Julia
Chapter Eleven

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


Undisclosed location
West Virginia Mountains
July 16, 2001
9:42 p.m.


"These are the same types of readings we saw in
Bellefleur," Byers said, fingering the stack of
printouts.  "When Mulder -" He broke off and
cleared his throat, flushing at Scully's stare.

"So this means...."  Scully was calm, staring
eerily at him from across the map table.

"There are more ships," Krycek finished.  "At
least six, all cloaked and nearly impossible to
detect.  Situated in and around the metropolitan
D.C. area."

"But Washington is supposedly a ghost land,"
Frohike stated.  "A big pile of rubble.  Why
bother?"

Scully had the same question on her mind.  The
information they'd gathered suggested that
Cancerman and his faithful were still in the
Washington area.  But where?  In these ships? 
Not likely.  From what Mulder had described to
her of the massive ship in Antarctica, it was
not suitable for human inhabitation.

She skimmed her hands over the printouts,
spreading them out for easier analysis.  "Do
these readings correspond to the readings in
Bellefleur?  Are the ships approximately the
same size and shape?"

Frohike and Byers exchanged glances before
moving around the table to join her in looking
over the printout.

"Basically, yes.  With the exception of one or
two," Byers added.

"One or two?  How so?"

"Judging from the readings at these two sites,"
he pointed to the printout, "the ships here are
not as broad, as wide in diameter.  If I had to
guess what they looked like, I'd compare them to
the old Saturn V rockets.  Monstrous, really."

Scully caught her breath with a flash of
intuition.  "Like skyscrapers?"

Byers looked at Frohike, then back.  "I suppose
so."  His eyes widened as he, too, realized what
it meant.  "If they can effectively hide a
spacecraft, then they can hide anything...."

"Including skyscrapers," Frohike breathed.

Though their primary goal for weeks had been to
decipher Cancerman's plan, an opportunity to
strike at the head of the beast didn't come
along every day.  Scully looked at Krycek and
could see the wheels turning in his eyes.

He addressed the Gunmen.  "I need information. 
Anything you can get me."

They scuttled away without another word, and
Krycek lifted his gaze to Scully.

"You realize what this means, don't you?" he
asked quietly.

Scully still didn't trust him totally, but over
the past weeks, they'd formed an uneasy
alliance.  Everyone in the bunker knew that
certain death waited for them above.  And
Krycek, while not going out of his way to help
in their research, certainly had proven to be
very valuable in matters of espionage and arms
procurement.

He was driven... by revenge or justice, she
couldn't tell.   His cryptic comment about
wanting 'freedom' was sincere; could it be
possible that at long last, he was tired of
running, of hiding in the shadows?  She didn't
feel like analyzing Krycek's motives.  He'd
always played it close to the vest and she was
weary of trying to decipher the man behind the
menace.  But one thing she *could* tell from the
gleam in his eye....

"We've found what you're looking for?"  Scully
couldn't help the small grin that accompanied
her reply.

He smiled and straightened up from the table. 
"And what *you're* looking for as well, Scully. 
The pieces are coming together, just like that
ship in Africa.  Like a jigsaw puzzle."  With
one last determined set of his jaw, he added,
"And I guarantee that old bastard will stay dead
this time."

Scully said nothing as she watched him move to
hover over the Gunmen at the computers.  Her
mind was busy leaping to hopeful conclusions.

Krycek was one step closer to finding his boss. 
To freeing himself from the shadow of the
conspiracy once and for all, if that was his
goal.

And she was one step closer to finding Mulder.


**********


Washington, D.C.
February 9, 2001
6:45 a.m.


God, his chest was so soft under her cheek. 
Softest thing she'd ever known, she thought,
burying her nose into the cotton and inhaling
deeply.  It was unusually soft, actually, pillow
soft....

