From: mason@umr.edu (Niki)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New:  The Journey
Date: 27 Jan 1996 06:41:05 GMT


OK, I was in a really dark mood when I wrote this, so be warned.

Disclaimer: I deny any and all claims to the characters mentioned in this.  
That privilege belongs to Chris Carter and friends.  I deny any payment 
offered for this effort (yeah, like someone would offer).  I deny that I need 
help.

The Journey
	By
	Nicole Mason


	All I feel is anger.  No, that's not right.  Anger is too mild, too 
hot, too human of a word to describe the only emotion I allow myself. Rage 
would be better, but that too also carries an implication of heat.  What I 
feel is completely logical, totally unemotional with only one factor to it.  
Revenge.  They will pay.  We will see to it.  But first, I have to rest ...

		* * * * *

	"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness ..."  Fox 
Mulder heard the words drone on as he focused on other things.  He was 
saddened by the events taking place at the alter a few feet in front of him.  
It should have been someone else standing up there looking radiant and in 
love.  It should have been - /No, don't think about it.  Don't think about 
her. / Too late, he heeded his own advice.  Her image swam before his eyes, 
but not the last one he had of her.  He couldn't bare to see the blood, the 
evil surrounding her when he was awake.  He couldn't stop the images in his 
dreams, but while he was awake he chose to see her as she appeared only days 
before that last scene.

	The person next to him told him to shush as a small chuckle escaped.  
The vision in his head glared at him, told him his behavior was inappropriate 
and immature, but she was hiding her smile.  He could see her fighting the 
tilt of her lips.

	She had been dead almost a year now.  Tomorrow was the anniversary.  
Maybe that's what made the ceremony taking place seemed almost sacrilegious.  
They shouldn't be enjoying life.  They should be choking on the guilt, the 
pain, the desolation.  The same emotions that Mulder still felt, the ones he 
would always feel.

	It should have been him.

		* * * * *

	"Mulder, I need to tell you something."

	"What is it, Scully?"  He was actually praying.  He was holding two 
conversations at the moment and one was not directed at the woman he was 
leaning over.

	"I believe, Mulder."

	"Oh, god.  Please, god, no."  He leaned more of his body weight onto 
her.  He didn't want to hurt her, but he didn't know what else to do. "Come 
on, Scully.  There almost here.  Please, Scully, hang on."  

	But she hadn't.  She had gone into cardiac arrest on the way to the 
hospital.  The doctors had pronounced her DOA due to the multiple gunshot 
wounds to the chest cavity.

	If it had been him, it would have been the abdominal region.

	Someone had wanted their revenge.

		* * * * *

	"You may now kiss the bride."  Mulder glared at the happy people in 
front of him.  He wanted to walk out, to scream, to cry.  But he didn't do any 
of those things.  He just pasted the same expression on his face he had worn 
for almost a year.  No one ever knew he was imagining their deaths behind the 
blank mask.  No one could tell he was plotting the ways he would exact his 
revenge.

		* * * * *

	I stood in the shadows, watching him, feeling his pain.  For all of 
his caution, he did not see me.  He would not see me until I allowed it.  And 
that would only occur when all else was in place. Tomorrow, on the 
anniversary, I will act.

	I will have my revenge.

		* * * * *

	"Agent Mulder, where do you think you're going?"

	Mulder turned to look at the man that had spoken.  Assistant Director 
Walter Skinner looked like he had something shoved up his ass and it was 
leaving a sour taste in his mouth, Mulder thought unkindly.  "The cemetery, 
sir.  I do believe I cleared it with my ASAC last week."

	"The cemetery? Who-" Skinner didn't finish the question as he 
remembered what day it was.  "Carry on, Agent Mulder."

	"I had planned on it anyway, sir," Mulder said and continued on his 
way to the stairs and out of the building.

	He arrived at her headstone just as the heavens opened up.  He didn't 
bother with the umbrella.  He was buried too deep in his own thoughts to think 
about any physical discomfort he might be feeling.  He stared at the grey slab 
and read the lines again.  It wasn't the same saying that Mrs. Scully had 
chosen from before.  No, this time, he had been the one to choose the caption. 
 It was more than he ever had said or would ever say.  

