From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: 7 Jul 2002 12:30:05 -0000 Subject: Drugstoer Jesus: The Thorns [Chapter 1] by Rain Garcia Source: direct Reply To: agentrain022@edsamail.com.ph TITLE: Drugstore jesus: The Thorns [1/6] AUTHOR: Rain Garcia [AgentRain] COMPLETED ON: June 17, 2002 RATING: NC-17 [As usual, nothing vivid, but sexual themes are present.] CATEGORY: X- File, Angst [major one] KEYWORDS: MSR, baby, all the way. SPOILERS: FTF movie, most of season 5, 6, 7. I paid particular attention to the movie and the Mulder- Scully conversation in Dreamland I. Other spoilers are all inborn throughout all X-Philes. SUMMARY: Mulder recalls the events of the most painful encounter of his life from a few months ago on the way towards possible salvation from it. DISCLAIMERS: Even if the X-Files has ended a few weeks ago, these treasures still belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. Gillian and David gave life to Mulder and Scully, and I'm just in for the ride. Don't sue me, I promise you I wouldn't be able to give you anything except for my extensive collection of CD's and cassettes. *LOL* Which reminds me, any of the songs [even the title I gave this fic] included before each chapter is not mine, either. I only have grown to adore them and completely relate a chunk of my life--- and this fic--- to it. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: This story is a major labor of love. From the songs to the way it was written, I poured a neutral kind of adoration during its creation. Its certainly one of the most unique fictions I have ever written, and this time I dedicate this kind of darkness and yes, romance to Vince Gilligan, my favorite X-Files writer. He has brought to the show a susceptible yet thundering aura, one that was clearly presented in Bad Blood and Field Trip, among others. This man is a real genius. ;-) Other than that, this is as usual for the PinoyXphiles, for keeping it real with me. [Chrissie, hey, thanks for spending some time with me to get those TXF eps! Loveuh gal!]. JC, thanks for being the best friend I have always pondered for... still with yah throughout all! St. Catherine 01-02, this is for you as usual. Our friendship goes on and on. My friends- Joey, Monica, Sarah, Jessica, Autumn Fugazzi, and my RP peeps in YM. To all those inspiring authors out there, and lastly, to everyone who read and reads my fics! This is my greatest passion, and I'll be taking up Journalism soon in college! :-) You all gave me my first break! I would never forget you for that. [Author's notes follow underneath the last chapter.] ------------------------------------- Chapter 1: Moments alone with the downpour "I bought a ticket to the end of the rainbow, Watched the stars crash in the sea, If I could ask God just one question... Why aren't you here with me? Tonight?" -Someday We'll Know [New Radicals] The dirt road before Fox Mulder stretched endlessly in his sight. He half- wondered why in the world he had to take a detour for the farthest rental agency in this country, wherein he could've gotten an equally- thorough deal in a place closer to his destination. Now he has to endure the seemingly endless miles with only occasional cars whizzing by the opposite lane. A silent curse made its way outside his dry lips, which he licked afterwards to moisten. Sighing loudly, as if it could guarantee him some company for the long ride that was taking place, he watched the mat of reddish- black, starless sky hide the full moon that was fighting its way for exposure. Surely, with the speed of air swooshing on his windshield, rain is not far off. Dark silhouettes of trees aligning the barren fields across the highway swayed in the wind's intensity, making Mulder cringe. Whenever the prospect of incoming rain crosses the weather bureau in any way, he had to always dwell back to his memories. Memories that are not good, memories that threatened to destroy him so many times in moments like these--- moments of loneliness. And he has been alone for three months now. Mulder made another whispered profanity sizzle out of his boiling brain, not because of those memories, but because of nature's impromptu call. The bottom of his belly felt like a burning, boiling soup of clam chowder. He couldn't hold it until the next sight of civilization. He swiveled the vehicle to a safe side of the highway, almost popping himself out of the stuffy car before finding a semi- dark shade of a large Oak tree. Mulder was about to open his zipper when the brewing sky caught his attention. As much as he hates to admit it to himself, the incoming rain always looked so beautiful. The angry streak of red that smudged the normally clear night sky traced the outlines of puffy- thin clouds. They moved in perfect symmetry, blocking the moon's meager light- pushing, pulling.... friction... It wasn't very long ago when a particular exhibition of Mother Nature enthralled him the very same way. "Mulder," At the mention of his name, he snapped his head behind him, half expecting to find her thin form drawing forward to his largely- built one. But all that shrouded his vision was his spurting rented car, and the silence of the highway that promised him more anguish throughout this inward battle. "You're going crazy, Mulder." He told himself. Do mentally- able men hear voices calling their name out? "Mulder." He moved his head to his opposite, and found her sitting on the passenger side of a different- much more familiar- rental car. Her big blue eyes striking through his soul, and that snapped him out of his bout with unreality. "What, Scully?" He gave her a snarly- kind of grin, knowing that the ongoing music that was playing on the car radio annoyed her to some extent. "C'mon, Mulder, give that up." Was all she said, knowing perfectly that he understood her dilemma. There wasn't a single day that she has not criticized him about his hidden musical passions. The song wafting through the tin- can sounding speakers was not an exception. He lifted his thumb and pointer finger in the air for a mid- moment and snapped them in unison with the beat. "Very good song, Scully. You should pay attention to the lyrics." She rolled her eyes in the very adoring manner that he has learned to love, and enclosed her face with that cage of soft auburn hair that he always found himself sinking into every morning. "I found My Way's immortal tune much more appealing. These- these songs are angst- filled brigades that only complicate their lyrics to mask they're own take on love. I think compositions WITHOUT an unfortunate singer keeping the real soul of the song from being discovered are much more ear friendly." She gazed out the window, threading her eyes on the darkening afternoon weather. He shakes my head in answer to her very hypothetical dialogue. He perfectly is used to the fact that only Scully could make things more complicated when they are not. "I think this song only bothers you because we once made love with this playing in the background." He deadpans, awaiting for his death penalty, A.K.A her enraged reaction. Those words flew out of his mouth even before he could control them. To his surprise, she only tilted her head to get a good view of him, with that unanimous 'head-to-shoulder' shrug. "Oh, don't start, Mulder, please." She told him almost desperately, honey coating her low- keyed voice. He grinned, much wider this time, then turned the volume up. Together with the louder banging of cymbals, and the singer's crooning, Mulder sang with it. His voice lowered off- key, trying his best to catch the dangerous pitches, "And I don't want the world to see me... 'Coz I don't think that they'd understand... when everything's made to be broken..." "I just want you to know who I am, yeah." She finished for him--- half- singing, and half- reciting the last line. Mulder's eyebrows bulleted up in mock shock. "Why, Agent Scully, I believe you have been indulging yourself to this song, lately?" He reached over and took her cold hand. Rubbing his knuckles over her palm, he waited for her to protest about what he asked her, but she didn't really. He guessed that she probably was as in love with the song as he is. His soft lips met Scully's palm. Since her head was turned away from him, she almost jumped at the contact. Meeting his eyes, she smiled slightly. "Watch the wheel, lover boy." He did as she told her, but not letting her hand go at all. Mulder tucked her cold fingers under his windbreaker, connecting them with the warmth of his muscles. That probably made her uncomfortable, since an incredible crimson flush climbed her cheeks. Pulling her hand back, she rested it tentatively on her knee. "Mulder, we have work to do." She warned him softly. She was right, it's true that they were on their way to interview a supposed witness to a very official high- profiled murder in rural California--- whom is also, unofficially, a supposed alien-human hybrid [according to the Lone Gunmen], but that doesn't mean they couldn't show some displays of affection towards each other when they are alone. At least, for him. He has no idea on what's her take on this. "You should be the one to give it up, Scully." He grabbed her hand before she could hide it from his reach and clasped it near his beating heart. She glanced at him, trying to read his expression that was somehow calm and sincere. Most of his physical attention was directed at the road before them, but his emotional attention was all for her. She settled for that, and relaxed in his grip. Scully even pushed herself closer to his side, and rested her head on his shoulder. After giving him a light peck under the lobe of his ear, she yawned uneasily with tears forming in her eyes. He told himself to stop bothering her with his unabridged 'Story of Us' that always pops out in the most comforting positions during their solo periods together. Mulder is perfectly aware that making this relationship work has not been the easiest challenge of his life. They are both putting so much dedication and will into it--- that alone could justify already what is his partner's take on their hidden displays of affection. Resisting the urge to run his tongue on the salty tear that traced her pink cheeks, Mulder rubbed his elbow on her stomach, where it was now positioned. "You were up late last night, Scully?" He couldn't help but joke, referring to her wide yawn. He released her hand from his chest and pressed it on her thigh. A chuckle grumbled from her throat. "Are you accusing me of cheating on you, Mulder?" He pretended to think that one over. "Let's see... the only time we were *actually* apart last night was when..." "... when I had to grab some water from the kitchen because your newly discovered 'trick' in kissing was draining me of my body fluids." Scully finished for him, grabbing his ear lobe with her teeth. Mulder bit back an escalating moan, at the same time trying hard to control the throb in his most sensitive part- the part that always had the gratitude to react whenever he is with Scully. "Let's not go there, please, Scully." His voice came out like a small frustrated squeak. Maybe she's right, maybe they shouldn't mix business with personal pleasure... one more bite from her and he'll have to turn this car to the nearest intersection and make love with her in the backseat. Seeing the control in Mulder's face, Scully pulled back. She reached for the radio and turned the volume on louder. There's no real reason why she still feels interestingly new in this relationship. They have waited for so long to be together, almost six years, just to be able to hold each other like this without thinking of the dire consequences the world has for them. It all started from a small kiss, a small kiss that turned into the best night of both their lives. That was long ago, but still, they are having their own difficulties in hiding their 'banned' mutual relationship from their superiors, so they drew a line on what's professional and what's personal. Even with that said and cleared, troubles and challenges still find them in the most unexpected way. Mulder removed his hand gently from Scully's thigh to turn the wipers on. The squishing machine sound invaded their interest in the song, so Scully had to turn the volume a little bit more. By then, the rain has invaded everything in sight now, wetting the road before them, and the sky has blackened as if it was time for it to rule the earth. Mulder had to drive with care, and they broke contact for their own safety. Scully shrugged herself back into her seat, then opened the dashboard to get the Californian map the Lone Gunmen has handed them before they left. Frohike circled the exact town with a red marker. His partner scanned the tattered map, squinting her eyes to get a better view of the small captions. "According to this, we are no more than a mile away from Saint Catherine. We'll be there at around..." She made a quick glance at her wristwatch, "11 AM." "Only fifteen minutes to go?" "Yeah." She answered back, further scanning the map. "I'm still not comfortable about trusting your friends' opinions on this case, Mulder." Mulder gripped the steering wheel with both of his hands, peering deeply against the wipers that threatened his vision of the road. He was very thankful that there weren't much people taking this shortcut that the Gunmen pointed out to them. "They are *our* friends. You should learn to stop referring to them as *my* friends, Scully." "Alien- human hybrid? Now when did that come from? As far as I'm concerned, the case about that- particularly, Cassandra Spender's- was closed a year ago-" "Nothing closes on the X-Files." "So you term it." She pointed at a left curve. "There, turn there." He does as she says, before countering, "Jeremy Cromwell could be our ticket to the Truth, Scully. We lost Gibson Praise last year, and I won't let this opportunity pass us up anymore." Mulder gazes into her eyes for a second, when the road allowed him to do so. "I just need you to trust me in on this." Scully blinked, trying to gauge how heavy this case was for both of them--- particularly, for him. She surrendered with a brief clearing of her throat. "I do trust you, Mulder. I just am not so well-off with what Byers told us..." He returned his gazing to the road. "What part?" "That this Jeremy Cromwell received the same vaccination from a bee sting as I did." She said, calmness edgy. "That episode in Antarctica is still unexplained, Scully. And if it takes this young man to clear up what we have seen there, I'll take the risk." Scully silenced. She has nothing more to say, let alone strength to talk him out of it. She settled back into her chair and looked out the foggy window. Mulder wondered if she was hurt by what he said- if she was thinking that her opinions are not enough for him to consider- or if her feelings were not enough for him to think about. He touched her shoulder and squeezed it. Scully's chin rested on his fingers, with her hair tickling his wrist. "I'm only doing this for you." He softly murmured, caressing her smooth chin. A shy grin tucked her mouth. "I know, Mulder. Thank you." Leaning over, he made his lips brush delicately against hers. Then the road demanded his awareness again, but she did not let go of his hand. She, this time, tucked it under her own windbreaker, just underneath the beautiful curve of her breast. This almost takes the air out of Mulder's lungs. He didn't want her to see how this was affecting him, so he tried to justify the step into their so- called quest by speaking some more. "Maybe if we could determine what the government is hiding from the American people, we could give justice to those who are devoid of it. Justice for your cancer, your sister, your daughter, Emily..." "For Samantha and your own parents, Mulder." She adds, moving his hand up to the heated portion of her breast. She let it stay there, just enough for him to feel the lacy bra she had on, then transferred it on her heart. He could feel the beating, making him forget that he was twice as much showing wood by that time. "God, I love you, Scully." He breathed out, half to himself, before spotting the house they were destined to go to. He parked the car safely on the sidewalk, and then turned the engine off. Cautiously looking around, and seeing that no one would see them this way, he took Scully by the back of her neck and pressed his lips fiercely against hers. The sweetness of her tongue swirled