By Maidenjedi
texgoddess@yahoo.com or
maidenjedi@hotmail.com
 

RATING:  PG13
CATEGORY/KEYWORDS:  V, MA, MT
ARCHIVE:  Yes.  I'll submit to Gossamer directly.
SPOILERS:  Requiem, Tunguska/Terma, Redux II,
Never Again, Ascension
DISCLAIMER:  They just aren't mine.  I leave
the hard stuff to the big boys.
SUMMARY:  The waterglass said "Drink Me" and the
mushroom said "Eat Me".
AUTHORS NOTES:   Writing fanfic is like playing
with Barbies.  You get to make your own rules.

Like my other MulderTorture vignette, "White
Rabbit", this story owes a lot to Lewis Carroll
for "Through the Looking Glass" and Walt Disney
for "Alice in Wonderland".

I also owe a lot to a good friend, who shall
remain anonymous, for helping me realize a
few hard truths.  Thank you.  Mulder here
owes you his soul.
 

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*
 

Bars on the door, mud and grime on the floor.
There is a little window, high up, from which a dull
light streams.  The man fetally curled in the corner
is pale, unshaven, breathing shallowly.  He has
pock-marked arms and dried blood in his hair.  His
feet are the only relatively clean portion of his
anatomy, probably from lack of use more than anything.

Slowly his eyes blink out the sleep, and his mouth
stretches in a silent cry for water.  His lips are
chapped, his cheeks hollow, all indicating that months
have passed since he was granted real nourishment,
real
human nourishment.  He is a prisoner of an unknown
species.  The way his eyes dart and his arms cross
his chest is a give-away of his fear.

He looks around, suddenly confused by his
surroundings.
He recognizes this place.

Somewhere in the distance, two men are talking.  Our
hero is lying in the dust, shaking his head.  He would
swear he hears Russian....but he is certain he has
been
abducted.  He's not on Earth, how could he be hearing
Russian?

Unless....

He feels the walls with his hands.  A window, not a
window, a hole!  He gasps in disbelief.  It was all a
dream?  He sticks his hand in the hole and bumps
against human flesh.

"Comrade?" says a male voice.

Our hero jumps back in surprise, relief flooding his
system. He knows where he is!

"Tunguska," he rasps.

"Yes, American.  Tunguska."  The man in the next cell
says it resignedly, as if it were a curse he is unable
to erase.

"Krycek...where is Krycek?"  Our hero remembers now!
He came to Tunguska looking for....for....for proof!
And he dragged someone named Krycek along with him.
And they were captured.

"The man you called friend has betrayed you.  I told
you this."

"Mulder...." the man whispers.  He has remembered his
name.

"What?"  The man in the next cell is confused.

Mulder shakes his head in confusion.  The dream had
been so real.  It had spanned so much time!  And in
the end he had been taken into a ship, an alien ship,
and he remembered Scully crying....

Scully.

"Where is Scully?"

"You are not well, comrade."  The man in the next cell
doesn't know why his ally has begun to rave like this,
but it has to be the black oil.  "It is the black
oil."  Saying it aloud has depressed him further, and
all he can do is breathe now.

Mulder, on the other hand, is upset.  He cannot
remember what happened to Scully, or where she is, or
why she isn't here.  He can only remember something
vague from his dream...."I won't let you go
alone"......

But he is alone.

Someone comes to his cell door and pushes a bowl of
water through the slot at the bottom.  Breakfast is
here.

Mulder is overcome, however.  Why can't he remember
her outside of his dreams?  Why is it that he dreamt
about a whole four years of his life?  And how is it
that he is still at Tunguska?

"Friend."  He decides maybe the man through the wall
has answers.

No sound.

"Friend!"

"What is it, comrade?"

"How long have I been here?"

Silence.

Mulder hitches in breath to ask again, but the man
cuts him off.

"Over a year.  Drink.  It will help."

Mulder is paralyzed.  A year?  His breath is suddenly
ragged and his chest is tightening.  A year....a year!
 How could he suddenly wake up to find he has lost an
entire year?

The dreams.

Scully.

The ship.

Mulder looks down at the bowl on the ground.  The
water in the bowl is murky at best, but perhaps the
man is right.  There is nothing else he can do,
anyway.  Not yet.

As he lowers himself to the ground, the room begins to

spin as vertigo overtakes his senses.  Voices seem to
scream at him and the only thing he can see is
menacing
and horrible.  He screams in agony until he hits the
floor with a solid thud.

"Drink, American.  Drink!"  comes the furious whisper.

Mulder shakes his head.  Images flash before him and
he
is suddenly convinced the Walrus has come to collect.

The dream has not ended.

Mulder looks at the bowl for a moment, then picks it
up.  Inscribed on the side is a phrase that may ensure
him a few precious moments of sanity.

*Drink Me*

Mulder looks around the cell, uncertain of what is
happening.  Is this still a dream or is he stuck in
Tunguska, destined to slave away forever or until the
black oil finally kills him?  Where is Scully?  Where
is this?

Mulder looks at the bowl again as doubt creeps into
his
mind.  Maybe he is on the ship.  Maybe.  But maybe
not.

