From: Sandra Vets <san@net4all.be>
Date: 8 Feb 1999 12:15:01 -0800
Subject: The Messenger Part 1/6


Hope you'll enjoy this one, folks

The Messenger 

(based on "The Driver") 

by Humbuggie

san@net4all.be

(c) 1997 - 1999



Edited by Laurie D. Haynes

shannara@pnx.com

Situation : This story takes place in Season 6, with Mulder and Scully
working for Kersh. 

Inside information : In previous stories "The Game," "Sins of our
Children" and "The File" I have introduced two new characters, Terence
Davis, Mulder's former boss at the VCS, and Tom Fielding, a young
FBI-agent working for Davis. You don't need to have read the previous
stories, but of course it does come in handy :-) 

More inside information : This story is based on a short story I did two
years ago called "The Driver." It was a short piece on Scully losing her
eyesight and Mulder dealing with it in his own paranormal way. Since I had
another plot worked out around the same principle, I've based this story
slightly on "The Driver."

Spoilers : References to several episodes, including "Triangle," "Mind's
Eye," "Anasazi,",several mythology-episodes and the XF movie.

Story : A woman from the past returns to take terrible revenge on Mulder
and his partner, leaving Scully blind for life. When he is offered a
chance to take Scully's place, he accepts, not only endangering his own
life, but also changing his life forever, not knowing the link with his
own past is closer than anyone could ever think. 

Type : X-File/horror/UST, Mulder and Scully Angst, Skinner friendship. 

Disclaimer : The characters of the show aren't mine, they belong to CC and
1013.

Note : The quote "You don't need eyes to see, you need vision," has been
taken from the album "Reverence" from Faithless. If you don't know their
music, shame on you! 

The Driver

Part I : An eye for an eye

Tuesday, January 12

"Watch it!" 

A voice sounded harsh and strange through the crowded streets of the city,
startling those walking on the curb. The next moment the woman felt a pair
of strong hands around her waist and her body was pulled backwards. Then a
car passed them by so quickly and violently she could feel it knock the
wind right out of her. He was holding her still, his strong arms around
her, until she found the strength to place her feet on the sidewalk again.
She shivered, yet at the same time it felt like it was meant to be
 like this. The man next to her was bound to save her life over and over
again. 

"Scully, are you okay?" His worried face and voice were the first thing
she was aware of as they both stood shivering on the sidewalk, not only
cold from winter but also from the event just taken place. 

"Yeah." It was the one word he needed to hear to make sure nothing was
wrong with her. He was still trembling. Why in the world had she crossed
the street so unexpectedly, ignoring the traffic all around her, knowing
that one wrong step could kill her?

"Are you sure?" he asked, turning her face towards him. 

"Yeah." She smiled faintly, feeling his strong touch still lingering on
her body. She had been lucky. "Stupid of me," she continued, rubbing her
hands over her waste as if she had fallen and hurt herself. "Should have
been more careful."

He grinned, "That's what you get when you want to live a healthy life and
forget the car for once. We're not used to walking anymore."

She stuck out her tongue and said with a smile, "Speak for yourself,
Mulder. Besides I was working on a case. It's not my fault I didn't see
that car." 

"What case?" he asked surprised. 

She pointed across the street, at the deli they usually got their lunch
at. "I was investigating a sub with lettuce and tomato."

He couldn't help but laugh, and put his arm around her in a protective
mode. "Next time, let me investigate the paranormal, Scully. You suck at
it. Come on." In a gesture of friendship and relaxation he kept his hand
in hers as he crossed the street with her.

Neither of them were aware of the woman with the cane, standing across the
street. Behind the sunglasses she seemed to be watching them. But as she
turned, her dead eyes stared into nothingness and the cane was the only
thing that kept her from tripping o ver the obstacles on the sidewalk.



The woman had been observing them for a very long time now, ever since he
had first come to her attention. Oh, she could still remember the exact
moment when she first saw him, before she lost her eyesight. She had been
an attractive young lady then, read y to attack the world and come out the
winner.

And then his father's car had ended it all, leaving her scarred and
handicapped for life. And the young man, the boy that would grow up to
become an FBI agent, had seen it all.

Now she didn't need her eyes anymore to see him or the woman he was with.
He was encrypted in her mind's eye, and in the pupils that could not react
to the light of day anymore. He was the one she had focused on when she
knew she had the ability to do som ething about her blindness. He would
pay the price for his father's carelessness and eagerness to put the
accident behind him. His father was dead, so he would pay.

She had been following him and watching him for the better part of five
years now, knowing more about him than the ones that were close to him.
She knew he had grown up quite an attractive man, but he had dedicated
everything to his work and beliefs. He d idn't have anyone in his life but
she knew for sure that he was in love with the woman that became his
partner. She had called him a few times, pretending to work for this or
that department within the FBI, just to hear his voice. She had dedicated
her li fe to being close to him, knowing that he would be the one who
could give her what she wanted. And she would take it at the end. 

He had been so young when his father hit her, leaving her blind for life.
She could still remember the black Chrysler his father had driven way too
fast, and the last thing she had seen before her eyesight was taken away
from her was the boy's young, scar ed face as the car touched with a
sickening thud. She had heard him scream, even with the metal of the car
between them.

And then she had woken up in the hospital and it was all over. Her career,
her life, her future. It was gone because his father had not taken his
responsibilities.

She had never forgotten that face. It was the first thing she saw when she
woke up in the hospital and it was the last thing she saw before she went
to bed every night. Oh how she wanted to touch that face and to feel the
curves in it, and the lines that had grown on him during the years. She
had found out he was 25 at the time of the accident, such a young man
still. Now he was 38 and a man with a past and a future. She would be in
that future. He would become her revenge on life and its necessities. But
 first she would make him suffer like she had suffered. She would take the
eyes of the woman he loved the most, using just that touch of magic that
had grown on her during the years.

*You don't need eyes to see, you need vision.*



Tuesday, January 12

He walked out of the deli with the ham and lettuce sandwich in his right
hand, and his cell phone in the left. Tucking it away in his coat pocket
he turned to Scully only to see her fight with a clot of mayonnaise on the
corner of her mouth. 

"Scully, you might wanna... you're spilling that goo all over the curb
here!" he warned her a second before another clot dropped on the ground
before her. She stopped immediately, avoiding the stuff from dropping on
her shoes. She then looked at his face in triumph as if to say, "See? I
can eat with spilling. How about you?" 

Mulder slowly shook his head and wondered where in the world Scully had
become a giddy girl fighting with mayonnaise. And since when had they
found this heartiness in their relationship? He couldn't help but grin at
the smile on her face. She felt like sh e had just conquered the world. 

"I don't know about you, Mulder," she said with a full mouth, "but I don't
care what assignment Kersh puts us on. As far as I'm concerned the man can
stuff some lettuce where the sun don't shine." 

"Such words, Agent Scully," Mulder said out loud, waving his finger in
front of her. "You know Kersh will be with us for a long time. I'm sure
the man doesn't appreciate our little comments on him." 

"I don't care about Kersh. If it weren't for you I would have quit the
bureau a long time ago," she said, putting another piece of deli sandwich
in her mouth. Mulder had stopped in his tracks and suddenly didn't feel
hungry anymore. Should he be happy tha t she said this? Was he binding her
to a job she no longer liked? He didn't know and he really didn't want to
find out. Anything was better than to know the truth, that she might find
out some day he wasn't worth the fight.

He threw away the second part of the sandwich and wiped his mouth,
throwing the napkin in the garbage can as well. Then he spotted a woman in
a black overcoat across the street, the cape tucked wide over her eyes and
face. There was something about the wa y she stared at them. He couldn't
see her eyes but he knew she was watching them. Then he spotted the white
can in her hands. She couldn't be staring at them. She was blind.

Mulder shook his head slightly and wondered if he saw ghosts. He was sure
he had seen her before. She seemed so familiar to him. But she turned and
slowly walked away from them, using the cane as any experienced blind
person did.

"Mulder?" Scully grabbed his sleeve and waited patiently until he looked
at her, "what's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he said turning his back to the woman across the street,
"everything's fine."

She smiled and said, "Let's go then." 

Across the street, the blind woman followed them from a distance. She knew
exactly which pace to take and where to walk to make sure they didn't spot
her. And she also knew the time had finally come to take revenge on the
past. She had been waiting for it
 for a very long time. 



Tuesday, January 12

Not so long ago, Scully told her partner that she had some sort of omen
when her father died. She explained to him how she had fallen asleep on
the couch and woke up to find him sitting near her. He was reciting
something she couldn't understand. His mout h was forming the words she
could not hear.

"I'm sure it was a dream, Mulder," she said as she told him the story,
sitting at his hospital bed, "it seemed so real, all the visions I had. I
saw you when I was questioning Boggs and I saw my father. You were both at
that cold, dark place he mentioned and I told him that for the both of you
that place wouldn't be as cold and dark. He laughed and told me it was.
And I didn't want to believe him because I was afraid. I told you I was
afraid to believe."

"But?" Mulder had asked, waiting for her to go on. 

"But it wasn't the first time I had a feeling when things are going wrong.
I sense things sometimes. Little things, like my mom who's going to call
me, or when something happened to Melissa. I had that nagging feeling all
day and I was telling myself not to listen to it. After all, I don't
believe in that kind of thing."

He had smiled and nodded. "I understand your fear of believing in
paranormal possibilities, Scully. I know and I accept that. But if you
can't face such things, you might never be able to come to terms with what
you feel and how you feel it." 

"I know," she responded, "but it's difficult sometimes." 

Mulder had seen her after she had that same kind of feeling. She had come
to places she would never have gone if she hadn't sensed that somehow he
was in terrible danger. When everyone thought he was dead, she had
believed in the fact he was still alive. She had not mourned him because
she knew he would return. 

