By Katvictory
 

CHAPTER SIX

"It's a miracle." Those words are often overused these days. Real miracles are not easy to come by. They don't just fall into one's lap. I think God doesn't figure we deserve true miracles in these modern times, unless we struggle to find them. And it seems they usually come with a price.

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April 1
Chilmark, MA

The first of April was quite possibly the worst day of my life. Mulder asked me to live up to my promise for the final time and I agreed. Since we fired Elizabeth and he was refusing any form of therapy, Teena Mulder and I were the only people who were caring for Mulder. Two conspirators, trapped in a consortium, whose main purpose was to keep someone alive against his wishes. It was not the best of times.

April 1 found me alone with my partner, his mother having left early, claiming she had important business to attend to. I went about our daily routine. I first prepared Mulder's breakfast of vitamins and a protein shake to down them with. Then, since he refused therapy, he would stay in his room. Most of the time he was confined to his customized hospital bed with it's extra firm mattress, but sometimes, on his 'good' day's he'd sit up in his high-backed lumbar wheelchair watching TV or videos (He no longer watched his XXX videos. Usually, his viewing consisted of classic sci-fi movies.) until 10, when I brought him his midmorning snack of fruit, a protein bar and/or maybe milk or juice. After his meal, I would help him bathe, making sure to check for pressure sores at this time so I could treat them promptly if I found any. He'd had a nasty one on his left hip that was refusing to heal, despite my tender ministrations, for most of that spring. That was what I was working on, when he hit me with his request.

Now, I understood his mood. It tends to be depressing, having your ex-partner, former lover, working on your ass, cleaning a bed sore. By this point, I felt like crying most of the time, over what circumstance and fate had done to our relationship. So, this was MY state of mind when Mulder spoke.

"Scully," he said, his voice as flat and dry as a desert. He was lying on his side while I worked, but I was able to hear his question all too clearly. "Isn't it time?"

I knew what he meant. I remembered my pleas from that fall night. I'd begged him to wait, told him it was too soon, that things would get better. Right. It all seemed so long ago now, when he'd first asked for my help. Still, even after the hell we'd gone through recently, I didn't want to deal with my promise and all it entailed. So, I played dumb.

"Time for what?" I asked, busying myself with my chore. "Your meds? Yeah, I guess so, just let me finish."

Mulder wasn't going to let me get away with it. He rolled over and grabbed my wrist. His grip was strong. Mrs. Mulder and I were doing a damn good job, now that we had him all to ourselves. He was physically as healthy as he'd been in months. The way we were going, our patient could have a long, long life.

I had to look up at him. I knew where he was going and knew he could read that understanding in my eyes. With a sigh, I gave in.

"It's what you want?" I knew his answer even before his nod.

"I'm tired" he explained softly. He searched my face to see if I was going to argue. The man could read me, I'll give him that, "So are you."

His statement was a fact. So, I started to cry.

"Scully, don't. I don't like what I've become. I hate, Scully. I hate everything, and everybody. And I don't like it. I don't like hating you. I don't want to spend the rest of my life like this. You're too good at your job, to good at keeping me alive. And I hate you for it." He spoke with a passion I hadn't seen in weeks. No tears. Just truths.

I cried and he watched me cry. I guess he knew there was nothing he could do about it. Finally, I got it together and forced myself to look at him. That's one thing Mulder had learned from this ordeal -- patience. He was waiting with the patience of a sphinx for my reply. I knew what my answer had to be and it angered me.

"You tell me when. You tell me how. I'll help you. But you have to do it yourself." My tone was bitter. He took my wrath in silence. Why not, he was getting what he wanted. "And I don't want to be here when you do it."

He kept his face impassive, but there was a flicker of emotion in those wide, hazel eyes. I saw sadness and something, too hard for me to bear -- pity. He let go of my wrist and stretched his hand to brush my cheek, his long, slender fingers feather-light and oh, so tender against my skin.

I jumped as though I'd been burned. "Don't!" I spat vehemently. "If you expect me to do this, don't!"

Pain danced across his face, but he nodded again. He waited until I composed myself, then asked, "Well what do you suggest?"

His question angered me, still, I pushed my temper aside. If I was going to get through this, I had to force myself to become "Dana Scully, Ice Queen." It was hard, for it had been a long time since I'd called upon the aspects of that part of my personality. But the Ice Queen helped.

"I figure overdose. I'm not going to be here, so that leaves your mom and with her health, she doesn't need to find a mess."

Mulder blinked at the coldness of my words. I must admit, I was pushing it. But I felt he deserved to know that in this little passion play he was staging, he had the easiest part.

"When?" I asked.

"What?"

I smiled, almost a smirk. My frosty demeanor, caught him off guard. But, this is how he wanted it, right?

