Title: Gethsemane I- With The Truth Is Born A Lie
Author: Lauryn Dominique
Rating: NC-17 for sex, language, and disturbing images
Type/Keywords: Alternate Universe, a little UST, RST, MSR, ANGST, rape,
character death
Spoilers: All six seasons, probably. Triangle and SR-819 are
prerequisite episodes for this story.
Archive: Yes, anywhere, with all this information attached. E-mail me
before posting to sites other than Gossamer and AXTC, if you're so
inclined.
Summary: Mulder and Scully reach a new understanding after the events in
"Triangle." One thing leads to anotherÉ.
Disclaimer: Who owns all these characters? (chorus) CHRIS CARTER!!!
They may or may not be returned to him, depending on whether or not my
car will make it to Mexico without incident. Don't sue me!
Author's Notes: I have an obsession with the word "Gethsemane." I
hadn't seen the episode by that name when the madness was born in my
brain, and this story really has nothing to do with the fourth-season
finale anyways. This is only my second story, and my first foray into
dark/NC-17 fanfic; bear with me. SEFAMSRN, Rachel Anton, Leyla
Harrison, Lydia Bower, and ACT, thanx so much for your inspiration. My
beta readers: Rover, Rita, Samm, Squeak, Shannon and Cesca- you guys
rock! Caronna helped in her own special way.
Feedback: How would you like to be worshipped? The key to your divinity
lies in the act of addressing the mailbox of buffrower@netscape.net
IMPORTANT: This little saga takes place right after the events in
Triangle, and the only other episode that I allow to happen after that
is SR-819. (Even though Dreamland and Dreamland 2 kicked a$$!)
X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X
WEBSTER'S DEFINITIONS:
* Gethsemane- (geth-sem'-ah-nee) (1) Garden east of Jerusalem, scene of
Jesus' agony and betrayal (2) A scene or occasion of great sufferingÉ.
X X X
"Scully?"
"Yes."
"ÉI love you."
"Oh brotherÉ."
X X X
I let myself into my apartment and sighed. Mulder's last words had
shaken me more than I wanted to admit. 'He's obviously very out of it,
Dana. If he had any more drugs in him, he'd have sworn to being Wesley
Snipes' stunt double in 'Blade.'' I could comfort myself for a while
thinking these things, but what it really boiled down to was that I
loved him too.
A lot.
To be totally honest, I couldn't live without him, but I didn't think
that those words would be an appropriate response to his declaration,
seeing as it was probably another one of his little quips designed to
get my attention.
If it was, it worked.
'Well, there's no time to think about this now, Dana. You have work in
the morning,' my practical side told me.
'DaaanaaaÉ.you need to go back there and tell him the truth!' That was
my heart speaking. Of course, after the last five years of excessive
workouts with Mulder's theories, my practical side easily beat the crap
out of my feelings, and so I went to bed.
Little did I know that I would not be getting much sleep that night.
X X X
"Scully?" The voice was tentative, but I knew from experience that
despite the hesitation in its tone, it would *not* stop bugging me until
I acknowledged its presence.
"What is it, Mulder?" I hadn't opened my eyes, figuring that this was
probably a voice in a dream, since Mulder was in a drug-induced stupor
at the hospital. All the same, I smiled just thinking about what his
face would look like if he really had woken me up only to hear me
identify him by name.
"I *do* love you."
Whoa. My unconscious needs to deal with these issues *before* I go to
sleep. 'This is too weird, DanaÉ' I slowly opened my eyes, to end the
dream promptly and then to procure some sleeping pills to *insure* a
good night's sleep, only to be confronted by a tall man in a very
wrinkled jacket and pair of jeans kneeling beside my bed.
"Hey, Scully. IÉ checked out of the hospital. I felt better.
Anyways, I, uh, needed to come over and tell you, as soon as I was
clean," this was punctuated with a crooked smile, "that I still love
you."
"MulderÉ" I was at a loss, until I really looked into his eyes. There
was love softly shining in those hazel depths; I had seen it after I
woke up from my missing time in the Georgetown medical center, during
our conversation in the Allentown-Bethlehem hospital immediately after
Penny's death, and at the conclusion of so many X-Files cases. My heart
melted. How could I deny him now?
But I was still scared. I couldn't open up to him- if we succumbed to
our feelings, the combined weight would crush us beneath it. Every
painful memory from our past and the uncertainty of the future would
slowly but surely hunt us down, not stopping until we were broken and
bleeding, our spirits separated and fleeing in horror from the carnage.
Our lives, our work were too important to risk for something that could
just be a fleeting fancy of nighttime.
And then I saw the fear alongside the love. The fear of rejection, of
being asked to leave my bedroom without an answer to the exposure of his
soul. It was so raw, that look, that I couldn't turn him away. To do
so would be to negate everything we had searched for, usually in vain,
over the past five years. The truth. Isn't that what we wanted from
our lives? So I told him what he and I both needed to hear; what I knew
to be my truth.
"I love you too, Mulder."
X X X
I couldn't believe it. After all these years, and after that slightly
depressing reaction of hers in the hospital, we had at last reached the
peak. The truth. We held it in our hands, and we had finally given it
to each other without pretense or disguise tainting its purity.
I'm not sure what happened next- she reached out for me, and I couldn't
control myself- my lips found hers in the darkness. First it was a
chaste contact between two souls just discovering their other half:
innocent and sweet.
Then it deepened- her tongue slipped out to run along my lower lip, and
I let her in to explore. Teeth came down to nip, and tongues followed
to soothe the hurts incurred by our playing. Six years is a long time
to wait.
X X X
Scully ran her hands over Mulder's face, pulling him into the kiss.
She was careful to avoid the purplish bruise near his left temple that
she had noticed earlier. She'd have to ask him about that oneÉ.
He rose above her, tilting his face to slant over hers, driving his
tongue home and eliciting moans from both of them. His hands, just as
active but more daring than hers, slid into her pajamas and traced the
silky skin over her collarbone and neck with light fingers. She moved
herself into his touch, needing more, always moreÉand almost fell off
the bed. He chuckled into her mouth, the vibrations trickling over her
tongue and causing arousal to flare in her center.
"All right. Get into bed, Mulder. Doctor's orders."
"Don't I have to get undressed first, Dr. Scully?"
"MmmmÉ" With that affirmation, she rose from her bed and quickly shed
his jacket for him. Leaning over to reach her full lips with his, he
unfastened the buttons on his jacket. She groaned in frustration when
she revealed a t-shirt after ripping his jacket off. Roughly, he
silenced her disappointment with his mouth as he pulled the last layer
of clothing off of his torso. His shoes, socks, and jeans soon
followed, until he was clad only in paisley boxers. She stepped back
from him and eyed him hungrily.
"Those are really ugly, Mulder."
"I never liked them anyway, ScullyÉwhat do you suggest I do with them?"
"Someday your mouth will get you in trouble, Mulder."
"I hope that's a promise you intend to keep." He reached out and
pulled her back into an embrace, running his open mouth over her neck
and shoulders.
She broke away. "All in good time, Agent Mulder." In one fluid
motion, she deftly shed her pajama top, awaiting his reaction.
His eyes skimmed her breasts, the pupils darkening. "Oh my
GodÉSculllyyyÉ" his low groan instantly caused her nipples to harden,
and she giggled giddily. He leaned into her neck, unable to resist the
flushed skin there. "Do you know what you do to me? I can't believe
this is happeningÉ" his whisper tickled her ear.
"Just in case this is a dreamÉ" she reached down and squeezed the bulge
in his boxers, laughing inwardly at his low sound of need. "NopeÉthis
is real," she murmured huskily.
"Ohh- Confucius say that will be returned to you tenfold. C'mere,
Scully...." He stalked her around the bed, egged on by her teasing
laughter, and finally caught her around the waist, yanking her billowy
pajama pants down with one hand and then pinching her ass. "Are you a
moaner or a screamer, Scully?" he whispered, closing his teeth on her
earlobe.
She whirled around in his arms to face him, catching him off-guard, and
lunged for his mouth with hers. He lifted her to her goal and their
mouths mated, tongues dancing furiously. Scully broke contact first,
and Mulder lowered her small body slowly so her feet rested on the
floor, sliding her deliberately over his erection. She continued to
slip down his front, suckling, licking and biting his skin. Her mouth
and hands traveled all over his neck, his chest, his erect nipples,
until she reached his navel. Mulder held his breath. How far was she
going to take this? He couldn't handle her much longer; his cock felt
like it would explode if she so much as touched it.
On that thought, his eyes slipped shut and a moan broke from his throat
as she thrust her tongue into his belly-button, working with the rhythm
that his hips had unconsciously started. She lifted her eyes to his
face, and when he opened his, the devious look in those darkened
sapphires almost caused him to lose it all over the inside of his
shorts. Somehow, he formed intelligible words.
"That'sÉooohÉit, Scully. Time's up. Now I get to play."
"I guess that's fair- *Mulder*!" He hadn't hesitated, and she was now
dangling from his back, having been slung over his shoulder like a
diminutive sack of potatoes. "Mulder, put me down!" Her warning was
supposed to be serious, but she couldn't stop the small fits of
giggles. He laughed at her attempt to control the situation, and
brought her to the foot of the bed.
He swiftly unloaded her so that she was sitting on the edge of her bed,
then pinned her wrists next to her hips. As he gently head-butted her
stomach, she complied and lay down, writhing in anticipation. He
grinned lazily, contemplating the sight before him, then lowered his
head until his mouth was a tongue's length from her wet panties. When
he spoke, his breath against her caused a flood of arousal to surge
through her, adding to the moisture soaking her underwear.
"Scully? You're the scientist here. Would you care to outline the
procedure for me?"
"Mulder, if you don't do what I think you know I want you to do to me
in the next five secondsÉ"
"Well, give me some time to figure this out. I mean, we're usually on
the same mental track, soooÉ"
"AaaaghÉMulderrrÉ" Her hips quivered as she reached out with her lower
body in search of his mouth. He gave her a lingering open-mouth kiss on
the darkest part of her panties, and started to rim the elastic trim
with his tongue, laving her inner thighs.
Scully couldn't stand this. Had he been feeling the same way when she
was attending to his navel? She was truly, truly sorry now, and hummed
insistantly to him until he moved his teeth to the waist of her
underwear. He managed to keep a smirk on his face as he drew them over
her, brushing her curls with his nose. Mentally storing that look on
his face in her 'payback' files, Scully felt her last remaining article
of clothing slip down her legs and over her feet to land on the floor.
She was free.
Well, almost; Mulder still had her hands pinned. 'Maybe I'll just
speed things up a little,' she mused, and wrapped her legs around his
neck. He buried his face in her, and she cried out when she felt his
tongue begin long, slow strokes over her, deliberately avoiding that
throbbing bundle of nerves achingly close to his nose.
"OhÉohÉ" Mulder heard her breath catch and, driven with the desire to
make her really lose it, increased his pace.
"My God- Mulder, pleaseÉ" she lost herself in the all-consuming
sensations wracking her body. She needed him so bad she couldn't keep
still- every part of her gravitated toward that mouth doing amazing
things to herÉ Her hips began a wanton dance to get his tongue closer,
closerÉ
"There- right there- there, oh Jesus yeahÉ" Mulder was really enjoying
himself. He had finally found a surefire way of making his partner
agree with him. He lapped up all her moisture with his tongue in sure
strokes, teasing her clit for just an instant at the end of each swipe.
He could feel all the muscles surrounding his face tense up as she
approached her peak. One, two of his fingers left her hand, crept up
and entered her, moving in counterpoint to his oral ministrations. She
gasped audibly at this new stimulus, and he concentrated every muscle in
his mouth on her clit, moving his fingers savagely in and out, faster
and faster until she was rocking rapidly back and forth into his hand
and mouth and her breath went in with pants and out on mews and cries.
"Ohhh, GodÉMullderrrrr!" She screamed his name as she came hard, her
entire body stiffening into a bow as her back arched up to the ceiling.
Her freed hand flew to his head, twining in his hair, holding him there,
and his tongue slowed over her in response, grinding the bundle of
nerves into her pelvic bone. She sobbed and jerked up again, his name
still on her lips. The second wave crashed over her and washed into
every part of her body, lasting longer than the first.
"I- that's- I can't, I can't, oh God please, can't, oh bastard youÉ"
she was struggling to force those words out to him as he drove into her
again, every part of him directed toward her sweet torture. 'Third
time's the charmÉ' he thought, and her next series of spasms pulled a
long, moaning "MuulllderrrrÉ" from deep in her throat.
Her last orgasm shot a flow of energy straight to his rigid cock,
making him groan in shared pleasure and agony along with her sounds of
release. He languidly crawled up beside her limp body and pulled her
with him up to the head of the bed. Folding her into his arms, he
waited.
Scully touched down slowly, coming off her high to the sensation of
feathery kisses on her brow. Mulder was holding her, whispering quiet
things to her, and she smiled at him. Meeting Mulder's glistening lips
with her own, she flicked her tongue into his mouth, tasting herself.
"Mmm- well, Agent Scully, we have a problem."
"What's that, Agent Mulder?"
"If I remember correctly, that experiment was designed to determine
whether I had on my hands a moaner or a screamer, and- hey!" She had hit
him squarely on his bicep, mouth open in shocked amusement. "Now- the
first time it was a scream, but the second and third times were moans,
so I'd have to say that the evidence is inconclusive."
"Now."
"Now, what?"
