"Never For You..." An X-Files Novel - Chapter 22/23 -A Day of Reckoning - Pt. I by L. McCullen ---------------------------------- [A Day of Reckoning] April 10 6:48 AM The sun just barely creeping over the horizon, Larry Holland slowly walked down his driveway intent on getting the morning paper. Seeing the object of his desire rolled up in his paper box, suddenly he remembered that another primary election had taken place in some state he couldn't recall the day before, making a weekday edition of the paper thicker than normal. Groggily making his way back to the house, Holland started to unfold it and read the headlines proclaiming Rogers had convincingly won the latest round and with it his party's nomination. A few months from now the conventions would officially nominate him and send him into what was anticipated as the most hotly contested fight for the Presidency in the last twenty years. After reading a few other headlines, Holland folded the paper back up and stuck it under his arm. The small plastic object that fell to the ground would have gone unnoticed if it hadn't landed on his big toe. Reaching down he recognized the handwriting, but couldn't quite place it. In a flowing, erratic print he read the message. "Play me, ASAP!" Remembering some of the "mysterious informants" Scully had told him about back during her days with the X-files, "Spooky Jr." was intrigued immediately. `Hey, now we're getting somewhere.' ************* 7:43 AM The truck rolled up to the sentry posted outside of the main gate. With the practiced ease of a regular visitor, the man flipped open his credentials to the Marine for inspection. The man behind the wheel tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting patiently for the routine identification check that all military bases were consumed with in this day and age. The practiced efficiency of such actions should have made it quicker, but the man behind the wheel didn't give any indication something was amiss. Looking over to his left, the sentry hung up the phone and walked back towards the truck. "Here you are sir. Proceed to the south entrance, you should find the base housing to the left of the main barracks." Wanting to sound a little more legitimate. "Could you tell me where I could find Midway Avenue, that's where they told me the junction box is located." The guard reached around and grabbed a general map outlining the different areas of the Naval base. "Yes, after you enter the neighborhood, take the first left, stay straight and you should find what you're looking for. I believe there is a box at the end of the street if I remember correctly." "Thank you, Private." The sentry lifted the gate for the telephone repairman to pass, oblivious to the fact his rank had been clearly identified and used by a civilian. ************* 1:12 PM Mulder looked around for the extra bag of sunflower seeds he had lain on the passenger seat of the rental car. Finding they had slipped off the other side, he leaned over to retrieve his vice. The one Scully was increasingly becoming annoyed with. Having arrived in the `Big Apple' only a few hours before, it didn't take long to get to the Federal Building and check in with the RICO unit. A special FBI unit responsible for tracking and monitoring all the major crime families in the New York area. They were made famous by their most notorious capture back in the 1980's when, after many attempts, they finally brought John Gotti down. Probably the most well known, modern-day Mafia boss in the history of `The Mob.' After reading the latest surveillance reports, Mulder decided to play a few hunches. Without much time since learning of who Emilla Simonowich really was, he hadn't been able to study her much or learn any behaviors. A few mentions of an apartment building she visited or a boutique in the trendy uptown shops of Manhattan was the only tangible leads he had in tracking her down. Primarily, Mulder wanted to catch her out of her element, away from a familiar neighborhood where he might run into trouble if she could signal for help. Cracking down on another seed, Mulder glanced between the latest photo he had borrowed from her dossier and the corner boutique he was staking out. He sat there waiting, biding his time, Skinner's words about being lucky still fresh on his mind. ************* 3:57 PM After gaining entrance to the facility, the man checked the map of the surrounding areas looking for possible escape routes and other avenues that might be helpful in accomplishing his assignment. Entering had been easier than he thought possible. For ones that prided themselves on security, he had passed through in his stolen uniform with relative ease. No one had come to re-check his credentials or reasons for being there and from the looks of it no one was going to. Checking the time, he figured he might as well get a few things out to make it look like he was working. When setting up his area, he rested the long black slender case that would be used later under the tarp he had pulled out to setup. He looked around one more time. He figured at the height and angle he was going to shoot at, he might have some difficulty with the gun and the correct target. He wasn't especially practiced at this range, but with the scope and laser targeting sight it was as simple as a Polaroid. Point and shoot. The man reviewed his orders that were given to him late the night before. He could almost hear them in his head. The orders had come from the top, orders that would insure success in their plans. Take out the subject at all costs. Failure is not an option. ************* 4:36 PM The side of one hip already asleep, Mulder shifted to the other trying to relieve the dull pain from literally sitting on his butt all day. Three bags of sunflower seeds gone and a few pretzels later, he had nothing. No sign of his intended suspect. Figuring he had guessed wrong, Mulder turned the key and brought the standard issue Taurus to life. Taking one last glance at the corner store as he hit the gas, he saw a small woman walking towards the shop. The woman was familiar. Too familiar. He reached for the photo and compared the two while stomping on the brakes. A litany of curse words and horns came from the cars he was blocking behind him as his car was sticking halfway out into the road. Mulder quickly shifted into reverse and pulled back into his space. The woman he had been waiting for entered the shop and Mulder prepared to wait. Picking up the radio, he instructed his backup he had spotted his suspect and informed them to get into position. Fifteen minutes later a non-descript white van with government plates opened it's side door. The woman in question was ushered into the waiting vehicle as soon as she exited the store. For only a few brief seconds, the kicking and screaming could be heard before the van's wheel's screeched away, leaving the pedestrians to wonder if they had just witnessed a kidnapping. ************* 5:15 PM Sliding out the back of the truck, the man looked around for any suspicious persons in the area. The sounds of children playing could be heard coming from somewhere around the neighborhood off in the distance. All signs pointed to a successful hit if things remained consistent. He expected a big score for this little assignment. His job didn't usually involve such a risk factor, especially considering he was on an actual military base full of Marines and Naval personnel. Pulling out the harness that he had found in the truck, the man cinched it around his waist, pulling the slack out of the heavy nylon corded strap. Satisfied that it was secure, he looked around the back for the spiked shoes he had seen earlier. `Never did like heights,' the man mumbled to himself ************* 7:31 PM The screaming and thrashing had stopped over thirty minutes ago. Although he wasn't familiar with the intricacies with the Russian language, Mulder was pretty sure he knew a few curse words when he heard them. He decided that Emilla had probably tired herself out by now. Looking through the two-way mirror at the small, but tenacious woman, Mulder nodded to Skinner who had taken the shuttle up as soon as he heard of the capture. Mulder picked up the cups of coffee and entered the interrogation room. Unfamiliar with this particular type of criminal, Mulder decided that the firm, but polite way might produce the best results. Emilla looked wary at the first person she had seen since being thrown into the bland room with an obvious glass partition for observers. Mulder quietly set down the coffee in front of her and took out his pair of handcuff keys from his coat pocket. Reaching around behind her, he unfastened the cuffs and removed them. "Better?" Emilla looked up to the dashing man who had come to her rescue, bringing coffee. Greedily, she lunged for it and took a