From: crystal hubert To: Subject: submitting fanfic Date: Sunday, June 03, 2001 4:22 PM Author: xenascully Title: Deliver Us Summary: M & S investigate a bleeding statue in Monaco...and Scully acquires a dead man's curse... Deliver Us Prolouge Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name... As I walk into this building, I am reminded of my childhood. My upbringing in church walls. ...Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in heaven... I remember when my mother gave me the chain I wear around my neck--the cross. Melissa and I both had them one Christmas morning. ...Give us this day our daily bread... I can smell the dinner we had on the Christmas I found Emily. ...Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us... I still feel the anger of when she was taken away--so soon. It hurts worse not to understand why. ...And lead us not into temptation... It would be so easy to give up my faith--or whatever it is that I have right now. It would be so easy to forget all of this... ...But deliver us from evil... But I will not. I can not. If I give up faith, I give up hope. If I have no hope than I have nothing. If I am nothing, I would be worthless. I havr faith in God. Faith that He will make the sun rise each morning and set each night. Faith that He will always watch over me. Faith that He will take care of the people I love who have been taken to be with Him. And faith that I will see them again someday. **************Part 1--Computer journal entry-- ::July 16th. Agent Mulder and I have been in Monaco for two days now. We were brought here to investigate into an incident of a "crying" statue of the Virgin Mary. I was almost surprised that this case, out of the several cases of statue stigmata in the world, had peaked his interest. But I didn't question him. Instead, he explained himself on the plane after our immediate departure. He said that the statue was crying tears of blood and that it had started after the sudden death of a man who belonged to the church. Stigmata isn't a stranger to Mulder and me. We've seen it before...I remember the boy I helped all those years ago. Cases like these seem to affect my psyche a little more than the usual cases Mulder takes me into. Perhaps it is because it's more believable than alien life or haunted houses...perhaps it is because it seems so much more real--and so close to home. I can't say exactly why, but I feel more involved in them than I should be. That scares me sometimes--I don't like to let my guard down. In the church today, I believe I did.::: I stop typing and pick up a rosery that is sitting beside my computer. I remember today, almost as if it had been a dream. It was the first time we'd set foot in the Roman Catholic Cathedral called La Condamine. It overwhelmed my senses to see the beauty it contained. I tried my hardest not to show it as Mulder and I made our way to the front of the church. There were people loudly praying out of sync with eachother, roseries in hand. Only when I heard Mulder speak did I tear my eyes from them. "What?" my gave found him then shot to the statue. I walked to it, my head swimming with possible explanations, inspecting the flowing tears that puddled onto the wooden floorboard and drained through the cracks in them. Mulder had climbed a ladder towards the top of the statue. He was looking briefly at the cieling above it, and pulled something from his pocket. I searched my own pockets then, fetching a latex glove. I knelt down and dipped a covered finger into the red substance, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger, "It does look like blood, Mulder," I stood and looked up at him as he held a vial under the flow of "blood", pulling it away only after it was full, "But there's reason to believe that it's not." He made his way down the ladder, tucking the closed vial back into his pocket, "Why do you say that, Scully?" I snapped my glove off. "Well, this has been going on for three days now, right? But I see no indication of drying. No discoloration of the statue, or any other signs of darkening." "Hey, Scully," his gaze had fallen elsewhere, "Did you notice there's a casket over there?" I followed his gaze, and sure enough--there it was. "Oh--Mulder, I think we may have interrupted a funeral," I looked back towards the group of people. "No," an unfamiliar voice caused me to spin around. It was a priest, well in his late 40's. He smiled at me, perhaps to break my startled state. "We just haven't decided whether to take him from the church just yet." "Is that Mertado Fernachen?" Mulder's brow lifted. "Yes." "Why?" I interrupted, "Do you believe that keeping him here will prolong these peoples' beliefs in this statue?" I was trying my best to see the truth in this--something that would cause me to think it untrue--but for some reason it was difficult for me to not believe--and that scared me. "Mertado is kept here because we believe that he is, in some way, connected to the statue, yes. But it is not because these people need to see this statue. It is because they need to understand why it is happening." "Do you know why, Father--" I waited for his name. "Saycosono. And no, I did not know Mertado that well. But I do know that he was a man of God. That he would have joined the priesthood had he not fallen in love with Nellie." I sensed that there was something he was holding back. "How did he die?" I asked. Saycosono hesitated. "It was told to me that he was murdered," his voice grew quiet, "That is all I am at liberty to say." "Could I--" "No one has been allowed to view the body. Nellie requested that much." "Has anyone examined it at all?" Mulder asked. My mind wandered suddenly from the conversation to the glimpse of fire I could see from the corner of my eye. I turned to look at it. There was an indentation in the wall on the right side of the church. A devotional was set up in it with candles and another statue of the Virgin Mary over top of it--her arms outstretched- -almost beckoning me to her... I don't even remember walking to the hypnotizing flames of the candles, or even picking up the balsa stick to light one. But memories of my father, my sister, my daughter--and countless others flooded there way into my mind all at once. It was at that moment that I realized just how little time I'd given myself to grieve--not that I'd been held back, except by myself- -my own reasons...not wanting to subject myself to the pain of loss... I feel myself drop to my knees in front of this table. Something I'd seen my parents do when I was young, but never understood then. My hands are folded and laying on the edge of the table and I look up at the statue. Suddenly I am overcome with sadness, and as I close my eyes, I feel tears streaming down my face. The sensation left as quickly as it had come. The I felt a presence next to me. I opened my eyes. Mulder was lighting a candle next to mine. He put the balsa stick back into the gray sand. He looked at me and gave me a smile as he knelt down beside me. He looked back at his candle and closed his eyes. I wondered what he was thinking about. His father, his sister, his mother...we only had eachother now...then I close my eyes again, my lashes clinging to one another from the tears. Then I feel his hand on mine and I open my eyes. I turn my hand so that I can grip his, and I meet his gaze...Then it hits me--I had been crying. Oh sure, I knew that I had been crying. But I hadn't realized up to this point that I had been crying in front of Mulder. My hand quickly left his and removed the evidence from my face as I stood. "So," I broke the silence, "What do we do next?" "Well, we have lots of choices, Scully: We could go