From: "Kristel S. Johns" Date: Tue, 23 Apr 1996 18:06:09 +0000 Subject: (Fwd) Nightscape 1a NIGHTSCAPE Kristel S. Oxley-Johns Please send all questions, suggestions and comments to the author at kjohns@mail2.alliance.net The characters and situations of the X-Files television program are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, DD, GA, et cetera, and are used without permission. No infringement is intended. I just want to tell a story. Part One (1/2) * * * * * Sighing, Agent Fox Mulder looked up from the files he was examining to the outer door of the office. Then, he glanced in the other direction, at the adjoining office which belonged to his wife, Agent Dana Scully. Both the outer office and Scully's office were empty. Mulder sighed again. Scully had told him that she had errands to run that afternoon, but that she would be back before long. It was not like his wife to be tardy. His wife. The thought brought a smile to Mulder's face. Even after nearly eleven months of marriage, he got a tingle of pleasure when he considered it. Pride of possession? Nah. He was just probably still in shock that a woman as incredible as Dana Katherine Scully would have him. He looked at her empty office again. It was separated from his by a single wall, which had a door at one end and a large glass window in the middle. By mutual agreement, the window between their offices always remained open. They had even gone so far as to move their desks to either side of the window. This was fobbed off by the excuse that it was efficient. After all, working in tandem as they did, they were often required to pass files back and forth. Only those who knew them well knew the truth. It had been a sentimental gesture. It had been a *newlyweds* gesture. Not that they weren't consummate professionals in the office. They would have it no other way. They strove to maintain their professionalism at the same level it had been when they had been partners and friends and nothing more. They almost never touched in the office, and none of the clerks, try as they may, had ever entered the inner office to find them in an embrace, even after hours. But the need to be within close physical proximity was still there. It was as though being within constant eyesight of each other at work and going home together in the evening wasn't enough. It was as though they needed to breathe the same air. Mulder grinned. However appropriate, it was a sappy thought. Discontentedly, Mulder glanced out at the outer office again, wondering what was keeping Scully. They were supposed to go over some files before leaving the office that evening. As he thought of her, the phone rang. He reached for it, knowing who would be there. "Hey, it's me," he heard her voice, and it brought a smile to his face. He wondered if she realized what the mere thought of her could do for his mood sometimes. She was in her car, he could tell by the background noise, and there was a breathless quality to her voice that gave him pause. It sounded as though she had been running. "I'm running late on my errands, so I'll just meet you at home, okay?" "Sure," he answered, a note of concern in his voice. "Hey, are you all right?" Now why would he ask that? Mulder wondered. Why should anything NOT be all right? "I'm fine," she replied. "I've just been rushing around a lot this afternoon. I'm beat." "How did things go at the lab?" he asked, and then sat quietly while she filled him in on the pathology from a victim in a case they had been working on lately. He listened to her report, and asked a few questions, making mental notes for the files. Speaking of files--"Hey, you want me to bring home those files we were supposed to go over this afternoon?" he asked when she was finished, already knowing the answer. Scully hated leaving work undone. She would want him to bring the files. She took him by surprise with her muted curse. "I forgot about those," she muttered. "Look, why don't you just leave them there tonight? We'll come in early tomorrow and go over them. All I want to do tonight is relax." Mulder began to smile again, wondering what sort of "relaxation" she had in mind. His thoughts took off on wild flights of fancy. Leave the files at work. Yes, ma'am. Right-o. He brought himself back down to earth. "Do you want me to pick up some take-out on the way home?" "I'm a step ahead of you," she replied. "I've already called ahead an order and I'm on my way to pick it up. All you need to do is meet me at home. Soon." He caught the emphasis on the last word and wondered just what it was that was going through her mind. "I'll pack up and leave as soon as I finish what I'm doing here, okay?" He thought he heard her sigh. "Yes, fine. I'll see you at home." "Scully?" he called out, hoping to stop her before she disconnected. "Yes?" He heard the click of keys from the outer office and realized that one of the clerks hadn't gone home yet. He lowered his voice intimately. "I love you." He heard her slight rush of breath and imagined her lips curling into a smile. "I love you too," she replied softly. "Now get home." With that final command, she disconnected. Mulder sat thoughtfully for a moment, then began to scoop the work spread over his desk into piles of indiscernible purpose or method of organization. It was a process Scully had long ago dubbed "Mulder filing." He toyed with the idea of tucking a couple of the files he no longer needed back into the filing cabinet, then decided against it. It would take too long, and he needed to get home. Unlike his wife, he had no qualms about leaving work undone. Smiling again, Mulder shook his head in a self-depreciating way. Nearly eleven months of being married to Dana Katherine Scully, and he still couldn't get enough of her. He stopped in the outer office to speak a few words to the last remaining clerk. She was new, he realized, and was no doubt staying late to prove herself. "I'm going home for the day, and Scully isn't going to be back in again tonight," he told her and noted her raised eyebrows. Yes, she was definitely new, and hadn't yet become accustomed to he and Scully's habitual use of each other's last names. They had been questioned about it more than once, and usually explained it away as being force of habit--they had been Mulder and Scully to each other for years before they had even thought of being husband and wife. It was only those people who knew them well who knew the truth . Long ago, calling each other Mulder and Scully had ceased to be a formality and had become an intimacy. To the rest of the world, they would be Fox and Dana, or Spooky and The Redhead, or Agent Mulder and Agent Scully, or even Mr. and Mrs. Mulder, though Scully had actually opted to keep her own name, claiming that two Agents Mulder in the same office would generate confusion. But only with each other were they simply Mulder and Scully, with all the confidences and intimacies that the standard endearments implied, and many that they didn't. They had been Mulder and Scully to each other for so long that nothing else felt right. Mulder finished giving his final instructions to the clerk and, whistling, left the office. He was struck by a wave of early July heat as he walked out into the parking garage, and he was grateful to get into his car and get the air conditioning running. It was a slow drive home. Usually, he and Scully stayed at the office until evening rush hour traffic had dissipated, but at five- thirty, the highways were still packed. The trip took twice the time that it normally did, and he knew that by now, Scully was at home waiting for him. He amused himself in the middle of the traffic jam by pondering what it was that Scully had planned for the evening. Each day of his ten and a half month marriage to Dana Katherine Scully had been filled with endless surprises as Mulder discovered aspects of his wife that he had never been able to in his capacity as her partner and best friend. He was never quite certain what woman would occupy that special place by his side from day to day, for she seemed to constantly change. He had seen her as fierce and ready to do battle as a she-wolf defending herself and her mate, or he had seen her shy and playful as a child. She could be tender, willful, nurturing, demanding, staidly forthright or delightfully whimsical. She not only fulfilled his every ideal of womanhood, but surpassed them and left them tattered beyond repair in her wake. She was everything to him. That she loved him with equal devotion seemed a stroke of fortune too good to be believed. She'd come to him at a time in his life when he had been lost and struggling to find his way, driven to mere steps from insanity by his single-minded pursuit of answers, particularly those pertaining to what had happened to his sister when she had disappeared the year that he had been twelve. Scully had hauled him back from that seductive precipice, tempering his hard-driven intensity with her calm rationality. She had joined him on his crusade, never shirking when it got ugly, at great personal and professional cost to herself, and she had enabled him to step back and take a broader view. Of all the things he had sought on his quest, the most rewarding thing he discovered, thanks to her, had been Fox Mulder. It hadn't been easy for her, and yet, despite all she had lost, she had stuck by him, staunch at his side no matter what happened to challenge her dearly held rationalizations. It was a test of faith that not everyone could have passed. And in spite of all, or perhaps because of it, she loved him... The thought baffled Mulder...It also thrilled him, amazed him, aroused him... Scully in love, he had discovered, was the most giving, passionate, uninhibited woman he'd ever known. She loved him with an abandon that left him breathless. For a woman who had always made a strict habit of moderation, Scully loved in extremes. She was the essence of his deepest fantasies, his most heartfelt desires. It was a colossal irony that she had been dubbed reticent at best and frigid at worst. She was surprisingly demonstrative outside the confines of the office and their self-imposed rules of