Julia's eyes opened to the familiar feel of her
pillow beneath her head.  Her heart sank when
she realized she was alone.  Mulder must have
put her in her room sometime during the night,
though she'd not even felt the slightest
movement.  Disappointment flooded her; she so
wanted to wake up in his arms.

The bedside clock read 6:45 a.m. - Mulder would
be gone for his workout by now.  He usually
returned by 7:30 and was out of the door by
8:00, having eaten breakfast and showered. 
Julia quickly got out of bed and made a beeline
for the bathroom.

She wanted to speak to him this morning.


**********


Mulder stopped just inside the door,
embarrassment tinging his cheeks a faint pink. 
If not for the blush of color, she would have
likened him to a statue.

"Oh... good morning."  His eyes avoided hers for
a second or two, then came back to hers as she
moved to rise.

Julia stood at the end of the couch with a
hopeful look. <Good morning, Fox.> She busied
her shaky hands with the words. <How do you
feel?>

Mulder legs unlocked and he moved to the
breakfast cart for his usual orange juice. 
"Better, now," he replied, then added softly,
"though I felt like shit earlier."

A small smile graced her features; with the
amount of alcohol he'd consumed last night, he
must have one hell of a headache.  He didn't
look as pasty as he had been last night, though. 
She figured the exercise had made him sweat off
a lot of the toxins in his bloodstream. 

If anything, he looked utterly desirable, in the
unkempt, unshaven way of the male animal.  Julia
felt the familiar heat building, propelling her
forward.

"I'm sorry about last night, Julia," Mulder
said, his quiet voice forestalling her advance. 
"Guess I had too much to drink.  It won't happen
again."

Won't happen again?  Did he mean he wouldn't
speak to her again?  Julia moved to his side and
tugged on his arm, her confusion palpable in the
air between them.  She wanted it to happen
again.  She wanted him to hold her, to tell her
he loved her....

"Please, Julia," Mulder shrugged off her hand,
"I don't feel like talking right now."  He
sidestepped her on his way to the bedroom, but
Julia was quicker, planting herself firmly in
his path.

<What's wrong, Mulder?>

"Don't call me that," he growled.

<I called you Mulder last night,> she signed
furiously. <You didn't stop me then.>

"I should have," he replied tightly.  "I should
also have kept my drunken mouth shut, but I
didn't."

<I'm glad you talked to me.>

Mulder sighed and took a step back from her
probing eyes.  "Listen, Julia.  I don't remember
a lot of it, but I know I said a lot of things
last night that were uncalled for.  No, wait,"
he grabbed her hands to stop her reply.  "I
don't know how much you know about me, but it's
not good for you to attach yourself to me."

He let go of her hands and moved even further
away.  "You're not her, you never will be.  If I
could guarantee your safety, I'd send you far
away from me."

Julia followed his retreat, her hands fumbling
with the words.  They refused to cooperate,
however, lagging so far behind the screaming in
her mind, her objections became gibberish.

<Stop... don't do this... you must know....>

Mulder turned his back on her frustration. 
"Stop it!  Just... stop, Julia."  He brought his
hands to his head, as if by covering his ears,
he could block out her pleas.  It hurt Julia
just to look at his angry back; the wall of bone
and sinew was final in its rigidity.  "You don't
know what I am - what I've become.  If you did,
you'd hate me."

Oh, Mulder, she thought.  I believed once that I
could hate you, but not anymore.

"You'd hate me," he said again, his words faint. 
"Then they'd take you away."

He dropped his hands and half-turned, his look
one of such pain and distress, she felt it in
her bones.

This has to stop and stop now, she told herself. 
She planted herself before him like a brick
wall, intent upon revealing herself to him.

"Sir?"

Julia started at the sound of the unfamiliar
voice coming from the doorway.  A Guardsman
hovered just inside the open door, his shiny
face a portrait of haughty pride.

"Sir, the Appointing Authority needs to see you
right away."

"I have to get dressed," Mulder sneered, already
on his way to his room.

"I was instructed to wait, sir."  His voice
trailed off as Mulder disappeared into his
bedroom.

