From 76021.3043@CompuServe.COM Sun Sep 22 21:46:46 1996
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From: Laura Herold <76021.3043@CompuServe.COM>
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Ice on Fire (1/1) by Laura Herold
Date: 23 Sep 1996 02:46:46 GMT
Organization: CompuServe, Inc. (1-800-689-0736)
Lines: 172
Message-ID: <524tmm$kn6$1@mhadf.production.compuserve.com>

The characters, etc, from The X-Files belong to Fox. No 
infringement of rights is intended.

Ice on Fire
by Laura Herold

	His anger was deep and cold. It burned through every cell of 
his body, but he couldn't feel anything. It was the kind of cold 
that numbed.

	He just stood, looking out the window of the hospital, not
seeing what was there. What was there didn't matter. It was
likely that it wouldn't ever matter again.

	The muscles in his right arm ached, but he didn't unclench his
fist. Crushed inside that fist was an empty cigarette package.

	"Mr. Mulder," a female voice behind him said.

	Mulder turned away from the window and focused on the 
nurse in front of him. "What is it?" he asked. His voice was 
very soft and devoid of emotion.

	"There hasn't been any change," she said. "Maybe you should
try getting some rest. If you give me a number I'll give you a
call if there's any news."

	He walked over to a garbage can and tossed the cigarette
package inside. For a few seconds he just stared at it.

	"Mr. Mulder?" 

	He looked back at her. After a moment's hesitation he pulled
one of his business cards out of his pocket, walked over to her
and handed it to her. "Any time," he said. "Day or night. Anything
at all."

	"OK," she said. "You'll take care of yourself?"

	Mulder didn't answer. He just turned and walked away.

* * * * * * * * * *

	He didn't have to close his eyes to see the blood. He saw it
everywhere he looked. But if he closed his eyes it was worse.

	Mulder just stood outside the hospital for a moment. He was
the only one standing out in the pouring rain. There were other
people around, but they were hiding under the portico or inside
their cars. Mulder didn't seek protection. He knew there wasn't
any. 

	He walked to his car, opened the door, and sat down inside.
After a few seconds of sitting there, motionless, his mind
nonfunctional, empty, he took out his gun. He checked to see
that it was loaded and put it away.

	Then he started the car and drove away.

* * * * * * * * * *

	It was just a car accident. He heard the same thing over
and over again from the police and even from Skinner. It just
happened, they said. Let it go.

	But he knew better.

	Mulder sat in his car outside the Pentagon. He had finagled
the clearance that would get him into the building. It had
been easy -- someone had already cleared the way. 

	He stepped back out into the rain. It was only early afternoon,
but the sky was as dark as twilight. He walked over to the
doors and showed his ID. The man who looked at it gave him
a room number and opened the the door for him.

* * * * * * * * * *

	The car was totaled. That was obvious. The frame was
mangled beyond any reasonable repair.

	There had been blood all over the inside, more blood than
made sense. It had taken all of his willpower to keep from
vomiting, but he had done it. By the time he was done 
searching the car there was blood on him everywhere. But 
he found what he was looking for, the signature.

	He wasn't sure how to get where he had to go, but he
wasn't concerned. He just wandered through the halls. 

	It didn't matter how long it took. After all, time had
stopped anyway, or collapsed in on itself. Whichever, it
no longer held any meaning for him.

* * * * * * * * * *

	There had been extensive injuries. The list had been
cited to him, but he had shut it out. It was too obscene.

	He stood outside the door for just a moment and then
pushed it open. The smell of smoke was the first thing
that struck him. He shut the door behind him and then 
leaned against it. He pulled out his gun.

	"I wouldn't do that unless you intend to use it this time,"
the other man said.

	Mulder aimed the weapon and fired. The bullet hit its
mark on the right arm. 

	The other man winced -- and then smiled. "You surprise me,"
he said. "I didn't think you had it in you."

	"If I could I would take you apart piece by piece with my 
bare hands," Mulder said.

	The arm was bleeding, but the other man made no attempt
to stop the flow of blood. He just took his cigarette in his
other hand and put it to his lips, inhaled, removed it, and blew
the smoke out into the room. "All of this is futile," he said.

	Mulder smiled then, a thin, humorless smile. "I've learned,"
he said. "I'm a slow study, but I've learned." He put away
his gun. He walked over and took the cigarette out of the
man's hand and put it to his own lips. He closed his eyes
and inhaled deeply, before handing the cigarette back. He
held the smoke in his lungs for a few moments and then
expelled it into the room. "If the offer still stands, I accept."

	"She's alive then?"

	"Answer me."

	"It stands."

	"The terms?"

	"The same."

	Mulder turned away and walked back to the door. When he
got there he turned back. "If she dies, you die," he said. 

	The other man just took another puff of his cigarette.

* * * * * * * * * *

	It was a lot easier to sell his soul than he had thought.
The blood on his hands was a powerful incentive. 

	He had driven back to the hospital, but he knew he wouldn't
go inside. He had no place there anymore.

	He had stopped at a gas station and bought a pack of
cigarettes. It was still raining, but he got out and sat on 
the hood of the car and opened the pack. It took him a while 
to light the first, but eventually he got it. For a long time
he sat and stared at the hospital building, blowing smoke
out into the rain.

	When he got to the end of his third cigarette, he tossed 
it on the blacktop of the hospital parking lot. He hopped
off the hood and went back in the car. For a second or two
he looked at the empty seat next to him. Then he tossed
the cigarette pack on that seat and started the car.

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