comportment. She seemed even to surprise herself sometimes, and Mulder could be no less than utterly delighted. He was still whistling as he pulled into their parking lot. If he could read Scully at all, she had something special planned tonight. He left his car and went inside, jogging to the elevator to catch it before it was called to another floor. The apartment complex was neat and stylish in typical Scully taste. It lacked something of the homey atmosphere of the brownstone that Scully had lived in when Mulder first met her, but after the entire Duane Barry nightmare, she had not felt safe living on the ground floor, and had moved into a third story unit here. Mulder had joined her here when they were married. He reached their floor and entered the apartment. Inside, the curtains were drawn to block out the evening sunlight, and soft music came from the stereo in the corner. Candles had been lit and positioned at random around the living room and bedroom. He could hear sounds from the kitchen, and he entered to find Scully standing at the counter, scooping rice pilaf onto plates. She looked back at him and smiled. "Hi." "Hi, yourself," he replied, stepping closer to her. Seeing her, his heart took on a trip-hammer rhythm that sent his blood coursing through his veins. She was wearing a pale peach satin peignoir set that his sister had given her at a somewhat impromptu bridal shower a week after their decidedly impromptu wedding. It was an outfit that she didn't wear often, for a number or reasons. Ever the realist, she claimed that it was inefficient, and that if she wanted to make love, she would do herself the favor of wearing something easy-access. She also felt it was a shame to take the time to dress in something so lovely only to see it rumpled on the floor mere moments later. Mulder had threatened to take a snapshot of her in it to keep on his desk at work, and she had retaliated by threatening never to wear it again. In the face of such dire consequences, he had quickly abandoned all ideas of hauling out his camera, and Scully had compromised by saying that she would wear it for him on special occasions. It was enough for Mulder, since he usually preferred to see her more relaxed anyway, but there were moments when the thought of that satin against their skins drove him wild. Perhaps it was the sheer frivolity of the gesture that made her wearing the gown such a turn on. As a woman trying to establish herself in a male-dominated environment like the FBI, Scully had developed the habit of being studiously asexual, and it had carried over into her off hours, so that very rarely did she indulge her femininity. In that satin creation, though, it became obvious that Scully had no doubts as to her own femininity. It was the gesture of a woman who saw herself as a woman, and reveled in her ability to affect her chosen man. No, she did not question her femininity--she was just very selective about with whom and in what ways she displayed it. That she had chosen him, of all men possible, to be the one with whom she would share this side of herself sent a shiver of pleasure through Mulder. With her hair loose and flowing around her face, and the gown just a shade darker than her own skin tone, she was the most ethereal sight he had ever seen. He reached out and pulled her to him, giving her a lingering kiss. When they separated, he noticed that her face was flushed, and her eyes were sparkling in that same way that they did at Christmas when she had a present she was just dying to give him. "Hungry?" She held a plate up between them, offering it to Mulder. "Famished," he replied, his eyes darkening. He took the plate from her hands and set it back on the counter. Then he scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom. * * * * * =========================================================================== From: "Kristel S. Johns" Date: Tue, 23 Apr 1996 18:06:05 +0000 Subject: (Fwd) Nightscape 1b (NC-17) NIGHTSCAPE Kristel S. Oxley-Johns Please send all question, suggestions and comments to the author at kjohns@mail2.alliance.net The characters and situations of the X-Files television program are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, DD, GA, et cetera, and are used without permission. No infringement is intended. I just want to tell a story. WARNING: This segment contains depiction of loving, consensual sex between adults and has been rated NC-17. Part One (2/2) * * * * * He heard her contented sigh as he buried his face in her neck, kissing her shoulder where the robe gaped away. He wondered if sometimes Scully felt the same way he did, that if he didn't have her in his arms within the next breath, he would die. He felt her shiver as his lips caressed the skin of her neck, and Mulder realized that, for whatever reason, she was tense. In the bedroom, he lowered her to the floor and, taking her by the shoulders, turned her away from him. Gently, he began to kneed her shoulders. Scully moaned, eliciting a smile from Mulder, and her head dropped forward, baring her neck and shoulders enticingly. Mulder began to massage her lower back, and his lips brushed the tempting skin of the back of her neck. He pulled her close to him so that she could feel his reaction to her, letting her know without words just how desirable she was to him, how much power she had over him. She gave a quick shrug of her shoulders and the robe slid of her arms to the floor. Mulder brushed the straps of the gown off her shoulders and that, too, slid off her body, catching only briefly on her hips before joining its companion on the floor. Mulder gently nipped her earlobe, and Scully gasped. "So what's the occasion?" he murmured huskily, and was pleased to note the goose flesh that dotted her arms as his breath caressed her ear. She turned to face him and smiled. "I need an excuse?" Mulder's lips traveled up the side of her neck and she gasped again. Her hands removed his tie and began to work the buttons of his shirt with fingers that trembled slightly. Mulder's eyes closed as she began kissing his chest. "Nope. Forget I asked." Scully chuckled, a low, husky sound that brought an instant and marked physical reaction from Mulder. She brushed her hips past his to investigate, and smiled with pleasure. "Actually, I do have a reason, but it can wait until later to discuss." Mulder's curiosity was piqued, but any ideas he had of pressing for an explanation fell by the wayside as her lips closed around his nipple. "Sounds good to me--" he sighed. There was no more talk as Scully divested him of his clothing and they sank together upon the bed. Her small hands were gentle as they caressed every inch of his flesh, each touch speaking of adoration. Mulder sighed in contentment, awed, as ever, by the peace he found in this woman's arms. They had been through everything together, to and through heaven and hell, and each experience had only served to bind them closer to one another until they thought as one, acted as one, felt as one. She was more necessary to him than the air he breathed, and he worshipped her with his body and soul. She was the only thing that he had ever truly had faith in. Their spiritual synchronization carried over into their lovemaking, allowing them each to intuit what the other needed and give it, whether it was fast and furious or slow and playful. Mulder could tell by the way Scully pressed against him that what she needed most was to be cradled and cuddled and treasured, and all three he did in profusion. He held her close to his heart, his touches slow and infinitely tender as they traversed her body, massaging here to relax, touching there to arouse, sometimes seeking and sometimes demanding. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled her scent and told her repeatedly, in both words and action, how beautiful, how miraculous she was to him, how deeply he adored her. He clutched her close and buried himself inside her, and then lay there without moving, holding her until they could feel each other's pulse intimately. Scully wrapped herself around him, entwining him in her limbs and holding him close, as though she would absorb him into herself. It seemed an eternity later that he sank down beside her, rolling over and pulling her up to rest above him, her head laying on his chest. She made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a purr, and Mulder chuckled. "That good, huh?" She lifted her head to look at him, and he was amazed by what he saw. Happiness, delirious happiness in her smile. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair tousled, her face still wet with tears from her release, and she was utterly luminous--she glowed. Mulder felt thankful, once again, that it should be he who could bring that look into her eyes, that smile to her face. When had making this incredible woman happy become his reason for living? She nuzzled her nose beneath his chin, kissing his Adam's apple and burying her face against his neck, her fingers idly stroking his skin. She was an amazing woman, he thought. Without knowing that he intended to speak, he asked, "What's a classy, unbelievably wonderful woman like you doing with a moody, paranoid slob like me, Dana Katherine Scully?" She grinned. "You mean beside the 'for better or worse' bit?" "You were by my side years before that happened." She looked at him intently. "Don't you know? It's not that hard to figure out, Mulder. I might not always believe in the same things you believe in, but I have always believed in you." He sighed contentedly, her words causing a warm glow in the pit of his stomach, and a sweet ache in his chest, and pushed her head back down to his chest. She lay back down without a murmur, pulling the sheet around them to keep out the nip of the artificial air. Mulder was vaguely aware that the post- orgasmic endorphins were lulling him into somnolence. He must have slept for a few minutes, because when he opened his eyes again, the room was darker than it had been before. Scully still lay atop him. Her head was up and she was studying him as though she meant to memorize every detail of his face. She smiled into his eyes and asked, "Hungry?" "Not