"Angels Crying 1: On the Wings of Faith" By Kristin Pohaski June 26, 1997 - October 6, 1997 Wow. Category: Story, Romance, Angst Rating: PG-13 Summary: MSR, but NAXIS needn't run, at least until part two. Scully seeks vengeance for her sister's death, leaving Mulder behind to wonder what's happened to her and if he'll ever see her again. But when Scully is kidnapped and her cancer comes to the forefront, will it mean a new beginning for the partners? Spoilers: Through season four. Pre- "Tempest Fugit"/"Max" Disclaimer: The X-Files and it's characters aren't mine, darn it!! See, if they were, I'd have a laptop instead of this hunk of junk (hint, hint, MOM!). Anyway, they belong to Chris Carter, our Hawaii tiki surfer god, 1013, and Fox, as well as the wonderful actors who bring them to life! No copyright infringement is intended. I'm broke and I ain't worth it. Also, the song "I Shall Believe" is by Sheryl Crow and copyrighted by a bunch of people I don't know. Same goes for "Faithfully" and "Send Her My Love" by Journey. No infringement intended. Just borrowing them! And no, this is NOT a song story. Distribution: Go ahead and do what you will with this, but DO NOT POST TO GOSSAMER or ATXC since I'd like to do that myself, and I mean plaster this baby everywhere, so long as the other parts go with it and my name stays attached! I'd appreciate you dropping me a note telling me where it is, too. Author Chit Chat: Bear with me, please. First off, I had to make this before Pendy's demise... I needed him!! Besides, he's not really dead... he's just resting! ((LABB)) Second, for the purposes of this story, Krycek has both arms. I know, I know, I like him better as "Lefty" too, but.... Thank you to everyone out there who's reading and commenting, 'cause you guys are the reason why I do what I do! (((hugs to the fans))) I truly hope you enjoy reading this stuff as much as I enjoy writing it! Really big hugs to Annie Jennings, my editor, my advisor, my best on-line buddy, and my twin separated from me at birth :::winks:::, for EVERYTHING, especially for giving me the chance to read her extraordinary fanfic before all of you get to see it (ah ha! ), flooding my mailbox, for whipping my butt into gear when I started procrastinating, and for reading my stuff as well! You're the best! Go read her stuff, guys! Well, after you read mine that is! Any comments, criticism, flames (quick, get the hose!) and virtual flowers, which I love, hint hint, can be sent on over to me at Creyente@aol.com. Enjoy the show folks! I know this is long overdue, but I put my heart into this one. Chapter One It is only by God's grace that two souls can become such a part of each other that two become one. But when two souls find each other and hold on, the beauty is so great that it can bring tears to an angel's eyes. Love like this is never ending. Even if they become lost from each other, there is a fire that burns bright for only that special person that knows you better than you know yourself. So many people are presented with opportunity but are not strong enough to make the most of it. It is in this way that most of us stumble through life, looking for that someone that will change our life forever. Many fail. But so many succeed. In the miracle of a child, and the beauty of a lover's kiss, this love shines through and gives hope to the rest of us. And so we go on, ever searching. Until one day, in a blinding flash of grace, we realize that we have what we need right before us. Be it love at first sight or a slow acceptance, we know we have been blessed with a beauty that lives on beyond our dying day and into the great beyond that waits for us. Those who would waste their chance are no more than fools, too stubborn to take what has been offered; those who would risk everything and forsake all for this are no less than everyday angels, creating in the world one more chance at hope. And the world keeps turning, and the sun keeps burning, and love lives on, one generation to the next. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------ Jefferson Memorial Washington, D.C. 9:57 PM Dana Scully gazed over the cool water of the tidal basin. A warm evening breeze rustled her hair as she paced impatiently. She checked her watch again. "Agent Scully," the cool woman's voice called. She turned to see the blond woman entering at the other side of the memorial. Scully stood her ground and allowed the woman to come to her. "Why did you call me here?" Scully asked. "Why aren't you telling whatever it is to my partner?" The woman looked at her, mildly surprised. "I've done nothing but help you and your partner. You have no reason to be suspicious of me." Scully shook her head. "I've seen what happens when you trust someone in my line of work. I trust only Mulder. What do you want?" "I have information for you," the blond woman said. "Why am I not surprised?" Scully murmured. "So you never answered my question. Why aren't you telling this to my partner? He's the one you've always contacted. You've got no reason to help either of us anyway." "Because this concerns you." Scully turned and started to leave. "Alex Krycek shot your sister." Scully stopped dead in her tracks. For anything else, she would have continued to walk away. But for Melissa.... "Don't pull this crap with me," Scully growled. "Haven't I lost enough, haven't Mulder and I both lost enough, without you people stringing us along?" The blond woman continued to stare at her calmly. "From what I gather, Alex Krycek has done a lot more to you two than just kill your sister, correct?" Scully stared defiantly, then conceded and nodded her head. "I know where he is. I know the last time you met with him, Mulder tried to work with him. But you can't work with these people, Agent Scully." "You are one of these people," Scully said. "And I'd bet my badge that you're working for him." "Who?" "You know exactly who I'm talking about," Scully answered. The woman looked up at her. "You know, Agent Scully, they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Just because I'm working with them doesn't mean I like it. Why do you think I come to you and your partner?" "Oh, I don't know," Scully began. "Maybe to try to seduce my partner so he could get some UN credentials?" The woman looked surprised. "Oh, yes," Scully continued, "don't doubt for a second that he doesn't tell me things. He tells me everything." "I know he does. And I envy you, Agent Scully. You've got someone on your side. I'm all alone here." "Don't try to pull this sympathy crap with me," Scully warned. "Now either tell me what you know or quit wasting my time!" "First believe me Agent Scully when I tell you that I want what you want." Scully laughed without humor. "Somehow I find that hard to believe. But whatever you say." "Alex Krycek was last seen in St. Petersburg, Russia. Officially, that is. I know where he is now. And I know you want revenge." "I won't kill him," Scully said. "I'm sworn as both a doctor and an FBI agent to protect life, no matter who it might be." "You know that a man like him can't be punished by the law," the woman said. "We'll see. Now where is he?" Dana Scully's Apartment Annapolis, Maryland 10:15 PM Flashes of reality danced across her mind. She ignored them, letting her body work on auto pilot, as she packed a bag and checked her gun. She would have to leave him. She couldn't bring Mulder with her. She couldn't, wouldn't risk his life for reasons that were personal to her. But she knew she had to say goodbye. A single tear ran down her cheek as she picked up her car keys. "Oh," came her soft cry as a drop of crimson spotted the table beneath her. Another nosebleed. She got a tissue, stopping the blood quickly. She looked down at the crimson drops on the white tissue, tears stinging her eyes. There was no time left. She needed more time. Fox Mulder's Apartment Alexandria, Virginia 10:46 PM Once she had packed, Scully had booked a space on the next flight to Boston, Massachusetts. One space. She was well aware that running after Krycek like this could get her killed. But then, she was dying anyway. And she didn't want Mulder risking his life for her. Not that he hadn't before, but that was beside the point at the moment. Krycek had been instrumental in her abduction, shot her sister, shot Mulder's father, left Mulder in that God forsaken hole in Tunguska, and been indirectly responsible for her cancer. God knew that Mulder had as much reason to do this as she did, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him. She needed to do this alone, for herself, and for him. This was one last chance for her to prove herself, to redeem herself, and to do something for Mulder before.... So now she stood in Mulder's darkened apartment, watching him sleep on his black leather couch. She was all to aware that this could be the last time she would see him. Dealing with Krycek was always trouble, and she had no doubt in her mind that he wouldn't think twice about killing her if he had to. She had come to say goodbye. She knew that if she woke him up, he would never let her go alone. So she just sat and watched him sleep. She got up and knelt down beside the couch. She whispered, half to herself, and half to him. "Everything we've been through, Mulder. It's all come down to this. For all the times you've ditched me for my own good, now it's my turn. I know you'll be angry with me." She felt tears sting her eyes. "Don't give up on me. I might be back. I almost wish you were awake to hear this. I always trusted you. I know we never... I know there's too much left to do, but it seems I'm almost out of time here. So we'll have to settle for this." She leaned over him and kissed him softly on the cheek, and then smiled to herself as a shadow of a smile curved his lips. She pushed a lock of hair off of his forehead, and then turned and found a piece of paper. Picking up the pen, she gathered her thoughts. <> She paused and looked up at him. Her angel. She looked back down at the paper and added on more thing. <> She sighed and set the paper down on the small table in front of the couch, weighing it down with the pen. She sniffed and wiped a tear away from her cheek. Turning, she found the clasp of the necklace and unhooked it. She placed the golden cross in his open palm, and then pressed his fingers together. Quietly she stood up and softly whispered, "I love you". She walked over to the door and turned the knob, but stopped quickly when she heard him stir. "Scully," he murmured, still deep in sleep. She smiled at him, bittersweet. "Please God," she whispered, not entirely sure of what she was asking for. Then she turned and walked out of his life. ******************************************************************** End Chapter 1/8 All comments and feedback go to Creyente@aol.com!!! Pretty please!!! And wait, it gets much, much better. Chapter Two The gift of love is one not to be taken for granted, yet so many of us do. In our friendships, our loves, we always think that they'll be there. It's only when a loved one threatens to leave that we realize how precious a gift that we have. A world without love is a world without reason; a world without reason is a world without meaning. So we search for those who would brighten our lives, and give it meaning; shining stars burning bright but fast, for they are all too quickly gone from our lives. In this realization, we build memories, try to make each moment special. But all too often we hide what lies within ourselves. We put off things until tomorrow, and we take for granted that tomorrow will come. But nothing is ever certain. And it is only when we discover that life really is short, and that people come and go, that we find the only thing that truly lives on is the love that you share, and the memories that love creates, until we meet again in an unfathomable place of joy. And so we must treasure each other in the recognition that we do not know for how long we shall have each other. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------- New York City 7:07 AM The scene seemed normal enough. Several men and a woman gathered in a room, all dressed in business attire. It looked just like an ordinary day of work. Or so it would seem. "So she took the bait?" the man asked as he struck a match and lit his cigarette. "Yes, I believe so," the woman replied. "Excellent job, Ms. Covarrubius," another taller man said. "But are you certain she's left for Boston?" "I followed her home, where she packed a bag. After that she went to her partner's apartment. She was only inside for a few minutes, and the lights stayed off. She came out alone. My guess is that he was sleeping." The man with the cigarette nodded. "Good. We don't need Mulder in on this." She nodded. "She has Krycek's location?" She nodded again. "Sir... excuse me sir, but isn't Krycek wanted dead by the group?" She looked over at the man with the cigarette, who nodded his head once. "You see, Ms. Covarrubius," he said, taking a drag of his cigarette, "sometimes our worst enemies can be our best friends, if used properly. Trust me, Alex Krycek will be a dead man when this is all over." "And Agent Scully?" she asked, afraid to know the answer. "Kill Scully?" the man asked, incredulous. "No, no, no," he murmured. "That would be far too dangerous. We know all too well the lengths Mulder will go to for his partner. No, Agent Scully is a different matter entirely." She sighed inwardly. One less body on her conscience. "You see," the man continued, "I've made certain... business agreements in the Bureau. I have to live up to my promises. And this way, I kill two birds with one stone." The words sent a chill down Marita's spine. "Thank you, that will be all," he said, dismissing her. She nodded and left, closing the door behind her. As soon as she was outside, Marita leaned heavily against the wall and closed her eyes. "Oh my God," she whispered. "What am I doing?" Fox Mulder's Apartment Alexandria, Virginia 6:54 AM Mulder's eyes opened slowly to the early morning light. He hadn't slept that well in months. Slowly he sat up. That was when he heard it. The sound was like a soft hiss, followed by a slightly heavier clink. He looked down to see a strand of gold on his hardwood floor. Puzzled, he bent down and picked it up, still groggy. A necklace. Scully's necklace. He felt the air woosh out of his lungs in recognition of the piece of jewelry. He was suddenly very awake as he clasped the golden cross tightly in his fist and stood up, nearly tipping the coffee table as he did so. "Scully?" he yelled, panicked. He could barely breathe, barely think. "SCULLY??" Then he looked down and saw it. The small white piece of paper with the black pen lying atop it. He recognized Scully's loopy, flowing handwriting immediately. Heart racing, he sunk back down onto the couch and picked it up, reading. Mulder clutched the paper in his hand, then set it down on the coffee table. As he leaned over, he caught his reflection in