She told him one day she was convinced there was a connection between them
that went beyond friendship or sex, beyond the need to kiss and hug and
cuddle and make love. It was that friendship that bound them together and
made them far more than partners.  She laughed when she heard the
speculations going about the office. She had walked away when he told her
he loved her. Not because she didn't want to respond to it, but because
she knew he was totally out of it.

This time however Dana Scully didn't move an inch before it happened.
Perhaps she didn't feel it coming because it involved her, or maybe she
once again ignored it and didn't listen to that extra sense that made her
so special. She had no idea of what was
 happening before it hit her full in the face, before she heard the shouts
coming across the street, and the warning that was pointed, not at her but
at the man next to her.

She didn't see it coming when they reached his car and got in. She didn't
know he was heading straight for it when they took off. She just didn't
know until it was too late.

Mulder didn't like the idea of driving off without telling Kersh about it,
but right now he couldn't care less. Working with the man was something
neither of them appreciated much, let alone be forced to deal with his
ever questioning look and demands abo ut their expenses. 

They both just wanted to be left alone and work on the cases they
preferred working on. Scully missed Skinner, Mulder missed Skinner. They
both knew it and it bound them together in their attempts to escape
Kersh's wrath.

Mulder couldn't help but wonder why he was so content with himself as they
reached his car. He was feeling lazy and quite comfortable and had a grin
on his face that made her smile. "What are you smiling about?" she asked
as she walked over to him.

"Nothing," he murmured, "I was just thinking." 

"About?" 

"Skinner asked me some time ago, before the office burned down, what my
plans for the future were. I couldn't answer him then. I told him he was
holding my future in his hands. He had some files in his hands, you see.
But I think I can answer his question
 now." 

"What would the answer be then?" 

"I don't care what my future would be like. I just want it to be with you
around." 

She blushed all of a sudden, feeling contempt for herself for showing her
feelings so obviously and eagerly. He actually laughed as she did, and
unlocked the car.

"Want me to drive?" she said, wondering if he was still hungry and eager
for the last part of her sandwich.

"No, it's okay. I got it." He got in and waited patiently until she
strapped herself and looked at her sticky fingers. The bureau was just
across the street but they were both too eager to escape today. Neither of
them could explain why. 

Mulder started the car and stopped in his tracks suddenly, staring at the
woman across the street in her black coat. There was something about her
that just startled him. He couldn't figure out who she was. She had
something so familiar in her face, yet a t the same time she seemed
totally unrecognizable to him. But he had seen her before. Despite the
black coat, the white cane, the eyes he couldn't see, he had seen her. It
was just a matter of piecing it together.

It wasn't as if they were in danger when it happened. They weren't working
on a case that forced to pursue a dangerous individual or a creature from
outer space. It wasn't as if someone had inflicted something on them, or
wanted them out of the way for tr ying to stop something from happening.
They were just driving to Quantico in an attempt to do something useful.
Nowhere special to go, nothing in particular to do. Just a simple case,
given to them by Kersh. And nothing that could have gone wrong.

But the woman across the street had his attention. She was watching them
somehow as they drove off and he could see her in his rearview mirror. He
could feel her dead eyes pierce through his body and mind and it made him
uncomfortable. She simply walked t here, using that white cane of hers as
she did.

Mulder backed away from the parking space and drove his Taurus onto the
street. He drove slowly, avoiding the traffic before he mingled with the
commuters. He was going slow when the car reached the end of the street
and the curve leading into the next on e. And she was there all of a
sudden, simply crossing the street in front of him. He couldn't even
gather his thoughts together to find out how she had gotten there. It was
simply the vision of hers that seemed to blind him before he continued his
path. S he was in his mind's eye as he was in hers.



Tuesday, January 12

The truck driver didn't care who was on the street at the time. He didn't
care about the Ford Taurus that approached him and was right behind him as
he pushed the gas. But Mulder suddenly saw it coming as he focused on the
road again, trying to blink agai nst the image of the woman in black. And
then it was simply there, jamming itself into the metal of the Taurus,
hitting Scully's side first.

Mulder remembered her laughter ending up in a desperate scream as she saw
the vehicle approach them with full force. The truck driver simply didn't
see them as he backed off through the small alley leading to the main
road. He was in a hurry.

Mulder would always remember how she screamed his name and her hand seemed
to want to reach for the steering wheel but ended up somewhere on her lap
as the truck approached them. Mulder pushed the gas hard and pulled with a
vengeance at the steering wheel , attempting to escape its killing path.
But the truck kept on coming and there was nowhere to go.


Mulder heard a voice shout only to realize it was his own. "Fuck!" he
shouted as he pushed the gas even harder, but it was already too late. Her
laughter still echoed in his ears like the ringing of a bell. He loved the
sound of her laughter. 

But the screams were ten times worse and deafening. He saw the pale and
distraught face from the corner of her eyes. She turned, frightened,
knowing she would be the one smashed first by the truck. She was on the
passenger's seat, and she didn't have a wa y out of the vehicle. She was
trapped because he had offered to drive.

And then the truck hit the car at high speed, jamming them to the other
side of the road. Everything turned into one big pile of blood, glass,
screams, confusion, the screeching of brakes, the jamming of metal against
metal, and the cries of Mulder's part ner as she turned into one bleeding
mess, and her head hit the glass hard.

She was wearing her seat belt but her head hit the side window anyhow, and
then it was all around them. Mulder could taste his own blood in the
corner of his mouth, and then the car seemed to be flying through the air,
shoved backwards so violently they c ouldn't do anything but stand for its
tumbling until it landed on its wheels, and then tumbled again, eventually
landing on its roof.

They were trapped inside and there was nothing they could do. Mulder could
feel a terrible pain in his wrist as his hand and arm slammed against the
door frame, and then he could feel the bone snap as his body hit full
force with the steering wheel, jamme d into him by the force of the wreck.
The car had no airbags. 

Scully was hardly aware of anything anymore. By the time her head hit the
side window she was out of it, her head tilting as if she was a rag doll.
But she didn't pass out before she gave one long last moan, and her hands
were clutching for her eyes, prot ecting them against something Mulder
wasn't aware of at the time. In her attempt to remain conscious he could
hear her call out to him, "Mulder, Mulder, my eyes ..."

And then the world turned black for her, as it did for him. 



Tuesday, January 12

The first thing he saw was the woman standing outside the car. Her face
was no longer covered with the black cloth surrounding her before. He
could see her dead eyes clearly now. She just stood there and stared back
at him and then she smiled. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus on
reality, but it was hard. He was so tired, he just wanted to fall right
back into unconsciousness and sleep for a long time.

Something was wrong. He couldn't quite put a finger on it but he could
feel it as he lay in his car, his body trapped between the console and the
seat. He ached all over yet felt numb at the same time. Something was
wrong, they shouldn't be here like this . Scully! Where was Scully?

He shifted and turned his head aside, stretching his hand. An enormous
pain shot through his wrist as he did, forgetting for one moment he had
broken it. But as he looked aside he forgot his own pain and stared at her
in despair, seeing her face all blood y and messed up. How could she ever
be all right again? 

And then he saw it. Her eyes. Something strange was happening to her. He
stared at her as she opened her eyes, her pupils clearly visible. There
was blood in it, and her eyes seemed to be vanishing from their sockets.
Then they were there again, but the b lue had changed somehow. There was
something wrong with her eyes! 

He heard silent laughter besides him. He turned his head again, shifting
himself so that he didn't hurt himself. Where was everybody? Shouldn't
there be people here to help them? What was going on? Oh god, Scully.
There was something wrong with her eyes.


And then the woman knelt down besides him and blinked her eyes. They
changed color. He could see them change before him, and he blinked his
lids again, expecting this to be some sort of nightmare. But the woman
smiled and then she had Scully's eyes. He wo uld know those anywhere,
everywhere. She had taken Scully's eyes!

"I know you," he moaned, stretching his good hand out to touch her,
"you're her. Your name, I know your name."

"You should know me," she said, touching his face gently, "you were the
last thing I saw before your father blinded me."

"Lisa Messenger." 

She smiled and leaned forward, kissing him slightly on the lips. He could
see her eyes clearly now. They were lovely. She got on her feet and walked
away, leaving them trapped inside the vehicle. He passed out again with
her name on his lips, and he remem bered.



Sunday, December 15, 1986

William Mulder had always been a man of authority. Ever since he was a kid
his father told him he would grow up to become a leader. Things hadn't
quite turned out that way. He had sacrificed just about everything years
ago, including his daughter. He had given her up for the larger Project,
knowing it would rip their family apart.

But he still had his son, and despite Fox's obvious attempts to stay away
from the family home, the young man could not disguise his roots. He was
just as secure and fitting in his job as his father had been, only he
chose the right side of the line, some times balancing carefully right on
the line itself.

But William didn't. It frustrated him and made him angry against the
world. And it stopped him from talking to his son ever since the boy went
off to college. He knew Fox avoided him and he knew why. Perhaps the boy
already suspected his father was involv ed in Samantha's disappearance
somehow. Perhaps in his young mind he had already figured it out, and put
the pieces together. 

Maybe that's why father and son didn't have much to say to one another
when they met at the airport and his father took him home for the
Christmas holidays. He saw on his son's face that the boy didn't really
want to spend time at home, but it had been a while since he came home. It
was time to renew some old family vows. At least that's what Bill promised
himself. 

"So tell me, son," the man started as he drove his son home in the black
Chrysler, "how is Phoebe?" 

His son obviously didn't want to talk about the woman that was messing
with his mind and life and made a face. "Last time I heard she was on
vacation in Aspen with some rich American kid she hooked up with." 

"Do you still miss her?" 

"No, I don't really care about her anymore. It's over and done with." 