He drinks the water.

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

End Part One

When I finish this, I will post it on my site in one
big lump.  I hope you're enjoying it so far.

=====
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Part 2

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X

"Agent Mulder."

Nose being rubbed, eyes blinking once.

"Agent Mulder, wake up."

Deep sigh, head turns as eyes squeeze shut.  This
is a man awakening as if from a dream.

"Agent Mulder!"

At that, he sits straight up as if shocked and gasps
out, "Tunguska!"

The surly gentleman standing before him is in no mood.
"Mulder, Scully's been asking for you.  The doctors
say
it could help if you go in."  He glares down at the
disheveled Agent Mulder, who is looking around in
confusion.

"What...why...."  He is truly perplexed.  He thinks
he had been dreaming about Tunguska, and it had seemed
so real.  But why is he sitting in this hard plastic
chair in this bright white hospital corridor, and why
is...Skinner...standing over him?  And why, dear God,
why, are the doctors with Scully?

"Scully is in that room Mulder.  She's been asking for
you.  Wake up.  I'll go get us some coffee."  He
regards Mulder sadly for the first time, a little of
the steel in his backbone bending.  "I'm sorry this is
happening, Mulder.  I'm sorry I couldn't do anything
to save her." With that, Skinner walks away, leaving a
shaking and still thoroughly puzzled Mulder.

Save Scully?  What the hell is happening here?

"Mulder."

Mulder looks up, and blinks three times before the man
in front of him registers in his mind.  Bill.  Bill
Scully. Her brother.  Suddenly its deja vu all over
again.

"You are one sorry son of a bitch."

Mulder gapes slightly.  He's been here before, hasn't
he? Didn't Bill call him that ages ago?

Mulder wonders if maybe this is the reality, the rest
a dream.  Scully is not cured, it must be that.  Her
cancer never went into remission, he never found the
chip....

"Scully."  He whispers it like a prayer, and makes up
his mind to go into her room.  To see for himself.
Are they fucking with his mind or is this really three
years ago?  What he *perceives* to be three years ago.

Scully is there, in the bed.  The room is cold to
Mulder and he shakes violently.  He realizes as he
leans over to touch her cheek, however, that he is
really just frightened.  He's hurt. Its not cold in
here at all.

Scully's eyes flutter open at his touch.  "Mulder."

What is this, his mind cries.  She's nearly ready for
last rites, and I could swear we cured her!  This is
over, this is the past!  It can't be real, it can't
be....

Scully is grasping lightly at his fingers, telling him
that he mustn't make her his cause, that he must find
Samantha and move on.

This makes him think harder.  But he found Samantha,
he knows what happened to her!  She's in the starlight
and....

Scully whispers something Mulder can't hear, so he
leans over and draws in a breath, relishing her smell
and wanting so bad to kiss her.  But she repeats what
she's said.

"Goodbye, Mulder."

The breath leaves her body, and her chest doesn't rise
again.  Alarms go off in the room, and Mulder looks up
at the heart monitor just as it goes flat.

A nurse walks in the door, shuts off the alarms.  "I
am so sorry, sir. Would you like a few minutes alone
with her before I call the doctor?"

Mulder only nods.  He can't breathe, he can't see, and
his knees are about to fail on him.
Scully....dead....

He begins to sway backward, and the nurse sees him
just in time to catch him.  "Sir!  Are you alright?"
But he doesn't hear her.  He hears an insane cackling
and sees nothing but queen of hearts Bicycle cards
floating in front of him.  He can't clear his head, so
he lets the nurse guide him down into a chair.

"Mulder!"  That voice he hears.  Skinner kneals down
in front of him.  "Here, take this."  He has a cup of
steaming coffee in his hand.  Mulder takes it with
shaking hands, staring blankly over at Scully, his
heart pounding with the insistence that this has to be
a nightmare.  She survived her cancer, damnit!

Skinner waves the nurse out of the room and stands up.
 He turns to Scully and leans over.  A soft kiss on
her forehead and a silent plea for her to be at peace.
 He turns to walk out.

Mulder still sits there holding the coffee, not
acknowledging it and staring at Scully.  Tears have
begun to flood down his cheeks, getting caught in the
beard stubble.  Skinner just looks at Mulder for a
moment, shaking his head at the utter despair in front
of him.

"Mulder, drink the coffee.  You'll feel better.  It
will help."

And with that he walks out of the room.

Mulder feels his heart clench in his chest and thinks
of what a mercy it would be to die right this second,
to join Scully wherever she's gone.  All belief that
this might be a dream has gone out of his mind, and
then he looks down at the coffee cup in his hand.

Why is there a tea bag in this cup of coffee?

But it isn't a tea bag at all.  Mulder squints a
little to read the print.

Laughter escapes his lips.  It is not the laughter of
the amused, but of the nearly insane.  Somewhere in
the
distance Mulder thinks he hears the sound of a jolly
walrus.

The teabag tag says, in tiny script, "Drink Me".
 

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X

end part 2.

do you see where this is going?  Hope you're enjoying
it!  Part 3 coming soon!
 

