Title:  The Reek of Purity: Dark Time (1 of 9)
Author: Xenith
E-Mail:  xenitha@yahoo.com
Website:  http://xenith.freeservers.com
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
Spoilers: Thru 7th Season, excludes all things and
the stories that follow.
Archive: Sure, especially Spookys!
Feedback: Love it! Love it! E-mail me!! I WRITE
FASTER for e-mail!
Discussion List:  Yes!!! Yes!!!

Summary: Mulder dreams prophetic dreams of a future in which he leads a
successful revolt against the aliens, and executes Scully as a
traitor. He faces a crisis of spirit after his encounter with the
Source of evil and tries to fend off his inevitable destiny.

Acknowlegements:  Thanks to Wylfcynne for researching Navajo religion
and legend. Oh, and thank you to the inimitable TBishop for her
inspiration.

Author's Note: This is a sequel to an earlier work: The Reek of
Purity. It can be found on Ephemeral (http://www.ephemeralfic.org).

DARK TIME

"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)



Chapter 1


I remember that I stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial to close
the celebration. The speech I gave was rousing and full of emotion,
commending all those who had given blood and lives to fight for our
freedom over the past ten years.

The crowd went wild, shouting my name over and over again. They called
out my new title "Prophet", yelling it and screaming it in a frenzy.

It was finally over and we had won. There was not one living alien
left on Earth. We had fought a hard war of terrorism, espionage and
just plain cunning to oust them from our world. It had taken years of
running and hiding but we had finally succeeded and today was the
celebration of our victory.

As I listened to their cheers, my second in command moved to stand
next to me.

"They're calling you the Prophet for the New Humanity," he murmured
into my ear. "They're learning The Way quite well."

"It's helped them survive ten years of constant warfare," I replied.
"Not to mention the bioengineered plagues those damned aliens loosed
against us. If not for those factors in my bloodstream, we'd all be
dead."

"Well, I guess we have your father to thank for that," he said
grudgingly.

I grinned at him. "Okay, he was a bastard, but a smart bastard. He
knew what would be needed and did it. I haven't always liked him, but
I'm proud to be his heir."

He snorted. "And he died blessing your name.  Well, the people worship
you now, as we'd planned."

I nodded. "Yes. They'll follow me to hell and back. They already
have." I frowned as an unwanted memory surfaced.

"You have the prisoner ready?" I asked.

"As you ordered. You know that you have to do this, don't you?
Traitors can't be allowed."

"Yes, I know. I wrote the law didn't I?" I smiled and waved at the
crowd, who responded by cheering even more frantically. "If there's
one thing that the old man taught me, it's that sacrifices are
necessary for the greater good, and men owned by the world have to
make hard choices." I turned and began to walk back to the stairwell.
"Dissent cannot be tolerated. Everyone *must* work together toward one
end and follow one leader."

My friend nodded. "Yes. There must be one leader and a single vision.
If not, the aliens could still decimate us."

I was the first of the New Humans, the ones with the gifts and
abilities to match wits with the aliens and win.  My followers were in
awe of my photographic memory, my telepathy, my gift for leadership.
They had learned well what I had to teach.

We walked to my headquarters, past the bombed out remains of the White
House. My specially trained cadre of commandoes held back the yelling
crowd. Each commando was personally loyal to me and would die for me
in a heartbeat. This too was part of the mystique I chose to
cultivate.

After we arrived at my office, I sat at my desk and slung my camoflage
jacket over the chair. The first thing I'd outlawed had been neckties.

"Bring the prisoner in," I told my second in command, then settled
back to wait.  So many friends lost to the wars and to time. This one
was my last, the only loose end left over from the old life.  The last
bit of weakness excised from my soul. With this death, I would be free
to rule Earth in strength and power.

They brought the woman, chained and held between two burly male
guards.  My lieutenants had looked skeptical when I assigned the two
toughest men in the unit to her, but nobody was laughing now.  Both
men had long scratches and bruises from her small, but deadly hands.

"Thank you," I said pleasantly and sketched a blessing over them. "You
can leave her here now and come back when I call for you."

"But sir," protested the taller guard. "She's dangerous. She'll kill
you!"

I met her eyes and smiled. "I don't think she will. You can go. Go
ahead!" I made a shooing motion with my hand and the two guards
uneasily left.  My second in command shot the prisoner an ironic
glance, then saluted and left as well, closing the office door behind
him.

She hadn't changed much in the years since I saw her last. No gray in
her hair yet, although I've begun to show salt and pepper.

"You know, they've never really understood why I wanted my center of
operations in this basement.  I mean, it isn't like there's any good
furniture here, or real tactical advantage in this old building.  
Washington isn't the capitol any more, is it?"

"Old time's sake?" she asked and settled down into the chair I pointed
out to her.  I felt a pang when she adopted a familiar posture in the
chair, then ruthlessly squelched that sign of weakness.

I studied the chains that bound her hands to her waist and the
shackles around her ankles.  "You didn't have to let this happen, you
know.  You could have been my second in command."

She sneered. "What? And leave Krycek unemployed? There isn't much work
for a one-armed man in the new order."

"There can only be one Prophet and only one Way.  A people divided is
a people at risk," I could hear my voice rising with emotion.  I took
a deep breath and leaned back in the chair. It wouldn't do to let her
know that there was some emotion still buried in there. "You know that
I have to execute you."

"I know."

"You didn't leave me much choice. But you won't follow The Way. You
oppose my prophecies every chance you get. You lead *prayers* in the
public areas, espousing the old ways, the old culture that's dead and
gone." I could feel my lips twist in disdain. "That culture of
superstition almost allowed the aliens to conquer us.  I can't allow
anyone to challenge my authority. Not even you.  Despite all that we
used to be to each other."

"I was never anything to you," she said quietly.  "You died of a
gunshot wound in my arms. Whoever it was that woke up was somebody
different. The man I loved died that day, but neither of us knew it at
the time."

I watched her for a moment, then got up and walked around the desk
until I stood next to her. My emotions were mixed, but dominant was
the knowledge that this was inevitable. It had always been inevitable,
since I had learned the real truth about myself and my mission.

She rose from her chair and looked up at me full in the face. She
wasn't afraid at all.

"Well, I suppose this is it, Scully." I leaned down and, cradling her
cheeks in my palms kissed her full on the lips.  The kiss deepened and
I heard her breathing change as she grew more aroused. She still had
feelings for the neurotic weakling I used to be. How sad.

I moved my hands lower, lower until they rested on either side of her
neck, then I moved back and watched her face.

"Good bye, Mulder," she said.

"Good bye, Scully," I replied and tightened my hands until I felt her
slender neck snap between them.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"God....NO!  NOOOOOO!" I found myself sitting upright in my own bed.  
I heard a click and the light went on. Scully stood in the doorway,
watching me anxiously.  I couldn't look at her. I couldn't look a her,
knowing what was going to happen.

"Mulder!  Mulder, it's only a dream. It's a nightmare! Mulder? Can you
hear me? It's me. Scully." She climbed into bed with with me and
cradled my head against her breast while I cried.

I couldn't speak and just shook my head at her anxious cries.  I could
feel the sobs wrenching from my chest.

"It's okay, Mulder. It's just a dream, that's all.  Can you tell me
about it? Talk it out?"

I managed to focus my eyes and pulled away from her. "No, Scully. No,
I can't tell you what I saw. I can't."  I shook my head and gulped in
more air. "I don't think you should be here. I mean, it's silly, me
having nightmares and you sitting up with me. I'm a grown man and you
aren't my mother."

I had to get her away from me. I could still feel the brittle *snap*
of her neckbones beneath my fingertips.

She smiled. "No, I'm not your mother but I am your friend. I'm here
because I want to be. Mulder, these dreams have been hitting you every
night but you won't talk about them. It's related to that..that demon
isn't it?"

"Scully, get away from me. You have to get away..."

"You still think that you were given a glimpse of the future? Mulder,
the future hasn't been written yet. We, each of us, has free will to
make the future whatever it will become."

Her voice was filled with such trust and faith. How could I tell her
that, even though faith and perhaps God had saved me from a terrible
evil, that I still couldn't believe. I couldn't trust it.

"Is that what your religion tells you? That you have free will?" I
asked in a flat voice and still couldn't look her in the eye.

I could hear the frown in her voice. "My faith tells me that I create
my life, yes. But you know that. You believe that."

"Do I?" I asked and finally looked up at her.  "What do I believe,
Scully? Who am I really? What am I?"

"Only you can answer that," she replied.

"Scully..." I tried to find the words but failed yet again.  She can
never understand what I experienced; I hope she never does.  I was
betrayed by my own stupid wishful thinking. I hoped so much for a God
that gives a damn about Fox Mulder, that I opened the door to, to...

"Go home Scully," I said tiredly, dry washing my face. "I won't sleepy
any more tonight and you may as well have a night's rest."

"I'm not sure I should leave you..." she began but I interrupted her.

"Get the hell out, Scully! I'm not your baby and I'm not your husband.
Just leave me the hell alone!"

She was quiet, but I could see her tremble with emotions she didn't
want me to see. "All right, I'll go. But I'm checking up on you
tomorrow whether you like it or not."

She quietly got up and closed the bedroom door behind her.  I listened
for the sound of the apartment door closing before I let myself go.

And now I write these words in the journal I've kept faithfully over
the past eight years. For what? So that generations unborn can read
the words?

Who am I? What am I?  I have to keep her away from me until I find
out, and maybe even after I do.  If it is my destiny to be Dana
Scully's executioner, then I don't want the future.

Was the woman in my dream right? Did all that is good in me die with
that gunshot wound?

Chapter 2

Fox Mulder's Journal

June 4, 2000


It's about 3 a.m. and the apartment is as quiet as it gets.  That is
to say, to a normal person all is silent. My neighbors can't hear the
sibilant voices just out of hearing's range.  I hear them. Voices,
soft speaking tones, laughter, but can't make out the words.

While Scully was staying with me, I could hear them but she couldn't.
I can understand why, of course. It's me they want.

They wanted me to be their prophet, the channel for their voices,
their presence in this world. Somehow this fight has gone beyond mere
aliens and humans and I seem to be at the center.  I know what the
demons want.  They want me.  All of me; every thought, every wish,
every emotion.

The priest said that the demon was gone, cast out.  But he also said
that unless I replace the demon with God's presence, I am at risk for
a relapse.

That thing could come back and bring its cousins with it.

But how can I replace a strange spirit with one that is even stranger
to me?

God is...who?  Scully believes in a loving, caring deity who protects
his children.  Who has He protected? Scully? She's childless because
of the torturous tests she endured because she's my partner.  Her
daughter Emily? Her sister Melissa?

And for myself, how was I protected? Didn't God keep me from being
abducted with Sam? Subjected to horrendous tests until death was the
only escape? No, I didn't have to go through that. But that begs the
point. Sam was tortured, and so was Scully.