around him, dancing around his own senses. It intoxicated his brain- too much, that he had to pull apart for the meantime and descended his teeth on her lower lip. Scully murmured a protest, making them both let go. "No, especially now, Mulder. You don't want my lip swollen on our interview." She giggled, brushing off lipstick from the corners of his mouth. "Get the umbrellas and let's go in there." Mulder ignored that, and he kissed her passionately for one last time. Grabbing his breath at the base of her neck, he again proclaimed that he loves her, while nibbling on the white flesh exposed from her tailored suit. Scully compress her body against his as farther as the small space between them could, saying, "I love you too, Mulder." She hesitantly pulled away, grabbing the make- up kit before he could do anything to her again. He wiped his mouth to get rid of the traces of lipstick, and after they made sure that they were as professional as FBI Agents should, Mulder grabbed the long black umbrellas from behind them and exited the car first. He went to the passenger seat's door and opened it for his partner. Scully unbolted her own black umbrella, then gazed up at Mulder. "What are you doing?" She inquired, voice heavy. Her partner's eyebrows met in surprise. "Scully?" He breathed out, unsure of what's happening. "I said, what are you doing, Mister?" Mulder breathed in deeply and found a local English policeman beaming him with his flashlight. The guy's towering build that was probably more muscle than blood veins took another step closer to him. He almost collapsed in shock, but he quickly regained his take on reality and excused himself. "I'm sorry, I was just... answering to a call." He motioned comically to his pants. The chubby- faced policeman chuckled. "I thought you were in some kind of trouble. Pardon me, Sir." The man saluted him and retreated to give him enough privacy. Mulder waited for the officer to hop on his patrol car and leave him in peace, before he started to rid himself of the heaviness. After doing so, he returned to his car and drove off again. By the time he had accelerated his speed to 60 mph, the rain has started to penetrate his car heavily. Mulder swallowed hard and turned the wipers on, pushing away the reminiscing ache in his heart. ----------------------- CHAPTER TWO: The sickness of truth "Though I don't know how I feel, But I'll know I'll do the right thing, If the right this is revealed... Because it's always raining in my head, Forget all the things I should have said." -Epiphany [Staind] Mulder dipped a thick sugar bagel into a steaming cup of coffee. No one would care if he was ACTUALLY drinking coffee in a tea- oriented country. At least, no one should, since *drinking* tea with the situation he's about to enter is not really advisable. He watched closely as half of his donut's body disappeared beneath the black liquid, then reappeared, most of it a mass of soaked wheat now. Bringing the pastry in his mouth, he bit at it, remembering how he was once obsessed with these donuts when he was in college. He has fairly discovered on his second year at Oxford that he couldn't do some midnight study without ordering a box of newly- parched donuts from Bocalo's, a bakery just a good block away from his apartment. When he passed the old restaurant, he couldn't help but stop by, and at once decided that he'll just wait for the rain to settle until he starts driving. He still has a lot of time in his hands, he wouldn't want to keep her waiting, of course, but he's pretty sure that the two hours time allotted for him would not keep her waiting. Somehow. Maybe he isn't as familiar with England as he wanted to think he is. Or with her, even. "When customers of ours drink coffee during the October rain, that usually means they are about to make a really big decision in their lives. What are you doing all alone here?" Mulder lifted his head from his coffee and chewed slowly at the forgotten piece of bagel in his mouth. The new owner of the shop, Bocalo's son, tapped at the wooden counter in between them. His thick, English accent coated his syllables, and Mulder was tempted to also speak the same way--- to attempt what he used to attempt during his college days. What it gotten him was a good bag of laughs from cruel seniors, and a pledge of never to try hard in being "English" again. "Gonna meet someone." He said, smiling politely at the blond- haired gentleman. Mulder wasn't really in the mood to discuss the evening that was laid before him. It was raining, his spirits are dampened, composure a wreck, and he's chilling out in a restaurant just a few hours from his "meeting". What kind of man is he? His notions thought out, making him snicker. "Ah, I am correct..." Eduardo, as his father called him, placed one hand on his silly- looking 'Lipton- tea- like' cap. "You seem pretty excited about this meeting. What gives?" "I feel like I'm going to my death penalty." "Who are you meeting with? Well, if you don't mind---" Mulder dipped his bagel back into the coffee, but this time not pulling it out. He just watched the darkness claim the light, fluffy structure. "I'm meeting with the past I had to turn away from." "Job?" "Not really." "Woman?" The Agent allowed himself to flinch secretly, before saying a cagey, "Yeah." "Well, Mister. You get the good luck of you life, okay?" Eduardo grinned and tipped his cap off to pay his respects to Mulder. The Agent appreciated the kid's niceness, but that conversation really didn't help. If it did in anyway, it helped his swooning nerves become more fragile that he was expecting that the next thing to disturb him will make his hair jump out of his skin. "Oh, and hey, Mister? Here's your change." The kid handed Mulder two golden coins, and thankfully Mulder wasn't even dwelling into his mind- at least not too deep into his mind. Eduardo beamed for the last damn time, and then moved over to the next costumer a few feet behind him. Mulder squeezed the coins in his palm, feeling the coolness of the metal that penetrated his skin... "Your hand's gotten a lot colder, Scully." He mentioned as he helped his partner out of the car. The umbrella she had on one hand hit his own, and he had no choice but to let go of her. She raised a good- natured eyebrow at his concern. "I feel a little woozy, but that's all." Scully said slowly, weighing his reaction even before he could produce one. Mulder closed the passenger side's door with a thud. "Do you want to stay here? I could go on-" "No, I'll be okay." She assured him, closing the health talk at once. Mulder gave her a small pat on the back of her head to signify that whatever she is comfortable with is where he would be. Side by side, they walked towards the small farm- like house of the Cromwell's. The yard itself was like one big rice plantation- without the rice. They had to jog in quick steps to avoid their heels getting stuck in the semi- soft mud that was underneath the green, dew- lined grasses. Particularly for Scully, who had her four- inched boots on to matching her wardrobe. Mulder escorted his partner with one hand on her waist, at the same time trying to avoid the droplets of rain that threatened her brittle health. Soon, they were in the wooden foyer of the house with only a few stacks of mud at their heels, and scattered portions of wetness on their coats. Mulder closed his umbrella, as did Scully. He tapped the hard wood of the front door, giving her a look when no one answered. He knocked again, this time shouting, "Mr. Cromwell? Jeremy Cromwell? Its Agent Mulder and Scully of the FBI. We are here for your interview." When Mulder said that, they at once heard some hurried shuffling, then the door burst open. A teenager- looking man examined them through the mosquito net that was aligned before they could reach the door. After being assured that they are government people with their flash of badges, the young man stepped out of his dark house. Mulder sympathized the kid's obvious fright for the outside world. He wore dark, shapeless, over-sized t-shirts and gray sweatpants. His hair was messed up, eyes dilated. It gave out the indication that this man was no way planning to leave his abode- ever. "Are you ok, Sir? You don't seem well at all. I'm a doctor-" Scully asked, taking a step forward. The man nodded, moving his eyes around his wide yard. "Yeah, I'm fine, Ms. Scully." He gave her a toothy grin. Scully returned the smile with a smaller one. It was no surprise for the man to know them by their surnames already. Apparently, the Lone Gunmen had the opportunity to raid Mr. Cromwell when they *happened* upon California and introduced him to the duo's identities. Mulder has never honestly seen the three stooges that excited. "If you don't mind, we would prefer to talk inside, Sir." She motioned towards the slightly- open door of his house. Mr. Cromwell did a defensive double- take towards the entrance. "No, I'm sorry, I would like it better out here. I haven't left my house for days now, and having Federal Agents with me outside here makes me feel a lot safer. Please allow me to enjoy the rare luxury of the outdoors." Scully caught Mulder's eye. This man is more than frightened, he's basically freaking out. "You were Stephen Dorman's close friend, is that right, Mr. Cromwell?" Mulder started for both of them. Cromwell smiled again. "Yes, Stephen and I shared this house together. We grew up together, you understand. We do everything together... even to the last moments of his life." "Mr. Cromwell," "Jeremy, please- both of you- call me Jeremy." He interrupted Scully. The Agent took this with a respecting gesture. "Ok, Jeremy," She corrected herself, "According to local PD reports, you had a direct view of the murder that took place in a 24 hour convenience store just outside Saint Catherine. We just don't know where to fit the extreme explosion in this scenario. You have mentioned that they were all intent on your friend when you exited the shop to get extra change from your car. Can you relate what exactly happened?" "There were costumers inside the shop. Stephen and I had to grab some stuff for our empty cupboard. We were clowning around, picking groceries up. These costumers were also shopping, but I kinda noticed that they were gazing at Stephen. When we were about to pay for what we grabbed, we were 75 cents short... so I told him to stay and I'll go out get some from the car." Jeremy paused, dropping his eyes to his feet. "When I looked back, they were... hitting Stephen on the head. Before I could do anything, these people--- shadowy people--- suddenly sprinted from the shop and a humongous explosion took place. I was thrown 8 feet away from my position, and found the owner of the shop beside me also shocked by what happened." Mulder inched closer to Scully, taking in all of the information in his brain. "Deputy Tom Cross told us that you have an insight on why they killed your friend- and on why they had to use extreme explosives afterwards. Could you share it with us?" Jeremy scratched the top of his head. "It's all because of what Stephen and I have been through." "Which is what?" Scully insisted. Jeremy was inwardly ticked by the sound of her voice, and now focused on her face with newfound confusion present in his eyes. Mulder cut in before the young man could answer, "Is it the vaccine, Jeremy?" The boy didn't seem genuinely surprised that Mulder had an idea of the vaccination. He broke his gaze on Scully's pale face, and bobbed his head up and down. "Yes. I am... one of the sole survivors of the alien sickness, as I have termed it. It was only two short years ago." His eyes widened in anticipation. "The only reason why I am still here is because of my father-" "Who- is your father, Jeremy?" "Conrad... Strughold." Mulder almost choked. It was impossible, impossible that this man before them- Jeremy Cromwell- is actually the son of one of the Shadow Government's well- known leaders. It was becoming unbelievable as it gets. "H- how?" "My father changed my last name to protect me. I still don't understand why he did so. It's like, he made a deal with one of my Uncles to give him the vaccine. That's the only reason why I am here today. According to my father- before he died last year- there were only three of us that escaped that terrible mistake..." Jeremy's intent voice was broken by a gurgle of pain. Mulder turned to Scully and found her loosing her hold on balance, almost collapsing. Mulder immediately caught her before she could fall on the ground. Scully turned away from his chest, while rubbing her fingers against her temple. Tucking her thin body against his stronger one, he studied her paling features quizzically. Before them, Jeremy stood, with concern and questions flooding his eyes. "Scully, are you ok?" Mulder tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, threading his hand on the cold sweat that broke from her forehead. She kept her eyes closed. "I- I don't feel too good, Mulder. Umm, I think I should... go back to the car... you could finish the interview with Jeremy." She said, trying to regain her footing. Mulder helped her up, and then offered to escort her back to the car. She agreed, after making sure that Jeremy was okay with it. The young man also consented it, saying that he'll wait for Mulder's return on the foyer. When Mulder tucked Scully inside the passenger side, he gave her a light peck on her cheek before reclining her chair to give her a better circulation. He even opened the air conditioner for her to rest better. She smiled apologetically at him. "I'm sorry, Mulder... I ruined this-" "Shh..." A finger found its way on top of her lips. "Its okay, Scully. You look like you have a fever coming. You just rest there and I'll finish this up. It wouldn't take long, I promise you." He assured her by kissing her on the other cheek, before jogging back up to where Jeremy was. When Mulder reached their interviewee, the man was lost in deep thought. "Jeremy?" When the man's eyelids flew above his pupils, Mulder stopped in his tracks. They were now curiously watery. "Don't pretend anymore, Agent Mulder. We both know the truth." Mulder's reaction to that sensitive word was his eyebrows raising, and his senses gaining extra receptions. "What truth is that, Jeremy?" "That Agent Dana Scully is the third person to have survived that 'mistake'. You were the person who injected that vaccine into her yourself." The tall Agent shrugged to lighten the man's tension. "Yeah. Small world." The man rose to his feet, and for the first time since their meeting, there was a strong ounce of bravery in him- at the same time, an aura of danger coated his form. Mulder shivered when he felt that sensation. He moved his shoulder across his cheek to shove it away. Jeremy looked at him straight into his hazel eyes. "My life is in danger. I'm bound to be another dead body lying on the gutter in the next 48 hours." "Protection is-" "There is a new breed of rebels, Agent Mulder. You should never underestimate the power of... resistance. They were given a choice two years ago- to Resist or to Serve. They have chosen to resist. And us- who had no choice but to serve- have to suffer the consequences they allotted." "Those rebels--- what exactly are they? They aren't human, are they?" "Yes. They *are*." Jeremy shrouded his calloused hands over his face. "That's where your wrong, Mulder. They *are* human. Humans with unimaginable capabilities. Their fear drove them to strength." "So they could still be stopped?" "No." Mulder recoiled, grabbing the nearby wall behind him. His hands anchored safely on the bricks, before he continued, "What do you mean they couldn't?" "To stop them would mean to get yourself killed." "You said-" "Yes, they aren't in large amounts, they don't have much capabilities- when the Shadow Government was murdered last year, the newfound rebellion that stood to clean up their mess wasn't as strategic as the original one." "That's why they are as sloppy as domestic terrorists." "That's where the explosion comes in. They thought they could clean up their mess with big explosions. That's where their wrong. Their plans are kindergarten, basically- but effective." Mulder rested a finger on his chin. "No deep connections with the Big Daddy, no sophisticated equipments to use..." "There is something else, Agent Mulder." Their eyes met again. This time, more seriously. "Stephen and I--- we haven't been friends since childhood. We