deep gulp, while glaring at her captor. "Yes, thank you." Mulder nodded at her without saying a word. "Why am I here, I've done nothing." Remaining silent, Mulder pulled out the photo of Marko Leskosev. Laying on his back, the eyes of dead man shot back at her. The man she had killed. The man she had duped into believing she was in love with. The dead man that had turned the feuding families into a bloody and brutal war. A mistake made that neither Mulder or Rogers had accounted for yet. "Oh... I think you've done quite enough." Walking back behind her Mulder went on. "You see..... when you killed him... and I do know that it was you that killed him..... you didn't count on anyone making the connection....you didn't count on us finding out you were seeing Mr. Leskosev. I mean, who would believe a member of the Simonowich family was screwing a `capo' in the Vorankovich syndicate?" "You have nothing," she spat back at Mulder in her Russian accent. Pulling out several more photos, he laid them out in front of her, painting a picture that any grand jury would be able to appreciate. A surveillance photo of her and Leskosev kissing. Another photo of her and Rogers together on a park bench. A photo of the bank in Charleston. Mulder then played the tape for her. The tape where Rogers was outlining his bold little plan to rig the election. A plan that would disarm the opposing party by throwing them into scandal assuring his own victory. "You see.... we know all about your and Mr. Rogers plans.... we know everything. We know Rogers is trying to rig the elections by destroying his competitor and in exchange for your family helping him, he's going to help you get rid of your competition." "That's not proof.... not proof of me anyway..... I did nothing.... you can't prove anything." TAP, TAP, TAP... Mulder looked over his shoulder to see Skinner poke his head in the door. "We have it, Mulder." Looking back to Emilla, Mulder smiled wide enough to show teeth. "We can now." Mulder walked back to the door and took the evidence bag from Skinner. He looked down at the object for the first time in years. What had once been a common sight for him in their early years had been stolen months before and would surely resurface to indict him if Rogers plan had ever succeeded. "While you were here this afternoon, Ms. Simonowich, we took the liberty of checking your place. We happen to know a few judges who like looking around suspicious Russian apartments." Mulder placed the Whalter PPK .380 that was licensed and registered to Dana Scully in front of Emilla. The gun of his former partner could point directly at him. A gun that was stolen from her apartment while she was out of town would have given Mulder access and opportunity to steal it if implicated in the shooting. They had figured on finding it with Mike Jarvis and his belongings, but it never materialized unitl now. Mulder had always suspected the botched burglary at Scully's was a little strange. He also knew that somehow, someday it would come back into play. They didn't call him `Spooky' for nothing. "You know? If you weren't so stupid, you might of had a chance." "Why did you keep it?" Studying her face as it fell into several shades of a pasty white color, Mulder knew the answer, he just wanted to hear it out loud. Maybe if Skinner heard it also, he could ease his conscious as well. No matter how many times he had proven himself he could never quite seem to win Skinner over completely. The defeated look apparent on her face, Emilla finally talked. "What do you want to know?" He shook his head at her. "I think we already know everything we need to." "You already have me for murder.... what else do you want?" "Murder?" Mulder looked at her incredulously. "Why don't you try on treason for size?" Emilla's face displayed the shock he expected. Mulder walked around behind her again. He slowly leaned down and calmly painted a picture for her. "You see.... murder only gets you extradited home or a few years in jail, but treason....... ahh treason gets you the chair at Levingworth." Frightened by the real prospects of death-row, Emilla completely cracked. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT!?!?" Mulder wasn't impressed with her outburst. A woman facing the real prospects of frying in Ol' Sparky in the state of Kansas was enough to send anyone into desperation. Smugly nodding his head in her direction. "You... all we want....is you." Mulder walked out of the interrogation room, leaving Emilla Simonwich to ponder her fate. A life under an assumed name in some God- forsaken suburban town where she would die of boredom and cheap imitations of good Vodka. ************* 8:49 PM From under his tarp the man reached for his case. The long slender item could easily double as an electric guitar case to the untrained eye. To the ones in the know, it was the residence of a high powered sniper rifle capable of hitting a marble from five hundred yards if it were in the hands of the right user. Night had fallen and the area was buzzing with activity. Using the darkness of his surroundings the man opened the case and admired his good fortune. Pulling out the stock and barrel, he slowly and meticulously began to put the weapon together. Sliding the pieces into the notches and grooves they were designed to fit, the man re-checked the laser sight and scope. A full magazine of ammunition lay inside the case. The last piece of the puzzle that would transform the case's contents into a powerful device intended for one purpose and one purpose only. To stalk To hunt To kill whatever came in its sights. ************* 8:58 PM At the top of his climb, the man who had impersonated a telephone repairman for the better part of the day, pulled out the rifle from inside the tool equipment bag he had hoisted up with him. Seeing the house of his intended target across the street and down the street a bit, he pulled back the slide, loading a cartridge into the barrel. Staring into the scope, he could see the occupants of the home stirring around. `Maybe getting ready for dinner?' He scanned the windows looking for his primary target. The orders, as given, allowed for collateral damage as well. In fact, it had been encouraged. Through the front bay window, he could see into the living room. A tall red-headed man stood up and walked around the room with his hands on his hips. Lowering his sights a bit, he could also make out the primary target. The vibrant red hair of his intended made for an excellent reference point when searching the room for other possible targets. Putting the gun back down, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell-phone. ************* 9:08 PM EST Shaking hands and welcoming well wishers to this night special events, Trent Rogers pressed the flesh as well as any politician could hope for. With his plans in reach, Rogers exuberance was palatable. He stopped backstage to take some pictures with members of his staff and their families before he was to go on stage. The auditorium had been busy in preparations getting ready for the night's event. A celebration for his closest friends and family members along with those that had helped him to secure the nomination with key wins in the primary elections. The painters and carpenters who had painstakingly readied the facility for media and other important guests had been working non-stop for the past twenty-four hours. The balloons and confetti all secured to the ceiling would come down at the end of his short acceptance speech in glorious triumph. Although the official celebration was months away at a national convention, Rogers had insisted that he speak to `his people.' He was ever aware the extra media coverage in print and television would secure him more of that `good press' he clamored for. From behind him, a black man who always kept his company, produced a phone from inside his pocket and handed it to Rogers. "Mr. Rogers.... you have a call for you." Rogers, fully aware of this day's importance, looked up sharply. "Who is it?" "The gentleman says he's from MCI wanting to discuss your long distance rates." Perking up at the news, Rogers took the phone immediately and stepped back into a small dressing room off to the side. Checking around him, just to make sure he had lost the Secret Service agent for the moment, Rogers took the call. "Yes?" "Mr. Rogers, regarding the customers you wanted me to offer my services to, all I need is your final approval and I'll take care of the matter." "Is she.... I mean are they there?" "Yes, sir. As best as I can tell, her and her brother's family are sitting tight just where you suspected they would be." Rogers smiled to himself at all the good fortune that had come his way recently. That tidbit of information Saunders had relayed to him about Mike Jarvis had paid off. The Jarvis fellow had