*It should be,* Bill couldn't help but think as he considered the career
his son had planned for himself. The FBI, a life working for the
government, and doing everything Bill had wanted for his son -- to expose
the truth Bill had been helping to hide. Ho w could he ever tell his son
how proud he was of him without revealing that what he had been hiding for
most of his life?

Fox must have seen something in his father's eyes because the young man
suddenly turned toward him and asked him if something was the matter. Bill
managed to shake his head, saying, "No, not really. I just missed you."
Then the old man bit his lip. He sho uldn't get emotional at his age. He
hadn't spoken to Teena properly for years, let alone told his ex-wife how
he felt. He was taking his son home but knew they would spend a lot of
time in silence and seclusion. And then the boy would go to his mother's p
lace and experience the same treatment. No wonder he hardly ever came
home. He hated it here. 

"Dad?" Fox looked at him again and opened his mouth as if to say
something. But the boy didn't. And then suddenly he yelled, "Dad, watch
out!"

Bill Mulder quickly looked forward, seeing something before the wheels of
his car. And then it hit the vehicle hard, and was shoved over it and
behind it, until it dropped on the ground. *Oh, God!*

He heard his son shout, his voice hoarse and strange. He looked aside. Fox
was shivering in the front passenger seat, and he didn't know why. 

Bill stopped quickly, parking his car neatly aside the road. He grabbed
his son by the shoulders, shaking him almost violently. "Fox? Fox, what's
wrong?" 

Then the man saw it. The strange pile of clothes and flesh and bone behind
his vehicle, lying in the middle of the road. He got out with trembling
legs, wondering how anyone could inflict death upon another human being.
He thought he had just killed someo ne.

They weren't alone on the road. Several cars stopped and he heard himself
yell at someone to drive to the nearest house and get some help. Then Bill
Mulder sank to his knees beside the woman who lay on the street face down,
one arm twisted underneath her,
 and the other one above her head. 

*I killed her.* It was the only thing going through his mind as he stared
down at her. And then, *I'm going to jail.* But he knew he would never see
the insides of a jail. He had too many friends in high places. They would
help him. He would help himself. 
 

Someone else was suddenly beside him, pushing him away from her, but not
before he got a good look at her. Her blonde hair was covered with blood.
Her slim body seemed broken and battered. How could anyone survive a blow
like this?

"I'm a doctor," the man next to him said. "Step aside." 

Bill obeyed automatically, giving the man all the room he needed. Then he
remembered the young man sitting in his car, shouting and near hysterics
when he saw the body fly over the vehicle. He knew his son had seen it
happen more clearly than he did. His son had been the one looking straight
into the woman's eyes before she hit the vehicle and then the pavement.

Bill walked up to his son's side of the car and saw him just sitting
there. He had no tears in his eyes nor was there any sign of distress. He
had just paled and seemed to have seen a ghost. Bill understood.

"Fox, are you okay?" 

The young man nodded his head and then turned towards his father, "Did you
kill her?" 

Bill Mulder felt like a jackhammer hit his head hard. "No," he said,
clenching his teeth, "I didn't."

The boy nodded again and said, "I want to see her." 

Then he simply got out of the car and stepped towards her, leaning over
her. Bill watched him as his hand touched the woman's face gently, pulling
away the blonde hairs. His gesture was so gentle Bill held his breath. His
son was so sensitive. How would h e ever be able to accept the truth? 

Fox spoke softly with the doctor that kept the woman alive until the
ambulance arrived. They were surrounded by a crowd but he didn't seem to
notice. Bill heard words of wonder and then the cops were there asking him
how it happened. He told them the trut h. He hadn't seen her and then it
was too late. No, he hadn't been drinking. No, he hadn't been speeding. It
just happened.

It seemed to take forever before the girl was moved into the ambulance and
the EMT's were treating her, trying to keep her alive until they reached
the hospital in Quononchontaug. She would survive. Or at least that's what
they expected. But her vision ap peared to be damaged and her insides
seemed one bloody mess. 

Bill Mulder sighed and rubbed his eyes before returning to his car. The
police would be expecting him at the office for a full statement but
witness had supported his version of the story. It was an accident.

In the car, his son didn't say a word until they reached the house. Then
the boy went upstairs and locked himself inside the room that had been his
for years. Bill didn't know he sat on the bed, his arms protecting his
pulled up knees. He didn't know his son had been a witness to the most
horrible of crimes as he was finishing his studies in Oxford. He didn't
know his son was taking it so hard. And he had no idea of knowing his son
was dreaming about Samantha again, dragging back all the memories hidden i
n his special photographic memory. 

Bill Mulder could only think how weak and vulnerable his son was. And how
very much responsible for Samantha's disappearance. After all, for Bill it
was the only way to deal with her vanishing. Blame it on the one other
person in the room when it happened . Just don't blame it on yourself.



Tuesday, January 12


The next thing Mulder knew, other faces were there, staring at him as he
blinked his eyes again. There were several people outside the vehicle and
he felt trapped and vulnerable in his weak state. The voices he heard were
coming from the outside, mingling
 with the sounds of sirens of police vehicles and paramedics. He listened
to them because there was nothing else for him to listen to. He couldn't
stand to stare at his partner, knowing her eyes were damaged somehow.

But it must have been a dream! The woman, where was she? In panic he tried
to move, causing a terrible pain shooting through his body. He moaned. He
moved his neck and tried to see her, but she wasn't there. They were alone
and she was gone.

"He's awake," he heard someone say, and then they were pulling at the
metal trapping them from the outside world. "Sir, can you hear me?"

Mulder nodded quietly and cleared his throat, trying to find the correct
words, "We're FBI agents. My partner's eyes are damaged. Please get her
out of here first. She's hurt badly."

The man looked at the agent in surprise, as if wondering how in the world
he knew the woman had damage to her eyes. From the angle he was lying in
right now he couldn't have seen it. He had been sitting on his knees to
talk to the man behind the steering wheel, but he now he lifted himself
and stared at his friend on the other side. The man nodded silently as if
to confirm what the male agent had said.

The man's Pinto was parked just two yards away from the crash site. He had
seen it all happen. The truck that suddenly and swiftly backed out of the
alley, ramming the Taurus that had been driving calmly through the streets
of Washington, D.C.

The witness had heard the sickening crash of metal and glass and the
continuous screams of the young woman as she was hurt badly by its deadly
impact. Even with the radio on he had heard that. He would never forget
it. And then everything went quiet and t ime seemed to stand still.

He had seen a woman near the site, kneeling down next to the vehicle. She
said something but he couldn't make out what and then she got up and left
so quickly he couldn't even remember where she went. It didn't really
matter. The folks inside the car were
 the main priority now. 

The truck driver had left his vehicle and stared in shock at the damage he
had caused. How could he have been so blind? How could he not have seen
what was going on? The man bit his lip and waited patiently until the cops
came, arriving just before the EM T's. 

The man driving the Taurus seemed awake and lucid. The truck driver
couldn't help but feel gratitude that at least one of the victims was
okay. But the woman was still out of it and her eyes were bleeding and he
couldn't even look at her. He knew that blo od often gave a worse
impression of a wound but in this case he just knew he had caused
permanent damage. He hated himself for it.

The truck driver concentrated on the cops entering the crime scene. There
were several other cars, now, as well, and he recognized what he suspected
were FBI agents, since the police had told him the people he had hit were
agents. The new arrivals were al l wearing suits and trench coats. Two
men, one of them bald and the other one a younger, blond man seemed eager
to get to the car. The truck driver watched them until the cops came to
question him. He was then forced to turn away from the site and to give
 a statement on the events. 



to be continued

Subject: The Messenger Part 2/6

Tuesday, January 12

Walter Skinner, an assistant director with the FBI, was the first one to
reach the site where the crashed Taurus lay. He felt anger as he walked
over to the vehicle and was forced to stare down at the bloody figures of
two of his former agents. He was ang ry because Kersh was out of reach and
had no idea of what was going on. Thus the man couldn't give his support.

He was even more angry because it happened just one block away from the
bureau, allowing everyone to know about the accident almost instantly
after it happened. Several cars approached the scene now, all of the
agents eager to help somehow.

*Mulder would have loved this,* Skinner couldn't help but think as he
approached the crashed car. In his mind he was already considering the
possibility of Mulder's death, but by the time he was at the driver's
side, he could hear the agent's hoarse voice
 as he spoke to a cop guiding him through the events. Mulder was wide
awake and Skinner couldn't help but think that was bad thing at this time.
If the agent was hurt badly and they had to pull him out of the car, he
might be going through the worst pain he'd ever experienced. 

On the other hand, Skinner couldn't help but be grateful for the fact
Fielding was with him. Having encountered the man in the hallway on his
way out, he had quickly explained the situation. The agent offered to go
with him, and Skinner knew Fielding was a good friend and had a calming
influence on Mulder.

Skinner stared over the collapsed vehicle to the other side and caught a
glimpse of Scully, her eyes still closed. By the way they were maneuvering
her around he knew she was hurt badly. And when he heard Mulder beg the
people around him to help her first , he was convinced the female agent
wouldn't live to see another day.

*Jesus, if something happens to Scully, I'm not sure if Mulder will
survive.* Skinner knew that for a fact. By looking at Tom's face he knew
the younger agent thought exactly the same thing. The agent walked quietly
over to the other side of the car, show ing his badge to the cops at work.
Skinner identified himself as well, taking charge of the situation
immediately. A few moments later he was bent through his knees to look
into the eyes of his agent.

Mulder couldn't help but smile at the fact his former boss was there. Why
was he not surprised?

"Hey, sir," he said weakly, wondering when they would finally get them out
of the vehicle. It seemed to be taking forever, but in reality, the car
had only collided with the truck a few minutes ago. 