get this stuff analyzed; we could interview Fernachen's Family; Or," he said with o boyish grin, "We could save this for tomorrow and go back to the hotel and chill..." "Chill, Mulder?" I failed to hold back a smile, "Okay then. Let's go and chill." But we would be held up a little longer than we thought.. A small boy has come up behind me so quietly that I wouldn't have noticed but for the way Mulder kept shifting his eyes towards him. The child looked up at me with puppy dog eyes. I glanced form him to Mulder, then to the boy again, not exactly sure what to do. The he held his hand out to me. In it was a dark-colored rosery. "He means for you to have it," I notice a woman behind him, "It belonged to his father. He believes you should have it. He says it will help you because you are so sad, " I swallow, not wanting to disturb their beliefs, and I take the necklace form the boy's hand. To my surprise, he puts his other hand up as if he wants me to pick him up. "He only wishes to hug you. Samuel feels compelled to heal other people's suffering," she smiles at me, "I do not tell him no because sometimes it works." I knelt down if front of Samuel and hugged him as his little hands reached around my neck. I am once again hit with this wave of sadness--perhaps becasue of how it felt to hug a child--then I let him go and he kissed my cheek and walked away. "Thank you," I tell his mother, "Tell him I said thank you." "He understands you," she said simply, then followed behind her son. Now, as I sit here in front of my laptop, I inspect the rosery more closely. I notice that it is made from some sort of stained wood. It is quite beautiful. "Scully?" I hear a light tapping on the door connecting my room to Mulder's. I close my laptop and set the rosery on top of it. "It's open," I stand and open the top drawer of the dreeser. "Hey," he poked his head in, "I know you're hungary," he smiled. I smiled back. "Yeah, but I really don't feel like going out--" "That's okay, Scully," he stepped all the way in and held up a menu, "I asked the clerk what I could get around here that our American stomachs could handle," Then I smell the food and my stomach growls. "Come on, Scully," he motioned me towards his room, "Dinner is served." I feel his familiar hand on the small of my back leading me to sit at the small set table. He pulled my chair out for me and I shot him a quick, lop-sided smile before I sit--Damnit! What is with all this smiling? I didn't feel like smiling. Oh. Maybe this is one of those defense mechanisms I have. Starnge, but effective nonetheless; putting on a happy face when really I feel like breaking down. And this whole thing with Mulder--what is this? Can he see right through me? Right through my false happiness? Can he see the pain I am trying so desperately to hide form him? "This is so nice, Mulder," I scan my choices, "Thank you," He smiled at me again as he sat across from me. I began to fill my plate with vegatables and rice and immediately began a conversation, "So what did the priest say about the body?" "Oh, umm..." he swallowed whatever e had in his mouth, "We can pick up a report from the loca authorities, but that's about all." "It's kinda strange that the family wouldn't want to let us do whatever we can to find this man's killer," I scoop some dark rice into my mouth. "Oh--the clerk called and said there was a messege from Fernachen's wife at the front desk. Remind me to get that," he scooped something into his mouth. And I say "something" because I'm really not sure what it is. "So, he has a wife and how many children?" "Just one--" he said with his mouth full, "A boy--eight I fink?" I laugh at him. "Mulder, shut up when you have food in your mouth! I don't wanna see that!" I scooped vegis into my own mouth. Soon the table was empty. I felt full--too full. I think we both did--Mulder had been sitting there for the past ten minutes just trying to keep it down. I inwardly giggled again. I was so tired it was hard to believe it was only 7PM. "I think I'm gonna take a bath," I stand. "I think I'm gonna take a shit," I think he was as surprised as I was to hear him say that, and we both laughed again. We went our seperate ways--I to my bathroom to turn on the faucet in the tub. I picked up a bottle of bubble-bath and fussed with the unmoving plastic seal. After a few minutes, I cursed under my breath and headed back to Mulder's room. The door was still open and I walked in. I could hear him humming, "Joy to the World" from the bathroom and I almost laughed out loud. So much for Mulder's help. But the knife on the table captured my eye. I picked up the steak knife and headed back to the bathroom as I tried to slice throught the seal, "Oh shit!" I dropped the bottle and it smashed to the floor, spilling the liquid everywhere. "There go my bubbles," I do my best to clean it up with toilet paper instead of the towels--God knows if they'll give me more towels... I finally strip from my clothes and get into the half-filled tub. The water was hot--but very nice. I layed back and stretched my legs--there were some advantages to being short-- this was one of them. I breathe in deep and look around the room, noticing I'd left the bathroom door open--oh well. I trusted Mulder not to walk in on me. The water was high enough now, and I turned the knob off with my foot. Silence. I breathe in deep again and I close my eyes as I exhale. I feel like I could fall asleep right here... Suddenly I am overcome with a sensation of fear--my eyes open, but my world is black and I can't move--I can't breathe...I look around with my eyes as if there would be something there in the dark--but there is nothing. But then I hear something--I loud metal clanging on either side of me--and pain--God, the pain-- and suddenly I can breathe again and all I can think to do is scream...Then Mulder is with me--I can hear him... "Oh, God, Scully!" Mulder ran into the bathroom after hearing her cries, "Scully!" he knelt down beside the tub--the water red now--with blood. He pulled her hand from the water. Her wrist was the sorce of the bleeding, "Oh, Scully, what have you done?" he panicked as he looked around. He saw the knife on the floor. He ran out to get the phone and pulled it into the bathroom as he knelt down beside her again. She wasn't responding to him--it was as if she'd been on a heavy drug. Her eyes were glazed over and didn't focus on anything; her head fell from side to side..."I need an ambulance! I need you to call an ambulance and tell them to get here--room 106--it's an emergency! Please!" his voice cracked as he let the phone fall tothe floor, "Oh, God, Scully, why?" he whispered as he reached to her and pulled her from the tub. He layed her in his lap, ripping towels from the rack and wrapping them around her wrists and tying them tight. He cradled her in his arms, "Scully?" his hand pushed the wet strands from her face. Her breath was shallow and her lips were parted. He couldn't tell whether it was water or sweat on her face, "Can you hear me?" sobs shook his body now, "Scully, what happened? Why would you do this? Why would you--" he pulled her to him and buried his face in her neck as he rocked her... Princess Grace Hospital Center 2 Hours later "I did not try to kill myself!" she yelled at the doctor, "I wouldn't do that--there's no reason!" "Ms. Scully, we've been through this--" "Well obviously you're not listening to me! Look, find my partner, he'll tell you--Agent Mu--" "Mulder?" the doctor looked up from her chart, "He's here. He's waiting outside," she looked back at her chart, "He's the one that called us." Oh, God. Meaningless thoughts ran through my head, "Can you tell him to come