	It consisted of only one word: Beloved.

	He tilted his face up and let the rain hide his tears.

		* * * * *

	I stared out the window until the sun had completely set.  Then I 
stood up and walked over to the desk.  The masking tape was still there.  It 
hadn't been used in a while.  A year to be exact.  But they were still 
watching.  They would always be watching.

	Images flashed as I ripped two long strips off with my teeth.  Images 
of when I had done this before.  Images of betrayal and lies, never the truth 
that we had so diligently sought.

	Never the Truth.

		* * * * *

	He sat on the park bench, sightlessly staring at the highlighted 
monument across the way.  He was a creature of habit in some ways.  When the 
pain became unbearable, he would come here and listen to her voice.  Sometimes 
he would sit for hours, sometimes only for a few minutes.  He would always 
walk away fortified.  She could still infuse him with her strength.  He needed 
her strength tonight.

	Mulder heard the man approach behind him.  He didn't turn around to 
look and confirm the man's identity.  He was wearing the same cologne as the 
last time they had met.  "You're late."

	"What is this about, Agent Mulder?  The X-files have been closed for 
some time."  The man he knew only as Mr. X said.

	"Officially, yes.  Unofficially, I've been doing my own 
investigations." /Like finding out who you are, who you work for, and how to 
destroy you./

	"So that is why you've been using your vacation days."

	Mulder didn't comment.  He waited for Mr. X to become impatient.  He 
didn't have to wait long.  "Why did you want to contact me, Agent Mulder?"

	"I have a few questions I want answered."

	"You always do."

	"Where is Scully's body?"

	"You've waited a year to ask me that?"

	"To the minute."

	Mr. X looked at his watch and realized that Mulder was right.  It was 
to the minute that Dana Scully had been pronounced dead.  He felt a large wave 
of unease travel up his spine.  The situation had turned sour.  "I do not 
know, Agent Mulder."

	"Thank you for your time."  Mulder stood up and walked towards his 
car.  The bastard was going to learn a few things before the night was up.

	Mr. X sat on the bench for several minutes after Mulder had driven 
away.  For the first time in years, he actually feared for his safety.  He had 
always pretended that was the reason for his reluctance when he gave them 
information, but his membership in certain circles  had also provided a very 
nice insurance policy.  A policy he feared wasn't as comprehensive a coverage 
that he had always thought it was.

		* * * * *

	I followed him to his home.  I realized if we had done this before, 
certain events never would have happened.  It was too late to cry over what 
should have been.  But it wasn't too late to right a wrong.

	"A hand for a hand, an eye for an eye . . . a life for a life"

	Sometimes the old ways are the best ways.

		* * * * *

	The house was completely dark.  Hours of patiently waiting were 
nothing new.  Stakeouts had become the norm for his work routine.  Wiretaps 
hadn't been included this time, but they had been the unspoken threat more 
than once.

	He wasn't really sure why he had stayed with the Bureau.  He no longer 
had access to the X-files.  He could live with that.  It hurt, but he could 
live with it.  His memory and contacts were still there and he had continued 
with several old cases, mainly Sam's and Scully's.  What he couldn't accept 
was Scully's death.  They had practically forced him into therapy after he 
accused the hospital of being in on the conspiracy that Dana was still alive.

	Eventually, he had accepted her death, because he had felt the truth 
of it.  A spark deep inside of him had vanished that night.  And a new ‘voice 
of reason' could be heard in his head every so often.  It had kept him from 
going insane.  Scully's voice. 

	His lips twisted.  If the psychologist at the Bureau ever learned that 
Scully's voice had prompted him with the words the Bureau had wanted to hear, 
they would have institutionalized him.  Mulder's knowledge of the field and 
Scully's calm, logical and by-the-rules persona was how he had survived those 
unwanted sessions.

	No one could play mind games like he could.

	He stepped out of the car and quietly closed the door.  There was a 
dog on the premises and some laced dog treats in his pocket for just that 
reason.  The dog was used to him though.  This was not the first time he had 
been to this house. 

