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Archive Note:  Charleyne Hall has a new email address:  lazydark@aol.com
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From: lazydark@aol.com (Drakkar)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Perilous Overlays by Charleyne Hall  part 1/2
Date: Wed, 23 Aug 95 18:55:31 GMT


This story is a little trivial.  Kind of, well, strange I guess.  It
contains a lot of anger and mostly from Scully, who to me does not
seem to get very angry.  Forgive any incorrect facts etc.  Also, uhm,
don't worry if it doesn't sound like the charactors you're used to, I
tried my hardest :)


Enjoy the story and remember, the truth is out there!


Comments?  Send 'em to lazydark@aol.com

I guess X-Files is copyrighted to TenThirteen Productions and the 20th
Century Fox Film Corporation.  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Mr. X and
Walter Skinner belong to Fox Corporation too.  Uhm, any other names I
think are mine (Unless I used another copyrighted one that I don't
remember :)

If I missed any disclaimers, they should be here and I need to know
about them.

Perilous Overlays by Charleyne Hall
PART I  [Incomplete.  PART II to be read as well.]
[Fox Mulder's Office, FBI HQ - Tuesday in July]

     She glanced down at the file folder in her lap.  She couldn't
open it, without feeling a little remorse.  The tag on the cover was
enough to tell her what her soul felt.  Fox Mulder : XF001987, it
read.  She felt a tear sliding down her cheek.  It dripped on the
folder, making the red ink run.  More tears followed.  She let them
flow, no one would see them after all.
     She sat in his office, in his office chair, at his desk, looking
at all his belongings.  She stared at the boxes piled before the door,
which she would soon be forced to pack his things in.  She did not
wipe at the tears, instead allowing them to puddle on the file.  She
stared at the boxes.  Her feelings raged within her.  Anger, hatred,
remorse, sadness and most of all love.  Each lashing at her, making
her more miserable than ever before.  Finally the rage won out over
all the other emotions.  She picked the folder up from her lap, the
puddle of tears dripping onto her skirt, and flung it across the room.
Having done that, she grabbed the pencil which sat on his desk where
he'd left it and drilled it into the desk.  The lead broke, leaving a
dark black mark on the desk and sending it flying across the room.
She felt the anger drain from her body, being slowly replaced with
sadness.  The tears continued to flow and finally she put her head
down on the desk and cried wracking with sobs of pain.

[-----]
     The man stared at Mulder.  His gun out and pointed at the tall
brown haired, brown eyed man.  He smiled, knowing that it would be fun
to blow the mans head off.  The mans little partner standing at the
door, her gun drawn, staring at both of them.  He knew that if he shot
the man, she'd shoot him and it would be the end of his life.  He
didn't care, he'd killed enough people to have him executed.  What was
one more, and then the bliss of dying at the hands of a beautiful
woman?  He pulled the trigger and felt the gun kick back, then he felt
no more as her bullet entered his brain.

     'Mulder!' she screamed, pulling the trigger of her weapon.
Everything had happened in slow motion.  Mulder had been shot clear in
the head.  She knew he was dead, knew that her hesitation had killed
him.  Why had she paused when she saw the man pointing Mulder's own
gun at him?  Why hadn't she shot the man when she had the chance? Dana
Scully did not know.

     'You killed him!'  the words echoed in her brain.  [-----]

     She jolted out of sleep screaming, her eyes closed.  She heard
sounds flooding into her ears and realized that she had been dreaming.
She opened her eyes.  She was still in Fox Mulder's office in the
J. Edgar Hoover FBI building.  She found a kleenex and wiped away her
tears and the sweat that had beaded on her forehead, just as a
concerned agent peeked her head into the office.
     'Agent Scully?  Are you alright?'  the woman asked, not daring to
enter the office, which was situated in the basement of the building
where few had offices.
     'Yes, fine thanks.'  she replied, not meeting the agents eyes.
     'I heard what happened, is there anything I can do for you?'  the
agent asked, taking a step forward, yet still not entering the office.
Scully wondered if it was taboo to most agents.
     'No thank you Agent...' her voice trailed and she realized she
did not know the young agents name.
     'Kilpatrick.  Martha Kilpatrick.' the woman replied.  Scully
studied her.  She was fairly tall with long blond hair that was french
braided at the back.  She wore a blue pantsuit and small pump shoes.
Someone Mulder would probably whistle at, thought Scully.  She
wondered if Mulder had known this agent and was about to ask when the
woman cut in.  'I met Agent Mulder a couple of times, his office is
next to mine.  I uhm, heard you scream...'

     'I know, I-' she paused, cleared her throat and continued. 'I was
dreaming.  Falling asleep on the job again.'  she said and tried to
crack a smile, which turned out to be a lopsided frown.
     'Okay, well... Listen, if you need any help or anything, I'm in
the next office over.'  Scully nodded and the woman turned to leave.

     Alone again in her partners office, Dana Scully frowned.  She
sighed and picked up a down turned picture frame.  It was a picture of
Mulder's sister, Samantha, who had disappeared when he was twelve.
Mulder believed that it was aliens who had abducted her.  He often had
crazy ideas that were closer to the truth than even Scully realized.
Dana herself was a skeptic, believing mostly in scientific aspects or
life, knowing that anything that happened had a scientific
explanation.  Yet, Mulder had shown her a world totally unrelated to
her beliefs.  They worked on cases which involved paranormal
phenomenon and alien activity, things that no one else in the bureau
wanted to work on.  If Mulder hadn't opened the cases, they would have
sat on a shelf and been ignored for eternity.  Mulder called his cases
X-Files. Each and every one of the cases which bore the XF label, were
indeed strange.

     Scully had been assigned to the X-Files to help keep track of
Mulder's work.  Their superiors had begun to worry about Mulder's
ethics in dealing with the cases.  They sent in a scientist, a skeptic
to keep track of him.  That had been her purpose, to write reports and
notes on Mulder's behavior.  Mulder had referred to it as spying, but
Scully felt it was more like keeping watch.  Despite their differences
in opinions and despite the fact that she was "spying" on him, they
became good friends.  The cases progressively got stranger and
stranger still.  Scully found herself struggling to hold on to her
scientific beliefs.  Mulder had changed her life and in a sense he was
her only true friend.  Had been.

