Title: The Reek of Purity (1 of 13) Disclaimer: The X-files belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions, not me. I'm only borrowing the characters for now. I'll put them back when I'm done. Rating: PG Category: SA, Keywords: Muldertorture, Mulderangst, Scullyangst, Character death (*but trust me on this one*) Spoilers: Thru 7th Season; Archive: Sure, especially Spookys! Feedback: Love it! Love it! E-mail me!! I WRITE FASTER for e-mail! Discussion List: Yes!!! Yes!!! Summary: Mulder didn't feel the first gunshot but he felt the second one. A sharp, breathless agony took him in the chest and he found himself gasping on the pavement. Overhead he heard the explosions of gunfire, then saw a terrified Scully pulling at his clothing.... Author's Note: This was originally written a while ago, and at the time I promised a sequel, but (ahem) didn't write it. Well, now I'm working on the sequel so I thought I'd repost the original story first, a chapter a day. Then I'll post the sequel: Dark Time as a WIP, each chapter will go up Sunday at 9 p.m. PST (you know the timeslot!) And, as always, FEEDBACK FEEDBACK FEEDBACK! The Reek of Purity "Conquistador, your stallion stands In need of Company. And like some angel's haloed brow, You reek of purity..." (Conquistador by Procul Harum) Mulder didn't feel the first gunshot but he felt the second one. A sharp, breathless agony took him in the chest and he found himself gasping on the pavement. Overhead he heard the explosions of gunfire, then saw a terrified Scully pulling at his clothing. "Scu...," he struggled but she cut him off. "Shut up, Mulder. Don't talk and don't move. Damn it, Harrison! I said get the ambulance NOW!" He watched her face struggle for calm as she removed his shirt and surveyed what was left of his chest. Then she yanked off her jacket and wadded it into a ball, jamming it against him. He struggled to breathe but could feel the darkness pressing against him, his heart beating louder in his ears. Scully was talking to him quietly. "The paramedics are on their way, Mulder. They'll be here soon and you'll get a nice, long government-paid vacation, leaving me with all the paperwork as usual.." Scully cast an anxious glance into the crowd of milling agents. A man ducked through the crowd and crouched down next to Scully. Harrison. Yeah, that was Harrison. He looked anguished. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully, but they got into a traffic accident on the way. Some idiot ran the light and broadsided them. Another ambulance has been dispatched and is on the way." Mulder wanted to laugh at the look of frustration on Scully's face, but knew it would only upset her more. She was still leaning against the wad of material that had been a new wool blazer that morning. Blue, he recalled, it used to be blue. It wasn't any more. No time left. She knew it. He knew it. That ambulance wasn't going to make it in time; there was too much blood. He tried to draw a breath, to tell her goodbye but was surprised to find that he couldn't. The world was fading and he could hear the noise going with it. No, there was one sound he could hear. A woman's voice, very loud. Calling him. I'm so sorry, Scully....He felt the soft darkness surround him. Dana Scully continued the CPR on Mulder's ruined chest long after she knew it was useless. The paramedics still hadn't arrived. A traffic accident. A DAMNED traffic accident and Mulder dying. Mulder... Scully's eyes swept through the gathered crowd of staring faces, then back to Mulder. He was quiet and still, in a widening pool of blood, his breath making wet, gurgling noises. She choked back a sob and kept working. A man's gentle face swam into her view. He wore a clerical collar and knelt down beside the agents. "May I pray for him?" the minister asked hesitantly. Scully gave him a brief smile and nodded, then went back to her work. The minister laid a hand on Mulder's pale forehead and she could hear faint murmurs of sound. Mulder floated in the darkness for an eternal moment. It was peaceful here, relaxing. He gradually became aware of a voice, growing louder. <> What am I? Mulder puzzled to himself. Is he talking about me? The darkness was no longer soft and welcoming, but took on an icy edge. He could feel the intensity of a powerful regard, examining and weighing his very soul. And finding it less than the dust on the ground. <> Mulder wanted to shrink away from that presence, against whose enormity he felt small and insignificant. Now he understood what an ant must feel under a threatening boot. He searched for a place to hide, but there was none. He began to grope through his long memory for something, some incantation or prayer that would hide him from this entity. It laughed, and the pressure of it pushed against his soul, flowing into the empty spaces, filling his awareness until he felt he was drowning in it. The darkness was overwhelming and suffocating, driving every bit of warmth and comfort away before its flood. Mulder shivered, helpless in the blackness against it. Scully kept working. Mulder was still, and she hadn't heard any breath sounds from him, aside from the exhalations of the air she forced into his lungs. The minister was still praying, eyes closed and face still. She sat back on her haunches, logic slowly beginning to awaken. She felt at Mulder's neck for a pulse and found his skin cool to the touch, and utterly still. She took a ragged breath and resisted the impulse to clutch at her abdomen in grief. This wasn't the place or the time. She ran a bloody hand over Mulder's cooling cheek. She'd always suspected it would end this way. He was always going off somewhere and leaving her behind, alone. "Agent Scully?" An apologetic voice came from behind her. "The paramedics are here, and so is A.D. Skinner." She moved aside as Skinner came to a stop next to her. He squatted down beside her and quietly surveyed Mulder's body. "What happened?" His voice was even, with a gentle undercurrent. Scully gulped and began in a trembling voice. "Per our instructions, Mulder began to negotiate with the suspect, Aaron Sanderson. He began to gain the man's trust. Finally, Sanderson agreed to exchange his six hostages for just one. Mulder. But...but..." She closed her burning eyes and wrapped her arms tight against her chest. "Sanderson didn't want anybody wearing any weapons or listening devices. He insisted that Mulder make the exchange without a vest, leave his jacket and weapon behind. We argued with him but Mulder insisted." She looked at Mulder's prone body, unchecked tears rolling down her cheeks. "Mulder got ten feet before Sanderson opened fire. He..he...Mulder took two rounds point blank in the chest before our fire brought Sanderson down. The hostages were already dead." Scully found a handkerchief in front of her nose. She took it gratefully, surprised to find that the cloth came away bloody. Oh yes, Mulder's arterial blood had spurted..."The paramedics were delayed.." Her voice gave up altogether as she buried her face in the cloth handkerchief. "I heard," Skinner said grimly. "Dana, they want to take Muilder's body, now. We have to leave him to them." The paramedic gave Scully a brief sympathetic look and approached Mulder, then knelt beside him, checking vitals. Scully could have told him what the vitals would be. She knew. He was dead. The job had finally killed him. And now she was alone. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + CHAPTER 2 Scully numbly watched the paramedic kneel beside Mulder's body and begin to check for signs of life. Skinner had quietly draped his coat around her shoulders and now sat with her. He didn't try to say anything, for which she was grateful. Platitudes would only collapsed her fragile control in the face of her agony of loss and anguish. One word, just one word of sympathy and she was lost. She felt his arm drape over her shoulders. Odd that this undemonstrative man should know the right gesture at such a time. She shivered and huddled into the coat, eyes closed and brimming. She dimly heard the minister's soft voice repeating the Our Father, or the Lord's Prayer as she supposed Protestants called it. Prayer. She could pray for Mulder, for his soul wherever it was now. Not purgatory, she thought. Such a good and heroic man deserved immediate welcome into heaven, and when her turn came if Mulder wasn't there to meet her she'd have a word or two to say to St. Peter. Oh Mulder....She broke down and began sobbing into Skinner's shoulder. Mulder huddled against the darkness, trying frantically to hide from the clutching void that sought him. He could feel it beginning to pull, to twist at his being and suddenly knew that there were worse things in eternity than death. Just as he felt the emptiness reaching deep inside him, it faltered. For a breath it paused and Mulder held still lest he attract its notice again. Reluctantly and still trailing icy fingers of lifelessness, the entity withdrew, slowly, slowly. Mulder trembled with relief and terror, but he could feel a brightness taking shape at the edge of his awareness, pushing the cold blackness away. The light was as warm and welcoming as the black had been terrifying. "Mulder," a harmony of voices spoke to him. Mulder absorbed the impact of its presence and was overwhelmed. He felt...loved. Accepted. Known. "You know me?" Mulder asked in awe. "Yes. I know you very well. You can't stay here, you're not done yet." "What do you mean? Am I dead? What are you? God? An angel?" Mulder reflected that this was probably the first time in his life that he didn't have a single wise-crack to deflect his nervousness. This being was so much greater than anything he had ever imagined. He could sense centuries of love and wisdom as well as an intellect that sank his own mind to the level of an insect. "I am what I am. You must not stay here, you are needed. Terrible things will happen if you die now. And the Truth must be revealed to you." "What truth? What do you mean I'm needed? Needed for what? And what was that...that dark thing?" "Only you can discover these things. Take the blinders from your eyes and see what is there, in front of you. Act on it or you will lose yourself. And if you are lost, so are we all. Be whole." The glow intensified, surrounding and permeating him. For an eternal instant Mulder felt the weight of shame and guilt lessen and then drop away, leaving him weightless and free of sorrow for the first time since he was twelve. A bolt of fierce joy stabbed through him followed by a flood of light. Mulder's body was awash in fire, golden flames licking through his skin into his bones and down his nerves. The energy coursed through him and centered in the middle of his chest, where it became a burning agony. He gasped for air, then drew another breath. He felt a deep, painful thudding in the middle of his breast that he knew hadn't been there a moment before. He heard a woman sobbing in anguish. Scully? Then a voice next to him yelled aloud, "Agent Scully! I have a pulse!" Mulder struggled to open his eyes and looked up. A stranger's face smiled down at him, a man dressed in a clerical collar with clear blue eyes and silver-blonde hair. "Agent Mulder, praise God! Agent Scully! He's alive!" the man said. Another man, in a paramedic uniform began examining Mulder but was pushed aside by a pair of small hands. Mulder looked up into a tired pair of blue eyes. Scully's face was blood-streaked and crossed with tear-tracks. She bent over him, one hand caressing his cheek and the other feeling for a pulse. She fairly glowed with joy. "You're alive..." Mulder looked up in confusion. "I...think I was dead for a while, but I'm not now. I feel fine now. Really. Can't I get up now?" Skinner came into view and looked down at Mulder, then an uncharacteristic broad grin broke across his face. He quickly stifled it. "Agent Mulder, don't take this wrong, but you were dead. You'd better lie still and let Agent Scully examine you." Scully turned as the paramedic grabbed her shoulder. He silently pointed to Mulder's chest, now bared of clothing and the wadded jacket. "He was shot. Where's the wound...?" Scully pulled the remnants of Mulder's shirt aside and ran her hands across his smooth chest. There was blood and grime, but not so much as a cut. "He took two bullets. I could see into his chest cavity...What happened?" Scully sat, dumbfounded, and stared at Mulder's body. She gingerly rolled him over, checking his back carefully. "No exit wounds. Nothing. But there's blood. The blood is still here..." "Scully, can I get up now? I feel...really good, as a matter of fact." Mulder sat up carefully and looked around, his eyes focusing on the minister. "You. You've been here the whole time, haven't you? You did this." Mulder looked the man over. Strange, usually he got feelings about people but this man was unreadable. "Yes, I was praying for you. It was too much to hope that God could heal such a wound, but I had faith that nothing was beyond his power." "You healed him?" Scully leaned over Mulder's body, still examining him for wounds, any wound. "How can that be?" "I am a man of God, and only his servant. But God heals where he wills. And apparently God willed it in this instance." The minister made a dismissive motion. "I was only the instrument." Mulder tried to get up but Scully pushed him back. "Oh no, Mulder. Just ten minutes ago, you were dead. You're going nowhere but to the hospital for a thorough examination and that's final!" He began to protest, then saw A.D. Skinner frown menacingly. Mulder wilted back against the gurney he'd just been loaded onto. Then he saw the blonde man starting to fade into the crowd. "Hey! Wait! I don't even know your name!!" The man paused and then came over to the gurney. "My name is Charles Hayworth, pastor of the New Enlightenment Church." "I think I've seen it," Mulder said. "Thanks for healing me." "Oh, don't thank me. God did it, for his own reasons. But I'd like to invite you to join us for church any time. We'll be having our regular Sunday services tomorrow at ten a.m." Hayworth gave Mulder a warm smile and patted him on the arm, then walked back into the crowd. "I might. I just might," Mulder said quietly as he watched the man go. The ambulance ride was quiet. Scully didn't talk because she was giving Mulder the most thorough medical checkup of his life. The paramedic, equally puzzled, only helped her. "From the quantity of blood on the pavement, I'd have said that he had no chance..." the paramedic repeated again. Scully nodded. "You're sure you don't have any pain anywhere, Mulder?" "For the twentieth time, Scully, I feel great. Don't you see? This was a miracle. A good, old-fashioned miracle!" Mulder grinned at her look of consternation. "Come on, Scully. You go to church. I'm sure you were raised on stories of miraculous healings; the acts of Jesus, the saints." "Yes, I know the stories. I just never expected to witness it happening in front of me..." Scully trailed off. "You mean you never expected to see it happening to an unbeliever like me, huh? The man who can believe in little green men, but is a confirmed atheist." "Mulder, I never said that." "No, but you implied it. And who's to say that God limits miracles only to Catholics or to Christians in general?" "Mulder," Scully paused and filled her eyes with this man. This living man. "I can't explain why you're alive now. You were dead, and I'd have signed your death certificate attesting to it. But something happened today and now you aren't even wounded. I'm overjoyed, but worried because I don't understand it and I don't trust things I can't understand." She shook her head and looked at him doubtfully. "Maybe the whole incident was some kind of...kind of mass hallucination. We all believed that you were shot, but you actually weren't. When Sanderson died the effect did as well." Mulder just looked at her affectionately. "Scully, I remember the pain of those wounds very clearly. I got shot and it hurt like hell. And your hallucination theory doesn't explain the pool of blood I left behind or what happened to your jacket." Mulder gestured toward the sodden, bloodstained rag that had wound up in a corner of the ambulance. "Besides, something...strange...happened to me while I was gone." "What?" Scully moved her examination from his chest to his skull, looking for head wounds. "I feel different, and I met someone there. Somebody I can't...really..describe. Not in words, anyway. I..." Mulder stopped and frowned. "I just don't have the words to tell about it, but I think I met God." + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Chapter 3 Skinner waited patiently until Scully had finished conferring with Mulder's doctor. He hadn't said more than two words to her since she'd supervised Mulder's arrival and admittance to the hospital. He didn't know what had happened on that ambulance, but it was enough to quench Scully's joyful glow and replace it with burning worry. He caught sight of her as she strode out into the waiting room towards him. Her lips were pursed and she looked angry and worried. "Agent Scully, what can you tell me?" Skinner asked anxiously. "He's perfectly healthy. Nothing broken, nothing shows up on x-rays or any other kind of objective test we can come up with. He doesn't have so much as a hangnail." Scully shifted her weight and glanced back toward Mulder's room with a frown. "Well, isn't that good news? When I arrived on the scene you were mourning his death." Skinner eyed his agent. Scully looked up at him and sighed. "I'm glad Mulder's alive, but I wish I knew how it happened. He shouldn't be breathing now, much less in perfect health. It's impossible." "According to Mulder it was a miracle." "Mulder is in the grip of a strange euphoria; he doesn't sound like himself. That worries me too." Scully gnawed at a fingernail, then stopped herself. "For as long as I've known him, Mulder has distrusted religion in all its forms. He is, if not an atheist, at least a fervent agnostic. The one thing Mulder hasn't ever been able to bring himself to believe in is a God. And he just told me in the ambulance that he thought he'd seen God, that he'd been healed by divine intervention. He seems convinced of that." "From where I'm standing, that seems to be the most plausible explanation. Unless you have another theory?" Skinner had never seen Scully look this nervous. She started to speak, then stopped. When she began again she was choosing her words carefully. "Sir, undoubtedly something remarkable happened today and I can't explain it. Mulder will be staying at the hospital tonight for observation, hopefully to confirm that he isn't suffering from any residual effects from his ordeal today. Beyond that, I can't say." Skinner was silent a moment, then realized that she wouldn't volunteer any more information. "All right. Just let me know when he returns to work and keep me apprised on his condition." Skinner picked his coat up off the couch and slung it on. "And Scully, if you need me for anything please feel free to call on me." "I will, sir. Thank you." Scully watched him go, biting her lip. Skinner didn't know about all the events that had led to her discovering Mulder at the DOD hospital after his 'brain surgery' at the hands of the consortium. She'd never told Skinner about Albert Hosteen's visits to her and his insistence that Mulder was special, that his life had to be preserved "for the sake of us all". She hadn't mentioned that part to Mulder either. He only knew that Albert had miraculously appeared to her, wanting to help. She felt so confused by all this, more troubled than she could remember being for a long time. She stopped at the nurse's station and left word of where she'd be, then took the elevator down to the hospital chapel. The room was deserted and felt peaceful. Scully sat down and tried to compose her thoughts. She didn't know why all of this upset her so. Mulder cheating death was a regular occurrence and she ought to be overjoyed that he'd survived. Well, she was happy of course. But something just felt wrong about it. Mulder was happy. In the ambulance he'd looked like a man released from prison, happy, light. The Mulder she'd known was basically a somber man who carried his burdens by joking about them. This Mulder...was different. She clasped her hands together, fighting to keep the unease from overwhelming her. And she couldn't pinpoint just what it was that bothered her. She simply had a feeling that Mulder was in terrible danger, but couldn't say from what direction. Mulder lay back in his hospital bed. He'd turned down the sleeping pill they'd offered. He wanted to stay awake for a while and think things over. That being who'd brought him back to life had told him to look at what was in front of him and act on it. He didn't understand why his life might be important to others, but evidently he was destined to find the Truth, or some truth anyway. It was time to get started, Mulder was convinced. So, what was it that was staring him in the face? Of course. Mulder grinned into the darkness. He'd been avoiding this issue for years. At Oxford he'd studiously avoided prayers and chapel, and since joining the FBI Sunday mornings were for the newspaper and strong coffee. But it seemed that if Fox Mulder didn't believe in God, nevertheless God certainly believed in Fox Mulder. God existed. God was real. Maybe some justice did exist in the world? And maybe, just maybe, it was all going to be all right after all. Comforted, as he hadn't been since early childhood, Fox Mulder closed his eyes and slept. Scully peeked into Mulder's room before she left. He was fast asleep, a contented smile on his face. She felt a jolt of love for him and a fierce protectiveness. She didn't know what danger he was in, but she'd