in here?" I asked quietly as I closed my eyes. "Sure," I heard her walk out. I didn't open my eyes till I heard him come in. "Scully?" The look on his face made me want to cry. I did my best to conjur up a smile for him. "Mulder, what happened?" I watched him sit next to me. His hand gripped my arm right below my elbow. "Don't you remember?" he asked me. "I--I remember getting in the tub. I remember accidentally breaking something right before that.." "You don't remember--cutting yourself?" he swallowed so hard, it sounded as if he were trying to keep something down. "I didn't--" "I saw--I saw the knife, Scully," his head dropped and I couldn't see his face. "I--was trying to open the bubble bath with it--that's what I broke--" His head shot back up to me, tears streaming his face. "Scully," I couldn't speak. I could only put my hand on his, "Why? Why would you do this?" Then I became angry, "Mulder, I told you I didn't! I told you! Why don't you believe me?" "Because you don't remember, Scully?" he voice cracked as he shouted, "How would you know you didn't do it?" "Because I wouldn't!" I calm my voice, "You know that, Mulder. I do remember something--but not this--not cutting myself," I sensed his waiting for me to continue, "I heard loud clanging, but I couldn't see anything...and I heard screams--but it was too dark..." "Mr. Mulder," the doctor came in, "We're going to have to move her." "For what?" I asked. No one answered me, "Where are you taking me?" "Somewhere we can watch you." "No. No, this is rediculous. Mulder," He looked at me almost as if he was figuring something out, "Mulder, tell them to let me go!" He stood, "Mulder!" "Wait, I'll take her," he walked to where they had moved her across the room, "I'll watch her, just let me take her out of here." ***************Part 2---- The drive back seemed endless. I was staring down at the wrappings on my wrists--What happened indeed. I could only imagine what Mulder was thinking. I looked over at him. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, obviously in thought--or trying to avoid my eyes. I could see the pain in them. What could he have thought? "Scully," he spoke softly, "Is there something you're not telling me?" I stare blankly at him. "You don't believe me, do you?" I said more as a statement than a question. "I don't know- I- I don't understand. Was it something I did?" "Mulder--" I saw a tear running down his cheek again, and I did not have the words to explain to him, "I don't know how to say this. How can I make you believe me? What makes you think that after all I've been through--after everything I've lost--what makes you think that I would want to do this now? In the middle of Europe where nothing pertains--why would I do this, Mulder?" I watched him close his eyes briefly then look back at the road. "I don't know, Scully," he practically whispered. "The fact is, I wouldn't. I know that, and damnit, Mulder, you should know that too." He didn't speak, but seemed to be in another state af thought. I looked back down at my wrists, then to the folder--my medical results--then I asked him, "Why did you decide to take me out of there, if you don't believe me?" He shot a glance at me. "I didn't say I don't believe you. I said I don't understand." I looked at him hard for a moment. "Neither do I." I made my way to my hotel room door and noticed that Mulder was waiting behind me. I didn't say anything though. I opened the door and walked in, stopping in my tracks at the site of the bathroom. I felt Mulder's hand on my shoulder--not knowing whether it was to comfort me or to help him know that it was okay now--that it was over. I felt my breath shudder from me as I saw the blood-run water and the bloody towels on the floor. Mulder squeezed past me and knelt beside the tub. He stuck his hand in the red water and pulled the stopper from the drain. I forced myself to turn away from the sound. My heart sank in my chest. I suddenly understood how Mulder must've felt. I closed my eyes for a moment, until I felt Mulder's hand on the small of my back once again. He led me to sit on my bed and he sat next to me. I saw the folder in his lap right before he opened it. He was looking for something--maybe something in that folder would give him answers--something that would make him believe that I was telling him the truth. I waited patiently. I could hear his breathing clearly, and I realized that I was leaning on him, my ear on his shoulder. I felt his arm sneak around and his hand rubbed up and down my back. It felt good, so I didn't move to stop him. "It says here that the wounds were probably made by a blunt metal object, traveling all the way through--" he stopped reading and took my wrist in his hand, flipping it several times. That's when I realized for the first time that the blood was coming through on both sides. Flashes came back into my mind of a little boy--the wounds on his hands--the stigmata--but this wasn't my hands. This was different...right? "This doesn't make sense, Scully," his hands folded in his lap, "I saw a knife in there--but nothing that could do that. Not even if you'd wanted to..." he looked at me when my head came off his shoulder, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, I'd have to question us both," He smiled at me. "I've heard of it before, Scully. Who's to say that Christ was nailed to the cross throught the palms when it would have been more likely to support his weight by doing it through the wrists?" "Well then how do you explain all the other cases of stigmata, Mulder? The people who have had them through there palms?" "Well maybe what we're dealing with--or them for that matter, isn't neccessarily Christ's wounds, but someone else's? Another victim of the same punishment?" "But why?" the new direction threw me off of my original arguement, "Why would anyone have to suffer an insignificant man's wounds?" "Why would anyone have to suffer Christ's wounds, Scully?" I looked into the air in thought I suppose, "I mean think about it; If you truly believe that Christ suffered and died for our sins so that we wouldn't have to suffer for them, then why angle out certain people to go through the same thing? And why does it happen to truly faith-filled, church going Christians? More likely Catholics? Why would the good suffer for the evil-- then punish them in response?" There was a moment of silence as I analyzed his words in my head. What he was trying to say in so many words was that there was no reason to believe that stigmata had to be singled out to be the wounds of Christ--it could be the wounds of any man who had suffered the same fate--any man that had almost surely deserved that fate, unlike Christ who had been out to death unjustifiably--for no reasons in the purposes of justice. Christ died for human kind--not for the sins which He had none of, but for our sins. There was no reason for another person to suffer that. So what was he getting at? What was Mulder trying to say to me? That I am possessed by a man who was sentenced to death for a crime unknown to me? I think I would've been more comfortable the other way. "What are you trying to say, Mulder?" I looked at him again, "That I am suffering from stigmata? Why me? Why now?" "I don't know, Scully. But it's a lot easier on me to believe that than it is to believe that you tried to kill yourself," he set the folder on the bed. I was quiet then because I didn't know what to think or believe. I didn't know whether I should explore further possibilities--like that I might have had a ceisure--but that still wouldn't have explained it. Then I felt his arms scoop around me and hold me close. I instinctively hugged him