From: UberScully@aol.com Date: 5 Jul 1999 08:45:22 -0700 Subject: xfc Ultimatum (Part 1 of 5) From: UberScully@aol.com TITLE: Ultimatum AUTHORS: Andi Dawkins and Devanie Maxwell CATEGORY: XRA RATING: PG-13 KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance; Supporting Character Death. SPOILERS: Biogenesis; SR 819 SUMMARY: Skinner appears dirty, Fowley and CSM are connected, Krycek has his own motivations -- With Mulder hospitalized Scully learns that it all does come down to a matter of trust. DISCLAIMER: We're not Chris Carter Or 1013 Vince is much smarter FOX lawyers are mean No money is made This won't reach bestseller Don't sue us to get paid We'd rob your bank teller FEEDBACK: If you send us feedback, we will pee the floor. It makes us that happy. Best of all, it isn't your floor. There is absolutely no risk to you, and the worst that will happen is that we send you money. So, yes please. Send to both UberScully@aol.com and UberSpooky@aol.com! ARCHIVE: If you would like to have it, we would love to bestow it upon you. Just let us know where it goes. AUTHORS' NOTES: The concept behind Biogenesis intrigued us to the extent that we abandoned our typical style in favor of exploring the the motivations behind the suddenly all too cryptic supporting players. Not to fear, Mulder and Scully still play a large role. We can't forget our priorities, here. This is our first story dealing with a X file, and since we are not prognosticators we hope you'll forgive any plot implausibilities you may encounter. Like most, we have no idea what season seven will bring. We have, however, enclosed a major suggestion in part four. Special thanks to... We have no one to thank. Just each other. Of course, one big virtual kiss goes out to each and every person who reads this story. Thanks, and we hope you enjoy! ********************************************************** 60 W, 40 N 21 May 1999 6:47 PM EST Rain sheeted against the windows of the 737, effectively obstructing any view of the outside world from the aircraft. This didn't matter to Dana Scully for the simple fact that there wasn't much outside world to view. For the past twelve hours she had been floating several miles above the Atlantic Ocean; her only vista was the endless sight of the sea in all directions. She actually preferred it this way. She didn't care for flying under the best of circumstances, add water and she began to loathe it. The plane shook slightly from wind pressure and she sat further back in her seat. Closing her eyes, she kneaded the arm rest softly beneath her fingers and tried to divert her thoughts to another matter. She didn't find it difficult. Since she had left Africa her thoughts had been pummeling her mind from every direction. There was the artifact-- and Mulder. Then there was the...*thing* off the coast-- and Mulder. Skinner and Fowley -- Well, she wasn't going to use Mulder in the same thought pattern with Diana. It just seemed profoundly wrong somehow. Her mind advanced to how she would deal with her new found information. She hadn't had much time to process anything that had happened in the last several days. The views and beliefs she had held so concretely now lay in shattered pieces, a mere imitation of the way she formerly viewed her work. It was disconcerting to say the least, and she brought her fingers to her temples to alleve the tension building in her head. Sighing softly, she returned her focus to Mulder. He was her first priority, and her next task would have to be to help restore him to an active member of society. Scully didn't doubt herself when it came to her own skill as a doctor or investigator, but she wasn't about to delude herself into thinking she could solve this on her own. She smiled at the irony. She needed Mulder to save Mulder. And to identify the rather large spaceship off the coast. He was better at that stuff than she was. Her thoughts were interrupted by the pilot announcing their upcoming descent into Dulles. The weather was lovely in Washington, he stated, they had left the storms behind them. After expressing his gratitude at their flying with him this evening, the seatbelt light blinked and Scully gripped the chair a little tighter. She wasn't so much concerned about the landing, but about what would come after. The next few days would be a very bumpy ride indeed. ***************** Georgetown Memorial Hospital 21 May 1999 11:09 PM EST Scully pushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, and by force of habit examined her reflection in the rearview mirror. After her excruciating flight across the Atlantic, she was too exhausted and preoccupied to actually fret about her appearance. Her all-consuming thought was that of her weary partner, probably pacing his cell like a caged animal. She gripped the steering wheel of the parked vehicle and mentally gathered strength. She knew seeing Mulder in his current condition would be harder on her than anything else in the complex situation they were involved in. Scully made her way through the empty parking garage, allowing her mind to stray. The resounding clacks of her heels on the concrete echoed, only enhancing her awareness of how dark and quiet the night had become. A wave of grief, brought on by the stress of the day, washed over her. She felt more helpless and frustrated at that moment than she could ever remember being. So many lies. So much to figure out in such little time. Alone. She couldn't do it alone. Scully always realized how much she depended on Mulder for emotional and physical support when he was unable to provide it. God, she needed sleep; she wasn't thinking coherently. But she refused to go home. The night would be restless without first visiting Mulder. The fact that Mulder's case was out of the ordinary, to say the least, allowed visiting hours to be obsolete. Scully steadily approached the monitors that displayed Mulder's nervous form. He had wrapped himself into a tight ball, slowly rocking back and forth. Scully knew she couldn't see his face clearly, but she filled in what she was certain was there. She imagined his blood shot eyes, set jaw and pained expression . . . his well-past five o'clock shadow, and tousled hair. It saddened Scully that she had witnessed the sight enough to form a precise picture. She longed sit beside him and provide the comfort he needed. As Scully gingerly touched the screen, Mulder's lowered head shot up, and he became fully alert. Scully's eyes widened and she jerked her hand away. Mulder then stood, confused rather than paranoid. "Scully?" Scully stepped back, and released a watery breath. What the hell was going on? "Scully, where are you?? Scully?! Scully!!!" She watched the screen with a mixture of fascination and a little bit of fear. Mulder was continuing to call her name, each time more fervored than the last. Regaining her composure she stepped closer to the monitors again. The results were immediate. His frantic calls stopped, and she could see him visibly relax. He moved closer to the camera lens, gazing into it as though he was trying to connect with her via their usual means of optical communication. Deeply touched and a little unnerved she extended her fingers back towards