From: "Patty R Hayes" Date: Sat, 9 Oct 1999 12:10:45 -0500 Subject: A Better World (1/3) by Olivia Severini Source: xff *************** I did not write this, I am posting it for a friend. All feedback can be sent to severini@atmos.ifa.rm.cnr.it or will be forwarded there. Thank you. *************** TITLE: A Better World 1/3 AUTHOR: Olivia Severini EMAIL ADDRESS: severini@atmos.ifa.rm.cnr.it DISCLAIMERS: They don't belong to me. I just borrowed them for a while. :) DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere; just drop me a note! SPOILER WARNING: Up to Biogenesis. Strong ones for Redux, Emily and Two Fathers/One Son. RATING: PG CONTENT WARNINGS: Post colonization story. CLASSIFICATION: X, S, A, UST SUMMARY: Scully's cancer is back and, in order to save her, Mulder has to travel back through time and find another chip. AUTHOR'S NOTE: English is not my first language, I just study it at school, so ... be good with me, okay? ;) And by the way, I do live for feedback. This one is for Patty. *********************** A Better World 1/2 Olivia Severini *********************** Resistance Secret Headquarters, December 2000. She was asleep. The doctor said they had to give her morphine to ease the pain that night. And he hadn't been there. Despite knowing that he could be of no use now, even with the risk of waking her, Mulder simply couldn't leave her room. Sitting at his chair near the bed, he suddenly realized he wasn't there for her. He was there because of his own damned selfishness. The truth was, he wanted to wake her. He knew how much she needed and deserved some rest, but he wanted her to awaken. And, almost as reading his thoughts, she opened her eyes. "Mulder." "Hey, girl." He sat on the edge of her bed, doing his best to make his smile credible. But Scully didn't smile back. "Are you okay? I was worried about you." "I had to leave for a couple of days." "I noticed." Even on her death-bed, he kept on worrying her. "I'm sorry", he whispered, "but I think I've found something." Scully closed her eyes. She just wanted him close. She had gotten too weak to play her old self. Everything had gone to hell and he was all she had left. "What?" "Never mind, I'll tell you later. You need some rest now." There was something in his voice Scully didn't like at all. "Mulder, what have you found?" Mulder diverted his eyes to a spot on the wall behind Scully's bed, nervously chewing on his lower lip. "You know that we stole the secret of temporal voyages from the aliens." He finally said. Scully narrowed her eyes, striving to focus her attention on Mulder's words. She felt sick. All she knew was that the Resistance was leading experiments. And that a couple of months ago a man had been lost in the space-time continuum. The thought that time voyages were possible was strange, but a lot of her scientific faiths had crumbled in the past year, so she was willing to accept this also. The world she knew had ended and her own life was near to follow it. Her science had lost, as well as the human race. "They need volunteers", Mulder kept on, "to go back before the colonization and gather information that will help us fight them." No. Not him. Not now. "That's one of the most stupid things I've heard from you. Mulder, they lost a man just few weeks ago. We still don't know enough about time or time travel, I mean, you could find yourself in ancient Egypt or ..." For a moment the old Scully had come back, but she could no longer afford her old passion. A sudden wave of nausea hit her, compelling her to drop her words and take some deep breaths. "Mulder, don't go. I've never asked anything of you before. But please, I don't want to die alone." "I won't let you die, Scully." Mulder had resolved not to tell her about the faint hope he nourished, he didn't want to deceive her; but neither could he let her believe that he was leaving her just to follow his own path once again. God knew how much he would have wanted to have the strength to resign himself, to finally let his grief and feelings go and just enjoy every second he had left with her. But as long as he knew there was still something left untried, he couldn't let go. "Mulder, stop fooling yourself. We both know there is nothing to do. Why can't you..." "I need just twelve hours." She shook her head sadly. "I want to enter the Department of Defense again and take another chip." He suddenly said. "I'll go back right before the aliens blew it up. Doug Scribner will give me his old ID that gives access to the fourth level. I just have to do what I did two years ago." "You will go anyway." It wasn't a question, it was a statement because Scully knew that nothing she could do or say would have the power to make him change his mind. The sky had crumbled to pieces and Mulder was still digging to find some relics of truth. But she wasn't like him, she didn't want to believe again. It hadn't been easy to convince herself that the word hope was meaningless; even in that stifling basement building where light failed to reach and there was no difference between day and night. Her family had been exterminated by aliens as well as the 80 percent of the human race and she herself was dying of cancer; but deep inside she knew that as long as Mulder was part of that dreary world, she would have been dangerously liable to hope. Why the hell was he doing this to her? Mulder nodded. "Yes, I will. Scully, I have to try." Silence fell over the small room. Mulder took Scully's hand and didn't leave it till she had fallen asleep. He spent the rest of the day with Scribner and the small team of scientists who was settling things for his voyage. After the Colonization a lot of the men who had survived had joined the Resistance and they lived in underground refuges that scattered all through the country, trying to build something capable to fight the aliens. But first and foremost, trying to survive. The time machine was nothing impressive. It resembled one of those gadgets for virtual-reality experiences the Lone Gunmen used to be crazy for. He didn't care to know how the device worked, how time could be manipulated although this would have interested him once. All that mattered now was that the past could give him a last hope to save Scully's life. Mulder also didn't care to betray the Resistance's trust using temporal-voyages for personal endings. He had no loyalty left; just a wide sea of rage and despair that was slowly swallowing him up. Scribner was the only one who knew. Once he had found out what the Consortium's real plans were, he had been subjected to Scully's same tests. He had recovered from cancer thanks to the same chip. But the bastards hadn't abducted him a second time to remove his chip as they had done with Scully, a year earlier. When Mulder had asked to be sent to the DOD in order to gather information, Scribner had understood everything. Mulder had threatened to kill him if he would have spoken, but the man said he was on his side. Scribner himself had grown very fond of Scully and it seemed he wanted her to live almost as bad as Mulder did. On other circumstances Mulder would have been almost jealous. "How is she?" Asked Scribner when the others couldn't hear him. Mulder shook his head. "Doug, I have to be back in twelve hours." Then, raising his eyes from the map of the DOD building Scribner had just given him, "I have to assume I won't find you there." He already knew he couldn't meet Scribner, that he couldn't change either his or the man's past. Because changing the past, he would