"Hey, Mulder, how are you doing?" Skinner bit his lip after asking this
stupid question. How could Mulder be doing with his body trapped inside
the twisted metal?

"I'm okay," the agent said quickly, pointing at Scully. "Her eyes are
hurt. I'm sure of it. There was a woman here .. she ... I'm not sure what
happened but she came and she took Scully's eyes. Then she left."

Skinner had to bend closer to make out the agent's words. They didn't make
any sense.

"Lisa Messenger," Mulder continued, "she was blind and now she can see
again. I saw her become blind. My father hit her with his car. She was
here, sir. You have got to help Scully. Don't leave her." 

"Tom is with her," Skinner said quickly, pointing inside the vehicle to
the man sitting next to Scully, waiting patiently until she was ready to
be moved. "See? Scully's fine. Concentrate on yourself now."

"She told me she was going to get even," Mulder murmured as he closed his
eyes. "She said so and I didn't listen to her." 

The car started to rock as they shifted Scully from her uncomfortable
position onto a gurney. Quickly, she was strapped and removed in an
ambulance. Tom went with her, taking a seat normally reserved for Mulder
inside the ambulance. As the doors closed an d the vehicle left, Mulder
opened his eyes again and looked at the men getting ready to take him out
as they got the twisted metal cut away from him.

"Internal injuries," Skinner heard one of them say, "he's hardly lucid.
Trauma to the head. Be careful with his neck." 

Then Skinner concentrated on the friend he cared for a lot, whose office
he had visited before it burned down and destroyed Mulder's life. Skinner
had asked Mulder about his future and had wondered about it. If he had
known then what would have happened, he would have never gone to Mulder to
discuss the case of the murdered chess player. If Mulder had been set up,
it was Skinner's fault as much as anyone's.

Mulder moaned as they slowly lifted him out of the vehicle, supporting his
body on all sides to make sure they didn't cause any further damage to it.
The agent grasped his good hand on the side of the gurney and let himself
be moved. As the gurney started
 to move, Mulder grabbed Skinner's hand and said, "Don't go. We need to
talk."

Skinner nodded his head in surprise and waited until the agent was moved
inside the vehicle. Before the doors closed, he hopped in and sat down,
waiting for Mulder to gather enough strength to talk. An oxygen mask was
placed on Mulder's nose and mouth but
 he grabbed it and pushed it away. His voice was hardly audible when he
said, "You have got to find the woman. Lisa Messenger. She's the one doing
this. I saw her."

"I promise," Skinner said, trying to calm down his agent, "I'll find her." 

Mulder closed his eyes and let himself be lulled into the darkness by the
movement of the vehicle. Skinner leaned back and wondered how a perfectly
good afternoon could have gone to hell so easily.



Monday, December 16, 1986

*The silence in this house is near deafening,* Bill Mulder thought,
pouring himself a scotch. Sure, he had screwed up the day before. Sure, he
was responsible for the young woman lying blind in the hospital right now.
Sure, he had done it all, given his o wn daughter away and turned the
blame on his only son. Sure, he had driven away his wife and made sure she
wouldn't return. Sure, it was all his fault. Then why did he feel so
goddamn guilty about it all? He was a man with unlimited possibilities. He
coul d turn the whole world to himself, making sure it all revolved around
him. He had written his own future down in blood by vowing to Strughold he
would work on the Project. Bill Mulder had given his soul to the devil and
let him take his baby. It had never
 bothered Bill, never even made him lie awake in the dark. 

Until today. Until his son had asked him if he had killed that woman. He
had killed several people, and she wasn't even involved in the Project.
She was just a woman crossing the street at the goddamn wrong time,
pushing herself to the limit so that she c ould be home in time. She had
been running, her face and body covered by a warm coat. She was the one
not watching out. She was the one that damaged his car. 

Bill sat down on the chair and stared at his glass. Why was life treating
him like this? He was working his ass off to preserve a bit of the future!
He couldn't be punished for doing the right thing. Or at least, what he
thought was the right thing. It wa s just unfair. All of it.

The only person in life who could make him feel guilty was his own son.
Ever since that night he had deliberately left Fox alone with his sister,
knowing they would come for her that night, he had been avoiding the boy.
Now, the boy had grown to become a man and still, that guilt was present.

Perhaps Fox had been right all these years to avoid his father. Avoidance
is the best way of dealing with things that weren't to be dealt with. Fox
had grown up to establish his own life and would become what his father
had wanted him to become. Perhaps i n the future, father and son would
find a way to talk about all of this, and Bill would find a way to tell
his son the truth. 

Bill was disturbed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs and looked up
to see his son dressed in jeans and sweater, pulling on his jacket, ready
to go out. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I'm going to see that woman," Fox responded, grabbing his father's car
keys from the counter. He knew he didn't have to ask for the use of the
vehicle, "I want to see if she's okay." 

"I'll go with you." 

"I don't think that's a good idea, Dad." 

"Oh?" Bill asked feeling the scotch lift his spirits. "And why is that?" 

"You're drunk." 

"I'm not drunk, nobody gets drunk from one glass of scotch." 

"Whatever the case is, I want to go alone and see if she's okay. I'm sure
she won't appreciate talking to the man that ran over her "

Bill became furious and threw his glass against the brick wall. The liquid
and shattered pieces of glass flew everywhere, leaving their marks next to
the fireplace. "Do you think I did it on purpose?" he yelled, knowing that
he was turning his anger again st the one person in this all deal who was
innocent. "Do you think I loved hitting her?" 

"You didn't even have to talk to the cops anymore, did you? Who did you
call to fix it all? That chain-smoking friend of yours? The one that used
to come all the time before Samantha vanished? Or did you simply call one
of your political friends to make i t all okay again?" 

Bill couldn't stand for the accusations. He was responsible, yes, but so
was each and every one of them. If his son thought he would spend time in
jail because some crazy woman ran out into the road unexpectedly, he had
another thing coming. Bill raised h is hand, lifting his palm towards his
son. Somewhere in the air the hand remained still, and the blow to his
son's head did not come.

As suddenly as it had come, the anger disappeared. Bill stared at his own
hand. He hadn't hit his son. Not ever. He would never do so. He turned
away from the boy and said, "Just go and see her. Tell her I'm sorry. I'll
tell your mother you'll be coming s ooner than expected."

Fox didn't wait for his father to continue but stared at his father's
back, knowing Bill was never going to change. It was all too late. It was
too late for any apologies or accusations, even to try and regain
something of the father and son relationship they once had. This accident
had only confirmed the situation once again. If there had been any doubt
before, it was all gone now.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Bill heard his son say before he walked outside, "I know
you didn't do it on purpose."

Bill turned to talk to his son only to find that the door had already been
closed. Yes, it was too late for apologies. 



Tuesday, January 12

Mulder woke in the solitude of a private hospital room, the thoughts of
his dad lingering in his mind. Strange, it had been so long ago since he
had thought about all of this, so long because he had pushed it in the
back of his memory as he had done with the rest of the unpleasant past he
didn't want to remember. 

Eyes closed, he listened to the silence. He felt safe and secure somehow,
despite the circumstances he was in. But his gratitude for still being
alive didn't last long. Before long, he started to remember what had taken
place and exactly why he was here.


He winced as he tried to move, feeling an enormous pressure pushing
against his chest. Immediately he heard noises in the room, and he opened
his eyes quickly, automatically saying, "Scully?" 

But she wasn't the one sitting next to him. The seat usually taken by her
was occupied by someone else who came into sight as he moved. It was Tom.

"It's me, Mulder," he said, using Scully's standard sentence without even
knowing it. How could he possibly know the language they used for one
another?

"Where's Scully?" Mulder asked, staring at the cast his wrist and arm were
encased in. He quickly scanned the other parts of his body, feeling
nothing but a very sharp pain in his chest and a dull headache already
forming in the back of his head. 

"She's in another room. You're both going to be fine. She's still
sleeping. Concentrate on getting better now, you were in an accident."

"I know," he said, remembering the sickening crush when the truck pushed
into their car, "She's blind, isn't she?" 

Tom bit his lip, for one long moment not knowing what to say. Mulder
didn't need to hear the confirmation. He had known the moment he had woken
up inside the vehicle and felt the presence of Lisa Messenger next to him.
The bitch. She was the one responsib le for this, just as she had sworn
she would be. Why hadn't he listened to her? 

Mulder cleared his throat and tried to concentrate on reality. It was
hard. Whatever they had given him was making him slightly high and he felt
like dozing of again. But he couldn't. Not before he found the woman
responsible for this. 

"She was there, Tom," he said hoarsely, grabbing the man's wrist as he
pulled him closer. "You have to find her."

"Who?" 

"Lisa Messenger. She was there, I saw her. She caused this." 

"Mulder," Tom said patiently, "A truck hit your car. The driver didn't see
you until the car was already in shambles. I saw the vehicle, Mulder. You
were lucky to be pulled out of there alive. There was no woman there."

"But I saw her. She was near the car. She took Scully's eyes somehow."
Mulder noted Tom's disbelief. He knew he was skating on dangerous, thin
ice but he couldn't let this pass. Someone needed to listen, to make it
all right. "I'm not crazy, Tom! It's a l ong story but... I can't tell you
about it right now. It's too difficult to explain. Just find her. Lisa
Messenger. She's the one. Promise me!" 

"I promise, Mulder," Tom said soothingly, trying to calm down his friend,
"I'll talk to Skinner about it, okay?" 

*Skinner already knows and he hasn't done anything about it,* Mulder
thought. *I need to find her myself if need be. She had Scully's eyes. Oh
sweet Jesus... Scully!*

Mulder pushed himself up with one hand, deliberately ignoring the dull
pain in his body. He needed to see her, to make sure she was all right.
Why didn't Tom say anything? Was her condition worse than he thought? Was
she dying and didn't he know about it? 
 