I know that the people I love the most will die.  They will die
terribly and before their time.  Then the ripple effect kicks in, and
those people that they value will be sucked in and hurt as well.

My sister. My father. My mother. Scully's sister. Her daughter.

And here I sit at the tornado's center, untouched by the devastation
that surrounds me.

I am supposed to love and trust a God who allows this?

I am angry, do you hear me God? I am royally PISSED OFF that you force
me to watch helplessly while the people I love are hurt and killed.
What do you want from me? Who do you want me to be?

Do you want me to be your prophet too? Your great warrior of the
Light, sacrificing all my loves and relationships in order to save
humanity? Hey, I read Joseph Campbell too, you know!

I am destined to kill her.  I will be her death.  I *know* this, and I
won't allow it to happen.  If you want a leader, you can find somebody
else. I don't want to be a prophet or somebody's messiah. If the whole
goddamned world ends, that isn't my problem. I won't let it be my
problem.

I do not consent to this! Do you hear me? God and Satan both! Listen
to Fox Mulder! I am out of this game. Go find yourselves another man
of destiny. I opt out. I won't do it.


**************
June 5, 2000
Letter to Walter Skinner
Assistant Director of the FBI

From Special Agent Fox W. Mulder
X Files Division


Sir,

It is with regret that I must tender my resignation from the FBI,
effective immediately.

Yours respectfully,

Fox Mulder

**************


June 5, 2000
Memo to Special Agent Fox Mulder
From Assistant Director Walter Skinner
cc: Human Resources


Mulder,

This will confirm the results of the meeting held early this morning
at your request, regarding your letter of resignation.

Put briefly, your resignation is unacceptable and I refused to take
it. I wish you would explain your reasons more thoroughly; there may
be Bureau resources that could help.  However, it is clear that you
are suffering from exhaustion and it was determined that a six month
leave of absence would suit your needs as well.  Accordingly you are
released from duty effective immediately.

You have already deposited your badge and weapon with me.  Human
Resources will meet with you later today to fill out the necessary
paperwork for the transition.

Per your request, I will inform Agent Dana Scully of your decision and
discuss its ramifications with her.

I am glad that you decided to take my advice and, considering your
recent illness, have determined that a less drastic course may give
you the space you need to recover.

Yours very truly,

Walter Skinner

**************************

Email

Date: June 5, 2000
From: dkscully@fbi.gov
To:fwmulder@fbi.gov, believer@yahoo.com
Re: Where the Hell are you?

I'm sending this e-mail to both your accounts, so you can't say you
didn't get it.

Mulder, Skinner told me that you tried to resign today. When I got
back to the office your desk had been cleared out and your apartment
was empty.  Your phone had been disconnected and you'd left your cell
phone behind. You'd even parked your fish with a neighbor.

Nobody seems to know where you went.  Even the Gunmen don't know where
you've gone and Skinner says he doesn't know either.

Mulder, where are you? Are you okay?

No, you aren't okay. Since when have you ever been okay when you just
up and run out on me. Mulder, you swore to me, SWORE TO ME, that you
would never, ever ditch me again!  You're breaking your promise.

Who is it? The Smoking Man? The alien bounty hunter? Krycek?

Dammit, Mulder, CALL ME!

***************************

Journal of Fox Mulder

June 12, 2000
Laurel Mill Lodge
Santa Cruz, California

The weeks following the exorcism are a blur, thank God. I don't want
to remember them, but I know that Scully does.

I heard the voices every night, calling me, laughing at me.  I
couldn't shut them out because they weren't audible to the ear, only
to the mind.  Scully reassured me that I wasn't going insane. No, I
was only recovering from demonic possession.  Sort of like a spiritual
flu bug, you understand.

I think I kept Maggie up more nights than she'd admit to.  In any
case, every time I'd get up for a glass of water she was already in
the kitchen warming milk for me.  Did I say that I hate hot milk?
Well, for her I smiled and drank it. And slept like a baby afterward.

My mind feels different. It's as though I lived in a house and
somebody came in and rearranged the furniture. Everything is still
there, but it feels different. I feel...uneasy, unsteady, off balance.
The world looks different.

And then there are the dreams, or are they visions?

Last night I dreamed that I was in a garden filled with roses, all
colors.  There was a tall fountain in the center with a bronze statue.  
As I walked nearer I could see that the statue was a man, his arms
outstretched to embrace the world.

Then I saw the face of the statue and it was mine.  The gardener was
pulling weeds nearby, so I stopped him and asked who that man was, the
statue.  He grinned and said, "What? Don't you recognize the Prophet?
I think it's a good likeness myself." He shook his head thoughtfully.
"He saved the world, you know. Those aliens had us down for the count,
but he turned it around, made all the politicians cooperate and fight
back."

He sat back on his heels. "Of course, power changes a man. Not that
I'd ever criticize the Prophet, you understand." He looked around
fearfully, as though afraid of listeners. "The Prophet is the greatest
leader that the world has ever known," he said loudly and refused to
answer any more of my questions.

I woke up, seeing my body, frozen in bronze among the roses.

Life is slower here in the redwoods. No traffic comes up our road and
we don't hear the noise of the highway much.

I think a lot about those I've left behind. Skinner was remarkably
understanding when I presented my letter to him. He talked me out of
resigning and I'm still not sure that I did the right thing. Still,
I'm glad to get away from the basement and Scully.

Scully.  She'll feel that I betrayed her, leaving her like that. She
doesn't know why I have to get away from her.  I never said goodbye.

Hell, I still have her cross.

I didn't tell Skinner where I was going, just that it would be out of
state. I don't think I'll mail the cross back to Scully, though. She'd
use the postmark to track me down.  And I can't let myself be tracked
down.

Could even her faith withstand the monster I could become?

I need to make sense of all this somehow.


June 14, 2000
Laurel Mill Lodge
Santa Cruz, California

I got a job today.  I am a coffee pourer at the local combination
bookstore/coffee house, as well as shelving the odd book every now and
then.  The place is called Fern's Books (after Fern Reynolds, the
owner).  My name is now Martin Mueller, but my friends call me Marty.

I'll keep living at the Lodge and commute into Santa Cruz. Most people
do that anyway around here and I can understand their complaints about
Highway 17 and its traffic. It can be a dangerous road.  But Santa
Cruz is a nice community, very different from D.C.  I'll stay with
small jobs and keep a low profile. I can keep my head down and let the
giants fight the battles.

In any case, Fox Mulder will die soon from some terrible, untraceable
accident.  They'll find his ID near the burned out hulk of his car.  
Scully will grieve, but it's better that she cry than I kill her. This
is the only solution I can see, for Fox Mulder to disappear so
entirely that he cannot become the terrible figure I see in my dreams.

I know that Scully is looking for me. I read her e-mails, courtesy of
my local public library and various web-lounges. It hurts every time I
do, kind of like an aching tooth that you just can't stop fiddling
with.  But this is the only contact I can allow with her. I have to
stay away from her.

I haven't described the Lodge, have I? Think retro sixties leftover
commune. The main building used to be a logging camp, then the Boy
Scouts had some kind of camp here. The current owners took it over and
refurbished the cabins into individual units, which they rent out.
Mine is in a circle of redwood trees with a deck and lots of
squirrels.

I have indoor plumbing and electricity but no phone.  The television
reception is crappy, but somehow I don't want to watch t.v.  I don't
want to know what's going on out there.

I suppose that Scully would say that I've run away and hidden from my
problems and she'd be right.  I'm done.  I'm finished.  I just can't
do this anymore. And I don't want to endanger her,ever.


June 16, 2000

I've started remembering the time while that entity was controlling
me.  I almost raped Scully...or it almost...or my body almost...

....it was like being covered with slime on the inside. I couldn't
move in it, and I had no future, no past and no memories.  I could
only sit and watch while another personality controlled my body. All
the while it was pressing against me, cajoling me into believing that
its version of reality was the only true one.  I lost myself in it and
I could feel its thoughts becoming mine.  What would have happened if
Scully hadn't recognized the danger? What would have been left of me?

And yet, while it was talking, thinking, doing all those things, I was
doing them too. I could hear its thoughts, feel them. How much of that
was the demon and how much was me?

**************************

Email

Date: June 16, 2000
From: dkscully@fbi.gov
To:fwmulder@fbi.gov, believer@yahoo.com
Re: Please, Mulder tell me where you are.

Mulder, you've simply disappeared.  Skinner can't tell me anything
other than that you've taken a six months leave of absence.

I don't believe that and neither do you.  You're gone for good, aren't
you?  What are you doing? Where are you?  Are you investigating
something? Are you in danger?

Mulder, I'm your partner and part of my job is to guard your back. I
can't do that from here. Please let me help.

I know that you erased your hard drive, but the boys have recovered
some of the data.  I know about the nightmares. You believe that
you've seen the future, don't you?

You aren't going to be the cause of my death.  You could never kill
me; not in this reality or any other. And you could never compromise
your beliefs like that.

Will you at least e-mail me back? Please?

***************************

Ad in the Washington Post, the New York Times and the
Wall Street Journal
June 12, 2000

Will anyone having contact with Fox William Mulder please contact Dana
Scully care of this newspaper at Mailbox number 204. Reward offered
for valid leads.


Chapter 3


Fox Mulder's Journal

June 17, 2000

It's late but I don't want to sleep, so I'll write about my new life.

Working for Fern has been quite an adventure so far. She's about
thirty five with short red hair, cut kind of like Scully's. In fact,
Fern isn't much taller than Scully, at about 5'4".  But where Scully
is quiet and reticent and reserved, Fern is...well...Fern.

The day she hired me, she was wearing her favorite leather mini-dress
with platform sandals. I have since discovered that she likes leather.
A lot.  Today she was wearing her black leather jumpsuit and turquoise
jewelry.  She says it helps her balance her energies.  Given the
low-cut nature of her clothing and her penchant for smutty novels, I
can guess where most of her 'energies' go.

But Fern hasn't tried to make a play for me, thank goodness. She looks
entirely too much like Scully for my comfort level and I don't know
what I'd do if she tried.  Fortunately, although she's a hot woman (my
God), she's very married to a local doctor and has six kids.

Be that as it may, Fern's Books is best known in local circles for its
extensive and wide-ranging collection of erotica written by and for
women.  In fact, Fern conducts women's seminars on Saturday nights
dealing with women and sex.

Lucky me. I get to be the coffee-guy on Saturday nights.

This is Hell. It is really really Hell. Every damned woman in the
group (and I swear that not one of them is under age 60), gives me the
come-hither look as she asks for her coffee with "extra cream", while
winking at me lasciviously.  And the things they do to eclairs when
they know I can see them...My God.

Did Scully ever complain about my bad innuendoes? Man, I'm being
sexually harrassed by a bunch of grandmothers!