back, our chins resting on eachother's shoulder. From the way he was breathing, I could tell he was holding back tears. I squeezed him to me a little tighter and tucked my face in his collarbone, and felt his hand come up into my hair. "I just don't wanna lose you," his voice cracked, "Especially not like that," I felt him kiss my hair, then my cheek, and then my forehead, after which, he leaned his forehead against mine and closed his eyes, "Scully, I was so scared," I opened my eyes when I felt his warm tear fall to my arm, "I didn't know what to do--what to think--" I pulled away and put my hand on his wet cheek. "Mulder, whatever you thought, you were wrong," His eyes opened to look at mine, "I don't want you to think that you have to worry about me, or--or watch over me. I'm okay, and I'm not at all upset with my life, Mulder. Not enough to want to end it." He tried to fake a smile and he took my hand from his cheek, once more looking at my wrist, "Does it still hurt?" "Not really," I was greatful he'd changed the subject, "It hasn't really at all since we left the hospital." "With all the painkillers they gave you, I'm surprised you're still awake." "I am kinda tired, now that you mention it." "Then you should get some sleep," he stood bringing the file with him, "I'm gonna hit the hey, too. I'll see you in the morning," he kissed my cheek again and headed towards the connecting door, "If you're up to it, I'm meeting with the Fernachen's tomorrow after lunch. I'd like for you to come." "Okay," I said simply, and he smiled and walked out, closing the door behind him. I put my ear to the door--perhaps to make sure that she's okay. To make sure that she wasn't going to try anything. I mentally smack myself for not believing her still. I mean, I do believe her--I believe that she doesn't know and that she doesn't remember what happened. And yet there is still the fact of what she could have used... I don't completely understand why I can't push myself totally to the idea that it is stigmata. Perhaps it is because I have learned not to put anything personally Scully's into a catagory of the X Files. After a minute or two, I hear her switch off her light. Some sense of relief washes over me as I move to my bed. I gladly strip to my boxers from the clothes that had begun to stick to my skin from the heat. Fatigue hit me hard all of a sudden as I crawled under the cool sheets. I reached and turned off the light and settled into my pillow, waiting only a moment before closing my eyes. "Mulder," Scully was holding a gun in her hand...the warehouse...They were in the warehouse where Linda Bowman-- "Mulder, I can't help myself," only this was different. "Scully?" She was raising the gun, "What are you doing?" "I can't do this anymore, Mulder. It's got to end here," she raised the gun to her head. "NO! Scully nooooo!" I sit up straight in my bed. Oh thank God...it was just a dream...a horrible dream. I try to catch my breath as the images replay in my mind. I thanked God it was morning as I saw the light coming through my window. My second thought was to check on Scully. I get up and slip on my clean pants and make y way to the connecting door. "Scully?" I tap lightly on it. There is no answer. I call again as I reach for the handle. I open the door a crack and peek towards the bed. She is not there, "Scully?" I say louder now as I throw the door open in a panic. Then I see her. She is balled up in the corner with a blanket covering her entirely. I make my way to her and kneel beside her quietly. I pull the blanket from her face, "Scully," I try to wake her. She is drenched in sweat. I pull the sticky strands from her face and she stirs. "Non...le pere me laissent...je suis si desole, pere....s'il vous plait...s'il vous plait non...no....de pere...pere..." a smile broke across my face as she spoke words I couldn't understand. French--I believe...I think she was toying with me. I shook her lightly and her eyes opened, "Mulder?" she seemed as though she could not remember where she was, "Where--" she stands with my help, "How did I get over here?" "That's what I wanted to know," I smile at her as she pulls at the neck of her shirt. "I need a shower. God, it's hot in here," she moves to her bathroom then stops suddenly. She looks back at me, "Do you mind if I use your shower?" I nod, relieved. ******************part 3--- I put on a long sleeve shirt to hide the bandages on my wrist, despite the hot weather. Mulder and I were going to get lunch and then head straight over to the Fernachen's. "What's the name of that street?" He asked me. "Manyo. Number 248," I read the paper the clerk saved for us. Mulder took a sudden sharp right turn.. "Sorry," he glanced at me, "I almost missed it," I watch him as he looks at each house, "Uh..where are the numbers, Scully? Do you see them?" "It's that one,there," I point, "the yellow one," he looks where I pointed. "How did you--" he pulls in front, "How'd you know that?" I contemplate the question. "I--I guess I saw a picture of it somewhere. Look," I point at the door, "248--it's on the door. Maybe I saw it out the corner of my eye," I get out of the car and follow him to the door. For some reason I have a feeling of deja vu-- like I'd been here before. Mulder rang the doorbell and I suddenly find myself humming along with the tune it made. Mulder shot a look at me, and I'm sure he was about to say something, but the door opened. "You're the people from the cathedral," I look up at the woman who spoke. The same woman who was with the child at the church. "You're Nellie Fernachen?" Mulder asked. "Yes. Won't you come in?" We shared a glance then followed her into the house, "Would you like some lemonade? I just made some," Once more we shared a glance. "Sure," we said simultaneously. "I'll help you," I followed her into the kitchen. "The glasses are--" she had started to tell me where to find them, but for some reason I knew exactly where they would be, "Oh. I guess you learn more at the F.B.I. than I thought," I almost didn't understand what she meant. She poured two glasses of lemonade and I grabbed some napkins and set them on the tray she'd set up. As we walked back to the living room, she looked up at me strangly. I dismissed it and held the door open for her. Mulder was talking to the little boy, "What are you making?" he was knelling beside him, watching him glue noodles to a paper. "I'm spelling my name," his face didn't change, "It's for my teacher," he took the glue in his hand. "Are you almost finished?" "Yup. Just one more letter," he added an "L", "See--S-A-M-U-E-L, Samuel. That's me." Nellie set the tray down on the coffe table and took the glue from him "Okay, Samuel. Why don't you take that to your room and let it dry so nothing happens to it?" Samuel left. Mulder took a seat next to Scully on the couch, So what is it you wanted to tell us, Mrs. Fernachen?" he asked as he picked up a glass. "It is about my late husband. About how he died. He was not murdered," she glanced to make sure Samuel was still out of the room, "At least not by a person living," "What do you mean?" I asked, picking up my glass. "Mertado--he was haunted by many spirits," she stopped-- seemingly waiting for one of us to protest, but I was lost in the taste of the lemonade. "What kind of spirits?" he asked. "You are familiar with stigmata, I assume, since they brought you here to see the statue. Mertado suffered these wounds." "Is that what killed him?" I ask when I put the empty glass back down on the table. "No, no...he also suffered--other hauntings," I heard her swallow, "His father--he was very mean to him. Abusive--he used to beat Mertado--almost to death one time. If