From: sweetlifex@aol.com (Sweetlifex)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New: "Echo" by SweetlifeX (dulce)
Date: 5 Aug 1995 21:40:47 -0400


Author's  note:
Okay, you guys. Here is my fifth piece out. It's meant to take place as a
scene missing from the season finale of "The X-files" (Ananzi). It is a
well-pondered scene, often controversial among relationshippers... That
could have gone many ways...But this is the way I thought it went. This is
not so much a romantic piece, it's more of...Oh, just read it. I hope that
everyone can enjoy it. And I hope you'll find that it isn't all too
far-fetched from the realm of The X-files reality. Enjoy. Hee hee. . .
Disclaimer:
All characters of this story are creations of Christopher Carter, and are
property of TenThirteen Productions ("I made this"!), in association with
20th Century Fox Broadcasting and it's affiliates. No permission within my
knowledge is granted for the use of these characters or any of the
references to copyrighted previous episodes of the series. So sue me. No,
don't, I was just kidding. No copyright infringement is intended.
Comments: Send preferably praise (as opposed to flames, but It's
inevitable, so whatever) to Sweetlifex@aol.com

"So you think he does it because he gets off on it?"
"No, I think he does it because you do."
(Right on! Go, Scully!)
Fmulder, Dscully-"The erlenmeyer flask"

&        &       &        &        &        &        &

"Echo" 
A short piece of fanfic prose ("The X-files")
Written by: Dulce =) *Pronounced: Dol-see*
Sweetlifex (America Online)

Another note:
When you are reading and see something [*inside of brackets and
astericks*], try your best to imagine a sort of whoosh sound before the
inside words are recalled. It adds for a nice effect. Verbalize if you
have to. Have fun. Oh, BTW, this one goes out to "The X-files" for their
first major EMMY nomination--Congratulations. . .And hey, keep your
fingers crossed. Okay, dammit, begin story:


        Scully looked up as she heard the knock on the door and she
swiftly rose to open it.   *Mother of God. . .*
        "Mulder. . .Thank God," She attempted to support him as he
stumbled through the door, dazed and virtually unaware. "Look at you,
you're sick." He held on to her for support and the simple gesture gave
her assurance--that he was willing to accept her help.
        "I'm alrigh-I'm okay." He shuffled a few more steps, before his
weight slumped down into the nearby chair. 
        "No, don't. Come on, I want you to lie down." She struggled to get
him to his feet. "No, don't. . ." Once she got him back up he let her help
him with his coat.
        His shirt was covered in blood.
        "We gotta find him, Scully."
        She tried her best to not show reaction and ushered him towards
the bedroom, helping him down onto the bed. She quickly padded off to
retrieve a cool washcloth. 
        "We gotta find out who killed my father," Mulder called out,
sitting up.
        "Well, right now you need to rest. . .Okay?" Scully insisted,
helping him back down, "Rest." She carefully patted his forehead with the
cloth. She could feel his resistance dissipate with each soothing pat that
she made. "It's okay. . .It's okay."
        Scully couldn't have imagined what had happened out there tonight.
It must have been horrifying for him. She wanted to take him in her arms
and just hold him, tell him that it was okay. . .But right then what he
needed was someone to settle him down, get him rested. No doubt he was
very ill, probably had a huge fever.
        "Mulder?" she whispered, "It's going to be alright." Those words
would have to do for now. Not exactly what she had to say, but it said. .
.Enough. He gave a slight nod in response, before he dozed off to a
slumber elsewhere in his mind. Scully remained kneeling by his side.

*        *        *        *        *        *

{Mulder was in a deep tunnel of gray. . .There were no colors anywhere. .
. No black. . .No white. . .Just gray. He began walking further down the
tunnel, a secret sort of cave it seemed. He was seeing dark gray. He
didn't like the dark gray, and he realized that every step he took the
gray would become a shade darker. Mulder stopped his last step with this
thought, and slumped down against the wall. His eyes swelled up with
forming tears. Where was he?
        "Hello?"

[*. . .This is just the beginning. . .*]
 
Mulder heard a faraway echo in return.
        "Foxxxxx?"
Instictively, he raised his head.
        "Dad?" he feebly called out, "Dad?"
        "Fox, please. . .For the love of Goddd. . ."
        "Dad! Dad what? What is it?"
 
