TITLE: Absent Friends (1/7) AUTHOR: Sandra Winarta DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, as long as the story is intact along with my name and disclaimer. CLASSIFICATION: X, A, R (of the M&S variety) RATING: R (for adult situations). SPOILERS: Season 4 (up to Momento Mori). TIMELINE: Some months after Momento Mori. SUMMARY: With the progression of Scully's cancer, Mulder and Scully come to a crossroad of their relationship. WARNING: Character dies. DISCLAIMER: I don't own FM, DS, Mrs. Scully, Bill Mulder, or the UN Blond (whose name has just slipped my mind) or any other character that has appeared on the X-files, nor do I claim to. I do own the rest but you won't get much out of me if you do sue me :) ABSENT FRIENDS (Part 1/7) by Sandra Winarta She looked up from her desk into the lamp above, momentarily blinded by its brightness. She glanced at the clock on the far wall. 11 p.m. She must have fallen asleep, and for a while judging by the amount paper strewn about her desk. She felt a pair of eyes burning into her back. Glancing behind, she saw her partner, gazing at her with a lopsided grin. "Oh god, how long did I sleep?" she muttered wearily. "About an hour. You look pretty cute when you're asleep, Scully." he said with a sheepish grin. "Shut up, Mulder." she replied. "Scully, you look like Tooms just ate your liver. I'm not letting you drive home in that condition. Why don't I call you a cab?" "No, I'm fine." Scully said, even as she felt her eyelids droop mysteriously. "It's not as if I'm hammered or anything." "I don't want you to fall asleep at the wheel. Did you know that fatigue is the greatest killer on the roads after drink driving?" "Mulder, stop worrying about me like you're my mother. I'll be fine." she said, picking up her coat and moving towards the door. "Now goodnight, and you go home and get some sleep." "I should be saying the same thing to you." But he only received a bemused smile as she slipped out the door. ****************************************************************** Dana Scully walked down the deserted halls of the J. Edgar Hoover Building in a daze. Damn it Mulder! she thought with a smile. Trust him to make snide comments to a defenceless -- and very tired -- woman. Not that she was defenceless in a more alert state. Mulder, of all people should be aware that she was more than capable of holding her own. She had to, as investigating the paranormal has its fair share of danger, which she had so far emerged from largely in tact. "Largely" being the operative word. During their four year partnership, they had both sacrificed many valuable things in their lives. She had lost her sister, while he had lost his father. And are they any closer to discovering what Mulder called "the truth"? In the light of these losses, she did not know. Being completely lost in her own thoughts, she almost overlooked her car in the underground parking lot despite it being the _only_ car there. Her car then decided to tease her by first refusing to start, and then finally starting up when she was ready to give up and catch a cab. And when she was finally on the road, her body was overtaken by fatigue so severe that she had to fight to keep her eyes open. She admitted that she hadn't been feeling one hundred percent lately. The cancer had taken away every ounce of strength that she gave. She had fought it with everything she had, but there was always a part of her that doubted if it was worth the effort. There was only one thing that she was certain of. She wouldn't let the disease beat her. It would mean they would win. She would not surrender to their "agenda" of lies. Especially now, when it meant putting Mulder through more suffering than he deserved. Ever since she had been diagnosed he had become more protective of her than usual. Hell, he was becoming more like her mother with every moment. Knowing her mother she would take such a comparison to Mulder as a compliment. Her mom really loved him. As her final thought drifted into the night she felt her eyes close once more. Damn him! He was right again. She hated it when he was right. Maybe some music will wake her up? She turned the radio on to a local rock station, only to find The Police playing a wistful tune: "Every breath you take, Every move you make, Every bond you break, Every step you take, I'll be watching you..." As the music filled in the silence of the midnight drive, it was strangely fitting that her thoughts turned towards her partner once more. Can her mind ever escape Mulder's grasp? She grinned as she pictured his smug gaze. "I didn't know I had that kind of effect on you, Scully." You have Mulder. More than you'll ever know. ".... Oh, can't you see? You belong to me..." Yes, she thought, they did somehow belong together. They worked well together and made a great team. Despite their differences, she had always been content to be with him. He was one of the few people who accepted her as she was -- as a partner, a friend, an ally. In turn, she also respected him, despite knowing who he really was. He challenged her in every way, in every case they investigated. He challenged her beliefs with his mind-bending theories and by the events they witnessed during the course of their investigations. Through the X-Files she had witnessed the extraordinary, but the most extraordinary element of the X-Files was Mulder himself. He was a man full of contradictions. Strong, yet vulnerable. He was an intelligent man who would often overlook the simple things in life, like eating and sleeping. He tried so hard to be unlikeable, and yet he was one of the people that she loved most. Yep, Mulder had certainly ruined her for other men. But could she ever have Mulder? Scully was surprised to arrive safely at her apartment, and walked up drearily to her door. Hell, her life had become one giant Catch-22 situation, she thought as she unlocked the door. Since being assigned to the X-Files she had found it utterly impossible to maintain a serious long-term relationship. Not that she has been celibate during that period, but she discovered the hard way that most men found it difficult to come to terms with the all-consuming nature of her work. She wasn't surprised by this. She also found her lack of personal life frustrating at times, especially when it meant being dragged out of bed on a Sunday morning to do an autopsy. It was difficult and isolating not being able to share her experiences. Who would believe her? Yeah, Mom, I got chased by a psychotic man who wanted to 'liberate' me from my demons by piercing a hole through my skull. Guess what? I finally saw an alien yesterday. Except they're grey, not green like the ones you see on TV. There was only one man who understood, who she trusted. And yet she sometimes wished that circumstances had been different for them both, that they had first known each other as friends. But then, she would never have known Mulder as she does now. Never would have experienced the dogged loyalty the man could give when he totally surrendered his trust to her. It astounded her that a man who had been consistently betrayed could still find courage to trust another person as totally as he seemed to trust her. It may be naive and dangerous, but it was a quality she loved in him. It was what made him.... Mulder. Scully didn't even bother to shower tonight, just took off the layers of soiled clothing and slipped into an oversized t-shirt that she liked to sleep in. Which brought her back to the eyes of the man that so dominated her universe. Could she ever have a day when she did not think about Mulder? She wondered if there would ever be happiness for them both. Well, it came down to one thing that she could claim to have learnt while working with Mulder - anything is possible. She lied down on her bed with a sigh. Good night, Mulder, she said to the air. Whatever you're doing at the moment. Sleep tight. Don't let the monsters bite. ******************************************************************* The apartment was thick with dust, the air musty from lack of ventilation, but still Mulder remained on the couch, studying the intricate pattern of cracks on the ceiling, the incoherent static of the television invading the silence. Sleep would not come easily tonight, yet it was not the usual nightmares that caused his state of unrest. His mind was occupied by a vastly different dilemma that can be summed up in one word. Scully. It seemed that she was never absent from his thoughts. She had an annoying tendency to creep into his thoughts when he was most off-guard, and then obstinately refusing to leave. Not that you want her to leave, do you, Mulder? Ever since she was diagnosed with cancer he had been in a constant state of anxiety. Her periodic nosebleeds only served to remind him that unless a miracle occurred he would soon have to lose her. Now, why did that thought chill him to the bone? Because he needed her more than he had needed anyone in his life -- beyond any lover, friend, or family -- even beyond his need for finding his sister; as he suspected that in losing her, his grief would be all the more remorseful. He could always entertain a hope of finding his sister, but in losing Scully he could not even have the luxury of hope. He had yet to find a definition that truly described their relationship. It extended itself beyond the bounds of friendship, and yet can what they have be called love? Not romantic love, surely. His feelings for her went beyond the passion he had for any woman. The feeling was more reminiscent of an eternal flame -- immortal, everlasting. Listen to yourself, Mulder. Anyone tuning into your crazy thoughts would _assume_ that you're way deep in love with Agent Scully. Are you, Mulder? His head whirred with confusion. It's strange that he was able to make sense of the most complex and twisted of minds, and yet he could not make sense of his own. When he first saw Scully walk into his basement, saw her intelligent eyes and that don't-mess-with-me-buster attitude, he was adamant that he would never trust her. He hid behind a mask of antagonism lest she should tell The Powers That Be that Agent Mulder was incurably insane. They would surely close the X-Files then -- he could not take that risk. And yet despite his wariness, Scully had managed to grasp hold of his elusive trust, and in turn gave him his most treasured possession -- her own trust. Why was her trust so important to him? Why was her presence so essential to one who had been a loner for most of his life? He admitted that his isolation had been self-imposed, but only to deter others from discovering that, yes, Fox Mulder is a very sensitive and vulnerable man. And being a total asshole was as good a tactic as any. But being an asshole didn't deter Scully, no way in the world. Quietly, she had stripped away his defences. So quietly in fact that he hadn't realised how much she uncovered until he caught himself in the midst of great happiness at the glimpse of one of her all-too-rare smiles; when one of her quiet, searching looks had the power to move him. He wondered what those quiet looks meant. Was she happy to be with him as he was to be with her? He had caught her at times staring pensively into nothingness with a sadness that he did not understand. In those moments, she resembled a little girl lost, burdened with the world's troubles on her shoulders. Was that sadness already a part of her as a child, or was it a more recent acquisition? He wondered how her life would be if she was not assigned to the X-Files. Without a doubt, she would have suffered less -- her abduction, the loss of her sister would never have occurred -- and she would not be dying of cancer... Mulder's mind twisted with agony. He had always been open to the truth -- to all except one that he now saw plainly -- that _he_ was the cause of her suffering. He endangered her life with every case they took. Hell, he did not care about endangering himself, but to endanger Scully was... unthinkable. He could not endanger her any longer. He knew what he had to do. The only question left unanswered was whether she would be able to forgive him, or if he would be able to forgive himself. ******************************************************************* Scully knocked and entered Skinner's office. God, she hated being summoned like this. She felt too much like a wary prisoner approaching a hostile warden. Well, she could do nothing more than put on a brave face. Skinner stood up as she entered the room. At least he always visibly respected his agents, she thought. That was much more than what she received from her fellow agents. "Agent Scully," he