From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 12 Aug 2002 16:48:29 -0000
Subject: "Alucinor" by Philiater by Keleka
Source: direct

Reply To: keleka@keleka.net


Alucinor
Author: Philiater
Category:  X-file, story, original character.
Rating: PG-13 to R for some unpleasant situations.  No sex
Disclaimer:  These characters are not mine.  CC and 1013 get that
happy duty
Feedback:  philiater1@yahoo.com
Thanks to everyone who always writes with encouragement and my beta
Keleka who perseveres. Thanks to CathGerm for additional beta help
too.

Alucinor, Latin. To wander in mind.  Basis for the word
hallucination. (From Stedman's Medical Dictionary)


*This is not my usual kind of story.  It's a little dark and nobody
sleeps with anybody else.*


************************************
 

The ugly little motel was the epitome of every bad joke about Texas.
It was in a part of the state that even tumbleweeds refused to visit,
and the pink neon vacancy sign out front glowed for no one except us.
The garish cowboy decoration seemed to be something Hollywood saw as
Texas, not the natives.  Even the boot lamps looked as if they'd been
purchased at the world's ugliest garage sale.

Everything was coated with a fine reddish dust from the wind that
never stopped blowing.  I listened to the air conditioner clunking
out its life inside the tiny room. Water from it dripped into a tin
pan with the steadiness of a Chinese water torture setup.  The man
who brought me here was checking the handcuffs again to be sure I was
securely fastened.  I was.

He was careful not to touch me for too long.  Someone must have told
him not to. I was used to that because I never allowed anyone to
touch me either. I couldn't help it. I couldn't change what I was
anymore than I could change the color of my eyes.  

I wasn't sure, but I thought he was government, or ex-government:
there was something about the way he moved and spoke. He reminded me
a little of the other FBI agent I'd met.

"I'm going out to make a phone call." He walked around the musty bed
I lay on, and bent over to appraise me.  His green eyes were
unsettling and I knew then that his story would be devastating to me.
Instinctively, I flinched when he reached forward to brush the hair
from my face.

Too late. The contact caused a swirl of unbidden images to tumble
into my mind.  I saw a forest, a campfire and men cutting me.  I
started screaming.

"Tunguska!!, Tunguska!" More words in a foreign language flowed out
of me as the blood did from my severed arm. I screamed in abject
terror, sightless now.

He recoiled in horror, breaking the contact and the images shut off
like a movie projector. It was just a few moments, but enough to
cause me unremitting pain.  Instinctively I curled into a fetal
position, willing the blackness to come.  When it did, I felt relief
at last.

************************************


I don't know how long I was out.  When I woke, he was watching me; a
big cat sitting in the corner while the setting sun lengthened the
shadows in the room.  He'd finally removed the baseball cap that
covered his dark hair.  He was handsome, even pretty.  I surveyed him
with the same wary detachment that he gave me. 

He stood up suddenly and crossed the short distance between us. 
Crouching in front of me, he fixed me with a curious look.

"What are you?"

I told him the truth. "I don't know."

He frowned at me as if considering the information, and stood up.  I
felt him reach behind me to the handcuffs, and I struggled with tight
fear.  I felt a gloved hand on the small of my back, and the sound of
a key turning in the lock.  He seemed to have figured out that skin-
to- skin contact with me was a dangerous proposition.

When the cuffs were removed, he allowed me to sit up and rub my sore
wrists.  There was food on a cracked table and he gestured for me
sit.  He retreated to the corner to watch again. I ate in silence,
waiting for him to make the next move, say the next word.

I put him into the tragic category.  All the people I had close
'contact' with fit into three broad categories: heroic, tragic, and
evil.  There was some over-lap of course, and I sensed he had shades
of the other two as well.  But the first contact always told the
broadest and most accurate story.  I wondered how such a pretty man
had come to this place in his life.

*********************************


I know how I got here. I made a mistake.  A brief, but almost fatal
mistake.

