Blind Faith II Matters of Trust

Last night I became an accessory to murder.  I stood by willingly and watched

an innocent man shot to death so that the truth that I've spent the better

part of my life searching for could be concealed.  Krycek killed the man on

CGB's orders and I did nothing to stop him.

 

'We do what we have to do,' Krycek told me later as I helped him dispose of

the body, sickened by my own complicity in this immoral act.  But what choice

did I have?  CGB has to believe that I'm working for him, doing his deeds, or

Scully will again fall victim to his evil manipulations.  When you sell your

soul to the devil, you have to accept the purgatory your life becomes.

 

So far Krycek and his rebel friends have offered me no redemption.  He just

keeps telling me that it's not time yet, that when our services are needed we

will be contacted.  I'm starting to wonder if Scully's suspicions aren't

correct.  Maybe Krycek and his whole story about working with the rebels is

part of a plan to keep me in line.

 

I've refused to believe it because that would mean there was no hope at all

of ever breaking free of this trap that ensnares me.  There would be no hope

of finding a way of giving Scully back her autonomy, of ridding her of that

God damn chip that controls both of our lives.

 

For the past five weeks I've been playing the roll of Cancerman's dutiful

servant, taking his calls, following his orders, doing his bidding, living my

life as his beck and call boy.  In return, I've watched Scully's health

steadily improve.  She's back to work at the Bureau.  Although our work on

the X-Files seems pointless now; we spend most of the time sabotaging our own

efforts at the behest of the old man.

 

I think Skinner suspects I've sold out.  He can't look me in the eyes.  Hell,

I don't blame him.  I don't even like to look at myself in the mirror these

days.  It's not that I regret making the deal to save Scully's life.  I'd do

it all over again if I had the chance.  She means everything to me.  And I'm

determined, if only for her sake, to find a way to make things right again.

 

Thoughts of her fill my mind now.  Vivid pictures of making love to her last

night suddenly wash away the grimness that holds me captive in my waking

moments.  Last night was incredibly tender and poignant.  It reminded me of

the times we'd made love while she was ill with her cancer, desperate and

needy and passionate as hell.  I reach across the bed, hoping to gather her

into my arms and lose myself in her once again.

 

But she's gone.  The bed is cold where she should have slept.  I open my eyes

and squint into the morning light as it streams through the window

uncurtained.

 

"Scully?"  There is only silence.  A glance at the alarm clock tells me it's

just a few minutes past six.  I wonder where my little G-Woman has gotten

herself off to so early on a Saturday morning.  Curiosity gets the better of

me, and I climb out of bed and pull on my sweats that are rumpled on the

floor where I left them last night.

 

The pervading silence of Scully's apartment sets off my instinctual panic

alarm.  But it's what I find on the kitchen table that really frightens me.

Several sheets of a handwritten note stacked neatly in a pile with a delicate

shimmering gold cross necklace holding them in place.  My heart sinks, and I

have to force myself to pick up the letter and read.

 

My dear Mulder,

 

Please forgive me.  I could see no other way out.  Your life has become a

nightmare because of me.  You've given up everything in trade for my well

being.  It's too much, Mulder.  Too much for me to ask of you.  Each passing

day I watch you give up a little bit more of the man I fell in love with.  I

cannot stand that look of defeat in your eyes.  It's sad and heartbreaking to

see your spirit broken like a wild animal that's been forced to live in a

cage.  I will not be the lock that imprisons you.  I love you too much to let

myself be used in that way.

 

I know my actions will cause you a great deal of pain.  I feel that pain

already growing in my own heart as I write these words.  But I have to set

you free, Mulder.  As hard as it is to say good-bye to you, I do so willingly

and without regret, for we have shared the strongest of bonds and a love that

will always transcend time and distance and remain forever strong and true.

 

It's impossible for me not to shed tears as I watch you sleeping so

peacefully in my bed tonight.  I am tempted to kiss your sweet lips one more

time, but I'm too afraid I might wake you; and if I were to look into your

beautiful eyes, how would I ever find the strength to tear myself away?

Making love to you tonight, knowing that it would be our last time, I

couldn't get enough and I never wanted it to end.  I prayed that you would

not see me crying as our bodies joined for the final time.  And afterwards,

as you held me, relaxing into sleep, I felt so terribly alone knowing that

our companionship had come to an end.