anymore," he responded, and was rewarded by her smile. It was a running joke between them, the intentional lack of clarification between the need for sustenance or the desire for more carnal pleasures, dating back to their first days as lovers. "For food," she said with a sigh of mock impatience. "I'm starving." "Then we should eat," he replied, making no effort at moving. He was hoping that she might change her mind, but instead, she rolled off of him and swung her feet to the floor. Muttering about cruel women, he began to climb out of bed. He watched Scully pick up her gown and drape it over a chair, then don only the matching robe and belt it around her waist. Mulder hauled on his silk boxers and tied a short flannel robe she'd given him for Christmas on. He followed her silently into the kitchen and sat on the edge of the counter as she put their plates into the microwave. He lifted one of the carry-out containers and studied the scribbling on the side curiously. "Greek?" he asked in mild surprise. When they ordered take out, it was almost always Chinese. Scully shrugged without meeting his eyes. "I had a craving." "So what's your reason?" "Hmm?" she looked up at him, her eyes not quite focused. He grabbed her arm and pulled her so that she stood between his knees. "Hey, you there?" "Of course." "So what's your reason," he repeated, "for all of this?" "Oh, well..." she bit her lip nervously, and then the microwave dinged. Scully sighed in relief. She's hiding something from me, Mulder thought, studying her with wide eyes. Scully NEVER hid anything from him. She was the worst possible liar, and they both knew it. "Food's done," she muttered, stepping away from him and grabbing their plates out of the microwave. "I thought we should eat out on the balcony tonight, maybe. It would be romantic." Mulder sat silently for a moment. He could take the plates from her hands and demand that she talk to him, but he didn't like to corner her like that. She would come to him when she felt she was ready. He sighed and slipped off the counter. "The balcony would be fine," he answered, kissing her gently on the forehead. "So, did you grab any champagne for this romantic little tete a tete?" She blushed and looked away. "No, uh--I think I'll just have some milk. There may be a beer or two left in the fridge from the Fourth if you would like it." "Hmm, milk lacks something in romance," he joked, hoping to elicit a smile from her "But then, so does beer. We got any iced tea?" "Of course," she scoffed. She always kept the fridge stocked with his favorite brand of iced tea, and he knew why. She handed him the plates and poured herself a glass of milk and grabbed him a bottle of iced tea. She then proceeded him out onto the balcony. She was quiet as they ate and watched what looked to be the beginnings of a gorgeous sunset. The quiet was unsettling, because it wasn't their normal companionable silence. She was hesitating on something, Mulder realized, watching her wage some unknown inner battle. She kept looking at him, her mouth half open and prepared to speak, and then she would look away again, down at her barely touched plate of food. The only thing she finished was the glass of milk. Finally, Mulder could stand it no more. "Is there something wrong?" She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "No. Nothing. Why?" "I've just got the feeling that you've got something on your mind that you're not telling me," he replied softly. She looked away from him for a moment, then back up. What he saw in her eyes was not reassuring. She looked like a trapped animal. She shook her head. "There's nothing wrong, Mulder. I'm fine." Mulder grimaced at the words. They set off alarm bells in his head. He watched her intently as she stood and walked over to him, taking his plate from his hands. Her kiss on his forehead and the motion of her hand as she lightly rubbed his hair still did not ease the feeling that she wasn't being totally honest with him. He followed her into the apartment, taking the plates from her in the kitchen and loading them in the dishwasher as she had a seat at the table. She blew out the candles, and Mulder read more into that gesture than a simple desire to prevent fire hazards. She was signifying that her romantic mood had ended. Mulder walked over to the table and pulled her chair around to face him. He then knelt before her, his fingers on her chin, forcing her to look up from her clenched hands in her lap into his eyes. "What's going on?" he asked gently. "What's on your mind?" Her mouth worked convulsively for a moment, opening and closing over words when the sound of the phone ringing intruded. Mulder tossed a glare at it over his shoulder, and Scully chewed her bottom lip nervously. Mulder looked back and Scully. "Answer it, please. We can't talk with it ringing like that." Mulder sighed and stood. He went to the phone and hit the "talk" button ferociously. "Mulder/Scully residence," he answered, not making a great deal of effort to keep the frustration out of his voice. He listened to the voice on the other end for a moment and nodded. "We'll be right in," he responded, and hung up the phone. He looked a Scully, who was watching him expectantly. "That was Bartel," he supplied, speaking of one of the agents working in the newly re-structured X-Files division. "A woman was just pulled out of a river in West Virginia a few hours ago. She was weighted down and had been stabbed numerous times. They would like us to look into it." "They think it's an X-File?" she asked. He nodded and shot her a worried gaze. "They found a scar on the back of her neck, and she was identified by two friends, both of whom happen to be card-carrying MUFON members." Scully blanched and stood from her chair. "Let's go." He grabbed her hand to stop her. "Wait. We should finish our talk first." She shook her head, pulling on her lower lip again, and to Mulder's complete surprise, she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. It wasn't just anything that could make Scully cry. "Hey, what is it?" She pulled away, wiping impatiently at her eyes. "There's no time right now," she murmured. "I promise, we'll talk as soon as we get home, when we don't have the news of this case on our minds, okay?" "Are you sure?" She nodded hesitantly. "Yeah. It can wait." He released her hand and followed her into the bedroom. She handed him his clothes that had been left lying scattered around earlier, and went to the closet to grab one of her own suits. They dressed in silence, and then Scully left the bedroom and went into the bathroom. When Mulder had finished dressing, he found her there, running a brush through her hair. He leaned against the door jam to watch her, and she glanced at him in the mirror. "We should probably take separate cars in," she suggested. "That way, you won't be stuck if I have to do an autopsy." "I can wait for you," he offered. Scully shook her head, and when she smiled, it seemed forced. "No. I think we've lost the atmosphere here, and I want it back by the time I get home. So you leave whenever your part is done, and then have a nice hot bubble bath waiting for me when I get back, okay?" Mulder's mind started to play with that one--Scully, water shining on her skin, bubbles surrounding her, her breasts bobbing on the water...He shook the image off and swallowed hard. When he looked at her, there was nothing he could deny her. He nodded mutely, and followed her out the door. * * * * * End of Part One =========================================================================== From: "Kristel S. Johns" Date: Tue, 23 Apr 1996 18:06:02 +0000 Subject: (Fwd) Nightscape 2a NIGHTSCAPE Kristel S. Oxley-Johns Please send all questions, suggestions and comments to the author at kjohns@mail2.alliance.net The characters and situations of the X-Files television program are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, DD, GA, et cetera, and are used without permission. No infringement is intended. I just want to tell a story. Part Two (1/2) * * * * * "This isn't the first one," was the first thing James Bartel said when Mulder and Scully entered the office. He handed them a file. "There have been others?" Scully asked, taking the file from Mulder. It was much easier for him to read over her shoulder than vice versa. "This is the first positive I.D. that they have had where the victim has been linked with MUFON," Bartel replied. He handed Mulder two more files. "They all had the scars on the necks, though. So far, there has been no discernible M.O., and if the M.E.s hadn't picked up on the incision scars, we'd have never known the murders were linked. As it is, we can only guess how many others there have been where a less observant coroner missed the scars. Two have been found in rivers, one in a quarry, another next to a road, and yet another strangled in her own front yard. This one, and two others, disappeared several days before their bodies were found, and the M.E.s say that they weren't killed immediately. When this one's friends were asked why they didn't speak up when she disappeared, they said it was because they thought she had been 'taken' again." Mulder looked at Scully, who was studying the file intently. She was unconsciously rubbing at the small scar on the back of her neck as though it itched. Only the small lines around her mouth and the tension in her posture betrayed her discomfort. "I want to see the body," she said, drawing a deep breath. "Are they sending it here?" "It's in transit," Bartel replied. "Should be here within the hour." Mulder looked at the files Bartel had handed him. "Two gunshot, one strangled, two stabbed...Not molested in any way, nor were there signs of a violent struggle." "The ones who weren't killed immediately had high concentrations of sedatives in their blood. Prescription varieties," Scully noted, looking at the blood chemistry. "If this is the work of a single culprit, we may be looking for a doctor or pharmacist, or someone with a nervous condition that would necessitate the use of those drugs." "The only other similarity is that they all live in the eastern states. This one