"Now your mouth is getting you in trouble." She rubbed her body up
against his like a cat's, making a sound that could pass as feline. Her
thigh brushed against his boxers, and he almost purred back. "Well,
well, well. Looks like someone's packing heat." She smiled into his
hair, and lowered her voice. "You want some help with that, Mulder?"
'So much for my pride,' he thought, and nodded, eyes squeezed shut in
an attempt to hold in his release. She murmured something else to him,
and then he felt her tongue- teasing his chest and stomach with light
lapping strokes, making wet circles and kisses in secret designs until
she again found his navel, a little star on his abdomen.
"We'll just skip this for now," he heard her say. Oh thank-
"Jesus- ah!" She had eased his boxers over his hips and enveloped him
with her mouth. All of him. 'Oh thank you Jesus, oh my God Scully...'
his mind could only focus on one thing right now. Her mouth was hot and
wet and going so slow up and down, tongue swirling around the tip of the
shaft before her entire head plunged down on his length again.
Even in the throes of the best moment of his life to date, he couldn't
resist. "Scul-huh-ly - I think I have a new theory, and some- Jesus-
evidence to- um- back it upÉ" He could feel her smiling around him at
his difficulty in forming any coherent words. She let him slide through
one last, lingering time before she pulled off completely.
He shouldn't have said anything. He almost cried when she let him slip
slowly from her mouth, tongue teasing the head of his cock. He couldn't
remember *ever* being this horny. Taking this opportunity to look at
her, his breath caught. She was his ultimate fantasy laid before him:
uninhibited, hair fanning out and tickling his thighs, lush body splayed
over his legs. He watched her gleaming lips as she spoke.
"MmmÉwhat's that, Mulder?"
"Well," he swallowed to collect his thoughts and continued, "I now have
personal experience to back up the widely accepted theory that men think
with their dicks." A raised eyebrow was the reward for his revelation.
He smiled affectionately and raised himself to lean over and stare into
her deepening eyes. "For the last minute, my mind has been unable to
form a coherent thought because I am so *fucking* hot for you, Scully."
He pulled her up to sit astride his hips while he spoke, thrusting his
cock up slightly against her ass. He couldn't stop touching her. "It's
enough to break a guy."
She leaned into him and whispered delicately into his ear. "That's
sweet, Mulder." She looked down at her hands, which had been idly
tracing patterns on his stomach, and he thought she was being bashful,
but then he caught the glitter in her downturned eyes.
"You wanna be inside?" She rocked into the cradle of his hips. "'Cause
I'm ready for you, Mulder." Another thrust, and a low moan from both of
them. "When you come I want you inside me- making me come too." Her
eyes suddenly raised up to meet his; they were dark blue with lust, and
he was so shocked and awed for a moment that he couldn't move.
He found his voice. "Yes, Scully. Right now." Taking the initiative,
his hands wrapped around her slender hips and he flipped her under him,
running his cock over her clit before gently pushing his way in. Her
eyes never left his as he settled his weight in, and she gave him an
achingly beautiful smile. "Jesus, SculllyyÉyou feel soÉgoodÉ" his
breath shortened and she tightened her inner muscles around him.
"Do it, Mulder, do it *now*- I want to feel you- all of youÉ" she
trailed off into a moan as he started thrusting in and out slow and
hard, using his elbows on the bed as leverage. He reached one hand down
between their joined bodies, stroking her clit to urge her on. Her arms
wrapped around his back, running erratically up and down his straining
muscles. Their breathing grew shallow in time, keeping pace with their
bodies, sweating and moving faster toward the inevitable. Lust and
promise of completion drew them into full-bore fucking; a ruthless pace
designed only for pleasure.
"C'mon, Scully, c'mon baby, that's it just come with me, come for meÉ"
he gave in to his body's demands and went deeper, straining to keep from
climaxing so she could be there, just a little more; she was moaning and
panting his name and he could tell she just needed a few more secondsÉ
every muscle in his body was taut, straining to stave off his orgasm for
just a little longer- 'Oh God, pleaseÉ'
He moved his knees under her thighs and pushed her legs up, bringing her
ass off the bed and her knees up to her breasts. Her cross winked at
him, and his lips darted to suckle her neck wherever the tiny piece of
jewelry moved. The extra penetration and his mouth on her neck and
breasts caused her breath to catch for the last time before she emitted
a throaty cry and came with him, both of them hoarsely calling out the
other's name as the spasms overtook and swept them up and into one
another. Filling her, melting into her, they completed each other.
Minutes later, Mulder shuddered. 'That was fucking amazingÉ' He opened
his eyes to look into hers, and they smiled at each other. Wordlessly,
he eased himself down beside her and put his arms around her little
body. He felt tears stinging his eyes.
"Oh, Mulder." Her soft fingers wiped them away from his face, and he
nuzzled her neck. "I love you, too."
He knew. He laughed into her neck and started to kiss her all over- her
face, her jaw, anywhere on this woman that he could reach.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing." He met her eyes, and acknowledged the question. "Well-
really, I just can't believe that we finally- *did* it."
"You have such a mature way of phrasing things, Mulder." She propped
herself up on one elbow, smiling at the way his eyes immediately left
hers to rake over her body, flushed with satiety. Warmth spread like a
liquid love in her body; neither of them had ever experienced this
feeling of being completely whole. "Enjoying the view?"
"Immensely, Agent Scully." He moved his mouth down to her hardening
nipples, but a small touch on his cheek made him look up. "Scully?"
Her eyes were regarding him solemnly.
"Mulder, IÉ." She suddenly drew herself up to sit facing him. "I love
you, and I know that you love me- so where do we go from here?" She
paused, and held off his reply with two fingers pressed to his lips.
"It's hard- for me toÉ say this, but- I want to be with you. I can't
stand being afraid or timid about my feelings any longer- I'm not going
to forget this. I'm not going to show up for work, and pretend that we
didn't just screw each other senseless- and enjoy it." Her fingers
traced his lips as hers curled into an enigmatic smile. "I want us to
have a real relationship- fuck Bureau policy." Her eyes focused on his
suddenly, and the smile was suddenly anything but mysterious. "What are
you thinking, Mulder?"
"I'm thinking that I love you so much," he smiled at how her face
softened, "and I want the exact same things that you do. About Bureau
policy, though- I think I'd rather fuck you than it any day." He moved
over her with a single stealthy motion, pressing his cock, which had
grown hard again, toward her stomach and downward.
She answered him by sealing his mouth with hers.
X X X
Outside Scully's apartment building, a dark-haired man sat in a car,
listening to the moans and cries from the pair of agents through
headphones resting on his ears. He switched off the equipment
connecting his receiver to the tiny audio-transmitter in Scully's
bedside table, and sat back, thinking. His mouth twisted evilly into a
satisfied smile.
X X X
Blinking in the light streaming through the window, Scully rolled over
and flexed her muscles. The warm body beside her stirred and murmured
her name, and she smiled at the cause of her soreness. 'I guess I can't
say he's always gentle with me anymore,' she mused contentedly.
While she was cooking breakfast, Mulder slowly meandered into the
kitchen, wearing the comforter off of her bed. "G'morning, Scully." He
sat down, yawning.
"Did I tire you out, Mulder?" She gave him half of the eggs out of the
frying pan, and a piece of toast.
"Hah. That's what you think. I'm just biding my time." He grinned
wickedly at her, eyes traveling down her body. She blushed, realizing
that his t-shirt she'd pulled on barely covered her ass in back, not to
mention what it revealed in the frontÉ.
"MulderÉ" He looked up at her suddenly playful tone. "Finish those
eggs, wouldja?"
X X X
So Mulder and I stayed together. Contrary to our fears, the ground did
not swallow the city, the seas did not rise up to protest our consensual
coital bliss, and nobody at the Bureau knew. It was our little secret-
and the best thing that had ever come about, so to speak. Mulder
eventually moved into my apartment, and we kept our professional lives
separate from what we- ahem- shared at home.
What neither of us had fully anticipated was how close the new facet of
our relationship allowed us to be. Within each other, we discovered the
missing piece of ourself, the perfect fit that blind chance had led us
to find. We had finally bridged the vast emotional chasm that had
separated us for six years, and the effect was akin to exhaling after
holding one's breath for the same amount of time. It was no longer
necessary to conceal the mutual attraction, sexual desire, or the
passion for work or each other; release was too mild a word to describe
the relief experienced. This new synchrony, we knew, would give us an
advantage in solving cases. How could we fail when we were joined mind,
heart, body and soul? The two of us decided to file a formal request
with the Bureau's grievance committee as an attempt to get the X-Files
back. We had good timing. After Skinner recovered from his strange
illness, the Bureau was more inclined to be kind in their
deliberations. Our flawless teamwork and investigation had saved the
AD's life; no committee could deny that.
The court date was set for the hearing to announce the decision of the
committee. Everything hung on the decision of this faceless, nameless
group of bureaucrats hidden somewhere in the Hoover building. We had
waited so long for that day- when we would have a chance to reclaim what
we had lost from our lives. All of Mulder's dreams of finding his
sister, and all my hopes that the truth about Melissa's death, Emily,
and my infertility would be revealed clung to the success of that one
hearing in court.
X X X
It was beyond belief for me- even I, who believed in anything and
everything back then, couldn't comprehend that I had finally reached the
heart of the one person whom I trusted and loved above all others.
Scully and I had defeated our fear of love, and found one another. I
had never believed in God before, but maybe there was some higher
force. For the first time in perhaps years, I allowed myself to be
happy. I had her.
The hearing date was set, and we prepared ourselves for the revelation
of the path that we would soon venture down together. Would the lies
prevail, as they had so many times in the past? Could they really
refuse us the X-Files, the tool to what would be our future together?
Or could the truth show its face; after being concealed in dark prisons
and shoved down to be buried in the lies, would we be the ones to exhume
it?
Scully and I were on edge those last days before the hearing. Although
she would never admit to being worked up, I can testify that she felt
just as jumpy and nervous as I was. I can't convey how much we depended
on this decision- we needed to get back on the X-Files. The demeaning
crap that we drudged through every day was wearing our nerves thin,
breaking us slowly. I wanted to find Sam, to reconcile my past, so that
Scully and I could have a real and fulfilling life- together....
X X X
The small courtroom on the third floor of the J. Edgar Hoover
building was almost empty. Where the defendants usually sat and sulked
during their trials, Mulder and Scully were standing, conversing
quietly. A few other agents, including AD Skinner and AD Kersh, wearing
a sour look, sat in the benches. There were no reporters or court
officials present- the X-Files had never been a top issue of interest
around the F.B.I. But to Mulder and Scully, the decision made today
would make or break their future.
The assistant to the committee came in through the judge's chamber's
door, carrying a manila envelope in his hand. He motioned to Mulder and
Scully to sit. The other figures in the room followed suit. Once
everyone was sitting in respectful silence, the courier began to read
the typed memo he had extracted from the envelope.
"It is the opinion of this committee, after a thorough and careful
review of the facts and figures as well as a summary of the occurances
of the past week, that Special Agents Mulder and Scully should *not* be
be reassigned to head the X-Files division of the F.B.IÉ."
Mulder paled. Beside him, Scully's hands clenched reflexively into
fists.
"Besides the denial of their request, this memorandum serves to inform
Agent Mulder and Agent Scully of their individual reassignments to the
Violent Crimes Section and the F.B.I. Academy, Quantico, respectively.
These assignments will be, until futher notice, permanent. Relocation
will take place immediatelyÉ"
"What the *fuck*?" Mulder yelled. "What the FUCK did you just say?"
He shot out of his chair and would have attacked the man if Scully
hadn't grabbed his arm, her face drained of blood.
"Agent Mulder, if you have a problem with this, you may request another
hearing to redress the subject in six monthsÉ"
"Who ordered this, goddammit? Is the Smoking Man on your committee? Is
that what you're hiding, you son-of-a-bitch?"
The man's reply was dripping with contempt. "Agent Mulder, if you don't
compose yourself immediately, the consequences could be much worse for
you. I suggest you think about that."
Mulder was fuming, and his throat was closing up in rage. Scully spoke
for both of them.
"This is bullshit, and we *will* fight this." She turned to him with an
calm look that concealed her distress. "Come on Mulder, let's go. We
can't do anything else here." The subtle tone of supplication in her
voice penetrated his rage, and his muslces relaxed under her hand. When
she turned on her heel and walked out of the courtroom, he was at her
side.
X X X
"So Mulder and Scully are out of the X-Files for good, huh? How did
you manage to separate them? I must admit, Walter, that I wouldn't have
even dreamed up that one- Scully back at Quantico, Mulder back in the
loony bin of the VCSÉ"
"You can just stop right there, you lying little weasel. That was not
my doing. I carried out the means for your petty little revenge
scheme. The committee was all too happy to finish the job for you. But
you should know that I refuse to give in to your vile agenda. The first
mistake you make will be your last."
"It's all very well for you to threaten me, Walter, but I'm beginning
to think that you really don't comprehend that your role in the plan is
done. The only issue left concerning you is your silence. I'm sure I
don't need to tell you twice that if you speak to anyone about your,
ahem, *involvement* in the committee's affairs, the scene in the
hospital will be repeated; with a different ending, of course. At least
you know you saved yourself. Right, Walter?"
With that, Krycek rose to his feet and headed toward the door. He
turned at the foyer. "Oh, WalterÉ"
"What more do you want, you prick?"
