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CATEGORY: Story, MSR
RATED: PG-13
SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully really want to talk. Their
perfect evening goes horribly awry.
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine, never were, you all know
it. Onward, ho!
SPOILERS: Milagro, The Unnatural (brief), The Beginning
brief character names from previous eps
DISTRIBUTION: By all means, take it away. Just leave my
name on it and let me know if you want me and my friends
to visit.
FEEDBACK: If it moves you, let me know. If it doesn't,
that's okay... it moved me.
DEDICATION - AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is made possible
because of the wonderful and constant encouragement of
Melody through a long, HOT summer of X-files reruns. I met
her at the Haven and she was the one who got my first
story "The Long and Winding Road" out there. To Melody, my eternal gratitude.
"You'll Be in My Heart" - Phil Collins
You'll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more.
Chapter 1
Dana Scully could hear Mulder's voice as she exited
the elevator. Pausing outside the door that was
partially open, she smiled when she realized that he
was talking to Frohike. She shook her head ruefully.
(Those guys,) she thought with more affection than she'd
ever believed she'd have for Mulder's paranoid friends.
Though she had referred to them as the Three Stooges more
than once, she cared for them and knew that they cared
for her, too. It was comforting, really, when you
thought about it.
"Okay," Mulder was saying, "Just tell him I called and
have him call me when he gets in."
Scully waited until Mulder hung up the phone before
entering the office. He looked up at her arrival.
"Oh - hey Scully." He called out cheerfully. He leaned
precariously back in his chair; a trick that Scully had
never quite dared to do. And he had dared her several
times.
"Hey yourself," she returned with a more than a touch of
affection. She moved about the office, putting down her
laptop computer, her purse, took off her coat and hung it
on the coat rack, unaware that Mulder's eyes followed her
every move.
Unaware because Mulder was going to great lengths to keep
Scully from noticing his surreptitious glances. (I don't
gaze at her, ) Mulder tried unsuccessfully to remind
himself. (Well, all right, I do. ) And he was doing it
a hell of a lot more these past two weeks. Personally,
he was a bit worried that Scully - hadn't - noticed his
increased observations of her every move but he decided
that he had a pretty good idea why. His mind
automatically drifted back to the incident with Padgett,
where it all began.
When he had found his partner on the floor of his
apartment, covered in her own blood, he had been left
speechless with horror. Relief that she wasn't dead was
quickly supplanted with a new fear when Scully regained
consciousness and sobbed hysterically in his arms. Dana
Scully never sobbed. And Dana Scully was not hysterical.
Not after all the horrors she'd been subjected to had she
ever cried like this. Hell, she almost never cried. (At
least not in front of me, ) he amended, a bit sadly. As
if that incident wasn't mind-altering enough, three days
later it happened again. He closed his eyes, remembering
for the umpteenth time driving her home from the
hospital.
She had sat in the car, holding herself stiffly;
obviously she was still hurting. Doing his very best not
to hover, he had followed her painstakingly slow steps up
to her apartment, carrying the overnight bag he had
brought her. Scully had taken two steps inside the door
before sinking to the floor. Terrified all over again,
he had dropped to his knees in front of her.
"Scully!? Oh God - what's wrong?" He cried, his
imagination taking off in several dire directions. As
his hands reached up to cup her face, his eyes dropped
to the front of her blouse, and he half expected to see
blood, while he searched frantically for a clue as to what
was going on with her.
Instead of answering him, Scully had launched herself into
his arms, sobbing. Although he hadn't thought it
possible, she was crying harder than before. Quickly he
had scooped her up and rushed to her bedroom, intending to
lay her down on the bed. Scully however, had other plans.
She held on to him with all her strength and poured out
everything that had happened with Padgett. Everything.
Her thoughts, her fears, everything she had seen and felt
when the hand had reached into her chest and attempted to
remove her beating heart.
And as before, he had held her close and cried his own
silent tears.
The next day, she seemed better and as was their usual
MO, there was no further discussion.
Flashing forward to the next Saturday, he remembered
working on those files. (Well, actually Scully was
working, ) Mulder mentally berated himself, remembering
how he had let Scully lug those huge books down the
stairs. (What was I thinking? ) he silently moaned.
(Well, obviously, I wasn't. ) He couldn't believe he'd
been that dense. Then later; Scully's batting lesson.
(Even I was sore the next day. ) he recalled. Scully,
though, had never complained about any discomfort at all.
(Well, what do you expect? Scully isn't a - )
"Mulder? What's wrong?" Scully placed her hand on his
arm and squeezed gently to get his attention. Her voice
instantly pierced his painful struggle with the past and
brought him back to the present.
With a start, Mulder loooked up to see Scully staring at
him, trying to mask her concern. He hadn't realized that
she had moved closer and was kneeling at his side. His
eyes found hers, their gazes locked. The worry she felt
flowed from the cerulean depths and bathed his entire
body. But instead of feeling comforted, guilt flooded
throughout him. (She has enough to worry about without my
adding to it. ) He chided himself.
"Sorry, Scully," he said sheepishly, "I guess I kinda
zoned out there."
"No kidding," she teased, trying to keep her tone light.
"What's on your mind?"
Transfixed by her gaze, he was unable to come up with a
plausible explanation. Actually, no coherent thoughts
happened whenever she looked at him that way. The truth,
however, wasn't an option at this point. Right now, he'd
have to try and stall. This wasn't the time or the place.
"I'm fine. Really. I am. I just haven't had my usual
caffeine dose for the day." He tried, with studied
nonchalance, to throw her line back at her.
Scully blinked and shook her head. "Uh huh. Try again,
partner." Her bantering tone wasn't fooling him though.
She expected an answer.
Mulder sighed. (Well, I had to try, ) and thought not
for the first time that it wasn't fair that it always
worked for her.
"It's not work related, Scully," he attempted to reassure
her. (Well, not completely. ) he amended silently. "And
I do want to talk to you about it."
Scully opened her mouth to speak, but Mulder cut her
off, "But not here. Not now."
Her shoulders slumped. "Okay. Fair enough." She
allowed Mulder to assist her to a standing position,
wincing slightly. Mulder clenched his jaw.
(She-is-still having pain.) He thought in
frustration.
"So Mulder, when would you like to talk?" She asked as
she settled herself on the corner of the desk, crossing
her legs at the ankles. She watched him closely. If she
had any idea what he wanted to discuss, she gave no
indication.
"Scully, when are you going back to the doctor?" He
asked anxiously, but firmly.
She jerked her head over, a spark of anger flashed in her
eyes, but quickly died when she saw the fear that etched
his features. She sighed. And then, to Mulder's utter
amazement, she answered his question. "Monday."
Mulder's jaw almost dropped. He had been ready for a
fight; anything to give himself time or the courage to
get back to the talk he so desperately wanted to have.
Scully went on. "I was able to get an appointment for
Monday morning, so I'll be a little late." She looked
away. "I was going to tell you later."
(Oh really? ) Mulder thought with a touch of amusement.
(This is definitely a new side of my partner. ) It was a
side he'd never seen before and seeing it convinced him it
was past time for their little talk. The prospect of a
resolution left him elated as well as more than just a
little scared.
"You still haven't answered my question, Mulder." She
pointed out with a smile.
Mulder took a deep breath. It felt like he was taking a
leap of faith. "How about over dinner tomorrow night. We
can start the weekend off with a bang."
Up went Scully's eyebrow. "A bang?"
Mulder cringed. "You know what I mean. Friday night, we
don't have to get up early the next day."
Scully bit at her lower lip in an attempt to hide her
grin. Point for her. "You mean we don't have to go
through old files again this weekend?" she asked
innocently. Point two.
"No." he said shortly. "So," he softened his tone.
"Is tomorrow okay?"
The phone cut off Scully's reply. Mulder groaned as
Scully answered it.
"Scully." There was a pause while the caller
identified himself.
"Mom? Is something wrong?" Scully asked, instantly
on alert.
Mulder grabbed coffee cup and hurried out, giving Scully
some privacy. She smiled her thanks, which he
acknowledged with a nod.
When he returned several minutes later, he found his
partner seated in his chair, rolling a pencil between
her fingers, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"Is everything all right?" he asked worriedly.
She looked up at him. "With Mom, yes. But a friend of
hers needs my help and I told her I would, but now I'm
trying to figure out how to make it work."
"Anything I can do?" he inquired hopefully.
"Well," she paused, unsure how to proceed.
"Go ahead," Mulder urged her. "If I can, you know I
will."
Scully rewarded him with an anxious smile. "I know you
will. Would you be willing to change our dinner plans?"
Mulder's heart sank. Apparently so did his face.
"Not cancel them," she quickly assured him. "Just
instead of going out - wait. Let me start at the
beginning. Mom's friend is Nancy Dickerson. Her husband,
Dr. Theodore Dickerson has to leave town rather suddenly
and she had already made arrangements to have some repair
work done. She asked Mom to house sit because she doesn't
want to cancel, but Mom already made plans to go to
Charlie's. So I'm going to take her place. She told Mom
that I could have the run of the house and it's a very
nice house in the country. No one will be there and I'd
hoped we could have dinner and our talk out there. They
even have a pool and stables." She felt like she was
babbling but couldn't stop. She didn't want to lose this
chance with Mulder.
A genuine smile lit up his face in relief. "Sure Scully.
It sounds great." (There is a God.) he thought happily.
"There is a catch, though," she gave him an impish grin.
Suddenly wary, Mulder cocked an inquiring eye at her.
"And what might that be?"
"I will have to take tomorrow and Monday off to be there
for the workmen. Her housekeeper passed away last month
and she hasn't found a replacement yet," she told him.
"No problem," he agreed readily. In fact, that would work
out for the best. Scully had come back to work too soon
after Padgett and a four-day weekend sounded made to
order.
"Well then, it's settled. Mrs. Dickerson is on her way
over to give me the keys and directions. I told Mom to
tell her I'd have a visitor's pass and escort ready since
she's in such a hurry. Oh, and before I forget; since
you'll be driving all the way out there, I'll make
dinner." She leaned forward to pick up the phone without
giving him a chance to respond.
Mulder was left to ponder that scenario while Scully
called Security.
Chapter 2
Scully was catching up on her typing when Nancy
Dickerson rushed in, exactly one hour later, looking
flustered and out of breath. Her short brown hair, with
just a touch of gray, was wind blown and sticking up in
every direction possible.
She went straight to Scully and gave her a quick, grateful
hug. "Dana, I can never thank you enough. You are a
life-saver."
Mulder grinned: Well he'd known that for quite some time
now.
Scully extricated herself carefully. "It's no trouble,
Mrs. Dickerson. Really." Scully tried without success to
hide her embarrassment. Mulder wasn't helping matters
with that goofy grin on his face. "I'm just happy I can
help. Oh, and by the way, this is my partner, Agent Fox
Mulder."
"It's nice to meet you, Agent Mulder." She quickly shook
his hand. "Okay - I don't have much time..." Nancy
stepped back towards the desk, muttering to herself as she
dug through her purse. "Keys..." She laid a small
keychain with three keys attached on the desk.
"Directions to house..." She pulled out a folded piece of
paper and laid it next to the keys. "Phone numbers..."
Lastly, she handed a small red book to Scully. "The
security company, landscapers - they'll come Monday - and
the stable boy - Frank. Frank walks and grooms the
horses everyday and also takes care of the stables. You
won't even know he's there." She took a deep breath.
"The repairmen will be working in the attic only. We had
some storm damage and if we don't fix the problem soon,
it's going to spread to the living areas. There's no
cosmetic work; just structural, so there won't be any
decisions to be made about color or carpet."
"Well that's a relief," Scully said laughing.
"So, if you don't mind my asking, Mrs. Dickerson, where
are you going?" Mulder asked politely.
Nancy stopped in her tracks and fixed Mulder with a mock
glare. "Now that's a good question, Agent Mulder, because
I have absolutely no idea. Ted refuses to tell me." She
faced Mulder squarely. "What is it with you men - you
think we can just pick up and go at the drop of a hat -
traipsing off after you blindly - no questions asked."
"Yes, Mulder," Scully jumped in gleefully when she saw
where Nancy was heading. "Please explain that for us."
Mulder's face went blank. (This is not good, ) he
thought fleetingly, before Nancy moved in.
"I'm not allowed to go home and pack. I'm supposed to
just pick up what I need when I get wherever it is that
we're going. Now that's all well and good for you guys,
but most of you seem happy enough to shop an any local
discount store that comes along. My tastes, however, are
just a little bit more refined than that, as I'm sure
Dana's are as well, and discount just doesn't always make
the grade with us. Let me tell you this: if there isn't
one nice department store close by, I'm going to be
extremely unhappy. You understand, don't you, Dana?"