He licked his dry lips, trying to regain his senses, "Where is she, Tom?
Tell me the truth!" 

"She's in bad shape, Mulder," the young man said, trying to find the right
words to state this, "she's in the ICU. She was in surgery for hours and
hours. She has massive head trauma. They had to drill burr holes in her
skull to release some of the pressu re on her brain. She hasn't regained
consciousness yet, it's been two days." 

"Two days?" Mulder asked in disbelief, wondering where time had gone. Why
had he been sleeping for two days while that crazy woman was still out
there? He needed to find her. But Tom's hands were keeping him from
getting out of the bed, and the man seemed
 to have all the trouble in the world to calm his friend down. 

"Easy Mulder," the VCS agent continued, "you're in bad shape yourself.
You've had surgery. You've got two broken ribs, one of them slightly
punctured your left lung. You've been in and out of consciousness for the
past two days. The doctor kept you sedate d to give your body the chance
to heal." 

"I need to see her," Mulder moaned, again trying to go against his
friend's wishes. "Please, Tom!" 

"Not yet, Mulder. I'm going to try and find a doctor. Just don't try to
get out of here on your own, got it? Promise me you'll wait until I get
back." 

Mulder impatiently nodded in agreement and leaned back heavily on the
pillows of the soft bed, concentrating on pushing aside the dizziness. He
felt like shit. The world seemed a particularly violent place right now,
with that one woman who was out there,
 fulfilling a vow she had made to him so many years ago. How could he make
the others understand this thing was for real, and it was responsible for
Scully's current situation? 

Then he started thinking. Perhaps no one was responsible for her blindness
but him. After all, he had been the one driving.



Thursday, January 14

"Mulder?" 

He felt a slight pressure on his arm and realized before long he had
fallen asleep again. With contempt, he opened his eyes to look at the face
of a man he had never seen before. 

"Mr. Mulder, glad to see you're awake," the man said, shining a small
light in his eyes, "I'm Dr. Roberts. We spoke briefly in the ER, but I'm
sure you don't remember. How do you feel?" 

"Like a truck hit me." 

Roberts smiled as if he had said something really funny. "You'll feel
better soon. You were pretty lucky. The damage to your lung was minimal,
but you're going to need some respiratory therapy. The broken ribs were
set in surgery. You've suffered a light concussion, but that will heal
with enough rest."

Mulder cleared his throat, asking hoarsely, "I would like to see my
partner." 

"That will have to wait. You are in no condition to leave this room just
yet." 

"You don't understand. She's in danger. I need to see her, she needs me!" 

Roberts seemed annoyed with his demand and frowned, "If you feel better in
the morning, I'll have you brought up to the ICU to see her. Her mother
and your boss are there."

"Kersh?" 

The man frowned again, "No, someone named Skinner, if I'm correct. He's
been shifting between her room and yours. He was very concerned because
you were out for two days. I'm sure he'll be here soon as soon as he knows
you're awake. Are you in any pain?" 

"No," Mulder lied, persuading himself not to accept any more painkillers.
They made him feel groggy and he needed to be lucid right now to find the
woman who did this. If no one believed him, he would go after her by
himself.

Roberts smiled as if knowing he was lying. He nodded at the nurse who
emptied a syringe in his IV, and said, "You get some sleep now and I'll be
back in the morning. Take care, Mr. Mulder."

The doctor left the room quickly, leaving him in the hands of the nurse
who quickly checked his bandages and left him alone again with Tom. Mulder
sighed deeply, feeling the drugs already settle into his system. He hated
this.

"Mulder," Tom said slowly, sitting down on the chair next to the bed,
"what you said about that woman. What did you mean?" 

Mulder blinked his eyes, trying to fight against the darkness. "She was
there, Tom. I saw her. I hadn't seen her in thirteen years, not since that
day when I visited her at the hospital. She used me, Tom. She came close
to me and then she told me she woul d get even. I saw her do it, Tom. It
made me believe in the paranormal for the first time. I watched her take
what she wanted." 

"You don't make any sense, Mulder. What did she take?" 

Mulder's mind simply seemed to block the world out as he closed his heavy
eyelids, murmuring, "She took everything."

Monday, December 16, 1986

Fox Mulder didn't feel at ease as he sat down at the side of the bed at
her beckoning and watched her bandaged face as it turned towards him. Her
eyes were invisible for him, covered by stacks of bandages that covered
them. The doctor had told him she wou ld never see him again. The damage
had been extensive, causing immediately blindness beyond repair.

They had already told her, since there was no relative or anybody to be
supportive enough to her to tell her the truth in a more subtle manner.
She simply lay back in the bed and listened as they explained how the
damage had caused her blindness and how h er eyesight could not be
returned. 

She actually smiled when the doctor offered her therapy and an appointment
with a psychiatrist who would help her to deal with this. She had sent the
doctor away and had been lying in the bed quietly since, ignoring the
pleas to eat something or to try an d cope with the situation.

At the end they were forced to feed her through an IV, telling that if she
didn't want to listen to them, she would be fed through a tube. She didn't
even budge when they told her. The ironic expression on her face said
enough. She simply did not care.

Therefore, Fox Mulder felt uneasy when he sat down beside her, not knowing
what to say.

"I know you," the woman said, her hands resting calmly on the sheets that
covered her bruised body, "I saw your face before I lost my eyes. You're
his son, aren't you?" 

"Yes," Mulder said after clearing his throat. Coming here was a mistake,
he could feel it. He wanted to get out of here and forget all about her,
like his father did. But he couldn't. If his father didn't feel guilty, he
did. It was their fault the woman was lying here and he couldn't turn his
back on her.

The woman turned her face towards him as if she could see him, and
continued, "Did you come here to ease your conscience?"

"No, I came here to see how you were." 

"To see how I am." She smiled. "That's a good choice of words. What's your
name?" 

"Fox Mulder." 

"Strange name." 

He smiled. "Yes, I know. Please call me Mulder, everybody else does." 

"I'm not like anybody else ... Fox." Her mouth spat out his name as if it
was a curse. He couldn't help but shrink a bit, feeling restless on the
seat next to her.

"You are an attractive guy," she said, her hand rummaging through her
hair. "Are you married?"

"No." 

"Girlfriend?" 

"No. Not that it's any of your business." 

"How come you're single, then? You sound hurt. Did you have a relationship
recently that faltered? Did she hurt your feelings and dump you?" 

He thought of Phoebe knowing how much it still hurt. He didn't want to
talk about this. Not with some complete stranger whom he had just met. Not
while this stranger was in hospital trying to get used to blindness.

"I like you," she suddenly said after a short silence, "I wouldn't mind
getting to know you better. That is, if you don't mind."

*I do mind.* "I don't live here anymore," he quickly said, taking the
opportunity to grab his coat, "I left Martha's Vineyard years ago."

"Then why were you here?" 

"With all due respect, Miss Messenger, that is none of your business. I
came here to tell you I'm sorry this has happened to you, and that's all.
I hope you'll feel better soon."

Her hands suddenly clawed at the bandages around her eyes. He watched her
frantically as her long fingernails tore at the skin around her eyes. Then
he could see her eyes. They were simply dead. There was not a spark of
light in them anymore. She was simp ly blind and her pupils seemed to have
lost all their color and expression. It was terrible. He held his breath
and stared at her for a long time.

"If you think I'm going to let you get away with it this easily, you have
no idea what is coming to you. I'll get even with you, I swear. You have
caused this, so don't come here and pity me with some fake sentiments. If
you think you've been wasting your
 time here, think about this for the rest of your life. You hear me?" 

Her voice became a harsh sound, almost unbearable. He couldn't listen to
it. "You hear me?!" she shouted as he left the room with his coat over his
arm. Outside, in the hallway he trembled as he leaned heavily against the
white wall. The nurse passing him
 stared at him in surprise, asking him if he was okay. He continued to
tremble as he passed her, leaving the hospital in a hurry. Every fiber in
his body told him it had been a mistake to visit this woman, but he felt
like he had to. After all, it was his
 father that had caused all of this. And it was his father that stayed
away from her right now.

As he left the hospital and walked into the parking lot, he felt someone
watching him. As he looked up he could see her standing behind the window
of her hospital room, her dead eyes focused on him. He knew she could see
him somehow. He just couldn't expl ain it.



Friday, January 15

"Mulder?" Scully woke with his name on her lips before she was even fully
conscious and aware of what was happening to her. It was the last thing he
had heard her say before she passed out, and now it was the first thing
she said when waking up. He felt a
 shiver run down his spine. 

Dressed in sweats, Mulder sat in the wheelchair next to the bed. He had
been here since early this morning, refusing to listen to the doctor's
advice to stay in bed and rest. He made it perfectly clear he didn't want
to sit back and enjoy the ride, knowin g that the person most important to
him in life was still fighting for her life.

He had been taken here by Tom, accompanied by Skinner as they entered his
hospital room early in the morning. He had been wide awake, refusing to
take any more painkillers or sleeping pills. Slowly but surely he was
regaining his senses and his mind was f inally able to recapture what had
happened. 

Despite everyone's conviction it had been a dream, he knew for a fact he
had seen the woman sitting next to him as she took Scully's eyes somehow
to see again. He knew that when he found her, she would no longer be
blind, thus defying every law of nature. 
 

But now, Scully was the one lying with bandages over her eyes in the ICU,
and it was her blindness that shocked him the most. He knew he would never
forget.

As he came in the room, Margaret Scully looked up surprised, immediately
hugging him and asking him if he was okay. He smiled faintly and told her
he was fine, desperate not to see the tears in the woman's eyes. She sat
down again immediately, telling him
 her daughter was still unconscious. 