Krycek gave the device in his hand a deft tap. Skinner was almost
thrown to the floor by the spasms wracking his body. He moaned in pain
and clutched his stomach, veins pulsing and blackening in his neck and
face. Krycek twisted a knob on the side of the tiny box, and Skinner
was able to catch his breath.
"Just rememberÉ Big Brother is watching." His mouth twisted into a
cruel smile and he left Skinner's apartment, footsteps echoing down the
hall.
Skinner lay back on the couch, breathing hard. Still and silent, he
stared at the ceiling. He would not sleep that night.
X X X
END OF PART I
X X X
Title: Gethsemane II- Souls Led Astray
Author: Lauryn Dominique
ALL DISCLAIMERS IN PART I
X X X
Night fell after the trial and we returned home, defeated. We were
both silent, punishing ourselves with self-inflicted isolation. I was
lost in thoughts, most of them of the past. I could remember times in
our history when the X-Files had been denied us- but never had those
shadowy figures gone to such lengths to keep the truth from our hands.
And I made a vow. Not to let this beat us, because we were together,
and we had always been strong enough to face down anything as a team. I
knew what losing that request was doing to him- it was like condemning
Samantha to an ignominious death in an unknown grave. Covering the
bodies of men, women and children with a stifling blanket of deceit, and
spitting on the remains. My X-File was in with the rest- I realized
that that fact alone would probably spur him on to go to the lengths
that he eventually did to carry on our work.
X X X
I was a failure. The bottom line was that I had failed her again. And
my sister. My own fucking sister, who had trusted me to save her just
like Scully did. Well, my sister is gone, lost to me forever because
I'm a goddamned loser who can't get his shit together.
And Scully? She stayed. I know she loved me, because my love for her
ran deeper than any other feeling in my soul. She was by my side, and
we clung to each other for comfort. Through the other's love, we
managed to survive the night, taking comfort in what we had to offer to
each other and what we received. But our days became numbered that
night; and the clock didn't stop ticking once it started the final
countdown.
X X X
Every day passed slowly for Mulder and Scully after those few fateful
minutes in court. Scully was ruthlessly uprooted from her desk in the
F.B.I. bullpen and thrust into the foreign territory at the Academy.
She was back to teaching young hopefuls how to gut people's dead
bodies. With every moment spent away from Mulder, a small part of her
withered. Outwardly, she refused to crack, but her resolve was chipped
away little by little. She had to learn to build up her protective
walls anew, to fortify her inner sanctums against the new hurts thrown
at her by her supervisors. It became less easy to leave cracks in those
barriers for Mulder- she became accustomed to shutting him out in the
cold along with everyone else.
Mulder was not faring much better. The VCS work had scarred his psyche
permanently before the X-Files, and this time around he received no
reprieve. It had been so long since he had stared into the face of pure
evil that his first few cases left him sick inside with disgust and
hatred for the perverted criminals he was assigned to profile. Despite
this, he was almost thankful that the cases were straightforward, with
nothing paranormal about them; it gave him time to plan a strategy to
investigate the committee and its ties. He spent all of his free time
following the narrow pathways that he hoped would eventually reveal the
truth behind the decision to ruin him and Scully.
The days may have passed slowly, but the weeks somehow slipped away
into months. On the outside, nothing had really changed at their
three-month anniversary- they were both strong people, able to withstand
pain and the suffering heaped upon them, but they were only human.
Their ideals had been sacrificed at the altar of the truth. Nothing was
sacred any longer, and only a scant amount of time stood between the
present and an unforeseeably bleak future.
X X X
Mulder fought his way out of the bitter easterly wind into the
apartment. Usually when he returned from work, he would make dinner for
himself and Scully, but that night he just sat on the couch and stared
at the wall, eyes unfocused and bloodshot. Scully found him forty-five
minutes later in the same state when she trudged slowly into the living
room.
"Mulder?! Are you okay?" She knelt down in front of him, directly in
his line of sight. 'Oh shitÉ there's been a bad oneÉ.' She was
becoming increasingly more adept at perceiving when there had been a
particularly grisly case. The pain that blazed in his dark eyes
hollowed out her heart, and she reached out her hand to his face, at the
same time trying to emotionally reach out to his wounded soul. His eyes
grew wide as her hand suddenly moved into his peripheral vision, and he
shied away from her tentative fingers.
She removed the offending hand, biting her lip in consternation and
growing fear. Whatever had happened today had not been purely a day's
work- there were darker forces at work ravaging something he held close
to him.
"There- there was a childÉ" his voice rasped against the stillness of
the moment, and she looked up, careful not to make any sudden
movements. "She had him by the neck, and the knife- that knife," his
voice dropped to a horrified whisper, "was dripping blood into the
little b-boy's eyes, and he couldn't cry- ScullyÉ" His eyes focused
into hers, the pupils dark and magnetically haunting, drawing designs
into her round blue irises with pinpoints of onyx held deep in their
jet-black centers. She stared back into the abyss and saw the visage of
the fear and its source. "The boy had no ears, no fingers," his voice
grew dreamlike but his eyes still chased hers unblinkingly, "they were
in his throat- thatÉ psychopath put them there after she cut them
offÉhis blood painted all over her body and running out of her mouthÉ"
Scully couldn't stand it. She broke his gaze with a strangled cry and
her hand came up to cup her mouth. Mulder took no notice of her sudden
distress, and kept reciting as if he was giving a sermon.
"Little corpses all over the room, propped on shelves- boys, all boys,
cherubic and smiling, every last one, no fingers and no ears, painted
with their own red blood- she was adding to her collection..." he was
interrupted by a guttural noise from Scully.
"Stop- stop it, Mulder please-" her throat convulsed and she bit down
on her fingers to keep her gorge from rising. She barely succeeded, and
closed her eyes to compose herself, her hands fluttering in front of her
face in a parody of self-defense. One landed on Mulder's face, and
instinctively became a soft stroking caress, imploring his silence.
He did not flinch this time at her touch, merely moved his cheek almost
imperceptibly into her suddenly gentled palm. The clouds obscuring his
eyes scattered at her touch and the sounds of her crying stung his
ears. He began to weep softly, releasing a trickle of his pain in each
burning tear.
And then his sighing whisper, her name, and she took him in her arms.
She rarely saw him this affected by anything, and never had he managed
to make her nearly physically sick. But more and more his daily work
reduced him to this; a small child, afraid of the unimaginable cruelty
he had found in the real world. First shutting his mind off from the
offenses of the evil in the heart of man, then seeking comfort from the
one person he loved and trusted to soothe his pain. Scully climbed into
his lap and held his head protectively against her breast. In time, he
recovered and lifted his head to look her straight in the face.
"This is going to stop, Scully. We're going to get the X-Files back."
He gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, his kisses
beginning softly but becoming increasingly fervent and almost desperate
in their intensity. Clothes were shed as bodies sought the warmth of a
companion in pain and misery. She took everything he offered- his
frustration, his suffering, all the love he was ashamed to have for her-
and shattered all his doubts with her reception. They cried out to each
other at the height of their revelation, coming together to slam the
door on their despised reality.
Scully stroked his hair afterwards while he slept, and listened to his
deep, even breathing. 'God, give me the strength to see this throughÉ'
Tears stung her eyes, and she hugged Mulder fiercely. In his sleep, he
murmured her name and pulled her closer into a protective embrace.
X X X
The sharp memory of that last horrible case carried the two of them
through their first real month of intense investigation into the
committee and its ties to the men without names. Mulder and Scully may
have been miles apart physically in their jobs, but mentally they were a
team again, hunting the fleeting form of truth as it ran amuck in the
shadows created by unknown and untouchable figures.
Mulder was able to find informants and glean data from computer files
much more readily than Scully. Her teaching schedule and staff meetings
left her exhausted, but against her good sense she kept up the fight
faithfully. She refused to break the unspoken vow between her and
Mulder. The pursuit of the X-Files belonged to both of them.
Finally, her supervisor caught her in the midst of gathering information
on a man in the committee. He told her, in no uncertain terms, that she
was at the Academy only as an alternate option to being out of the
Bureau. Her insubordination to administrative orders, if reported,
would mean the termination of her job. He, as a generous person, would
let her off with a warning. She understood that the next time she was
reprimanded would be the last, and signal also the death-knell of hope
for revival of the X-Files.
X X X
I returned home that night with my soul bruised and bleeding. Our
window of opportunity had just been narrowed by more precious inches.
My fight was over. I had played my last card, and they had cornered
me. As usual, Mulder was waiting for me when I came in; our newest
custom was to share any new leads before we ate. I had to tell him.
X X X
"Mulder. Director Endelman caught me hacking for information on Them
today."
"What did he say, Scully?"
"I- I'm out, Mulder. I can't do this anymore. I stand to lose my
position at the Academy- no, more than that. He said I'd be out of the
Bureau. That can't happen, Mulder. There's no possibility that we
could get the X-Files back if I was disgraced in that way. I- I have to
stick to my work now, Mulder. What we do for the X-Files- that stays
out of the workplace for me from now on. Mulder? Aren't you going to
say anything?" Mulder had begun to pace, his face closed off by drawn
brows.
"Yeah, Scully. Yeah- I am." His jaw clenched reflexively. "How can
you give up? Just roll over and take it? We've both worked our asses
off for months now and there's so much out there that we haven't seen,
haven't uncovered- am I to understand that this is my quest now? Just
mine?" During his speech Scully had watched him angrily stalk the
length of the room, her face a mixture of disbelief and hurt. He
refused to acknowledge either feeling as he faced her and continued.
"Scully- you stand to gain as much as I do from the X-Files- how can you
do this to us?"
Her reply was a gasp of incredulity. "*Excuse* me? I'm going to lose
my job for the sake of evidence that would later- *if* the odds were
beaten- be of service in providing only those of us still *in* the
Bureau with *possible* means of getting the X-Files back? Where's the
logic in your argument, Mulder?" She walked forward until she was
invading his space, her cobalt eyes narrowed. "You're not going to push
me away for this, Mulder. I know you're angry at these- men, but I will
not be made an object for absorbing your displaced anger." He snorted.
"No, you listen to me. We both do what we can, and right now, what you
can do is more than what I can do. That's not going to stop me from
being there for you, Mulder. For every step, I've got your back. I
will not let you down- my hands may be tied, but I can still wiggle my
fingers." He shot her a weird look. "...Or something."
That did it. A low chuckle in his throat built into a husky laugh, and
he smiled at her, shaking his head. Mulder pulled her into a hug,
planting a kiss in her hair. "That's my Scully. Always fighting- and
finding new ways to mangle the English language." She kissed him
soundly on the mouth, biting his lip for the jibe. They went into the
kitchen to make dinner. The tension that remained in the living room
curled into a ball and made itself comfortable under the couch, biding
its time patiently.
X X X
Three weeks after the mutual renewal of their vow to find the truth,
Scully trudged into the bedroom, exhausted from a hellish day at work.
She could not expect any relief at home- Mulder hadn't been feeling well
lately. Another horrific case had landed in his lap, and he'd been
slaving over the profile and pursuit of the psychopath for well over a
week. According to the terse message he'd left for her earlier that
afternoon, the killer had been caught in the process of committing one
of his typical murders. The man had been arrested, and he himself would
come home as soon as he could.
What Mulder didn't tell her was that the man had been meticulously
carving up a girl whom he had just kidnapped and raped, preparing to
hang her mutilated body in her own front yard. After stumbling upon the
man and his prey in a gruesome laboratory, he'd gone numb. The girl had
been pretty, with long brown hair, strong features, and breathtaking
blue eyes that gazed intensely at the viewer in death. To him, the
lovely young corpse looked exactly like his sister- except for her
eyes. Those were Scully's.
The horror of his failure hit him like a truck- why did he always lose?
The girl's lifeless eyes stared him down in reproach, accusing him of
murder, carelessness, and the worse crime of all- incompetence. 'What
are you good for?!' they screamed. 'The ones you love are all in
danger, and you are helpless to prevent it!' His mind wrapped around
itself in painful tangles of self-hate and guilt laced with his own
brand of agony. It was true. Scully- where was Scully? He had to get
out of there.
Unconscious instinct alone guided him through the case procedures. When
the killer was safely disposed of, his mindless body found its way back
to Scully's empty apartment and into the bed. Shivering in terror,
Mulder had curled up into a ball, making himself as small as possible.
His clothes had been soaked with sweat, and he had rapidly tore at them,
desperate to get rid of the clinging cotton. Naked and trembling, he
had slid through his agony into a fitful sleep.
Scully swayed back and forth as she wove her way to the bed, too tired
to turn on the light. A moan materialized out of the darkness and her
breath caught. She realized who it was and hesitated, unsure whether to
leave him or stay. She wanted to comfort him, but still there was a
fear; not of him, but of his violent reactions, bred into animal
strength by his gruesome casework. Stealthily she crept to his side,
and felt his forehead. He was feverish, and the streetlamps outside
threw stripes of light over the bed, revealing his nude, quivering
body. At the frightening sight of him, bared to the emotional core
without protection, she climbed into bed beside him and coiled her body
around his, trying to reach every part of him with her calming
presence. He embraced her in sleep, his head burrowing into her neck
and his arms wrapping like snakes around her small body. His breathing
became even and matched hers. They fell asleep in each other's arms.
