebbed. I peeked down between my knees at hearing him softly chuckle. "Sorry" he grinned in boyish embarrassment, " It, ah...It's been a while." I laughed in agreement, " Yeah, for me too," and helped him up beside me. We lay, in a tired, contented embrace. "Hey Scully," he whispered in my ear. I stirred drowsily and returned his teasing grin. "Hey Mulder." His eyes twinkled as he spoke, "Next time, I get to be on top." "Oh, brother," was all I could say and he laughed, holding me close. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> October 13 R.M.R.C. Boulder, Colorado <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> I began to notice the change around Mulder's birthday. He seemed to be at a standstill in his physical recovery and the staff began the part of the program known as occupational rehabilitation. His goal was now to find his niche in the work place. To capitalize on what physical and mental resources he still had available to him. But there was no training being offered titled, "The Triple Amputee's Guide to Discovering and Exposing Government Conspiracies" or "Lessons for the Physically Challenged in the Chase and Capture of Liver Eating Mutants and Other Paranormal Criminals." Mulder might still have had the mental capacity to continue working on the X-files, but his physical limitations made our former life's work impossible. Fully healthy, we had barely survived the dangers of our occupation, now there was no chance his life work could continue, and my life work had become caring for Mulder. I had a birthday party set up at the center for night of October 13th. I even arranged to have several surprise guests fly out to join in the festivities. After his evening meal, I was going to get Mulder down to the pool for a swim and had made arrangements for the party to be there on the patio. Everything went like clockwork, from Charles picking up our out-of-town guests at DIA, to a warm 70 degree evening in Boulder in October, supplied by Mother Nature. All was going well, except Mulder's mood. He had a severe pressure sore on his left stump, which with all the scar tissue, was not healing well at all. Mulder was frustrated and in a lot of pain even with increased doses of Vicodin. He'd even cut his computer class short, claiming the pain was just too much. We ate our dinner in the room, which he barely touched, and much to my dismay, he begged off our nightly swim, opting instead for an early bedtime. This was not going according to my plan. Frantically, I suggested, in my best physician's voice, that we could bag his wound and spend some time in the therapy pool. That would relax him and make sleep come easier. I should have realized that the weary way he gave in to my cajoling did not bode well. So, with a towel around his shoulders and dressed in his red spandex swim suit, I wheeled Mulder down to his big surprise. The lights were off on the patio, which, had Mulder been feeling better, might have clued him that something was up my sleeve. But, the long tiring day and a couple of heavy duty pain pills had dulled his senses. The loud "SURPRISE" of clinic staff, fellow patients their family, AD Walter Skinner and The Lone Gunman left Mulder speechless. For a while. I'm sorry to say I hadn't thought about Mulder's feelings. He had never mentioned to me that he dreaded his old friends seeing him in this condition. We never talked about how he feared what their reaction would be when they first saw the ruin of his body. Add to these unspoken apprehensions that had been eating away at him the fact he was attired in nothing but spandex and a towel with his scared stumps there for all to see and you might get an idea how welcome my party was for poor Mulder. The look on Byers, Frohike and Langley's faces was thinly-veiled shock. They were friends, so they tried to hide it, they tried as hard as their warm hearts could, and they did a fairly passable job. But my partner noticed the flush on Byers bearded cheeks when he awkwardly shook his lone hand. Langley was more inscrutable, but Frohike, God bless him, just couldn't meet Mulder's eyes during their greeting. He helpless fell into what Mulder called the "Cripple Scatter" which is when a person stares at the ground, sky, anything but the handicapped person. "I'm down here," Mulder muttered tiredly. Frohike blushing is not a pretty sight. Worst of all though, was Mulder's face when he spotted AD Skinner. If Mulder could have run, he would have been long gone. Skinner was his usual polite, reserved self. He handled the meeting with grace and skill. The Corps trained him well. Always ready, in any situation. But Mulder was bleeding inside. Skinner was a like a surrogate father to him. Mulder had always craved his acceptance and approval, but how could Skinner accept, approve, most of all respect someone who was now not even a whole man. Mulder felt he was a helpless cripple, cared for by a woman, a little slip of a woman at that. I didn't know that this was how Mulder was feeling at the time, but I am not blind or totally stupid. I saw the pained expression on his face during his reunion with the Gunmen. He was too drugged, tired and hurting to hide it well. Hell, there wasn't a guest at the party obtuse enough not to know that this celebration was a mistake. Thankfully the party was mercifully short. Even before Mulder begged exhaustion, most of the guest had left. Skinner came up with "a late dinner with an old service buddy" excuse within the first half-hour. I was grateful for his tactful exit, but too upset to offer him more than a mumbled "Thanks for coming." I was the organizer of this disaster and when Mulder and I got back to his room I felt penance was necessary. Apparently Mulder did too. I had no sooner shut the door after Charles had gotten a deadly silent Mulder bedded down when my partner exploded. "Why did you do this to me Scully!!!" I hadn't heard him yell like that in months. The last time he'd even shown anger was the day of the accident. And that was like a firecracker compared to an A-bomb. At first I said nothing. I felt I deserved his wrath. I mean, I didn't like surprises myself. What had I been thinking? "Mulder," I murmured, tears of shame stinging my eyes, I walked over to the bed to touch him while I begged forgiveness, I needed that contact so badly." Mulder, I'm so sorry." He just shook his head, his eyes dark and bitter. He tensed and shrugged off my hand. "Do you want to punish me for ruining your life!!! For me making you a nursemaid. Why did you do this to me?? "His voice had lowered but his tone was painfully bitter." I knew you were starting to resent me Scully but I didn't think you hated me" I think if he hadn't accused me of purposely hurting him I would have probably taken anger. It was justified. I knew I had put him through a torture that was almost unforgivable. But to even suggest that It had been done in malice...well I am Irish. And a "true" redhead. I could feel the blood rushing to my face and I stepped back, my hands resting on my hips as I began to unload. "Wait just a mother-fucking minute!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face. I grabbed the rails of his bed to steady myself and they were jangling in time, a steady percussion to my raging fury." How dare you even suggest I did this on purpose. I am truly sorry I planned this fucking party and put you through this. I don't know where my brain was. I wasn't thinking clearly. But for you to say I was trying to hurt you... You fucking bastard. I would never deliberately hurt you!! My every thought is you. My life is you. I get tired sometimes but ... well when I love somebody, I don't resent them ... that's just part of loving someone. But you, you're just so goddamn selfish and paranoid you don't know how to love. That's why you feel everything is always about you. It's always Mulder. 'If Scully dies, I can't take it. It's my fault Scully has cancer. I can't take it. If it doesn't get any better for me, Scully, I can't take it.' You selfish bastard! Always, I... Goddamn you.." And I left. I knew he couldn't follow. Tough shit. *I* couldn't take it. I came back around midnight. The night shift all offered me weak smiles as I made my way back to his room. Shana, the head nurse, nodded for me to go in when she saw me pause outside the door. With her encouragement, I knocked lightly and entered. The bed was down and somebody had come in and placed his pillows so he could lay on his left side facing the window. I knew he was awake because his breathing changed when he heard the door shut. Quietly I tiptoed over to his side and patted his back. "Can I sleep here?" I whispered, leaning over the rail. He pushed against the other rail, tilting himself so he could see me. His full bottom lip trembled slightly and he swallowed, fighting tears, then nodded. I don't think he trusted himself to speak. I felt my own mouth quiver and awkwardly climbed in beside him, not bothering to lower the rail. I snaked my arm under the sheet, around him, trying to get as close as possible. I felt the hitch of his breath and felt the sobs break from him. I cried too, helping him to turn over to face me. The light above the bed was on low. I saw the glistening streams running down, onto the pillow and moved to kiss them away. "Scullee.," he moaned, nuzzling my cheek with his own, "Don't hate me. Please." "I don't" I whispered, touching the softness of his hair. " Never happen." "I'm sorry I said what I did. " "I'm sorry I did what I did" "I know you didn't mean to hurt me. But I wanted to hurt you. I'm so sorry. I am a mother-fucker." His laugh was a choking sob and his tears started once again. "Shhh." He was always so warm. I loved to touch him. To hold him. "Shh. It's okay, everything's okay. Yes, you're a mother-fucker, but you're my mother-fucker." Mulder couldn't continue his grief given my expletive laced token of esteem. He had to laugh. That's why I'd said it. And he knew it was my way of saying I loved him. "I love you, too Scully." ============ Chapter 4 ============ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Boulder, Colorado Late October/early November <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Boulder got it's first snowfall Halloween night. That was the last good day Mulder and I had for a long time. Mulder's recovery and rehabilitation was proving to be a long, arduous journey, with stops and starts. It seemed we both would take a few steps forward, then a painful slide back. Still, up until the month's end we had been making at least some forward momentum. All that changed October 31. Trick or Treat. The center had a fleet of handicapped-accessible vans and I arranged for one to take Mulder and some our friends from the center to an evening game at Mile High Stadium. We all were in high spirits. The Broncos had demoralized the Raiders in a shutout and the atmosphere in the stands had been rollicking lunacy. "Seven years with the X-files and I never saw anything as scary as those Raiders fans," Mulder quipped, as Charles and I loaded everyone in after the game. Snow had started falling in the fourth quarter, much to the Broncomaniacs delight. Even though the game had been put away before half time, those sun-babies from California fell apart even more in the Rocky Mountain weather. Everyone in the van was still celebrating the victory, when Charles turned on to the Boulder turnpike. We might have been a little too loud and distracted him, but, more likely it was just the slick roads and black ice. One minute we were tooling down the highway, the next we were on our side in a ditch. "Everybody okay?" Charles yelled in the darkness. Thankfully, everyone was...except Mulder. When my partner didn't answer, I blindly reached for his chair. It was still fastened down as it should be. The safety equipment on the handicap adapted van had held. But somehow, Mulder had slipped out of his restraint harness. The chair was empty. Charles retrieved a flashlight and quickly shined it around the interior. My heart stopped when I spotted Mulder, crumpled against the loading door, which was now the floor. "Shit!" I cursed, slipping out of my own harness. I grabbed the flashlight from Charles' hand and checked out my unconscious partner. His pulse was a bit rapid, but strong, and I could hear Charles calling for assistance while I examined Mulder for further injuries. His eyes fluttered open and he groaned when I was touched his ribs. "Mulder," I questioned, shining the light on his face," Mulder, where do you hurt?" His eyes were tired when he groaned again, "My back," he croaked. I couldn't suppress the moan that escaped from my own lips. Oh, God, no more, please. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> University Hospital November 1 <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> All in all, medically speaking, Mulder's injuries were not too bad. They were not life-threatening and certainly not as physically-debilit ating as his earlier ones had been. But, his cracked vertebra and bruised sacroiliacs were extremely painful. And Mulder was tired. I could see it when he woke up, in yet another hospital room, hurting. He looked around, registered his surroundings, sighed and closed his eyes. He saw me, I'm sure, but he just didn't have the energy to acknowledge my presence. I held on to his hand to let him know I was with him, but, I knew how he felt. When was this all going to end? When was the suffering going to stop? What had he ever done to deserve all the horrible things that happened to him? I was tired, too. We sat in silence together, until his doctor entered. I turned to greet him, but Mulder didn't even open his eyes. The doctor sensed he was awake, so he started speaking. "Well, Mr. Mulder, there doesn't seem to any damage to your spinal cord...no swelling or injury that would affect motor functions. But you are looking at an extended recovery period and injuries like this, to the lower back, are pretty painful." Mulder didn't even acknowledge him, he just continued to lie still, his eyes closed. The silence in the room was awkward. The doctor turned to me and I sighed. "So it's just a matter of rest and time and with therapy he'll be back to normal?" I was happy that Mulder didn't see the young physician's expression. The man glanced at the bed, taking in the flat sheets where their should have been legs and actually shrugged. "Well, his prior, ah, health condition will make full recovery hard, because therapy will have to be adapted to, ah, contend with his limitations but, yes, ahh, with time he should make it back to where he...ah, was before this accident." Doogie Howser's hands spread out in helplessness. I guess he figured Mulder hadn't been a good candidate for rehab before this last injury. "Well, ah...if you think of anything else, the nurse can page me. Ah...goodbye Mr.Mulder.." His hasty retreat stymied my next question. "Think I'm his worst nightmare??" Mulder smiled bitterly, eyes still closed. He gave a deep, weary sigh, then murmered, "All the king's horses..." My hand tightened around his as I quipped. "Mulder, you've always been a cracked egg." He sighed again, a faint smile crossing his lips, " Well, you think you could call the nurse for a little more medication. I think I'd like to get fried." <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Rocky Mountain Rehab Center Boulder, Colorado Late December <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> We were at bottom. No, hell, we were looking up at the bottom. Mulder spiraled downward, after the accident. He was just too tired to try anymore. The drug addiction snuck up on us. We care-givers had only wanted to make sure he found relief for his pain. This last injury left him with chronic, debilitating lower back pain and even sitting up was torture. So there was no therapy, which would have helped the lingering injury to heal, so the pain continued, because he wasn't healing...and so on. The center's staff and I realized there was a problem, when they had to switch him from Vicodin to Percodan to get relief, but what could we do about it. We tried massage, heat, whirlpool, acupuncture...nothing helped. The only time Mulder got any peace from the nagging torture, was when he was floating on a cloud of prescription medication. He wasn't sleeping, even drugged. He had stopped eating and the anti-inflammator ies were causing an ulcer, so all the medical staff were left with to treat him were ever-increasing doses of pain-killing narcotics By Christmas, I was