have changed the future as well and they didn't know what the repercussions could be. The scientists believed it was the reason the lost man never returned. They believed he returned to a different future, a dimension created by the changes he had brought to the space-time continuum while in the past. "I'd already joined the Resistance by then." Of course Mulder couldn't sleep. He was to leave for October 1999 the next morning. In a few hours he would see the sky again, standing above the old world made of crappy motel rooms, theories to argue above and conspiracies to reveal. The world where Scully wasn't sick yet. They had taken her away again in December 1999. God, was it really just a year ago? The cancer had developed almost at once and the doctors of the Resistance headquarters had been able to do little for her. They hadn't enough medical structures or drugs to try a therapy. As her usual self, Scully had done her best to be strong; but the last months had been a nightmare and now she spent her days laying in that bleak small room. She slept most of the time and they probably would've given her more painkillers, but Mulder decided to check her room all the same. Just to see if she was okay. She wasn't okay. The place was dark and all he could see was Scully's back shivering. He had to take a deep breath before entering the room. "Scully?" Scully squeezed her eyes, burning of tears. She didn't want him to see her crying that way. And she wasn't in the right mood to speak. Maybe if she laid still, he could believe she was sleeping. "Please, leave me alone." His voice was a little more than a whisper. "Does it hurt?" "Not so much. Mulder, it's late." For a moment she was afraid that he would leave and she would never see him again. They couldn't leave like this, but she hadn't the strength to fight. Her head ached so bad. "I just wanted to say goodbye. I leave tomorrow at dawn." "Try not to do anything stupid. And send a postcard." Her voice was low and tired. And she didn't turn to look at him. For a moment, Mulder felt his determination fading. "Scully, I will be back. If you still trust me ... I won't leave you. But I have to try. I don't know, maybe I'm doing this for me, to silence my broken conscience. I've never been able to do something for the others. I was blind and selfish and I'm probably still so. " Then, after a long pause, "I'm so sorry." The tears now flowed free down her cheeks. "Don't go." She wanted to say something more, to say that she was sorry too. And scared. Scared to feel so vulnerable, scared because, in spite of all, she didn't want to die. She needed some release to the tide of fear pressing inside, but once again the words didn't come out and she had to set her lips to choke sobs. Why the hell did hope have to hurt so much? She almost hated him for allowing her to have hope again. "Scully, I ..." "Don't leave me alone tonight." The tension was still tangible, but they had both made an effort to voice their feelings. Mulder sat awkwardly on the usual chair in front of the bed, taking her hand and squeezing it tight. Dawn found them so. He had been watching her the whole time. Musing about life. And time. Just a few years ago the idea of temporal voyages seemed a dream holding countless possibilities. Now that dream had come true, but it had proved to be almost useful. The past can't be changed. You are the living proof of each single step you have taken. He could turn back and prevent Duane Barry from taking her, but somewhere in a time that would have no longer belonged to him, there would have always been this Scully, his Scully, dying alone in a world where man had lost. Okay, the past is past and the present is nothing but the last fragment of the past. But what about the future? It wasn't possible to go forth in time, and that seemed to prove that there wasn't a future already waiting for us. That free will existed. That you can fight the future. That was the meaning of the word hope, the reason why he had to try. Maybe it was a desperate enterprise, but he hadn't failed yet. Scully didn't hear Mulder leave. She'd slept of a thick dreamless sleep, the kind of rest which painkillers allow. She would have wanted to talk with him till morning, saying all the things that needed to be said from a long time, and she hadn't been able to tell him goodbye either. Now he was gone. Scully knew that he truly intended to come back, but she was also aware of the possibility that a single, unwilling change could condemn him to a different reality. Even if she wasn't sure it would have been a punishment for him. He had poor chances of happiness in this world, so ... what right did she have to blame him if he would have chosen another road? She wanted him to be happy, but her weakest side, a side that was dangerously spreading lately, couldn't help wanting him back as soon as possible. It was ten past seven. She had no way to know how long ago Mulder had left her room, but somehow she felt that he was no longer there. Scully was just gathering the strength to leave her bed to see what was going on, when Scribner peered cautiously through her door. "You awake?" "How is Mulder?" She asked propping up against the pillow. The man took a couple of steps toward her as his lean face stretched into one of his sad smiles. "He's okay. We took him back to October '99 successfully." Scully took a deep breath. They couldn't check people during time voyages, they were just going to re-open the passage when established, hoping to bring him back. There won't have been news from him till that moment. "I was bringing you a book that perhaps you haven't read yet." Added Scribner handing her an old book of a French writer she'd never heard of before. Scribner had brought a lot of books with him and Scully believed she had read all of them already. Forced in a place without tv, phone and windows, she had become a greedy reader. Scully shifted her eyes from the book to the man's face. "Thank you, Doug." "You're welcome." A moment later she was alone again. October 1999 Mulder couldn't help sitting on a bench a few blocks away from his target. It was a mild morning and from time to time the sky was crossed by swift clouds. Everything was just like he remembered it in his best dreams. Not perfection; but life, possibility, noises, wind. Always busy to pity himself, he had scorned these things too often; and now that he was able to appreciate them, they had lost their meaning. That world no longer belonged to him. It was supposed to be the 5th of October, but finding a newspaper, Mulder found out that his friends had made their first mistake. It was the 10th of October and he had just a few hours before the aliens would take control of the Department of Defense. That meant that the building would already be full with aliens. His proverbial luck. He remembered that day very well. He'd heard the news through Scully, who had received a phone call from Skinner. Still then, she refused to use the word 'Aliens'. They were just terrorists, or at best people dealing with the Consortium. They'd had another harsh quarrel, he'd explained to her what Smoking Man and Kurtzweil had told him about the colonization, and when she had still refused to believe, he had left the room slamming the door. The following days they had barely talked to each other. Then the DOD building was destroyed with more than two hundred of innocent people inside. Once again, they were together when the news had spread. Scully had closed her eyes and took a deep