From: leighcia@hotmail.com
Date: Sun, 24 Jan 1999 21:01:53 GMT
Subject: The Red and the Black Story 3

Title of Series: The Red and the Black Title of Story: Hands Author: Leighcia
Feedback: leighcia@hotmail.com Website: http://listen.to/thedark Rating: PG
Category: Story, a lot of angst Spoilers: GETHESMANE Keywords: Character
death Distribution: Anywhere, please tell me where. Story Summary: What if
Mulder really did die in Gethesmane?? A Scully-centered story. Disclaimer:
Not mine, not mine, not mine!! But the storys mine!!! What!! You want to
claim rights over this story. You can't do that!! It's mine, give it back!!
Give it back!! ::bloody fistfight:: Author's Note: The Red and the Black is a
series of stories that are to be read in order but can be read as individual
stories as long as you have read the one preceeding it.

Story 3: Hands
leighcia@hotmail.com

	White ceiling, flickering white lights. Where am I, thought Scully,
Mulder, where am I?	    There was a whirring sound in the air, sounding
like bees buzzing inside her head. A voice was speaking, but Scully couldn't
define either the speaker or the spoken words.	   Should I speak, thought
Scully, would anyone listen?	Too afraid to try, Scully closed her eyes
before anyone could bother to notice they were open. She understood how daily
life could become eternal torture for Mulder. The voices in the distance
began taking shape. Scully recognized one of them as Krycek.   "You're
absolutely sure she'll be ok?"	"I'm positive. The blood transfusions have
gone smoothly...that is..."  "That is what?"	     "That is if she doesn't
self inflict anymore wounds. I suggest you take her to a proper psychiatrist
especially due to these special circumstances." "I didn't try to take my own
life," said Scully, out loud but softly, "I only wanted, I only wanted to be
with Mulder."	 The second part was indiscernible to both the doctor and
Krycek.        The doctor told Scully to get some rest and that she could go
home soon.	  "How are you feeling?" asked Krycek.	  "I'm fine," said
Scully, as her eyes never left the ceiling, plain white and blank, "I always
was ok."  "I'm worried," said Krycek, "that cut was...was...self-inflicted. I
may be your new partner but it can be such a tragedy if you..."     Krycek
searched his mind for words to say what he wanted to say but none came to his
mind. "Suicide is no tragedy," murmured Scully, line of sight still fixed to
the ceiling, "It is a noble way of expressing one  has no desire to live, to
say one's desire is black."	 Black like death.	 Krycek remained
uneasy and quiet. He gently reached out to hold Scully's pale hand. Her hands
were cold and to Scully, Krycek's hands were warm but they gave no warmth to
Scully's heart. The aching silence lasted as neither one looked at each
other. Krycek's gaze gently looked toward the ceiling as though his eyes
wanted to see what Scully was looking at. Both were afraid to speak, or maybe
both did enjoy the silence.   So they just sat there, linking hands, both in
totally separate worlds- thinking and judging as they both stared at the
blank hospital ceiling. Each reflected upon their own life as the ticking
bomb counted off the time.    Before long, Krycek quickly glanced down at
Scully, she appeared to be fast asleep. He let go of her hand, stood up and
left the room with his intentions still unknown to Scully.	The next day
Scully awakened out of her own free will. She was allowed to leave the
hospital and return to work. Scully wasn't sure if she could go back to face
Krycek. He knew she tried to end her own life. How could she face him after
that? What did he think of her? Scully was wondering once again how a new
person in her life would accept her. She only hoped he would imagine that
nothing ever happened. A new beginning, was what Scully wanted and an end to
loose ends.	  There wasn't much to do but to test her theory and her
uncertain hypothesis to reach a permanent conclusion. Scully didn't exactly
want to go back to work but she needed to do something to keep her mind off
things, off the little things that make the difference.  Scully left the
hospital and quickly went home. She picked up the stained nightgown from the
night before and threw it into the garbage along with the knife that pierced
her delicate skin. Letting go, letting go, Scully murmured to herself as a
chant to keep herself from thinking too much.	   Scully wanted to take a
shower, cleanse her hands of their filth but the bathtub only reminded her of
a nightmare she wanted to forget. Scully, instead, quickly changed. She
brushed her soft hair and added a small butterfly clip into her shining
locks. Scully glanced in the mirror. The girl looked rather innocent. She had
to admit the clip in her hair took years off her age or perhaps better
worded, it took off the last couple of days off her age.     Looking tidy and
presentable, Scully picked up her keys, put on a jacket and slipped into a
pair of pumps as she left her apartment behind her.	    Once again,
Scully entered her basement office. It was still surprisingly the same but
small changes were made. The smell was definitely different and there was
more light in the office. A couple new lamps were added here and there.      
 The added brightness to the office made the "I Want to Believe" poster glow
with radiance as if Mulder's soul was peaking within Scully. The sharpened
pencils on the table were dull as it was apparent that Krycek's hands used
them to write something of probable insignificance. The laptop was open and
two hands were dancing across the keys. The fingers belonged to Krycek's
hands.	 "Good morning," Krycek said, smiling slightly as he quickly glanced
up at Scully.	    "Good morning to you too," said Scully but with no smile
on her face.   "We've got a case here," said Krycek, "an X-File. It might
feel good to be back on something familiar."	     Scully smiled and nodded
although an X-File seemed extremely unfamiliar to her at the moment of the
given circumstances.	    "The only thing I find is that this case might
not be too appropriate to your..um... current mental situation."	 "I
can handle it," said Scully fighting the voice inside that wanted to break
down and cry.	  "Do you remember the case, " said Krycek pausing slightly,
"with the guy who could mentally control your actions and what you see,
Mulder referred to him as-"  "Pusher," said Scully.  "He's escaped from
prison and we believe that we have been able to follow where he's going,"   
He stopped speaking and looked up at Scully who was still standing in front
of his desk.	    "Has there been a murder?" asked Scully.	    "No, you
know the way this guy Pusher works, he doesn't directly murder the victim, he
makes the victim... he makes the victim kill themself. I find that this case
might be too harsh on you. The past week has been extremely emotional and
this case might have a strong affect on you. Of course if you really wish to
work on the case, I don't have much a choice-"	     "I'll investigate the
case," said Scully firmly.	  She sat down on the chair in front of
Mulder or what was now Krycek's desk according to the name on it. Scully
picked up the three dull pencils in her hands and sharpened them in the
electric pencil sharpener, one by one to a sharp point. Rubbing the brittle
ends of the pencil, her hands smelled like sawdust. If only Mulder and I were
working on this case, thought Scully, his hands would smell like sawdust too.

The End!!
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