the glass. He raised his fingers to his left cheek. They came away with a soft red smear on them. Scully's lipstick. He looked down helplessly at the necklace in his hand, Scully's most sacred possession. Slowly, so slowly, he unclasped it and put it around his own neck, feeling the cool, light weight on his skin. He clutched the golden cross around his neck, then pressed it to his lips. He sat there for several minutes, unable to move. For a moment he thought he could taste the salt of her skin on the tiny cross that hung in the hollow of her throat every day. Then he realized that it was his own tears causing the salty taste. Lips moving against golden metal, he said the only thing he could for the third time that morning, this time barely a whisper. "Scully...." A.D. Walter Skinner's Office J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building 7:45 AM "You have no idea where she is?" Skinner asked Mulder. He had come charging into his office like a mad man, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, demanding to know if he had heard from Scully and where the "black lunged son of a bitch" was. Skinner had been understandably startled, but he had been patient as Mulder told his story, leaving the more personal aspects out. "None, sir," said Mulder. Skinner pitied him, this man who had nothing in life but this woman. "She left you a note. Did you bring it with you?" Mulder felt the paper in his pocket, looked up at Skinner, and lied. "No, sir. I... I wasn't thinking very clearly. I left in a rush." He didn't need Skinner or anyone else seeing what could possibly be Scully's last words to him. An angel, she had called him an angel.... "Very understandable. I don't know..." Skinner stopped upon seeing the flash of gold around Mulder's neck. Mulder looked over at him. "Mulder, isn't that...?" Mulder looked down. His throat tightened. Unable to speak, he simply nodded. He silently tucked the cross under his shirt. He needed to feel part of her with him, near to him as possible. Skinner quickly continued when Mulder looked at him. "I don't know where to go on this. We've got no evidence of where she is. She obviously went of her own will from what you told me. I don't know what we can do." He raised his hands in the air helplessly. "There isn't anyone who might know? Her mother maybe? Someone else?" Mulder suddenly had a flash of inspiration. "Maybe one person," he growled as he got up. "I'll be in touch," he said as he left the room and closed the door. Skinner took off his glasses, pinched his forehead, and sighed. "Bring her home, Mulder. For your sake." Somewhere in Boston, Massachusetts 9:53 AM Scully sat in her rental car in an alley in the eastern part of Boston, just near the river. She had gotten on her plane under the name of Katherine Lockhart, using the same name to rent her car when she got to Boston. When darkness fell, she would go to Krycek. But for now, all she had to do was wait. She reached up to her throat, feeling the absence of the gold chain. "Oh, Mulder," she murmured. "Please understand. Please be OK." She had convinced herself that she left him for his own good. He would live on, even if she died. But would he? He'd fall apart. And she'd never gotten to say goodbye to her mother, though she had faith that she would be the only one Mulder would show the note she had left him to. She sighed again and flipped on the radio. News. She left it on and listened to the woman's voice. "In national news, an agent at the Federal Bureau of Investigation was killed early this morning in Washington as his car was showered in bullets during..." Scully's breath caught in her throat. Not Mulder. No God please, not Mulder. Focus, listen. She forced herself to tune back in to the woman's voice. "Thomas Lee Colton, age 32, had been with the Bureau nearly ten years...." She sighed relief. Colton. Though she felt sorry, she couldn't help but think of Mulder. It was then that she realized how tightly she had been gripping the steering wheel. It was then that she realized that she had tears on her cheeks. Dead. Mulder, thank God. Shaking, she leaned over the steering wheel for support as sobs shook her. Was this what he was going through? <> She found herself amazed at the flood of emotions that overcame her. Separated from him for mere hours, she realized just how far away from him she had been. Ever since the cancer, she had pushed him away, and isolated herself. She had built walls around herself too high for him to see over. Too strong for him to knock down. Why is it that when we need someone the most, we push them away? Scully pondered this, and came to a conclusion. Because the very time you need them the most is when you need to protect them. To shelter them. To take the burden from them, and protect their heart. It is only in doing so that you lose what you have, and salvation is found only in knowing that the one you care about less afflicted than you are by the pain. Or so you tell yourself. But when someone is a true friend, or a true love, they take the burden you have and carry it for you. And they do it willingly, without question to their own safety, emotional of physical. They take joy from knowing that they ease the pain. Until one day you find yourself realizing that maybe you never were alone in your fight after all. And on the wings of grace and love of another, your worries are dissolved in the knowledge that you are no longer the lone soldier in the night. That the calvary is, and always was, standing behind you. "Mulder," she said to no one. "I'm coming home." Jefferson Memorial 10:13 AM "Where the hell is she?" Mulder's demeanor was radically different that his partner's the night before as he stormed over to where Marita was standing. "Excuse me?" she asked. The accent was pissing him off already. "Don't pull this shit with me you double crossing bitch. Where the hell is Scully?!" He stepped threateningly close to her, but Marita stayed cool. "I'm sure I don't know, Agent Mulder. I haven't even met your partner." "You're a liar. You've been working with him all along. And now you've taken Scully from me... again." She could almost see the physical pain it caused him to finish the sentence, and she momentarily let her guard down. "She went of her own free will," she said, instantly regretting the mistake. "You lying, spying bitch. Tell me where she is! I need to find her!." He pulled her over into a corner where they wouldn't be easily seen by any tourists that should happen to wander in. Startled at his aggression, she looked up at him. "You know I can't tell you that." Mulder snapped. His hands were on her shoulders in a flash, and he threw her into the wall, smacking her head off of the cool, white marble. She made a soft cry of pain and sunk to the floor, her hands gingerly feeling the tender spot on the back of her head. Mulder looked down on here without remorse. "Fine, I'll find her my own damn self. But I'm telling you right now that if she ends up dead, you'll be the one to pay for it. My badge means nothing. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?" He stared at her bitterly. She just let her head fall into her hands. "I'm sorry." "What?" he spat out. "I never meant... I never meant for her to be hurt. But they won't intentionally kill her, Agent Mulder. They're afraid of you." "They better be," he whispered, and walked away from the woman huddled in the corner. To hell with them all. He didn't need any of them. All he needed was Dana Scully. Safe, alive... his. A.D. Skinner's office J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building 1:24 PM "Do you know where she is?" Skinner asked him. He looked at the no smoking sign, considered it for a moment, then proceeded to take a drag on his cigarette. "I know of certain things that have happened," he answered cryptically. Skinner's face went through a variety of expressions. Finally, he yanked off his wire frame glasses and stood up, using his Military Man posture, knowing all to well that this would do nothing to influence the man sitting before him. "Such as?" he asked, disgusted. He hadn't heard from Mulder yet, and his patience was wearing thin. "Agent Scully is on a mission. She's dying as well. She has nothing to lose." Skinner's temper snapped. "She shouldn't be dying!" he shouted. "We had a deal you liar, or have you forgotten?" The anger was nearly tangible as Skinner stormed around the room. The Cancer Man casually raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Skinner, I assure you I haven't forgotten our arrangement." Skinner glared at him. "Yes, but are you going to hold up your end of the bargain?" The man took a drag on his cigarette. He cryptically repeated himself. "I haven't forgotten our arrangement." "Somehow that's not much of a comfort. Now I need to know where Scully is, and I need to know now." The man extinguished his cigarette and stood. "We have a deal, Mr. Skinner, and I am free to fulfill my end of the deal in any way I see fit. I assure you, I have not forgotten. I assure you, right now Agent Scully is perfectly alright. She is a federal agent. She is perfectly capable. She will return to you." "You better make sure of that. Now get the hell out of my office." He lit another cigarette, took a puff, exhaled, and turned on his heel and left the room, nearly slamming the door behind him. Maggie Scully's Home Washington, D.C. 2:02 PM Mulder stepped out of his car, dreading what he had to do next. He walked up to the door and knocked, waiting. Maggie Scully opened the door, her eyes lighting up. "Fox! How are you and..." Her eyes fell as she saw that her daughter wasn't with him. She looked up into his hazel eyes, registering they pain in his dark eyes. "What's happened?" The two walked into the living room, Mulder sitting on the couch, Mrs. Scully on the love seat. "Where is she, Fox?" She waited tensely for his reply. He sighed and looked up at her. "I don't know," he said, almost ashamed. He pulled the battered piece of paper out of his jeans pocked, handing it to her. Her eyes scanned the page as tears welled up in her eyes. Mulder's fingers played with the cross around his neck. She looked up at him and handed the paper back to him, which he pocketed. "Oh Fox, what's she doing running off without you?" Mulder shook his head slowly. "Mrs. Scully, I don't know what to do here. She told me not to follow her, but I can't just sit here and do nothing." She nodded and stood, walking over to the couch and sitting next to the young man she considered a son. She hugged him and spoke, knowing he was fighting tears. "You'll find her, Fox. You will. I have faith in you. You love her as much as I do, if not more." He silently nodded. "I never...." he started, but tears stopped his words as his throat tightened. "She knows, Fox. She knows." She released her hold on him and took his hand instead. He found himself thinking of words Melissa Scully had spoken to him so long ago, when he was alone before. Why was it so hard for him to express to her what he felt? Why did he just run around trying to get revenge? "I don't know how to find her. She's so smart, she'd never use her real name on...." He stopped, something clicking in his head. "What is it?" Maggie asked, seeing that Fox had an idea. "Mrs. Scully, I don't think... even though she said not to follow, I don't think she'd leave us without a clue. I don't believe that she'd do that to us." Maggie nodded. "Now she'd need a name to use on her airline manifest and if she got a car or a hotel room. Mrs. Scully... what's your maiden name?" She smiled at him. "That's my Fox. Smart, Fox, smart. Lockhart. My maiden name is Lockhart." Mulder smiled for the first time that day and stood up. Mrs. Scully stood alongside him and gave his hand a squeeze. "You bring her home, Fox. Bring my baby girl home." "I will. I will." At that he turned and was out the door before she could even say goodbye. Fox Mulder's Office J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building 4:43 PM Mulder had requested every passenger manifest out of D.C. in the last twenty four hours. He was now sitting at his desk, his eyes already growing tired. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it, even though he hadn't eaten all day. Sitting in front of him was a Coastal Airlines manifest for Flight 2006 to Boston from 1:12 this morning. He was scanning the L's, mumbling to himself as he did so. "Lange, Lemont, Libbs, Lisping, Lockhart...." Mulder bolted straight up in his chair. Lockhart. He looked over to the first name column. "Katherine." Scully's middle name. Katherine Lockhart. It had to be her. "Boston?" he mumbled. "What the hell are you doing in Boston, Scully?" There was a knock at the door, and A.D. Skinner walked in, tossing a tablet on his desk. "Sir I think I found her. This passenger manifest to Boston...." Skinner cut him off. "This is where she's going, Mulder. You're right, it's in Boston, just near the Charles River." Mulder looked at him, stunned. "How did you get this?" Skinner didn't answer. Mulder nodded, and Skinner turned to leave the office. "Good luck, Mulder." And then he was gone. Mulder looked down at the address in his hands. "I'm coming, Scully. I'm gonna bring you home." He picked up the phone and found himself a seat on the next departing plane to Boston, in just over an hour. He hung up the phone and smiled. Boston. ********************************************************************* End Chapter 2/8 All comments to Creyente@aol.com!!! Part Three Faith is a funny thing. It can guide you through times of trouble, and it can make you question the very essence of yourself. But no matter what or who you have faith in, you find that that faith sustains you in your time of need. Be it faith in a higher being, faith in a person, faith in a belief, you are drawn by the need to prove your faith. To yourself, and to others. When we think we are in a downward spiral, a glimmer of hope sprung from faith pulls you out of the depths of darkness and gives you the strength and courage to go on. Faith is believing without seeing. It is knowing without proof that something or someone will be there when you need it most. And even the most hardened skeptic has faith in something. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------- Boston, Massachusetts 8:34 PM Scully walked up to the run down apartment building in the evening twilight, watching the streetlights flickering on. It would figure that rat would be someplace like this. Drawing her gun, she opened the front door. Apartment twenty-three. She silently padded up the stairs, her jeans whooshing as she walked. To her, they sounded like gunshots. Breathing deeply, she reached apartment twenty-three. She paused at the doorway. She pushed open the door and slid inside. The apartment was run down and sparsely furnished. There were holes in the carpeting, where there was any at all. The last rays of the evening sun disappeared behind the horizon, and she was bathed in darkness. Sweeping through the living room, Alex Krycek was nowhere to be found. She turned down a narrow hallway to find two rooms to choose from. She cautiously turned into the room on the left to find Krycek asleep on a shabby double bed. Anger flared through her, and she gripped the gun tighter. "Get up you son of a bitch," she yelled. Krycek opened his eyes slowly, still groggy. When his brain registered what was going on, he jumped up out of bed and stood up. "Jesus." "Yeah, you better be praying you double crossing rat." "How the hell...?" he started. Scully laughed. "Thought I couldn't do it? Thought you'd just get off without punishment for killing all these people? For ruining all these lives? Mine? Mulder's?" She took a step closer to him. "Man, you're even stupider than I thought." "I didn't kill anyone!" he objected. Scully just smiled humorously. "Yeah, add lying to your list of sins. What the hell does it matter now?" She shoved the gun closer to him, hands trembling. Mulder's absence was affecting her profoundly, as was the adrenaline and anger running through her blood. Suddenly feeling smug, Krycek spoke up. "So where's your partner, Scully? Did I scare him off? Or did you?" Scully looked at him. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" she snarled. Krycek grinned. "You think having a dying partner on your hands doesn't affect a guy? He could be so much further along without you holding him back." "I know what you're doing, and it's not gonna work. He needs me. I'm here for him. And for myself. And for the innocent people whose lives you've destroyed! I came here to finish some business, and that's all. You're not going to weasel your way out of this one." "So what are ya gonna do, Scully?" he taunted, stepping closer. "Shoot me?" On the road... 8:30 PM Canceled. The damn flight had been canceled. All over a little rain. Mulder sat in his Ford Taurus, driving up the interstate toward Boston, amazed that he hadn't gotten a speeding ticket yet. He couldn't quit thinking of her. Was she OK? Where was she? Who was she with? Most importantly, was she coming home? Mulder peered through the driving rain, wipers swishing furiously. Lightning flashed across the sky, and thunder boomed. "Damn rain," Mulder muttered. The car was silent, and he was alone on the road. Everyone else had been smart enough to get out of the terrible storm. Then again, Mulder was the only man on a mission. Mulder was the only one trying to save the life of the woman he loved. Mulder shifted in his seat, and felt something jab his leg. He reached down and felt a sharp piece of plastic. He pulled it out from between the seat cushions. It was a cassette tape. Journey's Greatest Hits. "What the hell? This isn't mine." He looked at it, puzzled. Then it struck him. Scully's. The last case they had been on, Scully had been sitting in the passenger seat, listening to her walkman. Mulder had seen the tape case and ribbed her about it. She had only told him that early eighties rock was good, and that he had no taste. That he should try it again. "I told her the eighties were bad for me," he mused. She had told him that she saw herself in some of the songs. Mulder knew she liked music from seeing her CD collection, but it was then that he had begun to suspect she was one of those people who spent tons of money on music and stereo equipment. Half watching the road, he took the tape out of the case and read the names of the songs, recalling most of them. Mostly love songs. He considered that for a second, and then murmured, "Well, maybe she was right. Maybe the eighties weren't that bad." He popped the tape into the stereo and waited. Electric guitar and drums. Maybe Scully did have good taste. Another flash of lighting illuminated the sky, and Mulder turned his attention back to driving, Steve Perry singing in the background. The song ended, and a new one came on, piano introducing it. "Highway run, into the midnight sun Wheels go 'round and 'round You're on my mind...." "Jesus," he muttered. "Restless hearts sleep alone tonight..." That's when he saw the tiny slip of paper tucked into the cassette case. Pulling it out, he saw Scully's handwriting again. Another clue, but of a different nature this time. "Faithfully" was all it said. Puzzled, he picked up the case. The name of the song was "Faithfully". "Scully...," he started, then realized she wasn't sitting there next to him. Had she left it for him to find? He turned the paper over to find a date written on the back. It was dated the day before. She hadn't just left it in the car by accident. "What, are you into torturing me?" he asked no one. He turned his attention back to the song. "Oh girl, you stand by me I'm forever yours, faithfully." "How the hell did you know, Scully?" he asked himself. She had left it there to find. Clutching at the cross around his neck, he brought it to his lips and kissed it. Echoing the song, he whispered, "I'm forever yours, faithfully." Lightning danced, thunder cracked, and one lonely FBI agent drove on through two storms, the one raging outside, and the one raging inside himself. Boston, Massachusetts 8:45 PM "What are ya gonna do? Shoot me?" Scully just smiled. "No Krycek. I'm not like you." He took a step toward her, and she raised the gun higher. "I wouldn't test me though," she warned. Scully didn't even see a shadow or hear a whisper before she felt an arm from behind grab her and try to pin her to the wall. Scully tried to scream, and a hand went over her mouth. She saw the silver of a knife flash above her, and felt it sting as it sliced into her arm. Krycek spun and tried to run, only to be tackled by a man in black. Krycek swung a punch at him, and a gun fired, striking him solidly in the shoulder. He fell to the floor, groaning. The man went to help his colleague with subduing Scully, who was fighting like a wildcat. "Get the hell off of me!" she managed to yell, only to have herself flung into the wall. One of the two men threw her to the ground, twisting her arm behind her. Krycek, using the men's distraction, crawled out of the room, limping out of the apartment. "He's running," one of the men said. "Leave him go," the other said. "He'll be easy to track, and he's wounded. She's the important one." Scully groaned, only one thought running through her head. Faith in him. She kicked a leg out at one of the men. The last thing she felt was the force of a club of some kind hitting her in the back of the head. Then the world faded to darkness. Boston, Massachusetts 9:34 PM Mulder ran out of his car into the pouring rain and to the address on the slip of paper Skinner had given him. He stormed up the stairs of the run down building and ran through the door, calling her name. Then it hit him. The apartment was in disarray, as though there had been a struggle. He slowly walked around the apartment, looking for any sign of Scully. That's when he saw the blood. There were bloody fingerprints on the floor, a small stain on the carpet on the other side of the room, and a splatter on the wall. His heart racing, Mulder bent down to examine the fingerprints. They looked too big to be Scully's prints. They looked like a man's prints. Mulder was slightly relieved, but then he went over to the spot on the carpet. He looked down and saw a strand of bright copper hair. Heart sinking, he pulled out his cell phone and called the Boston P.D. Location Unknown 10:13 PM Dana Scully blinked, and felt the pounding in her head. She looked around, trying to get her bearings. She was in a large room painted white, strapped to a table. She groaned, and suddenly a man appeared above her. "Agent Scully," the unfamiliar voice said. "So glad you're awake." He was dressed in blue surgical scrubs and had a mask on his face. His black eyes glimmered. "We're just about ready to start." Scully tried to speak and found that she couldn't. Her throat was dry and painful, and her voice came out as an undetectable rasp. A silent tear slid down her cheek. Scully strained against the straps, but it was no use. Two more men and one woman in surgical scrubs appeared over her. The woman spoke. "It's all for the best, Dana." The accent sounded eerily familiar. "Don't you see?" Then Scully knew. Marita. Unable to speak, Scully glared at her and mouthed the word "bitch". Two of the men laughed. "It's time, Scully," one of the men said. Suddenly, she was being wheeled away. When they stopped, she was in another smaller room. One of the men came toward her with a needle filled with a yellowish liquid. Scully squirmed as he injected it in her arm. "Anesthetic, Scully," he said. "Don't worry, it won't put you to sleep. We wouldn't want you to miss anything." Suddenly Scully was terrified. Desperately trying to find her voice, she managed only one word, which she sobbed out. "Mulder!" And they laughed at her. Boston, Massachusetts 10:19 PM "I want this blood analyzed, and I want this place searched for hair and fibers." The young police officer nodded at Mulder. He turned, and Mulder grabbed his arm. "Also..." he began. "Be... be sure to let me know if any bodies are found tonight," he managed to get out. "A woman. About five three, hundred fifteen pounds, red hair." The young officer nodded at him sympathetically. "Do you have a picture, sir?" he asked. Mulder nodded and pulled out his wallet. He removed one of the two pictures inside. It was both of them together in his office, his arm around her shoulder, her hand playfully ruffling his hair, both of them smiling. It had been taken a year earlier by one of the secretaries. A year ago, things had been much simpler. The officer took it from him and turned. "Hey!" Mulder called. The man turned. "I want that back," he said. The officer nodded. Mulder looked down at the other picture in his wallet, the one of Samantha. Scully knew that he had that one, but she had never known that he kept a picture of her with him. The two most important women in his life, and he had lost both of them. He covered his face with his hands briefly. Scanning the room, thoughts were flying through his mind. This was beyond analyzing a crime scene, writing reports. This was his partner. This was his best friend. This was Scully. Cancer Man. He had to be behind this somehow. Snapping out of his trance, he walked swiftly toward the door. "I'm heading back to Washington. This is my cell phone number." He handed his card to another officer. "You call me the minute you know anything, got it?" "Yes sir, of course." "Thank you," Mulder said, and walked out the door. He headed out to the curb. The rain had stopped a few minutes ago, and the sky was already clearing, revealing a few stars. Looking up, he picked one out and gazed at it. "Where are you, Scully?" The star seemed to wink at him, and he smiled. He knew she was still alive, but he didn't know for how much longer. He got in his car and turned it south, heading home. Location Unknown 10:24 Scully peered out through half closed eyes. She was groggy, but she couldn't sleep. The room seemed blurry, out of focus. Voices boomed above her, as though they were yelling. She heard the clink of needles and bottles, knowing that they must be preparing some kind of drug. A man looked at her and spoke, as though asking a question, but she didn't understand. Then she felt the sharp pain of an IV needle being plunged into her arm. The drug entered her blood stream, and she felt like she was on fire. Thrashing on the table she was strapped to, she tried to kick, succeeding in knocking over a tray. The men simply laughed at her. One of them came over and smoothed the hair off of her forehead, and Scully cringed at his touch. "Don't worry, Agent Scully. It'll be over soon." Then he smiled humorously and chuckled. "Lemme go," she mumbled. Another needle was inserted in her arm, and Scully pulled away in pain. Then she saw a scalpel. Eyes widening in fear, she tried to lift her hands, and then remembered they were strapped down to the table. The knife made a small incision at her hairline at the back of her neck, and Scully groaned. More needles, more drugs, and Scully got weaker as time went by. She wondered why, wondered what they were doing to her. Even as a doctor, she knew no medical procedure like this one. She felt blood trickle down her neck, and then felt a bandage applied. She was in and out of consciousness, but she didn't pass out from the drugs. She passed out from the pain. The last thing she saw before she passed out a final time was cigarette smoke. She had one last terrible thought before she succumbed to darkness. Fox Mulder's Apartment Alexandria, Virginia 3:42 AM After driving home at breakneck speed, Mulder had stopped at home to check his answering machine. Just in case. But there were no messages waiting for him. Sinking into his couch, he sighed heavily. Just then, his cell phone rang. "Mulder." "Agent Mulder, this is Bob McIntyre with the Boston P.D. I was calling about the results of those blood tests." "Go on," he said, hopeful. "Well, the blood on the carpet was your partner's blood type. We've sent it out for DNA testing, but we also found a few strands of hair and a shred of clothing that matches the description you gave us of what you last saw her wearing." "What about the other blood?" "Well, we're pretty sure it belongs to the guy that lives in the apartment. You see, it was a very rare blood type, and we think the prints were his blood. This guy apparently worked at the FBI for a while. Krycek, Alex Krycek." Mulder sat straight up. So that was what she was doing up there. "You... you haven't found a body?" "No," the officer said. "Not so far anyway. There's no sign of your partner of this Krycek." "OK, um, thanks. Keep me up to date." "Will do, sir. Good luck." Mulder hung up the phone and stared into space. Why hadn't she come to him for help? And now she was hurt. And where the hell was she? Finally, he let his head fall into his hands, and he finally cried. It was a deep, sobbing sound, and his shoulder's shook. Sitting there, a few lines of one of Scully's Journey songs made its way into his mind. <"Calling out her name, I'm dreaming Reflections of her face I'm seeing It's her voice that keeps on haunting me..."