From: To: ; Subject: [XFNC17ff] NEW: "Sacrificed" by XRae (1/5) Date: Wednesday, December 18, 2002 1:05 PM TITLE: Sacrificed AUTHOR: XRae FEEDBACK: XRae1013@webtv.net...Come on, gimmie a sign! RATED: NC17 for language, violence/torture, disturbing imagery, and sexual situations. KEYWORDS: Major M/S Angst, character death SPOILERS/TIMELINE: No spoilers but generalized refrences to Scully's abduction and characters introduced in "Fight The Future". I imagine this taking place at any point after season 4. Specifically, all key characters are still among the living...at least for now. DISCLAIMER: Never had'em. Never will. NOTES: I'd like to take this opportunity to say a huge thankyou to my beta-reader...If only I had one! Where do I look? Anyone out there with some info earns an hour with a NAKED FOX MULDER---courtesy of my REM state. Tee Heeeee...And for the record, this story is the result of rain, coffee, and reading "Hamlet" in a bad state of mind. Forgive me. DISTRIBUTION: Ephemeral, yes. Gossamer, yes. Anywhere else, yes--just please let me know! SUMMARY: Scully is his life...and They know it. SACRIFICED by XRae ------------------------------- Rain. Cold, bitter rain. Pummeling the ground relentlessly. He looked out of the window but could barely make out the street below. The downpour created an almost visible wall, a blurred transparency that covered everything. He knew she was down there. And that was enough. He smiled. The conversation had been short. He answered the phone and heard her say, "I'm across the street. Can I come up? I...need to see you". And he knew. She'd never said the words but he knew. It was the way she'd said "need" that told him...An innocent enough word until laced with the desire he heard behind it. And the love. Strong, yet so vulnerable. No, she didn't say the words, not yet, but something in her voice spoke directly to his heart. And he was listening. He could hear profound revelations in the silence that followed, her quiet breathing speaking volumes. She was ready. God, finally. Ready to be with him, to give herself to him...and a force so strong blossomed in his soul he'd later marvel it hadn't allowed him to fly down to meet her. It was like being reborn, only into a world Fox Mulder never knew exisited. He said simply, "I was waiting for you, Scully.". So many truths layered in his shy response. He wanted to weep. He felt a tremor race through him as she expelled a shaky breath. He held the phone like a lifeline, waiting for her to acknowledge his unspoken invitation. In his mind he chanted *I love you. I love you. I love you*. He hoped she was listening, too. After a brief pause, she gave him a promise of magic and miracles..."I'm on my way...". And it was over. There was silence. Nothing but the sound of the rain. Merciless. He raced to his window then, wanting to watch her as she made her way to him. Afraid on so many levels that he imagined the entire conversation. He strained to focus through the downpour and then caught movement on the street below. A shape, hard to make out but distinctly hers. His heart thundered in his chest. He felt dizzy. Lust and love reaching so deep inside of him he could feel it in his cells, his marrow. What happened next would seem very far away to him, so submerged in euphoria as he was. It was like watching a movie almost, the events such a brutal contrast to what he was experiencing some part of his mind refused to accept them. He saw her make it to the sidewalk in front of his building. And then, a dark shape suddenly emerged from behind her. Only moments later would it register as a vehicle and by then it was too late...He watched as it moved along side her, his comprehension slow, even as the door slid open and two men emerged. He saw the lift of her head in his direction. She was looking up, searching for sight of him. She never heard them behind her. She disappeared before his very eyes. Taken as he looked on in bewilderment. A full minute passed before this tore into his soul and left his mind reeling. His vision grew dark, fuzzy. His hands and feet went numb. He could barely breathe as he stumbled on weak legs out of his apartment and down the stairs, falling onto the street below... His head connected with the pavement, the skin above his temple instantly ripping open. But he didn't stop. Drunkenly, he found his footing and took off on a dead run in the direction of the black van. It was, of course, long gone...But he still pursued it. Never once wavering the torturous speed in which he propelled himself forward. He ran. The hard rain lashing at him, blood and the storm obscuring his vision. He ran. And ran. And ran. Until his body simply gave out and he fell onto the street once more. Unable to stand, he crawled forward, dragging his betraing limbs behind him. A few feet and then even this movement was too much for him. He collapsed. After that, he did the only thing he could. He screamed. But the sound of the rain swallowed his grief... ------------------------- Exactly one week after her abduction, the tapes began to arrive. The first few were just footage of her in a small, windowless room, brightly lit with harsh lights that made the white walls almost glow. It was done on purpose, of course. So he wouldn't miss any of the terror in her eyes. So he could see every tear that fell down her beautiful face. Often they showed her pacing. Or banging her hands against the unforgiving door demanding answers. With each tape, he heard more desperation betraying her fierce words. She would pound and yell until her voice grew raw, until she exhausted herself. Then, she'd simply crumble, sliding down to the floor to weep. Mulder's name sometimes audible between her sobs. By the fourth tape, there was nothing left of his heart to break... In the beginning, he'd watch the tapes under the scutiny of the other agents in the room. Skinner himself unable to keep his eyes from alternating between the horror on the screen and the horror of his younger agent's tortured expression. Mulder imagined that for them, watching his reactions must have been like witnessing a fatal accident. Unable to look away from a man dying before their eyes. For their part, the FBI was frantic and focused on rescuing Scully from her abductors. If Skinner had called in all his favors on this, he never once mentioned it to Mulder. The Bureau was more than generous with manpower and resources. Despite his personal involvment, he was never left out of the loop. They consulted with both he and Skinner at every turn. They performed every test imaginable on the packaging and the tapes. They interviewed his neighbors, her friends, her family, him. They found nothing. And though Mulder refused to sleep, refused to give up, refused to quit, he knew she would never be returned unless They decided to let her go...Memories of her eyes taped shut, her bloated, abused body barely clinging to life, followed him from dead end to dead end. He began to isolate himself from the others involved on her case, unable to bare listening to their fading hopes, to hear them talking about her in the past tense. But it took the sixth tape to finally push him over the edge. ------------------------ Like the others, the newest tape had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere. This time, he'd found it in the trunk of his car. He sat in the small conference room barely able to breathe as Skinner pushed the PLAY button. But when the picture came alive, he stood up immediately and took several unsteady steps toward the screen. Skinner caught him by the arm. He jerked free. "Oh God...Oh God." In front of him, in perfect, brutal focas, a very conscious Dana Scully lay strapped to a white gurney. Medical equipment, strange, foreign objects with trays of steel tools attached to them, surrounded her. She was nude, or appeared to be, her breasts visible, though at her hip bones a blue surgical blanket kept the rest of her body covered. An I.V. tube ran from her prone arm to a bag of suspended green liquid. Her eyes...God, her eyes...Mulder had never seen such terror in them. He felt hot bile make it way up his throat, gagged as he struggled to keep it down. He watched as two figures moved into view. Dressed from head to toe in white scrubs, masks across their faces, it was impossible to see any detail of their appearance. They stood on opposite sides of the table, Scully, pale and trembling, between them. Her small voice filled the room as she struggled against her restraints. "Please. Please, don't do this." Ignoring her, one man busied himself with arranging instruments in preparation. The other took out a syringe and injected a yellow substance into her IV. The effect was immediate. In the middle of her movement, her body went rigid, then immobile. Her eyes grew wide, agony etched across her features..."No! No! Owwww, oh God!" The first man moved toward her, a long steel tube with a hard, sharp point at its tip, in his gloved hand. She began screaming now as he came closer and closer to her abdomen with the instrument. And just as he ruthlessly shoved the point into her navel, her partner's name tore from her lips in sheer, complete torture... Mulder fell to his knees. And was loudly, thouroghly sick before passing out completely. ------------------------- Helplessness, in