"Oh absolutely, Mrs. Dickerson. I know exactly how you
feel." Scully kept her eyes away from Mulder, knowing
that she'd never stop laughing if she looked at him right
now. This was too good. Mulder would never be able to
catch up in the Game today.
Mulder, for his part, threw up his hands in defeat. He
was outnumbered and in a no-win situation and he knew it.
"I surrender. You're both right. Don't shoot me."
Nancy laughed good-naturedly. "Excellent. Then my work
here is done. Thank you again, Dana. I'll call you when
I can and let you know what's going on. Agent Mulder."
"Good luck, Mrs. Dickerson," Mulder called after her
before giving in to the laughter that had been
building inside him.
"She's got a point, you know." Scully said abruptly,
when Nancy was out of sight, startling him into silence.
"Hey, wait a minute," he protested. "Don't you start in
on me too, Scully. I threw out the white flag, remember?"
"That's right," Scully said in a satisfied tone. "And I
won't let you forget it, either."
Mulder shook his head with a smile. "You win," he
conceded with grace. "Now - are you going to tell me
where this place is that I'm going to for dinner
tomorrow night?"
Scully quickly copied down the instructions and phone
number then handed him the paper. Mulder studied the
words while his partner gathered up her things and moved
towards the door.
"Wait a minute!" Mulder exclaimed. "Where are you
going? It's not even lunch time!"
"I've got to go home and pack. I can't take the bag I use
for our business trips: suits and scrubs are out of the
question. Besides, you know how hard it is for me to go
off at the drop of a hat without the proper clothing," she
told him in her no-nonsense voice, daring him to say
something.
Scully was definitely having fun at his expense and Mulder
knew it. But seeing the sparkle in her eyes was certainly
worth a little grief, so he kept his mouth shut and
smiled.
"Good-bye, Mulder," she called breezily, already out the
door. "See you tomorrow at 7:00 sharp. Don't be late."
Mulder leaned back in his chair and carefully propped his
feet on the desk. Something in her tone told him that her
statement was more significant than it pretended to be.
(So, we're finally going to talk, Dana Scully. Well, I'm
ready. In fact, I'm way past ready at this point. And
ready or not Scully; here I come.)
Chapter 3
Scully said a silent prayer of thanks that she made it to
her car without anyone stopping her along the way. The
chest pain had come on suddenly, just as she was getting
into the elevator to the parking garage and she knew
without a mirror that her face was pale. She swallowed
several times, trying to relieve the nausea that
accompanied the ache that was impossible to localize.
Beads of perspiration sprang out across her forehead as
she willed the elevator to hurry. By the time she got to
her car, the pain was almost gone.
Fighting to control her fear, she leaned forward, her
hands on her thighs and told herself in no uncertain terms
that it was not angina; it was not heart pain. It
wasn't. The doctors had assured her that her heart was
fine. It was the muscles and cartilage that were causing
her continued discomfort. She knew her body and she had
an intimate working understanding of pain. This was
nothing to be alarmed about. On a basic level, she did
realize that her logic was flawed, but being a doctor
sometimes meant that your denial of your physical symptoms
was much more powerful than any scientific logic. She
took a cautious breath. The pain was gone, taking with it
any doubts that might have continued to gnaw at her flawed
logic.
Looking around the deserted garage to make sure that no
one had seen her earlier distress, she fished out her car
keys and got in her car. She made it home in half the
usual time since there was no traffic and hurried up to
her apartment.
Contrary to what she had told Mulder, Scully knew that she
really didn't need much time to get ready for her weekend
in the country. Years of chasing after her partner had
trained her well. Less than an hour after arriving at her
apartment, she was back on the road again. It had been
simple enough to fill her suitcase with casual clothes and
impulsively add bubble bath to her toiletry bag. Lastly,
she grabbed up her mail, made sure that all the lights
were off and checked the answering machine for any
messages before locking her door and heading back to her
car.
As she traveled out of the city and into the countryside,
she put the cruise control on and was not too surprised
when her thoughts took off as well. The first thing that
came to mind was the Dickerson home. Ten miles later, she
had conjured up a detailed mental picture of a quaint
antebellum home, surrounded by pecan trees and magnolias,
maybe a pond. She couldn't help but giggle self-
consciously. Surely that image had absolutely nothing to
do with the airing of "Gone With the Wind" two nights ago.
(Right, ) she giggled again, (absolutely nothing.) She
thought ruefully that she didn't laugh enough and decided
that hopefully she could change that. A few more batting
lessons would be a pleasant start.
Then, Mulder's face flashed in front of her. It brought a
small smile to her lips. Before she could blink, Padgett
replaced Mulder's face. Scully gasped even as Tooms
jumped up before her eyes. It was as if someone was
running a macabre slide show. Her head swam. Almost
blinded by her sudden tears, she managed to pull her car
over to the side of the road without incident.
(Oh - God - please - stop, ) she whimpered brokenly.
(Please - make it stop. )
The images however kept coming at a sickening rate. Her
entire existence since becoming Mulder's partner was
replaying in her mind in stark detail. Antarctica -
Cancer Man - Pfaster - Gerry - Krycek - Gibson - Fowley -
Melissa - Ahab - Skinner...
Scully cried out, burying her face in her hands, trying to
shut out the images that would not go away so easily.
This was truly bizarre - a twisted version of a "deathbed
- life flashing before your eyes" scenarioo.
She froze. (Oh, God, no...Is that what was happening?
Was she DYING?! )
"NO!" she again cried out, slamming her hands against the
steering wheel. "This is NOT happening! And I am NOT
dying!" Without warning, the pictures were joined by
voices: hers and Mulder's, the words overlapping and
unintelligible.
"Enough!" Her strict rationalism, as Mulder so eloquently
put it, took over. With every ounce of mental strength
that she possessed, she made her decision. (That's it! )
She slammed the mental door shut on the images and voices.
She locked the door. (No more. Period. I am not dying
and I am not going crazy! ) If this was her subconscious
way of fighting her feelings for Mulder then she was not
going to fight anymore. (Let the chips fall where they
will, ) she thought, resolutely.
"I love Fox Mulder." She said loudly. "Are you happy?
Are you satisfied? I love him. And I'm going to tell him
and I'm going to show him. Is that what you want?" She
heaved a huge sigh. "I love you, Fox Mulder," she
whispered, enjoying the way the words sounded to her own
ears. "I love you."
Her shoulders slumped with the effort and her head hung
low. All of a sudden, she was tired. Very tired.
Unbelievably, indescribably tired. And so the decision
was made. It was simple really, when you took it to its
most basic level.
She was not going to fight it anymore. Not entirely sure
if she was dying or not, she was not about to waste
another second fighting it. Mulder wanted to talk. So be
it. For six years, Mulder had wanted to talk in his own
way and she had resisted in every way imaginable. Why?
Oh, she knew that she could probably give herself a
grocery list of reasons why. All of them quite valid,
reasonable, and plausible. And totally ridiculous when
you looked at where it had gotten her.
Yes, she had tried to talk to Mulder in her own way.
"Don't you ever want to stop the damn car?" she shuddered
at the memory. (Oh yeah, that had really opened up the
lines of communication. )
(So, what does Mulder want to talk about? ) She asked
herself. (Maybe he's ready to stop the car, too, ) she
mused. (Stop it. ) She chided herself fiercely, with a
quick shake of her head. (Just stop it. Turn off the
beam into his soul for once. ) She held on to the
steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity.
Since day one, her life, as unpredictable and unorthodox
as it was, with Mulder had been like nothing she could
ever have imagined in her wildest dreams. Or nightmares.
His very presence had turned her existence into something
out of a Star Wars movie.
She immediately cringed at the comparison. (Okay, that's
it. That's enough. You are not to think about it
anymore. Stop fighting it. ) She reached for the radio
and searched until she found a classic rock station. None
of that 90's alternative stuff. Only the classics would
do in times like this. She turned up the volume and let
herself be carried away by Kansas, Styx, Journey,
Aerosmith, Foreigner, and Pink Floyd and did not think
about it. She had shut the door on the visions, voices,
questions, fears and doubts and she did not look back.
She had done enough of that to last a lifetime. She was
only looking ahead and she would talk with Mulder and she
would take the next step...whatever that step might be.
The rest of her drive was uneventful. There were a couple
of episodes of mild chest pain, but nothing like she had
experienced earlier in the garage. She managed to ignore
the pain and kept her concentration on the road and the
music and did not think about IT.
As she got closer to her destination, she realized that
she ought to stop for supplies to make dinner tomorrow,
since the workmen would be there during the day. A quick
stop at the grocer's and she was back on the road.
Her first glimpse of the Dickerson home left her
stunned. Remembering her earlier musings about her
preconceived idea of what it would look like, she was
totally unprepared for what she was looking at now.
It was as though she had been transported to Cape Cod. As
she drove up the paved driveway, she admired the manicured
lawn and blooming flowerbeds. She parked the car in front
of the gorgeous Victorian mansion and stepped onto the
white wooden porch with gingerbread latticework. She took
in the gray weathered shakes and the white window frames
and shutters and breathed contentedly. She had caught
sight of the stable peeking out from behind the house and
smiled in anticipation. Quickly, she grabbed her things
and hurried inside, eager to see her weekend getaway.
Wandering through the house she got a feel of the layout:
the dining room with a large banquet table, a spacious
library with dozens of shelves lined with a multitude of
books, and a small parlor with a Steinway piano. Her eyes
appreciated the soothing, restful earth tones of the
living room.
It was the kitchen, though, that took her breath away.
Generous countertops, glass-doored cupboards; it was huge.
All the appliances seemed to be of the latest design.
She stepped out onto the sunporch and glancing to her
right, she stopped in her tracks. The pool. Brightly
colored flowers, torches, a waterfall and a Jacuzzi
surrounded it. The deep blue water in the resort-style
pool sparkled enticingly in the afternoon sun. (Oh yeah,)
Scully thought happily. (This is going to be a great
weekend. )
Chapter 4
Mulder showed up for work Friday morning at his usual
time. By 11:00, he was seriously wondering why he had
bothered, since he obviously wasn't going to get any work
done without Scully. Sitting at his desk, he resolutely
kept his back to the door. It was driving him crazy: he
kept expecting his beautiful partner to float in, juggling
her coat, coffee, briefcase and the occasional bagel. He
sighed. Nothing was right when she wasn't here at his side.
He focused on the bulletin boards and the myriad of
photos, news clippings, odds and ends, and THE poster.
Only lately did he refer to his "I Want to Believe" poster
as THE poster. He saw it that way in his mind, in all
capital letters. Zeroing in on the bold white letters, he
nearly laughed out loud at the irony. "I Want to
Believe." Well, he didn't believe for a minute that Karen
Berquist had replaced his poster, not for one minute.
If he thought that he loved Scully before, and he knew
absolutely that he did, he learned something new the day
that he discovered that it was actually Scully herself,
who had replaced THE poster. She had gone to great
lengths to keep secret her identity as the giver, but she
had underestimated him. That was something she so rarely
did. For now, he let her have her little secret: he was
still too caught up with the increased level of his love
and adoration of that petite redhead.
It would never cease to amaze him that his love for
Scully, which consumed every fiber of his being, continued
to find new ways to grow. Sometimes, he thought he would
truly burst. Literally and figuratively.
Mulder glanced back at the phone willing it to ring.
(Maybe I should call her. ) He actually went so far as to
pick up the receiver before dropping it back on the hook.
(No. She might be busy. And besides, what would I say?
Better to save it for tonight. )
Tonight.
Anxiety crept through his veins and settled in his gut.
He rubbed a nervous hand across his face.
"Getting cold feet, Mulder?" asked that irritating little
voice in his head.
"Shut up," Mulder replied angrily. "I don't have cold
feet. We ARE going to talk." He didn't stop to think how
this would look if Skinner popped in and heard him talking
to himself.
"Are you sure you're going to talk? Why is tonight any
different from last night, or last week, or last year for
that matter?" The voice was really starting to irritate
Mulder.
"Because it is different." He pounded his fists furiously
on his desk. The stinging pain brought him around and he
took a deep cleansing breath. "Tonight is going to be
different." He had nearly lost her too many times and
that incident with Padgett had been the last straw. It
had been too easy in the past to pretend that they hadd
all the time in the world. Well, it was time to face
facts: they didn't have all the time in the world. He was
not going to lose another day.