X X X
I awoke an hour later. A huge weight was crushing my throat, and I was
crying out to I knew not what force to stop, please, I was choking! My
eyes opened in a panic and saw Mulder. "M-Muulderr!" The word was
barely intelligible. His eyes stared into mine with no recognition and
his breath was quick and angry. His body pinned mine to the mattress,
and his hands had a death hold on my throat. Curses left his throat in
gasps, hitting me like blows to the face. Confessions, prayers to God,
pleas to Samantha for forgiveness, apologies for loving me- every word
ripped itself out of his throat with supernatural violence. His dreams
were punishing him. Every muscle strained with unimaginable agony,
desperately doing penance to the demons that were eating him alive.
"P-Please, Mulder, let me-" I managed another small sob, pleading for
my life- and my arm freed itself. Before I could think my fist had met
his temple, and he groaned and crumpled. I hadn't hurt him- merely
woken him up. I sat up, struggling to take my first full breaths- and
realized I couldn't see him. He'd fallen off the bed. I leaned over to
find him, but he rolled away, refusing to look at me. My heart thudded
irregularly with fear even after the threat had passed; I ached to reach
out, to quell the guilt that would surely drown him. Could he possibly
endure this? "Mulder?"
"Oh- GodÉ leave me alone! Don't come near me." The closest he came to
letting his eyes meet mine was to cast a shameful glance toward the
angry bruises forming on my neck before slithering under the bed. Tears
began to fall from my eyes, but I was barely conscious of them as I
whispered to him from where I crouched on the floor.
"Mulder, please. I'm scared- please- justÉ come back. Tell me what
happened, and we can fix it together-"
A bitter noise rasped from under me, and I realized it was a laugh.
"There's nothing left to fix. It's all gone- you, Sam- everything is
dead. I did it- it's dead because of me. I just tried to kill you, and
I'm not going to risk that again, ever. Save yourself and leave me
alone."
I slipped off the bed and crouched close to the floor. I could just
make out his uneven form under the bed, motionless in the dark.
"MulderÉ Mulder! Please, I love you- don't shut me out, pleaseÉ" He
refused to answer. I gave up trying to assure him of his innocence in
hurting me, and crawled into the bed, my heart aching for the man
drowning below me. Sleep enveloped me in a soothing cloud, but not
before the sounds of his crying scarred my ears.
X X X
I had a dream that night. I was crouching on a sharp precipice, icy
winds beating against my naked and shivering body. Below me, the gusts
of wind whistled through the black oblivion, crooning to me with the
temptation of death- an end to pain. Mulder saw me. He too was laid
bare to the winds, standing on a cliff across the chasm. His mouth was
moving- I could hear the whisper of lips over teeth as if his head was
inches from my ear. That was all, though- no words came to me, no
comfort, no revelations to block out the calling of death at my feet.
I tried to speak to him, to drive the sounds of destruction out of my
mind and wrest my sanity from the evil lurking below; my throat was dry
and I couldn't form any words. Mulder's heart was breaking- his eyes
began to shine with tears and his hand reached out as if it would
stretch across the space separating us. I jumped. My eyes closed when
the black clouds caught me- the vision of his horrified face etched onto
the surface of my heart.
X X X
There were times when I wanted to die. In my mind, I had the gun ready
at my head to gently soothe that agony that burrowed through my soul
like a living poison. Scully appeared, though, her small hands taking
away the weapon and replacing it with her lips to heal my pain. I loved
her so much, but I couldn't show it. That kind of love- mine- would
just carry on its back endless pain for her.
My despair wasn't just rooted in the loss of the X-Files. The thorn in
my soul was the slow fading of my sister's memory, the new and
increasingly harsh and cold distance between Scully and myself, and my
futility to save anyone I loved from being hurt by the consequences of
my selfish ambitions. For every day spent away from my search for
Samantha, small threads of my sanity unwound and dropped into an
ever-growing tangle, driving me further inside myself and farther from
Scully. I was helpless to halt this debilitating downward spiral.
I could rationalize my next move in terms of how I felt at that point-
destitute from the decaying of her love for me and unable to reconcile
my past mistakes. I started with just small doses; just enough to
really get me going in the morning. More to numb my mind against the
horrendous crimes against humanity perpetrated by fellow humans whose
minds and motives I had to fathom day in and day out. Then a little
more when I got home, to keep up that high feeling. Not like I needed
the energy there- we never made love anymore. How could we, when all I
felt was guilt for failing her and the hopelessness of making love? Our
bodies would have willingly followed our more primal desires, but our
souls were estranged. I started sleeping on the couch because I wasn't
actually sleeping- the refusal of my body to shut down at night kept her
up, my restless tossings and turnings deprived her of any rest she might
have managed to get.
I think Scully suspected early on that I was doing speed to push myself
into accomplishing incredible amounts of work, and she confronted me. I
angrily told her exactly what I wanted her to hear- I was fine. I was
just really crazy because I was working my job and the investigation on
the committee's dealings- wasn't that her concern too, goddammit? I
couldn't believe that she would just passively fall to her knees and
watch the last six years of work crumble around us. She made me
furious! I thought she was my ally! Was she really the spy I suspected
her to be in the beginning? Was that why she just meekly taught her
classes and then came home and slept in the evenings, only to rise to
the same, unchanging and futile cycle in the mornings? Well, screw
her! Cold bitch. I didn't need her- I would continue the work myself,
under my own terms.
She punished me for my heresy against her faith with icy silence. That
was always her strength- building fortress walls around her innermost
self to protect the precious insides from attack. Anything to guard her
whole being against the curse of my love for her. Something akin to a
nuclear winter descended on our household, freezing us solid inside
ourselves. She even began to spend more time at her mother's house to
escape my presence.
The only concession I made to her concern was to take barbituates and
the occasional sleeping pill to counteract the effects of the speed. I
had to concentrate on our- my- mission. The ends justify the means,
after all.
X X X
That- *bastard* had no idea, because he slept on that damn couch after
our screaming match, but I cried myself to sleep. Every night. I had
learned early on that crying was best done silently, so that no one
could hear the ripping sound of wounds opening or know that I was
vulnerable. Our relationship was a sham. We didn't make love, we
didn't have sex; we didn't even fuck each other. It was like our first
cases where neither one of us made any move construed to be an advance.
But it was worse, because we were consciously protecting ourselves
against the temptation of the other- a touch signified weakness, the
smallest words exchanged would have been groveling apologies.
In spite of pride, I tried to reach out. God knows I tried. But his
way of coping with our problems was to shroud himself in guilt, like his
soul had already died and left his body. The drive to find the truth
behind the committee held him in a stranglehold and refused to release
him to me. The one he had loved. I still loved him- but I took steps
to remedy that. My mother started receiving more visits from me, almost
on a regular basis. My guilt and shame over being unable to join him in
the insane quest for our past? I was all to happy to shift the blame
onto his head, after I intuited that he thought it was his fault
anyways. Why the hell did I have to carry all the emotional waste in
our relationship anyways? Was that all he thought I could do, just
because I hardly showed my feelings? Well, fuck him.
No, God, I didn't mean to hurt him. I wanted sometimes, usually late
at night, to be able to erase memories and hurts, and just have my
Mulder hold me. Like he and I swore to each other to do, without ever
having to say a word to seal the promise. Arms folding me into their
protective haven, hearts intertwined and lips moving to make eternal
vows of love and devotion. His lips no longer moved to utter words of
affection. They made furtive, sly movements when he was on the phone
with shadow sources whose identities were never revealed to me.
Absently, they might play with the end of a pen as he sat hunched over a
desk, looking at phone records and information on the shady dealings of
the F.B.I. bought from men on the inside.
Or they would dreamily form words in his drug-induced slumber. I
watched him sleep sometimes; I just sat across from the couch curled up
in a chair. He was so innocent when he slept: a tousled, beautiful
dream child floating through the world of unconscious fantasies. I
longed for that innocence to return and envelop us both in silvered
clouds.
Alcohol helped me forget. A glass of wine here or there, what harm? A
beer after work, to relax me before bed. A few shots to accompany my
oatmeal and tea at breakfast, a tiny single-serve bottle of the stronger
stuff at lunch; I was a trained doctor, and I promised myself that I
wouldn't let use turn into abuse. I had it under control. Besides,
once I worked up a tolerance, I needed more to keep out the pain. And
without the pain, I could work better. That was just how it was going
to have to be.
X X X
The one word burrowed into Mulder's head like a venomous worm, entering
his ear through the phone, carried on the husky voice straight to the
center of his brain. It immediately started to devour him- starting
from the inside and releasing its poison wherever it squirmed. The two
syllables split off and reproduced, creating exponentially huge echoes
in his head that knocked down walls of feeble sanity with each
reverberation.
His deadened hand dropped the phone in the cradle, cutting off the low
mumblings of the nameless informant. His body turned on autopilot,
making preparations to leave his office while his mind spun crazily in
spirals, every neuron bloated and throbbing with righteous anger and the
diluted meth ingested half an hour before.
A very small amount of time later, Mulder was at the apartment he had
called home for a scant five months, changing his clothes and packing a
duffel bag of supplies with cold, exact precision. His hands were
unshaking and steady as they packed his gun, a coil of strong cord, and
a hunting knife- he paused. Sliding the blade from the sheath, he
tested the cool edge against his finger, watching the wound open
slowly. Satisfied, he covered the knife again and placed it in the bag.
From the other end of the apartment, he heard a door quietly snick
shut. Muttering obscenities to himself, he quickly snorted a handful of
his precious powder and counting quickly, grabbed a handful of red and
white capsules from a hidden bag. He added the pills to the powder
carefully stored in a zippered pouch in the duffel bag. Later, the
pills would have to bring him down so he could do the job. He left the
bedroom, his face fixed in an emotionless mask, ready to face Scully.
Her shadow crept across the dimly lit kitchen. Slowly, furtively, her
hand reached the refrigerator door, and pulled it open without making a
sound. She grabbed a sixpack of beer and sat down heavily, popping two
of the tabs almost before her body hit the solid wood of the chair. The
first one went down easily, the alcohol hitting her blood a familiar
feeling. The second one was the kicker though, she needed that one to
make it happen. And- there. A lethargic feeling caught up to her
racing heart and overtook her in a net of warm honey. She smiled
sleepily and slumped farther down into the chair.
Suddenly, she heard the door creak. Cautiously, she got up and walked
toward the sound, lilting slightly in her gait. Peeking around the
corner, her eyes widened, and she lunged forward to catch the door
before he slammed it on his way out. She rushed out after him, fury
slowly building under the waves of alcohol bathing her brain.
"Where do you think you're goin?"
He turned, and his eyes pinned her with a haughty gaze. "It's no
concern of yours. Why don't you have another drink? I'm sure you could
handle it- you seem to be building up a good tolerance for your size.
Don't wait up, *sweetheart*." His last sarcastic words twisted his
mouth into a sneer, and he turned to the car.
Scully stood unmoving, the part of her brain still functioning stunned
and hurt. What was wrong with him? And what did he mean by that,
anyways? There was nothing wrong with relaxing a little after a hard
day, or week, or monthÉ well, fuck him anyways. Maybe another drink
*would* help. Asshole. She whirled around, a little unsteady in her
heels, and stalked back into the warm apartment.
Mulder watched her go from the driver's seat of the car. Ruthlessly
cutting down the voices that were crying at him to go and stop her from
drinking any more, he started the ignition. Nothing mattered now except
those two syllables, endlessly chanting at him the name, the traitor,
the one who had accepted his trust only to mock him. 'Fuck you! You
mother-fuckingÉ this is it, *Skinner*. Judgment Day has come for you,
my friend. Judas will have company after tonight, believe you meÉ' his
mind kept up its eternal, hyperactive rantings as he pulled out toward
his betrayer's apartment. In his drugged and furious state, he took no
notice of the dark car parked behind him, nor of its vigilant occupant.
X X X
Ten minutes later, Scully was completely plastered. She was swimming
in her own cranial fluid, the pain of Mulder's abandonment and scorn
long since drowned for the night. A sharp knock at the door caused her
neck to swivel reflexively toward the noise: 'he's come back' was her
first relieved albeit drunken thought. She advanced nonchalantly and
unsteadily to the dark rectangle in the wall, her vision a little
blurred. 'I won't be too hard on him- he's just doing what he thinks is
right, after all.' She fumbled with the lock and hastily opened the
door. Her eyes widened at the deceptively boyish face smirking at her
right before the swinging butt of a gun turned her whole world black.
X X X
END OF PART II
X X X
Title: Gethsemane III- The Price Of A Truth
Author: Lauryn Dominique
ALL DISCLAIMERS IN PART I, EXCEPT THIS ONE: Since we all love Krycek
sooo much, I gave him his arm back.
X X X
Skinner awoke to the feel of cold metal against his temple. A growl
materialized from the darkness. "Get up. Now. Don't fuck with me or
your brains will be all over the carpet."
"A-Agent Mulder? What-" A sharp blow to the underside of his throat
cut him off and he retched convulsively, falling out of the bed, legs
and torso tangled in the constricting sheets.
"I told you to fucking get up. That's what happens when you don't
obey. Now lay still, on your stomach, and if you fucking try to move, I
will break your goddamn neck." Skinner did as told, passively rolling
over. The haze of sleep had dissipated with the pain thumping in his
throat, and fear crawled into his stomach despite his efforts to keep it
at bay. Had Mulder gone insane? He listened to the low mutterings and
cursings emanating from the man above him- they were utter nonsense.
Mulder was obviously not himself; what had come over him? And what
could he possibly want from his former boss?