at my wits end. Mulder was in a deep depression, because of his condition and the drugs simply added to his agitation. I could hardly stand to be around him. He was frustrated, depressed and in constant pain, so he was constantly lashing out at me. My nerves were so frayed, I lashed right back and our relationship had become a roller coaster ride of bitter fights, then tearful reconciliation. Tina Mulder walked right into this tempest, two days before Christmas. I've noticed, that there is usually strain between parent and the significant others of their children. I guess, my dad would have really had a problem with Mulder. I know he did with the few other men in my life that he met. So, Mrs. Mulder and I started out our relationship as adversaries. Not to sound catty, and I know I do, I had never liked the woman. To me, she was a cold hearted bitch who didn't deserve a son as fine as Fox. And boy, did I resent the fact she showed up that Christmas. I felt, let her stay in the background and write those checks. Why did she decide to out after all this time -- so we could grovel at her feet, thanking her for all she'd done for her son, all the helpful money she'd spent on his recovery? I went with Charles to pick her up at DIA with a chip on my shoulder the size of Mount Evans. When I saw her walking up the hall toward me, there in the terminal, I was surprised. I didn't remember her being so small. She had always seemed like a tall, regal queen to me, snootily looking down on this 5 ft. 2 in., short-legged thing her son had gotten tied up with. That cold day in Denver, I saw she'd become frail...and much older, since our last meeting. Was Mulder's condition to blame? Did she actually care enough about her son, that her health had suffered so? I surprised myself by taking her arm when we got out to the slick parking lot and knew I had been wrong about this enigmatic woman when she gently patted my hand in thanks. Teena Mulder had her faults, not being able to freely express her love for her son was one, but I wasn't about to cast the first stone anymore. Not the way Mulder's and my relationship had been going. "I always have loved Colorado," Teena announced, breaking the silence, about ten minutes into the long trip to Boulder. "Bill and I used to come here, all the time, way back when. His work took him to the southern part of the state mostly." She sighed at the memory. "Of course you probably know that, what with you two investigating what you do." Her comment surprised me. In all our work on the X-files, we'd never gone as far north as Colorado to hunt for little "gray" men. It was kind of shocking that Mulder didn't know his father's work had taken place in the state. "No, ma'am, I didn't know. Maybe you can tell Mul...I mean Fox about it while you're here." She smiled at me stumbling over her son's name. I returned her smile, noticing for the first time, that Mulder had his mother's mouth. I guess I'd never seen the lady smile before. She'd never really been too happy, on the few occasions I'd met with her. "How is Fox?" Her question interrupted my musings on the family resemblance. I took a few moments to answer her, trying to figure out how to respond. Her health looked none too good and I didn't want to be the bearer of bad news, though she would see for herself when we got to the clinic, Mulder's mental and physical decline. "That bad, huh?" she sighed, rubbing a well manicured hand across her eyes. It was a mannerism I'd seen her son do a thousand times. I watched her in silence, almost expecting her to do the long-armed stretch, then the neck crack. "Charles told me things weren't going well. I guess that's why I decided it was time for me to make an appearance. Maybe, it will get Fox angry enough to fight back." "Huh?" I murmured glibly. Her revelation that she knew Charles and had been keeping track of her son's health, left me at a loss for words. Obviously. She raised a brow and gave a crooked Mulder grin." Yes, I have my 'spies' at the center, Dana. May I call you Dana?" "Yes, ma'am." "Well then, please call me Teena," she replied, " or Mom...oh, now I think that might be a little too much for you, eh?" Teena Mulder mused, noticing my wide-eyed expression. "Even Fox has trouble calling me that. From the time he was 14, till he came home from Oxford, he only called me Mother; if he called me anything at all." "Well," I began, but she silenced me with a hand placed lightly on my own. "It's okay, Miss Scully" "Dana." "Dana," she said softly, "I know I'm lucky that he even spoke to me at all." She turned to gaze out the window. After a few moments, I saw her wipe her face and, once again composed, she turned back to me. "Charles says he's becoming addicted to pain killers." I started, offended that someone was spreading tales about my Mulder. "Well, he's needed them since he injured his back." I replied bitterly, "He's in quite a bit of pain." Her hand rested on mine softly, and I struggled to reign in my anger. "Dana, I know," she said, her green eyes were almost pleading. "He's lived with pain for a long, long time. It scares me now, because he's giving in to it. His father did and that was the beginning of the end. Bill gave up after Sam was taken. I don't know if Fox ever told you, but his father was addicted to Valium and alcohol. Fox was the only one of us who survived that time. Dana, he's always been such a fighter. He made it through having Bill and me for parents. I'd hoped he could make it though this." Teena turned away again, her hand trembled as it moved to her face, a vain attempt to cover her tears. I swallowed back the lump that was forming in my throat and fought for control. I needed to let everything she was telling me sink in. We were almost at the Boulder exit before I felt I was composed enough to speak to her again. "Mrs. Mul...I mean, Teena," I began, putting my hand over hers. She turned and allowed me that smile, which like her son's, gave me the courage to continue. "Let's see what you think after you see Fox. Then we'll talk. I've tried to take care of him, but... Well, this is all too much for me, I guess." "Perhaps it's just a job for two people," she replied, squeezing my hand warmly. "That son of mine was always more than I could manage alone. Maybe together we can help him." "Maybe you're right." I answered with a grin. I didn't get to speak to Teena Mulder again until that night. I had followed her into Mulder's room when we got to the center. I didn't want her to be alone the first time she saw her son since the accident. I'm glad I was there because she swayed a bit, at the shock of seeing his injuries. Naturally, she'd known the extent of what had happened to him, but that still didn't prepare her for that moment, when she actually witnessed the damage that had been wrought on her child. In the two months since his back injury, Mulder's mental health had plummeted, so it had been affecting his physical health. He was awake when we came in and I studied him, trying to view him as someone who hadn't watched his decline day by day. It was a shock to me how much he'd aged. Teena didn't know it, though we talked about it later, but the haggard, gray look that so lined his face, had only come since Halloween. I stood back, watching mother and son. Tina walked directly over and brushed aside Mulder's too-long bangs. Looking at him like I was that day, with new eyes, I noticed strands of silver in his dark locks. He gazed up at his mother with glazed eyes, then rubbed his hand over his face to clear away the cobwebs when he realized the figure standing over him wasn't me. "Hi, Mom," His voice was thick with sleep and his visage was bland. "Merry Christmas, Fox," Teena said softly, trying to smile. "How are you?" I think anything she said would have set him off, his anger and resentment ran that deep, but the fact she opened with that particular pleasantry, so angered my partner, I was afraid he might strike her. He didn't, he only focused on her with a silent glare. The sparks that flashed in Mulder's eyes were visible from clear across the room. Even though I felt sorry for Mrs. Mulder, I had been on the receiving end of that heated gaze one too many times in the last six weeks, so I decided to beat a hasty retreat. "Ah, excuse me," I said loudly. Mother and son turned at my well-timed interruption, "Ah, Mulder, Mrs. Mulder. I'll leave you two alone to visit. I ah...I've got some Christmas shopping to do." I was already backing out toward the door. Teena Mulder's face looked crestfallen at my announced departure, but, ever gracious, she smiled and nodded to me, granting my leave. "Thank you for coming after me, Dana. I'll see you later." "Count on it," I replied, giving her what I hoped was a smile of encouragement. "See you in a bit, Mulder" Mulder flashed his most withering look, then waved me off angrily, "Sure, fine, whatever," he muttered. I think I would have laughed if I hadn't been in such a hurry to leave. I didn't get back till early evening. My shopping excursion had revitalized me and I felt I could face anything. I'd stopped by my little-used apartment to store my purchases and changed into this wonderful sweater and slacks outfit I'd bought to spoil myself. The stipend Tina Mulder gave me for caring for her son wasn't huge, but neither were my expenses, so I felt little guilt over my new clothes even though the price tag had been more than I normally pay when I add to my wardrobe. So I was in rare high spirits when I walked through the center's guest area on my way to Mulder's room. I stopped short at seeing Mrs. Mulder sitting alone in the darkened lounge. Even in the dim light I could see she was exhausted. She heard me walk up and offered me a weary smile. "Oh, that looks lovely on you," she murmured, patting the soft cushion of the couch in an invitation for me to join her. "Green is your color. I'd always wanted to be a redhead, but back in my day, a lady wouldn't dream of dyeing her hair, so I was stuck with dishwater blond." "The silver looks great on you," I replied easing down next to her. "Well, if it hadn't been gray before, I think It would have turned white today," she said with a tired chuckle. "That bad?" I whispered, a twinge of guilt hitting me for so enjoying myself while she'd dealt with her son's wrath. She nodded and sighed, "Sometimes Karma's a bitch." I couldn't stop the shocked giggle that escaped me. Those were not exactly the words I had ever expected to hear coming from her. She laughed, enjoying my surprise at her little naughtiness and the last of the barriers between us fell. I wanted to hear what had transpired while I was gone, however, I decided it was her choice to let me know. When she spoke again it was not on the past but the future. "Well, Dana,." she began, leaning back against the comfortable cushions. " I've been making some plans on what to do for Fox, and since I hope you'll be part of them I wonder if you'd mind hearing me out. Have you eaten dinner?" "Yes, ma'am." I answered, my interest piqued. "Good, you have to keep your strength up, you know." Her voice dropped off and I felt a twinge of concern at the lady's own health when she closed her eyes for a moment. This day had taken a lot out of her. "Tina," I said patting her arm, "We can talk later. Let me take you to your hotel and let you get some rest" "No," she replied, shaking herself awake. Her back went ramrod straight and she continued. " Let me get this out, then I'll take you up on your offer. I've decided that I want Fox home with me. I talked to the people here and they agree that, at least for now, Fox is more in need of convalescent care than rehabilitation. I have the house in Chilmark." "He hates it there," I said quickly. I was upset, not knowing where this was going. She was taking Mulder away from me. I had failed. "I know, but hear me out. The house in Chilmark is vacant. I can get it ready for him in a couple of months. I think I'll fix it up, so when he's ready to start rehab again, he can do it there. With the amount I spend here, and your apartment, well I think in the long run, Fox's care being an ongoing expense, I'll save money." My stomach plummeted. It was over. My life with Fox was over. I hadn't taken good enough care of him and I was going to be replaced. I had failed. I fought against the tears that threatened, trying to take deep breaths without Tina Mulder noticing. She noticed and her eyes became soft and gentle. Just like her son's used to do when he looked at me -- back before I'd failed him. "Oh, Dana," she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Dana, this is what I wanted to talk to you about. I need to know...oh, Lord, this is so much to ask. I know you need to get on with your life but...can you run the house? I mean, can you continue to manage Fox's care. It's been so hard on you and believe you me, after what he put me through tonight I don't know how you've managed alone. But, I'll try to help. As much as he'll let me. But after talking to him tonight, I know he won't go through with this unless you come. He threatened to get a lawyer. He said he'd take me to court and make me put him in a state home. That he didn't want my money. That without you, he'd rather rot in some nursing home. The nurses had to sedate him it was so bad." She stopped because I was crying. Sobbing actually. "Oh Dana, please help me." Her hand patted my back in an awkward attempt at comfort. " I know you're young and you want to get a life." I shook my head and tried to explain between sobs. "Mulder is my life, " I cried. "Oh!" Tina gasped in understanding. She sat in stunned silence until I composed myself then shyly took my hand. Her own eyes spilled over as she spoke. "Thank you for loving him the way I always should have." My lip was still trembling when I answered, "You're welcome." ============ Chapter 5 ============ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> February Chilmark ,MA <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> We moved in to Mulder's boyhood home in February and I felt it was just in time. Mulder's mood swings had grown almost manic after the holidays and he was becoming so depressed that my time with him felt like a suicide watch. Something was killing him, slowly. We kept close tabs on his meds, but still couldn't figure the problem until late January when he finally got sloppy. I walked into his room one winters morning to find Mulder and his bed covered in bloody vomit. He was almost comatose from internal bleeding. But what tipped me to what the problem had been that long month was the smell. Somehow, Mulder was getting alcohol. We were able to get the bleeding ulcer under control without surgery and a liver scan showed us that there was no damage as of yet but my partner had been very lucky. With his redesigned digestive tract, alcohol was absorbed directly into the liver and damage could result in as little as six weeks if the quantities were high enough. Mulder wouldn't tell me how he had kept his drinking from me and the staff but, being he was bedridden I knew there had to be an accomplice. Mulder would not cop to anything. He was seriously contrite and apologized profusely for worrying me, putting me through hell, causing my cancer, Bill Clinton's infidelities with Monica Lewinsky, etc. Mulder really knows how to take the guilt of the world on his shoulders. About 10 days after he'd been found out, once he was feeling a bit better, I decided to snuggle up next to him. I needed it and I think he needed it too. Somehow, things just didn't seem so hopeless when we were lying next to each other. And if one thing led to another ...well it had been a while since that had happened, but, all the better. Of course, I was careful of hurting his already aching back, inching into the wide bed to lay beside him while he was watching an episode of classic Star Trek. When he flashed his patented Mulder grin, I melted -- as I always had, always would. He knew how to play me and I don't think he even realized the power he had over me. I started lightly playing my tongue over the soft, smooth skin of his chest. "Ahh Scully...Ah, this is the best part, I think Kirk gets it on with the blue chick," he said teasingly, then he allowed the remote control to fall to the floor, in need of his hand for other, more important matters. His long fingers entwined in my hair and I grew more adventuresome at hearing his breath quicken in response. I moaned in appreciation of his excellent erection, and moved to show him my gratitude. His fingers