"When do you want to do it? I've got to get the drugs, right? And, make plans to be away. I'd appreciate it if you'd write a note and clear me. Just say you've been saving your sleeping pills to do it. I still have a license to protect. And a reputation. I don't want to be known as a female Kevorkian,"

He was stunned that I was so blunt and matter-of-fact, but what could he do? I think I even made him a little angry. Good. I could handle his anger better than his pity.

He put his own mask in place and his voice was brittle when he spoke, "How about tomorrow night?"

"If your mother gets back in time, then okay, fine."

"Fine," he said softly.

And I left him. There was nothing more to say.

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April 2
Chilmark, MA

I woke up tired the next morning. Sleep had been hard to find. Hell, it's not every day you kill your best friend. I could hear the muffled tone of voices, so I knew Teena Mulder was home. It surprised me, she was up, because she was not a morning person. I was even more surprised, to find she had company. I almost passed out in shock, when I discovered who her early-bird house guest was.

I had wrestled with telling her of her son's plans, but felt bound to secrecy. I knew Mulder didn't want her to know. I dressed and checked in on Mulder. He was still sleeping. He'd asked for a sleeping pill and I figured, why not? You probably need your rest in order to kill yourself. I was practicing my excuse for getting away for the evening when I walked into the kitchen.

My mouth fell open in amazement. Teena Mulder's visitor was calmly sitting at the breakfast nook, drinking coffee.

"April Fools," Alex Krycek said, greeting me with a wide grin.

~~
 
CHAPTER SEVEN

Chilmark, MA
April 2

Teena Mulder had prepared coffee and was serving bagels and cream cheese to her house guest when I came into the kitchen. I had heard their voices when I awoke, so I knew Mulder's mother had company. Never in my wildest dreams had I expected it to be Krycek.

"April Fools," he greeted me, an oily smile on his all too handsome face.

I froze in the doorway, my mouth agape. Mrs. Mulder, ever the gracious hostess, lead me to the table handing me a cup of coffee. I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. This was just too much.

"Dana," Teena said softly, breaking the minutes long silence. "Alex has come over to talk to you and Fox. He has something interesting to show you."

Alex Krycek came prepared. He, just like Teena Mulder, knew it would be better to have me as an ally than an adversary in their plans. He had stacks of medical files. The files were prior experiments on laboratory animals, files on successful cloning between humans and aliens. They were files on tissue regeneration performed on these alien/human hybrid clones. And most chilling of all, files on experiments performed on Fox Mulder.

Apparently, Mulder had been rejected in the Alien/Human hybrid clone project because his tissue samples had not produced the wanted response -- a viable alien/human clone. This had been stage one of the Consortium's project. The stage that Samantha had been taken for. Samantha's tissues had yielded the clones they wanted. In the files were test after test, mountains of research. All done on a 12-year-old boy.

Try as I might, I couldn't help the anger I felt at Teena Mulder, for allowing these things to happen to her children. We had bonded over the past year, while taking care of her son. But that new-found relationship was damaged by what I read. I know she read as much in my eyes, when I looked up from perusing a file dated from around October 1973 . These monsters had actually injected him with a parasitic, alien organism on his 13th birthday. I couldn't read any more.

"Why are you showing me this?" my voice was thin, it took every thing I had to keep from getting sick.

It was Krycek who answered.

"I knew you'd have to see that there is a scientific foundation for what we are proposing. You need to see the facts, to know that what we offer is not a hoax. That it is possible, in theory."

"Where are you trying to lead me?" I snapped bitterly.

"Cloning and tissue regeneration. You're a scientist, Dana. You can't guess where we're leading?" Krycek said with a smug grin.

I had thought so, maybe I'd even hoped so. I wanted him to say it -- to put it out there on the table.

"What are you offering, ALEX?" I spat back at him. *Don't call me Dana!* "What are you promising?"

"It's not a promise. There's no guarantee," he replied, his face the picture of earnest sincerity.

It made me angry. "You're trying to tell me you can give Mulder back his legs, his arm. You fucking liar!" I threw the file on the floor and shoved the others off the table so they scattered across the kitchen, papers flying through the air like confetti.

"SCULLY!!!" Mulder called from the bedroom.

Quickly I glanced at the clock and realized I'd forgotten completely about my patient. It was almost noon. Mulder had no idea what was going on. I hadn't even gotten him his morning meds. This thought brought a mad chuckle from me. I was still worrying about his medication even though he was going to kill himself tonight. Just when Alex Krycek was going to clone him a new body. Damn.

Mrs. Mulder and Krycek watched me, stunned, wondering if I needed a straight jacket. At that moment I probably did. Teena was snatched from her shock by Mulder, when he called out for me again. He sounded panicked.

"I'll go check on him," she said, hurrying from the room. She caught a glance of my face. "Alex, fix her a whiskey. It's over the sink."

Krycek moved to do what she'd ordered, I stopped him. "Don't bother."