said, his voice pulling her out of her revelry, "it has come to my attention that you are currently receiving treatment for your cancer." "Yes, sir. I am due to undergo tests tomorrow and start treatment as soon as possible." "That is reassuring to hear, but I am concerned on how this will impact your performance in the field. If you feel-" "Sir," she quickly interjected, "if you are concerned with the state of my health at present, I can tell you that I feel... fine. My condition has not worsened alarmingly - it certainly has not affected my work." "But if your condition were to worsen and anything were to happen to you as a consequence, _I_ will be the one who will be held liable. You know as well as I do how dangerous it can be out there and I will not needlessly risk the safety of my agents, especially agents of your calibre. I'm sorry, Agent Scully, but I have no choice but to ask for your transfer back to Quantico." "To -- to Quantico?" she stuttered, as one of her nightmares were fulfilled before her eyes. "Yes." Skinner replied, pushing a piece of paper towards her. "You're making a big mistake, sir... what if my condition goes into recession. Many leukemia patients are able to lead normal lives for years. What if my condition is of that nature?" "Agent Scully, if that were to happen I will apologise in advance. You are of course entitled to return to the X-Files Division. But that is certainly not the case at present." "So you're putting me in some cosy office job, is that it? What if I refuse the transfer?" "Then I will be forced to issue your official suspension from the X-Files... and from the Bureau." ****************************************************************** Scully absently walked the now familiar path to the basement, her mind still whirring with disbelief. It can't be happening! This can't be the end. I can't leave the X-Files because it would mean leaving... Say his name, Dana. Admit it to yourself once and for all. I can't give up everything that I've worked for, fought for, hell, _lived_ for. I can't leave the X-Files because it would mean losing Mulder... And life without Mulder was incomprehensible, like staring into the never-ending darkness of an abyss. She couldn't go back to the way it was before Mulder, to a place where she was emotionally and physically isolated. She was still physically and emotionally isolated by her colleagues, but at least she was no longer alone. Yes, she thought, I can face the abyss and brave the darkness, but only with Mulder beside me. And she shivered sharply as she faced the looming abyss. ******************************************************************* Disclaimer and other notes in Part 1. ABSENT FRIENDS (Part 2/7) by Sandra Winarta The poster on the wall was tattered and worn, but the message still screamed out clearly in bold letters, "I WANT TO BELIEVE". How many times in the first few years had she glanced at that poster, then at her partner, and wondered, "Why?" Now she knew why. The first piece of puzzle was put into place when she first heard his hypnotic regression tapes, where Mulder recounted his sister's abduction. She had listened to it so many times now that she could remember most of it by heart, but there was one part of the session that shook her every time she heard it. It was the sound of Mulder's voice, far from the sureness she had come to expect, recalling Samantha suspended in the air, floating out of the room towards the bright light. Her voice calling out to him again and again; and voices appearing inside his head -- calm voices, reassuring him that she will not come to any harm, and that one day she will return. The voice of the psychiatrist intruded the soliloquy to ask Mulder if he believed the voices, but it was not Mulder who replied but the voice of Fox, the child, who whispered in fear as much is in hope, "I _want_ to believe." Scully looked ruefully at her meagre box of belongings. Not much to accumulate in four years. She had her own desk on the third floor, but there was even less junk there and had cleared it out yesterday. She regretted this unforseen break, as it meant breaking a bond so strong that she felt had transcended words. A look, a tilt of the head, a certain tone of voice was all it took to convey a whole spectrum of emotions. Sometimes there was no need to even look at him because she just _knew_. The bond had been there for so long now that she had long taken this silent form of communication for granted. Until now, when it was threatened to be taken away from them. She was afraid that time and space would weaken the bond, although she knew that this was an inevitable consequence of separation. She could not imagine not being amongst the wasteland of empty sunflower seed husks, files, slides, and other assorted memorabilia that she now thought of as 'home'. After four years in the basement, the thought of sitting in a clean office, in front of an uncluttered desk was positively threatening. Yet, she must accept that it will soon be a reality. Scully felt an stubborn lump of sadness almost choke her, and only the opening of the door to reveal the sight of Mulder's long, lean strides saved her from tears. "Hi." he greeted her, a mask of neutrality all ready plastered on his face. "I see you're ready to go." His face was blank, but his body betrayed him as his hands nervously played with a stray pen. She glanced down at her box once more and sighed. "Yeah, this seems to be everything." She looked up to find his hazel eyes on her with a mixture of sadness, regret, a plea of forgiveness that contorted his face into that of an old man. "Anything here you'd like to take?" he asked remorsefully, glancing at her now empty desk. "No..." she answered, suddenly unable to stop the conversation from lapsing into an uncomfortable silence. Each reluctant to take the next, inevitable step. Mulder moved to break the stillness by walking to the far wall. Scully was astonished when he proceeded to unpin his sacred 'I WANT TO BELIEVE' poster, carefully rolling it into a cylinder, and secure it with a rubber elastic. He then strode back quickly to her, and held the poster out to her, like a child hastily surrendering a precious gift before he changed his mind. "Here. For you." She had not yet recovered from the shock of this act of generosity, knowing of the significance and value the poster held for him. "Mulder... no, you don't have to do this." she stuttered. "I insist." he replied, taking her hand, gently placing the poster in her palm, and folding her fingers to secure it. "It's the least I can do. After all, haven't I taken enough?" The question was more rhetoric than query, his hand now clutching hers. Scully saw his body coil with self-hatred, anger once again contorting his face. "Mulder, how can you say that?" she asked softly, laying her free hand on his shoulder. He flinched away at her touch, but she was not deterred, locking her eyes to his face. Scully almost gasped at the pain she found there. A sudden impulse to comfort him overtook her, and without waiting for her courage to fail her, put her arms around his lean frame, and hugged him. Mulder stood perfectly still, unable to comprehend what was occurring. When he realised that he didn't want to lose another moment, he quickly wrapped his arms around her neck. As he felt her warmth dissolve itself into his body, Mulder realised that he was more turned on than he liked to be by the experience. The mould of her breasts against his chest. The copper strands of her ruffled hair now close enough to touch, to kiss. He closed his eyes to fight away the impulse, and although he loathed leaving the safe haven of her arms, it was he who slowly pulled away. He felt nothing but surprise and concern when he saw her eyes glittering with the remnants of unshed tears. Suddenly, nothing else mattered more to him to chase away those tears. With a kiss. A kiss that he gave with urgent lips, with a hunger that he could not conceal. A kiss that she returned with equal hunger, that deepened as she held him more tightly than before. A kiss that deepened as tongues met, explored. That hastened breathing and catapulted the temperature to astonishing highs. Only to be shattered by a rap on the door. Mulder's heart jumped for an instant as he realised where he was, and hastily pulled away. A prick of fear sprang into her eyes as the knock was repeated, and she quickly ran her hands through her hair. "Agent Scully? Agent Mulder? Are you there?" The sound of Skinner's voice forced its way through the closed door. Mulder gave Scully a searching look as she retreated silently to her desk, absently smoothing away any evidence from her hair and clothes. He opened the door to find Skinner's bulky frame fill the doorway, the Assistant Director's stance exhibiting his impatience. "Yes, sir?" Mulder enquired, hoping that Skinner would not notice the flushed faces and rumpled suits of his agents. Skinner only gruffed a cough to conceal a mischievous grin, being well aware at first glance of what had occurred in the room. Luckily for them, they were no longer partners. For once, Skinner was in the mood to be amused by the antics of his two star agents. "Agent Scully, may I have a word with you in my office? I have someone there I'd like you to meet." he said, rather commanded. "Of course, sir." Scully replied, her voice slightly breathless. Skinner held open the door while she stepped out into the hallway. But not before she caught Mulder's sceptical eye. And smiled a nervous smile as the future began to take hold. ******************************************************************* It was quiet in Jenny's house. No traffic. No whining lawn mowers. No rasping neighbours. Dana always came to her cousin's house to escape. Somehow, the complications of her life disappeared as soon as she stepped into this little house, isolated in the fields and woods of Virginia. She had driven here straight after work yesterday evening. Earlier that afternoon, Skinner had introduced her to the head of the Forensic Pathology Unit at Quantico. She had taught under him years ago in her first years with the FBI. Now he praised her work, while engaging in a little PR with Skinner. When she returned to the basement office, Mulder was not in his office. She was relieved, not knowing how to avoid the awkwardness after what had occurred. But there was also disappointment at not being able to give a proper goodbye. She decided not to wait around, intent on beating the rush hour traffic. She stayed only long enough to write a short note, and to leave a gift. The previous evening had been spent at the mall scouring for an appropriate gift for Mulder. A difficult task for a difficult man. What could she buy that was unique and significant enough? She finally found a crystal dove, and bought it without hesitation even though the price was way over her budget. Having placed it on his desk, she walked out of the room without a backward glance. The morning light filtered into the living through the leaves of a giant oak tree outside. 