For the first time Mulder stared at the pale, bruised body of the woman in
the bed. Everything in her had seemed to have lost its color, even the
redness of her hair. He hardly recognized her. Machines were pumping life
into her, oxygen was provided to he lp her breathing. The respirator they
had intubated had been removed an hour before he entered the room. She was
slowly regaining consciousness.

As if on cue, she started to mumble words, incoherent and vague. Then she
called out his name, her hands searching over the blankets that lay on top
of her frail body. Mulder grabbed it uneasily, remembering the last time
he had seen a woman like this. It
 was the hardest thing for him to do right now, to reach out for her and
comfort her when she needed him the most. He wanted to leave this hospital
and find the one who had done this to her, but not now.

How long before she would start blaming him for her situation? How long
before she would send him out of the room and tell him she never wanted to
hear his voice again? How long before she would realize she was blind for
life, leaving her without a single
 spark of light? 

"Mulder?" she said again, grabbing his fingers with an amazing force,
"Mulder, talk to me."

He couldn't. He just pushed himself up and leaned over her, kissing her on
the cheek. "It's okay," he finally said soothingly, his eyes focused on
the woman sitting on the other side of the bed, "I'm right here, Scully." 

"Mulder, are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I am. Don't worry about me. Just concentrate on getting better." 

Her fingers touched his face, following the lines over his cheeks, nose
and mouth. He could feel the tips of her fingers entering his mouth, her
touch softly scanning the insides of his lips. He kissed them.

She seemed content with his presence and fell asleep with her hand still
in his. He realized she had to know he was all right before she could
concentrate on getting better, but how was he ever going to tell her the
truth? He couldn't tell her. He couldn' t face up to the facts.

Mulder felt a soft hand on his shoulder and looked into Maggie's face
close to his. "You should get some rest," she said, "Dana needs you."

The scent of medication and hospital was intruding his nose. He couldn't
stay here. He needed to find her. But they wouldn't let him leave, he knew
that.

"You're right," he said hoarsely. "Will you tell me when she wakes up
again?" 

"Of course." Maggie kissed him softly and watched as he sank down into the
chair and let himself be wheeled out of the room by Tom. As they left,
Skinner turned towards her. 

"He's up to something," she said softly, "I can feel it. I've seen that
look in his eyes before, when my daughter was in the hospital."

"I know he's looking for someone to blame," Skinner responded, frowning
his forehead with the thought of having to restrain his former agent from
making stupid moves." 

"That woman he's been talking about?" 

"The woman doesn't exist, Maggie. Nobody saw her except for him. It was
all in his mind." 

"But she did exist once?" 

"Yes, and she died in 1986. There is no more Lisa Messenger. Whatever
ghosts and demons Mulder has to face, he's seeking them from his past.
He's putting the blame on someone he can blame for this, not knowing he
isn't the one to be blamed."

She sighed deeply and sat down on the chair again, staring at her
daughter's sleeping form. She would be the one telling Dana she was blind
for life. Right now she could only feel gratitude for the little time she
had left to prepare herself for it. But w hen Dana woke up again, she
would demand answers. And she knew her daughter well enough to know she
would not accept them easily. 



to be continued .. 

Subject: The Messenger 3/6

Monday, December 16, 1986

Bill Mulder heard the car pull up but didn't make the effort to see who it
was. He knew the sound of that engine, and by the footsteps heard nearby,
he was convinced his son had returned home.

But it wasn't him. Another Chrysler was pulled up in the driveway and the
man approaching the house was one he hadn't seen in a few days. Bill
sighed and put down his glass, angry because he was disturbed in his time
off.

"What do you want?" he asked angrily as he didn't invite the man in. The
smoker however didn't bother to ask permission to enter the house and
passed him by, sitting down immediately on the couch he was familiar with.

"I heard you were involved in an accident," he said, looking amused at the
glass in Bill's hand, "heard you blinded a girl." 

"So what if I did?" 

"The cops wouldn't mind having a go at you, Bill. They don't like the
influence you have in our government." 

"Are you saying they would come after me for this? I didn't do anything
wrong. I wasn't the one being careless here." 

"I know, but witnesses claiming you drove too fast are easily found. You
of all people should know that, Bill."

Bill Mulder sat down and groaned, putting his head between his hands. He
slowly began to understand the consequences of his actions. They could
nail him easily if they wanted to. But why? He had done nothing wrong. He
had sacrificed his own daughter to th e Project. What more could they want
from him?

The smoking man inhaled and then pushed the cigarette butt in the ashtray.
"I've been told your son is going to join the FBI soon. I thought we had
an agreement on that matter?" 

"No," Bill said calmly, shaking his head, "You had an agreement, not me. I
never intended to stop him from pursuing his goals." 

"And what is his goal?" 

"To become a profiler. To be what his father refused to be, a good man. To
work for a government he still believes in, even if I don't anymore."

The smoker smiled sarcastically, wondering when in the world Bill Mulder
had become such a sentimental guy. But this wasn't about sentiments. They
all knew it was about Samantha.

"I want you to stop your son, Bill. He is not allowed inside the FBI. If
he starts snooping around he will become his father. We had to stop you
too. What would it take for you to realize you are crossing dangerous
paths here? Stop your son or I will stop
 you." 

Bill swallowed, knowing the man who used to be his friend wasn't lying.
They would do anything to stop him, even use an accident that had caused
an innocent woman's blindness. Bill bit his lip, staring too hard in front
of him and waiting too long to give
 an answer. "I can't stop my son. We don't speak much these days." 

"Then I suggest you start talking. The moment he enters the FBI, a price
will be put on his head, Bill. Is that what you want for him?" 

The smoker rose and prepared to leave. 

"And now, I've got to fix this mess you've caused with this woman, before
your trouble causes problems for the Project."

The Smoking Man laughed silently at the look of guilt on Bill's face. His
old friend had no idea what had really gone down. 

A second car pulled up the driveway, identical to the first. Fox Mulder
stared at the vehicle in contempt, knowing who drove it. He hated the man
that used to come to their house so often in the past. What would it take
for his father to face up to realit y? Didn't he see he was being used?

Fox Mulder was angry and hurt when he entered the house, using the spare
key. In the living room, he found the two men arguing, their conversation
suddenly coming to a stop as they watched them. The man whose name he
didn't know got up quickly and left wi thout saying a word. As Fox stared
at his father, he knew something had happened. But Bill wouldn't be
willing to talk about it.



Sunday, January 17

The room was just as quiet as when he had left it. He couldn't face it by
himself. He wanted to lock himself up in a dark, silent room and become a
solitary man again, as he had been before he met Scully. When was the last
time he had gotten involved with
 someone before she came? Diana? Funny, he hardly thought about her
anymore now. She seemed to be a part of the past he had wanted to forget.

But now it all came back to him. The big fight with his father before
turning his back on Martha's Vineyard for over a year. The cause of the
fight, a woman who was not worth fighting for. The reason he first started
to suspect his father was involved in something too hideous to be true. It
was all so long ago, yet today it seemed like it happened only a few weeks
ago.

"Mulder, are you okay?" Tom's voice was close to his. The man seemed
worried about Mulder's state of mind. Even if he kept his voice under
control, Mulder without a doubt could make out the concern in the man's
eyes. They had become good friends over the past six months. If something
happened to either of them, the other one soon learned of it. But even
though Mulder had come to trust Fielding, the distance sometimes was still
there. How could he tell the man about everything he had seen and heard?
How co uld a stranger ever comprehend how far a human being could go into
concealing something so hideous from his own son?

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mulder responded, eager now to get back into the bed and
forget all about it for a while. But as soon as he slipped in between the
covers, the fatigue and exhaustion made him restless and unable to find
the peace he needed so badly. He j ust couldn't get the image of that
woman out of his mind, knowing she was the one he needed to find.

Tom waited until he leaned back into the soft pillows before sitting down,
saying, "I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, Mulder, but you are not
responsible for this accident." 

He looked at the man eagerly, "Have you even tried to find her?" 

"Yes. We found a Lisa Messenger in the FBI databases, a woman who died in
1986 in Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts. She is dead, Mulder, as I'm sure
you already knew." 

"Someone died in '86 but it wasn't Lisa. I saw her, Tom. Even if you have
difficulty comprehending it, please believe me on this one. She was
there."

"Mulder, someone must have seen her but there weren't any witnesses to the
fact. By the time they reached your car, you were unconscious. You only
regained consciousness when they started talking to you. You passed out
again inside the ambulance and weren 't lucid when they brought you into
the ER. If there was a woman, no one saw her." 

"Then people were lying. You need to talk to them, Tom. Try and find out.
Someone's lying and I want to know why. And I need to know..." Mulder's
voice choked as he cleared his throat. "I need to find out why she took
Scully's eyes and not mine."

Tom glared at the feverish expression on his friend's face. The man
obviously wasn't doing too well. He resisted the urge to leave the room
and get some doctors in here when Mulder grabbed him by the wrist again,
using all the waning strength he had in hi m. "Talk to the Cancer Man
about it. I'm convinced he knows."

*Cancer Man?* Tom remembered the man's old, wrinkled face and the scent of
the Morleys he was always smoking. If there was one man in the world he
didn't want to mess with, it was the chain-smoking bastard that always
seemed to be involved. But how would he be involved, and why?

"Okay, Mulder," Tom said calmly, forcing himself to regain his posture. "I
promise I'll try everything to find out. But you have to promise me not to
do anything stupid, all right?" 

Mulder smiled, "Stupid? Me? Never." 

Tom couldn't help but smile. 



Sunday, January 17

The woman sitting in the booth smiled as she looked outside, taking in the
colors of the world for the first time in long. She hadn't remembered what
it was like to be able to look at the world with real eyes, and not from
the inside of a mind, gathering information encrypted in the brain. 

