Blind Faith

BLIND FAITH

I first suspected something might be wrong a few weeks ago, although at the

time, I thought I'd just been spending too many hours staring at the

computer, transcribing field notes into reasonable case summaries, and

writing up expense reports and the like.  Basically, I'd been having

headaches, and my vision seemed a little off.  Doctor, heal thyself became my

new mantra.  I made a special point of going to bed early for a few nights,

and I limited my time on the PC to short, intensely productive work sessions.

 Unfortunately, that didn't seem to help.

So I set up an appointment with the ophthalmologist for a quick eye exam.  It

had been a while since the prescription for my reading glasses had been

re-evaluated.  The doctor did think that I needed stronger lenses.  Another

blessed reminder of that ticking biological clock.  But he also gave me some

rather disturbing news.  He noted a marked decrease in my peripheral vision

since my last visit three years ago.  He wanted to follow up with some

tests... I told him I would schedule them as soon as I could find the time.

I still haven't found the time.  Truth is, I'm terrified of what the tests

might reveal.  My cancer has only been in remission for two years, and though

my last checkup showed no signs of the tumor, it has been almost six months

since then.  The anxiety that my cancer might return never leaves me.  I am

haunted by the knowledge that a recurrence of the disease which nearly took

my life two years ago, would this time surely be fatal.

Trying to go about business as usual without letting on to Mulder that

anything is wrong, has become a daily challenge.  It's not easy to hide a

splitting headache.  My moods haven't been the best the past few weeks.  And

unless it's my imagination running away with me, I think my peripheral vision

is rapidly getting worse.  Everyday I tell myself that I haven't had a

nosebleed so it can't be the cancer returning.  Even though my rational

medical mind knows the cancer could have easily presented itself in another

way, the symptoms could vary.

I refuse to accept that possibility.  There's got to be another explanation

for the symptoms I'm having.  Maybe it's all psychosomatic, nothing more than

a case of hypochondria brought on by simple eye strain and an overactive

imagination.

That's what I try to make myself believe.  But then reality slaps me in the

face like it did last week, when Mulder and I were getting some lunch.  I

stepped right out in front of a speeding car as I went to cross the street.

If Mulder hadn't been there to grab me back out of harm's way, I would have

been hit full on.  He couldn't understand why I didn't see the car.  The only

explanation I could offer was that my mind had been elsewhere, followed

immediately by a promise to be more careful.  The frightening thing was I

really hadn't seen the car.  And despite what I told Mulder, I had been

paying attention.

Then, a couple of days ago, I almost got into two separate accidents on my

way home from work.  One of them a near fatal miss as I crossed lanes on the

freeway without noticing the gasoline tanker truck driving beside me.  The

next day I took a cab.  It's expensive, but I don't trust my driving anymore.

God, I don't know what I'm going to do.  I realize that I need to go to the

doctor, but I don't want to face what they might tell me.  I'm only delaying

the inevitable of course.  Ignoring it doesn't make it any less a reality.  I

keep trying to convince myself that it's nothing.  That I'm just letting my

fear get the better of me.  But how much longer can I go on with my head

buried in the sand?

If things are progressively getting worse, as I fear they might be, my

effectiveness as an agent is going to come into question sooner or later.  I

wouldn't want to put Mulder at risk because the performance of my duties has

become impaired as the result of an undiagnosed and untreated medical

condition.  So much is weighing on my mind, and the enormity of it all is

only making matters worse.

The headache I woke up with this morning is too bad to even function with.  I

use the lie of a flu bug to placate Mulder when I call him and say I won't be

in to work today.  As soon as I hang up the phone, I break out an old bottle

of pain pills left over from one of my many work-related injuries.  These are

strong pills.  I will try to sleep this thing off; and if I'm not feeling

better by tomorrow, I suppose I'll have to make that appointment and have

them run their damn tests.  Right now all I want to do is crawl back into

bed, in my darkened room, and drift off into a painless, drug-induced bliss.

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The sound of the phone ringing startles me from my sleep.  My hand slaps out

wildly at the coffee table until I find the offending device, my eyes still

closed.

"Mulder," I croak sleepily into the phone.  When the only reply I get is

another shrill ring blasting in my ear, I come to the brilliant realization

that I forgot to hit the 'send' button.  Cursing under my breath, I try

again.  "Yeah, Mulder."

"Mulder!  Thank God!  I... I need your help!"  Scully's hysterical voice has

me wide awake and off the couch in an instant.

"Scully!  What's the matter?  What's wrong?"

Is she's crying?  Her breathing is unsteady.  "I... I can't see!  I can't see

anything!"

"Where are you?"  I'm checking my watch as I slip on my shoes.  Sometimes

falling asleep in one's clothes has it's advantages.

"Home.  Mulder, please, hurry!"

As she says that, I'm already grabbing for my coat and keys.  Scully called

in sick yesterday.  She told me it was nothing, just a touch of the flu.  I

promised her I wouldn't pester her and I'd let her sleep it off.  Damn it, I

knew I should have checked on her!  "I'm on my way."

"Mulder, don't hang up!"  Her panic moves me to run down the stairs, rather

than wait for the elevator.

"I'm still here, Scully."  Dashing out of the building, I get behind the

wheel of my car.  "Scully, tell me what's going on."

"I... I... I woke up... and I... I couldn't see.  I'm blind!  I can't see a

thing!  God!  God, Mulder, what's happening to me?"

I wish I could climb through the phone and hold her.  I'm not used to hearing

her sound so frightened.  It's not like her to lose control.  My usually

unflappable partner is trembling so badly I can hear it in her voice.  I

can't say I'd be doing much better if I were in her place.  She sobs into the

phone as I start the engine.  The tires squeal as I pull away from the curb,

the accelerator floored.

"I'm having... trouble breathing," she cries.  "Are you there, Mulder?  Can

you hear me?"

"I'm right here."  Though I don't feel the least bit calm at this moment, I

try to sound that way for Scully's sake.  "Tell me what's going on.  When I

talked to you yesterday you said you had the flu.  Are you still feeling

sick?"  I'm tempted to hang up and call for an ambulance, but I promised her

I wouldn't get off the line.

There is a long silent pause, and my pounding heart beats a little faster.

I'm about to yell her name into the phone when she finally answers me.

"Mulder... I... I lied to you.  I'm sorry... I've been... trying to hide this

from you."

Jesus.  She proceeds to tell me in her tearful, shaky voice what's been

happening to her the past few weeks.  By the time she is finished with her

story, I'm parking the car in front of her place.  My stomach is tense with

fear and anger.  I'm furious with her for not telling me sooner, for trying

to hide her symptoms from me, and refusing to get medical attention.

I have my key out and ready as I run up the steps to her building.  My hands

are shaking to the point that it's almost impossible to get the damn key into

the lock.  But I finally manage to pull off this amazing feat, and as I enter

her apartment, my eyes frantically search for her.

"Scully!"

"I'm here!" she calls back from her bedroom.

I find her huddled on the floor beside her bed, still clutching the phone,

her wide teary eyes staring unfocused at the floor.  In the three strides it

takes me to get to her, all my anger drains away.  I take the phone from her

hands and put it back on the receiver.  And then take her up into my arms.

She clings to me desperately.

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Physiologically speaking, it makes no medical sense that my breathing should

become easier the minute Mulder lifts me in his embrace.  But perhaps all of

my symptoms aren't purely physiological.  Maybe waking to this darkness has

triggered an emotional response akin to a panic attack.  As I cling to

Mulder, I close my eyes and pretend that the darkness is self-imposed.

Breathing in his scent, a mix of familiar cologne and sweat, I find myself

calming down significantly.