and of itself, creates its own type of madness. Twice a week for the next five weeks, Mulder watched as Scully was subjected to more horrifiing experiments, each new one somehow more terrible than the one before it. Through empathy and love, he suffered with her. But in the end, he knew he could do absolutely *nothing*. She was alone. Afraid. And he could only watch her. He couldn't ease her pain, he couldn't hold her while she wept...he couldn't *find* her. And it was killing him. Sometimes during the tests, she'd call for him. Other times, she merely lay there completely still, beaten. Both reactions were like acid on his soul. After one particularly brutal session, she cried for him to help her, to find her, to save her... He ran through the streets, roaring her name. It took Skinner, three EMTs, and enough sedation to practically comatose him to finally bring him down. His next four days were spent in a drug-induced haze, lying in restraints. It was the closest he'd felt to her since her disappearance. ------------------------- Once he was able to speak directly to the hospital psychiatrist, he calmly and rationally explained his behavior. Stress, lack of sleep, lack of proper nutrition, his inability to help his partner...it had all contributed to his breakdown. In the context of the current situation, his reactions had been completely understandable. He felt rested now, thank you very much. His head was so much clearer. And yes, of course, he'd be sure to keep his scheduled follow-up appointment with her. Not for the first time, Mulder was thankful for his background in psychology. He knew just what to say and how to say it. He was released. ------------------------- He faught bitterly with Skinner about returning to the case, more as a token protest than any real desire to rejoin their efforts. In the end, he was escorted out of the Hoover building and placed on mandatory medical leave. He was no good to Scully in his condition, the A.D. had argued, he should never have been allowed to leave the hospital. And he knew his boss was probably right. Being taken off the case made little difference to Mulder, really. He had long since stopped communication with the other agents. And the tapes he viewed privately in his office before turning them over to Skinner. Fox Mulder was not by nature a violent man...but this nonstop misery was changing him. The images of her torture never, ever left him. His sense of justice was nothing compared to his hunger for vengence. And with no place to direct it, his appetite only grew stonger. He became more reckless. More driven. More lost... Freedom ultimately only gave him the opportunity to try more unorthodox methods of searching for her. From one shadow source to another, he ruthlessly obtained his information and left a bloody trail that led him straight to the Smoking Man. CGB Spender had the audacity to claim complete innocence in her abduction. He liked Agent Scully, he stammered as Mulder forced him further into the dark hallway. None of his own collegues could find her, he tried to explain as Mulder shoved the barrel of the gun against the older man's temple. Fox, something else is at work here, he pleaded as he heard the telltale click... Mulder would get no answers from this man. And Mulder had nothing left to loose. The son of a bitch deserved it. The bullet hit its mark. ------------------------- He'd never fully feel the repercussions of the murder. Later, the entire event, like the beatings that preceeded it, would seem surreal, distant, and the part of him that had committed the act actually felt like a seperate person from himself. And perhaps it was. He had only a casual aquaintence with this other man and so, his questionable methods were his own. Mulder would step aside in his consciousness and let this part of him do what he normally could not, would not, do. And when all was said and done, he was able to disconnect from his own actions. Denial at its most primative level. He didn't sleep. Some defence mechanism in his brain had him almost convinced that he was in a waking REM state, so everything around him was subject to the possibilty of illusion. Especially the man he saw in the mirror, when he was able to look at him. An insomniac dwells somewhere between sleep and awake, a place where reality takes on dreamlike qualities, where everyday life feels more like Theater of the Absurd. Mulder now lived in his nightmare twenty-four hours a day, a strange, cold, Neverland of grief. Yet he walked through it in a daze. It was a blessing, really. ------------------------- One night, not much different from any of the others really, he found his way to her apartment. It wasn't the first time he'd been there. He'd spent long hours before this searching for clues. Searching. Searching. Searching...But this time, he was there to enfold himself within her things, to feel closer to her in the only way he could now. What he felt went so far beyond merely missing her that to say that's what drove him would be a mockery. A part of his very soul was lost...with her, where ever she was. He felt the absence like an amputee must feel it after the loss of an arm or a leg. Only, for Mulder, this was no phantom limb. It was a missing organ. A vital one. He walked numbly from room to room, ending up in her bedroom. A place he had studiously avoided until now. He stood at the foot of her bed and felt his keening ache practically consume him. It was just as she'd left it that cold, rainy night that seemed like a lifetime ago. How long had she lay there, tossing and turning? He had a mental picture of her suddenly, flushed and hot with need, twisting the sheets and moaning his name... He closed his eyes, bit hard into his lip. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. What drove her to him that fateful night? He could speculate all he wanted to now, but the truth was he didn't know, *not for sure*. Maybe now he'd never know. Maybe he would never hear those words he wanted so much to believe was she was finally going to say...And maybe he would never have the chance to love her, touch her, feel her move under him, hot, slick, ready. There was so much between them left unsaid. Left undone. In the deepest, darkest part of night, his suffering reached peaks of complete dominance over him. He could almost imagine it pumping through his veins and contaminating every piece of him. He felt lonliness so acute it vibrated in his bones. And it was then that regret would start to coil its way around his soul and threaten to squeeze the very life out of him. He wanted her. God, he *wanted* her. It was probably no secret to Scully, but he'd tried to hide it nonetheless. And he succeeded, at least enough to keep her at arm's length, to deny himself what he was certain he could not, should not, have. Now, he wondered *why*...? She was everything to him. So beautiful it sometimes hurt to look at her. Why hadn't he told her? He'd come to her apartment to feel close to her, yet now that he was there, the intimacy of it felt base and tainted. He had no right. He felt the loss of something he'd never had, what gave him the right to mourn it now? It was his own fault. He'd had so many chances. Memory began to claw its way to the surface...Touches, looks, soft smiles, gentle hands...God, the things he struggled constantly to push away, knowing the pain they would bring in their wake, knowing the power they had to destroy him. But it was useless to try this time. His strength was gone, and he ached for her too much to deny himself. He sank into images as he sank into the softness of her beaconing mattress. Instantly he groaned against her pilow. Her scent somehow still lingered, faint but detectable to his suddenly heightened senses. He was assulted with a mental slide show on full speed, vivid pictures flickering across his mind's eye. It was too much... Scully...Scully...Scully... He clutched desperately at the sheets under him, frantic for her, unable to control the responses overwhelming his body, his mind, the very fiber of him. He was distantly aware of his hips pumping ruthlessly into the mattress, his sudden, painfully hard errection seeking its desperate release. Shame coursed through him, but his arousal was its own beast, clawing its way to satisfaction amid images of her, the smell of her, the rush of her...Always her. Always her. He grunted her name with each thrust until the friction proved too much. Then, he could only whimper it as each forceful spasm erupted from deep within his groin. And for a few blissful seconds, cradled in her soft bedsheets, he was held gently by a ghost lover. ------------------------- After three long, long months had passed, the final tape was delivered. He woke from a fitful hour of sleep to find it waiting for him on the top of his VCR. He didn't question how it got there, he was far beyond being surprised by Them. After all, shadows could move across a surface and not make a sound, darkness could creep into any corner and hide undetected. Those responsible for Scully's abduction were more like aparitions than real people. These were men who walked through walls. It wasn't so much the fact that They'd been in and out of his own apartment right under his nose, it was the location They chose. They