She inhaled deeply as the cigarette lingered on her lips. She would never
return to the past again. Thirteen years of blindness had been enough to
drive her almost insane. And now the promise had been fulfilled and she
had gotten what she wanted. But it w asn't over yet. 

The man slipping opposite of her in the booth smiled sarcastically as he
watched her smoke. "Bad habit, Lisa."

"Look who's talking." She watched his wrinkled face and remembered seeing
it for real so long ago. He had changed but not much. He had just grown
older. The eyes were still dead and cold, the insides of his brain were
probably still as rotten as it had be en before. 

"How do you like your new eyes?" 

"I love them. I guess I should thank you for participating in this." 

"I didn't do anything other than pay your medical bills and make sure you
were provided for -- comfortably. We owed you that much. You did all this
by yourself, though." 

"What's going to happen to the woman now?" Lisa asked lighting another
cigarette, "is she going to die?" 

"No. But I suppose it depends on you now. I suspect if you want her to
die, she'll die. You have the ability to control that, Lisa, though. We've
never come across that before. You took her eyes to give yourself new
ones. That kind of ability could be val uable." 

"I don't want her dead. I got what was mine, that's all I wanted." 

"Good." The man quickly slid out of the booth but was stopped by her hand
on his wrist. As he looked down on her he saw her forceful blue eyes
piercing into his.

"I could have taken his eyes, but I decide it would be more punishment if
it happened to someone he loved. She'll end up hating him for this, I
know."

"Agent Mulder is not to be harmed," the man said, "He's a necessary part
of a classified operation. A man without a goal or a purpose in his life
is a dangerous man. If the woman had died, he would have become dangerous.
If you had taken his eyes, he woul d not have been stopped."

"And what if I change my mind?" 

The smoker's face changed into an angry smile, "We won't have another
discussion on the subject. I approached you for a reason. I took care of
you and you agreed to remain silent. Let's leave it at that, shall we?" 

She nodded slowly. "All right." 

As he left the diner, he knew she would not keep her promise. His face
turned angry and full of contempt again. She had become a liability.



Tuesday, December 17, 1986

Fox Mulder woke up with his sister's name on his lips. He pushed himself
up on his elbows, immediately realizing he was at home in his own bed. Oh,
God, it had been such a vivid dream again. He struggled to escape the
barriers that held him out of reality .

Quickly he shoved the blankets away from him and slid out of bed. It was
quiet in the house. He didn't like the silence. He had long since gotten
used to falling asleep with the TV on, its humming working as a sleeping
pill on him.

As he walked downstairs, he could hear faint voices in the living room
arguing with one another. He froze and stood still in his tracks, and
listened to them as they fought. His mother was here! Why hadn't he been
told? Surely, she would have come up to s ee him, wouldn't she? He was
eager to talk to her and tell her he was going to go with her. He didn't
want to stay with his father anymore.

But the woman's voice was angry and filled with contempt as she argued
with the man she had been married to for over fifteen years.

"No, Bill," she said forcefully, her back turned toward her son who stood
behind the door, watching them, "I won't talk to him."

"You don't understand, Teena," Bill responded, his hands clutched together
as if he was in pain. "He's been threatened, you see? You have to tell him
to back away from the offer the FBI has given him. He can't start working
there, not if it means endanger ing his life."

"Our son will not have to pay for a mistake you made. If you hadn't run
over that girl, all of this wouldn't have happened. Your failure will not
ruin my son's life!" 

"He's my son, too, Teena! Do you think I like what is happening here? Do
you think I wanted all of this?" 

"Your stupidity has cost us our daughter, Bill! I will not have you punish
Fox for this, too." 

"Then what do you expect me to do? To tell my son the truth? That I am
partly responsible for my daughter's disappearance? That I have let them
take her to commit myself to the Project? This will kill him, Teena! It
will destroy him. I cannot do this to h im!" 

A gasp coming from just outside the door startled them both. Then, the
running footsteps told them their son had been listening and heard it all.
"Oh, God," Teena exclaimed before running to the door to find her son. But
he was already gone, taking the ca r keys of Bill's vehicle with him. A
few seconds later he drove off. 

Teena bit her lip, knowing what she had done. *Oh, God. It's over.*

They heard a loud screeching of tires followed by a crash just outside the
house, and they were both startled when it shook them out of their stupor.

"Fox!" Teena heard herself scream as she ran out to the driveway, knowing
what she would find. Bill's car had collided with another one, her son
obviously not paying attention to where he was going. The crash had been
hard enough to overturn his vehicle s o that it would be difficult to get
him out. As she ran to the driver's seat she could see her son's
unconscious form pressed against the metal of the vehicle. His face and
head were bleeding.

"Fox?" she said, reaching in through the broken out window to touch his
face with her hand. He didn't respond to her as he lay unconscious,
oblivious to anything they were trying to say or do.

Bill Mulder could only stare in shock., thinking, *Don't let me lose him
too. I need him to expose the Project.*

But his son was unaware of his silent pleas. 



Monday, January 18

What Mulder dreaded had finally come. Seated next to her bed he could
suddenly feel her fingers clutch in his, and then they freed himself to
touch the bandages on her face. He hadn't known she was awake because he
couldn't see it. Her eyes were still cov ered, her face still pale and
damaged. 

"My eyes hurt," she said slowly," why are they covered, Mulder? I can't
see. What's wrong with my eyes?"

A silence followed because he couldn't tell her the truth. In despair he
stared at her mother, begging her silently for help. He grabbed her
fingers and brought them to his lips as he had done when she was in the
hospital fighting off the cancer.

He couldn't say it. He couldn't be the one telling his friend she would
never see again. She tore herself from him and brought her hands to her
face again, her fingers clawing at the wrapped eyes, trying to pull off
the bandages. She had become Lisa Messe nger. Her calm voice sounded
louder now, more terrified and pale like that of a small child. "Mulder, I
can't see. Mom, Mom, are you there? Talk to me!" 

Her mother rose from the chair quietly. She touched her daughter's face,
taking her hands into her own, and whispered softly, "It's okay, Dana, I'm
right here. So is Fox. You'll be all right. Your eyes need some rest right
now, you've been through a lot. You will be okay, I swear." 

Mulder stared at the woman in shock. How could she promise something that
was not going to happen? She was feeding her daughter with promises she
couldn't keep! But he knew why she did it. What was life but a mixture of
feelings and promises given to some one that you cannot keep?

Margaret reached for her daughter's hands and took them in hers, pulling
the woman closer to her. Then her arms were wrapped around her daughter
and she soothed her with small, soothing words like she was a child again.
"I'm here, baby," she said, and he could hear the distress in her voice,
"It's going to be fine."

Scully clung to her mother like a baby to its mother's breast. They were
one, those two, and needed each other more than anyone else in the world.
Mulder felt contempt for himself. He had helped to cause this somehow, and
now there was nothing to do but t o stand back and see what happened next. 

He watched as her mother attempted to stop her from clawing at the
bandages. He didn't want to see her eyes, because he knew exactly what was
underneath them. The shattered memories from that time so long ago were
all coming back to him now, as was the kn owledge it had all been a setup.

He closed his eyes for one moment, remembering Lisa Messenger in a similar
hospital room, her eyes bandaged as well. Then she had shown him what was
underneath those bandages and he had been shocked and unable to conceal
his contempt for her. She had been
 right to scream at him and accuse him of being involved in her
misfortune. If he hadn't returned home that day, and if he'd had a good
relationship with his father, they might have been somewhere else at the
time. But they had crossed Lisa Messenger's pa th and it had left the
woman blind for life. How could they ever make up for that?

Mulder knew Scully would not be able to go on like this. She would do
everything in her power to stop from living like this, knowing what it was
like to be blind. He had seen it in her eyes when they talked to Marty,
the girl that had been blinded the day
 of her birth. She could not imagine what it would be like to live in
darkness forever, not able to work as you pleased or to do what you
wanted, or to see the people you loved. If there was one thing in her life
that she could not miss, it was her eyesig ht. She would not go on like
this.

*I'm sorry, God.* He almost grinned when he said it, knowing he didn't
even believe in a God. How could he ever give her back that one thing she
wanted?

Scully's doctor entered the room, taking in the scene. He was as calm and
cold as ever, sedating his patient with the air of someone who can control
life and death. It didn't take long for Scully's weak body to give in to
the darkness, and she slept almos t instantly. 

Then the man looked at Mulder, obviously dissatisfied with the fact he had
ignored his previous suggestion to rest. "If you don't go to your room
voluntarily, Mr. Mulder, I'm going to have someone drag you to it, okay?"
His impatience infuriated Mulder. H e wanted to get up and kick his ass,
but then Skinner's hand was on his arm and he said, "Not here. Come on,
Mulder." 

Skinner guided him back to his room, knowing exactly what was going
through the agent's mind. Mulder was exhausted but hadn't been wanting to
give in to the fatigue. Skinner watched him with concern, not knowing what
to say. "Kersh told me to let you know
 you can take all the time you need. But I want you to talk to someone
about this, Mulder. You're obviously not doing well."

"I'm fine," the agent said hoarsely as he ignored the sharp pain in his
chest, "I'm not the one lying blind in a hospital bed, am I?" 

"Would you have preferred it to be you?" 

"Do you mean, if I could take her place, would I do it? The answer is
yes." 

"That wouldn't help anyone, Mulder, and you know it. Scully's blindness
has been caused by an accident. Whatever you feel might have happened is
subject to discussion. I know you think you saw a woman there you haven't
spoken to in thirteen years. I know you think she's somehow responsible
for this accident. But wouldn't it be more plausible to consider the fact
you are mixing up your current accident with events from your past? I read
your file, Mulder. You had an accident in Martha's Vineyard and woke u p
in the hospital with memory loss. You couldn't recall how you ended up
there. You stated that the events leading to the accident were confusing.
Perhaps this accident triggered your memory somehow."