     She looked at the picture of Samantha, then put it back face
down, just as Mulder had left it.  She would have to do this later,
when she felt a little better.  She got out of the chair and stretched
her back, having sat there for almost three hours feeling sorry for
herself.  She glanced around the room and spotted one of Mulder's
favorite posters.  "I want to believe", it read in bold black
letters. It had a picture of a UFO above the words.  She smiled
remembering Mulder's face.  She wanted to cry again, but struggled to
contain the emotion.  She sniffed the air of the sweltering office and
wrinkled her nose when she smelled a faint tobacco stench.  She would
have brushed off the scent, except for the fact that Mulder didn't
smoke.  She wheeled around to find a silhouetted figure standing in
the shadows of the doorway.  She did not speak, waiting to see what
he'd come for.
     'I'm sorry to hear of your loss.'  the man said.  He blew out
another puff of smoke.
     'Like hell.'  she said, defiantly.  Cancer Man, as Mulder called
him, stepped into the light.
     'Ah, Agent Scully, is that any way to greet a grieving friend?'
he said, tauntingly.
     'You're no friend of mine.'  she said, reaching for her coat
which was draped on the back of Mulder's chair.
     'Now, now.  Why so harsh? I have done-'
     'Done nothing?  You're a... a... Oh god, why did you come here?'
she felt her cheeks flaming with anger.  She watched as he bent and
picked up the papers that had scattered on the floor.  He glared at
her.
     'I've come to give you this.'  he held out an envelope, plain
white with nothing on it.  'You should have a little more respect for
the bureau's files, by the way.'  he said and nonchalantly walked
away, leaving her steaming with anger.
     She felt like throwing a temper tantrum.  It didn't happen, she
was able to check her feelings enough to appear calm as she left the
office and locked the door behind her.

-----

[Dana Scully's Office, FBI HQ]

     Dana entered her office and looked around.  It looked as orderly
as she'd left it, which was the complete opposite of what Mulder's
office had been.  She frowned, looking at the pile of mail on the desk
and seeing the E-Mail light flashing on her computer.  She'd been away
too long, with Mulder's funeral and all.  She tossed her coat onto the
hanger behind the door of her office and shut it.  She moved around
the desk, scooping up the mail and lowering herself wearily into the
office's chair.  She kicked off her shoes under the desk and leaned
back in the chair, holding the mail primly in her lap.  She carefully
sorted through the letters.  None of them were very important looking,
except one.  She glanced at the carefully hand written label.  There
was nothing else on the envelope but her name.  It had obviously been
put in her office by someone other than the mail boy.  She carefully
opened the letter and took out the pages.
     She gasped as she looked at the letter.  There were six pages all
together.  Each page contained a series of neatly arranged newspaper
letters, cut out and pieced together to form the scolding words:

Shouldn't have shot me, you bitch.
The pain you'll feel will burn like an itch.

Thought I was dead?
Put a bullet through my head?


     Scully read on.  Each page getting worse as she read.  She felt
sick to her stomach and almost ready to throw up.  She grasped the
edge of the desk and pushed the letter away.  She palmed the cold
sweat which had formed on her brow.  She let go of the desk and balled
her fists to control her emotions.  It was getting harder and harder
by the minute.  Finally, the distraction she needed came.  Someone
knocked on the door.
     'Come in.'  she said.  The door crept slowly open and a black
face poked around.  Just the look on the face almost made Scully
laugh.
     'Hiya, Agent Scully.'  he said, stepping all the way into the
office.
     'Hi, Danny.  How are things with you?'  she asked.
     'Oh, they'd be goin' okay.'  he answered in his southern accent.
Danny was the janitor and one of Scully's friends.  'I really came ta
see how you'd be dealin' with...'  his voice trailed off.  Scully was
suddenly aware that the letter was still scattered on her desk, her
hands began to shake as she picked up each piece and shoved it into
the envelope, then into a drawer in her desk.
     'I'm okay, I guess.  I mean, Mulder was my friend.'  she said.
     'I know, I know.  Well, I guess I should be going...' he said and
turned to the door which was still ajar.
     'Wait!  Danny, don't go.  I could use a little company right
now.'  she said and she did feel much better with him in the room.  He
turned slowly and frowned.
     'You been goin' through a lot. You look like you need a friend.'
he looked down at his feet and she couldn't help but smile at his shy
nature.  Danny was the type of man who didn't have many friends.  Most
of the other agents just ignored him as he swept the hallways and
emptied the garbages.  He was one of many janitors that wore the bold
blue FBI badges.
     She'd met him a long time ago when she'd first become an agent,
after being drafted right out of medical school.  He'd been sweeping
up a mess around the autopsy table she'd been working on and knocked
over the cart of tools which had been beside the table.  He'd looked
as though he would cry, thinking she'd be mad at him.  She just
laughed at him and helped him to clean up the mess.  Then he offered
to help her collect fresh tools and they'd gotten to talking.  The
whole mess took almost an hour to clean up and since that day, he'd
stop in and visit her once in a while or would say hi in the hallways
when they saw each other.  He was a nice, uneducated man who had
landed a job with the FBI by chance.
     'You're right, Danny, I could use someone to talk with.  Care to
sit down?'  she asked.
     'Well, Miss. Scully, I can't really.  I have a lot of work ahead
of me and they'll just snap at me if they be findin' out I been
slacking. I just came to see that you're all right' he said and
chuckled.
     'I'm fine.  You can go but come back and see me again some time.
I miss our chats.'  she said and smiled at him.  She felt much better,
indeed.  Danny had succeeded in brightening her already horrible
morning.
     'I will.'  he said and slipped out the door.
     She looked at the door after him, feeling alone again and smiled
again.  She looked at her long coat that hung behind the door and
remembered the letter cancer man had given her, which she'd slid into
the pocket.  She slid out of the chair and walked around the desk to
the door.  She reached into the pocket and pulled out the plain white
envelope.  She turned it over in her hands as if willing it not to be
bad news.  She took a deep breath and slowly opened the envelope.  She
pulled out the carefully folded letter and unfolded it.  She found an
official FBI document staring back at her.  She suddenly felt afraid,
but read on anyway.

     "I Fox Mulder, agree that upon my death the X-Files may be
terminated and all cases sealed in the basement of the FBI
headquarters..."

     Scully read on, feeling her cheeks flaming red and her eyes
moistening.  So Mulder had signed something that allowed them to shut
down his lifes work as soon as his life itself was terminated.  She
was suddenly angry at him.  She crumpled the sheet and shoved it deep
into the pocket of the coat again.  She grabbed the coat and stormed
out of the office, while her rage was fresh.  She'd go right to the
source.

-----

[Assistant Directors Office, FBI HQ]