was from Pennsylvania, but she was found in West Virginia, where she and her friends were visiting, two were from Maryland, one from New England, and one was from New Jersey. If it is a single culprit, he gets around," Bartel noted. "He knows what to look for," Scully added. "The highest concentration of acknowledged abductees is here on the eastern seaboard. Were the implants found on any of them?" Mulder handed her two Polaroid photos from the files he held. One was of a small plastic baggy with a silver dot inside. The other was an open pillbox with a similar tiny silver chip inside. "Found in the pockets and purses of the victims," he supplied. "Have there been any male victims?" Scully asked. "None that we know of," Bartel replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "The male MUFON contingent isn't that large," Mulder reasoned. "The female abductees have been more forthcoming with their stories, and we don't think that many men are taken in the first place." "What was their physical condition prior to death?" Scully asked. "Three were perfectly healthy. The other's pathology showed signs of abnormal, pre-cancerous growths on several major organs." "Abnormal?" "It didn't look like any form of cancer ever discovered before," Bartel replied. Mulder saw Scully go pale. The same had been said about the growths that had killed several other MUFON abductees she had come to know over the years, starting with Betsy Hagopian. "Thanks, Bartel," Mulder said, noting the green shade that had come over Scully's face. "We'll be in my office when the body gets here. Contrary to all their carefully laid rules of office comportment, Mulder put his arm around Scully and guided her into the inner office. Only the very observant would have noticed that his arm was the only thing holding her upright until the door closed safely behind them and she collapsed into a chair. She buried her face in her hands for a moment, and when she looked up, her eyes were glassy. "God, Mulder, I thought it was over," she whispered. She raked her hand through her hair. "The doctors were all killed, and those test subjects--and then the MUFON members said that no one had been taken since--I thought it was over. What is there left to do to these poor people, Mulder?" "Kill all the witnesses, Scully," Mulder replied, his voice weak. "Dead men tell no tales." Her head snapped up, and for a moment, she could not find her voice. "Mulder," came her ragged whisper. "I'm one of the witnesses." Mulder's eyes were bleak. "I know." * * * * * The corpse of Tina Mueller arrived as promised within the hour, and Mulder escorted Scully to the lab where she would perform the autopsy. He brought with him his files and waited outside while she worked. Scully gave him a look that let him know that, while his concern was touching, not much more would be tolerated. He ignored it. She emerged much later, looking grim. "I've got to wait for some test results," she said, looking thoroughly exhausted. "Why don't you head on home and I'll meet you there?" He shook his head. "I'll wait for you." She grimaced. "Mulder, I'm in the J. Edgar Hoover building. I really doubt that if I'm in any danger, it's going to happen here." He grinned, nonplused. "How long will your tests take?" "Half hour, forty five minutes, tops." "Well, gee, Scully, that is about exactly how long it is going to take me to finish studying these files here. Here's an idea: I'll wait here and finish these files and then I'll follow you home and draw you that bubble bath." Scully's eyes began to narrow. "Mulder, you can't do this..." "Scully, I would classify these circumstances as sufficiently extenuating to render null and void out 'overprotection' pact," he argued. She leaned forward, standing only inches from him. "Mulder," she said softly, "I love you. And I love you even more for wanting to take care of me, but we can't do this. We have jobs to do. I can take care of myself. Now go home and I will meet you there." He sighed, nodding reluctantly. Usually, he did not have any trouble letting go when Scully needed to do her own thing, even when they were working a dangerous case together, but this--this scared him. Scared him to the bone... He reached out and stroked the side of her face gently, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "There is nothing in this world I wouldn't do to take care of you, Scully." Her eyes were understanding. "I know. I'll call you if it is going to take longer than an hour for me to get home, okay?" He squeezed her shoulder briefly and then released, letting his hand fall away from her. He walked backwards, as though afraid to take his eyes off her until he reached the door. Then he was gone. Scully sighed, resisting the urge to call him back. She was afraid, too, but she knew the futility and frustration of his trying to be with her each and every moment. She turned to go back into the morgue, where the body and her assistant M.E. awaited her. There was one thing she hadn't told Mulder. She recognized Tina Mueller. She had been present at the meeting of MUFON members in Allentown, Pennsylvania the day Scully had found out about the other abductees. A chill made its way down Scully's neck and back. Too close, she thought. It was way too close to home. If she had told Mulder that little detail, he would never have left her alone. Clamping an iron grip on her composure, she re-entered the morgue. * * * * * =========================================================================== From: "Kristel S. Johns" Date: Tue, 23 Apr 1996 18:05:59 +0000 Subject: (Fwd) Nightscape 2b NIGHTSCAPE Kristel S. Oxley-Johns Please send all questions, suggestions and comments to the author at kjohns@mail2.alliance.net The characters and situations of the X-Files television program are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, DD, GA, et cetera, and are used without permission. No infringement is intended. I just want to tell a story. Part Two (2/2) * * * * * Mulder glanced at his watch when he got home. A half hour remained yet until the time Scully said that she would be home by. A half hour that would be fraught with worry until he knew that she was safe. Something about this situation scared him as never before. Even thinking of it, he felt a chill run through him. He had never taken the time to consider just how deeply allowing himself to love Scully was going to change the way he looked at their work. For the most part, he succeeded in keeping their professional life the same as it had been before they had become romantically involved. But there were times since he had married her nearly eleven months ago that he had wondered if it had been a well-advised decision--for her sake. By marrying her, he had announced to the entire world just where his Achilles' heel lay. If the right person really wanted to, they could use Scully to bring Mulder to his knees, to render him totally helpless, for he had told the truth--there was nothing he wouldn't do for her. He would betray anyone, anything. He would turn his back on everything in the blink of an eye. He would become their puppet, and Mulder did not fool himself into thinking that any would-be conspirators hadn't noticed. If they wanted a weapon to use against him, she was right there. By marrying Scully, he had placed her in greater danger than they had ever considered. But she had known that. Scully was a woman who would share a man's life 150%, a woman to stand by him and defy all the odds, all the adversities. She was his greatest strength, his staunchest ally. Sometimes it was she who knew better how to take care of them both than he knew how to take care of himself. It was she who knew exactly what order the scattered pieces went back together in when he flew apart. When push came to shove, she was the only one he would want by his side. What if she were taken from his side again? What if she were stripped from him, as she had been stripped before? To take Scully away from him now would be to destroy him. Before loving Dana Scully, Mulder had never realized just how dangerous having an Achilles' heel could be. He needed to relax, to stop pacing, Mulder told himself. He went to the fridge and took out the beer Scully had mentioned earlier, then he thought better of it and put it back. He resumed his pacing. He looked at his watch again. Twenty minutes until she said that she would be home. He looked longingly at the phone and shook his head. She would be furious with him if he even dared. He marched through the kitchen, taking the leftover take-out cartons and throwing them away, wiping the crumbs off the counter, and he thought wryly to himself that he must be pretty bad off if he was cleaning to keep his mind off things. Then he moved into the living room, and after that, the bedroom, gathering up the rest of their strewn about clothing and placing it in the hamper. He looked at the rumpled bed, and for a moment, his frown faded. Then he made his way into the bathroom and looked around, noting with dismay that there was nothing for him to pick up. He looked into the mirror, and thought that for once in his life, he looked older than he actually was. The light reflecting into his eyes off the bathroom mirror also made him painfully aware of the fact that he had a headache. Cursing, he slid the mirror to one side and pulled out the ibuprofen from the medicine chest. He was about to slide the mirror closed again when something caught his eye. He blinked at the round, blue plastic case that he had pulled out of the cabinet from where it had sat next to its companion, a tube on Nonoxynol-9 foam. Scully's diaphragm. But it shouldn't be here, Mulder thought. They had made love only four hours ago, and six hours were required before it could be removed. She hadn't used it that evening. The phone rang, shattering the silence, and Mulder jumped, dropping the bottle of ibuprofen. He walked into the bedroom where a phone sat on the beside table, the case still clutched tightly in his hand. He answered the phone and was relieved to hear her voice. "I'm in the car on my way home," she said without preamble. "There was nothing at all abnormal