I guess I could have used a shot, but I need my wits about me more. He did pour me a cup of coffee, then sat in a chair across from where I was standing. It was hard to take in. It seemed surreal that I was standing in my kitchen, talking with Alex Krycek, about using the Consortium's knowledge and resources to get my partner a new arm and two new legs. After all the lies, how could I allow myself to believe?

"Okay, so prove it to me!" I dared him, recovering a bit. "If your group has the capabilities to do this for Mulder, why haven't you done it for yourself?" I asked nodding toward his prosthetic arm.

"You saw the reports. About 98% of the population is like me. And you. We're what they call donors."

"I got that," I said saltily, remembering back to what I'd read.

I still didn't completely understand how their research could be used to help Mulder, unless...

"Let me get this straight. Mulder is a recipient. That's why they didn't use him in the cloning experiments. They discovered his body converts the foreign alien cells into human cells." I was starting to comprehend. "They found out when Mulder was young, that he is the rare type of human, whose body absorbs and converts anything with alien DNA into human DNA. That's why they took Samantha and not him."

"Right." Krycek nodded, seemingly glad I was following him. "See, at that point, their plan was to find a way to mutate us into alien/human hybrids. They tried for years, tinkering with alien/human clones, made from 'donors', like us. They kept hoping they'd find a way to combine these clones with humans in order to make their hybrids. It never worked. Our bodies can't take the alien DNA. It kills us. But when Mulder was able to survive the virus he caught in the Arctic, well, it put them on the right track again. They started focusing on the recipients. Since people like Mulder represent only about 2% of the population they hadn't done anymore research on them since the '70s. They used 'recipient' bone marrow on Cassandra Spender. After several bone marrow transplants, they found out she could take the alien cells. And since she was a donor, her body didn't convert them to human. She became a mutant, a hybrid. Part alien, part human."

"So this leaves Mulder where?" I found his information interesting, but I needed to know where left us, Mulder, in the end.

Krycek bent over and picked up a file off the floor. It was newer and thinner than the others. He handed it to me with a triumphant smile. "This says it all. Read it. Then you can go talk Mulder into trying the experiment. If it works on him, they might be able to find a way to make it work on me... and other amputees."

His humanitarianism was questionable, but I did want to see what miracle they had discovered in their mad experimentation. So I sat down again and read the file. I was amazed. I was excited. I was convinced. Now, the problem was, to convince Mulder.

~~

 
CHAPTER EIGHT

I went into the battle prepared. I had my files at my side. They explained the evidence, the scientific feasibility of the process. I could take the patient by the hand and explain step-by-step what would be done and how in fact it could work. I had my arguments. I thought of every conceivable reason Mulder might not want to try this and came up with a logical and convincing rebuttal for each and every one of them. I went into the Fox's den ready to convince him at any cost, over any objection. This was what he needed, and I was going to make sure he did it.

It was all unnecessary. The Fox Mulder who lay in the bed that morning after April Fool's Day, didn't have a battle left in him. This was when I finally realized, Mulder was right. Had this opportunity not come up, it would have been 'time.' If our plans for that evening had gone through, the only death would have been of a body. At that point, looking into Mulder's eyes, I could see the soul I loved was gone. He had given up. Whatever I wanted to do was "fine." With tears in my eyes I returned to a waiting Teena Mulder and Alex Krycek and informed them to go ahead with the plan. ASAP.

A black, nondescript, windowless van pulled up to the house the next morning. The interior was equipped like an ambulance and we -- Krycek, Mrs. Mulder and I -- loaded Mulder onto a stretcher and into the van to make the trip. I did have a glimmer of hope that things might be 'fine' after all, when I saw Mulder's expression when he first spotted Krycek. His eyes seem to flash with anger and distrust. A bit of the old Fox was still there. But then the wall went up and he asked for his pain medication. I gave it to him with no argument. He slept for most of the 10-hour trip.

"Is the cloak and dagger stuff necessary?" I asked Krycek, eyeing the 'Men in Black' who drove us, the ebony colored van and their attempt to keep Teena, Mulder and I, 'in the dark' about our destination.

Krycek shrugged, but Mrs. Mulder put a tight smile on her face.

"It's Spender's way," was her enigmatic answer.

I was relieved Mulder was asleep. I didn't want him to hear the tone of fond indulgence that tinted her voice when she spoke of that man. It made me sick to my stomach, just thinking about who was orchestrating this endeavor. Who we were relying on to be Mulder's savior.

I honestly believe the two black-clad goons who drove us took a circuitous route to be sure we didn't know our destination. The trip took ten hours and it was dark when we stopped. We were inside a large hangar and several white-coated men helped us unload Mulder and grab our suitcases. We were ushered to a freight elevator and as the door slipped shut with a metal clang, we began a long descent to what must have been "the bowels of the Earth."

"Is this an old James Bond set?" Mulder asked.