the screen. She fingertips played lightly against the cool surface, feeling oddly comforted by the gesture. Looking into his eyes, she was aware of how peaceful he looked compared to only a few days ago when she had previously visited. It was quite a transformation. Scully watched as he slowly lifted his right hand up and brought it to the lens, resting three of his fingers against it. Rationality flew out the window as she realized instinctively that he was matching her own motion. Tears glistened in her eyes as understanding dawned. Mulder wasn't insane. He wasn't trapped in his own mind; he was trapped in the minds of others. Her own brain churned as she tried to find a psychological precedent. Their files were full of them; telepathy was a common trait in abduction cases if the stories were to be believed. It was not, however, something that Scully had ever taken very seriously. She had yet to see a case involving it substansiated. Sometimes the best approach to the irrational was through the rational, and despite Mulder's claims her science had been the victor in a large portion of their investigations. She was mentally reviewing the DSM-IV when a noise from behind startled her. "Scully." "Sir." Scully responded coldly, returning her gaze to the bank of screens in front of her. "How is he doing?" Skinner motioned with a slight turn of his head toward Mulder's form. Scully picked up a barely perceptible change in body language from her partner. Whereas Mulder had settled down into a normal stance, he was growing increasingly agitated. She realized that maybe he was a better judge of character than she had thought. "Can we speak in the hall?" She asked, keeping her voice level and without emotion. She bit her lip as she heard Mulder call her from behind, but continued through the door. Skinner followed closely, and soon regretted it as Scully spun around on him, very nearly causing him to collide with her far smaller frame. "I need to know what the hell is going on here. Where is the doctor in charge? Or is he a liar too?" Skinner exhaled. "I can only assure you that he's not. He has taken nothing but extreme precautions with Mulder's treatment. The staff is doing the best they can, but he is violent and unresponsive to both chemical and cognitive therapy. He..." "I need to see him." Scully stated, already looking around for someone to make it happen. "First I need to speak to you. Privately." Skinner shifted his eyes toward the bank of elevators at the end of the hall. Scully was quickly running out of patience. "I think we've said about all there is to say, Sir. I need to see Mulder. It is more than obvious that no one else is making any attempt to get to the bottom of his condition. Nor should that surprise me." "What exactly do you mean by that, Scully?" Skinner asked, his voiced rising slightly. "If you have to ask you are both a liar and oblivious." Scully allowed her statement to register, then breaking eye-contact she hastily retreated to find an attendant. Skinner, having none of it, grabbed her elbow and spun her around. Her eyes widened in surprise; she had been expecting to have the last word and be done with the confrontation. "No, Agent Scully. I am terribly sorry that your trust in me has ended at the first opportunity that has presented itself, however my situation is more complex than simply being on your side or working against you. If the choice was mine alone, I'd hope that you would know my position." Scully's body had taken on a defensive stance. Her hands were placed on her hips, and her eyes were narrowed with barely concealed anger. A bitter undertone was present in each word she uttered. "What do you mean by that? Who could force you to work against us? You always have a choice, Sir. Don't delude yourself into thinking otherwise." Skinner opened his mouth to argue, but Scully didn't allow him the opportunity to speak. "Now, I realize you have helped us in the past on many different occasions, but I can't be sure of your motivations for that . . . I don't know. Maybe your priorities are just contrary to our goals." "That's not true," Skinner immediately stated. It was obvious he wanted to say more, but his mouth only soundlessly formed words as he stared at the wall behind Scully. She had waited, but when his jaw firmly set it was clear he had given up. "Look. Unless you come clean with me or -- or offer me some explanations, I'm afraid you are wasting my time. Excuse me." Scully pushed past the burly man, thankful he allowed the argument to end. She just wanted to be with Mulder. Everything else could wait. *****Continued in part 2***** From: UberScully@aol.com See Part 1 for Notes and Disclaimer . . . ************************************************ An orderly, who was placing fresh sheets into a linen closet down the hall, caught Scully's eye. With a fierce determination spurred on by her eagerness to see Mulder, she persuaded the elderly woman to grant her entrance into Mulder's room. She took a fleeting glance at the monitors and readied herself for what else she might discover about her partner's condition. Scully wasted no more time, and pulled open the cold, metal door. Mulder stood up so quickly that he had to grab the wall to maintain his equilibrium. A huge smile then broke out across his face as he recognized his visitor. "Scully," he whispered. "Hi there." Scully granted Mulder a small smile, but remained cautious. She leaned against the closed door and waited for him to speak again. "I'm not crazy, Scully," Mulder said with conviction. He studied her carefully, then looked satisfied. "I'm glad you know that." He took a seat on the hard linoleum floor, and Scully followed his lead. "Mulder, I have a lot tell you. So much has happened and I--" Mulder shook his head and offered his hand to her. She accepted it with a small squeeze and drew close to him on the floor. Suddenly Scully was overwhelmed with a rush of emotions, thoughts, images and sounds. Pain, pleasure, joy, guilt, sorrow, reverence, hate, and love consumed her being. She threw her head back and closed her eyes. The sensations were not all necessarily unpleasant, but were contradicting each other and drowning her with their massive quantity. Like an electric current, her hand was unable to draw away from his, and the rush continued. Panic surfaced, and immediately vanished when everything decreased in intensity. Scully slowly opened her eyes and looked at Mulder. He shared an understanding look with her, filled with compassion and amazement. "Oh my God, Mulder. I . . ." She allowed a tear to fall, and closed her eyes again. She felt as though she had just been allowed a glimpse of something deeper than she had ever experienced. Brief, but unfathomably powerful. They sat in silence, willing to let this moment between them transpire without comment. Scully felt his grip on her hand tighten, and she leaned to pull him into her embrace. She moved her hands softly across his back, letting her head be supported by his right shoulder. They remained this way for several moments, Scully reluctantly pulling back in order to organize her thoughts. She still felt slightly dizzy from the range of emotions she had experienced