watch over him anyway. And just let him try to ditch her! Scully's sleep that night was broken by upsetting dreams that she couldn't remember in the morning. Unrefreshed, she decided to give up trying to sleep and just get up. The clock said six a.m. She'd check on Mulder. Chances were he'd had a restful night and was still sleeping, but she had a feeling.... The nurse at the hospital informed her that Mr. Mulder had checked himself out at five that morning. Oh no, all his tests had come back normal. Scully put the phone down, then dialed Mulder's apartment. No answer. She tried the cellphone. No answer. She grabbed her keys and headed for Mulder's apartment. Pounding on the door brought no response, so she used her key. The place was dark and quiet. A quick search found no Mulder and no evidence that he'd even come here after the hospital. No messages left in the usual places. It was six a.m. on a Sunday morning. Maybe he was out jogging? She sat down on his couch to wait for him. By eight o'clock she was worried. By nine she was frantic. And by eleven, she was debating whether or not she ought to call Skinner and put together a search team. At last she'd reached the end of her rope and was about to call Skinner when she heard a rattle at the door. In walked Mulder, clad in the jeans and t-shirt she'd brought to the hospital for him to wear home. His eyes lit up when he saw her. "Hey, Scully! To what do I owe the pleasure on this beautiful morning?" Scully gaped and debated punching his lights out. "Mulder where have you been? I was about to call Skinner and start a search for you!" Then she saw the small stack of pamphlets in his hand. Mulder gave her a rueful grin and put them down on the coffee table. "I went for a walk, then I went to church. I had a lot of thinking to do." Scully blinked and picked up the top pamphlet. The title read 'The Universe is a Friendly Place if You're Friendly First.' "You want some coffee?" Without waiting for an answer, Mulder went into the kitchen and she heard the sound of water running. She opened the pamphlet and began to read. Mulder soon returned with two mugs of coffee to find Scully on the couch, busily studying the pamphlets. "So, what do you think?" he asked as he set down her coffee. "I...uh..." she looked at him uncomfortably. "You hate it," Mulder said bluntly. "I expected you to. This church's theology doesn't follow the classic lines of the Judeo-Christian ethic." "You could say that," Scully said non-commitally. "Mulder, the sentiments expressed here are...uh...admirable but they're gross simplifications. The universe is a friendly place? Not when there are hosts of mutants out there waiting to kill you!" "Come on, Scully. You have to admit that for most people it is a friendly place, or at least it could be if we all lightened up." Scully put the pamphlet down. "I'm hearing this from Fox 'I-scan-my-apartment-twice-a-week- for-listening-devices' Mulder? This is all 'feel-good' drivel, without one ounce of genuine theology in it. There's no belief system here, just a bunch of California psychobabble!" Mulder took a sip of his coffee. "Scully, I didn't expect you to accept this. You come from your own background and feel comfortable with faith rituals that leave me cold. Can't you just accept that I finally have found a niche where I feel comfortable?" "You really enjoyed the services?" "I did. I met some wonderful people and felt..touched...by spirituality in a way I have never experienced. Something changed in me yesterday, Scully." "I've been wanting to ask you more about that," she said carefully, watching Mulder closely. "What exactly did happen?" Mulder described the entire near-death experience, including the cold, attacking darkness and his rescue by the being of light. Scully peered into her coffee mug. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that you didn't just meet God. You met Satan too." "I met something and Someone. I don't know what that darkness was and the whole encounter is pretty blurry in my mind. Then the being of light came and drove it away, then healed me. As a result I feel as though years of pain and anger have been erased somehow. I feel new. I feel whole." Mulder's grin faded as he caught sight of Scully's face. "C'mon, Scully. Stop worrying. This is a good thing! You're the one who's been trying to get me to accept a spiritual dimension to the universe. I am. I have, finally." She gave him a reluctant smile. "I'm glad you feel that strongly about it. My faith has supported me through a lot and I'm happy for you if you can find that comfort too." Mulder looked at her shyly. "If you'd like to go to the services with me next week, I'd be happy to take you." Scully very much did not want to attend services at this church. But she could see the eagerness in his face and the longing for acceptance there. She nodded slowly. "All right. I'll be here at 9:30 on Sunday and we can go together. But aside from that, how are you feeling?" She moved in closer to feel his forehead. Mulder nimbly ducked away. "The doctor checked me out. I'm fine. No bullet holes or wounds. I'm not even suffering from the effects of blood loss, although I did lose a perfectly good suit. No, really, I'm fine. Scu-leee..." He whimpered as she pushed him back onto the couch and began timing his pulse. He grudgingly allowed her to take his temperature and reassure herself that he still had no holes in his body. Finally she sat back with a sigh. "Okay, I'm satisfied. I'm still very puzzled, but happy to see that you haven't picked up any bullet-holes since I saw you last. I'm starting to wonder if we shouldn't recommend you as a candidate for sainthood.." She smiled. Mulder grimaced. "No thanks. All those saints were celebate, weren't they? Nope. Not for me. So, how would you like to go to brunch? My treat." Monday Morning Spending the day with Mulder had allayed most of Scully's reservations about his new spirituality, but she still woke unrefreshed after a troubled sleep. She had a vague feeling that Mulder had featured in the dreams she couldn't recall. She broke a nail and ran her nylons at the same time When she stopped for gas on the way to work, she mused that this was not going to be a good day. She pulled the pump from the gas tank and was fastening on the cover when she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. Looking up she stared into the anxious eyes of Albert Hosteen. He stood, not ten feet away, looking at her with an expression of worry. "Albert?" she said and walked toward him as he faded out. "Albert! Are you here?" She looked around but he was gone. Troubled, she paid for the gas and got back into the car. Why would she see Albert Hosteen? Why now? Perhaps a figment of her imagination. Yes, that was it. She was worried about Mulder and this was her mind's way of communicating it. She wished she could believe that. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Chapter 4 Scully arrived at the office breathless and worried. Planning to discuss her vision with Mulder, she was startled to find the office empty. A call to Skinner's office confirmed that Mulder had decided to take the week off. "After what happened to him the other day, it seemed like a reasonable request," Skinner said. "Is there something wrong?" "No. No, nothing wrong. He just didn't discuss it with me, that's all. No, I'm fine. Worried? No, he can use a rest. It's time he took a vacation." Scully set down the office phone and stared at it for a moment. No, she wouldn't telephone Mulder. But why hadn't he told her that he was planning to take some time off? Why hadn't he said? She shifted restlessly in her chair for a bit more, then grabbed the phone again and dialed Mulder's number. She got the answering machine. A call to his cellphone drew voicemail. "Not again. Dammit Mulder, don't tell me you've ditched me!" she muttered, then decided to check her e-mail. At the top of the queue was a note from Mulder. To: DKScully@FBI.gov From: FWMulder@FBI.gov Re: I need a vacation Scully, Since the Sanderson case is closed we have some lag time. Reverend Hayworth has invited me to a weeklong retreat and I've decided to take him up on it. Skinner has cleared the time off, so I'll see you in a week! Mulder Scully stared at the screen, feeling her fingernails dig into the palm of her hand. Mulder was fine. He hadn't ditched her at all; he was just at some nice church camp, doing nice churchy things. Nice. Spiritual. Uplifting..... Albert Hosteen's face swam in front of her, the look of worry in his eyes. She blinked, and he disappeared. She picked up the phone again and called the Lone Gunmen. "I don't understand why you're so worried," Frohike commented as he booted up the computer in the dim little lair the Gunmen called home. "From the sound of it, the Rev saved Mulder's life." "Yes, Reverend Hayworth is very widely respected throughout the D.C. area," Byers added. "His church's drug abuse program is considered a model of its kind." "I just have a feeling. A very strong feeling that something is wrong. I want...I *need* to know where he is." Scully struggled to put her forebodings into words, but couldn't. It just didn't make sense. All she had was a vague feeling and a vision that nobody had seen but her. Still, although doubtful, the Gunmen were trying to help. "Here it is," said Langly. "The New Enlightenment Church. Wow, what a bank account!" The others clustered around the monitor. "The Reverend certainly isn't hurting for funds; look at that real estate! He must own half of Virginia. Okay, there it is, the New Enlightenment Retreat Center. That's probably where they are." Langly hit a few keys. "Looks like it's a farm in rural Virginia. Here's the address..." He jotted it down on a piece of paper and handed it to Scully. She read it over and rushed out the door, leaving the Gunmen gaping in surprise. The New Enlightenment Church Retreat Center The "farm in rural Virginia" was a modern building complex, surrounded by a tarmac parking lot, tall brick wall and iron gates with security guard. Scully flashed her badge at the man but drew nothing more than a polite reply of "I'm sorry ma'am, but this is a silent retreat. No visitors allowed." Scully swallowed back her anger although her urgency had increased. "I demand to see Agent Mulder. Either you bring me to him immediately or I'll have an FBI team on you so fast it'll make your head swim!" The guard paled a bit and spoke into his telephone. Soon a very relaxed Reverend Hayworth walked up to the gate. "Agent Scully! So nice of you to come visit us. I'm sorry about Tom's reaction. Badges make him nervous and we had intended this to be a silent retreat; avoid outside distractions and all that. Have you come to join our retreat? You're certainly welcome." Hayworth gave Scully such a disarming grin that she immediately felt ashamed of her suspicions. "Oh, I just wanted to see Agent Mulder...to...um...discuss some business from the office. I'm sorry, but it couldn't wait." "By all means. Come on over. The last time I saw Mulder he was playing a pickup game of basketball. Just this way..." Hayworth led her past a neatly pruned tennis court and through an ornamental garden to a set of basketball hoops mounted on the side of a garage-like building. She saw Mulder in the middle of a busy game of basketball, clearly having the time of his life. "Two points! Game to us!" yelled Mulder and whooped, giving his teammates high fives. He caught sight of Scully on the sidelines and wandered over to her. "Hey Scully, I see you got my note." He grabbed a towel from the sidelines and began mopping off his face. "Your note was unnecessarily cryptic," Scully said bluntly. "Frankly, I didn't know whether to send out search parties or take the week off myself. You didn't even leave a phone number." She fixed him with a glare and saw Hayworth's apologetic smile from the corner of her eye. "I'll leave you two to talk. But remember, Agent Scully, you're more than welcome to spend the week with us as well. We'd love to have you. I'll be in the retreat center if you need me." Hayworth gave them a genial wave and wandered back to the larger building. "Why shouldn't I take a week off if I want to?" Mulder asked calmly. "I had a pretty rough week, if you recall." "Only too well. And I still can't figure out why you survived." Scully returned look for look. "At the very least you could have told me where to find you." "I knew you'd call out the Gunmen if you got worried," Mulder said casually, glancing to one side and waving at one of his teammates. "I think you're overreacting to all this." "And I can't understand your reaction at all," she said in exasperation. "Mulder, you've never had any religion in the seven years I've known you. Now suddenly you've joined a church and you're going on a weeklong retreat?" "Is that what's bothering you?" he asked coldly. "The fact that, after all these years, I've found something I want to believe in? I thought you'd be happy for me, Scully. Just because this isn't a mainline church doesn't make it any less valid." "That isn't what I'm trying to say," she sputtered. "I don't care if you worship iguanas in your spare time! Don't you understand, Mulder, how uncharacteristic this is for you? Doesn't that make you question it just a bit?" I need to tell him about Albert Hosteen, she mused. I have to tell him, whether he believes me or not.... "What about Saint Paul on the road to Damascus? Wasn't his life changed in a flash of light? So why can't mine change the same way? Scully, I'd hoped that you'd understand but I can see that this isn't something we can discuss together. Why don't you just go back to the office and I'll see you in a week." "I could stay here; join you. I can use a vacation..." her voice trailed off when she saw his expression. "I don't want a nursemaid dogging my steps, Scully. I know you're worried about me, but I'm fine. Really. The doctors checked me out and everything. I just want a quiet week to sort all this out. Go home, Scully." "But Mulder, I..." she started but saw the determined pout on his face. Damn. In this mood he wouldn't listen to anything she had to say. Still, he seemed healthy enough and the church grounds were beautiful. She firmly pushed her misgivings into the back of her mind. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm being an overprotective partner. You're right. You have the right to your own life and some time off. I'll hold down the office for you and see you in a week." Mulder grinned back at her. "I'll take you up on that. Don't call unless the mutants start taking over the world, or the 'Skins win a game! I want to get away from it all this time." "Okay. I'll see you then," she mustered a smile back at him and walked back toward the gate. She waved at him as the iron gates crashed shut and slowly drove back to the office. Tuesday Morning Early << Have I told you what an offense you are to me? The stench of your single-minded heroics wafts to me and turns my stomach. Figuratively speaking. You will not be turned from your course. You have been beaten, shot, threatened, burned, tortured and rejected by those you love but still you persist. You are a loyal, truthful and loving human being with the capacity to sacrifice yourself for a greater good. I'm not allowed to kill you; that has become evident. My agents cannot corrupt you; that has been tried. So what is left? The only thing that remains, that hasn't been tried. Oh, I know you Fox Mulder. I have seen you and I know you for what you are, what you will be unless I stop you first. You were given the free will to make your own choices and your own nature will help me. You don't believe in me, you know ((laughs)) but you will. You will.>> Mulder woke in the darkness, jerked awake. Had he heard voices? Probably the guy in the next room. It was nice of Hayworth to give him a room to himself; no roommate. Hayworth said that the solitude would be good for him. Mulder did miss the television set, though. Nothing like a good porn flick to put you to sleep at night.... He lay back against the pillow, troubled by a niggling sense that he wasn't alone. He turned on the light and surveyed an empty room. Nope. Nobody here. He turned the light off and closed his eyes again. He fell asleep to the sound of a soft muttering voice in the back of his mind. Tuesday Morning Early Dana Scully shot bolt upright in bed, her eyes staring widely into the dark. "Mulder!" she cried, then realized where she was. She turned the bedside light on and came face to face with Albert Hosteen. She recoiled back against the headboard, then sighed in relief when she saw who it was. "Albert, what are you doing here? Albert?" His lips moved but she couldn't make out what he was saying. He looked, if possible, even more anxious than he had before. "Albert, I can't understand you, but if you're worried about Mulder I saw him today. He's fine, healthy and well. There's nothing to worry about." Hosteen shook his head sadly, then faded out again. Scully dimly wondered when it had happened that she had begun to take ghosts for granted. She shook her head and got up to make herself some herbal tea. Thursday Mulder and Hayworth sat in a quiet room at the conference center. The Reverend had taken a particular interest in Mulder and had offered to give him personalized instruction in some meditation techniques. "You have to make your mind a blank and welcome any revelations that might surface," Hayworth said soothingly. "I know that this is difficult, but you're doing very well. Just remember to open your spirit to the revelations of the Universe. Take down any blocks or barriers you may have. Trust that the spirit will fill you with its wisdom. And when you have that spiritual connection, you'll never feel lonely again, never feel alone. You'll feel complete." Mulder sat Indian style, eyes closed. "That's easier said than done. I think the line's disconnected." "Try again. Imagine that all the barriers are down and that there's nothing between you and the Universe but a great empty void. No barriers. No hindrances. Only trust. Open yourself to the experience." "Should I pray or chant a mantra or something?" "No. That isn't necessary. Just keep your mind quiet and receptive. Ask it in." "Okay..." Mulder's face grew blank as he sat quietly for several minutes. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes in startlement. "What the...?" "You felt it, then?" Reverend Hayworth asked. "What was that? It felt...it felt like something evil.." Mulder whispered. "Mulder, you know that there's no such thing as evil. There's only human mental illness. Today this world suffers the result of human psychoses, the effects of social ills and poverty. Those who do wrong are just ill or misguided. They deserve our compassion. You're just reacting to a new experience. It's understandable that the Voice of God should be distracting at first. But just relax and you'll adjust." Mulder gave Hayworth a panicked look but was rewarded with the same beatific smile he'd seen when he woke up alive and not dead. Yeah, that was right, this guy saved him. He knew. He could be trusted. Okay. Relax. "All right. I'll try again." Mulder obediently closed his eyes and opened himself to the Universe. Friday morning 2 a.m. Mulder woke to a loud voice and sat up. But it wasn't in the room. It was in his head. <> + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Chapter 5 "Blessed are the pure at heart, for they shall see God." (Matthew 5:8--sometimes translated as 'Blessed are the single-minded...') Mulder sat bolt upright in his bed and turned the light on. He looked around the room frantically but found nobody there. "Who's there? Who was that?" he demanded. <> Mulder heard a voice without pitch or tone, deep and ancient. But he didn't hear it with his ears, it was inside him somehow. The thoughts were being forced into him in a way that reminded him horribly of his experiences with the alien artifact. "What are you?" His fear began to roll away as his curiosity got the better of him. "You say you're God?" <> Mulder pondered that for a bit. "You say you're God, then. What do you want? Are you the one who saved me? You don't...feel the same." <> "I'm listening," Mulder sat up straight in his eagerness. At last he would learn the Truth. Hayworth had been right, the meditation was working. The voice of God was talking, to him, Fox Mulder. Or if not the voice of God, then the voice of somebody who claimed to know.... <> Mulder felt a glow of accomplishment, almost a smugness. He'd always suspected that he was smarter than most of those around him. Now this spiritual voice was confirming what he'd known these past years. In fact, he considered, it was a wonderful, relaxing sensation to give in to the realization that most other people were just ignorant clods. Then he felt a vague stab of unease. What about Scully? She believes in science and she's not ignorant. Mulder ignored the little voice. He'd had more than enough humiliation in the past 7 years, laughed at by the 'scientific' brains at the Bureau. Scully wasn't a clod, he knew, but neither was she average. No, most people were uninformed and really rather stupid. "So, what do you want with me?" Mulder found it easier and easier to speak subvocally. The communication was becoming almost effortless. <> "What? Am I a prophet,then?" Mulder didn't know whether to be amused or frightened or very very flattered. <> I'm psychotic, Mulder thought to himself. This just can't be happening.... <> Mulder could see the picture forming in his mind, crystal clear. His parents..fighting. They were arguing about...about Samantha. Now for the first time he could see it, all of it. His father insisting that none of his children be taken, then the Smoking Man insisting just as strongly that Samantha must go. And why.... No. NO, it couldn't be true. Not his mother and that, that oily bastard of a smoker. They couldn't have fathered him. He saw the crushed look on Bill Mulder's face as he faced Teena, his wife. And she couldn't deny it. She just broke down crying. Samantha got up and ran into the living room to comfort her mother and was held back by the Smoking man and he was wearing a smug smile. All the time, after Sam was taken, his parents had known that he wasn't Bill's son. That was why they'd divorced. In a single night the Smoking Man had destroyed his family. That strange vision he'd had in the hospital, the vision of another life was true, in part. The Smoking man was really his father. "No, I won't accept that!" <> Mulder lay in the bed and considered. He had no idea what this voice was. Maybe it really was God? But even if it was an alien or spirit of some kind, it had power and had already shown him more of the truth than he'd seen in ten years of looking. Surely that was worth a little cooperation on his part? <> Mulder nodded. "If it will bring down that black-lunged bastard and all his works, I'll do it." Friday morning 9 a.m. Mulder opened his eyes to a world strangely different. He blinked but couldn't imagine what was wrong. Then he realized that his senses seemed to have changed. The colors were brighter, more distinct somehow. And he saw everything, almost through a filter, differently. He could feel his mind expanding, experiencing the world in a new and almost alien way. He sat up and stared around him. He also felt strangely calm, as though a soothing and calming litany of thought flowed through the back of his mind. Maybe a leftover of last night's experience? He laughed and got out of bed. Mulder the prophet. Fox Mulder, the visionary. It had a ring to it. He wondered what Scully would say? He frowned. He had a vague feeling that she would not approve. Well, that made sense. Her first objection would be the lack of solid scientific grounding for his experience. Never mind that the whole dogma of the Catholic church was unsupported by science. Then, too, she was accustomed to equate holiness with celibacy, ordination and ugly black clothing. Poor Scully, warped by a narrow childhood. Mulder, on the other hand, felt gloriously free. What he'd always known had simply been confirmed. He couldn't wait to tell Hayworth and receive more spritual guidance. 