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Well, here it is! The long-awaited final installment in the "Schism" series, now renamed "Homecoming." (I found out "Reconvergence" isn't technically a word. :-) ) But believe it or not, there is yet more to be addressed--I've got an epilogue for the series in the works. (Sorry!) But anyway, here it is, and PLEASE, PLEASE let me know what you think! "Schism: Homecoming"
Disclaimer: FM & DS = copyright CC & FOX TV, "I'll Lead You Home" = copyright MWS (Michael W. Smith), only being borrowed by Azar, no copyright infringement, profit, etc. intended. Summary: Scully, Bethel and Randi race against the clock to find Mulder. Category: SRA with a couple of epiphanies thrown in Dedication: Dedicated to Debbie Chilson, who begged me to let her be the one to find Mulder, then helped me (un)dress him properly for his ordeal. And to her father, for agreeing with me about the socks. Obligitory Warning: Faith/Religious content--sorry if that offends anyone. Note: All of the times in this story are significant--birthdays, holidays, favorite radio stations and references to other films/television. Virtual chocolate to anyone who can guess a few of them. (10:13 and 11:21 don't count--sorry!) Part One of Four **Amanda Randall's Apartment**
The phone rang, and Randi dove for it. Something told her the letter should have reached Dana by now, which meant that was probably her. She only hoped her friend had reacted positively to whatever Fox had to say. It had been difficult not to read the letter herself just to make sure. "Hello?" she answered breathlessly, as if she had crossed the entire apartment instead of just the couch. "Mulder's missing." Whoah. That was not what she had expected to hear. "He's what??" "He's missing. He hasn't shown up for work in three days and no one's seen him since he saw a friend off at the airport." Despite the forced calm in the redhead's voice, Randi could tell that Dana was nearly frantic with worry. "...no one's seen him since he saw a friend off at the airport..." Oh, Lord! "Last Tuesday?" Randi asked, hoping she was wrong. "At BWI?" There was no response but a confirming silence. "Oh, Lord Jesus, what now?" she whispered a brief prayer. "It was you, wasn't it? You were the one he was seeing off?" Dana asked, her voice only inquisitive, not accusing. "Yes. I...I guess I thought he needed a friend." "Thanks, Randi. For both of us." Randi smiled. "I guess you've finally forgiven him, huh?" The other woman laughed softly. "I'm flying back to D.C. tomorrow to help look for him, so I guess I have." "Lion, I'm coming with you." "Randi, they won't let you help with the investigation-" "I know, but I'm not coming for the investigation. I thought you might need a friend now, and I've been told that's something I'm pretty good at." She could almost hear her friend smile. "Yeah, you are that. I don't think the Bureau will pay for your ticket though." The writer snorted. "Who needs 'em to? How'd you like to fly first class?" "At this point, I don't care how I get there as long as I do." **FBI Headquarters**
Bethel had been a little on edge ever since Assistant Director Skinner had informed her that Agent Mulder's old partner was coming in to help on the investigation. Since she knew nothing about him except his name--Scully--she had no idea what to expect. Besides, it felt awkward to be anticipating a meeting with someone she had basically replaced, especially since she still didn't know the reason for the change. She looked up at the sound of the door opening. The two people who had just entered the room were both female, so that corrected at least one misconception she'd held about Agent Scully. "Agent Bethel?" the shorter of the two asked, fixing her attention on the younger woman at the desk. A twinge of what seemed to be regret drifted through her blue eyes at the sight. Bethel nodded, standing. "I'm Dana Scully," the redhead continued, reaching out a hand to the other agent. "This is Amanda Randall." Erin's breath caught in her throat, much as it had the last time she'd heard that name. "Amanda Randall?" she repeated in a rather meager croak. Both of the other women smiled. The novelist reached for the younger agent's hand, which had fallen out of Scully's grip. "I hear you've read a few of my books." Bethel nodded dumbly, her hand going limp in the grasp of her favorite author. She didn't trust herself to speak without stuttering. "Randi's an old friend of mine from college," Scully explained. "She's also...as far as we can figure out...the last person to have seen Mulder before he disappeared." Nodding, the blonde woman managed to force out a coherent sentence. "He had mentioned that she was visiting a couple of days before..." She blushed. "I thought it might be you when he made me promise not to come with him when he went to the airport." Randi did her best to conceal a smile and Scully echoed Bethel's nod. Erin noted silently that there was a hint of the same profound sadness in this woman's eyes that had been so prevalent in her partner's. Whatever had happened between them to send them separate ways, she decided, it hadn't been lack of concern for each other. There was a connection there that awed her, even though she was only getting a glimpse of it. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully." What she was apologizing for, she wasn't sure. But either for taking her place, or for losing track of Fox Mulder, she owed this woman a lot. Scully smiled gently, her eyes still sad. "It's all right, Bethel. If I were to try to tell you about all the times Mulder ran off on me, it would fill up a television series. It's one of his predominant character traits." Her voice was lightly teasing, despite its sadness. Bethel nodded and the redhead seated herself at the desk that had once been hers, a twinge of regret crossing her face. "So, when was the last time you saw Mulder?" Taking a deep breath, the younger agent began with the day Mulder had come in with the Ripper case, concluding a few minutes later with the other agent's departure for the airport on the twenty-third. Scully closed her eyes at the mention of the one case she had worked on in St. Louis, the one she had known Mulder would deem an X-File the moment she first learned of it. If only I hadn't asked Skinner to keep him away from me, maybe none of this would have happened. "So, when did you find out about the plane ticket?" she asked. "Assistant Director Skinner asked me to check on it." She handed Scully the printout they'd recieved from the airline. Special Agent Fox William Mulder, badge number JTT047101111, was listed as having purchased a round-trip ticket to St. Louis on June 23, 1998, at 2:05 PM. Randi leaned over to read over her friend's shoulder, and her face knit itself into a frown. "Wait a minute--my flight left at 11:25. That's almost three hours later--why would he have waited that long to purchase a ticket if he was going to?" Good point. Mulder always had been a very decisive man, not to mention impulsive. It wasn't like him to take three hours to make up his mind about something. "Bethel, do you have the name of the ticket agent who sold this to him? I'd like to check it out--something tells me this isn't what it looks like." **Location Unknown**
Mulder rolled over in the darkness, groaning softly from between parched lips. He felt awful, as if he had been taken and stuffed in a small cardboard box, since that was about all the room he had to move. His arms and legs were curled against him to prevent them from brushing against the cold, hard, slimy walls of his prison. Never before--at least that he remembered--had he ever felt so frightened and alone. Not to mention hungry, thirsty, tired and sick. Scully...help me... he called out in silent desperation, before remembering that he had lost her. For the first time in six years, she wouldn't be there to keep looking for him when everyone else had given up, her faith in him only matched by his in her. I'm coming, Mulder. I'll find you, I promise. Just hold on. His eyes flew open, half-expecting to see her form before him as clearly as he'd heard her voice in his mind. But still only darkness greeted him. For a moment he held his breath, wondering if their minds had really touched for a moment, or if it had only been his imagination, his own desperate wish playing a trick on him. Even though he believed in telepathy, he couldn't be sure. Unbidden, something Randi had said to him drifted into his mind--("I believe you and Dana will be reunited someday. I think God wants you to be.") If that was true, would it be too far of a stretch to believe that same God would allow him to receive that reassurance, to give him the will to hold on until they could find each other again? I'll lead you home. This voice was still, quiet and calming, so soft that he could easily have ignored it if he'd wanted to. But now, he didn't want to. He needed the faith it offered him.