met each other just a year ago, when we found out that we were both survivors of that tragedy. Stephen is... the grandson of another Syndicate member." "Please don't tell me that it's that black lunged---" "No, not Uncle Spender. I- I couldn't tell you, Mulder. If I do... that information might... kill you, in turn. Let's leave it this way. We should discuss more important matters." "Like colonization?" "No," The frail man's voice dropped to a whisper, "Like the life of Agent Scully." There wasn't much explaining to do, not much reasons to say- for it was all clear. Mulder saw the pattern in an invisible diagram, and there's no doubt that that news hit Mulder like a bullet coated with steaming gunpowder. Eyes rolled back into his head, but he tried to stay as stoic as he possibly could. When Jeremy sensed this battle inside of him, he placed a hand on the Agent's slightly convulsing shoulder. "Don't worry about keeping it from me." He said, voice still soft. "I could see that you love her." The 'panic face' took over Mulder's features, driving his panic over the edge. "I don't know what you're talking about." "It's okay. You two are clearly in a hidden relationship." Mulder's shoulders snapped back away from Jeremy as if he was carrying a contagious disease. "How did you- are you an--- alien- human-" "No. Of course I'm not. There's... excess smudge of lipstick on your," Jeremy motioned to his upper lip, and his companion reached up to brush the evidence off of his skin. "... mouth. Same shade as hers." It was absurd, thinking that this man could be more than he is. All at once Mulder felt anguished and ridiculous. "I apologize for the Lone Gunmen's ridiculous assumption of your identity, Jeremy-" "They aren't far from the truth, Mulder." "What do you mean?" "Why do you think these rebels want the three sole survivors of that alien sickness dead?" "The only reason I could think of... is the same one with Cassandra Spender's case." "That's what they are all fighting for. We three people could be the only species in this planet who have the best chance of immunity against the incoming apocalypse. The first breed of rebels didn't even give a second thought about us. They have assumed that by killing most of the Syndicate- and Cassandra Spender- they could retreat and stop. But there are others who have known better, unfortunately. They found out that a government- made vaccine could save the human race." "H- How did that happen?" Mulder gasped, unable to take in all of what he's hearing at once, no matter how brilliant his mind was. "I don't also understand how. I surely didn't want to think that my Uncle Spender has betrayed me... but that man--- he's gifted with everything. You see- Stephen and I started this ring of protection for each other. We were aware of our incoming demise- and for the past year we have been trying to find who is this third person. We all, all have special connections." He tugged his t- shirt from his neck and pointed at the back of it. Mulder studied where he was pointing to and found a thin scar at the back of his neck. Similar to Scully's. "I almost died of terminal cancer, but I was given the cure. I'm sure Agent Scully has been through the same thing." "Yes," The still astonished Agent replied, "she has." "That's how I... felt Agent Scully. She's sick because of our connection--- her mind is rejecting the possibilities. That's what making her weak. I only heard bits of information from my father about you, Mulder, that's why I couldn't find you... and maybe, also because of an interception made from the Bureau." "Its probably your Uncle Spender who made that interception, Jeremy." The frowning boy waved a hand of dismissal. "I don't want to dwell on that." "Wh- What about those rebels, Jeremy? I couldn't... let either of you... die." "There's nothing left here for me, Mulder. I have no way of escape. But... Agent Scully has a chance. She could escape the rebels. She's meant to escape them." A twinge of hope penetrated Mulder's heart. "How?" "Make her leave the US. It's the only way. These rebels- once they think they have finished us off- they would suffer the same fate as Stephen did- and I will eventually would. It's a momentum of sacrifice. They would commit suicide, thinking that their 'mission' is completed, and by that way, they could also protect themselves from experiencing the pain of the apocalypse." "What if they recognize her-" "Then protect her, the best way you can, Mulder. You have to. Change her identity- don't let her come back to the US until its safe. You have to save her for the truth." Jeremy reached a hand out to Mulder. He only could stare at the outstretched hand a few inches away. Doubt washed over him, a strong overpowering of disbelief, of desperation that mixed with skepticism. But he couldn't stop his heart from feeling disdain on the situation. He needs proof, something to ensure him that what he's hearing is REAL, that his Scully is in danger, *again*. There were so many times that he was sidetracked, ridiculed, betrayed... and Mulder has to be cautious. It's all too unbelievable, even Scully would retreat. He has no real choice but to follow himself... "W- What if I don't want to believe this insanity, Jeremy?" The parting hand hid back behind Jeremy. Brown eyes strained to look at him. Mulder lifted his head and accepted the challenge the boy presented. "What if you are lying to me--- what if this isn't true?" "Then how do you explain my knowledge, Mulder? How could you explain the coincidences? If you need proof, I hope this is enough proof." He shoved the crowning hair off of his wide forehead, and a throbbing cut appeared. Studying it closely, the Agent found out that it hasn't been treated, still with dry traces of blood surrounding the gash's core. "You have to get that cleaned up." "If I do so, there might be more casualties in a public place when the rebels decide to strike. I'd rather wait here for my death." Jeremy released his hair to hide the swollen cut. "I had that during the explosion. If I'm in anyway an Alien- Human Hybrid, then you should be rolling down on the floor, scratching your eyes out." "I understand." "So you believe me?" "I- I still couldn't, I'm so sorry. I wouldn't easily accept this--- that Scully is bound to die. I wouldn't. That just isn't plausible enough." "Then you wait and see, Mulder. Two days after we have had this conversation, I will be dead." It was all a blur for Mulder when he turned his back on the man who claims that his most precious possession would be dead in less than four days. He couldn't remember walking across the muddy field, stepping into the car, and leaving the place behind. There were no goodbyes, not even a last gaze at the man who could prove the truth he has been searching for. They were already a mile away from Saint Catherine when Mulder finally snapped out of his bewilderment. Scully gave him the gratitude of doing so. She had been sleeping all the time, and had no clear notion of what happened after Mulder left her for rest. "Mulder?" Soft fingertips grazed his tensed jaw. "Are you okay?" "I- I'm not so sure about that." Her seat straightened up, and seatbelt was released. "Can you tell me what's wrong? Or at least what happened back there?" "Nothing's wrong. I just... maybe... the rain got to me. I don't feel well, too." "I could drive." "No. I could handle this." "Maybe you could just tell me what's bothering you, huh?" "You're sick, Scully. You should rest." Her health hasn't improved yet, even if they were approximately two miles away from Cromwell's house. Scully only allowed herself to give Mulder a lingering kiss on his neck, before propping herself back on the chair. She knew when to just recede and let him dwell deeper in his worries- if she wanted, she could make it go away- but something in Mulder's facial expression told her to leave him alone. He'll tell her in his own good time. He has too, at least. They did promise never to keep secrets from each other yet again... Her head rolled to one side, before small sighs escaped her throat, drawing her back into serenity of sleep. Outside of their rental car, the rain has stopped grudging everything under it and a small sparkle of the sun's rays traced the contours of Scully's face. A small smile found its way on her lips when she felt the heat lace with the coolness of her cheeks. Mulder noticed the lighting of his partner's auburn hair too beautiful to ignore, as with the innocent smile he only saw during their love making sessions. If what Jeremy Cromwell said was true, if all of it was true... He has lost Scully too much to actually bear the pain of this one. First, it was her abduction, the one she has always refused to believe in, the one she has constantly denied. Then came her cancer... that was the biggest threat of all. During those moments, whenever he gripped the small outline of her hand inside of his, he would shiver because she was so vulnerable- and Scully was NEVER vulnerable unconsciously. And the alien vaccine--- the bee sting that stopped them from possibly consuming their partnership earlier than two years later... that was so close. The moment he injected that *fucked* up vaccine in her, the whole chamber collapsed and lucky for their healthy muscles that they had the chance to escape. Scully has suffered so much for their crusade- a crusade that doesn't seem to go anywhere. He couldn't loose her now. Not now, not never. So there's no possibility that what Cromwell had told him is true. There shouldn't be. Inclining to linger his lips over Scully's, he brushed a featherlike kiss on it, just enough for her to feel it in her dreams and not wake her up. As he said the next words, his hearing had blocked out, and his voice seemed to be coming from a different person, the person he has always been when it was about her, the person he has found to enjoy over the time he and Scully succumbed to their personal relationship and he has turned into the most inhuman of all humanity, the Mulder before she joined him in the X-Files- the same boy who had looked at Samantha being abducted- the painless young Maverick of the J. Edgar Hoover... "I wouldn't let you leave me, Scully. I don't want to lose you..." "... should get going now, Sir. The rain has stopped." "Huh?" "Your woman must be waiting." "Oh," Mulder's voice tattered out, refusing the reflex to shake his head to gain more insight on actuality. He found his legs buckling at the awakening noise, and to cover his obvious startling, he brushed his chocolate brown hair with his fingers. A nod was made towards Eduardo. "Thanks." Eduardo flashed him another 'I'm-an-ailing- first-grade-student-that-want-my-daddy' smile that made the very adept Agent want to cut a punch into his face, while demanding how fucking old is he. Mulder ignored that pondering and drank one fourth of the amount of beverage in his cup. He tucked his trench coat over and out one arm, and supported the Styrofoam goblet with his free hand. He bid the juvenile man a good bye and a polite thanks for the good luck before thrusting himself out into the open air. Mulder hissed past his clenched teeth as the discovery of a drizzle alerted him. Apparently, the rain *hasn't* completely stopped. Thanks to Mr. Juvenile, his finer threads have a good possibility of being ruined- and he wore them especially for tonight. Sure, up above the great big sky, moon has appeared- somewhat, but the storm hasn't really pulled back on its descent. Luckily, Mulder made it to his car with only a few damages on him. As for his uncovered coffee... He studied the ruined liquid. Then without giving it any more qualms he flicked it to the nearest trash can adjacent his car. A quick steal at the time was made, and then he realized that he has spent more than half an hour inside the restaurant. He should get the hell out of there now if he doesn't want to keep her waiting. Turning the engine on, he blasted the speakers with an unknown English singer, and whizzed off, leaving behind a trail of pressured tire tracks. --------------------- CHAPTER THREE: Strength of will "Hold on, hold on to yourself... For this is gonna hurt like hell. Hold on, hold on to yourself... You know that only time can tell. What is it in me that refuses to believe? This isn't easier than the real thing. My love, you know you are my best friend, You know that I'd do anything for you and my love, Let nothing come between us, my love for you is strong and true. Am I in heaven here or am I? At the crossroads I am standing..." - Hold on [Sarah Mclachlan] There weren't many opportunities that he has brought flowers for women he has admired- not even for his mother. Honestly, Mulder has hated the idea of scrutinizing through the endless details of daisies, roses, and lilies---- picking what a girl will want and appreciate more than the others she has received throughout her lifetime. Scully never needed flowers from her to get an idea of what he feels for her. His words and actions were enough--- his tongue on her clavicle, or his fingers on the silky skin of her cheek. The only times he brought her flowers were during her cancer treatments, "hospital after a harrowing cases" days, and... there was actually one time he did buy her flowers during their intimate relationship together. Funny, since it wasn't really necessary- coming to think of it. They had a fight then, Mulder remembers. Apparently, he wanted Scully to do this autopsy on a mutilated Texan man, while she wasn't even finished with her weekend field reports set for Monday morning. Mulder fingers a delicate white rose on the flowers stand, pinching at the soft petals. It wasn't a complete ultimatum for him, but when the cottage- designed stand caught his eye during his slow drive, he immediately parked in front of it before he could talk himself out of the idea. The whiff of the botanical garden poised inside the store intoxicated him at once, reminding him of a *scent* he once slept into and woke up with. She was so angry then, when he entered her motel room with so much confidence in his badass stride. Then again, that grand entrance was destroyed when Scully started shouting at him, telling him that he, "takes her for granted"; he "doesn't care about her own professional attainments". That wasn't true, of course. Or maybe it was- he couldn't really tell, because as she stormed pass him that evening, he was speechless. It was too blurry to eventually see what's right from wrong, but it was his fault, so he had to do the apologizing they both dread during fights. Unfortunately for him, this time around, the apologizing goes both ways- professionally and personally inclined. Three dozens of white roses, with a single red rose in the middle of the humongous garden. He was obviously overdoing it. But *probably* worth it, since an hour before he was about to enter Scully's room and give her the little "present", she was already at the door, knocking. Apologizing to him before she could even enter his motel room, all he was able to do was to point at the roses and tell her, "I- I was about to do the same thing, with only a slight difference." Scully laughed, and they kissed. One thing she did tell him that evening that always stuck in his mind was that she'll never need anything material from him. She already had enough proof that he loves her, and she hopes that she's also giving enough proof that she loves him back. Nevertheless, "Thank you for the flowers, Mulder." She said with a cute grin pasted on her face. What happens after that, Mulder didn't allow himself to think of it, or else he'll have the most incredible hard- on that the lady on the counter would sure notice. Especially since she's been eyeing him the whole time he has been inside the store. Mulder released the white rose, at the same time letting go of the pain in his heart. But Scully isn't like any other girl. She wasn't the type who would be bowled over with a box of chocolates or a truck- load of flowers. She's the kind of woman who would love you for who you are, making you special all the time when your with her. For Mulder, Dana Katherine Scully was the epitome of a perfect woman. "What will you take, Sir?" The bleached lady in the counter cried out in a seductive gasp. Mulder grinned politely at her. Buy flowers and leave. Buy flowers and leave. His mind screamed. "I'll take a dozen of red roses, please." The owner scooted over and gathered the finest red roses in the