8 a.m. Too early for anyone to be up on a Saturday morning. The night's sleep had been fitful, and she awoke not remembering what she had dreamt. After a shower, she made her way to the kitchen. The smell of brewing coffee was wonderful, and she had poured herself a large cup, feeling the warmth of the liquid run through her insides. She sprawled herself on the sofa, enjoying the stillness of the house. The sound of movement from the bedrooms brought her upright, and the sight of Jenny walking out made her grin. "Morning, Zombie Face." she greeted. "Morning yourself, Freckle Head." Jenny replied, running a hand through her already unruly hair, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She glanced briefly at Dana. "God, I hate people who look so good in the morning. I swear, Dana, you should gone into modelling." "Right. And I'd be forever straining my neck up to talk to people." "Hey, don't you do that already?" Jenny said wryly. Dana raised an eyebrow. Too early in the morning to get into that argument. Instead, she quickly changed the subject. "How's Nat going?" Nat was Jenny's husband. They had been married for eight months. "He called from L.A. last night after you went to bed. Said the conference went fine. He's coming home tonight." "You miss him a lot, don't you?" "Yeah. If it wasn't for his job, I'd think he was cheating on me." Jenny said with a grin. "Only four days this time, but that doesn't make it any easier, you know?" she sighed. "Well, gotta take what you can get." Dana looked at Jenny with envy. She and Nat were so in love. If only she could experience a love like that. "So, what's up?" Jenny asked. "Nothing's 'up', Jen." "Sure, I know you don't come here unless you have something on your mind. C'mon, Dana. I know there's something wrong here. Probably something between you and Mulder, am I right?" "Everything's fine between me and Mulder... I've just been transferred, that's all." "WHAT? And you said that nothing's happened. God, Dana!" Jenny shook her head in disbelief. "My god, you're transferred... What happened?" "Well, Skinner just hauled my ass into his office on Tuesday and told me I'm no longer fit to work in the field. He said I'd been transferred to Quantico and they'll be waiting for me bright and early on Monday morning." "You didn't really ask for a transfer, did you?" "No--" "Good. Thought you were going crazy for a minute there. How did they make that kind of decision? Your tests came out okay, didn't they? "Yes..." "And you don't feel any worse, do you?" "No, not exactly." Not that she felt any better, either. "What about your--" She pointed to her nose. "Nose bleeds? I still have them occasionally, but that doesn't mean that the disease is progressing." "You know you can sue Skinner for this?" "Sue the US government? Yeah, and Elvis lives." "Of course he's alive! No, seriously though, it's something you should consider, Dana. You have to do something about this." Jenny scrunched her brow together in thought. "What about Mulder?" "He's actually on Skinner's side. You know Mulder. He's always been protective. Doesn't want me to collapse in the middle of a case." Dana said slowly, glancing at Jenny's hanging jaw. "No, I think it's probably a good thing that I've been transferred. After four years, I can probably do with a change of scenery." She tried to sound enthusiastic, but didn't manage to convince herself, let alone Jenny. "Now, I _know_ there's something wrong. Tell me, Dana." Dana remained silent. Unsure about whether she wanted to admit the truth to Jenny, or to herself, just yet. "Okay, fine." Jenny broke impatiently. "I'll ask. Did you sleep with him?" "JEN!" Scully screamed in embarrassment. "C'mon, Dana. I think it's a reasonable question. I know there's a lot more going on between you and Mulder than you care to tell me. So, did you?" "No." "Did he tell you how he felt, at least? And you got scared?" "Not exactly..." "Then what the hell happened, for christsakes?" "Stop being such a snoop, will you? I knew you should've been a lawyer." She took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll tell you if you'll shut up. It's nothing dramatic. He kissed me." Jenny was silenced, for once. But not for long. "Really?" "Yeah..." Dana sighed. "That good, huh? And then you slapped him?" "Even better. We got sprung." "Oh, yeah? By who?" "Skinner." "Oh lord. I would've loved to have a camera handy." Jenny chuckled. "Have you talked to him about it?" "I haven't had the chance." "But you _will_ talk to him about it." "Well, we could both pretend that nothing's happened, but then we'd never be able to look each other in the eye." She examined her hands in agitation. "Actually, avoiding him is probably the easiest option. We don't work together anymore, so he won't need to be calling me at all hours." "Yeah, sure. From what you told me of the guy, I think he'll try to ring you more often." "But I'll make it harder for him." "Elusiveness, that's an idea. How?" "For starters, I have no cell phone." ******************************************************************* Mulder punched in one on his cell phone. Speed dial. Heard a recorded voice regurgitating for the nth time that the number had been disconnected. Shit! Where the hell was she? he thought. Then, he remembered that Scully had returned her cell phone to admin before she left. Damn her for sneaking away like that! And he thought he was the one who couldn't face intimacy. He'd just sneaked away for a hit of caffeine, and had returned to find the basement empty. A gift wrapped neatly in a box, and a note laid on his desk. From Scully. Her handbag was gone, so was her box of belongings which she had neatly packed. At that moment, he felt like flinging the gift box at the wall. Instead, he sat down, opened the wrapping with more care than usual. The dove surprised him. He had examined in round and round under the neon light. In it, he saw its beauty. Its mystery. Its serenity. Its hope. Wasn't that what the truth was about? Now, he held it in his hand. Sitting on a park bench by the Memorial with only the darkness of a Saturday night as a companion. He'd had a beer, would have had another if the memory of his alcoholic father didn't sink through the haze. Loneliness struck, and won. He contemplated satisfying it by his usual means, but he didn't feel like spending the night in the arms of a woman that was not Scully. Where was she? She might be out with friends. She at least had friends, he thought bitterly. Or at her mother's. That was worth a try. He dialled Mrs. Scully's number. "Hello?" "Hi, Mrs. Scully." "Fox! How are you, dear?" "Fine, fine." He heard her pause, her voice turn to worry. "Is there something wrong?" "No, nothing's wrong. I was wondering whether you knew where Scully is." "Dana? No, I don't know. She called me last Sunday, but I haven't heard from her since. Why, has something happened between you too?" Mulder faltered for a moment. So Scully hadn't told her mother about her transfer. Mulder wanted to tell her but felt that it wasn't his place to break such news. "No, not really. I need to talk to her urgently, but I can't reach her cell phone. I was wondering if you knew of her plans for this weekend." "Dana hasn't told me, but I can guess. She could be staying at my niece Jenny's place. She and her husband have a house near Fredricksburg. Would you like their number?" "Yeah, that'd be great." "Okay, just wait a moment..." He heard the swishing of paper before she gave him the number. They chatted for a moment about inconsequential things. Usually, he would welcome a conversation with Mrs. Scully, but tonight his mind was more occupied on her daughter. After the conversation ended, he rang the out of town number. Two rings. Three. Four. The voice on the other end was one he didn't recognise. A woman's voice, slightly raspy. "Yes?" "Hi, my name is Fox Mulder. Do you have a Dana Scully staying at your home?" "Well, yeah--" said the woman abruptly. "May I ask how you got this number, Mr. Mulder? Did you use Bureau resources?" So she knew who he was. "Actually, no. Her mother gave it to me." "Oh..." her voice trailing off. "Just a moment, please." He heard a rumble of muffled voices before a more familiar tone filled his earpiece. "Mulder." Her voice sounded flat, wary. "Hey, Scully. What were you doing running out on me like that?" He managed to keep his tone light, more towards amusement than the agitation that he felt. "A girl needs to have a 'life', Mulder, as you once told me." "By trekking to the backwoods of Virginia? You gotta be kidding me." "Get to the point, Mulder." "Can't a guy call up a girl without her suspecting him of some ulterior motive?" "Can't a girl get a straight answer to a straight question?" she defended. "Why did you call me, Mulder? It can't be about work." "Scully--" He thought about using his ready made work question as an excuse, but thought better of it. He pulled together a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. "Scully, we need to talk." There, he said it. "What about?" He fell into shock. Couldn't believe that Scully was playing innocent. "You know what I'm talking about." "What? That we kissed? Kissing is a common physical expression. People kiss all the time." But not us, he wanted to say. "Mulder, I think you're overplaying its significance. A kiss is just.... a kiss." "Sure, and a sigh is just a sigh. Even Bogie knew that wasn't true. Look at how tortured he was in "Casablanca". C'mon, Scully. Even if we don't like it, things changed with that kiss. We can't ignore it like we did before, and hope that it will go away." He heard the silent buzz of the phone line. "Scully, are you there?" he asked tentatively, afraid that she had dropped the receiver and ran. "Yeah." "I need to know where I stand in all this. How you feel. Where it's going to take us." "To tell you the truth, I don't really have any idea. I can't deny that I feel.... something more than friendship for you, but I also think that we're making a big mistake by pursuing this." "Why? We're not partners anymore. It's no longer against Bureau policy." "Mulder, you of all people should know that 'they' don't care if we're partners or not. They're just looking for an excuse to bring us down, and as long as we're together we'll be endangering each other." He could hear her breathing through the pregnant pause. Waiting. When Scully finally broke the stalemate, he realised that he had been holding his breath. "Look, Mulder. I don't think this is something that we can resolve in a short phone conversation. We'll talk about it when I get back. At dinner. My shout." "Are you asking me out on a date, Scully?" "Think what you like of it, Mulder. But we'll talk about it. I promise." "Okay." It was the best he could ever expect from the situation. "I'll ring you next week." "No, wait." she said quickly, "I'll ring you. A bit hard to catch me without a cell phone and permanent work number." "Like I found out tonight..." he said under his breath. "Alright. Hear from you next week." He hung up before she could change her mind. Then, he laid down on the park bench, and closed his eyes. Afraid the ray of hope that had appeared would suddenly blind him. ******************************************************************* Disclaimer and other notes in Part 1. ABSENT FRIENDS (Part 3/7) by Sandra Winarta Scully paced nervously across her living room. Like a teenager on a first date, she thought sardonically. Fearless Dana Scully, the original ice maiden, nervous over a mere dinner date? What a joke that was. Padding over to the bathroom for the tenth time, she eyed her hair for that recalcitrant strand, but to her disgust found none. Stop it, Dana. This is _Mulder_ you're having dinner with, not Tom Cruise. Tom wouldn't be such a bad catch. He seemed to prefer redheads -- look at Nicole. But she knew she was no Nicole Kidman -- she didn't have the height or the legs. Why was Mulder attracted to her at all? Being friends was one thing, but even the best of friends don't become lovers. Well, it still stands that Mulder was attracted to her, and that moment she was pathetically grateful that he chose her and not one of the leggy brunettes he seemed to prefer. She thought about her own attraction to him. More like the physical pull. Maybe it was more like... fate? At school, she was taught that God had a plan for everyone, so maybe it was her destiny to be with Mulder? She didn't conventionally believe in fate, preferring to believe that everyone creates their own destiny. Now, she felt urged to believe in fate, because it seemed to help explain so many things about their relationship. Like how her heart seemed to rejoice in their kiss even as her head warned her that she was playing with fire. The kiss. She felt a rush of desire at the thought of that kiss. It felt so... right. He wasn't in the room and he was able to arouse her. So what would it be like when she could ride that desire with him? Feel his naked skin on hers? Feel him inside her? Dana shook her head once more, attempting in vain to control her raging libido. A splash of water to cool her face was tempting, but she didn't want to reapply her makeup with Mulder arriving at any moment so she contented herself in not exerting an ounce of energy that threatened to increase her already prominent blush. The doorbell shook her into attention. She almost dreaded opening the door, unsure of who was on the other side. She saw Mulder's distorted face as she squinted through the peephole. Scully stared for a moment to make sure that it was him -- she remembered that she had mistaken Eddie Van Blundht's pseudo-Mulder for the real thing, and had paid for the mistake for weeks afterwards. No, judging from the tightly pursed lips and general grim demeanour, this was the _real_ Fox Mulder. Scully unbolted the door. And smiled. Mulder was standing against the doorway, dressed in the smart-casual uniform of slacks, shirt, and the ever present oh-so-loud tie. He held a bunch of flowers, a sheepish grin now forming on his lips. Her smile grew as he handed her the flowers, pausing in mid-air as if uncertain of what to do next. Scully solved his dilemma by stretching up to kiss his cheek. "C'mon, Mulder." she urged, quickly setting