4:30 p.m. Mulder held his breath and struggled to relax. "I'm sorry, Chuck, I just can't seem to get the trick of it. Every time I try to let the revelations in, I get such a flood of resistance, almost revulsion, that I barrier myself against it." Hayworth's smile was tinged with impatience, then he sighed. "Of course, Mulder, all this is very different for you. But I'm committed to working with you until you can hear the Voice of God in your every activity. Nothing should shut it out. It's been revealed to me that you're very important to Him. You're his Chosen One, perhaps a new prophet." Mulder reminded himself of all the work Chuck had put in that day, helping Mulder beat down his natural resistance. He'd already had visions of the Smoking Man's early meetings with the alien colonists. He'd seen the first ship land, and the first hostages taken. He had to know more, get more detail. Once he was privy to all their secrets he could begin to fight. The flow of thought was becoming clearer if he could just let...it...in..." Mulder closed his eyes and focused on being entirely open, mentally inviting the Spirit to take up residence in him. When it did, he was very surprised. But by then, it was too late. Saturday Morning St. John's Church Alexandria, Virginia Dana Scully stood on the front steps of Saint John's Church, waiting for Saturday confessions to begin. This was her normal routine, and she'd come to look forward to her talks with Father Gordon. But today she felt unsettled and nervous. Foregoing the brief time in the confessional, she'd elected to make a personal appointment with her priest instead. She hadn't heard from Mulder but had no reason to worry about him. Her sleep was still troubled by dreams that she couldn't remember, although she hadn't seen Albert Hosteen since Tuesday. Tomorrow she would meet Mulder at his apartment and go with him to his new church, glad for him that he'd finally found a path to God. "Dana, how good to see you," Father Gordon unlocked the church and let her in. "Come over to the sacristy and we'll talk." He settled her down in a chair and took the one across from her, studying her carefully. He knew her history, including the paranormal bits, courtesy of Father McCue. "You look troubled, Dana. What's wrong?" "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned..." Scully began the familiar ritual, the stopped. "I..I need to talk to somebody who will listen. I don't know what to do about this, it just doesn't make sense." "What doesn't make sense?" "My best friend was injured a week ago. He was..he was killed. And then he wasn't dead any more. He was healed. Miraculously. He claims it was done by God, through the prayers of a clergyman. And now he's joined the man's church, gone to a weeklong retreat." Father Gordon watched Scully twist in her chair, failing to meet his eyes. "Well, that certainly sounds like an unusual occurrence. But how wonderful for your friend that he's found a faith that works for him." "That's the problem. I should be happy for him, glad that he's finally content. But Father, I have the most horrible feeling that he's in terrible danger. I can't prove it, but I know that he is." Scully fixed him with her eyes. "It just doesn't make sense." "Have you had these sort of feelings before?" The priest leaned forward. "I know that you routinely investigate the unusual." "Yes, but I always try to investigate from a scientific viewpoint. What's happened to Mulder defies science. It defies everything I know to be true." "But what about your spiritual beliefs? Do you believe in miracles? Can you accept them?" "Yes, I think I can. I've seen many strange and miraculous things over the past 7 years. But this...this doesn't feel right. And yes, I've had these kind of feelings before. Usually when Mulder has ditched me for some dangerous case of his own." Scully laughed roughly. "I generally find him, but at the point of death." "Do you think he's dying now?" The priest watched her closely as she struggled for composure. "No. No, it..it..feels worse this time. Like something worse than death is stalking him. Something ancient and heavy and very very evil." Scully shivered. "I have no proof and I'll probably see Mulder tomorrow and laugh about it. This is silly, Father Gordon. I'm sorry I'm wasting your time." She got up to go, but he stopped her. "Dana, it isn't scientific but there may be something in your intuition. I'd trust it if I were you. You say that you feel an ancient evil stalking him? You've experienced the presence of evil before. I seem to recall another conversation we had once, about your daughter Emily and a child with the soul of an angel. Have you stopped believing that you kept her from the Evil One? What did you feel when you were in the presence of the one who tried to take her?" Scully sat down, tears beginning to blur her eyes. "I felt the same...the same as I do now. Terrible danger and a cold, calculating presence. But this can't be! Mulder isn't a believer. If I told him that I thought some evil spirit was stalking him, he'd just laugh at me and ask where my scientific detachment had gone!" She looked uneasy. "With that experience, I've felt evil of this kind before, three times. Once, we investigated the..the demonic possession of a child. I could feel a...a...a heaviness in the environment, as though we were being studied by a truly inhuman presence." She looked away and twisted her fingers together. "And the other?" The priest leaned forward. "We were in a small town and found a cult of devil-worshippers and a very...strange...woman who was a substitute teacher there. Mulder and I were held by the cult and they were about to...to kill us...to sacrifice us. I could feel the pressure, the power of evil building in the air just as Mulder moved forward to shield me with his body. Then...the leader of the cult shot the others, then himself. The leader wasn't in control of his own actions. You could see it in his eyes." Scully shivered. "She...Mrs. Paddock...disappeared that night and we never found her. I have never felt...experienced...such a feeling of evil in my life." "So there may be some validity and truth in your intuitions, don't you think?" "You aren't saying that...not Mulder. What can I do?" She stared at the priest in amazement. "Exorcisms went out with the Middle Ages!" The priest smiled. "You'd be surprised. Still, this type of occurrence is very very rare and only happens to a special type of individual, usually someone who has heroic or saintly qualities, but is vulnerable because of his loneliness or isolation. And you'd obviously want to rule out any medical or psychiatric conditions from which he might be suffering. For the time being, I'd advise you to keep an eye on him. And pray for him, that never hurts. I'll add him to my prayers as well." She got up to go. "Thank you, Father. Please pray for him. And for me as well." + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Chapter 6 Mulder felt the world shift on its axis as a hundred different personalities flooded him. He couldn't stand, couldn't hold against it. The cacaphony of their shreiking, laughing, shouting, cursing beat against him and drove him back into a tiny corner of himself. He was aware that he was crouched on the floor, physically as huddled small as he was psychically. "What....are....you?" he gritted through closed eyes. The voices echoed through his mind, soprano and bass at first slightly out of sync and then aligned. "You know who I am, Fox. We've met. Many times." A slightly wavy image formed in his mind of a high school substitute teacher he'd met years ago. Mrs. Paddock smiled at him, then the image rippled into the form of a gargoyle, then flashed into a hundred different faces, Cancerman, the Bounty Hunter, Luther Lee Boggs, Donnie Pfaster, and then settled into a form vaguely human but tall and serpentine in manner. Mulder was silent, trying to gather his chaotic thoughts. "What do you want with me?" "I don't *want* anything with you. I have you. All of you." "No...you...don't," Mulder clenched his hands against his ears in an effort to shut out the hellish voices. He was driven to huddle against the floor. He felt the pressure of them building, building from his gut, up his spine and into his brain, a ripping, tearing pain. The dark voice broke through the howling chaos. "Fox, you will be very useful to me. I've been looking forward to this day for a long time. Now that you'll be working with me instead of against me, we'll be closely associated. Very closely." Mulder felt his body move around him, sitting up, and then standing. He tried to fight it, but it walked over to Charles Hayworth and extended a hand. "Thanks for all the good work and help, Chuck. Your contribution will be remembered and rewarded." Mulder's hand shook Hayworth's while his voice complimented the man. The reverend beamed a smile back. "Such an honor to work directly with you," Hayworth said proudly. "I'm happy to be of assistance." Hayworth. He'd led him here, like a judas-goat. Led him to the slaughter. Mulder gathered all his strength of will and pushed at the presences, trying to force them from his mind. The agonizing rebound was almost more than he could take. "Don't try that again or the punishment will be worse. We don't need you, we have your body and that's sufficient," the cold presence warned. Mulder felt his nerves run with cold fire, from his toes to his chin, freezing him with pain. He dropped to the floor and lay panting, unable to move. A strong sense of satisfaction, of glee, radiated from the entity. It was drinking in his pain. "You will cooperate, Fox. Besides, there are benefits to our help. You will see the consortium fall and I will personally ensure that you kill the Cigarette Smoking Man with your bare hands." "Why do you care?" Mulder gasped out. "What is it to you?" "It's the culmination of many years planning and you are the center. You are the leader in the upcoming struggle, but you are mine. You've always been mine. But until now you've been a problem for me. You have been single-mindedly focused on finding the truth, about the aliens, the consortium and incidentally, my activities. That purity of outlook cannot be allowed to continue." "Cancerman is one of yours, isn't he?" "He has been, although he doesn't believe in my existence. Still, he's old and failing. Time for his son to replace him." Mulder closed his eyes and sheered away from the voice. He could hear the ironic laughter following him. "Your father engineered your conception and birth, but who gave him the idea? And if my idea engendered you, what does that make me? Oh, Fox, you are mine...." Mulder shivered in the dark as the laughter faded away. Saturday Mulder left the retreat center, mechanically driving the car along the highway home. The voice would allow him control over simple things: brushing his teeth, washing his face, packing his bag. But whenever he interacted with another human being, the voice stepped in and took over. Mulder was then relegated to a tiny, dark corner of his own mind, helpless to do anything but watch, and fume. The fuming turned to despair as he silently took stock of his situation while his body slept. He was trapped inside himself, powerless to move a muscle without permission. He couldn't figure out whether there was one entity or many occupying him. Or maybe there was a multitude, but controlled by the single voice. "You still haven't told me what you want," Mulder said as he drove. He looked up at the rearview mirror and was startled to find his back seat occupied. The form was tall and thin, with a misshapen head on a pencil-thin neck. It was a grotesque caricature of a human being. It grinned at him with sharpened teeth. "I want everything you have. Everything you are. And I want to see the look on your face as I take it all from you piece by piece. And then, when Fox Mulder becomes the great leader of the resistance, I want to see the destruction, the killing and the despair. The Kingdom will find a home in the bodies of your followers." "You want to...to take people, like you have me?" Mulder muttered. "I *will* take people, many people, like I have you. It's simple enough; convince them that you offer what they desire. And more will become toys for my entertainment." "Is that what we are to you? Toys?" "Oh no, Fox. You aren't toys. You are the shit between my toes, and I revel in it." Mulder hung onto the steering wheel, watching his knuckles grow white. "I will stop you, somehow I will stop you." "You are an impotent, narcissistice, mental-masturbating excuse for a man," the voice said. "Do you think I worry about your threat to me? I've watched you. Every night you jack yourself off in your solitary apartment, dreaming dreams of a cunt who'll never have you. Not that you've ever tried to screw her. No, you just sit in front of the videos, watching red-headed women being fucked by worthier men than you'll ever be." He could feel it smile. "I think I'll try her." A vivid picture flashed across his mind. He saw himself, forcing a naked and bleeding Scully onto the ground, then sprawling on top of her. She screamed as he forced himself into her, holding her wrists confined as she tried to throw him off. He could hear her sobs while his body tore into her, and he saw the betrayal in her blue eyes. Then he felt the pleasure of it rolling through from his groin and through his body, enhanced and amplified by thing inside him. "Yes, I will fuck her; that would be very satisfying." Mulder kept his mind a blank then deliberately trained the car on a tree in the curve of the road and floored the gas pedal. To his chagrin, his own foot stomped on the brake and veered away from the tree. "You shouldn't have tried that. You can't kill yourself yet, you know." That means that eventually, I will, Mulder mused to himself. Saturday noon Scully put down the phone. She'd just left a second message for Mulder but assumed that he wasn't back from his retreat yet. She went to the couch and picked up a magazine, then put it down again. This was stupid. She was feeling nervous and fidgety for no good reason. The phone rang and she ran to pick it up. "Hey, it's me," Mulder's voice said. She let out a breath of relief. He sounded normal at least. "Hey. How was your week?" "Oh, very relaxing. I learned a lot. Feel like a whole new man." "Good. Good. I was just checking to see if we're still on for church tomorrow," Scully wrapped her fingers around the phone cord. "Wouldn't miss it for the world,Scully. Should I pick you up tomorrow?" "That sounds fine," she said feeling vastly more comfortable than before. "Good. I'll see you then. Bye." She dismissed the last of her unease. Church with Mulder tomorrow. How bad could that be? Sunday morning Dana Scully opened the door to her apartment and found Fox Mulder there at 9:30 sharp. "Hi," she said breathlessly. Mulder had worn her favorite black jeans and turtleneck. He grinned at her. ***You aren't going to touch her! Do you understand?*** <> "Hi, you ready?" She nodded and he followed her out to the car. After she had taken her usual seat on the passenger's side of the car she became aware of an unusual musky odor. Her nose twitched as it became more obvious, and a bit noisome. "New cologne?" she asked. ***She can smell you, you bastard!*** <> Mulder gave her a strange, unreadable look then nodded. "Yeah. And a new dry cleaner." Scully nodded and fixed her eyes on the road. "This is the first time I've ever been to the New Enlightenment Church. I hear that they have a new church building made entirely of glass." "Yes, they do. It's beautiful." Mulder swung the car into the parking lot and came to a stop. He walked around the car and held the door for Scully as she stepped from the car. She raised an eyebrow and unbuckled herself from her seat. As she slid out she cursed a bit under her breath. "Damn, that clasp came undone again. Mulder would you fasten my cross for me?" She turned to him, blue eyes wide and guileless, her gold cross and chain a puddle in her open palm. "Gaaah...uh..excuse me, Scully, but I think the services are starting. Let's take care of that later," Mulder walked swiftly toward the church building, Scully trailing along behind. She frowned as she tucked the cross and chain into her pocket. Inside the building she could find no evidence of anything she might identify as religious. Of course it wasn't as though she'd been in many non-Catholic churches in her life. Still, usually there was a cross or two, something to make it look like a place of worship. She glanced around as she and Mulder took their seats in the theater-style chairs. She sank deep into the plush of hers and thought wistfully of the threadbare kneelers at St. John's. The carpet here was lush, as deep a pile as the plush on the chairs. No decoration on the walls, just dim lighting. She craned her neck and looked up into the mezzanine to see more well-dressed people taking seats. The lights lowered and a single spotlight focused on the stage-like area in front. Nothing she might call an altar, no religious symbols at all in the front. Reverend Hayworth appeared from the side, dressed in clerical garb, and began a rousing welcome to new church members. Dana watched spellbound as, behind the reverend, the carpet parted and a podium rose from the depths of the basement, freezing in place when fully erect. The reverend stepped behind it without missing a beat, still talking. Scully was about to nudge Mulder and call his attention to the podium, when she saw his face. It was blank. Completely empty of emotion or expression. Even the eyes looked dead, as they focused forward. She got the vague impression that some kind of inner dialog was going on, excluding her. ***Leave her alone. I can hear your thoughts, your fantasies about her. She's not yours. I'm the one you want, just get away from her.*** <> ***What deal?*** <> Reverend Hayworth finished his sermon and a turntable just off the stage began to move, rotating a full choir into view. Scully was puzzled. They'd been her a full thirty minutes but she'd yet to hear the word "God". She glanced to one side, Mulder's face was no longer blank. If she had to give it a label, she'd say she saw despair. He turned to one side and he met her glance, a deep sadness in his hazel eyes. ***I agree.*** Mulder was aware of a deep and revolting aura of satisfaction coming from the presence. He steeled himself against struggling as the entity wrapped an arm around Scully's shoulders and led her to meet Reverend Hayworth. >From where he now sat, Mulder wondered why he'd ever been taken in by the Reverend. He supposed it was the fact that Hayworth's was the first face he saw when he was revived. He didn't know how it was that he'd survived those gunshot wounds but had a strong feeling that Hayworth had nothing to do with it. The entity that possessed him was unlikely to heal anyone or anything. Interesting, its reaction to her cross and chain, though. Hmmmm, folklore said that demons didn't like crucifixes or crosses or anything holy. He remembered the time he'd faced a vampire with two crossed breadsticks. But, he wondered to himself, Scully's cross was truly holy, imbued with the force of her belief. He began to very subtly work on the muscles of his right hand, easing it over toward the pocket where Scully's cross lay. The entity was distracted by conversation and didn't know what he was up to. Good. Mulder moved his hand closer and was conscious of a feeling of heat radiating from the pocket. Closer now, closer.... He felt a stabbing pain in his fingertips as they brushed the fabric of her jeans. His body jolted and Scully moved away in startlement. "Oops, sorry Scully," he heard his own voice say apologetically. "I think I just got a shock. Must be static electricity." The entity rubbed Mulder's fingers to ease the sting. <> ***You can't stand holy things, can you? Crosses, holy water, they're anathema to you.