From: Ravenwald@aol.com Date: 23 Feb 1999 16:08:46 -0800 Subject: The Kraken (1/1) Title: The Kraken: An Illumination (1/1) Author: Wylfcynne & Ravenwald Email: c/o Ravenwald@aol.com Rating: PG Keywords: Episode missing scene Category: Mulder torture (minor) Scully, Angst Mulder/Scully UST Archive: Yes Spoilers: Agua Mala Summary: What really happened to Mulder on the other side of that door. Disclaimer: Yeah, right, we own the cat, Mulder and Scully the same way we own Skinner, Krycek, Jim and Blair and MacLeod and Methos... and they're all chained in our basement! Come and visit. Author's Note: (lrp) While this is my first posting to the net, I have a history of character abuse in many fandoms. The Kraken: An Illumination The tentacle lashed down out of the ceiling and grabbed by the throat. Mulder flinched, and tried to pull away, but the tentacle was too strong. Pain encircled his neck, and he felt his flesh being pierced, felt what he knew was the injection of eggs, or of larvae. The horror of it was making it hard for him to breathe. The deputy sheriff had needed a tracheotomy. Frightened, fighting panic to breathe, Mulder turned to head back toward his partner. The door slammed in his face. Dimly he heard Scully yelling; she was trying to get to him, to help him, but that loony survivalist was holding a gun on her. he knew. He had perfect confidence in Scully. She would not let him die. He considered just sitting by the door and waiting for her, but that was too passive; he was too restless, too anxious, to sit that still and just wait for Fate to take him. Mulder stumbled away, moving slowly because his breathing really was > becoming constricted. He fell again by the exit, and stared uncomprehendingly at the smug cat sitting outside in the rain. Certainty came with its familiar flash of insight, and he crawled outside to lie on his back in the downpour. The cool rain felt good on his skin, and he recalled dimly that the deputy had had a fever. He closed his eyes. This felt better... Scully had been searching the building for him desperately, calling his name until her voice was hoarse, when she had spotted him from a second story window and dashed down the stairs. Mulder was lying motionless in the grass, in a low spot in the lawn, half-covered in water. Face up, eyes closed, it was still raining too hard for her to see if he was breathing. Her heart spasmed in her chest. "Mulder?!" She dropped to her knees beside him. "Mulder?!" He moved, and she could breathe again. He blinked his eyes open, focused on her tiredly, and he smiled. "Hi, Scully. Was it a boy or a girl?" "What?" The question came from so far out of left field that she could not grasp it for a moment. "Mulder, are you all right? Can you breathe?" "Yeah. I'm fine, Scully." He saw her blanch at that fateful phrase, and sat up, slowly, cautiously. "I'm all right, Scully. The rainwater worked." He pulled his collar down, baring his neck, and she could see the wounds were no longer red and angry-looking. They seemed smaller, and all the inflammation was gone. "See? The rain washed the critters out. Or dissolved them. Or whatever." She stared. "There are documented cases of oceanic creatures surviving briefly in freshwater environments, but the fluid balances are different. The fresh water floods the cells by osmosis, and the creature drowns from the dilution of the natural salinity that the body requires for nerve impulses to travel across the synapses." Scully swallowed hard. "And you think that's what happened?" Mulder nodded. "The rain washed them out, or they dissolved..." He shuddered. "It wasn't particularly pleasant, but it worked. I can breathe just fine, and I can't feel the little wormy things wiggling anymore." Scully was horrified. "You could feel them?!" Mulder nodded slowly. "Yeah." She took his pulse, put her hand on his face to test his temperature. She watched him breathe for a full minute. Everything seemed normal. "You seem to be okay..." she admitted reluctantly. He grinned at her. "Don't sound so disappointed, Scully!" "I'm not!" They reached for each other; the hug was mutually desperate. They had both believed him doomed like the deputy, but Fate had turned Her face away one more time. They each had the same thought. Neither shared it. Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Marybeth (and her evil skin Twippy) (....that's evil twin Skippy, twit!) We don't march to the sound of a different drummer We hear a whole 'nother orchestra! If Christ came back tomorrow, he'd have to change planes in Frankfort - PJ O'Rourke - Holidays in Hell. home: Ravenwald@aol.com work: mgauth@dss1.co.erie.ny.us