	Mulder stared down at the sleeping man.  He felt the bile rise in his 
throat, but controlled it.  His distaste wasn't for the action he was about to 
do; it was for the man that snored slightly as he turned over in his sleep.

	Mulder lifted the gun and fired.  Three shots to the chest cavity at a 
range of seven feet.  The hollow popping sounded loud to his ears, but the 
woman next to the man didn't move.  He stepped closer to the bed and stared 
down into Mr. X's eyes.  They had opened with the first shot and now stared at 
Mulder with fear in his eyes.

	Mulder leaned down next to the man's ear.  "I thought about abdominal 
shots, but Scully said no.  It had to be the same.  So it is."  He turned to 
leave the room.

	Mr. X tried to lift his hand to the phone.  It clattered to the floor 
as he gasped for breath.  The pain in his chest was pushing him deeper into 
the mattress.  The darkness surrounding him was complete.  He saw a faint 
outline and wondered if all of the stories were true.

	He reached for the light and recoiled as the image of Dana Scully 
solidified.  "I couldn't stop him from doing this.  But then again, I didn't 
try very hard.  I won't be seeing you again."

	He agreed.  If God was merciful, He would send him to Hell where he 
would never have to see the face of his victims, indirect or otherwise.

		* * * * *

	I moved with Mulder as he got into the car.  He was the only one that 
could do these deeds for the both of us.  I'm glad that it was me that had 
died.  If it had been Mulder, it would have taken longer for me to believe in 
the possibilities of what we were actually doing.

	"Next stop Cancer City."  

	I smiled at the twisted humor and answered, "All aboard."

	His acceptance of me still humbles me when I allow myself to notice 
the other emotions.  

	There were three more things that needed to be done before this night 
was over.  Then we can get on with our lives.

		* * * * *

	He wasn't sleeping, but Mulder hadn't expected him to be.  The 
arrogant ass wasn't living at the same address as before, but you couldn't 
discern that just by looking, or smelling.  The raw smell of old tobacco hung 
heavy in the sparse, sad place.  Mulder didn't want to feel pity for the man, 
but he did.  His hate had long since cooled into a more manageable state and 
he looked at his prey with calm eyes.

	"Agent Mulder, I am not surprised."  He took a long drag of the 
cigarette and blew the smoke in the direction of his adversary.  He pursed his 
lips and hoped Mulder didn't notice the fine trembling in his hands.  "A pity 
Agent Scully couldn't join us for this reunion."

	His unease increased as Mulder just smiled.  "What makes you think she 
isn't here?"

	He spun around looking for the other person he could now sense in the 
room.  It wasn't possible...

	"What do you think, Mulder?  Shall we expose him to a retro-virus?  
Maybe we should submit him for testing at one of his special labs?  Should we 
lock him in a burning boxcar?  Have him OD on LSD?  How about something more 
simple, a single gunshot wound to the head?"

	The voice was inside of his head.  It had to be.  No one else was in 
the room except for him and Mulder.

	"No, Scully.  I think we should stick to the original plan.  Let his 
own people take care of him."

	He stared at Mulder as he heard the voice again.  This time it seemed 
to come directly from the man standing in front of him.  "Ah, Mulder, where's 
the fun in that?"

	"The fun is in the knowing, Scully.  Poetic Justice, don't you think?"

	He truly feared Mulder now.  Before he had just been an annoyance that 
was sometimes amusing to jerk around.  But Mulder had gone over the edge; he 
actually thought that Scully was in the room with them.  Mulder had even 
seemed to transform as he spoke in his former partner's voice.

	"Agent Mulder, what are your plans?"  He tried to keep his voice 
steady and took another long drag on the cigarette.  The cloud of smoke burned 
his dry eyes.

	"We are going to wait here until the call comes in.  Then it's out of 
our hands."

	Mulder took a seat like he had been invited to do so.  He smiled at 
the woman sitting on the edge of the chair.  She was growing stronger now.  He 
could see her outline as well as hear her voice with his ears, instead of just 
inside his mind.  He controlled the satisfaction he felt as the other man's 
hands trembled and a muscle in his cheek began to twitch.  

