by Stephanie Davies
stefaniexf@aol.com
 

This story was written in November 1995 whilst I was in
hospital having all my female bits whipped out (you really
wanted to know that, didn't you?)  That explains the - shall
we say - gynaecological nature of the tale.

This story is based on the characters and situations created by
Chris Carter, Ten  Thirteen  Productions and Fox Broadcasting.
Used without permission and no infringement is intended.

Comments, flames, critiques, praise etc welcome - I'd really
appreciate some feedback.
 

This story was posted first: November 1995
 

~~~

Desolation - Part I

by Stephanie Davies
stefaniexf@aol.com
 

Fox Mulder  was worried even before he got the telephone call.
Dana Scully had been irritable all week, had stayed working in the
building until late each evening despite the fact that they were
only catching up on paperwork in a lull between cases. When
Mulder had suggested to her she should get an early night she had
practically ripped his head off.

And then this morning she'd received a brief telephone call from
someone she'd addressed as  Dr Kearns. "Got to go, Mulder -
I'll be back later", and pausing only to gather her coat and
purse, she had swept out of the basement office.  But the hours had
passed with no sign of her return. Mulder had gone alone to a
meeting with Skinner and had made excuses for her absence, only
half hearing what the older man was saying.

At  five the phone had rung: "Mr Mulder, this is Dr Victoria
Kearns". The voice sounded  hesitant: Mulder recognised the
name he had heard that morning. "Is Dana Scully there, please -
I'd like to speak with her...."

Leaning back in his chair, Mulder replied, "No, I'm sorry -
she's been out since this morning. Excuse me , but didn't you
call here earlier? She rushed out right afterwards."

"And you haven't seen her since? Damn!" Mulder was startled
by the vehemence now in the woman's tone. "I really need to
find her, Mr Mulder. I've left messages at her apartment and
spoken to her mother,  but she couldn't help. Look," the voice
paused as if considering whether to continue, "Do you have any
idea where she might go if she were upset?"

"Upset?" Mulder  frowned, and his posture became tense as he sat
up straight again. "What's going on here - you're a medical
doctor?"

"Yes, but I can't tell you -"

"I'm coming over. Where are you? We can sort out the ethics
when I get there."
 

Mulder drove the  blocks to her office cursing the rush-hour
traffic. On the way he tried calling Dana's apartment, but only
got the answerphone. "Scully, if you're there. pick up...." The
machine merely beeped, then waited. "Okay, call me as soon as
you can - it's important." He tried her  mobile. It was switched
off, and Mulder felt a sense of foreboding. Scully even kept her
cellphone on during those rare occasions when she was out on a
date, for God's sake.

It was raining by the time he arrived at the building. The door
plate read 'V.Kearns F.A.C.O.G.' Dr Kearns was waiting for
him in her outer office. "In here, Mr Mulder".

The office was all pastel colours and potted palms. Galleries of
babies and small children lined the walls, and in one corner was a
box overflowing with toys.

Dr Kearns motioned to him to sit down, but as she made no
movement to do so herself, he remained standing and dispensed
with the pleasantries.  "Scully's taken off somewhere, Doctor,
and you're worried enough to be contacting her mother and her
work to try to find her. Now, what's going on?"

"I  can't give you details,  but  Dana  came to me last week with
-  some concerns. We ran  tests, and this morning I called her to
let her know the results were in, and to come over."

The woman hesitated.  Bending down, she retrieved a small pink
bear which had escaped from the toy-chest, and placed it  carefully
on her desk.  "Unfortunately I was seeing another patient when
Dana arrived, and she asked my receptionist if she could look over
the test results while she waited." Dr Kearns shook her head.
"She shouldn't have been given those results.  She walked out
with her notes  before I could speak with her, and hasn't
returned."

Mulder said darkly, "Didn't anyone try to stop her?"

"No-one was really paying much attention. We were pretty busy;
three other doctors on this morning, and all the moms and kids."

 "And you're sure that what she read in her file will have upset
her?"

