From: jenni10647@aol.com (Jenni10647) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Healing Time" - story 1 Date: 25 Apr 1995 23:39:38 -0400 "Healing Time" An X-Files Story by Jennifer Lyon Jenni10647@AOL.com (Disclaimer: the characters of the X-Files belong to CC, FOXBC, Ten Thirteen Productions. The remainder of the story is the property of the author. A few notes: this story assumes that the events described in the author's previous stories, "Ghostly Reminders" and "Dark Angel," have already taken place. Time-wise, "Full Circle" occurs within a month following the end of "Dark Angel." "Ghostly Reminders" can be found in issue #2 of the fanzine, "Property of the FBI" published by MacWombat Press. "Dark Angel" will be published in volume four of the same fanzine. Contact MacWombat@aol.com for more information. Credit goes to Beth Hammer, who first suggested the transplant idea to me; and to those who took time to read this for me while in progress: Gylford, Amperage, and Ecksphile of the AOL EMXC: THANKS!) Elaine Corwell Clinic Ft. Lauderdale, Florida Her footsteps were light on the white-tiled floor. She peeked her head around the corner into the darkened ward. In the bed closest to the door a small figure stirred and sighed in its sleep, then lay still. In the quiet of the night, even the institutional fluorescent lighting seemed softer, gentler. Satisfied all was well, Regina walked back to the deserted nurses station. But before she could settle in her chair, a sharp bang broke the silence. Suddenly alert, the young nurse hurried down the long hallway. The door to the linen closet was partly open, though she was certain she'd closed it earlier. Heart beating faster, she closed her hand around the doorknob and slowly edged the door open. "Who is there?" she questioned. Her only answer was the slight brush of air against her cheek and the echo of a childlike giggle. "Come out of there...." she spoke more firmly as she pushed the door wide open and stepped inside. The door flew out of her hand and slammed shut. Light and shadows twisted under the closed doorway, while the doorknob twisted and the door shook in its frame. A sudden high-pitched scream echoed, then stopped abruptly. For a few moments everything was still. Then the door opened and three small children stepped out into the hallway. One suckled her thumb as they walked, single-file, down the empty hall to the ward. Silently they separated, clambered into their beds and fell asleep. Under the half-open closet door a small trickle of bright-red blood gathered and ran across the floor. ----------------------------------- Washington, D.C. FBI Headquarters Washington, D.C. "Morning," Scully said brightly as she closed their office door behind her. "Hi Scully," Mulder replied, not looking up from the file his nose was buried in. Scully dumped her coat and briefcase on her chair, taking full advantage of his preoccupation to covertly study him. Despite the insomnia she knew was plaguing him, he still managed to look alert and professional. He was wearing an obviously expensive dark suit with a white silk shirt. Sometimes it amazed her that this man who didn't even own a bed, who drove a rusty ancient car, and tended to exist on a diet of frozen pizza and the ever-present sunflower seeds, had such costly tastes in clothes. Well, that was if you excused his horrible taste in ties. The present, brightly patterned, red and yellow - and purple? -example was enough to make her finely-tuned aesthetic senses shudder in revulsion. "Mulder..." she started. "Scully," he interrupted, still unaware of her intent gaze. "Come take a look at this." He finally turned his bright hazel eyes up from the file, which he was now holding out to her. As she took it from his outstretched hand, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the vivid dark bruises underlining his eyes. Scully forced herself to swallow the worried comment that rose in her throat, calmly accepting the papers. "What is this?" she asked. He rose from his chair in one swift movement, coming around the edge of the desk to perch himself languidly over the corner of the desk. "Do you remember..." he paused, then continued in a rush of words, "One of my friends from Brandenville is Christian Corwell. You never met him, but..." "Yes, Laurel mentioned him. He's the Corwell of Corwell Industries, isn't he?" she replied. Mulder nodded. "Yes, though lately he's been focusing his attention less on the electronics business and more on a new interest - health care. In particular, he has founded a clinic that is conducting leading edge research and treatment in the area of transplant surgery." "The Elaine Corwell Clinic," Scully said with a slight questioning lilt in her voice. "Elaine is his daughter. She nearly died from renal failure several years ago. She was only 6 years old. After what they went through, well...Chris wanted to do something to help other children with the same needs, and their families as well." Scully simply smiled up at him, silently expressing her understanding and appreciation. Then she studied the documents in her hands, her expression tightening in dismay. "Four staff members found dead in the last three weeks. The first was an apparent accident, he was electrocuted by a broken heart monitor. The second apparently fell down a flight of stairs, crushing her skull on the banister. The third looked like a suicide, her arms were cut length-wise with a scalpel from wrist to elbow." Scully shivered slightly, but continued reading, "The fourth was found hanging from the pipes in the linen closet, but unlike the others, this was one was obviously murder." Scully looked up at her partner with wide blue eyes, "She didn't die from the hanging, she died from blood loss caused by claw marks and severe bites across her extremities: hands, legs, and face." "Human bites, Scully, and those weren't 'claw' marks, they were fingernail scratches." "Some of the bites appear to be those of a single adult human male, others... My God, Mulder, they resemble those of human children!" "Children, or small primates of some kind. Though how three monkeys could get in and out of the clinic without being noticed or seen, not to mention the male adult involved. Well, maybe we ought to check and see if there's a circus nearby." Mulder said, the half-teasing lilt in his voice belied by the intense seriousness in his eyes and expression. Scully couldn't help being appreciative that his worry over the possible involvement of children in the crime kept him from indulging in one of his more outrageous comments. She was as good at that kind of gallows humor as anyone else, it came with the job, but Mulder could outshine anyone in that department. She simply nodded. "Maybe...I take it Chris has asked us to take on the case." "Yes, and its already cleared with Skinner. We fly out at noon today." He grinned. "When Chris sets his mind on something, it tends to get done quickly. " "That sounds like someone else I know." ----------------------------------------- Ft. Lauderdale/Hollywood International Airport Car horns blared in the bright South Florida sunshine. Standing on the sidewalk outside the baggage claim area, Dana Scully brushed a lank strand of auburn hair off her face and shifted uncomfortably in her suit. As a rivulet of sweat inched its way down her back, she decided she was never going to complain about getting stuck with cold climates again. She rubbed her forehead with her sleeve and grimaced as it came away smeared with make-up. Scully glanced at her partner as he reached out to move a suitcase closer to the curb. She had been a little worried about getting him involved in another set of serial killings so soon after the disaster in Michigan, but Mulder insisted he was fine. Scully had even gone so far as to call Laurel, who had advised Scully that Chris would be good for Mulder. Scully was uncertain about trusting her partner's unsteady emotional state to a man she'd never met, but they *were* old friends, and maybe it would help Mulder to talk to another man. He certainly wasn't talking to her. Something was going to break soon and she was terrified it would be Mulder himself. Beside her, Fox Mulder was balancing himself back and forth from his toes to his heels, impatiently eyeing the traffic. He hated this kind of waiting, especially when he had a case to investigate. This one had caught his interest immediately, and the fact that Chris had asked for his help, only made him more anxious to get moving. It would be good to see his old friend again, and to get away from Washington. He stole a quick glance at Scully who was standing silently by his side, scanning the crowd while she absentmindedly fanned herself with her airline ticket. He knew she was deeply worried about him, but it was hard for him to find the right words to reassure her. Especially when he knew he was still being haunted by the horror of what Claire had done to him. The nightmares were so frightening that he'd simply given up on sleeping at all, and sometimes the images would flash in front of his eyes even when he was awake. "Mulder!!!!!" boomed a deep male voice. "Chris?!" Mulder spun on his heels, only to be lifted off his feet in bear-hug by a large, blond man. Mulder returned the embrace stiffly, but his smile was warm and genuine as he pulled back to include his partner. "Chris Corwell...Dana Scully," he said, holding both of their elbows for a moment. "Hello," Scully looked up with warm relief. Despite her previous concerns, she liked the big, well-tanned man immediately. There was a bright glowing intelligence in his sea- green eyes, and a humor in the lines of his craggy face that reminded her very much of her partner. For his part, Chris seized her hand and grinned down at the diminutive, fiery-haired woman. "Only a fool like Mulder would fail to warn me just how beautiful you are, Dana Scully. I'm delighted to finally meet you." Scully found herself laughing in response. "He did remember to warn me about you and your way with women." Chris leaned down and stage-whispered to her, "Don't believe a word he says." "Better believe it," Mulder interjected, "I remember a certain occasion down in Miami a few years ago...and a certain sultry blond waitress..." "Hey, can I help it if women like me? Besides, if I