Julia
Chapter Twenty-eight

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


Washington, D.C.
February 11, 2001
9:02 p.m.


For a brief moment, the air was still.  A thin
white line bled from the stolen pistol to mix
with the cigarette smoke, weaving seamlessly
before Julia's eyes.  It was as if all movement
had slowed to a shadowy, stunned portrait of
disbelief.  Faces frozen in masks of incredulity
hovered by tables still laden with delicacies.

Mulder slowly lowered his arm and Julia chanced
a look at him.  Mild surprise at his swift and
deadly retribution for the numerous wrongs done
to them over the years had made him pale, his
eyes bright with the fever of revenge.  For a
brief moment, exhilaration surged through her,
foreign but pleasing.  As a former officer of
the law, a small part of her knew revenge wasn't
acceptable.  But then again, their law had been
superseded by his long ago.  It was fitting.

Her satisfaction, however, was short-lived. 
Replaced by the realization that Mulder's action
would not go unpunished.  Grabbing his arm, she
gave a purposeful tug, bringing him quickly back
to himself.

With not a moment to spare, as Guardsmen
approached from all sides.  This was it; they
weren't going to make it out alive.  Even if
Krycek chose the next moment to burst in with
soldiers of his own, she and Mulder would
already be in the grasp of Cancerman's Army. 
They couldn't let that happen.  She certainly
did not want to spend another minute in this
prison.

Mulder gave her a rueful grin, his eyes trained
upon her face in apology.  She nodded her
understanding, her face softening into a small
smile of her own.  At least they would die
together.  Despite her trepidation of moments
ago, his action was really the only thing left
undone.  With sad, yet proud eyes, she told
him she would have done the same, given the
chance.

The first Guardsmen came near, stopping before
them with weapon raised.  "Drop it!"  Others
followed, circling them with murderous intent,
while still others rushed to the aid of their
leader.

Between the uniforms, Julia could see the swarm
around Cancerman.  He was lowered to the floor
and several soldiers knelt beside him, valiantly
staunching the flow of blood from his chest with
napkins, table linens, anything they could get
their hands on.  A few feet away, she met
Eliza's eyes over the scene; the woman stood
shaking, hand over mouth with horror.

As if sensing Julia's gaze, she raised her chin. 
Her eyes hardened as they flashed at Julia,
condemning her with sudden, swift hatred.  And
not a little fear; she knew that with Julia's
betrayal, so departed her easy lifestyle in the
good graces of the Administration.

Julia looked away, a tinge of regret making her
chest tight.  The woman, while a sometime
friend, had always put herself before anyone
else.  It had been foolish to think she would
understand their need to be free of this place. 
From the corner of her eye, she saw Eliza move
to join the throng around the Appointing
Authority.  Putting herself firmly in his camp
at a last gasp at survival in this world.

"Drop your weapon!  Down on the floor!  Hands
above your heads!"  The commands hit them like
bullets.

Would the Guardsmen really kill them?  From what
Cancerman had said, he needed them alive. 
Mulder's eyes said it all; he knew they would
probably both be wounded, but left to serve,
despite the mortal wound his father had
suffered.  The Guardsmen had been told one thing
and one thing only - detain them, don't kill
them.  That she and Mulder were probably no
longer needed by his father hadn't yet occurred
to them.

This is our last chance to escape, Mulder
silently communicated.  With a nod, she told him
she was ready.  They kneeled as the Guardsmen
closed in.  His lips curled up and sadness
creased his brow;  with his free hand, he
reached for her chin.

"Don't move!"

The hammers of the guns clicked in unison, but
Julia paid them no mind.  Mulder leaned in, his
eyes fluttering shut; she accepted the touch of
his lips on hers with a hitching breath, knowing
this kiss would be the last.  Between them, she
felt the cold, hard press of the gun.  He'd made
the decision for them both; her hands grasped
his waist to pull him closer.

A scream interrupted the moment; had it come
from her?  No, she was no coward.  She kept her
eyes closed, trembling in Mulder's embrace.