Tonight, however, we got a younger crowd. Fern was having a special
presentation and demo of the products from 'Naughty But Nice', the
local candle and sex-toy shop.

I don't know whether to laugh out loud or just flinch away with
embarrassment.  I got propositioned by at least five women after the
gathering and I am really wondering what went on in there.  They all
came out of the room with flushed faces, clutching paper sacks of
various sizes.

Now, I've been a good-looking guy all my life. I know, I should be
humble about all this but it's never been hard for me to attract
female attention. But tonight.....!

I went home to my virtuous bed alone, wondering why I would do such a
stupid thing like that. I mean, Scully is thousands of miles away and
I'm never going to see her again. I can date anybody I want.  Some of
those women were really hot looking.

It's not as if she and I had any understanding about things. Hell,
whenever I tried to bring it up, she'd shy away. I didn't have to turn
those women down.

And then Mike, Fern's husband, arrived at the store to pick her up.
The kids are at grandma's for the weekend and they only had eyes for
each other. Me, I only felt jealous.

I may have changed my name and my address, but I'm still Spooky
Mulder: ace geek and hopeless, diehard romantic. I don't want anybody
but Scully and I can't have her.

So, here I am in my little cabin in the woods writing in my journal. I
don't really want to sleep tonight. The dreams have been getting
worse; they seem to be showing me alternate futures. Again, I don't
think that these are just figments from my mind.  They feel too real.

Last night, I dreamed that I had volunteered to lead the rebellion.

Scully and I were married a year, when the aliens came.  They bombed
the White House and Congress first, then the hospitals, power plants
and water reservoirs.  They didn't bother with the military bases;
they knew that we didn't have anything in their league to fight back
with.

Krycek approached me and asked me to be a leader in the resistance. It
seems he'd been a mole for the resistance for years, supported by the
alien rebels.  They wanted me to call in all the favors owed me from
years of correspondence with the alien-abduction community.  I knew
the leaders of abductee groups and had credibility with them and I
could rally them.  The Lone Gunmen helped to organize my group, and
they expanded it with their list of contacts (which was very
extensive, by the way).

Scully called all her father's friends in the military and even her
brother Bill joined us.  Of course, he hated taking orders from me so
we deployed him under Krycek.

Scully and I took to the woods to lead our teams in terrorism and
guerilla warfare.  Scully set up hospitals for the pitiful refugees
that wandered in from the cities.

And then the plagues began.  People died by the hundreds, then the
thousands.  To our amazement, neither Scully nor I was ever infected.  
Nor were any former abductees.

My Scully added two and two, then concocted a serum based on the
factors in my blood stream as well as those in the abductees systems.  
Then, as the aliens genetically engineered the viruses again and
again, Scully and her group countered them with new treatments.

My Scully could find a cure for cancer with two band-aids and a quart
of bactine!

They were hard years but good ones.  We lived in the woods, hiding the
alien hunters and running constantly.  But they never caught us.

Finally, one day, five years after the Apocalypse, Scully sought me
out in our cabin.

"Mulder," she said with suppressed excitement. "I have some
interesting news."

"Yeah?" I asked, looking up from the latest recon reports.  "What? Why
are you grinning?"

"Mulder, I don't know how this happened but....well, I haven't had a
period in about three months."

"Yeah, I know. You thought it was something you ate, right?" I studied
her face, watching the expression change to impish.  "It wasn't
someth....No, Scully...it can't be.  You can't have kids..."

"I guess the little one wasn't listening, then. Oh Mulder, I'm so
glad." She rushed into my arms and laid her head against my chest.

My child, she was having my child.  I couldn't imagine the miracle
that could produce something like this, but I was grateful and in my
heart I thanked God for it.

I knew that Scully was glad.  Every day as she grew rounder and
clumsier, I could see her glow increase.  She was praying more, too.
She had a special log she liked to sit on in the mornings and
meditate. I could see her with the old rosary beads she'd salvaged.
But although I didn't have her belief, I was more than willing that
she pray for us.  A little more help couldn't hurt, could it.

In my sleep, I know that I was smiling from the joy of the dream.  
The months went by fast and in December, Scully went into labor.

There had been a battle two days before and our two other doctors had
gone to the camp in what was left of Boston to help with the wounded.  
Scully had insisted that this was a normal pregnancy and that Jessie,
our nurse, would manage fine as a midwife if the doctors didn't get
back in time.

The aliens hit us the morning that Scully went into labor.  Frohike
and Byers got her away from camp and into a hidden cabin in the woods
that we'd prepared. Just in case.

I concentrated on the fighting, knowing that if I didn't, my people
would die.  We fought the aliens with weapons we'd taken from their
own arsenal, then faded into the woods.  They were our woods and we
knew them.  We also had shields, which masked our body heat from alien
sensors (more stolen technology).

I split off from the group and ran as fast as I could to Scully's
cabin.  It was peaceful and quiet in the snow, so I tapped on the door
and went inside.

The aliens had followed me, I don't know how.  They fired on the
cabin, blocking the doorway.  I grabbed Scully, still in labor, and
forced her out the window, half-carrying her into the forest.

The two of us managed to leave our pursuers behind and stopped in the
lee of a fallen log when Scully cried out and clutched her stomach.

"Mulder....it's coming...I'm sorry..." she panted, looking up at me
with terrified eyes.

"That's okay, " I said, feigning calm as I looked around and found no
better shelter for her. "Here," I pulled off my jacket and lay her
down on it, then knelt between her legs to deliver my child.

She labored for twenty hours, her agony increasing gradually over
time.  She kept insisting that she was fine, that it was fine, over
and over again until finally she wouldn't answer my questions. Then
she just stared at me, while she clamped her jaw shut against the
pain.  She knew that if she screamed, they'd find us.

I found myself wondering how it had come to this---My Scully
delivering her child in the woods, far from medical care, not even in
a house.  Hell, she wasn't even in a bed.  Delivering my child. My
child.  She should have been in a hospital, with professionals around
her giving her pain-killers.  Or she shouldn't be pregnant at all, she
shouldn't even be having my child.

Scully bled to death on the frozen ground, delivering my still-born
son.

I woke screaming again this morning.  I'm glad that my cabin has no
close neighbors. I don't want to explain the sounds that come from it
in the night.  At the bookstore, Fern just looks at my bloodshot eyes
and grins, assuming I spent the night getting it on with some hot
young thing (after all, her eyes are often tired-looking in the
mornings after she and Mike...).  Well, anyway, she doesn't ask and I
don't volunteer.

In the dream, I know that I didn't kill Scully.  But I did kill her.
Because of me she was living in a battle zone, pregnant with my child.  
Because of me, she was far from medical help (even the limited help
available to the refugees).

I've been reading Scully's e-mails again.  How I want to send her a
reply, but I can't. What do I tell her? Scully, God and Satan both
want me to lead a revolution and I won't work for either of them?

I think that might be a bit too much for my one in five million.

Here is today's e-mail. (Yes, she's sending them daily.)

***********
From: dkscully@fbi.gov
To: fwmulder@fbi.gov, believer@yahoo.com
Subject: You ditched me.

Hello Mulder,

you still haven't replied to my e-mails but I won't stop until you
have.  The Lone Gunmen are worried about you and so is Skinner.  I
explained to Skinner how uncharacteristic this behavior is, even for
you. Can't you at least explain yourself and set all our minds at
rest?

I understand how you feel about the demons. I was there, and it was
horrible.  Mulder, I saw another personality looking at me through
your eyes.  I was so afraid that you'd be unreachable.  Dying is one
thing, but there are things worse than that.  It almost happened to
you.

Do you know how I would feel if something bad happened to you because
I wasn't there to help you?

I check the John Doe reports daily, to make sure that a body answering
your description hasn't shown up. I've called in favors with half a
dozen field offices, asking them to keep an eye out for you.  You are
in danger, Mulder. I feel it in my bones.

Please, please be careful. Watch out for yourself. I know you don't
want to hear this, but I'm praying for you. 

**************

She's praying for me.  To the God of her understanding, no doubt.

I wish I could believe, but this is one comfort I've never had.  
There have been too many losses for me to believe in a Spirit being
capable of anything more than capricious gamesmanship with his human
toys.

I think I made that decision when Sam was stolen.  After Sam went,
first Mom and then Dad went cold toward me.  Nothing I did was right.  
Everything that I'd ever depended on or loved, crumbled at my touch.
Everything I have loved, every time I have cared for somebody or
someone, has been destroyed or injured.

And then, one day I found God. I found a glorious light which saved my
sorry life. I survived, miraculously, a gunshot wound that had Scully
ready to pronounce me dead.  I saw a loving Being of light, who knew
all about me and loved me anyway.

I woke up believing in God. I KNEW that God existed, knew that
absolute good existed.  I knew what my place in that light was.

I followed my light to a holy man, who gave me over to the demons.  
He gave me to them, did Reverend Hayworth.

I trusted him.  I trusted God.

Boy was I wrong.  I learned my lesson at age 12, and again at 40.  
Trust no one. Trust no one, except maybe Scully.

If God exists, He has no interest in me beyond the maintenance of some
cosmic plans of His own. Ditto for Satan.  Did God deliver me from the
demons? Probably. For my good? Who knows, but I don't think that
politics are strictly a human function.

I know that Scully would disagree violently with these sentiments.
Still, I feel like I've been a pawn since the day I was conceived.

If I am near Scully she will die.  If I lead a rebellion, she will
join it and die. Is an agonizing delivery in the snow any better than
my squeezing the life out of her with my bare hands?


Chapter 4

Journal of Fox Mulder

June 24, 2000

Yesterday, Friday, I must have looked really tired, because Fern came
over to me while I was wiping down the coffee bar.

"Marty, are you feeling okay? You look...worn." She gave me a sharp
look that Scully would be proud of, and I knew that she was taking in
the circles under my eyes and my pasty complexion.

I was ready to tell her that I was *fine*, but suddenly, looking down
at her face, I knew I could no more lie to her than I could to Scully.

"I haven't been sleeping well, lately," I said dismissively. "Bad
dreams."

"You want to talk about them? Sometimes that helps," she said.

I shook my head. I don't think that these particular dreams would
clear up for discussing them and I didn't want any more human beings
dragged into the apocalyptic soap opera that is my life.

"Well, you look like you could use a rest. Tell you what, Mike and I
are taking the kids to the beach tomorrow. Do you want to come along?
Think you can stand a day with the bunch? Charlotte can run the store,
and there isn't any seminar planned."

"I couldn't impose, Fern, honestly..." I didn't want to get involved
in anybody's life. My own life is so corrosive, that the best
protection for any of my friends is for me to stay the Hell away from
them.  Still, I love Fern and her kids are hilarious.

"Come on, Marty. A day in the sun is just what you need! And we'll
find you some nice little beach bunny to keep you company!" She gave
me her best salacious grin and I couldn't help grinning back.