Without pausing to consider his actions, Mulder grabbed
his coat and stormed out of the office. He wasn't going
to wait any longer. He had waited long enough. "Okay,
Scully, I'm coming..."
Chapter 5
Mulder left the Hoover building, realizing he wasn't
exactly sure where he should go. His original intention
had been to go straight to the Dickerson home, but common
sense reigned him in. It was much too early, and he
wasn't about to show up in a suit, dressed as Special
Agent Fox Mulder. No, tonight he was going in as just Fox
Mulder and he wanted to look the part. For that he needed
to go home and change. Maybe even take a shower to calm
his nerves.
As he toweled off, he realized that if his script played
out the way he wanted, he might not be coming home tonight
and concluded that he should pack an overnight bag. The
bag was halfway closed when a thought struck him: the
Dickerson's had a pool. Quickly, he grabbed his swimsuit
before he lost his nerve, refusing to let his "Scully-in-
a-bikini" fantasies invade his consciousness.
(Not now, ) he told himself firmly. (Let's just be
prepared and see what happens. ) He looked around. (What
else? ) Glancing down, he saw that he was still wearing
only a towel around his waist. (Good one, Mulder. )
Shaking his head ruefully, he reached for his boxers
before realizing that he wasn't exactly sure of the dress
code for tonight's dinner (date?). Stepping over to his
closet, he considered his choices.
(Okay, the suit is definitely out of the question. ) He
found his black turtleneck and instantly rejected it.
(Too hot. ) That and it always reminded him of a night
of "funky poaching" with the Lone Gunmen after learning of
Scully's cancer. (Nope. Not going there. ) he thought,
viciously stamping down any negative impressions. He had
several white, grey, and even black t-shirts, had even
packed a couple, but knew that they were much too casual.
(So, what's left? )
He caught sight of a pair of khaki pants and grinned.
Their undercover assignment in Arcadia. Man, he'd had fun
out there and deep down thought that Scully had too,
despite any evidence to the contrary. Over the years,
learning what Scully wanted in life had been a
painstakingly slow process and Mulder knew that he'd made
plenty of mistakes in the past, but he prided himself on
the fact that lately, he was getting better at not making
the same one twice.
That planned community had really been over the top, but
he thought that it was possibly close to something that
Scully wanted. That was something else to talk about.
Throwing on the khaki pants and pink Izod golf shirt, he
added one last item to his bag: a pair of black velvet
jeweler boxes.
He took a moment to look at the ring he had gotten for
Scully upon their return to Washington. It wasn't the
exact same ring she had worn. At the time, he couldn't
come up with a way to obtain it and be 100% sure that no
one would ever find out. So, he'd memorized the size and
bought a similar one. Truth be told: he liked the new one
better. The center stone was larger; 1.2 carats, but
bezel-set so that there wouldn't be any prongs to snag on
gloves. He had the jeweler put 16 channel-set, 2-point
diamonds on either side with the center stone set low. He
had even asked a female customer to try wearing the ring
and then putting on latex gloves to see if it was a
problem. She had happily reported that it was no trouble
at all getting the gloves on over the ring.
Mulder closed the box with a sigh. (Would tonight be
the night? )
Finally he roused himself from his reverie. (Enough.
Time to get on the road. ) He was almost out the door
when the phone rang, stopping him in his tracks. He
debated whether or not to answer, then reluctantly picked
it up. It might be Scully.
"Mulder."
"Mulder, it's Byers. I tried you at the office. Can you
talk?"
"Actually, I was on my way out. What have you got?"
Mulder asked, not unkindly.
"Oh, all right," Byers fumbled. "I wanted to let you
know about a scientist who has been doing some incredible
work on the 'God Module'."
That caused Mulder to pause. (Gibson Praise. ) "Talk
to me."
"Apparently, he recently made an incredible breakthrough,
details unknown at this time, although we're still
checking." Byers informed him. "I thought, in light of
your previous interest, you might want to talk with him,
also."
Holding the cordless phone and pacing restlessly, Mulder
chewed on his lower lip a moment before replying. "Okay.
Yeah, I would - but I can't today. What's his name and
where can I get in touch with him?"
"Well, Dr. Dickerson has a lab in New Jersey -"
"Wait a minute!" Mulder cut him off. "Dr. Dickerson?
Dr. Theodore Dickerson?" he asked, struggling to keep
the surprise out of his voice.
"Yes," Byers answered. "You know of his work?"
"Not exactly," Mulder said evasively. "Go ahead and
give me the address and phone number of the lab and I'll
get back to you." Mulder took down the information, and
hung up the phone, his thoughts whirling. Dr. Dickerson
makes some breakthrough on the "God Module" just months
after Gibson disappears, leaves town unexpectedly, but
doesn't even tell his wife where they're going. He
couldn't wait to find out if Nancy Dickerson had been able
to call Scully. Instinctively he thought it unlikely. It
seemed more probable that Nancy was completely in the dark
about her husband's work, otherwise she would never have
asked an FBI agent to housesit. (Or would she? )
Mulder grabbed his bag and ran, slamming the door shut
behind him.
Chapter 6
Mulder kept his eyes on the road, but his thoughts kept
returning to the Dickersons. There were so many questions
to be answered, not the least of which was the nature of
this "breakthrough". If Gibson Praise was Dr. Dickerson's
lab rat...Mulder shook his head, remembering the last time
that poor boy had been operated on and the look on
Scully's face as she changed the bandages covering his
scalp. It was difficult not to think about what he'd do
if Gibson wasn't all right. And Scully. Her reaction,
also, did not bear contemplating. After everything that
they'd both lost, losing Gibson would just add rocket fuel
to the already blazing inferno.
Arriving at the front gate, he yielded to a large work
truck, filled with equipment and several laborers leaving
the property. Mulder glanced down at his watch; 4:50.
A little over two hours early. With the car in neutral,
he glanced round, looking for inspiration when his gaze
lit upon a field of wild flowers. Flowers. That's what
he should have brought with him. Backtracking, he found a
florist shop and picked out two long-stemmed Fire and Ice
roses, which the clerk wrapped with a silver ribbon and
added baby's breath and greenery. Perfect. Simple but
elegant.
Twenty minutes later, he was back at the front gate and
resolutely drove through. Maybe he could help her set the
table or something. (No turning back now, ) he told
himself. (It's now or never...)
Driving up the circular driveway, he couldn't help but
admire the surroundings. It was so peaceful out here and
he fervently hoped that Scully was taking full advantage
of the fresh air and beautiful landscape. He stared over
at the front door before turning off the engine. (Why do
I feel like a teenager at his date's house? ) he thought
as he picked up the flowers and stepped up the porch.
When Scully didn't answer on the second ring of the
doorbell, he took a chance and tried the doorknob. It
was unlocked. He knocked once and poked his head inside.
"Hey, Scully! Where are you?" He called out expectantly
trying to keep his fear in check. Everything was quiet
though, as he moved further inside and shut the door
behind him.
He caught sight of the dining room, the table already
elegantly set with candles waiting to be lit. Mulder
smiled. The rich smells of tomatoes, oregano and garlic
pulled him into the kitchen and a peek in the oven
revealed a large pan of lasagna. It looked like it hadn't
been in too long and the dishrag she'd been using was
still damp. But where was she?
Finally making his way to the back porch, he got his first
look at the pool area. And Scully.
Mulder thought his heart might truly stop. His legs were
rooted to the ground and he could only stand there,
staring at her. She was pulling herself up the ladder,
out of the water, her auburn hair darker by several shades
when wet and clinging to her scalp.
(Oh - my - God...she was really and truly wearing a
bikini...) It was all he could think as he literally
gaped at her in pure admiration and a kind of reverence.
He took a shaky breath as she retrieved her towel and
began wringing the water from her hair. He stood immobile
- frozen - unable to look away, instead reeveling in the
glory of her glistening, ivory flesh.
For Mulder, it was as though time now moved in slow
motion, his eyes glued to his partner and her every
unconsciously sensual move while wearing a very revealing
teal number that did more for him than seeing her naked in
the Antarctica ever had. (Of course the circumstances are
entirely different, ) he allowed, feeling drunk and
lightheaded and loving every second of it.
He was bedazzled.
He was stunned by the violence of his emotions and his
brain was struggling mightily to make some sense out of
his reaction to seeing Scully in a bikini. He had the
sudden sensation of being picked up by two strong hands
and being set down in a brand new world...in Paradise.
So enraptured was he, that he failed to notice that she
was moving towards him. Her head down, Scully also didn't
realize that he was there until they were a mere five feet
apart. Both gasped in shock.
Scully instinctively clutched the colorful beach towel
closer to her body as she stared open-mouthed up at her
partner.
Mulder found his voice first. "Sorry if I'm a little
early." He waited a beat before extending the roses.
"Here. I hope you like them." He said almost shyly.
(Don't let her be angry, ) he thought desperately. (Don't
let her throw me out. )
"I'd say that you're more than a little early, Mulder,"
she said mildly, as she took in his outfit before reaching
for the roses. "They're lovely. Thank you." Casually,
she dropped the towel on a nearby chair as she moved past
him. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable while I go
change." With a mysterious Mona Lisa smile, she went
inside, leaving Mulder staring after her, in stunned
amazement.
"Is that really you, Scully?' he muttered to himself
as he went inside to wait.
Restlessly, he paced the living room awaiting his
partner's return. Everything he had planned to say
raced through his mind and her possible responses
competed for his attention.
He shook his head. (Wait a minute. Wait just one
minute.) From the second he'd gotten here, nothing was
going like he'd envisiioned. Fantasized, yes, but he
never really expected to see Scully in a skimpy 2-piece
bathing suit. And her reaction to his seeing her was out
of character, too, wasn't it? And come to think of it,
she had walked away from him without a towel or any type
of cover-up, inviting his eyes, hadn't she? Walking away
from him like that, had given him plenty of time to ogle
to his heart's content, taking in every inch of her
sculpted arms and legs, rounded bottom, slim hips, and
provocatively curved waist. Mulder allowed himself
another minute to savor the memory before getting back to
the matter at hand.
So, what is going on with Miss Dana Scully? What prompted
this shift in her behavior? Still pacing like a caged
animal, he began to think that maybe, just maybe, she was
at the same place he was. Could it be? After all these
years of playing the game, and dodging, avoiding, and
flat-out refusing to deal with their true feelings for one
another, no matter what the reason, could it be that they
were finally on the same page?
"Mulder, you're going to wear a hole in Mrs. Dickerson's
carpet if you keep that up."
Mulder whirled around to see Scully standing at the
bottom of the stairs, smiling indulgently over at him,
her blue eyes twinkling.
Chapter 7
Silently he watched her with hooded eyes, walk slowly
towards him. His hazel eyes darkened imperceptibly as
they raked over her from head to toe, missing nothing.
Her auburn hair framed her face with just a hint of curl
and her flawless skin reflected the light of the flowered
chiffon dress that she wore. The hem skimmed the tops of
her slippered feet and was sleeveless, with a scooped
neckline and several layers that oh-so-gently hugged her
body in a way that made him jealous of the fabric. He
realized with a start that she was not wearing heels,
choosing instead to present herself as a tiny delicate
flower and he was captivated all over again. He
definitely intended to get this talk out of the way so
that he could scoop this gorgeous creature up and carry
her away.
"Would you like a glass of wine, Mulder? Dinner will be
ready in about twenty minutes." She continued to gaze up
at him, an indulgent smile touched her lips at his obvious
delight in her appearance.
"That would be great, Scully." He managed somehow.
Nothing more was said until she returned with two glasses
and they had settled comfortably on the sofa. Mulder
didn't see her wince slightly when her recurrent chest
pain flared briefly.
"Scully, you look incredible." Mulder said softly,
sincerely.
"Thank you. You look very nice yourself," she returned,
taking a small sip of wine.
Several minutes of silence ensued.
When Mulder didn't continue, Scully elected to take the
initiative. "Tell me something, Mulder. Would this
dinner and conversation that you wanted to have, by any
chance have something to do with Padgett?" There, she'd
said it. Just saying his name evoked a panic that stole
her breath away. She forced herself to inhale and exhale
slowly, calmly and quietly.
Mulder swallowed and stared at her, choosing to answer
honestly and forthrightly. "In a way. I'm realizing
how much that whole episode truly frightened me."
Scully's eyes widened at his admission. He continued,
not giving her a chance to speak.