The next scream wasn't feminine; it was a
hoarse, masculine cry of pain.  Then another
pierced the air, and yet another.  She was
afraid to look, sure she was already hearing the
moans of hell's minions.

"Scully?"

At his soft query, she opened her eyes to see
Mulder, his mouth open with fascination, his
eyes darting about the room.  "Look," he
breathed.

Guardsmen dotted the floor, writhing in pain. 
They squirmed, clutching at their wrists, their
guns abandoned beside them.  The hum was almost
deafening now, seeming to come from the walls,
vibrating through her knees from the floor.

Arcs of electricity shot up the soldiers' arms
from the wristbands they each wore, paralyzing
them with one shock after another.  Something
was happening and she wasn't sure what it was,
but it was devastating.  It also presented them
with a chance at escape.

Mulder stood with her, obviously drawing the
same conclusion.  One scream rose above the
others, and Julia realized it was Eliza,
standing alone beside the dying Appointing
Authority, twisting her hands with panic. 
Meeting her frantic gaze, Julia tilted her head,
giving the woman one last chance at freedom. 
But Eliza was too far gone into insanity, her
wild eyes unable to focus.

"Come on," Mulder said, pulling her to the door. 

They stumbled over the Guardsmen, careful not to
touch them.  The open door beckoned; beyond that
point, Julia could see more soldiers
incapacitated in the hallway.  Service workers
ran about, some stopping in stunned silence,
others heading for the stairwell.

"You BITCH!"

The gunshot rang out, a millisecond before a
stabbing pain pierced her back.  Swift numbness
followed in the next instant, and her legs
buckled as her hand slipped from Mulder's. His
"Scully?" was the last thing she heard before
succumbing to darkness.


**********


9:10 p.m.


"He's not gonna leave us, he's not gonna leave."

The muttered litany drifted to her ears as she
struggled to regain consciousness.  Her whole
body felt weird;  she sucked in air, trying like
hell just to breathe.

"Scully?"

The jarring beneath her head stopped momentarily
and she let her eyelids lift.  Mulder's
concerned face swam before her; was he holding
her?  Why couldn't she feel anything?

Blinking, she tried to clear her head of panic,
but to no avail.  The walls of the stairwell
seemed to be alive, breathing for her. 
Pinpoints of light broke through the grayish
plaster... she wondered if heaven was reaching
out for her, then decided it was.

"You've been shot, Scully," Mulder said.  His
voice sounded like he'd swallowed a mouthful of
gravel.  "Just hold still - we're getting out of
here."

Arms - nothing.  Legs - nothing.  She could feel
the tense ripple of Mulder's arm beneath her
neck and the beginnings of a sticky warmth
between her shoulder blades.  But other than
that... the pieces of the puzzle fell together
to form a dire picture.

She was paralyzed, just like the Guardsmen, but
for much more mundane reasons.  Her logic spoke
to her in a calm voice; the bullet, shot by an
overwrought Eliza, must have severed her spinal
cord.  Definitely somewhere high up on her
torso; the breathing difficulty was a sure sign
of that.  In moments, her autonomous nervous
system would simply give up the ghost.

But Mulder, taking the steps of the stairwell
down two at a time, shoving his way through the
scared masses of people, didn't know that, she
thought.  He was carrying her with a strength
borne of adrenaline, trying to get her out
still.

Hot, sad tears blurred her vision.  It was no
use.  God, please, she prayed.  Let me speak
just once so I can tell him to leave me behind.

Instead, she screamed the words in her head. 
Leave me, Mulder.  Save yourself.  Go meet the
truck before it leaves.

"He won't leave us, Scully," Mulder panted.  "He
won't."

Yes, he would, she thought.  He had no reason to
brave the cacophony that she was sure was
streaming from the building.  With what she
figured was the influx of Krycek's men, their
contact would be crazy to stick around any
longer than necessary.

A blast of cool air hit her face.  It made it
easier to gasp for breath;  they must be in the
lobby, she thought.