I was surprised he was awake, since I had given him a pain pill recently. I had another tingle of hope at his quip. Maybe he could come back to life. I patted his shoulder and was actually graced with a smile. Not much of one, but I would take what I could get. My stomach had been in knots, wondering if this had all been a mistake. I was handing Mulder over to the black-lunged bastard of our nightmares. He seemed to sense what I was feeling, and for the first time, in a long time, I felt his hand slip into mine. He gave it a squeeze of comfort. If we'd been alone I would have broken down. As it was, I fought the tears of joy and silently returned the gesture. We had our own little covert operation. I stepped off that endless elevator ride happier than I'd been in months.

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Mulder did have a point, in his Bond reference. The hospital/lab that was to be our 'home' during this experiment appeared to be built and decorated, circa early '60s. Oh, it was equipped with state-of-the-art devices, but I couldn't help thinking the place itself had been designed by Dr. No.

I was given a room, a closet, really, it was so small, adjoining Mulder's hospital suite. However, after quickly unpacking, I discovered the door to Mulder's room was locked. I ran out into the pristine white hallway and tried that door to his room. Locked. I hurried down the hall in panic, wanting to find someone with a key and was intercepted before I made it twenty yards.

"They need to let me in," I said angrily, resisting the rough arms that led me back to my room. The guards were silent, but they must have heard me through the closed door of Mulder's room. A woman, dressed in the ever-present lab coat, stuck her head out and motioned to my captors to let me go.

"We were only getting him settled in," she whined, allowing me inside.

Mulder was dressed in a regulation hospital gown, sitting up in the regulation hospital bed. Nothing seemed amiss. I met his eyes and he nodded that the woman was telling the truth, nothing had been done to him.

"We won't be starting any treatment until Dr. Williams speaks to you," said the white-coated woman. She was a nurse, I gathered, and her tone was defensive.

"That door WILL remain unlocked." I stated adamantly.

My answer was a curt nod and she left.

I walked around, surveying the equipment. It was pretty impressive. All the latest and most modern, all right at hand for their star patient.

"What comes next?" Mulder asked, interrupting my musings.

His eyes were wide, nervous. I walked over and patted his hand, offering him reassurance I wasn't sure I felt myself. At least he seemed alive. Some good had come of this reckless journey. I started to answer him, trying to recall what the reports had stated was the first step in the 'treatment,' when the door opened and Dr. Williams came in.

I recognized the man from the file photographs. Short, squarely built, his Native American blood was apparent in his coloring and dark eyes if not his thick, wavy black hair. He walked over to Mulder and offered his hand, but didn't seem offended when Fox refused to shake it.

"Joe Williams," he said, choosing to ignore the slight and get on with business. "I'm the man who came up with this experiment. I want to go over what we have planned and answer any questions you have."

I found I liked the man. He seemed to the point, and there was no subterfuge that I could detect. When neither of us answered him, the doctor continued.

"If you read the file I submitted, you know what we plan to do. In our experiments on laboratory animals we were able to transplant cloned limbs with complete success. By complete, I mean full nerve regeneration, with full mobility of the transplanted limb." He stopped when he saw I already had a question. "Miss Scully?"

"Dr. Scully."

He smiled at my correction. "Doctor."

"Now, from the files, it is stated that, clones from Mulder are not viable, but still are acceptable for transplantation. I gather from reading, recipient clones are not viable because the antibodies attack the clones cerebral cortex and destroy brain function. Are you sure that's all they destroy -- that other parts of the clone are not affected in more subtle ways?"

As the doctor started to answer, I caught sight of Mulder's face and saw he was horrified. He had not bothered to read anything about the procedure. Dr. Williams saw this too. If he was surprised that Mulder had agreed to an experiment he knew nothing about, he didn't let it show.

"Dr. Scully, we found nothing to indicate there is damage to the clones except, to put it bluntly, their brains do not develop enough to sustain unassisted life." He spread his hands indicating that was all he had to offer me in reassurances. It was, after all, an experiment. He then turned to Mulder. "You have a question, Mr. Mulder? Or should I say Dr. Mulder?"

The doctor cast a teasing glance at me.

Mulder allowed him a slight, brief smile at his subtle ribbing of my professional ego, then sobered when he asked his question. I could tell he was a bit embarrassed to be caught so uninformed by the doctor, but his question was too pressing to let that stop him. "I don't think I quite understood about the cloning. You're going to make a clone of me?"

"We've made a clone of you, Mr. Mulder."

Mulder sank back into the bed in stunned silence, his face pale from the shock.

"How?" His voice was a choked whisper.

Dr. Williams frowned as he thought about how to tell Mulder. The doctor had expected Mulder to know his history, to know that he had been experimented upon as a boy. There's an old saying, "The only way out is through," and Joe Williams definitely believed it to be true, for he plunged ahead, explaining to Mulder what his part in this plan had been.