it weren't for his mother," she stopped and made the sign of the cross, "God rest her soul--he may have died." "So--what happened in these hauntings?" I asked eagerly. "At first we thought he was doing these things to himself-- hurting himself. Until I saw it with my own eyes. He would act like a child--ranting and raving--and I saw him being hit--by nothing...there was nothing there...but I saw his skin break-- and I saw him cry. The only way I could ever bring him out of it was to sing to him in his mother's language. She was an Italian woman. He told me stories so fond of her. She was an amazing woman," There was a silence. "Mrs. Fernachen--" "Please call me Nellie." "Nellie," Mulder continued, "Do you think you could give us permission to examine the--your husband's body?" She looked them over a moment. "I don't want him cut.. You can see him but do not cut him." ***********************part 4---- Princess Grace Hospital Morgue 4:31P.M. "Okay, Mulder," I said after my hair was put up, "Here we go," I pulled down the blue sheet that covered Mertado Fernachen's long deceased body. I looked at his head first. There was a fairly large gash in his forehead, "I think I found the cause of death," I say sarcastically and looked up at Mulder, who was glancing somewhere else---his wrists. "Looks like the same thing happened to him," Mulder sat back and watched. I picked up the scarred wrist...it went all the way through. "But it's not the cause of death, Mulder. These are old wounds. They've had time to heal," I pondered for a moment, thinking of what I'd discovered in the shower this morning, "can you help me flip him over?" He stood and walked to the table. "What do I do?" "Pull him towards you and I'll pull," I practically jumped away when I saw the mark on his thigh-- I found one exactly like it this morning on mine. It was circular--about 3 inches in diameter-- "Scully," I heard him, but I didn't look up. I instead looked at the man's back--covered in those same marks... "Hanger--" I said as I made out the cause of the marks, "These marks were made by a wire coat hanger," I tried to hide the fear I felt, but I was shaking now, and I felt his eyes on me. "Scully, what's wrong?" I snapped off my gloves. "Mulder, I--I have that same mark on my thigh--" without thinking, I pulled the string on my scrub-pants and pulled the right side down to expose it to him. He knelt to look closely at it and his eyes widened as his fingers grazed over it--as if to make sure it was real--He looked up at me. He stood and placed a hand on my back--I drew in my breath at the stinging pain, "Are they on your back too??" "I--I don't know--" I tied up my pants and felt him pull my shirt up in the back. "Oh, God, Scully," he winced at the sight as he pulled it back down, "Does it hurt bad?" I shook my head and covered the body again. "Mulder, I need the medical records for this man--all of them." "Scully, I think you should see a doctor--" "No-" I try to lower my voice, "No. I don't need to. I'm fine." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "No, father, no! Please!" "Don't call me that! I am not your father, Mertado! You stay away from me!" he came at the boy with a coat hanger stretched out in his hand. "Please! Father no!!" "Stop! Stop calling me that!" Mertado fell into the corner and was beaten with the hanger, "That will teach you,you bastard!" he went up the dusty wooden staircase, and Mertado's mother ran down to comfort him. "Oh, my poor boy!" she held him, "I am so sorry he does this to you," she rocked him. "Sing to me,mama, please," he cried. "Okay, okay," she closed her eyes, "Sleep, sleep. Don't be afraid. Jesus is watching over you. I'll be your angel standing by." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Thank you," I grabbed the large stack of folders that made up Mertado's medical records. Scully was waiting for me out in the car. I flipped through to some ER slips. In April of 1953, he broke his leg--neede a blood transfusion. Blood tests conclude: Meratado's bloodtype-O; Bosley(father)bloodtype-B; Sanya(mother)bloodtype-AB. Three weeks later, he'd been brought in with a concussion-- patient had several bruises all over his body. July 18th, brought in with major skull fracture--major loss of blood--coma stasis for three days...several welts and marks on back and on right thigh... "Shit!" I closed the folder and ran to the car. I felt a feeling of panic when I saw her with her curled up with her knees under her chin in the passanger seat. I opened the driver door and got in, "Scully?" I watched her. Her eyes were closed as she rocked back and forth singing softly--again with words I could not understand, "Sommeil, sommeil. N'ayez peur. Jesus observe au- dessus de vous. Je serai votre ange se tenant pret." "Scully?" I reached for her, but hesitated to touch her--as if she were too hot-- "Scully--" my hand grips her shoulder and her eyes fly open as she gasps. "Mul--" she looked confused. "Scully, what happened?" "I must've fallen asleep. I was dreaming," she was shaking again. "Are you okay?" "I don't know," she closed her eyes and I felt my face go pale as a tear of blood ran down her cheek. She must've sensed my fear because she looked at me then. "Mulder?" "Scully--you're--" I brought my hand up to her cheek and showed her the blood that came off on my fingers. She quickly pulled down the visor and looked in the mirror. "I want to go home, Mulder," she wiped the blood with a tissue. "We can't." "Why not? I hate this place, Mulder! I want to get away from here!" "We can't, Scully...because of what I found," I showed her the papers, "If this is what I think it is, you could be in danger." "Then why don't we leave this place, Mulder? Maybe--maybe if I go away it won't happen anymore?" "But what if it does, Scully? What if this happens when we go home? You could die! I'm not leaving here until I know you're safe," I looked to her for a reaction. She said nothing, "You can't run from this, Scully," she looked at me then, "And neither can I." Fernachen Residence 7:30PM "Mertado's father--well, his stepfather, died in prison," Nellie explained to the Agents before her. "The man who beat him wasn't his father?" Mulder asked. "No. In fact, that was why he beat him. He never thought that until Mertado needed a blood transfusion--when he was eight years old I believe. There was no way that he was Mertado's father according to the bloodtypes." "Who is his father?" "He's a--" she hesitated for a moment to continue, "You must not let this get out...his father was--a priest," Mulder scratched his eyebrow, "Mertado's mother, Sanya, had a very lengthy affair with him. Father Donhold is his name. They were very much in love, but when she got pregnant, she thought it was from Bosley(her husband). So she ended the affair." "So," Scully wanted to confirm, "Bosley thought that Mertado was his son up until Mertado was eight?" "Yes." "And that's when the ER slips begin," Mulder added, "So he had no prior incidents of stigmata before then either?" "Well, I don't believe so. He said it started when he was twelve. That was at least a year after Sanya turned Bosley over to the authorities." "Mama," Nellie's head shot over to her son sitting at the table. He had been coloring, but had stopped for some reason. "What is it Sam?" "Why is that lady is staring at me?" Nellie's head shot to Scully. Her face went pale. Scully's fixed gaze on the boy reminded her of something...a terrible night...the night before her husband's death. "Agent Mulder," Nellie whispered, "What is she doing?" Mulder hadn't been paying attention to them until now--he had been lost in thought. "What--" he looked at her and went