trembling breath. Her stubbornness and hardness had been aggravatingly increasing from the reopening of the X-Files, but now he saw how it was just her way to fight against that spreading irrationality, her desperate effort to keep their world together. Then the nightmare had begun. The aliens had even taken the White House, it was like a scene from the movie Independence Day. Only this wasn't a movie where the good always win. Millions of men had been killed, enslaved or abducted. They had taken Scully, held her for an endless week and then threw her away on a roadside in the middle of the night. Afterwards, she hadn't uttered a word for two days, till she crumbled and broke down. She remembered everything that time, she knew they had removed her chip and knew what the consequences would have been. She'd cried and cried and cried and he'd held her tightly, whispering that they would get through this, that they were stronger than this. He never knew if she'd really believed him that night, believed his lies; but she'd relied upon him, finally letting part of her fears and weaknesses come to surface. She was already ill when they had joined the Resistance. They were as close as they'd ever been before, but no happiness was allowed to them. His mom had died and they had not even come in time to save Scully's family. They had succeeded in flying to San Diego through countless dangers, just to find out that Mrs. Scully, Charles and Bill's family had been already taken. Scully, once again, sought refuge in his arms and they had shared their first kiss. A sweet, light brush of lips he will have never forgotten. He wasn't so insensitive to take advantage of that tragedy, she was as shattered and vulnerable as he'd ever seen her before and he knew he could have been easily taken the next step, but that would have meant betraying her trust. They remained the same since that day, half friends, half lovers. During their trip back from Miramar her condition had gotten worse and she'd gotten to their underground refuge burning with fever. Afterwards, they had slept in the same bed, but it had always been after one of her nightmares, when she woke up in the middle of the night calling out names of people that were no longer with her. Mulder could sense her need to feel his presence to assure her that he wasn't going to leave her too, but he could also perceive how that new physical closeness somehow scared her. In his favor, there was to say that he had always behaved as a perfect gentleman. Or a perfect friend. But he was living the past again. It was time to work for what could still be. December 2000 She could no longer read. Her temples had started throbbing again and the pages had become blurred. Sighing deeply, Scully closed the book and switched the lamp off. The book was just one of those serial stories of young rich ladies who fall in love with penniless poor men, but it was good to distract her for a while. The emergency lights on the corridor were always on, so her room was never dark, even at night. All day, that same cold neon light. God, she hated that place. If it was dark, she could have at least pretended to be in her old bed, in her old apartment. But that suffused light excluded any self delusion. Turning her back to the door, Scully closed her eyes, fancying to wake up with Mulder at her side again. But sleep didn't claim her for a long time. Scribner's ID had worked. No one had stopped him. No one had noticed that he wasn't who he claimed to be. There were three floors left to get to Level Four, but he got to it unnoticed. The whole building was in an odd hurry and Mulder wondered whether that state of rush wasn't helping him after all. He knew that many of the people he crossed were aliens, but the chances they would have recognized him were very poor. They probably were too busy trying to hide their presence to care about him and they couldn't know all the faces of the DOD's employees anyway. He just hadn't to betray his fear. These were more or less Mulder's thoughts as, for the second time in his life, he used a fake ID to open the door of the last hope he had left. End of part one ***************************************************** Feedback greatly appreciated. Please, I'm just a stupid Italian girl! ;) And thanks for reading. :) ***************************************************** *************** I did not write this, I am posting it for a friend. All feedback can be sent to severini@atmos.ifa.rm.cnr.it or will be forwarded there. Thank you. *************** TITLE: A Better World 2/3 AUTHOR: Olivia Severini EMAIL ADDRESS: *************** Time cognition slid away little by little. She didn't know how long she'd been there, lost in reveries. Time just began flowing in a different way, like a river carrying driftwood taken from banks already crossed. The stories her dad used to tell her when, as a little girl, she was in bed with a cold ... Emily's huge eyes ... the case when they had pretended to be a married couple. Rob and Laura, she smiled into her pillow as she remembered. She had enjoyed so much those few twinkles of normal life . You just want to play house, Mulder had accused her then. He was right; all she would have wanted was to stay like that for ever; teasing him about his way to squeeze toothpaste tubes. And the hell with the truth. Relics from her past combined with relics from futures that will never be into a meaningless and useless whole. Perhaps she was traveling through time herself. Or perhaps she was just dying. He had the chip. It had almost been too easy, it was right where it had to be. Same shelf, same box. And, as he remembered, there was still a vial left. He was already sneaking away with his precious spoil, when an unexpected meeting of a small group of conspirators along an empty corridor forced Mulder to stay hidden in a dark room for more than an hour. They were just outside his door, so that he could hear a good part of their conversation. Everything was planned. They knew they were going to seize the building when there was a lot of people inside. It wasn't a symbolic action; they wanted to kill as many people as possible. How could he, knowing everything, just turn his back and wait for his temporal passage to re-open? He had to choose between Scully's life and that of hundreds of people. It wasn't easy for his conscience to believe that all this had already happened, those people were already dead. It was so hard because he knew it wasn't altogether true. No one had actually come back to prove it, but it was common opinion that the past could be changed. The obstacle was to accept that someone could be both alive and dead at the same time, but the doubt that he could do anything to save these lives was strong. It was already 4 pm when Scully woke up again. She felt a little better and her head was relatively clear. She had been thinking about Mulder right before falling asleep, but just now she realized she didn't know exactly when he was supposed to come back. He'd said he would have left at dawn, but when there isn't a sun the idea of dawn becomes pretty vague. What if he'd left at four a.m. and was right to be brought back? What if the door had already been re-opened and he hadn't come back? Right then, she glimpsed Scribner passing by through the glass of her door. Leaving the bed as quick as she could, she went to the door just to see his back turning left at the end of the narrow corridor. Without knowing why, Scully began to follow him. Why was he so eager to help