The Door by Y.H. Spooky San, based on facts and fiction of the X-Files I find myself staring at a door to darkness. I feel my body slipping away, my mind finding the way to death. I get sucked up by it, as if I know that danger is out there - behind that wooden door. It goes open. Strings of light pull me towards it. I fight. I struggle. I die. Bathing in sweat I open my eyes, as my body pushes itself up from the blankets. I feel narrow, my body aches for peace. Confused I reach out my hand, wanting to find something to comfort me. I cannot find it. I am alone. The phone goes. It's 11.21. As I pick up, I know instinctively that it is Mulder. Only he would call me at this time of night. 'Scully,' I say. 'Scully, it's me, Mulder.' Despite everything I smile. As if I didn't know. 'Yeah ... ?' I respond, still covered in the dark blankets of the nightmare. 'Scully, were you sleeping ?' 'No ...' 'Good, could you come over right away ?' 'Now ? At this hour ?' 'It's important.' 'What is it, Mulder ?' 'Just come over, and you'll see. There's someone here you should talk to. He has something to say.' 'Okay.' Glad I have a reason not to sleep anymore, I walk to the kitchen, pore myself a glass of water, and drink it thirsty. My throat feels dry. I get dressed, leave the apartment, and walk to my car. Fifteen minutes later I reach Mulder's apartment building, but there are no lights behind his windows on the first floor. A bad feeling crawls up to me. I feel something is wrong. A hunch, Mulder would call it. Standing in front of his door, faces of fear approach me. I don't want to go inside there. I don't want to know what I am going to find. But my hand automatically pulls out my gun, and the other one automatically opens the door. First I see nothing but shadows. Things on the floor, darkness. I reach for the light. As I turn it on, I hear myself say :'Mulder ...' My partner and friend is lying on the floor. His face is covered with blood, his body lies broken, on his side on the ground. His side is bleeding badly. 'Mulder ...' I kneel down. The gun falls. I touch his neck. He's breathing. His pulse is slow, and almost invisible. His pupils tell me he's in a bad state. He hardly responds. The bleeding ... I find his weapon next to him. He has been shot by his own gun at close range. What happened here ? I get up, take out my cellular phone, and dial 911. '911, can I help you ?' a woman says. 'FBI-agent needs assistance,' I say and give up the address. Then I hang up, run to the kitchen where I find a few towels. Back in the room, I push them carefully against Mulder's side, while looking at him. I felt life literally slip away from him. Who ? Why ?Within five minutes an ambulance stops. Nearly eight minutes after I called them, paramedics enter Mulder's apartment to take care of him. As they are trying to stabilise him, I look down on my hands. They are covered with blood. The threads of death hang on them. Now I know what is behind that door. It is death, and it is lurking. Not lurking for me, but for the man I care for the most. It is coming for him, and I am locked behind the door, waiting to get in and to pull him back. But I cannot. I am stranded behind the beams of light, watching life slip away from him. I wait and wait while they try to safe his live. I wait while time passes. I wait, spending my hours sleeping, dreaming and thinking. I spend them waiting. Just waiting. I see Skinner. He is not alone. Others are with him. They want me to come in to make a statement. So I do. I enter his office, and see the Cigarette Smoking Man sitting in a leather chair, smoking a Morly. I see him, and know what his thoughts are hoping for. They are hoping for death. I make a statement on Mulder's phonecall, but there's nothing more I can add. I don't know what happened, don't know anything. I walk around disturbed, shocked. I have seen Mulder like this before, but it was the first time that I really felt like I was loosing him. I close my eyes, and let myself wonder away in the shadows of darkness, while Skinner looks at me with a fatherly glance in his eyes. He lays his hands on my shoulders, and says :'Mulder is going to make it.' It's all he says, but it's enough. I stand up and leave his office. The Cigarette Smoking Man watches me. The day brings a new shock. Attached to machines which control his vital signs, I see Mulder. His face looks pale, his eyes do not move. I just sit down, and wait. I hear from the doctor that he is not going to make it. That his body has been hurt badly, that he will not survive the night. I remember Mulder telling me about the time he spent at my sickbed, after the abduction. I know now how he must have felt. It feels like hell. I feel myself slipping into a blanket of defence, as if my body wants to defend my mind from going crazy. I am numb, dazed, lifeless, emotionless. I feel nothing. My body is shield against pain. I am nothing. He dies and I am nothing. Day 2. Nothing. Emptiness. Nothing. Completely nothing. I watch him attached to those machines. I watch the machines breath for him. Nothing. Nothing at all. The door goes open. Now it isn't me being pulled in by the light of darkness. It is Mulder. Day 3. How fast time passes when you don't pay attention. How fast life goes when you don't want it to go. I don't care who did this to Mulder. It isn't important. I just feel nothing. If he dies, I die. If he lives I live. I wonder around the streets. I see people. I don't feel them. I just walk, and my life is empty. I walk back to the hospital. I sit down. I listen to the respirator. I listen to his beating heart. How long will it go on beating? I close my eyes. In my dreams it is Cigarette Smoking Man who struggles with him and kills him. I can see his eyes as they fight, I can see the pleasure he has from killing Mulder. But as I wake up, I realise it wasn't him. It will never be him. And it doesn't matter. The door opens. I can see it. Mulder's body struggles for freedom. He calls out my name. I am numb - lifeless. I cannot help him. The fear inside of me stops me from pulling him back. I struggle against the sedation, while he calls out my name. The door shuts. And he is gone. I am lifeless again. The world turns and turns. I just sit here, waiting. Waiting for him to die, waiting for the answer. I fall asleep again. The door. It opens. I see it open. I can hear it open. Mulder calls my name. I reach out my hand. 'Mulder ... !' I can hear myself say. 'Mulder, you don't have to be afraid. Life is good, come back to me.' His fingers struggle to find mine. His body aches for life. I want him back. He wants to be back. I can feel it. 'Mulder, grab my hand,' I say. 'Mulder, listen to me.' His hand finds mine. He touches me. I smile as I pull him back with every breath of strength I have inside. He comes back to me. Something wakes me up. Something touches my hand. I open my eyes, and look straight into his. He looks me straight in the eyes. He blinks. He smiles. 'Mulder ...' I say, getting up, touching his hand. 'Mulder, can you hear me ?' He nods his head. Then his eyes close again, and I see him fall into a deep, natural sleep. I smile. Mulder never remembered who shot him. But it didn't matter. The door finally closed. The End