Most of his life had been built on desperation. His desperate search for Samantha, his desperate search for Scully, his desperate faith that there had to be someone else out there, something to explain the memories that haunted him and the fears that wouldn't let him go. He'd functioned from a foundation of despair and angst and that could only hold him up so far before it began to drag him down. And now he knew that if he didn't grasp on to something better now, he wouldn't get another chance. The song he'd never heard before that was now echoing in his mind was offering him that something--or someone--better, the same sustaining faith that Randi had shared with him.
That silent promise touched his greatest fear, that Scully wouldn't find him and he would die slowly in this awful place. But if he chose to believe the voice that was now speaking, he could know that fear would never come true.
Home. It was such a foreign concept to him, but it was something he had always needed, always longed for. And for the first time, he knew where home was--anywhere he could finally set down the burdens he'd carried all his life and rest a while, and anywhere that Scully was with him.
It was strange how truthfully this song pegged him. Even though, through all the years of his partnership with Scully, he had always been the 'believer,' he'd never had her faith. He had never known the kind of unshakable faith she had in something less provable than everything he sought out. Even what he did believe he questioned, needed to prove. Maybe it was time he reached out and took hold of something purely on faith.
He trusted Scully with his life because he knew she would readily give her own life for him, just as he would for her. Could he deny that trust to a God who had made that ultimate sacrifice for him already?
The Truth. The one thing he had been searching for all his life. Maybe the answer was in the heavens after all, but in a way he'd never dreamed. Shivering with the physical cold of his surroundings, but at the same time strangely warmer than he'd ever been before, Mulder reached out with his soul and grasped onto that promise. I believe, he answered fervently without a word. I believe. Then the words of a long-forgotten piece of his heritage of faith filled his mind and he began to pray, whispering the words between parched, dry lips. "Sh'ma Yisrael, Adonai Eloheynu, Adonai Echad..." To Be Continued... ********** Part two of four **Location Unknown**
"I told you that was a foolish move before you made it," a calm male voice spoke in the dim room, a stream of smoke moving away from him with his words. "You should have listened to me. But because you didn't, not only have you eliminated the Covarrubias woman's usefulness to us--should he ever escape--but you have given Agent Scully a reason to return. If the plan fails now, it will be your fault, not mine." "They will not find Agent Mulder," one of his companions replied with absolute confidence. "Perhaps not," the smoker admitted. "But if he dies, the warning I gave you once will come to pass--you will turn his quest into a crusade. He must be allowed to live, because as long as he survives, his importance to the game will not be fully comprehended. And she must survive as well--you saw what happened the last time we took her away." The other man turned to Cancerman, his eyes angry. "Who are you to tell us what we're doing wrong? If your 'perfect' plan had worked, this would never have had to happen! But you failed because you didn't anticipate the interference of the Randall woman. You should have kept her away from them, and you know it." "The only way to have 'kept her away from them' would have been to prevent her from ever meeting Dana Scully, and even we had no way of anticipating that their friendship would become a problem." "You created the problem," the other man spat. "You assigned Agent Scully to assist Agent Mulder on the X-Files. Fox Mulder and Amanda Randall were never supposed to meet--you know that! Now, because of her, everything we did to bring this about has been wasted. You must bring her under control, however necessary!" "And risk allowing the agents to know that the circumstances of their separation were contrived? Not to mention rousing their suspicions with our interest in Amanda Randall? Please, gentlemen! If she disappeared now, or was in any other way injured by us, it would succeed in nothing except bringing them closer to the Truth, which we are sworn to prevent." There was a murmur of reluctant agreement among the others gathered. Finally, one man with a clipped British accent spoke, his eyes boring into the smoker. "Why is it that your pets always have to live for the Project to continue? One would almost think you were protecting them...surely you know better than to let personal bias interfere with your work." Disguising his sudden nervousness at the other man's words, Cancerman shook his head in exasperated resignation. "My 'pets,' as you call them, only interest me because of their importance to what we are doing, as all of you know. However, if you wish, I will speak with Amanda Randall, although I believe the situation is already irreversible." "And what will you do if you cannot get her to cooperate?" "Merely ensure that she remembers nothing of our meeting." **Baltimore-Washington International Airport**
"Can I help you?" the ticket agent asked politely, his eyes fixing appreciatively on the two women before him. The shorter of the two, a flaming redhead with a much more authoritative posture, nodded. She flipped open what looked like a leather wallet to reveal an FBI Badge, and her companion did likewise. "I'm Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI, this is Agent Bethel. We'd like to speak with Corrine McPherson." A little disappointed, he nodded and pointed in Corrie's direction. With no more acknowledgement than a nod, Scully and Bethel turned away to where the other agent was working two counters down. "Corrine McPherson?" "Yes?" Corrie asked, glancing curiously from one badge to the other. "Can I help you?" Scully spoke first. "You're listed as having sold a ticket to St. Louis to Fox Mulder several days ago..." She nodded. "Yes, is there a problem?" The blonde agent pulled out a picture and handed it to her. "Is this the man you sold the ticket to?" Frowning, Corrie shook her head. "Goodness, no. I would have remembered that nose." As if for emphasis, she wrinkled her own nose in distaste. Scully bristled at the way the other woman devalued her partner simply based on one facial feature, but managed to refrain from pointing it out. "What did he look like?" "Well...he was younger than that, and handsomer, at least in my opinion. His hair was shorter, and he wasn't as lanky. Actually, he looked a little like that actor who was in one episode of 'Highlander'...Nicolas Lea. A lot like him." Bethel nodded, both relieved and puzzled to learn that it hadn't been Mulder who'd purchased the ticket, although she couldn't understand why someone else would do it for him. Beside her, Scully's eyes darkened in recognition. Krycek... Suddenly, this wasn't just a ditch anymore. If Alex Krycek had purchased a plane ticket in Mulder's name, there was a pretty strong possibility that he was in real danger, possibly already dead. No. I won't believe that. Lord God, please keep him safe until I can find him. She nodded, lips pursed with concern. "Thank you, you've been very helpful." "Anytime," Corrie responded cheerfully as the agents turned to leave. "I don't understand. Why would someone else buy a ticket in Agent Mulder's name?" Bethel asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the ticket counter. "Either to keep us from finding out where he really is, or to get him kicked out of the FBI for disobeying orders, or both," was the curt response. "But...why?" The