> "Mulder," her soft voice said in his mind. Then he heard a light knock at the door, and Mulder sat up. He wondered if he had really imagined her voice. He went to the door, wiping at his face as he did so. Then he pulled open the door. And standing in front of him was Dana Scully. "Scully, God!" he said. She just stared at him, looking dazed, but Mulder was too happy to notice. He saw the blood on her shirt. "Are you hurt? Scully what happened, where have you been?" "Mulder...," she started weakly. She blinked at him, and tried to step toward him, but it was like she couldn't move. "I..." Mulder moved forward and wrapped his arms around her. "Oh God, Scully, I was sure they killed you. Thank God you're OK." Then he noticed that not only was she not hugging him back, but she was stiff as a board against him. He backed away from her, keeping his hands on her upper arms. He looked into her eyes, but they were full of confusion. Her eyes searched his, trying to remember, trying to make sense of what had happened to her. "Mulder, I..." The world seemed to spin. Mulder was speaking to her, but she couldn't decipher his words. She saw his eyes, full of fear and concern. She tried to say something, opened her mouth, but then closed it. Mulder looked down and saw the bruises on her forearm. They looked like needle punctures. "Oh God, Scully, what did they do to you?" But she didn't answer, she just stood there, confused. "I can't..." she said. And as the world spun around her, the only thing she could see was Mulder's hazel eyes gazing into hers. She grasped his shoulders to try to steady herself, but it was no use. She was weak and dizzy. The world seemed dim. "Scully, c'mon. Stay with me, Scully." She looked up at him with blank eyes. She had so much she wanted to say to him, but she couldn't find the strength. All she could do was whisper, "I'm sorry". Then she felt her knees give out, and watched as the world faded to black, and she made her journey into darkness. "Scully? Scully!?" Then she lost consciousness and fell into Mulder's open arms. ****************************************************************** End Chapter 3/8 :::dodges things thrown at me through cyberspace::: All comments and critiques to Creyente@aol.com Are we having fun yet? :) Chapter Four There's danger in loving someone so much that you become blind to your own fragility in doing so. To give your heart and soul completely leaves you vulnerable to unfathomable pain at the threat of their loss. But we allow ourselves the risk at a chance for glory. A chance for happiness for the rest of our days. So why do we take the risk? Why do we risk our lives and our hearts to this power? It's more than instinct and survival. It's a blessing that each one of us has the potential to realize. We find safety in the arms of love, knowing that we will be caught if we fall, that someone will be there to dry the tears. We pray for an angel to watch over and make us safe with the one we love, while we have the knowledge that we already have an angel right before our eyes. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------- Georgetown University Medical Center 4:01 AM "Help me!" Mulder rushed into the emergency room, Scully limp in his protective arms, strands of copper hair falling across her white face. A young nurse looked up from her station and rushed over to him, dragging a gurney with her. "What happened to her, sir?" she asked him. A red haired doctor came running down the hallway, her stethoscope dangling from her neck. "She passed out. She has a nasal pharyngeal tumor, and she's been missing for the last day," Mulder said, heart racing. He held up her arm. "I think this might be drug induced. She's an FBI agent." The nurse and doctor nodded at him, wheeling her down the hallway. Two other doctors crowded around as she was wheeled into a trauma room. The nurse turned. "Sir, I'm sorry, you'll have to wait here. I'll have someone come out for some information on her." "But she...." Then the nurse cut him off. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't make any exceptions. We'll take good care of her." Then she shut the door on him, leaving him standing there peering through the small window as they put an IV in her arm and hooked her up to several monitors. "Sir?" a man's voice asked. Mulder turned to see a young man looking at him. "We'll need some information on her." Mulder nodded. Twenty minutes later, he had given the young nurse all the information he had on her. He sat alone in the waiting room and sighed. He covered his face with his hands and sighed again. Now he had her back, but he didn't even know if she would live. And he didn't know what those bastards had done to her. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Skinner's home number. He picked up on the fourth ring, though he didn't sound as though he had been sleeping. "Skinner." "Sir, it's Mulder." "What is it, Mulder?" "She's... she's back." Skinner sat up straight, throwing off the blanket that had been on top of him. "What?" "She showed up at my door tonight. She was confused, sick." "Where are you now?" he asked. "Where is she?" "I'm at Georgetown Medical Center," he replied. "She passed out about a half hour ago." "Jesus. Is she going to be all right?" "I...," he began. The Assistant Director heard the conflicting emotions in the young agent's voice. He knew they had a relationship that went beyond partnership, he knew that they were the best of friends, but he wasn't sure how deep the bond went. "I don't know. They won't let me see her. I brought her in myself. She... all she said was that she was sorry." "Mulder," Skinner started, and paused. "I know what you must be going through...." Mulder cut him off. "With all due respect, sir, you have no idea." Skinner sighed. No, he probably didn't know. "All right, Mulder. You just stay with her, make sure she's OK. I need to talk to someone." "OK. Thank you sir." "Watch out for her, Mulder. You don't know who's after her now." "Of course," he said. "And sir? Tell him that I said to fuck off." Skinner smiled slightly as he hung up the phone. Leave it to Mulder to know what he was doing before he knew himself. He knew who he had to see. But never in his younger years had he imagined that salvation might be found in the devil. A devil who smoked Morleys. Georgetown Medical Center 6:01 AM "Agent Mulder?" The red haired doctor's voice snapped Mulder out of his waking trance. He jumped out of his chair in the waiting room and practically ran across the room to meet the young woman doctor. "Is she all right?" he asked, nearly frantic. "For the moment, yes," she answered. "I'm Dr. Jennings. She's been stabilized, although she's still unconscious. I found a small incision at the base of her neck, what appears to be a knife wound on her arm, though not deep enough to require stitches, and several needle punctures on her lower left arm." Mulder nodded. "What caused this?" "That hasn't been determined yet. I've ordered some bloodwork, and what we've gotten back so far has shown fairly high levels of numerous drugs in her system. So far, none of these substances have been identified." "But is she... will she be OK?" Mulder looked at Dr. Jennings, anxiety written on his face. "In all honesty, Agent Mulder, I don't know. We're hopeful right now, but her cancer has certainly weakened her. With any luck, yes, she will be OK." Mulder sighed, and visibly relaxed. "Can I see her?" he asked, hopeful. Dr. Jennings considered this. "I suppose you can, but just for a while. As I said, she's not awake yet, but if you want to visit, she's in room 112." Mulder thanked the young doctor, turned, and walked swiftly down the hall until he reached her room. Slowly, he pushed the door open to reveal his partner's small form covered by a hospital blanket. She was pale, and they had her hooked up to several monitors. Their beeping was the only sound in the room, and it was reassuring to hear her heart beating, if only as an electronic beep. She breathed shallowly, her lips slightly parted, her porcelain skin revealing some of her light freckles. Mulder sat in a chair next to the bed and took her cold hand, gently rubbing it to try to warm it. "Scully," he murmured, not expecting a response. He used his free hand to brush some auburn hair away from her face, revealing a small cut above her eyebrow. "Oh Scully," Mulder sighed. "Why didn't you just tell me?" She stirred under the blanket. "Scully? Wake up." Her crystal blue eyes opened only half way, groggy. She smiled slightly when she saw Mulder. "My angel," she murmured, and fell back into a deep sleep. J. Edgar Hoover Building 7: 02 AM The smoke drifted in Assistant Director Skinner's office as the Cancer Man took a drag on his cigarette. The two men looked at each other, silent for several moments. Finally, Skinner spoke. "What is it that you want from me?" he asked. "Why nothing at all at the moment." "What happened to Scully? Mulder's told me that she's sick. The doctors don't know what's wrong with her. Now I know that you know." "Agent Scully will be fine." He took another drag on his cigarette, crushed it in the ash tray, and lit a new one. Play it cool. Make the man squirm. "What are you talking about? They don't seem to know what to do." "They will soon enough." At this, Skinner snapped. "What the hell do you want from them? You've dragged those two through hell and back. What the hell are you trying to accomplish? They're just doing their jobs!" The Cancer Man raised an eyebrow at the normally cool and professional man's sudden outburst. "Yes, but their work interferes with my work." "So why didn't you just kill them in the first place?" Confusion and frustration played across the man's stony features. "They are needed," he answered simply. "Their futures have already been planned. Admittedly, this is a plan I have little control over, but I think that I may have aided in... well, I think that they won't take things for granted." "A plan?" Skinner asked. "How, why would you possibly plan their future?" "There are always reasons, Mr. Skinner. And there is always a plan." He reached inside his suit coat to the pocket inside and pulled out a playing card. Standing, he placed it face down on Skinner's desk, turned, and left. As the door clicked shut, Skinner picked up the card and looked at it, puzzled. It was the two of hearts. Georgetown University Medical Center 8:53 AM Scully's eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was Mulder's hand covering her smaller one. Smiling, she looked over at the figure in the chair, who was now deep in sleep. She turned her hand and laced her fingers through his. "Mulder," she called. He woke up as if a gun had gone off. "Scully," he breathed and smiled. "Hey. How are you feeling?" "I... actually, I'm OK." Mulder smiled as she sat up in the bed. The smile died on his lips. "What the hell were you trying to do, Scully?" he said softly. She looked up at him, guiltily. "I... I thought I...," she started, but couldn't finish her sentence. Mulder got up off of his chair and seated himself on the edge of her bed. Scully tried to continue. "She... she told me that he, Krycek...." "Who's she?" Mulder interrupted. "Marita?" Scully nodded. "I thought maybe I could... I don't know, Mulder. I figured I had nothing to lose. I didn't want you risking your life. I though I could do this for myself... for you...." "Scully, you know you don't have to prove anything to me. You should have told me. God, do you know what you've put me through in the last 24 hours?" "I'm sorry, Mulder. I...." But she just shook her head. Mulder scooted closer to her and put his arms around her waist. "I didn't know where you were, Scully. I had no idea where to start." His hands left hers for a moment to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Scully, it was like before, when you were gone." Just a whisper. Scully leaned in toward his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. When she pulled away a moment later, he was holding a crumpled paper, green eyes blazing. She knew what it was. "I... I didn't expect to be back," she explained. Mulder's eyes wouldn't leave hers. The intensity in his gaze got to her, sending a shiver down her spine. "But you meant it, Scully. I know you did." She closed her eyes and nodded, and then looked down at her hands. Mulder slid a hand along her cheek bone, forcing her to look at him. "You're the angel, Dana," he whispered. Somehow, she managed to rip her gaze away from the fire in his eyes. "Where were you, Scully?" he asked. She shuddered. "I don't know. In a room. With men, doctors I think. I... it was all fuzzy. I just remember needles... God, Mulder, whatever they used hurt like hell. I was sure they'd kill me." Mulder winced. "I don't even know how I got to your door." "So how am I?" she asked. Mulder told her all that he knew of her condition. She nodded knowingly at the reports of the drugs in her system. "It's like before, isn't it?" she said. Mulder nodded sadly. "But you didn't have cancer then," Mulder said as hit throat squeezed his voice. Breaking the silence, Scully asked him to turn on the television. It came on to a music video channel, and Scully told him to leave it. Trying to break the tension, Scully tried to make a joke. . "Mulder, did you ever wonder why they bolt the TV to the wall in a hospital? We've been in enough, and they're all the same. How the hell do you sneak a TV out of a hospital?" Mulder smiled slightly, glad that she was feeling as well as she was. Scully sighed and half listened to the song playing from the TV, just enjoying his company. She recognized the voice as Sheryl Crow's. "Come to me now And lay your hands over me Even if it's a lie Say it will be alright And I shall believe." Scully looked over at Mulder, knowing that he was listening as well now. He sighed and looked at her as she gazed at him with eyes that revealed all, but a voice that said nothing. "Broken in two And I know you're on to me That I only come home When I'm so all alone And I do believe" "That not everything is gonna be the way it ought to be Seems like every time I try to make it right it all comes down on me Please say honestly you won't give up on me And I shall believe" A silent tear slid down her cheek, and Mulder's arms were around her in an instant. She pressed her face into his shirt, a shattered man holding a dying woman, clinging to each other as though if they held on tight enough they would never have to say goodbye. "Open the door And show me your face tonight I know it's true No one heals me like you And you hold the key" "Never again Will I turn away from you I'm so heavy tonight But your love is alright And I do believe" I'm sorry... Mulder I'm so sorry," she sobbed into his chest. His hands skimmed up and down her back as he whispered softly to her. "I can't leave you." "Please say honestly you won't give up on me And I shall believe" Mulder cradled her face in his hands, brushing tears away with his thumbs. "I won't give up on you," he whispered. She smiled slightly. Then she laughed. Mulder asked with his eyes. "It's just... God we're dramatic." He smiled then, and laughed with her, wrapping his arms around her waist. They laughed together, two souls trying to heal. Mulder was still laughing when her body went limp, blood trickled from her nose, and the monitors started buzzing. 