them anyway? The question crossed Scully's mind almost against her will. It was ridiculous, she was becoming as much a paranoiac as Mulder. Doug Scribner was a friend. He had always been kind with her, sometimes even kinder than Mulder himself ... It was silly of her to even doubt him. The atrocities she had been through had left a deep mark in her; they had taken her innocence away, sharpening her, bringing her to trust no one but Mulder. Why was Doug so eager to help them? Sometimes she wondered whether her caring for Mulder, if her love, hadn't something insane or morbid in it. It wasn't easy to keep one's balance in that hell. But when Scribner gingerly entered the area where time experiments were lead, Scully wondered whether some paranoia couldn't be helpful in certain cases. He could have saved a lot of human lives. Maybe it was worth trying, but he was to ignore it. He had to trample over his conscience, over common sense. Mulder would have lived with this burden too, but he was more than willing to kill what was left of his humanity if that was the price to save Scully. All he had to do was close his mind and heart for a while and stay there in the darkness, waiting to be brought back to her. Poking her face in the door, Scully saw Scribner taking a note from his pocket and slope over one of the many computers which occupied the central desk. He was bypassing the surveillance systems and entering the program which controlled the time-machine. There was no one else around. Scribner was moving fast and she wasn't sure she had time to think. It wasn't a risk she was willing to run anyway. "Doug?" The man turned abruptly, his hands momentarily frozen over the keyboard. "Dana. You shouldn't be on your feet." Scully couldn't make out his face. His surprise had lasted but a blink of an eye and he seemed extremely at ease now. Almost detached. "What are you doing?" "Just checking the system." He answered casually as his fingers began typing again. "Go back to bed." His attitude was quite convincing, but Scully wasn't giving up. She knew that Scribner wasn't a computer technician. Taking a step forward, she saw he was entering temporal coordinates in the system. *11/27/1973* Her heart froze. He was about to bring Mulder back to the day his sister had been abducted. But why? Scully cursed herself for being so slow. By reflex, her hand went to her side, but of course she had no gun. Beside, it was still hard for her believe that Scribner was doing wrong by them. She strove to trust him for a split second more, and so doing gave Scribner the time to complete his work. "It's for the best, believe me." He muttered, staring at the message of confirmation now blinking on the screen. Mulder was back in 1973. The gleam became more and more defined. A blurred dot at first, now it shoved itself for what it really was. A TV screen. Its brightness increased, revealing two kids sitting on the floor. Samantha and himself. Even in the state of dizziness he was in, it didn't take long for Mulder to recognize the scene he had lived thousands of times in his nightmares. He watched them playing Stratego and quarreling about the tv program they were going to see. In a few minutes the light would go out and then ... No, he didn't want to live all this again. Why the hell had they sent him there? What was he supposed to do? Let his little sister pay for his parent's dirty mistake once again? He didn't want to choose. He was no longer a helpless twelve-years-old brat now. He could protect her. He didn't care a damn what the consequences for his father and his crappy work with the Consortium could be. He hated his parents, hated the Consortium and all that happened because of them from that day. No. Not just everything. Of course he didn't hate Scully. She was as innocent as Sam. The light went out. God, they couldn't ask him to choose. She didn't utter a word. She watched blankly as two guys of the time-voyages team (she couldn't say whether they were aliens or humans) came to monitor the machines and found Scribner meddling with their toys. And since Scribner pressed his willingness to admit his fault and didn't offered resistance, no one paid great attention to her. The Consortium had bidden him to get rid of Mulder. Through the chip they'd implanted in his neck. He couldn't help following their orders when they played with his mind in that way. So he said. It would have been mistaken for an error of the time-machine, Mulder would have never come back and no one would have been hurt. Scully found herself grinning bitterly. The consortium who followed pacifist methods, but it wasn't so absurd after all. They knew that Mulder wouldn't be able to witness his sister's abduction without lifting a finger. Mulder would try to save his sister and therefore change his future. He would no longer exist in her time. He would not longer be a problem for the Consortium. "What time was he supposed to come back?" She suddenly asked, interrupting Scribner explanation. No one raised their voice, whether human, alien or clone, the members of that underground community were all extremely self-controlled and professional. Her Eden, Mulder had teased her once. The three men watched her as she had just jumped out of a jack-in-the-box and Scully held their stare rising an eyebrow. "5:30 pm." Finally answered the oldest one checking his watch. It was ten past five. None of them really cared about Mulder; their only concern was that a spy had entered their system. The single individual hadn't any importance compared to the 'whole'. That was probably the only way to survive for them, but that wasn't living, just going through the motions. And then maybe Scribner was right, it was for the best. In a few minutes Mulder would have found himself in a world where his sister had never been abducted, where the X-Files had probably never existed, they had never met and maybe where he could still live under the sky. And she ... She would have missed him at first, but it wouldn't have lasted long. She wouldn't have last lasted long. The place was crowding and the air was getting stuffy. Scully was vaguely aware that she wore only her nightgown, but that concern was so far away and so small that it slipped out of her mind as soon as it entered. She had been months in only a nightgown, besides, she doubted her aspect could have been defined as provocative. Sitting heavily on a plastic chair, she watched the men gathering around the monitors. Their voices were reduced to drones, their backs mingling together in a blurred whole. The Resistance. She wasn't sure at all she still wanted to be part of that whole, that she wanted to resist. For some reason she thought back of their old office. They had built it again after the fire, but fire and destruction had come back and won. But even this thought was far and small, and it faded too. So she just stayed on that chair, staring at the Resistance's backs. Nov.1973 Sam was crying, calling him. Mulder had always wondered what kind of person her little sister would have been growing up. He'd seen grown women who claimed to be her, but now he knew they probably were nothing but clones. That night they had both been robbed of their futures, yet ... The words that woman had said to him in that dinner that lonely night came to his mind. Whoever she was, she was with that smoking bastard, claiming to be his sister. She had cried and called him Fox ... What if it was really her? She said she had a home and a family ... What if that was true? If