From: Kate Rickman Date: Fri, 20 Aug 1999 16:14:03 -0400 Subject: Knifed (1/1) Kate Rickman Source: xff Reply To: kate.rickman@mindspring.com TITLE: Life on the Edge III--Knifed Through The Heart AUTHOR: Kate Rickman E-MAIL: kate.rickman@mindspring.com ARCHIVE: anywhere, sure CLASSIFICATION: SA, MSR RATING: R SPOILERS: SR 819 DISCLAIMER: I own the wall, but not the bricks. SUMMARY: Scully is granted her fondest wish--a child--but must engage in a desperate race against Time and The Smoker to protect herself and Mulder from evil manipulation by the Consortium. Part III: Scully plots with the Gunmen and struggles through labor. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Third in a series. The first two installments can be found easily at http://kate.rickman.home.mindspring.com/. Thanks for reading! Life on the Edge: I. Choices With Sharp Edges II. Double-Edged Sword III. Knifed Through The Heart IV. Cuts Both Ways (coming soon) *** =Three twenty-nine AM A bolt of twisting agony tore through Scully's abdomen jolting her awake. "Aaaaaaagh!" She gritted her teeth, willing herself to breathe, trying to focus through the flashing bright lights and jumbled images that swarmed in her head. Pain. Pain beyond anything she'd imagined. Pain. Searing twisting pain that threatened to tear her in half. "Mulder," she gasped, gulping for air, rolling onto her back. She felt a gush of hot wetness spread between her legs. --No. Not now. Not yet. Not like this.-- She struggled to sit up but the muscle spasm that turned her belly into a rock-hard knot had spread to her back and legs. Paralysis, at least for the moment. "Mulder..." she called for him again, but the rest of the words died in her throat when she saw the expression on his face and the blood on his fingers. "Scully," the air leaked out of him in a hiss. "Aaaaaaaaiiiiieeeeeee." The contraction peaked then slowly faded, leaving her almost numb in its absence. Breathing heavily, she swung her feet over the side of the bed. She pressed trembling arms into the mattress, holding herself on the edge. A metallic taste filled her mouth. She touched her lips and saw blood. A wet area, stained pink, spread across the white sheets around her. Mulder slipped off the bed and onto the floor, sinking to his knees, stroking back the hair matted against her damp forehead. He gently clasped the swell of her belly between his palms, supporting it. "It still feels tight," he whispered, fear in his voice. "It is." Scully rubbed it with one hand. "Is the baby OK in there?" "Yes. He just wants to come out." She found her discarded nightgown on the floor and dropped it over her head, adjusting it around her. "Now?" "Soon." She tested her legs, shifting her weight slowly onto her feet. She stood, moving toward the bathroom in a cautious waddle, supporting her belly with a hand at one side. "My water broke. We need to go to the hospital." "But what about the blood? Is that normal?" She closed the bathroom door behind her without answering. --It will be OK,-- she reminded herself as she shuffled to the sink and twisted the cold water tap. --Babies born in the last month usually are OK.-- She soaked a washcloth and pressed the cold cotton against her face and neck. --Ahhh. Good.-- She moistened the cloth again, wringing it. --Remember Dana, this is a special case,-- she amended her reminder. To her dismay, the band around her middle began to tighten rapidly. --Oh, shit.-- She dropped the cloth on the floor and held the edge of the sink in a death grip, her fingers white from the pressure. --Too soon, too soon.--- The white tile swam in front of her eyes and, as she fell, she heard a blood-curdling scream echo faintly around her. =Three Weeks Ago "Frohike, it's me. Let me in." Scully rapped impatiently at the metal door, glancing up and down the empty alleyway. Locks rattled up the side of the door as they were released from the inside. A sliver of Langley showed in the thin wedge between door and frame. His eyes swept down to her feet and back up again. "Whoa," he stepped aside, swinging the door very wide, inviting her in. He then closed it behind her, meticulously engaging the many locks in reverse order along the edge. Secure. The Gunmen's den--and it was a den...of something--remained unchanged from the last time she'd seen it, over eight months ago. Gloomy, crammed with electronic gear, and cluttered with papers and printed matter, it was a dark nest that reeked of paranoia. Scully breathed deeply and exhaled. --Wonderful.-- Byers and Frohike detached themselves from a monitor in the corner and piled up behind Langley. Byers' eyes drifted downward for a moment. He blushed, then dragged his eyes back up her body, riveting them to her face. "Agent Scully...it's good to see you looking so well." He blushed again, stuttering, "I mean...." "I know," Scully touched him gently on the arm. "Thanks." Frohike completed a slow circle. Whistled. "Impressive." "Surprising," Langley blurted. "I'll second both of those," Scully smiled, looking around. Byers quickly produced a chair from the back room and offered it to her. She sank into it gratefully, exhaled as the baby migrated into her thorax then shifted around in her seat, trying to get comfortable. She felt a hand at her ankles and looked down--Frohike pushed an overturned milk crate beneath her feet, then lowered them gently. Langley handed her a tall glass of water. --Talk about impressive and surprising,-- she thought, taking the water. "Thanks, guys," she said, drinking it gratefully. Three sets of eyes regarded her curiously, waiting. "You're looking