in the way that Tina Mueller was murdered, unless you count the fact that a scalpel was used, which would support the theory that we are dealing with a murderer in the medical profession. Her blood work came out clean--there were no growths or cancerous cells as far as we could detect. If she hadn't been a member of MUFON, I would say we were called out tonight for no reason." "But since she is?" Mulder's voice was soft and not terribly interested. "Well, there's no denying a pattern in the fact that we have at least five MUFON members murdered over the last two months, possibly more if a few slipped through the cracks. That is entirely possible, considering that for the most part, the abductees don't have much in the way of friends and family who would note their disappearances as being unusual. While I think we are obviously dealing with a serial murderer here, and this case definitely belongs in Violent Crimes, the only thing that qualifies it for X-Files attention at all is the MUFON connection." "And you," Mulder said, finally finding his voice. "And me," she acknowledged quietly. "Did you have any trouble tonight?" he asked, his voice soft with concern. "Nothing more threatening than a funny look from the night watchman in the parking ramp. I'll be home in ten minutes." "Okay. I'll be waiting for you." Again, he thought he could hear her smile. "Good, maybe we can finish our talk." She was about to hang up, when, for the second time that day, he called out, "Scully--" She brought the phone back to her ear. "What?" Mulder paused. What were you going to say to her, Mulder? He asked himself. Were you actually going to try to get into this over the phone? He sighed. "Nothing. Just--just get home soon." Nice recovery, Fox, he thought derisively. "I will." And she disconnected. Mulder looked at the case in his hand. They had decided months ago that they would not actively try to have children. There were too many unknowns involved, ranging from the questions brought up by Scully's three month disappearance years ago to the fact that they had made many enemies over the years. They had settled upon a satisfactory birth control method and had stuck with it. They had decided that, if an accidental pregnancy should arise, they would welcome it. If not, then they would think about adopting in a few years, when things settled down a little more and they were not in constant danger. It was because they could not bear to give up all hope of having a child of their own, though, that the idea of Mulder having a vasectomy had been bypassed. When had Scully changed her mind? Had she felt that she could not come to him after all the time they had spent debating the subject and announce that she'd had a change of heart? But it was so unlike her to resort to subterfuge, to do anything behind his back. The Scully Mulder knew in his heart would never use dishonesty, especially to do something so life-altering as conceive a child. She would have come to him and told him that she was willing to take the risks and ask that he do the same. How long had this been going on? Was this what she had wanted to talk to him about all night? Mulder sat on the bed with a thousand unanswered questions running through his mind. If he had been in the living room, he might have seen Scully's car drive up, and seen her get out of the driver's seat. He would have seen the shadowy figure come up behind her as she reached back inside the car to retrieve her purse As it was, he saw nothing. * * * * * Scully rolled down her window to let the warm night breeze whip her hair as she drive. She was eager and afraid, at the same time, of going home and telling Mulder her news. What if he wasn't happy? She hadn't planned to get pregnant. She and Mulder had discussed their options and come up with a decision that they could both live with, and though that decision had not been without its sacrifices, she had been determined to make the most of it. She had long suffered nightmares about the child that might issue forth from her body, tainted as she sometimes felt by what had been done to her. There was so much uncertainty before her, and sometimes the major task of her day lay in opening her eyes to face it all. Being with Mulder had helped somewhat, but still she sometimes felt overwhelmed. She had seen things that would have sent other women to a psychiatric hospital long ago, and she had not flinched, but nothing on this earth frightened her like the plethora of questions that this innocent life nestled inside her raised. And before she could even deal with them, she first had to let Mulder know. It was a daunting thought. Please, God, let Mulder be happy about the baby... Funny how, together, she and Mulder had the ability to make the impossible downright probable. Only a small percentage of a chance existed for her to conceive a child if she had diligently followed their plan of action, which she had. And yet, when she had awakened yesterday to find that the time for her monthly cycles, which she had always been able to set her watch by, had come and gone three weeks ago without her notice, she had known. Once more, she and Mulder had bucked the odds. Even more of a surprise had come the knowledge that she was actually nine weeks into her pregnancy. She had gotten her first period after conceiving as scheduled. She couldn't help but be elated, despite the dangers. Mulder was another story, though. She knew that he would love to have a child of their own, but his major concern with the issue had been the fact that there existed a chance that the attempt to do so could endanger her life. Scully sometimes found herself awed by the strength of his devotion. There was truly no sacrifice he would not make to keep her safe. The desire to have child was nothing in comparison. No matter how badly he might want a baby, he would go without if it meant insuring Scully's well-being. "There are other ways, Scully," he had murmured in her ear as they held each other and discussed the subject in their bed. "Ways that won't entail risking you. You are more important to me than all the children in the world." Scully dashed away the tears that came to her eyes with the back of her hand, thinking impatiently that her hormones must already be kicking in. Was it slightly selfish of her to want to have this baby so badly even at the risk of potentially depriving the man she loved of the one thing that meant everything to him? But it was too late. Even if it meant giving up her life, she knew she could never bring herself to end this pregnancy. And it wasn't just her Catholic upbringing that refused to allow the idea. In the course of less than twenty four hours, she had come to realize that there was nothing she wouldn't do to have this baby. Strange, she pondered, how a person's outlook can be changed so rapidly. Two days ago, she had been convinced that she could be happy the rest of her life without a child of her own. Now, it was the dearest desire in her heart. The second that she had woke up and realized that she might very well be pregnant, she had found herself doing things for the sake of her baby that she would never have done before. First of all, she had kept a secret from Mulder. It hadn't been easy. She'd had to call her OB/GYN to make an appointment for her pregnancy test, because she had wanted to know for certain before bringing the subject up. Then she, Ms. Frank-To-A-Fault-Dana-Scully, the worst of all possible liars, had concocted this elaborate tale about having errands to run, and had given her husband, the one person who always saw through her no matter what, a pile of files to go over so that he wouldn't suddenly take the inspiration to tag along with her on her errands, which was not an entirely unknown circumstance. She was secretly appalled by the ease with which she had delivered her lies, how simple it became to tell half-truths when she was doing it for the sake of her child. Mulder hadn't even had a clue of anything being wrong until her unease at the moment of truth had given her away. And it was then that she had noticed the second change. She had never had trouble staring someone in the eyes and telling it like it is, plain and simple. Her policy had always been to just lay out the facts as they existed and let the others do the adjusting. And with her husband, this was doubly true, since there was nothing on this earth she believed herself incapable of telling him. But, for whatever reason, she had stammered and delayed and gotten frustrated trying to find the words to tell him about the baby, and her normal forthrightness had been nowhere to be found. And then, just when she had found the way, the phone--that damned phone--had rang and pulled them apart. Well, now there were no more delays, no more excuses. She pulled into the parking lot at 11 p.m. and stopped the engine to her car. Mulder was upstairs waiting for her, concerned about her. He needed to know. They needed to decide how it was that they were going to handle this small, wondrous matter. She opened her door and stepped out of the car, then realized she had left her purse sitting on the passenger seat. She leaned back inside the car, maneuvering between the steering column and the back of the driver's seat to reach over and grab her purse. Scully would not have had a chance if the faint crunch of tiny pebbles on asphalt had not given away the covert approach of someone behind her. The hair on her neck stood on end, and she instantly grabbed for her key-ring with its little canister of pepper gas, realizing that she could not reach her gun in her present position and pull it from its holster at her waist behind her. She started to pull her head from the car, getting ready to turn around, when a hand grabbed her shoulder. She jumped, jerking back and hitting her head on the edge of her car roof. Stars filled her line of vision as she recovered, whipped around, and brandished the can of pepper gas. He was too close! He knocked the can from her hand before she could even get it high enough to be of any assistance. In a split second, Scully found herself body-checked against the car, pinned with one arm