remember correctly, that was the night you disappeared for several hours and came back smelling like a perfume factory." Chris rejoined. "Well...I..." Mulder stuttered for a moment, then gave up with a shrug of his shoulders and an engaging grin. "It was quite a weekend." "Indeed," Scully said, arching an auburn eyebrow at him in mock-censure. "I'd like to hear more about this." "Unh...maybe another time," Mulder responded, glaring at Chris, who winked at him broadly, then settled into a serious expression. "I wish we had more time to relax, but unfortunately we need to get to the clinic right away." The deadly seriousness of his tone immediately captured both agents' attention. "There's been another death this morning." His mouth tightened into a thin line. "I'll explain more in the car on the way." He grabbed both their suitcases and maneuvered with surprising speed though the crowd. Exchanging worried glances, Mulder and Scully hurried after him. -------------------------- to be continued From: jenni10647@aol.com (Jenni10647) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Healing Time" Part 2 Date: 25 Apr 1995 23:39:42 -0400 Elaine Corwell Clinic 1426 E. Sunrise Circle. Ft. Lauderdale, Florida The clinic was located in a small culdesac just one block off of Broward Boulevard in downtown Fort Lauderdale. A three story, white concrete building, the clinic was shaded by a long row of palm trees and brightly flowering bushes. Inside it was a maze of corridors and wards, operating rooms, and offices, all centered around a large indoors fountain and elaborate glass staircase. The security guard at the front desk came to rapt attention as Chris Corwell raced past him, the two federal agents in tow. Halfway down a brightly colored hallway, Chris was grabbed by a small, anxious man in a dark blue suit. "Mr. Corwell, I'm so sorry to disturb you at a time like this, but this is a disaster," he babbled. "All three local TV stations have called, and are probably on their way. A reporter from the Sun Sentinel got into one of the wards and disturbed the children. Three of the staff have resigned and two others are having hysterics in the break room. The head nurse is fighting with the police, trying to keep them from interviewing the children, and I have six sets of panicked parents screaming that they want to remove their children at once!" "Dennis...DENNIS!" Chris interrupted. "Calm down. I'll take care of it. Where are the parents?" "I put them in the doctor's lounge. There was nowhere else, the police are everywhere." "OK, that's fine, " Chris replied soothingly. "I'll see them first. Tell security not to let any member of the press into the building and announce that I'll do a press conference later. Oh, and try to arrange a staff meeting for later." He turned back to Mulder and Scully. "I'm sorry, it looks like I'm going to be busy for a while." "No problem, Chris," Mulder replied. "Scully and I need to talk to the police and take a look at the crime scene. We can meet up later." Chris nodded. "Good, If you need help with anything just yell. Mulder, I'm glad you were able to come. I'm worried about the children. If one of them gets hurt..." His eyes flashed with anger. Mulder met his friend's eyes with determination. "I know. We'll do everything we can to make sure that doesn't happen." They shared a moment of understanding, then Mulder stepped away and steered Scully towards the semi- organized chaos at the end of the hall. ------------------------ "I'm sorry, you can't go in there." A uniformed police- woman, her brown-hair piled on the crown of her head, stood politely, but firmly, between Mulder and the doorway to Operating Room 3. "Federal Agents," Mulder replied formally as both he and Scully displayed their badges. "Who is in charge here?" "Sorry, sir," apologized the officer, looking up at the tall, handsome agent with sudden interest, as she moved aside to open the door for them. "That would be Lieutenant Graber," she added, pointing towards a stockily-built black man wearing a brown suit, thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. They could hear the low grumble of his voice across the room as questioned the white-clad medical examiner who was bending over an inert form on the floor. As the agents edged deeper into the room, they were able to take a closer look at the body. It lay in a large pool of still-liquid blood, the skin of the hands and face ripped to shreds. The legs stretched out at awkward angles, while both of the arms were bent across the chest in a frozen, useless, defensive stance. One eyeball was hanging partially out of the socket, while the other was hidden by a swirling pool of red and white liquid. Scully grimaced, her jaw jutting forward, as she fought for - and found - professional self-control. She'd dealt with worse before, and she knew she'd do so again. Before she could say anything to Mulder, a strong hand seized her arm. "What are you doing in here, this is..." "FBI," she interrupted sharply, pulling her arm free of Graber's grasp. "I'm Special Agent Scully, my partner is Special Agent Mulder." Mulder didn't bother acknowledging the introduction. He stood motionless, his brilliant hazel eyes focused intently on the gory corpse at his feet. Scully handed Graber her I.D. and waited politely until he was satisfied with it. Grudgingly, he nodded and handed it back to her. "I didn't ask for Bureau assistance on this case. My men are quite capable of handling this. But since you're here anyway, there's no use fighting over it." "We all want the same thing, Lieutenant, to stop this killer before someone else dies." Scully responded soothingly. The last thing they needed right now was hostility from the local police. "What can you tell me about the victim?" "He's been tentatively identified as Dr. Cole Shalleson, the resident anesthesiologist. Formal identification will probably require a dental comparison, since both his face and fingertips have been destroyed. But he was seen going into this room alone and was not observed leaving from then until the time the body was found a few hours later. That doesn't mean much, though, since no-one managed to see the killer enter or leave either," Graber's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Twenty kids, ten staff members, and half a dozen parents wandering around, but no-one saw or heard anything until a scrub nurse came in to pick up some used instruments for cleaning and found the body..." While Scully and Graber continued to discuss the case, Mulder remained fixed in place, staring down at the body, on the liquid blood so near the tips of his shoes. He could almost reach out and touch it - reach out and scoop it up into his fingers. It would run through his fingers, hot and thick and salty. Mulder's slender frame shook slightly as his mind was assaulted by a vivid slideshow of memories. The taste of blood in his mouth. The feel of it dribbling over his shrinking flesh. The itchy feel of it dried on his skin, crusted into his hair. The smell of it...the taste of it... "What the hell!" Graber yelled, pushing Scully out of the way to yank Mulder backwards. Mulder went with him unresisting, as limp as a rag doll, all of his weight crashing into the unsuspecting detective, who had been expecting a struggle. They both fell to the floor, Mulder rolling over to lay curled on his side, still suckling on his blood-drenched right hand. "Mulder!!!!!" Scully cried out, stumbling over Graber who was trying to get to his feet, swearing explosively. "Mulder..." Scully said again, this time plaintively, as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head and shoulders into the cradle of her arms. She stroked the loose strands of hair off his forehead as she spoke softly to him. "Mulder, it's Scully. Can you hear me, Mulder...please..." Deftly, she felt for his pulse, then lifted his eyelids while she continued to talk into his ear. His eyes were black and unfocused, staring blankly through her. Oh God, please, let him come back to me, she prayed, rocking him in her arms. Finally on his feet, Graber came up behind her and stared down over her shoulder. One look at Mulder's anguished face stopped the angry words that were rising in his throat. Shocked, he simply asked "What on earth is going on here, Scully?" Scully wasn't about to start a long explanation at this point. "Find Christian Corwell," she responded. "What?" Scully pulled her eyes briefly away from the man in her arms to glare blue fire at the policeman towering over her. "Find Christian Corwell and get him here...NOW" The fierceness in her tone, underlying the carefully measured words, stirred Graber into action. "You heard Agent Scully, get Corwell down here immediately!" he growled, pushing a pair of stunned officers out the door. The next few minutes seemed like an eternity to Scully. Mulder lay weak and unaware against her, his tongue still licking at the blood on his hand. None of her entreaties seemed to get through. In desperation she yanked his hand out of his mouth and tilted his head around so that he had to look up at her. He cried out, trying to pull his hand back, but she pushed it away again. "Mulder!!!!" she insisted, shaking him. ***His hands were shackled, he couldn't move. Claire was leaning over him, white pearly teeth exposed in a smile, as she poured blood down his throat. "NOOOO!" he screamed, trying to pull away. "Mulder!" a familiar voice echoed in his ears..."Mulder!!!!" Scully?? Vague shadows spun wildly in front of his eyes. A shadowed face was leaning over his, warm hands held him tightly. He blinked and closed his eyes tight, blinked open and shut again, then tried to focus on the person above him. Bright wings of auburn hair, wide blue eyes, peach- toned skin...