"It's all right, Scully.  It's okay.  I'm here."  He whispers the words

against my ear.  Reassuring me, as if his presence could somehow make

everything right.  I'm amazed at how much comfort his words do bring.  I feel

control slowly returning to me, and my confidence seeping back.  It's wrong

that I should depend on him this much, that I should depend upon anyone this

much... but in the face of what I fear is a recurrence of the disease which

could easily take my life, I feel an overwhelming need to cleave to someone.

"I'm taking you to the hospital."  There is no room for argument in his tone.

 Not that I'm in any condition to argue.  The pain from this headache alone

could be causing my blindness, I reason.

"Mulder, I need to get dressed,"  I tell him with a timid voice.

I feel a puff of air against my cheek as he sighs.

"I'm not going to the hospital in my pajamas."

He lowers me onto the bed, and I reluctantly let go of him so he can get my

clothes.  I should be telling him where everything is, but the splitting pain

in my head has me occupied at the moment.  The amount of concentration

required just to keep myself from throwing up is almost more than I can bear

right now.  Mulder is a resourceful man.  He will find his own way.  I hear

drawers being opened and shut.  A minute later he is back at my side.

"Do you need help?" he asks after a pause.

I'm in too much agony to care about modesty.  "Please," I whisper through my

pain.

There is another moment's hesitation before I feel his fingers at the buttons

of my pajama top.  But once he has begun, he quickly completes the task.  I

feel a slight chill of cool air on my bare skin as the garment is stripped

away.

Through the haze of my throbbing headache, I hear Mulder's reaction to my

partial nudity.  He doesn't mean for me to notice his quiet gasp, but my

hearing is acute with the loss of my sight.  I've lost weight, eleven pounds

in the last month.  I was already a bit thin to begin with... what he sees

must appall him. I told myself I wasn't eating right because of the

headaches.  Denial is dependent upon so many rationalizations and a

willingness to believe.  And fear is great motivation.

His warm hands slip the straps of a bra up my arms.  Mulder almost embraces

me as he looks over my shoulder to fasten the hooks.  I remain still and

quiet, enjoying this intimacy regardless of my suffering.

All too soon he is putting a T-shirt over my head, and then he guides me to

my feet so my pajama bottoms can be easily removed.  I can't suppress the

shiver that comes when I feel his fingers gliding along my thighs as he

assists me into my panties and then a pair of jeans.  I don't even offer to

zip and button, though surely I am capable of at least this task.  I place

myself completely in his hands, showing him every bit of trust our seven plus

years together have built.  In my vulnerability I seek the safety of a

relationship that has never failed me.

My constant... it is the perfect definition of this man.

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Scully actually wanted me with her when the tests were run.  In fact, she

didn't once let go of my hand the whole time we were in the emergency room.

I'm grateful that she isn't trying to shut me out anymore.  Understandably,

her loss of vision must have left her feeling helpless.  And her medical

training is probably a curse and not a blessing as she mentally diagnoses all

sorts of horrible reasons for her symptoms.  I can only imagine how

frightened she must be.  I know how terrified I am.

I keep hoping it's not what I think it could be.  She swears she hasn't had

any bloody noses... she even told the doctor that, although it didn't seem to

take the grim look from his face.  He ordered the MRI anyway, and the blood

tests... this is all sickeningly familiar.

As I stand watching the monitor, the image of Scully's scan comes up and my

knees buckle beneath me.  My years with an MD as a partner have been

educational.  I recognize the tumor even before the doctor sighs and shakes

his head, and the tech mumbles a quiet curse.

A nurse offers to help me to a chair, but I angrily pull away.  How could

this be?  Her cancer was gone.  Now suddenly it's back, and by the looks of

that mass, it's grown larger than before.  CGB promised me the chip was the

cure.  And it seemed to be just that.  But here I am placing my faith in a

man who has based his entire life on deception and prevarication... a man

whose very soul is wrought of deceit.  I had no other choice than to trust

him with Scully's life.  I swear I will keep the promise I made to him... if

Scully dies from this disease that he and his cohorts are responsible for

giving her, I will not be dissuaded from hunting him down and murdering him.

A final act of vengeance before I take my own life.

The doctor is talking to me.  I look up at him blankly and blink away a

stare.  I have to focus on what he's saying, have to hear the words that I've

heard only in my nightmares over the last two years.

"I'm afraid the cancer is back.  The tumor has broken through the bone of her

nasal cavity and is pressing on the optic nerve.  That's what's caused her

vision loss.  And the edema around her brain is more than likely the cause of

the headaches she's presenting with."

"What can we do?"  My voice is hoarse and choked with the tears I am trying

not to shed.

The doctor shrugs apologetically.  "It's inoperative.  I'm going to refer her

back to her oncologist.  Perhaps there is some treatment that can offer hope

of prolonging her life... although I won't kid you, this tumor is most

definitely terminal.  It will spread rapidly now that it has attacked the

brain."

I close my eyes to shut out reality.

"I'm sorry," he says and he puts a hand on my shoulder.  "This is the least

favorite part of my job.  I hate telling patients they're going to die.  No

matter how many times I do it, I still feel the same sense of guilt for not

being able to pull off that miracle I know they're praying for."

He leaves me, to go talk to Scully.  After a few seconds to gather my

strength, I follow him, not wanting her to hear this news alone.

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I've been checked into a room and Mulder sits at my side faithfully keeping

watch as he has so many times in the past.  Only this time it is not enough

to know that he is near, I must feel his touch to reassure me in my darkness

that I am not alone.  The fingers of my left hand are entwined with those of

his right.  Neither of us has spoken much since the doctor broke the news of

my imminent demise.  It would seem my miracle cure was only a temporary fix.

Or maybe that chip was never meant to save my life... I don't know, and I

really don't think I even care... I'm dying and there's not a damn thing I

can do to stop it.

Without my sight, I can't see Mulder's eyes to know the extent of the pain

that's in his heart.  Perhaps in some ways my blindness is a blessing then.

I know he blames himself for this illness I've been given.  No amount of

argument from me will dissuade him from bearing the guilt.  I must find a way

before I die to make him forgive himself.  For what I fear most is what he

might do after I'm gone.

I hear the door sweep open and Mulder makes conversation with a nurse.

"I have some pain medication that Doctor Scully's physician ordered for

her... to help with that headache."  Her voice is gentle and kind.

"Will her oncologist be in to see her soon?" he asks.

"Doctor Zuckerman is tied up at the moment.  I expect he'll be in to see her

later this afternoon.  He's aware that Dr. Scully has been admitted.  And

he's been advised of her condition."

The nurse approaches my bed.  "Doctor Scully, I'm Lydia.  I'll be your day

shift nurse.  I've got something that will hopefully make you feel a little

more comfortable.  It's..."

I cut off the rest of her speech with a wave of my hand.  "I don't care what

it is, just as long as I get some relief."

"You should experience an immediate effect.  I'm putting the medication into

your IV now.  Just relax and you'll start to feel sleepy soon."

I do, almost as quickly as she says it.  I feel like I'm floating... not the

most pleasant sensation when you can't see anything.  I reach out with my

free hand, trying to sit up and get to Mulder.  A pair of strong arms wraps

around me and lays me back down on the bed.

"Easy, Scully.  Just relax like the nurse said."

"I feel... um... I feel like I'm going to fall."

"I won't let you.  Go to sleep now."

"Stay with me."  I'm starting to drift, but I don't want him to go away.

"I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

"Call my mom... please, Mulder.  I... can't."  Just before I succumb to

sleep, I hear him acknowledge my request.

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God, I dreaded making that call.  Maggie Scully must hate the sound of my

voice by now.  I never bring her good news. The woman is a tower of strength,

but I could hear the tears on the other end of the line when I told her of

her daughter's condition.  She was at Scully's side within twenty minutes of

my call.  Of course Scully's been asleep since the nurse medicated her.  I'm

glad, actually. I could see how much pain she was in, although she never once

complained.