"We've had tissue samples of you since you were a boy. We started making the clone two years ago after you went to Russia, when you showed abnormal resistance to the black oil." He paused and shook his head. "Mr. Mulder, why don't I leave you a copy of our research and come back later to answer your questions?"

Mulder nodded, his embarrassment at his lack of preparation gone, driven away by the doctor's revelations. He was so deep in thought, he barely noticed Joe Williams' departure. He seemed oblivious I was in the room. I sat beside him waiting, silently mulling over everything that had happened since waking up the prior morning.

"Scully," Mulder said, interrupting my thoughts. His voice was strained with anger. "Where is my mother?"

My stomach dropped. I knew how I had felt at gaining complete knowledge on what had happened to Bill and Teena Mulder's children.

"I haven't seen her since we got here, Mulder," I replied meekly.

"I want those files, then I want to see my mother," Mulder spat, his eyes blazing. I didn't argue with him, I just left to see who could expedite his request. Although I dreaded having him find out his history, not to mention the coming confrontation he planned with his mother, I was thankful at least, of another sign he was coming back to life.

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That night Mulder took no sleeping pill. He only took his pain medication when I insisted, after I had watched him grimace and turn pale when he tried to find a comfortable position to continue his study of the files. This was after two in the morning, which was a good ten hours since his last dose. It was one more sign and I whispered a prayer of thanks for it.

They had brought him, at my request, not only the file on his procedure, but many files, detailing the history of the alien/clone/hybrid project. It was the ultimate irony that these documents were those for which Mulder and I had searched, suffered, lost loved ones, and we had them now just by asking. I couldn't help worrying what the price was going to be for gaining this knowledge. Had we already paid it? I still wanted Mulder to go through with everything, I saw no way for him to survive without it. So I remained quiet.

I had been perusing one of the files I had only skimmed before but found myself nodding off, so I didn't hear Mulder when he finally tired and turned off his light. I don't know how long he attempted to sleep, but he woke me before daybreak with a plaintive whisper of my name.

"Scully."

I snapped awake immediately and hurried to his side, reaching up to turn on the lamp when I got there. He stopped me. I reached through the darkness to touch him and felt his face. It was wet with tears. Quickly releasing the side, I crawled up beside him. This bed was not nearly as wide as the one at the center had been, but he grabbed the rail on his side and hitched over to make room for me next to him.

I waited for him to speak, my head resting on his chest. God, it felt wonderful to be laying beside him again. I breathed in his scent eagerly, like a drowning person would gasp for air. It had been so long. I wrapped my arms about Mulder to comfort him, caressing his face, wiping away his tears.

"Scully," he whispered, his breath catching in pain. "How could they have done that to me, to Sam? Parents are supposed to love you, to protect you. I knew my dad hated me, that I was always a disappointment to him, but Mom..." His body shook with a sob and I drew him even closer, trying to ease his pain.

"Mulder," I spoke softly, soothingly into his ear. "I know it hurts. It might not help much, but I do think they thought they were doing what was best for you."

"That's bullshit," he sobbed bitterly, "All bullshit. I've heard it all before. The bottom line is, Scully, you don't give your kids away to be lab rats. You know that. You volunteer yourself, not your kids."

"I don't think I would do what they did, Mulder." I agreed with him, but I wanted to make a point. "But, even though they were misguided, I still think they believed it was done so you could survive. Your mother was probably frightened. And back then, people believed what they were told. She must have thought it was the only way. She does love you. She's proved it to me lots of times this past year and even though she doesn't go about showing you in the right way, she tries."

Mulder calmed as he listened to me, giving my opinions some thought. His fingers idly stroked my shoulder and I listened to his breathing become slow and steady. His heart beat a rhythm that touched my soul and I was drifting toward sleep when he spoke.

"I guess if they hadn't allowed this to happen, I wouldn't be getting the chance I'm getting now," he murmured, a smile in his voice.

I chuckled at his twisted logic, but had to admit he was right. I felt his body relaxing and together, we slipped into slumber. My last thought was another prayer of thanks that, after so long, he had at last found hope.

~~

 
CHAPTER NINE

April 4th
Unknown location

Mulder had a peaceful, nightmare-free rest without the benefit of a sleeping pill. It had been a long time since he'd had that many hours of non-drug-induced sleep. It was noon before a nurse woke us up to let us know Doctor Williams was on his way. I hurried to my room to shower and change, and the nurse assisted Mulder in cleaning up and getting presentable. Although he tried to hide it, Mulder was eagerly awaiting the doctor when I came in to his room. A few minutes later the affable physician came in.

"Good afternoon Dr. Mulder, Dr. Scully." He teased me, a twinkle in his eye. He spotted the file folders strewn across the room. "I see you've been catching up on your reading."

Mulder nodded.

Dr. Williams pulled a chair alongside the bed and sat down, picking up from the bedside table the thin manila folder that contained the information on the transplant procedure.

"Do you have any questions?" the doctor asked with a smile.