*** "Scully," he murmured in a hoarse whisper. "Yes, Mulder, it's Scully," she replied in a thickened voice. Her eyes glistened with moisture as she stroked his cheek gently. "Do you remember where you are?" "Where?" he pulled himself into a more upright position, and lowered his face into his hands. Shock registered on his mobile features as he discovered the red moisture still covering his right hand. Looking past Scully's shoulder, he saw the body laying in its pool of blood and the sudden realization of what he must have done hit him. His heart raced in his chest as his stomach and intestines twisted up into one large knot. A moaning cry escaped his lips as he was wracked by a series of violent cramps. Using Scully's shoulder as a lever, he forced his way to his feet, pulled away from his startled partner and raced through the swing doors into the small scrub room. Stumbling against the sink, he vomited into it violently. Scully burst through the doors after him, sliding to halt beside him. She reached up a hand to touch him, but held herself back, letting him finish what he needed to do. She was so intent on Mulder that she didn't notice Chris coming up behind her until he gently put his hand on her shoulder. Her hair swung in a bright arc as she turned her anguished face up towards the tall man whose strong green eyes mirrored her concern. He inclined his head down to her, then angled it towards Mulder, who had stopped convulsing, his head still hanging down into the sink. His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the basin, and his hair fell in a thick swatch over his forehead and temples. Scully reached past him to turn on the water. Then she picked up a washcloth, wet it, and tried to clean Mulder's chin. He pushed her away, then pulled the movable faucet closer to him and thrust his entire head under it. The water cascaded down over his hair, then his forehead, his nose, his mouth, his chin, as he slowly rotated his face upward. After a long moment, he pulled himself up out of the water. Scully silently handed him a towel. This he accepted without meeting her eyes, vigorously rubbing his face and hair with it. Finally he paused, and slowly lowered it. "I...I'm sorry Scully..." he started to say, his words trembling. "Don't," she interrupted, moving closer to him. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He shook his head, but he did manage to meet her eyes. "Scully..." "Sshhh," she said. "We can talk later. Right now you need to get some rest. Chris will take us home." Mulder looked past Scully, startled to see his friend there. "She's right, Mulder," he said. "Let us take you home." Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but they were both giving him identical, determined looks - looks he was *very* familiar with. Past experience warned him that arguing was a waste of time, especially since it was two against one. Besides, he was tired. He felt drained, exhausted, weak. Dropping the towel over the edge of the sink he took a step towards Scully and stumbled, his legs felt like jelly. Scully caught him, straining briefly under his weight, until Chris' strong arms lifted Mulder off of her. Mulder sank gratefully into his friend's arms as they supported him out of the building and into the waiting car. ----------------------------------- From: jenni10647@aol.com (Jenni10647) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Healing Time" Part 3 Date: 25 Apr 1995 23:39:45 -0400 ----------------------------------- Corwell Estate Ft. Lauderdale, Florida Mulder didn't remember much of the trip from the clinic to Chris's house, or of being undressed and settled into bed. But the moment his head hit the pillow, he was suddenly wide awake. He pushed back the covers Scully had just pulled up to his chin and wiggled into a partially upright position. "What do you think you're doing," Scully scolded, moving swiftly to press him back down. "I'm OK, Scully, really. It was just the shock of seeing all that blood for the first time since..." he swallowed, avoiding her eyes, "since Claire...but I can handle it now. Besides, I don't really need to be messing with the bodies to write my profile. That's your department. I can work from here," he insisted. The glint in Scully's eyes and the way she held her head, told him even before she said a word, that she didn't like that idea at all. "YOU are going to lie here and sleep. I MAY let you work tomorrow...maybe. But you are in no emotional or physical shape to be doing anything but sleep right now," she told him firmly. Scully was determined to make him get some rest, even if she had to dig the bottle of Restoril out of her medical bag and have Chris hold him down while she administered it. While the sedative wouldn't initially give Mulder the REM sleep he so desperately needed, it might give him a better chance at slipping into it on his own. A quick glance towards the big blond man standing behind her confirmed his willingness to help. "I'm not sleepy," Mulder insisted, but both Scully and Chris were glaring at him with identical, stern expressions. Even his best 'puppy-dog' look didn't make the slightest dent. His eyes turned liquid as he tried again to explain. "I can't sleep, Scully. I just can't. Please..." Scully felt her heart turn over as he pleaded with her. She had a very good idea of why he didn't want to sleep, but he couldn't keep going on like this. "When is the last time you got more than an hour or two of sleep a night?" she asked, dreading the answer. "I...unh...I guess it would be since we left Haverford," Mulder replied sheepishly. "But I usually only get about four or five hours a night anyway. That's normal for me, so it isn't that bad. I can catch up later. After this case..." his voice trailed off. Nope, Scully wasn't going to buy that either. Scully frowned, pursing her lips. She wasn't big on using drugs unless necessary, but at this point, that sedative was beginning to seem like a very good idea. It would allow him to sleep without dreaming, at least for a while. "I can give you something that will help you sleep." She reached out to smooth down his hair. "I'll stay right here with you," she said softly. But Mulder just shook his head. "Scully, you have to go straighten things out with Graber. And check on the autopsy. It might be a good idea if you could talk them into letting you do it. Or at least, take a good look at the other victims. Fax the reports to me as soon as you can, they will help with my profile." "Mulder, the subject is closed. I'm not leaving you, and you're not doing anything but sleeping." Scully met his eyes fiercely. He stared into the deep blue depths of hers for a moment, then sighed deeply and settled back against the pillow. "I'll make a deal with you, Scully. I'll take your pills and sleep for a few hours, if you keep working on the case." He waved his hand at her, as she opened her mouth to protest. "There will be more deaths soon if we don't catch this guy. He's escalating - the killings are getting increasingly violent and the time between them is decreasing. We have to stop him. Now." "OK, you're right," she admitted, though she hated the idea of leaving him alone so soon after his collapse. "But I want you to sleep for more than a few hours - overnight would be best. I'll try to check in on you regularly." "Don't worry, Dana. I'll stay here and look after Mulder," Chris broke in. "I can work from home, and despite Dennis' whining, he's an outstanding administrator. Believe me, I'd have canned him years ago if he wasn't. We'll be fine." Scully smiled at him gratefully, "Thank you, Chris. That makes me feel better." "I don't need a nursemaid," Mulder grumbled. "I can take care of myself." "Then prove it. A whole night's sleep, Mulder. Twelve hours." "Six," he argued. "Twelve," she insisted. "Eight," negotiated Chris with a hint of a grin. Mulder and Scully stared at each other for a moment, neither wanting to give an inch, but both finally nodded agreement. "Eight." ---------------------------------- The Corwell estate bordered the canal that ran parallel to the beach in Ft. Lauderdale. The back patio of the branching, one-story adobe house led down into a private dock at which floated a long-white yacht with blue-tinted glass and a gold rim. Palm trees stirred in a slight breeze, while a few small clouds floated like whisps of cotton in the deep blue morning sky. The sudden cry of a gull startled Scully, but she relaxed quickly. After a shower and change of clothes, she felt much more in control. It had been a long night. She had not found it easy to explaining her partner's behavior to Graber, who hadn't wanted them here in the first place. But Graber was an experienced cop, and he surprised her with the depth of his understanding. In fact, she was beginning to like the gruff detective. He reminded her of FBI Assistant Director Skinner. The autopsy had not been pleasant either, but it had been reasonably quick. No surprises. The physical cause of death was obvious. Who had caused it was less so. She'd spent hours reading through the police reports. But there were no significant leads. If she didn't know better, she'd think the murders were being committed by 'the invisible man.' No, she was not going to start thinking down those lines. But she couldn't help feeling a little creepy. Those bite marks in the fourth victim looked so much like those of small children. But how and why? She just couldn't imagine children committing these crimes, and there was still the question of those adult bite marks. Dana shook her head and leaned out over the balcony, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on her face. One adult man and three young children killing five people without being seen or heard, even during mid-morning in a busy medical clinic: it just didn't track. What if... No. Dana sighed and tucked loose strands of bright orange hair back behind her ears. Maybe, as Mulder had said teasingly during the Excelsius Dei investigation, she really had been working with him for too long. There was an 'ordinary' explanation for these deaths. She just had to find it. "Morning, Scully." Chris interrupted her thoughts as he ambled out onto the deck. "Hi Chris," she responded, turning to give him a wide smile. "How is Mulder?" "Fine. He's up and full of energy. He'll be down as soon as he finishes taking a shower," Chris replied smiling. "How are you?" "All right, I guess. It was hard to work on this without Mulder last night. I kept wanting to bounce ideas off him." "I know the feeling. When I was first getting CI started, I'd call him up - sometimes in the middle of the night - just to get his opinions on whatever problems I came across. I don't think he was ever wrong - at least as long as it had to do with people." Chris laughed. "Mulder's not too good with electronics." Scully smiled, "I know