"You can see for yourself, Mr Mulder. I ran the closed-circuit tape
before I called you. I wanted to be sure I wasn't fussing over
nothing." Kearns picked up a remote, and a small tv set in the
corner flickered into fuzzy black-and-white life.

Mulder watched the grainy picture: a fish-eye view of the
reception area. He saw Dana enter, and after a brief exchange at
the desk, pick up a folder and take a seat on one of the couches.
He watched as a baby girl wobbled to her feet and tottered across
the room, brandishing a rag-doll and a delighted grin, to fall onto
her bottom next to Dana's leg.  He saw Dana lean forward, and
with great gentleness pick the infant up and carry her back to her
mom. Returning to her seat, she then  opened the folder and began
to read.

Mulder watched as her body became rigid. He could not
distinguish the expression on her face, but he saw she closed the
folder very slowly. Carefully, as if she were stiff or bearing a
surgical scar, she straightened up,  hoisted her shoulder-bag, and
moved toward the door.

In opening the door she half-turned, and her face was framed in
the shot. Mulder thought he had never seen a look of such
desolation. <Christ, Dana - what's wrong> He turned to Kearns,
and spoke fiercely, "I need to know...."

"Mr Mulder, I can't tell you what's in her file. But  I've
known Dana a long time - since Med. school - and she's
consulted me professionally since she came to Washington. I'm
very familiar with her medical history. There's been no
indication before of anything anomalous. But her recent test
results are mystifying. And she's just got to  be devastated by...."

Her voice trailed off as she became aware she might say too much.
She knew little about this man standing in front of her: Dana had
spoken  rarely of her work recently, or of her private life: in fact
Kearns had only the vaguest idea of Dana's position in the FBI.
Their talk was of  shared time together in medical school.

Mulder stepped close to Dr Kearns, not intending to intimidate
her, though that was the effect. "Is she sick?" he said, fiercely.
"Tell me, dammit...."

"No, nothing like that...." she retreated from his intensity. "Mr
Mulder, I'm a gynaecologist. You'll have to draw your own
conclusions. But find Dana. And when you do, bring her to me. I
need to  speak with her. And *she* will need to talk this through
with someone."
 

The journey to Dana's apartment was a nightmare. Mulder's
hands tightened on the wheel as he drove through streets slick
with rain and remembered that other night , that other drive, when
Dana had  disappeared and the three-month hell that followed. He
had come to an acceptance then of how much Dana Scully meant
to his life, and not just as his partner and best friend. To lose her
again....

And what had Dr Kearns meant? He paraphrased in his mind
'I'm a gynaecologist - go figure'. Maybe Dana was pregnant.
Mulder felt a stab of sorrow, but whether it was the thought of
Dana with another man's baby inside her, or Dana no longer
able to work with him because of it  he didn't examine. And that
didn't make sense, anyhow - Dana wouldn't be devastated by a
baby, unless....And he knew she hadn't dated for a while.... He
shook his head. It was foolish to speculate - and he had arrived at
her apartment.

Her car was parked outside, but the windows were dark, the
curtains still open. Mulder tried her cellphone again: still off.  He
called her  home number: still the answerphone.

"Scully, I'm outside your apartment. Please pick up -  if you're
in there, I'm coming in...."

"Go away, Mulder. I don't want you here." Scully's voice was
low and rough over the line.

At the sound of her voice, Mulder slumped back with relief.
"Sorry, Scully. We need to talk. I'm coming in." The line went
dead.

Mulder ran up the steps to her apartment block, briefly wondering
what he would do if she had deadlocked the door. But he didn't
even need to use his key: she opened  at his knock.

"Go *away* Mulder."

Her face was puffy and her eyes reddened, but her stance in the
doorway was determined. Looking past her he saw a glass and a
bottle of scotch on the table. She followed his gaze. "Yes, I'm
just about to get bombed, Mulder. It's something I rarely do, but
tonight it seems appropriate. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like
to get started." She made to close the door on him.

"I'm not leaving, Scully." He stepped forward into the room.