to touch her shoulder, but-- "Comment pourriez vous faire ceci a voutre famille, Mertado," she said in a deep voice unlike her own. Nellie stood in fear. "No!" Nellie backed away, "No, he is back--" "Porquoi?" Scully glanced to her--her eyes in a frightening glare. Mulder panicked--he didn't know what to do once again, "Vous etes un deshonneur a nous!" she said once she looked back to Samuel. "What is she saying?" Mulder asked when he saw the boy crying. "She--is--she is saying that he is a disgrace to the family...he dishonors us..." she slides to the floor. "Un traitre a notre foi! Comment defi vous!" Scully stood, and Mulder made his move then. He took her by the shoulders and she spun around screaming...until she saw his face...then her expression changed. Now she looked scared and she slumped down against me, "Le pere me laissent...je suis si desole, pere..." "Scully," I touched her face, "Scully, come on," she looked at me a moment then closed her eyes. "Oh, God..." she finally said, "Why am I so sad?" tears fell from her closed lids, "Why am I so sad..." "Shh, Scully, we're going to go back to the motel now, okay? Then you can get some sleep." I laid her in the bask seat and closed the door, turning to talk to Nellie before I left, "What the hell was that?" I asked her. "You're partner...she was sounding just like my Mertado....just like him..." "So--so what? She's possessed? By your late husband and his father---and his mother?" I say almost sarcastically. She sneered at me. "Agent Mulder, I would watch her. I saw those bandages on her wrists. That is only the beginning," she turned and walked back into the house. I got into the car and started it, quickly looking back at Scully. She was looking at me. "Are you okay?" I ask. "Mulder...am I going to die?" she sat up and looked into his eyes as though he were a prophet. "You're not going to die Scully," I take her hand, "I won't let you." ***********************part5--NC17WARNING!--------------- "Ow!" Scully hissed through her teeth as I rubbed ointment on her marked up back. She was lying on her stomach on her bed. I couldn't help but realize that she was naked from the waist up-- even if she was covered in these marks--these monstrosities--she was still beautiful to me. "Sorry," I say as I loosened up on the rubbing, "Is that better?" "Mmhmm, thanks," she let her cheek settle into the pillow, "I feel vulnerable...I mean--I couldn't get up right now if I wanted to..." "Why? Oh..." I laughed as I realized what she was talking about, "Don't worry. I won't be offended." "Shut up," she laughed, "My back is killing me--" "You should've seen the doctor, Scully." "No. It's not the marks really. It's my back--my shoulders," she shifted. "Oh. Well, here," I wiped my hands on a towel and started massaging her shoulders. "Mmm...that feels nice," I felt her relax. I stopped for a moment and she looked back as I shifted to straddle her, "What are you doing?" "I can get a better grip this way," I saw a hint of hesitation in her and she tensed up again, "It's okay, Scully. Trust me," I started working on her shoulders again. After a moment, she did relax again. My hands worked through the knots in her shoulders and slowly made their way to her neck. My fingers made little circles where her shoulders met her neck, and I heard her moan again. I suddenly became very aroused. Shitshitshit--I can't do this...I have to think about something else...anything...her wrists--yeah--ok. I continued massaging. She groaned again and I felt myself get hard. Fuck! I couldn't stop it this time. This was too good. I sat into her more. My hands leave her shoulders and slowly travel down her sides, brushing against the sides of her bare breasts, and settling on her waist, "Mulder?" she says to me. "I'm sorry, Scully," I was out of breath, "I think I should go," I started to move. "No! No, Mulder, stay," she turned, holding her arm over her chest. "Scully, I--" I don't know what to say. I am feeling so much right now. But I don't want to hurt her--I don't want anything she doesn't want. "Please stay," she put her arms around me, "I don't want you to leave me here alone," her face burrowed in my neck and she breathed in. My hands were on her waist again--careful not to touch the ointment on her back. "What do you want me to do?" I asked sincerely. "Just stay here. Stay here tonight," she said as her hand made its way to my chest. I didn't know what to say--I was embarrassed at my erection and I was sure she didn't know about it yet. I needed to get away...to the bathroom or something...but then I felt her hand travel down my chest. Down. Down. Down... Oh, God, is this happening? She undid the zipper on his pants, "Scully,--I--" and then her hand was gripping me, "Oh, God, Scully...." I ducked my head into her neck as she stroked me, "Scuuhhllllleeeee.....no--no stop--" I tried to pull away, "Scully, you're not yourself." "Yes I am, Mulder. I am myself for the first time since we came to this place," she told me as my hand settled on her arm, "I want you...I love you..." she stroked me harder now. "A....Scul---oh.....God....please, Scully..." I tried to back away again, "I can't do this. We can't do this." "Why not? Mulder I want this." "Scully, I want this too. But I don't want this to be something you'll regret in the morning." "Mulder," she pulled closer to me, "Shut up and kiss me." I looked into her eyes, and everything I ever knew shone from them. My fingers traced her face along the hair-line and I leaned in to kiss her. She met me half-way. This sensation--Scully's lips on mine--it was like nothing I'd imagined. Sure, I'd kissed her before---but not in the throes of passion. Not with a hard-on the size of..... "Scully...if you keep doing that....this is gonna be over reeeeealy quick..." I took her hand from my pants and continued kissing her. Then our mouths opened and---Oh happy day! The battle of the century was taking place in the dome that was our joined mouths. Tearing away only to remove my shirt, I realized that she had already been topless and I hadn't yet moved to explore. "Mmmm..." Scully said into my mouth as my hand cupped her breast. I wanted to stay with her mouth--very much in fact--but there was another place I wanted to taste...and my hand was on it right now. So I left her mouth and kissed down her neck. Her head fell back, and I found the center of her neck with my tongue. I kissed down the center of her until I reached where I'd wanted to be, and I replaced my hand with my mouth...that got a groan from her, "Oh, Mulder..." she pulled me down on top of her, "I want you inside me right now!" she slid off her pants underneath me, but I stopped for a moment. I looked at her again, trying to discern exactly what was happening. Something was dirfferent....something wasn't right. I sat up on my knees. "Mulder," she says to me. It sounds like her--but.... "Mulder." I put the palms of my hands over my eyes...trying to think straight--but I can't, "Mulder!" This time I look up. What I find makes my heart jump in my throat. Scully is there, but she is still dressed; her hand still draped over her chest, just staring at me, "Uh--" I manage to get out. I look down at my pants--thank God they're still buttoned--still on. My hard-on seems to have mysteriously vanished--and for that I am also thankful, "Uhh," I repeat. "Mulder, you were--out of it there," she explained as she reached for her gray T-shirt. I handed it to her. "What happened? How long was out of it?" I prayed silently that nothing had been revealed to her--that she wouldn't know my secret. "About--maybe a minute," she slipped the shirt on, "You were just staring into the air. For a while