I was in a bank on a Friday during the busiest time of the day.  The
line was long, and I had only ten minutes during my lunch hour to
make the company's deposit.  The girl who normally did it was out
sick, and her supervisor had other errands to run. 

When he'd asked me to do him the favor, I almost balked.  It would
mean prolonged exposure to the 'public,' and the chances of brushing
against someone, or other personal contact, would be extremely high. 
I almost refused.  Almost.  In retrospect I most certainly should
have.

I was only two weeks away from setting up my own business at home,
using the internet as a contact point with the company.  I was going
to be a complete hermit, and would never need to leave my house
again. My groceries could be delivered, friendships developed in the
virtual world, and other businesses could take care of the lawn and
general maintenance.  It would be a vastly lonely existence, but one
born of necessity. 

When my turn came at last, I stepped up to the teller with the blue
bag in hand.  He was a mousy man who looked harried and timid.  My
gloved fingers signed the bank receipt, and I reached into my coat
pocket for the company receipt to be countersigned as well.  I had
difficulty with the buttoned flap and removed one glove to undo it.
Without thought, I handed the paper to the clerk, and for one brief
millisecond his index finger touched me.

An unbelievable torrent of horrific images played across my vision. 
Women tied up, tortured, and killed in hideous ways.  This man was a
serial killer, operating at home with impunity, and I had stumbled
into his dark fantasies.  My brain balked at the sensory overload,
and I fainted on the spot.

Later, there were random visions as paramedics and medical personnel
touched me.  I hadn't been able to distinguish between present
reality and the traumatic events of others that coalesced inside my
head.  I remembered telling everyone who came near me that the bank
clerk was a killer, and that I'd seen him commit murder. 

Initially, no one listened, but I started spouting names and places
I couldn't possibly have known about.  I remembered policemen showing
up and interrogating me in the hospital.  I supplied as much
information as I could, and when they left I lapsed back into a semi-
conscious state.

When I woke again, a tall brown-haired man, and a smaller red-haired
woman were standing next to my bed.

****************************

"I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder and this is Special Agent Dana Scully
from the FBI," he said by way of introduction.  I refused to take the
hand he offered.

"I don't like being touched."

"Yes, the doctors have told me. I understand you make everyone who
lays a hand on you wear gloves."  

Agent Mulder had mischievous eyes, but I saw sadness behind them. 
Touching him was definitely out. Agent Scully was more reserved.  She
hid herself well, and I couldn't see what lay behind her eyes. 

"Why are you here?"

They sat on the ugly vinyl chairs in my room.  I sensed they'd been
partners for a long time and spoke to each other in silent
communication. I'd never allowed myself to know anyone else so well. 
I envied them.

"We're investigating the Sample murders and your connection to
them."  Agent Scully's tone was soft, but professional.  I wondered
whether she'd had another career previous to this one.

"My connection?"  I was terrible at feigning ignorance.

This time the man spoke.  "Yes, Mr. David Sample.  The man you
accused of murdering twenty-two women."

"Twenty-two?"  I couldn't remember saying the exact number.  I
shuddered involuntarily as his memories came unbidden to my mind.

"It seems you convinced the police to investigate a bank teller, Mr.
David Sample.  When they went to his apartment to ask questions, they
found him dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.  They
also found evidence belonging to at least six women known missing
from the greater D.C. area."

I said nothing, absorbing the information and knowing what would
come next.

"There were maps and other information that led to a forest preserve
where the bodies of twenty-two women were unearthed."

I nodded.  "What do you want from me?  Do you think I had something
to do with the murders?"  That had always been my biggest fear. It
was common knowledge that people who supplied information from
'dreams' or 'visions' were immediately suspected of committing the
crimes themselves.

"No, we don't.  The police could find no connection between you and
the suspect.  In fact it appears the only contact you've had with him
was two days ago when you made the bank deposit.  What we'd like to
know is how you came up with so much detailed information.  Are you a
psychic?"

I looked at the woman.  She was skeptical.  Something told me she
didn't believe a word of it, especially the psychic bit.

"I'm not a psychic."

'Then what's your explanation?"