=====
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"Her head on his shoulder, her arm curled around
his chest, she tries to recall the last time she
awoke feeling so at peace...She takes the path
closest to her.....The one littered with signs that have beckoned to her before." -- from 'Advent of Morning' by PD

Part 3

For those who have been reading this series of
MT vignettes (btw, I love you all!!), this part is
a little different.  In the previous bits, Mulder
woke up to find himself in a sort of alternate
reality.  In this piece, and possibly in future
pieces, Mulder simply picks up in the middle of a
situation.  It's an idea I had for a post-ep that I am
simply warping to fit this current creative streak.
Beware of the MulderLogic in this piece; it may seem a
little off.

Part 3 is dedicated to Shaun, for the circles we've
run
in for so long.  Also for introducing me to smut and
agreeing that it is very hard to see our Moose and
Squirrel ever actually doing the deed.  I guess since
this is an almost-AU I get to have some fun, eh?

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*
 

"Not everything is about you, Mulder.  This is my
life."  Scully looks at him only briefly, fully
intending to avoid his gaze lest she be trapped there
for eternity.

He shakes his head, trying to clear it.  For a brief
second, it seemed, he hadn't been in this room;
inexplicably, the scent of hospital bedsheets is in
his nose and the sound of a heart monitor resonates in
his ears.  His mind has been wandering.  And this is
serious, this argument with Scully.  Philadelphia, Ed
Jerse, that goddamn tattoo....

"Yes, but its my...."  She looks at him expectantly
and he just can't look her in the eye.  How would he
finish that statement?  His what?  Her life, his.....

She narrows her eyes and glances away, the worry lines
forming in the corners of her mouth indicating a pout.

He feels he knows what's about to happen.  The oddest
sense of deja vu has enveloped him and he can't quite
figure out why.  She's going to sigh, she's going to
turn to him and offer a small smile, however fake,
and together they will leave this office.....

She sighs, deeply and resignedly.  She turns to him
and offers the smallest of smiles, a sign that she's
ready to forgive if he is, a sign that maybe they can
fix what's wrong with a little work and a little
effort.

He stands up and jerks his head toward the door, not
wanting to ruin this moment with words.  They've each
said enough to last an eternity.  It is time to try
and fix things.

Mulder supresses the urge to place his hand on the
small of her back; it is not yet time for gestures of
affection.  She's stopped at the door, a pace behind
him now, mouth agape, and he knows it, but keeps
walking.  Scully follows him, trying to hold her head
up in a manner that has given her the
ice queen reputation.

In Mulder's mind, he can almost see the evening play
out, not because this has ever happened before but
because of that nagging deja vu.  He's felt this
betrayal before, he's certain of it, but he can't
place it and he ignores it.  Still, he can't
quite ignore the images flashing in his mind as they
wait for this light to turn green.

Over to the grocery store to pick up a frozen pizza or
two and a case of Shiner.  Scully will decide she
wants some wine as well, and she goes for the red.
He'll realize he never had her pegged
for a red wine kinda gal.  Stop at the video store
halfheartedly, Scully picks out some foreign film on
the claim that he owes her that much (he doesn't know
what he's done to deserve "Il Postino").

And they'll proceed to her place and get sloppy drunk
and do things they will regret the next morning.

The light turns green and Mulder turns into a well-lit
grocery store parking lot.  Scully gets out of the car
even before Mulder can turn it off.  He follows her
out and into the store, and they don't even make it to
the frozen food aisle when Mulder gasps and clutches
Scully's shoulder.  He can't see, why can't he
see?  The world is spinning....

"Scully...."

She turns around.  "Mulder!"  All animosity flies out
the window.  What is this?  His breathing is hard and
he is squeezing his eyes shut.

Mulder can only feel the world spinning around him,
images beating against his eyelids of caterpillars and
flowers and dancing oysters. He can't fathom what he's
seeing...is this a hallucination?

Scully only has a chance to grasp Mulder's shoulders
before, all at once, it stops.  Mulder's face is red
and his heart is beating wildly.

"Are you ok, Mulder?"  Genuine concern fills her face,
and a touch of regret.  The look in her eyes says
volumes to the recovering Mulder.

"Yeah, fine."  He says it softly and rubs his eyes.
He does feel fine, except for the nagging sense that
this situation is not happening.  Suddenly he almost
feels trapped in a dream.  He blows it off; its just
deja vu.

"Lets get you home, Mulder."

They leave the store without buying a thing.  Scully
insists on driving, the doctor in her prevailing over
anything else.  Mulder is struck by the sudden
difference in what he was expecting and shakes it off.
Deja vu.  That's all it was.  And the incident at the store?
Vertigo.  He hasn't eaten in nearly 35 hours.

He ignores the nagging suspicion that this is not
right, something is wrong here.  It has to be
Philadelphia.  So much unsaid.  Of course things
aren't right.  Of course.

But why did that happen back there?  Fatigue?

Scully drives them to Mulder's apartment in
Alexandria.  They ignore the dark, thundering sky and
the brisk chill that has invaded the air.  Scully's
only concern is getting Mulder inside, despite his
insistance that he is fine.  He is fine.