she really had had a chance for a normal life? He couldn't know it for sure. Then why was it so painful to hear her cries and watch her float through the window? Because he was her big brother and was supposed to protect her. His father knew what was going to happen that night and had let him stay there knowing he wouldn't have been able to help her. He had failed as a twelve-year-old boy and was failing now as a grown man. Mulder clutched the vial with the chip in his fist and closed his eyes shut. He was wasting away what he had always craved for; a second chance. But how could he save her sister condemning Scully to death? There were still chances Sam was alive or that at least she had lead a happy life before the Colonization, while Scully ... She deserved a second chance more than anyone else. A wave of nausea washed over him and when he opened his eyes again Sam was gone. Darkness enveloped him, but he could hear distant voices. The voices became louder and reaching down, he discovered he was sitting in a leather chair. He was back. Stumbling out of the time-machine, he found a crowd of faces staring at him. Someone was calling Mulder's name, asking if he was okay. Scully clutched her fists, trying to breath evenly; but when she heard his voice muttering something affirmative, she couldn't help jumping on her feet. He was there, nodding to a man who was explaining what had happened to him. "That's right, I lied! If I'd told you the truth you wouldn't have let me go." Mulder discovered that Scribner had betrayed them, the resistance knew why he went back. "You used us for personal gain!" A scientist with thick glasses yelled, accusing him. "How can saving a life be a personal gain? Besides, you used me! Everybody uses everybody, that's the game! I'd do it again." Mulder finished on a softer note, knowing that Scribner would be punished for his part. Scully knew it was pointless to argue with them, but Mulder was angry and clearly upset and ... Maybe it was time to stop him before he would say something really wrong. "Mulder?" Thanking God, her voice sounded quite firm. Scully couldn't make out his face when he saw her. He stared at her for a brief moment - God, she had to look awful - then managed a strange smile. "Hey; I didn't expect to find you here." "She found Scribner" The man said hastily. Tension was still high. "I knew Mulder was going to take the chip, I'm as guilty as he is." Scully felt the tide of panic slowly wash over her. The faces got blurred and she had to close her eyes. He had let his sister go to save her and now he was even going to pay for this. She had never felt so useless and stupid. Someone led her to a chair and re-opening her eyes Scully saw Mulder kneeling in front of her. "You okay?" She just nodded, striving to keep back the tears. Now she felt humiliated too. They were all staring at her. "You are worn out, Scully; you need some rest." No, she didn't want to go back to bed; she wanted to stay there, to help him. "I'm fine now." She whispered; hating her thin voice, hating her weakness. "No, you aren't." Taking her hands, Mulder drew her to her feet. Then, placing a hand gently on the small of her back, led her toward the door, while the men's stares followed them silently. As soon as they were out of the room, Mulder's arm circled her waist. "Can you walk?" She nodded. Her head spinned and she had to do her best not to stagger, but she was firmly determined to get to her room on her feet. Once there, she sat wearily on the bed. In the heartbeat of silence that followed, she silently pleaded him not to pity her. Angry as she was with herself, that would have been the last thing she needed. He said nothing and didn't even help her to slide under the blankets. She was starting to relax a bit when the contact with the unexpectedly chilly sheet caused her to shiver violently. And it was than that Mulder's eyes pitied her. A hazel mixture of sorry and concern she just couldn't stand. "Why the hell did you come back, Mulder?" Her voice was low but firm, almost reproaching. "To find me like this? Look at me, I'm not going to make it, Mulder. It's too late. I was there when Scribner sent you back to 1973, and I couldn't stop him. Actually, I can't even stand on my feet." Her voice creaked a bit. "If the chip doesn't work, you would have given up everything for nothing." "I came back because I would have missed you. My stubborn pain in the ass. I would have regretted this very moment and all the time we have left, no matter how much it will be. I've spent my whole life in regret and I'm tired now. Then ... I really like this place. Nice rooms, time machines, friendly aliens everywhere ... Where could I find another place like this?" As he spoke, Mulder kept on smoothing her quilt, smiling sadly. Even in her condition, he wasn't used to taking care of her. He had always been the one to need her cares, her concern. Amazingly, she was still the strong one, worrying about him and the consequences of his deeds. As much as he would have wanted nothing more than shield her and protect her for once, he felt hopelessly clumsy. As sensing his discomfort, Scully took his hand and said: "You go now. I will be okay." Mulder stared at her for a long moment. Even if she had grown so thin, even if her hair had lost part of it's fierce brightness and her eyes were reddish and watery, to him she was still beautiful. "Sure you will", He whispered finally, leaning down and brushing lightly her lips. Their second kiss. She just gazed at him, sniffling. Mulder was at the door when he turned back. "And Scully? Do something for your nose. It's as red as a beetroot." "Listen who's talking about beaks." Muttered Scully, pretending to sound sulky. A shadow of their old selves was back. Scully couldn't seize it thoroughly, but she knew it was important. A few hours later, he was there again. "Don't do this for me, Scully, do this for yourself. You deserve life." "Is it life, Mulder? What kind of future can I expect? All I can do is do it for you, Mulder. Not because I think I owe you my life, but ... Cause you are the only reason I've left." "Scully ..." "No, let me finish. I tried to trust Scribner, I believed he was our friend and this gave me some hope, but ..." Her eyes dwelled on the book the man had lent her, "He was just another of their puppets. And I don't want to become like him. They've taken everything from me, I have only myself and what little dignity I have and I'm not going to let them take this too." Mulder dropped his eyes. "We don't have proof that Scribner was controlled." "Damn Mulder, I don't want to be a lab-rat once again!" "You will never be, Scully. I won't let them." After a long negotiation, they had agreed to put the chip in Scully's neck on the condition that they would have checked her from time to time to study any eventual change in her behavior as well as in her health. They needed to know how the chip worked and if Scully could betray them as Scribner had done. "What can we do, Mulder? I mean, even if I would live ... What are our hopes at best? I hate this place, hate Scribner, hate ..." "We can go on. Together. Trying to stop hating, to believe in the future. That's not much, but it's all we have and I think we could make it." Once out of her room, Mulder leaned against the wall, biting his lower lip. Back in the time-machine room, she had really scared him. He'd told her that hating the Resistance wasn't right, but he was the first one to be full of anger. Why the hell had no one