Disclaimer: I don't own (nor could I even afford to *rent*) Chris Carter's creations, so wonderfully brought to life by GA, DD, MP, NL. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm flat broke, so if FOX sues, all they'll get is a broken down rusty Hyundai and a twelve year old Gund. They won't get my computer unless they pry it from my cold dead fingers. hehehe. Rating: PG-13 Category: S, A Summary: Mulder travels to LA six weeks after Scully's transfer. Warning: character dies Comments and constructive criticisms are welcome at tthwaite@banff.net. Or make them on the fictalk list. Flames will be used to heat my hot chocolate, unless they're witty enough for me to save for ego-bashing purposes. Mairi Dennehy Ch. 2- I Take You With Me by tj thwaites (email tthwaite@banff.net) Flight 496- nearing LAX 6:32 pm Fox Mulder fidgeted in his seat, his apprehension mounting. Soon he would be seeing Scully for the first time since her transfer six weeks ago. Their relationship had been decidedly rocky over that time, due in no small part to his own mistakes, Mulder admitted to himself. But lately, it seemed as if they were working past it. At least over the phone. This weekend was the face to face test. At Scully's insistence. Mulder's mind replayed the final moments of their phone conversation a few days ago- "...Mulder, I...," Scully paused. "What is it?" "Never mind, I'll tell you later." "Scully, *tell* me. You've been doing that a lot lately. Something is obviously on your mind." "Not on the phone, Mulder," Scully sighed, "I *do* have something on my mind, but I have to tell you face to face. Please, Mulder." "All right, face to face." The next day, Mulder had booked his flight. It was easier for him to get away from Washington than for her to leave Los Angeles. His caseload was fairly light at the moment, but Scully was swamped in the LA office's pathology department. Mulder had been working himself into a sweat wondering what Scully wanted to talk about the was so important that she needed to see him in person. Right away. he thought repeatedly, Mulder relaxed slightly in his too-small airline seat. He had asked her for the names of a few hotels, but Scully had half-teased that if her bed wasn't good enough, she *did* have a couch. Mulder was jarred from his reverie by the bong accompanying the 'Fasten Seat Belts' sign lighting up and the pilot's announcement that the plane was now on final approach. Once the plane had reached the terminal, Mulder impatiently pushed his way through the other debarking passengers and scanned the crowd around the gate, looking for Scully. He stood, carry-on bag in hand, his head swiveling from side to side as his eyes darted around the terminal. After nearly ten minutes, he was starting to become worried; she wasn't here waiting for him. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he thought, No answer on Scully's cell phone. Mulder was definitely worried now as he dialed the LA filed office's number. When the switchboard operator answered he asked for Dana Scully in Pathology and waited, fidgeting nervously, as the call was transferred. "Pathology, Henderson speaking," a strange voice answered, "May I help you?" "I'm trying to contact Dana Scully," Mulder told the voice. "Agent Scully has already left for the day," came the reply, "Is there something I can help you with...?" "Could you tell me what time she left? I was expecting her to meet me and she hasn't arrived yet." There was a brief pause as the voice on the phone, Henderson, apparently checked with someone else. "She left early this afternoon, Mr...?" the voice trailed off. "Mulder," he supplied, "I guess she must be caught in traffic. Thank you anyway." After hanging up with the LA office, Mulder tried Scully's cell number again, then her apartment. No answer on her cell and her answering machine picked up at her apartment. After leaving a message saying that he had arrived and was waiting, he took a seat where he could see around the terminal clearly and waited anxiously for her to arrive. Ninety minutes later, after having Scully paged several times and leaving a dozen increasingly frantic messages on her machine, Mulder couldn't wait any longer. He left the terminal and took a cab to the address Scully had given him when she'd moved into her new apartment. After repeated knocks proved fruitless, Mulder stood in front of apartment door wondering what to do now. He didn't have a key, and he didn't want to anger her by breaking in if it turned out that this was a simple communication failure. He pulled his note pad from his pocket and quickly scribbled a note saying he would get a hotel room and call her with his location. He slid the note under the door and left, dejected. the thought kept repeating itself in his