Once in his apartment, Scully makes him sit down on
the couch, after a staring contest that she wins
without question.  Mulder resists the urge to say "Yes
Mother".

Scully flies about the kitchen, frustrated that all
she can find for him to eat and drink is beer and
leftover chocolate cake.  She cuts a slice of cake for
him, pops open two bottles of Shiner.

She comes into the living room and to Mulder this
scene is so surreal.  Scully, wet shoes off and in the
corner, carrying for him an open beer and a plate of
cake.  Scully with her hair mussed and faint bruises
on her cheeks.  He feels the urge to brush those
bruises with his lips and wonders where it came
from.  This is the woman who has stood by him through
thick and thin, his best friend, not a lover.  Kissing
her to comfort her is not an option.

Besides which, he doesn't think its her who needs
comforting.

She sits on the couch, careful to sit as far from him
as possible, and he takes his beer from her.  The cake
is set on the table, and neither says a word.  If
there was a clock in the room, they would hear it
ticking.  A couple down the hall is coming in from
the rain and both Mulder and Scully look toward the
door as they pass by it, laughing and teasing each
other.  The contrast strikes them both hard.

"TV?" Mulder asks.  He feels tongue-tied.  Scully,
sitting in his apartment.  Scully, sucking down a beer
like it's water and looking almost flushed.  Is she as
nervous as he is?  Is she still upset?

"No."  Scully has to swallow before she can speak.

They sit there, silent and trying to avoid each
others' eyes.  Mulder reaches over to grab the plate
just as Scully goes to put down her bottle, and their
hands brush.  Its enough.

Mulder puts his bottle down on the floor and reaches
for Scully's face.  If he can't kiss her, he can touch
her.  If she wasn't blushing before, she is now.

"Mulder, what are you doing?"  Her breathing is
slightly labored, she closes her eyes as he lets his
thumb brush over her lower lip.

He doesn't know what he is doing.  Or where this is
coming from.  He leans in without answering her,
bruises her lips with the force behind the kiss.  She
moans slightly, drops her beer bottle with a hard
clank on the floor, and sinks her hands into his
hair.

He doesn't come up for breath for nearly two minutes,
and when he does she gasps a little in disappointment.
 Scully immediately scoots closer to him, nearly in
his lap, and attacks him with a kiss of her own.
Mulder's mind is spinning, the same sense of unreality
pricking his senses and numbing
his libido.  Her kisses are sensational, but why is
this happening?  He tries to ignore it and starts
unbuttoning her blouse.

Blue satin and creamy white skin.  Mulder leans her
back into the leather couch as he unclasps her bra.
She's still kissing him, her hands now reaching around
his back and down his pants.  A throaty laugh escapes
her.  "Whitie tighties, Mulder?"

Mulder simply responds by leaning down to nibble the
peaks of her breasts.  She isn't herself, Mulder
thinks.  She's not my Scully, she's not here on my
couch because she wants to be.

The thought annoys him and he almost pulls away.  But
Scully has taken to nibbling his earlobe, and his
senses are overwhelmed.

Her hands are kneading his ass, and he groans a little
as his steadily growing erection strains against those
tight cotton briefs.  She smiles against his neck and
turns her head to kiss him, pushing him back so that
she is laying across him.

He pulls back his head, needing to speak, needing to
break this moment with the ultimate of moodkillers.
He can't stand it, it has been digging at him since
this began.  She looks at him expectantly, her hands
coming up to play again in his hair.  He dreads her
reaction.

Damn the torpedos.  Full speed ahead.

"Scully?"

"Mmmm?"

His hands reach around to where he knows her tattoo to
be.  He traces circles there, wondering again how she
could do it, and why she felt this wasn't about him.

"You and Jerse."  Her eyes snap to him.  "Did you?
Scully, I have to know."

"Did we what, Mulder?"  She pushes herself off him.

"Did you......."  He can't say it.

"Did we fuck?  Is that what you want to know?"  He
winces at her vulgarity, so unlike her and so rough.

But she's right.

"Yes.  That's what I want to know."

She sighs heavily as she reaches to clasp her bra, put
her blouse back on.  "No, Mulder.  We didn't."  She
stands up and walks to the door.

"Scully, you don't have to go..."

"Yes I do Mulder.  Before tonight, you never would
have asked that.  You wouldn't have this need to know
complex.  You would have been happy if we ended up
sleeping together, you and I."  She slips on her
shoes, her jacket, her coat.

"Scully...."

"No, Mulder.  Don't.  Just don't."  She looks at him
sadly.  "I think its time for us to spend some serious
time apart."

She doesn't shut the door hard, nevertheless it
reverbrates in Mulder's soul.

What just happened?

He can't think.

He sits up, straightens his clothes.  Sighs, long and
deep.  He wants to go after her but doesn't know how.
He doesn't think that she'd appreciate it.

Time apart.

Like it had done any good so far.

He picks up his beer, takes a swig.  The cake looks
good, given that he hasn't eaten in so long, but he
doesn't want it.  One thing he's learned if nothing
else; you can't have your cake and eat it too.