down her flowers in a vase and grabbing her keys and purse. "Let's get out of here before the neighbours think we're getting married." The sound of his hearty chuckle made her powerless to do anything but grin. ******************************************************************* The drive to the restaurant was short, but the silence that followed was slightly uneasy, both waiting for the other to take the first step. Scully had chosen one of her favourite Italian restaurants in downtown D.C. She often went there with friends, dates, and so was familiar enough with the menu and the pink shade of tablecloth. But with Mulder present, the place felt different, indeed. She eyed Mulder from behind her menu. God, he looked so good that she found it hard not to blush, especially when those puppy-dog eyes were staring back at her. "So, what will you have?" she asked after a habitual glance at the menu. "Your call tonight. After all, I'm not the one footing the bill." "My god! Are you actually letting me choose what you eat? I will not stoop down to your level and order a pizza with the works." "Hey, my stomach is extremely hurt by your comment. It's just selective in what it consumes." "Sunflower seeds? Yeah, that's selective, I'll say." "Gotta keep a healthy diet." he grinned, patting his non-existent gut. How does the man manage to totally trash his body and look so damn good at the same time? The waitress arrived, eyeing Mulder with that what-a-babe look. Scully quickly ordered for them both in an attempt to distract her, rattling off the order like some connoisseur. Mulder looked at her in open-mouthed awe. He was definitely seeing a new side of Scully tonight. A side of her that wore a sleeveless halter dress that simply illuminated her pale skin. A side that ate in good restaurants and knew how to pronounce the names of obscure, unpronounceable Italian dishes. There was no other word to describe her. She was beautiful. Mulder wondered why he waited so long to get to this moment. They settled into an electrified silence. He pondered desperately on how to introduce the subject that had been on his mind, and was about to surrender to more small talk when he heard Scully clear her throat. "You know, this is so incredible." she started, the tiniest of smiles on her lips. He raised an eyebrow at her comment, but she ignored it and continued on. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing here." "Why? Don't you want to be here?" he asked, suddenly concerned. "No, it's not that. It's... it's just that I've been thinking about this all week." "I'm sure that Pendrell would turn in his grave if he saw you now." She smiled, suddenly downcast at the memory of the dead agent. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Agent Mulder." "Then tell me how to get somewhere." He leaned forward across the table and touched her arm. "Tell me what you want me to do, because I don't have a clue." He stared at her face as she withdrew her arm and looked away. Her face was deep in indecision. His body coiled with a tension that was impossible to release. "Mulder," she murmured, "I, I don't know what to think. I _like_ being with you like this, but it scares me. We have to face the possibility that I might not be here for much longer," "Scully--" He had to stop her from thinking so negatively. "...and you're the one that will feel the implications." She glanced up at him, her blue eyes swimming. "No." he spat out, determined. "I can't let you say this. Haven't you learned by now that we all have to take our chances? I don't want to wake up one morning and regret that we've let this opportunity slip." He took a deep breath. "Please, give it a chance." Her face was outwardly serene, but Mulder saw her eyes dart anxiously. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but shut it immediately when the amorous waitress intruded with their meals. The rest of the meal proceeded in silence, each poking at their food. Mulder spied her glaring at him a few times, but she glanced away as soon as he tried to make eye contact. Finally, he pushed his plate away, appetite disappeared. Scully eyeballed him again, and Mulder was afraid that this will end up being a date from hell. He wanted nothing more get out of the restaurant, but that meant uncovering the truth of how he felt about this whole evening -- he was scared shitless. And that wasn't an option. But resorting to a nice, non-threatening topic was. "Hey, Scully." he said, seeing her head spring up, wary. "I might get a new family of goldfish soon. The old family's almost had it." "What? Mulder, the goldfish exterminator strikes again?" "Scully, that's a nasty thing to say. I take very good care of my goldfish." "Apart from the fact that I happen to feed them more often than you do." "Goldfish are very self-sufficient animals." "Mulder, if any of your goldfish survive a month in your tank, I'll officially enter them into the X-Files." He had to laugh at that one, and Scully managed to concede a grin, too. It was a fact that Scully almost _never_ laughed at his jokes, if she could help it. Said it was part of her contract or something. It only made him more determined to crack that famous Scully mask. "C'mon, you had enough?" She nodded in reply. "Then let's get the bill and get some fresh air." "Fresh air in D.C. Now I know you're _really_ losing it." ******************************************************************* She watched his hand grip the steering wheel all the way back to her apartment, attempting to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. His concentration was focused solely on the road he had travelled countless times. They did not speak. Somehow, the tension had slipped from seamlessly from dread to anticipation during the night. Scully folded her arms around her, watching the familiar streets seemingly drift by at a snail's pace. She wanted the damn drive to end and wished that Scottie would beam her and Mulder into bed. But then she would risk the tubby bastard beaming _himself_ into her bed. Bad idea. They ended up back at her apartment. Scully got out of the car, wrapping her overcoat tightly around her body to ward off the chill. She was aware of Mulder, his heat radiating beside her. She desperately wanted that heat around her. And suddenly it was. His arm draped casually across her shoulders. His side lightly touching hers, heat now penetrating through her coat into her chilled body. She closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation of him, the scent of him, hearing his rapid breathing against the thud of her pulse in her ears. It didn't matter who was watching. She only wanted the moment to last. She turned around to face him, seeing his expression against the glowing streetlights. His eyes were unbelievably dark, wary, unsure of himself, unsure of what she felt. Doesn't he know what I see? This beautiful man in front of me. Can't he see how I feel about him? That he is the _only_ one? She touched his cheek, feeling the rough stubble, his slight trembling. "Scully..." he protested. She continued her caresses, afraid that the moment will pass if she stopped. She couldn't remember how they got to her living room. The darkness of the apartment surrounded them. She was pinned against the solidity of the door against her back, Mulder's chest hard against her breasts. His eyes unbearably intense, searing a heated path from her eyes to her lips. Asking the silent question. She was only conscious of his face so close to her. His arm that she was touching. His lips that she was kissing. When he pulled away she was breathless, floating in a dream-like state where there was only Mulder. She rubbed her face against his stubble-lined cheek, exhaling a cat-like purr of content. All she needed was this man. Gripping his shirt, she nipped his lower lip gently. He trembled at the sharp surge of sensation. The urge to take her here and now drove him crazy. Yet they were still wearing too many clothes. His hands reached around to unzip her dress, slowly unearthing the exquisite skin of her neck. He kissed it hard, tasted salty skin. Gasped as she traced his erection through his pants. Impatiently pulling down the zipper and slipping a hand into his boxers. Mulder stopped breathing when he felt her hand grasping him firmly, stroking, exploring. Damn it Scully! He wanted to make it last, but it felt so good that he couldn't stop even if his life depended on it. He shut his eyes and gripped her shoulders tightly as he struggled to gain control. And failed. "Scsculllleeeeee.... please..." He felt her breath against his neck, and her surprisingly articulate words. "Look at me, Mulder." It was torture to pry open his eyes, but he was awarded with her gaze, full of compassion, desire, love. For him. He kissed her hard, scooping her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom as fast as his legs would allow. They fell together on the bed. Hands unclothing, and then exploring. They marvelled at the feel and taste of each other's bodies. The power each had to plunge the other into the deepest pleasure. The completeness they felt when they were at last together in body, mind, and spirit. This was how it was meant to be. The climax appeared and conquered, flinging them into unbelievable tension, and then unbelievable release. The darkness was no more. ******************************************************************* Disclaimer and other notes in Part 1. ABSENT FRIENDS (Part 4/7) by Sandra Winarta Scully turned to face the warmth surrounding her body. The warmth seemed to be everywhere, seeping into her skin like water seeping into dry earth. It felt wonderful. She snuggled up tighter, letting out a contented sigh. A rush of air grazed her nape. Mmm.. air-conditioning to boot. Must be on vacation in Bermuda or someplace exotic. But most air-conditioning systems didn't snore, or thud against her back like a person's heartbeat. Or come with an arm wrapped tightly around her waist. An arm that suspiciously looked like Mulder's. Mulder! God, what the hell happened last night? She only wanted to talk, not surrender herself to passion she only thought existed in a Mills & Boon novel. It was wrong, yet why did it feel so damn right? She had slept with her best friend. Used him because she couldn't control her urges. They hadn't even use a condom! What if she... No, don't think about that yet, not if she wanted to stay sane. She couldn't burden him with a child, as well as a dying wife. Wife? Where did that thought come from? Well, she did feel like a grieving widow every time Mulder ditched her, got injured, or any combination of both. She grieved because she loved him. Still did. And now she had ruined it for the both of them. There was only one thing to do, although she didn't know if she could go through with it. It wasn't right to burden him with her pain, which increased daily as her disease progressed. She turned around slowly, careful not to wake him -- although at this point she doubted if anything could wake him. Facing the dark-haired man deep in sleep, she saw a Mulder she rarely knew; calm, at peace, beautiful. She studied his face with its long lashes and strong nose, fingered his hair that had been ruffled in sleep. Slowly, she struggled off the bed, reluctant to leave the warmth by his side. Firming her resolve to proceed with her plan, she picked up the debris of clothing lying on the bedroom floor. "Scully?" His voice was tiny. When she looked towards the bed she could only make out the top of his dark head from underneath the pale bed covers. He pulled himself upright, eyes squinting in the bright morning sun. Beautiful. In her hands was the power to destroy such a man. "Scully, what's wrong?" She realised that she had been staring at him. "Nothing, Mulder." Turning away, she continued to pick up the remaining pieces of clothing, putting on a robe from a chair. Anything to distract herself, to make herself less vulnerable to his intense gaze. When the simple act of tying a robe was more difficult than it should be, Scully realised that her hands were shaking. "Did I do anything wrong?" he asked meekly. "No, you didn't." I did, she wanted to say, but couldn't. Self-pity wasn't going to bury her. Not yet. "Look, I have to be at Mom's by nine o'clock. I'm gonna take a shower. Coffee's in the pot, and there's some bread if you want toast." "Okay." She stood awkwardly by the entrance of the bathroom, wondering if she could really answer his questions. She opted for an unconvincing smile before shutting the door, resting her forehead on the wood in frustration. Why did it have to be so