always left the tapes in places where Mulder could find them easily. But this...this was the first time one was left so brazenly. And the first time one was left in his home. They surly knew he viewed the tapes privately in his office before turning them over to Skinner. It was a practice he stil maintained despite being taken off the case. Skinner never questioned his reasons or refused to give him access. So why deliver it here? To make *sure* he'd watch it at home first? The implications of this terrified him. But They indeed knew him well enough to predict his actions... He knelt on his knees before the television, clad only in old, torn jeans, his bare feet tucked under him, a peasant worshiping a false idol, praying silently to the black screen to give him a miracle. To show her safe. To show him anything. Anything but that awful gurney and her pale, shivering form on top of it. His hands shaking violently, he fumbled the tape into his VCR and quickly pressed the STOP button, not ready for the picture. He leaned heavily on the glass in front of him, his forehead pressed to the screen. Tears flowing freely, he sat motionless for several moments. God, how easy it would be to just slip into complete insanity now. He could step over that line without any hesitation and never have to know the truth. He could live the rest of his days in some semi-catatonic netherworld, where Scully's image would smile behind his vacant eyes. He could fall down the rabbit hole and never, ever have to come back up. But that would be an easy out for him and deep down he knew he couldn't allow himself such a simple abatement. She was suffering so much more than he, it was selfish to desert her now. He owed this to her. Whatever was on the tape was his fault and he deserved to bare witness to it. He failed her. From the moment that first instrument touched her exquisite skin, he failed her. He pushed PLAY. It's impossible to say what he expected to see, only that had he spent days in Hell preparing himself for it, the horror there would pale in comparison... Again she lay on the gurney, restrained, and for the first time, completely nude. The room was quiet except for the sound of her harsh breathing. She was consciously attempting to keep her breaths steady and was failing miserably. She was so pale, the dark hair at the apex of her thighs a sharp contrast to the almost translucence of her skin. Never had she seemed so small to him. So fragile. And stil so beautiful. He watched as her eyes darted nervously from one instrument to another. She bit her lip savagely to contain the sudden sob which ripped its way from her throat. Tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. He said her name, his voice thick, and brought his fingers to her image. "Don't be afraid, Scully. Don't be afraid." As if answering him, he heard her whisper, "Mulder...Oh God, Mulder. Where are you?" He felt her words like a blow, bending at the waist from the impact of them. The pain was crippling but he refused to take his eyes from her face or remove his hands from the screen. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry...Oh Scully, I'm so sorry." She wept as quietly as possible. Desperate, he thought, not to call attention to herself. Mulder could hardly believe it but she somehow made herself appear even smaller. And he found himself insanely wishing with every ounce of his being that she would somehow just will herself to disappear completely. To escape. She was his angel. Why couldn't she just fly away? Reality took its cue to assert itself. A door suddenly opened. The two masked doctors entered, walking swiftly to the front of the room to stand in back of her. Scully's eyes widened at the sight of them and almost immediately she began to struggle. "No! No, please! No more! No more!" She tried to follow their movement, craning her neck in an attempt to see what they were doing but had little success. Her restraints held her body so tightly, Mulder could see where they dented her skin. God, that had to be excruciating... A fresh wave of dread washed over him as he watched one of the doctors remove a small vial of red liquid from the pocket of his white coat. The man nodded to the other who then moved to stand behind Scully's head. She was in a true state of panic now, pulling so hard against her bindings that thin lines of blood formed where they held her. The doctor behind her moved his hands to the sides of her head to keep it stil. She began thrashing, twisting back and forth trying to dislodge his hold. One particularly hard jerk and his grasp slipped momentarily. She saw her opening and took it, following his hand as it slid and turning her head up as far as she could. Quick as lightning she sank her teeth deep into his hand, the latex glove instantly shredding as she ripped into his flesh and refused to let go. She was actually growling. "Bitch! You fucking bitch!", the man screamed from behind his surgical mask, frantically trying to pull away from her. Mulder flew to his feet. "That's right, mother fucker! That's right!", he bellowed at the TV. The sight of the man's blood running down Scully's chin made him snarl, so hungry for it himself that he could practically taste it in his own mouth. Scully was lock-jawwed on the man's hand, like a pitbull in a dogfight. When the other doctor drew back his fist and punched her across the face, she never wavered. It took him four hard blows, her cheek splitting open with his last punch. A two inch gash spilled blood in every direction as she flung her head away from the source of the impact, finally forcing her to loose her hold. Once released from her grip, the wounded doctor ran to a sink in the far corner of the room. He placed his hand under the water, wailing in pain. She bit him clean through, his flesh now barely clinging to him, the two fingers which bore most of her wrath were connected only by thin strands of tissue. He was in complete hysterics, screaming curses at Scully and helplessly trying to wrap the digits to keep them from falling off completely. He turned to her, grabbed the nearest sharp instrument with his good hand and lunged at her. The sound of the gunshot was deafening in the small room. He'd been in the middle of "I'm gonna KIll--!" when his mask and entire mouth suddenly exploded in a projectile of bloody gore. He slumped down, dead before he hit the ground. The remaining doctor calmly moved to the sink and placed his gun on the counter top. He turned the water off and then bent to retrieve the vial he must have dropped while subduing Scully. The blast of the gun had left her momentarily shocked into silence. She was still, watching the man carefully as he came to face her at the foot of the gurney. She held his hard gaze evenly, her blue eyes fierce. Mulder was never more proud of her. It was then that the doctor slowly reached up to his mask and untied it. Letting it fall to the ground, the face he revealed was neither familiar nor remarkable. The man's lips curled up in a vicious smile. Mulder's blood ran cold, one hand covered his mouth. "Oh fuck..." And he watched in horror as the doctors features morphed into those of the Alien Bounty Hunter. Scully reacted immediately, the fight draining out of her. Her head slumped down against the gurney and she literally moaned her despair. "Oh my God..." Without words or preamble, the bounty hunter moved to stand beside her, grabbing a fistful of hair to bring her head up as far as the restraints would allow. His grip was unforgiving, unyielding. Scully yelped in pain and as soon as her mouth was open, he tugged her head back and shoved the small glass vial to her lips. Reflex took over and she swallowed the offending liquid before she had time to react. He watched to make sure the fluid went down, then dropped her head and turned He went to the remains of the doctor on the floor and took the dead man by the colar of his blood stained coat. Without looking back at her, he took the corpse and left the room. Now alone, Scully looked around, bewildered. Mulder continued to watch the screen, all of his senses on alert. And for one beautiful moment...nothing happened. She relaxed marginally. So did he. Then she coughed. Then she coughed again. And again. Her eyes grew wide as she gulped in a large lungful of air. She winced, no sooner taking in the breath before being forced to expel it in a deep bronchial bark. Followd by another. And another. These gave way to a fit of harsh coughs that never seemed to end. She grew frantic for air, wheezing in a small amount, only to choke on it. This time, when she coughed again, a tiny spray of red...foam...flew from her lips. Mulder dropped to his knees before the image, watching in terror as she opened her mouth wide and a sudden, large stream of it began to bubble up from her throat and flow down the sides of her cheeks. Trying desperately for breath, she only managed to suck the substance further into her airway. Her pale skin grew red as fire, her eyes large and bulging. With sick, terrible certainty, Mulder now understood the significance of the tapes. They were never meant to be anything more than a testimonial. He and Scully were the focus of a macabre documentry on the destuction of their spirits, made to place them exactly where They