"Well, with an offer like that how could I refuse?"  I felt guilty
that the offer gave me so much pleasure. I've been lonely, hiding out
in the woods, afraid that my stain will somehow carry to those around
me.

And so, I went to the beach today and I'm exhausted. I spent the day,
from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. with Fern and Mike and their six hellions...I
mean kids at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk.  I rode the roller coaster with
the elder ones until *I* started getting sea-sick (to their glee).  
The two year old spit up on me after I bought him cotton candy. The
thirteen year old buried me in the sand, and the other urchins (whose
ages I can't recall) tackled me as we were playing frisbee on the
beach. All in all, I didn't have time to think about nightmares or the
fate of the planet; I was too busy enjoying myself.

I wish Scully were here.

Watching Fern with her kids, the likeness between the two was
positively eerie.  I'd find myself catching her expressions from the
corner of my eye and could swear it was Scully; but it wasn't. It
isn't.  Fern is a happy woman with a great family and a husband who
clearly adores her.  I envy them.  Oh, how I envy them.

Scully should have that many children, all healthy, grubby little
monsters who beat up on their parents regularly. She'd take to it as
naturally as Fern has.  But she'll never get the chance, thanks to a
smoking friend of ours.

Sitting on the beach at sunset, I held the two year old in my lap,
asleep, while the rest of the family gathered seashells and polished
off the rest of the burgers.  I could only think about the wonderful
peace of it all.  No monsters, no alien colonists, no great
earth-shattering issues to deal with. Just life in its simplicity.

Of course, just as that realization hit me I also had another flash of
insight. My lap was wet. The two year-old had peed on me.  Such is
real life.

The nights are getting longer and longer. I don't sleep through my
nightmares any more. Now I wake up and sit, shaking and afraid to go
back to sleep. It feels like somebody is chasing me while I'm
dreaming.

Two nights ago I was a rebel leader again but this time Scully died in
my arms from a gunshot wound.

Three nights ago, I died in her arms with an alien plague, leaving her
to lead the rebellion alone.

Last night was different.  I dreamed that Scully and I were both
approached by the smoking man. He offered us shelter on a
"reservation" for humans.  The aliens wanted the planet but were
willing to house 'endangered species' in a sort of zoo.

Scully wanted to throw the offer back in his face, but I thought about
her family.  Bill and his family (two kids by now) would die in the
diseases to come, and Maggie wouldn't make it. I talked Scully into
agreeing to it as long as the family could come along. The old bastard
smirked and agreed.

The lot of us took up residence in a Washington suburb, surrounded by
gates and, ultimately, a force field.

The night of the attack, all the members of our small enclave gathered
in our streets to watch the alien ships dive from the sky, raining
fire and hell on our world.  We could hear the screams of the people
as they burned to death, smell the chemicals in the air from the
burning napalm-like substances that were dropped.

Nothing touched us, nothing could get through the aliens' force field.
But we watched.

In the morning, a dark cloud of dust hid the light and the sun rose
blood red.  I climbed on top of the roof of our new two storey
bungalow and took a look around with my binoculars.

I saw nothing but dirt and dust. No living things. No birds, no trees,
no grass, no people. Nothing moved, not even carrion birds.  The world
was dead and we'd given up.

Scully took the binoculars from me and took a long look, then gave me
an unreadable stare.  "We should have died with them," she finally
said.

In the days that followed, Scully got quieter and quieter. We heard
that we were the only humans left on the planet, that all the others
were dead.  We settled in to being the last community of humans, but
realized that we had become dinosaurs. We had no future, except to be
a living museum exhibit for our new masters.

Even Scully's will to fight back began to drain away. At last, I got
up one morning and found her gone.  I searched the house, but she
wasn't there. Maggie hadn't seen her, nor had Bill.

The aliens brought her back to me on a stretcher. She had quietly
walked into the force-field some time in the night and had died
instantly.  She left no note.  She didn't have to.  Scully can live
through anything, with anything but couldn't survive the loss of hope.

I didn't wake screaming from this one. I found myself staring up into
the darkness, the tears running down my face.

Every night I see the future and every night is worse than the last.  
So what is the answer, then? If I take up this mission that some
spiritual Power is urging on me, I run the risk of killing Scully or
of becoming the sort of monster who took my sister.

Who is sending the dreams and what do they want? Who is it that wants
me out of the game? And who is it that wants me in?  Why me? Why am I
so important?


June 26, 2000

I got another e-mail from Scully. I can't stand this. My silence is
hurting her. I don't know how much longer I can keep from responding.
I suppose I could mask my location by using public access terminals.
Maybe at the library? God, I wish I could ask the Lone Gunmen, but I
can't involve them.

***********************

E-Mail

From: dkscully@fbi.gov
To: fwmulder@fbi.gov, believer@yahoo.com
Subject: Where are you?

Mulder,

I know you haven't been gone very long but I still miss you.  Are you
okay?  You must be picking up your e-mails somehow, because none of
these messages have bounced back to me. That gives me a little
comfort.

The work continues.  I closed out the Andrews' case. It was the hoax
we suspected it would be.  The child abduction case you were assisting
on has been closed. Her mother took her over the border to Canada and
was hiding there under an assumed name; the courts are handling it
now.

The Martinez case, now, needs your fine touch. It might actually be a
chupacabra, after all.  How about that? After all this time we might
have a genuine, real Mexican goat-sucker!  You wouldn't want me out
there investigating this all alone, would you? Just let me know if you
want in on this case. You know where to find me.

Oh, and one of your buddies at the Paranormal society called. He wants
to know if you'd like to go ghost-hunting.  He has a new piece of
equipment he wants to try out; called a MESA, it creates a picture of
the play of magnetic fields in a given area, including static and
electric.  Personally, I think it's a bunch of bunk.

I hear things about Reverend Hayworth from time to time. I understand
that his church may be expanding soon. He has a new Sunday morning
television show, "The Hour of Enlightenment". Somehow, I always want
to reach for the wooden stake and garlic when it comes on.

Are you still wearing my cross? I hope so. Please don't take it off, I
only want it back when you come with it. And I can't shake the feeling
that it's protecting you somehow.

Mulder, please....tell me you're safe.  You don't have to tell me
where you are.  Just let me know that you're okay.

Always your friend.  Scully.

****************************

E-Mail

From: believer@yahoo.com
To: dkscully@fbi.gov
Subject: I'm alive

Hi Scully.  I didn't mean to upset you with my silence, but you have
to understand that this is only to protect you and my friends.

Those nightmares are really closer to visions of all the possible
futures out there. In most of them I lose you and I can't allow that
to happen.  I'd rather live, knowing that you're out there, happy and
healthy, than take a chance of your being killed by an enemy...or by
me.

Can you understand that?  You're right. I'm not coming back.  Knowing
what I know now, I don't think that there's much time left before the
aliens land and I *can't* be in D.C. when that happens.  If I join the
resistance, you'll end up dead.

When they come, Scully, you have to hide.  Take your family and go to
the mountains; the aliens won't strike as heavily there.  They don't
want the planet destroyed, just the humans.

Every night I see vignettes of what is to come and it's horrible.

I haven't taken off your cross and I won't if you don't want me to.  
The exorcism helped, immensely, but I still hear them in the corner of
my mind.  They're still out there, but I can't trust God.  Scully,
both sides want something from me and I can't trust either. I don't
trust anybody but you.  For now I'm holding steady.

I've got a good job locally, a steady paycheck, and a pretty nice
place to live. I'm making friends, even though I won't talk about my
past much.  Please don't come looking for me.  This really is for the
best.

Mulder.

********************

June 30, 2000

Two days ago I finally answered one of Scully's e-mails. I just sent
one, intending it to be a good-bye.  It still felt good to be talking
to her, at whatever the distance.

But this evening I discovered that no good deed goes unpunished or,
its corollary, never underestimate the detective skills of Dana
Scully.

I had just finished stacking coffee cups on the back counter and heard
somebody come up to the bar.  I turned around and saw a short woman
flipping through a copy of "For Yourself, A Woman's Guide to
Masturbation" that Fern had put on display next to the bar.

The woman set the book down, then beamed at me through crystal blue
eyes.

"Hi Mulder.  Long time, no see," Scully grinned triumphantly.


Chapter 5


Journal of Fox Mulder
June 30, 2000
continued....


I know that I stood there dumbfounded for about ten seconds while she
looked at me expectantly. Then I did the first thing that came to
mind.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know any Mulder. Can I make you some coffee?"

Yeah. It was lame, but it was the best I could do at the time. I truly
did not expect Scully to pop out of the woodwork like this. I'd
covered my trail, hadn't I?

She frowned. "Mulder, this is ridiculous. You are Fox William Mulder
and don't try to deny it. You know damned well who I am." Her voice
rose and she folded her arms across her chest, taking an aggressive
stance.

I stared back at her, knowing that this was a losing battle. "Scully,
what are you doing here?" I sighed. "How did you find me? I thought I
managed to drop out of sight so far that even the Gunmen couldn't find
me."

Scully flashed me a bitter smile. "I tracked your e-mail to the office
computer here. They've been using the technique to locate online
stalkers and pedophiles."

"And me. Using it to track me," I mumbled. Scully'd been nagging me to
keep up with the FBI mainstream and I guess she was right. "Okay, so
now you've found me let me lay it on the line. I'm not going back.
Ever. I refuse to be used by either side of this war that's brewing. I
won't sit by and watch my friends die around me. I refuse." I could
hear my voice starting to flatten the way it does when I'm very upset.
She could hear it too.

"Mulder, the future isn't written yet. Regardless of what your dreams
are telling you, it's all speculative. In fact, I'd say that since you
see a different future each time that you are still very much in the
drivers' seat."

Bleak. That was how I felt. Bleak. "Scully, each dream ends up with
you dead or with me dead and you alone and despairing," I said. "Not
one of the futures I see ends happily for you."

"And do you think that any future I have without you in it will be any
happier?" she replied softly. "Or does that matter to you?"

Before I could reply, I saw Fern approaching from the corner of my
eye. Uh oh. Fern was looking protectively in my direction, noting my
defensive look and stance...

"Excuse me? Ma'am? Is there something I can help you with?" Fern
interrupted pleasantly. Fern had been stocking the Women's Sexuality
section and had a pair of boxed dildoes in her hands, packaged in
see-through wrappers. And naturally she was wearing her leopard print
tie-top with skin-tight faded jeans. And boots. Can't forget the
boots.

Scully took in the attire and what Fern was carrying. I think she also
noticed Fern's general physical resemblance to my partner.

Scully gave Fern a LOOK, then flashed a disgusted glance at me.

Fern, of course, caught the unspoken message that Scully was
projecting and flushed.