at me as if I were a teen-aged girl who's gotten in trouble and been marched to the alter with her pimply-faced boyfriend," she burst out as she stared back at the half-circle of faces looming over her. Three sets of eyes regarded her warily, from a few inches further away. "Sorry." She rubbed her forehead, then looked up. "I've been a bit overwrought lately." Byers pulled a chair to a conservative safe distance and sat down. "It's understandable. You've been through a lot of...strange things...lately." "Very strange things," she whispered. "I'm...we're..." he looked at the other Gunmen for confirmation, "...just glad you're back in one piece." "And then some," she added in the same whisper. Byers sat forward, elbows across knees, and looked into her face. "What can we do for you?" "It's what you can do for Mulder," she said, explaining what she'd learned from The Smoker about the nano devices that had been implanted in both Mulder and AD Skinner. Byers sat back, exchanging looks with the other two Gunmen. "Twisted." "Devious," Frohike said. "Nanites." Langley concluded. "Nanites?" Scully wracked her brain for a definition of *nanites.*. --What?-- "Trekker." --Oh.-- Scully nodded, understanding. She went on to describe how The Smoker could use a palmtop computer to control the aggregation and disaggregation of the carbon...*nanite*...particles. "A palmtop," Frohike mused. "What kind?" Scully drew a blank. --It was a little square box.-- She dragged her memory for a description of the thing, mentioning size, shape, color and some ornamentation on the top. "Ah!" Langley named a manufacturer and model number. "Radio waves. They don't need direct line-of-sight for communication." Byers stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Bummer." Langley chewed on a piece of hair. "But they probably operate on a fairly narrow frequency range." "And, assuming the frequency hasn't been tampered with, it should be a cinch to jam it." Frohike cracked his knuckles, ready to start. "We can package a frequency jammer, a shielding device," with a nod to Langley, "into the plastic housing of a pager, then make up some reason why Mulder needs to wear it." Byers sat back in his chair, tenting his fingers, tapping the tips together as he considered the possibilities. Scully rubbed her tummy, thinking of one way she could get Mulder to wear the modified pager. "But that's a short-term solution, and one that's going to be difficult to sell to Mulder for very long." Scully reminded them. "Ultimately, we need to get those...particles...out of his blood." Byers agreed. "I have a couple of things I'm working on." Scully smiled, started to feel better about finding a long-term solution to this problem. "Just get me a short-term patch." "You've got it," Frohike. "OK," Scully levered herself out of the chair. The Gunmen anxiously surrounded her, spreading out, each ready to catch her if she fell. She didn't. "You'll work on getting the frequency jammer into the pager then get it to me. I'll get Mulder to wear it." She started for the door, turned. "We need one for Skinner, too." Frohike started the Door Unlocking Ritual. "Oh, and another thing." She produced three small vials from her pocket, each containing a small amount of clear liquid. "We've had extensive genotyping done by the FBI laboratory at Quantico but I was wondering whether you guys could double check it through your...channels?" The Gunmen shot looks among themselves. "Trust no one, Agent Scully?" "You've got it," she agreed. Byers cleared his throat, extended his hand, palm up. "I think we can take care of that for you." She handed him the vials. "Thanks. I knew I could count on you." She clasped his hand briefly with both of hers, curling his fingers gently around the valuable DNA samples "Oh, and Agent Scully," Byers called her back as she started through the door. "Say 'hi' from us to that pimply-faced boyfriend of yours." =Four forty-six AM Scully floated in a place that was neither here nor there, listening to the sounds around her. Beeping. Tapping of soft-soled shoes, back and forth. Low murmurs. Pain in her left arm. She swam into the light and opened her eyes. The bright sterile white of a hospital room lay around her. A nurse made a notation on her chart, then padded away. Scully followed the IV line down to her left arm. Next to the bed, her bloody nightgown lay in shreds on a cart.. As she tried to unravel the patterns of two asynchronous beeping sounds, she remembered the searing pain in her belly. Gone. Numb, even. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked hesitantly down to where the baby should be. A big lump. Her breath came out in a rush. --All is not yet lost.-- "Scully." Mulder's voice came from somewhere over her head, tense. "Mulder." She raised her right hand, searching the air for him. His fingers laced through hers as he circled her bed and came into view. His face was pale; his jaw, clenched. His hair stood out all over his head as if he'd just gotten out of bed...--which he had,-- she added to herself. --They both had.