     Assistant Director Skinner sat at his office desk, going over
several files which needed to be completed by tommorow.  He glanced at
his watch and found that it was almost time for lunch break.  His
secretary would already have left.  He frowned and wiped a bead of
sweat away from his forehead.  He made a few marks on a sheet of paper
with the pencil he held, then shuffled through the pages again.
     A sharp knock on the door pulled him away from the work.  He
looked at the door, wondering who it could be, then shrugged and
called the person in.  He was startled to find Agent Dana Scully
standing in front of the door, red faced with anger.  He cringed at
the sight of her.  She was usually so calm and collected, gentle
almost.  She strode into his office, slammed a letter on his desk and
stood back, crossing her arms across the blazer she wore with the
skirt.  Her auburn hair looked somewhat messy and her blue eyes were
puffy, as though she'd recently been crying.  Her facial expression
was that of an almost pure rage.  He hoped it wasn't directed at him.
He tried to smile.  She only glared at him.
     'Read it.'  she said, barely raising her voice.  He looked at the
unmarked envelope and cringed.  He knew what this contained.  He
gingerly opened the white paper which enveloped the letter.  He pulled
out the letter and read it once more, although he'd read it a number
of times already.
     'Agent Scully, why have you brought this here?'  he asked, after
reading the letter.
     'Did you talk him into do it?'  she asked, her voice crackling
with anger.
     'I had nothing to do with it.'
     'Then why is your name right there in red ink?'  she asked,
pointing at the bottom of the page, where indeed his own signature had
been scrawled.
     'I had to sign it.  I had no choice.  They brought it to me to be
signed.'  he said, sitting back in his chair.  His own anger was
beginning to flame and he could feel the heat in his cheeks.
     'They?  Who are they, Mr. Skinner?'  she spat.
     'They are my superiors and I do what they tell me to.  Just as
you should do.'  he retorted.
     'I'm sick of this crap.  Why can't anything be simple.  I won't
let you shut down the X-Files.  I will fight it if I have to.'
     'Agent Scully, pull yourself together and try not to forget who
you're talking to!  I have orders to shut down the X-Files and that's
what I'll do.  You are going to be reassigned to Quantico to teach.
You'll be given your old subjects.  Now if you are not happy with
that, then send an official appeal and I'll see what I can do for you.
In the meantime, I am ordering you to take a week off to gather
yourself and to grieve for your loss.'  he said, firmly but not
without emotion.
     'Fine, I will go to Quantico but I will still appeal the shut
down of the X-Files.  No matter what Mulder signed, you have the power
to keep them open!' she said and turned to leave.
  'By the way, Dana, I never got to tell you how sorry I was to hear about Mulder.'  he said,
leaning back, his anger draining.  She slammed the door.
     Skinner was angry at himself, he did not like to lie to anyone,
especially to Agent Scully.  He had faith that she would soon discover
what all of this was about and he would do his best to help her find
out.  He just hoped that not too much damage would be done to her
psyche.

-----

[Somewhere out there]

     He felt the cold stones beneath the flannel pants he wore.  He
felt a throbbing pain in his head.  He couldn't feel much else.  He
couldn't see, for this place was pitch black.  He only had his
thoughts and they were solely on Dana Scully.  He hoped that she was
alright.  He knew that she had been somehow led to believe that he was
dead but he felt sure that somehow she'd find him where he was.  Where
ever that was.

-----

[Scully's Office, Home]

     Dana moved her hands on the desk, wondering what to do with
herself.  She had the next week off and could do nothing but think of
Mulder.  She grabbed the cup of coffee on the desk, sipping it.  She
swiveled in the chair to face the desk top computer that sat on the
desk.  She lifted the monitor to open the computer and reveal the
keyboard.  She turned it on and while it booted she took another sip
of coffee.  The computer automatically logged into the internet to
check the mail.  She realized that she hadn't read any of it at the
office and decided to go through it now, while she had time.  Six
messages in total.  Four of which were just boring junk mail from
other net surfers that happened to catch her name somewhere.  The last
two, however were more interesting looking.  One message had a "4 UR
I'S ONLY" as a subject line, the other had a strange subject:
"DKS:FM".  The latter meaning Dana Katherine Scully: Fox Mulder.  She
clicked twice on the last message.  The computer brought it up to the
screen.

     Rcpt: dscully@unknown.com
     Return Path: mfluder@quantico.edu.com
     From: mfluder@quantico.edu.com
     To: Dana Scully (dscully@unknown.com)
     Subject:  DKS:FM

     Agent Scully,

     There are many things that cloud your mind about that day when
Mulder was killed.  Perhaps you need to see a doctor.  A shrink, to be
frank.  You might be insane.  Heeh.  Insane, that seems likely.  Don't
reply to this message, I have crossed the channels, it will not get
through.

Remember Scully, the truth is out there, but so are the lies.  Watch your back.

Did you really see what you thought you'd seen?

     Your friend,

     MF Luder.

     Scully gasped at the message.  It still sat on the screen. Who
were these people that kept sending her such crap.  She remembered the
letter she'd received earlier in the day, the one in newspaper
clippings.  Now someone was telling her to see a shrink.  She pushed a
button and the message was put in the trash can, but something about
the message bothered her.  She pulled the message out of the trash can
and left it in the IN box.  She then double clicked on the second last
message to find that it was just more junk mail, with an interesting
subject.  She put all of the messages but the one in the trash can and
logged off the internet.

     Scully turned off the computer, picked up her cup of coffee and
moved into her bedroom.  From there, she gulped the rest of the coffee
down and set the cup aside.  She undressed and headed for the shower.

-----

     'You killed him!'  the voice screamed.  It wasn't her voice, it
was someone else's.  A deep and chilling male voice.  A voice she'd
heard before.

     Dana Scully cried out and sat straight up in bed, gasping for
much needed air.  Her heartbeat was quick and irregular.  Cold sweat
ran down her cheeks and body.  She glanced at the clock.  Four in the
morning.  Another nightmare, only this one was different a little
cloudy, unreal.  She pushed back the covers and pushed herself to the
edge of the bed, where she sat, staring into the darkness. After
several moments, she slid back under the covers and tried to sleep,
but could not.
     She slipped put of bed again and put on a grey track suit, tied
back her hair and pulled on a pair of running shoes.  If she couldn't
sleep, then perhaps she could burn a little energy on a jog, besides,
that way she could clear her mind.  She grabbed the yellow sports
walkman out of her dresser drawer and slipped the phones over her
ears, turning the music on she left her house, locking the door after
her.

     A few short blocks away from home, Scully stopped at a park bench
and sat down to enjoy the sound of birds signing in the early morning.
The July air was warm, but not stifling yet.  She pulled the walkman
off her ears and sat listening to the quiet chirping.  Lost in
thoughts, she did not hear the man step behind her, until it was too
late.
     'Do not turn around, Agent.'  he said.  Her entire body
stiffened.  'Put your arms slowly on the edge of the bench where I can
see them, do not attempt to move other than that.'  he said.  She did
not feel the pressure of a gun yet, but assumed that one was close by.
She did as she was asked, letting her FBI training take over.
     'Wha-' she began.
     'Shh, not a word.  I'm a friend, but I am afraid that I cannot
allow you to look at me, or I'll be forced to kill you.'  he said, his
voice was deep and unrecognizable.
     'Some friend.' she muttered.
     'That's enough.  Now, listen to me.  You must see a hypnotherapy
specialist.  Your friend, Dr. Carter, would be a good choice.  There
are some things you must know about the night that Agent Mulder was
shot.  I cannot tell you, you must figure it out for yourself from
here.  Do you understand?'  he whispered, breathing close to her ear.
     'Are you the one who sent the E-Mail?'  she asked.
     'No questions.' he replied, Scully started to turn out of
reaction.  'I wouldn't do that Miss Scully.' he said and she heard him
cock the hammer on the gun.  She returned to her former position.
     'Please, just answer that question.'  she said.
     'Yes, I was the one who sent the E-Mail.  I am going to let you
go now, you must not turn around or you'll suffer the consequences.'
he said, from a distance.  He'd already begun to move back.  Finally
she heard footsteps running away and she decided it was safe to turn
around.  No one was in sight.  For all she knew, she could have been
hallucinating or dreaming for that matter.  She got off the bench,
leaving the earphones dangling around her neck she jogged quickly
home, locking herself in.