"I don't think you can help *me*," she said archly. "Mulder, when you
come to your senses you can find me at the Motel 6 on West Cliff
Drive. Although I can certainly see the attractions that
your...uh...new life offers, that doesn't justify your casually
dropping all your old responsibilities." She glared at me, then at
Fern and turned on her heel then stomped out of the store.

Fern waited until the footsteps died away then faced me.

"Is there something you need to tell me, Marty? Was that your ex-wife
or something?" I could see that Fern was gently steaming from Scully's
snub and I felt profoundly embarrassed to have been the cause for it.

"Uh..I guess we do need to talk at that. How about your office?"


***********************

E-MAIL

From: dkscully@fbi.gov
To:  kungfumaster@hotmail.com
Subject: My trip to California


Frohike,

I found him but don't want to put too much detail into an e-mail, no
matter how secure you swear it is. Suffice it to say that there are
complications and I don't know how this will turn out. He doesn't look
well physically and he's changed, but how much I can't determine.

I'll stay in the area and work on the local cases that justify my
presence here. Please pass my comments on to Skinner.  And would you
ask Father's Clarence and Gregory to keep praying?

I'll keep you posted at the agreed-on e-mail addresses.

DKS

*******************************

Fox Mulder's Journal
continued...

Fern sat down behind her desk, suddenly all business. "First of all,
what is your real name? Is it Marty Mueller?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. "Fern, I...no.  No, my name is
Fox Mulder. I am...I was an FBI agent working in Washington D.C.  I
recently had some...health problems...that forced me to take a long
leave from my job. I decided that I needed to get away from the entire
environment for a while and didn't leave my FBI partner a forwarding
address." I gave Fern a rueful smile. "I think she got worried about
me."

Fern leaned back in her chair, eyeing me searchingly. "Well, I think
there's more to it than that. I've seen jealousy before and if I
didn't know better, I'd say that your 'FBI partner' is making some
incorrect assumptions about you and me.  You two are more than just
partners at work, aren't you?"

I shifted again. Damn, she was perceptive. "Well, we've been working
together for a number of years and we're close friends..." I trailed
off but she wasn't letting me off the hook. I didn't want to look her
in the eye and tried to shift my glance to something else, but found
myself staring instead at those damned sex toys which Fern had set on
the corner of her desk.

"Well?" Fern asked in the same tone of voice I'd heard her use
scolding her 13 year old.

"Okay, we'd both like it to be more than that but haven't really made
the move yet.  At least, I'd like it to be more but it's really
Scully's call," I fumbled.

"Uh huh. I think she's made her call, all right. So she's basically
tracked you to the other coast and figures you left her.  For what?
What's going on here? No bullshit."

The soft-sell wasn't working. Try the direct approach. "Why do you
care, Fern? I'm just the coffee-guy. This is my personal life, after
all."

Fern smiled. "Marty, I just met a woman who could be my cousin and she
looked at me like I was the Whore of Babylon.  Now, I don't have any
plans of that nature for you but I'd like to know how you ended up on
my doorstep, why you ran away from Washington and why she's chasing
after you.  What responsibilities have you ditched?"

Ditched.  What is it about red-haired women that makes them use that
word?

"Look, I can't tell you much.  You wouldn't believe it anyway.
Just...I left Washington because my continued presence there was and
is a danger to Scully. I don't want her hurt. She needs to get the
hell away from me or she could still get killed."

Fern got solemn at that.  "I see.  Do you think she's coming back to
the store? Do you expect any violence here?" I could see that Fern was
thinking about Mob hits and gang violence. I wish it were that
mundane.

I shook my head. "No. I'll go talk to Scully at her motel.  There
won't be any violence here; it isn't that kind of danger."

Fern nodded.  "Good.  Let me know if you need my help in any way. I'll
be happy to reassure your partner that I'm very happily married."

I smiled back at her gratefully and left the office.  I worked the
rest of my shift and now am home, planning what on earth I can say to
Scully to persuade her to just go home.  I'll go see her tomorrow
morning.


July 1, 2000

I checked out of the Laurel Mill Lodge and drove in to Santa Cruz.  I
figured that I'd either be leaving for D.C. or running again after I
met with Scully.  The Motel 6 manager just gave me a bored look when I
asked for Scully's room and pointed me down the hallway.

I tapped on her door and found her standing there, dressed in jeans, a
tee shirt and a disapproving expression.

"Mulder. Or is that your name today?"

"Come on, Scully. Let me in."

She backed up and let me inside the room.  I could see files spread
over the table and her laptop open and connected to the web.

"You're working?" I asked, trying to see which files these were.

"I'm still an active agent for the FBI," she replied. "I have duties
to perform."

"Scully, I..." I tried to find some softness in her face but was met
with Agent Dana Scully.

"You ran, Mulder. You ditched me when the going got tough, without
even asking me whether I felt endangered.  You dropped me and
everybody else who cares about you to disappear into nowhere.  You
left no notes, no trail and no reasons behind..." She stopped and I
could see her gathering herself together. "I...thought...that I meant
more to you than that."

She stood there with fists clenched and I could see that she was
fighting tears.

"Scully, I did it to protect you. And Frohike and the other Gunmen and
Skinner and the people I care about. I *believe* these visions.
Please. Forgive me." I moved closer and she didn't fight me when I
wrapped her in a hug.

"You disappeared.  After I almost lost you, you just disappeared.  I
didn't know whether the demons had come back and had you or whether
you had been abducted by somebody."

"I got a leave from Skinner. I did all the paperwork..." I murmured
into her hair.

She drew back and glared at me again.  "You didn't tell *me*. How was
I to know whether you were really you?  And for such a reason..." she
shook her head.

"What's wrong with my reasons?" I backed away.

She fixed me with her blue eyes. "Mulder, Satan isn't called the
Father of Lies for nothing.  Hasn't it occurred to you that somebody
doesn't want you to have any part of a resistance to alien
colonization?  You were possessed by demons so that you could be
suborned and used when the colonization begins. Satan wants you as his
tool. If he can't have you as his tool, he'll ruin you so that you
can't act as..."

"As God's tool?" I finished. "What if I don't want to be anybody's
tool? What if I just want to be myself? I don't want any 'destiny'
that any spiritual power might have in mind for me.  What about my
wishes, what I want for my life?"

Scully looked at me sadly.  "Mulder, I don't mean to imply that God is
heartless or doesn't care about you. I firmly believe that He does,
just as I know that Satan does not. I...I don't pretend to understand
the concept of free will or how God can act in the face of human
freedom.  But I believe, I have to believe, that God uses human beings
as his arms and legs doing his work in the world."

"Oh, so we're his angels, huh?" I asked wryly.

To my surprise, she nodded. "I studied Koine Greek, remember? The word
'angel' just means 'sent', somebody sent from God.  So yes, we are his
angels, among others."

"So you don't think these visions come from a heavenly source," I
asked flatly.

"No. I don't think they do. They're destroying you, aren't they? You
don't look like you've had a night's sleep since you left D.C." Scully
came closer and put her hand against my cheek.

"Mulder, you've been the victim of some fierce psychological pressure
and it hasn't stopped.  You need to rest and take stock, I agree with
that. But that doesn't mean that you should cut off the people who can
support you."

I sighed. "You aren't going to drag me back to D.C. are you?"

"No, you're still on a six month leave.  But then, I have a variety of
local cases to work on as well. I think I'll be in the neighborhood if
you need me."  She looked at me hopefully. "If you want me."

This time I gave her the bearhug I'd been holding back.  "I always
want you there, Scully.  You're my compass. You've always been, and I
was stupid to believe that either of us could thrive apart. Please
stay.  I need to work all this out, decide where I belong in the
scheme of things.  I've been hearing the voices."

I saw her alarmed expression and quickly went on.  "I can't make out
words and they haven't taken over my will, but they're still there.
Scully, I just can't pray for help. I don't know who to pray to.  
Your God...isn't right.  Your faith helped deliver me from that
creature but I don't think I can go any farther with it. I have to
find my own way somehow, or I'm lost."

"I'll be here and I'll help in any way I can Mulder. I'm not leaving."

A thought occurred to me while Scully snuggled against my chest.  
"Oh, and Scully, let me explain about Fern and the kind of bookshop
she runs..."

Scully laughed when I told her about Fern and her extremely healthy
marriage.  She laughed even louder as I described the Saturday evening
seminars and the grannies who keep hitting on me.

"You didn't take any of them home? Not even the young ones?" she asked
me slyly.

"No. None of them. Why? Should I?" By this time we were both sitting
on the motel room bed (no couch).  Scully lay back against the pillows
and laughed again.

"No, I'm glad you didn't."

I lay down next to her and picked up her left hand in my right.  
"What you said, about your thinking that you were important to me.
You're right, Scully, you are very important to me. I...this is
awkward and you may not want me to say this but I love you.  I've
loved you for years and the thought of losing you is intolerable to
me."

She rolled onto her side and ran her right palm across my cheek.  "I
know.  I love you too. It's just taken me a while to accept it.  This
isn't the kind of love I was brought up to expect: a stable,
established, solid man with a good financial portfolio of the
appropriate religion, suitable to bring home to the folks."

I snorted. "Oh, and I am unstable, poverty stricken and of no
particular religion. I see where this is going."

She grinned. "Mom likes you." She paused thoughtfully. "But of course,
Bill hates you."

"And so, Agent Scully, although I fail to pass muster as a suitor
you'll spend time with me anyway?"

"Mulder, you make flunk the suitor test but I'd love to try you on the
alternate test for lovers."

I smiled back at her. "Right here? In the Motel 6?"

"The bed has magic fingers and I brought quarters."

I'll leave the rest blank. There are some things that a gentleman does
not tell.

I think Scully was relieved to find that Fern has no designs on me. I,
on the other hand, am rather flattered that Scully could go on the
warpath so quickly on such flimsy evidence.  I was worried for a
moment or two that a cat-fight might break out.

Better not let either woman see this journal entry.  If they did
fight, I wonder who'd win? No, no, not nice to think about things like
that. Obviously this is residual energy from the demonic possession.

Still....two redheads wrestling each other...ripping clothing off.....


MULDER, I DID SEE THIS ENTRY AND I AM APPALLED. NOW YOU COME BACK TO
BED RIGHT NOW AND I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT ONE REDHEAD CAN DO!

SCULLY.


Chapter 6

Fox Mulder's Journal

July 5, 2000
Motel 6, Santa Cruz


Love in a Motel 6.  Who'd have thought it?  I wake every morning to a
cuddly little redhead burrowed against my chest and go to sleep at
night the same way.

At Scully's insistence, although I may strip to the buff (and believe
me, it's a pleasure doing it to her interested glance), I never take
off the cross.  I did point out to her that it's illogical for me to
keep wearing it because a) I am not a believer and b) before she came,
I was wearing it and it didn't help at all.

Funny, but since she arrived I've slept like a baby. Her presence
seems to chase the future away.