Julia turned her back on the Guardsman; his
haughty look had disappeared the moment Mulder
left the room.  In its place was a blatant
ogling that unnerved her.  Usually, she could
stare down any man.  But that was in another
lifetime; she was now no better than an object,
a toy to be played with.  Used and abused by the
men in power.

Not that this pawn in the chain of command would
dare say or do anything to her, but his leering
was enough to make her turn away and face the
window, wrapping her arms around her body in a
gesture of anger and humiliation, the pale blue
negligee no defense against any man's lust. 
Would she ever wear *real* clothes again?  Ever
feel in control?

Steel resolve straightened her spine and she
vowed not to be intimidated any longer.  Knowing
any show of defiance was foolhardy, she
refrained from challenging the Guardsman by
facing him again.  She knew there was no way to
keep the cold, haughty pride from her eyes.

But it didn't stop her from standing as tall as
she could, setting her shoulders and letting her
hands fall to her sides as fists.  One day soon,
she would rise from subservience and resume the
full posture of freedom.

And if temporary abasement was the least she had
to endure, she could do it.  After all, she'd
already traded away a face and an identity; she
was willing to bargain with her body and soul,
if necessary.  Anything to assure victory.

"You like it up here, baby?"  The murmur floated
across the room, just as she knew it would.  She
could feel the Guardsman's interest sparked by
her stiff form.  "Fucking that gimp in there?"

Julia closed her eyes and counted to ten, hoping
for Mulder's return before she gave in to her
anger.

"They say he can't get it up... that true?"

She hissed in a breath and squeezed her eyelids
tightly shut.

"They say she cut his balls off, too."  The
voice was now whispering.  "You need it, baby,
you just ask me... I'll give it to you."

That's it, she thought, preparing to turn
around.

"Get out."  Mulder's voice was quiet but deadly
in the suddenly stifling air of the room, making
Julia start.  She hadn't heard him return.  "I
said, get out."

"I was instructed to wait for you... *sir,*" the
Guardsman said, the mockery evident in his
reply.  Did Mulder not have the power she
thought he did?  First the Guardsman's pressing
of her, then the sass of Mulder; he may have
been a menial, but he wasn't afraid of the
Minister, that was evident.

Of course, sexual dalliance with a muted
concubine was a punishment-free proposition. 
Even if a concubine could speak, who would
believe her word over that of a trusted soldier
of the Appointing Authority?

"Then wait outside."  Julia didn't turn around,
but she could feel Mulder's ire singe her spine. 
"Do it!"

She jumped at his shout; dear God, would they
come to blows over this?  She should have left
the room when the Guardsman first came in.  But
no, she had to try to talk to Mulder.  Had to
press the issue even though he was having none
of it.

"Yes sir," came the soft reply, and she sagged
with relief as she heard the Guardsman shuffle
away.

After the door clicked shut behind the odious
man, Julia felt a stir behind her.

"I'm sorry," Mulder apologized.  "I shouldn't
have left you alone with him.  It won't happen
again.  Do you see now what I mean?"

Julia hung her head with regret; just how was he
going to prevent it?  The soldiers in
Cancerman's army had free rein and she was
basically a slave.  If one of them chose to come
in here while Mulder was away, she would be at
his mercy.  It didn't matter that she was well-
trained in self-defense, her cover forbade any
resistance until the time was right.

"You're different, Julia," he continued.  "You
don't deserve this..." He paused, gesturing at
her skimpy attire.  "This parading around like a
whore.  And I won't see you treated that way.
*I* won't treat you that way.  I'm sorry if I
ever did."

She turned and raised burning eyes to his face.

<You never did.>

"Yes, I did," he insisted, "on the very first
day.  You're not some man's possession, you're a
person."

<I can be her, if you want.> Please, Mulder,
tell me you want me to be her.  Give me some
sign, like you did last night.