 

We've shared only a small portion of our lives, but somehow I can't help feel

as though we've been together for many lifetimes.  You've been my teacher, my

partner, my friend, and now my lover.  I cannot begin to thank you for being

the truest of confidants, for being my constant, and my strength.  We had so

little time together as lovers, I can't help but wonder what our lives would

have been like if only the world would have left us alone.  Would we have had

that normal life?  It would have been nice to try.

 

I was hoping that somehow we would find a way out of this mess we are in, but

when you came home last night with blood on your clothes and that horrible

look in your eyes, I knew that I had to put a stop to this now.  Whatever

you've done for me, Mulder, I cannot let you do it again.  These people are

evil.  You do not belong among them.

 

Don't trust Alex Krycek.  I'm sure he's just a clever part of the scheme to

own you.  Walk away from the Smoking Man, Mulder.  Tell him he can go to

hell.  Now that I'm gone, he won't be able to coerce you into abandoning your

work on the X-Files and betraying your conscience.  Fight the good fight,

partner.  And no matter what, don't let the bastards win.

 

I love you, Mulder.  Always will.  I'll be praying for you, and thinking of

you, and holding you close in my dreams every night.  Please forgive me for

not having the courage and the strength to tell you all of this in person,

but I know that you would never have let me go.  And I have to go.  It's the

only solution.  I wish there could have been some other way.

 

I'm begging you not to come after me.  I don't intend to be found, so you'll

only be searching in vain, wasting precious time that should be used to fight

our enemies.  I'll be safer if they can no longer use me against you.  As

difficult and painful as it is, we must say good-bye.

 

I'll miss you, my love.

 

Forever,

Scully

 

 

As I clutch her necklace possessively in my fist, and my tears fall upon the

pages of her note, a wrath builds within me, an overpowering need to seek

revenge against those who have conspired to bring about this end.

 

Scully's gone.

 

They have finally succeeded in taking her from me, regardless of whether it

was their intention now to do so.

 

She's gone.

 

God damn them!

 

I vent my anger on the nearest vulnerable object; a pottery bowl that rests

in the center of Scully's kitchen table now smashes into a million tiny

shards as it hits the wall.  For a moment I feel guilty, I remember her

telling me that her sister gave her that bowl as a gift... for her birthday,

I think it was.  What the fuck does it matter now?  What does anything matter

now?  She won't be coming back.

 

She's gone and I am once again alone.

 

Falling into the chair, I bury my face in my hands and let my sadness, fear,

anger and frustration come together in retching sobs.  How will I go on

without her?  For seven long years I resisted temptation, keeping our

relationship platonic, fearful of the complications of intimacy, having

failed at every personal relationship I ever attempted to sustain.  I was

determined to keep her close, but not that close, love her from afar, protect

her from me and protect me from her... protect me from her.  I'm in as many

pieces as that shattered piece of clay, having left myself imprudently

vulnerable once again to the whims of someone I let myself care too much

about.

 

She's gone.

 

How could she do this to me?  Leave without warning, running away to ease her

guilty conscience, abandoning me when I need her the most?  How does she

expect me to go on fighting without her?  Why the hell would I even want to?

Like a fool I let myself believe again that a loving relationship wasn't

beyond my grasp... that the fates would allow Fox Mulder to love a woman and

be loved in return.

 

What am I doing?  Blaming her for my past mistakes?  This woman's only crime

is that she DOES love me back.  Loves me beyond all reason and common sense.

She was willing to die for me.  And now she's left me because she thinks

she's saving me somehow.

 

Oh, Scully... Where the hell did you go?

 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

I started to feel it again three days ago.  They're calling me.  I should

have known it wasn't going to be as easy as just walking away.

 

Easy?  Yeah, right.

 

Leaving Mulder was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.  But we

Scullys are as tough as the sea itself... at least that's what Ahab always

used to say.  I don't feel so tough anymore.  Actually, I feel tired and

lonely and hopelessly lost.  I miss Mulder more than I ever would thought

possible, and I haven't even been gone a full week.  I've been living in one

Godforsaken dumpy hotel after another, not sure where I'm going yet, or what

I'm going to do.