hard? ******************************************************************* Mulder stared at the closed door, unable to stop the panic from tensing his body. What the hell happened? The woman who spoke so coldly wasn't the woman who was with him, in that bed, just hours before. Last night. The sensations he'd felt, the pure joy, and that overwhelming sense of coming home. God, he had never felt anything like it. But then, he had never really loved before. With Scully, it was as if their love-making was a natural extension of their relationship. He felt... complete. So, why did he get the feeling that she was full of regret this morning? Was she ashamed of what happened? If so, then he had completely over-estimated her feelings for him. Angry, he balled up his fist and punched the pillow repeatedly. She must hate him now for what he did to her. He didn't even use any protection. If she got pregnant, there was no one else to blame but himself. Shit, this was an even bigger mess than he realised. Why couldn't he start thinking with his head instead of his dick? He glanced at the clock and realised that twenty minutes had passed. The water was still running in the bathroom. Had something happened? Mulder got out of bed and tapped on the door lightly. "Scully? You okay in there?" "Fine." she called out. "I'll be out in a couple of minutes." Mulder turned away, and paced the bedroom floor. Realising that he was still naked, he went to look for his clothes which Scully had slapped on a chair. Finally, he stumbled into the kitchen, poured himself some coffee, unaware that he was dumping unusually large amounts of sugar in his cup. He drank the sweet liquid in disgust. What the fuck was he doing? First he gave her the cancer, and now he wanted to screw her life up even more by being her lover. She was _dying_, maybe with only a few months to live. What was he doing ruining her when he should be continuing to look for a cure? Then he realised that he no longer had to ruin her. They were no longer partners -- he had what was left of the X-Files, she had her position at Quantico. They would never have to meet. It would give her a few 'Spooky-free' months, a few months of peace. God knows she deserved it. In the mean time, he could look for a cure. He took a final glance at the bathroom door. He could hear her turn off the water, drawing back the shower curtain. He had to go before she opened the door. He didn't want to face her anger. She didn't deserve to be in the presence of a coward any longer. His heart wept at the thought of her not knowing that he loved her, that he was doing this for her, but he had made up his mind. The front door loomed large in his vision, and suddenly he was through it. When he looked back, the door was shut. ******************************************************************* "Mom?" "Yes, dear." Dana felt groggy. Only her mother's hand grounded her, kept her from floating away into the ether of thoughts. Happy thoughts. Peaceful thoughts. Guilty thoughts. Angry thoughts. She wondered where he was tonight, what he would do if he knew. Would he be ecstatic? Would he be spiteful? Or would he look at her with dread at the overwhelming burden of responsibility that had landed on his shoulders? Dana knew of only one certainty. She would never know. "Dana, are you okay?" "Yeah, yeah Mom. Just tired. And sore." "Well, the little one certainly gave you a good work out. That fighting spirit must be in the genes." Dana smiled sadly, "I don't know how she could avoid inheriting them, knowing her parents." Silence. "I wish Fox was here." her mother said. "Me too, Mom. Me too." It had been nine months since he slipped out of her apartment, slipped out after the most incredible night together. In the bathroom, she had resolved herself not to abandon him. How ironic that _he_ was the one who ditched her. Ironic, but not very surprising. Except this time Mulder never came back. She tried to talk to him, but she ended up being more acquainted with his answering machine instead. He never returned any of her calls. He was never in his office. Skinner said he was on assignment, but did not mention where. His apartment had not been lived in for weeks. It was as if Fox Mulder had disappeared off the face of the earth. And so it was her mother who she called when she felt her first contractions. Her mother who held her hand when the pains of labour became too much. Her mother who witnessed her child being born. A light knock on the door brought the nurse around. "Ms. Scully? Would you like to feed her now?" Dana nodded. "Yes, of course." A moment later, the nurse returned cradling a white bundle, a tiny head visible from inside the blanket. Dana received her, suddenly aware of how tiny she was. Tiny mouth. Tiny hands. Tiny feet. Yet the tuff of dark brown hair and long nose confirmed to her the identity of her father. "She looks so much like Fox." her mother murmured. Dana nodded, gently rocking her. "Hello, Maggie." she whispered into her tiny ears. "Maggie?" Mrs. Scully's brow creased in confusion. "Yeah, Mom. There's no one else I'd rather name her after." They both smiled. Little Maggie must have felt the happiness that was bubbling in the room, as she suddenly gurgled. Dana gasped as Maggie's eyes opened to reveal irises of dark, sparkling blue. Smiling widely to her mother, she only wished that Mulder was able to see her. Their daughter. ******************************************************************* Disclaimer and other notes in Part 1. ABSENT FRIENDS (Part 5/7) by Sandra Winarta It was unseasonably cold for a New York evening in November, and Mulder felt its chill through his summer suit. For once the Vineyard had lived up to its title as the sunniest place in the Northeast. He had spent more and more time at his father's house in West Tisbury after he got away from Washington. Skinner had been generous enough to let him take as much recreation leave as he had up his sleave -- almost six months' worth since he hadn't taken a decent vacation in years. The search for Scully's cure had taken him to all parts of the country, but recently all paths were leading to Dr. Scanlon, the doctor who had administered -- and almost killed -- Scully in Allentown. Mulder stood outside the United Nations building, watching the flags of the many nations flutter in the wind. He wondered what "they" had for him this time. Will it be a genuine clue or another token red-herring? He trusted no one other than his own instincts, and Scully. Yet, he could not ignore any piece of information, as it could be the key to finding Samantha, or a cure for Scully. He wanted to believe, but how could he believe when he did not trust? A question within a question. That was all it led to in the end. In her office, the woman he called his "informant" looked perfect as usual. Short blonde hair and tailored suit in place, even at this late hour. Mulder would have once desired her, despite the obvious lack of emotion in those ice-blue eyes. But he knew better now. Ice-blue could not compare to blue-grey that changed hue with the weather of emotions that erupted through them. Pale blonde could never match fiery red. The "informant" picked up a file on her desk. "I have obtained the information you asked for. They are the plans of the Lincoln Research Centre. You will also find a full list of patients that have been treated by Dr. Plankard. He was a senior colleague of Dr. Scanlon." "The same doctor who administered the Allentown women?" And nearly killed Scully. "Yes, the same." Mulder opened the files, and shivered. "The Research Centre treated over two thousand people across the country from 1968 up until the present day." she informed. "And over 75% of patients on this list are deceased?" "The intensive radiation therapy produced a... 'high' success rate. Agent Scully is the only known patient to survive the treatment." Mulder shook his head. "No one has ever linked these deaths to the treatment? These women were murdered!" "You know very well that no one can prosecute the Consortium, Agent Mulder. These women were expendable to the Project, while their ovum were... priceless." "And is colonisation worth the price of two thousand lives?" he sneered, rage flaring. "That is not for me to answer." "But you KNOW!" Mulder shouted, "You know all about the project, or else you wouldn't be telling me this. I know you've strung me along, but I will not be denied the truth!" "Agent Mulder, calm yourself." "I will not be denied the truth when the price is still too _high_." The rage dissipated as quickly as it came, leaving behind remorse, and hot tears that threatened to drop. "Is there a cure? That smoking sonofabitch hinted at something. If he did this to her, then there must be a cure. And he knows it." The woman took a deep breath. "There is a cure, Agent Mulder. And the answers are in that file. Aside from that I cannot tell you anything more that will not endanger your life." "I stopped caring about my life long ago." "But you do care for Agent Scully's." she noted. He stared silently at the files for a long moment, contemplating the consequences of taking the files, and the consequences if he did not. Will it be another dead end? Or a way out. ******************************************************************* The Lincoln Research Centre was ominously silent. Cold, black hallways taunted at him, led him further away from the safety outside. Mulder felt exposed, despite his black attire, his silent sneakers loud on the tiled floor. There was an obvious lack of security in the complex -- no signs of cameras, access doors -- yet he felt as if a million eyes were trained on him. Someone was watching. Mulder navigated the winding corridors to an unmarked entrance of the experimental laboratories, having previously studied plans of the complex. The Lone Gunmen certainly knew their stuff. He no longer questioned _how_ they got it. Breaking the law seemed unimportant when someone's life was at stake. He pushed open the final door, his eyes suddenly arrested by the darkness. He fumbled the flashlight from his pocket, letting its rays pierce the blackness. The room could have resembled any of the laboratories he'd seen. A myriad of glass and steel equipment, specimens decorating the walls. Except that the specimens weren't human. "My god..." he uttered. _This_ was the proof he sought for all those years. Proof of extra-terrestrial life. Proof of the so-called "merchandise". Proof of small pox inoculation experiments. Conveniently in one place. Too conveniently in one place. Studying the specimen jars, mind whirling at the horror of it all. The faces of these creatures, contorted in such comical displays of pain. At that moment he was ashamed at the destruction his own species had wrought. Not content to ruin their own world, they may be plotting to ruin other worlds, too. A lone computer terminal sat in the midst of the controlled chaos. Mulder touched the keyboard, expecting to be prompted for a password. But no. The computer was unlocked. All files accessible. Mulder's suspicion escalated. If this was a set up, it was badly done because it was _too_ perfect. As if they wanted him to find the proof. Why? He clicked on several directories until he found what looked like a large archive, filled with thousands of records. Records of genetic experiments on humans. In New Jersey, Idaho, and Texas. California, Louisiana, and Rhode Island. Women, teenage girls. All of them abducted. Experimented upon. Barren. All for some agenda that only a few knew of. He inserted a tape and downloaded. The tape was filled after a few minutes, and he inserted another. And another. And another. When he used all his tapes, he continued to browse the other records. He choose to ignore the voice of caution telling him to leave -- he had to find what he was looking for. Hours later, long after his eyes had blurred and watered from the strain, Mulder still remained transfixed to the flickering screen. Futility had almost taken hold, when he found it. Samantha Mulder. Fox Mulder. Dana Scully. As he scanned the files, his eyes blurred again, this time with genuine tears. He grabbed his phone, needing to hear her voice even as his body sank underneath the weight of dread of what he had to tell her. "Hello?" she answered, her voice unsteady. Worry flickered in him for a second and her unsteady tone. Then, it occurred to him that it was in the middle of the night. He had probably woken her up. "It's me." "Mulder." He could hear the relief in her voice. "Where the hell are you? I've been trying to reach you for weeks." "I'm in West Virginia. In the Appalachians." "What? West Virginia? Why West Virginia? Are you