He gets up and walks into the kitchen.  There is next
to nothing in there.  Jar of olives, empty orange
juice carton.  Leftover Chinese food....

He reaches for that.  Nothing in the carton but a
fortune cookie.  Figures.

Well, hell.  Maybe his fortune is good.

He breaks open the cookie, and reads the slip
of paper inside.

Walruses, carpenters, oysters.....

White rabbits, everywhere, leading him on, cheshire
cats smiling and mad hatters taunting.....

This did not happen, he was dreaming all along....

"Eat Me."
 

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

Part 4

There are HUGE spoilers for Pusher in this part,
so if by some chance you've never seen it, do not
read this part.  Part 4 is for Mikey, because
I once sold my soul for a cerulean blue crayon!  :-P

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

*cerulean blue is a gentle breeze*

Mulder can't even blink.  Modell sits across from him,
but for a moment there Mulder would have sworn his
name was Ed Jerse.

Who the hell is Ed Jerse?

Modell is talking, some bullshit about Japanese
martial arts and something about being a warrior.

Scully.  Mulder knows she's there but he can't see
her, everything is clouded in a cerulean blue haze.

Modell has put a gun in Mulder's hand.  Russian
roulette.

He doesn't even think.  The trigger is pulled and
nothing happens.  Modell seems shaken, almost afraid.
Is he afraid?  It seems to Mulder that Modell should
fear this gun.  Maybe that's why it's pointed at
Mulder's head next.

Shit, no, this can't be happening.....

*cerulean blue is a gentle breeze*

The trigger is pulled and Mulder can hear Scully
yelling, can hear her protesting and can hear her beg
him to stop, to fight Modell.

The world becomes crystal clear for the first time,
and Mulder feels the panic pulse through his body.
Scully.

*run scully*

His voice or his thoughts?

*mulder no*

*run*

A single tear courses down her cheek.  Modell's voice,
a voice, someone's voice chanting in his mind pull the
trigger, pull the trigger, pull the trigger.

What are the chances that she could survive?

*mulder, fight him*

*scully run*

She turns to flee, inspiration striking her or fear of
her partner (*dear god no don't let her fear me*)

*cerulean blue.........*

The world disappears again and Mulder can't see, but
he hears things, things he fears, things he prays aren't real.

The sound of a bullet leaving the barrel of a gun.

The sound of that bullet slamming into flesh and bone.

The sound of blood hitting the floor.

The sound of Scully's final protest.

*mulder no*

The sound of suffering leaving his lips.

The sound of triumph from Modell's lips.

The sound of agents and hospital personnel.

*get a gurney*

*get a doctor*

*mulder drop the gun*

Mulder can't see a thing.  He can't even open his
mouth to protest.  Suddenly he is sure that he is
not really in this hospital room, that he is laying
on a stretcher that is not a stretcher, that his
mouth is being held open and that he is screaming.

He is screaming.  The final image in Mulder's mind is
of Scully, the look in her eyes betraying her fear,
and the final sound in his ears is Modell.

That bastard Modell.

*ooo, Mulder, where's the looking glass when you need
it?*
 

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

end part 4.

a little different than the other installments,
but in order to stay true to the episode it had to
be done.

part 5 on the way!

poor college student will work for feedback!
texgoddess@yahoo.com
 
 

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"God planned it so everybody likes somebody
but no one like the person who likes them"
"Why?"
"The purpose of our existence is to keep God entertained."
-- from 'Skipped Parts' by Tim Sandlin

Part 5

AUTHORS NOTES:   please see part 1.  These vignettes
are tied together but you can skip part three without
missing anything overall.  Please note the spoiler
change; there are no spoilers for Ascension in this
story to the best of my knowledge.  This part owes
a great deal more to "Though the Looking Glass" by
Lewis Carroll and to Disney's "Alice in Wonderland".

Field Trip, on repeated viewing, has become one of
my favorite episodes of all-time.  And it was partly
the inspiration for this fic in the first place.  This
part will make no sense if you have not seen Field
Trip.  Part 5 is for Anna, whose enthusiasm for fanfic
will ensure its survival with or without a season
nine; I will finish "Boys' Club" if only for you girl!

And for those of you waiting for me to finish this,
I have parts 6 and 7 in my head and will shortly have
them written.  Patience is a virtue!

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

It was nice that she wanted to hold his hand, even
thought he was covered in yellow goo.

Well, so was she.  No big deal.

It was funny; he couldn't remember a damned thing.  He
knew where he was, in an ambulance, and he knew it was
Scully next to him grasping his hand ever so slightly,
but all he could think of was Robert Modell.  Pusher.

Cerulean blue.....

He wonders if maybe the goo had done this to him.
This sense of danger, this sense of confusion.  Where is
he, exactly?  He feels sure he had been here before, but
then there were so many times he'd spent a good twenty
minutes in the back of an ambulance with Scully
clinging to his hand.

*the walrus ate the oysters*

Whispers.  He was hearing whispers.

"Scully?"  His voice is gone, choked with goo.  He coughs.

*off with her head!*

Mulder blinks rapidly.  Must be just more goo,
dripping in his face, the yellow streaks he's seeing.
They escaped the caves, the belly of the beast.