"Fine." She turned from him. "Then stay and watch." She sat
down on the couch and poured  herself a tumbler of neat whisky,
then drank half of it down with swift gulps, shuddering slightly.
She sat facing away from him. At some point in the last few
hours she had been caught in the rain: damp tendrils of hair
curled round her face, and her shoes and hose were splattered with
mud.

Mulder hung up his damp coat, then moved round the room
pulling the curtains closed and switching on her little desk-lamp.
Finally he came and sat down next to her. On the table near  the
bottle he saw what were clearly her medical notes.

"Where have you been, Scully? I expected you back."

She didn't look at him to reply.  Finally, defiantly, "I went to the
zoo."

"To the.... zoo! " Mulder was incredulous. " In November .... In
this weather? Scully, we had a meeting this afternoon...." he
trailed off. This wasn't coming out right.  He started again.
"Doctor Kearns called. She's worried about you. Said you rushed
off this morning, and she's anxious  to talk to you."

"There's nothing to talk about, Mulder. I just need .... to be left
alone."

"I'm not leaving here, Scully, until you tell me what's wrong."

A silence stretched out between them. Ten..... fifteen minutes.
Mulder sat back on the couch and felt his eyelids grow heavy.
Scully poured herself another  shot of scotch and swallowed it
down. She started speaking then, in a low monotone.

" I sat and watched the wolves 'til it got too dark. I like wolves.
They're so misunderstood. We think of them as solitary creatures
- the lone wolf, howling at the moon.  But that's not how they
really are at all. They have a very strong family bond. A mother
will freely sacrifice herself for her cubs." Scully's fingers picked
at the plush fabric of the couch as she spoke. "They bond for life."

<Something is deeply wrong here.> Scully was still half-turned
away from him, but Mulder could see the tracks of tears glistening
down her cheek. He  stood up and  went to Dana's phone.

She twisted round as he began to punch in numbers. "Who are
you calling?"

"Your mom. If you won't talk to me...." Suddenly she was up,
and snatching the instrument from his hand.

"I don't need *anyone* here - least of all my mom.  God!"  Her
face crumpled and she sagged  back  against the wall for support,
still holding the phone, "How'm I going to tell mom?"

<Enough> thought Mulder. He unclasped her fingers from the
phone and set it down. Then he reached out and pulled the
resistant woman to him and hugged her tightly. Still  holding her
close, he led her back to the couch, and sat her down. "Scully -
Dana - I'm your friend, and I want to help....."

She  tried to push away from him. "No-one can help, Mulder. Not
ever. Not *ever*."  But he did not  release her; rather, held her
aginst his chest, one hand smoothing the fiery hair back from her
face.

Then she wasn't fighting against him any more, but leaning into
him. "Talk to me, Dana. You don't need to go through....whatever
 it is....alone." His tone was almost pleading. "Haven't we learned
that? Both of us?"

Taking a deep breath,  for the first time that evening she looked
directly at him. Her face was a careful blank, but Mulder read a
bottomless sorrow in her eyes.

"While I was  - gone - they took ...."  She swallowed hard, and
her mouth moved, but she was unable to speak for a moment.
"Mulder, they harvested my ova.  *All* of them." Her eyes slid
away from his face, and she whispered so low that he could barely
hear, "It's not possible. But apparently it's true. And God
knows what other damage...."

Then she looked back at him and her voice grew rough. "I can't
have children. That's it. That's what it means." Mulder
stiffened in shock, stricken. " All right. Now you know. Now you
can go." She pushed out of his arms , away from  a pity she
dreaded to see on his face, and stood up.

Numb with grief, Fox Mulder let her go.

She moved around the room, touching objects seemingly at
random as if trying to connect with something solid and real.
"It's a joke really, anyway."  Her right hand was working her
gold cross backwards and forwards on the  chain round her neck.
"I haven't had a date for months. Haven't *slept* with anyone
for nearly two years. Never was much chance of a baby  for me -
you generally need a man on the scene for that kind of thing -
right?" She was not speaking to Mulder, though, but herself.