-----

[Somewhere out there...]

     He felt his feet go numb.  It travelled up his legs and lifted
through his chest and soon his head felt light.  He watched as he
circled his own body.  He looked down at the broken man in the
darkened room, surprised at all that he could see.  The man below had
an expression of deep concentration.  His leg was broken, as was his
cheek bone.  He had many bruises the result of violent treatment.  He
groaned and then drifted through the wall.  He needed to find his way
to Scully, but he knew that he'd have to remember his way back or his
soul would be lost forever.

-----

[Scully's Home, Wednesday]

     Scully felt a cold chill, then the air grew very stale and pasty.
She'd been sitting at home reading the morning newspaper, her coffee
getting slightly cold.  The chill grew and soon the room was icy.
Scully got up to check the air conditioning register.  She was still
shaken by her meeting with the deep throated man on the bench, and
vowed to herself to call Dr. Carter when the office was open.  It was
now only eight in the morning, almost four and a half hours after the
meeting with the mysterious man.  She only wanted to call Carter
because what the man said in the E-Mail message had made her wonder,
had she really seen what she'd thought she'd seen?  The room grew
colder still and she was brought out of her thoughts.  The register
read that the air conditioning was normal.  Scully made a mental note
to call the repair shop anyway, later in the day.  She took her cup of
coffee off the kitchen table, leaving the paper, and poured it down
the sink.  She stuck her tongue out at the cold coffee that spiraled
its way down the drain.  She felt much better today, knowing that she
wouldn't have to go back to the office for a while, having momentarily
forgotten the letters sent to her the previous day.  She went to the
closet to retrieve a heavy sweater, then returned to the kitchen and
took the newspaper.  She then moved out into the living room and
settled into her favorite rocking chair, clutching the newspaper.
     'Scully?'  a very distant voice rasped.  She snapped her head
around, trying to hear the voice again.  She decided she was hearing
things.  Then, after moments had passed, the voice called again.  She
was sure she hadn't been hearing things the second time and the voice
had seemed weak, but much louder.  She could not discern where the
voice came from.
     'Hello?' she called.
     'Scully, where are you, I can't find you.'  the voice was much
more clear now, Scully felt suddenly sick.  Mulder?  Could it really
be him?  No, she was imagining things.  She felt as though she were
going insane, but she answered anyway, considering she would be seeing
a shrink later in the day anyway.
     'Right here, in my chair.  Mulder, is that you?'  she whispered.
     'Scully, it's me.  I'm here, you just can't see me.  I mean, I've
been here all morning, I needed to figure out how to voice it to you.'
the voice said.
     'That's not Mulder.'  she said to herself, loud enough to let
them hear her.  She figured it was someone playing an elaborate hoax,
yet it sounded so much like Mulder.  She wanted to believe...
     'I assure you it's me, Scully.  How can I prove it to you?'  it
asked.
     'Tell me how I drink my coffee.'  she said, unable to think of
any other way.
     'Cream. No sugar.'  he replied.
     'What did my father used to call me?'  she asked.
     'Starbuck.'
     'What did I call him?'
     'Scully-'
     'Just answer the question, damnit!'  she nearly screamed,
although she was quiet sure that this was Mulder, be it her
imagination a ghost or whatever, she didn't know.
     'Okay, you called him Ahab.'  the voice replied.
     'What are you doing here, Mulder?  How'd you get here?'  she
asked.  The voice sighed, she could almost picture Mulder's shoulders
heaving in the sigh.  It brought tears to her eyes.
     'I came to tell you that I'm dying...'
     'You're already dead.'  she replied, sitting on the edge of the
rocking chair.  Her hands twisting in her lap.  Great, she thought,
now I'm really losing it.
     'No, Scully, I'm alive.  I'm alive.'  She felt her face flush
with heat, despite the chill in the room.  She was tired of the game.
     'He's dead, why don't you leave it at that! I killed him and he's
dead.  He's dead...  Go away, leave me alone!'  she cried, falling to
the floor and cradling her head in her hands.  Tears flowed freely.
For a while, she thought they'd left her.
     'Scully, you didn't kill me.  I'm alive, but if you don't hurry
I'll be dead for sure.  I don't have time to explain how I got here,
but I know I'm fading fast, losing blood, thoughts...' the voice
trailed off, a cough wracked through the air.
     'Mulder, where are you?'  she asked, lifting her head and looking
around the room, searching.
     'I don't know, but you do.  Talk to someone, find out.  Scully,
do this for m-' the voice abruptly cut off, she called to him several
times but he was gone.  The air grew warm again and Scully knew that
she must've been imagining the whole episode.  A result of her
inability to sleep.  She shook her head, astonished by her behavior
but feeling much better, as though the thought that perhaps Mulder was
indeed still alive helped her get on with things.  At least she felt
that a great weight had been lifted from her heart.  She settled back
into her chair, pulled the sweater off and opened the newspaper.


-----

[Somewhere out there...]

     That was good, he was able to reach her.  He saw himself
spiralling towards the body on the floor, moved into it and was
hushed.  Only the occasional cough erupted from him.  He was whole
again.  He'd always known there had been some kind of psychic link
between them, he'd been able to find it and contact her.  An out of
body experience.  He coughed, happy that he'd at least been able to
tell her that he was still alive, given her hope.  Now he just hoped
that she would believe enough to follow her instincts and find him
before it was too late.
     Fox Mulder knew he was dying, in the cold dark room.

-----

[Dr. Carters office, Downtown]