after entering Mulder's proximity. She noticed that these same emotions had returned to a stable level, and wondered if this was due in part to his own new found tranquility. She decided she needed to know exactly what was going on in that head of his. "Mulder..." "Scully." He replied, moist eyes betraying the wry grin crossing his lips. "How are you feeling?" She asked lamely, at a loss to figure out the tactful way to ask if her partner if he was legitimately insane. "Well, despite residing in a padded cell and feeling as though I have a mass transit system inside my head, not bad. They feed me my meals through that slot on regular intervals, and I martian mind meld sports trivia questions to the guy in the next room. I could get used to it, actually." That earned a full grin from Scully. Mulder was definitely still in there. "Do you win?" "He never answers." "Ah." "You need to get me out of here, Scully." Mulder stated with no hint of equivocation. "I don't need to be confined. We have to figure out exactly why this is happening to me." Scully sighed, crossing her legs in front of her. She didn't know how to respond. Ten minutes ago Mulder had been rocking and mumbling incoherently. She wasn't at all certain that another spell wouldn't occur outside her presence. Short of strapping a toddler harness on him she was at a loss about how to make sure he wouldn't have another violent episode. "The staff here would never allow it. They want to make sure this is...taken care of...before your release." Mulder placed his hands on her shoulders, pinning her with his eyes. "I don't want this to be 'taken care of.' I want to pursue it. What if this holds some of the answers, Scully? What if I was meant to have this reaction to the artifact?" "I still don't know what this reaction is, Mulder! Telepathy? Psychic transference? schizophrenia?" Scully stood up and paced several steps toward the wall. "All I know is that you rotate between what appears to be acute anxiety and a heightened state of lucidity. Can you control this at all? Are you in my mind right now?" "No. It's almost as though I can *sense* your inner emotions, but I can't read your thoughts. At least I don't think I can. There always seems to be some kind of interference. Like heavy static of some kind." He shook his head lightly as if to clear it. "Why have you been so resistant to the doctors? By their description you have been a threat to anyone who has been within ten feet of you in the last three days." "It's not..." Scully lept forward as Mulder grasped his head between both hands, kneeling slowly in quiet agony. He fell on his side, uttering a series of low moans. Her countenance lost all semblance of composure as she reached desperately for the door handle. Finding it locked, she pressed the black emergency button to the right of the frame. A loud buzz was quickly followed by the sound of an attendant on the other side. The door swung outward. Scully grabbed the attendant's shoulders and directed him out of the room. "Get the doctor in charge. NOW." "But ma'am, the doctor's not --" "Go now! If he's experiencing some sort of abnormal hypertension, it could lead to an aneurysm. I don't care what you have to do to get the doctor here, but make it happen. Fast." Scully made sure the attendant was on his way, then returned to Mulder. "Mulder. Mulder, can you hear me? If you can hear me, I need you to try and relax. I know it hurts, Mulder." Mulder's complexion only turned a deeper shade of red, and his face tightened further with pain. He showed no outward signs of comprehension, other than grasping her forearm. Luckily, Mulder's specialist must have been inside the building after all. He barged into the room with a small bag, rather than a whole cart of medical equipment. Scully backed up from her partner and let the doctor examine him. She looked on as he extracted a syringe and injected something into Mulder's arm. He gradually went limp, and his short and labored breathing smoothed out. The doctor began checking his vitals, and Scully took the opportunity to reflect. Although she was relieved, both curiosity and suspicion prompted her to ask what exactly he had just used. "Do you mind me asking what sedative that was?" "Barbiturate. You a doctor?" "Yes. What kind of barbiturate?" "Phenobarbital." "Has this happened before? Do you know exactly what causes it to happen?" "Yes, twice. And . . . I'm sorry, Miss . . ." "Agent Scully. I'm his partner." "I'm sorry, Agent Scully. But I'm afraid I can't release this much information about my patients under these circumstances. If you'd like to make an appointment . . ." "No, I understand. But his charts might help me out a lot. Do you mind?" "No problem, they're beside the monitors outside. And Agent Scully, don't wake him tonight. Sleep seems to be a rare occurrence for him, and it might be an important factor in his recovery. We would help him out, but if I keep administering sedatives in such high dosages we run the risk of inducing coma or addicting him. So the rest he does get is precious." "Well, that's certainly nothing out of the ordinary. Thanks for your help." Scully smiled warmly at the doctor as he left her alone with Mulder. She ran her fingers through his hair before leaving him alone for the night. Hopefully his charts would give her some insight as to why he collapsed three times from such an elusive pain. She closed the door as quietly as possible, and scanned the outer room for a clipboard with the necessary information attached. However, there was only an abandoned nail on the wall -- lacking any chart. Scully then saw the fresh cigarette-butt on the ground. Under the "No smoking" sign. How typical and utterly annoying. That really is a disgusting and unstimulating calling card. Now she'd have to do this the hard way. Naturally. Could nothing be simple in their lives? Georgetown Memorial Hospital 22 May 1999 2:17 AM EST After two hours of printing medical charts and consulting with Mulder's physician, Scully had indeed come to the conclusion that in fact nothing could be simple in their lives. Since most of the handwritten documentation made by the doctors and nurses had vanished with the original, it required much input to piece the details of his stay together. Fortunately the most vital information was kept in the computerized files; the only thing missing was the observations of the off hour attendants. Since the common censensus was that change in his demeanor was minimal, Scully was able to let herself relax in the knowledge that she had a fairly decent grasp on the situation. Bidding the staff goodnight she poured herself another cup of coffee from the stale carafe in the lounge. Sipping the hot liquid she let her thoughts drift again to the situation at hand. She felt confident that Mulder was protected, for now at least. However... What she wasn't so sure about was the reason for it or the people behind the attempted coverup. She was almost positive that C.G.B had been there; she had seen too much to doubt his motivations or his presence. But why? She couldn't seem to correlate in her mind how this could be connected to what they had experienced before. Again her mind ran through the gamut of possibilities. She would be naive to think there wasn't some kind of connection to Gibson Praise. Increased brain activity, the apparent telepathy-like ability...It all added up. She couldn't, however, begin to understand it rationally yet. Glancing at the PET scan even briefly she found it easy to recognize areas of heightened activity near his cingulate cortex. From a chemical standpoint she could see definitively that this was in part a physical reaction, but telepathy? < ...more human than human.