He's just tired.  Hearing things.

Yellow streaks running down his face.

*whooooo arrrrre yoooooooooooou?*

Was that a caterpillar perched on that mushroom?

What mushroom?

What caterpillar?

Mulder shakes his head, his movement jerky
and unsure...yellow goo still covers his body.  But
they escaped, he and Scully were rescued.....

*tweedledee and tweedledum*

Mulder isn't so sure anymore.  But he *knows* they
escaped.  He blinks as more goo runs into his eyes
and even as it does he wonders if what he knows is
true.  He squeezes Scully's hand...she squeezes back,
just enough to reassure him.

"Scully......."  Its raspy but its there, his voice.
Surely Scully can hear him.  She squeezes his hand
again and he knows she does.

*momraths....don't step on the momraths!*

Was that Scully?

"Scully?"

She doesn't respond this time.

"Scully?!"

There is so much of the goo in his eyes now that
he can't see.  And suddenly he's sure of it, sure
that he's been here before and has escaped.
He can hear the maniacal laugh of the Mad Hatter,
who isn't the Mad Hatter but is pretending to be.
Mulder has a vision, a glimpse, of himself strapped
to some mad scientist's chair, and the drill is coming
down....

And he sees his wake...his apartment, full of people,
all wearing black and all sad, mournful.  This wasn't
his hallucination, it had been Scully's;
why does he see what Scully saw?

He is not here.  He escaped, Scully escaped.  He is
imagining this.

And as vertigo takes over, Mulder hears only one
phrase, whispered by a girl's innocent voice....

*drink me*

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

Part 6

AUTHORS NOTES:   please see part 1.  These vignettes
are tied together but you can skip part three without
missing anything overall.  Please note the spoiler
change; there are no spoilers for Ascension in this
story to the best of my knowledge.

I was about to end this with post-ep for TINH, but
I watched Anasazi in anticipation of DeadAlive and
was struck with inspiration.  Our Mulder...the
posterchild for miraculous returns from the dead.
Special thanks to Paul Cornell, Martin Day, and Keith
Topping for their book "X-Treme Possibilities",
without which most of my inspiration from Anasazi
would have died out.  I took a few liberties with the
events of the end of the episode, please forgive me!

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*
 

The New Mexico sun was oppressive and unbearably hot;
Mulder was sure that Scully wouldn't want him out here
so soon after being so sick.  And after being shot.

It was funny.  He didn't really recall how he'd gotten
out here, in this rock quarry with a Navajo youth.
For that matter, while he knew he'd been shot, he
didn't recall when or why.  He kept thinking of a
forest, and skeletons of people laying in a spooning
position.  Snippets of Russian kept slipping into his
mind, and he could almost feel someone reading his
mind, controlling his mind.

All of that slipped from his thoughts as the boy he
was with brushed the desert sand off what appeared, at
first glance, to be a rock.  Deja vu all over again,
thought Mulder.  It was no rock....it was the topside
of a buried boxcar.

The boy stood back as Mulder opened it and jumped down
inside.  Topside the boy hunched over to watch as
Mulder dug through a pile of dusty, ancient skeletons.
 His cellphone was in his pocket, ringing.  Scully.

*not human....*

*smallpox vaccination scars....*

*scully....*

*mulder....*

Helicopters overhead.  One for sure, and Mulder knew
he'd been found out.  Found.  The boy, in surprise,
shut the top of the boxcar, and Mulder scrambled out
of site.  Oddly, it seemed there should be a way to
get out....a hole in the side of the car, with a
tunnel into the rocks....Mulder fumbled in the dark,
anxious to hide.  He buried himself under the alien
skeletons as best he could and waited.

He could here a voice demanding the boy reveal
Mulder's whereabouts.  The voice ordered the boxcar
opened, and Mulder cowered further under the pile as a
soldier jumped down holding an what might have been an
AK-47.

"He's not here!"

"He must have vanished without a trace!"

And then, the first voice, now familiar and haunting.

"Burn it!"

Mulder was shut it, in the darkness, and he knew it
was over.  He scrambled for cover, trying to find the
hole he was certain was there.  If he could get into
the rock surrounding the boxcar, there was a chance
he'd survive, and he'd rather a small chance than
none.  He knocked his injured shoulder into something
hard and unforgiving, and cried out in pain.

The world exploded.

...............................
 

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust......"

Somewhere, not far away, Mulder could hear the sounds
of a funeral.  Where was he now?  What illusion was
this?  Scully's funeral, his mother's?  Samantha's?

Why couldn't he open his eyes?

"We gather here to mourn the passing of Fox William
Mulder...."

Wha....what?

He brought his fists up, or thought he did.  He
couldn't move, and he couldn't see.  It occured to him
in a flash of panic that he was trapped....

*but i'm not dead*

......inside a coffin.  No, it couldn't be, he was
trapped in the rock quarry and this was a nightmare of
some kind, he was only unconscious from the blast,
from the New Mexico heat, from being sick.....he
wasn't *dead*!