So here we sit.  Me on one side of Scully's bed, and Mrs. Scully on the

other.  We've both just been watching her sleep for the past three hours.

Doctor Zuckerman popped in about fifteen minutes ago.  He was in between

consults, but wanted to let us know that he spoke with the neurologist and

looked over Scully's test results.

Maggie asked him how long.  I wanted to run from the room before he could

pronounce the decree, but I'd promised Scully that I wouldn't leave her side.

'Maybe a month.'  His words ripped through me like a gunshot. He explained

the same things that the other doctor had already told us.

There isn't anything they can do for her now except offer pain relief and

experimental drugs that, at best or worst, depending on your opinion, might

add a few days or weeks to her life.  Scully's science, her medicine, can't

save her now.  Father McCue will be brought in with his rosary beads and his

prayers of last rites.  I can see it all happening again so clearly in my

mind.  Just like before, right down to Scully's brother assigning the blame

and calling me a sorry son of a bitch.

"Fox, I thought that thing she put in her neck last time was supposed to be a

cure."  I nearly jump when she speaks, as it's been so long that we've been

sitting in silence.

"That's what I was led to believe.  And it seemed to be the case until now."

"It's not fair.  Dana has been through so much.  My poor baby girl."

Scully stirs at her mother's voice.

"Mom?"  Her head turns in the direction of Maggie Scully, but I feel her

squeeze my hand.

"I'm here, Dana."  Maggie brushes the stray wisps of hair off Scully's

forehead, and gives her daughter a motherly kiss on the cheek.

"Mom, I'm so sorry."  Scully starts to cry and her mother embraces her in a

warm hug.  She finally lets go of my hand and puts her arms around her mother.

I think I should give them some time alone.  Besides, after more than

twenty-four hours in these clothes, I need to go home, catch a shower and

make myself less offensive to be around.  Now is the perfect time.  Scully is

in good hands.

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He met me as soon as I stepped out of Scully's room.  That black lungged

bastard who claims to be my father.

"It's lucky for you I left my gun at home."  If my words did anything, they

seemed only to amuse him.  "I wasn't being flippant."

"Fox, is that any way to speak to your father?  And after I've come here in

the spirit of compassion.  I heard Agent Scully had a most unfortunate

recurrence of her cancer.  I was just stopping by to check on her condition."

"You stay the hell away from her!"  A passing nurse throws me a disapproving

look, and I lower my voice.  "You told me that chip would take away her

cancer.  You're nothing but a God damn liar.  And don't think your claim of

paternity is going to save your life if she dies.  You better start praying

for a miracle, old man, because she won't be going to her death alone."

"Miracles happen every day, my son.  However, I've always believed in making

my own."

I'm so fucking tired of his cryptic bullshit.  "What do you want?" I ask him

abruptly.  "If you're here, you must want something.  I'm not in the mood to

play games.  Just get to your point."

"She doesn't have to die."

I follow him into the stairwell where he ignores the no smoking signs and

lights up a cigarette.

"You're offering another cure?"  As much as I want to believe that Scully can

be saved, I am aware of the dangers of dealing with this particular devil.

"If you're willing to join our efforts, arrangements can be made that could

prove beneficial to Agent Scully's well being."

"What you're saying makes me believe this situation has been contrived in

order to assure my compliance."

"I'm not sure I'm due all the credit."  A long line of smoke escapes from his

thin lipped smile.

"You're using her!"

"When the stakes are high, one does what one must in order to win."

"Well, you're not going to beat me, because I refuse to play your game."  Oh,

God!  Forgive me, Scully.

"You're throwing away her only chance at survival.  I like Agent Scully.  She

has remarkable courage, not to mention the fact that she is an extremely

attractive woman.  I know you two have grown close over the years.  I'd hate

for you to have to watch her die needlessly... for the blood of the woman you

love to be on your hands."

Every time I think it's not possible to despise him more than I do, he finds

a way to prove me wrong.  As if it isn't bad enough he's taking her from me,

he pretends to understand what's in my heart.  "Find yourself another

traitor, the answer's still no."

He crushes out his cigarette under the heel of his shoe. "If you change your

mind, and I hope for Agent Scully's sake that you do, here's a number where

you can reach me."  He hands me a small piece of paper folded in half.

"Don't take too long, she doesn't have much time left."

I watch him descend the stairwell, reverting to the hell from which he came.

To be continued...

Life is too short to drink bad wine.

From: TBishop27@aol.com

Date: Thu, 2 Dec 1999 11:41:10 EST

Subject: xfc: Blind Faith  by TBishop27  (2 of 3)  NC-17

Source: xfc

From: TBishop27@aol.com

Blind Faith

By TBishop27@aol.com

Rated:  NC-17 (Yeah, there's sex in here.)

Category: MSR

**See part 1 for disclaimer and other notes.

BLIND FAITH  (part 2 of 3)

After a quick trip home to shower and put on fresh clothes... and to wallow

in the guilt that I've chosen principle over Scully's life, I return to the

hospital only to find an unexpected drama playing out.

Scully is standing in the hallway outside her room, fully dressed and arguing

with her mother.  A lot must have happened in the two hours since I left

them.  When Maggie Scully sees me, she gives me an exasperated look.

"Thank God!  Fox, maybe you can talk some sense into her!"

"What's the matter?  What's going on?"

"She insists on leaving the hospital AMA.  Doctor Zuckerman and I have tried

to reason with her, but she just refuses to listen."

I can tell by the stubborn set of my partner's jaw, that she is nothing if

she's not determined.  Moving closer to her, I place my hand on her cheek...

a simple gesture that never fails to have it's taming affects on her.

"Scully, what's this all about?"

The slight blush to her pale face tells me my touch has registered in her

heart.  "I want to go home, Mulder."

"Any particular reason why?"  I bring my other hand up to cup her face,

aligning her eyes with mine, studying their blue depths.

"They can't do anything for me here.  I talked it over with my doctor and we

both agree that my condition is untreatable.  I don't want to wait around

here to die, Mulder.  I want to go home.  I want to go home now."

Her resignation to death sends a chill through me.  I've seen her in this

place during her last fight with this disease, but it was only a brief

retreat before she thankfully took up the fight again.  "Dr. Zuckerman

mentioned experimental treatments."

"No, Mulder.  They won't save me, only prolong my suffering by a few days or

a few weeks.  Take me home, please... I just want to spend what's left of my

life someplace familiar and comfortable."

I'm glad she can't see the tears that have suddenly flooded my eyes and are

spilling unchecked down my face.  I fold her into my embrace and place a

tender kiss atop her head.

"This is good," she sniffs through her own tears.  "I could spend the rest of

my life here."  She even manages a bit of a laugh at her lighthearted comment.

My sad smile is only seen by Scully's mother, who returns her own sorrowful

look, imploring me to somehow make this all right again.  I think back to my

conversation with the Smoking Man and the scrap of paper secreted away in my

pocket. 'She doesn't have to die,' he said.  Neither did Emily, but Scully

chose death for her own daughter rather than see her used as an experimental

pawn of our enemies.  She knew she wouldn't be able to protect her from their

evil agenda... just as I know I cannot protect Scully from being used to

control me.  Scully had the strength to let Emily go... I must somehow find

the strength to let Scully go too.  I hold her closer at that thought, as if

I can physically prevent her from progressing towards death.  I am not as

strong as Scully, nor do I have her courage to carry on.

"The Smoking Man paid me a visit earlier.  He's offering another deal to save

your life."  She stiffens at the mention of the man we have both come to fear

and hate.  "If I agree to join him in his efforts, he's willing to arrange

another miraculous recovery for you."

She pushes back from me just enough that I can see the conviction in her

expression.  "No!  Mulder don't even consider it!  I'd rather die than be

used as a tool of CGB's!  I won't have them utilizing me as a means of

enslaving you."