collection, gently shaking her big ass in air, making sure that Mulder gets to see it. The Agent tucked his head away in turn, keeping his view opposite until she finished taking care of the bouquet. The next thing he knew was that he was in the register, admiring the exquisite beauty of the tiny bow wrapped around the roses. Times sure have changed. Mulder is buying flowers, and actually pleading that she'll like them. Mulder was about to pay for the roses, when something at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Oh, Hail England! Sunflower Seeds. "I'll have two of those, too." He told the lady, pointing at the small packs like a little boy pointing at a new set of toy cars. After paying for all of them, he eagerly took his purchases before dashing out of the shop. He'll start puking if the woman starts to lick her lips again, while winking at him through her fake lashes. When Mulder was back inside his rented car, he quickly opened a pack of sunflower seeds and started cracking them against his teeth as if he hasn't tasted one in years. He was nervous. He couldn't think straight anymore... no, he should relax; he should breathe in and out. Breathe in and out. While doing the exercises his mind manipulated him to perform, his vision directed at the swirl of roses at the passenger seat, where he hauled them. As if she'll appreciate roses that anyone could just give her without any special meetings like this. Mulder suddenly felt ridiculous. His heaving of air halted. "What are you going to do now, Mulder?" A familiar voice consisting of a small pitched masculinity shook Mulder off his self ridicule. He pulled his head from his hands, noticing the wetness that had gathered in his palms. He had been crying... not just crying- he was weeping HARD. Immediately, he found out where it came from--- there was a hammer pounding inside of his head, and another one in his heart. "Are you going to tell her the truth?" Another voice, this time much more collected and calm, with only a trace of cracking in it. Mulder didn't answer still. He just stared at his palms as if he doesn't realize he had been sobbing for the last time, in front of the three stooges, of all people. That thought somehow produced an amount of fear from Mulder's already mused up veins. Gazing up, he found the three Gunmen peering at him through the dimness of their abode. The piles of computer spare parts aligned the brightly- painted walls, keeping the sunlight from invading the certain loneliness. Beside where they settled Mulder after hearing the "bad" news was Byers' computer processing some data that the Agent had no vigor to ask about. His friends were thinking that if they let him cry for a second, if they let him just release some suppressed emotions in him, he'll be comprehending afterwards. It seems as if they were wrong on that. Frohike removed his grayish- brown cap of his head, and settled it above his chest. "You could do what Jeremy Cromwell told you to. Make Scully fly to Egypt- Switzerland, Sweden..." "I- it's not that easy, Frohike." Mulder finally found his voice, and it sounded as pathetic as he felt. That made him cringe more tears out of his iris. "Why not?" Langley demanded, swishing his blond hair in tune with his closer steps. "Scully wouldn't hold it against you..." "No, it's not that easy... because..." "Because what, Mulder?" Byers lightly asked, kneeling in front of Mulder. He pointed a clenched fist at the others, warning them if they threatened to make a sound. Byers always had the main hold of control over his two other companions. "Because... Scully and I... " "You're married, aren't you?!?" "FROHIKE!" Langley and Byers shouted in unison, flying eye-lit daggers in the old man's direction. The DOM look-alike zipped his mouth shut in reply. "It's... kind of like that. Scully and I are together. Were not JUST partners anymore--- were not JUST friends anymore. We're... lovers. For the past few months, we have been sleeping together." Frohike looked away in pain, and apparently no real surprise present in him. He made little gasping sounds of shock, asking Langley to comfort him. The banshee- like Gunmen did so, patting his friend on the back, while clenching Frohike's other shoulder to retreat him from doing anything stupid. Byers was the only one left to handle the condition, as usual. He sighed loudly at his peers, before telling Mulder, "You have more or less committed yourself to each other." "Yes. It's... mutual. She'll never let me face this alone. She wouldn't want to feel vulnerable, she'll..." The anguished Agent wiped another trace of tear on his cheek. "... want to face this threat. And she'll kill herself doing so. I couldn't let that happen. I don't want to lose her. That's why I didn't tell her what Jeremy Cromwell told me when we went back to DC, regarding him as another psychotic interviewee wanting attention from the Department of Defense. And when Cromwell died exactly two days after... I had to go to you guys for help. I couldn't handle it anymore. Scully only has four days for survival." "You know what you have to do, Mulder, but we would try other means to solve this. Your original plan is to painful- for both of you." Byers reasoned out, diverting his gaze from his friend. Frohike regained consciousness and pricked his ears. "What plan?" "Mulder... has this plan for this dilemma. He told me over the phone when I called him to inform him of Cromwell's death." "What's the damn plan, Byers?" "Pain. Extreme, excruciating pain." Immediately, Langley and Frohike didn't like the idea. Frohike wasn't fond of the way Byers made it sound, and even if Mulder *stole* Scully away from him, the Agent is still one of their best friends, and seeing their best friend in pain wouldn't really atoll for the one he falsely has. He would rather have Agent Mulder and Scully together than see one of them in anguish--- there isn't any doubt in his mind that these two are meant for each other. Whatever crush he had for Scully was all fantasy, never a reality for him. "I wouldn't let you do that, Mulder." Frohike declared, also kneeling beside Byers. He hesitated before putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I don't think pain could save her... in turn, it might destroy you." "What if IT COULD save her, Melvin?" When Mulder starts calling them by their first names, it means that he's closer to a decision than they are imagining. This time, he was dangerously close, and the three could already feel the conclusion drawing up in the Agent's veins. "No, hotshot, don't do this to yourself..." Langley protested desperately, standing behind the two Gunmen who also had similar worry written on their faces. Mulder hastily wiped the remaining wetness from his skin, then stood up from the chair, his face deadpan. His eyes were as glassy as porcelain, his mouth as tight as a robot from another galaxy. The Gunmen all gave involuntary shivers. This wasn't like Mulder; it was a side they haven't seen in him before... "Book a flight for Scully under your name, Byers. Charge it on me." "Where to, Mulder?" "To England. Oxford." "Wh- what will you do to her?" Frohike thought that sounded ridiculous, so he rephrased it, "What will you tell her?" "I'll tell her that I'll finish this insanity- because of my love for her. That I don't want her to end up as one of those people who has touched my life and unjustly died." A wave of relief washed over the stooges. "Really?" Langley wanted to clear. Mulder's face suddenly broke, then they knew it. He wasn't going to tell her the truth. He was going to lie. To his best friend, to his lover, to his partner. The Agent couldn't meet their eyes as he gathered his briefcase and jacket in his arms. This left them in outrageous dismay. Silenced dismay. All of them speculated about shaking more rationality out of him, but then again, this is Mulder they are handling. There is no way they could talk him out of it--- they didn't have Scully's gift of doing so. Before Mulder exited their door, he glanced back. "I know what I'm doing, guys. Thanks for your help." Closing the metal gate behind the three men, a loud buzzing sound came out of their alarm atop the door frame, piercing the delicate skin of his eardrum... BEEP! BEEP! Mulder swished his head to one side. Then to the other. Taking a peek at the humongous red trailer behind him, he opened his window and waved an apology. Concentrating on the road would be essential if he ever wants to reach his destination on time, or if he EVER wants to reach his destination. He stepped on the pedal and the car accelerated some speed over the 20 kph he was maintaining over the street. The truck behind him at long last began to experience impatience, and the loudest hoot from them pierced Mulder to wake up. He didn't even apprehend that he was already driving when he reminisced about that episode with his closest friends. Just from a simple decision that took a life of its own, that betrayed him in his most challenging sacrifice of all... That was probably the most painful day of his entire life. Oh, Christ. Maybe he should include tonight. Speed reaching a good, steady 70, Mulder glanced at the fresh- scented flowers on the passenger seat and touched them carefully. The soft texture of the blood- red petals was almost as soft as her skin. Pulling his hand away and settling it on the wheel, he decided that flowers could maybe somehow ease the unfamiliar tension between them. He's not so sure if she is still the same woman he has grown to love over the years, if time has healed her; if time has preserved her perfect womanliness... Times *sure* have changed. Another sunflower seed was cracked in between his teeth, and damp husks were thrown to the plastic bag opened on the space in between the passenger and driver's seat. ----------------------- CHAPTER 4: Product of derision and conclusion "There's a lot of things I understand, And there's a lot of things that I don't want to know, But you're the only face I recognize, It's so damn sweet of you to look me in the eyes... It's all right, I'm O.K., I think God can explain, I believe, I'm the same, I get carried away... The scent of Vaseline in the summertime, The feel of an ice cube melting over time, The world seems bigger than both of us, Yet it seems so small when I begin to cry..." - I think God can explain [Splender] There she was. Not even the greatest philosopher in the history of mankind could explain the tsunami of emotions coursing through Mulder's blood right at that particular moment, when earth merged with the ocean and Zeus reached out to the common people for the first time without disdain. <*I* should be a philosopher, Goddammitt.> The rain has resurrected and still was eagerly cascading through the picturesque skim streets of Oxford, forcing a horde of passer-bys to settle at the hooded sidewalk, crowding in their own cigarette butts, cups of tea, and new gossips. Mulder, meanwhile, was standing out there with them, frozen in his spot as if he just saw the proof of extraterrestrial before him inside the bar, drinking scotch out of a goblet. "Hey, are you okay?" A well- dressed business man paid him attention. Mulder only gave a short nod, then the fellow moved away from him, shaking his head at the others who were also curious about the Agent's ordeal. Silence nailed him on the spot as he watched her pin her golden auburn hair behind her ears. They were about 3 inches longer, he noticed with amazement. The strands settled on her shoulders, brushing against the soft skin of her shoulders. Even if her back was to him, she was *still* as beautiful as before, an Aphrodite of American legend, the goddess of his life. He was partially glad that there weren't any men hitting on her, except for the college- frat boy who was sitting a few stools away from her on the same bar, and was eyeing the slender body that peeked from the sheer dress she had on. Did she dress up this way for him? The distinct effect she had on him was still there, and was alerting him down on his groin. Crossing one leg over the other, a white hand flicked its finger over the rim of the glass she was drinking wine from. Even if the only thing he could settle on was the slender cut of her back, Mulder had a feeling that she didn't change much over the time they were separated. A wispy black dress that was threaded low on her chest, that glowing cross pendant on her neck... he could imagine it all... Mulder felt incredibly juvenile. A bouquet of red roses on one hand with a briefcase in the other, trench coat slung over his tensing shoulders. What kind of fool is he? Should he have chosen something more practical to wear? He was more of a man going to a business meeting than to a meeting that could change the course of his travel down the reality road. Maybe he should've taken the time to change over the airport... on the contrary; he didn't wait for anything else. He was too excited to see her again... Fox Mulder hasn't been this close to Dana Scully in three months. Closing his eyes, he imagined himself beside her, making the sweet fragrance of her honeysuckle shampoo fill his lungs while gazing deep into the ocean of her blue eyes. Her lips would be slightly crimson, just enough for it to be noticed beneath the halo of red that her hair was. Scully was like an American version of a China doll. Porcelain skin, scented, and that flush she always emitted during love making... His knees buckled. Scully was there, inside the bar Maggie told him to go to. Mulder couldn't fucking believe it. He was so close to her, again... He was so close. He was so close. Mulder opened his eyes in ecstatic shock as those words echoed in his head. Sweat stained his forehead, dropping onto his open mouth, and convulsing chest muscles. Looking below him, he paused moving against the heat of her body when he saw where they were connected. Pelvis to pelvis, she was grinding against his lower abdomen, her heels digging at his lower back, pushing him to continue their passion further. He was kneeling in front of her, watching her naked body writhe in pleasure before him. The only light of the room was from the open draperies of his apartment's windows, giving the whole bedroom a dreamlike quality, such loveliness... He was so close to the edge, and he could sense that she was also. But... No, Mulder couldn't do this anymore. Tears flecked his eyelids as he swept his hands over her inner thighs to prepare her for his withdrawal. Making sure that there were blankets close to where he was kneeling, he slowly unlocked her heels behind him, and then almost immediately disjoined themselves from each other. Scully had her eyes closed, and when she felt his cock sliding out of her, they shot open, the bluish ocean darkened with lust, and a fast approaching orgasm. He didn't say anything, and she wasn't saying anything, too. She was watching him in turn, with no expression present in her sweat- lined face. Scully was too taken aback by his extraction--- there was no evidence of her voice inside her throat. Her tongue ached to inquire him about his astounding action, but nothing came out of her mouth when she opened it. Mulder made sure she was covered in a quilt before he left her there on the bed. He stood up and looked for his underwear, which he already was struggling to put on before the pain in his dick would increase for its release. On the bed, Scully gathered the sheets over her breasts, studying him, then the bruises under her arms that he has produced over their foreplay. He hasn't bruised her this bad before. Something had been on his mind when he brought her here in his apartment, when he kissed her with tears glistening his eyes. She should've asked him about it, but before she could start something, he dismissed the subject with his tongue inside of her, slowly and surely. It gave her the impression that Mulder was *desperately* making love to her. "What's going on, Mulder?" Her voice, corresponding to the twinge inside her aorta, sounded so small inside the deafening silence they have produced ever since they were disconnected from each other. He was already half into his boxers when her voice shattered the howling in his brain. There was no turning back now, no going forward or past or future. This is his decision. He has to fucking face it. No matter how hard it will be. Securing his boxers into position along the trim of his waist, he sat down on the edge of the bed, and a hand found the cup of