"As scared as I was, and let me tell you that I was plenty
scared, what scared me the most was seeing how badly you
were scared. I've never seen you like that and I hope
that I never do again. So, yeah, this has something to do
with Padgett. But let me be perfectly clear on this
point: he was the catalyst - not the cause. We've needed
to talk for years. He didn't make me suddenly realize
that I love you and you know that."
Scully lowered her eyes in acknowledgment. She did know
that. Of course she did. "And I love you, Mulder. I
would hope that you know that, too."
He scooted over on the couch so that he could take her
face gently in his hands, causing a small sigh to escape
her lips. Eyes bright with unshed tears, she stared up at
him.
Without hesitation, he bridged the gap between them and
kissed her softly and chastely, marveling at how her lips
were as warm and richly smooth as the rest of her.
Marveling at the pure joy he felt, he couldn't believe it
had taken him this long to kiss her. He leaned back and
she opened her eyes.
"What I'm trying to say, is that I'm - in - love with you.
For once in my life, I have the strength, strength you've
given my by the way, to say this. Dana Scully, I love you
with all my heart, with all my soul and with all that I
am. I always will and we deserve to let that love take us
as far as our heart's desire." He leaned in to kiss her
again, deeper this time, finding her lips were as open to
his seeking mouth as her whole heart.
"Mulder..." she murmured spellbound, almost afraid to
move. Was this really happening? Or was it a dream
that she was about to lose by waking?
Reluctantly, he released her face then reached for her
hand, unwilling to stop touching her, drawing courage
from her. "I have to say this, Scully. I know it will
seem totally out of character, and even as I say it, I
can't believe it."
Scully remained silent; clenching his hand fiercely and
watching him struggle.
He went on. "A few nights ago, I happened to catch a TV
interview with Peter Gabriel, the singer. You've heard of
him, right?"
She simply nodded. Of course she had and he continued.
"There was a song he mentioned and something he said about
it really affected me." He paused, not really believing
that he was sitting here telling her that the words of a
song said everything he felt about her. "It's called 'In
Your Eyes'. I don't know if you ever remember hearing
it." Glancing over at her, it seemed to him that right
now she was barely remembering how to breathe. He plunged
ahead. "Gabriel described it as a 'search for wholeness'.
Well, the title and what he said intrigued me; I couldn't
let it go, so I did some checking. When I read all of the
lyrics..." He stopped, fumbling for the words. "I don't
know if I can describe how it touched me."
"I have heard the song," Scully said, almost too softly
for him to hear. "It's breathtakingly beautiful. Thank
you for sharing that with me." She took a deep breath and
forced herself to get the most painful question out of the
way. "Mulder, I have to know: what about Agent Fowley?"
Mulder grimaced. "Having a degree in psychology doesn't
make you immune to mind games and manipulation. With your
help, I now recognize her for what she is and I want to
apologize for my behavior. I know that I handled it badly
and if I hurt you, please know that that was never my
intention. If I could do it all over again, I would and I
would do it much differently. Especially knowing what I
know now." He fixed her with an earnest stare. "Don't
you see, Scully? Everything is different now. It's like
I'm finally seeing clearly for the first time in my life.
Give me a chance to show you. I've learned so much with
you and about you. Please, please let me show you how
much. Give me that chance...give us that chance."
Scully couldn't help but offer up a token argument. "What
about work, Mulder?"
"We'll take care of it, Scully," he responded.
"How?" She asked curiously.
Feeling like he was making progress, Mulder inched a
little closer. "Your work, my work, our work. Scully,
we've done this for six years now. Nothing about that
changes. Nothing. Life is a road - it's not straight and
flat and isolated. Our direction changes as does our
individual destinations, and I believe we have many
destinations. Scully, do you trust me?"
"Of course I do," she replied without hesitation. There
was no doubt that she trusted him implicitly - he
shouldn't even have to ask, her expression told him
plainly.
"Do you love me?" He asked.
She froze. She definitely wasn't used to hearing that.
She loved him, though; she had for so long now, but to
hear him ask took her by surprise.
She reached out and cupped his cheek with her hand. "With
all my heart, Mulder," she answered softly, not only with
her voice, but also with her eyes. "I love you so very
much."
He smiled and took her hand and placed it over his heart.
"I'll always love you, Scully. And I promise: I'll always
be right here for you." He paused. "Finding Samantha..."
"Samantha..." Scully echoed.
"Samantha, knowing what happened to her, the truth, all of
it. Until you joined me on this road, I've just been
travelling in circles. And that aspect of the road of my
life is not the be-all-end-all of my existence. I've
truly accepted the possibility that I might never know it
all. No matter how painful it might be, it's true. That
pain however, cannot compare to the pain I'd feel not
knowing what life with you would be like as more than just
my business partner and friend. I can't keep dredging up
the past, but with everything that's happened to us - to
you -"
"Mulder - stop - please." She placed the tips of her
fingers against his lips and pressed softly, halting
his words.
A dagger of fear pierced his soul. (It's over. Did I
blow it? )
Scully kept her fingers against his lips. "The past is
over. It's done. It's changed us in so many ways and yet
we can never change it. The future..."
Mulder grasped her hand and placed it against his heart.
"You alone are my future. In the future I want you body
and soul. I want to take you in my arms and never let you
go. I want to go to bed at night lying next to you and
wake up in the morning still holding you close. I want to
be able to reach out and caress you whenever you walk by,"
he told her with passionate conviction.
Scully remained silent. She had always felt as if there
were two immense knots linked together inside of her, one
in her heart and one in her head. Before tonight, if she
dared to think about matters of true love, one of the
knots might come undone and she was unable to imagine what
would happen to her then. Men in the past had tried to
get them untied and although the knots had sometimes
loosened, they had never come undone. One or the other
always held firm. Staring at Mulder, she finally
understood.
All this time, since she had joined him, Mulder had
patiently and tirelessly worked on the knots, loosening
them. Somehow he knew that to get to the heart, you had
to go through the head. Sometimes the knots resisted his
efforts, but he had never given up. The progress he had
made had gone unnoticed by her conscious mind and she
realized that he had finally dispensed with subtlety last
week at the batting lesson.
(Get over here, Scully. ) She blushed at the memory,
feeling his arms around her.
And here he was, sitting before her, professing his love,
trusting her as always. Scully felt the knots come untied
at last and fall away. It was as if a great load had been
lifted and she suddenly felt as light as a feather, ready
to float away on Mulder's love.
Mulder had watched her closely, apprehensively. It almost
scared him to see her like this, all her emotions on the
surface for him to see. She was usually so strong, so
centered, so in-control that seeing what she had always
kept hidden unnerved him. For so long, she had hidden her
vulnerability behind her quick, intelligent mind and
piercing blue eyes. Since Padgett, though, the faade had
been slipping more and more - but only around him, only
when they were alone. Just brief, tantalizing glimpses.
And now, sitting here in that clinging chiffon dress
instead of her usual power suits he had to stifle the
urge to pick her up and never let her go.
With tears of joy flowing silently down her cheeks, Scully
went to him. Her smile intensified the light. Her face
was radiant as she stretched out her arms to him in
undisguised welcome, in pure joy.
Mulder, his heart bursting with euphoria, enveloped her
completely in his arms, smothering her with kisses and
murmuring over and over, "I love you."
"Dr. and Mrs. Dickerson. Don't move."
Chapter 8
At the sound of the harsh command, Mulder and Scully
froze. Utterly and completely shocked by the intrusion,
Mulder took one look at his partner's eyes and knew by her
expression that she was unarmed. (Oh no, ) he thought in
mind-numbing horror, (So am I. ) His gun and holster were
in his jacket, five feet away on the recliner.
Realizing that the two men in combat fatigues believed
that they were dealing with a scientist and his wife,
Mulder pushed Scully away as hard as he could, even as
he threw himself in the opposite direction, off the couch.
Before the startled intruders could bring their guns
around, the FBI agents scrambled forward and each tackled
the man closest to them.
Mulder charged like a raging bull, but his target shifted
at the last possible second. Mulder's forearm caught the
gunman solidly in the gut. The man groaned in agony and
slumped over but recovered quickly and threw an arcing
roundhouse punch that caught Mulder's upper arm. He made
no sound, gritting his teeth against the pain. As the arm
instantly went numb, Mulder realized that the man was
powerful and scarily strong. (Scully! ) Desperation
struck him.
Despite the risk, he glanced over in time to see the other
gunman throw his partner to the floor and tackle her. He
heard her moan, the heart-wrenching sound sending a wake-
up call to his brain. (Finish this guy!)
Mulder slammed his fist into the guy's stomach again. The
man gagged and retched with the force of the blow. Mulder
followed with a hard left punch to the man's jaw that sent
him reeling. Before he could take him out, though, the
intruder launched an explosive kick, catching Mulder in
the already injured shoulder, resulting in an explosion of
nauseating pain that drove him to the ground. Dazed,
Mulder rolled to one side, but the gunman was on him
before he could recover. A lightning quick punch caught
the left side of his head and was immediately followed by
a second, catching him in almost the same spot and then a
third. Blackness overcame him quickly and completely.
Scully, for her part, used the element of surprise to her
advantage. As the man's weight pressed her into the
unyielding floorboards, she braced her legs and twisted
her body hard to the left. Suddenly she was free. But it
was an extremely short-lived victory. Powerful hands
grabbed at her like a vise and managed to catch her left
arm just below the elbow. She was yanked back violently,
nearly dislocating her shoulder. With a strangled cry,
Scully allowed her body to be pulled around, and brought
her right fist into his nose. The momentum gave the punch
an extra kick and she heard the satisfying crunch of bone.
She was immediately released as the gunman dropped to one
knee, both hands flying to his face. Scully had drawn
back her fist again when the other gunman struck her from
behind. The impact left her breathless and wondering how
she'd been blindsided. The pain coursed through her
entire body like a tidal wave. She caught sight of
Mulder, lying unconscious, before another blow sent her
following him into oblivion.
The two gunmen, breathing hard, stared in disbelief at
their handiwork. Neither could believe how violent things
had gotten.
"Hey Cap," said the one who had taken out Mulder. "I
thought you said this would be a piece of cake." He
rubbed his aching stomach, still nauseated.
"It was supposed to be," Cap muttered angrily, trying to
determine if his nose was broken. It was taking all his
self-control not to kick the woman lying at his feet.
"Look Sarge, go get the stretchers and the med kit. I
want to get Doc and the little wife here packaged up and
ready to go before they come around. The Boss won't like
it if the goods are damaged."
Sarge hurried out, as Cap checked the pulses of his
victims. Both were strong and reassuringly steady.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
Sarge returned with the equipment and the two men went to
work. They placed Mulder on a stretcher and strapped him
down firmly with four-point leather restraints. While
Sarge bound Scully to the second stretcher, Cap started an
IV in Mulder's arm. He taped it securely and adjusted the
rate to the slowest drip rate possible. "Sarge, you got
her down?" he called over his shoulder.
"Yes, sir. Snug as a bug." Sarge replied with a grin.
(We did it, ) he thought exuberantly, already planning
what to do with the bonus money.
"Good. Get over here and give the doc 2 amps while I get
this other line started." Cap gathered his supplies and
switched places with Sarge to kneel at Scully's side.
"Wheel him out when you're done. I'll medicate the little
lady and meet you out there."
Sarge nodded and hurriedly left the house, pulling the
stretcher behind him. Cap joined him several minutes
later and together they loaded Scully and Mulder into the
back of an unmarked ambulance. Cap climbed into the back
as Sarge got behind the wheel and drove off.
"Cap, do you want me to call the Boss now?" Sarge said
with a satisfied smirk.
"Not yet," Cap answered thoughtfully.
"I guess we showed 'em, right, Cap?" Sarge laughed.
"We got the doc."
Cap leaned back with a smile. Sarge's enthusiasm was
almost infectious. (Yes, I showed them. ) He and Sarge
had been left off the teams sent out to retrieve Dr.
Dickerson, having made a near-fatal error on their last
assignment. They were punished and humiliated. The Boss
was going to be mighty surprised to find that it was his
hunch that the doc would return home. It had been his
belief that Dr. Dickerson had sent the Boss' teams on a
wild goose chase with the intention of hiding out in his
own home. Ingenious when you thought about it. (And if
it hadn't been for me, it would have worked, ) Cap
thought. None of the Boss' teams were even in the state.
"Pretty good, Doc," he told the sedated Mulder, "But
not good enough to get past Cap."
Chapter 9
Cap kept a close eye on "Dr. and Mrs. Dickerson"
throughout the drive to the compound. Now that he had
them, he wanted to make sure nothing would happen to them.
Not for one minute would he underestimate the importance
of the two people lying in a drug-induced stupor before
him. The Boss had been quite clear on that point.