wanted. And the curtain was about to fall. "Oh God, Scully." *Scully* The sound of his braying sobs echoed through his apartment, but all Mulder heard were her strangled, watery coughs. Each one tore into him, slicing into his mind with the cold precision of a scalpel, searching through the folds of his brain for that one small piece of sanity and beginning to cut it away. She was blue from lack of oxygen now. He moaned in agony as she fought once more to drag in a breath. And failed. "No, Scully...Please, no. Please. Please..." She began to convulse. He beat his hands against the screen and screamed. And then...just like that...she grew stil. Mulder froze. Several long moments passed and all he could do was stare at her prone image in shock. Red foam slowly trickled from her nose. Her mouth was slack, her eyes open. And she was looking right at him. Or seemed to be. Her gaze was vacant. "Scully?" The sound of his voice startled him. He touched the glass. He touched her. "Hey, Scully...Hey...". He tried to smile at her, his mouth twisting into another sob. "Come on, Scully, don't fuck with me. Don't fuck with me!". He used both hands to knock frantically at her image. "Come on, Scully, cut it out! Please, God. Scully, cut it out!" He stood suddenly, turning his back to the screen. His hands flew to his scalp. He grabed great handfuls of hair and began to chant, "No. No. No...", softly at first, but growing in volume and desperation with each repetition. He took a couple of unsteady steps away from the television and then stopped, at a complete loss as to what to do. His mind began to lurch... Wait. No. This couldn't be right. This was...This was...Wait! He was stil asleep on his couch! That was it! This was a nightmare! And any second now, he was going to wake up. Wasn't he? He was going to wake up. He was going to wake up, God damn it! He pulled at his hair violently, his hands coming away with clumps of strands twined through his fingers. His scalp burned. He *was* awake. And if he was awake, then... Then... He twisted toward the screen and when his eyes connected with her lifeless strare once more, he began to whimper, a sound born of complete, absolute devastation. She was dead. She was dead! His legs buckled beneathe him and he went down instantly, not even registering the pain of his knees connecting with the hardwood floor. He brought himself up enough to reach out to her, his fingers brushed across the glass. He drew them back. And then, his body trembling, he used every ounce of strength left inside of him to bring his lips to the screen. He kissed her image. "I love you, Scully. I love you. I love you, baby. I love you..." He didn't stop. Not even when the tape ended and the screen turned to static. ------------------------ Hours passed. Or maybe just minutes. There is no true concept of time when your world has just ended. Or at least Mulder didn't think so. He sat on his couch. His apartment dark and quiet now. A candle flickered on his coffee table. Had he lit that? He couldn't really remember. His existence had narrowed down to two objects, both of which lay before him offering their own distinct forms of solace. One of them was Scully's picture. The only one he had. He remembered lifting it from a stack of crime scene photos, slyly tucking it into his trenchcoat. She looked so in her element, in the process of snapping on a pair of her ever present latex gloves, crouching down to study something on the ground, a look of deep concentration on her face. The soft light danced across her image. If he closed his eyes just far enough, through the distortion of his tears, it almost came to life. He could almost imagine her turning toward him, "Mulder, come take a look at this..." He tried to concentrate on seeing only the picture in front of him, and not the horror he saw when he closed his eyes...His Scully was full of life. *Full of life*! She wasn't that pale, battered form on that fucking gurney. How long ago was the tape recorded? Was she stil there, on that table, slowly decomposing for no one to find...? He shook his head violently to dispell the image. He was slipping. Fast. With every breath he took, dementia threatened to claim him and God only knew if he would ever venture this far into reaity again once it did. He couldn't hide away in his mind while she went...on...without him. He could find her now. He knew where to look. And he was wasting time. It seemed to him a most natural conclusion. Their fate was intertwined. It always had been. And he wasn't about to question method now. He reached for the second object before him. His eyes never wavered from her picture. He lifted his gun and opened his mouth. Three... Two... One... Peace. ------------------------- It was hot. Hotter than hell. Though the plants were high, the crop the man waded through did little to lessen the glare of the beating sun overhead. If anything, it made him feel more oppressed by the heat. But he squelched his discomfort and made his way through the rows. A corn maze in the middle of the fucking desert, these guys were priceless. The object of his excursion finally came into view as he reached a small clearing. He walked toward the older man whose head lifted in recognition when he saw him. "Ahhhh, Alex. I trust you are enjoying our beautiful weather this afternoon?", the man asked, his accent heavy and the easy mirth of the powerful twinkling in his eye. "How can you stand this?", Alex Krycek asked as he made his way to stand beside the other man. "Conditioning, young Alex, conditioning.", Strughold replied taking off his hat and removing a hankerchief from his pocket to swipe at his brow. His expression grew serious as he placed his hat back into place. "You didn't travel all this way just to discuss the heat, did you?" "Actually no, I didn't. I thought you'd be pleased to hear that our former colleague has met with a rather unsightly end. Mulder must've been seriously fucked, he didn't show the old man one ounce of mercy, blew his whole face right off." "Excellent. Excellent." Strughold replied. He turned his head up to the hot sun and sighed. "He behaved just as predicted." Krycek nodded and watched him carefully. "He's more predictable than Pavlov's dog. The last tape was delivered yesterday." This caught the other man's attention immediately. "And...?" Krycek looked down, then to the horizon to avoid Strughold's steady gaze. "They haven't found him yet." Strughold watched the younger man with something that almost looked like sympathy. Almost. If he were truly capable of feeling such a thing. "It was necessary, Alex." Krycek fought to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "You knew what sending him that tape would do to him. It would've been more humane to just let me shoot him" "Perhaps, yes." Krycek shook his head. Mulder had been misguided, true, but a man of conviction, he at least deserved to die at the hands of someone who respected him. Not the way he went. "All this drama just to push him into killing Spender? To drive him outta his mind?" "Not entirely, no. The outcome of events has eliminated our most serious obstacles. Our smoking friend is no longer of any concern and Mulder can no longer interfere in our plans. You know, just as I do, that Mulder was the greatest threat to the Project." Krycek looked away. He wasn't sure why he felt such derision. He *did* know that Mulder at some point would have to be silenced. It was just the method Strughold had used to acomplish this. No matter what the man said about necessities, Krycek knew he had taken an inordinate amount of perverse pleasure in slowly unraveling Mulder at the seams. And then there was Scully...Jesus, look at what they'd done to her. Mulder was probably the lucky one. A shudder ran through him. Not for the first time, Alex Krycek was glad to be in this man's good graces. He planned to stay there. Strughold broke the silence. "What about the merchandise?" "Already taken care of." Strughold nodded his approval and began to make his way back into the canopy of corn stalks. "Very good. Very good." Krycek stared after him. "Fuck" he whispered to nothing in particular... ----------------------- He'd never seen anything like it. And 27 years as an ER doctor had exposed him to some pretty insane shit. He looked at the test results in front of him and shook his head again in utter disbelief. What the hell was this stuff? The chemical make up didn't seem elementally possible for one thing and the effect it had obviously had on the patient wasn't humanly possible. Or wasn't supposed to be. Yet there it was in black and white. How was he supposed to explain this to his med students on rounds? For lack of a better definition, the substance pumped from the lungs was carbonated blood, no other way to put it. Carbonated blood! What the hell? Fizzed like cherry soda and foamed like rootbeer. And somehow it had sustained oxygen in the bloodstream and kept the patient alive without the need to draw breath for God knows how long. Crazy, crazy shit. More to add to the mystery of his newest Jane Doe. It wasn't enough that she appeared out of thin air behind curtain four, comatose, and without clothing or ID. Not to mention the fact that she was also fully hooked up to an IV and food tube no one at the hospital claims to have inserted. He was baffled. He stood at the end of her bed, openly staring at her in astonishment. Something major had happened to her, and he hoped that, despite the facts in her chart telling him it was next to impossible, she would wake up and shed some light on all of this. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Wait a second, had he imagind that?... Her eyelids fluttered. Holy shit! He went to her side at once. "Miss? Miss? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?" A long moment passed before she responded, her eyes finally opening to reveal a dazed blue visage. And in a quiet voice she spoke one word: "Mulder...?" END Remember, it's just *fiction* :) Send feedback and help save the whales, save the humans, save the universe...Yeah ok, just save my fragile ego...XRae1013@webtv.net "All we are is dust in the wind, dude."---Ted Theodore Logan X-RAE'S VISION http://www.geocities.com/xraex1013 X-PLICIT DISCLOSURES http://www.geocities.com/xfanfic1013 TITLE: Sacrificed II: Crucify AUTHOR: XRae FEEDBACK: welcomed at XRae1013@webtv.net RATED: R for strong language and violent content KEYWORDS: Angst, MSR, character death SPOILERS: Nothing major. ARCHIVE: Ephemeral, yes. Gossamer, yes. Anywhere else, you bet! Just let me know, please. DISCLAIMER: Never had'em. Never will. AUTHOR NOTES: This a follow-up/sequel to my story "Sacrificed" which can be found at: http://www.geocities.com/xfanfic1013/stories/xrae/sacrificed.html I would encourage you to read this one first but with the strong caution that it *is* listed as a character death piece. Having said that, I was amazed by the amount of positive feedback I received about the story despite the subject matter. To all of you who begged for a sequel, I so appreciated your words of encouragement...You know who you are, and this one's for you. (Oh and I'm sorry for the spelling errors, no spell check writing in .html. E-gads!) SUMMARY: Two unlikely allies band together to help Scully obtain closure...and in the process find purpose and peace for continuing on. SACRIFICED II: CRUCIFY ------------------------------ She understood. She never questioned why. She already knew the answer. And she understood. She raged. But never against him. She blamed. But never condemned him. Fury and anguish tangled knots in her soul. Pain fused to every cell in her body. Tears would come in the middle of a sentence, in the middle of a silence, in the middle of just trying to go on. Loss burned in her chest, turning her heart to ashes. But she understood. The complete sense of devastation. The absolute certainty of solitary anguish. Add these to his crippling fear of abandonment, to his helpless sense of failure to protect those he's loved the most...God, it hurt to think of what those last few moments must have been like for him. Blinded by his grief, he saught the only solution he could still see clearly. Their enimies no longer mattered. His quest no longer mattered. He was consumed with finding her. And for him, existence had narrowed to encompass only that. He had to find her. By any means necessary. This thought alone tormented her above all else. Was he seeking her even now? Was his spirit, restless and alone, wandering the afterlife, searching for her? Was he able to understand why she wasn't there? ------------------------------ Even as he sat watching the screen, he felt sick to his stomach. Why him? Why the hell give *him* this sad, sorry detail? She hadn't moved from her couch in over five straight hours. She just sat there, unmoving, silent tears cascading down her cheeks. What the fuck did They think she was gonna do? As far as she knew, Mulder had offed the man she thought was responsible for her abduction. Was he here just so the Big Man In Charge wouldn't miss how the rest of his orchestrated little tragedy played out? Surely his boss wasn't actually worried she might go off on some revenge fueled rampage. She was clearly too devastated to look that far ahead. Any idiot could see that. This was bullshit. He was the last person on earth who should be watching her. But Alex Krycek was finding it very difficult to look away. ------------------------------ "I dreamed about you again last night, Mulder," she said as she sipped her morning coffee. Her voice floated through the previous silence of the room and made her watcher jump in his seat. He was drinking coffee with her. Granted it was from a building away, but in the last couple of weeks, it was becoming part of the strange string of daily rituals they shared. He woke with her. Ate with her. Showered with her. Slept with her. All from a distance. And all without her knowledge, of course. The only thing he didn't do was cry with her. "I miss you. I miss you so much..." She stopped, unable or unwilling to continue. Krycek breathed a sigh of relief. She did this all the time, had one sided conversations with Mulder. She would even make comments to him during movies, like he was there, sitting right next to her, watching the TV. He hated when she talked to him. He always found himself insanely wishing the bastard would answer her. ------------------------------ He was going stir crazy. Seriously. Much more of this and he was gonna go postal. She never deviated much from the well worn path of grief she followed from day to day. He kept waiting for that Scully fire to suddenly ignite, to blaze, for her to at least start to remember who and what she was all about. Where was her knowledge of a truth even he recognized? Didn't she know she was supposed to avenge him? He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her. ------------------------------ **You have to, Krycek** "Are you fucking nuts? They'll kill me." **You know you had a part in this. It was wrong and you know that, too.** "I can't. I can't!" **You owe it to her.** "Bullshit!" **You owe it to me!** Krycek lifted his chin high. "Fuck you, Mulder!" he said defiantly to the empty air. ------------------------------ Weren't there supposed to be seven stages of grief, or some horseshit like that? Yeah, seven stages on the way to acceptence. Psychology's attempt to lump together the very individual process of wishing you were as dead as the person you lost. Whatever. As far as he could see, Scully was stuck, that's all there was to it. She wasn't moving through any god damn stages of anything. She sat in the dark, mostly. Which really sucked if you happened to be the unfortunate bastard that had to spy on her. His eyes hurt. His head hurt. And the more he thought about why he was stuck babysitting this pale, shriveling Scully-shell, the more pissed off he became. Pissed that she couldn't seem to Cowboy Up. Pissed that Muder bailed on her in the first place. Pissed that Strunghold got off enough on this shit to want it witnessed. And most of all, pissed that he actually gave a good god damn about any of it. Why should he care that senseless Mulder had died senselessly? That Scully the Ice Queen was now a melted puddle of fucking grief over it? That his own seriously whacked boss was still getting his ya-yas from the whole bullshit thing? He was a free agent, by God. Wasn't he? He didn't form loyalties and he sure as hell wasn't supposed to have a fucking conscience. Scully hardly ever cried anymore. Why did this seem to piss him off the most? ------------------------------ **Ever been in love, Krycek?** "No, Mulder," he sighed impatiently, "I've never been in love." **That's pathetic.** "No, it's lucky. Christ, man, look at what it's done for you." **Yeah. Here I am, a dead man, and I'm more alive than you are.** ------------------------------ She walked slowly, her head bowed, the bright Autumn sun above turning the strands of her hair into wisps of fire, the flames obscuring her face. One small step at a time. The wind created a billow of fabric behind her, her black trenchcoat doing little to hold of the chill in the air. It didn't matter. Inside, she felt colder than the air. Her mother had offered to come. Skinner had offered. The Gunmen, too. They just didn't understand why she needed to be alone with him here. Or why this place of sorrow was now the only sanctuary she had left. She came here when her apartment could no longer contain the building preasure of her grief. She came here when her own skin could no longer contain the building preasure of her lonliness. She could feel him here. When the breeze stirred the blades of grass beside her. When the trees waved to her with their branches. When the cold marble beneath her hands finally warmed under them. "Hi, Mulder." She sat infront of the stone marker, placed her hand against his name. "I'm a little early today." **Hey, Scully. How was your appointment?** "I've actually just come from my doctor's office. He had the results of my internal scan and wanted to discuss them with me. He didn't find anymore implants...but..." She shook her head, almost as though she couldn't quite believe what she was about to say. "I'm, um, I'm missing a kidney." **Oh Scully. I'm so sorry.** "Weird, huh? That I can feel the loss of you so acutely, yet not even miss one of my own internal organs." **You're so calm it's scaring me, Scully.** "I know I seem very calm about this. And, do you know what, Mulder? I am. It's like no matter what I find out now, about what was done to me, it doesn't matter." **It does matter!