confusion in the younger woman's voice was genuine, making Scully realize just how much Mulder hadn't told her about the X-Files. Her heart tightened with the realization of how determined he must have been to shut Bethel out. To never trust a partner again, so he could never again be betrayed...or betray. I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm so, so sorry. So now it was up to her to explain to this naive young agent just what she was getting herself into. "Mulder and I made a lot of enemies over the course of our work with the X-Files, Bethel. Powerful enemies, who would do just about anything to keep secrets hidden that we tried to expose. In many of our cases, evidence would be destroyed, with the perpetrators escaping clean, or it would just vanish altogether. My sister and Mulder's father were both killed because of our work, and we ourselves were constantly in danger, but because we trusted each other, we were strong enough to survive. Our separation was the best thing that could have happened for Them, but because Mulder stayed with the X-Files, he's still a threat to Them, and They'll do whatever they can to eliminate that threat. I can only hope this means that he's still alive. Why else would they try to get him discharged?" Speechless for a moment, Bethel followed her out of the airport. "Who on earth could do such a thing, even if they wanted to?" she finally stammered. Scully turned to face her, her expression solemn, and her voice bitter with sarcasm. "You've read Randi's books, Bethel--the Federal Government, who else?" Meanwhile... Margaret Scully's house Randi was pacing, her feet coming close to wearing a path in the carpet with every step. Even though she'd solemnly promised she didn't want to come along for the investigation--after the trouble she'd gotten herself into the last time she'd visited, it seemed the best course of action--she desperately wished the two agents had allowed her to go with them to the airport. She hated feeling so helpless. But you're not helpless, a voice reminded her silently. Haven't you often spoken to Dana about the power of prayer? Weakly, she smiled. Of course. I guess even I forget sometimes--thanks for reminding me, Lord. Collapsing to her knees, she dropped her head onto the coffee table and let the tears she had been longing to shed for her friends come flowing out into her hands as she prayed. Dear Jesus, I have to admit I don't understand why this is happening. I thought you wanted to bring them back together--I still think that--so why did he have to be taken away? Why now, when she's finally forgiven him? Fox and Dana have always been like a brother and sister to me, as long as I've known them...and to think now of what he might be going through...and of what she *is* going through trying to find him...it hurts, Lord. It hurts so much. Please, Jesus, protect him. Bring him home safely. They love each other so much that I can't believe that you didn't mean them for each other, and you wouldn't take him away now that they've finally realized that. Please bring him home. And don't let either of them give up hope that they will be together again. "Your concern for your friends is touching, Ms. Randall. As is your faith in this God who certainly doesn't seem to have done much for you." Randi's eyes snapped up at the sound of the gruff, masculine voice, focusing on a figure in the doorway who held a cigarette gingerly in one hand. "Every day I live is a gift from God, and when I die I'll spend eternity with Him. I'd say He's done a lot for me. More than I've ever deserved." Eyes still fixed defiantly on the stranger's face, she rose to her feet. "Mind if I ask who you are? And why you feel you can just walk in here without even knocking?" "Who I am is of no importance, Ms. Randall. What is important, is what I can offer you...I can tell you who you are." "I know who I am." Randi's voice was calm, her gaze confident. "You have no interest in discovering who you were for the first ten years of your life?" he asked. "Of course it interests me," she admitted, the placidity in her voice never wavering. "But I've always been told I have good instincts about people, and those instincts tell me you're not someone who gives information for free. If I'm meant to know, I'll find out someday, without being asked to sacrifice my integrity for it." A curious smile crept over the strange man's worn face. "Somehow, that's what I thought you'd say." Without being invited he seated himself on the sofa. "I came here today with the purpose of convincing you to betray your two best friends in exchange for the missing piece of your life. But I've been observing you for a long time, Amanda. One trait you share with those for whom you've given so much recently is absolute dedication to the Truth. Unfortunately..." Here he stood again. "For that reason I cannot allow you to remember this meeting." "You're a writer, aren't you?" Cancerman stiffened, surprised. He stared at her, wondering if she'd heard a word of his speech, and how she'd known about his secret, unfulfilled dream. "I beg your pardon?" "I can tell by the way you talk--you're a writer." She grinned. "As they say, 'it takes one to know one.'" "Well, I...." For the first time in his life, he found himself at a loss for words. "I do dabble in fiction a bit. Nowhere near the quality of your own work, however." There was a touch of bitterness in the last statement. "I don't know about that--why don't you let me read something of yours sometime and judge for myself?" Once again, he was floored. "You can't be serious." Without a trace of fear or disgust in her expression, Randi approached him. "I take writing very seriously. But one thing I've learned from experience--even the most talented need advice and mentoring to work out the kinks. Something tells me you do have talent, raw talent. It's just never been refined." Still not sure how to respond, the smoker nevertheless felt an unexpected hope. The last time he'd come close to touching that dream he'd been willing to give it all up, all the power, the manipulation. Even though he knew it might cost him his life to step away--knowing what he did--he'd been willing to risk it. And he was speaking now to someone who could not only understand that dedication, but maybe also give him another chance at making something of it. He studied the woman before him, the irony of the situation hitting him full force. Strange as it seemed, she was a better person for the ten years they had stolen from her because of what that loss had given her in exchange. It was almost as if someone more powerful than him had been watching out for her...Maybe her faith wasn't entirely unjustified after all. "I suppose I could drop something into the mail...on one condition." Randi hesitated. "That depends on what it is." "Never speak a word of this conversation to anyone--I made a promise to my associates that I would not allow you to remember this meeting if I could not get you to agree to our terms..." The writer nodded, relieved. "If you've been watching me as long as you say you have, you know that I never break a confidence." "Yes, I have observed that." He turned to leave. "But I won't lie. If someone asks me, I won't lie to them." After a thoughtful pause, Cancerman nodded without turning around, a smile creeping over his face. "I think I can live with that." Randi watched him leave with thoughtful eyes. Now, there is a man who needs you, Lord. Please use me to reach him. ********** part three of four **Margaret Scully's house**