Mulder's heart was pounding as he jerked the last knot into place.
Skinner was firmly tied up- his legs and arms separately joined, then
lashed to each other, rendering him absolutely helpless in the face of
Mulder's madness. Sighing with satisfaction, Mulder placed two fingers
on the underside of his wrist, frowned, and reached into his bag for his
pills. Smiling at the little red and white jewels, he swallowed three
with relish and sat back, admiring his work. Skinner's breathing had
grown shallow and his eyes were still closed, his head turned away from
his captor.
"Don't look so upset, sir. I just wanted to ask you a few questions,
'sall." Mulder's voice was no longer cutting; the drugs had quickly
sanded his edged tone down to a smooth, honeyed curve. He leaned in
close to the AD lying prone on the floor. "Why was I removed from the
X-Files department? Who was on that committee? Was it youÉ you
*fucking* double-crosser?" Anger flooded him suddenly and he gave
Skinner a vicious kick to the kidneys, eliciting a groan. "Answer me!"
"A-" He had trouble speaking with the flashes of pain in his body.
"Agent Mulder- Mulder, you have been grievously mislead- someone has
misinformed you on that decision. I cannot tell you who was on that
committee, but rest assured I fought for the reinstatement of you and
Agent Scully on the X-Files." He felt a twinge of conscience, but
ignored it. He had to lie- telling the truth would cost him his life.
If he told Mulder the truth, and Krycek saw a vengeful Mulder heading
his way, he'd flick that switch and those black demons in his blood
would make short work of him. Skinner was sure that his apartment was
bugged anyways- he could be dead in seconds if the crucial words left
his lips. "I tried- I knew you how much you- and Scully- wanted the
X-Files. I didn't betray your trust!" His last words came out sounding
a little too desperate in his own ears.
Mulder thoughtfully pondered these words, eyes darting from his
prisoner's face down to his hands unconsciously twisting in his lap.
His eyebrow twitched with irritation; his head was a little foggy. He
reached for his bag and the saving dust inside. Heedless of Skinner's
incredulous look, he snorted his precious powder and rocked back on his
heels, closing his eyes. His head achieved a shaky equilibrium; he
sneezed twice and fixed his glittering eyes on his captive again.
"I don't believe you." A heavy pause. "But I *want* to believe." He
smirked at the irony of his statement. "Tell me one more time what
happened. If you lie-" Mulder brought his knife up to Skinner's neck
so that the cool metal of the sharpened blade stroked his sweat-slicked
skin. "- it will be the last lie you ever tell me, asshole."
Skinner's mind raced. Mulder would undoubtedly kill him if he repeated
what he'd said a moment ago- the man might be high, but he wasn't
stupid. That knife would slash across his throat without remorse;
Mulder would be a murderer, and Skinner himself would be dead. Was
Krycek's safety and blackmail protection worth that offering? His eyes
slitted at the thought of that bastard laughing over his dead body and
Mulder's inevitable imprisonment in jail. No, he had to inform Mulder
of the identity of his betrayer. But the box wouldÉ *no*. Screw him.
He couldn't think of himself now. Mulder had trusted him, and look what
he'd become. A senseless speed fiend whose only goal was to regain a
past full of pain, betrayed by everyone he trusted- including his boss.
Screw the consequences. Mulder's life- and Scully's sanity- hinged on
this truth. If it was a suicidal act to tell the truth, at least the
person who heard it would justify the sacrifice ten times over. Truth
or no, Skinner knew he would end up dead. At least the utterance of the
truth would give his death a purpose.
Suddenly, his mind snapped back to his present predicament- something
sharp had opened his throat. Blood ran down his neckÉ
X X X
Something wet? Tickling her lip. Scully flicked her tongue out, and
tasted blood. Confused, she moved to wipe it away with her hand, and
discovered herself bound. Her head jerked up, eyes wide and taking in
her situation. Spread-eagled and still dressed, she was tied to the
bedposts in her darkened bedroom. She had no remembrance of how she got
there, but her knee was throbbing and her brain pounded against the back
of her eyes, berating her for drinking and putting her temple in the
path of a blunt object moving at high velocity. Wait, whatÉ who had hit
her?
A low laugh reached her ears, and her head whirled around face her
attacker, an indignant question on the tip of her tongue. But no sound
came from her lips. She tried to speak again, but her effort couldn't
even earn a whisper. The muscles of her larynx stayed limp and
unresponsive to her demands. Her brow furrowed, and then spread as her
eyes widened. A figure was approaching her out of the shadows.
Krycek. The light fell onto his sneering face, and she instinctively
spat. He laughed again. "A pleasure to see you, Agent Scully. Cat got
your tongue?" He sat beside her on the bed, and reached to stroke her
face. "Can't have you screaming, now, can we? Don't worry, the shot's
effect won't be permanent. You will *eventually* regain your voice."
Fear snapped in her head like a coiled spring violently released. The
pounding radiating through her brain was driving her insane, and being
tied up only exacerbated the rising feeling of despair. Snarling like a
caged animal, she lunged out to bite his hand.
He jerked away, and surprise crossed his face before he carefully put
his cool mask of indifference back into place. "Oh, I see. You're
going the hard way. It's a pity about AD Skinner and Agent Mulder,
though."
That time, she was the surprised one. Aloof demeanor forgotten, she
begged with her expression for an explanation. Krycek didn't disappoint
her. He continued with a sickening smile.
"I think, Agent Scully, that you have underestimated your Agent Mulder.
He may be hopelessly addicted to drugs, but he *is* persistent. He is
currently, ah, *speaking* with AD Skinner about what he considers a
grave crime against the integrity of Mr. Skinner's work. I hope he
doesn't get too upset over what Skinner did to him- after all, everyone
makes their choices."
Scully's stomach lurched. Mulder had been insanely furious when he
left- was that anger directed at Skinner? Surely Skinner had nothing to
do with the shady workings of that committee. Mulder wasn't himself-
she could testify to his complete personality U-turn. He still loved
her, but he had soured; the only way he could see in his twisted reality
to prove his love was to single-handedly rip apart the committee's veil
of secrecy and the conspiracy against the two of them. No distance was
too far for him to travel, she realized. What would he do in an attempt
to save them both? Krycek's nauseating purr cut her off from her
disturbing thoughts.
"Agent Scully- can I call you Dana?- how *are* you doing? You and
Mulder don't seem to be as- *happy* as you were a few months ago. You
can tell me- what happened? Did the magic fade?" He tapped her bedside
table, and gave her a mockingly sympathetic look. Her gut turned with
the realization. 'He's got a bug in this roomÉ.' A gleeful grin
appeared on his face as her complexion paled visibly. "I can't convey
enough my sympathy over your loss- is that why you two have been so
moody lately?" He easily avoided her attempt to strike out at him.
Nonchalantly, he glanced at his watch, and inclined his head. Scully
caught sight of a small device in his ear. "Sounds like it's getting a
little heated at Skinner's placeÉ"
X X X
He wasn't dead. But if Mulder kept up this slashing business, he
wouldn't live much longer. His mouth and throat were filled with a
sticky, metallic-tasting fluid, and he gagged and spit. He had to say
something before Mulder went at it again. "Mulder!"
Mulder was transfixed by the bloody edge of the knife slanted against
Skinner's heaving throat. Fascinated by the crimson flow, the fingers
of his free hand traced the pattern of blood in the air around Skinner's
neck. His breathing had sped up, and his pupils were large and deep,
staring at his handiwork. He snapped out of his trance at the plea from
Skinner. The contempt returned to his features. "What is it? Tell me
the truth."
"It's- it's Krycek. That bastard blackmailed me. My blood condition-
he has control of those tiny machines. You have to stop him- ugghhm!"
Skinner's whole body levitated off the floor with pain. Every muscle
stood out in his neck and chest. The blood flowed faster from his
wound, now tinged with blue-black stains. "Aaaghk-" he was choking; he
couldn't form the words. Another spasm struck him full force, and
Mulder stared incredulously as his captive's skin turned from pale brown
to a rich, pulsating black.
X X X
Krycek's eyes had widened to dark saucers at the sound of his name
rasped from Skinner's throat over the tiny microphone. "That
motherfucking-" he hadn't finished his oath before twisting the dial on
the box attached to his belt. "I hope Skinner thought that was worth
it."
Despite remains of the alcohol binge crusted over her mind, Scully's
thoughts had cleared enough to remember a hospital, and Skinner in it,
with a strange disease that turned his blood blackÉ she would have
gasped if her vocal cords hadn't been useless. Krycek! He had control
over those tiny carbonizing machines, and he was going to kill Skinner!
Mulder- Mulder was there- he'd be blamed. Everything was going to
hell. A sudden burst of fear flooded her with adrenaline, and she
almost launched herself off the bed. Krycek startled at her violent
movement, yanking himself to his feet. A thoughtful look creased his
brow as he sat back down, scheming. He caught the quick flash of pain
that cut across her face.
"Oh, your knee. Somehow I think it was twisted after you opened the
door to let me in. Knees are tricky things- you fall on them the wrong
way, andÉ but I digress." He inched closer, the heaviness of his
presence almost inducing a gag response in her. "DanaÉ I think you know
what's happening. And it's good that you've figured this out, because
that's what the F.B.I. *used* to pay you for. Dana-" his voice dropped
dangerously, "what are you willing to do to save Mulder's life? Huh?"
To the confusion of his captive, he inched closer, dropping his voice to
a murmur and his hands to her body. Watching his finger run almost
carelessly along the neckline of her blouse, he smoothly questioned
her. "Is he worth it? Would you do it if it would save his life? You
might enjoy it-" he leered at her openly. "After all, I know it's been
awhile for youÉ." His mouth hovered inches from her ear. His tongue
flicked out and over her jawline as his other hand slid to her stomach.
Scully almost threw up. She moaned deep in her throat, her stomach
violently churning at the thought of having to make this decision. 'I
have to save Mulder- he can't be wanted for murderÉ but oh God, please
just save us, me, him, pleaseÉ' her head whipped back and forth on the
pillow, trying to rid herself of Krycek chasing her mouth with his. He
had shifted his body to hover over her.
"C'mon, Dana, I'll be good to you- I don't mind that you're out of
practice, I bet you're still a good screwÉ ow!- You *whore*!" He pulled
away suddenly from her mouth, cradling his bleeding lip. She had
managed to fasten her teeth onto the pursuing mouth and rip the tender
flesh. He growled, and backhanded her across the face. Her whole body
shifted over, and shook with silent whimpers. "That's it. You're
taking it now- all bets are off."
Scully heard his zipper yanked down moments before her own was ripped
open, along with her belt. His hot, grasping hand reached inside her
pants and tore away her panties. Both her pants and underwear came down
to her knees at the same time he swung himself atop her tiny, shaking
body. Brutally, he swung at her face with both fists, stunning her into
a frozen stillness within her restraints. Satisfied with her momentary
submission, he reared over her and forced his way in.
X X X
Pain. That's all my mind could register. Close, stifling agony. I
had squeezed my eyes shut after I first felt his fists on my face, and
they stayed shut to the horrible scene unfolding on top of me, until I
heard his voice and felt the gun to my head. "Open your eyes, Dana."
The steel pressed to my temple had nothing on the coldness of his tone.
I opened my eyes.
His face was twisted, grimacing with the effort of slamming his body
into mine. Every brutal thrust into my soft insides ripped me open,
exposing my raw emotions to the harsh light of an evil truth. I had
been abandoned. God was gone, Mulder was gone- all that remained was
the pain in this hell. My body was viciously torn from my mind, the
sacrilege of rape destroying my frail grasp on myself. His body hovered
right over me, his presence suffocating. My mouth opened and closed in
silent screams- not a sound could I make. Every scream, every cry,
every plea rebounded in my own head, only for my own ears to hear. I
sobbed silently for mercy, but no one could hear me. No one cared.
He was laughing the entire time. My dry lips cracked with every effort
to make noise; the strain on my facial muscles almost paralyzed my jaw
but I didn't care. Sadistically he rammed me over and over. I could
feel my sensitized flesh ripping under his savage abuse. Everything
throbbed and I couldn't make it stop, I couldn't shut him out, I was
frozen in excruciating agony like a deer with its throat slashed open.
His mouth came down on mine, foul and hot, stealing my breath away.
There was no way I could turn or twist to rid my body of him. I could
tell he was near to a release by the way he sped up in his cruel torture
of my body, my soulÉ he came suddenly into me, bathing my insides with a
scalding shame. My eyes shut again when I felt the gun drop from my
bloodied temple, and I grasped for a blissful oblivion, praying for a
blessing in the form of death.
X X X
Krycek caught his breath and stared contemptuously at the woman
silently weeping under him. Casually swinging his leg over her
shuddering body, he reached onto his belt and flicked the box's knob.
"That's your reward, Dana. You weren't half bad after all." He sneered
and dug into his pocket while his eyes searched the room. Satisfied at
the lack of any incriminating evidence, aside from the sobbing form on
the bed, he flipped the offering out of his pocket onto the sheet near
her face, damp with sweat and tears. Scully's ears caught the rustle of
paper and she opened her eyes. Krycek winked at her as he zipped his
fly. "Keep the change."
He cut her bonds and walked out the door, his back to her incredulous
stare. With a sudden vicious swipe, she knocked the five-dollar bill
that he'd left her to the floor, and collapsed into the fetal position,
drained of energy. That last barb on top of the aftermath of her ordeal
had left her without enough energy even to cry. The front door slammed
shut; Krycek had disappeared again, never to return.