I looked away from them.  I did not want anyone to discover my so-
called abilities, and wasn't about to tell him now.

"I don't have one."

He thrust a picture of a woman with bleached-blond hair and pink
nail polish into my lap.  She was lying on her belly, hands and feet
tied with yellow nylon rope.  An ugly gash ran down her spine in the
shape of an 'S'.

The man was relentless, demanding an explanation.  "You described
this in extraordinary detail to the police.  How could you do that if
you hadn't seen it in person?"

I got out of bed, dropping the photograph on the floor.  I moved as
far away from him as I could.  I knew what he would try to do next.

"Get away from me.  Don't come near me!" Hysteria threatened to
bubble up and choke me.

He moved around the bed in pursuit.  I heard the woman say his name,
and try to restrain him.

I found myself screaming, ripping out the IVs and running for the
exit.  He caught me as the huge door lumbered open.  The palm of his
right hand made direct contact with my upper arm. 

I collapsed under the onslaught of terrifying images.  Men in black
suits, hazard suits, and creatures that didn't look like humans at
all cascaded from him.  A little girl with dark braids was screaming
for him, and he was screaming back.

"Samantha, Samantha!"  His words were mine, and I saw fear replace
the earnest expression on his face.  I don't think he expected a
personal 'reading' from me.

Agent Scully pried his hand loose and the images faded.  They hadn't
been powerful enough to knock me out, and I cried at the mournful
feelings still coursing through my body.  Doctors and nurses I didn't
recognize rushed in and the room became a mass of confused voices.

I retreated away from them into a corner, screaming that no one
touch me or come near me.  I picked up my breakfast tray and threw it
at a doctor making his way toward me.  Dr. Scully tried next,
speaking softly to me.  She'd donned latex gloves and I didn't pull
away when she reached for me. She may not believe I could 'see'
things, but she was willing to acquiesce to my need.

Despite her small size, she cleared the room and took charge of the
situation.  She helped me back into bed and put a bandage on my
bleeding arm.  There was an aura of calm around her, and I understood
why agent Mulder trusted her.

When she turned to go, I held her covered hand.

"Can you control him, keep him from trying to-touch me?" I asked
turning my head toward her sheepish partner.

She smiled ruefully. "I don't think anyone can completely control
Agent Mulder."

"But he trusts you, and listens to you?"  I felt a desperate hope
begin.  He believed me, and she could help.

"He trusts me, yes."

"Then can you take me out of here?"

*******************************

It took another day for them come back.  Agent Scully explained that
they'd had to file a report with their superior before returning.  I
think the two agents must have argued about me before coming in.
Agent Mulder said they wanted to take me back to the Bureau.

Their office was a riot of files, papers, and general chaos.  The
poster over Agent Mulder's desk helped explain the alien-looking
creatures I'd seen.  I stood in the middle, unsure of where I could
sit.

"Where's your desk?" I asked Agent Scully.  I saw her shoot him a
knowing look.  This had been discussed before.

"It's on order."

We were interrupted by the phone ringing.  Agent Scully answered it
immediately.  I saw a look of trepidation cross her face.

"Yes, sir.  I understand that, sir."

She must be speaking to her superior.  An angry superior.

I saw her look at Mulder.  "She's here with us now, sir.  Right
away, sir."

She hung up the phone with a reluctant sigh. "Skinner wants to see
us right away."

Agent Mulder looked wary.  "Now?"

"Now, Mulder.  He also wants to meet our guest."

The office they escorted me to was large, comfortable, and decidedly
masculine.  The man himself dwarfed me.  He barely spared me a glance
and ushered us in with haste.

"I want an explanation for why two of my agents checked a federal
witness out of the hospital today after creating havoc on the medical
staff the day before."

I watched him carefully.  He had a commanding presence, probably
military-trained.  He wasted no words, and probably did not suffer
fools easily.  Something told me Agent Mulder was a thorn 
in his side.

Before anyone could respond, I spoke up.  "I asked them to, sir."