[*Forgive me. . .*]

And suddenly Mulder blinked.
        "DAD! Dad, where are you? Please tell me--What's gone wrong? What
happened? And where the damn hell are we?"
        "Fox. . .Stay away from the merchandissseee. . ."
        "Merchandise? What merchandise? Where are you?"

[*You'll only win the war. . .Pick. . .Battles. . . You can't win. . .You
can't win. . .*]

And from the other side of the tunnel, Mulder heard a loud, distinct
click. Something he heard all too often; the cocking of a gun. Almost
reflexively he was on his feet, whirled around, and had his own gun pulled
out and cocked, ready to fire.
        "Stay away from me!" he yelled.
Silence.
        "Mulder. Mulder, it's me."

[* Are you familiar with an agent named. . .Fox Mulder?*]

        "Scully? Scully where are you? Come out where I can see you."
She stepped out into view, pulling her gun away, Mulder doing the same. He
stepped up and quickly grabbed hold of her shoulders.
        "Scully. . .My father, he's here. We've got to get him! He's
calling for me."
She looked unusually uneasy.
        "Mulder, *I've* been looking for *you*. Where have you been? This
place is spooky--We need to get out of here."
        "No, Scully, I-"
        "Mulder," she said quietly, "I think I saw Duane Barry back
there." She took a deep breath. "Mulder, I've been in this place here. .
.This goddamn cave. . .For you, for too long. . .It's been too long. And I
thought I could might have been able to stay for a while longer, for you.
For *you*, Mulder. But I can't. We have to leave, and we have to leave
now."

[*Evidence is worthless if you're dead...*]

        "Duane Barry?"
He burst out laughing at her.
        "Duane Barry. . ." he repeated through uncontrollable laughter, 
". . .Is dead! Scully, he's dead." Mulder minimized his hysterics to a
small giggle when he saw that she wasn't laughing.
She placed her hand on his chest.
        "Fox. . .I'm sorry about your father."

[*Dana. . .I'm sorry about your father. . .*]

He stammered, "Wh-what?"
        "Mulder, there's nothing you can believe that will bring him back.
You taught me that. . .Remember?"
        "Are you kidding me. . ." he asked, incredulously.
        "Mulder," she looked him in the eye, "If I there was anything I
could have done to protect him. . .To save you so much pain. . .I would
have done it. You know that."

[*This is a trap for Mulder because he help put you away. . .Well, I came
here to tell you. . .That if he dies because of what you've 
done. . .What you've done. . .*]

        "Scully. . .No. . .No," he said, shaking his head, "No, it's not
true! No!" He tried to scramble away from her. "You're one of those
goddamn clones! Get away from me! *Where* is my father and *where* is
Samantha and *WHERE IS SCULLY*?" He was on the verge of tears.
The woman in front of him roughly grabbed him.
        "MULDER! Jesus, it's *me*!"
He didn't believe her.
        "No! No, you're lying."
        "Mulder. . .Look at me. . . Just look. IT'S SCULLY. It's me,
Mulder."

[*Mulder. . .I had the strength of your beliefs. . .*]

        "Oh, God. Oh, Scully! I'm so glad you're here," he stopped to
briefly embrace her and pulled back, "No," he paused, "Is it true? Is he.
. .Dead?"
Scully nodded.
And he remembered.
Then the faraway voice called back to him.
        "Foxxxxx. . ."
Both Mulder and Scully froze.
        "Scully," he hissed, "It's him!"
        "No, Mulder. It's not."
        "Yes! Oh my God, Listen. . .It is."
He peered down at her. . . And saw that she had *tears*, from nowhere,
streaming down her face. Without sobs, the really painful kind. She looked
back up at him.
        "Mulder."
He wiped some streaks off her face.
        "Okay. Let's go, Scully."

[*Mulder? Are you okay?*]
[*Yeah. . . I just haven't been sleeping. . .*]