For just a moment though, he let himself think about the
bonus money before forcing himself to concentrate
on the matter at hand. (Dani had better have everything
ready like I told her, or she's gonna find herself in a
world of hurt, ) he promised, desperately wishing that he
could call and check in on her. "Might as well wish you
were twenty years younger," he muttered.
"Sarge," he called out. "How much further?"
"About 45 miles to the ferry," Sarge called back. "I've
been doin' the speed limit like you said."
"All right." Cap stared resolutely ahead. He didn't want
Sarge to know how nervous he was. There were still so
many things that could go wrong, not the least of which
was getting pulled over by the police. An unmarked
ambulance in the middle of nowhere would be pretty hard to
explain.
They made the rest of the trip in silence, without
incident. Cap rechecked his prisoners' pulses: his was
okay, hers seemed a little fast. With a small frown, he
increased the drip rate slightly.
When they arrived at the ferry, Cap finally began to
believe this was going to work. "It has to work," he told
himself. "I deserve that money. And a little respect."
He had worked too hard to lose it now.
Sarge got them safely across to the tiny island and the
low-level security facility that the government had
formerly used. Five years ago, the government had
abandoned it for more high-tech operations. Although the
complex was small, the Boss had made plenty of
improvements. Cap chose this location because right now,
with all other available men searching for the Dickersons,
the compound was deserted.
Sarge pulled up to the automated checkpoint and inserted
the magnetic passkey. The computer accepted it and
automatically opened the gate. The checkpoint was
situated between a double run of electrified barbwire,
eight feet high and encompassing the complex on three
sides. A cliff that looked out over the Atlantic Ocean
protected the fourth. He drove slowly through; keeping an
eye out for the two trained Dobermans that patrolled the
ten-foot wide space between the inner and outer runs. The
computer faithfully opened the inner gate and once Sarge
was through, closed and locked the gates.
When the ambulance came to a halt outside the Visitor's
Quarters, Cap moved quickly. The Visitor's Quarters was
actually a three-storied dormitory with twelve living
areas, smaller than apartments but larger than a jail cell
and just as secure. Each had a bathroom, bedroom and den,
sparsely furnished and with no windows and only one steel
door. There was also no kitchen; all meals were made and
served by Dani.
Sarge came around to the back of the ambulance and opened
the door, looking in at Cap expectantly.
"Okay, Sarge, let's get our guests unloaded."
The two men quickly and efficiently settled Mulder and
Scully on the bed.
"Take out the IV's, Cap?" Sarge asked.
Cap paused. "Hang on a minute." He stared at Scully,
rechecking her pulse. It had been six hours since their
capture and it seemed that her heart rate was still a
little fast. "Hopefully it pumps faster naturally," he
mumbled, unsure, since nothing else seemed amiss.
"What's that, Cap?"
"Nothin'. Give the doc another amp and then take out the
IV. I want them out a little while longer." Cap himself
gave Scully half an amp of the powerful sedative, letting
the IV run wide open to circulate the drug before removing
it.
Sarge completed his task and followed Cap out of the room,
locking the door on his way out.
Cap double-checked the lock. "Get Dani and have her meet
me in the main office. Then I want you to take care of
the dogs. You know Dani's too scared to go anywhere near
'em."
"Sure thing, Cap." Sarge hurried off to find Dani with a
pang of disappointment. He would rather hear Cap telling
the Boss how they'd outsmarted all the other teams and
captured the elusive Dr. Dickerson. (Just keep thinkin'
about the money. Show me the money. ) He laughed at his
own joke.
In the Main House, Cap poured himself a straight shot of
scotch with hands that trembled slightly. He downed it
quickly in an attempt to keep his nervousness at bay. The
liquid fire promised to help since it had been over eight
hours since he and Sarge had eaten. Even as he poured
another shot, his mind automatically reminded him why he
was in so much trouble with the Boss. "Hell, I guess damn
near killing your own boss would get you in serious
trouble no matter what your line of work," he muttered.
"Oh yeah, he had shot the Boss and he and Sarge had paid
dearly. The fact that there were so few men in the
organization had been the only thing that had kept them
alive. You screw up once and you count your blessings if
you're given a chance to redeem yourself. Cap and Sarge
had screwed up once. The Dickersons were their chance for
redemption, a chance that was not given but would be
taken.
Cap waited several more minutes before picking up the
phone, taking another shot of the alcohol. (Careful,) he
warned himself. (Courage from a bottle can turn on you on
a dime. )
Finally, he grabbed the receiver and punched speed dial.
The Boss answered on the second ring.
"Who is this?"
"It's Cap."
"Cap." The voice was cold. "What do you want?"
Cap actually felt a shiver run down his spine. "I got the
doc." He was inordinately pleased that he'd kept his
voice from betraying any emotion.
"You got - what - doc?"
Cap swallowed. "Doc - doc Dickerson." He paused for a
moment and when there was no response, added, "And his
wife."
Silence.
"Where?"
"At his house. I - I had this hunch." (Don't lose it
now, ) he ordered himself.
"You had a hunch." The Boss sounded incredulous.
"Yeah - that he'd go back to his house. You know, hide in
plain site." Cap struggled not to sound smug.
"That he'd play us for fools."
"Yeah - no! No!' Cap cursed himself as every kind of
fool. "No - nothing like that." He wiped the sweat from
his forehead.
"You weren't assigned to any of the search parties."
Now the voice was grim.
"I know. We just wanted to cover all the bases. Make
sure that we got him."
"We?"
Cap froze. "Uh - we. Me and Sarge."
The Boss drummed impatient fingers on the desk. "You
got just the two of them?"
Cap released the breath he'd been holding. "Yeah."
More silence.
"They're not hurt are they?"
Cap caught the thinly veiled threat. "They put up a hell
of a fight, but they ain't hurt. They're both sedated
right now."
"Where are you?"
"We're holed up at the island."
"All right. I'll be there in three days, sooner if this
storm breaks. Just stay there. Don't call anybody else.
Nobody. Dani's there, right?"
"Yeah," Cap swallowed.
"Let the good doctor stew. Don't have any contact with
them until I get there. Let Dani be the only one to go
anywhere near them. Is that understood?"
Cap gulped. "Understood." It was made perfectly clear to
him that he was still on the Boss' shit list and Dani was
the only trustworthy one in the Boss' eyes. The Boss was
ruthless, no doubt about it.
When he realized that he'd been hung up on, Cap closed his
eyes, took several deep breaths and managed to keep his
anger in check. He had to stay in control. It was all
coming together.
After several seconds, he reached over for the bottle of
scotch and caught sight of Dani staring at him blankly.
Startled by her totally silent entrance, he dropped the
scotch. The bottle shattered on impact, sending the tiny
shards of glass flying to land in the puddle of amber
liquid.
"Shit!" Cap swore as he carefully stepped back from the
debris, wondering how long the girl had been standing
there. He stormed over to her, intending to take out his
embarrassment on her and hoping to scare her for once. As
usual, she held her ground without flinching or even
blinking. Cap had yet to figure out if she was truly
unafraid or too stupid to know the danger. He grabbed
Dani by the front of her blouse and dragged her over to
the desk. Dani went willingly enough and still her
expression and her eyes remained vacant.
Cap huffed in frustration as he began writing. Yelling at
Dani was an exercise in futility - she was deaf, did not
speak and did not read lips. The Boss used her as a kind
of housekeeper on the island and gave her free reign of
the place but forbade her from ever leaving. Dani never
seemed to mind. In fact, Cap had never seen any real
emotion on the young woman's face. She was almost like a
robot and it gave him the creeps. Cap had asked the Boss
about Dani once, but had not received any information
other than Dani was special and untouchable.
As he continued writing down Dani's instructions, he
wished as he did every day, that Dani could read lips.
Writing everything down was a pain in the ass. Finally he
shoved the paper into her hands and stormed off. He was
tired and he was going to bed.
Dani waited until Cap was gone before smoothing out the
paper and reading its contents:
Dr. & Mrs. Dickerson in VQ. They are VIP. Feed them.
Boss here-3 days. Clean up mess in here.
Dani threw away the instructions and went to get a broom.
Chapter 10
Darkness. Through the darkness, an intense throbbing
behind his eyes, a horrible pulsating pain that caused him
to moan softly. Vaguely, he remembered fighting with a
man who had called Dr. Dickerson. What had happened next
was a blur. The blinding pain stole his concentration and
he moaned again. Without opening his eyes, he knew that
he was lying on a bed and that someone was lying next to
him. Hesitantly, his eyes still closed, he reached out
and his hand touched the body lying an arm's length away.
Scully. (Thank God, ) he thought as he managed to push
past the incredible agony and pull himself closer to her
and slide one arm under her shoulders. Using what little
strength he had left, he drew her even closer, pillowing
her head on his chest and locking his arms around her,
before succumbing to the lingering effects of the drug.
Chapter 11
Some time later, Mulder again regained consciousness, and
this time, he was much more lucid. He still had a nagging
headache, but the pain was tolerable, so he pushed on. He
discovered that his right arm was completely numb and the
momentary fear he felt dissipated when he realized it was
because Scully was on top of it. With her body lying
almost completely on top of his, he could feel her heart
beating rapidly in her chest.
Still a little groggy, Mulder couldn't help but smile.
Not the way he had pictured being in bed with Scully, but
for just a few precious minutes he intended to enjoy the
experience. He couldn't stop himself if he tried to
anyway. This was like a dream come true. (Well, kind
of.)
(Man, is it hot in here. ) he thought disjointedly, as he
struggled to sit up, a job made more difficult because his
joints were so incredibly stiff and sore. Gently he
extricated himself from under Scully and rolled her over
to get a better look at her and try to determine why she
hadn't yet awakened.
"Oh shit!" he cried, his voice almost unrecognizable to
his own ears. Now he was wide-awake. He realized in a
split second that it wasn't "hot in here", but that
Scully, herself, was hot! With hands that shook, he
brushed back the hair that was sticking to her face and
realized that she was burning up with fever.
"Scully! Scully, please, please wake up," he pleaded
desperately. Any discomfort he had been experiencing was
instantly forgotten. Quickly he looked around for
anything that he could use. There didn't seem to be much.
With a light shining from an adjoining room as the only
illumination, he saw the room they were in contained a
bed, and two end tables, each with a lamp but no phone.
Loath to leave her side, he went to the lighted room,
which turned out to be a bathroom. Fighting the panic
that threatened to consume him, he located washcloths and
towels. The medicine cabinet contained toiletries but no
medications so he grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in
cold water. It was then that he caught sight of the
needle puncture in the bend of his right arm.
"Shit!" he swore again. They'd been drugged!
Racing back to Scully, he found an identical mark in the
bend of her left arm. He also noticed that she seemed to
be having difficulty breathing and on a hunch, propped her
up on both pillows so that she was reclining at a forty-
five degree angle. For how long, he couldn't say, but
over and over he tenderly sponged her arms, her neck and
her face, calling to her softly and going back every
couple of minutes to rinse the cloth in cold water after
her increased body heat had neutralized the chill.
At last, she seemed to be improving, even though she had
yet to regain consciousness. Mulder desperately tried to
figure out what was going on. (Please, don't let them
have overdosed her, ) he begged silently to whoever had
kidnapped them, apparently because they thought that they
were the Dickersons.
"Dammit!' he hissed. He realized that he had been trying
to rouse Scully by calling her by name. If this place was
bugged, they were sunk. (Too late now,) he thought
helplessly. His main focus now was to find out what was
wrong with Scully. Was it because of the drug?
"But how?" he asked himself. He wasn't a doctor but he'd
never heard of a drug - causing - a fever.
"Come on, Scully, help me out here," he pleaded, even as
he continued to sponge her down. "You know I can't do
this on my own."
A sudden scraping sound caused his heart to leap in his
throat. Looking over he realized that there was another
room off of this one, besides the bathroom. With a quick
glance back at Scully, he cautiously went to investigate.
He found himself in another room, also without windows.
He caught sight of a switch and immediately flicked it on.
The room held a small dining table, two chairs and a
couch. The only way out was a heavy steel door, with a
sliding food carrier. That was what he'd heard: a tray
with two plates of food and a thermos had been pushed in.
Mulder took the tray off and got as close as he could to
the opening. "Hey! Hey, is anybody out there? Hey, we
need help! She's sick!" Mulder stopped yelling for a
moment. He didn't know if anyone out there knew that he'd
used Scully's name, but decided not to risk it. "My wife
is sick!" he hollered. "She needs a doctor!"