That doesn't keep me from worrying about it, however. I don't tell
her, though. She's watching me like a hawk, making sure I eat, sleep
and otherwise take care of myself.

I've been working the day shift at the coffee shop, so Scully and I
separate after breakfast. I haven't offered and she hasn't suggested
that I join her on any of the cases she's working on.  As far as I can
tell, they're old missing person's files that she dredged up
somewhere; good cover for Skinner to send her out after me.

And at work I make coffee, smile, chit-chat and brood.  It's even more
important now than ever before that I find a way to protect her.  
Yes, although the dreams have stopped I still believe them.  Scully's
presence has silenced the nightmares but not the voices. I'm hearing
the words now.  They say "we'll kill her" in low, burbling whispers.

I'm beginning to wonder if I'm really going mad.  I mean,
schizophrenia makes so much more sense than, say, demonic possession,
doesn't it?  I don't discuss this with her either.

She went to church on Sunday but didn't make me go.  I sat in the
parking lot, reading the Sunday paper and throwing bagel crumbs to the
seagulls.  Even through the screeching of the seagulls I could hear
the hymns they sang.  And through the hymns, I could hear her voice
separate and distinct.  I think I could hear her voice in a hurricane.

If I sneak out and ditch her, she'll only follow me.  If I tell her to
go away, she'll come back.  If I reject her, she'll show up when I
need her most.

Dammit, she's like a stupid boomerang!

I did introduce Scully to Fern again and the two are getting along
fine.  In fact, I think Fern has told Scully a story or two about my
first days on the job.  It took me a while to get the hang of the
capuccino machine and, well, it wasn't pretty.  Scully came back
grinning, as was Fern

Then I saw what Scully had in her hands. The Joy of Sex, Volumes one
and two.

"Uh..." I looked at Scully, uncertain whether to smile or not.

"Research, G-Man.  I thought I should bring myself back up to speed on
the literature," she said blandly.

"Oh, it's on the house, Marty. I thought Dana might enjoy them, and
they are classic works after all," Fern piped up.

Dana. Fern called her Dana. They're getting along now.  I am toast.


************************

AD Appearing in the Santa Cruz Sentinal, San Francisco Chronicle and
San Jose Mercury News for July 7, 2000.

DISCOVER YOUR SPIRITUALITY!!!

Disenchanted with Traditional Religion?
Want to Know God's Plan for Your Life?
Are you in need of God's Healing Power in Your Life?

Join us in Worship and Study at
The  New Enlightenment Church

with Pastor Charles Hayworth

Pastory Hayworth will teach and heal on Friday, July 7
at the New Enlightenment Church, 394 East Main
Street,
Santa Cruz

All Are Welcome!

**********************

July 7, 2000

Over breakfast today, Scully told me her plans.

"Mulder," she munched on her bagel, the sunlight glinting on her hair.  
"I have to got to the San Francisco Field Office to look at some old
files.  Do you want to come?"

I grinned at her and wiped the smear of peanut butter off her cheek.  
"Not on your tintype. I'm on an official leave, which means that I am
currently a civilian. Skinner even has my badge. Nope, I'm going to
enjoy my day off here. Maybe I'll go to the beach and catch some
rays."

She smiled at me a bit forlornly. "Well, this'll take a while and I
was hoping you might want to go to dinner in the City, after...?"

No...hold steady resolve. And don't let her know! "Sorry, Scully," I
injected some real regret into my tone. "I just don't want to deal
with the Bureau right now. I hope you don't mind."

She nodded.  "Okay. I'll catch a sandwich on the way back then. I'll
be back about 7 tonight. Will you be here?"

"I'll probably be over on the beach until sunset, then I'll head over
to Fern's and see if she needs help closing. Meet you there?" I gave
her my most sincere expression, with the result that she gave me a
suspicious look.

"Well, all right.  I'll see you at Fern's, then."

She left soon after, to my relief.  Fooling Scully is never easy, but
these days she's on full alert.  I pulled out the crumpled bit of
newspaper I'd hidden in my pocket.

Hayworth was here, in Santa Cruz.  According to the article in the
Sentinel, he's opening a new ministry in the Santa Cruz area.  I look
at his face, beaming from the newsprint and control the urge to rip it
to shreds.

But my time will come. He's speaking tonight at seven.  I'll be there
at five and I'll have an explanation from him.  I deserve to know just
what it is that happened to me and why.

By the time Scully gets back, it'll all be over one way or another.

*******************************
E-MAIL

From: dkscully@fbi.gov
To:  rockon@excite.com
Re: Reverend Hayworth

Langly,

Thanks for the heads-up on that.  I think Hayworth must have followed
me here somehow, tracking Mulder through me.  Damn! All that detective
work we were so proud of has only endangered him more.

Mulder will be on the beach today and doesn't know about Hayworth.
I've invented an errand out of town, so I'll have some lead-time to
deal with the good reverend myself. With any luck, Mulder never has to
know what went down until it's over.

Thanks for the background material you sent.  It should be very
useful.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Dana

********************************

Chapter 7 

"MULDER: I dunno, Scully. Sometimes a little intolerance can be a
welcome thing. Clear cut right and wrong, black and white, no shades
of gray. In a society where hard and fast rules are harder and harder
to come by, I think some people would appreciate that.

SCULLY: You're saying that you, Fox Mulder, would welcome someone
telling you what to believe?

MULDER: I'm saying that somebody offering you all the answers can be a
very powerful thing."  (Signs and Wonders)

Journal of Fox Mulder (undated entry) I am tired, so very tired.  
It's hard to hold the pen, but I have to try and make sense of all
this. I am able to eat again, although not much and they've given me
my journal to pass the time with.

I hardly know how to begin to describe all that has happened, so I'll
just set it down. I don't have much hope of making sense of events,
but maybe writing it down will help.

First of all, I have to admit that having Scully in town both
frightened me and gave me hope.  My 'death' and healing by the
Reverend Hayworth, then his subsequent betrayal of me to demons had
convinced me that if God was real, He wasn't on my side.  I couldn't
reconcile my experience with the Being of light who healed me with the
truly filthy presence that made itself at home in my body.

After Scully and her friends succeeded in driving the demons out, I
decided quietly that it was just safest not to trust anybody's god.  
After all, trusting in that new-found god of Hayworth's had gotten me
into this predicament in the first place, right?  I was supposed to be
somebody's messiah and somebody's rebel leader.

Whose? And why? It didn't really matter in the end, I had no intention
of playing for either team if it meant Scully's death.

I can still feel her neckbones snap between my fingers.

In any case, when I saw the ad in the paper advertising Hayworth's
'ministry' I got a chill.  When she went to take her shower, I
carefully took that paper and ripped the ad out, putting it my pocket
for safety.  Then I blithely finished my breakfast and planned.  Oh,
how I planned. That bastard wouldn't get anybody else ever again, not
the way he trapped me.  I knew he'd be at his church early; didn't
know where he was staying so I had the day to think about him and
about me.

I waved goodbye to Scully and wished her a good day in San Francisco,
then sat down to think.

What do I believe, really? How did all this happen to me?  First of
all, I am not a holy man. Every spiritual challenge I've ever faced
I've flunked royally.  Don't get me wrong, my intentions have always
been good but I have no faith.  I can believe in Bigfoot, Mothmen and
aliens but I can't believe in God.

Can you believe that?

I remembered back to that case with the snake-handlers, the Church of
Signs and Wonders. Scully got through the entire case without a single
bite like the righteous babe she is.

Me? Over a hundred bites.  I survived that attack only because my
partner is a doctor and she got me to the hospital and treatment in
double-quick time.

During the case I watched and scoffed at Reverend O'Connor and his
redneck congregation in Blessing, Tennessee but I had to admit that
their belief, the sureness of their belief was comforting.  How I've
always longed for that surety.  I envy Scully the strength of her
faith in God and the saints.

But I can't do it. It just isn't meant for me.

So what saved my life when I got shot? I wish I knew that it was a
loving God who wants only the best for me.  I have a sneaking
suspicion that it's a Divine Power that needs me alive for a reason
that I am coming to dread and to inescapably face.

The clock inched forward to five o'clock and I gathered my things to
go face the monster.  I brought my ankle holster with me and should
have felt more nervous about the murderous thoughts that ran through
my mind.  But I couldn't stand the thought of Hayworth victimizing
somebody else the way he had me.

I'd kill him before he did that again.

I was grateful that Scully was gone. If she'd known my plans she would
have insisted on going along too, to guard my back.  The trouble is, I
don't think any amount of guarding would protect me from this monster.  
He obviously sought me out and I could sense a sort of tie to him.  
The part of me that could still hear demons knew that he was part of
them.  I felt a sense of inevitability as I checked the clip in the
gun and locked the motel room door behind me.

I found a parking space easily at the hall he'd rented and saw a
single car in the lot. A rental.  He was already here, then.

The voices, always murmuring in the back of my head got suddenly
louder.  He was here and he had to know that I had arrived.  I walked
briskly up the steps and tried the door.  It was open.  Inside, the
hall was lit and quiet. I could hear the muffled sounds of traffic
through the walls.  I walked forward, hearing my footsteps echoing
back at me.  The room held no one, but it didn't feel empty.

"Hello, Fox.  I'm glad you came to me."

I heard his voice behind me and whirled around to face him. But it
wasn't just his voice, it had an undertone as though countless other
voices were speaking in unison through him.  One look in his eyes
confirmed it.

"You aren't Reverend Hayworth, at least not completely." Amazing how
calm my voice sounded.  At that moment, all I wanted was to huddle in
a corner and gibber to myself in terror.

"No, not just Hayworth.  He is one of Us.  He is of the Kingdom now,
just as you will be," the voice was soft, soothing, like the flowing
honey inside a pitcher plant.

"I'm not one of you and I'll never be," I said steadily.  "You lost."

Hayworth smiled and walked toward me. "I didn't lose completely, did
I? Or have you told yourself that you came here only for a showdown
with me?  You want what I can offer.  You need me."

"I don't need anything of yours," I backed away slowly.

"You want certainty.  You need to believe.  All your life you've
reached out for belief, always to have it crumble away in the light of
reason.  Well, I am beyond reason.  I am more powerful than reason and
my power can be yours.  Just...let go." His soft voice echoed through
the room, penetrating the dim corners of the hall.  I could feel my
body beginning to slow and come to a stop.

"I don't...."

"I know you, Fox," his smile took on a reptilian cast.  "We've met
before, under different circumstances.  Twice, I've let you go because
it wasn't time yet.  Twice, you should have died but didn't.  This
third time you didn't die either, because I preserved you.  You belong
to me."

"I never saw you before the day I was shot..." I faltered, then saw
his face again.  I could see shadows of Mrs. Paddock from that case in
Milford Haven, then the face morphed into Reverend Mackey from
Blessing, Tennessee.