mind. ****************************************************************** Pacific Coast Highway-just west of Santa Monica 9:40 pm Officer Morgan Radcliffe pulled the CHP cruiser over to the shoulder and climbed out to inspect the gaping hole in the guardrail and the skid marks on the pavement. Looking back up the road and observing the swerving tire marks, her stomach told her that it wasn't going to like what she'd find at the bottom of the thirty foot cliff. she thought, walking carefully to the edge and shining her flashlight downward. She averted her face for second and took a deep, calming breath before returning her gaze to the twisted wreckage being pounded by the incoming tide. The car was a mess, having landed nose first in the rocks at the base of the cliff, and when she saw the pale indications of a bloody body behind the steering wheel, her stomach reminded her that it was not happy. she thought as she radioed back to the dispatcher about the accident. Looking back down at the remains, she noticed that by some miracle the license plate was visible. Squinting, she managed to make out the number. Returning to the cruiser, she typed the number into the computer and left it to run its search while she busied herself setting up the flares around the scene to warn other drivers. That completed, she checked out what the computer had found on the license plate. she thought, Morgan Radcliffe scowled at the passing motorists rubbernecking at the flashing lights and rescue vehicles gathered at the edge of the cliff. That was one thing she despised most about her job; bystanders' morbid fascination with death and destruction. "The driver's dead," the dispassionate voice of one of the rescue team came drifting up the cliff, "Looks like he was killed instantly." <*He*?> Morgan wondered, "We've got something else here!" came another voice from the cliff base, "We're gonna have to bring the Feds in on this." Morgan wondered as she joined the detective who'd taken over the investigation and watched the EMT team haul their colleague up the cliff. The EMT came over and held out two objects to the detective. "We found this," he said, holding up the leather folder, "In the footwell on the passenger side." The detective flipped open the folder to reveal a badge and ID card for an FBI Special Agent Dana Scully. "And this," the EMT continued, holding up a frayed length of rope, "Was snagged on the frame where the passenger door used to be." "'Used to be'?" Morgan questioned. "Looks like it was ripped off on impact," the EMT replied, "If this Agent Scully was in the car, she was probably thrown from the vehicle into the surf." "Get a search team out here and start looking up and down the shoreline," Det. Mark Ellison ordered brusquely. "Will do, sir," the EMT responded, "But I don't know how much good that'll do. If she got pitched into the surf, we may never find the body. This section of the coastline is riddled with small caverns and pockets in the rocks under the surface." "I know, but we have to try," Ellison sighed. "Radcliffe," he continued, "Notify dispatch. Have them contact the FBI. The Feds'll want their own people on this ASAP. We could be dealing with a possible kidnapping of a federal agent here." She glanced down at the bit of rope in the detective's hand and swallowed, finally noticing what could be a faint trance of blood on it. "Right away, sir." Twenty minutes later, the passenger door to Scully's car was finally pried out of a crevice a few yards from the main wreckage. As it was hauled into the lights at the top of the cliff, the spider web of cracks radiating from the center of the window came into view. And at the center impact point, a small red stain and a few strands had survived the surf's activity. Forensics specialists immediately collected samples of the blood and hair for analysis. ****************************************************************** A Holiday Inn- rm 1013 7:13 am next morning Fox Mulder stumbled into the bathroom and regarded himself in the mirror with bleary eyes. He didn't think he'd managed to get more than an hour's sleep. He'd kept tossing and turning, afraid to fall asleep and maybe miss getting a call from Scully. But his cell phone had remained silent. After grabbing a quick shower, he dialed the number to Scully's apartment again, hoping she would answer, but half expecting her answering machine to pick up again. "Hello?" a woman's voice answered. "Scully?" Mulder said, thinking, "Ms. Scully isn't here. Who is this?" came the reply. "Where is she?" Mulder demanded, ignoring the request to identify himself. He could feel a tightness in his chest. the worried thought flashed across his mind. "Who is this?" the question was repeated, this time with a suspicious edge in the woman's voice. Mulder hung up on the voice. After dressing hurriedly, he rushed