	Mulder calmly noticed the time passing.  The other hadn't stopped 
smoking long enough to finish one cigarette before he lit another one.  The 
game was almost over.  And all because he and Scully had decided to change the 
rules.

	"It's time, Mulder."  He nodded as Scully motioned to the phone.

	He jumped at the sound of the woman's voice again.  Mulder had just 
been sitting there for almost an hour, not saying or doing anything.  And when 
he finally did break the silence, it was in a way that made his heart jump 
into his throat.  He burned his fingers as he crushed the last cigarette out 
too forcefully at the sound of the ringing phone.

	After three rings, Mulder prompted, "Aren't you going to answer it?"

	He reached for the object in question.  "Yes?"

	"I told you I would make you famous."  The voice was hunted.

	Mulder watched as the other man turned green and stumbled for words.  
"I ... I know you did.  It wasn't me."

	"Then who was it?"  There was no understanding in the voice, just 
disbelief.

	Mulder motioned for the phone and smiled politely as it was passed to 
him.  "Krychek, this is Mulder."

	"And Scully," came from off to his side.

	"Mulder?  You and Scully?"  Mulder could hear the panic in those few 
words.  Good.

	"Yes, Alex, us.  We have a small proposition for you."

	"I'm listening."

	"Make one phone call.  This is the number."  Mulder repeated it the 
number Scully had told him.  "All you have to tell them is that you are alive. 
 They'll take care of the rest."

	"Am I supposed to trust you, Mulder?"

	"You don't have a choice, Alex."  Mulder forced the images of his 
father lying with a pool of blood under his head in the bathroom, of Duane 
Berry slumped in the chair, of Scully as they used paddles on her unresponsive 
heart out of his head.  He felt her hand on his shoulder and repeated, "You 
don't have a choice."

	"How will I know you aren't lying?"

	"Because, Alex, tomorrow you will not be able to read how a lone man 
was found not dead in his apartment.  You will not be able to read how he 
didn't died because you will not be able to read that he ever even existed.  
He will cease to be, Alex.  That will be your proof."

	Krychek nodded as the woman spoke.  "OK, Scully.  But make sure Mulder 
holds up his end of the bargain.  The dogs get called off."

	He watched as Mulder pretended to pass the phone to someone that 
wasn't there.  It was numbing the way he could hear Scully's voice, but it 
wasn't as numbing as the smile Mulder had as he hung up the phone.

	"By our calculations, you have maybe twenty minutes to live.  Have a 
nice life."  Mulder stood up and left the apartment.  In actuality, the 
bastard had about five minutes left. 

	They sat in the car and watched as a nondescript van pulled up to the 
building.  Three men dressed all in black exited the vehicle and fanned out 
around the building.  Mulder shared the earpiece with his partner.  "How nice 
of him to leave a cigarette burning.  Is everything in place?"  The van left a 
minute later.  They sat there until the orange flames could be seen engulfing 
the room.

	"Do you want me to make sure, Mulder?"

	"No, Scully.  There's still some things we have to finish tonight."  
He started the car and said, "Which way?"

	"He's going to try and talk to Skinner."

	"This will be interesting."  

		* * * * *

	I wanted to make sure they had done the job correctly.  But given 
their past efficiency, the odds were they had.  There would be no trace left 
of the "Smoking Man" after a few more minutes.  The alcohol he had spilled 
would ignite him entirely and without mercy.  He deserved none anyway.

	I didn't want to think about all those he had killed or all of the 
people he had been responsible for killing because of his conspiracies.  But I 
did.  Most of the other members of the shadow government weren't real, but he 
had been.  Our own personal nightmare that we hadn't been able to wake up 
from.

	I'm starting to feel again.  Right now it's satisfaction that our plan 
is almost complete.  Even if the next part doesn't succeed, the execution of 
the first two parts will help us both sleep better at night.

	I'm also looking forward to the future now.  Our relationship has 
taken a turn.  Maybe it will survive this darkness, maybe not.  Either way, we 
have been given a chance to decide for ourselves without the interference 
others.  No matter where things go from here, we are a part of each other's 
existence.