there you weren't even breathing," she leaned over to me and placed a hand on my forehead, "You're warm," she told me. Duh--let me think why. "I'm fine, Scully. I guess I just drifted off." "I've seen people daydream, Mulder. But that takes the cake," she scooted back against the headboard, "You were totally unresponsive to me that entire time," I looked at her again. What did this mean? That I was sick? I am not sick. I was just daydreaming. A really wonderfully perfect state-of-the-art daydream of my sweet, gorgeous, sexy, partner---nononono--can't do this again. Down boy! I clear my throat, not sure what to say. Then I end up not saying anything at all. "Mulder, are you going to stay here tonight?" Shitshitshit. Not again....I mean--yes again....but---AGHHHH! "Did you want me to?" my voice cracked. "Yeah. If you would, please," she got under the covers and I quickly moved to my side of the bed, "So what were you daydreaming about that was so good enough to keep you away from the real world?" she had to ask. I hesitated to answer. "You don't wanna know, Scully," I smile and unintentionally turn on my side to face her. She smiles back. "Some secrets are better left buried?" "Well, I wouldn't say that. I would say, some secrets are better left buried for the time being. Some things can wait," She looks at me like I am a wise man. "Mulder, can I tell you something?" she almost whispers, "And I know it's totally unrelated to your subject." "How do you know that?" "I hope that," she looks seriously at me, "I hope your dream wasn't about what's happening to me." Okay good. Good, she's changing the subject, "No, it wasn't. Not really," my head is propped up on my elbow. She paused for a moment and smiled to herself. "I feel like the little boy in "The Sixth Sense","she laughed. Then I mocked the boy's infamous line. "'I see dead people'--oh--you aren't seeing dead people are you, Scully?" She giggled at me. "No. Well--yes...in a way, yes," she looked down at the mattress, "I've been daydreaming too," she looked backup at me, "But I'm pretty sure these are different," she swallowed. "Well," my voice is as quiet as I can make it. For some reason I brush a strand of her hair from her face, "Do you want to tell me about it?" "I'm not sure who else I could," she smiled at me again, "Who else would still keep me outside of that hospital?" she said as tears filled in her eyes but did not drop. "Scully, you don't belong there," my hand stays in her hair now, "You know that." "I know. I mean that you're the only one who would believe me," she put her hand on mine, "It's nice to know that someone doesn't think I'm as crazy as I sound." We both laugh. Then it is silent again. I wait for her to continue, "In my daydreams...I see what happened to Mertado Fernachen. When he was a child I mean. In my dreams I am him. I feel what he feels- -emotionally as well as physically." "Was it like that when--the thing with your wrists happened?" I held my breath, almost regretting that I had brought that up. "No. I didn't see anything then. It was dark...and cold...but I did feel the pain. And like you were just now, I couldn't breath. That scared me...I thought something was happening to you too," I pulled her to me and just held her. "No, Scully. It was nothing like that at all. It was just you and me...another way things could've happened," I kissed her hair. "What do you mean?" she curled into my chest. "Like I said, you wouldn't want to know. My sick fantasies wouldn't interest you," I laughed and I felt her laugh under me. ********************part 6------- Mulder woke with a start. It wasn't a nightmare this time. Just that something had waken him. He squinted at the clock next to the bed. It was after 2 AM. Suddenly he realized what had jolted him from his peaceful slumber. Scully was curled into him--and she was shaking, "Scully," his arm, that was already draped around her, shook her gently, "Scully, are you okay?" "I'm cold," she said as though she'd been awake for a while with this, "I'm freezing, Mulder. I can't get warm." "Scully, it's like a hundred degrees in here. I never turned on the AC," still he pulled her close to him and rubbed up and down her arms to try and generate some heat. She was cold. Her body felt like ice beneath him, "Scully, I think I should take you to the hospital." "No!" she clenched his shirt in his hands, "No, Mulder, don't take me there." "Scully--" "Please, Mulder...promise me you won't take me back there," her forehead nudged under his chin. "Scully, if you're worried they're gonna lock you up, I won't let them." "I can't go back there! I won't! Please, Mulder...promise me," she cried. He didn't know what to do. "Okay," he decided. His hand absently went to her back, and his breath caught when he felt something wet and sticky on his palm. He leaned over her to turn on the light, "Oh, God, Scully--" he choked out at the sight of her blood-soaked back. He brought himself to her face, "Scully?" her beautiful blue eyes had been engulfed by the blackness of her pupils. "Mu--hul--" she was incoherant as she began to hyperventilate. Mulder panicked again, cursing himself under his breath for not being able to handle this. He scrambled for her cellphone which was on the nightstand. He hesitated before dialing. He'd made a promise to her. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and dialed Nellie Fernachen. "Hello," she said, wearily. "I'm s-sorry for calling you at this hour, Ms Fernachen," his voice cracked, "This is Agent Mulder." "I know. What's wrong? Is it your partner?" "Yes--I don't know what to do...she made me promise not to take her to that hospital." "Listen, I know someone who can help. I will bring him over. Keep her warm--use water on a towel, that's usually the only way. Where are you?" "Room 106 at the Ramada near the church." "I'll be there as soon as I can," she cleared her throat, "Oh, and Mr. Mulder?" "Yeah?" "She is afraid. She needs you to be there with her. Don't leave her alone." Mulder held the warm towel to her back and tried to talk to her- -to calm her down. It was working for a while, "So you didn't like the sports video I got you? I'm hurt!" he said sarcastically. He felt her laugh the best she could. "Not something you should get a girl," she shifted. Her face was still buried in his chest, but her shaking had settled a bit. "Are you feeling any better?" he said as he tried to see her face. He wanted to see her eyes. "A little. It doesn't hurt, Mulder. I just--" her face came up and she just as quickly closed her eyes, "I can't--see anything clearly," she sounded as if she'd cry again. "Sshh," her pulled her head to his chest again, "Just try and relax, Scully. Help is coming." And it was taking it's damn time, he thought. Just then, there was a knock at the door, "Hold on, Scully, let me go get that," he slid from her and covered her with the blankets. He ran to the door and opened it, "What is this?" "Father Danhold, this is Agent Mulder. Agent Mulder, Father Danhold," "That's great, but why a priest?" he whispered, "It's not like she's gonna die here..." "You've got it all wrong, Mulder. He's here to draw out the spirit of his son." "This is more than his son we're talking about here! This is a lot of people! Including the stigmata-" "No," Danhold spoke, "My son had a disorder. He had many personalities...brought on by this--stepfather of his," Mulder looked at Nellie for a quick moment. "But what about the wounds he recieved? You said that you saw it happen." "Yes. I did, but it's not the same as you think. Mertado was a channel." "A what?" "Mertado was special," his father said, "He was a stigmatic...like myself," he held his wrists