He heard Scully, he could hear her crying, sobbing to
someone that Mulder was the last.  That there was no
one left.  That the real tragedy of all this was that
he'd not been given the truth.....

The truth......

No.  This was a nightmare.  This was not happening.

*this is not happening!*

Scully's voice, ringing in his ears.  He couldn't see
her and he knew this was his imagination.  He could
hear her crying, hear Skinner telling her it was
alright to let her guard down, that he would hold her.
 But why does Scully need comforting, why is she
crying?

Fox Mulder cried out, but there was no real sound.
The only sound was that of dirt hitting a coffin lid.

Fox Mulder is dead.
 

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

Part 7

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

PROLOGUE:

*i can't explain it....i'm pregnant....*

Another hospital, another lifetime.  Scully shut her
eyes, trying not to see the white walls, and she held
her breath, trying not to smell the disinfectant.  She
stood in the doorway of the intensive care ward,
trying to remember that she was seven months pregnant,
trying to grasp that Mulder had been buried for three
months, trying not to lose her fragile grip on sanity.
 

He wasn't buried any longer.  Behind her back, Doggett
and Skinner had exhumed Mulder.  What motivated them,
she had no clue.  And now, Mulder was alive, clinging
to life in the intensive care ward.

She felt hurt and betrayal, but that was only
underneath the disbelief and the nervous energy.  The
baby kicked twice, reminding her that she was really
standing here, that she was really not dreaming.
Unless dreams come to while you're awake.  Unless you
can't distinguish reality from the nightmare.

"I have to see him," she whispered.  There was no one
close by to hear.  Skinner stood far in front of her
down the hall.  She shut her eyes and tried not to
remember another hospital corridor *the truth will
save you Scully....*

A deep breath and she tore off down the hall, as fast
as her thickening legs would carry her.  "I have to
see him!"  she all but shouted.  Skinner stood there,
stopped her from going in.  She was shocked.  First he
would not tell her what he had done, and now this.
Now *this*.

Months of uncertainity had slipped into months of
despair when Mulder was found dead in Montana.  The
funeral was a surreal memory that she remembered in
black and white.  The months since were a tragic scene
from a play not written; Pregnant Mother steps into
bedroom, has crying fit.  Sleeps fitfully and has
nightmares.  Exeunt.

Vertigo threatened to knock her from her feet, but
Scully stood firm, not willing to give up so easily.
Mulder was alive, and she had to get to him.  She
pushed at Skinner, who seemed in a trance.

A door opened behind him, and out stepped John
Doggett.  His eyes were red with fatigue, and his hair
was slightly unkempt.  Scully recognized the look on
his face as one she had seen on her own so many times:
 the look of shaken faith and of a non-believer
toppling from obstinate skepticism.

The look told her so many things.  And as Doggett
looked into her eyes, she knew it was true.

Mulder alive.
 

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*
 
 

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.....

The steady blip of the heart monitor assured him of
a link to reality, to life.  He was conscious, but
his eyes were shut tight.  He wasn't ready to look.

Commotion would follow when he finally blinked, but
until then all he wanted was to assure himself that
he was indeed alive.  Fresh memories of being locked,
trapped, and nearly burned alive in New Mexico taunted
him.....he wondered where exactly he was now.  What
vision, what cruel twist of fate would they throw at
him this time.  Would he open his eyes to see Scully
tortured for all eternity at the hands of Donnie
Pfaster?  Would he be forced to relive Samantha's
abduction, or his mother's suicide?

Eat me, drink me.....

He didn't want to know, not really.  His life had come

and gone and if he kept his eyes closed there would be
no chance that this was another bad dream.

"Hail Mary, full of grace...."

The soft murmurings of a prayer touched his ears, and
he knew without thinking that it was Scully's voice he
heard.  He tried not to react, not to breathe, lest he
disturb her conversation with her God.  Why, pray
tell, was she whispering Hail Marys at his bedside?
Had he survived after all?  Was this the proof he
needed?

Her voice broke over the words...."and at the hour of
our death.  Amen."

Silence prevailed for a moment, and Mulder knew she
was holding back tears.  Where he was remained a
mystery as long as his eyes were closed, but in that
silence Mulder was suddenly certain this was home.  A
hospital, but not a dream-hospital.

A warm hand slipped into his, caressing his fingers
softly.  Scully hummed a little, clearing her throat.
"Mulder, its me.  Its Scully.  You're back, Mulder,
you can wake up."

She continued in this vein while Mulder lay and
listened.

It was only when he squeezed her hand that she stopped
talking.

"Mulder?"  An anxious, almost frightened note soured
her voice.

He fluttered his eyes open.  It *was* Scully, his
Scully, not some dream manifestation poised to drive
him further into insanity.  But he had to test her, he
had to know!

"Who are you?"  he rasped, his voice tender and not
fully functioning.

Scully's eyes widened, hurt filling them.  Mulder
smiled.  He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but now he
knew.  This was Scully.

"Just kidding."  He smiled wider, and Scully's filled
with tears and hundreds of emotions.  Reproach,
relief, disbelief, and tenderness.

"Mulder, you have no idea what we've been through."
Her expression told him volumes, and he told her so.