"Dana, are you feeling all right?" Mrs. Scully watched her daughter carefully, lines of worry creasing her face. Dana nodded, glancing first at her mother then at Randi with a weak smile. "Yeah...I guess I'm just worried about Mulder." She set down her fork with a sigh, dropping her head onto one hand. "Bethel and I found out today that he didn't buy a ticket to St. Louis--Alex Krycek bought one in his name." Margaret Scully drew in a sharp breath. She was well acquainted with the name Alex Krycek and the role he had played in her daughter's abduction. "Oh, Dana, I'm sorry." Randi's eyes darkened with concern as well. "So, you know he didn't just get impatient with me." Scully nodded. "You were right, Randi--he wouldn't have taken three hours to decide to buy a ticket. Sometime during those three hours, someone took him...then had Krycek pose as him to throw us off the trail." The writer's mind drifted immediately to the man she'd met that afternoon. The same instinct that had inspired her to distrust him--and pity him--made her pretty certain that he was somehow involved. But even if it meant Mulder's life, she couldn't owe him anything. It would be wrong and neither of her friends would ask that of her. "You'll find him, Lion," she spoke quietly, catching her friend's gaze and holding it for a moment. "I know you will." Dana smiled weakly. "I hope you're right, Randi. I hope you're right." "Hey, I know I'm right." Scully's mind drifted back to an unexpected experience she'd had the night before. As she lain sleepless in bed, she'd heard Mulder's voice as clearly as if he'd been in the room beside her. Scully...help me... And even though she'd never believed in telepathy, she'd answered him. I'm coming, Mulder. I'll find you, I promise. Just hold on. Would God have given her that little miracle if he hadn't meant for them to find each other? Her smile softening, she nodded. "Yeah...I know it too." **Headquarters of the Lone Gunmen**
"What's the password?" Scully rolled her eyes. Behind her, Randi began to giggle softly and even Bethel concealed a smile. "Did I mention that these are the most paranoid people I've ever met?" the senior agent whispered. "Worse than Fox? Wow, that's impressive." Randi bobbed her eyebrows playfully at her friend. Fighting to keep a straight face, Scully turned back to the door. "No, Frohike, I will NOT have lunch with you," she responded loudly. The door opened a crack and the oldest of the Lone Gunmen poked his head out, winking at the redhaired agent with a lecherous grin. "Actually, the correct password, Agent Scully, is 'Yes, Frohike, I will have lunch with you.'" "If I ever say that, you can be confident that it *isn't* me," she retorted. Still grinning, Frohike shrugged and stepped aside to let them enter. "Ms. Randall," he commented as they passed, holding out his hand to the writer. "It's a great honor to meet you--we're all fans of your novels." Langly and Byers both nodded. "We've been following your career ever since you released The IQ Society," the bearded Gunman added. "It's almost a constant surprise that you haven't conveniently 'disappeared' yet, considering how close to the Truth your novels come." "I'm supposed to take that as a compliment, right?" Randi asked, her eyes twinkling. "From them--definitely," Scully shot back with a smile. "These are the guys who told Mulder they liked him because his ideas were crazier than theirs." Smiling, the writer thumped Frohike soundly on the shoulder. "Well, boys, I already did my disappearing act. Remind me to tell you about it sometime." The Gunmen exchanged curious stares, leading Scully to marvel that they hadn't already dug up that little secret. "Anyway, guys, back to the business at hand...I need you to run a background check for me." Immediately shifting gears, the three nodded, Byers seating himself at the computer. "On who?" The redhaired agent handed them a small slip of paper. "I found this number in Mulder's address book, and I have a feeling she was an informant. I want to know if I can trust her to help me find him." Frohike took the paper from her and studied it. "Marita Covarrubias..." Randi giggled unexpectedly and Scully turned questioning eyes to her. "What's so funny?" "Her name means 'blonde cave' in Spanish." Scully smiled. "Well, I hope that's not a reflection on her intelligence. Guys?" She turned back to them. "I'm doing a regular web search on the name now," Byers replied. "Once we've gotten everything we can from that, we'll move on to more...unconventional methods. Although this could take a while--we'll have to use every search engine to find all the possibilities." He struck a key soundly on the keyboard and the screen blinked to life. "The only problem with a conventional search engine is that it finds both words independently as well, so we'll have to spend a little time weeding through other Maritas and Covarrubiases before we can be sure we've found everything there is to find." Meanwhile, Frohike and Langly had been taking turns shooting nervous glances in Bethel's direction. Realizing that the younger agent was the only one they didn't know, Scully took her elbow and drew her forward. "By the way, this is Erin Bethel, Mulder's new partner." The suspicion in their eyes didn't fade, which she could understand. After all, Krycek had once been Mulder's partner as well--the position didn't automatically indicate trustworthiness. But she suspected they hadn't realized that the Consortium knew Mulder would never trust another partner again, so planting one would be pointless. Besides, Skinner had hand-picked Bethel for the job himself. "She's clean, guys." Scully assured them, her sharp blue eyes daring them to challenge her. Langly shrugged, backing down for now, although she knew they would probably run a thorough background check as soon as the three women left. "I've got something," Byers' voice came from behind them and all five other people in the room turned back to the screen. He pointed to a webpage that had come up. "Apparently, this woman works at the U.N." The senior of the two agents leaned over his shoulder, her eyes scanning the page, a list of employees for the U.N. Building. "That could explain how she'd be in a position to have information that would interest Mulder..." she murmured. "Do you have a photo?" "I'm checking now." Byers moved the mouse to click on the highlighted link next to the woman's name. Her personal webpage filled the screen, including a full color professional photograph of a young bleach-blonde in a smart blue suit with a pouting expression on her face. Something about the woman's cold, sulky demeanor made Scully shiver, drawing back from the screen a bit. "Well, at least we know now that part of her name fits her, although I must admit, it doesn't look natural." She turned her eyes back to where Byers was busily typing away at the keyboard. "What are you doing?" "One of the problems Netscape has been having recently--which is one reason we use it--" the Gunman explained, "is that their browser makes it possible to download the entire contents of a person's hard drive through their webpage. Thankfully, how this is done is not common knowledge, but we've found it useful." "You're snooping through her hard drive?" Randi asked incredulously, suddenly thankful that her own webpage was through her publisher, not her home e-mail account. "Actually, we're snooping through the U.N. 