her knee. They both struggled not to pull each other back into ecstasy as heat from each other flooded their senses in the most senseless way. Mulder took a deep breath to control himself, and Scully looked down on his hand over her leg, scrutinizing the paths of his veins that she has grown familiar with over the years. "Scully," He started, his voice still as pathetic as it sounded during the Gunmen confrontation. "I have... to tell you something. Important." Nothing came out of her swollen lips. She was making him go on with whatever he needed to do so. But how could he pull through it? When all that he could see were her beautiful blue eyes, her delicious body, and her lips slightly open, every twitch, every movement somehow whispering her truthful love to him... Mulder lost eye contact with her, at the same time pulling his hand away from her leg. "Scully, I couldn't love you this way." The words spilled out of his mouth like hot coal, he didn't even realize that he has said what he needed to start the conversation with. What made Mulder comprehend was the flooding of questions in her face when he had the strength to gaze back into her. Tears were already making their way on Mulder's chin, he wasn't surely expecting that, but seeing her so muddled and pulling away from her during the heat of their sex kept him in a river of emotions. Even if it should be the least of his insights that night, Mulder didn't deny it as it came crashing down on him: He loves Scully too much. "W- What do you mean?" Her throaty voice cracked as she pressed her legs to her upper limb, her whole body covering only a fourth of the large, king sized bed. Through the moonlight, Scully was so little, so small. And damn it, so vulnerable... Mulder couldn't go on watching her like this. He needed her to be strong; he needed her to live so that he could be in turn, strong and alive. He borrowed his determination from that thought. "It- it's... this. Our relationship. We could- couldn't keep on doing this. We are... we are fooling everyone around us." Glassy eyes shaded the lie in his face as he spoke to her in a calm, robot- like voice. "You're a Catholic, Scully. You should know better." She took that as a direct insult. Her mouth opened, then closed. Flush crept up into her cheeks in anger. "What DO you mean I'm a Catholic, Mulder?!? This is *OUR* decision, mind you--- Or did you forget that already?" "I would... want to forget that decision, Scully." It was her turn to cry now when the adamant weight of his words crashed down on her. Teardrops spilled out of her windows as if he has penetrated her with a bullet. If there was one thing he learned about this beautiful woman over the past seven years they have been together, it was never to fool with her faith, her chosen paths, and herself, in general. Selfishly using that knowledge against her, he had no real choice. If he wanted this quick, in the most endearing way, he should follow his earlier plans without any hassles. Less pain for both of them. This is the only way he could hit her hard and make her believe his lie at the same time. "Mulder... what are you trying to do to me?" A pause, filled with breathy snuffles. "Why are you telling me that at this point in our relationship?" He stood up, the mere thought of being near her sobbing form washing a brick of sorrow in him. "Could you live with that, Scully? We have something here... something so immature that people of our caliber and education shouldn't attempt. We have a mission to fulfill, we shouldn't let foolish personal issues come against that, should we?" The bitterness of his words also hit him deep within his rib cage, and a murmur of pleading escaped his lips like a cold breeze before he could stop it. On the bed, he could hear her sobs getting louder by the minute. "Then- then you have used me all along? You told me you love me, Mulder, and I believed that... I gave you my soul, my body, my heart... I trusted you with my whole life. I thought we trusted each other without any inhibitions, that we would venture towards life with each other behind one another... I believed that, Mulder... and I came to consign that you believe that, too, between us... what we shared- two people who were thrown into this bizarre arrangement- do not easily clasp what we have... what we have is something beyond me or you, oh damn, you know that, Mulder, don't tell me you don't. W- What more do you want? Am I not enough for you?" Scully shouted over her encompassing sobs. Once she spoken those words, what they considered their personal creed, Satan must've opened hell up and hitched a rope around Mulder's neck. He felt miserable. He felt stupid. He felt inconsiderate. He felt dumb. He felt like the worst loser in his life. He felt like he just killed a human being. He felt so dirty, so sleazy, so... He felt dead. He turned his back to her, waving his hands into the air. "It's not that easy to phrase it, Scully." His tone was of desperation, a desperation holding all his hopes for this torture to end. "Mulder, look at me." Her voice was tough, and that made him do what he has feared all evening: Mulder looked into Scully's eyes. Pupil to pupil. Corona to corona. Iris to iris. As he expected, she saw the lie in him. She saw the obstruction, she read his emotions perfectly; like a book she has studied all her life, each page imprinted perfectly in her memory. He was lying, and she knew so... "Why don't you tell me the truth?" The back of her hand found her cheek to arrest the trail of more salty water down her face. He noticed that her crying has stopped. That brought some relief into Mulder's systems. Maybe he could pull through this without hurting her so much... the notion was tormenting him, the mere notion of finding Scully not loving him that way, tormented him the way he was tormenting her right at that second. From that, he found an opportunity to make the next words stumble clumsily out of his mouth: "That is the truth, Scully." He tried to convince her, at the same time trying to convince himself to gain composure. Again, he had to keep his gaze away from her. "No. It's not." She stood up from the bed, gathering the sheets around her body. Pinning one end to another on her thin form, she was able to move freely towards him. One finger hooked at the bone of his chin, and she raised his head to make him look into her. Now they were closer, face- to- face. Now she could perfectly read his thoughts. Mulder missed her eyes again. "Oh God..." She trailed off, letting go of his chin. A stitch of hope danced across Mulder's failing intuition. Maybe Scully could figure this out; maybe she saw what he was trying to hide from her. Maybe she would understand this outburst, forgive him, and follow his instructions towards England at once. Maybe they would have that sunset- ending, after all, maybe even some peace from the horrors of the X-Files. Maybe. Yet, that was only possible if the world was made of a hand- painted sky and carton furniture. If the earth *was* Hollywood. Scully is no magician. Scully is no psychic. Scully is just... human. Bleeds when she gets pricked, cries when she gets hurt--- like this. As human as he is--- Truth was, he felt nowhere near human at present. And Scully was a human classified female. No matter how much she tries to keep her heels at pace with the male percentage of the bureau, Scully is still a lady. So the next assumption she has guessed from him didn't surprise him all the same, on the other hand- it also did, very well. "Is there--- there another woman? Is there, Mulder?" She demanded, voice thick with pain. The wrong conception made Mulder's head jerk upward. And for the first time since their conversation started, Mulder finally told something true: "No. Of course not..." It was an option she has presented to him, an easier way to get out of the mess he has to create, but he didn't accept it--- simply because it wasn't him. Because he couldn't do such a thing to her, past present or future. Because... she is Dana Katherine Scully, a person he'll always devote everything to. Because he couldn't lie anymore. He has to stick to what he has started, and God help him, may he pull through; if he wants to see the only woman he loves alive until the next 40 years of their existence. "Then what is it?" She sobbed out. Mulder's arms dangled dangerously at his sides. They were tempted to put themselves on her shoulder, to comfort her. But his intuition kicked in, forcing him to stop physical function. Successful at convincing himself to stay still, only his mouth moved: "I... I couldn't love you anymore, Scully. I have... never... loved you... the way I made you... think..." The words were fucking foreign to him. Mulder thought he spoke that last sentence in Spanish. He *prayed* that he spoke those last words in Spanish- or any language that Scully didn't happen upon in College. However, Scully perfectly understood him. That descended on him when he gawked at her shivering body. Crying, red hair all over her face. Tears pooling on the space between their toes. So much anguish present in the small sounds that escaped during her weeping, he knew that those sounds will haunt him forever in his dreams every night. Veins appeared on her hands that clutched the sheet over her body. His Scully... he had hurt his Scully... Damn his life. Damn it all. "How could you tell me that, Mulder? How?" "I. Just. Did. Scully." "I don't..." "Its true. I couldn't love you this way, Scully. We have to stop this." "Oh no, God..." By now her eyes were more swollen than her lips, and her form was shivering in the most turbulent way. Mulder's eyes also clouded with more tears, but he didn't let them fall. He held his fists in violent eruption, to stop the teardrops from being visible. Scully clutched the sheets around her body protectively, feeling so naked all at once. She suddenly panicked, and in an instant, she was gathering her pieces of clothing that fell on the floor with awkwardness, disdain lining her lips. When she was finished, she stood before Mulder. They stared at each other for a minute, gauging how much emotion was pulsing through each other's veins. He tried to keep his eyes as dark as possible, as realistic as possible, when he saw that Scully was finding a flash of treachery in him, that what he just told her wasn't true--- a single proof. But he didn't give in, and to his best, he didn't show it. It must've worked. Because the next thing he knew was her hand smacking against his cheek, slapping his face very, very hard that it threw his head from one side to another. The sting penetrated Mulder's cheek. He caressed his jaw, almost falling back against the wall. Scully's red hair swayed viciously against her tired face, and her eyes were as glassy as his were a while ago. He could see the hate in them, one that he has worked hard on bringing in her, but now that its IN her, Mulder didn't think that it would be this frightening, this demeaning. "I appreciate that it doesn't take me to tell you this, but you're a bastard, Mulder. One hell of a bastard." She about faced and was about to exit the bedroom when Mulder finally regained some hold on his face, and some last hope of self- pity. He called her name out, and she stopped her tracks, but did not look back at him. "You... let me drive you home... its dangerous..." "At least give me some dignity. You used me up. Now leave me alone." "Scully," "What?!?" "You realize... that we wouldn't be able to work with each other..." "You don't have to ask me anymore, Mulder. My resignation will be in Skinner's desk tomorrow morning." "Scully," "Goddamitt! What?!? For Christ's sake!" "We still are friends, aren't we?" It was wrong for him to tell her that, and she thought so too, because she gave out a good cussing before slamming the door behind her. Mulder stood frozen in his position, one hand over the now- reddening cheek she slapped, and another on a chair to keep his balance. When his front door slammed shut with the loudest intensity he has ever heard, he fell down on his knees. He gritted his teeth together to control the sting in him, but it didn't help. An arm circled his stomach, the other on the floor to prevent him from falling face down. He cried his heart out while whispering Scully's name over and over again. Business is business, and Mulder picked himself from the floor towards the living room, stumbling on his elbows on the way, where he could grab the telephone. Plopping heavily on the couch, he dialed a familiar number from memory. "Hello?" "Hi, Mrs. Scully... it's me, Mulder..." "Oh Mi God... you did it, didn't you, Fox? Oh Mi God, Dana..." "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Scully..." "Oh, Fox, I should be the one telling you that. Are you okay? My daughter-" "Scully just left my apartment... I- I think I'll pull through. Did Byers give you the ticket?" "Yes, he did, son." "Make her leave in the next 24 hours, please, Mrs. Scully. I need to know that she's safe. Call me up once her plane leaves American soil..." "I will, Fox. Oh God, what you had to do... I'll try my best to decrease her anger towards you." "No, keep it that way. She has to hold onto it until she's out of the country." "What- whatever you say, Fox. Do take care. Dana will probably be here in the next hour. I couldn't... imagine what you have to go through just to save her. And... thank you. I'm so sorry, son." Through a clouded sense, Mulder could hear Mrs. Scully's voice tearing up, and cracking all the same. "Thanks too, Maggie." The phone dropped back into the cradle. Mulder's mission was finished, and he never felt so fucking bad in his whole life. He fell back into his leather couch, snuggled his body against the familiar corners, and then closed his eyes. A few more drops of tears came out of them, before he has lost consciousness. A palm settled on the cheek where Scully hit him, and it just stayed there, until he felt he was loosing everything else in his life. Until he felt that his fingertips had nothing to hold onto except the bitter- sweet slumber that should push him into another head- spinning fantasy of her that would surely taunt him the next morning. He was going to loose it all... He was going to loose it all... He was loosing it. Mulder was going to loose it. His lunch, his composure; his head; his senses; his mind; his brain... Just because Dana Katherine Scully was seating inside a bar a few steps before him. His thoughts reminded him of a rough satisfaction on the incoming state. He saved Dana Scully from her apparent demise three months ago. He sacrificed the only thing he held precious just so that he could live in the knowledge that she was safe somewhere, and in that knowledge, some hope to keep him alive throughout the day, and breathing through his sleep. Mulder has gone through so much when he had to make her hate him, in the most painful of all lies... Scully saved him- a thousand times over, he once told her during a terrible ordeal over the X-Files. He owes her everything; she owes him nothing. She kept him honest; she kept him whole... He *needs* that honesty, he needs to feel whole again. He needs Dana Scully to save him, all over again, from the impending death of his feelings. For his life itself. Formerly limp arms and legs suddenly had a life of its own again, and Mulder blindly charged inside the bar, keeping only one agenda in his mind, to silence the others that were threatening to destroy his integrity in this. He could ponder about them a while later, when he has settled in front of Scully. Pray that the Big Guy doesn't let him down on this. ------------------------------ CHAPTER 5: Reunion of loyalty "Everyone is changing, There's no one left that's real, Make up your own ending, And let me know just how you feel, Because I am lost without you, I cannot live at all, My whole world surrounds you, I stumble then I crawl, You could be my someone, You can be my scene, You know that I will save you from all of the unclean, I wonder what you're doing, I wonder where you are, There's oceans in between us, But that's not very far... Can you take it all away? Can you take it all away? Well you shoved it in my face, This pain you gave to me, Can you take it all away? Can you take it all away? Well you shoved it in my face, This pain you gave to me?" - Blurry [Puddle of Mudd] Scully sat impatiently on the rigid stool of the night bar, frowning at the creaking sound it made whenever she