"I know.  I can see it in your face."

And she laid her head down on his chest and sobbed,
and he held her all the while.

The door opened briefly, and Mulder's eyes fluttered
open to see a man standing there.  He felt Scully
stiffen slightly in his arms, and he knew she had seen
the man, but that told him nothing about who the man
was.  The door closed, and Mulder and Scully were once
again alone.  But something hung in the air, and
Mulder's throat tightened with the realization that he
really was home, and home was different, changed.
 
 

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*
 

TWO WEEKS LATER
 

Mulder sat in his apartment, alone for the first time
since waking up in the hospital.  Scully had left only
moments before, claiming fatigue and saying that
Mulder needed his rest.

Rest, be damned.

He was still absorbing so much.  The world had gone on
without him, and so much had changed.  George W. Bush
had been elected president, the Gunmen had a new
benefactor, Scully was pregnant, the X-Files had been
turned over, and....

Mulder stopped.  It was useless trying to avoid it,
wasn't it?  Scully was pregnant....pregnant!  Seven
months along, having difficulties of all kinds, urged
by her doctor to get off her feet.  She was getting
ready for maternity leave, she wasn't going to quit
the F.B.I.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead with his index
fingers.  It wasn't simple.  They hadn't even talked
about her pregnancy, he had gotten the details from
Skinner.  Mulder wasn't sure what it all meant.  He
knew he had become more paranoid since his return to
the living.  And why not?  He'd been abducted,
returned dead, and came back to join the living how?
By infection with an alien virus and the elimination
of it.

Over the years, he and Scully had seen everything.
Abductions that resulted in cancer, in barren wombs,
in catatonia, in death.  Why not insanity?

The gossamer wings of panic constantly brushed against
his heart.  Insanity.

It was possible, wasn't it?  After the visions he'd
had, the nightmares he still suffered (he'd awoken
only last night to the sweaty fear that he was trapped
in Morris Fletcher's body once again), and the
paranoia creeping into his personality with a fierce
and biting vengeance, Mulder was no longer sure that
he would survive this.  He was home, but this wasn't
home.  Scully even had....

....a new partner.

John Doggett, former NYPD.  A non-believer.  Mulder
was certain there was something shady in this man's
past, something conspiratorial.  Why should he trust
Doggett, or anyone else for that matter?  Even Scully
was keeping secrets, pregnant with a child that was
likely another pawn for the unseen dangers that still
haunted Mulder.

The sound of a police cruiser shook Mulder from his
dark reverie.  He was hungry, and he needed to sleep.
Scully was right, he needed his rest.

"Even after being dead for three months," he said
aloud.  His voice sounded hollow and shaky with no one
else there to hear it.  He wished fervently that
Scully had stayed, offered to tuck him in, held his
hand or his gaze for just a moment longer.  Mulder
felt it again, the tiny insistent panic in his chest
that longed to take over his mind and his heart.  He
was alone in this place, this world in which he had
become an observer.

He forced himself to walk into the kitchen, stepping
deliberately and harder than he'd intended.  The
pounding protest from the tenants below barely went
noticed.  Into the kitchen, into the fridge.  Scully
had put some food in there, babbling about the
shameful lack of content she had found when she first
came here after....after....her eyes had fallen from
his to the task at hand and he had wanted to stop her
tears but found himself unable.  Scully, comfort me,
hold me, don't indulge in fear tonight, be my savior.

On the top shelf was a blue Tupperware labeled
carefully.  Mulder reached for it, not caring what it
was, just needing to eat and stop thinking about
Scully.

"Eat Me."

Insanity is in the mind of the beholder.  What seems
to one man to be genius, the next will see as a mind
gone mad.  In the dim glow from the refrigerator,
Mulder read the label on the Tupperware once more,
then put it back and shut the door.  Panic seized him
gleefully, finally triumphant over this soul, this
mind.  *They* were going to win after all, taking his
final glimpse at normality and throwing it in his
face, flaunting a pregnant Scully and her new partner
in his face.  It wasn't enough to have stolen his
sister, his father and his mother.  It wasn't enough
to throw him back into the shadows of a past that
might have been.  They had to leave him in this
alternate reality where the good guys were gonna lose.

Mulder sat down on the tile floor, and cried for man
he once was.
 

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*
 
 

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*
End of story.

NOTES:
Well, here I am at the end of this strange journey
and I think Mulder and I are going to take a break
after this....he's been nudging me to Skinner,
Doggett, and Krycek anyway.  Special thanks to
Erica, for asking me at least once if I was ever gonna
finish this; to Anna and Skinner Box for cheering on
Paperback Writer, the story that reintroduced me to
my muse; to Mikey, for reading my stuff without
knowing what he'd be getting into and still finding something
to like about it; to Arianne, who has, from the very
beginning, never failed to encourage me and give me
reason to smile; and finally to the PURity crew for
their continued support and conversation (Anna, Megan,
and Fran).
 

*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

=====
"How do you explain the things you love?
You can't. You just do." -- Dawson's Creek
----------------------
enigmatic office monkey
http://envy.nu/officemonkey