trying to get yourself killed again?" The heat of humiliation slow crept up his cheeks as he realised the meaning of her words. She thought he had betrayed her. Again. Why can't she understand that what he was doing now was all her? "Scully... I know you don't have any reason to believe me now, but I think I've found what I'm looking for." Scully paused, and for a long time he could only hear the buzzing static of the cell phone. And when she spoke, there was no trace of anger, only regret, sadness. "It's about Samantha then." she said, voicing a question without any expectation of receiving an answer. He sighed, torn between telling a truth and risk inflicting hurt, or telling a lie and risk breaking trust. Which will he choose? "The truth is... it's about you. I came here because of you. And I found it... whatever the truth seems to be these days." "What.. did you find?" she asked tentatively. "Evidence. Of everything. It's like all the proof we've sought all these years are here. I found a database. There are records for Samantha, me, and you, Scully." "You? Why you? You were never..." "Abducted? I don't think so, up until now that is. But now I'm not so sure. I mean, there are large gaps in my memory around that time. Sam disappeared in November and the next thing I remember was New Years. That's over a month of memory unaccounted for. Where anything could have happened." "But your parents. They said that they found you a few hours later after they came back. Isn't that proof enough that you weren't abducted?" "Yeah... but they could have lied. You know my mother, what my father made her go through. Do you think he's wouldn't lie after everything he's done? They could have easily taken me is well as Sam. Except..." I came back and Sam didn't... "Mulder?" her voice brought his thoughts back to the present. "Yeah?" "Hasn't it occurred to you that this could be a setup? All this evidence in one place... it's just too..." "Convenient? Yeah, it could well be, but what if it's the real thing? You know I can't afford to overlook all this, not when answers are so hard to come by. I really think the answers are here." "In those files." "They detailed all the procedures conducted on each patient. I, uh, saved all the files I could--" "What did you find in mine?" Mulder panicked. "I, I think I'd better hang up so I can get this tape to you sooner." "Just _tell me_, Mulder. What did they do to me? I don't want that information to disappear like it did all those other times." "No... I'm sorry, Scully, I can't. Not just yet." he protested, suddenly hearing the tap of feet above Scully's voice. He tensely listened, hearing the footsteps coming closer to the entrance of the lab. "Mulder, please." she pleaded, her voice straining ever so slightly. "I _need_ to know." "I'll tell you everything when I get back. I promise." "Mulder--" He could hear her shouts as he pressed 'end'. And all was silent again. Except for the steady footsteps that was drawing near. Mulder gathered to tapes into his jacket pocket. Swivelling his head, he scanned the room vainly for a place to hide. Better face the enemy than wait until I get more roasted than a Thanksgiving turkey, he thought. If this was really a set up as he suspected, they would already know he was here. The footsteps ceased just outside the door. Silence gathered, screaming loudly in his ears in the spaces of sound not already occupied by the thudding of his heart. The sound of unclasping metal alerted Mulder to the door's opening, followed by a streak of flashlight that scanned the room. A man entered. A large man, judging by the heavy thud of shoes. Mulder remained crouched under the counter, biting his lip hard until he could taste blood. And then, he was covered in darkness. Without the beam of the flashlight, he could see nothing. He couldn't even hear the man's footsteps, although he could still feel his presence. Where did he go? Mulder strained his neck scanning the darkness for the man, but his eyes hadn't readjusted to the sudden lack of light. All he could see were the faint outlines of the steel counters, the computer beside him with it's monitor, now blank. He wanted to get away, but knew that any moment will give away his presence. His palms were sweaty against the cold steel of his gun as he pulled it quietly out of its holster. He jumped as a pair of hard hands gripped his shoulders, arm gripping his neck tightly, making him fight to breathe. Choking, he struggled to strike the man, only to have his hands captured in a painful grip behind his back. Then, a voice that he thought he would never hear sneered in his ear. "In trouble again, Fox?" His father. ******************************************************************* As soon as Mulder hung up, Scully dialled another number. "Lone Gunmen." "Langley, it's Scully." "Scully? God, how are you?" "I'm fine. But I'm not sure if Mulder is." "Have you heard from him?" Langley questioned. "Yeah, I just got off the phone with him. He called from somewhere in West Virginia, but he didn't get around to telling me where. Half way through the conversation, he just cut out on me. Don't ask me how I know, but I think he's in danger." Langley was suddenly silent on the other end of the line. "I was afraid that something like this might happen." he replied soberly. "Then tell me where he is." "I'll tell you, although I think you may have an idea where he went to." ******************************************************************* Ironically, the man claiming to be his father had imprisoned him in the basement, using his handcuffs to chain his hands. It took Mulder awhile to figure out that he couldn't move his limbs, no matter how hard he tried. The man sat opposite him, smug grin placed firmly over the features that Mulder had once loved. "Don't worry too much about your lack of movement. I've just given you some muscle relaxants. You'll be back to normal in a couple of hours, son. If you do what you're told, I wouldn't have had to do this." He loomed over Mulder now. His breath was foul with smoke and whisky, just inches from Mulder's face. Mulder stared straight at him, fighting his fear to keep his gaze from wavering. "You're not my father. He died two years ago." "No? What will your mother think of that, you unthankful little brat! First you lose our baby Samantha. Then when she came back, you exchanged her for some red-headed bitch you call your partner. Now, you show no respect for your own father after two years." Crack! The slap echoed throughout the cavernous room. Mulder's anger simmered on the edge of control, overpowering any pain that he may have felt. Somethings never change, even in thirty years. Mulder was once again the little boy who disobeyed his parent's warning by climbing that forbidden tree, or by not getting home when he was supposed to. What had changed was that he was no longer frightened. He had the opportunity to control the situation, no matter how slim that opportunity was. He could escape. "This isn't a game anymore, Fox. You have to understand that." "Then why did you make it so easy for me to get in tonight? You wouldn't have made it so easy if you didn't want me to have the information. A five year old could have wandered in here!" "On the contrary. You have only gotten so far because _you_ were the one who led us to the answers. You see, even we don't have all the answers. Sometimes the truth is not something you may want to hear, so we protect you from it. We're doing this for your own good. The consequences would be ten times higher if we had left you alone." "Bullshit. Was taking Sam away for my own good? Or nearly killing Mom? Now, now you come up with this really sick idea of giving Scully cancer to watch me suffer. Is it for my own good too? You don't know how big a hypocrite you are. If you are really my father, you wouldn't have let those things happen." "They are part of the greater plan for colonisation. Everyone gets to benefit from it in the end. _You_ are the one who is ruining the chance to make people happy." The man stood firm, his cold hazel eyes staring back at his younger nemesis. Mulder was surprised to see pity in them, but not enough to make him believe that this was his father. His father had wanted to tell him the truth in the end, not hide it under more lies. "If killing innocent people is the way to happiness, then you are a sicker man than I thought. No truth is worth the price of an innocent life." Mulder sneered. "Is that so, Fox? This is coming from someone who wanted the truth at the expense of everyone else. Was it worth the lives of those men who helped you? Or of the innocent people who were caught up in _your_ web?" The man stepped closer. "Was it worth the price of Scully's life? No, Fox. They died because of you." "YOU'RE WRONG!" Mulder screamed, "You're the one who chose to give Sam away. What kind of a man would give his own child away? Now, you've chained me up when all I'm trying to do is save one person's life. Please. Let me go. I _need_ to find the answers." "The answers are here on this table, Fox." he said, gesturing to Mulder's confiscated tapes. But everything has a price." Mulder felt the weight of his other gun, strapped firmly to his ankle holster. The man had not found it when he shook him down earlier. But how to get at it? The man had gotten out of the chair and was retrieving something out of the cupboards at the far corner of the room. Mulder eyed his turned back and slowly bent himself forward to reach for his gun. If he concentrated hard enough, he could force his fingers to clasp the handle. He reached down, arms dangling. When he had maneuvered his hand close enough to the gun, he concentrated on closing his palm. He spied the man still on the other side of the room. His hand closed over the gun, and he pulled it out of its holster. He could feel its weight heavy on his arms. He was pulling himself back upright when he heard the man's voice. Mulder looked up to see a gun being pointed at him. "All action is futile, Agent Mulder." the man stated, "There's no escape." "I think there is." Without any further thought, he held up his gun. The shot continued to reverberate even as Mulder crawled into the darkness so complete that he was forced to run blind. He didn't look back to see the green blood soaking the floor. To see the "man" get back to his feet. There was only the exit sign at the end of the hallway to think about. Escape. Mulder crawled towards it, unaware that someone followed. When he felt the impact of metal against his skull, it was too late. ******************************************************************* She clambered up the stairs, the echo of her heels shattering the silence of the stairwell, refracting flashlight beams forming crazy shadows on the walls. First floor. The stairwell was almost pitch-black. The only sources of light came from her flashlight and the ominous green exit signs that marked a route of escape from this concrete hell. She concentrated on lifting her legs up each painful step. It was all she could do to hold up her shaking legs and not trip over. Second floor. Why were there so many stairs? She had to reach Mulder. Mulder was on the fourth floor. Mulder was in trouble. Mulder needed her. God, why were there so many stairs? Third floor. She bounded up two stairs at a time despite the pain in her legs. Only the rush of adrenalin kept her standing. Her need to reach Mulder kept her moving. She saw the exit leading to the fourth floor. Almost there... But a gunshot abruptly stopped her. "NO!" she cried, grabbing her weapon from its holster and slamming open the nearest door. The darkness of the fourth floor silently greeted her. She could feel its anger rise at the intruding flash of light. Where was he? her thoughts screamed at the darkness. Darkness replied with a slam of metal from the far side of the building. Mulder! She sprinted blindly, ignoring the flashlight that had cluttered to the floor in her wake. She ran with her hand clutching her gun -- safety lock off -- but had not gone far when she tripped over a large object on the floor. A body. Mulder's body. ******************************************************************* Disclaimer and other notes in Part 1. ABSENT FRIENDS (Part 6/7) by Sandra Winarta He was horrifyingly still, the rise and fall of his chest the only sign of life. She searched his body for injuries -- and to her relief she could not discern any visible wounds. Only a dark bruise to his forehead that was quickly increasing in colour. Concussion, she thought, exhaling her anxiety along with a nervous chuckle. She pried open an eye to study its colour, but realised