attempted to fit one leg over the other. One more minute on the chair and she'll have to burst outside of the quiet place, with or without meeting him. She doesn't care if the rain was lining the streets with such vigor, or if he would have to wait for her forever inside Chill Out, the restaurant's name. The other thing bothering her was the gooey eyed college boy that kept staring at her with such--- sloppiness. He tried to hide his gazes at her through his thick chemistry book, but that only made it worst for Scully. Another gawk at her and she'll have to pull out the loaded gun she kept inside her shoulder bag. Impatience was her best friend by now, thirty minutes ever since she stepped into the dark abode; an old trench coat shielding her black high- cut dress, eyes frantically scanning the whole semi- darkness to catch a sign that HE was there--- not just a *he* from the park she jogged in every morning, not just a *he* who approached her in the grocery one shopping day, but it was *him*, the person she has tried to avoid for the past three months. Fox Mulder. Her former partner, best friend, and lover. It was all her mother's fault- she was the one who persuaded her to meet Mulder. While she toyed around with the phone's cord, noticing how her hands were growing cold with the news about him, her mother had been purposely ecstatic, judging her words with care as she told her. "He had been worrying about you, Dana. Fox has called me more than twice every week. He's so concerned about how you're doing in England." Her answers would only consist of a small phrase with the word "I" and "fine" starting and ending them. When she's extremely affected, or overjoyed by the news that he's somehow still alive, she tends to give out a short snort. She has been walking on the thin line of showing too much emotion and showing none at all, of course, when you have bitched out all of the most intimate details of your relationship with a particular man- well, not *just* a particular man- to your family members while crying your heart out... a line has to be drawn somewhere afterwards. Mothers are mothers, all the same though. Her mother, in particular, is the supportive and zealous type. She knows that her dearest Dana had a torrid relationship with her hands- off partner. She also knows that her Dana was eventually *dumped*, in layman's terms, by this partner of hers. In the most compromising position too, at that. More or less, her Mom was only trying to make her feel better. It was impossible for Mulder to call Mrs. Scully to just ask how she was doing. She didn't believe a single bit of the information presented before her, she knew better than to let that destroy the life she has been trying to rebuild for the past three months she has been away from Washington- from the X-Files. Not that she's gotten far, really. It took two months of personal alienation from everyone around her, except occasional visits from her Mother, sometimes she even let Bill, or Charles in her new apartment--- she only pushes her big brother Bill away when he tells her that he was right all along about that asshole. It doesn't help her get any happier. The last month had been more promising for her. She started going around Oxford, scraping every nook and cranny of the picturesque city, seeing fresh things, breathing in some fresh air to reoccupy the foulness of her lungs- and heart. Just last week she had been hunting down some good prospects for a job--- even if her brothers have been sending her weekly checks to help her relax for the first few months in England. Her mother didn't want her to jump right into a new line of work after seven years of being in a strenuous vocation. She accepted with gratitude, admitting to them that she wasn't up to it, either. But two months of being so vulnerable and dependent finally gotten to her nerves and disobeying Mrs. Scully, she has scoped out a good occupation that appealed to her interests: teaching medicine in the University of Oxford. Being around youthful students would give her liveliness that she has lost over the past months. Applying will come in the next three days. Scully could've started fixing her resume if it wasn't for her Mom's phone call two days ago about Mulder coming to England just to see her. If all goes well, and she hopes against hope that it will with this *reunion*, she'll be back in action maybe next month. Scully only expects that the college students she would be teaching weren't as dirty- minded as the teenager a few stools away from her, who by now was probably stripping her of her black mini dress. Honestly, she didn't know what she was thinking when she agreed to her Mother's suggestion of a meeting with Mulder. The mere thought of being face-to-face with the man who broke her heart in the most possible AND impossible way buckled her knees and she almost tripped on her own toes during the phone conversations with her Mom. The thought was tempting, to see him again, to see how he was doing--- no, to see if he was as miserable as she had been. She was just afraid that once stands in front of him once again every ounce of anger in her veins would disappear and she'll surrender back into his arms. Her mind snapped at her. Scully was just as desperate as a "star" who just lost its position in the blanket of dark universe for the first weeks after their separation. She hadn't really lost hope about Mulder. She had this overwhelming notion that one day he'll come back to her, tell her that he's a fool and he's so sorry for what he said. It was impossible, but truth was, it was the only thought that kept her alive throughout the time they were apart. She missed him, dreadfully. When her Mom asked her to do this for her, as a daughter--- and for herself--- she just couldn't resist anymore. Before she could stop the word from escaping her mouth, it was there, done and laid in effectiveness. How stupid *she* was. She shouldn't have agreed to this. She shouldn't have. Wearing her best dress, touching her face up with make- up, sweeping her hair in a way that it brought the best out of her face... Oh God, she makes herself so *pathetic*. Fucking *pathetic*. "Lonely night?" The familiar voice cut through her thoughts like an ax slicing a loaf of bread. Her breath threw itself back into her lungs, and for a moment she didn't do anything. She could feel him standing behind her, drinking in her whole body- herself as a whole. His presence was so overwhelming, the mere idea of being near him again intoxicating her, making her head swirl in a colorless haze... "Can I join you for a drink- if not, a small chat?" She has to remember that she's angry with him. She's still angry with him. She has to be. Goddamitt, this is harder than she thought it was when she agreed to its craziness. Finally moving, she jerked her head lightly against her shoulder to get a good view of him. Their eyes met, and stayed like that for a few agonizing seconds. The rush of emotions in her was evident as her hold on the goblet of wine faltered, and she had to release it on the table. Time stopped. Fox Mulder was just a few inches from her. His hair slick from the droplets of rain, his muscles trudging against the silky fabric of his best polo shirt, thick hands holding a bouquet of red roses and the other clutching a briefcase. Mulder's eyes were shining--- no; they were tearing up. Before Scully could make any hasty conclusions on the reason behind it, she smiled partially, and spoke a word she hasn't allowed herself to say for the longest time: "Mulder," The clock started ticking again when a similar grin crept up on his face. "Hey," his voice said softly. He still didn't move. Her eyebrows raised in pleasure as his voice crashed into her eardrums. "You don't want to stand there forever, do you? Have a seat." Scully's trembling fingers motioned to the empty stool beside her. Mulder chuckled, a chuckle she has heard a thousand times from him, then did as she indicated. Settling the briefcase and trench coat before him, he shyly handed her the flowers. "I didn't wrestle them from any guy, this time. I bought them specially for you." She took them in her arms, holding them like a newborn baby. She mouthed a small 'thank you' then brought the bouquet near her nostrils, smelling the sweetness of their fragrance. Reluctantly, she rested them near the wine glass. "You didn't have... to get me anything." Her tone was guarded, immediately remembering the one and only time she has allowed Mulder [or rather, he has allowed himself] to buy her flowers. Those times seemed so far away, ancient, if taken figuratively. "It's just a little something." He reasoned out with his senses drinking in every single feature of her that was available to his eyes. This made Scully shift increasingly in her creaking seat. She had nothing to tell him, becoming too overwhelmed by his presence all at once, so she settled for the flowers, instead. Studying the flowers, she had an unfamiliar surge of resentment thrown inside of her, as if she was watching herself from outside of the bar becoming a total nobody for a man that shattered her into nothingness. That ticked something in her brain and heart, and all the hazy notions of Fox Mulder including his smiles or chuckles disappeared from her eyes. Enough "pretending" this time, business is business. She has to show him that she has survived, that she's still Dana Scully and life without him was fucking sweet. The Scully he has known is now gone, whether he likes it or not. Phrases kept creeping themselves into her system, as she tried to convince herself of the anger that doesn't seem evident in her chest anymore. Scully sighed quietly, closing her eyes and contemplating in the uncomfortable silence they both now shared. Scully's eyes flew open, blue pupils as sharp as glass that could cut into the man in front of her anytime. "Why did you want to meet me, Mulder?" The sudden change in her tone startled Mulder, but didn't surprise him. He cleared his throat uneasily, playing with the latches of his briefcase. "I- I wanted to see how you were doing." Scully's eyebrow raised. Mulder choked back that stupid reply and changed it with, "Your mother told me that you have been having the time of your life here in England for the past few months. That's great... to hear." Scully tucked her right hand under her breast, keeping it still there as she surveyed Mulder's almost frightened appearance. The thought of Mulder being afraid of her gave her a sense of undeniable pleasure through her hatred. It gave her balls to actually tell him the next sentence out of her mouth. "Thanks. And I'm also getting married to a man I met last night and we had a great kinky fucking, you know. Is that also great to hear?" Mulder's mouth dropped open. "What?" "No, crap out, Mulder. What do you want from me this time?" Understanding flooded through his eyes as her sharp voice was thrown at him. He sighed heavily, and knew that the best way out of their awkwardness and her obvious anger was to be out with it. "Scully, I want to talk to you about us." Her expression was of surprise. "As I have come to understand, there never was an *us*." Bitterness coated her tone as she defied him. "No, please, just listen, okay? I could justify what happened back there." "Do you need me to sue, Judge Mulder?" "J- Just listen to me, Scully, all right?" Fire was pushing into her throat as she spitted the next words out of her mouth: "The last time I listened to you, Fox Mulder, was when you told me that you used me up like a fucking whore for your dirty pleasure! You clearly fucked with my mind and heart--- so please; if you think I'm just going to throw myself at you- at your obtuse crusade and self- pity- spare me the details. I'm through with that." Her veins throbbed with anticipation as those sentences were finally out of her soul. There was a sense of sweet revenge tinged with bitterness driving her wild, driving her high. The look of hurt on his face couldn't equal what he has done to her--- but it could do for now. She wanted to shout at him, turn him over the bar, and start kickboxing him, and her heels were actually already touching the floor when Mulder blinked back tears and placed a convulsing hand on her arm. Lightly. Contact was made. Scully felt the fire from her throat transfer to her cheeks. Her face's color probably matched those on her hair, and she cursed herself inwardly for looking so... "collapsing" before him. Just that crimson on her mixed up facial expression was enough to tell him that she never meant what she just said, what she just threw at him. But Mulder seemed oblivious enough to her perils. He seemed to have some of his own. "You made yourself clear that you don't want to listen to me, Scully. So I won't talk." The calmness of his voice made her want to slap him, more painful than the last one she gave him, but an unseen force stopped her from doing so. All she was able to do was to stare at him with no emotions, while her mind savored at the heat of his hand on her skin. His fingertips finally left her arm, so animatedly, as if Mulder was scared that the minute he lets her break free from his touch she'll start biting his head off. That didn't happen, luckily. Scully was mesmerized by Mulder's last statement, by his actions. He was opening his briefcase, and before she could ask him what he wanted to show her, he shoved an envelope into her lap. With cautiousness, Scully took the envelope. Her eyes met his, searching for a trace of more treachery in his hazel ocean, but she found none, and that was all she needed to open the envelope's flap. What was unveiled appalled Scully. "Wh- What are... these?" Her fingers flipped through approximately fifteen photographs of a large explosion. Some were in plain black and white; some were colored. In one picture, the clearest of all the prints, she found a top view of the tattered building. There were debris everywhere, the white outer walls of the structure was now one pile of heap before the street. The bomb was so powerful that it almost wiped out the whole driveway before the building. Mulder didn't answer her. He watched her diligently as she viewed each still photo, one eyebrow raising as somehow, she felt a confusing familiarity with the place. Until she reached the last snapshot, and discernment came over her unguarded: On the shoot was a rental car that was also damaged in the blast. Gazing closely at the plate number, Scully caught her breath in her mouth. It couldn't be... "Mulder?" She managed to choke out. He reached out his hand to her and gradually held her shoulder. "That's your apartment's building, Scully. I'm so sorry." She raised the picture of her rental car to his face. "What exactly happened here? My neighbors---" "We managed to get them out of the place a day before it happened." "Who--- Why did they do this?" Mulder's eyes turned passionate suddenly, and Scully knew she was in for a story arch ride. His hand on her shoulder transferred to the bare skin of her arm, and stayed there as he related every single bit of information he has kept from her. Jeremy Cromwell's prediction of her death, the one he has *forgotten* to tell her about during those last moments they were together in the X-Files, the one he has disregarded as a plain psychotic storytelling from a madman. He articulated every bit of information as if from heart, giving her the impression that he has thought about admitting the apparent danger to her a thousand times over their separation. From the link of her vaccination with the two other victims of these new rebellion, what Cromwell told him to do, but purposely left out the fraction about the incoming apocalypse. When they came to the part of his decision in the Lone Gunmen's office, Mulder's voice suddenly turned serious, and low. He was almost seemingly afraid for her to hear what he has determined during his confrontation with the three stooges. But no words were needed to be spoken, for Scully has already figured it out by that time. One hand was tightened against her open mouth, while the other tried hard to wipe away the tears that flooded her eyes, cheeks, and chin. There wasn't any sense in what she was hearing, there wasn't any sense left in or out of her. Not realizing that she has already started crying, her tongue tried to gurgle unintelligible phrases, that resulted into catching Mulder's attention. Mulder stopped talking when he saw her reaction. He removed his