"I'm sorry, Julia.  If you knew her at all,
you'd know she'd never let any man do this to
her."

A stab of pain shot through her and she turned
away.  It was true, every word.  Just how far
had she lost herself to the mission?

She felt a hand on her shoulder and held her
breath while he spoke.

"You know, Julia, she would never have let any
man look at her that way.  She knew exactly how
to freeze someone with just her eyes."

Yes, she did.  Julia let out her breath in a
sigh, turning to face him.  His eyes were soft,
the edges crinkled with mirth.  She found
herself playing along with his turn of mood.

<Like this?> her hands said, and she pursed her
lips and squinted in an overdramatic Scully
pose.

Mulder grinned and brought his hand to her
temple, lifting her eyebrow with his finger. 
"Not enough eyebrow action, Julia," he said,
smiling.  "And your lips should...."  He trailed
off, sliding his hand down her face to soothe
the rigid line of her mouth with his thumb.

Julia parted her lips and let the warmth of her
breath caress the rough pad of his thumb.  Her
gaze dropped, mesmerized by the flutter of his
pulse underneath the skin of his neck.  It
jumped as if sensing her scrutiny, moving from a
slow, steady rhythm to a rolling throb, in
contrast to his husky, slurred words.

"Your lips should...."

His hand dropped from her face to her neck,
skimming the beat of her heart as it leapt up in
answer to his.  She brought her own to cover the
furious flow of blood under the pale scar that
disappeared into his sweatshirt.  Together they
swayed in the morning sunlight, ever closer to
one another.

"Julia."

At his sigh of her name, she raised her eyes to
meet his.  They were storm-tossed, grey and
questioning.  He was going to kiss her, she
realized.  At that moment, she wanted nothing
more.  All thoughts of revealing herself to him
were dismissed; a surge of desire unlike any
she'd felt before made her weak.  The plans
she'd held onto for months evaporated.

The universe narrowed in an instant as she rose
on tiptoe and touched her lips to his.

They were soft and tasted of mint.  Slightly
parted, they allowed her to explore at her
leisure, not responsive yet but not denying
either.  Just... there... as if he was afraid to
deepen the kiss for fear she'd fly away.

She counted to five, each second punctuated in
her mind with his name, venturing timidly in her
search for the soul of the man she knew still
lived beneath the scarred facade.  When she
pulled away, she saw it.

It was there in the lax line of his jaw, the
pink tinge of his cheekbones, the half-lidded
simmer of his dilated eyes.  This was Mulder,
her Mulder, the one she'd missed for many
months.  She opened her mouth to welcome him
home, wanting to tell him how much she loved
him, had always loved him.

His voice overpowered her useless attempt.

"You can never be her."  It was a sad sentence,
not meant to hurt her, she knew, but it sent
pain through her like a knife.  "I'm sorry,
Julia."  He moved away from the window and gave
her his back, his hand worrying the back of his
neck.

She moved to follow, but his words continued,
stronger and more resolute.  "I don't want to
open myself to you, Julia.  It happens every
time, you know.  I lose myself in the women he
gives me, wanting them to be her.  But it never
works and I'm tired of trying.  I told you last
night that I believed she was still alive...."

So he did remember his drunken confession.

"But my mind tells me she's dead, she's not
coming back," he finished.  His back heaved with
a heavy sigh.  "And I'm so tired of trying to
replace her.  So damned tired."  Before she
could make it to his side, he was gone, locked
into his bedroom.

Julia was devastated.  This was not what she
thought would happen when she aligned herself
with the Underground in their plan.  Mulder was
considered the enemy now; she was supposed to
lead them here with no regard for his safety or
hers.  She'd resigned herself long ago that this
was, in all likelihood, a suicide mission.

Now she wanted to live.  She wanted Mulder to
live.  It didn't matter what he'd been doing for
Cancerman all this time; he was still the same
man deep inside.

She would find a way.  Starting with telling him
who she was.