> Scully returned to full alertness as Mulder's statement of a year ago rang back in her head. That had to be the key. The artifact must have had some kind of physical effect on him that essentially turned on a part of the brain not generally activated in a normal physiological state. She had heard Mulder's theories, but not until now did the implications of them really hit home. Someone, somewhere must know the secrets behind this. Why it happened. How it could be controlled. Someone had gone to lengths to steal the charts...To steal *Gibson*. She had to find some truth behind this, and although C.G.B and his acquaintances might be unattainable, she had a pretty good idea where to find someone who was. She had to pay a visit to Diana Fowley. *****Continued in part 3***** From: UberScully@aol.com See Part 1 for Notes and Disclaimer . . . ************************************************ Watergate Apartments 2:44 AM 22 May 1999 Walking through the dimly lit corridor of Agent Fowley's apartment building, Scully couldn't help but feel a great deal of trepidation. She didn't know quite what to say; this felt much more personal than an interrogation. She was confronting a suspect, but a fellow officer and someone who her partner had had alliance with in the past. It started to get a little tricky when you only had your instincts and someone's telepathic impressions to go on, she thought with a wry smirk. Looking at the card in her hand, she verified the apartment number and raised her hand to knock, pausing for a short moment before giving three short raps with knuckles. Almost instantly she heard the chain being unlatched and the door opened inward, placing her face to face with the taller woman. Fowley just stared for a few moments, as if expecting Scully to pull her weapon. Almost looking mildly surprised when she simply stared back, she motioned with an arm into her foyer. "May I help you with something?" Bypassing formalities, Scully decided the most effective way to go about it was with the calm, rational approach. For now. She knew better than to make promises. "Yes. I don't know quite how to say this, but I need to know exactly what went on in Mulder's apartment the other night. You were with him. Was something said or done that may have exacerbated his condition? Any indication as to why he is now hospitalized in a catatonic state?" Fowley seemed to consider the question for a moment. "Nothing that I'm aware of. I picked him up from the university and drove him home. He was in a great deal of pain, but that seemed to subside. He needed company. We talked and...caught up on old times." Scully raised her eyebrows in a mix of skepticism and curiosity. She nodded, silently asking her to continue. "He seemed to be in fairly respectable spirits as the evening went on. We discussed the implications of the artifact on his work, and he seemed grateful to hear a like minded take on the subject." Fowley said, nodding as though that would help her believe it, too. Scully couldn't help but roll her eyes, but she refrained from interrupting. "Later as I was getting out of bed he shouted as though he was in pain and grabbed my wrist. He started speaking incoherently and thrashing about. He seemed to be inconsolable. He called for you several times, actually." Even though her first concern was documenting the progression of Mulder's condition, Scully couldn't help but notice the beautiful irony of his calling for her after being 'in bed" with Diana Fowley. That thought was interrupted by another more pressing one. "How did you get him to the psych facility?" "By car." Choosing to overlook the sheer stupidity of that answer, Scully decided to be more clear. She briefly wondered if she should speak more slowly. "If he was so out of control, how were you able to transport him?" Fowley drew her eyes from Scully and shifted them around the room, not resting them very long in any particular place. "Lets just say I had to use a little external force." "What kind of external force?" Diana released an exasperated sigh, and attempted to shut the apartment door. Scully quickly placed her foot in the entrance, preventing any escape. "What. kind. of. external. force. did. you. use?" It seemed as though speaking slowly did have a positive effect on Diana's comprehension skills. "Why is how I got him to the hospital so significant? He's there. He's safe." "Is he? You just told me that you had to physically restrain him. That could have impacted how he --" "That's not what I said." "Stop with the games, Fowley. I don't know who exactly you think you're dealing with, but I sure as hell don't believe one word out of your hideous mouth. And if in the past Mulder has, it's only because you've manipulated him with every fathomable power available to you." "Fox came to me." Scully responded with a bitter laugh and rolled her eyes. "I'm disappointed in you. After so many years in the FBI, you should be able to lie more convincingly." Fowley was busy attempting to extract the small foot from the doorjamb. She continued, ignoring the distraction. "I find it highly implausible that Mulder would contact you about the artifact in the first place, but it's not out of the question. Mulder is relentless and stubborn when he's on a quest -- no matter how big or small. However, what I do find impossible, is that in the midst of his research he finds time to 'catch up on old times', and relax. I know him, Fowley. I know that when he-" "You have a lot of gall to be jealous at a time like this. You should be helping find a solution for his predicament, but all you can think about is the fact he chose me over you." Scully's voice had turned to a harsh whisper, and her eyes blazed with fury she didn't attempt to hide. "You are wrong in so many ways. I'm going to get to the bottom of this, and bring you down with your lies." "Believe what you'd like to believe. Evidently it's working for you so far." "I see right through you. You know that. And it scares you." "Nothing scares me." "Don't be so sure of yourself." "Are you threatening me, Agent Scully?" "I don't make threats." "Fine. If you would like to continue this discussion, I suggest moving your foot out of my doorway so we can have a rational conversation." "You're not worth my time. If I wanted a half-witted, fabricated story I could talk to a lot of other people, who are a lot more pleasant to look at. Now if you'll excuse me." Scully hastily retreated down the dark hallway of the building, gathering her thoughts. The fact that she was livid wouldn't weaken her effectual thought process. Overall, the fact that Diana Fowley is a liar was substantiated. . and apparently "external force" has multiple