hand from her arm, taking her hand away from her mouth and keeping it safely in his grasp. "I'm so sorry, Scully." He squeezed her palm tenderly, tears also springing from his eyes. "I'm--- I'm so sorry." He tried to catch her eyes with his own, but they were drowning in a pool of sorrow and emotions. There wasn't any argument to state that his own soul was in the same turmoil as hers. Even with that explanation, Scully still couldn't fit the reason why Mulder decided to *hurt* her instead of telling her the truth. The question pondered in her, and she cleared her throat and asked him, "Mulder... why didn't you just tell me? It could've saved us both a, a handful of tears..." The green of his eyes became transparent with the water surrounding them. His grip on her hand tightened. "I knew you would never leave me out there to battle all of this, Scully. I knew you would never want to end this fight so exposed. Our- our creed, Scully... do you remember our personal creed?" She couldn't answer him verbally. A small nod was elicited from her, giving him the reply he was looking for. He continued, "That we would venture towards life with each other behind one another? That was our silent agreement in and out of our personal relationship. And we had a compromise during the very start that whatever happens, we would keep that promise, no matter what. That was what struck me from the beginning of this new peril. When I found out that Jeremy Cromwell had died, I quickly turned to the Lone Gunmen--- for hope, that maybe there should be a better plan than hurting you in such a vicious way. After contemplating on everything, I found out that if I wanted... to see you happy, and alive... I had no choice. I have no real choice. I had to break that promise in hope that someday I'll be able to see you continuing your life without danger surrounding your every footstep. It had to end- in some way or another- it had to end, Scully." "No..." Scully breathed out, pulling her and away from Mulder. She suddenly felt so guilty, she felt so--- stupid, so useless, so... "Don't blame yourself, Scully. Don't. I did this because I had to. I did this because it's the only way I could save you." Mulder drew forward, touching her moist cheek with his own. "I did this... because I love you." The words he spoke awaken a spark inside Scully's heart. Her head snapped up, almost colliding with his forehead. She looked deep into his eyes, searching again and again for a source of treachery, but this time--- she only saw what she always saw for the past seven years they have been together--- extreme love and care. Finally, she saw Mulder again. Finally, she has Mulder again before her. Her Mulder. Her arms threw themselves around his neck, and they connected, body against body. Her chest convulsed against his in the most frightened manner, the facts making her dizzy all of the sudden. Mulder's touch climbed her spine up and down, trying hard to calm her down, while repeating her name over and over again like a prayer. Hearing him say that, their embrace grew firm, and if anyone did try--- no one could break them apart. "Oh, Mulder... I'm so sorry." Scully whispered into the back of his head, combing her fingers into his hair. "What you had to do... I'm so sorry." "We- we had to use a decoy to make them think that you were actually inside the apartment, Scully. The Gunmen set up a life- size doll of you that had every movement perfectly synchronized," Mulder chuckled, to lighten their freelancing sentiments. "The new rebels were very incapable- even in the use of their brains, so thinking it was you inside they didn't even attempt to hurt the doll anymore--- they just triggered a bomb and the expected happened." Impressed by the plan that was created by the Gunmen and Mulder, Scully's lips found his nape. "What- what have you been doing all this time?" "I- I have been fixing the X-Files. Searching for the truth." When his lips met her earlobe, she suddenly realized that it was only a half- joke. "Actually, we have been anticipating the rebel's own destruction. That happened just last week. And... another thing, Scully," He pulled away from their warm embrace and dug further from his briefcase. "Here are the pictures of a recent explosion just south of Washington." More black and white prints landed on her lap. She surveyed them, top views of a massive blast that caught lives of almost 50 rebels. "All dead, every single one of them wiped out. We obtained the lists of their names one month ago, and everybody is accounted for. You're technically safe, but we wouldn't want to be too confident, so here." He handed her next an accumulation of papers. Breezing through them, she couldn't help but let a smile creep up into her face. "It's a new identity." She cleared, then read her new name out, "Dana Summers. Figures you didn't change much at all. These also include my new resume--- almost identical to my own. Thank you, Mulder." "I know you would want to get back working about next month. I... coordinated with your Mother about holding you back from getting a job." "That's why Mom seems to be so patient about what happened between us, huh?" "Yes. I call her to check on you almost every week. All you have to do is to get on with your life." Mulder said, making Scully's grin bigger. Her mother has been telling the truth all the while. That statement seemed the end of the whole conversation, but something else dawned on Scully, something that Mulder has regret to mention... "No. There's something missing... in the whole puzzle." She suddenly opened up, triggering Mulder in shock. "Tell me what it is that links us all--- the three of us who survived the alien sickness, Mulder- what you are trying to keep from me. I want the truth." He hesitated grudgingly, keeping in his mind that Scully is a stubborn skeptic and will always somehow stay like that, but another part of him told him that she also wants to believe. In the most outrageous of all reasons, in the truth that kept them apart... And hopefully now, together. One way or another. Sighing in surrender, Mulder blindly, groped for Scully's thigh and submitted it to reassuring pressure. They stared at each other eye to eye. "What the original rebellion didn't recognize, what was coated from them by the Shadow Government was that the human processed alien vaccine against the infamous holocaust COULD be the only hope of our race against the incoming apocalypse." "Mulder," "Scully, you COULD be the only human immune to this- apocalypse, revelations, whatever you want to call it. YOU are the only hope." She raised her eyes to the ceiling as the words tried to sink themselves in her skepticism. "That's impossible, Mulder. I'm sorry, but I couldn't accept that-" "Then that's like telling me that whatever happened to us the past months was nothing more than a lie, a patsy to play us on this bigger conspiracy. This is the Holy Grail, Scully. YOU are the attributed Holy Grail." "I- I... do... That's not what I meant, Mulder..." "Scully, believe me. This is true." He pleaded, both hands now on her knees. Scully tensed during the contact and he immediately pulled back, becoming awkward himself. The redhead before him shook her head, dismissing whatever rift that was between them and signaling to him that there's hope for her own belief. After what he has done for her, unselfishly done for her, there's no place for her anger or resentment present in their relationship- whatever that relationship really is thriving in now. She doesn't want to think that what happened between them was only a bad excuse for the Government to get them- or eventually, her- off the X-Files, even if that was the most plausible explanation for it. Scully knows that it goes way deeper, maybe as deep as the truth Mulder has presented to her. But one thing is clear to her... She reached over, caressing his roughened cheeks. "It would take time for me to... accept those- propositions, Mulder, but I believe you. I do. I always have." He leaned into her hand and kissed her palm. Scully closed her eyes in pleasure, and then opened them when she felt him moving away. Panic rose in her nerves when she noticed that the tears in his eyes returned and he was profusely packing his things away from her. "Mulder?" Scully's voice cracked, weakened at the dawning of his actions. "I have to go, Scully." "What do you mean?" "I- I still am --- inclined to my dedication for the X-Files. I have to go back to the US as soon as possible." "Oh." Was the only thing Scully was able to say, her heart dropping to her feet. She thought it was all over now, the invincible crusade, their supposed *mission* to find the truth... she couldn't blame him at all, even if Samantha was pronounced dead- the truth was still out there, at least for him. Especially now, that Mulder is closest to the truth than he has ever been at all. Proofs are in his hands that an incoming holocaust is on its way, black and white, as clear as day. There's nothing holding him back... except for her. Tears also welled up in her eyes. This is his momentum, where she lets him go and where he walks off. She has to let go, if she wants him to find that missing puzzle in him- a puzzle she could never fulfill. Scully has to give him up to the X-Files. To the truth. Mulder didn't want to look at the woman he loves as he forcefully stocked the pictures into his briefcase. He has to let her go, if he ever wants to see her happy. Life with him was total hell, Scully's sickness, her life's near- misses... if he wants to see Scully alive a few years from now- even if she's married- it'll always hold peace in his heart. Now that she knows the truth, there's nothing more to say, nothing more to do. His life is an unending circle, and their meeting today would always signify that particular shade in the circle where he just stopped moving around. Where she saved him. And where he brought her out of that circle and gave her a line to walk on. Whether he likes it or not, he has to give her up for her own future. She doesn't need him anymore; he's just the part that always held her back... "Mulder?" "Yeah, Scully?" "C- could you at least leave me the photographs? I... want to..." "Sure." He returned a thicker pack of photographs into her hands from his briefcase. She smiled her thank you, before putting them down beside the bouquet of roses. Another pause was between them. "So, I guess this is goodbye." She breathed out, at once hating the words and the way it scratched at her throat like a cat's claws. Mulder nodded. "Yeah, I guess it is." They stood and stared at each other for the longest time, and just then he made his move to turn his back and walk away, his mind a frightening blank. "Mulder-" "Scully?" "Thank you." He found himself grinning despite himself. "Your very welcome." She didn't want to see him walk away from her. She didn't want to see them both loose each other. She didn't want to see them desperately broken like so many times... she couldn't take it anymore. Worst of all, she didn't want to see them do the stupidest and most rational decision in their own lifetimes. Scully grabbed the photographs and flicked through them. Suddenly, a neat piece of white paper disconnected itself from the piece, swirling in a tantalizing circle before dropping on the tiles. Curious, she picked it up from the floor and almost gasped when she read what it was. It's Mulder's resignation letter to the FBI. Scully didn't think or had the chance to react. The next thing she knew was that she was already on her feet, chasing after Fox Mulder. "Mulder!" Scully cried out, holding the paper close to her chest. He whirled around when he heard her call his name out. ---------------------------------- CHAPTER 6: The Moment of truth in your lies "And I'd give up forever to touch you, Because I know that you feel me somehow, You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be, And I don't want to go home right now. And all I can taste is this moment, And all I can breathe is your life, Because sooner or later it's over, I just don't wanna miss you tonight. And I don't want the world to see me, Because I don't think that they'd understand, When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am. And you can't fight for the tears that ain't coming, Or the moment of truth in your lies, When everything feels like the movies, Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive. And I don't want the world to see me, Because I don't think that they'd understand, When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am..." - Iris [Goo Goo Dolls] "Mulder," Scully repeated his name as they were finally in touch with each other. She draped an ailing arm on his strong shoulders to support her faltering breath- both from the anxiety of her discovery and running on her four- inched heels. Mulder's eyebrows raised, incredulous. "Scully? How many times have I told you never to run on your five- inched platforms?" He kidded, brushing off a loosened strand of red hair from her flushed face. An intercepting smile crept up on her face, making her forget the reason why she actually ran on her heels. "It's four- inched high heels, Mulder, don't forget that." "I never did." Noticing the almost crumpled piece of paper which she held in her left hand against her heaving chest, Mulder took it with caution and gave out a tired, frustrated sigh when he discovered, or rather guessed, what it was. "Scully... look," "Tell me you didn't. Tell me this isn't what it is." "I'm sorry..." He wrestled the paper out of her hand, gazed at it as if to make sure that it is his resignation letter, then lowered it down to his side. "Yes, it is." Scully's eyes bulged out of her sockets, biting her lip to control the amount of confusion flooding her trail of thought. They spent a minute baked in silence, before she whispered to him an immediate decision, "Go back to the X-Files, Mulder. Tear this up." "I couldn't." "Why not?" "Because it's done already." Scully immediately recoiled in shock. "What?!?" Mulder shook his head, crumpling the paper in more frustration. "I resigned from the FBI three days ago, Scully." The bundle of rutted dissertation found itself on the smooth tiles of the midnight bar, before Mulder's feet stomped over it. His soles twisted menacingly over the resignation. "Tell me that it isn't true. Tell me that you're lying! Tell me, Mulder!" She exclaimed, veins coming out of the pale skin of her neck. Some costumers twisted their heads to their direction, more than curious over their *duel*, but regarded them as just another "on the brink" couples that would probably kiss and make up in no less than an hour. Mulder inwardly wishes it was just that easy. "No, I'm not lying this time, Scully. As ironic as it may seem, I'm not anymore. I've lied enough to you." "So tell me why. Just why?" "The X-Files..." He paused, cringing at the mention of it. "Oh God, you know the reason already." "I don't, Mulder. Three months, Jesus Christ, don't expect me to read you as good as before." "Ok, so here: I quit because I wanted to. Is that REASON enough?" "That isn't REASONABLE enough, Mulder. This is The X-Files- not just another hanky panky background check, not just another profiling, not even another ME-" She blinked back the pain in her eyes as that insight of hers spilled out, she quickly tried to pry that out of his thoughts as she continued, "It... It's your passion, your life. You still have a mission, the truth-" "That's the problem." "What is?" She demanded, even more confused. "The X-Files is not YOU. It could never replace YOU, Scully. It never has or had." That declaration kept Scully in an astonished hush. Mulder was about to continue when he noticed that the people he thought that would be minding their own business were still watching them. Swinging his briefcase on the counter with a little salute to the waiter to take care of their things, he positioned his hand on the small of Scully's back and led her outside. She followed his lead, stare never leaving his face as they walked and reached the door of the bar. Outside, the skies were still in rampant revenge; thunderstorms and rains beat across the street like there is never going to be another tomorrow. The gust of cold air swept across Scully's small and half- uncovered frame. Instinctively, as soon as he saw her tremble, Mulder removed his trench coat and swept it over her. She snuggled into it appreciatively, to his relief. "Scully, listen