from the room. He had to get to Scully's and find out what was going on. Now. When his cab arrived at Scully's apartment, he distractedly tossed some money to the driver and raced up the stairs after noticing several cars that practically screamed "government issue" parked on the street. The door to Scully's apartment stood wide open, two burly men in suits standing on either side of the opening. They barred him from entering the apartment and remained silent as he repeatedly shouted: "Where is she?" The commotion at the doorway attracted the attention of the Agents inside Scully's apartment and one approached. "I'm Special Agent Amanda Bridges," the tall, statuesque brunette stated coldly, "This is a crime scene. Now, who the Hell are you and what are you doing here?" Agent Bridges reigned herself in with difficulty. If she couldn't separate herself from her emotions on this case, she knew she would be taken off it. And she owed it to Dana to find out what had happened. Dana had been her friend since the Academy, but that was no excuse for snapping at the stranger. the words rocketed through Mulder's brain and the life just seemed to drain out of him. Agent Bridges was a little surprised by the reaction her words evoked. The tall, lanky man who had been raising such a ruckus bare seconds ago just deflated, sagging in the arms of the two agents who were restraining him. Taking a closer look at the man, she tried to figure out why his face seemed familiar. The raw anguish in his eyes caused her to take a step back. Regaining her control, she asked quietly, "Who are you?" The agents standing at the lanky man's sides stiffened as he reached inside his coat. They relaxed at Bridges gesture. The man pulled a leather folder from his pocket and flipped it open. "Fox Mulder," the man said, his voice coming out in a hoarse croak, "Scully was my partner before she was transferred here six weeks ago. We were getting together this weekend. We had some things to talk about. Please, what's happened?" Bridges eyes widened when Mulder identified himself and she knew why he had seemed familiar. This was the man in the photograph Dana kept on her desk. Amanda had seen the longing look on Dana's face on several occasions as she stared at the photo, oblivious to her surroundings. At the naked pleading in Mulder's voice on the last statement, Amanda indicated to the two agents to release Mulder and she drew him to the side. she thought, "Agent Scully is missing," she explained, "We have some preliminary indications that a kidnapping was attempted yesterday..." Agent Bridges broke off as Mulder's eyes locked onto hers. She could feel the intensity of his gaze right down to her shoes. No wonder Dana had fallen for him. Then something in his eyes changed. She could almost see his mind going into overdrive. She suppressed a shudder; he deserved the "Spooky" moniker. "Indications?" Agent Bridges tore herself away from that penetrating stare and retrieved a plastic baggie and a folder from the small table in the foyer. She showed Mulder the baggie. "This appears to be an electrode from a taser. We found it on the floor here after Dana's car was discovered at the base of a cliff off highway one just west of the city." She looked up at his sharp intake of breath and drew him to the side where she could speak privately to him as the other agents continued with their inspection of the apartment. "I'm afraid it looks very bad at this point, Agent Mulder," she said quietly, again awed by the depth of the anguish displayed in those hazel eyes, "Blood and hair samples taken at the scene have already been matched to Dana's blood work on file from her last physical six months ago and hair we've retrieved from a brush here. Her...body...hasn't been found yet. She was thrown from the car into the surf. She wasn't driving. We believe she may have been restrained in the passenger seat. This is the man we believe responsible for her abduction." She pulled a photo taken by the CHP at the scene from the folder and showed it to him. "He was dead at the scene. So far we haven't identified him..." Bridges was taken aback when the anguish disappeared from his eyes and was replaced by a cold smoky hardness. His face was suddenly awash with a blazing, murderous fury which shocked her. "Krycek," the name came out as a strangled curse, "Bastards." "You can positively identify..." she began in a small voice, suddenly cut off as his eyes snapped up from the picture slowly crumpling in his fist to meet hers. The naked, almost psychotic, rage that seemed to come off Mulder in waves scared a few years off her lifespan. "Alex Krycek," Mulder said, his voice hard and cold, "He was involved in Scully's disappearance a little over two years ago. It's possible that he was also involved in the murders of my father