I was sitting on the couch in the back, and he peered at me through
a set of gold rimmed glasses.  His dark eyes were hard, but I sensed
something else there; a sharp intelligence, but there was humanity
there, too."

"Why would you do that?"

"I trust Agent Scully." 

He shot her a glance.  She smiled awkwardly, and looked down to the
hands in her lap.  For a second, I saw affection in the look he gave
her.

"Yes, we all trust Agent Scully."

He hastily set his face back to restrained anger.  I found the
interplay between the three intriguing, and I wondered how well they
knew one another. Something seemed to sizzle just below the surface. 
Could both men be in love with her?

"Be that as it may, I don't think it was a good idea to take you out
of a protected environment."

"You think I'm crazy."  I made it a statement. I was sure the
agents' report was sitting on his desk.

He shifted uncomfortably, and I thought he was even more skeptical
than Agent Scully of my so-called abilities.  I stood up and walked
over to him.  He seemed severe, but perhaps his contact wouldn't be
so bad.  It would go a long way to help convince him.

I reached out to his enormous hand, stroking the back lightly with
my fingers.  He looked at me with undisguised irritation.  What was I
doing out of my seat?

I was instantly sorry I'd touched him.  Vivid images of war played
out between us.  I saw rice paddies, huts, and helicopters of an era
gone by. Vietnamese citizens ran screaming in terror at my approach,
and bombs exploded nearby.

Strangely I was unafraid; I was on a mission and the mission had to
be completed. I strode through the village with an imperious
attitude.  Find the enemy and destroy it.
Suddenly a bomb exploded too close, nearly severing the man next to
me in half.  Several of my men were also hit.

"Medic!"  I screamed.

The imagery faded as suddenly as it had begun. I stood looking at
Mr. Skinner.  He'd retreated far away, knocking his leather chair
over in the process.  He was breathing as heavily as I was, and
staring at me in horror.

It was the first contact I ever experienced that wasn't
unrelentingly painful.  The things I saw were terrible, but I sensed
no deep regret behind them.  Mr. Skinner was an undiluted heroic in
my small categorization, and I could see that he believed me now.

"Welcome to the club, sir." Agent Mulder had a knowing look in his
eye that told Skinner he'd been touched by me, too.

For his part, Mr. Skinner gathered his emotions together, and turned
his chair back upright.  By the time he sat down his features were
stony again.

"Please have a seat."  He gestured to the sofa behind me. 

"All right, Agent Mulder.  Just what do you have planned to do with
our guest?"

He looked at me and then at Agent Scully.  Whatever he had planned,
he didn't want me to know about it.

Mr. Skinner's assistant escorted me to the basement office again. 
It was quiet and I didn't think many people came down here. For me,
it was paradise.

He must have been waiting for me there, the green-eyed man.  I never
heard him approach.  One minute I was standing looking at the 'I want
to believe' poster and the next a chloroform saturated cloth was
pressed to my face.  Oblivion came quickly.

***************************

I picked at the food he'd given me.  I was too wary of his presence
to eat. If I'd been worried about what Agent Mulder had planned for
me, it couldn't come close to what this man had in mind.

"What are we waiting for?"  I asked him without looking up.

"We're waiting for a man." He walked to the window and looked out.

"A man?"  So, he was working for someone else. "What does he want
from me?"

His head snapped up and he walked over to the table.  "I don't think
you should worry about that."  He was trying to be threatening, but I
sensed a little fear behind the words.  He didn't know what they
would do with me either.

"Don't you care?"

"No."

"Do you care about anyone at all?"

"No."

"We're not so different then."

The curious look I'd seen earlier was back on his face.  He had to
see that I couldn't allow myself to be close to anyone, to care about
anyone either.

We were startled by a knock on the door. The green-eyed man opened
it and a cloud of smoke wafted over him.

"You sure took your time, old man."

"Alex, I assure you I came as soon as I could."

A silver-haired man with a cigarette clutched in yellowed fingers
walked in.  He was followed by an angry looking thug.  A bodyguard, I
assumed.