what you mean. He's even worse with directions." Chris returned her smile, "Yeah...I remember a couple of times he got us totally lost. Once when we were kids, we spent hours wandering in circles in one of the less savory neighborhoods of New York City." His voice strained as the memory turned darker, "We had escaped from Brandenville and had gotten as far as New York. Mulder was trying to get us to the Port Authority so that we could catch a bus to Florida. He was five years older than me, so I just followed him." He shook his head, "What a sight we must have been, a white teenager leading a ten year-old blond kid in circles around Harlem. I'm surprised we made it out alive, though it was hardly worse than what we'd left." He fell silent, staring out over the water as it shimmered under the brilliant sun. Scully placed her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I would never have survived without him, Dana. He took care of me, protected me. When I woke up screaming with a nightmare, he'd come and hold me. A couple of times he took beatings in my place, and he used to slip his own food to me when they weren't feeding me. He looked after the others too, Laurel, Tori, Stephan... Who ever took care of him?" Chris leaned out over the balcony, his hands trembling. "When things started to go right with the business, I wanted to pay Fox back, but he wouldn't take anything from me. For a while it was almost a joke between us....I kept giving him one more outrageous gift after another. He'd laugh and give them back. But dammit, Dana, he deserves all of it. And he deserves better than this life has given him." He paused, then turned around to face her. Scully nodded. She had no argument with that. "Mulder, he..." she hesitated briefly, then continued. "I think he's just afraid of letting anyone get too close. He's been hurt too often, and he doesn't want to cause anyone else to get hurt. He's afraid he'll put someone he loves in danger. I think he blames himself for his sister and he sees putting distance between himself and other people a way of protecting them." "You love him very much," Chris stated. Scully looked up at him startled. She shifted to her side, turning her head so that her bright hair slid between his piercing eyes and her face. "I...CARE...about him very much. We're partners." "Bullshit." Chris responded bluntly. "What!" Scully tilted her head back up towards him. "You heard me, Dana Scully. I know I may not look very perceptive, but it doesn't take much understanding of people to recognize the way you look at him. The way he looks at you." "We've become very close," she said, still denying his statement, even though she knew deep inside he was right. "You can't depend on someone for your life and not come to care about them. We trust each other absolutely, but we're partners, we WORK together. We can't get involved that way." "Nonsense." Chris replied. "OK," he allowed, "Maybe that's true for most people. Office relationships can be difficult. But you and that man in there," he insisted, waving up at the house, "you are not 'most people.' Real love is too rare a commodity to put aside because it might create some waves. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you two belong together. You balance each other. If it's right, you can make it work - together." "I don't know. What we already have is so good. Friendship, trust, understanding, a great working partnership. I don't want to chance losing that." "Look, Dana, I know I shouldn't be putting my nose into this. It's a decision you have to make for yourself. But Mulder is my best friend. I owe him everything and I just want to see him happy. You can make him happy. And I have the feeling that despite all of his problems, he makes you happy too." "He does. It's just complicated." Chris smiled. "It always is." -------------------------------------- From: jenni10647@aol.com (Jenni10647) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Healing time" Part 4 Date: 25 Apr 1995 23:39:47 -0400 -------------------------------------- Elaine Corwell Clinic Recovery Playroom Two A five-year-old girl with straight blond hair and large brown eyes looked up from the coloring book in her lap, meeting the eyes of a slender, brown haired boy across the room. He nodded intently at the little girl, put down the comic book he was reading and silently slid of the couch. Padding his way towards the door in his socks, he passed a girl sprawled out in front of the TV. She didn't say a word as he nudged her shoulder with his left toe. But after he had left the room, she pulled herself to her feet, pushing long black hair out of her olive-skinned face. Exchanging a darting glance with the little blond, who was still seated on her stool, crayon in hand, she followed the boy into the hall. A few moments later, the third child quietly closed the coloring book, patiently replaced the crayons into the box, then stood up and slipped out of the room. Nurse's-Aide Chen only barely registered the movement of the first two children past her as she trundled a cartload of linen down the long hallway. But when a third child squeezed past her, she suddenly got concerned. There was nothing at the end of that hall except a storage rooms, the nurse's lounge and the elevators. Where could they be going? "Hey," she called after the small girl. At the sound of her voice, the child took off running, long blond braids streaming out behind her as she half-slid towards the elevators. Chen took after her, but came up short as the elevator doors shut in her face. Anxiously she examined the lighted buttons. The elevator was going down. She turned and ran for the stairs. -------------------------- Leonard Gupkin had been the maintenance chief for the clinic since the day it opened. He knew every inch of the dark basement passages. Whistling, he closed the door to the power room, and wandered back towards his own office. Things were going well. No major electrical problems in the last month, and his mouth was nearly watering at the thought of the homemade stew his wife had packed for his lunch. He'd stopped on the way to work this morning to pick up a loaf of fresh bread to eat with it. Turning the corner, he almost ran over the little girl. Not more than five years-old, she stood in the center of the hall, dressed in blue pajamas with bright red teddy bears spotted all over, sucking on her thumb. Her large brown eyes were sleepy and blank as she stood staring straight at his legs. "How'd you get down here, sweetheart?" Leonard asked gently, dropping to his knees and reaching out to her. She pulled back away from him at the same moment two other children stepped forward out of the shadows to stand flanking her on either side: a tall dark girl and a slender brown-haired boy. Before Leonard could react, a sudden force hit him in the belly and he flew backwards, landing with a jolt on the concrete floor. His cry of surprise froze in his throat as his stunned eyes focused on the face floating above him. Long, dark blond hair fell around a snarling mouth and ice-cold blue eyes. A vivid white-etched scar ran the length of his cheek, disappearing into a snarled gray beard. Terrified, Leonard pushed upwards at the apparition, only to shake with a violent electric shock as he watched his hands go right through it. His already weak heart, leaped and stopped. Clutching his chest, Leonard collapsed to the floor and lay still. The face suspended in the air twisted in thwarted anger when it realized that it's victim had 'escaped.' The walls shook as a blast of air boomed in every direction. The children remained standing in place, their hair and clothes whipping around their stone-like bodies as the storm continued to rage around them. The floating face grew until it stretched from wall to wall. A scream burst through the wind as Chen came running around the corner, only to picked up off her feet and bounced against the ceiling and then the wall. Her body crumpled to the ground inches from Leonard's, blood trickling from her right temple. One more loud thunderclap shook the basement. Then - suddenly - silence. Together, without making a sound, the three children picked their way between the two bodies and marched away, like three miniature robots in a row. ----------------------------------- Basement Elaine Corwell Clinic Lieutenant Graber stood above the corpse, his hands dug into his suit pockets, ignoring the busy activity around him. This case was giving him a major headache. There was nothing firm to put his hands on. He couldn't even be sure which deaths were involved and which were simply coincidental. According to the M.E., this one looked like a simple heart-attack. Add in the crazy story told by the young nurse found injured by the body, and it was enough to make him yearn for an early retirement. "Lieutenant." Scully's voice broke into his thoughts. He turned towards the two federal agents walking up behind him. The woman was wearing a light tan suit with a pale blue shirt that mirrored the color of her large eyes, barely touched by make-up. Her rich auburn hair was piled up into a neat knot. Scully's face was calm and focused - she looked every inch the consummate professional. The tall, lanky man loping along behind her was much more a surprise. Mulder was dressed in pale blue suit, white shirt, and solid red tie. His hair was slicked back off his forehead, although a pair of bangs were defiantly beginning a slow slide down across his right temple. He looked cool, calm, and relaxed, but Graber had serious doubts about his presence. "Scully," he acknowledged her before facing her partner. "How are you feeling, Agent Mulder?" Graber asked in a guarded tone. "I'm fine, Lieutenant," Mulder replied evenly. He nodded his chin down briefly, then met Graber's chocolate eyes directly, "I apologize for my behavior yesterday. I was taken by surprise by the seriousness of the wounds. It won't happen again." Graber eyed the pale, dark-haired man with uncertainty. He understood delayed stress reactions quite well, he'd suffered some himself after his stint in Vietnam, and Mulder's episode had been classic. The agent appeared to be back in control, but Graber wasn't certain he wanted someone messing in his investigation who might freak out at any moment. But on the other hand, his