 "But I always thought - you know - one day, I'd have a
husband, and a baby.... and I've just got to get used to the idea
that I'm not going to have either." She paused. "So that's what
I'm doing tonight. getting used to the idea."

 Mulder's voice was thick ." Dana, I don't know what I can say
to you."  <Some fucking use you are....>

"No, of course you don't. No-one will know what to say. So I
won't tell anyone else- ever. And - Mulder, if you do, I *swear*
you'll never see me again." Drained, she sat back down on the
couch, reaching again for her drink.

 He stared at her. "You need to tell your mom!"

 "She doesn't have to know. It would make her - so sad. I truly
couldn't bear it." Her voice dropped to a whisper. " She would
be so sorry for me.... Mulder, I feel like I've let her down. And
she's still grieving for Missy." She sat,  arms wrapped round her
body, hugging in her pain.

"Dana, I don't know that much about  it, but there are things
that can be done, you know. You *do* know. Maybe that's what
Doctor Kearns wanted to talk about."

"Yeah, Mulder - donor eggs, IVF, GIFT - I do know. But I'm
not in a situation to consider those things - I'm not married, nor
likely to be."  She turned away from him again, leaning against
the side of the couch, her head resting on her crossed arms.

"Why do you say that?" he responded softly.

Her voice was muffled. "Because I won't get married now.
Knowingly deprive some man of the chance of  a family and
children?  I'm not going to put any man in the position of having
to make such a choice."

"Surely that's not a choice for you alone....don't you think the
man in question might have something to say about it?"

"Which man are we talking about here, Mulder?" she replied
bitterly. "The last time I dated, the guy took off half-way through
the evening when he found out  where I worked. He was a jerk,
anyway. I don't even know why I agreed to spend any time with
him, except that it had been so long.... So the likelihood of my
meeting anyone who I could spend my life with is remote, babies
or no babies."

Mulder reached out blindly for her, and pulled her into his arms.
<Oh, Dana, I'd marry you tomorrow if you'd have me>

 But this was not the time for such words. Tonight Fox Mulder
could only offer Dana Scully  whatever comfort she might find in
the warm presence of his arms as she mourned for a future she
now never thought to see.

It was another bereavement, of a kind.
 For both of them.
 
 

(The end)
 
 

_____
 
 

Touching The Hem.

By Stephanie Davies

stefaniexf@aol.com
 
 

This story was posted first: August 1996

None of these characters belong to me, but they are borrowed with love
and gratitude from Chris Carter, 1013, Fox Network and especially
Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny who have breathed such life into
them.

This is set after the events in an earlier story of  mine called 'Desolation',
but you don't have to have read that one to understand this. It follows
immediately on from the closing scene in 'Talitha Cumi'.

***********************************
 

"Do it, Scully...." hissed Mulder. "You've got to do it now!"

All her instincts screaming out against her  Scully plunged the stiletto
down into the neck of the figure beneath .  Melissa Scully's eyes widened,
then dulled with pain and death. "Dana-a......"  For an instant  Scully felt
a strange shifting of muscles and flesh beneath her fingers, then strong
hands plucked her from the burly figure just as it tumbled over the edge
of the flat roof of the building to which Jeremiah Smith had fled at the
sight of the blonde man. Pushing herself free after a second from
Mulder's protective grasp, she peered over the edge to see the figure
beneath begin to disintegrate in front of her eyes.

---------------------------------------------------

Miles of  blackness slid  past. It could have been so much worse. She
tugged the remnants of her leather gloves off her hands,  fretting
compulsively at the shreds which adhered to her skin.  It was, after all,
important that she remove all traces  of the viscous liquid which had
dissolved the fabric before it went to work too much on her skin.  Her
hands just felt numb. She was shaking: she knew it, yet she couldn't stop.
Couldn't stop, either, her mind from spooling backwards to that terrible
moment when her sister 's beloved eyes had stared back at her as she
twisted the  slim blade once, before the gush of green fluid over her
fingers. And she had lost the weapon over the side  embedded in the
body, with no time to search for it before they had heard wailing sirens in
the distance and bundled the limp  figure of Smith into the back of the
car.