and Scully's sister, Melissa." Mulder broke off as Bridges eyes narrowed and her expression hardened to mirror his own. A tiny part of him managed to break past his own emotional turmoil and see a matching anguish buried in her eyes as well. "I'll get the DC office to forward what we have on him," Mulder informed her, "But I'm not sure what help that'll provide. He remained underground for two years after Scully's abduction. And we never discovered any evidence of whoever he was really working for." Amanda Bridges nodded her thanks and watched as Mulder slowly set himself down in a chair, his head in his hands. For a brief moment, her heart went out to the man that had meant so much to her friend, and so obviously reciprocated those feelings. Then she rammed her professional mask back in place and returned to her team's investigation. She was determined to find the answers. Mulder didn't notice her turn away. He was too wrapped up in the collapse of his world. Scully was gone. This time it seemed as if she was gone for good. Dead. She had become so much a part of him in the years they were together that even if Samantha were to miraculously walk through the door, he doubted if he would be able to muster much joy if Scully couldn't be at his side. ****************************************************************** AD Skinner's office-Tuesday Walter Skinner regarded the haggard man slumped in the chair in front of his desk with concern. The Fox Mulder he knew had always had a certain...intensity...about him, but now it was just...gone. Snuffed out by the death of the woman who'd managed to make him almost human despite his reputation as "Spooky Mulder". Skinner wondered if Mulder would be able to recover this time. He remembered how Mulder's behaviour had nearly gotten himself fired several times when Scully had disappeared that first time. Now, it appeared to Skinner that Mulder had just given up; with her gone, he was lost. No hope left. Skinner cleared his throat. The loss in Mulder's eyes when he looked up caused Skinner to seek refuge in the report on his desk. "I want you to take the rest of the week off, Agent Mulder," he began, "I'll make sure you're kept informed of any progress on the investigation. And, Mulder? I'll speak to Mrs. Scully myself. You are in no condition to talk to her at present." Skinner watched Mulder shuffle out of his office with a lump in his throat. The fact that Mulder hadn't even made a token protest against taking time off, or demanding to be placed on the investigation himself, told Skinner that his worst fears about Mulder's emotional condition were justified. Mulder acted like a beaten man. Taking a deep breath, Skinner began preparing himself for the unpleasant task ahead of him- telling Margaret Scully her daughter was gone. Presumed dead. It had been four days since the wreck of her car had been discovered, yet no one fitting Scully's description had been admitted to any hospitals in the area. Rubbing his fingers on the bridge of his nose, he hated the prospect of telling her that the conditions of the accident meant that it was possible that Dana's body might not be found, lost in the waters off the Pacific coast. ****************************************************************** The offices of the Lone Gunmen-Tuesday- 11:21 pm Byers placed his hand consolingly on Mulder's shoulder as Langley and Frohike looked on, the grief obvious on their faces as well. "We called you down here because of something that came in the mail yesterday. From Scully," Byers voice almost broke on her name, "It was postmarked Friday. She had asked us to keep this for a week, unless you asked for it sooner, but..." Byers couldn't continue, he just held out the sealed envelope with Mulder's name inscribed on it that had come in the bigger envelope with her instructions. Mulder took it with a shaky hand. He sat down and fumbled for nearly a minute before getting it open. The Gunmen turned away, busying themselves with nothing, to give him some privacy. Mulder unfolded the pages and immediately noticed that the handwriting was sloppier than Scully's usual. Hurried. As if what she'd been writing had come to her faster than she was able to get down on the page. Mulder, it's me. If you have no idea what follows in this letter, then I guess my paranoia is on target. I have so much that I want to say, but I don't know where to begin. The reason I'm writing this letter is probably the best place, since I should be seeing you in a few hours anyway when your plane gets here. I suppose this letter is insurance. I've asked the Gunmen to keep this for a week, unless you ask for it sooner. I hope that you're reading this because you did ask for it, since if you didn't know about it, I'm probably dead. You see, I saw Cancerman today. Here. In the LA