seen she needed care? And Scribner, their supposed friend. He didn't know whether he had acted on his own will or he was really an instrument of the Consortium, but the prospects weren't rosy anyway. Men here had become just like the aliens: cold, indifferent, wary. They didn't trust each other, how could they hope to defeat the Consortium? It had already won, destroying not just their world, but also their spirits. So why did he ask Scully to live? Just because he couldn't stand the idea to be left alone. Selfish bastard. He needed to know she was there, to see her eyes, hear her voice. And maybe take her hand, hold her, kiss her ... Stop here, Spooky. And even if the chip worked, could he really protect her from becoming a lab-rat? Mulder closed his eyes, welcoming the coldness of the wall. He stayed there a long while, partly because he couldn't think of anything better to do, partly because he was unwilling to leave the wall that divided his need and her right to choose for her own life. He stayed there till she called him. End of Part two ***************************************************** Feedback greatly appreciated. Please, I'm just a stupid Italian girl! ;) And thanks for reading. :) ****************************************************** *************** I did not write this, I am posting it for a friend. All feedback can be sent to severini@atmos.ifa.rm.cnr.it or will be forwarded there. Thank you. *************** TITLE: A Better World 3/3 AUTHOR: Olivia Severini EMAIL ADDRESS: *************** Two weeks had passed, and the chip had brought no improvement. Scully felt guilty because in spite of his sacrifice, she was going to die. And she wondered whether it was because she simply didn't want to live. She was so tired she couldn't even cry and even Mulder's presence had become a source of pain. He'd never left her bedside and his strength, his will to believe, seemed these of the old times. Irrational, stubborn, almost blind. How could she tell him? They had done it again. She could still feel their invading presence inside her head. No, they weren't there now, the daily 'checks' had finished, but it wasn't so simple to take hold of her will again. The idea that she was nothing but an instrument to test a chip was hard to accept. What she had feared most had come true; they had finally stolen the little dignity she had left. Scully turned restlessly in her bed and finally threw the pillow on the floor, resting her head on the cold sheet. Mulder was at the door. Sensing that she had spotted him, he took his way inside, retrieving the pillow, and replacing it gently under her head. After a moment of hesitation, he brushed her forehead looking for signs of a fever. She was cool enough, but something was still wrong with her. It was her hair. Her beautiful auburn hair was all ruffled. It was supposed to be a trifling thing, especially considering what she was going through, but it struck him all the same, because Scully's hair was *never* messed up. "What's wrong?" The question left his lips before giving him the chance to value how silly it was. She beckoned toward the tray of her unconsumed breakfast. "The service in this hotel is awfully poor." Mulder nodded with a faint grin, but kept on staring at her. "Mulder, I'm tired." She didn't want him to gaze at her that way. Why can't he just keep her company without always trying to 'understand' everything? Why the hell had she allowed him to know her so well? "Does ... do they check you?" Mulder stumbled, finally dropping his eyes. That was really enough. "Would you please leave me alone?" She uttered slowly, emphasizing the word 'please'. A moment of thick silence followed, then he slowly stood. "I'm sorry, I just wanted ... Well, if you need something, I'm in my room." He looked so sad. For the first time, Scully wondered whether his strength and enthusiasm was nothing but a mask that he was putting on for her. Mulder knew her better than anyone else and it was hardly possible that he hadn't sensed that something was wrong. He probably just didn't dare to ask. Yes, the truth would hurt him, but she was already hurting him with her silence and her hostile attitude. Yet the words were hard to find. She hadn't behaved fairly with him. Always sulky and unwilling to talk, she had shut everything out trying to protect both of them. Clutching the bedclothes, she watched him get to the door. She opened her mouth to tell him to stay, but the words remained in her throat, together with all the things she had never said. It was then that he turned, as if sensing the unspoken plea. "Scully, let it out. Please, let me help you." Scully buried her head in the pillow, avoiding his eyes. "They're testing the chip on my brain, on my will." Mulder was silent, so she went on. "They give me orders through it and monitor my reactions. I can feel them, Mulder; I feel their will battling with mine to take the upper hand." Her voice failed her she had to bit her lower lip to stop its trembling. "God Scully, why didn't you tell me?" He looked at her trembling form and was struck at how fragile and strong she was at the same time. The chip he had stubbornly wanted wasn't just saving her life, it was further tormenting her last days. Surprisingly, when she watched him, her eyes were perfectly dry and quiet. Much too quiet. She looked straight at him, and when she spoke her voice was steady and detached again. "Because you can do nothing, Mulder. I gave my consent and they are just testing the chip." She shrugged and Mulder thought that he preferred the upset Scully of few moments before. She was putting distance between them again, wearing her usual sturdy mask; but it occurred to him that maybe that was the only way she had to deal with such painful matters. It was okay, as long as she kept a door opened. He relaxed a bit and managed to sit. He would have wanted to smooth her hair, but he respected her too much to invade her space. It followed a long awkward moment when Mulder found himself suddenly unable to look at her. He was scared, and scared to be scared; because he knew that the least he owed her was to be for once the strong one. He'd just asked her to let it go, but the truth was that he wondered whether he would even be able to handle the thought of his life without her, if he would be able to handle the guilt. It couldn't end that way, he wasn't ready and above all SHE wasn't ready. Then something came to his mind. "Scully, I've an idea." She allowed a weak smile to cross her lips. The fact that her partner's endless source of ideas hadn't exhausted was somehow reassuring. A splinter of her old life. But when their eyes met, she saw in his a dangerous wildness, followed by equally wild notions. "The time machine; it can bring you back before your illness, or even before your abduction. That was the turning point when everything started to go to hell, so changing the events of that night ... You have to kill Duane Barry. Kill him before he takes you, when he's still outside your apartment. Then I'll bring you back to the present, granted, it will be another present." "Mulder, stop talking nonsense." "No Scully, now just listen to me ..." She shook her head. What just a few minutes before had seemed comforting, had become threatening. Scully wondered whether those sudden changes of mood may possibly be connected with her brain cancer, but she hadn't time to worry about that now, because Mulder's source of ideas wasn't just exhausted, it was overflowing. "Mulder, I'm tired now." She