Stealing a glance sideways, she saw that none of the tension had left
Mulder. His expression was pinched and set, his eyes flitting from the
dark road ahead to the rear-view mirror.

"Are we being followed?"

A terse nod of the head.  "No".

"Agent Mulder - " The quiet voice startled them both. "I am hurt. If I am
to be any use to you, we must stop soon to allow me to treat myself." He
waved the beginning of Scully's protest aside. "You cannot help me, but I
can help myself. I need water - and your first-aid kit, Agent Mulder."

Suddenly, without a signal, Mulder span the car into a sharp right-turn
pulling up outside a lighted roadhouse, then killed the lights and parked
away round the back, out of sight of passing traffic. It would have to do.

Scully leaned back against the plastic bench, eyes searching the darkened
room. She had chosen a booth right in the corner, next to the service
door, from where she could survey the whole room. There were no other
customers. The cashier, youngish lad with dark hair and a straggly beard,
was busy at the counter up the other end. Mulder had escorted Smith to
the restroom  checked it over, then  made his way to fetch some coffee.
She watched Smith re-appear, looking warily around him, moving more
easily than he had been. He had refused to let Scully look at the wound in
his side, caused by a glancing blow from the bounty-hunter's weapon
when he has cornered Smith on the roof before Mulder and Scully had
launched themselves at him. The struggle had been violent and confused,
and Scully found herself thinking how lucky they were to have escaped so
lightly. She looked down at her  hands. They were now ice-cold: she
squeezed them together surreptitiously in her lap to try and make the
feeling come back.

Before she knew it, Mulder was sliding onto the bench next to her,
placing the paper cup in front of her. Damn! She flinched slightly at the
blistering heat of the coffee, barely able to hold the cup, put it back down
too quickly. Droplets of brown liquid spilled onto the table.. She should
have been paying attention....she was no good to any of them if she
couldn't keep her mind on what she was meant to be doing.

Mulder leaned forward until she could feel his warm breath on her cheek,
said quietly, "You doin' okay, Scully?"

She nodded. The old lie. None of them were doing okay right now. Then,
very gently, he took both  hands in his, one after the other, rubbing his
fingers lightly across the back and palm of each one, smoothing  the now-
blistering skin. And for a moment, Scully sat passively, allowing the
small comfort.

 "What about him. I don't know what to do for him, Mulder....I don't.."
She took a deep breath, and her voice became steadier. "Are we taking
him to Providence?"

 With a final gentle squeeze, Mulder released her fingers and slipped
across into the seat next to the unmoving Jeremiah Smith. "Help us out
here." He spoke to the  man in an undertone. " You turn up on my
partner's doorstep in the middle of the night saying that you are here to
help us, with vital information. But you haven't given us anything yet.
Why should we trust you? How do we know who you are? Maybe we
should just leave you to the people who're looking for you -"

Smith's eyes were weary. "You won't do that, Agent Mulder. I have too
many things you want. I can tell you much that you want to know." The
words seemed to be an effort for him.

"Tell me now, then".

"This is not a safe place. It is a long and complicated story. And you
made a request of me which if I am not mistaken was of some urgency.....
your mother?"

"Mulder." Scully placed the coffee cup back down very carefully so that
no-one would notice how much her hands were shaking. "Mulder, this
man can't help your mother. Look at him - he can barely help himself."
She looked away, not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes at her words, or
the need.

"Scully, you saw the tapes......this man healed those people!"  They both
glanced at the pale figure in the corner. "He can heal my mother."

She closed her eyes briefly, feeling Mulder's pain. "I know what I *saw*
on the tapes. I also know that I saw....I saw Missy, a year dead, pleading
with me not to hurt her again. I know that I stuck a blade into my sister's
neck and watched her die again beneath me. I saw her body dissolve in
front of me into a puddle of green ooze. I saw all those things,
Mulder....*but that doesn't mean they really happened!*"

"What are you talking about? "

"No-one can do what you think he did, Mulder. And I think…"
..searching  for the  words which would hurt him least….. "I think you
want it so much that you're not thinking straight."