"I refused his offer, Scully, but I don't know how to accept that it was my

decision to let you die."

"If I asked you to make the deal, Mulder, would you?"

"Of course."

"Then the decision isn't yours, it's mine.  And I choose death rather than

have you betray your convictions."

I can only marvel at her steadfast commitment to our quest, our work that has

become our faith.  It is because of me that she has been indoctrinated into

this cause, and because of me that her life is no longer her own.  And no

matter what she says, or how she tries to sugarcoat it, I know it's because

of me that she is going to die of this horrible disease.

"This is crazy," Mrs. Scully pipes in.  "If there is a... a cure for Dana's

cancer, then everything possible must be done to see that she receives it

immediately."

"Sometimes the price is just too high, Mom."

"No!  Fox, you can't let this happen!  Please!"

"It's not his decision, Mom."

"I don't understand any of this."  Mrs. Scully's eyes darken in anger and her

voice takes on a cutting edge.  "For years I have patiently accepted the

madness of your work as a Federal Agent.  I have silently endured I don't

know how many bedside vigils, hoping and praying that my daughter, my baby

girl, would be granted another chance at life.  I have allowed you all your

secrets and your strange behaviors without passing judgment.  I've hidden

most of my worry and tears from you.  And I haven't once questioned your

decision to work with Fox in what has to be one of the most dangerous

divisions in the FBI!  I did these things because I am your mother and I love

you, and because I believed your work was important to you.  But I can't take

any more.  I won't take any more.  If you think I'm going to stand idly by

and watch you die because of some crazy conspiracy that I won't even pretend

to comprehend, let alone believe in... then you've seriously misjudged me.

Dana, if you want to martyr yourself, then you will have to do it without me

at your side.  And, Fox, if you will be a party to this, than I have nothing

further to say to you either!  I'm going home now.  If you come to your

senses before it's too late, you know where to reach me."  And then she turns

on her heels and storms off down the corridor, finally disappearing around

the corner.

Scully and I are both left shocked by her speech.  Maggie Scully does not

mess around when she has a point to make.  Not for the first time, I see that

my partner is her mother's daughter.

"Mulder, let's go home."  She says it with equal parts regret and

determination.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

My own bed.  Such a welcome haven of familiarity in my newly sightless world.

 After we left the hospital, Mulder stopped at a pharmacy to fill the

prescription for the painkillers my doctor wrote for me.  Then we dropped by

Mulder's apartment so that he could get a few things... he's going to be

staying with me.  As much as I detest the thought of being dependent on

someone, in my condition, there really isn't any other option.

I have no idea what time it is.  The drugs that were administered to me at

the hospital are still in my system, and I've been drifting in and out of

sleep since we got home.  At least I've been given some relief from the

terrible progressing headache that's been plaguing me for weeks.  If only I

could see.

It just now occurs to me that this blindness will be with me for the rest of

my life.  What a terrifying and depressing realization that is.  I retreat to

thoughts of Mulder, but my face is suddenly awash with tears as the tragedy

of my condition is fully grasped.  I will never SEE him again.  I try to form

a picture in my mind of him, but it's only an image of thought, there's no

substance, no life, no physicality to what I perceive in my mind's eye.

It's not fair!  I NEED to see him!  Especially now.  Seeing him is the only

way I can take comfort in the love that we never speak of but that always

shines so brightly in Mulder's eyes.

"Scully?"  At least I can still take solace in the sound of his voice.

"Hmm?"

I feel him near.  He sits down next to me.  "Why are you crying?"  His gentle

hand wipes at the tears on my face.  "What's wrong?"

The patented answer is waiting at the tip of my tongue, but I bite back my

reply.  I'm not fine.  Far from it.  And I don't want to be brave or heroic

right now, pretending that I can handle this because my insecurity demands

that I continually prove myself.  "I can't see, Mulder," I tell him simply,

honestly.  "And I just realized that I won't ever see you again.  I will

never again in my life be able to look into your eyes."

There is a slight pause, as he considers my words, and then I feel him lay

down beside me on the bed.  "Tell me, Scully, what do you see when you look

into my eyes?"

I don't know why I am suddenly so bold, but I answer without hesitation and

with complete candor.  "I see your passion, your pain, your sense of humor,

and your kind heart.  I see anger borne of too many injustices.  I see a

brilliant and beautiful mind that is rarely able to rest.  But mostly, and

most importantly, I see love.  And... as they say, Mulder, seeing is

believing."

"You've never heard of blind faith?"  He pulls me into his arms.

"I'm a skeptic, remember?"  I indulge myself, drawing in a deep breath,

reveling in Mulderscent.

"Then I guess I'll just have to prove it to you."

No sooner do the words leave him, than I feel the soft warmth of his lips

upon mine.  He intends it as a tender and chaste expression of his love, but

we are both needy and our passion takes over. As our tongues wrestle, so do

our bodies, and all clothing is quickly discarded as we give in to the

overwhelming compulsion for absolute intimacy.  I don't think either of us

really knew the extent of our desire until this moment.

Without the use of my eyes, I am dependent upon touch and taste to explore

him.  I feel the heat of his sculpted body beneath my hands.  My God, I never

appreciated before what an athletic muscular frame Mulder has.

The scent of shampoo beckons to me and I can't resist the urge to run my

fingers through his thick soft hair, breathing in the sweet clean fragrance,

and enjoying the way those silky strands tickle my nose.

I rub my chin and cheeks over his face, detecting the stubble of an afternoon

shadow, and I imagine how sexy his chiseled jawline looks graced with a hint

of whiskers.  How cruel it is that this moment has finally arrived and I am

separated from him by a curtain of darkness.

I use my tongue to investigate what my eyes cannot see.  His skin tastes

salty.  I follow a trail of Mulder's unique incense... Like an animal on the

hunt, I let my sense of smell lead me on.

When my hands find his erection, I hear Mulder's sharp intake of air, and I

feel the tremor that runs through him.  Unable to see the magnificence of his

fully aroused body, I must rely on other methods of discovery.  I lick him,

taste him, take him into my mouth and savor him; and as I do, I can't help

but wonder if Mulder is watching me.  And if he is, what must his expression

be?  Precious, I'm sure.  After all, it's not every day that your partner

gives you a blow job.  If he is watching, I hope he's seeing that the

enjoyment being derived here is not his alone.

This man gives off pheromones that even at a safe distance have driven me

crazy for years.  Up close they are overpowering, and a this moment I'm

aching with the most unbearable need.  As always, Mulder is my savior.  He

summons me away from my task, and guides me to lay back upon the bed.

"Now it's my turn," he tells me, and he lavishes me with lips, teeth, tongue,

hands and fingers until my blindness is forgotten in the sensory overload.

He leaves no part of my body unattended to.  His hot mouth suckles my

breasts, while his fingers dance in the wetness he's instigated at my center.

 As he takes me closer and closer to deliverance from this urgency building

within me, I can focus on nothing except for the pleasure of his touch.

How ironic that I've never felt more alive than I do at this moment, as

Mulder kisses his way up my neck, nipping and tasting, sucking with an

intensity that will surely leave telltale reminders of his passion.  I turn

my head to the side, offering him more, exposing my neck for his branding.  I

am his.  I have always been his.

His lips find their way to my ear, and the low rumbling quality of his voice

reminds me of distant thunder.  "Let it happen, Scully.  Let go and let it

happen.  Come for me."

Oh, God.

He continues to urge me on with provocative words and seductive tone.  His

utterances filling my mind with erotic visions and lascivious fantasies.

Unceasing and thorough in his ministrations, Mulder controls me with the tips

of his fingers.  Before long, I am given to total abandon and consumed by the

unbelievably powerful orgasm that seizes me.