she couldn't see much without a flashlight she abandoned down the hall. For a moment she considered fetching it, but it was so far away. Scully studied his face. Jaw slack in unconsciousness, lined with stubble. Oh, Mulder. What have they done to make you chase after ghosts? To make you live in a world of constant darkness? Haven't those bastards had enough fun yet? See this man lying in front of me? He's broken. He's mad. He cannot serve your purpose, surely? It came to her that she still had Mulder's unconscious form to take care of. Grudgingly, she pulled herself out of her muddy angst. She took her cell phone and called for an EMT. Then she settled down on the floor beside him to wait. How long could she endure this pain of being apart from him, and yet still being tied to him by some undeniable force? She saw that he had wasted away since her transfer to Quantico. Scully wanted to believe that his decintegration had been due to her absence -- but no, that was wishful thinking. His crusade had always been about Samantha. Always will be. She knew this to be true for a long time, so why does she find it so difficult to accept? Because she felt that the truth was no longer solely about Samantha, but about them both. About the bond that had just begun to strengthen before it broke apart. Not broken. Fractured. She remembered their first kiss in the office. Her surprise at the blinding passion that flowed between them. God, she loved this man. She only let him go because she didn't want to burden him with her pain. Now, _she_ was the one to concealed the truth, the truth about his daughter... With a fright, she came to the realisation. The bastards had won. Movements that she discerned from the corner of her eye startled her. Mulder's eyes flickered open slightly, and then quickly shut as if the effort was too much for him. "Scully?..." came the almost inaudible call. She knew that it was a call that she would always answer as long as she was able. "I'm here, Mulder." she whispered, putting her hand in his. Reassuring him with her presence. She saw his lips upturn slightly at the corners before he slipped back behind the veils of unconsciousness. Scully felt his forehead. Cool. His face pale in the dim light. With his still limbs and lifelessness, he resembled one of the many corpses that she had examined. Resembled death. A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach lodged itself. Nausea made her head spin. She laid her head down on his chest, curled her legs up to her breasts. The steady beat of his heart helped her fight the spike of pain that was suddenly everywhere in her body. She concentrated on keeping her eyes open, not wanting the darkness to consume her. She put her arm protectively across Mulder's chest to stop them from taking him, too. Saw blood on his shirt, and touching her nostrils realised that it was her own. IthurstithurstithurtsIdon'twanttogoMulderMaggieI'msorry. She grasped his shirt. Focused on his heartbeat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Her head beating its own sychopated rhythm louder and louder. Stars appearing out of nowhere. A deafening ring in her ears of nothing in particular. Then nothingness. **************************************************************** He was back on the Vineyard, lying in the hot sand. The midday sun scorched his fair skin, but even its heat could not thaw it. He concentrated on the feeling of fire against ice on his skin, wishing for once that fire would dominate ice. A faint cry from the surf jolted him, and he saw an arm raised amidst the waves, a head struggling to keep afloat. His sister. He ran into the surf, panic coursing through his nerves. He dove under waves that stampeded towards him, needing all of his strength to fight against the undertow; but he swam on, knowing he had to reach his sister before the ocean consumed her. Suddenly, she was there; gasping for breath in his arms; safe, her face struggling to hold a smile. Her blue eyes blazing with happiness. _Blue_ eyes? When did Sam have blue eyes? And flowing red hair. And full lips that looked uncannily like Scully's. When did Sam look like _Scully_? Feel like Scully? Scully? he asked the woman in confusion. She spluttered an acknowledgment in reply, gasping for another precious breath of air. And then she was gone, swept away by a powerful wave towards the shore, and then out to where dark currents resided. He screamed out her name in exasperation, vainly swimming round and round, trying to catch a glimpse of her coppery hair amongst the breakers. He swam until his strength left him. Then, a sorrow descended upon him so powerful that it physically crushed him, and the ocean's murky depths consumed him. As he descended, a single thought repeated itself inside his head: Scully, please forgive me... Mulder woke up, gasping for air. He was oblivious to the foreignness of the stark hospital room, the bandages on his head. He could only see the nightmare replaying itself again and again. Eventually, the whiteness of the room soaked through his senses. Mulder scanned the room in an attempt to obtain his bearings, but only succeeded in increasing the throbbing at his temples. God, he was hurting everywhere! He touched his over-bandaged forehead and sucked in a needle-sharp breath at the punch of pain. Even better, he thought cynically. His head felt like a demolition ball has smashed through it. Then a sudden recollection of how he came to be at this hospital sparked a turmoil of images. His father's face, full of hate for him. Crawling down the darkened corridors of the Research Centre. He heard the deafening blast of a gunshot that pounded against his eardrums. His sight covered by a blanket of blackness after something hard and heavy impacted into his skull. The sound of Scully's cry so far away. The blanket of unconsciousness covered him so fast. In the midst of his unconsciousness, he had seen her face hovering above him, reassuring him that he would be all right, that she will always be there. But where was she now? A sudden need for her paralysed him. Mulder clutched at his bedsheets as his emotional yearning overpowered his physical pain. A yearning that would not be satisfied until she was there beside him, smiling her Mona Lisa smile, gazing at him with such concern that it would wrinkle her brow. He didn't think he could stand it if she was ever taken away from him. He would rather give himself up to "them" rather than live the rest of his life without Scully, even if she was no longer beside him everyday. The opening of a door interrupted his thoughts. A young nurse appeared, tall blonde and lanky. Fresh out of college. Gave him a standard look of concern that Mulder was sure she practiced in front of the mirror each morning. She took his chart from the holder at the foot of the bed. "Hi. How are you feeling?" God, even her greeting seemed practiced. Did she go to the General Hospital School of Acting? What did he look like, an idiot? He looked down at himself. Well, he didn't exactly look like a psychologist, dressed in bandages and a gown that concealed everything but his butt. He wanted her to stop looking at him with enough pity to fill a thousand bed pans. "Are you in any pain? I could give you something for that." "NO!" he shouted, but the sound he made was closer to a croak than a shout. "No, I'm feeling okay. Just a bit sore, that's all." "That's not surprising. You were lucky, Mr. Mulder. The impact of the hit could have easily fractured your skull." Great. I'm thankful for this reassuring piece of information. He put on his most sincere voice. "Excuse me, nurse..." He strained his neck for a glimpse of her name tag. "...Tyler." "Oh, don't be so formal, Mr. Mulder. We're all on a first name basis here. You can call me Tania." "Okay, Tania. How long do you think it'll be before I'm allowed to get out of here." "You have to ask Dr. Wills that when he does his rounds, but I don't think it will be too long." "Thank you. Oh, and can I ask one thing?" "Sure." "Would I be able to make a phone call?" "Of course. I'll get a phone up to your room straight away." "Thanks... Tania." he said, flashing her his most brilliant smile. He could detect a faint blush creep up her cheeks as she turned and walked quietly out the door. Mmm... if Nurse Tania came gave this same level of service everyday, he might do the impossible and start _liking_ this latest trip to the set of ER. ******************************************************************* The phone came up promptly like five-star hotel room service. Mulder called the Gunmen, and fortunately managed to talk to Frohike. Langley and Byers were conveniently 'out'. Mulder succeeded in convincing him to sneak up a laptop and modem, _and_ bribe him to a game of DOOM -- first prize being his latest addition to his video library, a Raving Rachel video. Mulder knew that Frohike couldn't resist this one when its main attraction was a luscious little red-head. But good things only remain 'good' in moderation, and after watching five hours of daytime soaps back to back, and consuming what looked like radioactive jello, he decided that he'd had enough for this hospital visit. It was late in the afternoon when Mulder began to worry. He had called Scully's apartment and office periodically during the day without success. All the while the sinking feeling grow in the pit of his stomach grew. Where was she? The yearning he felt when he first awoke at the hospital returned, amplified a hundred times. He lunged at the nurse's attention button beside his bed, uncaring that the motion almost caused him to fall off the bed. The nurse-on-duty was a burly, older, less forgiving matron than Tania. "Excuse me, nurse. Do you know the details of how I was admitted to this hospital?" "Sir, you know it's impossible for me to know the details of _all_ the patients at this hospital." she exclaimed, "If you'd like, I'll try and find out, but be aware that it's not my duty to do this." As Mulder observed her burly back out the door, he was sure that nurses were the profession most prone to PMS than any other. The burly matron did not return, but Doctor Wills did appear for his rounds, a stern expression stuck to his lips. He was not very much older than Mulder in years, but the receding hairline gave him an appearance of someone older. The doctor gave the usual lecture of encouragement to take the concoction of pills. Mulder stayed silent, his mind falling asleep, as usual. Finally, the doctor invited him to ask questions. Ah, like an Oxford lecturer, Mulder smiled. "Yeah. I haven't had the chance to ask before, but how was I admitted to this hospital?" "Well, the report here says that you were admitted at approximately 1 a.m. this morning. Paramedics found you unconscious suffering a severe concussion to the head--" "Yes, yes, I remember very well how I got that 'bump' to the head. But who called the paramedics?" "It lists an Agent Dana Scully -- your partner?" Mulder nodded automatically. "She was also found unconscious by the paramedics, next to you. Except that her unconsciousness was caused by the progression of her cancer into the brain... I'm sorry, Agent Mulder. Right now she's in the ICU in a critical condition." Mulder choked, "Wwwill... she make it?" The doctor looked at him, pity evident in his eyes. "I've never seen anything like it before. To be honest with you, I just don't know." Mulder closed his eyes, felt his head spin. When he opened them Doctor Wills was starting at him with clinical concern. "Agent Mulder?" "It's okay. Just a dizzy spell." "Probably the side effects of the drug. You are healing nicely. If this progress continues, you'll be able to walk around and hopefully discharge you the day after tomorrow." The doctor gave a smile laced with more humanity than usual, and quietly shut the door with a resonant click. Suddenly, his strength left him. The earth crumbled beneath his feet, threatening to take him with it. Filling him with a pain in his heart that exceeded the pain in his head. ******************************************************************* The night was unbearably long, punctuated by periods of waking and sleeping. More than once he awoke to Scully's face, eternally keeping watch. He watched her ethereal beauty morph into the shape of a hideous monster, like one of the many they once hunted. Terror trapped him on all sides, and a cry escaped his throat before he could restrain it. He thrashed his arms at the monster, attempting in vain to destroy it. The violence brought a stampede of medical staff, needle pricks, and a unwelcome numbness in which to immerse himself in. When he next