been more than willing to give any information he could if it would reduce his sentence. Rogers laughed to himself, `Full pardon? Humph!' What a silly little thing that hope could produce from a desperate man was amazing. Returning to the matter at hand, "By all means, sign them up for your service." Flipping the phone shut, Rogers could hear the crowd out front chanting his name, pleading for his appearance. The knock on the door was from the Secret Service agent. "Sir, they're ready whenever you are." Smugly looking at the dressing room mirror, he saw the next President of the United States. `Must be the theme for the day.' END of "Never for You..." Chapter 22/23 -A Day of Reckoning- Pt. I "Never For You..." An X-Files Novel - Chapter 22/23 -A Day of Reckoning- Pt. II by L. McCullen --------------------------------- The man reached down for the tarp and pulled out the gun. Waiting for his target to get into position, he checked back to his left again making sure his escape route was clear. He reached into his pocket and drew out the eight inch blade of his knife and steeled himself for the event. The adrenaline and sweat flowing at an unprecedented rate, he raised his rifle to center on his primary target. Scanning, scanning...... there. Adjusting the sight a little more, he moved his free hand into position to activate the laser beam that would paint the target. No longer than an instant on the head, as soon as it was centered, the trigger would be pulled. ************* 9:26 PM EST Mulder reclined on his bed in the drab hotel room, trying to block out the noises from the bustling streets below. He closed his eyes for the first time in weeks content that all was going to be well. The large window beckoned him to walk over and observe the teeming masses. Emilla had told them everything. The clandestine meetings in Folger Park. The deal between her family and Rogers to mutually scratch one anothers back. The arranged romance and assassination of a Vorankovich family member. The planted photos of Rogers with his father. The laundered money from them to help Rogers. The promise from Rogers to put in office an Attorney General who would allow certain oversights to certain crime families. The payments to an outside source to push the proper buttons in order to set the plan in motion. The planned assassination of his mother. The continual surveillance of Scully and him, monitoring their progress. The attempt to separate them by having her transferred. Mulder had to laugh at that one. As it always was, being together was the strength, the backbone of what had led them to put the pieces together. Ironic that they would voluntarily separate themselves to continue the hunt. Alone, but together in purpose as well as in their hearts. The thoughts of Scully hadn't been far from his mind all day. His little plan for protecting her was a risk. He knew she would be upset at him for sending the messenger out there to relay his idea, but since hearing the plans of an attempt on her life with his very own ears, he didn't much care. `She can yell, scream, kick and beat the hell out of me as long as she's alive,' Mulder thought to himself. She would be furious with the help he had enlisted, but he only hoped it would arrive there in time. The messenger's background and knowledge of the area was important to getting them out of there successfully. Speaking to no one in particular in the room, "Hell, he even volunteered to help." A knock on his door shook him from his meditation. "Yeah, hold on a sec." Checking the peep hole, Mulder unlocked the door and removed the chain. "Come in, Sir." Skinner walked into his room and went for the remote control immediately. Flipping to one of the all news channels, "I didn't think you would want to miss what a fool he's making out of himself one last time." Seeing, Rogers walk up to the podium, Mulder turned and smiled to Skinner. With Emilla's agreement to testify against Rogers, the case would be sealed. His plans would surely fall through now. "You know, Sir? I'm going to enjoy watching him go down." Skinner returned the smile, agreeing that this would go a long way in restoring the reputation and name of Mulder's family as well as chalk one up for Mulder himself. ************* 9:29 PM The moment approaching, the assassin's hands were shaking a slight bit. Although not his first professional hit, it was most definitely the first one in this public a place. Seeing the taller figure through the window, he adjusted his sight one last time. Centering the target, he started to count down to himself. 10.......... 9......... 8........ ************* 9:31 PM Skinner and Mulder sat across from one another oblivious to the television while Rogers blared on about some education reform he was promising at his celebration. Talking about the plans on how to approach this with the Department of Justice, Mulder suddenly tuned out Skinner for a second and glanced back at the television screen. A moment in time, sticking out in his mind like something important was about to happen. The tingling sensation prickling at the back of his mind, he shook his head and tried to get back to what Skinner was saying. ************* 7....... 6...... 5..... 4.... Dana Scully looked over her shoulder, looking for her mother. She had been listening to their discussion the whole time. The message received. The plan Mulder had sent was arguably sound. No one would ever look for her and her family there. With no reason at all, she reached for the golden cross at the base of her neck and fingered it lightly thinking how much Mulder loved her. How much she loved him. How much they needed each other. Looking back up to the tall red-head in front of her, "It sounds like a good idea, even if it is Mulder's." The taller man she knew as a brother in arms smiled at the in-joke. ************* 3... 2.. 1. From his position, the assassin hit the laser actuator. The target lit. The trigger pulled. The split second, slow motion of the bullet exiting the barrel, rang out in the night. The primary target's head exploded in a pink cloud of membrane and bone. The scream of innocents, the only evidence of what was done. ************* Feeling it instead of only hearing it, both Skinner and Mulder turned to see the figure on television collapse into a heap. The screams of panic emanating from the television almost drowned out the reporter who was frantically repeating the same thing over and over. "HE'S BEEN SHOT.... TRENT ROGERS HAS BEEN SHOT.... PEOPLE ARE SCREAMING AND YELLING....... I REPEAT .... TRENT ROGERS HAS BEEN SERIOUSLY INJURED...." Mulder and Skinner looked at each other shocked. Their mouths hung open, unable to process the events of the past few seconds. ************* The same moment three thousand miles west...... The only thing Scully saw was the crack of the glass a millisecond before she heard the gunshot. Hit from behind, her former partner Larry Holland's eyes grew wide in pain as he slumped forward into her arms. "DANA!" She took him down to the floor. Reaching around to the small of her back, Scully drew her gun. "EVERYONE GET DOWN." Scully yelled. Everyone that was present in the living room hit the floor. A few screams of fright came from the other women in the room. Seeing the panicked look on Bill's face, she needed his help. She needed him to help himself. "Bill, get upstairs, get the kids.... keep them down and away from the windows." BANG ...... ZIP....... Having not seen his sister's FBI mode in action before, Bill quickly scampered up the stairs as a few more bullets ricochet off the walls behind him. Gasping for air, Larry Holland thrashed around in pain. Scully crawled over to him and checked his wound. The exit wound just below his solar plexus defied logic. How she had managed not to be hit must have been a miracle. The blood flowing freely from the front of his chest told her the wound had passed clean through. "Larry..... it'll be okay.... everything will be okay......don't leave me now partner." Hearing Scully's voice prompted Larry to reach out for her, latching on to her arm. "D-Dana.....Dana.......don't .... don't ...blame Mulder for this..... he only wanted me.... to get you.....get you a message.....this is.......my fault....." Shaking her head, "No....no, Larry..... it's no one's fault...... nobody knew this would happen...." In that instant, they both knew that these were his last few moments. She had seen too many wounds to know what was fatal and Larry could feel the end was coming as well. "Tell..... tell Denise I loved her.......I loved her so much ......" The words stinging her heart, Scully's eyes clouded with tears. "No....you tell her.... hold on Larry and you tell her yourself..." Larry's smile faded into another grimace as pain washed over him. "You..... you can't fool me doc..... I know this is the end