turned her back to let him know that the matter was definitely over and was startled to feel his hand grab her shoulder. His eyes were coldly determined and Scully found she had no choice but listen to him. "That's the only thing to do. It will last just two or three minutes, you will shoot at him and it will be over. I think you have enough strength to hold your gun and fire." "I don't want to kill anyone." "Duane Barry will die anyway." His coldness was scaring her. She shook her head half angry, half pleadingly and tried to get free from his grip, but Mulder held her still with both hands, pinning her to the mattress. Scully felt a rush of panic wash over her. "I'm not willing to watch you die, I'm ready to do anything and I feel this will work. If I can give you another chance ..." But she wasn't listening. All the terrible moments when she'd been held against her will came back to her mind while she struggled madly to free herself. Mulder was caught by surprise. "Scully ..." "Let me go." She panted. He let her go and stared at her cringing in her bed with wide eyes. "Scully." That was all he managed to say, as to make sure she was still his Scully. "Go away." Mulder grazed her hand, but he felt tears come to his eyes when her hand slid away. The door was closed shut. "I've never meant to hurt you, Scully." He whispered before leaving the room. Lying stretched on his bed was the best thing Mulder was able to do for the following hour. He wished he had some alcohol to keep him company, but that was one of the countless luxuries that the Colonization had taken away. Fault number two thousand forty two of that underground world: too much time to think and too few means for forgetfulness. He was still staring at the low ceiling when she knocked. "I couldn't sleep." "Me too." Muttered him, fixing his eyes behind her, vaguely surprised to find her there. Another dreadful gap of silence. There was so much to say, but they were all dangerous things. Overwhelmed with her old fear, she almost retreated, but the sight of a Mulder fumbling awkwardly with his hair brought unexpectedly to surface the feeling of something pure and beautiful, which might have been and was not. Is that is? It is regret she could see looking back? She had nice memories too, but somehow they were always dotted with unspoken feelings and doubts. Having never been able to show her feelings, she'd always assumed that people knew. She knew she'd been loved, but did anyone really glimpse the love she had always kept hidden in a corner of her small tidy world? It was an unbearable question. How frightening her truth was now. But she had to know. There was no more time to be afraid; her small world had faded away and all she could do was to save its last fragments a moment longer. "Mulder, I know you would never hurt me." Mulder closed the door and sat on a chair. "You wrong Scully; I did it a thousand times." Then, after a long pause, "But I didn't mean to hurt you ... physically. I promise it will never happen again." "It's okay." She whispered, sitting on his bed, as near to him as she could. "Yeah," He nodded. "Listen to me Scully, you have to do that." She shook her head wistfully. "Please Mulder, I've not come here to talk about this." "Why are you here, then?" He waited her answer for a bunch of seconds, then; "Trust me, it's a good plan." She didn't want to waste the time they had left together quarreling and fighting each other, to play their usual script till the curtain would have fallen. But she was tired and slow, unable to cope with her partner's stubbornness. "You won't give up, won't you?" "No, if I can give you another chance. You would begin everything afresh." "Maybe I'm too tired to begin afresh." "But everything would be different. If you weren't abducted that night, you would have never contracted this illness. You would live, Scully." "Yes, but how? How can I know what could have been of my life if I wasn't abducted? I could find myself ... everywhere." Mulder studied her for a moment. "Yeah, but there are good chances you'll find me still buzzing around you." He smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes. "Scully, it could really work. I know how to set the time machine and it won't be difficult to escape the surveillance." Scully remained thoughtful a moment, her gaze bent on the floor. "You'll go with me." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "I can't, someone has to make the machine work." "Then I won't do it." She closed her eyes, uttering the words as quietly as possible. "I'll be okay." His voice had gotten softer and this made Scully's battle against tears even harder. "How? What are you going to do?" She sounded as helpless and desperate as a little girl, and Mulder had to fight an impulse to forget everything else and just soothe her. He was almost ready to let it go, when it occurred to him that she probably didn't want to be even touched by him. Everything was going to hell, and of course it was because of him. "I will dream about you, Scully." The truth had always been his leading principle, his mantra, but he had never been able to show what he really felt inside. A life time ago he'd told her that the truth would save them both, and maybe now it was time to test this theory. "Clean stuff, don't worry. You marrying a loving brilliant doctor who is crazy about you, you having two or three red-haired and blue-eyed brats, a normal job and a nice white house ..." "You think that would be the life I wished for?" She asked dryly. "I think that's what you would deserve." "And the X-Files?" Mulder shrugged. "It was just a dream." He said clumsily. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about this. Besides, he'd always had troubles imagining a happy future together with Scully, no matter how many times he had tried. Scully would have wanted to cry that he had constantly been the main character in her reveries for more than eight years, but what reached her lips wasn't so sweet. "It seems we don't share the same dreams." Her favorite dreams were about babies. The best one saw Mulder and herself sitting on a couch with his arm around her shoulder, just like they had been at the home of the president of the home owners association when they had pretended to be married. Just it was true this time, and she was pregnant. Significantly, even one of her worst nightmares involved *their* baby. She came out of the bathroom after a perfect shower and found Mulder sitting on a rocking chair in the nursery of their perfect home, with their child in his arms. But when she drew nearer, she saw that the fluffy pink quilt was empty. She felt the need to tell him how sorry she was and how many times she had wished she could left something able to outlive her, but he prevented her with a sad smile and one of his silly remarks. "Hey, I was avoiding the dirty parts!" The smile reflected itself bravely on her face for an instant, but then her brow contracted to a frown and her lips pursued in a pale quiet despair. He had seen her frowning so many times, and often had futiley wished to place a tiny kiss right in the middle of her brow, a stupid idea to dissolve her pains and worries. But they had always needed their own space and he sensed that things weren't changed too much. All he could do was to sit near her and hold her hand. "Am I going to forget everything?" She finally breathed. A tear run quietly down her cheek and she promptly wiped it away. "I don't know, but it might be." He couldn't lie to her, not