"Mulder!"

Krycek's voice pierced her misery and her head
shifted limply to one side.  Yes, it was him,
approaching swiftly with a cadre of armed
guerillas following close behind.

"Where is he?"  Out of breath, Krycek stopped
beside them, his voice close now.  No questions
about her condition, she noticed.  Not that she
expected him to ask; he'd always been more
concerned with revenge.

"Third floor, restaurant.  I shot him - he's
dead."  Mulder began to move away, but was held
up by Krycek's unmoving roadblock.

"Are you sure?"

"No, but I'm not sticking around to find out. 
Now get the hell out of my way."

Krycek stopped him with a hand on his arm.  "You
son-of-a-bitch.  I wanted to kill that
motherfucker."

"Then go finish the job," Mulder growled, "and
get out of my way before I kill *you.*"

Krycek grinned at the threat, then leaned in to
whisper,  "After all I've done for you?"

Mulder said nothing, just tried to wrench
himself from Krycek's grasp.  But their sometime
adversary held fast, his grin fading.

"If you make it out, rendezvous at midnight at
the airport.  We've already secured it."  He
released Mulder and stepped aside, calling after
their retreating forms, "What the hell's wrong
with her?"

But Mulder didn't stop this time, just broke
into a run, heading for the back of the lobby. 
Sidestepping unconscious Guardsmen and panicked
residents, he murmured, "Almost there, Scully. 
Hang on."

Her breathing was fast and shallow now, and the
lights above seemed to blend and mold themselves
with the ceiling.  It was getting darker, she
realized, wondering if it was the outside world
doing so, or the world within her.  Was her soul
bleeding out as well?

She didn't even feel the freezing sting that hit
her face, but she knew she was outside, from the
frosty exhale of Mulder's and the snow that
covered his hair.  The roar of a truck pulling
away filled her ears.

"Stop!"

No, Mulder, she wanted to say.  It's too late.

"Damn it, Scully, don't you die on me."  His
mutter sounded so far away.

Everything narrowed to a trickle of sound... the
distant firecracker pop of gunshots... the
squishing of shoes sliding over treacherous
pavement... the thump of a heartbeat under her
ear.

"Stop, God damn it!"

Too late.  He was gone.

Just as she herself was.  She closed her eyes,
the breath leaving her body.


**********


9:27 p.m.


The first thing she heard was a creaking beside
her left ear.  The first thing she felt was the
solid hardness beneath her back.  The first
thing she saw was a pair of placid blue eyes,
unblinking as they looked upon her face,
surrounded by a sea of white.  The lined, flat
cheeks and gray hair were so familiar.

"Get up, Miss Scully," the lips below those eyes
said.

Get up?  Was he kidding?  She couldn't move...
it was impossible, didn't he know that?

"You can," he murmured.  "Try."  He unfolded
from his crouch beside her to balance on one
knee, holding out a swaying hand.

No, no!  Awareness hit her with sledgehammer
force.  She squeezed her eyes shut, sadness
making her chest tight.

Mulder was dead - he had to be.  Surely if she
was in the hands of his father, with Mulder
nowhere in sight, then she must have been
captured.  Either that, or she was in hell.

She prayed that she was dead; kept her eyes
closed against the probability that all was lost
now.  The calm features of Cancerman stared back
at her.  "You're alive, Miss Scully.  Now rise -
there's no time to waste."

Except something told her this was different. 
There was no gloating in those eyes, no smug
smile of victory.  What the hell was happening
here?  Her arms and legs tingled with feeling. 
Other than a stiffness in her neck that was
fading with every second, she felt fine.

Still unsure, but knowing that all was not as it
seemed, she grabbed the gnarled hand and sat up,
blinking away the cobwebs, feeling as though her
skin was on fire.  Her free hand rubbed at her
neck.

"Sensation is returning," the man said above
her.  Suddenly, his voice changed, becoming
softer and more melodious, untinged by years of
smoking.  "That's all it is.  No need to panic."