tightened in my hair and I looked up at him in surprise. I was shocked to see a scowl on his face, "You haven't wanted to do this in months." His voice was a pained whisper. "What is this, a sympathy fuck?" I pushed away from him immediately and he winced in pain, with my sudden movements. Good. His words had hurt. He was, of course, flaccid now, and I threw the sheet over him, angrily before I stormed out of the room. Mrs. Mulder had done a wonderful job on the house. The back porch was made into a physical therapy room/gym, complete with hot tub. I'd never been in the back yard of Mulder's boyhood home and was amazed to find that there was an Olympic-sized pool there, albeit in sad disrepair. Tina Mulder had workers enclosing it when we moved in so Mulder could begin swimming, if and when we got him to the point he was able again. I was excited by all the things available to my partner and was grateful to Mrs. Mulder for what she had done for her son. She gave what she could, what she was able to give. This was how Teena Mulder could, should, show her love. Life makes us what we are and Mulder's mother had suffered through pain that I couldn't imagine. At least the horrible fate that had befallen her son had at last given her a tangible way to show what she'd always felt in her heart. Some of us are never able to let others know how we really feel. Lord, do I know that. We flew on a chartered jet from Colorado to Maryland, then a private ambulance transported us to the house. I never knew the state department paid so well. The Mulders possessed money I couldn't even begin to fathom and I really didn't want to think about where they could have gotten it. I knew Teena Mulder had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but as I understood it, Bill Mulder had been a self-made man. It's kind of scary when you think about it -- kind of sad, too, because like my mother always says, "Money can't buy ..." Well, it can't, but it sure did build a nice place for us to live and Mulder to convalesce. Things began to take on a routine and for a while, life was better. We had privacy for the first time in a long time and that fact gave Mulder heart. He seemed interested in what was going on around him and his depression lifted somewhat. Don't get me wrong, he was still a moody S.O.B. He'd not been the most even-tempered man before all this had happened to him. But he was working with me and the therapist and it looked like he just might be able to get in that pool by the time it was renovated. He was able to sit in his chair for periods of up to three hours without the pain getting too bad. His humor appeared every now and then, too. He had the men that worked on the pool in stitches. When he began to spend his free time, his "up" time out watching the construction and entertaining the men with his wit, I thought nothing of it. After our little deception at the center in Colorado I should have known better. Mulder was nothing if not clever. And the monkey he had gotten on his back in the Rockies had not left, it had just been sleeping. My first hint this time that Mulder was "off the wagon" was after coming home from shopping, having left him with Elizabeth, the housekeeper. I walked into a house full of off-duty construction workers partying out by the pool with my partner, a stereo blaring Metallica full-blast, so loud the windows were shaking from the heavy metal cacophony. I'm sure the cops would have been called if my return hadn't put an end to the festivities. When his guests left, Mulder tried to cover his rear. "Before you say anything ..." he began, as I started the task of helping him back to bed, "I had a beer with Brian." I paused and almost started to say something, but thought better of it. One look at the baiting sheen in his hazel eyes was all I needed to know to not go there now. After all, he wasn't drunk. He'd only had one beer. We hadn't addressed what had happened the prior month. We were not calling him an alcoholic. He was a grown man, almost forty years old. He knew the dangers of abuse to his system all too well. He was the person who'd suffered through them. So I kept quiet. And, so did he. Brian was fired from the crew less than two weeks later. Teena Mulder herself gave the young man the ax. Mulder had almost overdosed from mixing Jack Daniels and Percodan and was in the hospital when Brian was released. The rest of the crew didn't want to play with him when he got home. They'd all been warned and valued their jobs. Mulder, for want of a better word, started pouting then. Julie, his therapist, couldn't get him to do much of anything. I couldn't get him to eat right. He was exactly like a surly adolescent. I tried to talk to him and all I got was a look that reminded me of my baby brother Charlie. Charlie had been the youngest, and as is so often the case in families of more than two, my parents were less strict with him. As a teen, he tended to get a little mouthy with my mom. My father, away for over a year during the worst of it, wasn't around to see the petulant, indignant looks he gave Mom. How he rolled his eyes and often ignored her. I hated seeing Charlie treat my mom that way. He finally stopped when Mom slapped him. It surprised both of them so much that they both were reduced to tears. Then they talked, and things got better. The straw that broke my back, so to speak, was just after the pool was finished. I had gone out with Mrs. Mulder for lunch. She'd sensed I was at the end of my rope and got me away for a while. We'd left Mulder with Elizabeth and when we got home, it was deja vu all over again. Well, not quite -- there were no drunk construction workers in the backyard. But Mulder was in his room, the stereo blaring, and he was more than a few sheets to the wind. He was listening to that damn song -- the one he'd gotten addicted to when Brian was around. That fucking depressing song that he'd begun to play constantly --the one that drove me out of my skull: "I can't remember anything, can't tell if this is true or dream. Deep down inside I feel a scream, this terrible silence stops me. "Back in a world that's much too real, in comes light that I must feel, but can't look forward to reveal, look to the time when I lived." Mrs. Mulder and I walked into a bedroom and found Mulder buck naked with he housekeeper, Elizabeth, likewise unclothed, straddling him. "Hold my breath as I wish for death, Oh, please, God, wake me." There was a half empty JD bottle on his dresser. "Darkness imprisoning me, all that I see, absolute horror. How can I live, how can I die, trapped in myself, my body my holy cell." Elizabeth turned, saw us and grabbed her dress off the floor. She flew into the bathroom and that I'm happy to say was the last I saw of fair Lizzy. "Land mine has taken my sight, taken my speech, taken my hearing, taken my arms, taken my legs, taken my soul, left me with life in Hell." Mulder raised up, saw us and grinned like a little boy. This was one time it didn't work. I tried to hit the button to stop the music but kept missing it. Finally, in my anger I jerked the CD off the rack and through it against the wall. The tune stopped. It was completely silent in the room. Tina Mulder was in such shock. Her face was whiter that her hair. Mine was redder than my own hair. "Whoa, Scully," Mulder laughed, rather pleased with my show of temper. He laughed at me. That was the wrong thing to do. I stormed over to him and slapped him hard. The sound cut through the stillness. It was proof though --two wrongs do not make a right. Mulder's eyes turned a murky green and I'll never forget the expression of hatred that crossed his face because it was directed at ME. "THAT IS IT!!! Who the fuck do you think you are?!" He looked at his mother, who, God bless her soul, was about to have stroke after witnessing the surreal drama playing out in her tastefully-decorated home. He locked that simmering gaze on her, then pulled me his sight too then snapped, " Both of you!!! I'm talking to both of you! I'm a MAN!! I might not look like one, but here...here inside I'm a man!! If I want to kill myself the only way I have left to do it, then fucking let me do it!! Goddamn you!! Inside here...I'm a man..." His voice had turned to painful sobs. Mrs. Mulder let loose an animal-like groan and ran from the room. I looked back at her son, tears streaming down my face. "I love you," was all I could get out. Mulder looked at me and his face went blank. He sighed and fell back on the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes. "Mulder..." I said, starting over to him. "Just get out" he said in a voice so old it was timeless. So I did. ============ Chapter 6 ============ "It's a miracle." Those words are often overused these days. Real miracles are not easy to come by. They don't just fall into one's lap. I think God doesn't figure we deserve true miracles in these modern times, unless we struggle to find them. And it seems they usually come with a price. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> April 1 Chilmark, MA <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> The first of April was quite possibly the worst day of my life. Mulder asked me to live up to my promise for the final time and I agreed. Since we fired Elizabeth and he was refusing any form of therapy, Teena Mulder and I were the only people who were caring for Mulder. Two conspirators, trapped in a consortium, whose main purpose was to keep someone alive against his wishes. It was not the best of times. April 1 found me alone with my partner, his mother having left early, claiming she had important business to attend to. I went about our daily routine. I first prepared Mulder's breakfast of vitamins and a protein shake to down them with. Then, since he refused therapy, he would stay in his room. Most of the time he was confined to his customized hospital bed with it's extra firm mattress, but sometimes, on his 'good' day's he'd sit up in his high-backed lumbar wheelchair watching TV or videos (He no longer watched his XXX videos. Usually, his viewing consisted of classic sci-fi movies.) until 10, when I brought him his midmorning snack of fruit, a protein bar and/or maybe milk or juice. After his meal, I would help him bathe, making sure to check for pressure sores at this time so I could treat them promptly if I found any. He'd had a nasty one on his left hip that was refusing to heal, despite my tender ministrations, for most of that spring. That was what I was working on, when he hit me with his request. Now, I understood his mood. It tends to be depressing, having your ex-partner, former lover, working on your ass, cleaning a bed sore. By this point, I felt like crying most of the time, over what circumstance and fate had done to our relationship. So, this was MY state of mind when Mulder spoke. "Scully," he said, his voice as flat and dry as a desert. He was lying on his side while I worked, but I was able to hear his question all too clearly. "Isn't it time?" I knew what he meant. I remembered my pleas from that fall night. I'd begged him to wait, told him it was too soon, that things would get better. Right. It all seemed so long ago now, when he'd first asked for my help. Still, even after the hell we'd gone through recently, I didn't want to deal with my promise and all it entailed. So, I played dumb. "Time for what?" I asked, busying myself with my chore. "Your meds? Yeah, I guess so, just let me finish." Mulder wasn't going to let me get away with it. He rolled over and grabbed my wrist. His grip was strong. Mrs. Mulder and I were doing a damn good job, now that we had him all to ourselves. He was physically as healthy as he'd been in months. The way we were going, our patient could have a long, long life. I had to look up at him. I knew where he was going and knew he could read that understanding in my eyes. With a sigh, I gave in. "It's what you want?" I knew his answer even before his nod. "I'm tired" he explained softly. He searched my face to see if I was going to argue. The man could read me, I'll give him that, "So are you." His statement was a fact. So, I started to cry. "Scully, don't. I don't like what I've become. I hate, Scully. I hate everything, and everybody. And I don't like it. I don't like hating you. I don't want to spend the rest of my life like this. You're too good at your job, to good at keeping me alive. And I hate you for it." He spoke with a passion I hadn't seen in weeks. No tears. Just truths. I cried and he watched me cry. I guess he knew there was nothing he could do about it. Finally, I got it together and forced myself to look at him. That's one thing Mulder had learned from this ordeal -- patience. He was waiting with the patience of a sphinx for my reply. I knew what my answer had to be and it angered me. "You tell me when. You tell me how. I'll help you. But you have to do it yourself." My tone was bitter. He took my wrath in silence. Why not, he was getting what he wanted. "And I don't want to be here when you do it." He kept his face impassive, but there was a flicker of emotion in those wide, hazel eyes. I saw sadness and something, too hard for me to bear -- pity. He let go of my wrist and stretched his hand to brush my cheek, his long, slender fingers feather-light and oh, so tender against my skin. I jumped as though I'd been burned. " Don't!" I spat vehemently. "If you expect me to do this, don't!" Pain danced across his face, but he nodded again. He waited until I composed myself, then asked, "Well what do you suggest?" His question angered me, still, I pushed my temper aside. If I was going to get through this, I had to force myself to become "Dana Scully, Ice Queen." It was hard, for it had been a long time since I'd called upon the aspects of that part of my personality. But the Ice Queen helped. "I figure overdose. I'm not going to be here, so that leaves your mom and with her health, she doesn't need to find a mess." Mulder blinked at the coldness of my words. I must admit, I was pushing it. But I felt he deserved to know that in this little passion play he was staging, he had the easiest part. "When?" I asked. "What?" I smiled, almost a smirk. My frosty demeanor, caught him off guard. But, this is how he wanted it, right? "When do you want to do it? I've got to get the drugs, right? And, make plans to be away. I'd appreciate it if you'd write a note and clear me. Just say you've been saving your sleeping pills to do it. I still have a license to protect. And a reputation. I don't want to be known as a female Kevorkian," He was stunned that I was so blunt and matter-of-fact, but what could he do? I think I even made him a little angry. Good. I could handle his anger better than his pity. He put his own mask in place and his voice was brittle when he spoke," How about tomorrow night?" "If your mother gets back in time, then okay, fine" "Fine," he said softly. And I left him. There was nothing more to say. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> April 2 Chilmark, MA <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> I woke up tired the next morning. Sleep had been hard to find. Hell, it's not every day you kill your best friend. I could hear the muffled tone of voices, so I knew Teena Mulder was home. It surprised me, she was up, because she was not a morning person. I was even more surprised, to find she had company. I almost passed out in shock, when I discovered who her early-bird house guest was. I had wrestled with telling her of her son's plans, but felt bound to secrecy. I knew Mulder didn't want her to know. I dressed and checked in on Mulder. He was still sleeping. He'd asked for a sleeping pill and I figured, why not? You probably need your rest in order to kill yourself. I was practicing my excuse for getting away for the evening when I walked into the kitchen. My mouth fell open in amazement. Teena Mulder's visitor was calmly sitting at the breakfast nook, drinking coffee. "April Fools," Alex Krycek said, greeting me with a wide grin. ============ Chapter 7 ============ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Chilmark, MA April 2 <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Teena Mulder had prepared coffee and was serving bagels and cream cheese to her house guest when I came into the kitchen. I had heard their voices when I awoke, so I knew Mulder's mother had company. Never in my wildest dreams had I expected it to be Krycek. "April Fools," he greeted me, an oily smile on his all too handsome face. I froze in the doorway, my mouth agape. Mrs. Mulder, ever the gracious hostess, lead me to the table handing me a cup of coffee. I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. This was just too much. "Dana," Teena said softly, breaking the minutes long silence. "Alex has come over to talk to you and Fox. He has something interesting to show you." Alex Krycek came prepared. He, just like Teena Mulder, knew it would be better to have me as an ally than an adversary in their plans. He had stacks of medical files. The files were prior experiments on laboratory animals, files on successful cloning between humans and aliens. They were files on tissue regeneration performed on these alien/human hybrid clones. And most chilling of all, files on experiments performed on Fox Mulder. Apparently, Mulder had been rejected in the Alien/Human hybrid clone project because his tissue samples had not produced the wanted response -- a viable alien/human clone. This had been stage one of the Consortium's project. The stage that Samantha had been taken for. Samantha's tissues had yielded the clones they wanted. In the files were test after test, mountains of research. All done on a 12-year-old boy. Try as I might, I couldn't help the anger I felt at Teena Mulder, for allowing these things to happen to her children. We had bonded over the past year, while taking care of her son. But that new-found relationship was damaged by what I read. I know she read as much in my eyes, when I looked up from perusing a file dated from around October 1973 . These monsters had actually injected him with a parasitic, alien organism on his 13th birthday. I couldn't read any more. "Why are you showing me this?" my voice was thin, it took every thing I had to keep from getting sick. It was Krycek who answered. "I knew you'd have to see that there is a scientific foundation for what we are proposing. You need to see the facts, to know that what we offer is not a hoax. That it is possible, in theory." "Where are you trying to lead me?" I snapped bitterly. "Cloning and tissue regeneration. You're a scientist, Dana. You can't guess where we're leading?" Krycek said with a smug grin. I had thought so, maybe I'd even hoped so. I wanted him to say it -- to put it out there on the table. "What are you offering, ALEX?" I spat back at him. *Don't call me Dana!* "What are you promising?" "It's not a promise. There's no guarantee," he replied, his face the picture of earnest sincerity. It made me angry. "You're trying to tell me you can give Mulder back his legs, his arm. You fucking liar!" I threw the file on the floor and shoved the others off the table so they scattered across the kitchen, papers flying through the air like confetti. "SCULLY!!!" Mulder called from the bedroom. Quickly I glanced at the clock and realized I'd forgotten completely about my patient. It was almost noon. Mulder had no idea what was going on. I hadn't even gotten him his morning meds. This thought brought a mad chuckle from me. I was still worrying about his medication even though he was going to kill himself tonight. Just when Alex Krycek was going to clone him a new body. Damn. Mrs. Mulder and Krycek watched me, stunned, wondering if I needed a straight jacket. At that moment I probably did. Tina was snatched from her shock by Mulder, when he called out for me again. He sounded panicked. "I'll go check on him," she said, hurrying from the room. She caught a glance of my face. "Alex, fix her a whiskey. It's over the sink" Krycek moved to do what she'd ordered, I stopped him. "Don't bother." I guess I could have used a shot, but I need my wits about me more. He did pour me a cup of coffee, then sat in a chair across from where I was standing. It was hard to take in. It seemed surreal that I was standing in my kitchen, talking with Alex Krycek, about using the Consortium's knowledge and resources to get my partner a new arm and two new legs. After all the lies, how could I allow myself to believe? "Okay, so prove it to me!" I dared him, recovering a bit. "If your group has the capabilities to do this for Mulder, why haven't you done it for yourself?" I asked nodding toward his prosthetic arm. "You saw the reports. About 98% of the population is like me. And you. We're what they call donors." "I got that," I said saltily, remembering back to what I'd read. I still didn't completely understand how their research could be used to help Mulder, unless... "Let me get this straight. Mulder is a recipient. That's why they didn't use him in the cloning experiments. They discovered his body converts the foreign alien cells into human cells." I was starting to comprehend. "They found out when Mulder was young, that he is the rare type of human, whose body absorbs and converts anything with alien DNA into human DNA. That's why they took Samantha and not him." "Right." Krycek nodded, seemingly glad I was following him." See, at that point, their plan was to find a way to mutate us into alien/human hybrids. They tried for years, tinkering with alien/human clones, made from 'donors', like us. They kept hoping they'd find a way to combine these clones with humans in order to make their hybrids. It never worked. Our bodies can't take the alien DNA. It kills us. But when Mulder was able to survive the virus he caught in the Arctic, well, it put them on the right track again. They started focusing on the recipients. Since people like Mulder represent only about 2% of the population they hadn't done anymore research on them since the '70s. They used 'recipient' bone marrow on Cassandra Spender. After several bone marrow transplants, they found out she could take the alien cells. And since she was a donor, her body didn't convert them to human. She became a mutant, a hybrid. Part alien, part human." "So this leaves Mulder where?" I found his information interesting, but I needed to know where left us, Mulder, in the end. Krycek bent over and picked up a file off the floor. It was newer and thinner than the others. He handed it to me with a triumphant smile. "This says it all. Read it. Then you can go talk Mulder into trying the experiment. If it works on him, they might be able to find a way to make it work on me ... and other amputees." His humanitarianism was questionable, but I did want to see what miracle they had discovered in their mad experimentation. So I sat down again and read the file. I was amazed. I was excited. I was convinced. Now, the problem was, to convince Mulder. ============ Chapter 8 ============ I went into the battle prepared. I had my files at my side. They explained the evidence, the scientific feasibility of the process. I could take the patient by the hand and explain step-by-step what would be done and how in fact it could work. I had my arguments. I thought of every conceivable reason Mulder might not want to try this and came up with a logical and convincing rebuttal for each and every one of them. I went into the Fox's den ready to convince him at any cost, over any objection. This was what he needed, and I was going to make sure he did it. It was all unnecessary. The Fox Mulder who lay in the bed that morning after April Fool's Day, didn't have a battle left in him. This was when I finally realized, Mulder was right. Had this opportunity not come up, it would have been 'time.' If our plans for that evening had gone through, the only death would have been of a body. At that point, looking into Mulder's eyes, I could see the soul I loved was gone. He had given up. Whatever I wanted to do was "fine." With tears in my eyes I returned to a waiting Teena Mulder and Alex Krycek and informed them to go ahead with the plan. ASAP. A black, nondescript, windowless van pulled up to the house the next morning. The interior was equipped like an ambulance and we -- Krycek, Mrs. Mulder and I -- loaded Mulder onto a stretcher and into the van to make the trip. I did have a glimmer of hope that things might be 'fine' after all, when I saw Mulder's expression when he first spotted Krycek. His eyes seem to flash with anger and distrust. A bit of the old Fox was still there. But then the wall went up and he asked for his pain medication. I gave it to him with no argument. He slept for most of the 10-hour trip. "Is the cloak and dagger stuff necessary?" I asked Krycek, eyeing the 'Men in Black' who drove us, the ebony colored van and their attempt to keep Teena, Mulder and I, 'in the dark' about our destination. Krycek shrugged, but Mrs. Mulder put a tight smile on her face. "It's Spender's way," was her enigmatic answer. I was relieved Mulder was asleep. I didn't want him to hear the tone of fond indulgence that tinted her voice when she spoke of that man. It made me sick to my stomach, just thinking about who was orchestrating this endeavor. Who we were relying on to be Mulder's savior. I honestly believe the two black-clad goons who drove us took a circuitous route to be sure we didn't know our destination. The trip took ten hours and it was dark when we stopped. We were inside a large hangar and several white-coated men helped us unload Mulder and grab our suitcases. We were ushered to a freight elevator and as the door slipped shut with a metal clang, we began a long descent to what must have been "the bowels of the Earth." "Is this an old James Bond set?" Mulder asked. I was surprised he was awake, since I had given him a pain pill recently. I had another tingle of hope at his quip. Maybe he could come back to life. I patted his shoulder and was actually graced with a smile. Not much of one, but I would take what I could get. My stomach had been in knots, wondering if this had all been a mistake. I was handing Mulder over to the black-lunged bastard of our nightmares. He seemed to sense what I was feeling, and for the first time, in a long time, I felt his hand slip into mine. He gave it a squeeze of comfort. If we'd been alone I would have broken down. As it was, I fought the tears of joy and silently returned the gesture. We had our own little covert operation. I stepped off that endless elevator ride happier than I'd been in months. Mulder did have a point, in his Bond reference. The hospital/lab that was to be our 'home' during this experiment appeared to be built and decorated, circa early '60s. Oh, it was equipped with state-of-the-art devices, but I couldn't help thinking the place itself had been designed by Dr. No. I was given a room, a closet, really, it was so small, adjoining Mulder's hospital suite. However, after quickly unpacking, I discovered the door to Mulder's room was locked. I ran out into the pristine white hallway and tried that door to his room. Locked. I hurried down the hall in panic, wanting to find someone with a key and was intercepted before I made it twenty yards. "They need to let me in," I said angrily, resisting the rough arms that led me back to my room. The guards were silent, but they must have heard me through the closed door of Mulder's room. A woman, dressed in the ever-present lab coat, stuck her head out and motioned to my captors to let me go. "We were only getting him settled in," she whined, allowing me inside. Mulder was dressed in a regulation hospital gown, sitting up in the regulation hospital bed. Nothing seemed amiss. I met his eyes and he nodded that the woman was telling the truth, nothing had been done to him. "We won't be starting any treatment until Dr. Williams speaks to you," said the white-coated woman. She was a nurse, I gathered, and her tone was defensive. "That door WILL remain unlocked." I stated adamantly. My answer was a curt nod and she left. I walked around, surveying the equipment. It was pretty impressive. All the latest and most modern, all right at hand for their star patient. "What comes next?" Mulder asked, interrupting my musings. His eyes were wide, nervous. I walked over and patted his hand, offering him reassurance I wasn't sure I felt myself. At least he seemed alive. Some good had come of this reckless journey. I started to answer him, trying to recall what the reports had stated was the first step in the 'treatment,' when the door opened and Dr. Williams came in. I recognized the man from the file photographs. Short, squarely built, his Native American blood was apparent in his coloring and dark eyes if not his thick, wavy black hair. He walked over to Mulder and offered his hand, but didn't seem offended when Fox refused to shake it. "Joe Williams," he said, choosing to ignore the slight and get on with business. "I'm the man who came up with this experiment. I want to go over what we have planned and answer any questions you have." I found I liked the man. He seemed to the point, and there was no subterfuge that I could detect. When neither of us answered him, the doctor continued. "If you read the file I submitted, you know what we plan to do. In our experiments on laboratory animals we were able to transplant cloned limbs with complete success. By complete, I mean full nerve regeneration, with full mobility of the transplanted limb." He stopped when he saw I already had a question. "Miss Scully?" "Dr. Scully" He smiled at my correction. "Doctor." "Now, from the files, it is stated that, clones from Mulder are not viable, but still are acceptable for transplantation. I gather from reading, recipient clones are not viable because the antibodies attack the clones cerebral cortex and destroy brain function. Are you sure that's all they destroy -- that other parts of the clone are not affected in more subtle ways?" As the doctor started to answer, I caught sight of Mulder's face and saw he was horrified. He had not bothered to read anything about the procedure. Dr. Williams saw this too. If he was surprised that Mulder had agreed to an experiment he knew nothing about, he didn't let it show. "Dr. Scully, we found nothing to indicate there is damage to the clones except, to put it bluntly, their brains do not develop enough to sustain unassisted life." He spread his hands indicating that was all he had to offer me in reassurances. It was, after all, an experiment. He then turned to Mulder. " You have a question, Mr. Mulder? Or should I say Dr. Mulder?" The doctor cast a teasing glance at me. Mulder allowed him a slight, brief smile at his subtle ribbing of my professional ego, then sobered when he asked his question. I could tell he was a bit embarrassed to be caught so uninformed by the doctor, but his question was too pressing to let that stop him. " I don't think I quite understood about the cloning. You're going to make a clone of me?" "We've made a clone of you, Mr. Mulder." Mulder sank back into the bed in stunned silence, his face pale from the shock. "How?" His voice was a choked whisper. Dr. Williams frowned as he thought about how to tell Mulder. The doctor had expected Mulder to know his history, to know that he had been experimented upon as a boy. There's an old saying, "The only way out is through," and Joe Williams definitely believed it to be true, for he plunged ahead, explaining to Mulder what his part in this plan had been. "We've had tissue samples of you since you were a boy. We started making the clone two years ago after you went to Russia, when you showed abnormal resistance to the black oil." He paused and shook his head. "Mr. Mulder, why don't I leave you a copy of our research and come back later to answer your questions?" Mulder nodded, his embarrassment at his lack of preparation gone, driven away by the doctor's revelations. He was so deep in thought, he barely noticed Joe Williams' departure. He seemed oblivious I was in the room. I sat beside him waiting, silently mulling over everything that had happened since waking up the prior morning. "Scully," Mulder said, interrupting my thoughts. His voice was strained with anger. "Where is my mother?" My stomach dropped. I knew how I had felt at gaining complete knowledge on what had happened to Bill and Teena Mulder's children. "I haven't seen her since we got here, Mulder," I replied meekly. "I want those files, then I want to see my mother," Mulder spat, his eyes blazing. I didn't argue with him, I just left to see who could expedite his request. Although I dreaded having him find out his history, not to mention the coming confrontation he planned with his mother, I was thankful at least, of another sign he was coming back to life. That night Mulder took no sleeping pill. He only took his pain medication when I insisted, after I had watched him grimace and turn pale when he tried to find a comfortable position to continue his study of the files. This was after two in the morning, which was a