X X X
END OF PART III
X X X
Title: Gethsemane IV- The Futile Crusade
Author: Lauryn Dominique
ALL DISCLAIMERS IN PART I
X X X
Mulder had watched, helpless, as Skinner had thrashed around on the
floor in obvious agony. The tiny machines in his blood were ruthlessly
destroying him right before Mulder's eyes, and the experience of
watching a man slowly die in restraints tied by his own hands had
cleared his mind quickly. There was nothing that he could do to
alleviate his friend's pain- any efforts he made to combat the black
enemy were futile. In the throes of another fit of spasms, Skinner had
begun to gasp out prayers- to God, to his mother, even to the man by his
side. Mulder was frozen with acute fear at witnessing the breakdown of
the man who had always stood like a rock over him, never showing a chink
in his armor or a crack in his fortress. Terrified that Skinner would
die and leave him to be the assumed murderer, Mulder had struggled to
make his body get up and flee, but his remaining integrity and
conscience forced him to kneel at Skinner's side, waiting out each
terrible fit. His friend was condemned to death for revealing the
truth, and Mulder's last dregs of honor refused to release him to
cowardly flight.
Without warning, the holocaust in Skinner's body ended. The last moan
floated from his exhausted body as he relaxed enough to lie flat on the
carpet. His heart was pounding to an irregular rhythm, the blood moved
sluggishly if at all through his body, and his lungs struggled to get
enough air to keep him on the near side of consciousness. But he was
still alive. When he had mustered enough strength, Skinner opened his
bloodshot eyes and sought Mulder's tortured hazel ones.
"Krycek- he's let me live. Unngh-" his body's aftershocks warned him
to rest before exerting himself any more, but the urgency of the
situation begged for a warning to Mulder. "I don't know what he's
planning, but he must have heard me expose him." A disturbing thought
nagged his spent mind, and he fought to convey this misgiving to
Mulder. "He tried to ruin you and Scully by using me; he wouldn't leave
without knowing that he'd succeeded first."
Mulder's mind had raced ahead. "I- I left her alone at her apartment.
She was drinking heavilyÉ" His mouth narrowed into a razor-thin line,
and he began throwing his things back into the duffel bag. Skinner
cleared his throat, and Mulder stopped momentarily to ask hesitantly,
"Are youÉ going to press charges?"
"ÉNo. You weren't yourself. But Agent Mulder-" Mulder's jaw
clenched. "Just take care of her, all right? I know you're struggling,
but she must feel the same way."
Without another word, a stone-faced Mulder cut Skinner's bonds. Before
Skinner had even gotten up off the floor, he was out the door. A minute
later, Skinner heard a car start noisily and its tires squealed as it
peeled away from the curb. He quickly thanked anyone who was listening
for saving his life twice over that night.
X X X
Mulder opened the bedroom door gently. He had searched the rest of the
apartment, taking care to check every hiding place. Krycek, if he'd
been there, had left. His concern now was that Scully was okay. Upon
seeing her apparently asleep on the bed, he relaxed visibly. He'd just
check her over before going to sleep; he was exhausted from a day or
more without sleep, and the activity of the drugs in his system had
faded with time and stress.
As he crossed the room to her side of the bed, a bad feeling rose in
his stomach. She was curled up in a fetal position- very unusual for
her sleeping pattern. Her breathing wasn't as slow and regular as it
appeared from farther away- she would take a few quick gasps of air,
then not breathe at all for a few seconds. Her hair was matted to her
forehead, and the area on the bed around her face was stained darker.
His foot stepped on something that made a crinkling noise. Momentarily
distracted, he reached down and picked up the five-dollar bill.
Puzzled, his eyes rose back up to the bed- and caught the ruined pants
and underwear. Her white panties were stained with blood, and each of
her limbs had a sheet tied to it.
Horror drained the color from his face, and his eyes traveled up her
shuddering body, until they reached her head. Her face was bruised
black and blue from Krycek's vicious blows. His mouth opened and
closed, without making any more sound than she had half an hour ago. A
wave of self-revulsion hit him at the same time as the guilt. 'I left
her alone- he was able to get in andÉ' his mind refused to acknowledge
the brutal truth. Instead he moved his hand to touch her arm; was she
even conscious?
At his touch, her eyes sprang open. Her bright blue eyes stared at
him, a stark contrast to the surrounding bruised skin. A harsh guttural
noise broke from her throat, and her eyes glazed over with fear. She
struggled away from his hand awkwardly, making a pitiful effort not to
jostle her lower body. Her eyes were feral and scared as she watched
him.
X X X
Oh my God. No please not her, God no. I was the one who- she was-
no! Oh, not Scully, no. My mind snapped like a rubber band. I
couldn't grasp this. That motherfucking *dog* had *raped* her. He tied
her to the bed, and forced her- FUCK! I was devastated. I had rashly
hunted down an innocent man, and she had faced the consequences, bound
and helplessÉ and alone. I'm going to kill that bastard. I'm going to
cut off everything I can before I carve out his stomach andÉ but not
now. She needs help now.
I moved closer, to untie the knotted sheets around her wrists, but she
jerked away again. I remembered my last words to her, and how I'd been
acting, and my body froze in mid-reach. I had pushed her to the edge,
and my last act of selfishness had allowed the catalyst to finish the
job. She would never trust me again. That was it. A cold truth
slapped me across the face. I had just ruined both of our lives. This
was her lasting reward for having loved me- destruction of mind,
desecration of body. I hated myself. I had to get out of there- find
Krycek, small steps to make it close to all right. My mind fixated on
that- yes, maybe if I found him, I could somehow atone for this. For
what I had allowed to happen to her, my Scully. The tears came, but I
wiped them angrily. I had no right to cry- she couldn't even shed tears
right now. I would find him, slaughter him, come back- and try to pick
up the pieces. That was my best hope now.
Without venturing any closer to her, I grabbed a blanket off of the
chair in the corner, and gently tossed it over her. She let me do that
before she tucked her head into her arms and stomach to hide herself.
The tears started down my cheeks again before I got out the door.
X X X
Scully lifted her heavy head after she heard the door slam. She
coughed twice and shifted- her throat still throbbed from the muscle
relaxant shot, and every bone in her body ached from the physical abuse,
but her heart hurt more than anything else she could feel. Mulder had
left her. Again.
When something had first touched her, she had instinctively moved away
in self-defense. It could have been her tormentor back to hurt her
again. Even when the terrible haze cleared from her brain, she wasn't
sure that it was Mulder who was really there. He hadn't been there when
she'd needed him- how did she know her ravaged mind wasn't playing
tricks on her? Move toward him, and his features would fade and twist
until he became- Krycek, or Donnie Pfaster, or Duane BarryÉ no. She
wasn't going to take any chances this time.
But then he had cried. Mulder only cried when someone he loved was
dead or dying; with those tears, she knew it was him. Her heart nearly
broke at the thought of what he was seeing when he looked at her. She
could almost empathize with him- she knew how he would absorb the
remorse for Krycek's act, how he would make the crime his own. His
sense of loyalty and profound guilt would torture him no end. She
almost managed to reach out to him, to just take his hand and let him
know that she wasn't all gone.
But the look on his face stopped her. His mouth had set, his eyes
slitted, and he threw a blanket over her and walked out. He was
disgusted with her, at her. She was a repulsive creature to him-
weakened, broken in spirit and body. His reaction was the final
verdict: she had failed to be strong. She had lost her head to alcohol
and self-pity, and this was her penance, her punishment. She *deserved*
this. Her common sense fought this, telling her that it was never the
victim's fault, but she ruthlessly cut down the opposition to her
convictions. How could it be anyone else's fault? She was drunk, and
had put herself in danger. Now she had to survive on her own, without
Mulder's support. He had made his decision to leave, and she had to
live with that. Despite the knowledge that her own weaknesses had been
my downfall, she started to cry again. Still in tears, she remembered
the scotch that she had hoarded under the bed. Alcohol had always
numbed the pain before; she hoped that this time wouldn't be the first
exception to the rule.
X X X
END OF PART IV
X X X
Title: Gethsemane V- The Agony And Betrayal
Author: Lauryn Dominique
ALL DISCLAIMERS IN PART I
X X X
Mulder angrily pushed through the front door and headed straight for the
bedroom. His heart thumped crazily against his ribs, feeding off the
recent dose of speed. After an hour of fighting exhaustion to find that
rat bastard, he'd desperately craved more powder to fuel his mad quest.
Of course, he couldn't deny his spent body anything that would aid in
his search. He barely noticed the clothes and bottles strewn all over
the floor around the entrance. As soon as he stepped inside the room
though, he nearly tripped over a small lump on the carpet.
"What the fuck?É Is that you? Get the hell off the floor!" He was
furious at his failure to find his adversary, and still in an alternate
state of consciousness from the drugs tainting his blood. Every memory
of her brutal rape had left his head during his frantic combing of city
streets for Krycek, leaving only the drug-induced rage and self-hate.
The little body on the floor didn't stir, and for a second he was
worried. 'She finally did itÉI knew her liver couldn't handle all that
alcoholÉ.' He bent down, and the smell of her breath and clothes
assailed his heightened senses from more than a foot away. His concern
turned to disgust.
"Are you drunk? What the hell are you doing on the fucking floor? Get
up and into bed if you can't stay fucking sober! Jesus, you stupid- How
much did you fucking drink? Bitch! Can you hear me?" His voice was
raw and hoarse with yelling. 'She smells like a fucking whorehouse,' he
thought. He yanked her off the floor and started ripping her clothes
off. When he was in college and one of his friends binge drank, the
other guys would throw him in the shower to take care of the smell and
the state of unconsciousness. In case of the excessive alcohol causing
sickness the dorm wouldn't smell like puke, either.
He barged into the bathroom, stumbled around for the light, and managed
to relieve her of her last layer of clothing. She was still cold to the
touch, but breathing now. He was about to fling her into the shower
stall and turn on the cold water full blast when he remembered her
knee. There was no way she could support herself. 'Shit, she'll
probably drown or somethingÉ.'
He set her down firmly and stripped naked, careful not to catch the
mirror's reflection of either of them. He had hated mirrors for some
time now- the effortless way that they exposed all the truths he was
trying to hide cowed him. The starkness of a mirror's image revealed
his emaciated body, his sunken and reddened eyes, his hunched posture.
He snorted cynically at the way both of them must look- an alcoholic and
a speed freak, bare and vulnerable to all the forces that ruined them.
In spite of his contempt, his eyes ran over her body. Her skin was an
unhealthy pale white, almost translucent. It used to be fair- a
complementing contrast to his now-yellowed golden brown complexion. The
red fire of her hair had faded to a lackluster sandy brown; only shadows
of copper remained. She had lost a lot of weightÉ he felt like shit
just looking at her. Ghosts of her former image crept into his head.
He steeled himself against the weakness of memory and angrily stood up.
No regrets. He started the shower and dragged her in with him.
Scully drifted into consciousness, wondering why the hell she was
getting wet. 'Maybe I fell asleep in the bath. Am I drowning?' Her
mind was calmly amused at the thought of dying. She felt strong arms
lift her face and neck up to a spray of water, which promptly flooded
her nose. She coughed and struggled, suddenly panicked, but her throes
were stilled by a harsh voice.
"Stop it! I'm trying to clean you up, dammit. You passed out again.
How much did you drink this time? I can't leave you alone, can I?" The
accusations were punctuated with a forceful shake.
Oh right. Well, maybe she hadn't drowned. Her pride shook off the
numbing effects of too much alcohol and answered him. "Let me go, you
asshole. I don't need your hel-" she was cut off as he let go and she
collapsed painfully, landing on the floor of the shower.
"Yes, you do. You can't even stand up on your own with that goddamn
crippled knee. Just fucking let me wash you off, and then I promise
I'll never fucking touch you again. Don't think I even want to be doing
this-" he roughly yanked her to her feet, "I have plans of my own for
this evening. So don't act like touching you is a privilege."
She stiffened in response, but still she passively let him manipulate
her body so that she was bathed all over in the hot spray. If she
closed her eyes, she could imagine that she was floating of her own free
will; just relaxing and levitating in the shower. Her muscles slowly
uncoiled and she let out a little sigh.
The delicate noise of her self-involved pleasure reached his ears,
seemingly louder and clearer than the sound of the water around both of
them. He himself was not totally conscious- the last twenty-four hours
had brought no sleep; no matter what he snorted or swallowed, his body
wouldn't unwind from its tensely coiled state. His head felt huge, and
his limbs a little heavy, like his blood wasn't circulating through his
extremities quite right. He shook his head quickly, and reached for the
soap. He began moving the scented bar over her skin, once every now and
then swiping over his body when he remembered that he probably needed a
good cleaning, too.
After a few minutes of scrubbing, she no longer smelled like a cheap
bar, and he was considerably less tense. His muscles loosened their
steely grip under her arms, causing her to lean up against him for
continued support. Without a conscious thought of resistance in his
head, he slumped against the side of the stall, their close physical
proximity bringing dusty memories to light. His cock grew hard against
her back, and he murmured her name once. It was strange, to form her
real name after so many times making it come out as an epithet or an
obscenity. "ScullyÉ"
'Did he just call me Scully?' she wondered drowsily. She hadn't heard
him call her anything but a bitch and a whore for the last few months,
it seemed like. She wanted to cry. Was this maybe a small step in the
long healing process? Could they perhaps salvage something from the
wreckage of their relationship?