Her eyes shot up into the bland features of
Jeremiah Smith.  A gasp broke free and her mind
embraced the logic with snatching, greedy
fingers.  It all made sense at once;  the ease
with which he'd moved about the building... the
eerie feeling she'd had that he was familiar to
her... the reason she now lived.  But why appear
to her as Cancerman?

"If we're stopped for some reason, it makes
sense that I appear as the Appointing Authority. 
With his face, we can buy some time."

Of course - the Guardsmen would not shoot at the
boss.  The news of Cancerman's death had
probably not made it out of the building yet, if
the chaos she remembered was indicative of their
crippled communications.  Jeremiah didn't know
that the old man was dead; but still, it was a
good move on his part.

The only problem was - if Krycek's men caught
sight of him, he was toast.

"I'm sorry I frightened you."

A shaky smile broke over her lips as she pulled
herself up to sit. <Don't let the Resistance
catch you looking like that, okay?>

"Of course not," he replied, as if she was a
fool for even thinking it.  The hybrid obviously
had no sense of humor.  "Miss Scully?"  The
query was spoken with innocent curiosity as he
helped her to stand.  Surprised by the abrupt
question, she cocked an eyebrow and urged him to
continue.

"My hybrid physiology prevents me from feeling
fear and acute pain as humans do, but I'd like
to make a request of you."

Surprise gave way to confusion.  What could he
possibly want from her? <Anything,> she signed,
eager to grant him whatever his heart desired,
though she knew it wouldn't be much.  The
hybrids she'd had dealings with over the years
were basically emotionless beings with little or
no needs.

"It doesn't matter if it would be done without
benefit of anesthesia, but if 'I'm gonna rip
your balls off if you don't stop that fucking
truck' means what I think it means," he paused
thoughtfully, and she saw the inner workings of
a logical, hybrid mind through his serious eyes. 
The corners of her mouth turned up, but he
ignored her amusement, still thinking it through
as he continued, "then the prospect of losing my
testicles fills me with a little dismay.  But of
real importance is the fact that Agent Mulder
would be putting his life in serious jeopardy
should he choose to draw my blood.  And you may
want to also convey to him that threats of my
being 'neck-skewered with a bullet' will not
make my healing powers work any faster. Just
something he may want to remember."

At that, her smile broke free into an almost
hysterical flood of tears.

Jeremiah clutched at her shoulders, concern
creasing his brow.  "Miss Scully?  What is it -
are you all -"

He broke off and into a stumble as the van
lurched to a stop, a muffled, "Shit!"
accompanying the staccato pings of gunfire that
ricocheted off its outer walls.  The small bulb
above their heads was killed and darkness filled
the windowless compartment.  Jeremiah righted
himself and her just as the connecting door
between the cab of the truck and its bay was
flung open.

"Scully?"  It was a soft caress filled with awe. 
Again, he breathed, "Scully," tears choking his
voice.

Mulder stood transfixed, his outline backlit by
the glare of headlights.  As her eyes adjusted
to the dim light, she could see the sweaty
paleness hollowing his cheeks and smears of
blood dotting his shirt and hands.  She moved
toward him, smiling through her tears and
holding out her hand.  With a sigh, he dragged
her into a tight embrace.

"I thought I'd lost you."

I *was* lost, she thought.  But once again, you
saved me.  She hiccuped into his shoulder,
trying to regain some control.

"We've no time for this," Jeremiah said behind
them.  "Get yourselves ready to move."

The gunfire had ceased momentarily, and shouts
could be heard moving closer.  Julia moved away
from Mulder, feeling for his cheek in a hopeful
touch of joy, brushing away his tears.   He
returned the gesture, his thumb tweaking her
lips.  She nodded against his hand, telling him
that they would have time for a real reunion
later.  Under her hand, his head snapped up, his
words barked in Jeremiah's direction.

"We've got to move fast."