'hard drive,' since that's the server her account is registered with." "You mean all it takes to access the UN mainframe is to hop on their webpage?" was the writer's next question. Scully smiled a little at the intrigued tone in her friend's voice. Even though she knew Randi would never do anything illegal, that didn't mean she couldn't be tempted. "Actually, it's more complicated than that--a lot more, but that's a start. You see, to really *access* the system, we have to bypass a number of password protects first. That's the fun part." While Byers was doing that, Scully turned to where Langly had begun typing at another of the trio's many computers. "What are you doing?" she asked. "I'm looking through any records that may be on file for her--birth certificate, medical history, school records--" He paused unexpectedly. "Here's something interesting..." The redhead leaned over his shoulder to see the screen. "What have you got." "There isn't a single record listed under the name Marita Covarrubias before the year 1994. Nada." Scully looked surprised. "You mean it's an assumed name?" "That's what I'm about to find out..." Langly's hands flew over the keyboard, as screen after screen of information flashed in front of him. "Let me just see if I can find someplace that has her fingerprints on file..." "Can I help?" Bethel asked abruptly. The Gunman threw a startled glance in Scully's direction. The older agent smiled. "Bethel has a PhD in Computer Science, with an emphasis in communication systems--that's a large part of why the Bureau recruited her." Langly nodded reluctantly. "I guess an extra head on the job wouldn't hurt." Smiling, the blonde woman seated herself beside him at the console. "Great, because I have a feeling if I'm going to spend much time in this department, I may have to learn to hack." **2:15 PM** "I think we found her..." The agent looked up from where she had been talking with Randi to focus her attention once again on Langly and Bethel. She frowned. There was something about the tone of the Gunman's voice that she didn't like... "Why do I get the impression this is not a good thing?" she asked, standing and crossing to the computer. "Well...I guess you'll have to judge that for yourself." With a click of the mouse, the screen was filled with a scanned marriage certificate, the names on it listed as Laura Ellis and.... Scully's blood went cold. "No," she whispered. Instantly alerted by her reaction, Randi moved to stand behind Langly as well, turning pale at the sight. Bethel's brow crinkled thoughtfully. "Is that the same guy--?" the younger agent began, and Scully cut her off with a sharp nod. "Who is this Krycek anyway?" The redhead closed her eyes once again at the painful memories the name evoked. "When the X-Files were closed temporarily five years ago, and Mulder and I were split up, Alex Krycek was assigned to him as his new partner. What neither of us knew is that Krycek was working with our enemies, 'keeping an eye' on Mulder. Among other things, he killed the suspect in...a case Mulder was working on..." Randi shot Dana a sharp, curious look at that, but Scully ignored her. She doesn't need to know, was the silent reply, one that she hoped Randi would somehow sense. "He also murdered Mulder's father and tried to get both of us killed several times after the X-Files were re-opened. The last time, he lured Mulder to a prison camp in Tunguska, in the former Soviet Union." ("Alex Krycek was assigned to him as his new partner...") Bethel winced, her eyes drifting to the three Gunmen. No wonder they didn't trust me... "I see." The red-haired agent turned back to the computer screen, staring at the marriage certificate on it as if she could burn it with the heat of her anger. They knew Mulder would never trust a new partner again, so they planted an informant instead...long before we went our separate ways... "I'm going to talk to her," she stated quietly. "Are you sure?" Frohike piped up. "After all, if she's married to Alex Krycek, there's a damn good chance she can't be trusted." "I know. But she doesn't know we know that, and if she knows something..." "It gives her all the more reason to try to take advantage of you, mislead you." Scully shook her head. "No--it gives her all the more reason to try to win my trust, so she can sabotage me later." She lifted her eyes to meet Randi's. "If she misled me now, there's always a chance I could find him on my own, later. And at that point she would have no power over whether I do or not...but if she leads me to him..." "She can cut you both down together," the other woman finished quietly for her, her writer's mind easily leaping to the right conclusion. The agent nodded. "Then all we have to do is lay our trap first." **Marita Covarrubias's apartment**
"Agent Scully. Please, come in." Scully stepped past Marita into the room, hoping she had managed to conceal the fact that the woman made her even more uneasy in person than her photograph had. Anger and revulsion at the way the blonde had misused Mulder's trust were forcibly pushed aside for the greater purpose of her visit. "You know my name," she commented pointedly. "Yes...Fox has told me a lot about you." The agent felt a sharp pang of grief and anger. How dare this woman address him by his first name, a privilege even she hadn't been granted? Her only comfort was in knowing that Mulder wouldn't have encouraged it, even though he might not have done anything to discourage it either. "So, you were expecting me." "Considering recent events...yes, I guess you could say I was." Seating herself on Marita's sofa, Scully took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "I need your help. If there's anything you could tell me that might help me find him, I need to know." The blonde woman circled around to face her, her too-blue eyes boring into Scully's face. "What makes you think I wouldn't lie to you?" she asked. "Mulder trusted you," the redhead replied softly. "I'm at the end of my rope--I have to find him. Please...help me." With a deep sigh, Marita sank into the other end of the sofa. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully. I really don't know where he is. But..." Here she met the agent's eyes again. "I might know a way you can save him--if you're willing to pay the cost." "For Mulder's life...anything." The blonde nodded. "You're in love with him, aren't you?" The other woman's acknowledging silence was the only answer needed. "They might be willing...to make an exchange." "What kind of exchange?" "His life...in exchange for your loyalty." A wry, sad smile twisted the agent's mouth. Somehow, she'd almost known They would try to play that card. "I can't." "Even if it's the only way? You said you would do anything--" "Anything but that," Scully responded, rising and turning towards the door. "I said I'd do anything for Mulder's life, Ms. Covarrubias," she continued softly. "But that wouldn't save his life--that kind of betrayal coming from me would kill him. Besides, Mulder would rather die than let me make that kind of a sacrifice for him. He trusts me never to make that sacrifice...and I can't betray that trust." Crossing to the door, she turned back in the opening. "If you find another way...you know where to reach me." ********** part four of four **Margaret Scully's house**
The phone rang in the guest room, and Randi pounced on it. "Hello?" "Hey, Randi." Across the room in the other twin bed, Bethel stirred a little and sat up. She glanced over at the author for confirmation. Randi nodded. "Lion, what's up?" "Well, how shall I put this...the visit was almost a complete waste of time." She frowned, as disappointed as her friend sounded. "Hold on a second--let me put this on speaker-phone." Hitting the proper button, Randi set the phone back on the reciever and waited for Bethel to clamber out of bed and join her. "Now...what exactly did you mean by almost a complete waste of time?" "Well, she threw me a bit of a curve. She didn't tell me where Mulder is--I got the impression she wasn't told, just in case I tried to use her as a source--but she offered me a way to save him on Their terms..." A chill stole over the writer as she remembered the bargain the older man had tried to offer her. Had they extended a similar hand to her friend? And worse...had she taken it? No, Lion's too level-headed, too sure of herself to ever get that desperate. "She told me I could have him back, if I promised Them my loyalty." "So what did you do?" Bethel asked, intense concern permeating her voice. Unlike Randi, she didn't know Scully