Julia
Chapter Sixteen

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


Washington, D.C.
February 10, 2001
1:17 a.m.


It felt different, the moment between sleep and
conscious thought.  Not the kind of half-aware
drift where one thought of picking up the dry
cleaning on the way to work, or, on an
infrequent sleep-in, exactly what time it was
and then dismissing it with a yawn.

Unusual, but welcome.  Julia hadn't felt such...
peace... in quite some time.  She turned over
and hugged the pillow that smelled of him,
inhaling with a slight curve of her lips. 
Mulder.

Mulder!  Startled remembrance almost made her
leap from the bed, but she stopped when she
realized she was alone.  Why wasn't he there
with her?  She'd wanted him to rest, and the
complete darkness outside his window told her it
was still very early the next morning.

Vaguely, she remembered her fingers tightening
on his arms as he moved to get up, then quieting
at his murmured, "Go back to sleep, Julia."

Surely he slept with her, for a while at least?

But the pillow under her cheek was cold and she
immediately began to worry.  Gingerly, she sat
up on the edge of the bed, stretching the
muscles that weren't used to such unrelenting
tension.  It seemed as if every day since she'd
been here, she'd been poised on the edge of
flight.  Not having a good night's rest as long
as she teetered on the edge of distrusting
Mulder.  She spied her dress laid across the
edge of the bed and knew what he'd done.  A
flash of her keeping the letter from him by
putting it in her pocket made her realize why.

He was waiting for her.  Waiting for
explanations, for answers.  That he'd even
allowed her to sleep at all was testament to his
careful handling of her; he could have demanded
an immediate denouement and he would have gotten
it.  Hours ago she'd been ready to tell all. 
Now, with the imprint of his battered body and
soul upon her brain, she was afraid.

Afraid of his reaction.  Without her voice,
there was no way she could stop his tirade,
should he choose to have one.  Not that he was
normally given to exaggerated outbursts of
anger; on the contrary, his moments of hurt and
disappointment were punctuated by stony silence
and distant, pain-filled eyes.

Which made this abandonment the first step. 
He'd had time to think.  Time for the giddy haze
of their reunion to dissipate and let his mind
start to question.  She was in for it, but good.

Then again, she had a right to harbor some anger
herself, didn't she?  What the hell had he been
doing all this time?  She'd come to the
conclusion that he wasn't the murderer he'd been
made to appear.  But why had he not tried to
escape?  Suicide was one form of escape, yes,
but the man she once knew would only have used
that as a last resort.

All right, Julia, she told herself.  And she did
continue to think of herself as Julia, despite
the moments she'd become Scully in his arms and
in his heart.  She'd been Julia for so long now
it was a part of her, physical changes and all. 
Julia was only Scully in Mulder's eyes.  They'd
have to remember that.  It wasn't over yet.

Time to lay it all out in the open.  She quickly
stood and padded over the carpet to the door,
where the bedroom's darkness blended in to the
firelit expanse of the living room.  The lights
were off in there, too, but the curtains were
drawn back and the moon shone with grey coolness
on the figure in the chair.

The soft tones of Beethoven bled through the
air; loud, but not loud enough to wake her, she
surmised.  The music would also serve to make
his voice difficult to pick up, should they be
listening.  Mulder should have been a Boy Scout,
she thought.  He certainly knew how to 'Be
prepared.'  She sighed and moved forward slowly.

"Come here, Julia," he said, his voice flat as
it echoed off the glass panes before him.  "Sit
with me."

Moments before, she'd been steeped in resolve to
keep him from referring to her as Scully.  Now,
the name was almost abhorrent to her, though she
knew it was necessary.  But coming from his
lips, it was like a slap in the face.

So Julia did as he asked, moving to the ottoman. 
She sat before him, much as she'd done before.

Mulder sat sprawled in the chair, still wearing
nothing but the navy knit pants.  He spread his
legs to surround her, sitting up and giving her
a generous view of his bare chest, where the
cross gleamed orange-gold in the firelight.  An
empty glass sat on the table beside him and in
his right hand was the letter.