Mulder couldn't help but smile sarcastically, "You could say that. I
remember everything now. Every single detail."

"I don't understand." 

Mulder leaned back against the pillows, "Sir, I don't want to talk about
it now. I'm tired." He closed his eyes, determined not to speak. Skinner
frowned angrily and sat down. *I'll indulge you for now, Mulder,* the man
thought, *but not for much longer. You are going to talk to me, whether
you like it or not.*

Skinner had no way of knowing Mulder's mind was reforming the events that
happened so long ago, but that had been pushed into the back of his mind
by the accident that put him in the same hospital as Lisa Messenger.



Thursday, December 19, 1986


*Oh, God, my son is dying and it's my fault.* Bill Mulder stared at the
near-lifeless form of his son, hooked up to the machinery in the ICU unit
of the small local hospital. He wanted to go in there and touch his son's
hand and to tell him how sorry he w as, but he didn't dare to. It all
seemed so pointless right now, all so trite. And to think that the woman
he had ran over was only four doors down.

The doctor walked over to him with a frown on his face, a file in his
hand.

"How is my son?" Bill heard Teena ask. The words "my son" hurt him more
than he could say, but he bit his lip and listened to the doctor's
explanation that all depended on how long the young man remained in this
state.

"I am afraid that this accident will cause memory loss or even brain
damage," the doctor said, deliberately staring at the file in his hands,
"I have no way of telling you at this point how long it will be before he
wakes up, or what the situation will be
 like as soon as he does." 

Bill heard his ex-wife cry and wondered whether he should even attempt to
comfort her. He didn't. He turned away from her and stared behind the
glass at his son's body. *I'm sorry, Fox. I'm sorry you heard our
argument. I'm sorry I did this to you. I'm so rry they took Samantha away
from you.*

The man frowned and walked into the room, sitting on a chair next to his
son's body. The boy suddenly moved and jerked his eyes open, fighting
against the respirator in his throat. His eyes seemed unable to focus on
anything.

"Fox?" Bill grasped his son's fingers and waited filled with tension until
the boy reacted. The doctor was in the room immediately, talking
soothingly against him. Eventually Bill's son calmed down and closed his
eyes again, almost getting used to the tub e in his throat.

The doctor turned towards them, saying, "I'm going to see how it goes.
We'll pull out the respirator the next time he wakes up. If he manages to
breathe on his own, there is a great chance he'll be okay. It does look
hopeful, I'm glad he woke up." The man
 smiled and left them alone in the room, staring awkwardly towards each
other.

"I'm sorry." Bill could hardly make out his own words. 

"I know." Teena sat down on the chair and watched her son. Right now she
didn't really need to talk to her former husband, let alone discuss with
him why all of this was happening. She would have to be the one talking to
the man that had once been so impo rtant in her life. And she would have
to be the one persuading him to drop the matter. If not for Bill, then at
least for her son.



Tuesday, January 19

Mulder was persuasive in his conviction not to stay in the hospital any
longer. Despite the doctor's advice he released himself, pressuring Tom
into bringing him clothes and driving him home. It had been less than a
day since he last saw Scully but he did n't want to talk to her right now.
He didn't want her to know how he felt. Her family was more important to
her right now. He would not be able to bring in anything to help her get
through this.

Tom was quiet during the drive to Mulder's place, waiting patiently until
his friend spoke to him. Mulder didn't however. He sat quietly next to his
friend and stared outside. It had been a couple of days since he had seen
the outsides of the hospital. Th e only thing reminding him of the
accident was the pain his chest and the cast around his wrist. He was a
wreck, but mentally more than physically.

He had ignored Skinner's plea to talk to someone about it. He wanted to
linger on the memories of happiness before the accident happened, and to
see the light in her eyes before the car was crushed by a truck. That was
the only thing to keep him going rig ht now. That, and the knowledge that
he needed to find Lisa Messenger. Or she would find him.

Suddenly, he saw a woman on the sidewalk, her face and body covered with a
black, hooded coat. "Stop the car!" he heard a voice yell, only to find
out later it was his own. Tom instinctively reacted by pushing his brakes,
leaving the car to jerk and stop on the curb. Before the vehicle had come
to a full stop, Mulder was already out and running to the woman in the
black coat.

The woman turned and walked away from him, but not before he had caught a
glimpse of fierce blue eyes and a pale, scarred face. It was her! He ran
towards her, covering his chest with his good arm, the other still in the
cast and sling. He had trouble bre athing as he ran towards her, hearing
someone behind him calling his name.

Then he reached the spot where she had been, only to find she was lost in
the crowd that surrounded him. He stopped and breathed heavily,
concentrating on the present to keep himself from passing out. He felt
lightheaded and angry with himself for letting
 her slip away from him. 

"Mulder!" Tom was next to him immediately, and the next moment he felt a
strong hand on his arm. He swayed on his legs, thankful for Tom's support.

"Easy does it, Mulder," the man said, waiting patiently until his friend
was able to catch his breath again. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah." Mulder pushed away the arm and forced himself to look up again,
his face covered with sweat. "She was here, Tom!" 

He could feel his friend's sympathetic look as he said, "Take it easy. If
she was here, we'll find her."

Mulder noticed people were staring at them and regained his composure. As
he looked up, the woman was nowhere to be found. Tom finally let go of him
and watched him as he did a few steps forward. Angry with himself the
agent turned and walked slowly back to the car, again feeling a sharp pain
in his chest. 

In the car, Tom waited for Mulder to speak again, but he didn't. Mulder
closed his eyes and waited until the car started again, before drifting
off into a dreamless sleep. By the time they reached the apartment, Tom
was ready to drive back to the hospital
 in despair, worried that Mulder had hurt himself. But the agent opened
his eyes as soon as the vehicle stopped and started to climb out of the
car. This time he didn't argue when Tom offered a helping hand, leading
him inside the building. 

By the time Tom had him seated on the couch, he was ready to drop. He
didn't argue when his friend fetched a blanket from the closet and pulled
it over him, leaving him on the couch fully dressed but without shoes. The
last thing he knew before he fell as leep, was Tom's worried look as the
man grabbed the phone and made a call.



Wednesday, January 20

Fox Mulder woke up to the sound of voices in his apartment. His first
reaction was to make a move towards his gun and point it at the intruders,
but something told him these were his friends talking, and they were
concerned about him.

Sun was peering through the window of his apartment, wakening him as he
lay on the couch. Quietly and unmoving, he remained there for a long time,
wondering how long it would take for them to find out he was awake. He
didn't want to give them the knowledg e of his current state of
wakefulness, knowing that they would immediately stop talking and pretend
he was the victim in all of this.

"If he doesn't want to talk to someone voluntarily, I'm going to make sure
he's going to see the FBI's psychiatrist. I don't like the way he's
reacting to all of this." That was Skinner's voice.

"He won't appreciate this, sir," Tom's voice said softly, and Mulder could
just imagine the man's concerned eyes as they rested on him. From all the
friends he had made within the bureau, Tom was the one that knew him the
best, and he didn't even know the
 whole truth. He would also be the one most difficult to fool. "Mulder
doesn't want to accept the possibility of being the victim, he's too busy
to find out who this woman is he claims to have seen." 

"Do you think she was for real?" 

"Frankly, sir? I don't know. I believe Mulder but I also believe the
possibility that he might be mixing up the past with the present. If this
accident triggered responses from the previous one, triggered his memory
somehow, he might in fact be seeing thi ngs that aren't real. But I
believe that he believes and that's enough for me."

"So what do we do then?" 

"Keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't go after that woman by himself,
because we all know he'll go looking for her, sir."

"You're right," Skinner said after a while, "you are absolutely right. I
want you to stay with him, Tom. No matter what cost, I'll make sure you
get some time off to do this. If you need help, call me, but I'm already
putting my ass on the line here. If t hey find out that I've spent all of
my spare time with Mulder and Scully, they'll haul my ass right back in. I
shouldn't even be here, and definitely not be talking to you."

"I understand, sir," the younger agent said. A silence followed and then
the men spoke briefly again before saying goodbye. Mulder could hear the
door close and opened his eyes only to find Tom look at him. The agent
carefully got up from his comfortable position and sighed, shifting his
body so he could lean against the fabric.

"You heard, didn't you?" 

Mulder nodded and accepted the glass of water his friend poured him. "I am
going after that girl, Tom. If you're with me, then fine, but if you're
not, I'm going after her myself."

Tom frowned. "What about Scully?" 

Mulder looked at his friend. "What about her?" 

"Are you going to leave her alone in that hospital, frightened? Don't you
think your first priority is her?" 

"That's exactly what I'm thinking," Mulder said slowly, emptying his
glass, "I need to find out how Lisa did it, and then I'll find a way to
undo the deed. I'm no use sitting in that hospital at her side. I need to
find Lisa first, and then I'll spend tim e with my partner."

"You're afraid, aren't you?" Tom said, waiting for his friend to look back
at him angrily, "you think that by running away you can solve this matter?
Why don't you tell her how you feel, Mulder? She needs to hear it from
you!"

"She's not in a coma, Tom! She's not dead. She can talk and she can
respond. She'll start to hate me soon. It's like that, you see. At the end
you always blame the ones that are responsible for what has happened to
you." 

"You're not responsible." 

"Yes, I am. I got the message and I ignored it." 

"What message did you get?" 

Mulder sighed deeply, "There's so much you don't know yet. So much I
cannot tell you. It's too difficult to explain, too long a story." 

Slowly Tom took the glass from his friend's hand and said softly, "I've
got all the time in the world." 



to be continued ..