"Only about a hundred," Mulder said softly, the corners of his mouth tugging into a half-smile. "I almost don't know where to start."

"I'm sure you'll think of a place," Williams said slyly. "But, how about I start at the beginning? You can ask your questions as we go along. I'll tell you exactly how we plan to proceed. Okay?"

Mulder shrugged his agreement and scooted up in the bed to listen to the doctor's explanation.

"Tomorrow morning, we'll start giving you injections. We plan on three a day. Now, I'll be truthful with you, we're not absolutely sure that will be the correct dosage because, as you know, you are our first human subject." He stopped to study Mulder's reaction to this knowledge.

Mulder didn't even bat an eye, while I, on the other hand, had to sit down on the corner of the bed. My knees had grown weak. We both had read the reports, we knew this was a still an experimental procedure. I just didn't like being reminded of the fact.

"I don't quite understand what these injections are. I mean I know they are alien cells of some kind and I know you've found out that they regenerate damaged tissue. But what kind of cells?" Mulder asked, his brow furrowed with intensity.

I knew what the injections were. They were another thing I wasn't comfortable thinking about.

"I don't want you to misunderstand this part, Mr. Mulder." Williams explained. "What I'm going to tell you might be upsetting, so I want to reassure you now, that your immune system will keep what we inject in you from being harmful. You survived and eradicated the black cancer with little more than a placebo vaccine so we're confident these injections will do what they're meant to do and..."

"Just tell me what's in the fucking shots." Mulder said, raising his voice in exasperation.

The doctor chuckled at my partner's outburst. "Sorry. I just want to make sure...", he stopped short, reading Mulder's frustration over another long winded explanation. "Sorry. The shots contain a parasitic organism, a parasitic, ALIEN organism, that will stimulate your immune system into repairing and regenerating the tissue to which we plan to connect the transplanted limbs. This includes nerves, blood vessels, all of what will be the connecting tissues. All the scarring and mutilation that resulted from your accident will be gone. We will have healthy, viable tissue to attach your new limbs to. Do you understand what a breakthrough this is?"

I had read the report so I knew what the parasite was supposed to do, but I couldn't help getting shivers of excitement over the miracle these scientist had discovered. The test subjects had actually grown living, healthy tissue from scarred, mutilated, even burned stumps. It was as though the new tissue was hungry for the transplant. Healing was rapid and complete and the animals quickly began to use these newly attached, cloned limbs as though they were the ones they had been born with. There was hardly even a scar at the point of attachment. It was amazing. I glanced over at Mulder as he listened to Dr. Williams. The doctor was offering him a testimonial of sorts, elaborating on what we had read and I saw my partner's eyes were shining with excitement.

"So, are you game?" Williams asked.

Mulder nodded, unable to speak. He struggled valiantly, but a tear trickled down his face and he hurriedly swiped it away.

I didn't even attempt a fight. My eyes were streaming. When Mulder looked over to me, his guard broke down completely. I rushed to his side just as a huge sob escaped from deep inside. I wrapped myself around him and he clung to me with his lone arm, his whole body shaking, heaving with emotion. We both had shed a river of tears in those long, painful months since the accident, but these were different. These were the healing tears of joy.

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

Unknown location
Early April

The injections began the next day, and other than soreness from the needle, initially they caused no pain. They were given in the transplant sites, which of course meant the scarred ends of his leg stumps and the broad, puckered indention where his arm had once been attached to his shoulder. While admitting the shots did hurt, Mulder claimed the pain was not nearly as bad as that he'd felt with the sores his prostheses had caused.

We passed the time watching and waiting. We played Scrabble, chess, cards and Mulder, of course, watched sports on TV. It was around noon of the fifth day that Mulder began to feel a change. He claimed that it didn't quite hurt, that it wasn't really a tingle. We checked the sites and they did look slightly inflamed, but the minor redness and swelling we saw could also be attributed to the injections. After giving it much thought, Dr. Williams decided to increase the dosage of the shots. It worked. The next morning, the fun began.

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

I was in my little room, asleep, when I heard Mulder scream. I don't think my feet touched the ground my first few steps. After hitting the wall switch to turn on the light, I saw him. He was bathed in sweat, sitting bolt upright in his bed. His face was flushed red and contorted in anguish. His eyes were wild and unfocused. The moment I touched him I knew his temperature was high, too high. The night nurse came running. She too, had been awakened by his scream.

"He's burning up, get a cooling blanket, then go call Dr. Williams," I ordered, grabbing a towel from the bathroom. Quickly, I wet it with cool water and wringing the excess on the floor, hurried back to Mulder. I wiped the sweat from his chest, his face, his neck, attempting to bring his core temperature down.

Mulder shivered as I bathed him down. He began thrashing about, fighting my treatments, but I leaned on his arm and was able to keep him from hurting himself and me. Soon, he began to calm and when the nurse got back, we readied the cooling blanket, then draped it over him. He was sleeping peacefully when the Doctor arrived.