meanings. Nonetheless, the trip wasn't a complete waste of time. She successfully utilized an opportunity to tell Fowley she was lacking beauty. Sometimes pettiness is a virtue. ***************** Fowley retreated into her living room, pacing nervously back and forth before reaching for the portable phone resting on the coffee table. Scully's visit had unnerved her. Although she had left with no more information than with which she had arrived, Diana knew that she must have some serious suspicions to have confronted her the way she had. From what she had ascertained of the younger agent's history, she knew that Scully was not one to act first and ask questions later. Her motivations and alliances were unquestionably in doubt now, and it left her feeling incredibly compromised. Pressing a memory pad on the phone, she waited for several rings until she heard an answer. "Turn off the recorder." Diana said, tense. "It's off." She heard a soft click. Without waiting for any inquiry as to the reason for her call, she continued. "I was just paid a visit by Agent Scully. She was extremely agitated and demanded to know what I knew about her partner's condition. She's been doing her research, obviously. She was questioning my reasons for being with him the other night, and I think she's close to uncovering..." "Scully knows nothing. I've spoken to our contact at the hospital. Mulder is unresponsive; the charts have been sanitized." The voice was without concern or any discernable emotion. "The only thing she knows is what we want her to know, and that nothing. The rest can only be a product of conjecture. If she were aware of our complicity in this, who would she tell? She is alone, and alone she is ineffective." Diana was not convinced. "All I know is that she came back from Africa reinvested. We have no way of knowing what she discovered there. Not only that, but Skinner screwed us over by letting the information from the office surveillance slip. That was a major setback. She knows he cannot be trusted now, and she has never trusted me." "AD Skinner is quickly becoming dispensable. His heart just doesn't seem to be in it." A mirthless laugh reverberated in the receiver. "We have ways of eradicating any traces of a connection he has with us." "And Scully?" "I think you overestimate her importance in this matter. She and Mulder make an effective team. Without an ally she has no way of pursuing any more of an investigation into this matter. She has reached the end of the line." "Why not just get her out of the picture?" Fowley inserted, seeking a quick and absolute solution. "That could only be destructive to our cause. It would arouse more interest in Mulder's case, and that's attention we would rather not risk. But more importantly, we can use her to our own benefit." "To what gain?" Fowley said weakly, an ache developing through her temples. There was an intake of breath as the speaker took a long drag on his cigarette. "Scully is the only one who can go near him. We'll need an interpreter." "She'll never agree to that. She has no motivation to help us." Fowley retorted. "Just as you overestimate her knowledge about this situation, you apparently underestimate their bond. Given a choice between her partner's health and providing a little information to the "doctors" she will readily choose the latter. You were going to be our link, but obviously his tastes have...evolved." With that the line went dead. The conversation had ended. Fowley pressed the off button and slammed the phone back onto its base. Trust was never one of her strongest virtues, and it hadn't been helped with this discussion. It was time to take matters into her own hands. *****Continued in part 4***** From: UberScully@aol.com See Part 1 for Notes and Disclaimer . . . ************************************************ Scully's Apartment Building 3:20 AM 22 May 1999 Scully killed the engine of her car, and gathered everything she needed to take inside her apartment. There were so many papers and books, but she hated making two trips when she could probably handle the load. Only when she had started climbing stairs did her cell phone ring. Cursing the caller's inopportune timing, Scully set down her armful of information and answered the incoming call. "Scully." "Leave immediately," a male voice answered. "I'm . . I'm sorry, I believe you have a wrong number." Even though she was bewildered, in a typical Scully fashion she dismissed the call, flipped her phone closed, and proceeded to gather her reference materials. It rang again. Charming. "Scully." "Agent Scully. There is a man waiting for you at your apartment . . . with treacherous intentions. Leave now, and you won't have to face him," the anonymous caller rationalized. "Thanks for the advice. Have a great night." Scully stabbed the "end call" button with more force than was necessary, and rolled her eyes. Just what she needed tonight. Whether the caller was sincere or not wasn't really an issue. Now she was either going to be fighting an attacker, or be paranoid for the duration of the night. So she set aside her research on the top step, drew her gun, and approached her apartment. With the practiced ease of an experienced FBI agent, Scully quietly removed the safety of her gun and placed her hand on the door knob. The man most likely had locked it back after entering her apartment. Unlocking the door now would be a perfect way of alerting the attacker of her presence and destroying her main advantage -- the element of surprise. The only other option would be to bust down the door. However, if she attempted to and couldn't succeed the first time it would immediately backfire. Not to mention the cost of repair if no one was even in her home, and the hell of a bruise she'd have on whichever body part was the lucky object of hitting the wood. It was obvious that unlocking the door was the most logical solution. She'd just have to be quick about the whole thing. Like pulling off a Band-Aid. The slower it goes, the worse it is. On the count of three. One . . . Two . . . Suddenly, a large, muscular arm wrapped around Scully's midsection, trapping her own arms to her sides. Simultaneously, a hand larger than both of hers combined covered her mouth with alarming strength. She cursed herself. She should have known to check her back. Not only had they learned that one of the first days in the academy, but she'd been attacked from behind enough times to know to always check. Always. Not to mention the fact that it's common sense. But here she was again. What would Mulder do? No, judging from the numerous times Mulder has gotten his ass kicked, she figured she'd have to use her own judgment for this predicament. Scully tried to kick her attacker, but was having trouble breathing without the additional exertion from a struggle. So she relented and stood still until he made his next move. "Agent Scully, I need you to listen to me," Skinner whispered. "Your apartment is bugged. Your office is bugged, my office is bugged, my computer, my phones, my home. All bugged. I need to talk to you without any interruptions, and away from any listening devices. Then I'll explain everything. But I need your cooperation. I'm letting