office. And I'm afraid. I think *they* are planning to eliminate me. Or worse- take me again. And I can't let them do that. Not now. I won't let them take me again, I'll die first. Because, and this was the reason why I asked you to come out here, I wanted to tell you in person, -I'm pregnant-. And I'm afraid of what *they* might do to me or our child. I had asked you to come here this weekend with the intent to tell you I was pregnant and ask you to help me vanish. I have the paranoid suspicion that *they* would have an inordinate interest in our child, even if they would only consider it as a lever to manipulate us. A threat against its safety as a means to keep us in line. I wanted to talk to you about me using an alternate identity to disappear from their scrutiny. I do have one set up. Remember that talk you had with me just after the Budahas case? I did take your advice. And I'm sure *they* haven't picked up on it. *No* one knows about it. But I suppose that point is moot. If you knew about this letter, then we've already discussed this. Probably argued vociferously about it. And if you didn't know, I'm most likely dead and not in need of an identity, my own or a false one. If they *did* get to me, Mulder, I want you to promise me something: Don't go after them on your own. Please, Mulder, I mean it. Don't throw your life away on an attempt at vengeance. Do what you can to get the X-Files back. Find the Truth, expose them to the world. That's the best way to deal with them. I hope that someday you do find Samantha. Keep looking. And maybe you could look in on my Mom from time to time, you know she thinks of you as a son. I just wish we'd been able to make it official. Who knows, maybe we've decided to disappear together and the Gunmen have been overcome by curiosity and are reading this themselves. I don't know what else to say. I thought I had more, but I guess not. Love always, Dana Mulder noticed what appeared to be a poem scrawled on the back of one of the pages, almost as if she'd forgotten about it and had just grabbed the nearest paper to use for the letter. But it seemed to say everything that needed saying anyway: Passed the Devil's own temptation Beyond where Angels sleep To the Holy invocation Of a neon city street I feel your hand, I hold you Through your eyes I see My love, wherever I go I take you with me Down the road of desires To the oceans of my peace Through the fury of my fires Until my yearnings cease I hear your voice, I know you In your arms I sleep My love, wherever I go I take you with me Even though I've fed my hunger Even though I've named my fear I'll never understand it How the journey led me here But I have made a promise That I intend to keep My love, wherever I go I take you with me My love, wherever I go I take you with me Wherever I go I take you with me I take you with me I take you with me I take you with me My love My love When the few quiet sobs from behind them were suddenly cut off by a terse "Bastards!", the Gunmen turned in surprise. Mulder looked back at them, the grief on his face slowly giving way to fury. Byers was the first to react. "What is it, Mulder?" "Scully saw Cancerman in LA Friday. That's why she wrote this. She was afraid they were going to kill her, and she wanted to tell me...." Mulder broke off, his voice freezing in his throat. "Tell you what?" Langley asked. Taking a deep breath, Mulder forced himself to reply, "She was pregnant." "My God, Mulder, I'm...*we* are so sorry." Mulder stood and grabbed his coat. "They are going to pay for this. Exposure isn't good enough any more, I'm going to *destroy* them all." That pronouncement made, Mulder turned and stalked out into the night. THE END Author's Note: the poem in Scully's letter is actually the lyrics to Melissa Etheridge's song "I Take You With Me" found on the soundtrack to the movie "Boys On The Side". No infringement of her copyright is intended. Great flick BTW. Stay tuned for the next installment once I replenish my reserves. You can help by emailing me at tthwaite@banff.net and telling me what you liked, hated, were indifferent to in this part. (OK, I admit it, I'm begging shamelessly for feedback) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ferret's in his cage,thinking. Noel:"Disappointment doesn't kill." Abby:"Right, disappointment doesn't kill. Rejection kills. Disappointment only maims." -- "The Truth About Cats and Dogs" Money is a powerful aphrodisiac.But flowers work almost as well. There is no conclusive evidence of life after death.But there is no evidence of any sort against it.Soon enough you will KNOW.So why fret about it? Giles:"Testosterone is the great equilizer. It turns any man into a gibbering idiot." -- Buffy, the Vampire Slayer ---------------------------------------------------------------------------