"I see you have our guest here as well."  His tones were deceptively
smooth, but he radiated pure evil.  If I touched this one, the images
would surely kill me.

I backed up instinctively as the smoking man approached. A lethal
smile crossed his face.

"Don't worry, my dear; I'm not going to touch you.  No need to
relive any bad memories, is there?"

"You read the report?"  My voice sounded tinny.

"Oh yes.  I know all about you.  You can be of great service to us. 
And to your country."

"You want me to join the Army?"

His laughter had a hollow ring to it. "No, my dear, nothing like
that. I represent a group of people who would like to study you, and
your abilities."

I looked at Alex who refused to meet my eyes.  "Study me?"

"Yes.  You see, the world is going to be a very different place in
the future.  Humans are going to need to use all their natural
talents to survive. I suspect you have a very special survival 
skill."

He gestured at the thug who moved toward me.  I tried to get away,
but he caught me easily.  I braced myself when his hand closed over
my wrist.

Nothing happened, nothing at all.  No images, feelings or language
emanated from this man. He was a complete blank to me. That had never
happened before.  Never.  My astonishment was overwhelming. I looked
at the hand on my wrist and then at the man it belonged to.  He was
alive wasn't he? 

"You see, you have a very valuable skill.  You can tell the
difference between a human and a non-human with a single touch."

Non-human.  Had I heard him correctly?

"I really must be going now.  You'll bring her to the rendezvous in
Arizona, won't you, Alex?  I'm leaving Mr. Rohrer here to make sure
there aren't any 'difficulties.'"

"What about my payment, old man?"

"You'll receive that when we receive your guest."

"No.  The agreement was for me to bring her HERE, not Arizona."

"Agreements change, Alex.  You know that."

"When you change your agreements, I wind up in missile silos."

"That was an unfortunate mistake, Alex.  I assure you that a silo is
not where you'll be."

While they were arguing, I edged around them toward the door. I was
hoping they were distracted enough that I could slip out behind them.
I actually made it through the door before I heard a shout. I ran
like a demon toward the motel's office.  Maybe I could find a phone,
or lock myself inside long enough to reach someone.

I was tackled from behind, landing face down in the graveled dust of
the motel's parking lot.  I could feel Alex's solid body on top of
mine, struggling to subdue me.  A jean- covered knee dug into my
back, and his prosthetic arm was braced across my upper shoulders. 
His gloved right hand easily pulled both of my arms behind me and the
sound of handcuffs snapped into place. With a grunt he hauled me to
my feet, and dragged my reluctant body back toward the room.

The faded door was already open, and I was shoved through without
ceremony. After slamming the door, he forcibly sat me on the bed. The
other two were gone; the only sound now was emanating from the
rickety air conditioner.  Alex's heavy breathing told of his anger.

"Stay right there."  His voice was strained, and I knew he would
take his rage against the smoking man out on me. We both spied the
brown envelope on the bed at the same time. On the outside was
scrawled 'half now and half in Arizona.'

Alex snatched up the envelope and pulled the cash out.  While he was
counting, I surveyed the room.  A nagging fear played across my
nerves.

"He's not here."

"What?"  Alex was distracted by the cash.

I persisted. "He said he'd leave the big man here."

He paused and studied the room too.  His body tensed at the
discovery.  Hastily stuffing the envelope in his pocket, he pulled me
to my feet.

"Come on.  We're getting out of here."

The next sound halted us both.

"Krycek!  We know you're in there."

"Mulder," I murmured.

Alex went to the window, and peered out through the rodeo-themed
curtains.

"Shit."

"You're surrounded, Krycek.  Give your self up.  Don't make this any
harder than it has to be."

There was no back way out, not even a window in the bathroom.  We
were stuck.

Alex hauled me up, pinning me against him with his prosthetic arm. 
His right hand produced a gun.  He hesitated for just a second,
regret lining his features. For the first time I was deeply afraid in
his presence. Then suddenly his pissed-off mask slid back into place.

"Come on.  We've got some people to meet."