 

I stuck around DC long enough to empty my bank accounts.  I didn't dare take

my car, relying on public transportation to cover my tracks as I disappeared

into obscurity.  Mulder can be as relentless as a bloodhound when he's on the

hunt.  I needed to make sure that he had no trail to follow should he decide

to ignore my plea and come after me anyway.

 

But Mulder was apparently the least of my worries.  That God damn chip is

calling me back, reminding me that there is no hiding place safe from CGB and

his cohorts.

 

As long as that chip remains embedded under the skin of my neck, I am

Mulder's undoing.  And removing it is my undoing...

 

I can't win.

 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

"This is MY office, get the hell out or I'm calling security."

 

"We had a deal, Agent Mulder... You seem to have forgotten."

 

"Deals off."

 

"Then Agent Scully's well being is no longer a concern of yours?"

 

At the mention of her name I fly out of my chair and come face to face with

that smoking bastard.  "She's gone!  Threatening her life is pointless!"

 

"You doubt my capabilities?"

 

"You son of a bitch!  I'm going to kill you!"  My Sig is in his face before I

even realize what I have done.

 

Mr. Cool doesn't even blink as he stares down death.  "Pulling that trigger

within the walls of the Hoover Building?  Agent Mulder, even you wouldn't be

so foolish.  Besides, I've come here to help you."

 

I should just shoot him and be done with it.  Refuse to take the bait that he

dangles so arrogantly.  "You're going to confess and turn yourself in then?"

 

The corners of his tobacco stained lips turn up only slightly at my remark.

"Bell d'Air Motel, Houston, Texas.  She's paid in advance for one more night.

 Bring her back, or we'll have no choice but to reconcile this unfortunate

situation ourselves."

 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

When Scully's photo gets a noncommittal shrug from the lowlife desk clerk, I

pull out my badge and ask him to take a second look.  Amazingly, this time he

remembers checking her into room eight.

 

It's late now, almost midnight, but there's a light in the window of her

room.  For just a minute, I stand in front of the door trying to decide what

I will say when I see her.  She's going to be furious with me.  But again,

what choice did I have?  I don't doubt for a moment that Old Smoky would make

good on his threat.  Scully and I are only pawns after all, to be

strategically used and sacrificed as the game is played out.

 

She startles me by opening the door before I can knock.  "Mulder, are you

just going to stand there all night?" she asks, greeting me with a shy smile

as she lets me into her room.

 

I forget everything I was going to say the moment I see her standing there,

dressed only in an oversized T-shirt, looking more like a college co-ed than

Doctor Scully, my FBI partner.  She's so beautiful, her face scrubbed clean

of makeup, her vibrant red hair pulled back in a tousled ponytail, errant

wisps of auburn framing her face.

 

Her blue eyes look up at me, and to my wonder, I see no trace of the anger I

feared I might find.  She falls into my arms, holding me tight.  "I've missed

you, G-Man."

 

We kiss.  And as my wandering hands roam over the soft cotton of her

nightshirt, they slip under the fabric and my body responds instantly to the

softer flesh beneath.  She presses herself more purposefully against me,

making her intentions blatantly clear.

 

As our lips part, I tell her, "I love you, Scully.  I know you said not to

come after you, but..."

 

She cuts me off with another kiss, this one more passionate, her tongue

taking the lead in a silent and erotic conversation that ultimately leads to

both of us wrestling upon the bed.

 

Getting her naked is a simple matter of slipping that T-shirt over her head.

I, on the other hand, am fully dressed right down to my damn shoes.  Scully

struggles to peel away layer after layer... overcoat, suit jacket, tie,

shoulder holster, dress shirt, and she curses when she realizes I'm wearing

an undershirt too.  I reach back behind my neck and grab the tank top with

one hand, easily slipping it off and flashing Scully a leer of a grin.

Returning my smile, she worries her bottom lip with her teeth as her skilled

fingers work the buckle at my waist.  I'm as eager to get out of these

clothes as she seems to be eager to get me out of them.  I help her finish

her task, and she both pleases and surprises me by foregoing the usual

foreplay routine and offering herself for my immediate gratification.

 

"I want you in me now, Mulder.  I can't wait another second."

 

Her demanding tone and the added stimulation of her hand on my cock sends me

into overdrive.  I'm so fucking hot for her right now, I couldn't drag this

out even if she wanted me to.