investigation was at a standstill and Mulder did have a reputation for being an uncannily-skilled detective. He glanced over at Scully and she shrugged her shoulders at him, her eyes indicating her own uncertainty as to her partner's state of mind. Graber considered his options and decided to take a chance on the young man - for now. "OK," he said, pivoting around to point at the body on the floor. "The maintenance man, 56 year-old Leonard Gupkin, is dead, apparently of a heart attack. The Nurse's Aide, Xiaowen Chen, is alive and suffering from a concussion and a broken right femur. She's been put in one of the private rooms upstairs." "Getting injured in a hospital - it gives a new definition to the term 'instant care.'" commented Mulder as he circled the body to kneel down by its feet. Graber ignored him. "Chen states that she saw three children from one of the recovery wards upstairs enter the elevator. She saw that the elevator went straight to the basement, so she went down the stairs after them. She says she wandered a bit down here, then she heard a scream and a loud noise, like a thunderclap. When she entered this hallway, she saw Gupkin lying on the floor as he is now, the three children standing just past him, and some kind of apparition hanging in the air." "Apparition?" asked Mulder, leaping swiftly to his feet, his eyes sparkling with interest. Graber shrugged, doubting that this part was anything more than concussion-driven hallucination. "She SAYS that there was a huge, translucent, glowing man's face hanging in mid-air, stretching from wall to wall. That when it saw her, an invisible hand lifted her into the air and threw her against the ceiling. She collapsed to the floor and blacked-out." "Can she identify the children she saw," Scully questioned, ignoring the mixture of amusement and focused intensity in her partner's face as he absorbed every word. "Yes, actually one of the doctors was able to identify them from her descriptions. There are only about a dozen children in recovery." He consulted his notebook. "The three Chen alleges she saw are Carrie Lang, Theresa Vilegros, and Jeffrey Fielding." "Have you questioned the children yet?" she asked. "Not yet, we are trying to contact the parents so that we can arrange permission." Graber replied. "We'll need to compare their dental records with the bite marks in Regina Chamber's body," Mulder interjected. "And we should pull their medical and family records, to see if there is any connection." "That information is confidential. We may need to a court order to get it." Graber warned. "We will if we have to. I'd like to see treatment records. It's possible they are being dosed with a drug, or combination of drugs, that stimulates psychotic behavior." Scully suggested. "Maybe," Mulder said doubtfully, his brow crinkled in concentration, "but that doesn't explain the adult bite marks. Or how three small children hung Chambers from the pipes in the ceiling. Or how they overpowered a grown man like Shalleson." "A staff member must be involved. Someone who is drugging the children and using them to assist or watch as he kills." "Could be, Scully. All the evidence suggests that it is someone who has free access to the clinic and is familiar enough to the people here that he isn't noticed. What I don't understand is the pattern of the deaths. They resemble spree killings in that there is no real similarities to the victims, and no consistency in the manner of death. It's almost as though they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But our killer is unlike a spree killer in that he is careful not to be seen and he kills at regular, albeit increasing intervals - much more characteristic of serial killers. I think something is setting him off - when he gets the right stimulus, he kills. It doesn't matter who or how, and afterwards he just goes back to whatever he was doing before the bell went off. In fact, he may not even remember doing it." Mulder stared intently into Scully's worried eyes. "The question is - what is setting him off?" ------------------------------- From: jenni10647@aol.com (Jenni10647) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Healing Time" Part 5 Date: 25 Apr 1995 23:39:48 -0400 ------------------------------- Director's Office Elaine Corwell Clinic Mulder watched out of the corner of his eye as Scully perched herself on the edge of the desk, shapely bare legs stretched out in front of her. He definitely preferred the warm- weather version of her wardrobe. Catching himself before she noticed him staring at her calves, he turned his attention back to the computer in front of him. As close as their relationship was, sometimes he wasn't certain exactly where the lines were drawn - or where he wanted them drawn. He knew he couldn't live without her, that he was probably very much in love with her, but there remained the question of their professional relationship. They had already created more than enough controversy in the Bureau. Mulder briefly entertained the thought of what Skinner might have to say if Scully and he got romantically involved and that relationship became public. It was enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Scully noticed the shudder that ran through Mulder's frame, and only barely managed to keep from asking yet again if he was all right. She didn't want to push him too hard, especially since she was still appreciative of how well he'd handled her reaction to the Pfaster case. He'd been both understanding and supportive without pressuring her. She had to find a way to do the same for him. But it was proving to be hard, especially when she saw the barely-controlled anguish in his eyes. Both agents abandoned their private thoughts as the office door swung open, admitting an anxious young woman holding a five-year-old girl by the hand. Both had long blond hair and soft brown eyes. The mother's eyes were red-rimmed and tired, her daughter's identical eyes were alert but wary. She was dressed in a small blue jumpsuit and her hair was bound into two long braids with blue ribbons on the ends. "Mrs. Lang?" Scully asked, standing up and offering a handshake. "Yes," the fair pretty woman replied, briefly accepting Scully's hand. "And this is my daughter, Carrie." "Hi Carrie," said Scully gently, "My name is Dana Scully and this is Fox Mulder. I know this all seems a little strange to you, but we need to ask you a few questions about this morning, OK." "OK," Carrie replied, after a glance at her mother assured her that this was all right." "Please, sit down," Mulder offered, gesturing to the couch under the window. After they were all settled, he sat back and let Scully ask the questions. "Carrie, can you tell me what you did this morning?" "We ate breakfast. Mommy brought me a donut." Carrie responded hesitantly, as her mother put her arm around her and hugged her close. "Then Mommy read me a story, then I drew pictures. I drew a big house and a cat." "I bet you draw great pictures," Scully encouraged. Carrie flashed a quick smile. "I like to draw pictures." "What did you do after that, Carrie," Scully prodded gently. "Watched TV. Then it was lunch time. We had pizza." "Do you remember going into the basement?" Carrie's long pigtails wiggled as she shook her head, no. "Are you sure, Carrie." She nodded. "You never went down the elevator yesterday." Another shake of her head. Scully looked over at Mulder who leaned forward in his chair. "Carrie, you were very sick before, weren't you?" he asked quietly. "Yes," the little girl frowned. "It hurt a lot, I was hot all the time, and my belly got all big." "They did an operation and now you're better." Mulder encouraged. "Yes, I was really scared," she said, opening her eyes wide, "But it wasn't too bad. I just went to sleep and when I woke up it was all over and I'm better now. I get to go home soon." "Very soon, honey," Mrs. Lang said, kissing the top of her daughter's head. "Carrie had biliary atresia. " "A blockage of bile flow from the liver to the intestines." Scully translated for Mulder. Mrs. Lang nodded. "They tried the Kasai procedure a couple of times, to drain the bile directly into the intestines, but it only helped for a short period of time. Then it would start again, the fever, the bloating. We put Carrie on the list for a transplant, but the wait was so long. Finally, about two weeks ago, we got a call from the clinic here, they had a liver from a donor whose blood and tissue types matched Carrie. They had another child who was going to get part of the liver, but since liver can regenerate, and a child's liver is smaller than an adults', they were able to split it between them." "Do you know who that other child was?" Mulder asked. "Yes, it was a boy named Jeff Fielding." she answered. ------------------------------------ "Scully, look at this!" Mulder exclaimed, his voice tinged with excitement. It had taken some pushing, and some much appreciated 'string-pulling' by Chris Corwell, but they had finally gotten full access to the children's medical records. "What?" she replied, moving to stand behind him, leaning over his shoulder. "The donor identification number for all three children. It's the same." He pointed to an eight digit code in the top corner of each file. "Theresa received a kidney from the same donor as the liver that was split between Carrie and Jeff." "OK, but what has that to do with these murders?" Scully asked, her voice tinged with doubt. "I'm not sure, but maybe that original donor is having an effect on the children." Mulder suggested, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head back to meet Scully's eyes. "How? The donor tissues are screened for infection. The children's health is closely monitored, and there's nothing in their treatment that could cause psychotic behavior. You met the children, Mulder, they all appear perfectly normal." "I know," Mulder replied, rubbing his eyes. "But they are involved somehow. And besides their presence here, there's no other link between them. It is important, Scully, I can feel it." He looked earnestly up into Scully's eyes, willing her to understand. She sighed and pressed her hands into his shoulders. "Well, we might as well check it out. Is there any more information on the donor?" "No, just the number. But Chris should have a