     'Dana, what brings you here?' Carter asked, knowing full well
that she'd requested regression hypnotherapy.  He looked at her file.
This was going to be tough, he thought.  She was a doctor and everyone
knew that doctors made the worst patients.  Being friends also made it
even more difficult.  He and Dana Scully had both graduated from
medical school together, each going their separate ways, only to chat
once in a while or to have lunch.  They seemed to keep in touch
though.
     'Hi Glenn.' she said, striding over to give him a hug.  'I'm here
because I think I'm insane.' she said, giving him a genuine smile.
One which he hadn't seen in ages. One which he didn't think he should
be seeing considering all that she'd been through.  'Actually, I need
your help, apparently someone thought it'd be a big joke to point a
gun at my head and tell me to come see you.'  she said, taking a seat
across from the desk.
     He stood for a few minutes longer, regarding his friend, then
took his seat.  He glanced at her file again.  No prior uses of a
psychiatrist, no other mental problems indicated.
     'Well, can you tell me anything, that might help when I put you
under?'  he asked, puzzled over her reason for being there.
     'Uhm,' she pondered for a moment, finger on her lip. 'I just need
to be walked back to an event that occurred about three weeks ago.  I
was working on a case with my partner, Fox Mulder, which evidently
left him dead.'  She bowed her head a moment, then raised it again.
     'Yes, I heard about that.  I was sorry to hear it, actually.  How
are you getting along, I mean, I know you two were very close
friends.'  he asked sympathy dripping from his words.  He really did
feel sorry for her, after all, he'd seen Mulder and Scully in action
on a case and they just made a perfect team.
     'I'm holding up okay.' she said, then added: 'Except that I'm
hearing voices now, but I'll explain that later.  Let's just get this
show on the road.'  He nodded, standing and gesturing to the couch
which was across the room.  He watched as she got up and moved over to
the couch to lay back comfortably.
     'Okay, lets begin.  I am going to slowly count to five, when I
reach five, you will fall into a gentle sleep.  You must answer all of
my questions and you cannot lie.  Do you understand?'  he asked.
     'Yes.'  she said, closing her eyes.  Her face held a slight
smile, as though she thought it all a joke.
     ''One... Two... Three... Four... Five.  Are you there, Dana?' he
said.
     'Yes.'  she answered calmly.
     'Okay, go back to a time three weeks ago and tell me what you
were doing, you can pick any time of the day and any date as long as
it goes back at least three weeks.  Do you understand?'
     'Yes.'  she said.
     'Good, now tell me, what's going on?'
    ,lÚu`/úr,*Éd,?a~.—se?Ëing in his office.  He's looking at a file
and I'm scolding him for putting his feet on the desk again.  Not that
it matters, considering his office is a mess anyway.  He looks at me
with his puppy dog eyes and asks me if we can please, please have the
case.  I shrug and say yes.  Mulder always wins out on those sorts of
things.'  she relayed the events in an almost monotonous sleepy voice.
     'Good, now skip a could of days ahead and tell me what's
happening.'
     'Mulder and I have just linked a man by the name of Cory Craig to
the murders of six small children.  The case which Mulder wanted to
take involved us helping out violent crimes, it wasn't even an X-File.
Anyway, we are about to enter the building where the man was last
sighted.  Mulder tells me he will go in first and that I am to follow
in five minutes.  I do not like the idea, but I agree anyway.  I
waited five minutes, then entered the building.  I didn't see Mulder,
so I carefully searched each of the rooms.  My weapon drawn.  I'm not
sure exactly what happened after that.  I think I found them in a
room.  Yes, and the man had Mulder at gun point.  I just stood in the
doorway, hesitated.  The man looked at me, then at Mulder and smiled
one last smile, then he pulled the trigger.  Mulder's head exploded
just as I pulled the trigger, killing the man.'  she had begun to
sob. 'I killed him.  I waited too long and I killed him.  So much
blood.'  To be continued.....

===========================================================================

From: lazydark@aol.com (Drakkar)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: Perilous Overlays by Charleyne Hall Part 2/2
Date: Wed, 23 Aug 95 18:57:43 GMT


This story is a little trivial.  Kind of, well, strange I guess.  It
contains a lot of anger and mostly from Scully, who to me does not
seem to get very angry.  Forgive any incorrect facts etc.  Also, uhm,
don't worry if it doesn't sound like the charactors you're used to, I
tried my hardest :)


Enjoy the story and remember, the truth is out there!


Comments?  Send 'em to lazydark@aol.com

I guess X-Files is copyrighted to TenThirteen Productions and the 20th
Century Fox Film Corporation.  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Mr. X and
Walter Skinner belong to Fox Corporation too.  Uhm, any other names I
think are mine (Unless I used another copyrighted one that I don't
remember :)

If I missed any disclaimers, they should be here and I need to know about them.

Perilous Overlays  by Charleyne Hall
PART II  [The continuation.  Read PART I first or be totally confused :)]

[Dr. Carter's office]

'It's okay, Dana.  You're at your mothers house now, it's nice and
calm, you can stay there for a little while.'  he said, taking her
away from the pain and anger of the event three weeks ago.  Her
mothers house was the only place he knew of that would bring her a
little comfort before he was ready to go back.  He jotted down a few
notes.  'Are you ready to continue?' he asked, finally.
     'Yes.' was the simple answer.
     'Alright, you are back in the room, what happened then?'
     'I fell to my knees and passed out.  The next thing I remember
was waking in a hospital bed.
     'But you were unhurt?'
     'Yes, they just explained that I couldn't be revived at that they
had to take me to the hospital to be revived.'
     'Okay, now I am going to ask you a few more specific questions.
Remember that you cannot lie. Ready?'  he said, quietly.
     'Ready.'
     'Alright, I want you to describe the room.'
     'It was lighted, I could smell a tobacco scent.  There was
nothing on the walls. Plain.'
     'What did the man look like?'  he asked.
     'He looked exactly like his picture, dark eyes, dark hair and a
big nose.'  he made a note and asked another question.
     'What did his chin look like?'
     'It looked exactly like his picture.'  she replied.
     'What about his eyes, what colour were they?'
     'They were dark.'
     'Yes, but what colour were they?'
     'They were dark coloured eyes.'  she repeated.  Suddenly, the
doctor began to wonder if her mind had been tampered with.
     'Dana, tell me what colour of eyes they were.  Dark is not a
colour.  Remember you cannot lie!'
     'They were... I don't know. I don't know what colour they were!'
she sobbed.
     'Okay, calm down, it's all right.  May I continue?' he asked.
     'Yes.'  she replied again.
     'Hm, okay, his eyes were dark his face looked exactly like the
picture.  Uhm, okay, what was Mulder wearing?'  he asked.
     'Mulder was wearing a black suit, white shirt and a green striped
tie.'  she replied.
     'Alright, go back a couple of minutes.  What was Mulder wearing
before you entered the building?'  he asked.
     'Mulder was wearing a blue suit, a grey shirt and a blue tie that
matched the suit.'  she replied.  The doctor leaned back and let out a
whistle of air.  Somehow, someone had tampered with her memories and
they had given her a false image of Mulder.  What have you gotten into
Dana? he thought.
     'Okay, go back to the time just after you had drawn your weapon.
You said you couldn't exactly remember what happened, but Dana you
must remember, you cannot block it out, do you understand what I am
saying?'  he said, quietly noting the facial expressions.
     'Yes, I understand.'
     'Okay, what happened when your memory began to go fuzzy?'  he
said.
     'I don't remember.'
     'Tell me Dana!'
     'I don't remember.  I don't remember.'  he'd obviously hit a dead
end.
     'Try to remember!'
     'I can't...'  she said, sobs returning. Then she said something
that surprised him.  'He thrusts his fists against the post and still
insists he sees the ghosts.'  Suddenly it dawned on Carter that they
had used a defense mechanism that kept Dana's memories of that short
time locked up.  What he needed was a reply of some sort.  A code.  He
thought about the phrase for a few minutes.  Then decided to try
something.
     'Tell me what happened when you're memory began to fade.'  he
said again.
     'He thrusts his fists against the post and still insists he sees
the ghosts.'
     'Phrase for recovery from minute stuttering.' he said.
     'Tell me what happened, Dana.'  he said and again she repeated
the phrase.  Damnit, he thought.  Then another thought came to him.
He realized that he recognized the phrase from a book he'd read a long
time ago.  A book by Stephen King.  It.  That was it.  The book was
called It.  He nodded, remembering the excellent tale.
     'Tell me.'  he said.  When she repeated the line, he said:
'Stuttering Bill.'  She sighed and heaved a breath, sniffling.
     'I was hit over the head, just after I drew my weapon.  I did not
recover until I was in the hospital there they hooked me into a
machine that played posthypnotic suggestions over and over again.  I
was on an IV, which dripped a sleep educing drug into my body and
that's all I recall until I awoke in the hospital the second time and
remembered that Mulder had been shot.'  she said.
     'All right, Dana, I think we've found out enough for now.  I am
going to count backwards from five and you will become fully awake
when I reach one.  Five... Four...  Three... Two... One.  You are now
fully awake.'  he sighed. He stood up and moved over to the chair
behind his desk.  He glanced down at his notes. He noticed that
somewhere along the way, he'd doodled a drawing of Scully on the pad.
He turned it over in his hand, putting it face down on the desk.
     'Oh god.' she said.  She sat up and swayed a bit, causing the
doctor to stand again, but she waved her hand indicating that she was
fine and stood.  'Mulder was right, he's not dead.'
     'What?'  he asked.
     'Oh, never mind.  Listen, just send the bill to my home, I'll pay
you soon.'  she said, grabbing her coat which had been draped on a
coat hanger by the door.
     'Dana...'  he began.  She turned to him.  'Where are you going?'
     'I am going to get down to the bottom of this and to find Mulder,
if possible.'
     'Is there anything I can do?'  he asked, concerned.
     'Yeah, by talking to me I think I have put you in danger,
although I didn't know it.  Keep a low profile and I'll get in touch
with you.  Watch your back, they may come after you.  Please,' she
replied.  'Please be careful.'
     'Anything for a friend.  Glad I could help, hope everything works
out.'  he said, shrinking back into his chair.  He watched her back as
she left the office with a new spring of hope in her step.  He hoped
that she would be the one to be careful.  He closed his eyes and
opened the drawer, feeling for a bottle of aspirin.