He opened the door a crack.  Flashing red lights greeted us.

"I'm coming out.  I have her with me."

He opened the door further and placed the gun against my head.  His
heart was pounding so hard I could feel it through my back.  I was
nearly blinded by the headlights of the ranger cars that circled us.
In the middle I could just make out Agent Mulder and Agent Scully. 
Perhaps Mulder was an heroic after all.

Krycek pushed me forward, toward a dark, non-descript car near the
door.

"I'm leavin' and taking her with me. You make any moves at all and
she buys it."

"Come on, Krycek.  We're in the middle of nowhere.  You can't get
away.  Let her go."

"You must think I'm pretty stupid, Mulder.  Well, I'm not.  Stay
where you are.  I'm not bluffing."  To prove his point, he hit me
with the muzzle of the gun. I cried out in pain, seeing stars for a
moment.  He opened the driver's door.

"Krycek, you bastard."  Mulder sounded pissed.

What happened next took only seconds, but it seemed longer, drawn
out in agonizing slow motion.  I heard the crack of a gun and then
sudden pain in my chest.  A bullet had penetrated Alex's artificial
arm, and entered my chest.

My knees buckled and I couldn't breath.  Krycek let me fall and he
got into the car.  He roared away, spraying me with gravel in the
process.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw him fly across the open
field next to us, flattening scrub grass and weeds along the way. 
The Texas Rangers immediately pursued him, sirens blaring.

I lay on my back, gasping for breath.  Blood bubbled out of my lips.
I was going to die.  I'd had too many contacts with people who almost
died or died briefly not to recognize it.  Agent Scully came to my
side, her hands touching the bullet hole.

"Don't worry," she said "we'll get you to a hospital."

I'd never touched her before.  Out of everyone in the group, she
needed to know.  It would help her understand Mulder in a way that
nothing else could. With the last of my strength I grabbed her hand
and held on tight.

To my vast surprise, aliens were in the images that poured from her
too.  She'd been held by them, experimented on, subjected to hideous
acts.  I felt a deep emptiness within her that nothing could fill, as
if something had essential had been taken from her that could never
be replaced.

 The images faded and were replaced with a white light.  A tunnel
opened up between us, and an over-whelming sense of peace washed over
me.  It was every cliche about near-death experience I'd ever read.

I smiled.  The pain would go and never come back.  I was going to be
all right.  And then I felt nothing at all.

***************************



Prologue

Mulder rocked in his chair, staring at his collection of pencils in
the ceiling tile. He and Scully were due in Skinner's office to
report on the Texas incident.  It would not be pleasant.

He sat up and glanced over at Scully.  She'd been even more reserved
that usual since coming back.  He couldn't seem to kid her out of it.

His report left more questions than it answered.  He suspected the
anonymous tip they'd received had come from Krycek. It would be
typical behavior; playing one end off the other.  He couldn't prove
it though.  The voice had been electronically altered and
untraceable. Krycek had managed to elude the Rangers.

The bullet they'd removed from their witness didn't match any gun
used by the Rangers or any FBI present at the scene.  It appeared to
have come from a sharp shooter's gun.  He'd thought the smoking
bastard had probably been responsible. If he couldn't have her, no
one could.

Mulder closed his eyes and sighed.  The more he worked with people
like the witness, the less he understood any human motivation.  She
was the only purely innocent victim in this scenario.  He'd let her
down.

"Scully?"  She was staring into space.

"What---yes Mulder?"

"Are you ready?"

"Ready?"

He smiled.  "For our meeting with Assistant Director Skinner."

"Oh-yes."

"Are you okay?"

She smiled too.  "Yes, yes I am."

"What happened out there, between you two?"

He saw her hesitate, to try to put it into words, and fail.  "I
can't explain it, Mulder. I think she was trying to show me what it
was like to die."

"And did she?" he persisted.

She arched an eyebrow at him in response. "I think she actually
showed me what it was like to live, to truly be alive. I can't
explain it any better than that."

He smiled.  "Let's go upstairs."


End