you go now. Don't say anything substantial above a whisper until I say it's safe to." Skinner released Scully, and she turned to face him with resentment written clearly in her expression. He expected as much. Being greeted in such a manner doesn't particularly invite trust and cooperation -- something she wasn't readily providing anyway. But she knew Skinner's reasoning behind his actions. The phone call still concerned her, though. Even though Scully never had trusted Skinner completely, she didn't think he would go as far as the informant claimed the attacker would. So, after a few moments, Scully nodded and retrieved her research material before following him out of the building. ***************** Fowley watched as the two agents left the building and made the short walk to the curb. She waited for Scully to get behind the wheel of her car and pull after Skinner's unmarked blue sedan. She let the cars get to the end of the block before she followed, maintaining distance to avoid suspicion. After several miles of navigating residental streets, the lead cars pulled into a small rural park. Diana made a U-turn, circling back so that she could park along the road. She decided it would be to her advantage to travel the rest of the distance on foot. She had lucked into the meeting between Scully and Skinner; she had only been intending to keep tabs on the latter. She had her doubts about his dedication to their interests, and if he were so "dispensable" there could be no harm in drawing her own conclusions from his actions. Walking briskly along a small dirt path, she spotted them several hundred feet ahead of her. Skinner motioned to a bench near the small pond, and Scully appeared almost tentative as she sat down, sitting near the edge as if wanting to keep her personal space. Diana leaned against a pine and simply observed. She had not come to listen; the scene in front of her confirmed almost as much as a conversation could. Skinner was obviously not holding to his side of the bargain. If he was dispensable a few hours ago, he had become truly disposable now. She adjusted the Glock nestled against her back, not taking her eyes off the two people who were oblivious to her presence. All she could do was wait. ***************** Shirey Park 3:39 AM 22 May 1999 "How do I know I can trust you?" Scully said softly, watching a duck splash in the shallow water near her feet. She had found it hard to make eye contact with her boss since the confrontation at her building. "I guess you don't know. I can only give you my word that you can." Skinner responded with no hint of anger, just a bit of resignation. "You obviously weren't above lying to me a few days ago." "Yes, and I regret that." Scully lifted her eyes to meet Skinner's. He appeared sincere, as though imploring her with his look to believe him. "I guess I just want to know why. Why did you lie and why seek me out now? Why put Mulder in jeopardy this way?" She raised her voice slightly, betraying a slight tremor as she spoke. "We put faith in you." Skinner rose to his feet, letting his body language, not his voice speak to his frustration. "You don't know my situation, Scully. I'm at great risk just standing here talking to you. I came here today for no other reason to restore that faith. Yes, Mulder is in danger, but without my help it will only become more dire. I have information to help you, but if someone even gets a whim that I've been conversing with you it's all over. I'm dead, Mulder's condition is still a mystery, and you will lose access. If not your life." Overwhelmed by this, Scully took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, letting a moment pass to absorb what Skinner had just told her. "Who is threatening you? The same people you are gathering information for?" "Krycek." Skinner said, looking as though he expected to self destruct in five seconds. "Krycek? Alex Krycek?" Scully was stunned. The thought of his participation in this had never crossed her mind. "But why?" "His goal is to sell information to the highest bidder in order to out manuever his former colleagues. I've been 'volunteered' to help provide this data. Through surveillance and records theft." "From us?" Skinner hesitated. "From you, yes. You aren't the only ones though. Krychek is a free agent now. I've also been assigned the duty of infiltrating those he used to work for. " "Is Agent Fowley part of that agenda?" Scully asked, already knowing the answer. Nodding, he continued. "Krycek was behind my illness several months ago. He pushes a button, and I die. Needless to say, this must be discreet. I can help you, and I'm doing it willingly. Just please respect the situation I am in." He took her hand gently. Scully looked up in surprise until she felt the edge of an envelope in her palm. Sliding it into her jacket she watched as Skinner walked away without another word. ***************** 4:05 AM Skinner picked up his pace en route to the car. He was deeply relieved and thankful that he had regained an alliance with Scully. At what cost, however, he was unsure. Never had he thought his life would come down to the lies and paranoia that now so completely consumed him. He had never considered himself a coward, and he suspected no one else had in the past. Whenever fear would surface, Skinner was trained to turn the unsoldierly emotion into a helpful one. He could then use the transformed fear as an advantage instead of a vulnerability. But the virus inside him robbed him of that strategy. There was no conventional or plausible way of ridding himself of the intrinsic affliction, therefore he couldn't create an advantage from his fear. He was left with helplessness. Skinner remembered the pain with alarming clarity, and had no desire to face the situation again. But he couldn't prevent it if Krycek, or whomever had possession of the device, chose to initiate the reaction. It seemed inevitable that at some point he would fail to comply, or loose everything in the process of obeying. The only way he could communicate outside his facade was through discreet and vague conversations. Even then, he wasn't sure of the capabilities of this man-made computer virus. Could it in itself be a bug? Realizing the absurdity of his train of thought, Skinner pushed the worry to the recesses of his mind. He had pressing matters that he could actually do something about to deal with. ***************** Fowley silently followed Skinner down the long dirt path, carefully avoiding leaves or sticks that could make any noise. She paused behind another pine when Skinner looked over his shoulder, and used the opportunity to place a silencer on her 9 mm. She found a clearing where a bullet would have an opening through any trees, and to her moving target. She took the needed stance of a skilled markswoman, and aimed at the back of Skinner's head. Her finger began to tighten on the trigger, when she fell forward from an unexpected sharp pain in her back. Placing a hand over her heart, blood seeped between her fingers. Diana fell to the ground, dropping her gun. With her last breath, she turned her head to face her cancer-prone companion, holding his own smoking gun. He put out his cigarette and nonchalantly