"You are a piece of work, sometimes, Scully" .She flinched at the
bitterness in his voice. "That - thing - wasn't a man. You saw it - we both
did - change itself into your sister. How can you deny the evidence of
your own eyes?"

"Mulder, we both know what the power of the mind is capable of." ....."
She spoke softly, shifting slightly as she sat.. " I  believe   that Robert
Modell projected his will onto others, making them do things they would
never have dreamed of - would never have wanted to do. And maybe this
man.." she gestured to Smith, who sat slumped back, eyes closed…" and
the other one are the same. That one tonight made me *think* I saw
Melissa - that's all." She leaned across the table to him.

"And the people on the tape?" Mulder folded his arms.

"Maybe they were never injured. He just made them think they were. I
don't know, Mulder, I can't explain how that worked.  But I don't believe
that he can cure people of bullet wounds just by touching them."

"Do you believe in miracles, Agent Scully?" She had almost forgotten he
was there. "I know that you believe…. " indicating the small, gold cross
hanging around her neck.. "in the miracles of Jesus Christ two thousand
years ago. Just think of what I do in those terms if it helps".
 

Scully's face became a careful blank.  "So you think," she said slowly,
watching him,  "that you're the Son of God."

"No, Agent Scully, I'm saying that Jesus Christ was one of us." Smith
stared calmly back at her. "We have been here before, you see.  But it was
not the right time, and because we did not understand you - nor indeed
ourselves - the experiment went badly wrong." He paused for a moment,
then continued, " It's very hard to resist the temptation to do good when
it's so easy to take away a man's physical pain. The man you know as
Jesus Christ could not resist that temptation. And he thought that if he
showed men a better way of living in time the miracles would no longer
be necessary. Unfortunately he was wrong. We knew little about the
species then, two thousand years ago. " His face twisted into what might
have been a wry smile. "And yet it seems I am to make the same mistake
of thinking that I can show mankind a better way."

Unconsciously  Scully tugged at her small gold cross, cool, smooth,
fragile - but real. "Christ only healed those who believed in Him. He
couldn't heal without faith. What you did was - a trick. A clever
manipulation. And I don't know why you sought us out," her voice rose a
fraction above talking pitch, "but I'm not going to let you manipulate
Mulder by using his mother's sickness -"

"Scully -" Mulder leaned across the table, physically  shielding Smith,
"he's coming with me to the hospital, and then we can talk about the
rest." The look her gave her was long and full of need. "I'd like you to
come with us. But if you feel this way about it....."

"Please don't do this to yourself ,Mulder. You're upset, you're not
thinking straight," Scully murmured, "Can't you see he's delusional.....we
need to get him to a hospital.." A mental institution. The words hung
unsaid but clear between the three of them.

"Scully, if he can cure my mother, I have to take the chance."

"Mulder, listen to yourself, please. You don't *believe* in miracles. "
This time she did reach over, rested her hand on his arm. "He's a fraud,
like all those big-haired preachers - remember?  I think we're being
played here. Why is he so anxious to help us?" She turned back to Smith.

"Agent Scully we have been watching your kind for  a very long time. We
have come to know not only the barbarity but also the humanity of man.
To be envious of it, in fact. I admire your capacity to love, to sacrifice
yourselves for love. And whatever the future is to be for the human race, I
believe it is something humanity should work out for itself, not have
imposed by - others.  I have come to despise the plan and the planners.
Men must decide for themselves what their future should hold.."

"So the performance in the restaurant was  what? Just a  way to draw
attention to your new agenda?"

"No.  I am no more an exhibitionist than Jesus Christ was. What I did, I
did in response to the situation.  But I could no longer deny the power
within me when the call came."

Scully sat back and her eyes were cold. "Prove it to me."

"Ah - a phenomenalist, Agent Scully?"