Then the face became that of the demon that had stared at me while I
helped the Calusari exorcise a young boy.

"You knew me.  They were right; you saw me and you remembered me," I
whispered, unable to tear my eyes away from that horrible face.

It smiled, gently, at me. "Of course I know you, Fox.  I knew you then
and knew that you were mine.  I've watched you over the years..."

"You've tried to kill me, but you couldn't," I said, my eyes still
fixed on it's face.

"Mulder! Get away from him!" I heard Scully shout from the back of the
building.

Hayworth turned and we both saw her come storming forward, gun drawn.  
Father Gregory followed behind her, suitcase in hand.

"Get away from him, Hayworth," she said coldly.  "Mulder, what the
Hell are you doing here? I thought you were going to be at the beach."

Hayworth smiled and raised his hands, backing away from both of us.
Scully moved in closer to me.

"I knew he was going to be here, Scully. I had to face him."

"And what? Give him another chance to...to...?" Scully couldn't get
the words out.  She just looked at me.

"He's given up.  He belongs to me and he knows it.  I called him
here,"  Hayworth said calmly. "You can feel me pressing against your
mind, can't you Mulder? You want to give in, you're tired of fighting
me, aren't you?"

"I..." I took a step forward then stopped and glanced at Scully.  The
raucous sound of voices was louder in the back of my mind.

"Leave him be, in the name of Jesus," Father Gregory bellowed and
stood between me and Hayworth.

Hayworth just laughed.  "He doesn't believe, Greg.  He isn't in a
state of grace and he's not one of your flock.  He was panicky and
afraid enough before that your ministrations were modestly helpful.  
Today you have no such advantage. He. Is. Mine." Hayworth took a step
forward with each word.

I was paralyzed, unable to move a muscle.  I could see Father Gregory
looking at me imploringly and I knew that he was begging for some
statement of faith from me.

"Mulder...you believe don't you? You believe in God..." Scully
whispered desperately.

I shook my head and tried to force the words out.  "I...Scully, I
can't lie.  I don't believe.  I can't. I try and I can't believe like
you do."

Hayworth moved past Father Gregory and came to a stop directly in
front of me.  "Are you ready to join Us, Fox?" he smiled.

"No!" Scully darted between us.  She fumbled for her cross, then
realized that she no longer had it and just glared at Hayworth.  
"Leave this man alone! He doesn't belong to you!"

"And you intend to stop me, Dana? I can't take you, but I can take
him.  I can kill him or cure him as I please."

Hayworth casually shouldered Scully aside and planted himself in front
of me again. Scully stopped, frozen in place as was Father Gregory. I
could see her struggling futilely against it.

Abruptly, the world doubled and tripled.  I could hear the voices in
my mind again, louder and stronger.  But I could also hear something
else.

Chanting.

I knew those voices as well. I'd heard them in a fragrant darkness
many years ago in New Mexico.  I saw Albert Hosteen in a corner of the
room and blinked.  He looked whole and healthy and very solemn.

"Ya-ta-hay, FBI man," he said calmly. "You are in terrible danger, but
you know that."

"Of course I know that," I replied.

Both Hayworth and Scully gave me surprised looks.

"You can defeat this monster.  He cannot kill you, for he has tried
and has always failed.  He seeks to blind you to the gifts you
possess, gifts which can destroy him and his kind."

"Gifts? What gifts?" I kept one eye on Hayworth, who was now looking
over his shoulder to see who I was talking to.

"The gifts you were given by your father.  Take them and destroy this
creature.  You must find your weapons or be destroyed yourself."

Gifts? I backed away from Hayworth. It was between the two of us, as
I'd always known it would be. The only gifts the bastard who called
himself my blood father had ever given me caused madness and had
almost killed me.  The surgery they'd done to me in that DOD hospital
had saved me from death and, I'd thought, had removed the problem.  
But then again, maybe not.  Maybe I still had it and could use it if I
tried.  I still didn't know all that I was capable of. It could still
put me into a mental hospital.  Or a morgue.

My eyes narrowed. So be it.

I focused my mind on trying the hear the minds of those around me and
on trying to see the world in its entirety.  My vision blurred, then
cleared again.  I could sense Scully's breathing and knew that her
heart was racing.  She was afraid for me.  Father Gregory was praying
quietly and with all his heart.  Albert still stood quietly, watching.  
I couldn't read him.

Hayworth just stood there and I could sense the chaos roiling in him.  
A thousand voices clamored within, the same I'd heard in my mind and
soul.

But I could tell something else.  He *feared* me.  Why was he afraid
of me?  What did I have that could hurt him?  I focused more of my
attention on him and gave him a gentle push with my mind.

Hayworth staggered backward and the voices faded.

I did that.  I DID THAT.

I pushed again and he jerked, then leaned forward.

"Oh no, Fox.  You aren't that powerful and you don't know what you
have."

Oh yes I did.  I could see glimmers of it in his mind.  Along with the
remote viewing and the telepathy came a strange kind of psychokinesis
that his kind feared.  He had to either kill me or suborn me because I
was a danger to him.

I pushed again.  And again until Hayworth was backed against at wall.

He stared at me impassively.  "So, now that I'm backed against a wall
what are you going to do now?" he asked.

Good question.  I could push him, but couldn't seem to muster the
power or technique to destroy him.

"It's best if you cooperate, Fox.  I have my own power and can use it
against those you love. You can't protect them all the time."

I heard a gurgle and turned to find Scully being jerked forward,
ghostly hands around her neck.

"Let her go!" I ran over to her, batting my hands against the entity
holding her.

Hayworth just laughed and Scully abruptly found herself free.  "I can
do that any time I please. How do you know that you won't find her
dead and cold in her bed some morning?  Cooperate and she'll stay
safe." His eyes grew hard. "Fight me and pay the price."

I could feel the rage building up inside me.  Every rage I'd ever felt
was miniscule compared to this one.  It was compounded of all the
helplessness I felt when Sam was taken, the fear when Scully was
abducted and again when she almost died of cancer.  I felt the howl of
anguish I choked back when my Dad was murdered and again the pain when
Mom committed suicide. And now, he'd take Scully away from me.  Kill
her in the night, silently.  She wouldn't even survive to be a rebel
leader against the colonists.

"Nooooooo!" I screamed and pushed at him with all the rage in my body,
my soul, my heart.  I could hear an anguished scream and wasn't sure
it was his as I watched Hayworth stagger and fall to the floor.  A
thousand angry voices filled the air and buzzed around between Scully
and I before dissipating.

Father Gregory ran to the collapsed Hayworth, checking for a pulse.  
"He's dead," Father Gregory said solemnly.

I nodded, feeling my muscles begin to tremble with fatigue and
something more.

"Mulder, you did it.  What did you do?  Mulder?  Mul..." Scully's
frightened eyes looked up at me and then she began to fade and fade
and then the darkness swallowed her up.  I felt my body collapse and
Scully try to catch me.  The linoleum was cold against my cheek and
hard as cement.  My skin was cold and the chill was seeping into my
center, growing colder and colder with every second.  I could hear her
talking excitedly to somebody but couldn't catch the words.

Then she faded away and was gone in the icy darkness.

End Chapter 7 Continuted in Chapter 8

A Navajo legend:

Long ago Changing Woman gave birth to two sons, Monster Slayer and
Child of the Water. The Navajo people, the Dine, were beseiged by
terrible monsters and could do nothing to defend themselves.  The sons
of Changing Woman determined to seek out their father, the Sun, and
obtain from him the weapons needed to kill the monsters of the world
and save the people.

Their father gave them arrows of lightening and the two boys fought
the monsters, but the elder son, Monster Slayer was the greater of the
two.

After they had slain the last monster, the brothers returned to their
mother's hogan, bearing its head as a trophy.  But when they arrived,
they became weak and fell into a dead faint and could not be
wakened....

Chapter 8

Journal of Fox Mulder (undated)

The next thing I knew, I was floating in the air above my body. Out of
the body experience! I've read about it hundreds of times and now I
finally get to experience.

I didn't get to enjoy it.  I could see Scully bending over my body,
shouting.

"He's seizing! Call 911, fast!"

Then Albert Hosteen walked out of the wall and toward Scully. He
looked at me, floating in the air, and then at her.

"Can't you do something?" I asked.  I knew it was pointless to try to
attract her attention.

Hosteen gave me a look of compassion.  "The battle is not yet over,
FBI man.  Look there, in the shadows." He gestured and I could see an
amorphous cloud.  It slowly formed up into a shape that shifted
between human form and a snake-like outline.

"I killed it.  I thought..."

"You destroyed its vessel, but not the monster itself. It seeks a new
home."  He looked down at my body, where Scully was desperately trying
to revive me.

I backed closer to my body. "Not here. It can't..."

"I can.  Haven't you heard of walk-ins?" Reverend Mackey stalked
between Hosteen and me. "You got it wrong, you know. A walk-in is
merely a spirit that takes over an unoccupied, but not yet dead body."

"Go back to where you came from! You can't have my body." I backed
until I stood in front of the tableau, Scully cradling my all but
lifeless form.

Mackey grinned. "You used all your power, you have no more." He
gestured at my body. "Why do you think you survived that gunshot
wound? I healed you. All the life in you came from me and now there's
nothing left. You have nothing.  You are nothing."

I stood there and the truth slowly dawned on me.  "You're lying. You
were always lying." I shook my head. "You couldn't heal if you tried.
It's all a fake and so are you."

"You are right, FBI man. He is an enemy and a monster. Your battle is
not yet over." He walked away and stood next to Scully, waiting.

She stilled and looked up, catching sight of Hosteen.

"Albert," she said roughly. "Albert, what should I do?  He isn't dead
but he isn't alive either."

"He still fights his battle against the monster and we must help him.
You must take him to a place I will show you. There will be others
waiting there to help."

"What are you going to do?" I asked Hosteen. "Scully? Can she hear
me?"

"She cannot hear you, only me. But she will help your battle. Watch
yourself!" Hosteen cried and I turned to find Mackey's doubled fists
coming at me. I dodged and saw Scully from the corner of my eye.

"Albert! What's happening? What's going on?" Scully cried.

"You must go. Now!" Albert said shortly and led Scully to the doorway
.

Father Gregory came in and looked around.  "Dana? I heard shouting. I
called an ambulance, they're on the way."

"No time, " she said shortly. "Help me get Mulder into the car."

I turned my attention back to Mackey and fought on.  We were both tied
to my body, I from the natural link and he from his need for a
physical home. We occupied the car, unseen.

It was a strange battle, part physical and part...not...  The most
that I can say is that it came down to force of wills. I used that
newfound power of mind to force him away from me while he in turn
pushed back.  But I could see that every time I defended myself my
body went into seizure again. Father Gregory drove grimly.  Scully sat
in the back seat, cradling my head in her lap, tersely repeating the
directions give her by Albert Hosteen (in the front seat).