Julia avoided the paper for a moment, her gaze
darting to the glass.

"Water."  A derisive response to her unspoken
question.  "Makes things go down easier."  His
fingers curled around the letter as he waved it
before her.  "Ready to tell me?"

Julia swallowed hard and lowered her gaze for a
second before braving the hot sear of his.

<Where would you like me to start?>

"How about with the fact that -" He broke off at
her wide, panicked eyes.  He was speaking
entirely too loud and she shook her head
frantically, trying to stop him before he
revealed too much.

<They could be listening!>

Mulder clamped his lips together and his eyes
narrowed.  Dropping the letter into his lap, he
brought his hands up.

<You butchered yourself to get in here.> He was
more adept at sign language than she was, though
she'd never seen him use it.  She wasn't
surprised, though, at his mastery of it.  Lots
of time to do nothing but sit and read in this
place.  And learn, adapt.

<Just so you could save me?  Or kill me?  Were
you planning on martyring yourself along with
me, too - if it came down to that?  Was
vengeance or justice or... *love*... that
important to you?>  He looked away and slumped
back in the chair.  Julia saw the furious beat
of his pulse in his neck, making the scar more
pronounced.  Her cross shook in the hollow of
his throat, vibrating with his rumbled words.
"Believe me, I'm not that important.  On any of
those terms."

Julia laid a hand on his knee, urging him to
look at her.  He complied, and the anguish in
his eyes was palpable.

<You are to me.  Especially on the last one.>

He snorted, hanging his head as if to refute her
statement, then looked at her again, this time
with entreaty.

<Then why?  You know I wouldn't have wanted you
to do this.>

<There was no other way.  Someone had to do it
and I didn't trust anyone else.  Let me explain. 
Please.>

Mulder searched her face for several seconds,
then capitulated with a sigh. <Go ahead.  But
then you have to listen to me.  No arguments.>

Julia nodded. <No arguments.> They hadn't really
fought, and she was tired of it already.  The
air between them would clear and they would move
on.

She'd see to it personally, if she had to.

Her hands and fingers began to tell the tale....


**********


Undisclosed location
July 25, 2000
6:45 p.m.


"I'm telling you, it couldn't have been him!"

Scully was royally pissed.  Even the Gunmen were
buying into the horror of that videotape. 
Krycek she expected to; that son-of-a-bitch was
ready to believe Mulder was the anti-Christ.  It
was in the genes, he insisted.

She'd been arguing with Krycek and the Gunmen
for two days now.  Ever since Krycek had made
his intentions clear.  The only way to get rid
of the Appointing Authority was to wipe clean
the whole area, he'd said.  Surprise attack,
planned and executed with terminal intensity.

A few days ago, it wouldn't have mattered to
Scully.  She knew where Mulder was and that he
was okay, though his actions on the videotape
were hard to believe or explain.  Deep in her
heart, she believed that someday she'd get him
out of there and everything would be all right.

But this drastic move of Krycek's, while
admittedly a swift, deadly strike at the snake's
head, effectively exposed them to immediate
retaliation.  Until now, they'd managed to keep
themselves hidden, their small numbers an
advantage.  If she could convince Krycek to
wait, they could possibly create an even larger,
broader resistance force.  A coordinated effort
that moved with intelligence and cohesion.  One
that could withstand the Invaders' sure
response.

And give her a chance to get to Mulder.  To save
him or crucify him, she wasn't sure yet.  It was
too soon to be thinking of the possibilities;
she had plenty of time for what ifs.

"Look, none of this matters," Krycek said.  "We
know where they are now, and whether or not
Mulder is one of them, we have the perfect
opportunity to bring them down.  All we need is
an infiltrator, someone on the inside to give us
the signal when we have the exact location."

At the finality of his statement, she realized
she would never dissuade him from this course of
action.  But she *could* delay the inevitable.