10:49 AM "She's stabilized," Dr. Jennings began, "but she's deteriorating." Mulder looked at her, pain etched in his face. "But she was awake. She was getting better." The doctor sighed. "Well she's unconscious now. In a coma. Still, her body's functioning on its own, but I don't know how long that'll last. We found more drugs in her system. An interaction between these drugs could have caused such a reaction, or a reaction with her cancer." "There's nothing you can do?" Mulder asked. "Nothing I know of." Mulder flinched. For the thousandth time since she was diagnosed, he wondered why it couldn't be him instead. He collapsed into the chair beside her bed in defeat, and the young doctor turned to leave. "There's no chance?" he asked. "There's always a chance, Mr. Mulder," she replied, and walked out of the room. 11:13 AM Maggie Scully walked quickly up the hallway of the ICU, looking for her daughter's room. When she reached room 112, she peered in the window to see Fox holding her daughter's hand, gazing at her with an intensity she had never seen before. Quietly, she pushed the door open and walked inside. Mulder looked up at her. "Hello, Fox. Thank you for calling me." He smiled slightly at her, watching her as she walked across the room. Mulder's gaze drifted to her hand. In it was a pure white rose. Slowly approaching her daughter's bed, she placed it on the table next to her. "She always loved white roses," she said, and Mulder made a mental note to buy her two dozen of them if, when, she woke up. The two sat in silence, the two people that loved Dana Scully more than anyone else in the world, silently praying together that the light in their angel's eyes would shine again. New York City 12:12 PM "Phone for you, sir," the younger man said as he handed the cell phone to the Cancer Man. He took a drag on his cigarette and took the phone. "Yes?" A number of expressions crossed his face as he tried to maintain his cool in front of the other members of the Consortium. "We have a problem, gentlemen," he began. The other men looked at him with curiosity. "It seems that Alex Krycek was not detained." "What?" the tall man said in surprise and anger. "He was essential to the plan. She'll die without what he has." The Cancer Man took a long drag on his cigarette and nodded. "I realize this. But not to worry, I'm sure my men can track him." "Your men have proven to be highly incompetent and ineffectual. If Agent Scully dies, the plan is ruined. And Agent Mulder will stop at nothing to avenge her death, putting us at risk for exposure." "We are still in control of this situation," he replied. Another man laughed humorlessly. "It seems that where you are involved, we are rarely in control." "May I remind you, gentlemen, that I have been instrumental in the project, and in Scully and Mulder's... arrangements. Alex Krycek will be found. And Agent Scully will live. And the plan will go forward." "You had better find him quickly," the tall man said. "Because without him, what's in her system will kill her within the day." Georgetown Medical Center 12:15 PM Mrs. Scully had left a few minutes ago, saying she had someone to see. But Mulder still sat at Scully's bedside, remembering his words, refusing to give up on her. His cell phone trilled in his coat pocket, and he released her hand to cross the room and retrieve it from his coat. "Mulder," he said briskly. Skinner's voice answered him. "Agent Mulder, I'm here in my office, and I think there's someone here that you want to see." "Who?" "Just get over here, Mulder," he said. "But Scully...." "She'll be there when you get back." "No sir, she may not be." Mulder filled him in on Scully's relapse into coma, and Dr. Jennings' prediction. Skinner sighed. "Mulder, I'm sorry. But this could be your only chance to save her life." "You're serious about this, aren't you?" "Yes I am. Now I'd hurry if I were you. He's not sticking around for long." And across the desk from Skinner, Alex Krycek smiled. Mulder pressed the button on his cell phone and hung up. He leaned over Scully and kissed her forehead softly. "I don't know that you can hear me. But you hang on. I'll be back soon. Hopefully, with a place to start." He squeezed her hand. "And a way to bring you back." ******************************************************************** End Chapter 4/8 All comments, critiques, flames and other junk to Creyente@aol.com!!! Thanks guys! Chapter Five It is in the depths of despair and the darkness of sorrow that can swallow you whole that you find out just how strong you are. Physical strength and intellectual knowledge become meaningless as you search for a reason to continue on a journey that you try to control but ultimately have very little say in. We find ourselves faltering, questioning our lives, our motives, our beliefs, and our very souls. Many would succumb to this darkness, extinguishing the flame of love and life in a flood of sadness. Angels wait for these broken souls. They are strong, those who struggle through their troubles, and who realize that change can come only through their determination and the help of someone who is always looking out for us. And these ones are blessed. They find the realization that maybe they do have control, that maybe, despite what they cynics would say, they can make a difference, if not in the world, maybe just in themselves. They are the survivors, strength made tangible in a fragile package of muscle and bone, the housing of a soul. And they continue on their journey, holding on, keeping faith, making themselves a pinpoint of light in a sea of blackness. Some would say that a small light such as this would go unnoticed in the great scheme of things. But heaven notices the passing of a sparrow, and the loss of someone given the gift of this flame is surely a mournful event to be noticed by the world. And it is these survivors, these pinpoints of light, that come together to shine on the world, to lift it up, and carry it on their shoulders, pulling the ones in the darkness into the light, and blessing us all with their very existence. And then you realize that there are more shining lights out there than you would think. And that together they are brighter than all the light of the stars and the heavens. And that maybe, just maybe, you are one of them. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------- J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building 1:02 PM Skinner tapped his pencil restlessly on the desk. Across the desk, Krycek fidgeted. "Where the hell is he?" he asked. "I can't hang around here forever waiting for your star agent." Skinner looked at him with impatience. "He'll be here." Just then, the door opened, and Mulder walked in. When he saw who was sitting with Skinner, he lunged across the room and grabbed Krycek by the shirt, pulling him to his feet. Krycek winced, his wounded shoulder aching. "She's dying because of you," he said with anger, on the verge of losing his control. Skinner rushed over to Mulder. "Let him go, Mulder," he shouted. "He could be the only chance you have of saving her!" At this, Mulder dropped him abruptly. Save her.... "What do you mean?" he asked. Krycek stepped away from Mulder, smiling. "What did you do to her, you bastard?" Mulder yelled. "It wasn't me, Mulder." "Then who the hell was it?" "Wait, hold it," Skinner interrupted. Both men shifted their attention to the Assistant Director. "Krycek, you realize that I could arrest you right now, don't you?" "Sure," he answered. "But you won't." "Why is that?" Mulder asked. "Because if you arrest me, she dies." His words sent a chill down Mulder's spine. "Sit down," Skinner said to both of the men. "What is it that you want, Krycek?" "I want a deal," he said. "They're after me now." "Who?" Mulder asked. "You know who," he said, nodding toward an ash tray. "He double crossed me, so I did the same to him." "You also double crossed me. And Scully. I shouldn't be sitting here listening to this!" No, he thought. I should be sitting there with her, holding her hand. We should be together somewhere, not worrying about cancer, just loving each other. "You have no choice," Krycek retorted. "OK, enough," Skinner said, standing. "You said you wanted a deal. What is it?" "Simple," he replied. "My life for hers. You let me slip back into the woodwork, maybe get me a way outta here, and I'll tell you how to save her." "How can you save her?" Mulder asked. "For one thing, she's got cancer. She's dying anyway, even if you do bring her back from whatever it is they did to her last night." And even as he spoke, Mulder didn't believe his own words. Dana Scully would not die. If it meant his own life, she would not die. Because she didn't deserve to. Because he couldn't, wouldn't, live without her in his life. "You're telling me it's not worth it, Mulder?" Krycek asked. "I know you. And I know that if you can do anything to bring her back, even for a few weeks, you'll do it." Mulder looked down at his shoes. "And I know that you believe that she's not going to die." "Why should we trust you?" Skinner asked. "Do you have a choice?" Krycek retorted. "All right," Skinner said slowly. "Mulder, do you go for this?" Mulder nodded his head. "Anything I can do for her, I want to do it." Without question. Despite the consequences to himself. "I'll call and get you a plane ticket to anywhere you want to go, anonymously," Skinner said to Krycek. "Any other type of false identification you want is yours." Krycek nodded. "Good." "Tell us," Mulder said. "I don't know what they did to her last night, but I do know what they wanted from me. They've probably had this whole thing set up from the beginning, having her come after me." Mulder nodded. "I know about that." "There is a way to save her," he continued. "You made a deal with that man," Krycek said as he moved his eyes to Skinner. "He never had any intention of holding up his end." "I don't believe you," Skinner said. Why he was defending that man, he didn't know. All he knew was that he wasn't going to allow himself to trust this rat before him. "You don't have to believe me," he said. "All you have to do is give me what I want. Now listen to me. There is a drug that can counteract what is now in her system, and possibly save her." "Give it to me," Mulder said threateningly. "I don't have it." "Then who does?" "Someone we both know. Someone who doesn't like what they've become." "Oh would you cut out the bullshit?" Mulder yelled. "Scully is dying. Do you hear me? Dying. I don't have time to play your manipulative games." Inside, the man was falling apart. His life without it's shining light in it would be meaningless, and empty shell. "You will be given a way to save her, but I can't do it in any overt way. You should know that, Mulder." "I told you I don't have time-" "Mulder, let him talk," Skinner interrupted. Krycek continued. "You are a great investigator, Mulder. Keep your eyes open. It won't be very far away." At that, Krycek got up from his chair. "I expect that everything said here stays in this room. You have no choice but to trust me, Mulder." As the door clicked shut, Mulder looked helplessly at Skinner. Mulder covered his face with his hands and stood to leave. "She'll live," he said with conviction. She would live. His work, his life, his soul for her. The door once again clicked shut, leaving Skinner alone in the office, fingers playing the edges of the card the smoking man had placed on his desk. "I know," was all he said. Pennsylvania Avenue Washington, D.C. 1:23 PM "You can deliver the package." Alex Krycek spoke into a cell phone, playing the part of the casual businessman, while walking through the streets of the beautiful city of marble and history. "Your deal has been made?" a voice on the other end asked. "Yes, it's taken care of." "All right, I'll take care of it immediately," the voice answered. "I don't understand why you're doing this," Krycek said. "I've got my reasons," the voice answered. "They're my reasons, just as you have yours. Don't worry. I've got it taken care of." New York City 1:27 PM "Did you get a trace on the line?" the cigarette man asked. "No sir, he wasn't on the phone long enough. Nor could we identify the voice. Whoever was on the other side of the conversation was using some kind of electronic scrambler to disguise his voice." "We have to find him. And whoever was talking to him." "Well we were obviously wrong about him having the material," said the fat man. "Then who the hell does have it?" the cancer man said in an unusual display of anger. "We will find Alex Krycek, make no doubt about that. And we will locate the material." But in his mind, he doubted himself. He had mere hours to find a man who had become invisible, and to give life back to a woman who by all rights should have been long dead. And he didn't know where the hell to start. Georgetown University Medical Center 2:02 PM The shades in her room drawn, Dana Scully looked the shadow of what she once was. Her skin pale, shadows falling across her lovely features, playing at the contours of her face, her crimson hair now tangled and limp. She was a shining beauty whose light had been dimmed far too soon. And in her deep sleep of surrender, Dana Scully saw one face, had one thought. It was the face of a man, a savior to her, who although he had ultimately failed her, had given his life and his soul to her. A man who without ever speaking so many words had expressed so much in his eyes, said so much in the layered textures of their conversations, and confessed everything in his tears. The tears of an angel. She saw him there, his deep, soulful eyes full of emotion, a mixture of pain and passion, empathy and love, his dark hair falling in strands into his eyes, his brow furrowed in thought, his full lower lip trembling as though he would cry. And his arms.... She felt his arms around her, holding her safe, tethering her to the world of the living, refusing to ever give up on her. And she clung to him like a child clings to her mother, afraid and alone, knowing that if she were to be saved, he would be her salvation. And she hoped, prayed, begged, for a second chance. And as she slept, a figure dressed all in black crept into the room. Silent, catlike, it made its way to her bedside. Using a hand gloved in black leather, it placed something on the small table at her side, and picked something up which it placed in its pocket. And the person went unnoticed, just another sad visitor in a place of sorrow. And the figure was certainly not noticed by the sleeping Dana Scully, whose mind allowed her to think of only one thing. And her mind replayed to her every moment, every second they had shared. And she held the sorrow of knowing that she had failed him. And she wondered why she had hung on as long as she had. Sadness grew tangible in room 112. She knew she could have done better for him. But now the feeling of despair and hopelessness overtook her, pulling her down, closer and closer to letting go. And although her lips were unable to move, her mind whispered his name. And across a city of freedom and justice, a broken man walked, considering choices made and things undone, while staring at his reflection played over the image of a monument of freedom in the clear waters of a pool of water meant to be a tribute to life and