Her name came from his lips again, sealing her thoughts in place. She
softened at the hesitancy in his tone and turned slowly around, lifting
her face up to see him. His stern appearance, tempered by months of
hard work and suffering, persisted as a gleam in his eyes, but the edge
on his features had yielded to a look that was almost familiar.
"Mulder-" Her tone was low but it gained strength. "Mulder." Her eyes
held his.
Oh God, those eyes! He couldn't control himself any longer- the blood
pounded in his head faster, whipping into a frenzy his already
heightened senses. Everything crashed down on him- how she'd felt under
him when they last made love months and months ago, how she smelled, the
shape of her lips when she said his name. *His* name, not asshole or
bastard; just Mulder. The ties binding his sanity snapped violently
under the barrage of reminiscence, unable to withstand the painful
memories.
He lunged at her mouth, catching her lips between his and forced his
tongue in, his body's long-denied frustration taking control of his
conscious mind. She was so soft, so real, and he couldn't get the fix
fast enough. His body pinned her to the wall of the shower, his cock
thrusting erratically against her small frame, sensation alone urging
him on. So good...
Scully cried out into his mouth. Her traumatized mind flashed painful
memories of her last forced sexual experience as she was crushed against
the wall of the shower, water running over her face and into her mouth.
Krycek's image flooded her brain, his laughter echoed in her ears, and
she tried to scream, but it was swallowed by Mulder's mouth on hers. He
wasn't waiting for her, he hadn't let her open up to him; he'd become a
mindless slave to primal desire and dangerous frustration. There was
nothing she could do to stop this onslaught and that staggering
realization only made her struggle harder against fate.
"Oh!" She managed a small sobbing noise as he pushed himself inside of
her, his chin came down onto the crown of her head, his cheek crushed up
against the wall, and he began moving roughly and jerkily in and out.
She hadn't had hardly any time to heal from Krycek's abuse; neither her
body nor her mind was ready for another cruel attack. She began to cry,
between sobs gulping enough breath to cry out to him, to try to talk-
"MulderÉ oh JesusÉ oh God, stop it! Stop! Oh God- oh God, stop,
pleaseÉ." She dissolved into tears and tried to struggle away, but he
was so much bigger than she was. Her eyes screwed shut and her body's
desperate roar of resistance filled her ears, pleading for the torture
to stop before she spilt in two.
Mulder's eyes closed tightly and his ears were deaf to her sobs and
tears as he pumped faster and harder, slamming himself into her, his
body intent only on release. He lost all touch with his conscious mind,
the drugs commanding his body to just find releaseÉ. He came with a
grunt, great jerks provoking him to make the last few strokes, before he
pulled out abruptly and leaned back to fall against the opposite wall
for support. Half consciously he watched his seed drip down her legs,
feeling himself go limp. Finally satiated with the satisfaction of
release, he let his eyes wander up her body. His eyes met her face and
froze in shock.
Her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes whose memory he had just been
fucking, were closed against him and his cruel violation of her body,
squeezed shut around the tears that were still falling and streaking her
face. A red flush of shame covered her skin, and her whole body was
shaking uncontrollably. Without any support for her knee, she was
slowly sliding down the shower wall, quivering with the quiet sobs she
refused to fully release. She finally reached the ground, and hugged
her shaking legs to her chest, visibly gathering herself in for
protection against the destruction wreaked on her battered mind and
soul.
Horrified tears filled his eyes at the realization of what he had just
done. At that moment he wanted to die. "*Fuck*-" the word left his
mind a scream and came out a tortured whisper. Her head snapped up and
those eyes pinned him. Vindictive and red-rimmed with fear, they blazed
with hatred. A white-hot, all-engulfing hatred that made him catch his
breath.
"Scully-" His body tried to shake the paralysis induced by the
confusion of the drugs in his system and the cutting glare she was
leveling at him. His mind was shorting like a radio submerged in water,
random sounds hitting his ears and clashing with noise of their erratic
breathing echoing around the shower.
If anything, the hate intensified to supernatural proportions. "Don'tÉ
fuckingÉ touchÉ me." The words were strangled and her voice was twisted
with rage. "Don't you everÉ everÉ ever.. fucking think of touching me
ever again, you motherÉ fuckingÉ BASTARD!" She built up momentum until
she was screaming at him in a full-on hysterical fury. All of her
aggression and frustration and fear had exploded in her chest and the
fallout was erupting from her mouth in curses and obscenities hurled at
the man now crouching before her. "Cock-sucking, sonofabitch
cunt-licking dog! You- FUCK!" She flung herself out of the shower,
flooding the floor and managing to slide on her stomach to the hallway
door.
Mulder sat stunned for a few moments where he'd sunk to the floor,
struggling to clear his mind of the revulsion at his act and the ensuing
self-hatred. He needed to help her before he drowned helplessly in his
feelings. Finally, he noticed her trying to rise up and stumble to her
bed. He scrambled to his feet, slipping like an unsteady toddler, and
tried to help her; catching her under the arms, he lifted her toward the
bed gently. He was rewarded with an elbow in his side and a string of
sobbed curses.
"Don't FUCKING touch me-" she started to cry again and flung herself
on the bed, quickly scurrying to the side away from him. "I HATE you!
I never, NEVER want to feel you near me, orÉ inÉ" she couldn't choke
out the words, "m-me again! I will fucking RIP you apart! I will kill
myself before I EVER let you touch me again!" She was almost incoherent
with rage and wild tears and her screams had reached the highest pitch
that she could sustain. She collapsed, sobbing out her heart into the
pillow.
Mulder crept out of the bedroom, his heart a cold, deadened lump in his
chest. Each of her muffled cries into the pillow stabbed like a knife
in his stomach. He slowly laid himself down on the couch, eyes wide
open and staring at nothing, feeling the blackness yawn open to swallow
him whole.
X X X
END OF PART V
X X X
Title: Gethsemane VI- Absolution Through A Sacrifice
Author: Lauryn Dominique
ALL DISCLAIMERS IN PART ONE
X X X
The air, stained black with deepest night, rested its weight on my
forehead, pushing thoughts out of the way. Emotions and memories
drowned my mind in a collage of images. Scully crying in my protecting
arms, bandaging my wounds, staring down the shaking gun in my hand while
backing toward the fire alarm, saving my life, sleeping in a hospital
curled around the only daughter she would ever know. My hand softly
wiping away a spot of barbecue sauce, hair from her face, a near-death
in a gymnasium shower, visiting her in her hospital bed; the visions
drifted like stormclouds in front of my closed eyes with ever-quickening
speeds and furious intensity. My racing heartbeat set the fevered
cadence for the ghastly procession. One after the other they mocked me
silently, stirring old thoughts and remembrances into a hurricane that
threatened to swallow me whole.
The surrounding mosaic became my entire life, the illustration of a
lifetime of love and pain intertwined as lovers- and it slammed into me
with the force of a tidal wave, millions of ghosts maliciously provoking
my confusion and panic. Every painful beat of my heart in my chest
became a physical blow, violently knocking me down with another instant
in time thrust into cognizance. Scully in all her beauty, her radiance,
the truth laid before me as I had never seen it- love in her eyes, her
voice, her touches. Then all I could see was her face- every day I had
known her was playing like a movie over my mind's eye. The flashing
pictures began to show jagged cracks at the edges, one after the other
fragmenting. Spiderweb fractures crept insidiously from all sides into
every frame, defiling my memories of her. Each of my mind's photos in
the montage yellowed under my gaze, her face fading in a shapeless gray
mass, her eyes blackening into pitch and all humanity drained from her
countenance.
My resolve snapped and I started to cry without opening my eyes,
paralyzed with horror but unable to let the scenes dissolve. Her face
had become demonic, the monstrosity there reflecting what lay inside my
own soul. What I saw was now a mirror image of myself, taunting me with
this newest truth until I could take no more. My eyes swelled out of
their lids, opening to face the darkness that surrounded me and I gulped
in huge breaths of the cool black air, straining to relieve the pressure
in my lungs. I lay there for endless minutes, picking up the scattered
pieces of my sanity strewn about my head.
I began to think; I forced my mind to face my heinous crimes.
I had let my quest for the truth become my entire life. I had lied,
hurt my friends, almost killed another human being, and, above all other
evil deeds, I had raped Scully. I had sunk to the lowest level possible
for a creature that called itself human. I betrayed her body, her love,
her trust, her soul. I violated everything sacred that we had ever
shared. I hated myself for what I had become: an insane maniac, driven
by an insidious passion, misguided by the false promises of small
truths. I had strayed from the divine path of love; the soul had fled
my body long before Scully was lying subjugated under me in that
shower. For months now my love had been something twisted, depraved in
its own indignant illusion of benevolence. My utter devotion to her
became a venom, spread by the bite of a snake, a loathsome serpent that
I myself had created and set loose on an innocent.
Through all this despair the answer came, borne by tiny filaments of
thought through the chaos of my mind. Its calm simplicity stunned me
into momentary lifelessnessÉ. If I loved her, why couldn't I give her
another chance? Fate had yet to carry out its plans; perhaps the final
step was mine to execute. Modell had failed, Puppet fell a foot short
of his goal, even the Smoking Man hadn't been able to claim my life.
But how could the essence of the blood running through my veins resist
the will of the body it sustained? *I* wanted to die. The gift of my
life had become a burden; not just to me, but also to her. She was the
only one I lived for, and that fact had become an ironic paradox. Why
in the name of God should I live, having wronged her so? I had looked
into her eyes; her soul was as dead as mine, but perhaps my sacrifice
would call loudly enough to the heavens that her life would be
restored. Absolved of the stain of my love, she would rise from the
ashes, a veritable phoenix to avenge the anger and suffering
contributing to her downfall. The ending of my life to revive hers.
Renewed by my vow to rid the world of the hideous plague that I
personified mind, heart, and soul, I made my way into the bathroom and
locked the door. The wraiths howled outside, but the promise of my
impending death cleansed the room and they remained shut out of the
inner sanctum. My last moments, in deference to my sacrifice, would be
peaceful, unattended by the furies and vengeful ghosts clamoring
outside.
X X X
Scully lay numb on the bed, wet and bleeding. Her flesh slowly turned
to stone, every muscle relaxed as in the first stage of death. The life
drained drop by drop from her limbs, the salvaged streams ran in
rivulets to a deep basin contained in her chest. Her mind flickered
out. Free for the moment, her spirit wandered the fathoms of her own
tortured subconscious.
X X X
I could see a lot from there. It was just me, all by my lonesome,
clothed in the last shreds of my sanity. I'd come to the edge of a
reflecting pool, and as I peered into the endless depths, I came to the
startling realization that the still pond was me. My flight from the
cruelties of reality had brought me to the hidden caverns in my mind,
the bottomless caves of my unconscious. I was looking into my own
soul. Everything I had managed to save drained into this lake. I
cupped my hands and drew some of the black water up. I wanted to see
what there was left of me; what I would be if I woke up.
Mulder's face was reflected in the water I held; he was staring back at
me. His eyes shimmered, every color swirled deep in his irises.
Instantly the memory of hate bubbled up in my chest, and simultaneously
the black lake began to boil angrily. His apparition showed the guilt
of the crime; he knew the sin he was charged with. I experienced
nothing but a scalding burn in my heart- the hatred of this man was
eating me alive. But I also felt a weak tugging on my mind; in some
darkened corner of my soul there was a huddled creature begging my
attention. I whirled around in the direction of its whimpers, still
cradling his liquid face in my hands.
There was nothing there, but when I looked into the mirror of my palms,
he was smiling up at me. The creature was love. In some dark hole of
my mind, there still thrived a love that could never cease to live. He
still loved me. And I knew that in that deep recess, despite his
transgressions and misguided acts, I still possessed love for him, too.
No. *No*. I shook my head angrily to clear it, wanted to wipe what I
knew was a forgiving look off my face. What was I doing? Was that how
love changed me? It made me weak, so starved for affection that even
the most base violation perpetrated by the only one I ever completely
trusted meant nothing? I couldn't be weak. I spent the last six years
of my life sacrificing my compassion, my tenderness, my human desires to
the faceless god that then gave in return materials to build a fortress
around myself. The steep price I paid for that protection made me that
much stronger, fierce and bent on self-preservation in a world that
wanted to bring me to my knees. In the last twenty-four hours, my whole
reality was shattered first by the power of hate, then by the blight of
love gone hideously wrong. I was a survivor, and a survivor lives. In
the weakest sense of the word, I was living. Survival itself demands
that the body and soul of the one who survives take on any form to
simply live through what may come. I may have been a crushed, broken
shell of my former self, but I was going to live. My pride demanded
that I hate him as much as was humanly possible for a person to despise
another.
In the midst of my all-consuming rage Mulder whispered to me, his voice
reaching through my haze of pain and anguish. His pleas were coming
from the vision still flickering in my cupped hands. I looked at him
again, and realization slowly dawned, its fresh light scattering the
grim clouds in my head. His face told me what I desperately, truly
wanted to know: there was still a second chance for us. The course of
nature would separate the cold, detached soul from the one that does
excruciating penance to its personal demons, but I knew better than to
just blindly accept a spoon-fed truth. When we worked together, our
purpose was to uncover truths on our own. All these things that had
befallen me had changed my surface, but could not alter the true
elemental being of the woman beneath. I was not destroyed, and neither
was he; we had merely been stripped to our bare souls.