held out by the wrist away from her body. Even if she'd had the spray in her hand, she could not use it now. With his body pressing against hers, she could not get at her gun. She opened her mouth to scream and quickly, his free hand covered it and she felt a cloth against her face. She smelled fumes. Instantly, she halted the breath she was taking. She butted her head with all her might against the hand at her mouth, driving him back sufficiently to give her room to move. She slipped her free hand behind her back to wrest her gun from its holster and had almost succeeded when he pressed her back against the car again, trapping her hand behind her and crushing her fingers where they gripped her gun. She felt the need to draw a breath becoming urgent and swung her head wildly from side to side to try to free her mouth from the rag. He had positioned one leg between hers, angling his pelvis so that his hip drove into her, preventing her from using her knees or feet against him. Moving one leg, she was able to hook a foot around one of his ankles, and, slipping the hand he had been holding away from her body out of his grasp, she placed the heel of her hand against his shoulder and gave a mighty shove. Her foot tangling with his threw him sufficiently off balance for her to free the hand that was behind her, but her gun fell from her crushed and bruised fingers. Rather than waste precious seconds trying to recover it, she withdrew the hand completely from behind and shoved her fist into his Adam's apple. He staggered back, gagging, and she drew in her breath to scream again, knowing as she did so that the chloroformed cloth was not far enough from her face to give her totally clean breathing air. She began to feel lightheaded. What escaped her was not more than a short yelp that was not loud enough to draw the attention of anyone inside the building as he slammed into her again, this time driving the breath from her in a rush. He pinioned her arms against her sides as she gasped for air. He wrenched her around so that she faced away from him and pushed her forward, bending her over the trunk of her car. The edge of the trunk drove painfully into her solar plexus, and she felt the breath driven from her again as all his weight pressed down upon her. He hooked one arm through both her elbows behind her, pinning her arms between their bodies. With his other arm, he pressed the cloth against her thrashing head. With no air for breath and no means of struggle left open to her, Dana Scully slid into unconsciousness. * * * * * Sixty seconds after she ceased her struggle, her car door had been neatly closed and locked, the spilled contents of her purse gathered, and her bound and gagged form laid carefully in the trunk of a nondescript sedan waiting in the shadows nearby. Her belonging were set beside her still form, and the trunk was slammed shut. A grim-faced man stepped into the driver's seat and started the engine. Just as he was turning out of the drive, another car turned in. If it had arrived two minutes earlier, the passengers would have seen the struggle taking place and helped, but as it was, they parked in the same spot that the sedan had occupied only moments before, and got out and went inside. * * * * * End of Part Two =========================================================================== From: "Kristel S. Johns" Date: Tue, 23 Apr 1996 18:05:55 +0000 Subject: (Fwd) Nightscape 3a NIGHTSCAPE Kristel S. Oxley-Johns Please send all questions, suggestions and comments to the author at kjohns@mail2.alliance.net The characters and situations of the X-Files television program are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, DD, GA, et cetera, and are used without permission. No infringement is intended. I just want to tell a story. Part Three (1/2) * * * * * Mulder looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes since Scully had called. He frowned. She had said it would be only ten minutes until she got home. He set the plastic case on the bedside table next to the phone and went back out into the living room. He opened the drapes on the window and looked out the window at the parking lot. Her car was there. She was not in the lot, so she had to be on her way up. Mulder sighed and sat down on the sofa, waiting for her to come through the door. What are you going to say to her when she gets here, Mulder? He asked himself. Hey, Scully, you haven't been sneaking around behind my back trying to get pregnant, have you? Yeah, Mulder, real smooth. Or how about: Look, I must be the densest jerk on the planet not to see what this decision about kids was doing to you, Scully. Sure, the risks are acceptable. Let's go for it. The problem was, he wasn't sure he wanted to go for it. Not if it meant putting her at risk. His desire for a child to love had no basis in comparison for the love he bore her. One, he could do without. The other, he would die without. If it had bothered her that much, why hadn't she told him? Why the subterfuge? Did she think he wouldn't be supportive? Did she think he didn't want children? Scully knew him better than that! He looked at the door expectantly. She should be walking in right about-- --Nothing. He looked back out at her car in its parking slot. Yes, that was definitely her car. Was she still sitting down there, maybe delaying in coming upstairs and having this conversation with him that she had been putting off all day? He couldn't tell if she sat inside the car or not, so resolutely, he grabbed his keys and left the apartment. He waited for the elevator to arrive at their floor just in case she was on it, but instead, it was only their neighbors from a few doors down that stepped off. He started to enter the elevator, then changed his mind and took the stairs instead, in case she had chosen to come that way. There was no one in the parking lot when he got outside. The night air was still uncomfortably warm, and rife with the sounds of insects. He walked across the pavement to Scully's car and leaned over to look inside. It was empty. A chilly knot of dread began to form in the pit of Mulder's stomach. Slowly, he walked around the car. The doors had been locked, just as Scully always locked them when she left the car to go inside. Except that she wasn't inside He looked up to the window of their apartment, hoping to see her silhouette moving within, them somehow having passed each other with him on the stairs and her on the elevator. He hoped against hope that his overactive imagination wasn't playing tricks on him, but there was no movement inside the apartment. Mulder's foot hit something that made a tinkling noise. He looked down, and sitting half under the car were Scully's keys, complete with her can of pepper gas attached to the key chain. Cold realization exploded in Mulder's gut with a force that almost caused him to be sick. Then, he was on his cell phone calling for help. * * * * * Mulder stood by the curb watching as local police and FBI alike worked in tandem around Scully's car and the surrounding parking lot. He saw a car pull up and Walter Skinner, director of the FBI, got out and crossed in front of it. He opened the passenger door and helped Scully's mother, Margaret Scully, out of her seat. They ran to Mulder. "Fox, what happened?" Maggie Scully asked, her eyes wide with fear as she surveyed the scene. To their left, they could see the forensics team trying to lift fingerprints from Scully's car and the key chain Mulder had found. Mulder vaguely heard someone else mention that the can of pepper gas had been triggered. Mulder scrubbed a hand down his face. "I--um--Scully has disappeared. She's been kidnapped." There was a small, shrill tone in his voice as he looked down at Mrs. Scully. Her face had gone white. "Dear God, not again!" she groaned, burying her face in her hands. Mulder watched as Skinner placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. He was glad she was looking away, looking anywhere but into his eyes. He knew that soon the moment would come when she would look at him with accusation in her eyes and demand to know how he had lost her daughter again, why he had failed to protect her... Again. Instead, when she looked up, all he saw were tears in her eyes. He wasn't certain that the accusations wouldn't have hurt less. "Tell me what happened, Fox," she whispered tremulously. He began to reach out one trembling hand to her, then stopped, instead dragging the hand through his hair, his fingers clenching and releasing the strands as though they might be able to stop his frantic shaking. He was unaware as he did so that he had been repeating that gesture for the last hour, leaving his hair standing on end and looking like something that belonged in a circus--or a horror film. "Um--" his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Scully and I got called into the office late this evening on a new case. There has been a series of kidnappings and murders, the victims all being members of a UFO watch group called MUFON--the Mutual UFO Network. They all claim to have had abduction experiences like Scully's. They described the same events that she remembers, and even had the same implants in the back of their neck." He stopped as Maggie Scully made an incoherent noise, a cry of horror muffled behind tightly clamped lips. This time, it as she who reached a quivering hand out to him. He took it gratefully. "We took separate cars in case Scully had to stay late, but after we found out what was going on...I was going to stay with her and follow her home, but she insisted that I go on without her. She called me from her car an hour later and told me she was ten minutes from home. Fifteen minutes after that, I looked out the window to see her car out here. When she didn't come inside, I came out looking for her and found her key ring under the car. That's when I called for help." "Oh, my God," Maggie moaned, her finger's crushing Mulder's as her eyes sought Skinner's. "At dinner--all night long--I had this feeling--I KNEW!" It took Mulder a moment to realize what she was saying, and then he remembered the previous times when Maggie had sensed her daughter