good ten hours since his last dose. It was one more sign and I whispered a prayer of thanks for it. They had brought him, at my request, not only the file on his procedure, but many files, detailing the history of the alien/clone/hy brid project. It was the ultimate irony that these documents were those for which Mulder and I had searched, suffered, lost loved ones, and we had them now just by asking. I couldn't help worrying what the price was going to be for gaining this knowledge. Had we already paid it? I still wanted Mulder to go through with everything, I saw no way for him to survive without it. So I remained quiet. I had been perusing one of the files I had only skimmed before but found myself nodding off, so I didn't hear Mulder when he finally tired and turned off his light. I don't know how long he attempted to sleep, but he woke me before daybreak with a plaintive whisper of my name. "Scully." I snapped awake immediately and hurried to his side, reaching up to turn on the lamp when I got there. He stopped me. I reached through the darkness to touch him and felt his face. It was wet with tears. Quickly releasing the side, I crawled up beside him. This bed was not nearly as wide as the one at the center had been, but he grabbed the rail on his side and hitched over to make room for me next to him. I waited for him to speak, my head resting on his chest. God, it felt wonderful to be laying beside him again. I breathed in his scent eagerly, like a drowning person would gasp for air. It had been so long. I wrapped my arms about Mulder to comfort him, caressing his face, wiping away his tears. "Scully," he whispered, his breath catching in pain. "How could they have done that to me, to Sam? Parents are supposed to love you, to protect you. I knew my dad hated me, that I was always a disappointment to him, but Mom..." His body shook with a sob and I drew him even closer, trying to ease his pain. "Mulder," I spoke softly, soothingly into his ear. "I know it hurts. It might not help much, but I do think they thought they were doing what was best for you. " "That's bullshit," he sobbed bitterly, "All bullshit. I've heard it all before. The bottom line is, Scully, you don't give your kids away to be lab rats. You know that. You volunteer yourself, not your kids." "I don't think I would do what they did, Mulder." I agreed with him, but I wanted to make a point. "But, even though they were misguided, I still think they believed it was done so you could survive. Your mother was probably frightened. And back then, people believed what they were told. She must have thought it was the only way. She does love you. She's proved it to me lots of times this past year and even though she doesn't go about showing you in the right way, she tries." Mulder calmed as he listened to me, giving my opinions some thought. His fingers idly stroked my shoulder and I listened to his breathing become slow and steady. His heart beat a rhythm that touched my soul and I was drifting toward sleep when he spoke. "I guess if they hadn't allowed this to happen, I wouldn't be getting the chance I'm getting now," he murmured, a smile in his voice. I chuckled at his twisted logic, but had to admit he was right. I felt his body relaxing and together, we slipped into slumber. My last thought was another prayer of thanks that, after so long, he had at last found hope. ============ Chapter 9 ============ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> April 4th Unknown location <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Mulder had a peaceful, nightmare-free rest without the benefit of a sleeping pill. It had been a long time since he'd had that many hours of non-drug-induced sleep. It was noon before a nurse woke us up to let us know Doctor Williams was on his way. I hurried to my room to shower and change, and the nurse assisted Mulder in cleaning up and getting presentable. Although he tried to hide it, Mulder was eagerly awaiting the doctor when I came in to his room. A few minutes later the affable physician came in. "Good afternoon Dr. Mulder, Dr. Scully." He teased me, a twinkle in his eye. He spotted the file folders strewn across the room. "I see you've been catching up on your reading." Mulder nodded. Dr. Williams pulled a chair alongside the bed and sat down, picking up from the bedside table the thin manila folder that contained the information on the transplant procedure. "Do you have any questions?" the doctor asked with a smile. "Only about a hundred," Mulder said softly, the corners of his mouth tugging into a half-smile. "I almost don't know where to start." "I'm sure you'll think of a place," Williams said slyly. "But, how about I start at the beginning? You can ask your questions as we go along. I'll tell you exactly how we plan to proceed. Okay?" Mulder shrugged his agreement and scooted up in the bed to listen to the doctor's explanation. "Tomorrow morning, we'll start giving you injections. We plan on three a day. Now, I'll be truthful with you, we're not absolutely sure that will be the correct dosage because, as you know, you are our first human subject." He stopped to study Mulder's reaction to this knowledge. Mulder didn't even bat an eye, while I, on the other hand, had to sit down on the corner of the bed. My knees had grown weak. We both had read the reports, we knew this was a still an experimental procedure. I just didn't like being reminded of the fact. "I don't quite understand what these injections are. I mean I know they are alien cells of some kind and I know you've found out that they regenerate damaged tissue. But what kind of cells?" Mulder asked, his brow furrowed with intensity. I knew what the injections were. They were another thing I wasn't comfortable thinking about. "I don't want you to misunderstand this part, Mr. Mulder." Williams explained. "What I'm going to tell you might be upsetting, so I want to reassure you now, that your immune system will keep what we inject in you from being harmful. You survived and eradicated the black cancer with little more than a placebo vaccine so we're confident these injections will do what they're meant to do and..." "Just tell me what's in the fucking shots." Mulder said, raising his voice in exasperation. The doctor chuckled at my partner's outburst. " Sorry. I just want to make sure..." he stopped short, reading Mulder's frustration over another long winded explanation. "Sorry. The shots contain a parasitic organism, a parasitic, ALIEN organism, that will stimulate your immune system into repairing and regenerating the tissue to which we plan to connect the transplanted limbs. This includes nerves, blood vessels, all of what will be the connecting tissues. All the scarring and mutilation that resulted from your accident will be gone. We will have healthy, viable tissue to attach your new limbs to. Do you understand what a breakthrough this is?" I had read the report so I knew what the parasite was supposed to do, but I couldn't help getting shivers of excitement over the miracle these scientist had discovered. The test subjects had actually grown living, healthy tissue from scarred, mutilated, even burned stumps. It was as though the new tissue was hungry for the transplant. Healing was rapid and complete and the animals quickly began to use these newly attached, cloned limbs as though they were the ones they had been born with. There was hardly even a scar at the point of attachment. It was amazing. I glanced over at Mulder as he listened to Dr. Williams. The doctor was offering him a testimonial of sorts, elaborating on what we had read and I saw my partner's eyes were shining with excitement. "So, are you game?" Williams asked. Mulder nodded, unable to speak. He struggled valiantly, but a tear trickled down his face and he hurriedly swiped it away. I didn't even attempt a fight. My eyes were streaming. When Mulder looked over to me, his guard broke down completely. I rushed to his side just as a huge sob escaped from deep inside. I wrapped myself around him and he clung to me with his lone arm, his whole body shaking, heaving with emotion. We both had shed a river of tears in those long, painful months since the accident, but these were different. These were the healing tears of joy. Unknown location Early April The injections began the next day, and other than soreness from the needle, initially they caused no pain. They were given in the transplant sites, which of course meant the scarred ends of his leg stumps and the broad, puckered indention where his arm had once been attached to his shoulder. While admitting the shots did hurt, Mulder claimed the pain was not nearly as bad as that he'd felt with the sores his prostheses had caused. We passed the time watching and waiting. We played Scrabble, chess, cards and Mulder, of course, watched sports on TV. It was around noon of the fifth day that Mulder began to feel a change. He claimed that it didn't quite hurt, that it wasn't really a tingle. We checked the sites and they did look slightly inflamed, but the minor redness and swelling we saw could also be attributed to the injections. After giving it much thought, Dr. Williams decided to increase the dosage of the shots. It worked. The next morning, the fun began. I was in my little room, asleep, when I heard Mulder scream. I don't think my feet touched the ground my first few steps. After hitting the wall switch to turn on the light, I saw him. He was bathed in sweat, sitting bolt upright in his bed. His face was flushed red and contorted in anguish. His eyes were wild and unfocused. The moment I touched him I knew his temperature was high, too high. The night nurse came running. She too, had been awakened by his scream. "He's burning up, get a cooling blanket, then go call Dr. Williams," I ordered, grabbing a towel from the bathroom. Quickly, I wet it with cool water and wringing the excess on the floor, hurried back to Mulder. I wiped the sweat from his chest, his face, his neck, attempting to bring his core temperature down. Mulder shivered as I bathed him down. He began thrashing about, fighting my treatments, but I leaned on his arm and was able to keep him from hurting himself and me. Soon, he began to calm and when the nurse got back, we readied the cooling blanket, then draped it over him. He was sleeping peacefully when the Doctor arrived. "Damn, I should have stayed where we were" The man cursed himself angrily. " Any convulsions?" I shook my head and leaned over to see what the ear thermometer read as the nurse took his temperature again. 102. My sigh was audible. Dr. Williams still looked angry, but I knew it was at himself. He shook his head wearily. "Spiking a fever is normal at this point. It means his immune system has kicked in, but I can't believe I was stupid enough to increase his dosage. Damn, my impatience. How high do you think his fever was initially?" He asked me, his eyes worried. "By the time we got the blanket on, it was 103.1, so, probably not much more than a degree higher," I replied, trying to reassure him that there would most likely be no permanent damage to his patient. " Mulder is hypersensitive to fevers. I've seen him delirious at 103. It should have been in his chart. Sorry we didn't tell you." The doctor seemed to be calming down and offered me a ghost of his usually broad smile. "Well, we had to let it spike and at least his sensitivity gave us an early warning that it was climbing. We'll just watch him now to keep it under control." He smoothed the silver blanket idly with his hand then turned to face me, " I think we can take this off when it gets down another degree, don't you, Doctor?" I smiled at his acknowledgment of my skills and nodded in agreement. " Scully?" Mulder stirred, then tried to push the cold blanket off. "Why's it so fucking cold?" he muttered, struggling awake. He glanced in surprise at the small crowd gathered around his bed. "Did something happen?" I patted his thigh in reassurance and smoothed his ever-unruly bangs back off his forehead. Dr. Williams winked at me then turned to leave. "Come on, Jen," he called, motioning for the nurse to follow, "I think he's being taken care of." I smiled down at Mulder and he gave me a sleepy grin in return. "Sculleee," he murmured, drifting off. "I'm here, Mulder" Unknown location Late April/ early May Within a week, the treatments were in full swing. The alien parasite was doing its job, stimulating Mulder's immune system into regenerating and healing tissue like no other human being had ever been able to do. We could almost see the changes happening before our eyes. Mulder ran a constant, low-grade fever, but his spirits were higher than I had ever seen them. The change in his disposition and outlook was amazing. It was as though he was being reborn and we were watching it, step by step. I can't begin to explain the awe and wonder of it all. It was the twentieth day of the procedure that I noticed the first growth. I was examining the tissue where his arm would be attached. The thick scars had disappeared. There was a thin covering of new skin over the entire area and I could see newly grown nerves, muscle, capillaries, veins all waiting, there beneath the surface, ready to join with the cloned parts. It was fascinating and a bit frightening. I was palpitating the bulge, as I had been shown, but on that day, I felt something different -- a hard mass, deep within the tissues. As a forensic pathologist I had felt my share of lumps and the knowledge of what it might be made my stomach plummet. Mulder was lazily channel surfing the satellite TV while I did my exam. Maybe my breathing changed, maybe he felt my hands begin to shake while I studied the offending mass. I don't know how, but he knew something was wrong. "What is it, Scully?" I tried to make my face impassive and even attempted a smile. Mulder knew me too well. "You found something wrong." It wasn't a question, it was a statement and he grabbed my hand, to comfort me. "Maybe you better get Dr. Williams." He urged, knowing I was too upset to even know what should be done. I nodded and stumbled off to find the doctor. By the next day, we had found five tumors, varying in size from a pea to a lemon. They were scattered between the three injection sites, where his new tissue was forming. Dr. Williams had the surgery readied and did a biopsy of the first mass. Being that Mulder was this laboratories only patient the results came back immediately. It was benign. I sat beside Mulder, waiting for him to awaken from the anesthesia so I could tell him the good news. Dr. Williams came into the room to check on his patient and I gave him a smile, happy that we were back on track. I felt a chill at seeing the Doctor had a worried frown on his face. "What's wrong?" Dr. Williams shook his head and sighed, "I'm not sure we should assume that they're all benign. I know it's got to be the treatment that's causing them. I just don't quite know why. We took a chance at comprising the site by doing this biopsy so I'm afraid to biopsy the others. We're going to have to stop the procedure. No more injections. We need to watch to see if there's change in these or if more develop. It would force our hand and we'd have to go in and remove them. I don't know, but I think we've failed." His eyes were sad and he gave my shoulder a compassionate pat as he passed by. I sat in stunned silence, tears springing to my eyes at the horrible change in events. I didn't know what to tell Mulder. I couldn't bear the fact that his new-found hope was going to snatched away like this. The moment of truth arrived within minutes when he began to stir. I walked to his side and put a hand on his face. He opened those wonderful, deep hazel eyes and smiled upon recognizing me. I gave him a grin in return which he instantly read. "Malignant," he croaked and tried to clear his throat. I offered him some ice chips, which he greedily accepted. "No, it was benign. But we're going to have to stop the experiment, at least until we find out what's going on here," Dr. Williams answered for me. Mulder just sighed, taking in the pronouncement calmly. He glanced up at me, his eyes growing soft at seeing my silent tears. He stretched out his hand to me and I clasped it in my own. "I love you," he murmured pulling me to him. Instantly dissolving into tears, I buried my head on his chest. He caressed my back gently, murmuring soft words of comfort. I finally got my emotions in hand and looked up at him, drinking in that face. He smiled bravely at me and it gave me the courage to finally say the words out loud. "I love you, Mulder" ============ Chapter 10 ============ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Location Unknown Early May <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> By mid-afternoon most of the effects of the anesthesia had worn off and Mulder seemed in excellent condition. The side of his chest where the biopsy had been done was tender but it didn't appear to bother him that much. I, on the other hand was a basket case. On and off throughout the morning, the reality that our chance was over would hit me and I would make some silly excuse in order to leave his room. Once out of his sight, I would burst into tears, ranting and raving angrily at the injustice of it all. After a few minutes, my tantrum spent, I'd wrestle control of my emotions, go wash my tear-streaked, swollen face and take up my place at his side. 