"And that's going to be me," Scully grated out,
rising from the table to turn her back on the
incredulous faces.

Byers spoke up.  "Scully, we don't think that's
a good idea...."

She turned around.  "Why?  Because you think I'm
too close?  That I'd let everyone down because
of the way I feel... my friendship with Mulder?" 
She leaned down and drove her point home, palms
flat on the table.  "I am as objective as any of
you.  Besides, Cancerman is looking for me. 
Let's give him what he wants."

"Too dangerous," Frohike grumbled.  "Besides,
you're our only hope for developing the
vaccine."

"Damn it!"  Scully was weary of the overzealous
protection.  "The vaccine is going nowhere and
we know it.  I could get in, maybe get some
useful information on their research, and then
give you a signal when to attack.  You all know
that I'm the most qualified for the assignment,
medically... and professionally."

She also had the greatest stake in the operation
from a personal stance.  But she wasn't about to
let that creep in.

"We can't just wipe them off the face of the
earth without giving a thought to what
information we'd lose," she continued.  "You've
got to trust my instincts on this one.  The key
to our survival is hidden somewhere in those
towers."  She dropped her eyes and added a
silent, 'So is Mulder.'

"Scully, you saw the videotape.  You saw what
kind of man he's become."  Frohike's words were
quiet in the dim room; he knew exactly what
she'd left out in her bid for reason.  He raised
a hand to forestall her renewed protests.  "All
right, all right.  Let's say it wasn't him.  If
it wasn't, then who the hell was it?  A clone? 
A shapeshifter?  More dangerous than Mulder -
you know that.  You'd be sacrificing yourself
for nothing, when we could easily send someone
else."

"I have to go," she said, slumping into a chair
at the end of the table.  "It's me or no one."

"But -"

"No!  We don't know for certain if that's Mulder
or not on the tape.  If it isn't, then no one
would be quicker to kill the fucker - whatever
it is - than me."  Sighing, she leaned forward,
meeting the eyes of the gentlemen around the
table with grim determination.  "And if it *is*
Mulder... if they've turned him into some kind
of monster... then he's no longer the Mulder I
know, the Mulder I care about.  He would cease
to exist to me."

The men looked at her, then at each other while
silence ruled for a few moments.

"Could you kill him if you had to?"

Krycek's question didn't surprise her, but her
answer did.

"If he's a part of them now... then yes.  I'd
send him to hell where he belongs."

Though her voice was steely, her nerves were
not.  She hoped that scenario would never come
to pass; a good liar, she wasn't.  But her vow
seemed to win them over.  For once in her
life... at the most important moment... she
could lie convincingly.

It got easier from that day on.


**********


Washington, D.C.
February 10, 2001
2:05 a. m.


Almost an hour passed before she'd finished.  It
was painful at times, reliving the horror of
Invasion and how it had changed her life.  She
spoke of the months in the bunker and the
revelations of Cancerman's emergence as leader. 
Of the mass summoning of the populace through
subliminal messages... of the most awful day
when Mulder had reappeared out of the ashes,
only to have her hopes dashed as the evidence
proclaimed him traitor.  Of Krycek's plans and
her insistence that she be the one to infiltrate
the administration.

Mulder, as promised, hadn't said a word during
her story.  Though he now knew that, despite her
letter proclaiming her to be a rogue agent, she
was part of the Underground.  He hadn't been
surprised at that revelation.  He sat unmoving,
his attention focused on her completely, no
reaction until now.

<The Gunmen are all okay?> Mulder's question was
not the first she expected after her tale was
finished, but it was typical of his concern for
his friends.

