Julia
Chapter Twelve

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


Undisclosed location
West Virginia Mountains
July 22, 2000
9:00 a.m.


"Scully, wake up."

The voice broke into her dreams, but she was not
unhappy.  Violent visions of walking bees and
hazy portraits of Mulder's bloody, mutilated
face dominated her sleeping hours.  Was he hurt? 
Somewhere in Cancerman's lair, screaming her
name in agony?

Her mother had always hinted that her family,
particularly the women, possessed the ability to
see the future.  She stopped short of calling it
'the Sight,' Catholic rigor about such
paranormal matters making the prospect taboo. 
Scully would grin at her mother's reluctance to
speak of it in such terms, considering that the
Church doctrine was based on accepting Christ's
teachings on blind faith.  If a person believed
that Jesus had once walked on water, why would
belief in your own sixth sense be so forbidden?

Besides that logic, Scully's skeptical mind
refused to accept the possibility that dreams
were nothing more than a myriad of synapses
firing randomly in the brain.  The product of
anxiety and exhaustion, in this case.

Or... the manifestation of raw, unfulfilled
desire, as was the case with her dream of two
nights ago.  Warmth suffused her at the memory
of that dream, a kaleidoscope of images that
involved Mulder and herself, wrapped in each
other's arms, their skin touching at every
possible pressure point....

"Scully!"

Her eyes shot open at the insistence of
Frohike's voice, as well as the shake he gave
her shoulder.

"What?"  She sat up and swung her legs over the
side of the bunk, the urgency in Frohike's voice
finally penetrating her sluggish brain.  "What
is it?"

"Something you ought to see.  Quickly," he
added, practically running from the room.

Her legs almost didn't cooperate, but she forced
herself to shake off her fatigue and she
followed him down the hall to the control room. 
A murmur rippled from the room... it hit her
ears with the force of a sledgehammer.  She
stopped for a disbelieving moment; it sounded so
familiar, that voice... music to her starving
senses.

It was him.  It had to be.  Dragging in a happy
gasp, she felt her lips part in a smile, the
first one she'd really felt deep in her bones
since she'd been here.  Her lethargy disappeared
in an instant and she rushed to the doorway,
grabbing the frame to steady herself.

"The promise of the future remains bright."

She couldn't see the monitor; the four men she'd
been quarantined with for the past weeks huddled
in front of it.  But that voice... like warm
chocolate syrup, sweet and sinful... flowed over
her, propelling her into the room to sample
further its siren song.

At her approach, the bodies parted, each face
turning to look upon her.  She went to the
monitor with halting steps, dragging herself to
it like an oasis in the desert.  His face came
into focus through the shimmer of her tears, a
glorious sun reflecting off the water that
promised to soothe her parched soul.

"All we ask is that you cooperate."

Cooperation?  From the ultimate rebel? 
Impossible, she thought.  This was a joke.  He'd
tapped into their system and was being a wise-
ass with the Gunmen.

"The Appointing Authority has your best
interests at heart.  The country needs your
support now more than ever."  The screen widened
as the camera zoomed out.  His arms appeared,
then his hands, folded in a loose clasp as they
rested on an expensive-looking table.  He was
impeccably dressed, buttoned down and so
handsome she wanted to weep.

"Please accept our help.  We only want to live
in peace."

The camera continued to move back and Scully
felt the room spin for a moment as another
figure rippled into the picture.  Smoke whirled
between the two men, but Mulder didn't flinch or
blink, his gaze trained at the camera.

The Appointing Authority's smile crinkled the
corners of his eyes, a cold show of teeth that
made Scully shiver.

"He's being brainwashed, like the others." 
Adamant in her conviction, she refused to
acknowledge any other possibility.  The Gunmen
were the recipients of her fiery glare.  "You
guys said there were subliminal messages in the
broadcasts."

"Just like that case years ago in Braddock
Heights," Byers agreed, "when you wigged out. 
Same signal... we finally isolated it a few days
ago, after Krycek warned us about it."  He
paused and looked at the others, hesitance
written in the crease of his brow.

"But?"  Scully felt his reluctance creep into
her chest, transforming it into dread.

Frohike cleared his throat and brushed Byers
aside, coming up to take her arm in a light
clasp.  "Mulder is red-green color blind,
Scully.  It's the reason why he was unaffected
years ago.  And the reason why he is...."

"Unaffected now," she finished in a dry whisper. 
Gathering herself, she shoved down her doubts
and set her jaw.

"I refuse to believe that.  This is not what it
looks like.  And I'm going to prove it."

She staggered down the hall, feeling the long-
forgotten tickle in her nose.  By the time she'd
made it to the restroom, her lips and chin were
bloody.


**********


Washington, D.C.
February 9, 2001
6:15 p.m.


Julia blinked away the memory and awoke from her
doze with a start.  She hadn't meant to fall
asleep and from the looks of the darkened suite,
what was once late afternoon was now early
evening.  She quickly turned on the floor lamp
beside her.  For a moment she panicked, her
hands skimming over her lap until they grazed
the paper wedged between her left hip and the
sofa arm.  Then she breathed a sigh of relief.

Her life in her hands.  Literally, every word on
the page could be her death knell.  She looked
at the folded piece of paper once more then
shoved it in her pocket, gathering her courage. 
Tonight.  She had to tell him tonight.

No more questioning her emotions, no more
second-guessing Mulder's motives, she promised
herself.  But she had an awful feeling that was
easier said than done.  It was in her nature to
question; the truth had always been his ultimate
goal, just as it had been hers as well.

Half-hearted promises aside, she did know one
thing for certain.  She was tired of living a
lie.  If he embraced her or had her thrown in
prison, at least she would accept it as Dana
Scully.  The way she'd always dealt with life's
ups and downs.

In the dark silence, the arrival of the elevator
sounded like a sonic boom, making her jump. 
Julia glanced at the clock; it was only 6:15 -
he was home early.

The front door opened and she stood, wiping her
palms on the emerald green dress.  She knew she
looked good in it.  Every piece of her wardrobe
had been picked out with seduction in mind.

Though she didn't remember picking out this
particular dress, she had to say that it was her
favorite of the clothes Eliza had helped select. 
She had protested during their trip to the shops
downstairs, eyeing the skimpy costumes Eliza
hand-picked with barely concealed disdain.  But
her companion had brushed aside her glares,
reminding Julia that she was here for one
purpose and one purpose only.  And she'd better
dress for it.

But this dress had been delivered late this
morning, apparently having been forgotten to be
delivered with the others.  It was of the
softest velvet Julia had ever put her hands to,
and, fashioned without buttons or zipper, it
fell over her shoulders to hug her torso to her
hips, where it flared gently to fall to her
ankles.  The sleeves laid along her arms to her
wrists like a lover's caress;  the neckline was
scooped and hugged her bosom provocatively.

A special dress for a special night, she hoped.



End Chapter Twelve