"Damn, I should have stayed where we were", the man cursed himself angrily. "Any convulsions?"

I shook my head and leaned over to see what the ear thermometer read as the nurse took his temperature again. 102. My sigh was audible.

Dr. Williams still looked angry, but I knew it was at himself. He shook his head wearily. "Spiking a fever is normal at this point. It means his immune system has kicked in, but I can't believe I was stupid enough to increase his dosage. Damn, my impatience. How high do you think his fever was initially?" He asked me, his eyes worried.

"By the time we got the blanket on, it was 103.1, so, probably not much more than a degree higher," I replied, trying to reassure him that there would most likely be no permanent damage to his patient. "Mulder is hypersensitive to fevers. I've seen him delirious at 103. It should have been in his chart. Sorry we didn't tell you."

The doctor seemed to be calming down and offered me a ghost of his usually broad smile. "Well, we had to let it spike and at least his sensitivity gave us an early warning that it was climbing. We'll just watch him now to keep it under control." He smoothed the silver blanket idly with his hand then turned to face me, "I think we can take this off when it gets down another degree, don't you, Doctor?"

I smiled at his acknowledgment of my skills and nodded in agreement.

"Scully?" Mulder stirred, then tried to push the cold blanket off. "Why's it so fucking cold?" he muttered, struggling awake. He glanced in surprise at the small crowd gathered around his bed. "Did something happen?"

I patted his thigh in reassurance and smoothed his ever-unruly bangs back off his forehead.

Dr. Williams winked at me then turned to leave. "Come on, Jen," he called, motioning for the nurse to follow, "I think he's being taken care of."

I smiled down at Mulder and he gave me a sleepy grin in return. "Sculleee," he murmured, drifting off.

"I'm here, Mulder"

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

Unknown location
Late April/Early May

Within a week, the treatments were in full swing. The alien parasite was doing its job, stimulating Mulder's immune system into regenerating and healing tissue like no other human being had ever been able to do. We could almost see the changes happening before our eyes. Mulder ran a constant, low-grade fever, but his spirits were higher than I had ever seen them. The change in his disposition and outlook was amazing. It was as though he was being reborn and we were watching it, step by step. I can't begin to explain the awe and wonder of it all.

It was the twentieth day of the procedure that I noticed the first growth. I was examining the tissue where his arm would be attached. The thick scars had disappeared. There was a thin covering of new skin over the entire area and I could see newly grown nerves, muscle, capillaries, veins all waiting, there beneath the surface, ready to join with the cloned parts. It was fascinating and a bit frightening. I was palpitating the bulge, as I had been shown, but on that day, I felt something different -- a hard mass, deep within the tissues. As a forensic pathologist I had felt my share of lumps and the knowledge of what it might be made my stomach plummet.

Mulder was lazily channel surfing the satellite TV while I did my exam. Maybe my breathing changed, maybe he felt my hands begin to shake while I studied the offending mass. I don't know how, but he knew something was wrong.

"What is it, Scully?"

I tried to make my face impassive and even attempted a smile. Mulder knew me too well.

"You found something wrong." It wasn't a question, it was a statement and he grabbed my hand, to comfort me. "Maybe you better get Dr. Williams", he urged, knowing I was too upset to even know what should be done. I nodded and stumbled off to find the doctor.

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

By the next day, we had found five tumors, varying in size from a pea to a lemon. They were scattered between the three injection sites, where his new tissue was forming. Dr. Williams had the surgery readied and did a biopsy of the first mass. Being that Mulder was this laboratories only patient the results came back immediately. It was benign.

I sat beside Mulder, waiting for him to awaken from the anesthesia so I could tell him the good news. Dr. Williams came into the room to check on his patient and I gave him a smile, happy that we were back on track. I felt a chill at seeing the Doctor had a worried frown on his face.

"What's wrong?"

Dr. Williams shook his head and sighed, "I'm not sure we should assume that they're all benign. I know it's got to be the treatment that's causing them. I just don't quite know why. We took a chance at comprising the site by doing this biopsy so I'm afraid to biopsy the others. We're going to have to stop the procedure. No more injections. We need to watch to see if there's change in these or if more develop. It would force our hand and we'd have to go in and remove them. I don't know, but I think we've failed." His eyes were sad and he gave my shoulder a compassionate pat as he passed by.

I sat in stunned silence, tears springing to my eyes at the horrible change in events. I didn't know what to tell Mulder. I couldn't bear the fact that his new-found hope was going to snatched away like this. The moment of truth arrived within minutes when he began to stir. I walked to his side and put a hand on his face. He opened those wonderful, deep hazel eyes and smiled upon recognizing me. I gave him a grin in return which he instantly read.

"Malignant," he croaked and tried to clear his throat. I offered him some ice chips, which he greedily accepted.