** "It really doesn't. Nothing I learn now could possibly compare to waking up in that hospital and finding out you were gone..." **I'm so sorry I deserted you, Scully** "I'm so sorry I deserted you, Mulder." "It wasn't your fault." **It wasn't your fault** "I know I tell you this all the time, but I don't blame you for the choice you made. And I understand it as only another person faced with the same bleakness can..." **Oh Scully. I played right into Their hands. They knew my greatest fear and They destroyed me with it.** "I don't blame you, Mulder." **I know you don't. But you have to stop blaming yourself, Scully. You didn't choose to be a part of what happened. You were used, just like I was.** "Do me a favor, Mulder. If you happen to run into that chain smoking son of a bitch..." **Nah, he took the elevator down.** "No. I'm sure you two took very different paths wherever you are now." **Not according to other Catholics.** "I miss you, Mulder." **Scully, listen to me. Don't give up. You have to keep fighting the fight. The man responsible for this is still out there. I didn't see this. But you have to, Scully.** "I miss you so much." He leaned in close to her and placed his hand on her cheek, his thumb carressed her bottom lip reverently. **I love you.** Her eyes closed of their own accord, a soft gentle breeze danced slowly around her. "I love you too, Mulder." ------------------------------ Krycek lowered the mike, wishing for the hundreth time he hadn't decided to point that reciever toward Scully. He'd never felt uncomfortable while listening in on any of countless conversations he'd had to hear over the years. And he'd heard some pretty insane personal shit. But he felt uncomfortable now having listened to this one and wasn't even sure why. He leaned forward in his seat and put his head on the steering wheel. What the hell was happening to him? The air beside him suddenly shifted and it felt as though the very molecules in the car changed to make room for the arrival of his passenger. He leaned back and nodded toward Scully. "She doesn't hear you, does she. I mean, not in the same way I hear you." **No.** "Why not? Out of all the people you knew, who were a part of your life, you were closest to her. I don't get it." **She hasn't made peace with my death. She can't accept the reality of my presence until she does...When she comes here, it's the closest she comes to doing this. She can feel me here. That's enough for now.** Krycek shook his head. "So why me? We weren't exactly friends before. We never would have sat in a car this long together while you were alive without you knocking a few of my teeth loose." The air rippled with Mulder's soft laughter. "No, seriously." **Because through you, she can set things right. She can find closure and move on with her life.** "I've already told you, I'm not going to help you, Mulder. And you can't force me to. You got the wrong guy." **Hey Krycek, you ever seen that movie "Ghost"?** "Yeah. Where are you going with this?" The cabin of the car filled with Mulder's offkey crooning... **I'm Henry the Eighth, I am, I am. Second verse, same as the first. I'm Henry the Eighth, I am, I am...** Krycek groaned. ------------------------------ He clutched the phone in his sweaty palm. **Relax Krycek.** "That's easy for you to say, Mulder, you're already dead." "Alex, my friend!" a voice suddenly boomed in the earpiece. "Is it true?" "Yeah, I'm not sure who tipped her, but she's hot on your ass." "Yes, I suppose this was inevitable. Unlike her partner, this one is not so easily brought down by suffering." Strunghold expelled a long breath into the reciever. "Well Alex, it would seem your current assignment is almost at its end." "It would appear that way, yeah. So now what? You, ah, you want me to off her?" Krycek closed his eyes, and hoped Mulder was right in his belief that Strunghold would choose to do this himself. There was a long pause. Finally, the other man spoke. "No Alex. I was planning a trip to the States to check on the progress of our new crops. I'll take care of this. I'll be in touch. Until that time, keep close tabs on Miss. Scully." The line went dead. Krycek ended the call with a shaky press of a button. "OK. It's done. Now what?" **Now we go to Scully.** "She's in no shape for this." **She's stronger than you think.** "She'll never trust me, Mulder. You know that. And once Strunghold makes his way here to 'take care of this', he'll kill her for information she doesn't even know." **You have to make her believe.** Krycek shook his head in disbelief "Christ, Mulder, you don't ask for much, do you." **When this is over, your slate with us is clean.** "When this is over, I'm as good as dead, so stuff your slate up your ass." **Alex, listen to me. You are going to pick up where I left off. And you will save them all.** Krycek barked a bitter laugh. "Bullshit! Don't forget that I'm only helping you so you'll stop haunting my ass. Once this is over, I'm disappearing and the world can go fuck itself. When the colonists arrive, I'll be the one to sell them god damn condos." **You asked me once, 'why you', remember?** Alex nodded, wary. **Because you are the only one who can. You are the only one who will.** Krycek actually laughed. "You are so full of shit. You really get off on this Obi-Wan Kenobi crap, don't you." **It's the truth, Alex. And a part of you already knows it. You have the power to tip the scales. Is it really a question of who's side your on? Or are you just afraid?** Krycek found himself wishing he could see the other man just so that he could glare at him. He settled for stating what he felt was the obvious: "I'm not on anyone's side but my own." **Then I guess humanity is in luck, since they just happen to be on your side, too. You told me once that resistence was within our grasp. You were right. And you'll be the one that grabs it by the balls, Krycek.** Alex closed his eyes. "I don't believe you," he whispered. **It doesn't matter. Some things are beyond our control.** ------------------------------ He let himself carefully into her apartment. He'd watched her long enough to make sure she was fast asleep, but he still didn't believe in taking chances. He had to be cautious. He was assigned to watch Scully. He had little doubt that someone else was assigned to watch him watching her. Strunghold trusted no one. And he covered every base. And usually with more than one player. He quietly made his way to the bedroom and eased her door open, mindful of every small creak it made. He didn't think sneaking up on her was such a good idea, but his choices were very limited as far as how he could handle this. He took a few steps slowly into the room and was about halfway to her bed when he realized she wasn't still in it. Paniced, he turned around just in time to hear the door slam closed. He was trapped. And when the room was suddenly bathed in light, he wasn't quite prepared for the sight that greeted him. She stood infront of the door, clad in her black satin pajamas, her hair a wild mass of red. Eyes blazing, chin set, and her gun leveled. He could hardly believe it was her. There was little trace of the grief stricken, sallow woman he'd been watching so diligently over the last three months. She was Scully, avenging angel with a gun and night cream. And Jesus, he really had no right to be this happy to see her. He watched as her lips curled up in a sly smile. "Well, well, well...Something told me if I played mouse long enough, the cat would come. Come here to do somebody's dirty work, Krycek? I may only shoot one of your balls off if you tell me who sent you." "You'd never believe me," he answered, knowing full well it was true. Dana Scully did not believe in ghosts. Hell, neither did he until a couple of months ago. "Try me." He shook his head, still not quite over the change in her. "What the hell happened to you?" "You want a list?" "No, I mean..." He was flustered, completely unprepared, he had no idea of what direction to take. "Fuck, even this morning...You were a mess. Jesus, you layed in bed till almost 2:30. It's the most I've seen you bawl since..." It was too late. He smiled ruefully at his own stupidity, even as he heard her gun click. "So, you have been watching me. Why? Alex, Alex, Alex...I think maybe you should start talking." He stared at her, dumbstruck. "NOW, Krycek!" **You better do what she says.** He whirled toward the voice coming from beside her. "You son of a bitch, you set me up!" She narrowed her eyes. "What the hell do you mean, I set you up?" "Not you!" "What?!" **Alright Alex, settle down. I didn't set you up. She's just got her groove on. You knew this wasn't going to be easy.** "You're right about that, you dumb-ass. I knew it was going to be impossible." "Who the hell are you talking to?" **And you sure as hell better stop talking outloud to me, dip-shit! She's about one second away from 'shoot first, ask questions later'** "I'm about one second away from 'shoot first, ask questions later', dip-shit! So start talking!" Krycek sighed, exasperated. "OK, OK! Let's just start this all over." "Oh, you mean you'd like to take this back to when you first broke into my apartment?" "Yes! No! Damn it, just let me tell you why I came here." Scully rolled her eyes. "This should be rich." **Come on, Scully. Relax a little, G-woman. Listen to the man.