 

"Mulderrr," she purrs my name and positions herself on hands and knees,

tempting me with a wiggle of her curvaceous little ass.

 

Jesus!  I think I could come just looking at her waiting for me like that.

Never let it be said Fox Mulder kept a lady waiting though.  Kneeling behind

her, I use my own hand to guide my ardent manhood into its proper place.  A

bit of a tight fit at first, but as I ease back and forth, her body

accommodates and lubricates, welcoming me home.

 

She moans and arches her back as I push into her deeper and deeper with each

successive thrust.  As the rhythm increases, Scully begins rocking back into

me, frantically demanding more.  My hands are on her hips, pulling her into

me, wanting and needing beyond what I'm able to take.  She's mine and I have

her and claiming her this way is perhaps a reaction to the loss I've felt all

week, but I can't help myself as the sound of our bodies slamming together

and Scully's animal cries reach my ears... I have to take her harder, because

I can, because she's mine, because I need to be the master of something at a

time when my life is dangerously beyond my control.

 

When she looks back over her shoulder at me, peeking out from under

disheveled strands of her fiery mane, those baby blues dark with passion, I

see a wild creature burning with primitive desire.

 

"Mulder..." she pants.  "Don't... stop... don't ever... stop."

 

Christ!  I'm spilling into her in an explosive climax.  And my cry of ecstasy

is not alone.  Scully claws at the sheets as her own orgasm overwhelms her.

I fall over her, sinking my teeth into the soft flesh between her neck and

shoulder as my body is depleted of the last of its strength.

 

A moment later, Scully collapses beneath me and we both lay quiet and spent

upon the bed.

 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

I am awakened from deep sleep by the horrific sound of Scully's agonized

scream.  My first thought is that she has cried out from a dream state,

tormented by some demon that haunts her REM time musings.  As I have on so

many occasions before, I roll over to offer her comfort from yet another bad

dream.

 

But I'm alone in the bed.  Seized with panic, my heart now pounding wildly in

my chest, I sit bolt upright, searching the blackened room for my partner and

the cause of her distress.  And then through the darkness, I find her; and I

see an assailant, the shadow of a blade in his hand, as he pulls back and

drops her nude body to the floor.

 

Oh, my God!  He stabbed her!

 

This can't be real.  It must be another of my own nightmares instigated by

the inexorable dread of losing that which I hold most dear to me.  But even

as I refuse to believe the brutal atrocity that I have just been witness to,

I cannot suppress my gut reaction to strike back at Scully's attacker with

vengeance and deadly force.

 

My gun!  Jesus Christ, where the hell is it?  Rolling off the bed, I scramble

to find my weapon in the jumble of clothes littering the floor.  A frantic

search produces nothing but an empty holster.  Damn it!  The bastard must

have taken it while I was asleep.

 

Forced to confront the intruder barehanded, I fly across the bed at the man

who is slowly backing away from Scully, making his retreat towards the door

and escape.  I only dare a moment's glance at my partner who lies motionless

on the floor, her eyes staring blankly upward, and her mouth open in a silent

and eternal anguished scream.

 

The son of a bitch killed her!

 

In that heartbeat of time everything else fades away.  I can feel the rage

coursing in my veins, threatening to explode each tiny capillary as it surges

through my body.  Consumed with the madness of my furor, I throw myself

recklessly at Scully's murderer, pinning him against the door, heedless of

personal danger.  As my hands close around his throat, the neon light from

the motel sign outside the window catches his face and my anger goes beyond

insanity.

 

Alex Krycek.

 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

"I received this by courier two days ago.  Along with her defiant

proclamation of her refusal to be a party to the blackmail of Agent Mulder."

 

"The chip?  She removed it?"

 

"I should have expected as much of her.  You have to admire her courage,

choosing death so contumaciously for the sake of her convictions."

 

"What are you going to do now?"

 

"It's already been done."

 

Reading the note that accompanies the parcel, CGB dumps the tiny chip from

it's vial onto the desk in front of him.  Then, thoughtfully he crushes his

cigarette out, destroying the fragile microprocessor as it melts beneath the

glowing embers of his addiction.  "Touche, Agent Scully, and farewell."

 

 

 

To be continued in part 2...

 

 

 

Life is too short to drink bad wine.