well enough to know the course of action she would take under those circumstances. "I told her I couldn't--that it would be more of a betrayal to Mulder than letting him die..." Her voice cracked audibly with those last words and the writer found herself wishing Dana were there with them, so she could give her a much-needed hug. "You did the right thing, Lion," Randi reassured her, her voice sober. "I know." A silence followed that none of the three women felt much like breaking. Too much still hung in the balance to trivialize with words--Mulder's life was still at stake and, even if he was found alive, the future loomed heavy and unclear. Even though no one had spoken of it, they all knew--Bethel by intuition--that Dana and Fox's reunion might come at the cost of their partnership. Scully's quiet words finally shattered the stillness. "I think I struck a chord in her though." "What do you mean?" "Well, this is just a hunch...but I got the feeling that she'd been offered the same bargain--for Krycek--and she took it." "It would sure explain a lot," Randi commented, nodding. Another silence followed, this one broken by Bethel. "So what do we do now?" "I don't know," the redhead replied honestly, her voice slightly distorted by the speaker. Despite the static, the distress in it was almost palpable. "I don't know where else to turn--I feel like I've exhausted every avenue of investigation..." Randi closed her eyes, her friend's pain hovering over her even though Dana wasn't in the room. Lord Jesus, please guide us--show us what to do. We've nowhere else to go, now. The senior of the two agents sighed, her breath trembling. "I guess all we can do now is pray." The author smiled, irony dancing in her now-open eyes. "I'm already there, Lion. Already there." 2:15 AM She was sitting at her keyboard, typing, just as she had a thousand times before. Words flashed one after another onto the screen, words that she quickly realized were a description of the moment she'd just lived through--or thought she had. "A silence followed that none of the three women felt much like breaking. Too much still hung in the balance to trivialize with words--Mulder's life was still at stake and, even if he was found alive, the future loomed heavy and unclear." Startled, her hands pulled back from the screen and she stared at it. Had she been dreaming herself into one of her own stories? Were the past few months, Dana and Fox's split, Fox's disappearance and everything else just a figment of her imagination? Frowning, she shook her head. <No. It can't be--if I were writing this as a story, I'd know by now how it was going to end...> Randi sat up suddenly, so suddenly that she almost woke Erin Bethel where she was sleeping in the other bed. But the young agent merely grumbled softly in her sleep and rolled over, pulling the covers tighter around her. The dream she'd just had remained with her. It was as vivid as many of the nightmares she'd had since childhood, but stranger--stranger because it was in many ways more normal. But as with the nightmares, she felt almost certain this dream was trying to tell her something... (If I were writing this as a story, I'd know by now how it was going to end.) The writer wiped her hand across her face, shocked by the thought. What would I do if I was writing this as a story? Based on what I know of the 'characters,' what would I do? Trembling with excitement, Randi cast her eyes skyward. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you *so* much! Still shaking, she stumbled out of bed and fumbled in the darkness for her laptop. When her fingers found it, she hugged it protectively to her chest and began feeling her way both carefully and clumsily to the door. Outside in the hall, she flicked on the light, turned on the, and began typing, pausing now and then in thought. **Marita's Apartment**
Marita rolled over in bed, thumping her pillow with her fist as if by flattening it she could also squash the unwanted thoughts that had been creeping through her defenses into her mind all night. She'd had her doubts--ever since the day she'd first had the choice set before her, she'd had doubts--but she'd always managed to smother them. All it took was reminding herself that she loved Alex and that he loved her. Then the enormity of her sacrifice--not to mention her distaste for it--had always faded. ("Mulder would rather die than let me make that kind of a sacrifice for him. He trusts me never to make that sacrifice...and I can't betray that trust.") Ever since the red-haired agent had spoken those words to her six hours ago, Marita had been haunted by them. Damn you, Dana Scully. Damn you for making me doubt my Alex! If he really loved her as much as he said he did, would he have asked her to make that sacrifice? Would he have stood by with that pleading expression in his eyes--a look that bored into her, weakening her resolve--while the men who held his fate in their hands asked her to barter for it? What would it be like to know that someone cared so much about you that they would rather die than see you lose yourself for them? I couldn't have watched him die--I couldn't have let him die, she argued back weakly. I love him... And yet, Dana Scully--who was plain-as-day more deeply in love with her partner than she'd ever seen any woman in love with a man before--had refused to make the same choice... Because it was wrong. And because she knew the man she loved wouldn't ask that of her. Frowning again, Marita ran one hand through the hair that had been white-blonde ever since she'd accepted this bargain and given up everything to save her husband's life. Everything...my face, my name, my soul... And what had he given her in return for her sacrifice? Months in which they never saw each other, because it would risk blowing her cover. Blank stares when they met by accident in public. She'd found out through the men she worked for that he'd lost his arm on an assignment...an assignment, ironically enough, dealing with Fox Mulder. Alex wasn't even the one to tell her he'd lost his arm. Restlessness finally overcoming her, she slid out of bed, flicked on the light and padded over to the mirror to stare miserably at the face in it. It was a face that she had forced herself to get used to over the years. But the numbness with which she regarded that visage was gone, replaced by the disgust it had inspired in her the first time she saw it. This isn't me! she screamed silently at the image in the mirror, searching the blond hair for the black that lurked somewhere beneath it and gazing into the brown eyes that contacts would once again turn blue in the morning. Can't anyone see, this isn't who I am? "I don't want to be Marita Covarrubias," she whispered to her reflection, fighting the tears that threatened. "I don't want to be her anymore. I want to be me, Laura Krycek." But did she? With all the doubts that had festered in her over the years, doubts that had grown so much stronger in the course of six short hours, did she really want to be that person either? His devoted wife, never certain whether her devotion was returned or if she was just another tool in his game? She shook her head, feeling for the first time in years that she was being true to herself. "No. I want to be Laura Ellis." **Margaret Scully's House**