was in danger. There was a commotion from the team by Scully's car, and Skinner moved off in that direction, indicating with a shake of his head that Mulder was to stay put. Mulder ignored him and also began to moved towards the spot where the team worked, but Maggie refused to release his hand. He looked up to meet her tear-filled eyes. "Fifteen minutes," she whispered in horror. "How can someone just disappear in fifteen minutes, Fox?" "Mrs. Scully, I'm sorry," he murmured, his head bowed. "I should have followed her home--I should have known--" He fell silent. As much as he had come to love Scully's mother, he was too numb to be able to offer her any reassurances. His own words came back to haunt him: "Kill all the witnesses, Scully...Dead men tell no tales." Mulder began blinking, his heart becoming a hard knot in his chest at the thought. For a moment, he felt that he might throw up, the sinking feeling in his stomach was that desperate. Instead, he stiffened. There was no way that he was going to allow himself to be reduced to a puking wretch when Scully needed him. He wouldn't fail her this time... James Bartel was present. Mulder watched from the sidelines as he and the investigative team did their jobs, and did them well. He wanted to charge in there, take control, tell them how to get answers better, faster, what they were doing wrong. Except he couldn't. They weren't doing anything wrong, and he had no suggestions to give them. They were doing everything that he would have been doing if this had been another case, HIS case. He raked his fingers through his hair again. The deja vu was almost overwhelming. How many times would he have to sit helplessly by while the woman he loved was torn from his side? He felt utterly useless. It was an uncomfortable feeling. It was the feeling of being twelve years old and looking to his father's cold eyes and learning for the first time what it was to loathe himself. Scully had taken that loathing away. Her faith in him had given him faith in himself. Now, without her affirming presence, he began to experience those feelings he thought that he had left behind, that nagging sensation in the back of his brain that maybe, just maybe, her faith had been misplaced. Skinner returned to Mulder and Margaret and gave them what details he had gleaned. There was not much to tell, and nothing that Mulder didn't already know. Finally, Mulder cut him off. "I want to begin looking--" Skinner stopped him. "You can't honestly believe that I'm going to allow you to work this investigation, Mulder." Mulder glared at him and even Margaret gasped, "Walter!" "You don't honestly think you can stop me?" Mulder watched Skinner closely for his reaction to the insubordination. To his credit, he did not seem upset. But then, Mulder observed the protective way that Skinner hovered over Maggie Scully and realized that Skinner would have done the same thing himself in Mulder's position. It gave him an unexpected feeling of kinship toward the man. "I have no intention of preventing you from looking for Dana, Mulder. But you are not going to head up, or even be a part of, the official investigation team. I cannot allow you to work on a case so personal. You can assign the best of your people to the case if you would like, and if you have any leads, bring them to me and I'll push them through the proper channels. But there is no way you can work on the team--you know that. Find someone you trust and get them in there in your place." I trust no one, Mulder thought bitterly. No one except Scully. Oh, God, Scully! Resolutely, Mulder tamped down the despair that threatened to overwhelm him. Scully needed him. He had to be strong for her. How can you be, Mulder, when you're only strong because of her, because of her faith in you? His inner voice mocked. (I've always believed in you...) Last time she'd disappeared, he'd gone off the deep end, lost without her...How could he keep from doing so again? Because she has faith in you, Mulder. And you'll be damned before you let her down this time. Hellish visions played through his head of having to repeat a grueling bedside vigil, of Scully pale and lifeless upon a pillow and slipping away before his eyes. She'd bucked the odds once, but this time... How long can she keep bucking the odds, Mulder? The voice in his head taunted. How long before the law of averages starts to work against her, against both of you? But if there was anyone on the planet capable of doing the impossible twice, it was Dana Katherine Scully. And this time, she wouldn't have to do it alone. Suddenly, he knew he could not sit around inactive a moment longer. "I've got to get out of here," he muttered, turning away from Mrs. Scully and Skinner. "Fox!" Margaret Scully cried after him, and he stopped and looked back at her. Her eyes were frightened and tear-filled. She reached out a hand to him. "Where are you going?" He squeezed her fingers, offering her what meager reassurance he could give. "I'm going to see if I can't drum up a few answers. You can stay here until I get back, or if you want to go home, I'll call you." Mulder watched as she drew a deep, steadying breath, and he wondered if she realized how she leaned toward Skinner, who stood supportively behind her, offering her silent strength if she should need it. He wondered if he and Scully did that. "I'll stay," she answered. Mulder nodded and went into the building. He returned a moment later with Scully's dog, Clyde, on his leash. He tucked the dog into the passenger seat of the car and drove away. * * * * * =========================================================================== From: "Kristel S. Johns" Date: Tue, 23 Apr 1996 18:05:51 +0000 Subject: (Fwd) Nightscape 3b NIGHTSCAPE Kristel S. Oxley-Johns Please send all questions, suggestions and comments to the author at kjohns@mail2.alliance.net The characters and situations of the X-Files television program are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, DD, GA, et cetera, and are used without permission. No infringement is intended. I just want to tell a story. Part Three (2/2) * * * * * An hour later, he was walking through a public park on the outskirts of Washington D.C. with the little dog on its leash. To the casual viewer, he looked like nothing more than a man out taking his dog for a midnight stroll, enjoying the cool, late night breeze being stirred up over the Potomac. No one came near enough to see the tension in his pose, the expectation. Fox Mulder had learned long ago that sometimes, when he wanted answers, the best thing to do was to isolate himself and let the information come to him. He was not disappointed. Five minutes after he had driven out of the parking lot, his cell phone had rang and he was given instructions to be here in this park. He was passing a high fence around the public tennis courts when he heard the footfalls behind him. He whirled around, his gun in his hand, and had the man by his throat against the fence. He pressed the barrel of the gun into the man's cheek. "Tell me where she is, you son of a bitch, or I swear I'll kill you right here!" he snarled, his face contorted. Not the way he would have normally handled the situation. In fact, it was not the sort of thing this man would have normally put up with. He had killed men for less. Mulder knew that the man must have taken some sort of pity upon his plight, or else he'd probably be dead by now. He'd been doing business with this man whose name he did not know for a long time, sometimes good, sometimes not so good. Mulder knew the games that he was expected to play. Tonight, though, he was in no mood for games. Tonight, he wanted answers. "I do not know where your wife is, Agent Mulder," the dark man replied calmly, seemingly oblivious to the gun leaving its impression in the skin of his face. Wisely, however, he did not retaliate or resist the physical assault. Mulder, whom he usually had no fear of, was in a dangerous frame of mind. "Like hell you don't!" "The project was shut down, Agent Mulder. The experiments were terminated. You saw that. None of the subjects have been taken since that time." "Do you think I would put it past you bastards to kill innocent women just to cover your own asses?" Mulder scoffed. "'Kill all the witnesses,' right? 'Deny everything.' It's a clean-up operation, isn't it?" "No, Agent Mulder, it is not. Anyone involved in the project that posed a threat of exposure had been attended to, and none of the subjects could give conclusive testimony. There would be no need to tend to them. Agent Scully would not have been disturbed again." "Then who is doing this?" "I do not know, Agent Mulder." "Why should I believe you?" Mulder hissed. God knew it wasn't the first time this dubious informant had lied to him. "Because if you do not, you are going to waste valuable time indulging your paranoia, and your wife will end up like the others." Shaking, Mulder drew away, releasing the man and returning his gun to its holster. "If you're lying to me, and she dies, there won't be any place you can hide when I come after you." Without waiting for a reply, Mulder turned and stalked away. * * * * * It was four a.m. before Mulder returned to the apartment. A glance showed Scully's car in the same spot that it had been in previously, but now the investigators had all left. The parking lot was deserted. Inside the apartment, he found Margaret Scully and Skinner on the sofa. Skinner was looking at the TV with the audio turned down and the closed captioning on, while Mrs. Scully slept on his shoulder, his arm around her. Even in repose, a worried frown creased her brow, and there was a catch to her breathing. Skinner gestured Mulder to silence and slowly, moving with utmost care, he moved Maggie over so that she lay against the arm of the sofa, and rose. He followed Mulder out onto the patio. "I assume you had a meeting with one of your nameless informants?" Skinner asked with a grimace when the door had closed behind him. Mulder nodded, knowing Skinner had had his own dealings with that sort. "What did you find out?" "Nothing that Scully hadn't already told me. There is nothing paranormal