*** <> The picture of a ravaged and broken Scully flashed in front of Mulder's mind. ***Okay, okay, you win. Just leave her alone.*** Mulder wasn't sure how much of his thoughts the thing could read, but he kept his intentions focused very very narrowly in a tiny portion of his soul. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Chapter 7 Monday Morning Mulder sat quietly and brooded over his coffee. His tenant hadn't objected to the extra strong espresso he'd brewed. So far he'd managed to keep his thoughts to himself. He had to find a way out of this. If he could just get word to Scully, she'd help him. But what was the help for somebody in his position? Exorcism, he supposed. Great. He could see himself in bed spewing pea soup, like a bad 1970's exploitation flick. Oh well, why should this aspect of his life be any different from the rest? <> ***Yeah? Name one.*** <> ***And you understand being in that position?*** <> ***And you can offer it to me, huh? So is this my 40 days in the desert? You gonna offer me kingdoms?*** <> His thoughts turned to Scully. Anything he wanted...No. No, that was wrong. She had no part of this and he wouldn't risk her. ***I'm cooperating, that was our deal.*** <> Dana Scully woke unrefreshed from another nightmare she couldn't remember. She hadn't seen Albert Hosteen, but since his warning had been passed along his mission was probably fulfilled. She got up slowly, stretching tense muscles. Mulder had been so normal yesterday, for the most part. It was tempting to decide that this was all in her head. She walked over to the dresser and picked up her cross. He'd avoided touching it, and even the brush of his fingers against the pocket where it lay caused him to flinch away. Or maybe it was just her imagination. She put the cross on and went into the kitchen. There on the windowsill she saw a tiny statue of the Virgin Mary that her mother had given her years ago. She picked it up and considered the serene face of the image, garbed in translucent blue. Then she went to the closet and tucked the statuette into her coat pocket. Mulder was there first, as usual. The office was icy cold; unusual, since they were next to the boiler room and the basement tended to be stuffy. "Mulder, it's freezing in here. Can you call the janitor and get some heat? Mulder?" He looked up, a strange glint in his eye which made her shiver. Then it was gone, so fast that she thought she'd imagined it. "Don't worry, Scully. I already called them. But for the time being, I also got you some coffee." He pointed to a styrofoam cup on her desk. She was touched. It wasn't like Mulder to be this thoughtful. "Thank you," she said and picked it up. She heard a faint 'clunk' as her coat brushed the desk and remembered what she'd brought from home. She replaced the mug and gently took the little Virgin from her pocket and sat her on the desk, serene glance facing outward and toward Mulder. Then Scully seated herself behind the desk and began to work. She could sense Mulder's unease, gradually increasing as the morning wore on. He looked uncomfortable, as though he suffered from a myriad of subtle aches. She studied him quietly, wondering if he'd take offense if she suggested he take the day off. She was looking at him when he caught sight of the little madonna on her desk. His eyes were filled with loathing and disgust, quickly stifled. "What's that?" he demanded, gesturing toward her desk. "What? This?" Scully picked up the statuette. "It's the Virgin Mary. Mom gave it to me a few years ago, when I had cancer. I thought she'd look good on my desk." She held the statue up and walked toward Mulder. "Do you want to see her?" Mulder cringed back, his hands raised defensively. She stopped and stared at him, while Mulder shakily tried to pass it off by stretching his arms overhead and then clasping them behind his head. "Very pretty, but are you sure you want to risk her in the office? I mean, the janitors are pretty clumsy. They might break her some night while dusting." Scully watched him steadily, never breaking eye contact. "Oh, I think she's a lot sturdier than she looks." She put the statue back on her desk and picked up a file. "Skinner said that he wants us to investigate this one right away. We're needed to help interview witnesses in a murder case the VCU is handling." Mulder watched her as closely. "Yeah, I heard about it. I thought we could interview Loretta Hynes first." "That's fine," Scully said warily and wrapped her coat around her more fully. Mulder followed her out the door to the office. The last thing she saw before he closed the door was the placid face of the little Virgin. Loretta Hynes shared a tiny apartment in a bad corner of D.C. Scully felt nervous as she and Mulder walked the narrow alley from the car to the building itself. Normally in situations like these she felt better for knowing that Mulder was at her back, his tall presence a shield against danger. Not today. She hated to admit it, but she didn't want Mulder at her back. She wanted him where she could see him. She didn't...quite..trust him. She was relieved when they got to the apartment door and Loretta had opened it for them. The agents walked into a neatly kept living room with a coffee table and couch in it. Over the mantel, Dana could see a large oil portrait of Jesus and the children. Not in the best of taste, Dana considered, but... She turned as she heard Mulder stumble. Ready for an attack on her partner, she was surprised to see him hovering by the door as though afraid to enter. "Mulder, what's wrong?" she asked anxiously. He was sweating and his eyes were darting around the room. No, they were darting around the room except for the mantel. "I...um..I think I'll wait in the car, Scully. I think I've got a touch of flu today. Okay?" Mulder stumbled out, leaving Scully and Ms. Hynes dumbfounded. ***You can't stand holy things, can you?*** <> ***We should stay in the alley. It isn't a safe neighborhood.*** <> ***Please...please, I need to protect her. Let me protect her.*** <> Mulder found himself in control of his body but with a difference. Everything felt strange. He felt powerful, his senses were sharper, enhanced. He could feel the lives around him, some good-feeling like Scully and others corrupt, like the entity inside him. He paced as he waited for her, beginning to sense more than just the presences. He could feel their lives, petty, sordid little triumphs and their vile pleasures. An old woman was drinking herself into a stupor. A teenaged boy had just raped his sister; he could feel a self-satisfied grunt from the back of his mind. The slut had probably deserved it. He had to admit that he felt more energetic, brighter since the transformation. And the entity had been right about his general uselessness to women. He hadn't been with a woman in years, but the things he'd imagined for Scully.... Scully finished the interview as gracefully as she could and went downstairs. Mulder was waiting at the doorway for her. "What was that all about?" she demanded. "Like I said, I felt sick," Mulder's voice said defensively. "I had to get some air. Honestly, how you could stand the stench of that apartment is beyond me." "Stench? What stench?" Scully moved down the alley. "That apartment was cleaner than yours is!" "Well, I...hey!" Two dark figures jumped at them from behind a dumpster. Scully grabbed for her gun, but it was knocked from her hand. Mulder wasn't doing any better, no gun in his hand. No, wait, Mulder wasn't even reaching for a gun. He was just standing there. While she watched, Mulder stood motionless and made eye contact with first one, then the other thug. Then he smiled. Both young men stopped in their tracks, frozen with terror. Mulder moved a step toward them and they broke, running back down the alley as swiftly as they could. Scully looked at Mulder with emotions she couldn't describe. That smile. She'd never seen a look like that on Mulder's face, on any human face. Mulder turned toward her and she began to back away from him slowly, coming to a stop against the brick wall behind her. "M..m..mulder? What happened?" "You're safe now, Scully," Mulder said gently. "You will always be safe with me." He moved toward her. "You look frightened, Scully. You know I'd never allow you to be hurt." He stood very close to her and lifted her chin with two fingers, considering all the things he'd never had the power to do. She trembled, looking up into his familiar eyes. "What would you do if I kissed you?" he murmured and slowly lowered himself to kiss her. She could feel herself melting at the pressure of his lips, her eyes closing in dreamy wonder. This was what she'd always secretly wanted from Mulder and to have it happen now, in this place was unreal, unexpected...All thought began to drift from her mind. He saw her eyes close and was irritated. Why couldn't she look at him? See him as he was? Finally, he'd gotten the balls to kiss her, really kiss her and she shut her eyes. "Scully, I'm here. I am all of me, now. Look at me." She opened her eyes, then froze. Mulder's face was a perfect blank. The eyes were open, but unblinking and still. They were empty of love, passion or soul. She began to struggle against his arms. "No! NO! Let me go! Mulder, let go!" Mulder saw her fighting for the game it was. She was a tease; all women were. All she really wanted was to be screwed, right here in this alley. Her hands, clawing at his face were only her expression of passion for him. He grabbed her wrists in one of his big hands, leaning in to kiss her again, his tongue forcing itself into her mouth. He pushed against her body with all his weight, slamming her back against the wall. He could hear her grunting beneath him and her passion only roused his. She was crying, her eyes looking betrayal at him. Her blouse was torn and she had a bleeding scratch down one cheek. Although she was still fighting him, he could feel the sobs deep in her chest. He looked into her eyes. Oh My God, what was I doing? Mulder thought and felt his mind begin to clear. What did they make me do to you? He tried to move back and away from her but his body wouldn't respond to his commands. The entity was back and in full force. ***We had a deal! Stop this!!*** <> "Mulder...Mulder you don't have to do this," she panted. "Mulder, I don't know what's happened to you, but let me help you! Please Mulder, fight it. This isn't you. It's not you!" She turned her head away as he forced another soul kiss on her. Mulder watched his hands tear her skirt away. Soon her panties and nylons followed and she was thrown down onto the pavement. Abruptly she stopped struggling and looked up at him, her eyes boring into him like twin lasers. "Mulder, this isn't you. You have to fight it." He heard a low voice come from his lips, "I'm your fucker, your fucker and you're my cunt..." He settled his body on top of hers and unzipped his pants. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Chapter 8 "Conquistador there is no time I must pay my respects and though I came to jeer at you I leave now with regrets and as the gloom begins to fall I see there is no, only all and though you came with sword held high you did not conquer, only die" (Conquistador by Procul Harum) Pure: Free from moral defilement or guilt; Free from that which harms, vitiates, weakens, or pollutes; genuine; real; perfect; fitted for holy services. (Webster's Dictionary, 1913 ed.) Mulder struggled and fought but couldn't regain control of his hands or any part of his body. He could feel Scully struggling beneath him and see the terror on her face. His left arm was draped across her neck and chest while his right fumbled inside his pants. Her hands came up and clawed his face, but the entity didn't flinch, so intent was it on its actions. He racked his brain for every bad knock-off of the Exorcist he'd ever seen or read. What is it that frightens the devil? Crosses. Prayers. Bible verses. Holy Names. Resisting the demon's motion wasn't working. He needed to try some strategy. The demon was leaning forward against Scully's chest, staring into her eyes. Mulder added just a bit more push and forced his chest against Scully's. Bingo. Right on top of the cross. "Aaaaugh!" The demon started away as though he'd been burned. Mulder followed up his advantage quickly. ***In the name of Jesus Christ, let her go!*** he blasted mentally as loudly as he could. Mulder's body jerked suddenly with a spasm of pain. He could hear the feral snarl the creature gave as it suddenly convulsed. Good. This was good. The burning in his chest only intensified with the holy Name. Mulder could feel its attention wandering and the iron control dissolved just a little bit. "Scully! Run! Get away, quick! I can't hold him much longer," Mulder gasped, rolling his body off hers and over again onto his face. He tried to put his hands out to stop himself, but couldn't move them. "Holy things, prayer...can't stand 'em!" His last words were gulped as his throat closed up on him. He was left panting for air, trying to catch a breath in a body gone rigid. She jumped up and scrambled back to her gun, then trained it on Mulder. But she needn't have bothered. He was plastered to the ground, held flat as though a giant fist were pressing him into the asphalt. She could see his face, flattened to the pavement as though he was held there. He gasped for air and tried to say something, but couldn't force the words out. The entity was angry. No, it was enraged and at him. It had lost its planned prey and needed...needed...oh no... "Mulder? Mulder are you in there?" She crouched near him at arms' length and gathered up her torn clothing. She kept one eye fastened on him, and gun trained steadily at him while she dressed. He couldn't respond, but the demon was still there. It was there and playing possum. He tried to tell her with his eyes to get away, get far away. Scully, being Scully, paid no attention. Dressed now, she moved forward toward him, cuffs in hand. "Mulder, put your left arm behind you, nice and slow." When Mulder didn't move, she snapped, "Do it!" He could feel his face curling into a rictus grin as it turned and looked at Scully. "Try and make me," said a gravelly voice from deep inside him. "Who are you," she asked steadily. "What are you doing with Mulder?" "I am Fox Mulder. I'm the Mulder you never knew, Dana. What makes you think I'm anybody else?" The demon twisted his face into a leer. "You aren't Mulder, but I don't know what you are. So put your arm out, NOW!" she snapped. "All right, Dana. I always knew you liked bondage. Did you ever tell your partner about the vibrators you keep in your nightstand drawer? Especially that big one you named....Mulder?" Scully flushed but moved forward to put the cuff on his left wrist. Mulder could feel the demon gathering itself to grab her and began to recite "Glory be to the Father, and to the Son..." Mulder kept up the internal litany, reciting psalms, hymns, moving into the text of the Book of Common Prayer. The demon shuddered and Scully quickly snapped the cuffs on both wrists. It glared up at her through unwinking, serpentine eyes. "Mulder, I know you're fighting this. Keep on fighting. I'm going to get help for you, I promise." She pulled her cellphone from her pocket and dialed a number. "Father Gregory, it's Dana Scully. Do you remember the conversation we had on Saturday? Well, I think my friend needs your help very badly. We're at..." Mulder could feel the demon thinking, but couldn't read its thoughts. It had barriered itself against him. Good, maybe that meant it wouldn't read his own plans. <> Scully's voice began to fade into the howling darkness. He could feel chaos swirling around him, hundreds of personalities moving around him. They hemmed him around, shrinking him, plucking away at his soul bit by tiny, irreplaceable bit. Memory left him. His litany stopped because he no longer had any words to say. He could not consider his past, for he no longer had one. He only had a memory that once there had been a memory. He had no future, only a consciousness that anticipation was possible. Emotions drained away. There was only an eternal now. External actions, sensations, thought were collapsed and encompassed by the darkness until they disappeared. He was drenched in the Other, infused with its purpose, its meaning and intent. He saw through the mirror of the Other, which in turn saw only Itself. An endless reflection of itself in itself in itself to eternity. "You'll be here soon? How long? About thirty minutes? Yes, yes I can. I'm armed and I have him cuffed." Scully's eyes widened as Fr. Gregory made his next suggestion. "You need backup, Dana. Do you know anybody who could physically restrain Mulder if necessary? In his current condition, he may be subject to fits of unusual strength and violence. Often victims of possession exhibit telekinetic powers as well." "Is it that serious? I have a gun and I'll shoot if I have to." "That might not be enough. He won't feel pain the way an unaffected person does." Scully looked down at her captive and sighed, realizing that a second call needed to be made. "All right, Father. I know who to call. Okay, I'll see you in thirty minutes or so." She had hoped to keep this as quiet as possible but it was unavoidable. She speed-dialed a number on her cellphone. "Skinner," came the crisp reply. "Sir, this is Agent Scully. There's been some trouble and I need your help with Agent Mulder." "What happened? Are you at the hospital?" Skinner's voice was concerned. "No, sir. I'm not at a hospital. Agent Mulder needs treatment...but of a special kind. Could you meet me and I'll explain it to you?" "Of course. Where are you?" She could hear his frown as he jotted down their location. "Are you sure you got the address correct, Agent?" "Yes sir, we're in the alley. And sir, I'd appreciate it if you could come soon." Skinner was there in five minutes. He strode down the alleyway and stopped dead when he caught sight of his agents. Dana Scully stood, training a gun on her partner. Her skirt was torn and obviously had been ripped off her body then put back on again. She hadn't bothered with the nylons, that lay in a shredded heap on the ground. Her blouse was untucked and half the buttons had been ripped off. She looked like a victim of a sexual assault. But it was her face that stopped him. Her neck was black and blue and a long scratch ran down her cheek. And her expression was grimmer than he'd ever seen it. Mulder lay flat on the pavement, both hands cuffed behind him. "What happened?" he asked of both agents. "Sir, this is going to be hard to believe, but Agent Mulder is possessed by some...some entity that I believe is demonic in nature." Skinner's jaw dropped. He'd heard many things from this team, but this was a first. "Sir, that's a lie!" Agent Mulder called from the ground. "Would you make her put the gun down? I can explain this." "Agent Scully, why don't you lower your weapon?" She looked at him doubtfully but complied. Mulder pulled himself into an awkward sitting position. "Why don't you tell me your side of it, Agent Mulder?" Skinner crouched down, equidistant from both agents. "Sir, we..um..Agent Scully and I have been romantically involved for a while and she suddenly wanted to have sex here, in the alley. She's kind of an exhibitionist at times." Mulder looked embarrassed, then flashed a glance at Scully. She tried to interrupt but Skinner waved her down. Mulder went on. "Anyway, she suddenly brings up the way I've been flirting with one of the file clerks at the office and gets mad at me. Then she pulls her gun on me and cuffs me. She said it was the last time I'd cheat on her and swore she'd get me. So she called you and made up this dumb story that's so far out there I wouldn't believe it." Mulder looked up at Skinner with honest green eyes. "Can you take the cuffs off me and give me a ride back to the office? I want to get my request for transfer in before the day is over." Skinner was puzzled and disturbed. Scully claiming that Mulder was possessed? Mulder wanting a transfer away from Scully? He looked from one to the other uncertainly. "Sir, you have to believe me," Scully said earnestly. "Whatever it is that's using Mulder's voice and body, it isn't him. It isn't Mulder. Please, just listen to me." "Scully, I don't know what to believe," Skinner said. Scully nodded and reached behind her neck. "Sir, would you have your weapon ready? I can prove what I say." She unclasped the cross and walked over to where Mulder sat on the pavement. "Hey, Scully, what do you think you're doing? I'm not into jewelry, you know that. I know I promised you a ring, but we can work that out. You don't have to play this little revenge game.." Mulder began edging away from her as she approached, wielding the gold cross in her right hand. "This won't take long," she said to Skinner, her eyes fixed on Mulder's face. "Let him go, damn you," she muttered for the demon's ears alone. "I can't," the demon muttered back. "He doesn't exist any more. He's dead." Scully knelt next to the demon and pressed the cross against his cheek. As she drew near, he pulled back but wasn't able to go far. He hissed as she pressed the cross against his cheek, then the sound grew to an inhuman howl. Mulder's face turned white as chalk and lay jerking back and forth as if in great pain. Skinner jumped as the garbage cans behind him began to rattle and shake by themselves. The lid of one flew off and careened off the brick wall and landed clattering on the asphalt. The second can toppled over and began to roll away, uphill, Skinner noted absently. He took an uncertain step toward Scully and Mulder, gun drawn and pointed but he wasn't sure at which agent. "Noooooo, take it away! Take it away! He's dead! I can't give him back because I'm all that's left. He's dead, he's been absorbed! He is me and I am he and we are all together..." Scully had dropped back at the demon's words, taking the cross with her. The demon grew silent and drew a panting breath, looking at Scully through half-closed lids. "What did you say?" she asked tensely. "He is dead. Fox Mulder is dead. I devoured him. He belongs to Us now. He lost the battle. He could call on the names of the Unmentionable One but he had no faith, no faith at all. We overwhelmed and destroyed him while you watched." He cocked his head to one side and gave Scully a lizard-like smile. "And your faith isn't very solid either, is it? How many of those sins have you failed to confess to your priest? That married man in med school? Didn't confess that, did you? And you...so capable, so competent. As long as you are at his side, you can save him from wherever his folly takes him." The demon's voice was rising to a shriek. Skinner slowly walked up behind Scully, unable to believe what he was hearing. That was Mulder's body but not his voice, or intonation. "You believe that your scientific precision, your training is the answer to all problems. Your pride has killed him, little Catholic-School-girl. Nothing exists now but this body and it contains only Us. Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! We are filled with Nothing. He is filled with Nothing. What is, is because of what isn't, isn't it? Ha! Are you ready for extreme possibilities, Dana?" The green eyes glittered at them, holding nothing of Mulder in them. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Chapter 9 Skinner heard footsteps behind him and turned around to see a priest walking swiftly through the alley. "Hello, I'm Father Gregory. Dana asked me to come by." The priest extended his hand to Skinner and gave it a hearty shake, then walked over to where Scully still crouched full attention still trained on Mulder. Painfully, she pulled her eyes away from her partner and stood to greet the priest. "Father Gregory, I'm so glad to see you," she said quietly and extended her right hand. She stopped, seeing the gold cross and it's puddle of gold chain there. She took a trembling breath and shakily refastened the chain around her neck, then extended her hand to shake Father Gregory's. In the interim, Father Gregory had been studying Scully. "Dana, what's happened? Are you hurt? He attacked you, didn't he?" She gave him a little smile. "I've had worse. The one who really needs help is Mulder." She gestured to the agent, quietly seated on the asphalt. All three people turned to regard him and were greeted with a sarcastic smile. "Sure is great to be popular," he drawled. "So, you brought in the goon patrol, huh? I should have known." Mulder fixed his stare on the priest. "You're awfully young for that collar, aren't you? That vow of celibacy has to be bunching your trousers into a knot, or is that why you're so cozy with Dana here? Get a little afternoon delight in the pews?" "I see the problem," Father Gregory said thoughtfully. "I'll have to get the Bishop's permission to conduct an exorcism and he'll have to be examined both medically and psychiatrically to be absolutely sure that this is a case of possession and not simple illness." "How could *that* be caused by illness?" Skinner commented. "Not so long ago, people with schizophrenia and Tourette's Syndrome were thought to be possessed by demons, not to mention those with seizure disorders. No, the rules are there for a reason. All medical avenues must be ruled out first." "He's had a thorough medical examination recently, but I'd like to have some tests run on him to rule out stroke or some other brain event. A psychiatric evaluation is also a good idea." Scully said calmly. "As for a psychiatrist, I'd suggest contacting Dr. Heitz Werber. He's treated Mulder in the past." "Ambulance, then?" Skinner mused. At Scully's unhappy nod, he dialed 911. A calm Mulder was soon strapped to a gurney and loaded into an ambulance. Mulder gave Scully an accusing look while he the cuffs were being removed and the restraints applied. "Scully, it's me. It's your partner. How can you do this to me? You know I'm sane." "Mulder...or whatever you are, you will not be allowed to hold onto this man. You will be removed from his life." The green eyes glittered. "That's what you think. I leave this body only when it dies." Forty Eight Hours Later Dana Scully sat in the waiting room and riffled through Mulder's medical file one last time. Every one of his tests had come back normal. Tox screen, normal. Nobody had poisoned him. CAT scan normal. PET scan normal. No unusual brain activity at all. She looked up as Dr. Heitz Werber walked over to her. "Well?" she asked as she stood. "Why is he in the Special Section?" Werber asked. "Fox recounted to me the substance of every session we ever had, passed all the psychiatric tests with flying colors and sounds saner than I am. His nurses tell me that he's been charming and cooperative, an ideal patient." Scully grimaced. "That, in and of itself, should tell you that something's wrong." She sighed and gathered up the medical file, handing it to Werber. "Here are his records, but you won't find anything there either. He's in perfect health. All that I can tell you is that two days ago he almost raped me. Then I had a series of conversations with the...personality...that inhabits him. It's determined not to leave him and claims that Mulder the man is dead. All that's left behind is the body which is inhabited by something else." Weitz frowned. "I've seen multiple personalities before, but Fox shows no sign of that disorder. Are you suggesting that he's possessed by an evil spirit of some kind?" "I'm convinced of it," Scully folded her arms against her chest and wandered over to the control room. Mulder sat quietly in his padded cell, seeming to meditate. Then he slowly looked up at the monitor and smiled. Shivering, Scully returned to Dr. Werber. He had spread the reports and records onto the coffee table. "I think you're right, Dana. Everything looks normal. That's what I'll have to write in my report. I'm sorry I can't come up with a treatment for him." "That's all right, Dr. Werber. The treatment that's been suggested can't go forward until Mulder's been thoroughly examined and a lack of physical or psychiatric cause established." She bit her lip and brought a hand up to her cross. "Exorcism, then?" Werber asked. She nodded. "As soon as the Bishop authorizes it." She looked over her shoulder toward the control room. "Now the hard part. Do we kidnap Mulder or persuade him?" ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "This is an unusual case," said Father Gregory. "We do have the Bishop's authorization to go forward, but I can't proceed without the consent of the possessed. I have to know that there's somebody still *there* who can be saved." Skinner shrugged and took a sip of his hospital cafeteria coffee. "And, Agent Scully, we can't very well abduct Agent Mulder off the streets and take him to his own exorcism. That's a Federal offense." "He has to go willingly, then." Scully grimly stirred her coffee, wishing that hospitals stocked liquor as well. "That means that we have to break through to him somehow, get his formal consent." She took a sip and grimaced. "I know that this is what Mulder wants. He's the one who enabled me to get away from the creature when it attacked me." She looked up and her gaze hardened. "He said that it can't stand holy things." "That's true," said Father Gregory. "What do you have in mind?" "Father, do you have a spare crucifix or two?" +++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Three hours later, during shift change "Are the nurses gone?" asked Scully. Skinner nodded. "The new one just clocked in. I'll wander by the desk and make sure that this room isn't under surveillance." He glanced at Scully and Father Gregory, each of which held a heavy silver crucifix in hand. "Good luck. Or should I say, God go with you?" "Either one helps. Thanks," said Scully. She watched Skinner approach the nurse's station and begin to converse with them. She bit back a smile. Who knew that Walter Skinner could flirt? "Ready, Father?" she asked the priest. "I'm ready Dana. Do you have the paperwork?" She patted her coat pocket. "I already have his durable power of attorney, but this consent form will allow us to transport him from the hospital as a psychiatric patient under my care. Well, we'd better get to it." They cautiously entered Mulder's room to find him standing against the far wall, alert. "Why do you bring that excrement into my room?" he demanded, his eyes stabbing at the crucifixes. While Mulder watched, Father Gregory calmly removed a stoppered vial of holy water from his pocket and drizzled water onto both crucifixes, and then onto Scully and himself. "I bless you in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." "Amen," Scully murmured. Mulder lowered himself to hunker down against the farthest wall of the room. "What do you want, bitch? Why'd you bring the faggot here with you?" "Mulder, I have some papers for you to sign that'll authorize us to remove you from the hospital and do an exorcism." The creature smiled. "The law will protect me, won't it. I'm not insane and I'm not ill. You can't hold me here and you can't 'treat' me without my consent." It laughed. "Mulder is dead, dead, dead! He can't speak and I say NO!" Scully gentled her voice and approached Mulder, crouching at arm's length. "Mulder, we have to get rid of this thing and exorcism is the only way. You have to fight and we'll help you. Fight, Mulder! You have to sign the release and we'll get you out of here." The creature spat at her. She calmly brushed the spittle off her face. "Mulder, try. You have the strongest will of any man I've ever known. Don't let this thing win! I won't give up on you no matter what this thing says. It's the Father of Lies and I know you're still alive in there. Come on, Mulder...." Behind her she could hear Father Gregory beginning a prayer. "God, Creator and Defender of the human race...Look on this your servant, Fox William Mulder, who is assaulted by the cunning of the unclean spirit....Repel, O Lord, the power of Evil Spirit! Dissolve the fallacies of its plots! May the unholy tempter take flight...." As she watched, the creature began to writhe in pain. She brought up the crucifix and kissed it reverently, then held it before Mulder's eyes. "Sign it," she said firmly. "N...no, fuck you bitch! You and the shit-fucking piece of garbage you brought with you!" the creature snarled. She could see the expression on its face rapidly changing, as though personality after personality claimed Mulder in its turn. "Mulder! I want Mulder!" she demanded, thrusting the crucifix forward. The demon howled as it touched Mulder's head. At that moment, she heard a low mutter. "S...scully..." Mulder gasped for air and looked up at her, his eyes tearing. "Scul..." He weakly reached out a hand for the pen. "Sign...quick!" "Here," she shoved the paper at him and held it steady as he signed his name. He scrawled it with a trembling hand and almost was unable to finish before he was overwhelmed. "Noooooo!" a hundred voices screamed and the creature clutched at the paper, trying to rip it from Scully's hand. But she was too quick for it, leaping back out of its reach. She held her crucifix out in front of her and the creature retreated back to its corner. She heard a click and the door behind her opened. She quickly shoved the crucifix and papers back into her pocket, noting that the priest had done the same. "What are you doing here? I didn't let you in for a visit," the nurse looked at Scully with amazement. "I was just bringing Fox his breakfast." "Well, I don't want visitors, especially them!" Mulder yelled and waved toward Scully. " "Nurse...Jefferson," Scully read the nametag. "We're transferring Mulder to a private facility. Here is the consent form. I'm his doctor and his next of kin. Can you arrange for the necessary paperwork?" The nurse looked at them suspiciously but took the paper and left. "Where are you taking ussssssss?" the creature demanded. "Someplace safe," Scully said. "Where you can be freed, Mulder." She and Father Gregory left a Mulder yelling and screaming hysterically behind them. The nurses had to admit that their patient certainly seemed psychotic now and any doubts about Mr. Mulder's need for further hospitalization faded. They couldn't know that Father Gregory had liberally sprinkled Mulder with holy water before leaving the room. Skinner met them in the hallway. "So where are we going to take him? Back to his apartment?" "We need someplace quiet and undisturbed," said Father Gregory. "I wouldn't recommend an apartment. Exorcisms can be very noisy and disruptive." "How long does an exorcism take?" Skinner asked curiously. "Anywhere from eighteen hours to two weeks. He'll need to be under twenty-four hour watch as well. We need helpers who can physically restrain him as necessary." "Well, he does own a summerhouse on Martha's Vineyard, doesn't he?" Skinner asked doubtfully. "No, not there," Scully said firmly. "That place has too many...evil...associations. I know a place. Let me make a call." +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ They wrestled Mulder into Father Gregory's van. Although Mulder didn't struggle, neither did he help and it took all three of them to wrestle him into the vehicle. Skinner kept getting the eerie feeling that the demon knew something that they didn't and was just watching for its chance. They stopped the van in front of a white house and Scully got out. The door opened before her knock. Maggie Scully stepped out and gave her daughter a hug. "Mom, are you sure that this is okay?" Scully looked at her mother doubtfully. "He needs a safe place to be for a while, doesn't he? And this is a devout home, that's sure to help. I'm more than happy to open my house to help Fox. Hello, Father Gregory!" Maggie enfolded the priest in a hug. "Maggie, you're looking better than ever!" "Thank you Father," Maggie stopped and watched as Skinner removed Mulder from the van. Still handcuffed, Mulder walked with a cocky stride full of arrogance. Skinner grimly hung onto him, left arm on Mulder's left shoulder and right hand clasping the cuffs binding the agent's wrists. Mulder gave Maggie a full stare as he passed by her into the house. "It's that bad..." Maggie murmured. "He doesn't look like himself at all." "No, Mom. He isn't himself." Scully shut her mouth abruptly before she could say anything more. Skinner nodded grimly to Maggie. "Hello, Mrs. Scully. It looks like we'll be your guests for a while." Maggie shut the door behind the group. "I've made up the guestroom and the spare bedrooms. I've also cleared the basement of anything breakable, as Father Gregory asked." Mulder was taken to the basement room. Father Gregory surveyed it with approval. "No windows, good. Usually we have to board them up. We need to move any unnecessary furniture out. I'd advise taking out the desk, dresser and bookcases, leaving only a bed frame with mattress and blanket. Remove everything else." "Even the pictures on the walls?" Maggie asked in dismay. This had been her husband's den while he was still alive. "I'm afraid so. Any loose object can become a weapon and telekinesis is a common occurrence during an exorcism. We'll need a small table to act as an altar and that's about it. Oh, and we'll need some extra helpers. Dana, you said you thought you had some candidates?" Scully smiled grimly. "Oh, I know of some people who know Mulder and are unlikely to be shocked by anything." She excused herself to use the telephone in Maggie's kitchen. +++++++++++++++++++++++ "You want us to what?!?" Frohike's voice rose several decibels after Scully explained the problem. "Mulder is possessed by a demon and we're going to hold an exorcism. The priest who's organizing it says that it could take up to a couple of weeks and Mulder can't be left alone. Skinner and I will be here, but we need a second shift, and we need people who aren't afraid to restrain Mulder if necessary." "Is this like that Linda Blair movie?" Frohike asked hesitantly. "I mean, is it going to get that gross?" "Frohike, I honestly don't know, I never saw the movie. But it's already been pretty ugly. It's Mulder...but it's not him. Something has him, something not human. And it won't let him go." "Where and when do you need us?" +++++++++++++++++++++++++ Scully met Skinner and Father Gregory in the basement. Mulder was seated on a trundle bed that Dana remembered from her girlhood. It had been stripped of mattress cover, pillow and sheets. All that remained was a single blanket. A small telephone table had been placed in the room and the other furniture and pictures were gone. "I should be going. I need to talk to the Bishop and meet with the Diocesan Exorcist." "The Diocese has an official exorcist?" Skinner asked in surprise. "Most of them do. Generally it's a parish priest or somebody with special knowledge that qualifies him. He may never be used, but the position is kept filled. I understand that Dr. Werber is completing his report?" Skinner nodded. "He'll be here tomorrow morning. The hospital is couriering Mulder's medical records here. You really think that this is a...a...demon and not some psychiatric condition?" He addressed Scully and the priest. "He's had unusual...er...neurological conditions before." A wintry smile flashed across Scully's face. "There's no question in my mind that Mulder's trouble is neither physical nor psychiatric. The only thing left is a spiritual malady." Skinner gave her a look of mixed compassion and determination. "Well, my leave request was approved, so I'm in for the duration. I brought some clothing with me, so I guess I'm on first watch tonight." "Frohike, Byers and Langly are on their way too. They'll be able to help as well." "Then, after Father Clarence looks over the medical records tomorrow, we can begin," said Father Gregory. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + CHAPTER 10 Father Gregory added, "Oh, and another thing. It's pretty customary to either audio or videotape this type of proceeding. It documents the condition and the treatment and viewing it can sometimes help to allay the subject's later disbelief that he really was delivered of a demon." "I know just the video techs to ask," said Scully. "I'll give Frohike a call. I'm sure they have the equipment." "I'll go back to the rectory then," said Father Gregory. "You should have a relatively quiet night. The real fireworks won't hit until tomorrow. I'll be here at 8:30 tomorrow morning with Father Clarence." He said a brief good bye to Maggie and took his leave. "Well, if nothing's going to happen until tomorrow I might as well tell Frohike and the boys to come by then. I think that two armed Federal Agents can handle things overnight," said Scully. Skinner nodded. "We can assemble the team in the morning when the exorcist arrives." Scully nodded and phoned Frohike. They agreed to arrive by 8:30 and planned to bring audio visual equipment with them. Scully closed her phone and tucked it into her pocket. "Well, do you want the first shift with him, or shall I?" "I'll do the overnight shift and relieve you at 10. You've had a long day and might as well get a night's sleep," Skinner eyed the circles under Scully's eyes. Thankfully, she didn't argue. "All right," she said simply and unholstered her Sig. Then, accompanied by Skinner, she went down into the basement. Mulder sat where they'd left him, on the bed. He clasped his cuffed hands around a knee and silently watched as Scully took a metal folding chair and placed herself in front of the door. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Skinner asked, eyeing Mulder anxiously. "I'll be okay," Scully said, making eye contact with the demon. "I'll shoot if it gives me trouble, and Mulder knows I'll do it." Skinner grinned, feeling just a little sympathy for the demon, and left her to it. The silence was palpable and Scully began to feel uncomfortable. She shifted position on the chair and looked up to see Mulder watching her. Or the thing that wore Mulder's body.... Mulder...would she ever get him back, whole and sane? It hurt to see him corrupted, a caricature of himself. "Did you know that Mulder's wanted to get into your pants for years?" the demon asked conversationally. "Well, he has. He's got a whole collection of porno videos starring red-headed sluts who look just like you. He just loves to watch 'em go down on men, lick their balls and slurp up that cum....." Mulder's deep green eyes fixed on her. "And he beats himself off every night dreaming of you doing all that to him." "Shut up," She said quietly. "You don't know Mulder, you can't know him." "Should I tell you his fantasies? He wants to push his dick so far into you that you're screaming uncontrollably. And then he'll give you more, but only if you beg. See, he knows you're not really an ice-queen. You're just a horny slut who wants only a good, hard fuck. You just want a man to show you who's really in charge, don't you Dana? But he's such a chicken-shit excuse for a man that he's never asked you for what you'd give him willingly. You would, wouldn't you Dana?" The demon ran his tongue over his lips. "You dream about the same things, about Mulder and what he could do to you with those big hands of his. You want the bruises, the marks, the welts. You want the pain, don't you Dana? You love dangerous men, and that scares the shit out of you." The demon held out Mulder's cuffed hands. "And I can tell you that the old saying about big hands, big dick is true. You'd be screaming for mercy in ten seconds. Would you like that? You know you would..." A smile crawled across the demon's face. "You'd like to feel these long fingers stroking your clit, wouldn't you? You dream of these lips caressing your cunny...You wake up gasping in the middle of the night sweating and praying for all the things that Mulder hasn't had the balls to give you." Mulder ran a finger across his full bottom lip, then sucked the fingertip. "I can give you all those things, Dana. And I am Mulder. Just with some...additions." Scully sat frozen, her eyes half-closed. How did it know her fantasies? How did it *know*? She said nothing but clutched the gun tighter. The demon laughed. "Dana, I know all those little fantasies you go through when you get out your little box of sex toys. And your fantasy-man wears this face, doesn't he? We're alone here, all day. I'm cuffed and I can't hurt you. Unless you'd like to be hurt." Mulder's voice dropped to a hypnotic purr and he stood up from the bed. "You've even dreamed of Mulder in cuffs, haven't you? You cuff him to the bed and force him to fuck you, stop his dithering around and *make* him take you. That's what you really want, isn't it? That touch of danger?" He began to walk slowly toward Scully, a sinuous swagger in his walk. She suddenly became aware of an odor, musky and intoxicating and soothing somehow. She had dreamed all those things about Mulder, even, to her embarrassment dreamed of Mulder catching her unawares in the office and raping her. Her breath caught as Mulder approached. She watched him approach her and breathed a little faster. Mulder smiled down at her. "I can give you all that, Dana, and more. We have time. It's just us and nobody has to know what we're doing down here." His hands moved to her blouse and began to unbutton it. Maggie Scully's Home 10 p.m. Skinner tapped on the basement door. Hearing nothing, he unholstered his gun and opened the door. Mulder stood over a dreamy-eyed Scully, still seated in her chair, stripped to the waist. Mulder's cuffed hands were cupping and fondling her bare breasts while she sat passively, her head leaning back and an erotic smile on her face. Her gun dangled from one limp hand. Mulder looked up at Skinner and gave him a lazy smile before planting his full lips on her right nipple, beginning to run his tongue over it. "Leave her alone," Skinner shouted. "Get the hell away from her or I'll shoot you!" Scully moaned and Mulder moved away slightly. "But she likes this, Walter. I'm not forcing her to do anything she doesn't want to do." "Get away from her," Skinner gritted and physically imposed himself between Scully and the demon. "Mulder?" Scully whispered brokenly, then looked up and saw Skinner's back. She took in the tableau in a second and drew a horrified breath, then clutched her blouse to herself. Skinner backed Mulder toward the bed and motioned him to sit down on it. "And don't move from that spot unless you want a bullet between the eyes." Mulder just smiled. "You wouldn't shoot your friend, would you? You know that I was just doing what Mulder's wanted to do all these years. What you've dreamed of doing yourself, Walter." "Shut up! Just shut up!" Skinner backed toward Scully. "Agent Scully, are you okay?" he asked anxiously. Scully bit her lip and nodded. "I'm okay, sir." She sounded near tears. "I'll take over. You go rest and I'll see you in the morning, okay?" Scully nodded and, still clutching her clothing to her, gave Mulder a backward glance. Mulder puckered his lips and blew her a kiss as she left. "You never let up, do you?" Skinner asked. "If you want to know whether I'm persistent, that's a big 10-4." Mulder leaned back against the wall. "I didn't hurt her, I just gave her what she really wants. That's what I do, you know. You hold yourself back from the things that will make you complete. Too many barriers, Walter." "Shut up. Just shut up!" Skinner rumbled and Mulder fell silent. In another part of the house, Dana Scully finished running a bath and eased herself into the bubbles. She didn't know what she felt. Dirty? Used? Maybe. But, she had to admit, she was aroused. Thrilled. And a little disappointed that Mulder had been stopped short. The feel of his lips on her breast...she began to gently circle the nipple he'd tongued with her own fingertip. She could see him, his eyes, his hair and feel him touching her. She'd dreamed of it so much and so often that there were times she'd wondered that Mulder couldn't sense the hunger in her. But he'd never acted, never *forced* her. She took a deep shuddering breath and moved her finger a little faster. Even when he'd been telepathic, had he never sensed what she felt for him? He must have, surely... But he'd never acted with the kind of suppressed rage that the demon held within him. Her other hand crept down between her legs to the other spot where she craved his touch. What would have happened if Skinner hadn't arrived? Would it have been so very bad? It was Mulder after all. Sort of... Her eyes went half-lidded as she followed the dream, feeling Mulder's hands on her body, his green eyes filled with lust and abruptly Mulder's face went away and was replaced with Albert Hosteen's. She jerked upright. Albert. What on earth was she doing? The night before the exorcism ritual she was fantasizing about sex with a demon. Oh my God. Or was she just fantasizing about sex with Mulder? She got out of the tub and began to vigorously towel herself off, then went stolidly to bed. I will not dream, she reminded herself. I will not dream, I will not fantasize...at least not until this is all over, she added realistically to herself. 6:00 a.m. Skinner sat in the chair, quietly bored. Mulder had quit any further attempts at conversation when Skinner persistently shut him up. Finally Mulder had given up and rolled over on the bed, going to sleep. Then the real torment had started. Mulder lay silently, then farted. Long and loud. Skinner didn't know whether to laugh or complain, so he ignored it. The flatulence continued and soon the air in the stuffy basement took on a reek that Skinner hadn't smelled since his unwashed days in Viet Nam. He swore he could feel his eyes watering. "I'm sorry, am I bothering you?" Mulder asked politely after a particularly nasty one. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" Skinner said. "I can't help it if Maggie made chili for dinner, now can I, Walter? And it's only a natural bodily function after all. Nothing to be ashamed of." "You're trying to get me to talk. Well, it won't work. You won't distract me like you did Scully." "Oh I see. And you're not vulnerable like Scully is." Mulder's eyes glittered. "Of course, Scully is a woman, petite, fragile even. Makes you want to protect her. But you know what she is inside; she's panting for it. But that dumb-fuck Mulder is too stupid to give her what she needs. Now if she had a real man like you, she'd be satisfied. That's what you've always thought." "Shut up. You aren't going to get to me too," Skinner lifted his gun. "Come now, Walter, we both know you won't shoot that thing. You like Mulder too much. You've invested too much time in him, protected him. He's your favorite little agent, isn't he Walter?" The demon got up and began to move toward Skinner. "Ever wonder why that is, my big studly Marine? Sharon left you years ago and I haven't seen you dating any since then. Not interested in girls, are we Walter?" The demon gave Skinner a genial look. "Ever thought about your own sexual proclivities, Walter? Why you gravitate toward such manly pursuits? You're a boxer, not many girls in that gym. An ex-Marine. An FBI Assistant Director who frightens all the ladies in the department with your gruff manner...You could go either way, couldn't you? That bothers you, doesn't it?" The demon moved closer to a transfixed Skinner. "No...no it's not like that...Get away or I'll...shoot..." "But you know, and it's ironic, that Mulder has had only one real ambition in your regard. Did you know that? He's had fantasies of his own about you, Walter. I think it's time that we gave Mulder his wish, don't you?" Skinner looked up helplessly as the demon smiled benignly at him. "Mulder's always wanted, just once, to win a fist-fight with you," he whispered and, clasping his hands together, slugged Skinner in the jaw. Skinner went over like a ton of bricks, unconscious. Mulder laughed and pocketed the gun, then opened the basement door. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Chapter 11 The demon quietly closed the door behind him and took the stairs up two at a time. He fumbled with the door at the top landing and succeeded in opening it, swinging it wide. There, in a white bathrobe stood Dana Scully, her face pale and smudged with lack of sleep. The hallway lamp cast a golden glow around her like a halo, glinting on the Sig Sauer in her hand. She fixed him with a cold look and held the gun steady. "Back downstairs or I shoot," she said steadily. Mulder made an embarrassed gesture. "Come on, Scully. You know me. It's me! Really! The demon's left and I'm okay now." Mulder began to move toward her in the dim hallway. He was stopped when she lifted the gun and pointed it at his chest. "If you consult Mulder's memories, you know that I'll shoot." The demon slowly raised his hands. Scully pulled the gun from Mulder's pants pocket and tucked it into her own dressing gown. "All right, turn around. Now go back down the stairs where you came from." Scully followed Mulder back down to the basement, her slippers making scuffing noises on the steps. Before they were half way down, Maggie's voice came from the head of the stairs. "Dana, honey? What's wrong?" "I don't know yet, Mom. Better get the first aid kit and come down here." Scully opened the door to find Skinner lying on the floor next to the overturned chair. But when Mulder made a sudden move to turn and get the gun from her, she was quicker, pressing it against his heart. "You wouldn't shoot the man you love, would you?" Mulder asked softly. "What would a creature like you know about love?" she returned bitterly. "Get in there. Go sit on the bed." She followed Mulder to the bed and released one handcuff, attaching it firmly to the bed frame. She studied Mulder quietly and listened to the sound of Maggie arriving with the first aid kit. Without turning around she asked, "How is Skinner, Mom?" "He's breathing regularly. I think he was just knocked out but you should take a look at him." Scully gave her partner one last look and went over to Maggie. "Here's my gun, Mom. Do you still remember how to shoot?" "Yes, I do," Maggie took the Sig with confidence. "If Mulder so much as twitches, shoot him," Scully said so flatly that Maggie couldn't argue with her. Scully knelt next to Skinner and found that he was coming around. "Jeeeez..." he moaned. "What happened?" "Mulder knocked you out, I think. I caught him on the basement stairs," Scully smiled grimly. "And by the look of it, he got you in the jaw." She picked up his weapon and handed it to him, then helped him up. Skinner felt his jaw cautiously. "Yeah, he said that Mulder's one fantasy in life was to win a fistfight with me. Guess he did, at that." Skinner looked at his agent, ghostly pale and tireder looking than when he'd last seen her. "How are you holding up?" he asked. "Did Father Gregory say that the fireworks were yet to come? I don't know how we'll all survive this." She folded her arms and bowed her head. "We'll survive this. Don't let it wear you down." "Hey! Hey, I gotta go to the can! Or should I just piss against a wall?" Mulder shouted in glee. Skinner looked at him, frowning, then saw the troubled look on Scully's face. "I'll take him, Agent. Don't worry," Skinner said and grabbed Mulder's shoulder, then frog-marched him upstairs to the bathroom. In the bathroom, the demon delighted in slowly unzipping his pants, looking deliberately over his shoulder at Skinner. "Hey, Walter. Want to see what I got? Bet it's bigger than yours." "Just do your business and let's get out of here," growled Skinner. The demon smiled and began to urinate. Then, when finished, he kept his right hand on his member and began to slowly and rhythmically pump it. "Uhhh...uhhhh...uhhhh...don't you think...uhh..jerking off in the morning is the best time of day...uhhh....uhhhh...and that beautiful redhead...uhhh..downstairs?" Skinner could feel the confusion beginning to fog around him again. What he'd like to do is grab that creature by the scruff of the neck and throw him down the stairs. Then he remembered Scully and Maggie out there. He held a hand against Mulder's windpipe. "Zip yourself up. We're going downstairs." The air whistled in Mulder's lungs. He nodded and zipped up his pants, then was escorted back to the basement. If Skinner looked grim at breakfast, nobody commented on it. They left Mulder in the basement and Scully took a paper plate of toast downstairs to Mulder after they'd eaten upstairs. She watched him closely while he ate. Every attempt he made to start a conversation was immediately rebuffed, then she left the room in silence, taking the plate with her. Upstairs, she excused herself and went to dress. She frowned at the blouse and skirt she'd worn yesterday and picked up her jeans and sweater. She walked over to the dresser and looked at her naked body in the mirror. What had the demon seen when it looked at her? What part of that was Mulder? Mulder and that creature were sharing thoughts, memories of some kind. Was it telling the truth about Mulder's fantasies? It certainly knew hers, chapter and verse, even the ones she was ashamed to admit to herself. Did Mulder know them? How much of her soul had he read during that brief period when he could read minds? She ran a trembling finger over the nipple he'd touched with his tongue and shivered at the sensation. Shame. She felt shame. She'd enjoyed its attentions, more than any devout being should. But if it had been truly Mulder, it would have been the culmination of years of longing. And Skinner had seen her like that; he'd seen her in that erotic haze, out of control. And now they'd begin to exorcise this demon devouring Mulder. She wondered what would be left of the man, after. She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked bleakly at the mirror. 8:00 a.m. The Lone Gunmen arrived, toting video gear and looking entirely too energetic for Scully's dark mood. "Man, what happened to you?" Frohike exclaimed when he saw Skinner's rapidly purpling jaw. "Had a conversation with Mulder," Skinner replied wryly. "Fortunately Scully caught him on the stairs and brought him back." "Can we see him?" asked Byers Skinner and Scully exchanged looks. "We'd rather you didn't until the priests arrive. Mulder...isn't himself." Byers looked uncomfortable but had to accept that judgment. Frohike's eyebrows raised and Langly just looked excited. The doorbell rang and Scully soon ushered Father Gregory and Father Clarence into the living room. Father Clarence was tall and thin with a ring of white hair around his bald head. He smiled easily as he shook their hands, but Scully noted that he missed very little. Both he and Father Gregory were dressed in black cassocks and both carried boxes which they set down in the entryway. "What's all that?" Skinner asked. "Prayer books, vestments, holy water, a portable altar," said Father Gregory. "Do you have all the medical records and charts for Mulder yet?" "Yes, they arrived a few minutes ago," Scully handed them to Father Clarence. The priest sat down and began to read through them, then took off his glasses and sighed, rubbing his eyes. His gray eyes met Scully's in a sharp gaze. "And what do you think is wrong with your friend?" Scully took a deep breath, "I believe that he is possessed by an entity that may be demonic in nature." "I understand that you're a medical doctor. Is that your medical opinion?" he asked challengingly. "No," Scully admitted. "But it isn't Mulder. He's...changed. He isn't the man I know." Father Clarence nodded. "What happened to Mr. Skinner's jaw?" Skinner looked uncomfortable. "Mulder attacked me last night and almost got away. I just wish I could figure out why Scully and I didn't cuff him to the bed." "You both spent considerable time with Mulder yesterday, didn't you?" They both nodded and Father Clarence continued. "It's a common phenomenon that when an individual is possessed by demonic forces he seems to exude an aura of confusion around him. Usually people so exposed forget things, drop things, break things or are otherwise frustrated. The demon is unaffected by it, and generally is amused." "Does this confusion...can it influence the judgment of people around it?" Scully almost whispered, feeling her face burning. Father Clarence gave her a searching look. "Yes, it can. Did you have such an experience?" "He's...it has behaviors that Mulder doesn't," she said haltingly and glanced at the Lone Gunmen with embarrassment. "It tried very hard to persuade me to let it go." Father Clarence nodded and motioned the group into the living room. "Then we need to discuss the nature of an exorcism and its dangers. Please have a seat." The Gunmen sat on the couch, while Maggie took the rocker and Scully and Skinner the side chairs. Father Clarence remained standing, as was Father Gregory. "You've all seen exploitive movies about this process, and some of what you've seen is real. The fact is that demonic possession is very very rare, but does occur. I myself have officiated at three exorcisms in my thirty year career as a priest. In each case, the demon was expelled. But there is danger." "What kind of danger, man?" asked Langly. "The demon will exploit any weakness it perceives, and it will know the deepest and most shameful secrets of each of you. It will focus most of its energy on me, as the exorcist, but you will all be at risk as well. I think it's already tried some of that on Dana and Mr. Skinner," he gestured toward them and Scully felt herself blush again. "The important thing is not to engage it in conversation. Don't ask it any questions. Its ability to confuse and mislead will only trap you and place you in its power. I will question it, but only as part of the ritual. Is that clear?" All the participants nodded solemnly, then Frohike raised his hand. "Uh, excuse me, but I need to ask a question. I'm not Catholic. In fact, I'm not even a Christian; I'm Jewish. Will that make a difference?" Father Clarence smiled. "The most important thing is the faith and integrity of the participant, not his particular brand of religion. My sole question of each of you is, do you love and respect your friend enough to see him through this? It will get ugly and you'll see some things that normal people rarely experience." He watched as each person thought about it, then slowly began to nod their heads. "Good. I think we'll have a good support team." "Dana, I understand that you're a medical doctor. Do you have your bag with you?" Scully frowned and nodded. "Yes, I have it. Will it be needed?" "It could be. Often a demon will physically harm its host in preference to being expelled. You will need to monitor Mulder's condition and tell us how he's holding up." "Could this kill him?" Skinner said in a low voice. "Yes, it could. It's been known to happen before, but we'll take every precaution to prevent any harm to him. Additionally, any member of the team could be physically attacked or affected as well. That's why it's customary to have a doctor stand by." The Gunmen looked at each other in stunned silence. Scully bit her lip and looked at the floor while Skinner frowned. "Well, let's take a look at the patient, shall we? This will give us a chance to set up the altar and the recording equipment." The group went downstairs to find Mulder sitting quietly on the bed. He grinned when he saw who had arrived. "Hey! Fro! Byers and Langly! Great to see you guys. I'd get up and say hello, but I'm kinda tied up right now." Frohike looked at Mulder doubtfully. "He looks normal to me," he said in an aside to Scully. "Trust me, he isn't," she replied. Frohike gave her a searching look and wandered over to where Langly and Byers were setting up camera equipment. "He doesn't look possessed," Langly muttered to Byers as Frohike walked up. Byers threw Mulder a troubled look. "What do you expect? Green vomit?" The expression on Langly's face implied that he'd expected just that. Father Clarence pulled the chair over to Mulder's bedside and sat down. "Hello, Mulder. How are you feeling?" he asked. Mulder smiled at the priest, and for all the world Skinner could swear that some kind of reptilian presence had taken over Mulder's form. The younger man's features had fallen into lines that he'd never seen on Mulder's face and the eyes...the eyes carried a thousand years of hatred. "I was wondering when I'd see you again." Father Clarence straightened and nodded. "We'll get started, then." He and Father Gregory carefully brought a small table into the room and placed candlesticks, crucifix and a prayerbook on it. Then he drew his helpers to the other side of the room. "This could take a day, several days or a week. Because of that, the helpers will work in shifts. I will be present for the duration, and I'd like Agent