Dana finally got the door unlocked on her third try. It wasn't much of a surprise that it had taken so long, since she hadn't slept at all in the past two days. She'd meant to get a hotel in New York and stay the night, driving back once she woke up, but it hadn't taken her long to determine that she wasn't going to be getting any sleep. So, guided by insomnia and the intense need to be in the comforting presence of her mother and Randi, she'd decided to drive home. After all, there wasn't much danger of her falling asleep at the wheel. She stepped into the house and closed the door behind her, noting with surprise that the upstairs hall light was still on. She could hear her mother stirring in the kitchen, but other than that there was no indication that anyone else in the house was awake. Margaret Scully appeared in the doorway, her eyes fixing on her daughter with a sad smile. "I thought I heard you come in." The younger woman brought her hands to her face, rubbing it as if she could wake herself up from the nightmare the past few days had been. Within moments, Mrs. Scully was beside her, wrapping her daughter in a firm, strong hug that dealt the shattering blows to the stress fractures in Dana's resistance. Clinging to her mother, Scully began to cry, tears rolling down her face more freely than they had in years. "Oh, God, Mom...I'm so afraid...what if he's dead? What if I never find him?" Margaret's embrace only tightened. "I understand, Dana. But you can't give up hope. God brought you back to us--he'll bring Fox back too." That statement brought on a fresh barrage of tears as the younger woman began to realize for the first time just how strong Mulder's faith in her had been. How hard must it have been for him to keep fighting, keep searching for her those long months? How many times must he have been tempted to give up? How could I have accused him of not caring? Another familiar touch fell on her shoulder, and Dana realized that Randi had come into the room at some point. Still trembling, she raised tear-reddened eyes to meet her friends's and let go of her mother to cling tightly for a moment to the writer. "It's okay, Lion. It's okay." As soon as the taller woman sensed that Dana was a bit calmer, she pulled back and smiled. "Wait here--I've got something for you." She disappeared up the stairs and Scully watched her go with a confused frown. Beside her, Margaret gently guided her daughter to the sofa and sat down beside her. The writer reappeared a moment later with her laptop. "I got inspired this morning," she explained, a bit embarrassed. "I don't know that it'll do any good, but you might want to take a look." She passed the screen to Dana, who stared bewildered at the garbled document on it. As far as she could tell, it was a rather unformed account of Mulder's disappearance. "I don't understand." "You know how you once told me I think of everything in terms of a story?" Randi asked, kneeling on the carpet in front of the Scully women. "Well, I decided to put that to some use, for once. I decided to try to write out what happened, like I would if I was brainstorming for a novel. To take the characters, and based on what I know of them, write out what might have happened." Intrigued, Dana studied the text more carefully. "You wrote a story about what happened to Mulder?" Randi nodded. "I tried to write it from the point of view of the ones who took him, to get inside their heads and tell the story from the inside out." ("Get inside their heads...") The redhead regarded her friend with narrowed eyes. You know Randi, you never cease to surprise me... Turning back to the screen, she began again at the top, reading her friend's composition with growing amazement. "Oh my..." She stopped herself just in time to avoid a disapproving glare from Randi. "That's him," she whispered. "At least as much as Mulder and I know, that's him. Cancerman." Hitting the down arrow key, she began to scroll through the rest of the file. "I don't believe this--Randi, if you ever decide to give up writing, you should consider becoming a profiler." Randi shook her head. "That's okay--I decided having adventures ain't all it's cracked up to be. I'll stick to writing them." Margaret laughed. "I imagine your mother appreciates that sentiment." The author grinned at her. Scully stood, still carrying the laptop with her. "Why a well?" "They're desperate--they thought they had the two of you out of the way, then Fox decided to stick with the X-Files even without you. So, he had to disappear--somewhere he wouldn't be found, and before he could accidentally recontact you through the Ripper case. But they also wanted to have a backup plan, so that even if he was found he wouldn't be able to go back to work, which explains the falsified ticket. But what better place to hide someone you just want to forget about than the bottom of a well?" "I don't know, Randi--there aren't that many wells left in the country." She nodded. "That's why I figured it was somewhere in a rural area. A farm, most likely. But not too far away either--that would take too long." "Well, I imagine it sure wouldn't hurt to check it out." Dana handed the computer back to her friend and turned to Margaret. "Mom, I--" The older woman shook her head firmly. "No, Dana. You're not going anywhere until you get some sleep--or at least a few hours of rest." "Mom!" "She's right, Lion," Randi seconded the motion. "You won't be any use to him if you wear yourself out. I could use a few more hours myself, since I was up all night writing." Reluctantly, Dana acquiesced and let Randi guide her up to her childhood bedroom, where she had been staying since she first came home to search for Mulder. Despite her still-prevalent worry, she was asleep within minutes of lying down. **The X-Files Office**
"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks." With a sigh, Scully hit the power button on her cell phone. Bethel regarded her from across the room and over a cup of tea. "What did he say?" "He's promised to notify me immediately of any emergency calls made regarding wells." A wry smile crept across her face. "I must admit, I had a moment or two of deja vu there when I first told him what I wanted. Only I was seeing it from Mulder's perspective." "He didn't believe you?" the younger agent asked. Over the course of the search she had learned a lot about both Mulder and Scully. Dana grinned, picking up her coffee mug. "Bingo." She took a sip and set it down again, reaching once more for the phone. "I'm going to call home and let Randi know what progress we've made." "Agent Scully, I hope you don't mind me saying this...I love Randi's books and all..." She hesitated for a moment, then plunged ahead. "But it seems rather strange to be basing our investigation on a story she wrote." The older agent laughed. "I know. Trust me, this isn't my usual way of tackling things. But I've learned to trust Randi's instincts over the years--she and Mulder both have a knack for understanding what makes people tick." She finished dialing the number and waited for an answer. Bethel smiled, twitching her braid back over her shoulder. "I'm not complaining. Hell, I kinda like the idea." Apparently someone had picked up the other end of the line, because Scully's grin faded into an attentive stare into nothing. "Hello, Mom? Is Randi there?" While Dana updated her friend on their progress, Erin turned back to the case file. Without meaning to, her thoughts turned inward. It was strange--she felt like a different person in some ways than she had been when she first entered this office. Scully's open friendliness had cracked completely the shell of shyness that had begun to fracture on the day Mulder offered her their first real case. She had even begun to realize that she liked the work. She hadn't expected to--it had been her FBI-Veteran father who'd wanted her to join the Bureau in the first place. But then--she cracked a smile--the X-Files wasn't exactly your average Bureau department. Dad would probably be horrified if he knew-- There was a knock on the door, and Bethel looked up in surprise. Who could possibly want to come down here, besides herself, Agent Scully, and Randi? All three of whom were presently accounted for. She glanced over to the redhead, who nodded in the direction of the door. Crossing to it, Bethel opened it to see a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman standing there. A woman who looked vaguely familiar, even though she knew she'd never seen her before. Scully's eyes narrowed. "Someone's here--I'll call you back in a minute." Hanging up the phone, she moved to stand beside Bethel. "Can I help you?" The stranger smiled. "I'm hoping I can help you. I...heard about your loss." When there was no answer from either agent, the woman sighed. "My name is Lisa Elder. Yesterday I started work at the Pentagon, as a private secretary...and I think I may have heard something I wasn't supposed to." **The Stevens Farm**