I'm still reeling with waves of pleasure, when he asks me to surrender to him

completely.  His body presses against mine, the demanding presence of his

arousal beckoning for admittance.  Eagerly I accept him, and we both moan as

the union is made.  I would never have imagined anything could feel this

right.  How foolish we've been, avoiding our love for so long.  The years

we've wasted, hiding what was in our hearts, denying ourselves this passion.

Only when our time together is nearing its end, are we finally able to cast

aside all reservations and give in to this longing that has been with us

since the first moment our eyes met.  At least the end will be sweet, at

least I won't go to my death never knowing the joy of this experience with

him.

"I love you," Mulder whispers against my ear, and this time when his face

touches mine, I realize we are both crying.  "God, Scully, I love you," he

repeats, and I'm not sure which I'm shedding more of, tears of happiness

because we've finally consummated our long-standing romance, or tears of

sadness because I can't look at his handsome face as he reveals his heart to

me.

"I love you too," I tell him, and this confession lifts my soul more than any

absolution I have ever received.

Our bodies begin to move together as sexual urgency wins out over the

emotional climax.  Mulder is gentle with his rhythm, too gentle, I know he's

holding back.

"Is that the best you can do, G-man?"

His amiable laughter surrounds me.  "Sculleee."  On some level I think that

I've embarrassed him.  If not for this blindness, perhaps I would see a

slight flush to his cheeks.

"Well?"  I playfully challenge him.

"I don't want to hurt you."

My fingers trace the strong features of his face.  I know that look.  It

makes me smile to discover that I CAN see Mulder's love, as brilliantly as

the brightest of stars, shining through my eternal night.

"I'm a hell of a lot tougher than I look," I promise.

"You'd think I'd know that by now, wouldn't you?"  Before this, I might never

have thought it possible to hear a smile.  He very agilely rolls us over so

that I am now in the position of authority.  "Why don't you show me what YOU

can do, G-woman."

And I do.  I give him everything.  Abandoning all my inhibitions to make love

to him as if there is no tomorrow.  Obeying my most natural impulses, I let

my lust for him guide me.  My body's fervor to indulge itself is given free

reign.

Mulder's hands glide over the flat of my stomach and up my torso while I

writhe upon him, accepting all of his manhood into me as fully as I can.  I

rock back, taking him deeper, crying out with the intensity of each thrust of

his hips.  His wandering hands trace over my shoulders and down my arms until

they find my hands and our fingers interlace.  Steadied by his grip, I dare

to push back still further, arching my body into a position which allows the

deepest penetration of all... and now my own cries of ecstasy are joined by

my new lover's rough expletives and pleasured moans.

"Jesus... Scully!  Oh, God... that's incredible!"

I ride him wild and unbridled.  Impaling myself with primitive cadence.

Faster and faster.  Driven beyond all pretenses of self-restraint.

More.  More.  More.  I want all of him and will settle for nothing less.

In the darkness I hear Mulder's rough voice chanting "harder... harder...

harder."  There is no question in my mind but to obey his demands.

What little I have left, I give to him, and in that giving I find my own

salvation.  My exhausted body collapses over his, shuddering with the rapture

of another orgasm.

He releases my hands and his fingers dig into my hips, forcing me to continue

as his own climax is too near to ignore.  My muscles are burning and

trembling with fatigue, but I cannot deny him.  Just a few more thrusts and

we are both rewarded when Mulder cries out and I feel his essence pulsing

into me.

I fully comprehend the significance of what has just happened.  Never before

have I given myself so completely, or allowed myself to take so freely.  This

is the first time I've ever let go of my fear and insecurity while making

love.  And because of that, I can't help but feel as though this is the first

time I've ever truly made love.

As we lay together, two hot and sweaty bodies, the decadent perfume of sex

surrounding us, Mulder holds me close and speaks softly, saying things that a

lover would say... sweet whisperings of his heart, until I drift off to sleep

in his arms.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Scully's end is coming sooner than the doctor predicted.  It hasn't even been

two weeks since the diagnosis was made, and already she has grown incredibly

weak.  Her appetite is practically nonexistent,  and she is asleep more than

she is awake.  I've had to call her physician twice in the last six days to

get him to give her stronger pain medication.

I am watching her die.

A lingering, painful death.

A death I could prevent, with a simple phone call.

The scrap of paper is still with me.  I've been carrying it on my person,

afraid I might misplace it, afraid I might lose the only chance Scully has to

live.  But I know she would never forgive me if I made that call.  I can't

betray her.  Not after everything that has happened between us.

We make love every day now.  She refuses to let her illness deter our

intimacy.  As frail as she has become, I can't deny her this physical

contact.  I'm afraid it's the only thing that sustains her.  Every night when

I join her in bed, she smiles at me and tells me how much she loves me.  We

make love and then she falls asleep in my arms.  It's only when I'm certain

that Scully is soundly in dreamland, that I let my tears fall, and I cry for

her... and I cry for me.

I don't want this to happen.  I don't want to lose her.  Her salvation and

mine is only a phone call away.  Yet every time I'm on the verge of making

that call, I think about the consequences... I'd be a slave to CGB, and

Scully's life would always be in jeopardy if ever I refused to obey his

orders.  Her death is freedom, like Emily's was.  Scully believed she was

saving her daughter by letting her die.  Am I saving Scully by refusing her

the cure for this fatal disease?  I try to tell myself that I am, but

watching her slowly die, is causing me to doubt my convictions.

She coughs in her sleep, and I turn her on her side.  The coughing continues

until it wakes her, and when she sits up, drops of crimson spill onto the

white sheets.  I feel the panic rising up inside of me as I switch on the bed

lamp, but the frightened look on Scully's face forces me to push aside my own

fear in an effort to comfort her.  "It's okay, Scully.  I'll be right back

with a washcloth."  And then I rush into the bathroom and retrieve a damp

cloth.  Carefully, I wipe at the blood under her nose.  The striking red

against her deathly pale complexion is a vivid reminder of her life draining

away.

"Mulder, is it bad?" she whispers with a trembling voice.  Her ice cold hands

hold on to my arms as I tend to her.

"No," I lie, and hope she can't hear the guilt in that single word.

After she is cleaned up, Scully resumes resting in my arms.  But before she

is again taken by sleep, she shares a confidence with me.  "Mulder, I'm

scared.  I don't want to leave you.  I don't want to die."

All I can do is hold her and tell her that I love her, that I'll always love

her, even after she's gone.

"Be strong for me, Mulder.  You have to promise me you'll carry on the fight."

I promise her now, I'll beg her forgiveness later when I put that bullet in

my head.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Every man has his breaking point.  Mine was carrying a protesting, sobbing

Scully into the hospital emergency room so that they could shoot her full of

morphine and check her into a room where ultimately, she would wait to die.

As soon as she is asleep, I make the fucking call.  I tell him simply, "You

win."  There is no mistaking his smile as he gives me instructions on what I

have to do to finalize the deal.

Less than ten minutes after the agreement is made, a woman I've never met

before comes into Scully's room.   "I'm Doctor Lowry," she tells me.  "A

friend of your father.  He asked me to come here and take over Miss Scully's

treatment."

"Can you save her?"  I am worn out, exhausted by defeat and too many nights

spent keeping an anguished vigil.  I have been unable to sleep, out of

concern that Scully might need me, or fear that she might slip away during

the night and I would wake to find her dead in my arms.

The woman just smiles and produces a hypodermic containing a rather ominous

looking green liquid.  Then she proceeds to inject it into Scully's neck.  I

cringe as the long needle pierces her delicate skin, but Scully's only

reaction is a brief twitch and a slight frown.  Blind faith is all I have

now, and the hope that what I have allowed this stranger to do, isn't going

to hasten Scully death.

"What is that?"  Part of me wants to believe it's Scully's salvation, but

another part of me is riddled with anxiety.

The doctor continues to ignore me as she checks Scully's vitals.