When no one returned after several minutes, Mulder gave
up. Picking up the tray of food, he stepped into the
bedroom, and proceeded to almost drop it when he saw that
Scully was awake.
"Wife?" She mouthed silently, both eyebrows up.
For a minute, Mulder was torn between relief that Scully
had regained consciousness and seemed okay, total
embarrassment at having been overheard referring to her as
his wife and fear that he was about to spill the food.
Scully bit her lip in a desperate attempt to keep from
laughing aloud at the look on her partner's face as he
juggled the tray. She just couldn't help it since the
expression was so comical.
"Very funny," Mulder whispered, trying to regain his
dignity. He placed the tray down on the nearest table
without further mishap, then sat down on the bed next
to her.
"Nice of you to join me," he quipped. "I was beginning to
think you were going to sleep all day."
"What day is it?" Scully asked worriedly.
Mulder glanced down at his watch, startled that he hadn't
checked before. "Saturday. 2:30. I think in the
afternoon; there aren't any windows in this place."
Scully brought both her hands to her head; rubbing her
temples and squeezing to try and relieve the shooting
pains.
Mulder caught her pained expression. He reached out his
hand and gently placed it on her forehead. Her skin was
clammy and hot, but the fever didn't seem any higher than
before. There was a thermos on the tray and he poured a
glass, sniffing the contents carefully. Cautiously he
took a small sip. Lemonade. Seemed okay. They'd have to
chance it. "I'm hoping it's safe to drink. Do you want
to try?"
Eagerly Scully nodded and tried to push herself further up
in bed, and was dismayed that she could barely lift her
head, much less her arms. Without a word, Mulder slid his
arm under her and pulled her up, then he scooted around so
that she could lean against him. When the glass touched
her lips, it was all she could do not to gulp down the
entire contents of the glass of the tart liquid. Dimly
she decided that she didn't care if it was tainted or not
- it was too delicious and cool to ignore..
"Okay?" Mulder asked.
Scully nodded again, panting softly. "You should try
some."
"I will. Why don't you have a little more, though?"
Mulder returned the glass to her lips.
Scully didn't argue, and finished the glass then tried to
catch her breath while Mulder poured a glassful for
himself.
"I guess that we need to talk." Mulder said when he
was done.
Scully agreed and pulled herself forward slightly. It
seemed to help her breathing and the dreadful ache in
her chest.
"But before we talk about where we are and why we're
here," Mulder said, "I'm going to go over every square
inch of this place and see if I can see any listening
devices. While I do that, you just lie there and rest.
No arguments."
Scully sighed in resignation and watched him work;
efficiently and meticulously. When he was done, he
returned to her side and sat down, pronouncing the
room bug free as far as he could tell.
Mulder took a hold of Scully's left arm and showed her
where the needle had been inserted. "We were given some
kind of drug by our captors."
Scully stared up at him, horror contorting her features.
"Oh God, it must have been after we were knocked out in
the fight."
Mulder was pleased that she remembered that. He didn't
want to add "head injury" to the list of things to worry
about. "Yeah, probably. But I don't think that's the
reason you're burning up with fever and having trouble
breathing, is it?" He tried without success to keep the
dread out of his voice.
Scully licked her lips and opened her mouth to answer when
they heard the scraping of the sliding food carrier in the
other room.
Instantly Mulder was on his feet and out the door. He
stared at the contents of the carrier in complete
surprise. A bottle of Motrin. Dumbstruck, he picked it
up and returned to the bedroom. Scully was sitting
straight up in bed, her eyes wide.
"What is it?" she asked weakly.
Hearing the effort in her voice, he quickly reassured her.
"I guess that somebody heard me." He showed her the
bottle and opened it up. Pouring several tablets into his
hand, he let her examine them.
Scully sighed. "I think that they're really Motrin."
"So, will that help?" Mulder asked hopefully.
Relief lit up her face and she grinned. "Yep, just what
the doctor ordered."
Mulder poured out the last of the lemonade and Scully
swallowed three of the pills, feeling optimistic for
the first time since waking up.
Mulder silently took the glass from Scully's hands. The
fact that they trembled slightly did not go unnoticed and
he stared closely at his partner lying so very still, her
face pale and drawn with pain, barely able to keep her
eyes open and it made him want to cry.
"Mulder," Scully said quietly, finally breaking the tense
silence. "Please don't look at me like that." She
touched his face, wanting to smooth away the deep unhappy
creases in his forehead.
Mulder winced at his transparency. "Sorry, Scully." When
he felt her hand clasp his, he tightened his grasp in
response. For just a moment, he let his thumb caress the
top of her hand, marveling at how silky soft the skin was.
Scully hated to spoil the moment, but Mulder had to be
told the truth. There was no way that she could deny
or downplay her condition and any plans that they made
would have to be made with that fact in mind. She
swallowed hard, then looked up at him and forced herself
to speak.
"Mulder, I believe I have pericarditis." Scully regretted
the bluntness, but didn't know how to tell him any other
way.
"What!?" He was not prepared for such an admission and
while he wasn't exactly sure what pericarditis was, it
sure didn't sound promising. He had just about convinced
himself that Scully just had a bad case of the flu. His
body tensed instinctively and realizing that he was close
to crushing Scully's hand, he fought down his wave of
panic and eased up on his grip.
Scully took a deep breath, regretting it instantly. "It's
an inflammation of the sac that encapsulates the heart.
At first I thought it was just the muscles in my chest
being sore after...after..." she stumbled and could not
say it. She looked up at Mulder helplessly.
(After Naciemento nearly ripped out your heart, ) Mulder
silently filled in and nodded his understanding.
Scully went on. "But the fever and the shortness of
breath tell me differently."
Mulder simply stared at her, feeling like an abyss had
opened up beneath him. He shuddered and closed his eyes,
wanting to hide his dismay. "What can I do?" he asked,
the sensation of his own heart being crushed was nearly
overwhelming.
"Well, the Motrin is actually a good thing and it will
help the fever and pain since it's an anti-inflammatory
drug." She paused to catch her breath, wincing in obvious
discomfort. "Also, I need to keep my pulse as low as
possible in order to prevent the sac from filling up any
faster than it already is."
"In other words, you should just lie there, right?"
Mulder asked, clinging to humor in hopes of conquering his
fear. His eyes flashed mischievously. "Does that mean
that I get to wait on you hand and foot?"
Scully's lips quirked. She knew exactly what Mulder was
thinking, as always. "Yes, yes it does." Catching the
comical leer on his face, she added, "But I wouldn't get
too happy about that."
"Why not?" Mulder said plaintively. "Come on Scully, you
said it yourself: keep your heart rate down. I can do
everything for you and you don't have to lift a finger."
There went that eyebrow. "Everything, Mulder?"
Mulder leaned in close. "Everything, Scully," he
whispered seductively at her ear.
"Oh, that will help my heart rate." Scully said, managing
a smile that lifted Mulder's spirits.
Scully's cheeks had flushed a bright red that Mulder knew
was only partially due to fever. Contrite, he backed off.
"I'm sorry, Scully. You relax, I'll behave. What else?"
Scully gazed up at him. "This is going to be awkward,"
she said as a self-conscious smile tugging at her lips.
Mulder's brow furrowed. "What is?"
"I love you. I've loved you for so very long, now," she
said, her voice soft, almost shy, her eyes downcast.
Still holding her hand, Mulder pulled it to his lips.
"I love you, too."
"This isn't exactly how I planned it." Scully stated
ruefully.
Mulder was really curious now. (Planned? It? What 'it'?)
Suddenly it hit him. (Whoa - it being the next stage of
their relationship? Just how long - )
"Mulder, don't look at me like that. It's not what you
think."
"And just what is it that I'm thinking?"
"Mulder," she groaned softly. "You're not making this
easy for me."
Refusing to let go of her hand, he raised his other, palm
up and shrugged his shoulders. "Help me out here, Scully.
I think I'm really lost."
Scully sighed. All she wanted was to lie back and rest,
but this was too important. Ignoring the throbbing in her
head, she tried to make Mulder understand. "No matter how
we tell ourselves otherwise; our relationship - is - going
to change. Of course, I believe it is for the better,"
she quickly added.
Mulder grinned, but remained silent, holding Scully's hand
like a lifeline, caressing it with his thumb.
"This transformation will take time, though, at least for
me. Just because we've seen each other naked, doesn't
mean I'm instantly going to feel comfortable undressing in
front of you." Again, Scully regretted her bluntness, but
she wasn't strong enough to keep up this conversation much
longer and she desperately needed Mulder's understanding.
"It's the little, day to day things outside of work that
will take some getting used to also. Except when we went
undercover at the Falls of Arcadia, there was always a
comfort zone mandated by our job. Professionalism."
"Oh, is that what that green face goo you wore was - a
comfort zone?" Mulder teased.
"In a way, yes. But I do use that mask." Scully retorted
good-naturedly. "Just not to sleep in."
Mulder laughed, but then grew quiet, contemplating what
his partner had said and acknowledging the validity. She
was right, of course. It wouldn't be right to rush
through this.
"Just be patient with me, Mulder," she whispered.
"Always," he vowed. "Now, why don't you get some sleep.
I think we've done enough talking and you're exhausted."
Scully nodded.
"I'm just going to put this tray in the other room,"
he told her as he put the thermos on the tray and carried
everything out to the other room except for two oranges
that he placed on the bedside table.
Scully leaned back, relieved that the Motrin had kicked
in, reducing her temperature to a more tolerable level.
The dreadful ache in her chest had also diminished
somewhat. As tired as she was though, sleep threatened to
elude her in light of their imprisonment. Worse, was the
complete helplessness that enveloped her like a net. She
couldn't escape; hell, she couldn't even fight back in
this condition and that scared her as much as angered her.
She was a trained FBI agent and right now she was
completely dependent on her partner. The lack of control
was terrifying.
They seemed to be in a holding pattern for now, though;
left alone by their captors. She knew that she should use
this time to try and regain her strength, to be ready in
case an escape opportunity presented itself. But she was
afraid. She couldn't hide it from herself, no matter how
hard she tried. She was afraid.
Suddenly, she remembered her drive down to the Dickerson's
and the promise she had made to herself. She was not going
to fight IT anymore. Was this part of IT? Maybe it was.
Maybe she needed to stop fighting Mulder's help as well as
his love. Let go and trust that Mulder would take care of
her, just as she would take care of Mulder if their
positions were reversed. She wouldn't think less of
Mulder if he were the one who was sick. She let herself
believe that the opposite was true, also.
(No more fighting, ) she admonished herself. (Save your
strength for more important matters. ) She sighed quietly.
Mulder finished checking the heavy steel door, unable to
see any way out. He was trying to give Scully some time to
go to sleep and as such, was surprised to find her still
awake upon his return. He moved to sit back down beside
her and tenderly stroked her damp cheek.
"Hey, why haven't you gone to sleep yet?" he asked
worriedly. "Are you okay?"
Scully nodded, unable to speak, overwhelmed all over again
by her love for this man as she reveled in his touch. She
couldn't change instantly, but she was now ready to take a
step. She found her voice at last. "Would - would you lie
down with me?" she asked demurely.
Mulder paused a beat before replying. "Scully - are you
coming on to me?" he asked hopefully, a grin lighting up
his face.
"Yes, yes I am," she replied, happy that he didn't think
she was asking for help, despite her earlier thoughts.
Mulder leaned in to kiss her. He'd let her think that he
misunderstood her request. He knew all too well how she
abhorred showing any signs of weakness and the fact that
she trusted him to ask for comfort, in her own roundabout
way, caused his heart to melt. It would take time, he
knew, for her to feel totally at ease in this new aspect
oftheir relationship. And he was determined to give her
all the time she needed. He waited for her to get
comfortable, then carefully situated himself alongside her
as she pressed against his body. Lovingly, he draped one
arm around her and felt her gradually relax until she
finally slipped off to sleep, comforted by his strength
and the trust she knew she could place in him. He could
tell that her rate of breathing was faster than normal and
she was still febrile, but at least she seemed a little
more comfortable and for that he was grateful.
Chapter 12
Mulder wasn't aware that he'd even gone to sleep until
something jerked him awake. He felt disoriented in the
strange room, the only light coming from the bathroom, the
door partially ajar. A glance at his watch showed it was
now 9:45, Saturday night, he assumed. He heard movement in
the bathroom, and water running - Scully. Realizing that
he hadn't felt her get out of bed didn't upset him nearly
as much as the fact that she'd gotten up at all. Then he
chastised himself: it's just the bathroom. Its not like
she went for a run and besides, there's nothing you could
do for her in there.