*        *        *        *        *        *        *

        Scully had kneeled there, beside Mulder, just looking at him, for
an hour before even moving. She got up to move and had gone over to the
front room; she had to keep herself busy, she had to stay up and watch
Mulder. But a freshly brewed pot of coffee could help, and as she made it,
she put on a little music to keep her company. Minutes passed as Scully
watched each drop of coffee fall into the pot. Then she settled down with
her cup on her comfy chair. She let her thoughts pass, not really sleepy
enough yet to have to refrain from falling asleep, but nevertheless,
extremely tired. She was just tired thinking. Thinking about her coffee.
Thinking about her own bandaged head. Thinking about how close she and
Mulder had come to death that night. She knew that she should have been
dead. They both should have.
        If anything, these thoughts were getting her sleepy. She got to
her feet and dragged her coffee and her comfy chair into her bedroom.
Mulder looked so peaceful. He looked. . .Dead, really, and it suddenly
scared her. She got up to retrieve the thermometer, in case he should
awake, and though Scully attempted to try and be quiet, she couldn't help
but "accidentally" bump into the bathroom door, just to get Mulder
stirring. She smiled to herself when she heard that he had awakened, but
felt worried when she could hear that he was trying to sit up. Scully
returned to the room with the thermometer. She saw that Mulder was
fiddling with his belt, trying to get his pants off. She smiled and rushed
forward, setting the thermometer aside.
        "Hey. Let me help you."
        He looked slightly relieved and managed a weak smile back at her.
        "Okay." His smile turned into a full grin as Scully finished
unbuckling the belt, moving to do the zipper and button. "Easy now," he
told her, laughing at her eye-roll. The air became tense and uneasy, as
she tenderly went to pull off his shirt. When Scully had it over his head,
almost over his arms, their eyes made contact. She quickly looked over her
shoulder, pretending to look at the clock, as she felt the blood rising to
her face at the situation. And suddenly, Mulder was there, just in boxers.
. . Who would have known? A man in her bed. She bitterly made a mental
note to laugh at herself later. There was a particularly uncomfortable ten
seconds, when neither of them said anything. Scully thought it was simply
ridiculous and picked up the forgotten thermometer, gesturing for him to
open wide.
        "Temperature."
        He opened his mouth and lifted his tongue.
        Scully gently placed it inside, and as Mulder's lips closed down,
he reached up and gently rubbed her shoulder. Once again she managed a
smile down at him before returning to her comfy chair. More seconds of
silence passed, and she told Mulder to check the temp.
        "102."
        Her mouth fell slightly open.
        "Mulder--You are really sick."
        He slowly nodded. "I know," he said, looking down, "But I really
don't feel that bad, you know? I just need time."
        Scully stared at him, unconvinced.  "Yeah. Time."
        Mulder allowed his head to fall back into the pillow. He closed
his eyes for what seemed like a brief moment. He let thoughts pass of what
he was doing there, just what the hell was going on. He thought of his
father and of Samantha and of Scully. In reality, twenty minutes had
passed. But Mulder had been conscious and aware.  When he open his eyes,
Scully was sitting there, on the bed, to his right. She had changed her
clothes and was now wearing satin pajamas and she was just sitting there,
looking at him. 
        "Scully. I had a dream about you earlier."
        She pursed her lips. "Oh? Do tell," she said, with a straight face
and an amused look.
        He squinted and tried to salvage what he could remember. "We were
in this tunnel. Or cave. And you were mad. But you weren't. And there was
this voice. . . Echoing. . . It was my father. But you were crying. . . "
He shook his head. "It was terrible."
        "Just a dream."
        "Yes. I know, " he whispered, "But my father is dead."
        She blinked. "I'm so sorry."
        "We have to get the killer. We have to find him!"
        Scully began to say something in protest but he stopped her.
        "Not now. But later."
        Mulder saw her soften as she nodded. He patted the space next to
his pillow. "Lie down, Scully. You're tired."
        She looked at her bed and the space in front of her. She was
comfortable just where she was. . . "No. No, I'm fine."
        "Just rest." He glanced up at her. "Scully. Please."
        Scully reluctantly stretched out on her bed and laid her head
down. Mulder turned his head so that his face was directly in front of
hers. Their eyes met and this time she didn't look away because there was
nowhere else to look. She just met his gaze and briefly closed her eyes.
When they reopened, she saw that Mulder was staring at her. 
        "Fox," she paused, wondering if she was going to say it. 
"Never mind."
        And Mulder reached up to trace his hand along her face.
        "Scully."  And that was all that was said before the two fell
asleep beside each other.


The End.


Yes, The End.


One more author's note:
Okay, so what did you think? Please share. It could have 
happened. . . Couldn't it? I mean, they didn't *do* it or anything. . .
It's perfectly plausible. Well, there's that whole flaw with what happened
the next day (Oh, my--he *yelled* at her) but. . .Oh, hell, I don't know.
I hope you all enjoyed this, email with comments.

technical