the pursuit happiness. He found the situation ironic, being in the city that was the symbol of freedom and democracy, being forced to give up the only thing he longed to have. And alone in her bed, Scully's mind whispered to her that there was always hope. And Fox Mulder swore he could hear her voice in his mind, telling him to hold on. Reflecting Pool Washington D.C. 2:13 PM "I thought I'd find you here." Mulder looked up to see a familiar blond woman walking toward him. And she saw in his eyes the remnants of a soul that had been shattered by the inevitable loss of love. "So?" he said. He really wasn't feeling up to Marita Covarubbias. "So you should go to her," she said with a grim determination. "What do you care?" he asked. She knew nothing of what they shared, nothing of what they had been through. "I'm telling you to go to your partner, Mulder. I'm telling you to go to your friend. You're going to have to trust me." "Why?" "Do you want to save her life?" Mulder lifted an eyebrow. "I'm so tired of the games you people play." She sat down next to him on the bench. "I loved someone once. And I lost him to my own stubbornness and inability to see past the obstacles before me." "Not to seem insensitive, but I'm really not interested in the soap opera aspects of your life," Mulder said dryly. "I told you before that I was sorry," she countered. "And I'm telling you now to believe me. Despite what you may think of me, I really am a person. And I'm telling you to go to her if you want to find what it is you're looking for." Mulder simply sighed. And more out of his own need to see her than the woman's prodding, he stood and walked to his car. As he turned and left, the woman sat alone on the bench, watching her reflection, considering everything done, and realizing that Mulder and herself really weren't that different. Georgetown University Medical Center 3:12 PM Mulder quietly entered the dark room, taking in her small body resting on the hard hospital mattress. Quickly, he sat down next to her and took her hand in his, as though he could give his life to her, and make her hold on. He made no effort to hide the tears that were threatening to fall, and softly whispered to her. "It was never supposed to be this way. I don't know where we go from here, but..." he stopped, suddenly unable to find the words to say what he had to say. "But I know you, Scully, I think better than I know myself. And you're strong. And I know that we'll be together. One way or another." At this, he bent down and kissed the skin just beside her lips, and let the tears fall onto her soft skin. Salty tears blurred his vision as he lifted his face away from her, gazing onto the table at her bedside at the red rose that lay there. Mrs. Scully had brought her a white rose. Mulder jumped out of his chair as though he had been shot at and ran to the table on the other side of the bed. Gingerly picking up the red rose, he looked at the small vial of water that florists used to keep the flowers fresh. The water had a decidedly blue tint to it. Almost unable to breathe, Mulder pulled the rose from its glass vial, putting on it the plastic cap that he found lying next to the flower. His mind screamed that this could be it, that this could be what he had been praying for, yet his body barely moved. He pocketed the vial, turning to look at the small body of Dana Scully, battered and fighting a losing battle, in the bed. He gazed at her, his eyes speaking volumes that his voice never could, turned, and left the room. Walking through the busy halls of the hospital, not really knowing where he was going, he though that even if she had given up, he would be strong enough to keep the both of them hanging on, and that in himself, there was hope for the both of them. ********************************************************************** End Chapter 5/8 Got something to say?? Huh?!? You talking to me?!?! Well good, you can say it by e-mailing me at Creyente@aol.com. Thanks a bunch guys and gals! :) Chapter Six We've all heard the old clich?: if you love someone, you have to let them go. But for some, this isn't good enough. There are some that would risk life and limb to be able to be with the object of their love for the rest of their earthly existence and beyond. Why do they put their hearts on the line? Why do they risk losing all they have, even when things are at their darkest? Only those who have experienced such a love could really answer these questions. But at some point along the journey, we will all lose someone special to us. We will all, in the end, have to let go. And so we mourn, and we accept, moving on, but never, ever forgetting. But even faced with the brink of death, some refuse to accept. Never give up, never give in, and never let go. This is the mantra of these souls. And for the person they would do this for, they are a piece of heaven on earth. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------- J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building Washington, D.C. 3:45 PM Fox Mulder was a mad man. At least that was the impression Special Agent Pendrell got when Mulder came running into his office in the Sci Crimes section, waving a vial of bluish translucent fluid, demanding that he analyze it immediately. Pendrell tried to calm him, but Mulder kept babbling things about "saving her" and "not letting go". Finally, Pendrell demanded that Mulder tell him what was going on. "It's Scully," Mulder said. Pendrell's face registered shock, then sadness. "What's happened to her?" he asked. Mulder knew Scully had asked him to keep her cancer confidential, but under the circumstances, he felt that Pendrell needed to know if he were to save her life. Mulder told him about her cancer, and about her absence the last day. Pendrell sat down, shocked and full of sorrow. Though he did have a bit of a crush on her, Pendrell respected and admired Scully for her integrity and passion for her work. "I need to know if this stuff could affect any of the drugs already in her system. This is a printout of what the doctors found in her blood," Mulder said, handing Pendrell a sheet of computer paper. Pendrell scanned it, and looked up. "Damn, Mulder, you know I'm sorry." Mulder looked up, mildly surprised at the "kid's" language. "I'll do what I can, as quickly as I can." "Thank you," Mulder said, and nodded. "You've got my cell number. Call me as soon as you know anything." "I will." At that, Mulder stepped out of the room and made his way over to the elevator. He punched the button, nearly hard enough to crack the plastic. The elevator appeared, and Mulder stepped inside, alone. He punched the button for the garage, meaning to go back to Scully while he waited for Pendrell to find what he could. Leaning against the wall of the elevator, he pushed the stray lock of hair off of his forehead. And he could see her. There, in front of his eyes, he swore he could see her. Not pale and thin, lying on her deathbed, but alive, and beautiful, her soft crimson hair shining in sunlight, crystal blue eyes sparkling, a smile on her lips that was meant only for him. He knew he was tired, knew he hadn't slept for nearly two days, but knew that wasn't the reason he was seeing this. He knew it was because he was completely, without a doubt, head over heels in love with Scully. And he knew that if she died now, not one day would go by in the rest of his life when he wouldn't see her before him like this. He was shocked out of his reverie by the soft ding of the elevator reaching the garage. He stepped out, blinking the vision away, heading for his black Taurus. He heard it before he felt it. The sound of a gun firing, and then the hot, searing pain of the bullet ripping through his upper arm. He stumbled backwards, hitting a car, and triggering the alarm. The commotion made his attacker hasty as he ran to him, checking his pockets for something. Through his pain induced haze, Mulder couldn't tell if it was Adam or an alien standing above him, whispering for him to just let it go. He was conscious of the sticky heat of his blood soaking through his shirt, and conscious of the throbbing pain in his arm. But his body gave in, and the last thing Mulder was aware of was the blaring of the car alarm and the rapid clicking of his attacker's shoes running from the scene. And the terrifying idea that suddenly, they were both condemned to death. Georgetown University Medical Center 4:51 PM "Agent Mulder? Sir?" Mulder did not recognize the voice that was calling him, so he chose to ignore it. He was aware only of the throbbing in his arm, and the beeping of hospital monitors. And damn, he hated hospitals. "Agent Mulder?" And still, he did not open his eyes. Vaguely, he wondered where Scully was. And then he remembered. And then his eyes snapped open. "What happened?" he demanded. "How long have I been out?" Above him was the face of Dr. Jennings, the woman that was in charge of Scully's care. She narrowed her eyes at him, making a quick assessment of his condition. "You were shot in the parking lot of FBI Headquarters. The attacker is unknown. One of your colleagues, an Agent Pendrell, found you and called an ambulance. You've only been out about an hour. The bullet just went through the skin, no major muscles of arteries were hit." "I need to go," Mulder said, wincing as he sat up. "Sir, you can't leave," she said. "We need to keep you here for observation." Mulder shook his head, as if denying the fact that he was even injured. "My partner. I may be able to help her. I need to go see Agent Pendrell." Dr. Jennings shook her head sympathetically, recognizing how devoted this man was to his partner. "There's nothing to be done for her. You can't save her, Agent Mulder." "No, you don't understand. I need to go!" "I'm sorry, I can't let you. Soon, maybe in a few hours, you can go visit her, but that's all." The young doctor left the room, leaving Mulder only with his thoughts of his angel sleeping just a few floors below him, so close, but so far away. New York City 4:59 PM "Who shot Mulder?" No one had an answer as the man took a long drag on his Morely. "No one here authorized this. We need to find out who attacked Mulder." "Well there's only one reason I can see that he would have been attacked," the fat man said. "Mulder must have had the material." "Yes, he must have. But now we have to find it." The Cancer Man kept his face emotionless, a cold stone wall blocking everyone else out. He would never let the other members of the group see his anxiety. "Not if he already has it." The Cancer Man looked up, surprised. "If indeed Agent Mulder is in possession of the material, then we have to find out who gave it to him. If he has it, then half of our work is done. Nevertheless, it was given to him by an unknown source, a source which could very well put the organization in jeopardy." Several other men in the room nodded vaguely, not wanting to disagree with the powerful man. "We will find out who gave the material to Mulder," he continued, "and who attacked him. And this person or persons will be dealt with accordingly." He ended the conversation by standing and crushing his cigarette in a nearby ash tray, leaving a small trail of smoke that would remind them of his presence long after he had left the room. Georgetown University Medical Center 5:32 PM Mulder shifted restlessly in his hospital bed. His clothes were lying on a chair a few feet away. Someone had brought him a shirt to replace the one that he had been wearing at the time of the attack, presumably Pendrell. He had to know what Pendrell had found. Mulder sat up, groaning slightly at the pain that shot through his bandage-wrapped arm. But the pain was secondary now, secondary to his one and only concern: Scully. Cautiously, he pulled himself out of the bed and moved to the chair his clothes were sitting on. He pulled on his jeans, and then gingerly pulled the white T-shirt over his head. He ran his fingers through his hair, then peeked out of the doorway window, checking to see if any nurses or doctors were coming. There were none, so he carefully pushed the door open. As quietly as he could, he half-walked and half-jogged to the stairway, closing the door behind him as quickly as he could. Saying a silent prayer, he hoped he would make it out of the building before anyone noticed his absence. J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building 6:21 PM "Thanks," Mulder said as he paid the cab driver and tipped him generously. Somehow, the man had managed to avoid the horrendous rush hour traffic in Washington. Walking as quickly as he could, he made it to the front entrance of the building. He pushed open the door with his wounded arm without thinking and was rewarded by an exquisite burst of pain that went through his arm. Wincing, he pushed open the door with his other arm. As soon as he went through security, he got on the elevator and went up to the Sci Crimes unit. He didn't bother to knock when he made it to Pendrell's office, instead rushing in and startling the young man, who was hunched over a microscope. He looked up, surprised. "Mulder, what are you doing here?" Pendrell asked. "You should be at the hospital." Mulder shook his head and tossed off the remark. "What did you find?" "Well," he sighed, "I definitely can't identify it. It's some sort of drug, although I can't determine its exact makeup. I did identify several individual substances in this drug, although I've never seen a combination like this before. I put it through as many tests as I could think of." Mulder's face fell. "Then I can't use it?" "Oh, no, you can use it. From what I could identify in this, some of the contents of this drug are known to counteract what's in Scully's blood." Mulder could feel himself smile. "Then this will make her better?" he asked like a child. "Well, theoretically, it will counteract the drugs that are killing her, yes. But her cancer, I can't say." Mulder looked surprised. "I hadn't even considered that. This stuff could actually cure her cancer." He said it quietly, as though he had a secret he didn't want to give away. Pendrell looked concerned. "Look, Mulder, don't go getting your hopes up. I want it to be her cure too, but I simply don't know enough about this stuff, and I'm not a doctor. I am going to say use this only as a last resort." "Pendrell," Mulder started, and then stopped. He looked over at the young agent. "Thank you." "Of course." Mulder picked up the vial of liquid, pocketed it, and made his way to the parking lot, never looking back. His car was just where he left it. Wincing, Mulder got in and put on his seatbelt. As he started to put the key in the ignition, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. He looked up to see a shadow darting around the corner. Quickly, he started the car and pulled out, following the shadow. He put his lights on and turned his car around the corner, surprised by who he saw standing there. It was the parking attendant. Sighing, he