<Yes, as far as I know.  I haven't seen them in
a while now.>

<And Krycek?  What's his motive in all this?>

Julia sighed. <I don't know.  He's a tough nut
to crack.  But you know that already.>

Mulder gave her a sarcastic grin. <He's Krycek. 
Why should we trust him now?>

<I had no choice.> She tried to convey to him
that Krycek had not forced her to do this.  He
hadn't forced any of them to stay in the bunker
after they'd gotten there.  <He seems sincere,
Mulder. Though he basically kidnapped us off of
the street in the middle of the swarms, he
didn't make us stay.  We could have walked out
at any time.>

<But... Krycek?  Somehow I can't picture him as
a hero, Scully.>

<Revenge is a powerful motivator, Mulder.>
Please don't ask me any more about a man I can't
figure out, she silently begged.  It was enough
that so far, the plan was going well.

It seemed to satisfy him, though they both knew
that their lives depended on a man they really
could never trust fully.  Julia was thankful
when Mulder dropped the Krycek tangent and
pursued the matter at hand.

<And this?> He waved a hand at her face.  Mild
disgust tinged his eyes; he tried hard to keep
it from her by scrubbing a hand over his jaw as
a distraction, but she saw it.

Moments ago she'd been thankful he'd not
lingered on the subject of Krycek.  Be careful
what you ask for, she reminded herself.  With a
lift of her chin, she gave him what he wanted.

<Though it would set back the plan for several
months, I convinced them I needed a new face.  I
didn't want Krycek to go off half-cocked when,
with time, we could build a stronger force.  I
traveled from site to site until the surgeries
were complete.  No more scars, no identifying
marks of any kind.  Then I met up with Eliza.>

A most fortuitous meeting, she added in her
mind.

When his fingers moved again, it was with quiet
anger.

<And just what would you have done if you hadn't
met her?  Fucked your way to the top?>

Julia's first inclination was to slap him.  Her
palm itched to do so; but she couldn't deny that
was just what she had been prepared to do. 
Instead, she reasoned with him.

<I knew Cancerman was looking for me.  Or for
anyone who looked enough like me.  The natural
assumption would be that he would put my picture
out there, which he did.  It would only have
been a matter of time until someone noticed me.>

<I can't believe you.> He jerked up from the
chair so quickly she flinched.  Storming to the
fireplace, he threw the letter into the flames. 
As it caught and burned to ash, he faced her,
jaw clenched and fists tight. <I told you
yesterday you weren't a whore.  But you are. 
You're the Underground's whore.>

Julia felt fire rush up her face and she marched
on her bare feet until she was toe to toe with
Mulder.

<If I'm a whore, then what does that make you?>

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, she thought
he might slap her, just as she'd wanted to do
earlier.  But restraint settled over his
features and he signed, <A traitor.  A killer. 
You name it, I've done it.>  Leaning in, he
grasped her upper arms and continued, his breath
hot upon her face.  His whisper was ominous. 
"Are you ready to be my whore, Julia?  Because
I'm already yours, just as I am his."

With perfect accuracy, his words stabbed at her
heart.  He was so good at laying bare everything
that was not supposed to be talked about between
them.  So many things that she'd just as soon
forget about.  Move past it, was always her
motto.  Lose yourself in the work.  This time,
though, she knew he wasn't going to let her off
so easy.  

The months had hardened him, just as they'd done
the same to her.  Bold, frank speech came easily
to him now, when before, he'd accede to her
twisting avenues around certain subjects.  Her
health, her infertility... her obvious love for
him that she wouldn't allow herself to act upon.

She told herself she was ready now.  But a dim
voice in the back of her mind nagged at her,
proclaimed her coward once again.  Would she be
so bold if she weren't Julia?  If she could
speak, would she deny those feelings fruition?

More importantly, did she think she could just
waltz in here, take him by the hand and sneak
away to live happily ever after?  He wanted to
talk and though it may kill her to hear it, she
had to do so.  For the sake of closure.  To make
him see that no matter what he'd done, he was
still worth something in her eyes.

As Scully or as Julia - made no difference.  Her
pride laid in tattered shreds between them.

Closing her eyes, she nodded, shaking in his
grasp.  Yes, she would be his whore.  Wasn't she
already?  She'd whored herself to the
Underground... all for him.