walked away, never looking back to the rogue who would have done so well in the consortium had she followed the bylaw. ***************** 4:29 AM Scully remained seated on the park bench long after Skinner had departed. The thought of going back to a bugged apartment didn't really appeal to her, but it was nearing dawn and she desperately needed sleep. Scully was becoming disoriented from exhaustion. She'd just not speak inside until the Lone Gunmen had the opportunity to sweep her apartment for any devices they'd use. With her decision made, Scully patted her jacket for the reassurance the envelope was still intact and made her way to the car. The park was more of a wooded trail than any sort of open meadow. She usually preferred the nature and privacy of the walk, but in the middle of the night it was simply too dark. The meager lanterns the park provided weren't nearly sufficient. The ground suddenly became soft beneath her feet, and Scully's heel slightly stuck in the mud. It hadn't rained in days, so she knelt down to check out the soil. She touched the soggy land with her fingertips, and held them up to a lantern. They were dark red, and Scully realized the mud was the result of a massive amount of blood. "Oh, God." Searching the pockets of her trench coat, she produced a flashlight. Sure enough, the body of Diana Fowley lay prone on the ground, with her face turned slightly away from Scully. As she approached the body, she took out a pair of latex gloves. She didn't particularly want her fingerprints on the corpse. It would immediately involve her in a future murder case. Scully confirmed that there was no pulse, and Fowley was in fact dead. She directed the flashlight onto the agent's lifeless face. It was relaxed, not contorted in pain or shock. A gun rested beside her, but Scully knew the woman well enough to realize that she'd never commit suicide. Scully pocketed her gloves and rubbed her temples. She knew she had to contact the authorities, but she had no rational explanation for her presence at the park when a known enemy was gunned down. At four-thirty in the morning, no less. And if she didn't lie, Skinner would be put in danger. It seemed she had no choice but to make an anonymous call. It would be short enough so it couldn't be traced by the police, if for whatever reason they tried to. She returned to her car and informed them of the situation. She ascertained that sleep wasn't forthcoming, after all. *****Continued in part 5***** From: UberScully@aol.com See Part 1 for Notes and Disclaimer . . . ************************************************ Georgetown Memorial Hospital 22 May 1999 11:46 AM EST The death of Agent Diana Fowley quickly became a FBI matter. Within a couple hours her murder had made it to every local news channel, and by ten it had become one of the headline stories on CNN. Scully observed all of this not from her personal involvement in the investigation-- she had steered clear from the bureau since she had found Diana's body earlier that morning-- but from the small television in the hospital waiting room. The doctors had informed her that Mulder had been in and out of consciousness since her departure the previous evening. She rested her head against the cushion behind her. Sinking more deeply into her drowsiness, she started to lapse into a light sleep. That came to an end as the door buzzer rang close to her ear. "Dana Scully?" A young dark-haired doctor she had not met before entered the room. In his hand he carried a chart, which she presumed must be Mulder's. "Yes." She said quicky, once more alert. She stood, smoothing her rumpled skirt with one hand while shaking the doctor's hand with the other. "I'm Dr. Santiago. I'm one of the physicians assigned to your partner's case." Scully nodded in acknowledgement. She wasn't sure if this new addition to Mulder's care team was trustworthy, but pushed the thought aside for a moment in interest of seeing his current condition. "Is he awake?" "Yes, and he's calling for you. He's been weakened by his seizures and sedatives, so we ask that you not stay long with him. I wouldn't recommend it at all considering the often volatile nature of his illness, but I was informed that there was an exception to be made for you. I take it the two of you are close?" Santiago grinned. His new patient had most of the staff afraid to slip food through the door, while the small-statured woman before him could enter his room without a backward glance. One couldn't help but appreciate that level of trust. You have no idea, Scully thought wrily. "You could say that. Can I see him now?" "Right this way." ***************** Room C14 22 May 1999 11:52 AM EST As they approached Mulder's cell Dr. Santiago gave Scully the obligatory precautionary warnings and regulations. He entered the passcode on the keypad, and the light above the door turned green. "I'll be right outside the door in case of trouble. They're keeping an eye on the monitors in the next room. Just in case." With a parting glance he held the door and let her pass through. Scully had scarcely made it through the door before Mulder had stumbled to his feet. Saying nothing, he wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. "Scully..." "Miss me?" Scully said with a suprised laugh. She stepped back and saw that his eyes were red-rimmed and moist. "Mulder, what is it?" She questioned, taking both of his hands in her own. "I need out of here, Scully. I need out of my head." Mulder answered in quiet desperation. "I have news." "I know." Scully paused, wondering if Mulder had any idea of the magnitude of what she was about to tell him. "Try me." Startled, she looked up. "You can understand my thoughts clearly now?" "Apparently. I have since you were in the hall." Mulder looked nonplussed by this knowledge, as though he was admitting he had taken up a new hobby during his confinement. "But how?" Scully asked, still wildly disconcerted. "You're the scientist. You tell me." Mulder responded with a bit of humor. "Mulder." "The static is gone, Scully. I don't know what else to say. It's a bit cloudy at times, but I can interpret your thoughts almost as well as I can my own." He continued "What did you find out?" "Well, it's good you have this ability, Mulder, because I wouldn't want to risk this reaching the wrong ears." Reaching into her suit jacket she pulled out the envelope Skinner had given her earlier. She handed it to Mulder without a word. The information inside was stunning. She had studied it intensively upon her arrival at the hospital. Someone had taken what she assumed were excised parts of Mulder's missing chart and cross referenced the notations with another set of records. Records that belonged to... "Gibson Praise." Mulder said simply, not lifting his eyes from the document. The letter went on to outline astounding correlations between the two cases. PET scans were compared, symptoms were analyzed. Whomever authored this was certainly well connected to both Mulder and Gibson. While it was never stated that they felt the situations were identical, it was hypothesized that perhaps Mulder would respond to the same "treatment" that the boy had undergone. Gibson's whereabouts weren't