out for Mulder to see. Sure enough, the scars matched the ones they'd seen earlier, "But that left a door open so to speak, for the reinviting of his past." "I don't understand." "Mertado wasn't only reliving the pain emotionally--but also physically. The mind is a powerful thing. His had something else. Something that I know is in my family, but cannot explain. Only that he was doing it to himself." "So what about Scully? Why is it happening to her?" "I do not know. It is said that stigmata has been heard to be almost what you would call transmitted," Mulder swooned at the extensive use of adverbs, "By blood usually--family I mean of course. And sometimes by association...but she did not know him. The only other possibilty is by an object. Something that she may have that belonged to Mertado. Something sacred to him. A place where he may have rested his soul." Mulder's head shook in confusion. "Scully only saw him when she examined him. By then she had already started showing signs of this." "Well, let me see her," he walked toward the bed. It was empty. "Scully?" Mulder looked on the other side of the bed incase she'd fallen, "Where did she--" then he saw her...as did the others before he did. She was standing up against the wall, arms spread...blood flowing in streams from her wrists...and in her right clenched fist, was the rosery... ******************part 7________ "Au nom du père, du fils et de l'esprit saint," Donhold gave the sign of the cross and began to pray, "notre père, que l'art dans le ciel, a sanctifié soit nom thy." "Si froid... je suis tellement si froid..." I heard her say. "What is she saying?" I yell. "She is cold," Nellie tells me. I hesitate, then grab the blanket from the bed, "No!" Nellie stops me, "You won't be able to help her with that. Let the father do his job." "Le royaume de Thy viennent, thy sera suffi sur terre pendant qu'il est dans le ciel," suddenly Scully screams. Once. Twice. I look down at her feet to see blood pouring from the tops of them. "I have to help her!" I say when Nellie holds me back. "There's nothing you can do yet!" Scully screams again and there is blood coming from her forehead...streaming down her face. "SCULLY!!" I want so badly to go to her. I drop to my knees and close my eyes. I am not a religious man, but if there is a way to save her... "Mr. Mulder!" Donhold calls me, "You need to find whatever is causing this...or it could mean her death..." Mulder tried to search his mind. But all I can see is Scully--how her eyes rolled back into her head, and all I see is the white in them. Then the blood that fell over her lashes and down her body....down her arms..... "The rosery," I remembered, "It's the rosery! Samuel gave it to her at the cathedral the other day," I glanced at Nellie. "Well go!" the priest told me, "Take it from her now!" I dive towards Scully and grab hold of the item of her destruction. To my surprise, she is clinging to it as though it were part of her. I looked at her face and as if she sensed me looking at her, her face spun to me and her eyes, which had been rolled back, where now looking straight at me--they were red--bright scary red and I jumped back without letting go of the rosery. Still it hadn't budged from her hand. I pull suddenly with all the strength I can conjur, and I feel the necklace snap and I go crashing down on the floor. I glimpse at the floor as the beads spilled out onto it. When I looked back at Scully, she dropped, lifeless, to the floor. "Donnez-nous ce jour notre pain quotidien et pardonnez-nous nos dettes comme nous pardonnons ceux qui enfreignent contre nous et nous mènent pas dans la tentation mais nous livrons que mal de fro... amen." I heard the priest finish. I crawled back to Scully and turned her over so that I could see her face. "Scully?" he picked her up into his lap and started to brush the hair from her face, "Scully, can you hear me?" "Ya know, Mulder, I was thinking it could be that dirty rice I had for dinner yesterday," Scully said wearily without opening her eyes. I laughed at her joke which modified my relief that she was okay. "Are you okay, Scully?" I continue stroking her hair. "I'm feeling much better, thank you," she opened her eyes finally. My heart settled to where it was supposed to be--no longer in my throat. Her eyes were the beautiful blue I've always known, "God, it's hotter than hell in here." F.B.I. Headquarters Washington, D.C. Two weeks Later Scully had an appointment today at lunch time. It was another checkup to make sure her back was healing okay. All I can do is sit here and wait for her. Sure there's a crap load of stuff I could be doing right now, but it's no use trying to concentrate on anything but her. I'm so damned selfish for taking her there. Yet I know she would have killed me if I'd left her behind again. Either way this was my fault though. I didn't have to take that case. This never would've happened.... I hear her footsteps approaching from the elevator and I try to make it look like I've been doing something, "Hey, Mulder," she smiles and takes a seat on the other side of his desk. "How'd it go?" "Okay. The doctor says I'm healing surprisingly fast. I may not even have to worry about scars after a while," I look at her wrists and I still wince. She must've noticed because she quickly put her arms under the desk, "Mulder, you need to stop beating yourself up about this. How many times have we been over this?" "I'm sorry, Scully. I didn't mean to do that, really. I just--I keep seeing that scene in my head," I look away from her. I don't want her to see the pain I feel. Then my eye catches the paper bag I brought in with my this morning, "Oh. Hey I almost forgot," I pull the bag to the desk and take out the snow-globe I purchased earlier, "I saw this in a store window this morning," I handed it to her, "I know you didn't want anything from Monaco. So I got you this U.S. Capital snow- globe...hehe...I know it's kinda corny but, it just wouldn't be me to give a useful gift now would it?" I smiled. Scully took the globe and inspected it carefully. "Oh, Mulder," it was decidedly a lot better than I thought, "I think it's beautiful. Thank you," she shook it and watched something floating along with the snow...but she couldn't make out what it was. "Oh that's a--hehe-that's a flying saucer," I looked down at the globe, "I, uh, couldn't help myself," I was surprised to see her smile back at me. I thought she'd have rolled her eyes or something, but she didn't. I was greatful. "I still like it, Mulder. Thanks." Scully's personal journal: :::The case of the crying statue in La Condamine remains a mystery as the sample Mulder had taken was mysteriously lost en route to facilities. It ceased when Mertado Fernachen's body was brought to the morgue that last evening we spent in Monaco, and has remained 'dormant' ever since. Mertado's blood test showed a high level of alcohol and traces of trazadone--a sleeping pill. Several of them actually, found in his stomach. After further investigation, Nellie Fernachen told officers that her husband was being haunted by his dead father, and that he had struck his son, Samuel. So he didn't die of the wounds or stigmata. Mertado took the pills to kill himself. Possibly to end the abusive cycle his stepfather had set up for him. As for my personal ordeal, I have no explaination. Only that I have no recollection any longer of what happened to me during these blackouts. That my wounds, however caused, are healing at an unbelievable rate, and will probably show no sign of ever being there. That, in itself, is the biggest mystery to me. Perhaps it is because they were never my wounds to begin with...::: The End~~~