awoke, the sunlight was already blasting his window. Fox squinted in the bright light, managing to catch the outline of a person in the shadows of his room. For a frightening moment, he thought it was the Smoking Man. But the air was too fresh for it to be him. Laying his palms on the bed, he elevated his head to grab a better vantage point. The movement brought shots of pain, at which he immediately fought to soothe by clutching his neck. The person ran out of the shadows. Mrs. Scully. She helped him lower his head back on to the pillow. He struggled to focus on to her face. Fox saw Scully's blue eyes stare back at him, but on this woman's face they were softer, though no less sorrowful. His mouth could not form the words he wanted to say. In the end, they came out in inauditable whispers, but Mrs. Scully made no attempt to answer them, only continuing to hold his hand. He continued his struggle to speak, pushing his drug-effected brain. But again Mrs. Scully soothed him, "Shush.... you don't need to say anything, Fox." But he needed to know. "Mrs. Scully..." he rasped. She lowered her ear to his lips. "How... is Scully?" Mrs. Scully lifted her head to meet his persistent stare. For the first time he saw that her eyes were puffy and red from crying. "She's downstairs in intensive care, Fox. The doctors say that the tumour had penetrated her brain into her blood stream." He stared at her in disbelief. "The cancer's shut down her immunity system... kind of like AIDS. They don't know if she'll come out of her coma." She cried then, tears spilling in harsh sobs, leaving Fox feeling helpless in his bed. Although unable to speak, he reached out to touch her hand that clutched the edge of the bed. "I... I want to... see her." "Yes, you will. You _must_. You have to bring Dana back again." She pressed the nurse's call button and waited, grasping Fox's tightly to her wet cheek. ******************************************************************* The corridor was long and empty, except for the three figures that progressed slowly down. Mulder stood on legs unsure how to hold up its burden. His scrubs felt brittle against his skin, already wet with perspiration from the effort of the walk. Mrs. Scully and another nurse flanked him either side, each providing a steadying arm, but he walked as if unaware of their presence as fast as his legs would allow, despite the protests of both his minders. He needed to reach Scully. The door into the ICU ward was heavy. His sweaty palms slipped against the handle. It was the nurse who pushed it open, and Mrs. Scully who guided him through with a gentle hand on his back. And then he saw her. Scully attached to a conglomerate of machines. The sight brought back haunting images and emotions from another time, when he last saw her strapped to a life support system. He grounded his teeth in order to overcome the urge to run away and scream. Closed his eyes to block out the images even as they were committed to memory. He walked over to the side of her bed, and brushed away a strand of copper hair, too bright against her pale skin. He touched her forehead, warm but lifeless. Remembered how they wrinkled when she was deep in thought. Slowly, he kneeled beside the bed, gazing at her face in worship. Mulder had never believed in God before. He could never believe in the existence of an entity who condoned so much pain. Now, he wanted to believe, because he needed a miracle so badly, one that would lift his partner, his love, out of the abyss she was in. He took her boneless hand and rested his forehead in its palm. God, I'm so sorry for all the times I neglected her. Refused to believe her because of my own stubborn pride. Failed to protect her from the risks I knew were there. For dragging her into the mess of my life. For not loving her soon enough before it was all too late. And for leaving her because I couldn't face the truth. "Scully. Dana." He gazed up at her face, her beauty transcendent even in sickness. "Come back," he choked, unable to block the tears. "Please come back. I love... you. I never said it to you, but it's true. I, I...." He could no longer speak, deep sobs now dominating his frame. He cried for all the times he could not cry. He let go of his grief before it drowned him. A pair of arms cradled his head. A mother's voice soothed his tears. But the tears kept on falling. After a long while, Mrs. Scully let go, and left the room. Mulder continued to kneel until he could no longer feel his knees. How delicate the barrier between life and death was. In this room, death seemed only a breath away. Mulder wanted to drag her out of her coma, even if she was kicking and screaming. But he could only watch the respirator move hypnotically. Maybe there was a better life for her in the place where the dead go? She had suffered so much here, at his hands. In life, she would never be free of him -- he needed her, could never let her go. In death, she was free of all earthly bondage. Free of him. He did not know how long he kneeled there when the life support machines suddenly went chaotic, shrieking and beeping and ringing. Then joined together in an ominous flat-line chorus. Despite his protests, he saw Scully cross the barrier for the first and final time. Nononononononono... The stampede of medics magically appeared, surrounding Scully's still form. "Sir, you will have to leave." one of them coaxed. "Fuck you, I WON'T LEAVE!" He was shouting at the top of his lungs, even as the deadly grip of an orderly catapulted him out the door. Mulder desperately scrambled back, but the orderly's bulk barred his way. "Letmeletmegeetthrooooough..." he screamed, slamming his fist again and again against the orderly's chest. A needle pierced his arm, and he screamed even louder, knowing what will happen. "Please," he sobbed, too late, "No drugs, please...." he pleaded, even as he felt the growing numbness through his veins, awashing him with unwelcome relief. Even as he fought his heavy eyelids, the creeping curtain of unconsciousness. "Please, let me go with her." And the light suddenly went out. ******************************************************************* Disclaimer and other notes in Part 1. ABSENT FRIENDS (Part 7/7) - Epilogue by Sandra Winarta The street was filled with rush hour traffic. The smell of exhaust laid like a malignant tumour in the air. Mulder's skin was sticky under his lined suit. He thought of Martha's Vineyard, a world away from the hustle of D.C. At least the breeze there was permanently cool, not like the stifling outfall of the city that left you constantly breathless. And far fewer memories to face. How long had it been now? Four years, nine months, twelve days. God, he hated having an eidetic memory. Mulder remembered every moment of those final hours with her at the hospital, praying over her body. Desperately trying to convince himself that she would soon awake. And then the light went out when she died, the darkness of hell seemingly everywhere. He remembered her funeral. He had stood over her grave in muted silence, tears spent, with the majority of the funeral party staring at him accusingly. The numbing months afterwards, when he took all the long-service leave he could get and dwelled at home. Once again a self-imposed hermit. Unable to escape the guilt and blame. He knew that he killed her. Not the cancer, not the Smoking Man. Fox Mulder, the murderer. An ironic title for a man who once was a hunter of murderers. Eventually, he returned to the X-Files, determined to seek out the truth about Scully's abduction, about the disease that caused her death. And of course, to continue his search for Samantha. He did not give up, but it was so much harder without her. He missed her quick wit, her analytical mind, just her... presence. He missed not seeing her there each morning sitting at her desk, bespectacled, greeting him with a quick smile. Missed the faint trace of perfume and soap that he identified as Scully. Sometimes he wondered how he functioned without her. He would run hard for miles and miles, until his lungs threatened to collapse, just to get her out of his system. But he never could. She was always there. Haunting him. Scully haunted him more than Samantha ever did. His memories of Sam were fragile. They happened so long ago that they could easily be figments of his imagination. His memories of Scully were concrete, plentiful. And never failed to create an empty feeling in his chest. If he had done more, said more, paid more attention to her than to his own selfish concerns, maybe she would still be here. Now she was unreachable. Gone. And he couldn't do a thing about it. A sudden flash of red caught his attention. He turned, drawn to the colour. He skipped a breath as he caught sight of a red-headed woman on the opposite side of the street. It may seem to some that Mulder had a permanent attraction to red-heads, but in truth he was only ever attracted to one. She was facing away from him, but even from a distance he could see that the woman was shapely and petite. Straight, shoulder-length hair cast out copper tones even in the afternoon shadows of the city. The woman held the hand of a little girl. She could have been her daughter except for her hair, which was dark brown in colour. He saw her stoop her head to listen to the child, and then gently lifting her up to carry her. Mulder looked curiously at the woman and the girl through the flow of cars. A passing truck obscured his view for a few moments, and when the truck moved on, he glimpsed the woman's face. Mulder gasped. Scully? He ran on to the road, ignoring the blaring horns and screeching brakes and abusive curses of angry drivers. Mulder saw her turn at the commotion. Saw her expression change to shock as she saw him jump to the safety of the curb. Approaching tentatively, Mulder stopped abruptly when he caught sight of her face. She did not have Scully's roundness; her eyes were green, not blue; her hair was slightly curled; and he saw a smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks. Her face changed to a visible coolness as she glanced at him. "Yes?" she asked politely. Mulder was caught red-faced when he realised just how he looked to this woman. He was just a weirdo who attempted to stop traffic to get a look at her. "Ah, er, I'm sorry. I thought you were someone I knew." He suddenly became aware of a third party in this exchange. The girl in the woman's arms was staring at him with awe-filled eyes, as if she knew exactly who he was. He had no idea how she could know. But then he studied her braided brown hair with that one unruly strand that refused to be constrained; the wide red mouth with a pouting lower lip; a nose that was a little too large for her face; all contained in a little round face with sea-blue eyes that seemed to see everything. It was like looking into the mirror. At himself. At Scully. Mulder shook his head. Believing in extreme possibilities was one thing, but seeing himself and Scully in a little girl he did not know was ludicrous. If only he could ignore the glow in his chest, telling him that he had seen something special, and vanquished the smile that finally reached his eyes. ********************************************************** Jenny stood holding Maggie, watching Fox Mulder lapse into a jog, eventually turning a corner out of sight. Jenny sighed. She had seen the twist of recognition in his eyes. Knew that a candle had been lit in his mind when he saw Maggie, but had yet to figure out why. She had recognised him from the photos Dana gave her. The photos were for Maggie, so that she would be able to learn about her father. Jenny had already shown Maggie these photos, told her that this was her "daddy", and so was thankful that Maggie did not blurt that fact out to him. Jenny was sure that Mulder would die of cardiac arrest if she did. At first, she was suspicious of Mulder. After all, Dana had decided not to tell him about their daughter. To her, it signified that Dana did not trust him enough to take care of their child. From what she had heard of him from Dana, she thought Mulder irresponsible and should be committed. Then, Jenny saw the haunted look in his eyes. There was no hint of insanity in them, only sadness. Eyes that were void of happiness, as if all joy had been wretched away years ago. She longed to put Maggie into his arms and shout, "Here is your daughter." To take away that sadness. But she did not. She had made a promise to Dana, one that she was not prepared to break. Yet. After seeing Mulder, she knew that she had to break her promise. For Maggie's sake. For Mulder's sake. For Dana's sake. For love's sake. THE END.