of the road ...for me...." Scully cried for her partner, the one who had come to bring her a plan from Mulder, knowing he was right. All the medical science in the world couldn't stop what was happening. "Just..... do me one more thing, Dana........make sure Mulder doesn't .... have to go through..... what Denise will......" Scully nodded her head, unable to say anything. His instructions clear and precise. Save herself and Mulder by finding the guy who did this. "....and give her...... give her these last few minutes of me........ make her understand as well.......go get him..." Scully's tears fell onto his face as she cradled his head. "I will Larry, I will......" With that handsome smile he had perfected over the years. The one that swept his high school sweetheart to the alter, Larry Holland said his last words with a single tear escaping down his cheek. "Then what are you waiting for, partner...." Hearing those words again, in this context, pulled at her desperately. Frantically, Scully looked around the room. "Tara, get over here NOW!" A soft request that turned into a demand ZIP......CRACK......BANG.... The shots were coming now without warning. She only then realized then the sniper was using some sort of silenced weapon. The muffled sounds of a rifle's gunshots were faint at best. Both Tara and Margaret Scully crawled towards Holland, causing a few more bullets to fly through the window. "Tara, keep pressure on his wound..... hold down with all your strength." Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed 911. "This is Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI! I have an agent down! I'm at 211 Midway Avenue! It's a gunshot wound to the chest.....send the EMT STAT!" Shots continued to zip through the living room as she checked for Holland's pulse. Uneven and thready, she knew his time was running out. The slug must have been from an extremely high powered rifle to cut right through his body. The angle of the wound told her the sniper must have been from some place higher up. Scully also knew that he might have been better off if the bullet had lodged next to an artery. Instead, it must have hit one, producing the massive blood loss. In the background she could hear more shots being fired. This time they sounded different and they weren't coming in their direction. Checking her clip, she pulled back the slide and chambered a round. Margaret and Tara were doing their best to calm Larry as best as possible. Of course by now, Margaret was calling him by his first name, just like she had with Mulder. Wiping his brow and holding his hand, she kept his eyes focused on her, trying to keep him warm. ************* 9:32 EST Throwing the rifle down, the carpenter who had just killed Trent Rogers picked up the can of paint he had used as a decoy in securing his bird's eye view of the situation. The Secret Service had never come back to check on him. He doused the rifle with the paint in an effort to conceal whatever forensic evidence he might have left behind. His knife still in its sheath, he drew it out and ran to his left on his planned escape route. Along the way he cut the main cord to the nets that held hundreds, if not thousands of balloons, in an effort to add to the panic. He ran along the catwalk stripping his overalls for the police uniform that lay under them. Pulling out a revolver, the assassin blended in to the hundreds of people fleeing the auditorium looking like another policeman stunned by the recent developments. ************* Something deep inside Scully snapped. The sight of her former partner dying on the living floor along with the knowledge that she or one of her family members had been the intended target, made her furious. Crawling along the floor, Scully made her way to the front hallway and peeked outside. To her horror she saw the two Military Policemen sprawled out in the street, obviously hurt from the gunfight. Estimating where the sniper must have been from where Holland had been standing and where the M.P.s now lay, she calculated his position. Faster than she thought possible, Scully ran to the back of the house and out the door. Coming around the side of the house, she could see the telephone company's repair truck parked a few blocks down. Ducking just below the fence line, Scully ran up a few yards and surveyed the situation. Nothing No one in sight. The desperation she felt made her heart stop. The shots had stopped coming for the past minute. She feared whoever it was had gotten away. Still in the crouched position, Scully crept along the fence line. The repair truck was only about thirty yards from her now. Sirens from the ambulance could be heard in the background. With the shooter still possibly out there, she couldn't wait for help to arrive only to be shot down in cold blood like the M.P.s. No time for backup. No time for a plan. No time for one last prayer Scully closed her eyes and steeled herself against what unknown forces lay beyond the fence line into the open road in front of her. The calm was eerie. The noise that usually accompanied the neighborhood was gone. All signs of life and normality had been driven away by the gunshots of two dead officers in the middle of the road. The sirens getting closer canceled out any ideas of countdown. A dog barked restlessly in the distance. Somebody's grill was cooking steaks. Someone's child shrieked into the early dusk hour. The moment was at hand. Coming out of the crouch reminded her of Academy exercises that preached confidence and the ability to react instinctually. Let the training take over. It hadn't failed her yet. Scully's muscles betrayed her thoughts as she pushed away from the fence line to face area head on from where the shots were coming. "FREEZE FBI" A nylon harness lay on the ground, abandoned with a few scattered tools behind the van. A back door was still flung open. Still alert to the possibility of an ambush, Scully ran with all the stealth she could. Coming up to the side of the van, she backed herself up against it. Looking to her left she could see through the side view mirror the front seats were empty. Her gun pulled up even with her eyes, she wheeled around into the open confines of the back end of the van. Empty. The breath full of frustration and relief flew from her lungs. Resigning herself to the fact that it was over, she turned to go back into the house and check on Holland. The ambulance was barreling around the corner when she felt the impact of the bullet double her over in sharp pain. She saw the assailant that had hidden under the van scamper off into the night. With one last effort, Scully trained her gun on the diminishing figure hoping to put right what had all gone so wrong. Shaky and fighting off the oncoming blackness of pain and blood loss, she squeezed the trigger. Scully could not only hear, but feel the ambulance pull up behind her. Voices talking about a chest wound and requests for more help regarding their new situation murmured in the background. She never saw the results of her shot. By then, it was too late. A dying woman's last thoughts found a voice. "Mulder....I'm sorry.....I'm sorry...." ************* 10:58 PM EST Watching the networks and all-news cable channels contend for the best interviews and eye witnesses to the landmark event was surreal. The events of the assassination of a Presidential candidate were almost too much to comprehend. Anchors, unprepared, flustered with notes they never thought to take about the upstart who would capture a nation in a way he had never planned. Plans had changed. Having just secured his party's nomination and a final showdown with his chief competitor, Rogers now lay dead. A single gunshot wound to the head, literally taking with it the brains behind a conspiracy to take from the American people what they cherished most. Democracy. Mulder and Skinner sat in a stupor of amazement and frustration. To be so close to taking Rogers down themselves, only to have it done by someone else, was a defeat no matter how you looked at it. In that moment, Mulder knew it was all over. There would be not petition to the Attorney General to move forward with an indictment of treason, murder, or federal election tampering. Kevin Saunders, Mulder's unknown informant, would disappear back into the woodwork and never be heard from again. Questions would remain. Answers forgotten. Trent Rogers was now a martyr. Not a turncoat. Without surprise, Skinner's phone rang. A word or two from the Director about opening an investigation as soon as possible was expected. The fallout would be anticipated. The nation would mourn another fallen hero, never knowing the truth. While Skinner was taking notes and making preliminary plans, Mulder tuned him out. What had all of this been about? The past weeks and months of agonizing torture. The death of his