 

From: TBishop27@aol.com

Date: Mon, 13 Dec 1999 03:20:02 EST

Subject: xfc: Blind Faith II: Matters of Trust (2 of 2)  by TBishop27    NC-17

Source: xfc

 

From: TBishop27@aol.com

 

Blind Faith II: Matters of Trust (2 of 2)

By TBishop27

 

Rated:  NC-17

 

Category: MSR

 

Warnings: Major angst ahead!

 

Disclaimer: This Mulder and Scully are mine.  They have defected from FOX,

Chris Carter and 1013 productions because they're horribly misunderstood and

never allowed to have sex.

 

Feedback: I eagerly await your comments.  As always, flames will be forwarded

to that dark part of my writer's imagination that roams the night in search

of victims.

 

Author's Note:  This is the sequel to Blind Faith which you can find on my

archive page.  None of this will make much sense to you if you don't read

that one first.

 

You can find all my stories at The Literary G-Spot.

 

http://tbishop.freeservers.com/

or

http://members.xoom.com/arcticfox42/Tbishop.htm

 

*** Thanks to my beta krewe, David, Shoshana and Shell.  And to Webmistress

Grasshopper for keeping up the archive.

 

 

 

BLIND FAITH II: Matters of Trust (2 of 2)

 

 

Alex Krycek.

 

"You son of a bitch!" I scream at him.  "I'm going to kill you!"  My fingers

dig into the taut muscles at the sides of his neck, while my thumbs gouge his

windpipe.  He struggles against me, but I have the advantage of five years of

hatred towards this man as leverage.  "You fucker!  You God damn murdering

bastard!"

 

Killing this piece of shit is not good enough.  I want to hurt him, make him

suffer before he dies.  Repeatedly, I bash his head against the door.

 

"Why?  Why did you have to kill her?  Tell me why, asshole!  Did HE order it?

 Tell me!"  I shove him even harder into the door.

 

As he struggles to answer, I ease up only a fraction on my grip.  A strangled

wheeze is all he manages.

 

"Answer!"

 

I give him just a little more room to gasp a desperate breath.  He pulls and

claws frantically at my hands, trying to free himself, trying to get the air

his body is screaming for.

 

"L...look...look at...her," he pleads with me.  "Look at... her... Mulder...

damn it!  Would you... please... just look?"

 

Aware that it's probably a trick, that when I turn away from him he'll likely

take the opportunity to kill me too, or attempt some sort of escape, I pull

him with me, keeping him in my line of sight as I chance a look at my

partner... hoping against hope that I was wrong and somehow she's still alive.

 

The instant my eyes fall upon her, my hands leave Krycek's neck.  God!  What

is this?  What the hell is going on?

 

Krycek switches on the light, illuminating the horror before me.  Taking

Scully's body from grim shadow to shocking explicitness, as it disintegrates

into oozing green acidic foam.

 

My mind refuses to grasp what's happening.  This woman... or whatever, she

ISN'T Scully?  But how can that be?  Shit I just... Oh, God!  Way to go,

Mulder, you get that up close and personal with a woman and you can't even

tell she isn't who she's supposed to be.

 

How can she NOT be Scully?

 

"Don't just stand there with your mouth hanging open, Mulder.  Help me search

this place for bugs!  I'm not getting killed because of carelessness."

Krychek busies himself around the room, meticulously tearing apart anything

that could harbor a listening device.  He gives me a sideways glance as I

continue to stare at what's left of the Scully look alike.  "And if you don't

mind, and even if you do, put some damn clothes on."

 

Oh.  Everything happened so fast I didn't even realize.  I'm not wearing

anything but a stupid look on my face.  "Sorry," I tell him as I grab up my

boxers and slacks and hurriedly pull them on.  "I wasn't exactly expecting

company.  You could have given me some warning, you know.  You didn't have to

just kill her like that.  You're lucky to be alive, Krycek."

 

"I wasn't going to risk her getting away and fingering me to the old man."

 

We both continue to search the motel room for any signs that CGB has been

listening in.  At one point I stop to stare at the green stain on the carpet,

all that remains of the woman I thought was Scully.  How could I have ever

mistaken THAT for the woman I've shared the last seven years of my life with,

the woman who knows me better than anyone else on this planet, the woman

whose every physical attribute I've willfully burned into the lens of my

photographic memory?