-----
[FBI Offices]

     Dana Scully paced outside the glass office door.  She wallowed in
her anger.  She wanted to walk in and scream at Skinner.  Make him
tell her where Mulder was.  Finally she abandoned the thought, she'd
probably end up getting kicked out of the building and sent home.  As
she stormed down the hallway, she nearly ran headlong into Danny.
     'Hiya Dana' was his usual greeting.
     'Oh hi, Danny.'  she said quietly.
     'Hey, is somethin' the matter?  I mean, are you okay?'  he asked,
concern written all over his face.
     'No, I'm okay.  Just a little upset at the boss, you know how it
happens...' she replied, not meeting his eyes.
     'Yeah, I know the way.  You best be going, you looked like you
were in a hurry.'  he noted.
     'Yeah, hey.  Nice seeing you again, huh.'  she said and before he
could reply, turned the corner and was on the elevator.  She felt bad
for having brushed him off, he was just being nice.  She'd apologize
when she was feeling a little more collected.

     The elevator slowly made its way to the parking lot beneath the
building, Scully being it's only passenger for the last few floors.
It was quiet and very disconcerting but she tried to ignore it.  When
it finally reached the lot, Scully stepped out and began to walk to
her car.  She frowned, searching her coat pocket for the keys.  She
fumbled and dropped them on the ground.  Grumbling quietly, she bent
to pick them up, but suddenly a movement on the other side of the car,
stopped her.  She looked under the car and saw a pair of feet standing
at the passenger side of the car.  She drew out her gun, and quickly
stood, pointing it at the person.
     Assistant Director Skinner thrust his hands in the air, an angry
look crossing his face.
     'Agent Scully, what has gotten into you?'  he growled.  Scully
lowered the gun and looked away, waiting for her heart to calm down.
     'I'm sorry, sir.'  she managed.
     'Put that thing away.'  he ordered.  She holstered the gun.  She
could not look into his eyes.  She felt foolish that she would be so
paranoid.  'What is going on here?  I came down here because I noticed
that you were pacing outside my office, and you point your weapon at
me.  I demand an explanation!'  Scully once again felt her anger
flair.
     'You want an explanation? I'll give you one!  I was stopped in
the park this morning by a man wielding a gun.  He told me that I
should see a psychiatrist.  I underwent regression hypnotherapy only
to discover that someone had tampered with my memories.  As far as I
am aware, Mulder is not dead and- and... Oh forget it, I don't know
why I'm explaining it to you anyway.  For all I know, you were in on
it all!'  she spat.  She fumbled with the lock, opening the door and
getting into the car.  The slam of the door echoed through out the
parking lot.  Skinner ran around the car and tapped on her window.
When she looked at him through the glass, tears were streaming down
her face and her hatred seemed to radiate through the glass.  Skinner
stepped back as though he'd been burned.  Scully started the car and
squealed out of the parking lot.

-----

     Director Skinner stared after her.  He knew that he had to help
Dana Scully as best he could and he knew exactly how.  His superiors
would have a few words to say about it, but he knew that if he did not
help Scully, Mulder would soon die and that was something he could not
live with.  He needed Mulder as much as she did.  Mulder was a tool.
An asset.  Something that came in handy when you needed.  Yes, he
would help Scully, and if possible, he would keep his hands and
conscience clean.  With his mind made up, he strode back onto the
elevator to call a few favors from some of his highly placed friends.

-----

[Mulder's apartment, Wednesday evening]

     Dana Scully walked into the apartment, determinedly.  She threw
her coat and keys on a chair just inside the door.  She didn't like
being in Mulder's home when he was not there, but he needed her help
if he was still alive and she was determined to give it.  She gritted
her teeth, looking around at the mess of the apartment.  She had not
yet been here to clean it up and pack up Mulder's things.  In fact,
she still paid the rent, because for some reason she felt that maybe
he'd be back.  A good thing too.  She relaxed a little, feeling his
presence radiating from the room.  She looked at the sofa and the
window beside it.  There was a roll of masking tape below the window
on a table, a lamp beside it.  She took two strips of the tape and
taped them on the window to form an X.  After having that done, she
turned on the lamp and placed it directly below the X, turning it up
so that the light shone on the window.
     She mused at how Mr. X would know that Mulder was using the
signal.  He must come by often.  Scully smiled, weakly.  She felt
exhausted.  She pulled her gun out of the holster and set it on the
coffee table.  She yawned and stretched out on the couch, awaiting the
arrival of Mulder's informant.  She had a few tricks up her sleeve.