My lips dipped to ripple his forehead, his eyes, his mouth, and I drank
deeply from the elixir I held in the cup of my hands. The spirit I
inhabited sank back into the lake, melting into oblivion. My
consciousness broke into a million parts under the surface of the black
water, and life seeped back into my comatose human form from the
contents of the hidden pool.
X X X
The razor's silvery plane caught the light, reflecting most of it, but
still some of the energy was trapped within the sharp tool. It sparkled
with a secret evil, coquettishly winking at him and drawing closer to
his wrist. He was powerless to stop its descent, and could only watch
as it kissed deeply his pale skin.
How could any part of him appear so innocent? The delicate veins were
inlaid like streams of lapis in this small patch of baby-smooth flesh,
barely pulsing but still vibrantly alive. He watched entranced as blood
ran at a frightening pace out of his body, over his hand, onto his
knee. Red, crimson, and vermilion, tinged with purple- every shade of a
rainbow's first color bathed him in his own life. Giddy with wonder, he
marveled at the spirituality of suicide. All of his life, he had been
dirty, covered with the filthy film of sin. The letting of his blood
was finally cleaning away the layers of dirt on his soul.
His mind wandered back to the recipient of his offering. Would she
receive the benefits of his sacrifice? Remembering the hollow way her
eyes had stared from their sockets, her body's shrinking from his touch,
the curses she'd hurled at him after he'd raped her, he felt sure of his
choice. Her life was worth more than his pitiful offering, but the
weight of his death as penance could tip the scales in her favor. Like
the removal of a gangrenous limb, the complete erasure of him from her
spirit would be cleansing and healthy.
He slashed his other wrist with resolve, and a dreamy smile crept over
his face. His blood dripped from his hands onto the tiled floor,
creating a patina around his curled form.
X X X
Scully made her way slowly to the bathroom, crawling down the hall.
She hadn't eaten anything for what felt like days, and every muscle
screamed in protest when she moved. She felt filthy, used; she needed a
shower to clear her head and heart. Grasping the handle of the door,
she tried to turn it. It refused to give way. She rattled it a few
times, confused. A small noise, like a sigh, drifted out from under the
bathroom door. "Mulder?"
He was surprised at the gentleness in her voice. At the first jiggle
of the handle, he'd expected the fury of hell to descend on him again as
she discovered her tormentor lingering in her apartment. Her forgiving
tone softened him to speak. "I'm in here, Scully. You can't come in
right now. I don't really think you should come in." Blood pooled
around his legs, under his hands clasped in his lap. His head lay on
his knees, his back up against the space between the door and the side
of the tub.
"Mulder? I- I don't want to take back what I said. But we need to-
talk. Mulder? Are you listening?" Something about the flatness of his
tone worried her. He was doing something- wrong in there. She knocked
on the door again, premonitions of fear making her movements precise and
brusque. Her head dipped as she pressed her ear against the door, and a
dark stain on the hallway carpet caught her eye. Blood? From the
bathroom? "Mulder! There's blood on the carpet- what are you doing?"
"I'm doing- it for you, Scully. You're religious, your religion knows
the meaning of a- sacrifice." His voice was fading out, like he was
moving farther and farther away from the door. "Let's think of it as aÉ
healing process- for you." A small moan slipped out, and he ceased to
speak.
"Mulder?" Panic rose and tightened the muscles in her throat. She
banged on the door now, but there was no answer. "Mulder! Don't- do
anything!" She gingerly shifted her weight to kneel against the
doorjamb. What could she do? "Let me in, Mulder!" A soft click was
her only answer. She anxiously pushed open the door and all but fell
into the bathroom, stumbling over his legs, which had stretched out when
he'd slumped down the wall.
Speechless, she stared at the blood surrounding him, her medically
detached mind coolly informing her that his wrists were the source. Her
eyes met his, which were half-closed and sleepy. He answered her
unspoken question. "I'm going to die, Scully." His voice belied the
pain he felt at seeing her face fall with his confession. She noticed
that he was already wilting like a dying flower, limbs spread out, head
falling to the side. Biting back a sob, she moved closer to cradle his
head, slipping an arm around his shoulder.
"NoÉ no you're not. You won't. Come hereÉ come here!" She made a
pathetically futile effort to drag him into a sitting position, finally
giving up when she realized he wasn't trying to move. She grabbed a
towel that had been sitting on the tub, and tried desperately to staunch
his wounds. Words tumbled out of her mouth as she blotted up his blood,
refusing to acknowledge the uselessness of her actions. "Why? WhatÉ
what were you- why? I didn't want- no, Mulder, please! WhyÉ why?" She
was babbling, speaking just to hear herself, convince herself that this
wasn't a silent, evil dream. This wasn't supposed to happen.
He made a pleading noise in his throat, and she stopped her frantic
movements. "Let me die, Scully." A weak smile rested on his face, and
he lifted a reddened hand to wipe her tears. His own face was streaked
with trails of salt, but he was done crying. At his touch, she
shuddered violently and pulled him into the cradle of her spread legs,
his back against her chest. She rocked him, humming and shaking her
head, eyes closed tight. He tried again, knowing that she didn't want
to hear what he was saying, for once she didn't want the truth. "I want
to die, Scully. Just let me go. This is for you; don't hurt yourself.
I'm doing this for you."
His gentle pleas for death crawled through the heavy air into her ears,
and spread a fire of helplessness over every nerve in her body. She
knew, she knew his fate and hers, and she didn't want to know. Her
throat burned with tears, and she began to weep, each tear dropping onto
his face. She squeezed him tighter to her body as he slowly melted in
between her legs; his body melding into hers as she held him to her
chest, leaning against the door. His blood still flowed like a river,
but now it covered both of them.
"Why?" she croaked into his neck. Her breath ruffled his hair. "I
don't hate you, Mulder. I saw you inside of me, with me, and we both
knew I still loved you. I never stopped, it was just, just- the fear,
the fear of being totally bared to another person, and the people that
we became, Mulder, those people- it wasn't real, it wasn't us." She
hung on to him, lacing her fingers with his, willing him to believe, one
last time, in a hope that she knew could never rise to defy the
inevitable truth of death. Maybe prolonging it would be enough. "I
don't want you to go- I know you are, but I just can't..." Her tears
came faster as she choked up, the tiny drops searing his face like fire
where they fell. "Mulder..."
She stopped when she heard his breath catch, ragged against the tears
rising into his eyes. He spoke, and her heart broke at the pain in his
voice, the shards rose to build a dam in her throat.
"I'm glad you know that, Scully. I never, never wanted to hurt you-"
he coughed, remembering her cries in the shower, and the tears collected
into a river, mixing into the blood on his face. "I want you to live.
If it was too much for you to love me, then that's all I have left to
hope for. Your life, not mine. It's- your life. That's what you told
me. I owe you everything, and it's time to pay off the debt." He
tipped his head to drink in the sight of her face, and hoped that where
he was headed, there might be some divine being in her likeness. A red
haze clouded the space of his vision, leaving intact only the sight of
his weeping Scully, his soul incarnate. The dizzying quicksand pulled
him under, dulling the pain- no more blood in his body to lose. A
languor swept over his body. "ScullyÉ. I love you, Scully. Always."
His eyes conveyed every last feeling his words failed to bare to her
before the warm hazel of their centers deepened to ebony with the color
of a passing soul, and a deep slumber descended to close his lids. She
watched, unmoving, unable to breathe, as his head nodded against her
breast and his body bled its last drops away in her embrace. Eyes
clamped suddenly shut in an attempt to block the pain, she fought the
internal struggle to pin herself down, to keep her own soul from tearing
itself apart just to follow him; the combat shattered her last tenuous
grasp. "Mulder, noÉ" The deepest black agony blossomed like a bomb in
her chest; she shook uncontrollably from the emotional equivalent of a
sun exploding in her heart. "No, Mulder...."
X X X
My heart had stopped. Shock numbed every cell in my body- all of me
stood motionless in sudden mourning of the broken man in my arms. A
gulping sob caught in my throat, the harsh noise echoing off the
bathroom tiles. I hesitantly moved my hand from his up to touch his
face, scared that he would wake up, frightened that he wouldn't. He
didn't move the slightest bit when I stroked his cheek; there was no
response to the pressure I applied with both hands to the sides of his
face. The only movement was the rustle of his hair where my breath
stirred it. His brow had smoothed out its furrows, like a field blessed
with rain after a long drought. His weight pressed into my body,
pinning me.... This couldn't be it, reality had turned itself inside
out, there was nothing real about this, the blood....
"Mulder? MulderÉ MulllderrrÉ" I howled once, the animal sound boucing
around the room and filling my ears before I could suppress my rising
insanity. Denial gripped me in an iron fist. Not him. No. Not here,
not this, not the blood, *no*! After everything Mulder had seen, had
suffered, he wouldn't just slit his wrists- had I driven him to it? My
mind struggled away from this blasphemy, knowing it would kill me to
think I had been the source of his fatal despair. My insides wrenched
themselves into pieces; however I turned to escape, I knew the truth,
but no part of me wanted to share in the knowledge that I had driven him
to destroy himself. I almost screamed, but I held back my frustrated
self-loathing and began to cry again, instead. It was easier to just
release tears for his death than to face the truth. I *had* been the
cause of his death. Loving me had ruined him, this brilliant, beautiful
man. My love itself was a deadly poison, destruction was its
brother-in-arms. My MulderÉ a low keening moan started deep in my
chest, building in power until it towered as screams, wails; anything to
relieve the terrible burden on my heart, breaking anew.
I only stopped to breathe; the world ceased its spinning once air was
squeezed into my lungs. I willed the rising flood of devastation out of
my ears, my throat, my mouth, giving myself life in the pulling in of
air even as I wished for death... and the razor caught my eye. It
flashed itself at me one time, showing hints of its power now
strengthened with the adornment of his dark life-fluids. Wickedly, it
reflected an image of my face, streaked with tears for the man whose
blood nearly covered me. It mocked me; it knew my sinsÉ but it also
offered help. An end to suffering. A way to follow him. Just two
cuts, deep furrows like plows in a fertile field. Less than a minute,
and then eternal rest. I would only have toÉno! I wouldn't- I
couldn't! Didn't he say he was a sacrifice? That I was to go on
because he loved me more than life itselfÉ that most recent memory was a
painful spear in my heart. I couldn't hide from the truth any longer.
He *did* die for me. I had killed him. I had refused to let him into
my heart, fearing that I'd be vulnerable, and that lack of complete
trust drove him over the edge. The cost of my pride was embodied in the
lifeless, bloody man I held to my heart.
My decision was made. I swore my loyalty to him long ago, and as my
father's daughter, I would never renege on an oath. Slowly, but with
sure hands, I unhooked the cross from my neck. Slipping out from behind
him to kneel at his side, I laid it over his stilled throat, letting the
gold chain run in a shimmering caress over the gentle slope of his
collarbone before fastening it in place. He was the only true spirit I
had believed in; now he would wear the proof of a truth that transcended
mortality for the rest of our eternity. The tiny symbol of the deepest
love a human being could ever comprehend embedded itself in his neck,
nestled in the hollow where his heart used to pulse against the delicate
skin.
Tranquility slowed my breathing, soothed my heart, and gently grasped
my hand for guidance. Mulder was waiting for me- the inevitable pull of
a soul linked to mine led the razor clutched in my hand up to my
throat. A single, swift stroke, and the circle of the golden cross
around my neck was replaced with a gossamer red line. The delicate
thread grew into a gaping gash, and I felt the blood gush over my
collarbone, bathing my neck and chest in a warm silk. The strangely
soothing taste filled my throat and coated my tongue- odd to think that
it would be the last thing I experienced. I calmly watched a crimson
haze descend over the image of Mulder, blurring my vision into a dream.
My world narrowed to just his face, eyes closed and mouth relaxed in
eternal peace. When I could no longer hold myself upright, Mulder
cushioned my fall. Here would I breathe my last, in my eternal home;
next to his heart, where I had truly existed when he had lived.
I smiled. The promise of a respite from pain shed a soft light in front
of me. Stretching up to kiss him goodbye, I burrowed around his body,
blending into him, still warm from life not long departed, and twined my
fingers with his to complete our eternal embrace. I could almost feel
his soul, like a warm hand, caress my face in a loving welcome. Ashes
to ashes, dust to dust, and one soul follows the other through the
inferno, only because it knows what lies on the other side.
X X X
Scully's strength waned, and her body slowly relaxed to mold into
Mulder's lifeless form, her chin nestling into the valley of his neck
and shoulder. Her heart dully pounded its last beats against his still
chest. The last of her life seeped out of her wound, baptizing both of
them where they lay on the cold tile. Her breaths became weaker, until
they stopped with a sigh. Last thoughts drifted away like wisps of
clouds in a wind headed for the sea.
The two lovers, partners, friends and soulmates lay entwined on the
floor. Death had failed to separate them, and it could only watch as
the two souls, bathed in an ethereal light, encountered one another.
Rejoined at last, they headed together into the waking dawn of a final
rest and forgiveness for their earthly sins.
(X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X) (X)
Finis
1/5/99 to 3/20/99
buffrower@netscape.net
"When I think of normal, I think of mediocrity, and mediocrity scares
the fuck out of me." - Gillian Anderson
(
geocities.com/televisioncity/station) (
geocities.com/televisioncity)