 

"You can stop kicking yourself, Mulder.  They're flawless copies... It's easy

to be taken in.  That's why the old man gave her to you... a replacement for

the one that got away... and this one's a hell of a lot easier to control."

 

"I should have been able to tell the difference," I insist.  "She's been my

partner for more than seven years."

 

"And your lover?"

 

"Look, Krycek, I'm still not sure who's side you're on.  I'm not sure of

anything at the moment."  This isn't easy to come to terms with.  And I'm

trying to play catch up here, struggling to figure out what all of this means

before another move is made and I find myself even more lost and confused.

 

"I know where Scully is... The real Scully.  I've had someone tailing her

since she left DC."

 

"Why?"  Even as I question his motives, I can't help but feel grateful.

 

"Insurance.  No offense, Mulder, but you never know who you can trust."

 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

I've taken up residence in a dumpy beachside motel in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia.

It's a series of small cabins really, their only saving grace being

juxtaposition to the beach.  I've spent hours walking along the shore, taking

in the beauty of this rugged coastline.  It's quiet here, peaceful, and the

local residents are friendly without being intrusive.

 

If it were not for the frightening fact that I have come here to die, I might

even call this fishing community charming.  But now that I've taken the

drastic step of removing the chip, I know with certainty that my days on this

earth are numbered and few.  So far I haven't experienced any symptoms of my

cancer returning, but it's only a matter of time.

 

Facing my death alone is not a comforting prospect.  When the time comes that

I can no longer take care of myself, I will simply wait alone in a hospital,

a nameless Jane Doe, to be cared for by strangers and ultimately cremated

upon my demise.  My loved ones will never know what happened to me... but

then, it's really best that way.

 

There is a small Catholic church just up the road, St. Andrew's.  I've gone

there each morning to pray.  At least the familiarity of the daily masses I

attend gives some consolation in my loneliness and despair.  Father Michael

talks a lot about the sea in his homilies; he reminds me of Ahab, the way he

references the ocean as an explanation of life's lessons and God's teachings.

 The sea is my comfort, it's eternal ebb and flow, the sound of the waves

crashing into the rocky shore, the muted roar of it's immeasurable force, all

of this is like a lullaby to my soul.

 

My life is my own now, what's left of it anyway.  And despite the

consequences of my act of rebellion, it feels good to know that I have chosen

my own destiny.  True, my choices were limited, and none of them held much

promise, but ultimately I made the decision; and it's satisfying to know that

my death will have some meaning.  My end will enable Mulder to fight another

day, and will free him of the tyranny of our enemies.  In my heart, I know

that Mulder will find a way to prevail, and my sacrifice will not be in vain.

 

Today there's a heavy rain falling, but I didn't let that stop my

constitutional... breakfast at the bakery on the corner by St. Andrew's,

morning mass, a long walk on the beach, then back to the cabin to make myself

a cup of coffee and read an old romance novel I picked up at the local used

book store.  It's a simple life, predictable and routine... be careful what

you wish for, you just might get it.  I should have wished for happily ever

after... or better yet, I shouldn't have wished for anything more than what

Mulder and I have always shared.

 

Ah, the exciting new life of Dana Scully.  I must have dozed off after Peter

rescued Brigitte from marrying the evil Prince Amir and they ran off together

to live as lovers in the South of France.  Mulder would tease me unmercifully

for reading such sappy fiction; and I wish he was here right now to do just

that.

 

I miss his handsome face, his witty charm, the way he always made me feel

safe just by being near.  I miss his faith in me, his indefatigable spirit,

and the bond of our codependency, our partnership that defied definition.  I

miss his smell, his taste, his touch, the heat of his body up close to mine,

and the strong constant beat of his heart as I rest my head upon his bare

chest and go to sleep.  I miss running my fingers through his thick dark

hair, and shivering when he looked at me with such intensity and purpose as

to make me feel completely divested of all my defensive armor.  With that

stare he discovered places in me that I never knew existed, because I was too

afraid to look.  I miss his eyes... God, how I miss Mulder's eyes.

 

This pensiveness is self-defeating.  I have to shake it off.  There is no

sense wallowing in my loneliness, that will only bring on depression, and

make this existence even more unbearable.  It's after two.  The rain seems to

have let up.  I think I'll walk into town and buy a newspaper and some

groceries for dinner.