known, but if this information was correct his telepathic tendencies could now be controlled. Remembering the child, Scully shuddered slightly. She didn't want to know by whom. Gibson had a gift. In the wrong hands it could have innumerable ramifications. She offered a silent prayer that he wherever he was, he was safe. Mulder rested his palm against her face, letting his thumb trace gently under her cheekbone. "He's okay, Scully. He's much too valuable to too many people." He read for a few more lines. "There's a way of shutting this off?" "If this is indeed the same thing, there is a drug that can essentially stop the telepathy and the accompanying effects. The pain, the seizures...whether the condition or the sedatives are causing them it can be stopped. The question is do you want it to be?" Mulder looked around the small room. "Would I be able to regain it?" "There's no way to say conclusively. We can't be certain that this is indeed the same type of situation as Gibson. What I can be certain of is that by letting this continue you are putting yourself at great risk. Between the seizures and the prolonged exposure to the sedatives you are in grave danger of permanent brain damage." Scully said emphatically. "I don't want to lose you, Mulder. Not to something that can be stopped. Is this worth risking your life and your sanity? The truth we've been searching for won't do you any good if I have to come wipe drool for you during visiting hours." "You would do that for me? Scully..." "I do have some personal interest, you know." Mulder chuckled and considered this. He turned Scully's chin up and planted a soft kiss on her lips. Meeting her eyes, he said "Diandibarvanal?" ***************** Georgetown Memorial Hospital 24 May 1999 6:11 PM EST If Scully had found it difficult to find the obscure drug, getting it to Mulder unnoticed was quickly proving to be impossible. She couldn't simply go to the doctors with her discovery; she didn't know who she could trust. In addition, if news got to Them about her acquiring the medication it could seriously compromise Skinner, placing all of their lives in jeopardy. Skinner. She wondered about his whereabouts and safety. They hadn't spoken since their last meeting. Did he know something about Fowley's death? The investigation into her murder was still going strong. Scully felt certain that Skinner wasn't responsible; the crime was too obvious and high-profile for a man in his position. Once she and Mulder were teamed again their first priority would have to be to do everything in their power to secure Skinner's freedom. Not knowing the nature of the virus or Krycek's whereabouts would make it a difficult task indeed. But first she had to free Mulder. Scully had been visiting him at regular intervals for the last 48 hours, and had assisted the staff while medicating her partner. Since her arrivals at the hospital had become much more frequent the staff had noticed a remarkable difference in Mulder's behavior patterns, and his violent outbursts had become far less common. He did still suffer from the seizures, but they too had lessened in intensity. Now as she watched him on the monitor she knew it was time to make their move. Twenty minutes before each meal Mulder was given a small dose of Phenylbarbital. Her only option was to replace that syringe with the one containing the Diandibarvanal and hope that the new drug didn't interact negatively with the preexisting meds already in his system. Walking into the hall she found an orderly pushing the evening meal trolley toward Mulder's wing. Quickly Scully intercepted him. "I'll take the one in C14." The kind-faced older man stopped the cart. "I appreciate the offer, miss, but he requires the doctor. Special case." "I am the doctor." Without waiting for an objection she grabbed the tray with Mulder's room number and continued quickly down the hall. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the replacement drug while slipping the barbituate from the meal tray into it's place. "Dr. Scully!" Turning around, she smiled at the approaching Dr. Santiago. "Perfect timing. I decided I would help with Mulder tonight, but realized I needed someone to open the door." "Why not wait until rounds? You're slightly early." Scully had no answer for that. She had wanted to avoid just this type of situation. She hadn't needed someone to unlock the door. One of the many advantages of having the person on the other side able to read minds. Kind of gives away the game. "Sorry, apparently my timing is a little off." Scully replied nonchalantly. "Not a problem. I appreciate your help." He stepped ahead of her and entered the code. Standing back, he let her enter. Mulder rose, then crossed the room as Scully set his dinner on the tray hanging from the door. He eyed Santiago, then returned his gaze to his partner. "It's okay, doctor. I'd like to stay with him if it's alright with you." "Absolutely. Need help with his meds?" "I think I can handle it." Scully responded lightly. "I'll call you if I have any problems." Dr. Santiago left, leaving the two alone. "I take it you got it?" Mulder asked, searching her eyes with his own. "Yes." Scully said, reaching for the syringe. "Do you trust me?" "Always." "That's good, because this can do one of two things. You can walk away from here without fear of seizures or psychosis. Go back to your relatively normal routine." Pulling back the plunger, she started to lift Mulder's sleeve. He grasped her wrist. "Or..." "Depending on your makeup it could kill you, cripple you or render you catatonic." "Ah." Mulder looked slightly nauseous. Scully gave him a reassuring smile, and prepped the injection site. Right before she she inserted the needle, Mulder stilled her hand. "Scully... This couldn't have been easy for you. You've risked so much to help me, and ask for nothing in return. I know I don't say it often enough, but thank you. For everything." Touched deeply, she wondered if he knew how much she loved him, and if he felt the emotion as deeply towards her. "Always." ***************** Apartment 42 30 May 1999 9:17 AM EST One week later Mulder was released from the hospital, free from the seizures and any evidence of the invasive thoughts that had both enriched and plagued him. He wouldn't return to active duty for several weeks, but he took the opportunity to start an informal investigation into the events of the last month, from Skinner's biological captivity to Diana's murder, which remained unsolved. While that aspect concerned him, he couldn't become overly moved by her death. He grieved for the woman he had known in the past, not the duplicitous agent that had reentered his life a year earlier. He regretted not trusting Scully's instincts earlier; it was not until the night before his hospitalization that he had learned some of her true motivations. It saddened and disturbed him, until Scully Diana was the most important person in his life; a devoted partner. He turned as he heard Scully enter his living room, hair tousled and and clothed in one of his older dress shirts, blinking from fresh sleep. It was not until Scully that he knew he had a partner in every sense of the word. ******** THE END *********