** "OK." She took a deep breath. "Fine. I'm listening." "You think maybe you could lower that gun?" "Don't push your luck." **Don't push your luck.** "Can I at least sit down?" "Krycek!" **Krycek!** He put his hands out infront of him. "Alright, alright, alright!" He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "I have some information for you." Scully cocked her head to the side. "Really. And why on earth would I believe anything you have to say? You're a liar and a murderer, Krycek. I may not have any real proof that you were involved with what happened to Mulder and I, but it has your stench all over it." Alex closed his eyes and took a deep breath. **No, no. This is ok. She's hearing you out. Now, just let her know the truth.** Krycek tried to collect his thoughts, knowing that everything depended on the next words that came out of his mouth. "You're right. Or at least you're right about what I am. But it's because of what I am that I'm here tonight. Regardless of my questionable loyalties, I do have my limitations for what even I'm willing to tolorate. I'm not here to excuse my part in all this, and I don't really give a shit whether or not you believe that. What I'm here to do is offer you the man responsible for yankin' all our chains. The one who planned and executed your abduction and the tests. The one who sent Mulder the tapes." Scully swallowed visibly and paled at his words. "Mulder found that man." "No. Spender was guilty of a lot of shit, but this was one operation he was completely innocent of. Mulder was purposely lead to the Smoking Man, with the specific intent of causing the very outcome he'd been manipulated into pursuing. The man truly responsible for this doesn't just have connections to the top, he *is* the top. You bring him down, you leave a bunch of squabbling halfwits scrambling for control of something that's already far beyond anyone's control. You bring him down, and you'll have justice. I can deliver this man to you, Scully. I can end this for all of us." Scully was quiet for a long moment, merely looking at Krycek with careful scrutiny. "Why would you do this?" "Because it's bullshit. You don't fuck with a man's soul just to get your rocks off." **You should write poetry, Krycek. That was truly a moving sentiment.** Alex bit his tongue and continued to keep Scully's hard gaze. "So, I'm supposed to buy this load of crap because you suddenly have a case of conscience?" "Look, you can think whatever in the hell you want to, but I have my reasons for doing this and I couldn't give a good god damn what you think of them." **Ease back, Alex.** "I know what I'm doing!" "Really?" Scully raised her brow. Krycek actually laughed, the preasure of the situation finally taking some toll. "No, Scully. Not really, no." He stopped for a moment and then grew serious. "All I do know is that everything I've done in the past, I've done because I thought it was leading to something. The methods were extreme, the outcomes sometimes less than morally favorable, but I followed those men because I believed in what I could do through my loyalties with them. I went to Mulder once and tried to explain this to him. He didn't trust me either. But he knew I was telling him the truth. And I'm telling it to you now, too." **Come on, Scully. Let's finish this.** She was quiet, contemplating what was surely about to be a serious lack of better judgment on her part. She could hardly believe what was happening, yet she somehow knew in her heart that it was right. She lowered her gun. "Come on, Krycek. Let's finish this." ------------------------------ When Krycek first suggested this, she was agast by the idea. So much blood had found its way to Mulder already, the chance of bringing it here seemed almost obscene to her. But, this Strunghold had to believe what he'd been told, that even though she had information connecting him to her abduction, she was still far too entrenched in grief to offer much resistence. And here, wouldn't he be confident that her resistence would be at its lowest? In the end, Krycek was right. This was an open space that also happened to offer perfect cover for the rest of the team. "All's quiet on the western front," AD Skinner's voice crackled in her ear. "Still no sign of the mystery man." "He'll show," she heard Krycek whisper. They were close by and she took some comfort in that, though she would be hard pressed to admit that any of it derived from the presense of Alex Krycek. Skinner wasn't entirely convinced this wasn't all just an elaborate setup. And even after his own reluctant acceptance of Krycek's place in all of this, her boss still insisted that he head up the operation when the time came. And she knew it was primarily so he could watch her back. "I don't know, Krycek," she heard Skinner say. "If this guy is so all powerful why would he come himself to do something any number of his henchmen could do for him?" "I think he sees this as some big climatic end to all his bullshit and wants to witness the effects of his handiwork close up." "Twisted sack of shit, I ought to just--" "Wait! Quiet! That's him! Coming in from the back." "I have visual contact," another voice informed them. "I got him," Skinner said. "Stay sharp, people. Scully, he's heading your way." She took a deep, calming breath. This was it. One way or another, the events set into motion that rainy night so long ago, ended here. And as it should be, Mulder was there to see it through with her. She carressed the headstone with a gentle sweep of her fingers. "Well partner, this is it." **Let's get this show on the road, Scully.** "Keep tight, Scully. He's about thirty yards behind you," Skinner said quietly. "To your left," Krycek added. "He's taking his time, but get ready." She lowered her head and closed her eyes. She willed herself to stop shaking. She had to keep it together, just long enough to get this son of a bitch. She owed it to Mulder. She owed it to herself. No mistakes. No mistakes. No mistakes. "Miss. Scully, please forgive me for intruding," a heavy accented voice said from behind her. She guessed about 10 to 12 feet away. She stood and turned slowly to face him, this man who had stollen her life, her future. Though she screamed inside at the sight of him, her face remained cool and impassive. She looked him over and as she expected, could see the gun he held casually at his side. "Do I know you?" "Not directly, no. But I am quite familiar with you. And also with the unfortunate soul for whom you mourn so terribly. Such a tragedy, his death." "And obviously," she nodded toward the weapon in his hand, "you intend to add to this tragedy?" He smiled an oily smile and shrugged. "Truly that depends on your point of view. It could be argued that I am here to free you from the grief that so consumes you and reunite you with the man you love." Scully's stomach clentched, his words deeply affecting her. **It's a lie, Scully. I'm already right beside you.** She eyed him with contempt. "So you've come here to kill me?" Skinner's voice whispered low in her ear. "Good, Scully, good. Get him talking." The man infront of her took a careful step toward her. "I would think you would welcome death. What is your life now but a daily lesson in misery?" "You didn't answer my question." "To the point as ever. Alright, I will answer you plainly. It has been brought to my attention that you have obtained information that it is in my best intrest to keep secret. I will protect this need for secrecy at all costs and with lethal intent." She swallowed. "Fine. But you answer this, you son of a bitch, did you kill Mulder?" "Need I remind you of the rather graphic details of his death? Fox Mulder died by his own hand." "He was used and manipulated in order to serve an agenda," she practically snarled at him. "Now answer me. Was it you? Did you orchestrate my abduction? Did you torture Mulder by sending him those tapes?" "I believe you are already quite capable of answering those questions for yourself." "Don't fuck with me! I wanna hear you say it!" "Ease back, Scully, we need a confession, you're leading him," Skinner soothed softly. **It's alright, Scully. You can do this.** Strunghold assessed her with careful eyes. "You have been through quite an ordeal. Do you think knowing the truth, in light of all your suffering, all of Mulder's suffering, truly matters now?" She lifted her chin defiantly. "The truth *always* matters. Always." "A noble sentiment. Noble, yet flawed. If this were one truth you chose to ignore, it would not now come to sacrificing your life for it." **If he levels that gun, Alex...** "Listen," Krycek said in a hushed tone, "if he levels that gun at her, I'll shoot him where he stands." "We've been over this," Skinner broke in. "If we can, we take him alive. Don't loose your cool." Scully blinked slowly, trying to focus on the man infront of her, not on the voices buzzing in her ear. Strunghold watched with wry amusement. **Oh shit. He knows. He knows you guys are out there, Krycek.** Scully felt cold suddenly. Something wasn't right. She tried to school her features, intent on keeping Strunghold focused away from the others. She caught a fleeting look of...something...from him. **Scully, listen to me. He knows. He knows this is a setup. He's got guys closing in on the team.