"Look at me."

She complied, swallowing back her fear.  Mulder
kept her in the grasp of his gaze as his hands
began to move, daring her to look away.

<When I was abducted, they held me on a ship for
days.  I have no real recollection of time while
I was there... then my *father* showed up one
day and brought me to a holding facility.>  His
lips curled into a sneer. <A prison, actually. 
At first, I tried everything I could to get
away.  So they beat me, tortured me.  He stood
there and told me he never wanted to hurt me. 
He only wanted me to be happy.  I begged the
fucker to kill me, you know.>

His eyes were dilated in the dim room, wild with
the memory.  Julia gasped at the sight.

<But he needed me... 'wanted me to be happy,' my
ass.  Dear old Dad needed... *needs* me alive. 
They started taking blood the very first day.  I
haven't figured it out totally, but *I'm* what's
keeping him alive.  Me and my God damned blood.>

He let go of her and moved away, giving her his
back, his hand rubbing the back of his neck with
agitation.  "Then -" He broke off, remembering
caution, and faced her, though it was obvious
from the avoidance of her eyes he didn't want to
do so. <I decided to do the job myself.>

Suddenly, Julia was cold, very cold.  She
shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist,
reliving the days with him in her mind.  She'd
already made her feelings clear on his suicide
attempt, but somehow, she didn't feel like
rehashing the subject.

<I stole a spoon from the dinner tray - took me
days to sharpen it.  Then I slashed my wrist. 
He wanted my blood, he could have it.  All of
it.>  He finally looked at her, regret written
in the lines on his face. <I was out of my mind
with grief, Scully.  It was a cowardly thing to
do, but I couldn't see any other way out.>

He was waiting for her to say it was okay, to
give him some sign that she understood.  But she
couldn't.  It would be a long time before she
reconciled herself to the fact that he tried to
take his own life, a life that she treasured
above her own.  Instead, she nodded, not in
agreement, but in temporary truce.

<Go on.>

Mulder sighed and stepped toward her. <After
that, he made sure I wouldn't give him any more
trouble.>  He paused, searching her face with
probing, moist eyes that glowed in the dim
light.  The memory disturbed him; she could tell
that he was trying hard to stay composed.  <He
told me he'd find you.>

Well, that made sense.  And Mulder would have
naturally believed him, especially when the
look-a-likes started showing up on his doorstep.
<The concubines?>

<No.> Impatience pursed his lips. <With the
chip.>

Surprised, she began to explain. <Mulder...>

But he kept on. <He said he could make you do
anything he wanted with that chip.  Throw
yourself off a bridge.  Blow your own head off. 
Murder children on the street.>

Aghast, she could only stare, her palms becoming
sweaty and limp.  She knew it; she'd *always*
known it.  Until colonization, she'd never
wanted to accept it.  Not even the lost trip to
Ruskin Dam had been enough to convince her.

She'd been right to remove it.

Mulder watched the play of emotions cross her
face and finished, <Or he could bring you to me. 
I almost told him to do it.> He half-turned,
wiping his brow. <But I couldn't.  Instead, I
made a deal.>

Julia touched his arm to make him turn back. <A
deal?>

The sadness and regret on his face created an
ache in her chest. <I told him I'd cooperate, in
exchange for leaving you alone.  I didn't even
know if you were alive or dead, but I knew one
thing - I didn't want you going through what I
was going through.  You didn't deserve to live
in this hell.>

It explained his examination of her when she'd
first arrived.  He didn't *want* her to be
Scully.  She could understand now why he'd
searched for scars, for the tattoo.  Cancerman
knew that Mulder would want to keep her far away
from this prison.  She remembered his sigh that
first night and thought he'd been disappointed
that he hadn't found evidence of her identity. 
Now she knew he'd been relieved.