record somewhere." "That may be harder to get than the children's records. At least with them we had an eyewitness claim that they were involved. This is too far out, we don't have legitimate cause." Mulder frowned. He knew she was right, but he was still convinced that the shared donor was somehow the key. His sense of the paranormal had been chiming ever since they had seen Gupkin's body. Something extraordinary had happened in that basement. A sudden thought struck him and he bolted up out of the chair, startling Scully as he began to circle the room. "Suppose, Scully, that the face Chen saw was that of the organ donor. Maybe when the children are together his spirit is able to return. That might explain why the children seem normal when we see them separately, and why the incidents are so random. They only occur when all three children are in close proximity." He stopped in mid-stride by the window and pivoted to face Scully, ready to face her objections. "Mulder, that's crazy," she obliged him, tilting her head to the side slightly, the calmness of her face covering the joy she felt at hearing sound again like the "Spooky" Mulder she knew and loved. "You know as well as I do, Scully," he argued, "that human spirits can manifest in a very physical way, especially when they have a live person to use as a focus, such as Emily provided for Lynn. And there have been reports that transplantees can be affected by the personality of the tissue donor. It's not uncommon for them to suddenly share memories or personal traits. It all makes sense." Scully had to admit that it did make sense in a very 'Mulderistic' way. It would explain the phenomena, but there were a large number of other theories that could do so as well. While she trusted Mulder's instincts almost more than she trusted anyone else's logic, she preferred relying on more 'ordinary' explanations whenever possible. "It's possible, Mulder, but it's just as possible that a staff member is doing the killings and is somehow using the children. Maybe drugging or brainwashing them in some manner," Scully replied. Mulder's response was cut short as the door opened, admitting Lt. Graber and Chris Corwell. Scully relinquished his chair back to Chris, walking around the desk to take a seat on the couch near Mulder. Graber perched on the far corner of the desk, removing his glasses and wiping the sweat off his nose with a large white handkerchief. "It looks like the children Ms. Chen identified were responsible for some of the bites on Nurse Chamber's body. The dental records were a perfect match." Graber said, shaking his head. "I thought I'd seen everything, but this frightens me. What would make children do this?" "Something evil," Chris answered tensely, his face tight and drawn in anguish. "I tried so hard to make sure the children here received the best possible care. I personally interviewed every potential staff member from the night janitor to the head surgeon. I had their backgrounds thoroughly checked and I randomly review them. We conduct regular seminars on child care. I've done everything I could to make sure that no-one mistreated the children. I would instantly fire anyone I even suspected of hurting a child." "No-one doubts that, Chris," Mulder reassured his friend. "You did everything you could. You can not hold yourself responsible for the actions of a psychotic. And sometimes they're VERY hard to spot. Scully and I have learned that the hard way more than once." His face darkened, his eyes solidifying into solid obsidian. "Besides, I'm not convinced that a staff member is involved." "You said yourself that it had to be someone with intimate knowledge of the clinic, who could come and go unnoticed." Graber interjected. "It has to be someone here." "Of course," Mulder replied. "It is 'someone' here....well, sort of here." Chris and Graber stared at him in confusion. After a glance at Scully, whose eyes said 'it's your theory,' Mulder squared his shoulders and began to explain. "Scully and I discovered that the three children involved all received transplants from the same donor, number F45698E2. I believe he was what Chen saw. Unfortunately, the kid's files don't have any information on the donor besides blood and HLA types." Graber and Chris spoke at once: "Number F45698E2...let me see what I can find out. "Chris began to type vigorously on the computer keyboard. "How can that be. The donor is dead, isn't he? You're not seriously suggesting that his ghost is killing these people?" Graber stared incredulously at Mulder. Mulder met Graber's chocolate eyes directly, his head just slightly tilted to the side, unsmiling and calm. That was exactly what he meant. "That's crazy!" Graber exclaimed, echoing Scully's words. "Maybe, but it fits the evidence," Mulder insisted. "The children each received a piece of the donor's body, when they're together the combined pull of that tissue may be enough to allow the donor's spirit to manifest physically. A requirement for all three to be present would explain the sporadic nature of the crimes, and the duration and frequency of the events may be increasing as the children regain their strength and the donor tissue integrates better into their systems. If we could get a picture of the donor, Chen might be able to identify him." "You're saying that these children are possessed, like the girl in 'The Exorcist?'" Graber asked, finding himself drawn in despite himself. Mulder's calm exposition almost made this seem possible. "In a way, yes," Mulder said pacing over closer to Graber. "I think..." "My God, you may be right, Mulder," Chris interrupted, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at the computer screen. "What did you find?" Scully asked, swiftly leaving her seat to stand beside Chris. Mulder and Graber soon joined her in a tight cluster behind the desk. "The donor is Michael King Harris." Chris responded, tapping on the mouse to enlarge the information box on the screen. "Are you sure," Graber said, his voice rising in surprise. "Who is he?" Scully asked. "A serial killer, Scully," Mulder replied. "He was killed in a shoot-out with the police. I consulted on the case briefly. He was psychotic - near void. Killing was like having lunch to him. A minor pleasure." "How on earth did his organs get transplanted into these children? Didn't they do an autopsy?" Scully questioned, her blue eyes focused on the computer screen. Her hand on Chris' shoulder trembled slightly as she began to accept the possibility that Mulder was right. "He was shot by two officers in full view of a TV camera. They should have done an autopsy, but there was no doubt of the cause of his death. I guess it got lost in the shuffle." Graber shook his head, his hand nervously twisting the end of his mustache. Chris leaned back to meet Mulder's eyes. "Apparently he had filled out the donor section on his drivers' license." "A true sense of public responsibility," Mulder replied, his humor tinged with heavy irony. "If this is true," Graber's voice still held doubt, despite his surprise over the identity of the donor. "What do we do now? We can't exactly arrest a ghost. And how do we stop the killings from continuing? Call in a priest?" "Maybe?" Mulder said, "But as far as I can tell, the children seem fine when they are separated. We might be able to end things simply by sending them home. Their families live in widely different parts of the country." He pushed the bulky Graber aside and squeezed around the desk towards the window. The others stood mutely watching him as he stared fixedly out the window at the palm trees and busy South Florida traffic. Then he spun to face them, his face shadowed, "The question is, where are the children now?" --------------------------------- From: jenni10647@aol.com (Jenni10647) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Healing time" Part 6- try again Date: 26 Apr 1995 22:13:44 -0400 Here is the next part of "Healing Time" - third attempt to post! Argh! --------------------------------- Third Floor Cafeteria Nurse Harriet Rolley kept one eye scanning the room as she pushed the wheelchair containing a pale twelve year-old boy into the small cafeteria. The children who weren't already confined to the ubiquitous padded, metal wheelchairs, settled into their seats quietly and quickly. Many had a drug-induced unfocused stare, others were alert, but subdued. Some trembled with fever or weakness, others had the bloated bellies characteristic of biliary atresia or the yellowed skin and eyes of jaundice. It saddened her heart to see them like this, when they should be out laughing and playing in the sun. But she reassured herself with the thought that the clinic had a very high success rate. Just this morning she had sent a boy home with his parents after a highly successful bone-marrow transplant. He wasn't out of the woods yet, but the transplant had given him a much better chance of surviving. She placed the straw-haired young boy at a table not far from the door and weeded her way around the room, unaware of the three sets of eyes that followed her every move. Carrie, Jeff, and Theresa remained silent throughout the meal, mechanically lifting food to their mouths, chewing and swallowing by rote. Her face shadowed by a wing of dark hair, Theresa's dark eyes darted in their sockets tracing the Harriet's white-clad form as she flitted about the room, occasionally stopping to wipe a dirty mouth, pick up a dropped fork, or check the pulse and temperature of a shaking child. Jeff sat back in his corner, inconspicuous, his eyes apparently glazed, his mouth slack. Carrie shrank down in her seat, her small delicate left hand toying with the end of her braid, her brown eyes focused moving from Harriet to Theresa to Jeff. Waiting. ----------------------------------- Third Floor Nurse's Station Recovery Section "They just finished dinner, Sir." A young black nurse, her short hair neatly cornrowed under her starched white hat, looked up into Chris' craggy, hardened face. She glanced worriedly at the bulky police detective standing off to the side, his tan suit accentuating the dark color of his skin, which stood in sharp contrast to the pale coloring of the two federal agents framing him. Scully's peach-toned face, surrounded by her rich auburn hair, was drawn and anxious. The sharp planes