Scully to be here as well since she is a doctor. Gregory will assist in the ritual." Father Clarence turned to Father Gregory with a smile. "Greg, you already know the substance of the ritual, but your primary job is to poleaxe me and carry on in my place if I make the ultimate mistake." Gregory nodded, while Skinner and Scully exchanged worried looks. "First shift, I'd like Mr. Skinner and Mr. Frohike to help restrain Mulder if necessary." "Please, call me Walter," said Skinner. "And I'm just Frohike," Frohike added. "No mister." "Fine. In twelve hours, if necessary Byers and Langly will relieve you. Frohike, you and Walter should rest and pray while you are off duty. Be certain that your prayers are every bit as much help as your physical presence. And the same goes for each of us. Whenever present in this room, or out of it, pray. Pray to the God of your understanding for Mulder's deliverance. Every little bit helps." "What about me," Maggie asked. "I want to help." "I think your prayers would be most useful. That, and support the helpers as much as you can. Do you pray the rosary?" At Maggie's nod, he said "Then pray the rosary in support of our intentions." At his signal, Byers, Langly and Maggie left the room. Maggie gave her daughter a backwards glance, then shut the door behind them. "One last instruction. Do not address Mulder or the creature inside him. Don't answer questions, don't ask them and don't argue with it. This is an absolute rule. Don't break it, for your own safety." Skinner caught sight of Mulder over the priest's shoulder. The green eyes glowed with preternatural calm while a tiny smile played on his lips. Skinner shivered. "One last question for you, Dana and Walter. Do you know if Mulder had any religious beliefs? Was he ever baptized, even as a child?" "No observance that I'm aware of," said Skinner slowly. "He left that part of the H.R. forms blank." "His mother was Episcopalian and his father was Jewish," said Scully. "He wasn't raised in any formal religion but I think he told me once that his mother had him christened in an Episcopal church when he was a baby. Mulder has always believed in the greater good, in sacrifice and in the existence of a greater reality. But I think he's always had trouble with a classic religious faith." Scully paused, troubled. "He's one of the best men I ever knew. Will his lack of faith...hurt...him in any way?" "I've always believed that God takes care of his own, whatever flock he finds them in," Father Clarence said gently. Father Clarence left the room briefly and returned draped with a white surplice and purple stole. He picked up the crucifix from the table and held a vial of holy water in the other hand. He motioned for Skinner and Frohike to move to the ends of Mulder's bed, and approached the demon. Mulder's eyes widened in terror as the priest approached. He darted looks at both ends of the bed where Frohike and Skinner looked grimly on. The priest held the crucifix high, sprinkled Mulder with holy water and said, "Fox William Mulder, creature of God, in the name of God who created you and of Jesus who saved you, I command you to hear my voice as the voice of Jesus Christ and to obey my commands." Mulder stood bolt upright and opened his mouth into a long, wailing howl full of agony, the sound of an animal being slowly tortured to death. His eyes rolled up, and his body became rigid with spasms as he screamed and screamed and screamed... + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Oh my. Did I just say that? + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Chapter 12 The stages of exorcism: 1) Pretense--"the evil spirit will make every attempt to 'hide behind' the possessed, so to speak--to appear to be one and the same as its victim....If he (the priest) fails to shatter it at all, he has lost." 2)Breakpoint--"is reached at that moment when the Pretense has finally collapsed altogether...for the first time the spirit speaks of the possessed in the third person, as a separate being. 3)The Clash--"the first and outermost edge of a direct and personal collision with the 'will of the Kingdom,'"....the nucleus of this singular battle of wills between the exorcist and Evil Spirit." 4) The Expulsion--"Evil Spirit, having found a home with a consenting host, does not appear to give up its place easily. It claws and fights and deceives and even risks killing its host before it will be expelled....the immediate result is a struggle tortuous beyond imagining, an open violence that leaves subtlety behind." (Martin, 18-22) ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ He screamed so long that Skinner began to wonder that Mulder could remain conscious. He and Frohike leaned forward and pushed Mulder down on the bed. Mulder's right wrist was already cuffed to the frame and he didn't fight. He just screamed louder, then slowly began to whimper. "Scully.....Scully....help me, Scully!" he muttered her name over and over, eyes searching blindly for her. She started forward but was held back by a gesture from Father Clarence. "Scully! Please.....please...it hurts..." Mulder's face crumpled in pain, his body writhing against the mattress. Frohike and Skinner both stared at the priest in dismay and anguish. Father Clancy moved between Scully and Mulder. "Who are you? What is your name?" Father Clarence demanded. Mulder drew a shuddering breath and dimly focused his watering eyes on the priest. "So, why have you come to disturb me? I am now of the Kingdom, didn't you know? So why don't you just take the redhead and hump off!" His voice deepened into a low growl by the end of the sentence. "What is your name?" the priest demanded again, holding the crucifix high. "My name...is Fox..William...Mulder...." the man on the bed gasped out. His eyes sought out the woman. "Scu...llee, please...I..." "Silence. Do not address her. You will speak only to me, in Jesus' name!" thundered Father Clarence. >>Then I will be silent.<< The demon looked into the priest's eyes and Mulder's lips remained closed, but everyone heard the voice. "Speak, Evil Spirit and name yourself!" Father Clarence sprinkled more holy water on Mulder and held up the crucifix again. Mulder struggled for about a minute, trying to pull away. The silence in the room was only broken by the rustling and heavy breathing of Mulder's struggles against Frohike and Skinner. Then Mulder's frightened eyes opened and the man looked out but then was blotted out by a shadow. His body seemed to collapse in upon itself, almost shrinking him in size. His face was drawn taut and the veins in his neck stood out with strain. He opened his mouth and gasped for air, then his body seemed to flatten into the bed as though weighed down. The room became silent, as even Mulder's gasps could no longer be heard. Mulder's eyes stare sightlessly up at the ceiling and Scully leaned forward to make sure he was still breathing. He was, but shallowly, and his face was getting paler by the minute. "Father Clarence, what's happening to him?" whispered Scully. "It's in command and I'm trying to force it to the surface, to show itself," the priest whispered back. He opened his prayer book and began reciting prayers. Father Gregory handed around other copies of the ritual for the group to make responses. "Save this man, your servant," he intoned. "Because he hopes in you, My God," Scully watched the changes fluttering over Mulder's face as she read. He looked...inhuman. But he was still there. She'd seen him for a moment. Hold on, Mulder, she told him. Hold on. "Be a tower of strength for him, O Lord." "In the face of the Enemy," Skinner watched Mulder and the priest and wondered how it had come to this. He'd always admired Mulder's strength and courage. But this...this left him with a hazy sense of unreality. But it was real. It was happening. "Let the Enemy have no victory over him." "And let the Son of Iniquity not succeed in injuring him." The all jumped when the folding metal chair skidded across the floor into Father Gregory's shin. Then in the next breath, the altar table tipped over and flew across the room to crash against the wall. Skinner looked down and saw that the bed was shaking and starting to roll across the room. Mulder's body trembled on it but clearly wasn't causing it to roll. Skinner sat down on Mulder's legs and motioned for Frohike to anchor the other end of the bed. Together they kept it from moving any further while Father Gregory cleaned up the altar table and rearranged the candlesticks and books. Father Clarence just stood, his lips moving and eyes fixed on Mulder's face. The creature just looked back with a little smile on its face. Father Clarence smiled gently back and lifted his prayer book again. "Why are you bothering me? Hey, you know I'm not much on religion but this is getting pretty boring, y'know?" Mulder drawled. "And I gotta wonder about the fact that two of my male friends get off on pinning me to the bed," he smiled and winked at Skinner, who blushed a deep crimson but said nothing. "You must leave this man, in the name of Jesus Christ." "How can I leave when I'm already home?" Mulder asked reasonably. "If you ask Scully you'll find out that this sort of thing happens pretty often to me. I get involved in some exotic cases and I seem to act strangely, but I'm really okay. I'm always okay. Right, Scully?" Mulder gave her a charming smile. She lowered her eyes and looked away. "Actually, I've found God. You know that, don't you priest? You're here to make sure that I can't complete my spiritual development, like Reverend Hayworth said." "We are here to drive the Evil One from you, my son," Father Clancy said gently. Mulder shook his head and replied genially, "Evil is subtle. Injustice is ancient. All wrongs must be righted. This is true Exorcism." "The old sense of injustice rankles, doesn't it? You turned away from love, from goodness and chose the darkness you live in now, Evil One. Leave this man! He doesn't belong to you." "He invited me in," the reptilian look had returned to Mulder's face. "And I haven't been asked to leave. He wanted everything I had to offer." "Except the Truth," Scully blurted out, then fell silent when Father Clancy glared at her. "Ahhh, the Truth. What is Truth, after all? Doesn't it really depend on your point of view?" Mulder asked conversationally, giving Scully an affectionate look. "The truth a hundred years ago was that small pox was incurable but today the truth is that it's been eradicated. And a thousand years ago every scientist would tell you that the earth was flat. Dana, you know that the accepted truths of our world aren't necessarily real. They're just propaganda." Mulder grimaced at the priests. "How do you know that I haven't found a better way to live? What have these ignorant men ever done for you? Scully, I'm *happy* the way I am now. I know things I never knew before. I'm at peace. Please...let me be." Mulder looked pleadingly at her. Scully sighed and held her cross in her hand, then looked helplessly at Father Clarence. "You are the Father of Lies. What is your name?" He walked forward again and began to sprinkle holy water. Mulder grimaced and his body seemed to shift in form. "We don't have names..." a low babble of voices rose from Mulder's body. "You have a name. Give it to me!" "We are many....we are One. We don't need names....You will drive us from our home..." "Your home is the outer darkness, where you chose to place yourself at the beginning of time. Leave this man, in Jesus name! He doesn't belong to you." "Truth...kill the truth...killl...killllll...truth...Kill the truth.....the truth is out there and kill it when you find it....hide it and bind it.....kill it!" the voices began to chant. "Truth-killer. Is that your name, then?" Father Clarence demanded. "Kill the truth, kill the truth, truth-killer, that's me. That's us, we're truth killers. Kill it where you find it, kill the One that holds it...kill him...kill the truth in him...." "Why are you tormenting this man?" Clarence leaned forward a bit. The demon opened its eyes. "He is One. A thorn in the side, a nasty smell in the nose. He reeks of purity, this one. Single-minded he will not be stopped and may not be killed un-consenting. We have tried and tried and tried and tried. He will not go. He will not stop. He is the truth and doesn't know it; it's in his blood." "You are trying to confuse us! Be clear! Why do you torment this man?" Father Clarence demanded again, but Scully pulled at his sleeve. "I...think I understand. Please, may I ask a question?" Father Clarence thought for a moment, then reluctantly nodded. "What truth is in Mulder's blood?" "The future is in it. Life. Hope. He will lead and others will follow. He will best the holocaust because he can survive it. And his followers will be ours." "You chose him because of what he will become?" She asked quietly. "What he is...what he will become. Kill the truth...kill it, killlll itttt...kill the truth....the one true thing...must die...." "Do you know what this is about?" Father Clarence looked around at the knowing expressions on the faces of Skinner, Frohike and Scully. "I knew he had enemies, but I didn't know how highly they were placed," Skinner said with irony. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Chapter 13 "What dark time is coming What dark time is here The prophet emerges In garments of fear. He calls to his people To come to the feast They gather unto him To wait for release.. Alleluia Remember the warnings Forget what you're told The heart of the Temple Is hollow and cold The face of the prophet Is tired and creased He raises his cup And falls to his knees Come take my body Come take my soul Come take me over I want to be whole! Come take my body, Come, take my soul... We stand in a circle We stand in the square The power of numbers The power of prayer The churches are empty The Priest has gone home And we are left standing Together alone Come take my body Come take my soul Come take me over I want to be whole! Come, take my body, Come, take my soul... Come rhythm Come silence Come into our shame The fear has no heart And the fear has no name Come sing alleluia Come sing Domine Come sing alleluia Come sing..." (Dark Time by October Project) ... .... ..... ...... ....... ........ ......... ...........Silence. Silence pressing, holding him down..... Nothing. Nihil......Nada...... Nihilism....All values are baseless...all is nothing....nothing is nothing....i am nothing....nothing...no one....at all..... no anchor...no base...no firmness on which to stand drifting like wind...cannot stand against them....everywhere, they are everywhere steal my thoughts...steal my mem...mem... yesterday? was i someone? can't think...try...no, please...leave me alone...can't think...can't remem..rememb...no, please.... ....don't want this...never wanted this... why?.......why can't i......why can't i fight it?......resist...?...... ........why?........ alone...alone....alone....so alone....always alone....... they are here....here with me....not alone....loud voices...terrible...terrible voices they are strong, the voices, so strong...i am small and weak and getting so smaller...so small empty...emptiness...vacuum....void... ....pulls...pulls...pus...infection. invasion.invasion.ravishment. ....see darkness...no, chaos. chaos and filth. devastation and the future. They remember the future. No. I won't see it. Not my future. Not mine. Not me... o god, not the future...the man, the prophet...tall and proud leads his army of resistance. Blood...blood...green and red and red and green blood spatters...and the only ones to survive are his... and they are ruthless; he explains the need for ruthlessness. Mercy is for weaklings, the Race cannot survive unless the Old is destroyed and the Aliens. The Aliens are obliterated and will not return. Triumph and celebration and darkness growing, growing, growing in the frenzy of it all... Time for the New. Create the New. Follow the Prophet, the Voice...He speaks the Truth. He knows it. He is bowed down with it and defeated by it and trapped by it. oh please...not me...not me...not me... Some will not...will not follow. Some. Many will not. They will die. The prophet will see to that; he will witness the deaths and glorify in them. All who do not follow will die in pain. She will not follow. She will die and i will kill her. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "You're saying that he's somehow destined to be a prophet?" Father Clarence asked calmly. "I...don't think I'd use the word prophet, but leader would probably be accurate. Mulder seems to have an unusual genetic makeup that some believe makes him immune to a coming plague destined to destroy humankind," Scully looked distressed. For the past fifteen minutes all four of them had been huddled at the far end of the room trying to explain Mulder's history to Father Clarence. The exorcist had gone from initial skepticism to quiet concentration. Father Gregory, unable to disclose any confessional secrets, had nevertheless made it abundantly clear that he believed everything she had to say about Mulder. "But what he was offered by Reverend Hayworth isn't physical leadership. Rather, it was a spiritual dimension that Mulder was craving," Father Clarence commented. "That may be the core of the demon's hold on him." "Mulder wouldn't fall for that," Scully stated. "He values the truth too much." "Wait a minute, Dana. You know that Mulder has a tendency to think with his heart. And he's been wrong before. He trusted Krycek," Skinner added in an urgent tone. Scully cast a defeated glance at Mulder, lying quietly on the bed. "What can we do? They want him, and we have Mulder's own weaknesses working against us. Can we even get through to him? How much of this does Mulder understand?" They turned their eyes to Father Clarence, who frowned. "Generally, those who are possessed retain a core of self that actively resists the demonic process. These are the people we can help. In the early stages of the exorcism, they can be relatively unaware of their condition or even that an exorcism is taking place." "Is Mulder resisting? Can you tell?" asked Frohike. "He is not. I don't know whether he is unable to resist or unwilling to do so. Remember that he consented to this; even as terrible a thing as possession is, no demon ever enters a victim without that victim's consent." "He never agreed to this. He'd fight if he could. He's tried to fight it; he stopped it from raping me," Scully took a shaky breath. "We have to help him." "God will help him, and we will help all we can," Father Clarence said, then took a deep breath and stretched. "What time is it, Greg? Frohike and Walter will probably need a rest. You should rest as well, Dana." Scully shot a glance at Mulder."No, I'd like to stay." "Fair enough. Gentlemen, would you send in Langly and Byers? And don't forget my instructions. Pray as hard as you can for your friend." Skinner and Frohike exchanged solemn looks. "We sure will," Frohike said for both of them. "Worthless, useless drivel old man," Mulder's sneering voice rose from the bed. "The new order will arrive and my followers will survive it. Your Anointed One cannot control *me*." Father Clarence glanced at Mulder, then went to greet Langly and Byers. The two men had watched owlishly as Skinner and Frohike, taut and pale, made their way from the room. "How is it going?" Byers had asked Frohike. Frohike just shook his head. Briefly, Father Clarence explained all that had occurred and the two new assistants took their places on either end of the bed, prayerbooks in hand. Father Clarence took up his book again and began the ritual where he had left off. Immediately a low humming noise filled the room. Scully took a deep breath. The air felt stuffy and without oxygen. Then she realized that the stuffiness was rather a wall of force. The air was thick with presence, the sense that an incredibly strong Will was pushing against them. No, she realized, it wasn't pushing against them but rather against Father Clarence. She could see him swaying a bit as he resolutely continued reading from the prayerbook. She glanced at Byers and Langly. They seemed tense but unaffected by it. They didn't sense it. Father Gregory had gone pale, however. He knew what was happening. She could feel her hearing, her sight, her senses of touch and smell beginning to dim and fail. The buzzing increased to a repetitive jackhammer loudness. Yet she knew that, as bad as her experience was, Father Clancy's was worse since he was the target. He began to double over in pain and she moved in to support him, Father Gregory on the other side. "Do you need me to take over?" Father Gregory asked anxiously. "No...no...this was to be expected. I'm fine." Father Clancy straightened with effort and shouted at the demon. "What is your plan? When will you kill this truth? How many of you are there?" The pressure in the room began to lessen and the priest was finally able to straighten up without help. Scully felt the tension in her body diminish slowly. Mulder's mouth worked silently for a few moments, then broken sounds began to come out. "Many...many of us...there are many...no bodies...fools...negative math...count only in power...no one solitary...alone...among us, a single spirit is merely a few fibers---will, mind--strung out on a measly being forever headed into an eternal absence, an endless vacuum...hating, loathing, loving unlove and unloving...the Kingdom where the High Enemy never rules, one mass, one rule, one complete beast...humans take darkness as their lot....a breath of little lungs...it's what we do, we are millions if you count the wills, the minds, count the hatings...the hatings...the dust between the toes of the Daring One.." Mulder began a cackling laugh, the skin of his face now stretched taut again and his skin gone yellow and pasty. Scully could feel a headache beginning between her eyes, throbbing more and more with each passing second. The weight in the room was building again, tying them all down. She could feel herself slump and saw that Father Clarence was having trouble standing straight again. Father Gregory moved in to help support him. "Free this man! He doesn't belong to you!" Father Clarence demanded. "We...leave us the Kingdom...we have nowhere to go! Mulder is one of us now! He is ours and you cannot have him." "Mulder was baptized. You do not have the freedom of his body or his soul. He himself doesn't want you! Release him in the name of Jesus Christ, who is the Truth!" "He...chose...us! Mulder chose us!" "Get out of him! You must obey! You have no choice!" "Heeeee hassss chooosennn ussss. Hee has choosen and hee is oursss. OURSSSS. OURS! And if not ours, then not the Enemy's!" "Mulder, fight this! You have to fight this," Scully could hear her voice ringing over the shrieking sounds of the demons. Then there was an abrupt silence. Mulder's face began to turn blue and she could hear choking noises from his throat. Scully ran forward and tried to pry his jaws open but they were clenched shut. "Help me! He can't breathe!" Byers reached forward and helped her open Mulder's jaws, then she started mouth to mouth resuscitation. "Mulder, come on. Fight! Don't give up," Scully kept the rhythmic breaths moving into his lungs. "This isn't the way." Byers glanced up at Father Clarence. "We should call an ambulance." "Pray. All of you," Father Clarence gestured to Father Gregory. "Get the others in here too." He picked up the prayerbook and began reading in a loud voice. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++ She will not follow. She leads the Others. In prayer to a dead god who could not save himself from dying. She will not follow. Betrayal in her eyes and acceptance...she knows...she knows...oh she knows what i am...what i have become...i never intended this...i never meant this... scu...scull...... Scully? NO! I WILL NOT DO THIS THING! please, don't make me do this... ++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Out of breath and near fainting, Byers pushed Scully aside and took over the resusciation. Scully tried to catch her breath through her tears and grabbed Mulder's hand, the one that wasn't cuffed down. No. Not like this. This isn't supposed to happen, not this way. She knew this wasn't supposed to happen. She could feel the hatred nestled in his body, struggling to keep him or kill him trying. No, an ambulance was what the creature wanted. Breaking off the ritual now would only seal Mulder in forever. What could ever resist against such power and evil? She had only her science. Useless. And her faith. And her love. They didn't understand love, did they? They couldn't understand it. They couldn't love. "Mulder, listen to me. It's Scully. Please come back to me. Please listen to my voice. Follow my voice." She began to recite the Our Father in a quivering voice, then immediately began the Hail Mary. Quietly blessing a childhood of parochial school, Scully whispered the psalms into his ear and then began to slowly hum the Ave Maria. Come on, Mulder, come on, she urged him. Jeremiah made you sit up and take notice, it's me, Scully, and I'm singing again. For you! Only for you would I sing. She sang Amazing Grace gently into his ear and heard the chorus picked up by the group in the room. At least Skinner can carry a tune, she thought distantly, then returned her focus to Mulder. And she prayed. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Chaos....despair... nonononononononononononononono! not this! not this future! NO! Silence. The howling noise is gone. Peaceful silence. Then music. Beautiful music. Golden sounds, people singing...a woman's beautiful voice. The howling again, cacaphony to drown out the music. He listened harder, harder, trying to catch the thread of it. It was like water trickling or the scent of honeysuckle and he tried to draw it nearer... Drowning out the howling. It was drowning out the howling voices. The peace deepened. i am I. I am free. I am free to choose. I must choose. Choose right and I am free. Choose wrong and i am chaos... Oh, God, please help me choose. How shall I choose? My last choice was wrong, wrong, wrong and I am a stupid arrogant fool. Choose. How? Confusion and chaos...but the music is so lovely. Listen to the sound. Oh, she's talking, such a soft voice. And familiar. Rememb...Remember who she is... Scu...Scully... Scully. My Scully. I choose. I CHOOSE. And all HELL broke loose + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Mulder's face remained bluish. Scully watched it, whispering anxious prayers into Mulder's ear while Byers continued to work on him. In the meantime, Father Clarence knelt beside the bed, his entire being focused on the man before him and read in a loud voice "I, therefore, enjoin every unclean spirit, each devil, each part of Satan: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth..." The priest made the sign of the cross over Mulder's body, then continued his prayer, his voice becoming stronger, ending by shouting "Leave therefore now. Go away Seducer! The desert is your home. The serpent is your dwelling. Be humiliated and cast down....For even though you have deceived men, you cannot make a mockery of God. From his eyes nothing is hidden: he has ejected you. All things are subject to his power: He has expelled you. The living and the dead and the world will be judged by him with complete discernment. He has prepared Hell for you and your angels!" Mulder drew a great breath and a voice issued from him. "You ugly sod! You smelly little animal! A little drop of sea water pulls a little membrane around itself then sprouts little hair-trigger nerves and puny little earthen mechanisms then stands up one day and calls itself a man!" "Silence! And let the soul of Fox Mulder become beautiful in the grace of God..." "Beautiful! You are a creation and the least of them! You hunk of slime; you monkey's arse! Descended from apes, you are less than the turds that fall at my feet! You creature!" Father Clarence responded crisply, "And so are you a creature, created by God to be the brightest and the best of his children. But your own pride has defeated you, driven you into the outer depths where you belong. You may not stay here; you have been expelled. By his actions in resisting your exploitation, this man has consented to your exorcism. By the power of the Son of God, you cannot hold! You have been vanquished, Truth-Killer, by a Man! Two thousand years ago you were vanquished! You have lost! Lost! Lost! Forever!" ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ...I hear...voices. Human voices...can't see, though. Listen....must listen... Prayers. They're praying...for me? Is this an exorcism? Must be... How long has it been? How long have I been trapped here? Fight. Must fight. Somebody telling me to fight. I killed Scully. I killed her. I am the Prophet and I killed her. I don't deserve their prayers. The howling ones are right, I belong to them... But I don't want to be one of them. I can choose and I choose my freedom. If Scully is dead, I'll mourn her...forever...but I will be free of them! Get out of me! GET OUT! +++++++++++++++++++++++++++ A long, loud howl emanated from the air surrounding Mulder. Scully, Byers and Langly all backed away from Mulder, but the priest remained. A dark cloud of stinging hate surrounded Mulder and seemed to swirl around him. It engulfed the priest, the whirled around the room. Scully could hear a hundred voices, yelling, cursing, squealing, crying, laughing gleefully. The metal chair whirled around the room again, as did the altar table. But this time, the walls began to shake with the force of the voices. As Scully watched, the floral wallpaper slowly peeled away from the wall and landed in shredded curls on the floor. The carpeting separated from the walls with loud ripping sounds, slapping back against the cement floor. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ << Fight me and you will die!>> ***I'd rather be dead than your puppet! Get the Hell away from me!*** <> ***NOOOOO! Please God, no...no, not Scully! Noooo! Help me, God or somebody! Drive it out of me! Help me...** +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Mulder gave a final long cry, his body arching up from the bed. The sound of it was so full of human suffering and agony that Scully had a brief flash of her own soul-searing grief at Emily's death. She looked up through her tears to see Skinner crouched on the floor, hands over his eyes, muttering about an ambush in 'Nam. Frohike's eyes were focused on empty space and running with tears; Langly just stared. Byers' face was creased with horror. Scully realized that each of them must be reliving the scene of their greatest pain and sorrow, all perpetuated by the cries of anguish that echoed through the room. The door to the basement swung open and shut. Mulder's tee shirt split at the seams and began to tear away from him. Huge welts formed across his chest, as though he were being clawed by some feral beast. He struggled and his body heaved up from the bed, thrashing and flailing. Scully bit back a sob and ran for Mulder. Byers, overcome with grief, had stopped the artificial respiration. Father Clarence was silent and on his knees beside Mulder, silently battling with something close to overpowering him. As she reached Mulder, he became incontinent, urinating and defecating all over the bed, while his body still thrashed. Mulder's face was creased with some terrible horror that only he could see. The blood welled up from a hundred cuts all over his body and still he struggled. Skinner ran over and between them they tried to hold him down. Scully tried to give him words of comfort, though it was doubtful that he could hear her. The howling shriek still came from his mouth, but seemed to be lessening. "It's okay, Mulder. It's okay. Fight. You're winning. Keep fighting..." She looked up at Skinner's frightened face, then looked away. Skinner didn't think Mulder was going to make it but she had no time for negativity. He had to make it. They would succeed in this. Somehow. She became dimly aware that the atmosphere seemed to be getting lighter. Mulder's body shook less and the convulsions seemed to be lessening. The dark cloud was lifting. Finally Mulder gave a final sob and fell silent. Frightened, she felt at Mulder's throat and found a strong pulse and, thank God, he was breathing on his own. She sank down beside her partner, then Father Clarence raised his head and opened his eyes. The priest sighed and smiled tiredly, listening to the silence. "We've won," he said simply. Skinner slowly eased his hands off Mulder's collarbone. Scully held onto Mulder's left hand, entwining her fingers in his. "Is it..are they gone? Forever?" "Nothing is forever, Dana. And the Evil One clearly has an interest in this man. Mulder is still vulnerable, but I think the worst is over." Father Clarence got up and dusted himself off. "We should see to him; it looks like he needs medical attention." Scully frowned at the welts running across Mulder's body and nodded. "Would you get my bag?" Skinner got up and returned with the bag. Looking at him more closely, she could see the tear-tracks still on the A.D.'s cheeks. "I had medic training in 'Nam. Can I help?" "Thank you sir," she said gratefully. With Maggie's help, Skinner and Scully cleaned the bed and dressed Mulder's wounds. Scully was grateful when the other occupants of the room were shepherded out to give Mulder some privacy. Father Clarence reentered the room and stopped by a still-unconscious Mulder. "How long will he be out? Do you know?" Scully asked. "He's exhausted more than anything else," said Father Clarence. "He's just fought off an evil greater than you or I will ever experience. It would be better if we could move him into another room, fewer painful memories for him." "Father, how aware was Mulder of what happened here?" Skinner asked. "Towards the end, I'm sure that he was entirely aware. He knew what was happening to him and what we were up against. He's quite a fighter, your friend," Father Clancy said thoughtfully. With Skinner and Byers' help, Mulder was carried into one of Maggie's guest bedrooms without ever regaining consciousness. Scully, claiming doctor's necessity and partner's privilege, took the bedside chair and made herself comfortable. Maggie just smiled and Skinner said good night. After they left, Scully watched Mulder's face for a while. For the first time in many days he looked quiet, at peace. Still, better safe than sorry... She reached up and unclasped her cross, then carefully fastened it around his neck, tucking it under the bedclothes. He shifted position with a sigh and sank back further into the blankets. Good. No bad signs. She picked up the afghan and draped it around herself then sat back to keep watch. June 11, 2000 Feast of Pentecost 4:20 a.m. Maggie surveyed her shambles of a house. Sleeping bodies crowded the living room. Byers sprawled on the couch, with Frohike and Langly asleep in the chairs. Skinner had refused her offer of her own bedroom, preferring to pull a chair outside Mulder's room and doze there. She had no idea what Skinner might be guarding Mulder from, but she was confident that nothing would enter the room without going through Skinner first. Dana was in a chair at Mulder's bedside, of course. Nobody had disputed her right to be there. Maggie'd bidden an affectionate goodbye to the two priests, who had pronounced final blessings on all the participants of the ritual. Father Clarence had paid a visit to Mulder's room and sprinkled holy water on him with a prayer. Mulder kept sleeping peacefully through it without any supernatural outbreaks, to the relief of all. Not surprisingly, nobody had wanted to sleep in the basement room. She'd already planned on redecorating it and supposed that now was as good a time as any now that the carpet and wallpaper were destroyed. Maggie pulled her rosary from her pocket and said a quiet prayer of thanks for the quiet stillness in the house. 6:00 a.m. Mulder woke to sunlight. He yawned, wondering briefly why he felt so tired and sore. Not a hospital, the smells were all wrong. Then he remembered. All of it. And shut his eyes again in horror. That...that Thing that he'd invited into his soul. Was it still there? He looked through his mind, searching for any thoughts not his own, and caught only faint echoes like the slime trail of a slug. It was gone, but what filth it had left behind it. And what terrible things had it made him do before being driven out? "Mulder?" a soft voice interrupted his reverie. "Scully?" he saw her with wonder and reached out a hand to touch her cheek as she leaned over him. "You aren't dead? I saw you die..." "I'm not dead. I'm not going anywhere, Mulder. It was just a dream." She grabbed his hand and held it against her cheek. "See? Solid." "Scully...I killed you. I saw it. I saw the future, what I'll become some day. And I...killed you." He searched her face yearningly, overwhelmed with guilt. "Mulder, that future you're talking about was a lie. It hasn't happened yet, and now that the demon is gone it will never happen. It lied to you. It isn't real." "How...how long was it? What day is this?" Mulder's eyes were filled with terror waiting for her answer. "Today is June 11, 2000 Sunday. You've been here at Mom's house for the past twenty four hours or so." Mulder's eyes closed in relief. It hadn't happened yet. But it still could. He could still become that monster of his dreams, so easily. And if he did... "Scully, I don't know what to make of all this. I...can't describe it to you. Please, can you leave me alone for a while? I need to think about all this." Scully tried to hide a hurt expression without much success, but nodded. "If you need anything, just call. Don't get out of bed yet, you need to rest. It's been a...rough...process." She carefully opened the door but couldn't avoid waking Skinner. He sat upright in the chair and rubbed his eyes. "Agent Scully. How is he?" "He's awake but a bit disoriented. He asked for some time alone to try and sort everything out," Scully tried to keep the worry out of her voice but, as usual, Skinner was uncomfortably perceptive. "What's wrong with him?" "He believes that he's seen a vision of the future in which he...he kills me. I tried to reassure him that this was a hallucination supplied by the demon but he won't accept it easily. I think he just needs to make sense of the entire event." Skinner got up and followed her down the stairs. "There's a lot to make sense of. I don't think I understand a lot of it." "Sir, during the end. I saw, relived, one of the worst times of my life. I was wondering if something like that...?" "Happened to me? Yes. I was suddenly back in Viet Nam, discovering that my entire unit had been massacred. My best friends, all dead..." Skinner faltered and then continued. "I've never felt despair like that in my life and to relive it was...unanticipated." "What do you suppose it was like for Mulder, on the receiving end of all that?" Scully asked quietly. "I don't know. I just don't know," Skinner said. 11:00 a.m. Mulder woke and insisted that he was much better. With help, he got up and slowly dressed himself. Although he moved stiffly, he seemed healthy enough to Scully. Brunch was a joyful event. Maggie whipped up some blueberry pancakes that had the Lone Gunmen raving and Skinner quietly plowing through a tall stack. If Mulder was quiet and thoughtful during the meal, nobody noticed it but Dana Scully. Still, she was happy that he seemed better. His appetite was good and he certainly had a lot to think about after his experience. The Gunmen gave Maggie happy good-byes and packed their video gear back into their van. They had made copies of the exorcism video and provided originals to both priests. "But Mulder, it really was your own exorcism, so this belongs to you," Byers said, handing a video to Mulder. Scully could see that Mulder was struggling not to let it fall from his hand in disgust. "Thanks, guys," Then Mulder sat straight in his chair and grinned. "Thanks for everything. It's not every bunch of friends that would give up a Saturday to help drive out demons!" The Gunmen grinned and Langly remarked as they left,"Yeah, well, there was nothing on the Sci Fi channel anyway." Skinner watched them go, then pulled Scully aside. "Agent, I expect you to stay on leave until Wednesday at least. Rest up after this. It was a tough one." "I will, sir," she replied, here eyes on Mulder. "And remember, keep me posted on his recovery," Skinner said his goodbyes and left as well. Maggie poured them more coffee, then went to the back yard to work on her garden. "So, alone at last," Mulder said over his coffee mug. "Uh huh. And look what it took, two priests, my mother, an assistant director and the Lone Gunmen." Scully smiled at him. Mulder gently set his cup down and looked at her thoughtfully. "Scully, my memory of the past week or so is pretty sketchy. I remember that the...the demon...What I'm trying to say is, he..." "You didn't hurt me, Mulder. It didn't hurt me because you wouldn't let it," she said calmly. "You were always able to exert that much control over it. That was what ultimately gave me hope that you could be helped." "You knew right away that it wasn't some kind of psychiatric illness?" Mulder asked in surprise. Scully nodded. "You weren't you, Mulder. And it wasn't illness. It was another personality looking at me from behind your eyes. But I didn't really get scared until the exorcism started." "It was pretty violent. I remember that part," Mulder shivered. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "No, it wasn't the violence. I didn't expect it to leave willingly. No, I was afraid that somehow you wouldn't be able to make the leap of faith required to accept God's help and expel that thing." Mulder sat quiet, thinking. "I'm not a Catholic, Scully, but I've never been all that sure just what I do believe. I'm still not sure. But all I know is that at some point in the ritual I heard music, beautiful music. A woman was singing in an angelic voice. Amazing Grace, I think the song was, and it was so much purer and cleaner than the voices of the demons that I had to follow it. I had to find it and hear more of it. Then I knew it was you." "Mulder, I sing like a toad." Mulder grinned. "It was you I heard and it was the sweetest sound on earth, or in heaven for that matter. At that point I began to realize what had happened to me and the awareness grew, moment by moment until I knew it all. I had to fight it, even though I thought I might have killed you, I couldn't let the demon stay in control. I couldn't let your memory down like that." "It was my voice that did that?" she asked softly. "Or it might have been the love behind it," said Mulder, reaching for her hand across the table. Maggie found them sitting quietly at the table, hand in hand, their eyes shining as they looked at each other. She could see the cross glinting around Mulder's neck and was glad that the healing had begun. For both of them. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'll be posting the sequel, Reek of Purity: Dark Time. To my surprise, I found that I actually had written the promised sequel to Reek of Purity and posted it two years ago today(!). I had mistakenly assumed that I had never written it since Gossamer and Xemplary (my regular archives)didn't have it and neither did my website. Thanks to Wylfcynne, who keeps her own archive of my stuff (yeah!) I rediscovered it and will post it on Sunday.