In ten minutes, he emerged from the bedroom,
dressed and ready for work.  Julia sat upon the
sofa, calm and ready.  At the sight of him, she
stood, her hands already in motion.

Mulder went to the door in swift strides,
ignoring her desperate movements, dropping a
black nylon bag just to the right of the door.

"The cleaning service will be by later today,
Julia.  If you need, there's a bag in your room
- don't use mine."

Like they'd just been discussing the weather,
Julia thought.  Nice to know he could still be
so blase about backing away from emotional
issues.

The thought made Julia pause, realization
filling her with sadness.  She was wrong. 
Mulder was never unwilling to talk - she was
always the one with communication problems.  The
irony didn't escape her - now that she was
unable to speak, she most wanted to open up to
him.

"No more, Julia," he pleaded over his shoulder. 
"We'll talk later, okay?  I have work to do."

With that, he was gone.  Julia was disappointed,
but undeterred.  She found his pad and pen and
sank into his chair, inhaling his scent from the
soft leather.  If he wouldn't sit still to watch
her speak, she would make sure he'd read it. 
The words flowed from her pen, in the precise,
studious handwriting she'd used for years down
in the basement.

Her first sentence - My name is Dana Scully.

On and on she went, pouring out her heart and
soul on the paper.  But she stopped short of
detailing just why she'd been sent here, why
she'd volunteered for the mission without a
moment's hesitation.  She didn't believe that
Mulder would give her away to his superior, but
it did matter if, by her carelessness, they were
caught.

If by some chance her letter fell into the wrong
hands - which it wouldn't, she'd see to it at
the first opportunity - then all she would be
revealing would be herself.  A renegade with a
bold plan to assassinate the Appointing
Authority along with his son.  After all, she'd
learned to lie with a straight face... a face
that wasn't her own.

And if Mulder was part of them now?  Unable to
contemplate the remote possibility, Julia
dismissed it.  He was her Mulder, and she could
not fathom otherwise.

She was with him at last.  Able to see him every
day, able to make his existence worthwhile, as
he had done for her.  They would find a way to
stay together;  outside, in the horror that so
many, herself included, had survived in the
months past.

The only problem?  They were coming.  Krycek and
his army.  They were just waiting for her
signal.

Which made his listening to her even more
imperative.  Time was running out.

The knock at the door surprised her and she
stuffed the pen and paper under the cushions of
his chair before rising to greet the servant
who'd already pushed open the door.

"Miss, do you have anything else?" he asked,
holding up Mulder's bag of laundry.  He was a
small man, soft-spoken.  Very different from all
the others here;  Julia sensed it immediately.

"Miss?"  He brought his gaze up momentarily from
its subservient scrutiny of the carpet.

Julia shook her head no, mesmerized by the
placid blue of his eyes.

Before she could communicate anything else, he
threw the bag into the cart behind him and
returned with a hanging bag.  "Would you see
that the Minister gets these?"

Julia took the clean laundry and laid it upon
the back of the sofa, thanking the man with a
nod.

As she watched him leave, she was once again
struck by how odd his behavior was.  Despite
Mulder's lofty position, most of the inhabitants
of this fortress, whether peon or not, treated
them both with disdain.

But this man... there was something about him
she couldn't put her finger on.  Something
important....

The ding of the elevator told her he was truly
gone and she shrugged off her feeling of
disquiet.  She had work to do.  She quickly took
the papers from their hiding place and retreated
to her bedroom.  Although it was just another
unlocked door, it did afford more privacy.

She really was losing it, she thought with a wry
grin.  Almost got caught by the laundry man.  A
very unsettling laundry man, but a laundry man
nonetheless.  Dana Scully would not have been so
careless.

But like Mulder had said, Dana Scully was dead.

Or so Julia had thought, before she'd been
ensconced in this ivory tower of inhuman greed.

Actually, Dana Scully had only been asleep.  She
was wide awake now and ready to rescue her
prince.



End Chapter Eleven