 "Heal *me*." She looked at him without flinching. "Heal me of what it
was that was done when they took me. Make me a woman again. Give me
back a fruitful womb. Jesus Christ did it. Luke chapter 8 verse 43. I
remember my catechism, Mr Smith." She paused for a beat. "But you
can't do that, can you."  Gathering her coat around her she turned to
Mulder. " We need to be moving soon, Mulder. I'll go check the parking-
lot. Phone the hospital from here  - it should be safe enough."
 

----------------------------------------------------

"She is full of pain and anger, Agent Mulder. I knew her for one of the
Taken - she has suffered much."  Smith's eyes were dark as they followed
Scully's retreating figure.
 

"Heal me!" The words rang round Mulder's head as he watched her leave.
He had lived with it for so long - nearly a year now - the knowledge that
the experiments inflicted on Scully while she was abducted had made her
barren. It had become seeped into his bones, known at a cellular level but
not consciously brought to mind. At least, that was how it was for Fox
Mulder. He did not know, because she wouldn't let him in to that most
private part of her, whether she felt her loss every living minute, or
whether it was a thought, a distress, which drifted in and out of her mind,
coloring a moment with sadness and then gone for a space. After that
first night when she has wept in his arms it had never been mentioned
again between them. Any attempt at bringing it up had been met by
quiet, resolute deflection from Scully.  And so much had happened since
then. But the raw pain he had heard in those two words, pain which he
wasn't sure she even knew she's given away in them, tore at him. "Can
you do it?"

Time moved slowly for Mulder under the searching gaze of Zachariah
Smith. It felt like the man was looking into his very soul. Then he spoke,
so quietly that Mulder had to straightforward to hear above the pattering
of rain on the windows and roof.

"Agent Mulder, we are not meant to use our gifts at all. But I have made
a choice to use mine in response to need and to take the consequences of
that action. But I cannot and must not exercise my powers in a
'supernatural' way, as you would say, to prove that I am telling the truth. I
cannot help her."

"She saved your life. You owe her this."

"That was an act of free will, not of coercion. I agreed to help you  and to
come to your mother as an act of free will. I must not set my powers
loose on demand." There was deep regret in Smith's voice, and even a
hint of fear. "I have learned this from a mistake I have made very
recently. A terrible mistake, using my gift as a bargaining counter, and I
fear the consequences for all of us may be disastrous. I cannot fall into
that trap again....."

Bile burned at the back of Mulder's throat. The man was talking in
riddles, and all this time, for these long months, the loss had been eating
it's way into Scully's very core. He wanted to give back to her a promise
for the future. There was nothing,  nothing, he thought, that he wouldn't
give at that moment to hand Scully back that which she had stolen
because of him. "Then don't do it because she asked you for proof. Do it -
as you said - because of need."

The service door swung open. "You folks just 'bout finished? We're
wantin' to close up here round about now...."

Both men stood up. "Sure, thanks." Mulder dropped a ten on the table.

"It will be very difficult, Agent Mulder. I'm afraid you're going to have to
make a choice here. I can think of only one way that this can be done...."

---------------------------------------------------

Scully shivered. A steady downpour had settled in, and she pulled her
coat closer. The smell of damp wool was vaguely unpleasant.
Occasionally the silence would be disturbed by the hissing of car-tyres  as
vehicles drove past along the freeway. She looked at her watch -two
o'clock. Time to go. The parking-lot seemed deserted. She moved back
through the outer doors, and bumped into the figure of Mulder.

"It seems clear, Mulder." She spoke quietly, still scanning the darkness
outside. "Have you made the call? How's your mom?" She looked up at
him, but his face gave nothing away. An old selfish sadness flickered in
side her, If only he would let her in at least a little, let her share the
burden of his quest, *really* let her in. Sometimes she didn't ever think
he would, and then he would say something, do something and she would
feel for a moment that a small part of his terrible load had shifted onto
her strong shoulders. Oh, she would willingly carry it for as long as he
would let her! But all too soon, he would gently lift it back from her.