or abnormal at all about this case. This is the work of a single person, working alone. It would be treated no differently than any other serial murder case if the victims hadn't all been MUFON members." "Do you have any theories?" "Well, I'm sure that there is no outside, organized involvement. These are not assassinations. The work is too sloppy to be professional, and if this was organized, the bodies would probably never be found, and no one the wiser. After all, most of these victims are lone women to begin with, which is probably why they were abducted in the first place--there would be no one to file a missing persons report on them or to search for them with any degree of concern. If they were to disappear permanently, no one would notice, except their friends in MUFON, who automatically assume that they've been abducted again. "Now the murderer could, if he wanted to, make them disappear. All he would need is access to an incinerator, or he could bury them in a secluded location. But he's leaving clues, which means we're either dealing with someone of limited intellect, or he's wanting to be caught, whether consciously or subconsciously. We are looking for someone very strong, probably quite large since it is obvious that Scully--" Mulder's voice caught, and he drew in a deep breath and continued stoically, "--attempted to defend herself and was overcome. I'm assuming that the other women, not having had her training, never stood a chance. Also, he is, or was, in some way either involved with the original experiments or with MUFON. He knows who to look for, and he seeks them out." "Scully hasn't been actively involved in MUFON," Skinner pointed out. "She knows what really happened during the abductions, and most MUFON members are still convinced it was aliens who were responsible for the abductions." Mulder refrained from pointing out that it had never been conclusively disproved that aliens HADN'T been involved, either as subjects or participants in the experiments. "Which supports the idea that the mur--kidnapper--" Mulder found it easier to think of the suspect as a kidnapper, rather than as a murderer, with its obvious implications for Scully. "--was involved in the project. Possibly one of the nameless, faceless grunts assigned to clean-up duty. Maybe he saw too many horrible things and cracked." Skinner frowned. "If that is the case, we have no idea where to begin looking, since I'm certain we'll never obtain the payroll records from the project. Likewise, how would this man, from doing that work years ago, know where to find these women now? Unless he has copies of the files kept on them, many have moved on, taken new names...How is he getting current information?" "Maybe he has infiltrated MUFON," Mulder hypothesized. "Kept tabs on all of them over the years, so to speak. Also, we don't know that he isn't involved in the project and has access to the files still kept on the subjects. But I think our best shot would be to check up on the male MUFON members, see what leads we can ring up there." "I'll have the team start checking on that tomorrow," Skinner said. "The files you and Scully compiled a few years ago on the MUFON members who were willing to share their stories with you will help there." "I really think that I should--" Skinner cut him off. "The subject is closed, Mulder. If you show up at work tomorrow, I will have you removed by security." "Fine," Mulder said grimly, "but I was about to say that it might be best for me to look up the MUFON members we have on file myself. They know me. They know I believe them. I was there when Scully interviewed them back in '98. They might tell me more than they would the team, especially once they know that Scully is involved. I'm sure that you can see why these people won't open up to just anyone." Skinner nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. Just make sure that they are aware that a different agent may be following up on any leads that they provide. I hate to do it to you, Mulder, but your involvement here has to be minimal." Mulder nodded, turning from the director to stare out over the large field behind the apartment building. The light from the room behind his cast his shadow against the ground below. He stared out at the sky, noting the absence of clouds in the nightscape. There would be no cooling summer storm to break the July heat. Mulder jumped as another shadow joined his and Skinner's on the ground below. The door behind them slipped open, and Mrs. Scully emerged onto the patio, rubbing her eyes. "Fox. How long have you been back?" "Only a few minutes now, Mrs. Scully," he answered. "Did you find out anything?" He shook his head. "Nothing solid. We have a lead or two to look into in the morning, though." "Morning. That reminds me, your mother and sister will be arriving on an eight a.m. flight this morning. I took the liberty of calling them and telling them what happened. They'll stay at my place. They said they would get a hotel, or stay here, but I knew you didn't need company in your home right now, and we can all support each other if we're together. I would like you to come stay at my place also, Fox. You shouldn't be here alone." "I appreciate that, Mrs. Scully, but I really feel that I need to be here right now. Near to her, in some way, at least. But thank you for calling Mom and Samantha. I'll pick them up at the airport." "No, Fox, you try to relax. I will take care of that. I'll bring them over when their flight gets in." "Thank you, Mrs. Scully." She moved to him and embraced him, and though he returned the hug, he was unable to relax against her. His shoulders drooped in exhaustion. "Come inside, Fox, and go to bed. I'll wait here until morning." "That's not necessary, Mrs. Scully," he said. "You go home and get what sleep you can, and I'll be fine here for a few hours." He gave a humorless laugh that had a slightly hysterical edge to it. "What are the chances of me sleeping, anyway?" She sighed. "I think that is true for all of us. Are you certain you don't want me to stay here?" He nodded. "Yes. I think I need some time to myself. Why don't you head home and I'll see you tom--later today." "Okay, Fox. You call me if anything--ANYTHING--happens, do you understand?" He nodded again, his eyes downcast. She took him by the hand and pulled him back inside the apartment. Skinner gathered her things off the couch as she pointed Mulder towards the bedroom. "Promise me you will try to get some sleep if you can?" "I promise," he replied, knowing, as she did, that he was lying. "I'll call you from the airport when your mother arrives," she hugged him briefly and drew back. "She'll be okay, Fox," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "She will." Mulder didn't reply as he watched them walk out the door. When they were gone, he locked the door and shut off the lights, going into the bedroom where only a single lamp glowed. A glance in the mirror atop the dresser told him he looked like hell, a thirty eight year old man looking fifty. His clothes were wrinkled, and his face was lined with worry. His hair spiked in three thousand crazy directions. He collapsed on the bed. Clyde jumped up and lay beside him, pressed closely to him. Mulder absently stroked him with one hand while the other was flung across his eyes, shutting out the light. He lay there several minutes, numb, and then he removed his arm from across his eyes. They focused on an object by the bed. The blue plastic case. He closed his eyes against the reminders, the implications, bringing forth memories of her, anything so that he didn't feel so desperately alone. He thought about the moments when they had made their decision regarding children. "We have to look at this rationally," Scully had told him as she lay in his arms. "For most people, the decision to have children in a natural one, an easy one. They can afford to follow their hearts. But with us, there is much more at stake." "We don't know what the odds are," Mulder had replied, "but we can account for most of the possible outcomes: "Number one, just to get off on the right foot here, there is always the chance that you could have a totally normal pregnancy with a totally health, normal child." "There is that," she had answered, "but there is also the possibility that I can't conceive at all. The doctors say that I'm the picture of health, but they don't even know of the existence of all the things that could go wrong to affect me or my pregnancy. There is also the chance that I can conceive, once or more than once, only to have conceived a child that has no hope of surviving until birth." She shuddered. "I don't think I could handle that." "Then," Mulder swallowed hard, "there is the chance that any attempt to carry a pregnancy to term on your part could be fatal for you. That's what frightens me most, Scully. I can live without a baby in my life, but I could never live without you." She embraced him silently for a moment, letting her touch smooth away the unsettling thoughts. "I'm here," she said softly, "and I'm healthy, and that's all that matters right now. We're together, and that's all I need." "I can face anything with you beside me ," Mulder had whispered into her warm, fragrant hair, "but I don't think I could bring myself to risk losing you over this. It's not worth it to me. I don't need anything else in life as long as I have you with me." And so they had decided. And inwardly, Mulder had been relieved. Unspoken, ugly words had remained unsaid, nightmares that they had barely allowed themselves to acknowledge. Like the word MUTANT. They had seen it before, lives twisted in ungodly, unnatural ways by the hands of man. Or something innocent looking but inwardly diabolical, like the Eves... Mulder opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. It didn't matter. Her reasons for changing her mind, for not telling him, didn't matter, so long as she was safe. Scully, his mind called out as a sob built inside his chest. Please, Scully--just be all right. Just hold on until I find you. * * * * * End of Part Three ===========================================================================