		* * * * *

	He shared the silence with his partner as he drove to Skinner's house. 
 There wasn't much time left to the night, but that was fine.  This part would 
be over before the dawn anyway.  He parked the car and met up with Scully on 
the other side of the car.  Lights were on in Skinner's home, probably the den 
or some such room.  They patiently waited for Skinner to answer the knock at 
the door.

	"Mulder what the hell is going on?"  The Assistant Director did not 
look happy.  Maybe it had something to do with what little hair he had 
standing up on end.  He led the way into what was indeed the den.

	"Hello, Alex," Mulder said to the skeletal figure in the shadows.

	"Is it done?"

	"Yes, Alex."

	"Where's Scully?"  Alex didn't trust these two.  He had done too much 
against them for them to be acting this nice.

	Skinner swung his head to look at Krychek.  "Agent Scully's dead."  
Skinner felt a chill go down his spine as Mulder smiled.

	"She's died a year ago," he supplied congenially.

	"But I spoke to her.  You where right there, Mulder."  Krychek was 
indeed starting to panic.

	"Yes, you spoke to me, Alex."

	Walter Skinner reached for the gun he had in the pocket of his robe.  
Mulder was now aiming his gun at Krychek's head and speaking in Scully's 
voice.  "Agent Mulder, put the gun down."

	"He killed them both.  He has to pay," Scully replied.

	"Mulder, put the gun down and we'll take care of this."

	"Like the last time, sir?  Like when he killed Mulder's father, like 
when he killed Duane Berry, like when he helped them take me, like when he 
shot my sister?"

	Skinner didn't want to take his eyes off of Mulder long enough to 
reach for the phone.  And hearing Scully's voice coming from the tall man was 
playing with his sense of reality.  Krychek looked like he wanted to piss all 
over himself.  Skinner fought a similar feeling.  "If he was responsible for 
all of that, let us handle it."

	"All of the evidence has long since disappeared.  No more, Walt.  It 
stops here.  It stops tonight."

	Skinner jumped as Mulder pulled the trigger.  A single shot to the 
head had Alex Krychek crumpling to the floor.  Mulder lowered the gun before 
he turned to face him.

	"Agent Mulder, you're under arrest."

	"No, I'm not."

	Skinner stared as Mulder raised the gun to his own head.  He was 
unable to pull his own trigger because of the image forming at Mulder's side.

	Dana Scully was watching her partner with a small smile.  Skinner 
blinked a few times trying to shake the image.  She wasn't there.  She 
couldn't be there.

	"Yes sir.  I am here."  The only consolation Skinner had was that she 
wasn't using Mulder's vocal cords anymore to speak.  

	"Scully, don't let him do this."  He felt foolish talking to the 
wavering image, but he felt it was his only chance to reach Mulder.

	"I can't stop him.  I've tried to talk him out of it, but he's set on 
this course of action."

	"Scully's right, sir.  She's been trying to get me to change my mind 
for several months now."

	"Mulder..."  He didn't know what to say.  How do you convince a person 
who has lost everything that there was a reason to go on living?

	"Not even my sister would be able to stop me, sir."  Mulder said.  "Do 
you think I'll become an X-file?  Ol' Spooky was abducted by his aliens?" 

	Mulder  pulled the trigger.

	Skinner watched, unable to move as the other body fell to the floor as 
well.

	The image of Scully grew a little stronger and almost solidified as a 
pale image of Mulder stood next to her.  "I wish you hadn't done that, 
Mulder."

	"Since when have I ever listened to you, Scully?  Besides, it's what I 
wanted."

	Skinner's paralysis faded as the two images collapsed into themselves. 
 He reached for the phone and dialed a number he hadn't used in years.  The 
phone was answered on the third ring, but no one spoke.

	"Hi, Mike," he said into the silence.

	"Walter?"

	"Yes.  I have a cleanup situation at my home."

	"I'll be right there."  

	Skinner hung up the phone and knelt beside Mulder's body. Even with 
half of his head missing, he face was a mask of peace.

	**end**