now. He looked at him with gazing eyes. "I don't want to forget." "I will remember for both of us." "I'm so sorry." She whispered. Deep inside, she had always believed that there would have been a time to voice all the unspoken things and now she had to give up that hope too. "Don't be." Scully's hand was cold. "You cold?" It was reassuring to move a step in less dangerous waters. "I'm ..." Then, realizing how silly it would have been pretending to be fine; "A bit." A moment later she felt Mulder's arm around her shoulders. He was still afraid to touch her and she had to smile at their awkwardness. Closing her eyes, she rested her head on his shoulder and took some deep breaths to light the tension of the moment. Slowly rubbing her thin back, Mulder found out that it was too late to change things between them. Admitting now how much he loved her would have meant to keep her there. And that - no matter how alluring it was - would have been wrong and terribly selfish. So he just held her a bit tighter, praying that she knew. "You'll go tonight, right before dawn. We'll find at worst a couple of guards, probably humans." He felt her stiffen, but he didn't give her the time to protest. "That's the better thing to do, Scully. Trust me." It was 2 am, they had just few hours left together, but she was clearly worn out. "You should get some rest." Scully felt something moist over her upper lip and brought her hand to wipe it. Blood. "Scully ..." "I'm fine Mulder, I just need a tissue." Mulder fumbled nervously inside a drawer and handed her a clean handkerchief. "Sorry, this is all I have." "That's fine." She pressed it under her nose, feeling a vague sense of nausea. "I bring you some water." He rushed outside and Scully crawled inside his bed, sitting with her back against the wall. The water was fresh, and she felt better at once. He had sat on the floor with the back of his head against the bed edge, and watching him Scully was reminded of that rainy night in that motel in Oregon during their first case. This was their last night and they were just the same as then. Yet, they were no longer the same persons and that dreary motel had probably been destroyed. She wondered if she was going to at least remember what had happened before her abduction. Mulder couldn't see her, but from her even breath he guessed she had finally fallen asleep. He closed his eyes and let his mind slumber across memories of the past. Then she broke the spell calling his name. His first name. She was fully awake and he suspected that she had been watching him the whole time. "I was sure your first name would have brought you back at once" Scully teased him. "I wasn't sleeping." "Sure you weren't." She held his hand, letting her gold necklace slip onto his hand. "That's not an original gift, but shops are all closed at this hour of the night." Mulder stared at the shining thing which held so much meaning for both of them for a while, then clutched the cross in his fist. "Scully, you should get dressed." Scully's heart leaped and she wrapped her hands before herself protectively. No, she wasn't ready yet. She needed some more time to get accustomed to the idea of saying goodbye to Mulder, to make sure she was doing the right thing. "I need some time to arrange things and make an inspection of the lab alone." He explained approaching her on the bed. She had bent her head and he could see her eyes filling with tears again. Feeling himself something threatening in his throat, Mulder silently prayed her to be strong. On her side, Scully was doing her best to comply with his wish, but her sight was suddenly blurred with tears and the world started to spin merciless around her. "Come with me, Mulder. Ask Scribner to set the machine for us." She pleaded. "You know we can't trust him." "Why not? We can at least try. We ... " She paused as her voice broke with emotion. Clearing her throat, she continued; "We could start everything afresh together." He knew it wasn't a wise thing, but he couldn't help wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight. He felt her stiffen at first, then relax against his body, finally allowing the too long held tears to flow freely. It was then, rocking her gently and stroking her hair, that he really realized how much he was going to miss his Scully. There would be no more quarrels about his mad theories, eyebrows raised, late night calls, moments pure and tender like that ... There would be no more hope of more between them. He would never fall asleep spooned against her and awaken at morning to find her sleeping peacefully at his side. That was an unbearable thought, and the only thing which gave him the strength to go on was that he wouldn't have to watch her die, that he would have the hope that somewhere else she was happy. The desperate hope that in another time and in another space, she might have been happy with him. "You have to promise me that you won't miss Duane Barry, Scully." He whispered hoarsely in her hear; "That you won't come back here." She squeezed her eyes shut, tightening her hands around his waist. She was wasting away the last chance she had to tell him how she felt because of those stupid tears that kept on streaming hot down her face. "Promise me." He repeated, lifting her chin with his middle finger. Unable to speak, she just nodded. It was all over. The sky hadn't fallen down, and what was left of the world hadn't crumbled the moment she had left it. It was just a bit drearier and empty. The man to which he was still pointing his gun looked at him with sad and weary eyes, in which Mulder believed to behold a shadow of sympathy. It was something that flowed deeply, a sheer stream that he had glimpsed from time to time, but he couldn't deny it was there. It was the need to go on, to preserve what that meant, there, in the middle of nothingness. He had perceived that Scully, with her loyalty and her strength had helped this stream to approach the surface. A lot of people liked her and he allowed himself to hope that maybe they would have understood what he had just done. Dropping his gun, he sat on an uncomfortable chair, holding his head with his hands; it was the same chair where she had sat when he'd come back from 1999. It had been no more than twenty days before, but all that seemed to have happened in another life. And in a way, it was true. A new chapter had just begun, and what was he left with? Was it only loneliness and regret? The guy had left the lab, he had probably gone to call some of the big bosses. He didn't care what would have been his punishment, he really didn't think it would be too hard anyway. Moreover, there was still a spark of hope to find some sympathy. Hope. It occurred to him that was what she had left him, her last precious gift. He'd given her another chance and she'd paid him back with a hope that was going to last for ever. She might be happy. Then he had the past to keep him company. The messy basement office, the long car trips, the mingled smell of night and the grass of a baseball field. Scully would always be part of this, the best, purest part of everything he had seen and done. He would have grown old in this place without sun, but she would have remained bright like her gold cross for ever. Yes, he was going to remember for both of them. The End. ***************************************************** Feedback greatly appreciated. Please, I'm just a stupid Italian girl! ;) And thanks for reading. :) ******************************************************