mother. The lies and deceptions. Putting all their lives in danger. And Scully. The forced separation and the strain on their relationship when everything had been going so well. Would she want to continue this? Putting up with him? His past? Not knowing when the next skeleton would fall out of the closet and haunt both of them? Mulder's incessant thoughts were just warming up when Skinner's pale complexion broke through into his meditation. Skinner's usual stoic demeanor was given away through his eyes, searching out Mulder's. Mulder knew. He had always known. He would always know. Skinner didn't know what to say. His next few words were likely to unglue Mulder from the fine strands of sanity he had held onto for all these years. "Mulder. I just got word from the San Diego field office......" END of "Never For You..." Chapter 22/23 -A Day of Reckoning- Pt. II "Never For You..." An X-Files Novel - Chapter 23/23 -Restoration - by L. McCullen --------------------------------- [Restoration] San Diego Memorial Hospital Urgent Care Trauma Center April 11 11:21 AM PST The all night flights connecting him to various cities that would lead Mulder to see Scully had been excruciating. The only word Skinner had received was that three people were dead and two more were clinging to life. The Military Police had taken over the situation as soon as events warranted, securing all information of a terrorist style hit on a major U.S. Naval base from the general public. A combination of inept air-phones, bungling desk sergeants, and the time of night had all conspired to keep them in the dark. After fits of sleep filled with nightmarish pictures that would haunt him, Mulder and Skinner had finally touched down just over twenty minutes ago. No luggage to worry about, they met another field agent at the gate and ran through the terminal to the waiting car. The avalanche of vague information plagued them again as the field agent informed them no official word was being released until the families had given say so, but two Marine guards were dead along with at least one agent and one civilian. They had lost another one overnight. All the injured or dead had been taken to San Diego Memorial's Trauma Center. The picture was looking worse by the minute. Little information. No media coverage. No FBI involvement. If he had known better, Mulder might of suspected a cover up. In fact that was the very direction his mind was taking when the rented Taurus pulled into the Trauma Center's parking lot. As soon as the car had paused to let another car pass by, Mulder jumped from the car and ran as fast as he could to the front entrance, pulling out his badge along the way in preparation. The sliding doors briskly opening up to him made his heart clinch. No one came through these doors as a patient ready to leave in a few hours, if they left at all. Mulder could see the admitting desk centered in front of him, not more than ten yards away. Projecting his voice above all others in the immediate vicinity, "My name is Fox Mulder, I'm with the FBI, did you admit a Dana Scully last evening?" "Fox?" His given name used, meant only one thing. Turning around to face Margaret Scully, Mulder saw the last thing in the world he wanted to. Bill Scully, his wife, and the kids standing behind Margaret Scully, all stricken with similar expressions. Scully had been one of the dead. She was most likely mistaken for a civilian while staying at her brother's. Margaret stood before him, with her arm around another woman, eyes red rimmed in grief. The look of anguish on her face reflecting his broken promise to her. He let her down. Again. Mulder's throat tightened as if he were about to heave the stale airplane food he had shoved down a few hours before after taking off from Minneapolis. Another connecting flight from Las Vegas had brought him to this end. His own. The scope of what happened was seeping into every cell in his body. His heart clutched tightly in his chest, the pain not only emotional, but now a true physical manifestation. He reached down and grabbed his knees, trying to stop his labored breathing. His eyes shed tears that his body had yet to feel. So close and yet so far. The story of their existence she had once voiced, only to face its inherent cruelties head on in this last tragic twist of fate. Rogers was no longer a threat, but he and the universal forces surrounding them had won again. This time for good. As the next few seconds came, Mulder would remember this moment for eternity. The moment that all did not seem possible in this unyielding life of his. The hand that fell to Mulder's shoulder was heavier than he expected. At this point in time with all of his sensations rebelling against him, he knew Skinner had probably come to take him away. The last person the Scully family would want to see now was anyone named Mulder. Taking one last breath he rose back up to see Bill Scully's face even with his, the hand still on his shoulder. "I don't know why I'm even doing this, but....... I know about you two, Mulder. I know how she .......... come on." The trance-like existence Mulder was floating in instructed his legs to follow the older brother who still had his hand on his shoulder, pushing him up the hallway to some unknown destination. Mulder's mind, entrenched in the fog of pain, knew where he was being led to. He couldn't even believe it had come to this. Bill Scully walking him down a hospital corridor to show him the body. It was only fitting, he gleamed in a rare moment of certain thought. Like his sister, Bill Scully would show him proof of his deed. His undoing. His actions. Knowing what he would walk into, Mulder felt it only right Bill Scully exact his final revenge. Winding up in front of a set of double doors, Bill hit a button that would ring the attendant. A police officer exited a moment later with a questioning look towards Bill. "It's okay officer, he's........... he's family." The officer stepped aside to open the door wider to the two men. Instead of a steel slab, a bed. Instead of medical examiners, nurses. Instead of eerie calm, the sound of machines breathing life back into patients. Instead of a morgue, a recovery room protected by armed policeman and glass cubicles isolating each patient. Then he saw her. Scully ...... alive and breathing. A figure being attended to. The doctors that blocked the sight of her parted like the Red Sea itself, revealing the most glorious sight he had ever hoped to see. His body again betrayed him. Too undone to know what was the truth anymore, Mulder tried in vain to steady himself. "She took one in the lower abdomen...... she was lucky." Mulder looked back to the older Scully in amazement. "She came out of surgery just before you arrived. The doctors say the damage was compartmentalized..... the EMTs had just pulled up when she was shot last night." Mulder's brain raced to put the pieces together. "But, I was told a civilian and an agent were dead?" Bill Scully cocked his head towards his sister, "The civilian was the sniper that she picked off.......he died this morning." Bill looked at her fully before continuing. "She shot him from almost fifty yards away, Mulder." Mulder and Bill turned back to each other. Appraising one another, they afforded themselves a moment of admiration and pride for Scully before Mulder let a brief chuckle escape. Mulder's relief washed over him in waves. At that moment he could have walked to the moon and back, but the earlier scene in the lobby reminded him someone else wasn't as fortunate. ************* Room #223 San Diego Memorial Hospital April 14 10:12 AM Scully had been unconscious for almost four full days. The doctors had moved her out of the ICU to a more private room that was still monitored feverishly by a team of specialists. The light coma she had slipped into was induced by the doctors after surgery to relieve any excess pressure from her system. Giving her small body the opportunity to recover from such a major shock. Mulder had stayed with her as much as he allowed to, but fighting off Mrs. Scully's orders to rest periodically was impossible. The past three days had been impossible. Since taking him in to see Scully for the first time, Bill Scully had kept his distance and any comments from Mulder. The small olive branch that was extended hadn't gone unnoticed by Mulder, but any such opportunities to reciprocate didn't seem like they would be available any time soon. The distinct California sun shone through the window this morning. Mrs. Scully had left since spending the night watching over her. Silently, both her and Mulder had made a vow that she wouldn't wake up from this without someone there to greet her. Scully's vitals had been slowly improving during the past twenty four hours. The doctors said it was only a matter of time before she would awaken