-- She tried to think and found that her mind turned slowly. "They gave you some medication." Mulder answered her unspoken question. "I'll say..." she gasped as her lower body went into spasm again, twisting her. The two bleeping sounds began to race, one overtaking the other, echoing strangely in the room. She held Mulder's hand in a death grip, straining to breathe through the constriction. The pain was minimal, the physical contortion nearly tore her in half. The bright lights receded, the shrill beeps faded away, and the sound of her own racing heartbeat was loud in her ears as darkness swallowed her again. =Three days ago Skinner turned from the window. "What's that?" Scully pulled at the blanket over her legs, adjusting it. She settled more comfortably into the sofa. "...when you were sick and almost died last Spring. I know how they did it." Skinner showed her his back and said nothing. "They did it to Mulder, too." His back stiffened. "Look, Skinner, we know how to get around it." She pulled a small, black pager from her pocket and turned it over between her hands as she spoke. Silence. "We already know how to block the signal." "Signal?" That got his attention. She nodded and explained the biotechnology of the particles that had been seeded in his bloodstream. "That sounds pretty far-fetched, Scully." "It's..." she cleared her throat, forcing the word from her lips "...alien technology, sir." Skinner shook his head. "I don't know..." he started to say. Scully interrupted him. "Do you have a better explanation?" "You say you have a way to block those things?" =Four Fifty-Nine AM Scully drifted back to consciousness, surfacing through a wave of sound--beeps, peeps, tapping footsteps, the hum of voices. "Scully." Mulder leaned over her, wearing hospital scrubs this time. She smiled weakly. "I've faced down liver-eating mutants, flesh- eating bacteria, mind-altering mushrooms..." "I only did those in college," Mulder broke in. Scully ignored him and continued. "...mind-altering mushrooms, and man-eating sea monsters, then I pass out from a simple cramp." Mulder looked down at her fondly, brushing her hair back from her face and tucking it behind one ear. "Nothing's simple about you, Scully. And a contraction is a helluva cramp." "Ah, you silver-tongued Dev..." Her spine bowed into an arch as she struggled to cope with the new wave of pain. --Breathe, breathe, breathe,-- she coached herself, thanking God and pharmacology that the pain wasn't more severe. The tension eased and she lay back on the gurney. "I could use some of those mushrooms right about now," she gasped, breath rasping in her chest. "If I had some, I'd give them to you," Mulder promised, "If I could take your pain, I'd take it from you." --Ah, Mulder.-- Another spasm gripped her, tighter this time, squeezing the air out of her, an Anaconda of a contraction that made her head spin and sparks fly behind her eyes. "Yaaaaaahhhhhhh!" she screamed at the ceiling tiles. Something popped. --Uh-oh.-- All hell broke loose. "She's hemorrhaging!" The doctor shouldered Mulder aside, grabbing the rails of Scully's gurney, pushing her out the door. Two nurses ran with him, one stabilizing the IV pole and the other leading the way, sweeping pedestrians and swinging doors from their path. "What's happening?" Mulder loped beside him. Confused. Panicked. Terrified. "Placenta previa. The placenta implanted too low in the uterus, putting your wife at high risk for abruption and hemorrhage, particularly in late term." "And you just discovered this?" "You wife has been aware of the problem and the risks it entails." Mulder froze in his tracks, left behind as the doctor and nurses wheeled Scully down the hall at a full run. =Yesterday "There's a couple of abnormalities." Scully felt her blood pressure surge at the word. "What do you mean, abnormalities?" Byers shrugged, jamming the autoradiographic film into the clip at one end of the light box. He flipped the switch. White light flickered then caught, illuminating the film from the back, throwing ladders of bold black bands into relief. "The lanes in the middle are from the baby's DNA." He pulled a pen from his pocket and used it as a pointer. "You can see that every band that he has, either you or Mulder have in your profile." He worked his way down the film, correlating the results, band for band, with Mulder or Scully. Then he stopped, looked over at Scully with a puzzled expression on his face. "Except these two." He tapped the pen against two bands that lay side-by-side in the middle of the baby's profile. Scully leaned closer, checked back and forth between the three profiles. Byers was right. Those two bands didn't match. "So what are they?" "A mutation?" he suggested reluctantly. =Ten thirteen AM --Your wife is aware of the problem-- He remembered his shock as the doors swung shut behind the running doctor, nurses, and Scully on the gurney. The doors drifted back and forth, slowly closing on air, as he stood, staring. --Damn you, Scully.-- He had leaned, forehead-first, against the cold cement of the wall, bouncing his head lightly against the hardness as he struggled to understand why she continued to lie to him, hide things from him that he needed to know, that he deserved to know. --After all this time, after all we've been through together, after the miracle of this baby, can't you trust me, even a little bit?-- The doors sighed open. Mulder turned from where he sat contemplating the morning sun through the tinted glass of the window. "Mr. Mulder," the doctor sat down beside him, pulling off his mask to disclose a serious expression. "There's a problem." *** END (1/1) Does the baby survive? Is he normal? Will Scully and the Gunmen find a way to thwart The Smoker and his evil nanites? Do Mulder and Scully ever speak to each other again? Watch for the conclusion, *Cuts Both Ways,* coming soon. Thanks for reading: I know there's a lot of good fanfic out there and I appreciate you took the time to read mine. -- kate.rickman@mindspring.com ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ http://kate.rickman.home.mindspring.com