slumped in his seat. "Getting too damn paranoid," he muttered to himself as he drove out of the lot. He pulled his car out onto Pennsylvania Avenue, pointing his car towards Georgetown. He drove on past the White House, watching as tourists took pictures in the waning daylight. So naive, he thought. They had no idea that behind all the marble monuments, the architecture, the gardens, and the tributes to justice was a city full of lies. He glanced back over at the tourists, several families, small children tugging at their parents' hands to keep going. And he sighed as he remembered that it was for the naive and innocent people out there that he did what he did. And he was fairly sure that Scully held similar reasons for working for the Bureau. He knew he couldn't give up. Georgetown University Medical Center 7:15 PM He walked through the doors of the hospital, almost expecting to have someone stop him after he had left the way he did. But no one stopped him. No one even gave him a second glance. He turned a corner in the hallway, and immediately broke into a run when he saw the door to Scully's room open. He could hear the young doctor's voice asking for an IV, and the buzz of monitors. Mulder couldn't think. His body was reacting on instinct now as he turned and walked into her room. What he saw almost made him fall down. Around Scully's bed, at least seven people were standing. He recognized two nurses and Dr. Jennings. "What happened?" he yelled. Dr. Jennings turned, surprised, but quickly turned back to Scully. "She's crashing," she yelled over the noise of the monitors. He looked over at them, seeing Scully's EKG flat-lined. He stopped breathing at this point as he watched the doctors trying to bring her back. Dr. Jennings was yelling out orders, asking for various drugs and instruments. Finally, Mulder snapped out of his daze and ran to her side, clasping her hand. "Scully," he yelled. Then he felt himself being pushed, and looked up to see a nurse shoving him out of the way. "You have to stay back, sir." "No. I have to...." "Sir, let us work." "Scully!" he called. "Don't you give up on me! Don't you dare!" He could only hope that she heard him. The doctors continued yelling and shuffling around her, but he ignored them, only seeing Scully. "Hang on! We're so close, Scully. You're going to make it." "Give me the paddles," he heard Dr. Jennings say, but it didn't register in his mind. He was dimly aware that his hands were shaking. A nurse bumped past him, hitting his wounded arm, but he didn't even flinch. He was only standing, staring at her. He was startled as he saw her body jump unnaturally, and he turned to see that Dr. Jennings was trying to shock her heart back into beating. Her little body jumped again, and he cringed. His fragile Scully. He only wished he had said it to her. Then, he remembered what Pendrell had said. Use the drug only as a last resort. "Here," he said, pulling the vial out of his pocket. "Give it to her." Dr. Jennings turned to look at him momentarily, seeing the vial he held in his hand. "What is that?" she asked. "It's," he began, not knowing how to respond. "It's a drug. It could save her life." "I can't give her that," she said. "I have no idea what that stuff is or where it came from. Perhaps if you can tell me...." "I'm telling you that this will save her life," Mulder interrupted, panicked, his voice cracking. "I understand your responsibility to her, but this will save her." Dr. Jennings shook her head. "I'm sorry, Agent Mulder, I cannot give that drug to her without knowing what it is." She turned back to Scully, continuing her efforts to start her heart. "Dammit!" he yelled. "You can't help her without this!" But his words fell upon deaf ears. He continued yelling at them, and at Scully, trying to get anyone in the room to listen to him. He watched on, not understanding when the doctors started to back away and slow down. "What are you doing?" he asked, panicked. It was Dr. Jennings who turned to him sadly. "I'm sorry," was all she said. He shook his head, denying her. "No. It's not over yet." He pushed the doctors and nurses aside and knelt at Scully's side, clasping her hand. "Dana, come on. You are stronger than this. Fight this." He felt tears streaming down his cheeks as he realized he had just repeated back to her words that she had used to try to pull him back in a different way so many months ago. "Call it," Dr. Jennings said sadly. Mulder didn't hear her. He had Scully's hand in his, holding it tightly, as though his strength could bring her back. "Dammit, Scully, I said I wouldn't give up on you, and I'm not. Now don't you give up on me. Please, Dana." "Time of death," he head a doctor say. "No!" he roared, standing up. "No," he repeated, not allowing her to finish her sentence. "I won't let her go. If you'll just give her this drug!" Dr. Jennings just shook her head. "It wouldn't bring her back." "Look," Mulder said, his words betraying his thoughts, "you think she's dead anyway. It can't hurt to try." Sighing, Dr. Jennings took the vial and pulled out a syringe, filling it with the blue liquid. She went to Scully, picked up her limp arm, and injected it into her. "Thank you," Mulder said solemnly. He turned back to Scully, kneeling beside her once again. Anxiously, he waited for the monitors to stop their incessant whine and to hear her heart beat again as an electronic beep. Moments passed, but still nothing happened. Behind his back, Dr. Jennings motioned for the others to leave the room. She stepped up behind him. "Agent Mulder," she said. He ignored her, feeling the tears flowing down his face, whispering to Scully. "It's not over yet." "Agent Mulder, I'm sorry. There's nothing more to be done." "No." He leaned over her, his fingers in her hair, laying his head down and pressing his cheek to hers. "Scully. Please don't leave me alone here. How do I...." He stopped, not knowing what to say. "How do I live without you?" He was sobbing now, his shoulders shaking as his tears flowed onto her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, wishing violently that he could just see her amazing blue eyes. "I live only for you, Scully." He breathed, shaking, the truth of his statement shaking him to the core. "If you leave me, I'll have nothing left." He heard Dr. Jennings speak behind him, quietly. The words ripped through him, tearing his heart apart, his brain refusing to accept them. "Time of death, seven forty-one PM." ********************************************************************* End part 6/8 Stay with me guys, please, I'm not done yet! Just trust me. Hate mail, death threats, and bombs to Creyente@aol.com. I'll be the one hiding under the table. Chapter seven. We exist in the present, yet we think of the past, and live for the future. Wasted time. Wasted moments. Wasted words, thoughts, feelings. We take the present for granted. Watch a clock tick away the seconds. Every one is one closer to our inevitable end. Yet we sit and wait, thinking that things will change by themselves. Until we are confronted by the horrible realization that our time is over, that all is said and done. But sometimes all is not said, and all is so very far from done. And what happens when tomorrow never comes? Who do we leave behind, wondering of things that might have been? But sometimes, we're given a second chance. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------- Georgetown University Medical Center 7:41 PM The flame of life flickered in the small hospital room. Three bodies, yet only two of them aware, conscious. One, a shattered soul, whose life had been far from perfect, whose quest had taken down those near him, yet whose motives were just, and whose heart was pure. Another, a flickering candle, clinging desperately to the light of life, fighting the cold night winds that persistently tried to extinguish the flame. In many ways, she was already gone. Yet her soul remained, seeing all, feeling his pain, and crying for herself. The third, a young woman, trained in medicine. Taught all the facts, but so uncertain as how to deal with the matters of the heart. Young and naive, she had never seen such horror and heart-wrenching pain as this man had been through for this woman. This woman who was now clinically dead. She had called it herself, her ears refusing to recognize her own voice as she pronounced that life had left the woman. And she was still amazed that he didn't believe her. He clung to her hand like a child, tears streaming down his cheeks and soaking into the sheets on her bed. Whispering her name, making promises that he would never get a chance to keep, and saying things he had always meant to say. His fingers touched her crimson hair, and his tears touched her soul. Not much mattered to Fox Mulder anymore. He didn't care about the irrevocable guilt he would surely feel, or the pain he endured right now. His quest was worthless, his own very life, and empty shell. There was only one thing he cared about now, unquestioningly and unselfishly. Dana Katherine Scully. Not Dana Katherine Scully the doctor, not even Dana Katherine Scully the federal agent. He cared about Dana Katherine Scully, his friend, his partner, his love. His life. The little girl who had crawled on her daddy's lap at night and called him Ahab. Starbuck. The young woman, so naive, that had walked into that basement office five years ago and changed everything. Scully. The woman who had taken his life, turned it upside down, and given him something to care about. Something to live for. The woman who was strong beyond the size of her body, and brave beyond the size of her heart. The woman who had given him her trust, and in return, had been given his. The woman who was pure of heart, who wanted nothing but the truth, and had needed nothing less than love. The woman who had sacrificed it all for her country, and for him. The woman who had taken hold of his heart and never let go, showing him her love with a simple smile, a touch of her hand, or a vow spoken not with words, but with her eyes. Dana. And now he whispered that name, the name he had so rarely used because of his own fear, instead calling her Scully and labeling her as nothing more than a friend, granted a best friend, but nothing more. He built up the walls, as did she, and denied things that although they could be hidden could not be destroyed. "Dana." And the young doctor turned to leave the room, shutting the door behind her in a futile attempt to escape the pain that four walls held within it. And yet he remained, holding her in his strong arms, refusing to break his promise to never give up on her. Her body could die now, but her soul, her spirit, her fire never would, remaining with him always, watching over him until they met again. He released her hand and cupped her face with his warm hands. Leaning over her, he pressed a feather-soft kiss to each of her closed eyelids, hiding beautiful blind eyes behind them. "It's all right if you sleep now, angel." One last vow, one final confession, and he softly pressed a final goodbye to her cold lips, wishing he could breathe his own life into her. A kiss he had always wanted, but never like this. And he sank back onto the floor, leaning his head on his knees and sobbing, unable to stop the flood of emotion he felt as the final walls around his heart came crashing down to rubble. Never again would he find one person in his life who he could love with abandon, who he could trust without question, who he could cherish like her. Dana Katherine Scully, her mind, heart, body, and soul. As he cried, a tear made its way down Scully's cheek, leaving a salty track of pain and love behind. And he heard it. Beep. His glistening hazel eyes looked up. He head it again. Beep. Louder this time, steadier. Realization struck him as he jumped to his feet and looked at Scully. It was her heart monitor. She was alive. 7:43 PM "Dr. Jennings!" sounded his scream down the hallway. It was loud and harsh, frantic. Her head turned, and the woman ran up the hallway without even asking. "She's alive," he whispered almost reverently. She shook her head in denial but stepped into the room anyway. And to her amazement, Dana Scully was very much alive. Immediately, she started an IV back up, and called other doctors into the room, who gathered around in amazement. Through all the hustle and doctor lingo, Mulder just paced and smiled, his heat soaring. He couldn't think straight. One thing ran through his mind over and over, and it was her sweet name. Vaguely he wondered if Mrs. Scully had been called yet. And then he felt a woman's hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Dr. Jennings behind him. "I need to talk to you, outside." He nodded, turned to look at her once more, and left the room with Dr. Jennings while three other doctors hustled around her bed whispering in an amazed hush. "She's alive," he stated, grinning. She couldn't help but smile, and she nodded. "Yes, she is. And I think it was your drug that saved her. I've taken some new blood samples. They're in the lab right now, but I suspect that whatever I injected into her somehow counteracted what was already in her system." "What about," he started, wondering how to say it. "I mean, she was dead. Even with the counteraction, it's not normal for someone's heart to start itself, is it?" "No, not at all," she agreed. "I simply can't explain how she's alive at all." He smiled. "Faith," he said quietly. "What?" "When she was awake before, she made me promise not to give up on her. To have faith in her. I never did give up on her. And she had faith in herself. She's stronger than you could ever imagine. Doctor, you and I didn't bring her back. She brought herself back." Saying nothing, the young doctor turned away, leaving the man and his faith to wait for the results of a blood test. 7:56 PM "Fox!" came a woman's anguished cry down the hall. Mulder jumped to see a ragged, crying Maggie Scully running down the hall at him. Realization hit him as he figured out that no one had told her that her daughter was still alive. "She's gone, oh Fox, my God, I can't believe she's left us." She was still crying as Mulder stood to meet her. "Mrs. Scully," he began, only to be cut off. "No, I need to see her. Where is she?" "Mrs. Scully, wait. She's... she's alive." Maggie looked up at Mulder to see him smiling at her. "What... how can that be? The hospital called. I...." "I was right there with her, Mrs. Scully. She was... but now she's back. She made it through." Tears of relief spilled down her cheeks. As Mulder put a hand on her shoulder, she fell against him, sobbing into him. He raised a hand to the small of her back, the very spot that he so often used to anchor himself to Dana. He stood there until she had spent all her tears, more mother and son than friends. Finally she pulled away from him. "Thank you, Fox. I needed that." He only nodded in return. A voice came from behind Mulder, announcing the presence