"Will she be all right?"  I am hovering at Scully's bedside, clutching her

hand in my own.  What am I doing?  What have I done?

A nurse appears in the doorway and the doctor goes over to her.  I hear her

give instructions for Scully's care. They both leave, but a few minutes later

the nurse reappears, replacing Scully's IV solution with something else.

"What are you giving her?"

After having all my previous inquiries ignored, I'm surprised when she

actually answers my question.  "Dr. Lowry has ordered a TPN solution, it has

what's necessary nutritionally to sustain Miss Scully while she undergoes

treatment."

"What kind of treatment?"

"I'm afraid I don't know.  Dr. Lowry wasn't specific on that.  She just

instructed me how Miss Scully is to be cared for until she gets strong enough

to eat on her own."  She offers me a smile and a pat on the shoulder as she

hurries out the door.

It's almost three o'clock now.  In an hour I am to meet with my new boss, or

should I say master?  It doesn't matter anymore.  What's done is done.  I

only hope that this woman, my partner in every sense of the word, will be

able to forgive me for my apostasy.

Not wanting to leave Scully alone, I call the Gunmen to come sit with her

while I submit myself to the whim and fancy of my new master.  I don't dare

tell them where I'm going.  The lie is that I need some time to run a few

errands while Scully is asleep.

Faithful as always, they show up to take sentry duty as requested.  All three

of them pale when they see Scully.  "She's going to get better," I assure

them, but I'm certain they think I've lost my mind.  When I ready to go, they

look nervous, as if I have entrusted them with the care of a newborn.

"Mulder... maybe we could run those errands for you.  Are you sure you should

be leaving her right now?"  Byers practically stands between me and the door.

"Thanks, but no.  I have to do this myself.  I shouldn't be gone too long.

Just stick around until I get back in case she comes to.  She can't see.  So

it's sometimes a little freaky for her when she first wakes up.  Tell her

I'll be back soon."  I ignore their worried faces and leave quickly before

any more is said.

To be continued...

Life is too short to drink bad wine.

You can now find all my stories archived at  

From: TBishop27@aol.com

Date: Fri, 3 Dec 1999 03:16:26 EST

Subject: xfc: Blind Faith  by TBishop27  (3 of 3)  NC-17

Source: xfc

From: TBishop27@aol.com

Blind Faith

By TBishop27@aol.com

Rated:  NC-17  (Yeah, there's sex in here.)

Category: MSR

**See part 1 for disclaimer and other notes.

BLIND FAITH  (part 3 of 3)

He sends a car for me.  Not the limos that his rich Consortium buddies used

to have at their service, but the driver is a familiar face.

"I feel just like Cinderella with a rat for a coachman," I quip as I climb

into the passenger seat of the black Range Rover.

Krycek shoots me a venomous glare, but says nothing.

After countless blocks of driving, I break the silence between us.  "Where

are we going?"  I'm getting impatient.  We've driven halfway across town.  He

doesn't say a word, but pulls the car into a parking garage and motions for

me to be quiet and follow him as he gets out of the car.

I cautiously step out, mentally kicking myself for leaving my gun back at

Scully's apartment.

"We don't have much time," he says, his eyes darting nervously around.  "The

old man is expecting us within the hour."

"This isn't the meeting place?"  What the hell is this about then?

"No.  I want to talk to you before you see him.  I know what he did to get

you to join him.  And I can't blame you for caving.  I mean, every man has

his price, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"How's Scully doing?"

"What the fuck do you care?"

"I'm not who you think I am."

"You mean you're not the stinking rat bastard who killed my father and

Scully's sister?"

"Bill Mulder was not your father.  And Melissa Scully's death was an

accident."

"Oh, that's right, you were gunning for Scully... Well, that makes all the

difference in the world then."  Mental note, never leave weapon at home

again.

"Look, we don't have time for this.  I'm prepared to offer you an alternative

to working for the old man.  I'm sure you're none too happy about being

coerced into service."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm part of a group that's working to fight colonization... just as you and

Scully are.  We've allied ourselves with the rebel aliens.  It was because of

us that most of the Consortium burned.  It was because of us that Scully

received the phone calls that led her to Emily Sim... and ultimately led you

to stop the Transgen operation out in California.  My colleagues were trying

to stop the hybridization program you discovered at the Lombard Research

Facility.  And although Diana Fowley's prints were found on the Native

American book Scully received... It was me who gave it to her, and me who

killed Michael Kritschgau.  You see, Mulder, we've been allies all along...

now I'm asking for you to formally join me and my comrades in our fight.

It's your one shot at getting back at the old man for what he's done to

Scully, and what they did to your sister.  And it's your only hope of finding

a way to stop him."

Unfuckingbelivable!  Every time I think I've got this rodent figured out, he

switches sides again.  Alex Krycek is a mole not a rat.  That is, unless this

is nothing more than a test arranged by CGB to confirm my loyalty.  "What if

I just turn you in to the old man?"

"What would you gain by that?"

"The satisfaction of seeing you die."

"I've told you, I'm not your enemy.  You may not approve of our methods, but

we are on the same side.  You have everything to gain by agreeing to join us.

 There isn't much time, Mulder.  What's it gonna be?"  His dark eyes study me.

"What if I say no?"

"Then you're not as smart as I thought you were."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

When I wake the pain is gone.  I feel detached, drifting...

There are voices in the room with me.  Concentrating through my haze, I

recognize one to be my mother, the other is Mulder.  The end must be close if

my mother has given in and left her anger behind.

I'm not afraid anymore.  I don't feel anything really.  Just numb and

tired... so very tired.

Maybe this end won't be as bad as I imagined after all.  They've got me so

doped up, maybe I'll merely fall asleep peacefully and never wake up again.

I want to say good-bye... Don't want to leave without saying good-bye.

Mulder?

Why doesn't he answer?

Mulder, please...

It occurs to me that maybe I haven't actually been speaking out loud.  That I

am caught in a dreamlike state, only vaguely aware of my own consciousness.

This time I force myself to break through the drug induced stupor.

"Mulder?"  I sound so frail and weak.  My voice will barely raise above a

whisper.

He is instantly at my side, squeezing my hand, placing a loving kiss upon my

forehead.  "I'm right here, Scully."

"It's not so bad now.  I don't feel anything at all."

"They've got you on the good stuff."

"I love you, Mulder."

His gentle laughter fills my mind with an image of his smiling face.  "I love

you too," he tells me, and I feel his soft kiss on my lips.

When he pulls back, I want more.  "Hey... Can I call in my dying wish now?"

"I'm afraid not, sunshine.  You're not dying.  You're getting better."

"What?"  Oh, dear God.  "Mulder, what did you do?"

"We'll talk later," he promises.

And then my mom starts saying something about how happy she is that I'm going

to be all right, and a nurse comes into the room and asks me how I'm feeling.

 As my vitals are being taken, I feel Mulder slip away in the flurry of

activity that suddenly surrounds me.

I call out his name, but my mother just says that he'll be back in a while,

and that she'll stay with me until he does.

I'm too tired to argue.  I pray to God that Mulder didn't make a deal for my

life.  I hate being helpless.  I'm just too exhausted right now do anything

but go back to sleep...

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

I feel horrible for doing this to her, but I've been avoiding Scully whenever

she's awake.  I don't want to have to explain all of this yet.  And even if I

wanted to, I couldn't explain it all... not here anyway.  When she's better,

when she can leave the hospital, I'll find someplace safe where we won't be

overheard, and I'll tell her the truth.  That I'm not really working for the

Smoking Man... that I'm working with Krycek instead.  Christ!  She's going to

flip either way.  I'm not sure how long I'll be able to forestall our talk,

but I'm certainly in no hurry to face the wrath of Scully when she learns

what it is that I have done to spare her life.