     Several hours later, Scully awoke to the sound of a key turning
in the lock.  She jumped off the sofa and grabbed her weapon.  She
silently stepped beside the door, awaiting whoever to come in.  Her
grip tightened on the gun as the door knob turned.  She began to have
doubts, but they were washed away when the darkly clad man stepped
through the door, into the lightless room.  He walked a few steps in,
letting the door close behind him.  Scully made her move.  She wrapped
her arm around the mans neck, holding the gun to his temple.  She
stood on her tip toes, knowing it was dangerous but having no choice.
     'I'm going to let you go, but first you must give me your gun.'
she whispered harshly.  The man slowly nodded and reached into his
coat, removing his gun.  In one swift action, Scully grabbed the gun,
let go of the man and took a few steps forward, re-aiming at the same
time.  She reached behind her and flicked the light switch, throwing
light on the man.  His skin was dark, as she remembered.  This was
Mr. X.
     'What do you want?'  he asked.
     'I want to know where Mulder is.'
     'Mr. Mulder is dead, Agent Scully, you witnessed that.'  he
replied, moving toward her slightly.  She moved back and shook the gun
gently, warning him not to move.
     'What I witnessed was not what really happened.  Your little
facade was easily cracked and now I have reason to believe Mulder is
not even dead.  Now, where is he?'  she cried through gritted teeth.
     'I don't know who you think I am, but I am not your information
servant.  I have nothing to do with Mr. Mulder's disappearance or the
fact that he may or may not be dead.  Now, you will release me and I
shall be on my way.'  he said, calmly.  The calmness in his voice made
Scully even angrier.
     'I'm sick of being danced around and pushed aside.  You will tell
me where Mulder is, or you'll die right here in this room.'
     'Agent Scully, you surprise me.  You won't kill me, it's not part
of your make-' he started.  He was unable to finish because she moved
the gun to the side and pulled off a round.  He cringed at the sound,
then smiled.
     'Now do you believe me?  I think you've pretty much
underestimated me.'  Her eyes gleamed with a new light.  A maniacal
light.  The man stepped back, allowing his shoulders to droop.  He
sighed.
     'You want to talk business?  I'll tell you business.  You are a
childish puppet, Scully.  Things go on around you everyday and half
the time you only see a sliver of it.  You are sidestepped and pushed
aside almost every day of your life.  You think you're important?
Well, frankly you're not.  I will not risk my life just to help you
save his.'  he stepped forward once again, his back straightening.
     'You don't seem to understand.  Your life is in danger right now.
I am very serious and I will risk my job to find him.  I've done it
before, I'm ready to do it again.  You might think you're important,
but frankly, you're not.'  she said, sneering.
     'I will not help you, so you better shoot me now.'  he said.
He's called my bluff, Scully thought.  She put the gun to his temple
but before she could act, the door was kicked open and a tall man
stepped in.
     'Release your weapon, Agent.'  said the familiar voice.  Scully
looked past the black man, to find Walter Skinner standing inside the
door.  'I will handle this.'  he said.
     'Sir, I-' she began.
     'Put down your weapon now, Scully!'  he screamed, pulling out his
own weapon.  Scully set her jaw and dropped the gun.
     'You're a fool, Agent.'  Mr. X told Scully.
     'Shut up!'  Skinner replied.  Scully's mouth fell open as the
black man turned to face Skinner.  Skinner kicked the door closed and
advanced toward them.  He gripped his gun in both hands and hand it
leveled with Mr. X's head.  Scully stepped back a few paces.  She
noticed that Skinner was being serious and that his face held a
completely emotionless expression.  'Leave the room quietly Agent
Scully.'  he said.
     She readily complied.  She was not willing to witness what was
about to happen.  She grabbed her coat and keys and stepped out of the
apartment.
     Once outside she leaned against the hallway wall and gasped for
breath.  She had been scared.  She was glad that she did not have to
go through on her threats, not that she would have anyway.  She
groaned and closed her eyes. Opened them.  A man walked past.  He gave
her a strange look and she understood that she must've looked like
hell.  Her auburn hair and unruly mess, her dress pants creased and
ruffled.
     She waited only a few minutes when Skinner walked out, carrying
her weapon and a piece of paper.  He handed both to her, straightened
his suit and walked away down the hall.  While she stared after him,
the second man emerged from the room.  He glared at her then briskly
followed Skinner.  Scully was awed at the connection.  Her legs hurt,
she felt a pain growing in her head.  She was exhausted.  She slid
down the wall and sat, just breathing slowly.

-----

[South Shore Warehouses, Wednesday night]

     Dana looked down at the sheet of paper again.  The address was
the same, but this place looked deserted.  She was almost sure it was,
but knew it would be the perfect place to hide a man.  She locked her
car and stepped away from the curb.  The street lamps cast enough
light to illuminate her hair, but only a silhouette of her face could
be seen.  She crept toward the entrance of the building, unsure what
kind of welcoming she'd get.  She carried with her a lock picking kit,
which one of her brothers had given her as a joke for one of her
birthdays, her gun and a flashlight.  She wore a grey hooded track
suit similar to the one she'd worn that morning.  Again her hair was
tied back, except it was shrouded in the hood.
     She reached the door and grasped the handle.  She took a deep
breath and tried it.  It did not open.  Releasing the breath, she
pulled out the lock pick kit, and selected a tool.  She fitted it into
the lock and twisted.  She heard a faint clicking noise, like the
sound of a fingernail tapping on metal.  She tried the handle again.
This time it slowly turned, to open.  She replaced the kit and removed
her gun from it's place under her sweatshirt.
     She took another deep breath and pushed open the door, with her
free hand.  Once inside the building she pushed back the hood and
unclipped the flashlight from the waist belt that she wore.  She
turned the beam on and shone it around the vast space.
     Scattered everywhere were boxes of various sizes.  Old pipes and
planks of wood also littered the floor.  Junk of many generations was
everywhere to be seen.  Abandoned would be an excellent word for this
building.  She grimaced at the musty smell, but moved forward a few
steps.  She was blocked in by boxes and pipes.  Scully climbed over
them, trying not to make much noise but not succeeding because she
could only use one hand.  After a few minutes she abandoned the idea
of trying to climb while holding the gun and put it away.  The going
got a little easier and soon she cleared the debris.  She crouched
down behind a box and listened for a few moments, thinking.
     She wondered how Skinner had so easily got the information she
could not get.  She wondered why it had been so easy for her to get
into the building.  Her caution was wearing thin.  She wanted to find
Mulder and get him out of there.  She needed to find him.  Earlier
that day she had come to the startling conclusion that she was nothing
without Mulder.  A lost soul.  She had been devastated when she found
out that he was dead.  A hope that he might still be alive was all she
needed to rehash all her anger towards the people she never saw, but
always felt.  She found that she was more often than not angry.  She
knew that she was not generally an angry person, but these events
brought out the worst in her.  Especially when they went so far as to
tamper with her memories.  That was enough.