 

Sighing, I pull myself up from my chair, stretching out the kinks before

slipping on my shoes and coat, readying myself for another trek into the damp

coastal elements.

 

As I open the door to leave, something tall dark and handsome is blocking my

exit.

 

"You can run but you can't hide."

 

I don't believe it!  "Damn it, Mulder!  What are you doing here?"

 

"I got a sudden craving for lox and I said to myself, Nova Scotia.  And here

I am."  He smiles.

 

"Funny."  My face tells him I am anything but amused.  "I asked you not to

come after me."  Apparently, I'm not as clever at covering my tracks as I

thought I was.  Either that or what I've always suspected is true; Mulder is

worthy of an X-File investigation himself.

 

"Scully, don't be angry."  He takes a step foward until our bodies are only

inches apart.  I don't care if he is using the advantage of sexual attraction

to try and tame me, I'm mad as hell at him for disregarding my wishes.

 

"Why shouldn't I?  I believe I made it quite clear to you that I didn't want

to be found."

 

"Yeah, I got your dear Mulder letter."  There is no mistaking the bitterness

behind his words.

 

Okay, I deserved that, I suppose.

 

"Please, go back to DC."  I say the words but my heart isn't in them.  What I

really want to do is to beg him to hold me, but I can't show him how

desperate I am.

 

Before I know what's happening, he turns me around and pulls me into his

arms.  He yanks my collar aside and I gasp as I realize too late what he's

doing.

 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

God damn it!  I knew it!  The only reason CGB would have taken such a foolish

risk with that look alike was if he could no longer control Scully.

 

She struggles to get away from me, but I won't let go.  I'm furious with her;

and right now doing anything against her will is very satisfying to me.  How

could she do this to herself?

 

"Mulder, let go!"

 

With one arm around her waist, I effortlessly lift her up and carry her

further into the room.  Being so easily beset does not settle well with

Scully.

 

"What in the hell do you think you're doing!" she rages.

 

"I should be asking you that!" I yell right back.  "Is this why you left?  So

you could take that damn chip out and wait around to die!"

 

"It's my life!"  She fights to free herself but I refuse to give in.  "Damn

it, Mulder!  Let go!"

 

Her words hold a double meaning.  "I can't!  I love you!  I don't want to

ever let go!"

 

"Oh, Mulder... God... You can't fight them as long as they hold me hostage!

I tried to walk away, but the chip... they were calling me back.  I had no

choice."

 

I let up enough on my grip that she's able to turn around and face me.  "Put

it back, Scully.  Before it's too late.  Put it back and we'll fight them

together.  We'll find a way, I promise."

 

"I can't."  She touches my cheek with the palm of her hand, her blue eyes

softly apologetic.  "I sent it back to Smoking Man and I told him where he

could put it."

 

If I weren't sick with grief, I'd be proud as hell.  She has more courage

than I could ever hope to have.  She's ready to face another battle with

cancer... and do it alone, with unwavering resolve.  I can't say the same.

The thought of watching her go through that again terrifies me.  And the

thought of facing the rest of my life without her is unimaginable.

 

"No!  Damn it!  I refuse to accept this!  I'll go back to him on my hands and

knees and beg if I have to, Scully..."

 

"Stop!  Think about what you're saying.  Do you really want to give up

everything we've been fighting so hard for all these years?  I don't know

about you, partner, but working for Smoking Man isn't a life I care to live.

I will not be a part of the lie, a part of their sinister plans to bring

about the end of the human race.  If you look at the big picture, Mulder, I'm

a small sacrifice towards a greater goal.  You have to see it that way."

 

Determination, every fiber of her being exudes it.  Kissing her seems the

only sensible thing after a speech like that.  And so I do.  I hold her face

in my hands and kiss her with certitude to match her own.  Her lips part

easily, allowing me entrance, inviting me to deepen this moment between us.

 

"I wouldn't be so quick to hop into bed with this one, Mulder.  She's not as

friendly as the last one; I could hear her yelling at you all the way out in

the parking lot."  I feel Scully stiffen in my arms as Kryeck interrupts our

reunion.

 

She pulls away and glares at him.

 

"Shut up, Alex!" I warn him, shooting a threatening look in the his

direction.

 

He chuckles, obviously amused by this bit of information he holds over me.