 

"I'll bring the car round to the door. Smith's inside," he gestured back
into the restaurant, where the owner was now snicking the lights off
down the room. "Keep him in there until I'm ready with the car...."

As Scully turned back, Mulder caught hold of her hands again. "How are
they now,  Scully?" He turned her palms up, and stroked his fingers
across them. His fingers were warm, almost hot: for an instant it felts as
if her hands were burning and then an electric tingling ran up her arms.
She felt faint, swayed.

"Scully, are you okay?" His arm was round her shoulder. "It's the cold,
the shock. Here, do up your coat, " he scolded, a soft smile on his lips,
helping her shrug her arms into the damp garment. His open hand
brushed  her hair free of the collar of her coat, and she felt a gentle
prickle of sensitized nerve-endings  along her throat and around her
neck at his touch.

Scully's mouth was dry as she looked back up at him. He has no idea
what he can do to me, she thought ruefully. "I'm okay, Mulder. " They
both smiled a little. "Really. This is as good as it gets at the moment. Go
get the car. I'm fine."

She made her way back into the now-darkened restaurant.

A figure lay slumped at their table. She shook it, a little roughly. "We
have to go now........"

The face which turned to look at her was Mulder's.

"My God, Mulder...then who was...."

Mulder leapt to his feet, grabbed her coat-sleeve. "It's too late, Scully, he's
gone. I felt kind of dizzy. I must have passed out for a minute.."

"Maybe we can still catch him up..." She fell silent at the sound of the car
starting up, the crackle of gravel as it pulled out of the parking lot onto
the highway. "He took your keys....? Oh Mulder..." The significance of it
almost undid her,...."I'm sorry. I know you believed he could help your
mother and I'm so sorry."

 She pulled him into a hug, then released him quickly, "Hey!" The young
man looked up from wiping down the tables. "Federal agents." She
flashed her ID at him. "We need to take your car. Don't worry -  if
anything happens to it...."

"Cool!" The young man dug around in his pocket for the keys. "Wow,
wait till I tell my dad! As long as I have it back by Friday!"

Flashing him a quick smile of gratitude, Scully snatched the keys. Her
hands had stopped hurting, she realized. In fact, she glanced quickly
down, they seemed to have totally recovered. Good - she could do the
driving. Providence was a very long way, and Mulder hadn't slept in
nearly two days.
-----------------------------------------------------

He placed the receiver gently back and put the spare quarter back in his
pocket. The call had been too quick to trace as long as they left quickly.
He supposed the expression on his face told Scully that the news was not
good, because she didn't ask, just jangled the boy's keys.

 "Let's get going, Mulder. There's nothing more we can do here. He's got
the jump on us, and I think you need to be with your mom....you can rest
in the car."

"No. Not the hospital." Not now, when he had made his choice. He didn't
regret it, choosing the living over the dying, but  there was nothing he
could say to Scully.
 

"Not Providence Scully," he said, as they walked out into the rainy night.
He stopped, and pulled out of his wallet a small card. "I lifted this from
Smith's pocket as we were getting him into the car."

Scully unlocked the battered blue Chevrolet, came and looked over his
shoulder. "A farm? In upstate New York? You want to go there?"

" It's the Project, Scully. That's what it's called. I think we might finally
be close to getting some answers."

"C'me on, Mulder." He looked down into her concerned eyes, leaned a
little into her strength for a second, as she continued, "We can still hope
for a miracle, Mulder." Very softly, "Such things do happen. Come on.."
she threaded her arm through his.

 He squeezed her arm to his side. Not two miracles in one evening, he
could not hope for that.  Maybe there would be a miracle. And if the man
turned out to have been a fraud, then he had lost nothing, and neither had
Scully. If  Zachariah Smith's gift were real and his mother died - then
Mulder  was not going to regret his choice, not ever. He would mourn her
with Scully beside him to help him through. They would go on looking
for Samantha until  he could bring her home.

And Scully would never be sure how it had happened, but one day he
hoped to be around to see little red-headed babies.
 

The End