     Scully once again set into action.  She prowled around the large
room, looking for another door which might lead to another smaller
room.  Just as she was about to give up, she found a door hidden
behind several boxes.  She moved the boxes to the side and slowly
opened the door.  She shone the light in.  The walls were bare and
there was nothing in the room, except for a crumpled figure at the far
wall.
     'Mulder!' she cried, rushing in and forgetting all else.
'Mulder, are you all right?'  He did not answer her.  She knelt beside
him, turning him over slightly.  It was indeed Mulder, but if she were
anyone else, she might not have recognized him.  His eyes were
bruised, his face swollen so badly that his nose was nearly buried in
flesh.
     'Scully?'  he gasped, sounding like an air filled bag which was
slowly leaking.
     'Shh.  Be quiet, I'll have you out of here in no time.'  she
smiled at him, touching his cheek ever so gently.  His eyes closed and
his head lulled back.  Scully rest him down on the floor once again.
     Something tickled at the back of her mind, then emerged
completely.  Too easy!  it shouted.  It was all too easy!  She lifted
her head and glanced at the entrance, there stood a figure.  The light
clicked on.
     'Cory Craig.' she said.
     'Agent Dana Scully.  Nice to meet you finally.  You look lovely.'
the man said, brushing back a lock of long blond hair.  He smiled
calmly.  Scully said nothing.  The man stepped into the room and
raised the sawed off shotgun that he'd held behind his back.  Scully
remained where she was.  'Actually, to tell you the truth, it's
Special Agent Cory Craig.'  he said, his grin widening.
     'Son of a bitch.'  Scully muttered.
     'Son of Amanda Craig, actually.'  he corrected and Dana felt
herself start to lose her composure.  'You know, the funny thing is,
it was so easy to construct evidence to point in any direction.  We
never knew who killed those children, but I had orders to become that
man.  They wanted Mulder out of the picture.  They didn't care about
you, you never cared much about the X-files anyway.'  he paused, a
laugh escaping his lips.  'So anyway, I became the man and they made
sure all the evidence pointed to me.  I was the one who knocked you
out in that building.  They transferred you to a special clinic and
had you hooked up to those machines, it was neat.' he sighed.  'But,
they needed to get rid of Mulder.  Told me to do what I wanted with
him.  So I beat him and left him to die, but apparently the son of a
bitch isn't dead after all.  He's got like, nine lives.'  Scully
watched as he glanced at Mulder.  She saw an opportunity and quickly
drew her gun.  He was too quick though.
     'Better put that down, little one.' he said, pointing the shotgun
directly at her.  She slid the gun across the floor and he walked over
to it, kicking it away.  'Better.'  he said.
     'So, what now?' she asked.
     'What now?  Hm, that's a good question.  Guess I get to put you
out of your misery too.  First, I'm going to tell you exactly how
everything works.'  he moved back against the wall and sat down,
keeping the gun pointed at her.  'Listen carefully. I thought Mulder
was dead.  I have trouble believing he isn't but I guess that's my
fault.  Should have shot him in the head, like they wanted me too.  I
told them what I'd done and they agreed to let him rot away here until
some poor soul found him.  By then it would have been too late.'  he
paused again to cough, eyes flicking around the room.  'So anyway,
they made out the death certificate and held the funeral.  Told
everyone that he died in the line of duty.  Quite a party, I must
say.'
     'Indeed.' Scully mocked.  He only smiled.
     'Anyway, I decided to have a little fun on my own, so I sent you
that little letter.  Did you like it?  I never got time to send more,
after all, you're just a little too quick.'
     'It was a sloppy job.' she replied.
     'Sloppy, yes.  But some things are never clean.  It would have
been perfect if you hadn't went to that damned therapist.  Too clever,
you are.  But apparently not clever enough.'  he stood up, moved to
the doorway and clutched the shotgun a little tighter.  'For now,
Agent Scully, I must bid you Adieu.'
     Scully squeezed her eyes shut and said a silent prayer.  She
could hear his breathing and Mulder's ragged breaths.  The room was
completely silent other than that.  She waited for the shot and soon
she heard it.  She didn't feel a thing.  Gingerly, she opened her eyes
only to see the man lying face down on the floor.  His hand still
clutching the shot gun.  She scrambled to her feet and grabbed her
gun, but as she reached the door, she heard the squealing of tires and
new that she would not see who had killed Cory Craig.
     She placed a hand over her fast beating heart and waited for it
to calm down before returning to Mulder's side.  She'd had a long day.

-----

[Walter Skinners office,  Thursday late afternoon]

     Walter Skinner looked at the note, a small smile crossing his
lips.

You saved my ass.  I owe you one.
                                   DS

-----

[Washington Memorial Hospital, Thursday Evening, Private Room]

     The door creaked open and a very welcoming face peered around it.
He smiled, waving his hand, indicating that she should come in.
     'How're you feeling?'  she asked, taking a seat next to the
hospital bed.
     'Like I should have let you go in first.'  he said, his bruised
face lighting a bit at the sight of her.  She smiled and looked away,
like she always did when he cracked a joke.  'Tell me, how are you
really doing?'  he asked, and she looked back at him.
     'I'm okay.'  He'd heard that a million times before.  Liar, he
thought.
     'Really?'  was all he said.
     'Well, I'm better now.'  she replied.
     'Hmm.  Well, I have to thank you for finding me.  I didn't think
you would get there in time.'
     'Mulder?'  she said.
     'Mmm?'  he said, turning his head the other way, concentrating on
the window.
     'Mulder, how did you... Uhm, well, how did you do that?'  she
asked, eyebrows raised slightly and cheeks showing embarrassment.
     'Do what Scully?'  he asked, turning to look at her again.  She
glared at him, a little annoyed at his making her say it.
     'How did you uhm manifest, I guess is a good word, yourself for
me?'  He chuckled.  Manifested wasn't the right word, but he didn't
care.  He didn't know how to describe it either.  Nor could he explain
how it was done.
     'I always told you we had a connection.'  he closed his eyes.
     'But...'
     'But?'
     'Yeah.'  she took his hand.
     'I had no other way to get to you.  He took my gun, ID and cell
phone.  So I decided to turn to the paranormal and it worked, you came
didn't you?'  he opened his eyes.  She shook her head.
     'There must've been some other explanation.  I thought they had
taped your voice, or something.  I don't know.'
     'Scully, why do you always refuse to believe?'  he asked,
squeezing her hand.
     'I don't know Mulder, maybe it's because I've had such a hell of
a time, thinking you were dead.  I had to go through all of your
stuff.  Never got done though...'
     'Are you really okay?'  he noted a change of emotion that could
only be seen in her eyes.
     'No, Mulder.'  she whispered.
     'Talk to me.'  he said.
     'I think I know how you felt when I disappeared.  I felt lost.  I
mean, I thought I'd killed you. I waited to long and I thought...'
     'They programmed that, Scully.'
     'I know, but it seemed so real.  So real.'  she repeated.  'I had
seen you shot dead before my eyes.  I attended your funeral.  Then you
came to me and I thought-' she pulled in a wracking breath,
sobbing. 'I thought you were a ghost or something.  Then you said you
were alive and I just went crazy.  I took it all out on Skinner.'
     'It's okay.  Don't cry, Scully.  You know what everyone would
say.'  he said, smiling.  She smiled and wiped away the tears, but
fresh ones rolled down her cheeks.
     'I know.' she whispered and put her head down on the bed beside
his chest.  She still gripped his hand.  He watched and quietly
consoled her as she sobbed.

     He knew that soon enough she would be feeling better.  They would
resume work on the X-Files and things would return to the somewhat
normal state they had been.  Everything would work out, and Scully
would begin trying to scientifically explain away how Mulder had been
able to contact her, unable to accept the paranormal.  First though,
she would need a vacation.  A real one.  He patted her head, looked
away and fell asleep while she sobbed.


That's it... Hope you enjoyed my tale!



Some things cannot be explained.
Most things need to be explained.
The truth is out there, that's why Chris Carter created
Fox Mulder.

The truth is out there but so are the lies, that's why Carter
created Dana Scully.