and angles of Mulder's face were stark and cold, his usually generous mouth pursed tight and thin. "They should be back in the wards by now," the nurse continued to explain, her heart beginning to beat faster. After all the deaths in such a short period of time, it was hard not to be scared. "Which wards are Carrie Lang, Theresa Vilegros, and Jeffrey Fielding in?" Graber questioned. The nurse nervously scanned the ward lists, replying quickly, "Theresa and Carrie and in Ward Six, Jeffrey is in Ward Seven. They are assigned to a ward by sex and severity of illness." Scully breathed a sharp sigh of relief. "They're separated." "Do the wards eat together?" Mulder spoke up from behind Scully and Graber. "To some extent," replied the nurse, her eyes wide and questioning. "We have one cafeteria for the children ambulatory enough to not require confinement to their beds or I.V. feeding." "Where are Wards Six and Seven?" Graber's question was never answered as a sudden loud scream broke through the clinic air. Mulder was the first to react, racing down the hall, his long legs propelling him at a faster pace than the other could match. Scully and Graber took off after him simultaneously, both automatically pulling out their weapons as they ran. Chris paused long enough to fire rapid instructions at the frightened young nurse. "Tell security to batten down the hatches. I don't want anyone entering or leaving the building. Have them get two officers up here on the double. Page the doctor on call and warn him to stand by in case someone is hurt." Chris yelled the last sentence over his shoulder as he followed the others down the hall. ---------------------------- Harriet's footsteps echoed on the floor as she walked purposefully back into the cafeteria. She was reasonably sure that all the children had been safely settled into their beds in the various wards, but she'd learned by experience to always check. Letting the door slide shut behind her she stepped into the center of the room and righted a chair that had been knocked over earlier. The cafeteria staff had already cleared the tables, and the room was so quiet she could almost hear her own heartbeat. A sudden ice-prick of fear chilled her. So much had happened in the last few days, and she couldn't get the sight of Regina's body hanging like a slab of beef in a meat- locker out of her mind. Take it easy, Harriet, she told herself. You're just tired and there's no-one else here. Dismissing her fears, she straightened her back and turned to leave the room. Her breath caught in her throat at a sudden movement by the door. "Good heavens, children, you startled me!" she cried, pressing a hand against her chest. After a brief gasp, she relaxed and smiled warmly at the three small figures facing her. "Come on now, let's get you back to your beds," she told them gently, stretching out her hands to them. They backed up away from her, neatly blocking the door with their bodies. Their eyes were set like stones in their impassive faces. "What's wrong?" Harriet asked, the trickle of fear beginning to itch its way up her spine. The children didn't speak, just stood watching her like three marble statues. A sudden gust of air brushed the back of her head and she spun around. Her eyes widened in shock as she watched a small floating cloud slowly get darker and larger - black, blue and red streams of color mixing and swirling in one large, bloated mass. She backed up away from it until she was almost touching the children, never taking her eyes off of it as it began to assume a distorted human shape. Electric currents raced through the room while objects began to fly around. One table imploded, crashing to the floor in a mass of splintered wood and metal. Two chairs flew up and crashed against the wall, while sparks flew out of the roiling tornado. In the center of that mass a glowing, recognizably human face appeared. Harriet felt her blood run cold as those icy blue eyes focused directly at her, and a thin mockery of a smile twisted those evil lips. She screamed loudly as a sudden shove in the small of her back sent her stumbling towards it, her voice rising into a shriek as her knees and hands hit the floor. Terrified, she didn't even bother getting back to her feet. She crawled towards the door only to be confronted by the children. "Nooooo!" she screamed again as small feet pounded into her face and chest. ---------- to be continued From: jenni10647@aol.com (Jenni10647) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Healing Time" Part 7 - try again Date: 26 Apr 1995 22:14:00 -0400 Here is Part seven: Fox Mulder raced towards the closed cafeteria door, praying he was not too late. Grabbing the doorknob he twisted and yanked with all his strength. It wouldn't budge. "Open dammit!!!!" he yelled, his nerve endings scraped raw by the terror echoing in the screams coming from behind the stubborn barrier. He refused to fail this time. Drawing back, he tensed himself, then threw himself forward with all his strength, using his shoulder as a battering ram, striking the door. It shuddered, but held. "Get back," shouted a voice behind him. Mulder turned and leaped out of the way as Graber and Scully came running up behind him, guns in their hands. Scully skidded to halt beside Mulder, who reached out a hand to steady her. She leaned against him briefly, re-holstering her weapon, while Graber hammered powerfully at the door. It finally gave way, just as Chris caught up with them, breaking off its hinges and toppling over into the room. Mulder jumped over Graber who had fallen over on top of the door, racing into the center of the room. Chris and Scully each paused to each take one of the heavy detective's arms and yank him to his feet. Once Graber was fully upright, all three froze in amazement. Harriet was hanging upside down; her barely-still -attached nurse's cap brushing the floor, hands desperately trying to shield her face and breasts from the children who were bludgeoning her with broken pieces of furniture and their feet. Above her floated a violent raging miasma, centered around one huge glowing, red-limned, blue eye. Mulder never bothered to stop. In one swift graceful lunge he threw himself at Harriet, grabbing her around the calves and tumbling her to the floor, knocking Theresa and a chair aside as they fell. "Get the children out of here!" he shrieked, covering Harriet's broken, bleeding body with his own. "Get them apart! Hurry!" He continued to scream, his voice breaking into a cry of pain as Theresa struck him in the back with a broken chair- leg. Scully, Graber, and Chris broke into action, each reaching for a child. Scully seized little Carrie, who struggled with surprising strength. "Ouch!" Scully yelled as Carrie bit deeply into her hand. Graber knocked into Jeff like a middle linebacker tackling a running back. The former marine took hold of the boy's right arm and dragged him upwards, flipping him like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. Chris reached out for Theresa who was still pummeling Mulder's back and shoulders. She let out a horrific screech as he twisted the chair-leg out of her hand and pulled her back away from her intended victims. As the three small fights continued to rage, no-one noticed that the spectral apparition overlooking the scene was growing larger and brighter. No-one noticed, until it exploded in a bright flash of light and deafening thunderclap. Adults and children were thrown like feathers across the room. Scully and Carrie were lifted three feet in the air and dropped. Graber and Jeff slid across the floor in a tangle of limbs until they crashed into the wall. Chris and Theresa flew into an overturned table, then were pelted with a rain of debris. Mulder remained huddled over Harriet in the eye of the storm, his long arms and legs wrapped around her, her head cradled against his chest. Only a small whimper indicated that she was still alive. The tornado raged randomly for a few moments, then a sudden calm hit the room. A column of blue light surrounded the small huddle of flesh that was Mulder and Harriet. Scully groaned and lifted her head just in time to see a large, white hand materialize out of thin air right above the back of Mulder's head. Too terrified even to scream, she felt for her gun, never taking her eyes off the huge spectral hand as it closed into a tight fist, and began to descend down towards Mulder's head. Wincing in pain she freed her weapon from it's holster and fired repeatedly at solidified ectoplasm. A load roar shook the room as her bullets pierced the hand. It shook wildly, beginning to disintegrate, burping out a few pieces and dribbling a whitish goo onto Mulder. At the same moment, a bolt of electricity laced out from the boiling mass and struck her. The weapon fell from her fingers as the skin of her forearm burned black. Scully cried out in pain and collapsed to the floor unconscious. However, Scully had provided both Chris and Graber enough time to recover. Each slung an injured child over his shoulder and raced from the room, nearly crashing into a pair of wide-eyed security officers. Chris dumped Theresa into the arms of one of one of the startled guards. "Get these kids out of here, and keep them separated!" he ordered. "What??" responded the second guard as Graber strung Jeff's body over his shoulder. "MOVE!!!!!! NOW!!!!!" Chris and Graber yelled simultaneously. Bearing their wiggling burdens, both guards backed away, not wanting to challenge their big, angry boss. Reacting more quickly, the young nurse who had followed the security officers after completing Chris' instructions, grasped the arm of the officer carrying Theresa and pulled him down the hall. "Bring her this way!" she commanded. Chris and Graber breathed a short sigh of relief as they watched the children being carried away, before a sudden crash from the room behind them sent them racing back into the room. Chris ran over to Scully who was sprawled on the floor, partially draped over Carrie. Graber stepped in closer to Mulder and Harriet, staring up defiantly at the still whirling cloud. Lightning raced around the edges of it as it continued to float for a moment. Then it began to shrink in on itself, a deep whine slowly growing louder and higher as fell inward upon itself. "Get down!" Graber