It felt like hours, but could only have been a few minutes later that
we arrived at a farmhouse up a gravel driveway in the Santa Cruz
mountains.

"We are here. Take him to the hogan and we will begin."

"What? Begin what?" Scully asked desperately. My last defensive thrust
had pushed me into a grand mal seizure. My body couldn't take much
more of this.

"Dana, what do you mean? Who are you talking to?" asked Father
Gregory, eyeing the empty seat next to him.  He stopped when the side
door opened.

Two Navajo men had come to the car and calmly opened the back doors.
An old man, bearing a strong resemblance to Albert, greeted Scully.

"Ya-ta-hay, Agent Scully. I am James Hosteen.  Albert is my older
brother.  He said that we might be needed.  This is my grandson,
Thomas." The younger man nodded.

Scully just eyed them both and moved out of the car.  "Mulder's in
here.  What are you going to do?"

Thomas leaned into the car and, with Father Gregory's help, carried my
body out into the open and to a small hut.

"We are going to do the Enemy Way ceremony, to restore his strength
and give him the power to fight his battles," James Hosteen said.  
"That is the only way that the Monster Slayer can be restored."

"Monster Slayer?" Scully asked, watching the two men in their
mysterious preparations.

"At the beginning of time, the People were menaced by monsters.  The
sons of Changing Woman killed the monsters and saved humanity, using
the weapons given them by their father the Sun. But when they returned
to her, they fainted and were weak from their battles. She performed
the Enemy Way ceremony to restore them." He gestured at my body. "This
one is the Monster Slayer for this time and place. His brother failed,
but he must not. He is the elder and is destined to kill all the
monsters which threaten the People, just as the first Monster Slayer
did."

Scully just stared and so did I.  Another damned messiah story.
Another god-damned destiny they all had in mind for me. I followed
them as they carried my body into the hogan and covered it with a
blanket.

"Gets tedious, doesn't it?" Mackey said conversationally. "They all
expect you to give up your every goal, every dream so that you can
fulfill their prophecies.  They didn't even ask you, did they?"

"No, they didn't," I said shortly, angry to find that I agreed with
him.

"If you let them they'll kill you.  You know what happens to saviors."

"I'm nobody's savior," I shrugged. "I'm not a believer.  Not in that,
anyway."

"Yet you do believe." Albert Hosteen was suddenly next to me. "You
have always believed in the truth."

"I've always sought the truth but never found it," my eyes wandered
over to Scully, seated mournfully next to my unconscious body.  
"Except once."

Albert followed my glance. "You believe in her," he said simply.

I nodded. "She's always been my compass, whether I told her so or
not."

"What does the world hold for her, then, if the monsters win?"

"I'm nobody's messiah," I said desperately. "If I take this on, Scully
dies.  I can't be the cause of that. I am NOT your Monster Slayer."

"Then we all will die," Hosteen said simply. "The ceremony is
beginning. You must decide your own fate, and ours."

I could see several older men enter the hogan, one with a strange
looking drum. It was made from a ceramic pot with a leather cover. The
cover had been pierced into a face.  They surrounded my body and began
to chant.

I could hear the voices of the chanters and sensed dimly that Scully
was there too. There were many Navajos jammed into the tiny shelter.  
They must have called every person of Navajo heritage within miles
around to join the effort.  The chanting grew louder, but then the
world faded and became occupied only by Mackey and me.

I could feel him pressing against me, all thousands of him like
hissing snakes.  The air was dark and crowded with shapes and I
couldn't find my way.

Dark. It was dark in there and smoky. I could barely make out Scully's
shape but I could see that she was holding my hand. Strange, but I
could almost feel her tiny fingers touching mine.  They were the only
warmth in a freezing cold world.

I heard the voices begin chanting and the smoke began to clear.  A
serpent hissed toward me, then divided and divided again until it had
become a hundred snakes.  They surrounded me and slithered over me,
sinking their fangs into their skin as they had before.

I felt the icy fire in my veins and knew it was hopeless, I couldn't
win.  I wasn't a messiah, I wasn't a holy man and I couldn't win
against evil things like these...

"Mulder, don't you dare give up on me," I heard her voice.  Scully was
suddenly there in the darkness, looking at me out of huge blue eyes.

"Scully...I can't. I can't believe. I can't do this..." I said
desperately.

"You already believe, Mulder. The truth, Mulder.  Isn't that why you
do the things you do? Isn't it because you believe that the truth must
be known?  Must be discovered?"

I was sinking to my knees, the pain building in my bones. "I can't be
what they want, Scully.  I won't go with the Snake...I can't.  But the
Other, I don't know Who that is..."

She was blurring in my vision.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw an
older Indian take a bit of cloth and leave the hogan.  Somehow I knew
that this was a piece of Hayworth's clothing and he was going to bury
it outside, deep in the clean earth.

She knelt next to me and I could feel her stroking my hair.  "Mulder,
you've always known God but you've had your own name for him.  That's
not wrong. You know what is right and you fight for it. I've never
seen you compromise your conscience for any other consideration than
the truth. Reach into your self and find it, find the truth.  It's
there, in you." She looked down at me and smiled. "Close your eyes and
look."

I closed my eyes against the pain and saw a glowing presence deep
inside. It was One I recognized.

"You.  You healed me before," I said in wonder, then I remembered all
that had followed and began to back away.

"Do you think I'm Hayworth or related to him?" the humming voice said.

"Who else could you be? I woke and found Hayworth looking down at me."
I squinted and held up my hand against the increasingly brilliant
light that bathed and surrounded me. The pain began to fade.

"Ask yourself.  Do I seem like a tool of the Dark One?" The light grew
brighter and I found myself surrounded by glowing beings.  "They call
us the Holy People, we are your ancestors and your descendants.  You
have seen us before."

I blinked and remembered vague dreams I'd had in another Navajo hogan.
I'd almost died then, too.  "You healed me? Why?"

"You are needed. You have the gifts necessary to save the People from
the future."

"And die trying, or kill all those I love," I said bluntly. "I don't
want your fate. I refuse to participate. I won't be your Monster
Slayer. Find somebody else."

"Two were born. Your brother is dead and only you remain."

"I don't have a brother. I had a sister."

The spirit-man looked at me sympathetically. "You had a brother who
would have been a help, had he found his wisdom sooner. Now you are
left.  There is nobody else."

I stilled, remembering a smart-ass agent fathered by the same bastard
who claimed me.

"You are afraid for her, aren't you?" the spirit-man gestured at
Scully, who still knelt next to my body, watching anxiously.

"I've seen the future," I said. "She dies, no matter what I do."

"You've seen some futures, not all of them," the voice corrected. "The
Evil One is a liar who tells only part of the truth, never all of it.  
You and she haven't written your future yet. Your children will..."

"Our children..?" I was taken aback. "Is that one of the futures?"

"It can be. The future is yours to make."

"What do you want me to do? Am I supposed to believe in some doctrine,
some holy creed of yours?" I asked in resignation.

"Do? Live.  Fight the monsters.  And believe as you have always done,
in the Truth."

The man faded away and took the light with him. I was left facing
Mackey.

"They've left you," he said. "They abandoned you, like they always
do." He walked toward me. "Now you'll find out why messiahs always die
young."

I had a moment of doubt, remembering all the myths and legends I'd
ever read, Roland at Roncevalles, Hector of Troy, King Arthur.  They
want me to be their monster slayer, their defender, as ridiculous as
it seemed.

I looked at Scully and thought about her, about what the future might
hold for both of us.

Children? Maybe a war? We both might die.  But she wouldn't respect
any cowardice on my part and she's always resented my attempts to
shield her or protect her.  If I gave up now, she would see it as a
betrayal and she'd be right. "If you give up now, they win," I could
almost hear her whispering to me.

Strangely, I felt whole and confident as I moved to face Mackey.  
Whatever had happened with the spirit-man or the ritual, I felt
better. Energized.  Whole. Mackey approached closer and seemed
surprised when I didn't back down.  "Aren't you afraid of me?" he
asked.

"No," I replied, surprised. "I'm not. Get the Hell away from me." And
I *pushed* him.

He staggered back and kept staggering as I rained blows on him.

Scully jerked as the basket sitting on the floor next to her tipped
over and rolled when Mackey fell over it.  The side of the hogan
rustled and depressed when I threw Mackey into it with nothing but the
power of my mind.  Then, when I had him down on his belly in the dirt,
he began to disintegrate.  Slowly, gradually he grew smaller and less
distinct until nothing remained but a long, snakey shadow.  Then it,
too, dissipated away into air.

Air. It felt clean and crisp in my lungs.  I realized that I was
breathing in deep lungfuls of it.  My body felt heavy and languid but
nothing hurt and I was grateful for that.  I cracked my eyes open to
find Scully looking down at me with her 100 megawat smile.

"Hey," she said and held my hand more tightly.

"Hey yourself," I replied and looked around. The chanting had fallen
silent and the hogan was empty but for us.

"Where did everybody go?" I asked. She cocked an eyebrow.

"James and Thomas finished the ritual hours ago. They're resting.
Father Gregory is back at his hotel. I've been sitting here with you
until you woke."

"No, I mean everybody. There must have been fifty people in here.  
Where did they go?" I looked around for the faces I'd seen dimly in
the smoke.

"Nobody was at the ritual but the four of us and you," she said
calmly. "And anybody or anything else that came along."

I nodded slowly.  "Mackey was here. Yeah, Reverend Mackey. He was the
soul that occupied Reverend Hayworth, or should I say the demon."  I
leaned back and looked at the sunlight filtering through the branches
of the hogan roof.  "The rest must have been the Holy People. They
came to help."  I looked back at her and smiled. "You helped too."

"Did I?" her hand tightened in mine. "I was afraid."

I tightened my hand back. "Afraid I'd give up? Yeah. It was close.  
For a while I didn't know who I was or what I believed. I'm sure now."

"And what did you find out?" She cocked her head to one side.

I gave her a crooked grin. "I'm Fox Mulder and I believe in the truth,
in all the places and people I find it."

*******************************  
EMAIL 

From: DKScully@fbi.gov  
To: JByers@home.com  
Re: Mulder 

....he seems to have come through all right.  The seizures stopped as
abruptly as they started and all his tests are normal.  He hasn't had
any more precognitive dreams or nightmares.  Somehow that Navajo
ritual healed him in a way that the exorcism couldn't.  Maybe it's a
difference in belief systems or something in Mulder.

In any case, we'll be returning to Washington in the next day or two.
I was wondering, do you have any research on the Navajo legends of a
Monster Slayer?  The Navajos who healed Mulder seem to think that he's
a reincarnation of their legend somehow. Mulder won't talk about it,
says to just let the future take care of itself. But I wonder...

 __________________________________________________ 

the end