on her own. Sitting in a hospital chair like many of the ones he had before, Mulder rested his face in his hands with his elbows resting on his knees. Slumped over, he would miss the flutter of her eyes signaling her rebirth. "M-Mu-Mulder..." Mulder's head shot up as if he was the one that had been shot. Before him, lay the prettiest shade of blue he had thought he might never see again. "Hey, beautiful." Grabbing her hand, Scully turned her head to see the person she had instinctually first called out for. He lowered the guard rail and leaned over her, preventing her from making any sudden moves she wasn't prepared for. Gently sitting down, he pulled her hand to his lips, closing his eyes. A silent prayer of thanks was made to an unknown God that she had been delivered back to him safely again. Scully was confused and disoriented as she regained consciousness. Several machines on the other side of the bed also began to light up and make noises he had yet to hear. Soon, a nurse or doctor from the trauma team would be there to confront their recovering patient. Scully's small smile was only diminished by the resurfacing memories of her last few minutes of knowledge from the previous events coming back to her. "The sn-sniper.... d-did he get away?" Mulder brushed away the few strands of hair that had fallen in her face by her sudden movements. "No... he was ...caught." The relief was short lived as her mind played back further into time, revealing a horrifying scene. "Larry?" One side of Mulder's mouth quirked up as he tried to keep himself strong for what was about to happen. "S-Scully..... Agent Holland didn't make it." Scully closed her eyes wanting to sink back into the deep sleep that had been so comforting. It wasn't a surprise, however. She had known as soon as Holland's shirt was opened that the sheer amount of blood flowing out would be hard to stop in an Emergency Room, let alone her brother's living room floor. The squeeze of Mulder's hand brought her back to him. Looking back up to him, the tears falling down his face onto her bedding mirrored her own. Leaning down, Mulder kissed her cheek and pressed his face close to hers. "I'm sorry, Scully..... I'm so sorry...... I shouldn't have sent him..." Scully's memory of Agent Larry Holland standing in front of her relating Mulder's backup plan to save her and her family. Then the crack of the glass and the pooling blood from under Holland's shirt. The pain of the mental image caused her to grip Mulder's hand fiercely in return. "D-Don't do this, Mulder....... it wasn't your fault.... Larry told me...." Scully's attempt to say to much brought on a fit of coughing that was laced with the pain of her injury. "Larry told me about the tape you sent to him......... about how you asked for his help in getting a message to me......he wanted to do this... he even offered to hide us at his parents house..." Mulder knew she was speaking the truth, but he would never stop feeling somewhat responsible for sending Agent Holland to her. The selfish thoughts of not sending him were worse, because he knew Scully might be the one who's funeral he had attended the day before. A funeral, as far as he was concerned, was happy not to attend with Scully. The small service attended by close family and a few friends from D.C., as well as Margaret Scully. It was Margaret Scully who had relayed the details of Larry and Dana's last few moments together to Denise in that hospital lobby when Mulder walked in, fearful that her own daughter wouldn't be able to keep her promise to Larry and his wife. With Denise's parents unable to make the trip at such short notice, the elder Scully stood in for them. Mulder didn't ever want to tell Scully how he begged Denise for forgiveness. He would never want her know how Denise had enfolded him in her embrace and granted him just that, knowing Larry had wanted it that way. Moreover, Mulder would never want Scully to know how much he cried on her own shoulder the previous morning before the funeral, begging for God to take him instead of Larry. Mulder was so tired of all the pain. Tired of causing grief where there should be nothing but happiness. Now, drowning in his own relief at having Scully back, it was almost too much to ask for anything more. She was alive, well and would make another full recovery. "Scully..... but you know me.." He bit off a chuckle at himself. "I do know you, Mulder..... that's why I can't let you do this to yourself..... not this time.....Larry wanted to help us.... he was only doing what you would have done..... promise me...." She was interrupted by another fit of coughing. "Promise me." There wasn't anything Mulder wouldn't do for her and at this moment he resigned himself to taking some advice from an old friend. He just let it go. "I promise, Scully." The smile communicating things that words could not was broken by the doctors entering to check on Scully. Standing up, he leaned down and kissed her lips for the first time in what had seemed an eternity. Drawing back, he let the doctors get to the business at hand. He took a last look at Scully and slipped out the door. Sitting down in a chair outside her hospital room door, Mulder relaxed for the first time in ages. He propped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Fox..... what's wrong?" Hearing the concern in Mrs. Scully's voice rather than seeing it, he popped his eyes open to see her approach. "Oh... nothing. She's being looked at by the doctors. They want to see how she's doing since..." Mulder realized in that moment, Mrs. Scully still didn't know. "Mrs. Scully.... she's awake... she came to about ten minutes ago." Her eyes wide in anticipation, Mrs.Scully looked to him. His own teeth filled smile let her know all she wanted to. "She's fine....everything ..... she's going to be all right." Mrs. Scully closed her eyes in silent thanks and took Mulder's hand. She began to shake as she tried to hold on to herself, not wanting to cry again. She had been crying too much these past few days. "I need to thank you, Fox." "What for?" "For saving her again. For being there for her. You have always been there for her.... and for me when things looked like .... like all was lost." "I didn't save her.... she was almost killed because of who I am...." "Maybe so... but I don't doubt for a minute there is any place she would rather be, than right by your side..... that's why she keeps coming back to you....." "Your crusade has cost both of you dearly. You have been through more than anyone could ever believe, I know. But you two have always won..... you've always been together..... even when you both were lost." She squeezed their hands together, wanting him to understand her words and take them to heart. "And though most people would say you two lost too much along the way, that is why you've won. Because you wouldn't allow yourselves to fall when others believed you had lost everything." Mulder didn't know what to say. His conflicting emotions told him she was wrong. His mind told him and wanted to tell her if it weren't for him, maybe none of those times would have had to happen. But his heart told him to accept this. Accept the fact that you can't change history and even if you could, not all things would be equal. Mulder had spent the last few years learning that lesson. The lesson that taught him that to believe in fate and destiny meant things happened for a reason. People came into your life for a reason and people left it sometimes for even bigger reasons. Samantha had proven that last reason. Scully had proven them both. Covering their joined hands with his free one, Mulder looked back to Mrs. Scully. "Sometimes you have to lose everything to find what your looking for." Not knowing exactly how to take those words, Mrs. Scully found its meaning in his smile. END of "Never For You..." Chapter 23/23 -Restoration- "Never For You..." An X-Files Novel - Epilogue by L. McCullen -------------------------------- [Epilogue] Office of Walter Skinner, Assistant Director Monday, May 10 10:30 AM Almost a month had passed. Scully was returning to work today on limited duty. She would be ready in another month to go back to field work if she wanted. It had been over two years since they had both sat in these chairs side by side listening to their world being torn apart. A faint familiarity of years past came to them as they waited for Skinner to finish reading. The investigation into the assassination of Trent Rogers would officially close today with the final report that would be filed jointly by Skinner, Mulder, and Scully. A special joint commission was formed to look into the events of the assassination, with their report being filed on behalf of the FBI. Going back to the earliest beginnings, Mulder and Scully recreated, as best as possible, the events of the past seven