'Til the next time the thoughts surfaced and I had to repeat everything all over again. Of course, none of it fooled Mulder for one second. He knew exactly why I was making my hasty exits and after what must have been the tenth time he grabbed my arm to stop me. He winced as I tried to shake loose from him and inadvertently jarred his sore side. I'd hurt him. The tears started to flow. For the second time that day he pulled me to him and like before, I buried my face on his chest, needing the feel of his gentle comfort. My emotional storm soon passed and I sat up, wiping the tears from my face. Mulder offered the corner of his bed sheet for my runny nose and I burst out laughing at his gesture. Grabbing tissues off the bedside table, I used them instead. "Scully," He said, touching my cheek lightly with his fingertips, " We need to do something to take our mind off the waiting. Before we run out of Kleenex." "What do you have in mind" I asked arching a brow. "Nothing too strenuous," he replied, laughing at my teasing innuendo. "I'm too sore. How about making them get us some videos, stuff for root beer floats, and a bag of sunflower seeds. Then you can crawl up here with me and we can just kind of veg out." "Oh, you wild and crazy guy." I pushed up from the bed, chuckling, and went to see if somebody could grant his request. "Tell 'em to get something with Steve Martin." he yelled as I left out the door The next morning we discovered two more tumors, small, but these were in the groin area near the lymph nodes. The one I'd found first, had almost doubled in size in less than 48 hours and appeared to be putting pressure on the chest cavity. Dr. Williams decided we should wait one more day and if there were more tomorrow, that would definitely be it for the transplants. Surgery would most likely be the next step for Mulder, to remove the rapidly growing masses. What little hope I had left was dashed the following day when the number of tumors reached 13. "My not so lucky number, huh?" Mulder quipped at hearing the news. I was able to keep my emotions in check, probably because there were no tears left. I felt hollow. I held Mulder's hand while Dr. Williams told us what was ahead. "I'm going to have Dr. Burrell assist me on the surgery. He specialized in oncology before going into research, so we'll be covered in the worst-case scenario. He can't be here until day after tomorrow, though. If that largest one keeps growing and we start having problems, I'll go ahead and remove it but let's shoot for Monday morning for your surgery." "No," Mulder replied firmly. "No surgery" The Doctor and I stared at him, stunned. Mulder's eyes met mine and then I understood. "Let's just leave well enough alone," he explained, his grip on my hand tightening. "I think it's time we threw in the towel. Scully knows what my wishes were if the transplant failed. No more treatment, no surgery. I think it's time to just let nature take it's course. Is that okay with you, Doctor?" Joe Williams nodded. Perhaps he didn't agree with Mulder's choice, but he did agree it was his right to make the decision. "I don't know how long it might take. Even if all the tumors are benign, at the rate they're growing, it won't take long before they start compromising vital organs. If things continue the way they're going and we were to make no intervention except for relief of pain, my guess is you have maybe two weeks at most. Does that sound like a plan?" "If my Blue Cross will cover it, sure," Mulder replied dryly. The doctor shook his head but didn't try to argue, choosing to respect his patient's wishes. I could see Williams was upset that our association was going to end this way. With a brief nod, he left us alone. My shaking knees finally gave out and I sat beside Mulder on his bed. My lips were trembling as I struggled against the hot tears that threatened. I was afraid if I started to cry, I might never be able to stop. "Thank you." His voice was low and husky. He was spent, worn down by the disappointments and decisions he struggled through this long painful morning. I didn't trust myself to speak, so I nodded. His gaze was soft with tenderness. His eyes brimming over with sorrow and regret. "Damn it," he muttered, reaching up to place a finger on my bottom lip. "I didn't want to do this to you again. I wanted so badly for it to work ." Silent tears rolled down his face and I kissed them away. We lay there quietly, silenced by our grief. Words wouldn't make things better, but holding each other did. After a while, Mulder drifted off to sleep. I couldn't. There would be time for sleep after he was gone. I curled up beside him, studying his face, committing it all to memory. Because in time, that would be all I had. I did finally sleep. "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." I'd never felt so bitter about the truth of Christ's words as I did that morning when I awoke to find Mulder, peacefully watching ME sleep. He grinned and my disappointment vanished. "What a smile," I murmured in admiration, reaching up to touch the corners of his mouth. His look became one of boyish embarrassment and I laughed out loud. I wanted to drink in his every expression, consume all I could, while I had the chance. "I'm hungry," I whispered into his ear, playfully nipping it as I spoke. He turned to look at me, searching my face. I was stunned by his reluctance, disappointed. "Why?" he whispered. At first, I didn't understand his question. Then realization came and I knew what had to be said. "Mulder, this isn't about pity. Don't you know by now, how you make me feel when you touch me? Look at me. You've been like this for almost a year, so you know what pity looks like. How can you say you see pity in my face?" I stopped a moment to touch his mouth, softly with the tips of my fingers. For years, I had wanted to touch those lips. He caught my eye and I knew he'd read the truth in my face. I shivered when kissed each digit. When you know each time might be the last, you want that much more for it to be the best and we moved through our passion with deliberate slowness, savoring every touch. ***** There were no new tumors the next morning and no change in the ones that we'd detected, so a stay was granted for another day. Twenty-four hours later, the results were the same, with one happy exception -- the large mass on his side that had begun to compromise his chest cavity, was noticeably smaller. I detected a twinkle in Dr. Williams' eyes when he reported the news. "And this means?" Mulder asked, keeping any excitement in check as best he could. "I don't know?" Williams shrugged with a grin, " I'm just a mad doctor, not a psychic." We laughed, a vain attempt to ease the electric excitement that was in the air. Hopes that had been dashed were now rising, but we all seemed to have a silent agreement to keep them restrained. Maybe we feared the fates might steal them away again. Throughout the week, the atmosphere among everyone involved was tense and hair-trigger. Everyone except Mulder. He had always been the excitable, impatient one in our partnership. He now spent the week calming me, which I must admit, was a nice change. He showed great imagination in figuring ways to burn off my nervous energy. The tenth day after Mulder's death sentence had been passed, it was repealed. Each day passed with no new masses and the others had either not changed or shrank in size. "Think you'd like to have surgery tomorrow?" Doctor Williams asked Mulder, a teasing gleam in his eye. "Maybe a little transplant or two?" Once more I had to perch on Mulder's bed because my legs wouldn't hold me. It was going to happen. My mind was reeling. "Okay," Mulder's normally quick repartee had left him. Joe Williams beamed at us, then proudly announced, "It's time." ============ Chapter 11 ============ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Unknown Location Late May <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Dr. Williams advised us to take it easy that day before the surgery because it would be such a long one. Any type of microsurgery is long, because the work is so delicate but it is especially slow and tedious when surgeons are working on the arm, which is all they were going to attempt that first transplant. The brachial plexus is a very complicated and sensitive set of nerves and even with the help of robotic in the transplant it was going to be a long, arduous ordeal. Mulder's comment was to slyly offer that he was going to be getting twenty hours of sleep, wasn't the doctor was the one who needed to rest? Dr. Williams had always allowed me free access to anything involving Mulder and it was at this time I finally got my nerve up to view the donor clone. As I took the elevator down to the laboratory where they kept the experiment, my stomach was in knots. As a scientist, I knew the organism that was giving Mulder his new lease on life should not even be classified as human. It was a sophisticated cluster of cells. I believed this as a scientist but being raised in the church, I had qualms, doubts about using another for the harvesting of limbs, organs, etc. My fears were put to rest by one look at the thing, lying in the tank before me. It did resemble Mulder, superficially. But staring at the sightless, empty face, I knew that creature was the closest to humanity it would ever come. There was nothing to suggest that God's hand had ever touched the entity with the spark of life. It did not have now, nor had it ever had, a soul. Having found my answer, I quickly left the lab. Dr. Williams was leaving out of an area at the end of the hall where I was denied access. He was in a rush and I barely caught up to him before the elevator door closed. Judging by the good doctor's expression, he wasn't exactly pleased to see me, at least not in that section of the underground facility. "I'd never seen the clone," I stated nervously, wanting to explain my presence. I'd never been specifically told not to go to the lower levels and I didn't want to overstep my bounds. "Pretty fascinating, huh?" he asked. My explanation seemed to appease him, but he still appeared to be uncomfortable. I gave him a slight smile and a nod in answer, then quickly exited when the doors slid open to my floor. I caught a worried expression on his face as the elevator closed behind me. I stopped, gazing at the white portal, trying to sort through my impressions of our brief exchange, a frown creasing my brow. Someone I had not thought of in quite a while had made their presence known. Dr. Williams reeked of cigarette smoke. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Unknown Location Late May/ early June <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> I said nothing to Mulder of my worries and surprisingly, we both slept well that night before the surgery. It was predawn when Jen, the nurse, came in to wake us. As I climbed out from beside him, I caught a glimpse of his eyes. The battle he had fought for a year was almost over and I could see relief in their hazel depths. I gave his hand a quick squeeze, then moved aside to allow Jen to begin prepping him. The surgery took nineteen hours, almost to the minute. Since Mulder was their only patient and I was trained, I was allowed afterwards in the small room off the operating theater which they used as a recovery room. When they brought him to me, all his signs were perfect and he came out of the anesthesia quickly. "You look rough," he whispered to me as soon as his eyes fluttered open. I smiled back at his comment, knowing it wasn't entirely drug-induced. "I can feel it," he murmured sleepily, letting his lids close again. I cast a glance at the new limb and shook my head knowingly. It would be quite a while before feeling would come to the arm they had immobilized in traction, but it looked good, very good. The fingertips of his new hand were warm and pink and I was satisfied that so far, the transplant seemed to be a success. Since he had 'woken and spoken' and everything else from blood pressure to blood gas was fine, we wheeled him back to his room. While the orderlies helped get him settled in his bed, he had come fully awake and after they left, I could tell by his expression he was in pain. "Let me get you something for that," I murmured, preparing the machine that would allow him to dispense his own pain medication. "No," he choked, his voice hoarse from the surgery. I had finished and turned to see what was troubling him. His eyes were bright and I quickly put a hand to his forehead to check for fever. "I feel it!" he repeated adamantly, shaking my hand away. "Feel what?" My mouth had grown dry. I guess it was fear. I turned to touch his fingertips, worried something was wrong. "I feel you touch me," he spoke slowly, trying to make me understand. "I can feel my fingers." I looked at him, realizing what had him so agitated. He knew, he had been told, that nerve regeneration was a slow process -- that full feeling in his arm, especially the fingers, would take time, if it ever completely came back. What had happened in the lab animals, full mobility, was the hoped for result, but to expect feeling, hours after surgery? That was impossible. "You can feel this?" I asked moving close, but not quite touching his thumb. He shook his head. "I feel my hand, but I don't feel you touching me" Mulder explained, calming down a bit. He struggled to look and see why he couldn't perceive my touch. I was in shock. "I wasn't doing it then," I confessed. I gently squeezed his pinkie and saw his eyes light up in response. My knees felt weak at this miracle. "I better go get Dr. Williams." My voice was a strained whisper as I left to go find the doctor. No one at the site could believe what was happening. Mulder had complete feeling in his arm, from fingertip to shoulder, making the surgery a success beyond anyone's wildest dreams. But, it was only to get better. The third morning post-surgery, Mulder called me to his side. I had been in the bath, brushing my teeth when I heard his yell. I rushed out and my stomach plummeted, tears were streaming down his face. He tried to speak but could only point. I followed the direction of his shaking digit -- he was indicating his left hand, his new hand. "Mulder, what's wrong" I asked feeling the exposed fingers, hoping their was still the warmth of life in them, praying he was not showing signs of rejection. I backed away as though I had been burned, when I felt his fingers move beneath my touch. "It's alive," he said playfully, his eyes still overflowing with joy. He wiggled them again and I actually screamed with delight. Jen came in at my scream and hurried to go get Dr. Williams, when Mulder gave her a fingertip wave. Within thirty minutes, we had the entire staff in the room, oohing and aahing over my partner's amazing, dexterous digits. Joe Williams examined his arm as everyone filed out, and he smiled at his handiwork. "Look here." He called me over to show me the incision, which was already almost healed. "We need to get an x-ray, see if the bone is coming along this quickly." It was. Jen came in as soon as we got the results and informed us the doctor wanted Mulder put in a soft cast. He had done a month of healing in a little over three days. Mulder spent the better part of that afternoon, gazing at his hand, watching his fingers move. I sat on his bed, watching his face. I thought nothing could ruin the happiness. That evening I strolled to the staff cafeteria, to have coffee with some of the personnel I had befriended over our stay. I ambled back to the room to find Mulder, propped on his side, his face white with pain. "What happened?" I gasped, rushing