(Well, if she was taking a bath there was, ) he mused, but
that was obviously not the case. It sounded more like she
was brushing her teeth, right now. But how long had she
been in there?
He reached over and turned on the bedside lamp; thinking
that he really should have eaten earlier. He picked up one
of the oranges he'd saved and began peeling it when Scully
came to the doorway.
Feeling her eyes on him, Mulder looked up to see her
smiling sweetly over at him.
"Hungry, Mulder?" she asked.
"Yeah." He stared at her closely and saw the very second
that the pain hit her. He heard her quietly gasp as her
hands clutched at her chest and the color drained from her
face and without a word, he vaulted from the bed. Scully's
eyes closed as she crumpled soundlessly right into
Mulder's open arms, instinctively knowing without a doubt
that he'd be there to catch her.
Frantic, he lifted her and clutching her closely, carried
her back to the bed. "Scully?" His eyes searched her face,
willing her to be all right.
Scully, her face ashen, finally opened her eyes.
"Mulder -I -" She couldn't get the words out.
"Sssshhh - don't try and talk," he admonished her gently.
He went to the bathroom to soak the washrag and placed it
on her forehead, smoothing her hair back.
"It's getting worse," she said breathlessly.
Mulder grunted softly. Like he couldn't tell. "So, does
that mean that you won't get up again without my help?" He
was smiling to temper the reproach in his voice.
Guilt clouded her features. "I'm sorry," she whispered,
stricken. "It was only the bathroom."
"I know. I'm not mad. I'd have a hard time too, if I was
in your shoes, you know." He handed her the orange slices.
"Here, take these. Can I get you some of the Motrin?"
"How long has it been?" Her voice trembled slightly.
"Over six hours."
Scully nodded weakly.
Mulder went to the living room to get the pills and saw to
his relief that another tray had been delivered. It was a
little disconcerting, though. He wasn't entirely convinced
that they weren't being watched somehow.
Setting the tray down, he unwrapped one of the sandwiches
and handed half to Scully. She accepted it, knowing that
she couldn't keep taking Motrin on an empty stomach
without causing more problems. She didn't think that she
could handle any more problems at this point but she had
still had to literally force down each bite.
Mulder checked the refilled thermos and found apple juice.
He poured a glass for each of them and handed Scully three
Motrin.
She ate slowly, but he was pleased to see her eat, even
though he could tell that she wasn't really hungry. She
only managed half of the sandwich but took both oranges as
he refilled her glass.
"Enough, Mulder," Scully announced. "I can't handle
another bite."
"No problem. Has the medicine started working yet?"
"Yeah," she rubbed her chest wall absently. "How many
tablets are left?"
"Twenty-seven," he replied after counting. "Plenty."
Scully nodded. "Every six hours."
She watched as Mulder cleaned up after their meal and felt
totally helpless. "Mulder, I'm getting a little sick of
just lying in this bed. Can we go sit in the other room
and maybe talk a little?"
"Sure, Scully. On one condition." he stated matter of
factly.
She gave him the LOOK and he prepared himself for battle.
"You're going to have to let me carry you out there. We
can't afford another episode like you just had."
Scully's eyes widened in astonishment, but Mulder didn't
give her a chance to speak. "You know that. Tell me you
know that."
The seconds ticked silently by until she finally huffed,
her shoulders sagged in resignation. This is turning out
to be a hell of a lot more difficult than she originally
thought it'd be.
Mulder leaned in. "You know, Scully, if being in my arms
bothers you that much..." he let the words fall away in
mock despair.
Scully jerked her gaze up to his face. "That's not it and
I - know - that you know it."
"So, you - do - want to be in my arms." He let his face
light up.
"Well - yes - but - I - I mean -" Scully was floundering.
Mulder smiled smugly at Scully's inability to form a
complete sentence. (A flustered Scully was really quite
endearing, ) he noted with pleasure.
"Mulder," she took a calming breath and couldn't help but
smile. "I - told - you that this was going to be awkward."
"I know, Scully. I do. Now here," Gently he reached
beneath her and as he stood, she automatically wrapped
her arms around his neck.
He took two steps towards the other room before stopping.
"Well?"
Scully's brow furrowed. "Well, what?"
"Well, how is it? Not too bad?"
He looked at her so seriously that she had to clasp a hand
over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. She then
leaned her head close to his ear and whispered. "I really
think that I could get used to this." She kissed his
cheek.
Mulder hugged her. "Good, 'cause that's my plan. "
Scully positively beamed.
Chapter 13
Mulder stepped into the living room and gently set Scully
on the couch. "Before you get too comfortable, let me go
get a pillow."
Scully smiled up at him lovingly, berating herself for
everytime she had spurned Mulder's "hovering" in the past.
When he returned, he spread the blanket over her and
placed the pillow behind her back. She scooted around so
that her feet were on the couch, tucking her knees up and
wrapping her arms around them.
Mulder settled on the opposite end and turned sideways
also so that they were facing each other. He marveled at
how very small she looked, huddled over with the blanket
pulled closely around her.
"I guess that we should review the facts as we know them,"
he began.
Scully looked at him expectantly, encouraging him with her
eyes to do the talking. He got the message and continued.
"Friday night, you and I are taken by two men who think
that we're Dr. and Mrs. Theodore Dickerson, who, by the
way, have just left town suddenly and according to Mrs.
Dickerson, unexpectedly."
"Right."
Mulder went on. "Since being brought here, no one has
spoken to us, but we've been fed and whether they heard me
yelling or what, know that you're sick and brought Motrin.
A medication that has helped some."
Scully nodded.
Mulder huffed softly, forcing himself to remain calm and
focused. "Okay, what do we know about the Dickersons?"
Scully took a breath to collect her thoughts. "Mom and
Nancy have been best friends since the fifth grade and
she's Bill's godmother."
Mulder bit back the groan. (Not good, ) he thought
briefly. (Please don't let Mrs. Scully get hurt anymore by
this. )
Scully went on, unaware of Mulder's dismay. "Nancy's first
husband died about 10 years ago and Nancy was absolutely
devastated; it just about killed her. Mom helped her
through it, and encouraged Nancy to get out. Nancy used
the fortune her husband left her and became an active
philanthropist, which is how she met Ted. They married
very quickly and suddenly she is funding his research and
nothing else."
"Wait - when did she marry Ted?" Mulder broke in.
Scully paused to think. "Well, I know that I missed the
wedding, but why - ?" She struggled to trigger her memory
until at last it came to her.
Her face fell.
"What is it, Scully?" Mulder leaned forward in concern.
"She got married while I was - when I was - taken..."
Mulder looked at her in sympathy. "Sorry, Scully."
"It's okay," she said quietly. "Really."
Mulder tried to steer the conversation away from that time
period. "Did you ever meet Ted?"
Scully shook her head, her expression darkened. "According
to Mom, after the wedding they became recluses. She was a
little suspicious that Ted used Nancy just for her money
to fund his research, but she didn't know what the
research was, just that he's a geneticist."
Mulder was all ears. "Scully, before I left my place
Friday, I got a call from Byers. He was all excited about
a scientific breakthhrough on the God Module madeby Dr.
Theodore Dickerson."
"What!" she exclaimed incredulously. "Are you sure it's
the same man?"
"I don't know for sure." Mulder stated. "Byers gave me an
address and phone number for his lab in New Jersey."
Scully slumped back. "Then it's probably the same person."
She told him morosely. "What does all this mean?"
"Scully, I'm concerned by the fact that this guy does
research on the God Module, Gibson Praise is still missing
and now a breakthrough is made but the scientist takes off
with his wife while someone who obviously knows of his
work is after him."
Scully was shocked into silence, her eyes impossibly wide
as she contemplated the unimaginable. "Gibson," she
breathed, biting back tears of horror. "Please - no."
"What if the Consortium is after Dr. Dickerson?" Mulder
mused. "How long before they realize that they got the
wrong person? And then what? And we don't know for sure
if this Dr. Dickerson is really a good guy or some mad
scientist."
"Oh God, Mulder, what are we going to do?" Scully asked
fearfully.
Mulder didn't have a good answer at this point.
Chapter 14
By Saturday night, Walter Skinner thought that he had
accumulated all the pieces of the puzzle. (Almost all,)
he amended. The most important one of all was still
eluding him: the location of Agents Mulder and Scully.
The first piece had been a call from a sheriff who had
been relayed through a FBI field office. The sheriff told
him that construction workers who were doing renovations
on the house had called him out to the home of Dr.
Theodore Dickerson.
"The guys showed up for work this morning and when no one
answered the door, they got concerned - especially with
two cars in the driveway. They said that the front door
was unlocked and there had been some kind of struggle in
the living room. That's when they called me in. My men
are going over the place, but haven't come up with
anything except a burned dinner in the oven - which was
still on by the way. It's a damn miracle that the house
didn't burn down. Anyway, when I got ID back on the cars,
I got on the phone to the FBI and they transferred me to
you."
Skinner had thanked him and promised to send agents out to
help investigate. After assigning agents to the case, he
had reluctantly taken the next step and called Maggie
Scully.
"Oh God," Maggie said softly, recognizing his voice and
his tone.
Skinner admired her strength as she told him why Dana had
been at the Dickerson's without falling to pieces. He
didn't have children of his own and couldn't begin to
imagine being a parent to Scully, or Mulder for that
matter, after everything those two had been through. It
was hard enough being their superior. And friend?
Sometimes he wondered if he really was considered their
friend.
"I promise you, Mrs. Scully, I'm doing everything in my
power to locate them."
"I know you are," she said softly, biting back tears.
"Please, keep me informed of any progress."
"I will." Skinner stared at the wall, fist tightly around
the phone he had just hung up. Maybe he - did - know what
it was like.
The phone rang, jolting him from his musings. "Skinner."
"Director Skinner, you don't know me, but I'm a friend of
Fox Mulder."
"What can I do for you?" Skinner's tone grew wary.
"I understand that Agents Mulder and Scully are missing
and I have some information that I hope will help find
them."
(Who - is - this guy? ) Skinner thought. "What kind of
information?"
"Are you aware that Dr. Theodore Dickerson is a scientist
who has been studying the God Module? I assume that you
know what that is."
Skinner felt his mouth go dry. "Of course I do," he
snapped.
The caller went on, unperturbed. "Dr. Dickerson has made
some kind of scientific breakthrough, the specifics of
which I have as yet been unable to ascertain. I gave this
information to Mulder, knowing of his interest. I hope
that by telling you, it will help to locate him."
"Listen - how did you get this information -"
The caller hung up on him.
Skinner immediately started making calls.
Byers carefully wiped down the phone booth. If the call
was traced, he didn't want to leave any sign that he'd
ever been there. He headed back home, wondering what
Langly and Frohike would do if they knew he had enlisted
Skinner's help to locate Mulder and Scully.
Chapter 15
Saturday evening in the Main House, Cap lay dozing on the
couch, a half-empty bottle of scotch an arm's length away,
and an empty glass on the floor beside it. The TV had been
left on with the sound turned all the way down.
Sarge burst in, a thin sheen of perspiration covering his
face, and ran straight to the couch. Roughly he shook Cap
awake.
"Cap - Cap wake up!"
"Huh - wha -" Cap grunted incoherently as he struggled to
sit up and gather his wits about him. The liquor, however,
had managed to muddle his brain, coat his mouth and glue
his eyes shut quite effectively. "Take it easy, man.
What's the hell's the matter with you?"
"Cap - come on - wake up. The Boss just pulled into the
compound." Sarge warned urgently.
That was the splash of cold water that Cap needed to get
going. Like a flash, he was on his feet, carefully
scooting the bottle and glass under the couch. He went to
the window and watched the Ford Explorer move slowly past
the Main House and go directly to the Visitors' Quarters.
Cap's expression immediately darkened.
"Take a breather, Sarge," he told him. He watched the Boss
exit the vehicle. "Off to see Dani first," he muttered
bitterly.
Sarge stepped up and looked over Cap's shoulder.
"Got to make sure ol' Cap and Sarge didn't screw up and
hurt the good doc." Cap continued to curse under his
breath.
"Should we wait here?" Sarge asked hesitantly. When Cap
was in this kind of mood, anything could set him off.
"Yeah. Dani can take care of the Boss." Cap huffed before
returning to the couch. He grabbed the remote, searching
until he found a baseball game and turned up the volume.
He resisted the urge to retrieve the scotch. He didn't
have a death wish, after all.
Sarge looked over uneasily, unsure what to do. Finally he
decided to join Cap and watch the game.