months. From the first meeting with Rogers last November up until that dreadful day almost a month before now. The picture they painted with the help of a Russian brothel owner, Emilla Simonowich, Mulder and Scully detailed the point by point scheme created to bring Mulder and the Vorankovich crime family down as well as smear the campaign of John Campbell. The sniper that had taken the life of their fellow agent had turned out to be another henchman of Rogers. A check that had been deposited by the ineffectual would-be assassin was traced back to another dummy company belonging to the Simonowich family, from there, back to the campaign by Rogers. One thing had been left unsolved though. The actual name of the person who killed Rogers. Skinner would always believe it was Mulder's informant. Scully wasn't totally convinced it was related to the events at all, but Mulder thought it was someone like himself. Someone who had tired of being caught under the thumb of others who would dictate a future them. Someone who had the resources and the fortitude to take on such a desperate solution. Mulder would never have the proof, but he knew that his un-named informant, one who was in position to know everything and had told him to his face that he sought the same end to Rogers means, had done the same thing for that someone. Had done the same thing he had done for Mulder before. Pointed that someone in the right direction. His predecessor had always pointed him in the right way, why wouldn't this new version of an old ally do it for someone else? The past month had been spent deliberating and considering. Writing and editing. Re-writing and re-editing. Mulder had done the profile and motivations while Scully reconstructed the evidence to support their theories. Skinner released a heavy sigh. Pulling the cover flap over, he picked up his pen and began signing his name on the appropriate lines, joining his signature with the other two agents. "Well, I think that does it. I'm going to send this out to be copied to the commission members this afternoon. They might not believe it, but they sure will have some interesting reading." Mulder piped up, "With Emilla's testimony and the evidence in hand they won't be able to deny it." Skinner and Scully both looked to Mulder shooting him a look full of `You should know better by now.' Receiving the looks in stereo, Mulder laughed to himself realizing how foolish his words sounded. "Well.... maybe not everyone can handle the truth." Scully offered him a smile that told him that she agreed. Probably more than he would ever know. Mulder covered her left hand with his right, giving Skinner the perfect opportunity to finally ask the question he had barely been able not to. "Agents....... is there something I should know about?" A park bench suddenly came to Mulder's mind as he allowed Scully to field the familiar sounding question from Skinner, once again. Pulling her hand from Mulder's she held it up to him, "Oh this?" "If I didn't know better, Agent Scully, I would say it looks like an engagement ring?" Mulder sat there, as deadpan a look on his face as ever. Looking beside her, "Hmm, what do you think, Mulder, is it?" Mulder shifted in his seat for a closer inspection. "Yeah, it kind of looks like one. Wherever did you find it, Scully?" Looking like the baffled Special Agent who had just heard one of Mulder's crazy theories. "I don't know..... one day I was in the hospital reading a book...talking to some guy.... the next minute I asked him to marry me." "Lucky book." The smiles on each other's faces could have broken every tourist's camera in the D.C. limits in that moment. Skinner leaned back in his chair surveying the classic banter between them shaking his head. Skinner picked up the phone and rung his outer office. "Kim... you were right.... it was Scully." The agents looked back to Skinner completely perplexed. "What? You didn't think I would overlook it, did you?" Mulder looked to Scully, "Didn't we have theory about that, Scully?" ************* Ten years later.... Personal journal entries of FWM & DKS: It has become painfully clear as I look over the past years of our lives together what an amazing journey we have traveled. How so urgent a dream was cast that the light in which it was born came far greater things than I could have ever hoped for. My wandering heart that was tied so fervently to an idea so far gone, in my folly I realized what my existence was about and what could be if I could only see past my own experiences to get to it. When told of such things in the past, I couldn't fathom what other's took for granted. Their daily presence in and of this world only belied the fact that I was in it, among those whose purpose I once saw as hindrance I now know as necessity. The life givers all around me would come through and pass on a path that I couldn't understand, so devoted to my own course that the world surrounding took on a warped significance if only to defeat my own empty purpose. To this day, as I look back, I am even more amazed at what was given to me. Presented to me in a veil of alternate reality, the one person that would deliver me from my own exile came without judgment or false appearances. Ultimately making her own sacrifices for a cause I had started, she made it her own, if not by choice, but by free will. This is what I could not see, but now know with absolute certainty. Fleeing from the path of my destruction like so many had before, she decided ...... yes she decided to stay and fight. I sit here and think fondly of those days wishing I were the sole reason for this, but even my ego wouldn't allow me such an indulgence. Maybe it wasn't the fact she was delivered to me as much as I was delivered to her. Her own greater purpose outshining my own as we would be teamed up to fight for a cause that both of us could only speculate at in the early years of our partnership. An unknown goal, known only to us as the truth, a destination that we could never have imagined. Through our mutual shared passion for finding the truth we were able to sift and filter through those around us that would seek to destroy all that we could ever want exposed. It amazes me at the fortunate way in which our paths crossed. The men who would design my destruction in turn solidified and fashioned their worst enemy with the creation of our partnership. Partnership. The word just will never seem to hold enough meaning for what we were and have become. Looking back to the early days, if anyone were to have told me where we would be and what we had been through twenty years later I would have opened an X-file on them myself. Those early days of competitiveness bantering between us were literally the cloth in which we were cut from. Her unnerving hold to that which was rational and logic while I would clutch to anything fantastic in order to prove her wrong, but more importantly my memories correct. It all seems so long ago. As both of us came together in our beliefs, we also came together in so many different ways. It was probably inevitable that the two of us would eventually walk down the path of shared hearts, for we had belonged to each other far longer than we would eventually admit. The words and emotions of which I can't adequately describe for how much I love her could never see their way from my heart to hers. There could never be enough time or feeling to show her how much she means to me. She gave me life when I was a dead man. She saved my soul when it should have belonged to the devil. She awakened my heart knowing it could only belong to her. When I look at her now, I can't help but smile as I see hers more often than I ever have as we fondly reminisce about those days so long ago, but so firmly bound in our lives. For once we were alone, but never more. Regrets have long been replaced by what found along the way. A home and a family with that other partner of ours. Enjoying the time we are together and never forsaking what could have been as we know with certainty that our existence was destined if not contrived. With the sure course that has captained our ship into the sea of an unknown future we are sure of only one thing, our never-ending love for one another and our son Lawrence. I often kid her about how long we took to see our light, secure in the knowledge that our journey was required for this ultimate destination. She looks at me with the famous raised brow sharing in our little joke. Two people who were so seemingly tied up in independence, now so dependent on each other, it is the joke we understand. This fact that led us here. We were never independent. We were just waiting for the other to pick up the line and continue our expedition so the other could afford to rest on the other's strength, if only for a little while. It was only when we realized that a