** She felt her hands twitch, the need to reach for her gun overwhelming. "What the hell was that?" Skinner's voice sounded in her ear. "I'm hit!" another said. "Shots fired!" Krycek broke in urgently. "Skinner, they just moved past the outer perimeter. They're making a sweep, these guys are pros." **Scully...Come on, Scully. Draw your weapon.** "Officer down!" a voice exploded in her ear. She flinched. Strunghold smiled. "Keep your heads, people," Skinner said urgently. "You guys in back, keep sharp! We need to make a move." "We'll compromise Scully," Krycek said frantically. **She's already compromised, Krycek!** "We don't have much choice here! Men are getting shot!" the AD bellowed. "He's gonna kill her and disappear while you dumbfucks play cop and robbers with his lackeys. I'm telling you, for Christ's sake, hold off and--" "There's no time!" Another voice. "Sir, watch out!" And another. "Officer down!" **Scully, draw your weapon!** "ENOUGH!" The sound of her voice echoed across the cemetary. Stunned silence filled her earpiece. It took her all of about three seconds to draw her weapon and aim it at Strunghold. He brought up his own weapon immediately in response. **You go, girl!** "FBI! Mr. Strunghold, you are under arrest for the kidnapping and assult of a federal officer, conspiracy to commit the murder of a federal officer, and high crimes against the national security of the United States. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say can be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney--" The man infront of her laughed. The audacity of it just enough to break her stride. She glared at him. "Does this amuse you, Mr. Strunghold?" "Absolutely," he chuckled. "Though I must say, I do admire your effort. I should not have underestimated you. Mulder, he was far easier and weaker," he sneered. "No, you son of a bitch. You know nothing of Mulder. And you know nothing of me." Somewhere, off in the distance of the cemetary, she heard the sound of shots, closer now. She gripped her gun tighter. "That would be my associates." "Or mine," she countered, her bravado wilting slightly when the static in her ear suddenly went dead. "You must realize the futility of this," Strunghold said smoothly. **Don't worry, Scully. He's bluffing. Our guys are all over this. He wants to intimidate you, to throw you off balance enough to give him an opening. It's ok, you're doing fine.** The air around her seemed to settle her, though she could never have explained how or why. "Mr. Strunghold, do you not realize that you are surrounded by federal officers? That your apprehension was given top priority by the State Department? There are enough officers within a five mile radius of this cemetary to start a convention. And if by some miracle you do escape me and attempt to leave these premisis, it will result in trained sharp shooters taking extreme measures to subdue you, that these men have clear instructions to shoot on sight if we are unable to take you alive. You were set up." For just a second, she thought she saw a flash of real fear cross his face. Then it was gone, replaced by a relaxed air of superiority. "Tell me, Miss. Scully, how sure are you of the true loyalties of the men you speak of?" She refused to take the bait. "More certain than you should be." "Really? You can't mean you base your confidence on the loyalties of Alex Krycek?" he smiled as he saw her waver slightly. "Yes? Perhaps you *are* as gullible as Mulder." **It's a lie, Scully!** "I don't believe you. And I'll tell you this, one way or another, your ass is mine. Whether I haul you off in cuffs or a bodybag doesn't make a whole lot of difference to me." "Charming to the last," he spat at her. He cocked his gun, the sound of the click trailed only seconds ahead of Scully's weapon doing the same. **Krycek! Get over here.** "I got your back." She heard a voice say to her left. She didn't dare chance to look, but she recognized Krycek and relaxed marginally. "I was beginning to think you were gonna stand me up," she said, hiding her nervous smile as best she could. "Where's Skinner?" "Hit, but ok. EMTs were just called." "Alex," Strunghold said carefully, "explain this." "Your a smart man figure it out." Scully couldn't resist herself, "Well, he couldn't be too smart if he didn't see this coming, Alex. But still, he responded just as you said he would." "More predictable than Pavlov's dog," Krycek sneered. She watched as Strunghold's eyes darted quickly toward the direction of Alex's voice, then came immediately back to settle on her again. His anger was evident. "Do you dare point a gun at me, Alex Krycek? What's the meaning of this?" "The meaning is, you sir, are fucked. Lower your weapon." Strunghold smirked. **Wait a second. Wait--!** His movement was sudden and quick, the second weapon in his other hand before either of them could respond. Their reaction time was little more than half a second, but it was enough of a delay to allow him to bring the gun up toward Krycek. Scully fired her weapon. The impact of her bullet caused Strunghold to jerk back, the guns in his hands going off simutaneously. Then another shot. **NO!** The three of them dropped, Strunghold and Krycek to open grass, Scully against the front of Mulder's headstone. **Oh no, no, no.** "Scully?" Krycek called weakly. "Are you hit?" "Yeah," she answered with some difficulty. "You?" "Just above my hip. It's bleeding like a son of a bitch." "Put pressure...on it." She struggled to sit up against the hard marble behind her. With the new vantage point, she looked down at her chest, and knew then that her own advice would do little to help her. She faught against the wave of dizziness that washed over her at the realization and layed her head back to rest on Mulder's headstone. She tried to take a breath. It sounded wet to her medically trained ear. "What about...Strunghold?" "My bullet ended what yours started, Scully. He's dead. It's over." "Thank...God." She smiled. As if from a distance, she heard Krycek start speaking again. "I can't get to her...I can't move. The bone's shredded...I'm sorry, man..." "Krycek, who...are you...talking to?" "No, I'm sorry," he went on. "I don't think I'm gonna make it. I'm loosing way too much blood." "Krycek...?" She stopped suddenly, a sharp, hot pain tearing through her chest. She coughed. The taste of blood filled her mouth. Her eyes closed. "No, Scully's the one. *She* should do it...Oh God...OK. I promise. I will...Mulder? Mulder? Where'd you go? Mulder...?" At the sound of Krycek calling out Mulder's name, Scully willed herself to focus enough to open her eyes. It took her a moment, but when she finally managed it, she could hardly believe what she saw infront of them. She opened her mouth, but no sound would come. Tears filled her eyes. **Hey Scully.** "Mul...der???" **Yeah.** She managed to lift her head and looked up at him, her gaze swimming with wonder and disbelief. "How...?" **I was always with you, Scully. Do you honestly think I'd go off to solve the biggest of all X-Files without you by my side?** "I can't...believe this." **Nice to know some things never change.** She tried to smile through the weight of her pain. "Oh...Mulder..." **Everything is going to be fine, Scully.** Tears slid down her cheeks. "No, Mulder...it isn't. If I...don't get...medical attention...I'm...done for. The bullet...shattered my ribs...My lungs are pierced." **It'll be ok. Do you trust me?** Another pain tore through her, her eyes began to droop. **Scully, open your eyes.** She struggled to obey him, the effort almost too much for her. But she did as he asked, and opened her eyes, able to deny him nothing. **Scully, do you trust me?** She nodded, the movement so small it could almost be missed. He reached out his hand to her and smiled. "OK, then take my hand and get up." **Can't move...Hurts...** "Scully, take my hand. Take my hand." He tried to reassure her, his gaze full of understanding and love. He stepped closer to her and lowered his offered hand. "Take it, Scully. Don't be afraid." Her eyes never left his as she faught against the agony coursing through her. With all of her remaining strength, her arm lifted and her questing hand met his. Solid. Warm. And as his hand closed over hers, the pain disappered completely. "Come here, Scully." He pulled her to him and she felt his arms close around her. She threw herself into his embrace, wrapping her own arms around him tightly. "It's you. It's really you. But...But, how???" "Shhhh." He placed his long fingers under her chin and tilted her face to his. He smiled softly as his lips lowered to hers. When the kiss finally ended, he steped back and took her hand in his again. "You ready to go?" "Yeah," she smiled, unable to take her eyes off of him. Slowly, they began to walk away. The cemetary, the rush of officers and EMTs, all just sights and sounds fading into the background. Hand in hand. Step by step. She never noticed she left her body behind them... END Feedback? XRae1013@webtv.net "You're going the right way for a smacked bottom."--Shrek X-RAE'S VISION http://www.geocities.com/xraex1013 X-PLICIT DISCLOSURES http://www.geocities.com/xfanfic1013