to his side. He was breathing deeply, trying to contain his agony. "They did a test, right after you left," he moaned, closing his eyes and fighting tears. "Said they needed bone marrow. Something wasn't right. I don't know..." A tear escaped and he gazed up at me, his eyes wounded. "It hurts." I brushed his hair out of his eyes and ran to get Jen, demanding his chart. Written there, was the order with no explanation as to why, except some words in Latin, scrawled in Williams' ungainly doctor's hand. "Timeo danaoset dona ferentes" -- "Fear the Greeks even when they bring gifts." ============ Chapter 12 ============ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Location Unknown Early June <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> I was angry, and scared and most of all, worried. After my initial concerns of a "deal with the devil" when we had first come to the underground facility, I had pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind. With all the ups and downs that had happened in the prior month, that is where they had remained -- until my elevator ride with Joe Williams and then, his scribbled warning. I decided I needed to inform Mulder of what had transpired, though I hated bringing it up at this time. He was in a lot of pain from the so called "test." But, I needed his input on how to proceed. I prepared an injection of Demerol for him, but decided to tell him of my discoveries before I gave it to him. I knew he might choose not to take it, even though he needed respite from the pain desperately, but he might figure a clear head was needed. And it was about time he was allowed to make his own choices. "Mulder," I bent over him, whispering close to his ear, "I need you to listen to me, okay?" I quickly explained, telling him of what I had found out in the elevator and the warning given, and he immediately filled in the blanks himself. "Got a bullet for me to bite on?" He groaned as he rolled over onto his back. I saw the site on his hip and knew the pain must be horrible. "No...but, how 'bout some ice ?" I offered weakly, tossing away the narcotic filled syringe. At his nod, I hurried to get him a cold bag, watching the people milling in the pristine white hallway with a different eye now. Upon re-entering his room, he called me over with a motion and as I leaned close to put the pack on his hip, he motioned to the light fixture above the bed. "It's a camera, I'm sure...probably a mike, too," he whispered in my ear. I nodded that he was most likely right, knowing we most likely had been watched since the start. "I wonder if we can get a copy of the video of last Monday night?" Mulder murmured with a lopsided grin, which broadened at my blush. I knew the ice couldn't be helping too much, but maybe having a problem to concentrate on helped more. He patted the side of the bed and I sat down next to him, leaning close to discuss the matter. We were still in our unproductive discussion an hour later when Dr. Williams burst in, Jen and two white-coated assistants in tow. "We need to prep you -- now." His words were a rush and his eyes, as they met mine, were wide with excitement and fright. I started to speak, to question the fact he was moving the second surgery up by a week, but he shook his head. When I stood up, his staff instantly went to work. "I knew HE had to sleep sometime. We've got to do it now. He planned on keeping him by not giving him his legs. Wait here and when we're done, I'll try to tell you everything." The doctor's hurried explanation left me speechless. I never got a chance to recover, because then, they were gone, leaving me alone. It wasn't the doctor who came next. It was two large, burly men. They grabbed my arms and led me away to a holding cell on a lower level. What followed, were three of the worst days of my life -- not that they hurt me. No, I saw no one. My meals were pushed through a little door in my windowless cell. I had the clothes I had been wearing, a toilet (with no lid, I might add) and my watch. That watch kept my sanity and also drove me insane. I counted the minutes, the seconds. I fretted, I paced, I screamed and pounded on the door. The only way I knew I existed was three times a day, a tray of food arrived. I was left completely alone with my thoughts. They were not good company. What happened with the surgery? Was Mulder alive? Why was I still alive? What did they plan on doing with me? I tormented myself, cursed the fact I had gotten us into this. I knew Mulder would be dead right now, if we hadn't gone through with the experiment. But then, I argued with myself, he might be dead now anyway. What had I accomplished? He surely would have had an easier death, had he done it himself, than the one our enemies would plan for him. Like I said, I was not good company. Finally, three days, ten hours and thirteen minutes into my captivity, HE showed up. With the same burly guards that had taken me. Without a word, they each grabbed an arm and led me out of my cell. I had no idea where they were taking me, or for what purpose. I didn't ask, for I figured any place was better than the solitary hell of that windowless room. Even death would be better. I'd faced death before and I felt like Mulder -- sometimes you welcome it. My whole body was shaking with relief when we entered Mulder's room, but it quickly turned to anger when I saw my partner. The first thing I noticed was his legs. Two legs, encased in bandages, lay beneath the sheets. The miracle was complete. Then I saw his face. Both eyes were blackened, swollen almost shut. His cheeks were covered with scratches, molted with bruises. And his neck was covered with a gauze bandage, through which blood seeped in a dark maroon spot. When he saw me, he let out a moan that shook me to the core. It was part wounded animal, part hurt child. It broke my heart. I flung off the arms that held me and rushed to his side. He grabbed me, both arms encircling my waist, and he buried his head into my stomach. I stood holding him, offering soothing words of comfort, stroking his hair. As his sobs tapered off, I looked up at the man who had done this, trying to burn him with my hate. He smiled and took a drag off his cigarette. "You both need to listen." He spoke calmly, in even tones. "You have what you want now. There will be no more 'episodes' like this morning." My eyebrow raised in question, but the man ignored me and continued his speech. "We will get what we want now. You will be well taken care of. Your needs will be met. You'll give us what we want, when we want it. You'll NOT try to fight. You WILL NOT try to escape. And, when we have what we need, you'll be released unharmed." The smoke curled about his face as he paused to make his point. "If you try a repeat of your little stunt, Fox, she will be killed. And on top of that, if you don't succeed in killing yourself...well, let's just say...what has been given, can be taken away...and then some." a hint of a smile crossed his lips as he motioned to Mulder's new legs. I felt my stomach rise into my throat with his threat. Mulder, his arms still holding me tight, lay his head against my side and said nothing. There was nothing more to say, so the man left, but his smoky stench like his threats, still lingered in the room. I had thought Mulder had control of himself. He did while our enemies were in the room. But, as soon as the Smoking Man was gone, he fell apart. I eased up next to him and held him tight. Offering him comfort seemed to help calm my own nerves, so frayed by my solitary ordeal. Finally, he calmed enough to look up at me. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice a thin rasp. "Did they hurt you?" I shook my head, my own tears starting to fall. His hand, his new left hand moved to clumsily wipe the wetness from my cheeks and I smiled. "They look good on you," I laughed softly, nodding at his legs. His response was not what I expected. His face crumpled once more, his tenuous grasp slipped and his body began to shake again with sobs. "I wish...I'm so sorry..." The words wouldn't come for him and he finally gave an anguished cry that chilled my soul. "Mulder, no, don't," I cried, pulling him even closer. "This is all my fault. It was my idea to come. I brought us here." "For ME!!" he argued, "You've given up everything for me -- everything. Scully. I thought you were dead. I thought he killed you. I don't want it to be about me, I really don't. I want you to have a life. I want you to have a house, kids..." He stopped and looked up at me. I'd never such hopelessness in anyone's eyes. "I have you," I whispered softly, hoping he understood. Hoping he knew, that was what I wanted. " If I have you, that's all I need." He searched my face and saw it was true. I don't think my confession was entirely a comfort to him. There was fear in his eyes when he gently kissed my neck and pulled me close. We spent the afternoon, laying together in bed, talking. I told Mulder of my three days and he shared his tale with me. "The first thing I remembered was waking up in my room. You weren't here, but I just thought you'd stepped out. I guess I had dreamed about you, because I remembered talking to you in recovery. You were holding my hand, talking to me. But I guess it was a dream." "Maybe it was Jen,." I offered. He shook his head. "Not unless she loves me. You told me that. You called me Fox. You said, 'I love you, Fox.' Must have been a dream. I waited for you to come back, and when you didn't, I called for a nurse. The one that came was one I'd never seen. Scully, I haven't seen Dr. Williams since before the surgery. Jen either." I knew what he was thinking, I was thinking the same thing. We most likely would never see the affable doctor and the kind, young nurse again. They had crossed the devil himself. "I asked her where you were. She said she didn't know. That was all it took. I went nuts. That's where I got the bruises. From her and the goons. I got in a few of my own, though. Then, that bitch and those guys tied me down. They gave me a sedative. I woke up the next morning. They brought in breakfast. I threw it back at them. I wasn't going to fight them again. I knew they'd just tie me down. But I wanted them to know I wasn't happy. I do know how to show my ass in a hospital. In more ways than one." "You've made it a fine art, Mulder," I agreed. He was proud of the fact so he didn't mind my comment. In fact I got a smile out of him with it. "Last night they told me if I didn't start eating they'd force feed me. I guess they planned on giving me one more chance because they brought my tray this morning. When they left, I broke the juice glass. I guess somebody wasn't minding the store," he nodded to the light fixture over head. "I did this." He lifted the gauze on his neck and I gasped. I knew it had been a threat, not a real suicide attempt, but he had come dangerously close to really killing himself. They had repaired the gash well; it was no longer oozing blood. I changed the soiled bandage while he finished his story. "I guess somebody woke up and saw what I was doing. Next thing I know there was a room full of people. Then HE came in...took one look and brought you back to me." I did get a real smile, then. He touched my face tenderly and I kissed his hand. "It's working pretty good," I whispered, feeling the warmth of the transplanted limb in his fingertips on my face. "It's weak, I'm pretty lopsided here," I nodded, acknowledging the fact his new arm lacked the muscle tone of his other appendage. I drew back the covers to check out his legs. He obliged me by wiggling his toes. "I just have to do that sometimes," he admitted ruefully. "Just watch them move. Although I gotta tell you, I never realized how ugly my feet were." I shook my head with a laugh. Ugly they might be, they were a miracle. "They'll do." He nodded in agreement, his eyes bright. ============ Chapter 13 ============ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Late June/Mid August Unknown location <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> The man was true to his word. We were "taken care of," not harmed. But a prison, is a prison, is a prison. The bars were there, we were being kept against our will. We could not escape. He would not let us go -- not as long as Mulder's body produced bone marrow, not as long as he was alive. So what did we do, with no chance of ever leaving this prison? We went on living. Mulder worked hard, trying to gain control of his new parts, to learn to walk again. He jokingly suggested, we should have waited for a more "in shape" clone. His arm, aside from the fine motor skills, was gaining strength and he was beginning to use it unconsciously. His new legs, however, could not support his weight and he had to struggle to train them to function. I watched him, holding tightly to the bars, his right arm taking most of his weight, but the left, doing none too badly, considering. "Your dragging them. Lift them, " I called out. He raised his head, sweat flinging from his sweat-soaked hair, and gave me the evil eye. He just couldn't seem to get the flex motion of a normal stride. In disgust, he lowered himself to the mat, his lower lip protruding in anger. I squatted beside him, offering a towel, which he took without a word and slung around his neck. "It's gotta go faster..." he muttered, as much to himself as to me. "It will, "I whispered into his ear. "We've got time." He nodded in agreement and offered me a wry grin. "Better than when I didn't have a leg to stand on." I gave him a warning glance. " No more, Mulder." He took my hand to help get back in his chair. I knew he wasn't going to heed my warning. The wicked gleam in his eye told me as much. "Hey, Scully," he grinned wheeling over to me. I backed away, "I don't want to hear it, Mulder." He followed me relentlessly. "We won't be moving to Vegas, when we get outta here." My pace quickened. "I'm not listening to you." My hands went to my ears and I hummed a tune loudly, trying to drown him out. "Yeah, guess the transplants ruined my career plans for becoming a one-armed bandit." "I warned you Mulder," I spat, hurrying away. He was getting too damned fast in that chair. He caught up with me at the showers. "Hey, Scully." I gave him my sternest look, which he ignored. "Mulder, just get your shower and get changed. I'll meet you at the pool." My words came in a rush as I sprinted through the swinging door. "If they'd done my eyes," he shouted after me, his voice echoing off the tiled walls, "I could be singing 'Tears of a Clone.'" "That's lame, Mulder." I chuckled to myself, dressing for our swim. I grabbed a towel and was heading out when I heard the women talking. I didn't know them. I wouldn't have even paid attention to their conversation if I hadn't overheard Mulder's name being mentioned. "...Yeah and they said she took the clone." I stood still, straining to hear more. "For what?" another female's voice questioned. "I heard she buried it -- as him, her son. It only had the one arm, no legs. Nobody would know it wasn't him." "How sick." I stumbled away, my mind reeling. Mulder was officially dead. Nobody would miss him. Nobody would come looking for him. Or us. He was of course, already in the pool, skimming through the water, doing laps. I moved to the side and stood there lost in thought. At some point he noticed me and stopped. "Scully?" I heard him call and I blindly searched for him through my worried haze. He was right below me and saw my face. Mulder had become an expert at reading me. "Scully?" He pulled himself up to sit on the side and grabbed my hand. I finally noticed him and sank down beside him, my legs dangling in the warm water. I felt his hand on my cheek and turned to face him. "Scully, what's wrong?" he asked panic-stricken. "You're dead, Mulder," I whispered, then proceeded to relate my overheard conversation. "Do you think they told my mother I'm dead?" He put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close, "I don't know, Scully," he murmured, his voice tinged with sorrow. "She's got to be so worried. If you're dead and I haven't gotten hold of her, I know she must think I'm dead, too." My voice broke as I took my logic the next step further." This proves he's never going to let us go." "I know." The worst part of our incarceration, was that we were forced into realizing, Mulder was no more than a lab rat to our captors. They were constantly taking something out of him or from him -- bone marrow, blood, skin cell scrapings, even semen. It devastated