I've only spoken with her twice since we found out she was in remission

again.  Both times she inquired about how I managed to win back her life...

both times I told her we'd talk later and then bolted from the room.

It's been ten days now.  She's getting stronger, and there are moments where

she sees blurs of light.  It's not going to be easy to continue hiding from

her.  When her eyesight returns and she gets back on her feet again, she

going to hunt me down and kick my ass for ditching her.

Her mother's just left her room for the night.  She sees me in the hall and

tells me with a knowing smile that Scully is asleep.  That's the signal that

I can sneak in for a little unnoticed visit, while Scully is happily

dreaming, most likely of her revenge against me.

No sooner do I settle into the chair beside her bed, marveling at how much

color has already returned to her cheeks, than she speaks out loud, and I

nearly jump out of the chair.

"Where the hell have you been hiding, Mulder?"

Shit!

"Don't think you can pretend you're not there.  I smell your cologne."

So much for that idea.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Scully.  I'm not hiding from you.

I've been here every night."

"Why am I getting better?"

"I don't know why."  Technically that's a true statement.  I have no idea

what's been done to turn her cancer around.

"So you had nothing to do with it?  You didn't make a deal with CGB?"

"Scully, can't we talk about this later?  I don't feel comfortable discussing

it here."

"Sure... fine... whatever."  She crosses her arms over her chest and the

conversation ceases.

Great.  Now I'm getting the silent treatment.  Well, I'm sure as hell not

going to spend the night watching her fume and ignore me.  "Maybe I should go

so you can get some sleep."

Nothing.

Standing up, I move to kiss her goodnight.  When my lips touch hers, there is

no reciprocation.  It's as if she's frozen, and the cold she's giving off

sends me away chilled.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

I can see.

Not wonderfully, but at least I don't feel so helplessly lost in the dark

anymore.  I'm eating well, and I'm strong enough now to get around on my own,

so I'm being released from the hospital today.

I haven't seen Mulder in nearly two weeks.  My mom says he calls to check on

me every day, but I've refused to be in his company until he's ready to

explain my mysterious recovery.

Maybe it's cruel of me to keep him away, but I'm punishing myself as well.  I

miss him terribly.

It's strange, but I feel like everything that happened between us was nothing

more than a dream, or part of another life that I've left behind.  It scares

me in a way.  I don't want to lose the new relationship that we've begun, but

I can't help but wonder if the only reason things happened between us was

because of my illness, and Mulder's need to assuage his guilt.

It didn't occur to me at the time, but in retrospect, it's very possible that

our romance was nothing more than Mulder taking pity on his frightened,

dying, partner.  God, I hope that I'm wrong about that.  Our separation has

brought me to doubt what I once thought I clearly understood.  Did he really

want a love affair with me?  And if I hadn't become ill, would we ever have

taken our relationship to that next step beyond just close friends?

Mom comes to pick me up and drive me home.  She wants me to stay with her for

a while.  I gently but firmly decline.  I need to get back to my own

apartment, and regain control of my life.

It takes a little doing, but I finally manage to chase her away.  But it's

only after I'm settled, and once she's seen to it that I've eaten, and I've

given her my sworn promise to call her if I need anything at all.  I love my

mother, but sometimes she doesn't understand my need to be self-reliant.

At last I'm alone.

It's something that I was terrified of for nearly three months.  I clung to

Mulder so desperately during my illness.  Yet as soon as I was getting

better, I pushed him away.  I hate to think that I would use him like that.

Maybe it wasn't so much his pity as it was my neediness that brought Mulder

to my bed.  Neither is an especially appealing introspection.

Restless and fearful of the thoughts that keep running through my mind, I get

up from the couch where my mother has lovingly tucked me in with my

grandmother's crocheted afghan, and head to the kitchen to make myself a cup

of tea.  Such an insignificant chore, but it seems a rebellious act of

independence after so long under other peoples' care.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

She doesn't hear me arrive over the whistling of the tea kettle.

I knew she was coming home today.  I wanted to be here to surprise her, but

Smoking Man called for his favorite new errand boy, and I had to make an

appearance.  For the time being, Scully's life is still in his hands, so for

her sake I play the role of his good little servant.

Standing unnoticed in the doorway of the kitchen, I watch Scully prepare her

cup of tea.  It's good to see her up and around again, doing things for

herself.  Her mother kept me apprised of her recovery with daily reports

during my banishment.  I knew she was making steady progress... but seeing is

believing, as a beautiful redhead once told me.

Finished with her task, Scully turns around and nearly drops her tea when she

sees me standing here.

"Jesus!"  She sets the cup back down on the counter.  "Mulder, you scared me!

 How long have you been standing there?"

As I move to her, our eyes never leave each other's.  She lets me take her

into my arms; but when I move to kiss her, she stops me, putting a hand on my

chest and pulling back a little.

Silently, my eyes question hers.  I'm not certain what to make of the

apprehension I see in those brilliant blue pools.  Our relationship changed

dramatically when we feared our time was running out.  I hope she doesn't

feel like I took advantage of her weakness and her neediness... God, I hope

she doesn't have regrets about us.

"You smell like cigarette smoke.  Where have you been, Mulder?  And more

importantly, who have you been with?"

"I hate the way you beat around the bush."  I offer her my best grin, but

she'll have no part of it.

"You're working with HIM now, aren't you?  You gave in and made the fucking

deal, didn't you?"

"Scully... what choice did I have?"

"God damn you, Mulder!"  She shoves me away with more strength than I would

have imagined she possessed in her cancer ravaged body.  I'm not sure if I

should be proud of her vigor or embarrassed by how easily this woman of less

than a hundred pounds has just thrown me aside.

"Scully, please... I couldn't let you die.  I had to do something."

"I told you I didn't want to live like this!  I refuse to be used!  You had

no right to make that deal when you knew how strongly I was opposed to it!"

"I'm not as courageous as you.  I couldn't stand watching you suffer when I

had the ability to stop it."

"You could have put a bullet in me, Mulder, it would have been a kinder act."

"Scully..."  She storms past me out of the kitchen and I shadow behind.

"I will not be used like this!" she rages.  "My life is my own!  That smoking

bastard may think he's won, but ultimately I still have the ability to take

away his victory!"

"Scully, what are you saying?"  She's starting to make me nervous.  And when

I see where she's headed, my whole body goes cold.

Before I can race around the bed to stop her, she has her weapon out of the

nightstand and pointed at herself.

"Scully, no!"

"I'm sorry, Mulder.  I told you, I'd rather die than see you forced to betray

your conscience and your convictions.  I refuse to live and die for HIS

purposes and at HIS whim.  And I will not see you become what you hate just

to keep me alive."

"Please, Scully, don't do this!"  I reach a trembling hand out towards her.

She shakes her head and cocks the gun.  "Go away, Mulder, unless you have

some sick need to watch this."

"Would you just listen to me, please!  For Godsake, Scully, give me two

minutes... that's all I'm asking!"  As an FBI agent I've been trained to

handle situations like this, but all that instruction just flies out the

window when it's someone you love about to pull the trigger.

"I'm sorry.  There's nothing you can say to stop me.... God damn you, Mulder!

 I thought you understood!"

"Explain it to me, Scully.  Explain to me why suicide is the answer here.

I'm listening."  I try to keep my voice even as I say the words.  If I can

get her to talk to me, she might start to calm down.

"I have to do this.  Don't you see?  There's no point in me going on if I

only exist to serve the agenda of our enemies.  If my life is nothing but a

means of coercing you into giving up your search for the truth... giving up

the fight against these terrible people and their conspiracy to do evil.  If

me being alive is dependent upon you joining the rank and file of the men who

are responsible for taking your sister from you, and mine from me, and

killing your father... abducting me and making me a slave with this fucking

chip in my neck!"  The tears stream unchecked down her beautiful and

determined face.