Debra Chilton groaned low in her throat, closing her eyes against the sight that greeted her. Somehow, five of their prize-winning Jerseys and several Holsteins had broken loose from the barn and were rambling through the pasture, many of them munching on the bales of hay that were being dried in reserve for winter. "Oh, no." Hurling the dishtowel angrily against the wall, she wiped her hands off on her apron and strode purposefully to the door of the house. This would have to happen now. Debra had been farm-sitting for her parents while they were away at a livestock show two counties away. She'd been managing pretty well, since she still remembered how to run the farm and the hired hands came in every day. But the hands had left for the day and apparently someone had gotten careless and let the cows out. And it was only an hour until sunset... "Lady!" she called from the doorway. Out in the field, one of the Jerseys lifted her head and blinked innocently at her mistress. A moment later, she began jogging calmly away from where Debra was standing. "Yeah, you didn't do anything of course," she muttered, starting after the naughty bovine. In response, Lady trotted farther away, still as casual and innocent as if she was merely resting in the barn. Suddenly, Debra noticed the direction her favorite cow was taking and sprinted after her. "Lady! Get away from there!" That's the last thing we need, another cow down the old well. Luckily, since Lady was more determined to look casual than to attempt an earnest escape, Debra was able to head her off. Shooing the Jersey back in the direction of the barn, she turned back to the well, peering into the darkness to make sure none of the other animals had stumbled down there, like one of the holsteins had done several years ago. Unable to see anything, she turned back in frustration, deciding that she would just have to count heads once she got all the animals back into the barn. But a faint sound made her stop. "S...skull..." Horrified, Debra turned back, kneeling at the edge of the well and trying once again to see into it. Visions of some poor soul lying helpless and frightened on top of the skeletal remains of a dead cow were dancing through her mind. "Hello?" she called, worried. "Is someone down there?" The voice came again, still raspy, but a little stronger. "Skull...help..." Good Lord, there is somebody down there! Springing to her feet, Debra raced back to the house, ignoring the surprised stares of her cows as she passed them. She stopped at the phone in the kitchen, her fingers trembling as she dialed 911. "Hello, my name is Debra Chilton. I'm calling from the farm of David and Joanna Stevens, my parents. There's a man at the bottom of our well..." **Just outside of Mansfield, Pennsylvania**
She was getting close, she could feel it. The cryptic message Lisa Elder had relayed had fit perfectly with Randi's theory. So perfectly that they'd thought it was a deliberate plant at first, but quick inspection of the local newspapers revealed frequent stories of mysterious activity in the Mansfield area, especially on the more remote farms. Lord, please help me find him. I know I'm close--guide me this last short distance. For a moment she almost wished that Randi and Bethel had come along. The long drive might have been easier with someone to talk to, but her old friend had easily deduced that this was something she needed to do alone. She needed to be the first to see him, the only one to hold him. So Randi stepped back and let her go alone. No--not alone. With the only One who would never leave her, the One who had brought the impending reunion to pass. Her cell phone rang, and Dana lifted it to her ear, whispering a silent prayer. "Scully." "Agent Scully?" the gruff voice of the Assistant Director sounded almost musical in that moment. "911 dispatch in the Mansfield area recorded an emergency call about seven minutes ago. A young woman on a farm outside of town reported that she'd found a man in her well..." Scully caught her breath. Thank you, God! "Where is he?" Skinner relayed the directions to her and she reached the farm only moments later, identifying it rather easily by the firetruck and ambulance parked beside the barn. **The Stevens Farm**
Over an hour had passed since Debra's call, and the young woman watched intensely as paramedics worked to lift the man out of the well. A thirtyish woman with shoulder-length red hair moved easily among them, her voice never stumbling over the medical jargon and her hands moving with skill and determination to help. Occasionally, the woman would step to the edge of the well and for a moment her eyes would grow distant and haunted. Like how I feel when Steven's at sea, she reflected. Debra wondered who the woman was, and what her connection was to the man they were trying to rescue. She'd flashed a badge to be allowed into the paramedics' circle, which meant she could be a cop. But her familiarity with the dialogue of the EMTs made her seem more like one of them, maybe a nurse or a doctor. Whatever else she might be though, she was the one person most concerned with the injured man's welfare. That was plain to see. It had been difficult for the paramedics to decide how to get him out. The best course of action would be a stretcher, but there didn't seem to be any way of fitting it into the narrow well. They must have figured out something though, because two men descended the ladder into the well bearing a stretcher. The redhead watched anxiously from the top, occasionally calling out words of encouragement to the wounded man below. "We've almost got you, Mulder. Stay with me." Whatever else the stranger was, Debra concluded, she was in love with the man at the bottom of that well. ***** When the two men carefully eased the stretcher out of the hole and pulled themselves out after it, Scully let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Instantly, she was at his side. He looked so fragile. Apparently whoever had thrown him down there hadn't felt the need to leave him any clothes, since he was wearing only a pair of dark blue cotton boxers. His skin was paler than she'd ever seen it, almost purple, and the dirt caked with blood around his blue lips and swollen eyes almost brought her to tears. Oh, God, Mulder. I'm so sorry. Mulder groaned softly. Even though he'd heard Scully's voice as he'd been pulled out of his prison, now that he was free his hopes shook. Could she really be here? Or had he only been the victim of his own overactive imagination? He coughed, trying to wet his dry lips enough to speak. "Sc-Scully?" "I'm here, Mulder. Everything's going to be all right--I promise." His eyes opened--only a crack, because they were swollen nearly shut, but still they opened--and a weak smile formed on his lips. Her heart skipped with joy at the sight. "Dana, I...it wasn't a waste. It wasn't for nothing..." As if he'd only been holding on long enough to say those words she'd begged him for so long ago, he slipped out of consciousness. Her eyes once again threatening tears, Dana grasped his limp hand firmly in hers, stroking it with the tenderness of emotions she'd buried for six years. "I know, Fox," she whispered. "I know." FIN |
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