She caressed his cheek, reassuring him for a
moment before she replied. <When did he tell you
this?>

<God, Scully, I don't know... July?  I'd been
imprisoned for at least a couple of weeks by
then.>

Steeling herself for his wrath, she took a deep
breath.  <I took out the chip.  Two weeks after
the invasion began.>

Mouth dropping, Mulder started forward, ready to
jump in with both hands.  Sign language escaped
him, however, as his face became white in the
firelight.  "You did *what*?"

<Took it out.  I didn't want to jeopardize our
location.  It was the safe thing to do.> She
fumbled with the signing, hoping to quickly
allay his fears.  But one thing she'd learned
was that when she became nervous, it was easier
to hold a pistol than make her hands
communicate.

Mulder's anger grew.  "I can't believe you.  Of
all the stupid, irresponsible, fucking
*dangerous* things to do - Ow!"    His mouth
dropped in surprise and he rubbed at the side of
his neck, the sting making him break off his
tirade.  "What did you do that for?"

Julia rubbed her fingers together with a small
smile. <You told me to pinch you if I didn't
like what you were doing.>

He flushed and cocked his head to one side,
still soothing the mark left by her fingers.  "I
was talking about *snoring.*  And this is not a
time for joking."

<Will you stop and listen to me for a minute?>
Stop being so hotheaded, she added with her
eyes. <It's okay.>

"Is it?" he asked, concern replacing his anger
in a flash.

She knew what he was asking.  Last June was a
very long time ago and he could do the math. 
She hastened to explain. <Krycek gave me another
chip.  One that he said would keep the cancer at
bay, but not be used against me.>

Mulder rolled his eyes with a huff. <Krycek
again?  Come on, Scully.  Since when are you so
ready to believe in Alex Krycek?>

<Since I haven't woken up in the middle of the
night with the urge to join a bonfire.  Since I
haven't had a nosebleed or a splitting headache
in the months since I replaced the chip.  Since
I traveled all over the country making ready for
this mission and not once have I been questioned
or detained.> It surprised her as well, but she
finally realized that if Krycek wanted her
captured or dead, he could have done it a dozen
times, in a hundred different ways.  Maybe he
really was on the right side this time. <He said
the chip would do the job.  Not long after I
took out the other one, I began to have
nosebleeds.  They stopped when I put the new one
in my neck.  Satisfied?>

"No," he mumbled, stubborn to the very end. 
Really, though, she wouldn't have expected
anything less from Mulder.  "But I guess I have
no choice, do I?"

<Damned right you don't.  Live with it, Mulder. 
I am.>

He sighed and pulled her into his arms, his lips
close to her ear.  "God, Scully," he whispered,
barely making a sound.  "I can live with
anything, as long as you're with me.  Just
promise me you'll tell me if you feel even a
twinge of pain, okay?"

Nodding, she let herself melt into him briefly,
knowing just how very frightened he was to hear
she'd removed the chip.  Living with the fear
that she'd be forced to do something to herself
or to others had also weighed heavily on him. 
If the roles had been reversed, she knew she'd
have made the same deal.  Given in on the one-
in-a-million chance that Cancerman could follow
through on any of his threats.  Their honor
forbade any other course.

However, it still didn't explain his actions on
that grainy videotape.  If it was even him. 
Cancerman could have beaten Mulder to a pulp,
dangled Scully herself before him as bait, and
he still would not have killed an innocent. 
Julia didn't think so, anyway.  With a little
shove, she pushed away from him.  Reluctantly,
he let her go and watched her hands.

<Mulder, the videotape.  The one I saw in the
bunker.>

His face hardened and again, he turned his back
on her, as if unable to say it to her face. 
Julia walked around him, preventing his flight
by planting herself before him.  Tell me, her
eyes demanded.

<For all the talk of mind control, Scully, this
is one thing that can't be explained away by
hypnosis or torture.>  Sadness tinged his eye as
he dropped his head. <That was me.  I killed
that girl.  Shot her in cold blood.>



End Chapter Sixteen