didn't even here the voice from below his feet, he was too astonished by what he was seeing. Mulder reached out to grab at his ankle. "GET DOWN!!!!" This time Graber heard him, and reacted instantly, military experience having taught him that when someone tells you to hit the deck, you do it. Just as Graber dived for the floor the air mass tightened down into a small pinpoint, then exploded in a fiery flash of light. A hurricane-force wind blew outwards in every direction, slamming every object in the room, people included, into the walls. A wave of sound, like a thousand jet engines roaring at once shook the building, then screeched into abrupt silence. Slowly, Mulder, Chris and Graber began gingerly to move, peering up under elbows and hands to see if it was finally gone. It was. The air was clear and still and silent. Slowly they began to come to their feet. Mulder handed Harriet over to Graber and stumbled over to Scully, panic striking his heart as he saw her laying a motionless heap on the floor. As Mulder kneeled down beside his unconscious partner, Chris gently scooped up Carrie, moving her out of the way. Mulder slowly, carefully drew Scully up into his aching arms. Please God, he prayed, let her be all right. He couldn't loose her now, not after all they'd been through. He hadn't even had a chance to tell her he loved her. She stirred, moaning as the pain from her burnt hand jolted her awake. Tears of relief slid down his cheeks as her eyelids flickered and opened. "Easy, Scully, don't try to move." Mulder whispered to her softly, smoothing the hair out of her face. "Just lie still for now. You're going to be fine." "Mulder...what?" "Its okay, Scully. It's over." "The children," she murmured, her eyes trying to focus on his face through a veil of pain. "They're okay, too." he replied. "Good," her voice was barely more than a whisper. Closing her eyes she relaxed into his arms. ---------------------------------- to be continued From: jenni10647@aol.com (Jenni10647) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Healing Time" epilogue - try again Date: 26 Apr 1995 22:14:05 -0400 Here is the conclusion to "Healing Time": ---------------------------------- Corwell Estate Dana Scully looked at the bottle of sunscreen in her hand and frowned. Two days in the Florida sun and Mulder had bronzed into a deep even tan. Two days, and she looked like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Raindeer. It just wasn't fair, she thought. "Want me to do your back?" Mulder's voice broke into her thoughts. She leaned back in the pool chair and found herself smiling up at him. He was wearing a pair of red swimming trunks with a bright pink and purple flamingo towel draped over his bare shoulders and a clashing bright green and orange Miami Dolphins hat jammed down over his forehead. His eyes were hidden by a pair of Mickey-Mouse sunglasses, but his smile seemed to fill his face. She couldn't help laughing. "Mulder...since when were you a Dolphins fan? I thought you were a Redskins fan." "I am! But I've always liked the Dolphins, too. Don Shula and Dan Marino. An unbeatable combination!" "The 'winningest' coach in all of football," she replied with a bright grin, handing him the suntan lotion and moving to sit on the edge of the chair. "'He'll beat yours with his'n and his with your'n.'" Mulder laughed, stepping over the chair to sit behind her. He unscrewed the top of the bottle and squirted the greasy white cream into his palm. Scully gasped slightly as he applied the air-conditioner-chilled goo to her sun-baked flesh. The gasp settled into a sigh of contentment as he massaged her back and shoulders, his fingers simultaneously gentle and strong. "How are the children doing?" Scully asked, closing her eyes and leaning back against Mulder as his hands massaged her shoulders. "They seem to be fine," answered Mulder. "They all arrived home safely and their doctors report they are recovering quickly. The children have no memory of any of the deaths, thank goodness, and the separation seems to have prevented any more incidents. Corwell Industries will cover the rest of their medical expenses, and is quietly keeping a close eye on them just in case." "Good," Scully sighed, her ability to concentrate slipping further away with each stroke of her partner's hands on her flesh. Mulder traced the length of her spine with delicate fingertips, enjoying the soft texture of her skin. Her hair glowed a bright orange-red in the sun, and the blue of her bathing suit reminded him of the matching sea-blue depths of her eyes. Mulder leaned closer to her. Being able to sit here in the bright sunshine so near to the woman who meant more to him than life itself, without an immediate threat hanging over their heads - this was heaven. Or almost heaven. If only he could taste her mouth just once, he thought, leaning down to breath in the smell of her hair, a fragrant mixture of coconut and perfume. If only... He jolted back away from her, fumbling with the cap to the lotion bottle. It slipped out of his trembling greased fingers and rolled under the chair. "Damn," he muttered, leaning down to reach for it. "What's wrong?" Scully asked, a slight tinge of worry penetrating the haze of her contentment. "Just dropped the cap. I got it," he replied. Despite his nonchalant air, she immediately sensed his withdrawal. Frustration coiled through her belly. "Mulder, please - don't," she said, her voice soft and pleading. She stood up to turn around and sit down facing him, then reached to pull the sunglasses off his nose. "Don't what?" he asked, pretending he didn't have any idea of what was she meant. Putting aside the bottle of lotion, he rose to his feet, still avoiding her eyes. "Don't run away from me, Mulder. We need to talk." She grasped his arm and restrained him from leaving. With a sigh, he sank down into the chair. "Okay, Scully, talk," he said abruptly. "I'm worried about you. We used to be able to talk about everything. But since Michigan, you won't tell me anything. We both know you're not sleeping and," she gathered up her determination and plunged ahead. "I know you've been watching my apartment at night." "I...unh, Scully, I..." he floundered for a moment, then flushed slightly beneath his tan. "I'm sorry, Scully," he said softly. "It's all right. I'm not angry. At least, not very angry. But you have to learn to trust me to handle my share of the responsibility and the risk. We can't function in our jobs if you're preoccupied with trying to protect me." "I don't feel I have to protect you, Scully," he protested weakly. She looked him straight in the eye, not dignifying that with an answer. "OK, maybe just a little," he corrected himself, flashing a grin that died instantly as she continued to gaze solemnly into eyes. "Mulder, there are moments when I feel the same way about you. You scare me half-to-death sometimes. But we can't function as an effective team if we can't accept each other's ability to do our jobs - and handle the risks involved." His diamond eyes were moist and sincere as he replied, "I know that, Scully. I do." He leaned back and lifted his hat off his head, rubbing his forehead with the side of his arm. Dropping the hat by his side, he met her eyes directly. "I promise I'll try not to be so protective." "Good!" she said, reaching up to brush at his hair which was sticking out in every direction. "Now, I just have to learn to do the same thing for you." "You don't have to worry about me, Scully," he insisted, though his eyes slid away from hers. "Mulder, you have to admit that you've given me good reason to worry." She studied his face anxiously. "Are you sleeping at all?" "Well, not much," he admitted honestly. "Look, Dana, I know I gave you quite a fright the other day, but I'm getting better. Really. God knows, I'll never forget what happened with Claire, but I think something finally clicked while I was trying to convince Chris not to feel responsible for the clinic deaths. I suddenly realized I was echoing your words to me." He smiled warmly down at her, and reached out to cup her cheek with the palm of his hand. "You're a very wise lady, Dana Scully." "Glad you finally realized it," she responded, rubbing her cheek into his hand. "I'm slow, but I get there sooner or later." He gave her a toothy grin. "How about sooner this time," she responded, her heart beating faster as she closed her hand around his and drew it down to her mouth. Her eyes sparkled mischievously, as Chris' words raced through her mind: "You can make it work - together." Maybe it was time to start trying. "Scully?" Mulder questioned, his eyes widening in surprise as she nibbled at the fleshy side of his palm. "Yes?" She gave him a teasing half-smile before sliding her tongue between his fingers. He drew a sharp, almost whistling breath through his teeth, then as swift as a lightning, he seized her face in both hands and possessed her mouth with his. Scully moaned deep in her throat and reached out to press her hands against the warm, smooth slightly-furred skin of his chest. She traced her way over his shoulders, down his shoulder-blades, then back up to finger the silky darkness of his hair. As she opened her lips to allow his hot darting tongue to penetrate the depths of her mouth, she locked her arms around his neck, clutching him tightly against her. ***** Chris Corwell walked casually out onto the pool deck, carrying three glasses of lemonade. When he caught sight of his friends clasped in a tight embrace across a pool chair, a slow grin crept over his face, until it stretched from ear to ear. Humming under his breath, he turned and slipped back into house, his steps light as a bird. After he had safely closed the door behind him, he deposited the lemonade on a table and laughed. All of his subtle and not-too-subtle pushing had finally paid off. Moments later, he was reaching for the telephone. He had a faint memory of seeing a for-sale sign on that nice little adobe mansion down the street. If he recalled correctly, it had a pool, lots of yard space for children, and a dock on the canal. He dialed rapidly, another smile breaking out on his face. The small waterfront estate would make a great gift. There's nothing like the power of positive thinking, he thought happily. Mulder was going to be furious. The End