him to be treated as a specimen and it pained me to watch his hurt. Days seemed to run together and time really had no meaning except in its passing. We kept busy, but it all soon became a blur. The one thing I do remember from those weeks were our conversations. We did have some very interesting talks. "Mulder?" "Hmmm?" he was almost asleep, his arms and legs wrapped around me. "Ever wonder if all this is part of a plan?" "I know it is, the black-lunged, son of a..." "No, I mean God's plan. I mean I don't think we'd ever have gotten together --not like we are now, if you hadn't gotten hurt." "So it was God's plan to make me into third base, so we could get together. Nice plan." He was silent for a while, considering my question. "Maybe it was for me to learn a lesson. You know, to suffer to learn from my sins." "What were your sins, Mulder?" I thought I knew what was coming. I knew Mulder wore his guilt over his sister's abduction like a shroud. He surprised me. "Pride," he replied softly. "My biggest sin was pride." I raised up on my elbow, straining to read his expression in the darkness. "Pride? How so?" I doubted the reasoning of his answer. In most ways, Fox Mulder was one of the most insecure people I'd met. His tortured childhood had left him doubting his worth throughout his life. Pride. I didn't think so. "I thought I didn't need anybody," he explained, "and I always knew what everyone else needed. If the world would see life my way, then everything would be perfect. You don't get egos much bigger than that, Scully." He did have a point. "And what happened to you was your penance?" "Well, pride kind of goes out the window when you have to have somebody hold you up so you can take a crap. I needed somebody for everything I did. And I found out it didn't kill me to need somebody." The night was quiet once more as we both mulled over what had been said. He was the one that spoke first to break the silence. "Maybe you're right, it was God's plan to get us together." "Maybe?" By late July, Mulder had gained enough strength and control to be able to get around with the aid of a walker. His mobility did cause a problem, because being upright caused his back injury, lying dormant these many months, to flare up again. Heat and massage did help, but the more active he became, the worse the pain got. His new doctor was the Smoking Man's lap dog and his skills, unlike Joe Williams', ran exclusively to research. Why did they care if walking was becoming unbearable? They could still get what they wanted from him if he never left his bed. My frustration was growing. He pushed himself so hard, he felt he had to be ready if we ever got the chance to escape. But once again, his body had turned against him. By mid August, each step was unadulterated agony. My nerves had frayed to the point of snapping and my demands for treatment for him were loud and constant. The staff stayed away. Any help he got came from me. Until that one day, when help finally came. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> August 18th Location unknown <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> I watched Mulder as he shuffled across the floor to the bathroom. He tried to hide his pain, but it was there, so easily read in his face. He started to go inside, but turned at hearing me move angrily to the door. "Where are you going?" His tone was sharp with worry. "I have to do something!" My frustration came out in tears. Mulder stopped and hobbled over to me and seeing his painful approach, made me cry all the harder. "I'm just going to go talk to him. Maybe he'll listen. Please, I have to do something!" I repeated, almost in hysterics. Mulder wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. He murmured, soft words of comfort. My sobs were playing out when the knock at the door came. It opened before we had a chance to speak. His embrace tightened and I was stunned silent when our visitors came into the room. It was Teena Mulder, with the Lone Gunmen in tow. ============ Chapter 14 ============ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> August 18th Location Unknown <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Tina Mulder had a way of entering a room like she owned it -- which knowing Mulder history, she just might have. "Well, Miss Scully," she proclaimed, in her most queenly of tones, "I guess your complaining worked. Spender wants Mulder to see my personal physician about his back." She motioned to Langly and Frohike to bring in the stretcher they had left in the hall. The two men, clad in overalls that claimed they worked for L. G. Ambulance Service, quickly obeyed. Byers, wearing a nondescript white lab coat helped Mulder to settle down on the rolling bed. My partner and I both were stunned into submission. We did as we were told without a word. Smoking Man's lap dog doctor hurried into the room to see what the commotion was about, but he, too, was silenced by Tina's presence. "Oh, Mrs. Mulder, what are you doing back here?" he questioned meekly, only to regret his hastily-spoken words. "Jimmy, go back to your lab" she commanded and Dr. Burrell immediately scurried out of the room. Mulder's grin was the widest I'd ever seen it, until his mother cast him a stern glance. "You're sick," she hissed softly. "Lie down." Her son composed his face, without a sound, and lay his head back on the pillow. "You may accompany us, Miss Scully,'' she announced and led the procession out the door. I was amazed that the entire staff of C.G.B. Spender facility parted to let us by. We walked unaccosted into an elevator and rode it silently up. The metal doors finally opened and we smoothly walked through a foyer to freedom. The sun was blinding and I breathed deep my first breath of unfiltered air in six months. I looked around at the beautiful summer day in disbelief. It had all happened too quickly. "We need to hurry, Dana," Tina Mulder whispered, softly grabbing my arm to move me over to the waiting ambulance, where the two clean-shaven gunmen were loading Mulder. Byers took my arm and helped me inside and Tina stood in the doorway, finally allowing herself the grin that was so like her son's. She stared at us all and I saw a mist of tears in her eyes. "You need to be going." Her voice was hoarse as she struggled with her emotions. Mulder pushed himself up to sit at hearing her words, a puzzled frown on his face. "Mom, you're not coming with us?" he asked, stretching out his hand to her. Byers assisted her inside and she leaned over her son, shaking her head in answer to his surprised question. Mulder grabbed her arm. "You have to," he said, panic in his voice. She placed a hand on his cheek and sadly shook her head again. "Fox, I have to stay. It's the only way to make sure you'll have enough time. Hey, I can handle Spender. I have for over thirty years. He only bested me that one time, Fox. Don't worry." Mulder started to argue once more, but seeing the woman's determined expression, decided against it. He turned his head, struggling against his tears. I moved to comfort him, but her hand touched his head first, so I stepped aside and she sat down next to her son. Her embrace was stiff at first, but she quickly melted into his arms, when he returned her hug. "I love you, Fox," she whispered, brushing his hair away from his forehead. "It was you that first day," he cried, realizing who had comforted him that day of his surgery, when he had been alone. Mrs. Mulder nodded, then slowly stood. She squared her shoulders after leaving the van and walked back to the building without a backward glance. Byers climbed in back with us, and an awkward smile played across his lips. The front doors slammed shut and Langly pulled away, like a bat out of hell. I glanced down at Mulder and he gave a weak smile through his tears. We were free. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> August 18th, dusk Outskirts of Atlanta, GA <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Frohike made his way to the back clumsily, swaying side to side with the movement caused by Langly's erratic lane changes. He sat on the jump seat, pulling papers from his knapsack as he spoke "Looking good, big man," he offered, motioning to Mulder's new limbs. Mulder, still grieving over his mother's departure, gave him a solemn nod of thanks. "Okay," Frohike announced, back to business at once. " Let's do this fast. We're about...how far from the airport?" he yelled up to Langly. "In this traffic, ETA 20 minutes," was the grumbled answer. "I'll talk fast, " he grinned, raising a flirtatious brow my way. "Two tickets, first class from the queen. The only way the lady flies." Mulder flinched at the mention of his mother, but Frohike continued without noticing. He was on a roll. "Stopover in LA, twenty minutes for refueling, then you're on your way to Hawaii. Passports, license, birth certificates, credit cards, check book." "What is all this?" I asked taking the pile of documents he was handing me, one by one. I tried to make them out in the dim light. "They're your new identity," he replied, grinning with pride. "What?" Mulder asked softly. "Best money can buy," Frohike bragged. "Pretty lady, you now are Amy Morgan, nee Oxley. We were lucky with you. Amy Oxley was born February 23, 1964 in Appalachia, Virginia. She died the next day. So you get to keep your birthday my Pisces lovely." "Thank you," I replied, too stunned to understand. "Mulder, sorry but the best we could do for you is 1960, so you gained a year." "Thanks," Mulder muttered, taking his own papers to scrutinize by the fading sun. "Well, we did get October at least, missed yours by a day -- the 14th. New name is Dave Morgan. You and Amy married in Loveland, Colorado. May 27, 1991. You're childless of course and Dave has just sold his home security firm in Houston for a tidy sum. You're taking a two week vacation before you move into your new home on the beach in La Paz, Me-hee-co. The lady has such style." Frohike said in admiration. "Where did these come from? We're supposed to use these?" Too much had gone on in too short of time. My brain was already suffering jet lag before we'd even boarded our flight. Mulder put a hand on my arm in encouragement. "They're from my Mom. It's a new start. We were dead remember, Dana? It's so the Smoking Man won't find us." He spoke slowly as though talking to a child, but I guess it was what I needed, because my nerves finally calmed and the light finally came on. All these papers and cards were us. And Mulder called me Dana. "I'm Amy, remember?" I said softly with a sour smile. I was scared. "She's here." Langly called and I looked out the side window to check out who he had spotted. We were at the airport parking lot. When we pulled into a space, I saw with delight that Tina Mulder had at least one more trick up her sleeve and this particular trick was for me. A woman stood surrounded by an enormous set of matching luggage. Langly barely had time to stop the ambulance before I had the door open and was leaping out. The woman was my mother. "Mom," I cried rushing into her arms. I don't know which of us shook harder with our tears, but we held each other tight, rocking back in forth in time. "Momma," I breathed into her dark curly hair. She pulled back and held my face in both her hands, looking at me. I reached up a hand to wipe at the tears, streaming down her cheeks, just as she fussed with my own. Byers had helped Mulder from the van and the men all stood a respectful distance away, watching our tearful reunion. I glanced around at all of them, my eyes shining, and smiled at seeing each of our rescuers had tears in their eyes. All three turned their head in unison, to swipe at their running eyes. I laughed. "Ohh, Fox you look wonderful," Mom cried, letting me go to give my partner a much-needed hug. Mulder had none of the Gunmen's qualms over his own tears as he returned my mother's heart-felt embrace. "Dana, I tried to get what I thought you'd want," she explained, indicating the luggage." And Fox, Your Mom had no idea what size you wore, so I hope they fit." "They're fine," Mulder reassured her, not really wanting to let her go. It was fine. I didn't mind sharing her. The Gunmen had gotten a skycap to help with the luggage, and after loading it and ourselves onto the cart, we all headed to the terminal. Unfortunately, our visit was to be brief. We had less than fifteen minutes to make our flight. I burst into tears as they called us to board and gave my mother one final hug --long, because I didn't know when the next one would be. It was a quick, tearful goodbye and my partner and I boarded the plane, leaving Fox Mulder and Dana Scully behind. ============ Chapter 15 ============ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> August, One year later On a private beach La Paz, Mexico <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Sometimes, he can still look like a little boy to me. I watch him running through the surf with Elvis, his Lab, and he plays as if he's ten, after all he's been through. And they say we women are resilient. He looks so good, so healthy, so fit. My lecherous side arises as I watch the tall, tanned, lithely muscular man who is mine, and I want to tackle him, rape him right there on the beach. I just might do that -- later -- after I finish my tea. I sit beneath my umbrella, as always watchful of this torrid subequatorial sun. It's a bitch being Irish. I'm sure I've complained of that here somewhere in this journal. My easily-freckled skin has always been a pet peeve. It's been a year of rest, of healing, of getting used to the wonderful burden of being filthy rich. It's been a year of sadness, too. Teena Mulder was dead within a week of our rescue. She didn't realize you can't call the devil out to play and expect him to behave. I know a few others who have made the same mistake. We knew he wasn't playing -- maybe that's how we survived. I don't know. I try not to think much any more. I'm on an extended vacation. We were still in Hawaii when we were faxed the obituary. She died in the house at Chilmark. The autopsy was inconclusive as to cause of death. The body, like the house, was burned to ashes. Mulder took it well, becoming an orphan. I think he'd known it would happen when they said their good-byes. I think she knew it, too. She saved one child from the devil. I like to think she died happy. She left us very well-provided for. Beneath her regal, calm exterior, Teena Mulder had a criminally devious mind. Two months before her death, she had transferred millions into a bogus corporation, L.G. Inc. Hence, the money for us, for the escape. Her will probably caused C.G.B.Spender to have a stroke. I hope so. She left her entire fortune, being both her children were gone, to the Lone Gunmen, Incorporated. The battle rages on for truth, justice and the paranoid way. I have yet to see my mother again, but our fabulously wealthy friends, the afore mentioned Gunmen, are working on it. For now, I'll have to be content with the weekly phone calls our buddies arrange. Mom loves the cloak and dagger style that we use to communicate. God, I miss her. For the most part, though, it's been a very good year -- a wonderful start to a new millennium, one of the best years of my life. I've found it hard to believe that I've adjusted to marriage so easily. Dana Scully, overachieving career woman, a happy homemaker...and soon-to-be mother. Mulder, excuse me, Dave and I are adopting a one-year-old girl, from an orphanage in La Paz. She's gorgeous, so sweet, so cuddly...I can't wait. Mulder can't either. He's ready, more than ready, for fatherhood. Losing so much helped him to find himself. All the love he kept inside all those lonely years has poured out and I have been the happy recipient. And now Kristina will have some of it too. Mulder had surgery on his back -- they fused a couple of disks six months ago. Like always, he healed miraculously fast, amazing the doctor. I can't believe I had never questioned his recuperative abilities before the treatments. I guess I probably wouldn't have believed the reasons, then. Today, he is the picture of health. Lately, he's been a little restless. I think getting Kristina will help him deal with his restlessness -- I pray. I'm just not ready to pick up the gauntlet again. I know there are still lies and treachery and deceit out there -- truths are still waiting to be found. But not now, not yet, not by me -- or my partner. Maybe someday we'll return to the fight -- someday, but not today. THE END!!!!!!!!!!!!