to me." Finally, as she kept her ongoing silence, Mulder knew that Scully was going to listen this time. "If I continue work on the X-Files- to search for the truth, it would be like fighting against an invisible shadow. Without any armors." Seeing her questioning expression, Mulder drew her body against the warmth of his, while rubbing his knuckles on her sides. "It'll be a battle that I'm destined to loose. Without my armor- without you- what good is the truth if I find it? I'll be faltering to death if that moment comes to me... and if I don't have you beside me to find this truth, what's the use? You were there when the rough became dangerous; you were there every step of the way. This isn't just MY crusade, Scully; this is OURS. I'm not a--- drugstore jesus of some types--- I'm only human. I still *need*, Scully, and to finish this battle, I need YOU." "I've only held you back, Mulder." "You never held me back, you know that very well. Because of you there was finally a forward in my vocabulary, a sense in my life, and a *sign* of life. The truth isn't just meant for me to find- it is for us to find together. To discover together. And without you in the X-Files, I don't think I could go on. Truth out there or not, it will never hold the same interest as it once did. Samantha is gone, the whole conspiracy has faltered, YOUR gone. Where's the battle in that?" She drew him into an embrace, which Mulder accepted graciously. Despite their difference in height, Mulder was able to rest his head on her shoulder, bathing himself in the comfort of her tightness. She intertwined her fingers around his back, and gently kissed his cheek. "Where are you going after this?" "I don't know. Maybe a drive around England would do me good for a few days before I start looking for a job. I'm not sure if I should return to the US or not, but the Lone Gunmen are inviting me into their pad as the fifth hacker. Nark, DOM, Banshee, Empty- headed, and Spooky." Scully laughed. "Oh Mulder, Mulder, Mulder." There wasn't any doubt that she missed his sense of humor so much. He sighed into her hair, and brushed his lips on her nape. Scully smiled and pulled his head up to meet her forehead. When they were only centimeters apart, she gazed into his eyes and asked him with every hint of her dedication to him present in the undertone of her vocal chords, "Are you just going to let me walk away from you?" Mulder was caught unwary of her question, "What do you mean?" "You--- are you just going to let this moment pass between us? This moment to go on towards this journey with each other?" "I couldn't do this to you anymore, Scully. I couldn't hurt you---" "Fact is, pain or no pain, life is not the same without you, Fox Mulder." He found himself laughing. "C'mon, Scully. It was probably sweeter without me-" "Absurdity strikes, Spooky. I never stopped loving you." "Don't say that just because..." She lifted her right wrist to his eyes, and he almost lost his sense of balance. Scully actually had another tattoo done. Of a *green* fox that was running towards an endless direction. Like him. "Oh, God, Scully..." It was proof enough, plausible enough, and real enough for him. Scully was so pained over their parting and having no other means of putting it out, she has found herself again inside a tattoo parlor, to take some of the ache away. The thought of Scully STILL loving him crashed down on him, and he found himself kissing her wrist with passion. They brought each other into another hug. "I know it doesn't match the red snake I have in my lower back, but I wanted something to remind me of you--- especially of your eyes. The depth of that hazel lagoon, the way it spoke to me about anything worth talking about and the way I always admired its beauty. So a hazel fox was the easiest choice for me." Her voice was nothing more than a hush against his ears, but he heard it throughout, even if he didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. "You didn't have to do that to yourself, Scully." "I wanted to. I had to." Scully's fingers found the back of his neck and pulled him out of her shoulder. Her blue eyes found his and interlocked with it, oceans intertwining with the sky, the green of the leaves meeting the blue of Mother Nature. Her crimson red lips moved slightly, parting away from each other, before finally saying, "The truth is out there, Mulder. Whether we like it or not, it'll always be out there, waiting for us. You were closer to the truth than before, and I won't let you give this up. It's in a singular time or space, floating endlessly, until we find it and bring it out for the public to discover. It's our inescapable destiny, a path that God Himself handed down to us. Were not martyrs, not drugstore jesus', and not saints, but were part of this. If we quit now, they win." Mulder chuckled at the familiarity of that phrase. Scully's face bloomed with a beautiful smile. "I promise you that as soon as its safe, were going back to the US and we'll find a way to stop this. An end to this absurdity." A sigh came out from her. "Fortunately or unfortunately, the truth is in me. I wouldn't stop searching for the intensity that matches the one that was planted within my body during our years in the X-Files. There are no regrets, no turning back. Only forward. So we'll go forward." Her hand reached his, and she squeezed it. "Together." The tightness of her grip left Mulder's brain in a haze, which made him close his eyes with a slight grin playing on the arches of his lips. Scully watched this with fascination, somehow conscious of the fact that Mulder hasn't smiled in a while. His lips were still as lovely, though. She found herself also closing her eyes and drawing her head forward. Without any guidance, their mouths met. Passion flared in the most intimate way, and they kissed--- like they haven't mended lips and tongue together before. A first of everything, once again. A new start for their relationship. It was hefty as the first time they kissed- tender, loving, delicious. Scully's tongue invited Mulder's into her cavity, and they grinded into each other. They stayed with apertures joined in a way that anyone who saw them would immediately label them as definite soul mates, two lucky people who had the chance to share the rest of their walk on the ground with their perfect opposite. The kiss lasted for the longest time, as it was of yearning and missing. Air was thinning in their lungs so they reluctantly pulled apart, gasping for air. Scully was the first one who reacted with a laugh, and Mulder instinctively followed. They laughed while holding each other, and they headed inside the bar to get their things. Ignoring the stares and enthusiastic claps from the prying costumers, they exited the place hand in hand. The rain has at last stopped its imminent revenge on its mother. The streets of Oxford lay as still as heavenly death; the only footsteps over the cemented steps were of two normal people who were walking towards a rented car in complete peace. Just another couple in the damned world that has successfully survived a conjuring flaw in their personal relationship. Mulder opened the car door for Scully, making a comment about how dangerous it was for her to take the bus with her outfit on. A strangely proverbial crimson eyebrow shot up at him. "This is England, Mulder, not Manhattan." She said, but completely appreciating his concern with a chaste peck on his lips. Mulder didn't move, though, he stared at her face as if he couldn't believe that they were together again and that there would be no other way to keep them apart. "Scully, does this mean I'm forgiven?" "You were never at fault. You saved me, actually. If there was anyone who was a total fool in this, it was me." He tucked a piece of auburn hair back to its placing on her head. "You're not a fool, Scully. You saved me too, in more ways than one." Mulder closed the door of the rented car before she could reply and entered in the driver's seat. Scully placed a withholding hand on his arm. "What do you mean?" Mulder licked his lips, tasting her sweetness on his own skin. "Where did you get your tattoo?" "A block away from my apartment. Why?" He only replies with a playful smirk. Scully buckles herself and stares back at her partner. "Mulder, why?" she demands again. "I'm gonna get one tomorrow." She stops, and he opens the engine. They drive off for a few minutes in complete silence. Curiosity starts eating Scully up and she had to ask him, "What are you going to get?" Mulder looks away from the deserted road to reach over and finger her cross necklace. Scully watches him do this, and he pulls her to him and kisses her briefly. They release each other with similar satisfaction painted on the shadow of their faces. Their unspoken communication was finally kicking in. Mulder was going to get a *cross* tattoo on the similar spot as her green fox body art. The fact made Scully beam as if she just won a Nobel Prize. Without thinking twice, she reached for the car radio and opened it. Scully let out a delighted gasp as she recognized the first few notes of the filtering song. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned the volume up a little bit more and cuddled up against her lover, throwing an arm around his flat stomach and a buss on his cheek. Mulder responded too, putting an arm around Scully's thin muscles, and pulling her so close in a comfortable death grip that she enjoyed. "Don't tell me you like this song now, Scully?" He kidded, making Scully bury her self into the exquisite scent of his shirt. When she didn't say anything else, Mulder continued, "What about your postmortem on these kinds of songs--- that they just mask the real beauty of the instrumentals, killing the soul of the whole meaning?" "Their not half bad, actually." Was the only thing she said before silencing him with her fingers hovering dangerously near the inner muscle of his thighs. Mulder bathed himself in the sensation of her touch. The road stuck a familiar turn as he realized that it was another dirt road that has been smoothened down by the rain. Mulder began to hum the last remaining bars of the song, and Scully did the same. Their voices didn't blend at all, and both were slightly off- key, which made them drive themselves into fits of laughter. When they have calmed themselves down, Mulder groped for Scully's hand in the dark. Finding it, he tucked it against the heat of his abdominal flesh. "Hey, Scully?" "Mmmhm?" "Thanks again for saving me." Propping her head on his shoulder, she raised her trademark eyebrow. "From what exactly, Mulder?" "From driving endlessly inside a car without any sagacity of direction." "That doesn't make sense. We are still here- inside a car- driving on another dirt road." "But this drive has a direction, and this time around, I get to hold you this way, without thinking of the penalties allotted by protocol." Scully thinks his statement over, remembering the time she complained to him about getting out of their damned car, just living a normal life--- something she has always wanted. Truth is, she has always had all the normality of life. In him and with him. Silence was her definite answer, telling him that she agreed with him full- heartedly. Moving closer to him, he pressed a kiss on the top of her head, and began to direct his attention on the road. However, there was something he took note, even pointing it out to his partner. Out in the carpet of black sky, stars began to move away from their hiding places and shine out. Finally settling in their respective places in the pool of darkness, the moon was welcomed. It shined proudly, spreading its weak rays to whoever would care. Scully pointed at her apartment, and he parked the car on the opposite lane. Getting out first, he opened the car door for her and offered a hand to assist her out of the car. Clasping her fingers, he smiled at his vocal observation. "Your hands are warm, Scully." She also smiled, and finding their fingers twined again, they walked towards the apartment. For once in their whole lifetime together, they knew that they have left the drive behind. And a new beginning is waiting for both of them, just beyond the haze of the sky and the brightness of the moon. Together, finally, one way or another. ------------------THE END------------------ AUTHOR'S NOTES: This fic is tiring to write in all aspects, because of its nature, the way it had so much angst packed into it, and of course, the research that has to go with it. I've always had desired to make a story out of a flashback sequence, seeing how good it was executed in movies. Take "Riding in the Cars with boys", for instance. The story goes with Beverly's son telling the story of his mother's life from his thoughts inside the car. Certain things in their conversation reminded him of their past, and the memories come from that. I'm sure there are authors who have tried this method of writing before, and here is my grab at it. Mulder on his way to a meeting with Scully [whose identity I tried hard to conceal, but, then again, who else will Mulder meet with anyway?] after three months of separation, and on the way he remembers their *feud* from his encounters. It wasn't easy trying to connect one event to another, but it was certainly a ride I'm all for! The songs before each chapter are all my personal favorites, a small tribute to music--- being it my method of escape from the world . These songs have twined themselves gracefully with me, these artists so talented that I have been inspired over and over again by them. The main- more or less- song in this fiction is "Iris" by the Goo Goo dolls. That's a thank you for all my old readers in the X-Philes official forum [when I used to post fics back then] and one of them there suggested this song for Mulder and Scully. I took her suggestion quite seriously, and now I had the chance to insert it into a fic as a token of gratitude for all their support back there, even if I used another song for my first fic, "What if irony". Oh, and Scully's comment about alternative songs is certainly not from my point of view, I'm an alternative junkie, but I thought I'd just include something to contradict me once in a while... anyway, it was based on Scully's opinion, not on mine. I also included some scenes from FTF, The Truth, Dreamland, and other eps into their conversation. I just had the momentum to make this fic as a tribute not only to Mr. Gilligan, but also to the X-Files. Take note of the way Eduardo asked Mulder about his problem. I've always had a passion for the mythology behind the X-Files, and how it linked Mulder and Scully closer together, so not dwelling far from all of that I've made my *own* mythology, of some sorts. Of course, still in Chris Carter's graces. I started this complexities of writing when I still wasn't based on the Internet itself, when all I've had are notebooks and endless tinkering for different ball pens. I transferred that kind of strategy itself to my first fic, then to my second one. I've stopped afterwards that, finding some unfinished writings in my hard drive, until this one. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Oh, and I know this fic is a major angst one, so if in anyway I made you depressed or crying after reading this, I did promise a happy ending, as always. There wasn't a fic wherein I've hadn't had a happy conclusion; whether it was breaking fan fiction rules or sending Mulder and Scully back to Ed Jerse's clutches. I'm a hopeless romantic; expect these things from me... well, not always. I'm sorry if it has upset some people, but I've always wanted to dwell inside our heroes' reactions- what if this happened to her? Or to him? What will they do? So hence, this fiction was made. A total major labor of love. And of breaking the rules. ;-) And last, but certainly not the least, the title [Drugstore jesus: The Thorns] came from Plumb's similarly titled song. I'm planning on a sequel afterwards this, and oh yeah! The title evolved from Dirt Road, Who I am, Together, one way or another, to this, knowing that the suggestion fits Mulder's position perfectly in the story. If you want me to do a sequel on this, tell me, and I'll work on it ASAP! ;-) Thanks for staying with me throughout the journey, a one hell of a journey--- and certainly, this is one of my favorites! FEEDBACK: agentrain022@edsamail.com.ph or at agent_rain_22@yahoo.com [cherished and will be answered at once!]