of Dr. Jennings. "You're going to like what I have to tell you." Both Mulder and Maggie turned, expectant. "She's getting better." Mulder smiled, and Maggie laughed, clasping Mulder's hand. "Slowly, but she is improving. Her hearbeat's stronger, her blood pressure is stabilizing, and her other vitals are getting there as well. She should wake up by tomorrow morning." "Can I go sit with her?" he asked. She nodded, smiling. "I don't see how I can keep you away." He turned to walk away, but was stopped by Maggie's voice. "What about her cancer?" His eyes fell, and the doctor looked up. "We're just not sure. Agent Mulder implied that whatever drug he brought could cure her, but I've never seen anything that could defeat a cancer in such an advanced state. We have run the tests, but the results aren't back yet." "They promised me a cure," came Mulder's thick voice. "But did they promise you a miracle as well?" Dr. Jennings asked. Without answering, he turned to go to Scully's side. 8:32 PM He sat by her side in a big padded chair, clutching her hand in his. He had fallen asleep a few minutes ago, lulled to sleep by lack of rest and the knowledge that, at least for the moment, Scully was safe. Across the room from the two sleeping forms sat Maggie Scully. She slowly got up, knowing that her daughter would wake up. She crossed the room and stood over them, her children, one hers since birth, one unofficially adopted more recently, and her heart went out to them. She could plainly see that they loved one another. But life or God or someone had thrown so many obstacles in their path that they had never been able to express that to each other. At least not in words. She slipped on her jacket, knowing that she could go home with a sense of security. Fox would take care of Dana, no matter what. Never would he abandon her, she was sure of that. And as the turned to look at them before she stepped out of the room, she could almost hear the angels crying for them. 11:21 PM The first thing Mulder was aware of upon waking was the comfort of feeling Scully's small, warm hand in his. The corners of his mouth kicked up slightly in a smile as he mumbled something incomprehensible. "Agent Mulder." Slowly, his eyes opened, and he looked up to see a rather large man standing over him. His mind finally clicked and he realized that it was Assistant Director Skinner. He sat up in his chair and released Scully's hand, then brushed a hand through his hair. "I haven't slept in three days," he explained, his voice rough from sleep. Skinner pulled a chair over and sat down across from him. "Scully's doctor just informed me about all that's going on. She was just on her way home. Seems she hasn't slept in quite a while either." "What are you doing here?" This seemed to make Skinner pause. "I don't exactly know. If nothing else, to give this to you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a playing card. He handed it to Mulder, who frowned when he saw it. "What's this supposed to mean?" Mulder asked as he held up the two of hearts. "He gave it to me. The Cancer Man. He didn't say what it meant. But I know he has the answer to the questions we're asking." Mulder slowly turned the card in his hands, fingers skimming the edges. "They always wanted her to live, Mulder." "Why?" He wanted answers. The son of a bitch had put her through hell, and he wanted some damn answers. "Don't ask why, Mulder. Don't question them." Mulder stared at Skinner. "Don't ask why," he repeated. "Just believe." "Someone shot me," Mulder said. "I know." "And you're telling me to forget it, to not ask questions?" "Look at her, Mulder." He did so, taking in Scully, looking more alive by the minute. "They gave you what you wanted. They gave you back a partner. They gave you back a friend." Skinner stopped there, not wanting to go any further. "They gave her life back. Leave it at that, Mulder. Take care of her, and forget them." Skinner stood, moving his chair back across the room. "They're not worth it," he said, and walked out the door. 6:21 AM He watched the life come back into her. Slowly at first, as though her consciousness would return with the rising sun that was just making its way over the horizon. She turned her head on her pillow, pressing her lips together slightly. Three minutes later, she made a soft moaning sound. Her fingers curled tight around his, searching for him. He whispered her name, coaxing her out of the darkness. "Scully. Come on, open those eyes." She turned her head again, crimson strands falling into her eyes. He pushed them back gently, clearing her eyes. "Come on, Scully. This is easy." And she turned her head again. Then, slowly, her eyelids opened, revealing her blue eyes behind them. Mulder smiled a dazzling smile, squeezing her hand. "Hey," was all he could say. She smiled slightly. "That's my line," she said, her voice soft and unsteady. His smile widened, and his free hand found her hair, his fingers sifting through the silky strands. She let her eyes drift closed again as his fingers skimmed across her cheek and his thumb just brushed her lower lip. "Mulder," she murmured, her voice deep and throaty and full or emotion. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. They didn't have to. As the first grainy rays of light hit the window and spilled into the room, Mulder's fingers played across her soft skin, eventually joining his other hand holding her hand, while she simply gazed at him with crystal blue eyes as they said so much with so little. Finally, Mulder broke the spell. "You should know what happened," he started. "You don't have to. I know." "How?" "I could hear you. I could feel you here with me. The whole time, I knew you were here. I just... I know how close I came." Mulder tightened his hands around hers. She spoke slowly. "I saw you, Mulder. I saw myself. I know what happened here." "You fought it," he said. "You saved my life." "You saved yourself, Scully. Dana-" "Hush. Don't, Mulder." So instead of speaking, he released her hand and brought his hands to his neck. Tears stung her eyes as she realized what he was doing. He released the clasp of her gold cross and held it in front of him. She leaned her head up as he placed it around her own neck, fastening it and pushing her hair away from the clasp. "I never gave up on you. I promised you I wouldn't, Dana." She sat up in her bed, letting the sheets rest around her waist. Mulder took Scully's hand again and kissed her knuckles, bringing a sting of tears to her eyes. Without words, he moved from his chair and sat himself on the edge of her bed. She raised her arms up as his went around her back, one hand on the nape of her neck, the other in the small of her back. She buried her face into the soft curve where his neck met his shoulder, breathing in deeply the scent of Ivory soap and traces of aftershave as she tried to hold back her tears. She rested her hands on his shirt, feeling so small in his arms, but so safe. He had done what had needed done to save her, and had risked himself for her. One hand moved to his arm, and he winced and pulled away. "What is it?" He looked at her almost guiltily. "I... I got shot." "You what?" she cried, her hands flying to his arm. "What the hell happened?" His hands caught hers and brought them down to her lap, assuring her that it was OK. Her expression softened. "Mulder...." "I was in the Bureau parking lot. A man shot me, then went through my pockets and left me there. Agent Pendrell found me, brought me here. I'm fine, Scully." She sighed. "I want to see." She pulled her hands from his, pushing the sleeve of his t-shirt up. Her fingers traced the edges of the bandage, and the sighed. "This is because of me, isn't it?" "No, Scully. This is for you. Never because of you. And I would gladly do it a hundred times over." She leaned against him again, her strength sapped. He carefully rubbed a hand up and down her spine, and she took comfort in the motion. "We're both here," she murmured, the soft, rhythmic motion of Mulder's hand rubbing her back relaxing her. "We're alive." She let her eyes drift shut as she let her other senses take over, feeling Mulder here, close. "We're together," she said softly. He let his chin rest on top of her head, mimicking what he had done in Allentown. "What about my cancer?" she said, barely a whisper. She felt his body stiffen automatically at the mere mention of the word. "They don't know for sure, but it might be gone." "But it might not, right?" She squeezed his uninjured arm with her hand. "Hey," she said. "Hmm?" "No matter what happens, Mulder, we're here now." He released a sigh from deep inside, closed his eyes, and held her. "God, Scully, I-" he started, but stopped himself. I love you, he thought, but couldn't find the courage to say it. "You what?" she whispered, her heart in her throat, wishing for things that could never be. He simply shook his head, and she left it at that. One day, one time, but not here. Moments passed, neither of them knew how many. Finally, Mulder broke the silence, speaking at just above a whisper. "It's good to have you home, Scully." She leaned farther into his arms and tightened her own around him. Sighing contentedly, she spoke. "Yeah. I'm home." And he kept moving his hand up and down her back, comforting her, holding her to him closer than ever before. And as the sun finally cleared the horizon and started its journey into the blue sky, burning off the morning mists, she fell asleep in his arms, completely relaxed and content, knowing that no matter what happened tomorrow, they would always have today. 9:32 AM Doctors had been notified, tests had been run, and Mulder had been there with her through it all. Now they sat alone in her room, her in her bed and Mulder in the chair next to her, anxiously waiting for her tests to come back. A soft knock on the door, and a male doctor stepped in. He was a tall man, middle aged, his brown hair just starting to go gray. "Ms. Scully, my name is Dr. Zelienople. Your doctor, Dr. Jennings, is off duty right now, so I've been working on your tests. The results are back." She nodded, her stomach twisting in knots. Mulder sat straighter in his chair. "Ms. Scully, if you'd like to be alone when I tell you the results, I'm sure...." Scully cut him off. "No. He stays." She laced her fingers in his, feeling his warmth, his life. Mulder squeezed her fingers. "Well, it seems that all traces of the drugs that put you into unconsciousness are gone from your system. Which is very good. Whatever your partner brought you, it was powerful stuff." "And the cancer?" she asked, her voice weak. The doctor looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Well, while the drug your partner brought does seem to contain some agents which are commonly used to fight cancer, I do not think that that is what it's purpose was." Mulder swallowed hard, bracing himself. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully. Your cancer remains." ****************************************************************** End Chapter 7/8 Comments, critiques, and Ford trucks to Creyente@aol.com Thank you so much gang!!! We're getting down to the home stretch here!! @-->->>->-- Chapter Eight EPILOGUE If all else fails, I'll know. Nothing else matters. If the world should spin on to it's death, if the stars should refuse to shine, I'll still know. I'll know that you loved me. You don't have to say it. Word's couldn't express it. But through it all, I'll know that as I lived, you loved me. I've had a lot taken from me in this life. I've made myself a cynic, shut myself off, built the walls up high. But I met you. And I realized that I've been given a lot as well. I've had a career at the FBI, an education at Oxford, friends, few of them admittedly, but good ones. And you. I can't quite explain to you, Scully, why I've written all of this over the last days. But for all the musings and theories on life and God and love, it all comes down to one thing. It all comes down to you. I can only tell you that I found myself turning to paper and pen as you did, writing my soul to you. I know that one day you'll read this. Maybe this will all be new to you, or maybe by then much more will have been said and done, but either way, I want you to know I love you. And if this cancer should tear you apart, and tear us apart, we never will leave each other. That love will remain, and our souls will stay together. The only thing that matters, Scully, is that I was loved by you, and loved you in return. You may ask me now what we have left. And I will say to you, Scully, hope. Carried on the wings of faith. Mulder -------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------- Georgetown University Medical Center 9:45 AM He held her there. He sat there on the edge of her bed with her in his arms. The doctor was gone, off to give someone else a death sentence. She didn't cry. Nor did he. But together they sat in a silent acceptance of the truth. She still had cancer. He had saved her from one enemy, but not from another. It was quiet. There were no more monitors, no nurses rushing in and out, no one else but them. The only sound to be heard was their mingled breathing, and perhaps if you listened closely enough, their heartbeats. Scully could hear his heart beating. Her cheek lay against his chest, feeling the rise and fall as he breathed. Neither spoke. And still, neither cried. Mulder knew he wouldn't give up. Not after this. Not ever. Scully felt that determination in him. She felt his determination, his strength, making its way into her. But it was not enough. She needed to feel in herself that she had the strength to fight. She had relied on Mulder for far too long during this. Yet she wanted him to make the journey with her. He would be more than willing to, she knew. He was so frustrated. He couldn't lose her, not now. Not after finally admitting to himself what he felt for her. Not now that he knew. But he couldn't help her. This monster that had invaded her body, that had invaded her life, could not be conquered with his love alone. It had taken over her life, forced them apart. And now that he had finally found that his best friend meant more to him than just that, he felt her drifting away from him. He felt her letting go. They held each other. And they didn't speak. There was nothing to be said. ***************************************************************** END "Angels Crying I: On the Wings of Faith" I've got a whole plot developed for a sequel, "Angels Crying II" It's up to YOU whether I write it or not, 'cause I've certainly got other projects I could work on. I value ALL feedback!! Please, even if it's just a short little "I liked it", let me know. If I get positive feedback, I'll write it. If I don't, I'll move onto something else. E-mail me at Creyente@aol.com. Hope you've enjoyed the journey as much as I have! ((((((((((((YOU)))))))))), just for making it this far. Annie, I couldn't ask for a better friend, and I love ya for it.