Meanwhile, Dani was standing at the door to greet the
Boss, extending the ever-present pad and pen. The Boss
took them without looking and went directly to the bank of
monitors that lined one wall. Each of the rooms in VQ had
a tiny camera but only one was currently in use and that
was the one the Boss focused on.
The Boss had to keep from screaming aloud.
v
(The fools! Idiots! ) Vile epithets poured from lips thin
with rage.
Dani stood watching, without expression as the Boss' rage
filled the room. She watched a clenched fist pound the
console and did not blink.
The Boss looked over at Dani, cheeks red, eyes blazing
then began writing. The pen flew across the paper.
Dani kept her face neutral as she watched the Boss' lips
moving and when the note was completed, the Boss simply
stormed out.
Dani smiled. Cap and Sarge had made their final mistake
and it would ultimately turn out to be fatal for them. She
picked up the note.
Those 2 aren't the Dickersons.
Dani's smile broadened. She, of course, was aware of that
little tidbit of information.
Stay here and await further instructions.
Dani sat down again in front of the monitor. She was aware
now of what the Boss had planned for Mulder and Scully.
The question was what to do about it. She stared at the
FBI agents in the living room. Mulder had positioned
himself behind Scully and had enveloped her in his arms.
Dani sighed in relief. She had been worried earlier,
before the Boss' arrival, that Mulder would hurt himself
as he had finally vented his rage at their captivity,
nearly demolishing the rooms looking for an escape. Scully
had shown remarkable restraint as she watched, her face
unknowingly mirroring Dani's concerned countenance. When
Mulder had at last admitted defeat, she had simply held
out her hand, beckoning him over.
Dani had watched as Mulder let his shoulders slump,
dejected and fatigued and trying to catch his breath. He
had taken Scully's hand, kissed it, then went to take a
quick shower. Hating that he'd had to put on the same
clothes he'd been wearing before was evident to Dani by
the expression of distaste on his face. He'd then joined
Scully on the couch and that tableau had been what had set
the Boss into a rage.
Dani settled down to wait.
Cap and Sarge both started violently when they heard the
front door slam shut. They barely had time to jump to
their feet and turn off the TV before the Boss stormed in.
Neither one of them was prepared for the fury that
emanated from the Boss like heat from the sun.
Sarge shrank back in reflex when the Boss' eyes found him
and locked on. "Go to VQ, pump in the gas, knock them both
out and put the woman in a different room." The order was
spoken with a voice so low, so quiet, and so dangerous
that Sarge actually shuddered and felt the blood drain
from his face. The Boss' rage-filled eyes transfixed him
like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.
When he continued to just stand there, the Boss instantly
and smoothly whipped out a Glock and pointed it at his
head.
"Now!"
At the bark, Sarge took off like a shot, without looking
back, expecting to feel the bullet any second.
(Something's wrong! ) His terrified mind kept repeating
and he began to wonder if he shouldn't just take off after
doing what the Boss wanted. He was pretty sure at this
point that no bonus money was forthcoming and he wasn't
prepared to die. He made it to the supply room and got the
tank and tubing and went to work.
Chapter 16
The Boss waited until Sarge was gone before taking a deep
breath and turning to Cap and pointed the Glock at him
with a steady hand. Dark eyes glared menacingly at Cap's
shocked face and he instinctively raised his hands in a
defensive posture, struggling mightily to understand what
was going on. (What had gone wrong?)
"Is - is the doc okay?" he asked fearfully and hating
that he showed fear.
"I wouldn't know," the Boss replied with a voice that
dripped venom.
Cap shook his head. This wasn't right. "I don't
understand. Didn't you just go to VQ?"
(Wrong thing to say, ) his brain informed him when the
Boss snapped and he found himself stumbling backwards. The
Boss had pushed him with a strength augmented by pure rage
and Cap fell over an end table, landing with a bone-
jarring thud. He grunted in pain and immediately tasted
blood after biting his tongue. Wincing, he turned his head
to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood-tinged
saliva. When he turned back to the Boss, he saw that the
Glock was now inches from his face.
"You worthless piece of shit." the Boss hissed furiously.
"You two jerks did not capture Dr. Dickerson!"
"What!?" It was the only word he could get out, his tongue
rapidly swelling and interfering with his speech.
The Boss kicked out, connecting with Cap's thigh. The
terrified man moaned and grabbed his leg.
"You heard me. You managed to capture two FBI agents!"
"What?" Cap repeated stupidly, shaking his head and trying
to get some kind of handle on his pain and confusion.
(That couldn't be right. This wasn't happening. ) He was
supposed to be home free. What had gone wrong?
"Next time, I suggest that you get pictures instead of
just addresses, you asshole!" The icy disdain in the voice
melted into a blood-curdling sneer. "Oh - but wait. There
won't - be - a next time, now will there?"
Cap's eyes widened in mortal fear.
They were still open when the bullets entered his
brain.
Death was instant. His brain was gone. The only mercy the
Boss allowed.
The Boss went to the window to watch for Sarge. Now, all
that was left was to wait for the man to separate Mulder
and Scully. This could still work out. The other team
members thankfully were continuing to search for Dr.
Dickerson and with Mulder here, plans could be stepped up.
Scully was a mere annoyance that was about to be
eliminated.
A feral smile touched the Boss' lips. Fox Mulder would
never know what hit him.
Chapter 17
Dani activated the monitor to the room adjacent to Mulder
and Scully's, watching Sarge set up his equipment. He had
already closed the vents and soon he was piping in the gas
that would ensure the prisoners' cooperation. He waited a
full half-hour before turning of the gas, donning a gas
mask and entering the room, going directly to the couch.
He stood over the two people he had believed would be his
salvation and the answer to all his prayers and wondered,
not for the first time, what had gone so wrong. With a
shake of his head, he went to work. (I got to quit
screwing around and just get the hell out of here, ) he
reminded himself. No time for recriminations now.
Despite their unconscious state, Sarge moved with stealth,
noting the man's protectiveness in his embrace. Very
slowly, he moved first one, then the other of Mulder's
arms away from Scully's torso. Mulder's breathing remained
quiet and he did not stir at all. Not even when Sarge slid
his arms under Scully's knees and shoulders and lifted her
up. Scully, too, remained oblivious as she was taken away
from her partner while Dani watched it all and made final
plans of her own.
Sarge placed Scully in a cell two doors down from Mulder,
unaware that Dani was watching his every move. He made
sure that Scully's pulse and breathing was steady and that
the door was securely locked before going to double-check
on Mulder. Breathing a sigh of relief, he quickly ran to
his own quarters.
Dani peeked out her window and caught sight of the Boss,
standing on the second story balcony of the Main House.
She went back to the monitors in time to see Sarge driving
off in the unmarked ambulance, the only other vehicle
besides the Boss' Explorer. Dani was not surprised that
the Boss let him go. Sarge was not a real danger to the Boss'
operation and he would be easy to track down. Dani had no doubt
that the Sarge was as good as dead. All it would take was one phone call.
Chapter 18
Even before he opened his eyes, Mulder knew that something
was different - wrong. Terribly wrong. Keeping his eyes
closed and his breathing regular, he lay very still and
tried to figure out what it was. First of all, his head
seemed a little fuzzy, he felt a little hungover and that
he hadn't eaten in days. As far as he could tell, he was
still on the couch but Scully had definitely moved. He
distinctly remembered that she had been lying alongside
him and now she seemed to be sitting on the floor, resting
her head on his chest.
(Maybe that's it. ) He reassured himself. (She had gotten
up without waking him again and when she returned had sat
on the floor instead of the couch. )
His breath caught in his throat. (No. That wasn't
possible. Dana Scully wasn't tall enough to pull that move
off. )
His eyes flew open and he found himself staring at black
hair fanned out across his shirt.
"Shit!" he cried out in disgust, scrambling back off the
couch with as much gusto as if he'd found a rattlesnake
coiled up on top of him.
The owner of the black hair looked up at him.
And smiled.
"Fox."
Chapter 19
"Diana?" Mulder stared at her in utter shock and nearly
choked. "What in the hell are you doing here?"
Diana Fowley smiled up at him indulgently. "Well I was
beginning to wonder if you were ever going to wake up."
She yawned, discreetly covering her mouth. "Sorry, I must
have dozed off."
Where's Scully?" Mulder demanded, struggling to keep his
temper under control as he looked around for his partner.
Fowley look up at him with an expression of surprise.
"Scully's here, too?"
Mulder reached down and grabbed her arm. Ignoring Fowley's
look of wonder, he roughly jerked her to her feet. "Don't
play dumb with me, Diana, it doesn't suit you at all. Now
where is she?" he barked.
"Fox, please. Settle down" she commanded. "I don't know
what you're talking about." She met his gaze head on.
Mulder's eyes bored through her, desperately struggling to
comprehend. He forced himself to stay calm. He couldn't
show his anger, his rage. It was obviously too risky at
this point. Scully. That was his priority. He had to
focus.
"Fine. Then let's start with what you do know. Where have
you been and what are you doing here now?" He asked,
careful to keep his tone low.
Fowley reached up and pried her arm out of Mulder's grip.
"For your information, I've been on special assignment -
deep undercover - looking for Gibson."
Mulder clenched his jaw and forced himself not to react.
"I'm here because I got a lead," she continued, "but
you're all I've found so far."
"Where is 'here', might I ask?" Mulder folded his arms
and kept his voice low and controlled.
"A compound on a tiny island, off the Virginia coast. What
are you doing here, Fox?" Fowley queried.
Mulder had his answer ready. "I don't know. Scully and I
were attacked, drugged and brought here by two men. No
one's spoken to us since we got here on Friday night." he
answered smoothly conveniently eliminating the fact that
they'd been misidentified as Dr. and Mrs. Dickerson.
Fowley's brow furrowed. "Well, right now it's Sunday
afternoon, almost 3:00."
Mulder felt his gut twist. The last thing that he
remembered was Saturday night, around 11:00. (Where was
Scully? How long had she been gone? ) He headed for the
door.
"Fox, where are you going?" Fowley called out as she
hurried after him.
"Where the hell do you think - to find Scully." Mulder
reached for the doorknob but Fowley darted around in front
of him and blocked his way.
"Fox - no!" She looked into his eyes, pleading with him.
"What do you mean - 'no'? I've got to find her." He moved
to push her aside, but Fowley placed both hands on his
shoulders.
"It's too late, Fox." she said quietly but firmly.
"What do you mean it's too late? What in the hell are you
talking about? You just got finished telling me that you
didn't know that she was here. So which one is it Diana?"
He was almost shouting and he had to restrain himself as
the urge to reach out and throttle her nearly overwhelmed
him.
"She's dead, Fox. They killed her while she was trying to
escape."
Mulder simply stared at her in dumbfounded horror and
disbelief. The news hit him like a sucker punch, stealing
his voice. His heart was out of control, banging loudly in
his chest. "No," he whispered brokenly.
Fowley lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry, Fox. I - I - should
have told you right away, but I just couldn't - I -" She
shook her head.
"I don't believe you," Mulder said in a strangled
voice that he barely recognized as his own. "Why -
should - I believe you?"
Fowley actually had the nerve to look offended. "Believe
what you want to, Fox. But it would be wise for you - to -
believe me." She ran her hands up and down his arms. "Fox,
it's over. It's all over. Come back with me." She pleaded.
"There's nothing to hold you back now. Come with me and
together we'll find everything that you've been looking
for."
Mulder's head was spinning. (Cancerman. CGB Spender had
wanted me to join him. The cigarette smoking man had made
me the very same offer. That's it. I'm out of here. )
Without hesitation he again reached out for the door, but
Fowley was quicker. With one smooth move, she grabbed
Mulder's arm and jerked him back, all the while reaching
for her Glock that she'd kept hidden under her sweater.
Suddenly, Mulder found himself looking down the barrel in
to Fowley's eyes, which had become cold and unforgiving.
It was a look that Mulder had never seen on her face
before and he definitely wasn't prepared to see it now. He
thought about wrestling her for the gun, but dismissed the
notion out of hand. She was a trained FBI agent and as she
stood before him, she seemed to be looking for an excuse
to shoot. (But would she - really - shoot me? )
Fowley read the thought in his eyes. "Don't think for one
second that I won't do it, Fox. Don't ever doubt that. You
have a choice to make. You can do this the easy way or you
can die. Right here, and right now."
Mulder's mouth dropped. When? When had she become the
unspeakable enemy? The very worst of THEM? He searched
desperately for the tiniest hint of the person he'd known
and trusted. And failed.
end, part 1