Then he moves closer to Scully and eyes her up and down.

 

"Jeez, Mulder, I don't know."  He shakes his head.

 

"Get away from her, asshole!"  I shove him hard, but the jerk only laughs

more.

 

"What's HE doing here?"  Scully's eyes narrow with suspicion.

 

"Just helping out a friend," Krycek says as shuts the door and pulls the

curtains closed.  And they call me paranoid.

 

Scully and I exchange a few silent words about trust, as the rat plops his

tail on the bed and proceeds to make himself right at home.  "Don't let me

interrupt... things were just starting to get good."

 

"Alex, I'm not in the mood for your bullshit right now.  Scully and I would

prefer to be alone."

 

"Sorry, man, you're going to have to put it in neutral for a while.  Our

services are required back home.  And there's still the little matter of

explaining to the old man why YOU killed that lovely redhead in Houston."

 

"What's he talking about?"  Scully frowns at me.

 

"We'll explain everything on the way," Krycek tells her.  "Get your things

together.  We've got to get back to DC tonight."

 

My partner's frown becomes a scowl as she turns to the man stretched out

across her bed.  "I'm not going back.  I'm not going ANYWHERE with you!"

 

"Me neither."

 

Scully shoots me a look.  Does she really think I would leave her now?  As

much as I can't bear the thought of seeing her illness return and living that

nightmare again, I won't let her face death alone.  It's out of the question.

 She's stuck with me now, no matter how much she protests.  And if she thinks

she's going to sneak away during the night again, I know one G-Woman who's

going to spend her nights handcuffed to her partner.

 

"Oh, I don't think so.  You agreed to work with us.  My associates will be

none to happy if you try and back out now.  We've exposed ourselves by

letting you in.  We can't afford to be vulnerable.  We're not going to just

let you walk away.  It's too dangerous."

 

"You see, Mulder!  I warned you he couldn't be trusted."

 

"I'm sick and God damn tired of everyone thinking they own us!  If you're

going to kill us, Alex, hurry up and get it over with!  Your death threat

isn't very intimidating considering... Scully removed the chip.  I think you

understand the ramifications of that.  She's as good as dead.  And when

Smokey realizes I'm beyond his control, I'm as good as dead too."

 

At my words, Scully bows her head. "God, I didn't think of that.  How stupid

of me!"

 

"That's the thing about checkmate, Scully.  You can't win."  I pull her into

my arms and she doesn't resist.

 

Krycek stares at us nonplussed.  "You really don't know how the game is

played, do you?"

 

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

Mulder and I are here to face the devil together.  Hand in hand we pass

through the gates of hell, feeling the flames of deceit and corruption

burning around us.  Satan stands before us, a thin line of smoke seeping from

his lips.  "Well, well, Fox, this is an unexpected surprise.  And I see

you've managed to recapture our rebellous little runaway.  It's always a

pleasure to see you in good health, my dear."

 

Mulder's voice is unwavering, but his hand is cold with fear.  "We're here to

make a deal."

 

"A deal?  I believe we had a deal.  Which, unfortunately, you chose to

disregard.  Deals are built upon trust, my son.  I can no longer TRUST you to

hold up your end of the bargain."

 

"You can put the chip back," I accede regretfully, hating myself for ever

getting us into this mess in the first place.  My leaving accomplished

nothing, save for putting us further at the mercy of our enemies.

 

"It's been destroyed."  He says it with great pleasure, delighting in the

fear he sees in my eyes.

 

"Then manufacture a new one... DAD."  Mulder spits the words out with

contempt.  I refuse to believe that this monster could be his father.  There

are easy enough ways to verify CGB's claim of paternity, but Mulder seems to

have no interest in uncovering this particular truth.  Can't say that I blame

him.  What the hell difference would it make anyway?

 

"And why should I trouble myself?"  He stares at Mulder, studying him,

intrigued.  Enjoying the intricacies of the game.

 

"Because in exchange for giving Scully back her life... with the promise of

no more strings attached, we will deliver you the mole whose been working

inside your organization."

 

Smoking man grins.  "You're becoming a real player.  But how can I be sure

you're not deceiving your own father?"

 

"You can't."  Mulder tells him.  "It's, as you say, a matter of trust."

 

 

~END~

Life is too short to drink bad wine.



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