"My God, Mulder!  These monsters were the ones that created Emily... a sweet

innocent little girl whose only hope was to die... Can you try to imagine

what it's like for me, knowing that there could be more of my children out

there?  As if it isn't bad enough that my body has been used, against my

will, to serve their agenda, now they think they can exploit our feelings for

each other.  They don't own me, Mulder!  And I won't let them own you!  This

isn't suicide.  This is MY declaration of independence.  Do me a favor...

Tell that fucking, chain-smoking, son of a bitch that Dana Scully's final act

was to spit in his miserable wrinkled up face!"

My mind is racing... desperate to think of the right words that might buy me

some time.  I can't tell her about the rebels here.  I'm sure CGB has the

place bugged.  There's only one way to stop her... at least, I hope it will.

I draw my own weapon and put it to my head.  "If you pull that trigger,

Scully, you'll be killing both of us."  There is a silent conversation, a

standoff of wills and hearts.  With equal determination I challenge her

resolve.  Will she choose death for us?  Is she ready to sacrifice both our

lives in this act of defiance?

For a tense moment, I see her struggle with the decision, but ultimately she

is incapable of such a murderous act.

She lets her gun arm fall slack at her side, slumping to the floor in defeat.

"God damn you, Mulder," she whispers through her tears, as I kneel beside her

and carefully pry the pistol from her grip.

I put my arms around her and hold her close.  "Scully, it's going to be all

right.  I promise."

"No, Mulder...no, no, no..."

It's time.  I have no choice but to tell her everything now or she will

surely take her life the second my back is turned.  I only hope that when I

tell her, she'll be able to accept what I've chosen to do.

"Come on."  I stand and pull Scully to her feet along with me.  "Let's go."

"Where?"

"I'm taking you for a ride.  I think we both need to get OUT... for a little

while."

Thank God this woman knows how to read between the lines.  To her furrowed

brow, I answer with a slow nod.  And she returns my reassurance with eyes

that hold mine... in their depths I see faith and a spark of hope where

moments ago there was only despair.

"Come on... I'll even treat you to one of those tofutti rice dreamsicle

things you're so fond of."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Mulder has driven us to a park not far from my apartment, after first

stopping at the corner market to purchase the sweets he promised.  I was

surprised that he selected one for himself as well.  I doubt he chose it for

any reason other than a symbol of unity, or perhaps a remembrance of happier

times.  Having now sampled the air in Mulder's mouth, I can assert with

clinical accuracy that it does indeed taste better than a tofutti rice

dreamsicle.  And that's not a disparaging comment on the dessert as much as

it is a statement of my personal preference for the taste of Mulder's kisses.

We walk hand in hand through the park enjoying the tofutti and ignoring the

slight sprinkle of rain.  I am exhausted, not used to so much activity after

all those weeks of illness, and stressed from the drama that just took place

back at my apartment.  I spot a bench over by the swings and steer my partner

in its direction.

As soon as we sit down, Mulder sighs.  "I know you wanted it to be your

decision, Scully, but I couldn't take it anymore... I couldn't.  I love you.

And when it came right down to it, nothing else mattered to me except saving

your life."

"It's not a life I choose to live."  How many times do I have to say it?

"Scully, there's something I couldn't tell you back at your place.  I've been

approached by a group who, like us, has been fighting colonization for a

number of years.  They've infiltrated CGB's circle of conspirators, and have

been working covertly to undermine their efforts."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, we can't fight this on our own anymore, Scully.  There's a war

being waged, and our planet is the prize.  I'd rather be on the side of those

who aren't interested in wiping out humanity, despite their battle tactics."

I'm almost afraid to ask.  "Whose side?"

"The faceless ones.  The rebels."

"But we've seen the kind of massacres they're capable of.  My God, Mulder...

they murder with impunity!  We may share their cause, but how can you justify

their actions?  At what price, victory?"

"Well, if you liked that part, you're really going to love this, Scully.  The

man who approached me has been working as a mole within the Consortium for

quiet some time... Alex Krycek."

I don't believe it!  Nor do I believe the tale Mulder begins to tell of

Krycek's good deeds, right up to and including the Anasazi translation text

that was mysteriously given to me when I came back from Africa.  Am I to

accept that this monster who murdered Missy is the same man responsible for

leading me to discover Emily?  And guiding us in the search to ascertain the

truth about my abduction?  "Alex Krycek is a self-serving rat bastard who

would just as soon stab you in the back as he would look at you, Mulder.  How

do you know this isn't all a set up?  How can you be sure the Smoking Man

isn't using him to test your loyalty?"

"I don't know.  But I'm willing to chance it if you are."

"What ever happened to trust no one?  Suddenly we're trusting Alex Krycek?"

"All I know, Scully, is that I need you with me if I'm going to go on

fighting this thing.  If that means I have to deceive CGB and his people and

risk an alliance with Krycek and the rebels, as long as it gives us a

chance... some hope of finding a way to rid you of that chip and regain

control of our lives, I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

However reluctantly, I find I can't argue with his logic.  As distasteful as

it is, working with the rebels is perhaps the only hope we have of winning

this war.  "Well, I suppose we aren't going to be able to thwart a global

conspiracy and stop this holocaust on our own.  Still, Mulder... Krycek?"

He shrugs.  "You know what they say about politics and bedfellows, Scully.

It was bound to happen sooner or later."

"Yes, but I never thought we'd be sleeping with the enemy."

He puts his arm around me and smiles.  "You know, we could sit around here

all day and toss cliches back and forth, but all this talk about sleeping

arrangements is giving me ideas, Scully."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact.  Do you know how lonely I've been sleeping without

you every night while you were in the hospital?"  He nuzzles my ear and uses

his tongue to trace an erotic trail down my neck and along my clavicle,

sending a shiver through me and making me forget all about Alex what's his

name and that other unimportant nonsense we were talking about a minute ago.

There will be plenty of time to worry over conspiracies and plots within

plots.  Right now I've got more urgent matters to attend to.

Mulder's tongue continues it's journey down into my cleavage, and with one

hand he fumbles open the buttons of my blouse.

"Mmmulderrrrr..."  God, he's incredible.

"Umm hmmmm?"  He murmurs, tugging at the lacy fabric of my bra with his teeth.

"We're in the middle of the...ohhh, Jesus!"  One of my erect and very

sensitive nipples is now being treated to a hot wet massage courtesy of

Mulder's mouth.  He has taken me from cold to overheated in a matter of

seconds.

Reaching my hand between our bodies, I rub and caress with purpose and

pleasure, the hardness straining beneath his jeans, and Mulder groans

appreciatively.

That low rumbly moan he hums against my breast, travels right through me,

touching off tremors of excitement, and eliciting an immediate response from

my body as it prepares itself to receive him.

"Bed... now... home."  Each of these words is a struggle to get out.

Because, while my brain is thinking reasonably about the practicality of

having sex in the middle of the day, in a public park, on a bench, in the

rain, my body is screaming NOW, NOW, NOW!!!  The conflict between rational

and impulsive has rendered me incapable of forming even a simple sentence.

Thank God Mulder is brilliant enough to translate my ramblings.  In his own

version of caveman, he slings me over his shoulder and makes a dash for the

car, my screams of disingenuous protest and joyous laughter echoing through

the deserted park as he runs.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, I got it all."

"Excellent. I knew Mulder would take her someplace outside of the old man's

earshot to tell her.  He's no fool.  He knows their apartments and cars are

likely bugged.""

"Does this mean we can't go back to her apartment now and continue the

surveillance?"

"You know, Minx, you really need to get a sex life of your own."

"Fuck you, Alex."

"Thanks, but you're not my type."

"Krycek, you're a real prick, do you know that?"

"I don't care what your opinion of me is.  Come on.  We have to get back.

We've got enough information on this tape for our purposes."

~END~

Life is too short to drink bad wine.