Julia saw the man react, watched his shadow move
past them to slam the door shut.  Plunged into
darkness, she held fast to Mulder and listened
to Jeremiah move about.  Thumps and swooshes of
material echoed in their close confines.  "You
get behind these.  I'll divert them away," came
from a corner of the van.

They felt their way to the sound of his voice. 
Her foot touched a bag, then another, before she
realized what he'd done.  A mound of laundry
bags awaited them, with a hole just big enough
for her and Mulder to squeeze through.

His next words came to them in that most hateful
voice.  "When they've gone after me, set out on
foot."

Julia couldn't help the small flinch at the
sound of their enemy, though she'd seen him just
moments ago.  Mulder didn't flinch, just pulled
her with him.  The lights were closer now, and a
piercing beam came through the small vent in the
door that separated the cab from their hiding
place.  Several shards of broken light slashed
across the face before her, giving it a ghostly
appearance and making her shiver.  She couldn't
help it, she had to sidestep the man before them
- it was an instinct honed over the yeaars that
would never go away, despite her knowing this
wasn't really him.

"Thank you," Mulder said quietly, facing him one
last time.  "We never could have gotten out if
not for you.  And you gave Scully back to me...
I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything - just hide," the man said,
though he gave Julia a meaningful look, as if
she could somehow temper Mulder's behavior.  Fat
chance.

Mulder stepped into the cocoon of bags, tugging
on Julia's hand.  She stopped for a moment and,
taking a deep breath, gathered her courage. 
This hesitance to address him was ridiculous; he
was not Cancerman.

<You get out if you can.>

"I'm of no consequence, Miss Scully.  I never
was."

She smiled at his confusion, knowing the hybrids
were basically bred without a sense of value and
the need for attachments to other humans.  <You
are to me.> Reaching up, she hid her revulsion
at his face and brushed his cheek with her lips.
<Thank you.>

His face, while not his usual, was pleasantly
surprised as he brought a hand up to his cheek. 
Bright eyes settled on her once before he turned
to the back door.  "I'm opening it now."

Mulder didn't wait any longer; he pulled her in
with him and mounded the bags around them,
whispering, "Keep still."

They heard the door to the van open, then a
harsh voice commanded, "Stop right there!"

"I'm unarmed!"

God, he was good, she thought.  Even the voice
was perfect.

Then nothing but muffled shouts; Julia knew the
door had been closed again.  But some clarity of
sound reached her ears.

"That's not him!" she heard the voice say. 
"We've had confirmation that he's down!"

Mulder's curse was lost under the bags.  If she
could have, she would have done the same;
despite the felling of the Guardsmen in the
building, word had trickled out somehow to those
left in the perimeters.

"Stop him!" A hail of gunfire made her jump.
Jeremiah had made a run for it, apparently.

In moments, the van was liable to be searched. 
They'd better be ready to run.  She squirmed
against Mulder, reaching for what she knew she'd
need.

"What the hell?" he hissed, his hands coming
down to grab hers.  "What are you doing?"

But she broke free of his grasp and zeroed in on
his pockets.  After a moment, she heard a growl
next to her ear.  "Scully, give me some warning
next time, okay?  That's not a place to be
grabbing a guy, especially when the hounds are
at the door."

Rolling her eyes, she pulled the socks from
their confinement.  There was no way she had
room to maneuver and she just fisted them in her
palms, stilling at the rush of air that signaled
the door was opening.

"We know you're in there - come on out!"

"Shit," Mulder whispered, echoing Julia's
sentiments exactly.  It looked like they weren't
even going to get a chance to run, but she
nudged Mulder anyway, willing to give it a shot. 
"No way," he hissed.  "I'm not putting you in
danger again."  She felt the barrel of the
stolen gun brush her hand.  "You run for it.  Go
out the front.  I'll hold them off."

No, she insisted with a shake of her head
against his chest.  I'm staying right here. 
What he was asking would mean his certain death.

"Damn it, Scully, do what I -"

He broke off at the sudden burst of light into
their nest.  Before she could hold him back, he
scrambled from the bags, gun held out before
him.



End Chapter Twenty-eight