shared, collaborative union of strength would make us stronger that we were finally able to see the other and where we needed to be in each other's lives. When all was said and done, the life we would share together was our reward for so many years of sacrifice. Brought together to solve those perplexions of nature, those conspiracies among us, we would venture forth in relentless pursuit trying to solve them knowing that sometimes they couldn't be. It was at those times we would find a perverse satisfaction knowing that some things just weren't meant to be explained. How we could find in each other the oasis of our lives remained our mystery, though. A mystery neither of us were concerned with solving..... .....and maybe.....just maybe..... that was the mystery we were designed to find. ************* Gathering my thoughts has never been easy for me. Slipping through life I have, for the most part, relied upon the fact that having emotions rule your countenance can only serve to weaken you. I would secret my thoughts away and go with the feelings that raged inward, making those around me question the outward. The ruling party that my mind created sheltered my heart from pain and suffering in an effort to avoid what many see as a stereotypical failure within the realm of my gender. Letting them surface from time to time, especially away from others, would allow me more time to secure myself against those that I thought would use it against me. However, looking around, I found it increasingly difficult to keep this up, especially in light of the company I kept. For if I was the one who would hold on tightly, he was the one that released it without shame or burden. He broke so many rules, why should this one have been any different. Some days it seems I will never be able to get used to see him laying there beside me each morning. I lived alone with my heart for so long, I feared it did irrevocable damage. Those years of self enforced exile scarred me probably as much as having his sister taken damaged him. Holding on so tightly to what I feared, I now realize in an effort to protect myself it only served to hurt more. But he showed me. He showed me that letting go was the part that was both the hardest and easiest thing to do. Those early years in our partnership were constant wars of give and take. Each one of us giving a little less while the other would take more than we were offering. Dancing around our feelings so precariously, not wanting to take anything for granted. It would have been so easy to give in to what we both sensed. At times it seems like a wonderful time now, even in the light of what we now have that is so much better. Through our years together I would often doubt and second guess many of our choices. As partners, friends and now officially, husband and wife. It's just my nature I guess, but the one thing I never doubted, the one thing I tried to make him know I never questioned, was my immense love for him. An unboundless love that could never be qualified or measured. I can still remember my June wedding day and the look in his eyes when I said the only two words any man wants to hear from his hopeful bride. Although I never doubted his love for me, the unrestrained look of emotion filling his face was one that I had rarely seen. He was up there with his heart in his hands offering me the world, hoping it would be enough. What he could never know is exactly how much... how overwhelming it was to be offered what he was giving to me so freely. It's been more than I could have ever possibly hoped for. Without realizing it, he also gave me everything I ever wanted out of life. He gave me trust, strength, love and yes .....a child. One not of our own, but completely ours nevertheless. The same love that he used to show me the way, he would show to our son making him the only other member of our partnership that we would ever want. However, he didn't realize it and for a long time and I didn't either that what made me happy was just one simple thing. Him. Being in his life, him being in mine, knowing I made a difference in some way, was all I ever wanted. At one time I thought these things could only happen with a career and a professional life. How wrong we both were and how appropriate we should find out together. I still say those three words to him, but mostly for myself, everyday. Those three words that say so much about who we are and who we became, because ultimately I can't bear to think about where we would be if it weren't for each other. If it were never for his love, if it were never for his life. "Mulder, if it were.....never for you..." The End. ========================================== XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX ========================================== Author's notes: A fan of the X-Files since day one, I was passive in my appreciation for the stories that Chris Carter gave us weekly. As the seasons went by, I slowly descended into the madness of Philedom at an ever increasing rate. It was not long after that my love for computers and the X-Files converged resulting in spending countless hours on web pages, newsgroups and whatever else I could find. However, I consciously avoided fan-fic, fearing it my ruin my love for the show. After giving in and reading a short piece, purely by accident that, someone had posted to the wrong newsgroup, it struck me as odd how much I liked it. Falling deeper into the abyss of fanfiction I ran across Paula Graves "12" series early on and was hooked. It didn't ruin anything, it made me love the show more. After scouring Gossamer day and night in my free time, I built up a small catalog of my favorites and discovered a central commonality that I had also consciously avoided speculation of. In my darkest hours of addiction, the line between what the show portrayed and what I wanted to see happen started to blur. Sensing my worst fears coming true I had to come to grips with the fact and face the reality that Chris Carter would probably never grant our most heartfelt desire. In that same respect, he had given us an example..... an opportunity to portray the two main characters in a way we could only hope. In an act of unknown concession, I believe the door has been left open for our own interpretation and manipulation if we so desire in this medium where he first started himself. After seeing the website of Dawson E. Rambo, reading his works, my path was clear. He set the example for what was not only possible, but obtainable. An epic length novel that could chart the characters in a way no one else could.. To create my own work of fiction that I felt would be realistic and satisfying to those who had realized like me, that the romance we want can only live in fanfiction at worst or in the final episodes at best. My original goal, when I started, was to create a realistic scenario post- series finale that could approach issues even if they had grown closer, but still without consummation. Also, I started writing this on March 25, 1998, before the movie. While there are some spoilers contained, after certain revelations, I intended to keep it compatible setting this story sometime in the future after show ends. Yes, I know there are a lot of assumptions, but that's part of the inherent sticky points with fanfic. I've even thought about revising it as needed in the future, but that remains to be seen. Another one of my goals was to mimic the X-Files universe in which things are not often spelled out for the viewer or in this case, the reader. The greatest thing about the X-Files, to me, is the interactive way in which the stories are presented. Letting the reader discover the plethora of hidden meanings and sub themes that many will see and hopefully enjoy. The best stories in life are ones where you can go back and discover things you may have missed. Any questions you may have pertaining to the story will be gladly accepted and answered. Facing issues that no others could fathom, Mulder and Scully, in my opinion, would face obstacles that could be quite possibly catastrophic if handled the wrong way. Two people who are so close in some ways, yet distant in others. These thoughts intrigued me, the results being what you have before you. Indulging myself I set out to write a novel length epic that would require an investment from the reader that I can only hope to return with interest. And from Father Creator himself, I'll leave you with this quote. "You know, Mulder and Scully love each other. That's kind of obvious if you've been a fan of the show. They have a very intense relationship that's based on mutual shared passions. The natural extension of that would be a romantic relationship." -Chris Carter, June 13, 1998 Entertainment Tonight Even though he may never show one, it lives in and because of his works. Thanks Chris. -L. McCullen