"No, it was benign. But we're going to have to stop the experiment, at least until we find out what's going on here," Dr. Williams answered for me.

Mulder just sighed, taking in the pronouncement calmly. He glanced up at me, his eyes growing soft at seeing my silent tears. He stretched out his hand to me and I clasped it in my own.

"I love you," he murmured pulling me to him.

Instantly dissolving into tears, I buried my head on his chest. He caressed my back gently, murmuring soft words of comfort. I finally got my emotions in hand and looked up at him, drinking in that face. He smiled bravely at me and it gave me the courage to finally say the words out loud.

"I love you, Mulder."

~~

 
CHAPTER TEN

Location Unknown
Early May

By mid-afternoon most of the effects of the anesthesia had worn off and Mulder seemed in excellent condition. The side of his chest where the biopsy had been done was tender but it didn't appear to bother him that much. I, on the other hand was a basket case. On and off throughout the morning, the reality that our chance was over would hit me and I would make some silly excuse in order to leave his room. Once out of his sight, I would burst into tears, ranting and raving angrily at the injustice of it all. After a few minutes, my tantrum spent, I'd wrestle control of my emotions, go wash my tear-streaked, swollen face and take up my place at his side. 'Til the next time the thoughts surfaced and I had to repeat everything all over again.

Of course, none of it fooled Mulder for one second. He knew exactly why I was making my hasty exits and after what must have been the tenth time he grabbed my arm to stop me. He winced as I tried to shake loose from him and inadvertently jarred his sore side. I'd hurt him. The tears started to flow. For the second time that day he pulled me to him and like before, I buried my face on his chest, needing the feel of his gentle comfort. My emotional storm soon passed and I sat up, wiping the tears from my face. Mulder offered the corner of his bed sheet for my runny nose and I burst out laughing at his gesture. Grabbing tissues off the bedside table, I used them instead.

"Scully," He said, touching my cheek lightly with his fingertips, "We need to do something to take our mind off the waiting. Before we run out of Kleenex."

"What do you have in mind" I asked arching a brow.

"Nothing too strenuous," he replied, laughing at my teasing innuendo. "I'm too sore. How about making them get us some videos, stuff for root beer floats, and a bag of sunflower seeds. Then you can crawl up here with me and we can just kind of veg out."

"Oh, you wild and crazy guy." I pushed up from the bed, chuckling, and went to see if somebody could grant his request.

"Tell 'em to get something with Steve Martin", he yelled as I walked out the door.

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

The next morning we discovered two more tumors, small, but these were in the groin area near the lymph nodes. The one I'd found first, had almost doubled in size in less than 48 hours and appeared to be putting pressure on the chest cavity. Dr. Williams decided we should wait one more day and if there were more tomorrow, that would definitely be it for the transplants. Surgery would most likely be the next step for Mulder, to remove the rapidly growing masses.

What little hope I had left was dashed the following day when the number of tumors reached 13.

"My not so lucky number, huh?" Mulder quipped at hearing the news.

I was able to keep my emotions in check, probably because there were no tears left. I felt hollow. I held Mulder's hand while Dr. Williams told us what was ahead.

"I'm going to have Dr. Burrell assist me on the surgery. He specialized in oncology before going into research, so we'll be covered in the worst-case scenario. He can't be here until day after tomorrow, though. If that largest one keeps growing and we start having problems, I'll go ahead and remove it but let's shoot for Monday morning for your surgery."

"No," Mulder replied firmly. "No surgery."

The Doctor and I stared at him, stunned. Mulder's eyes met mine and then I understood.

"Let's just leave well enough alone," he explained, his grip on my hand tightening. "I think it's time we threw in the towel. Scully knows what my wishes were if the transplant failed. No more treatment, no surgery. I think it's time to just let nature take it's course. Is that okay with you, Doctor?"

Joe Williams nodded. Perhaps he didn't agree with Mulder's choice, but he did agree it was his right to make the decision.

"I don't know how long it might take. Even if all the tumors are benign, at the rate they're growing, it won't take long before they start compromising vital organs. If things continue the way they're going and we were to make no intervention except for relief of pain, my guess is you have maybe two weeks at most. Does that sound like a plan?"

"If my Blue Cross will cover it, sure," Mulder replied dryly.

The doctor shook his head but didn't try to argue, choosing to respect his patient's wishes. I could see Williams was upset that our association was going to end this way. With a brief nod, he left us alone.

My shaking knees finally gave out and I sat beside Mulder on his bed. My lips were trembling as I struggled against the hot tears that threatened. I was afraid if I started to cry, I might never be able to stop.

"Thank you." His voice was low and husky. He was spent, worn down by the disappointments and decisions he struggled through this long painful morning.

I didn't trust myself to speak, so I nodded. His gaze was soft with tenderness. His eyes brimming over with sorrow and regret.

"Damn it," he muttered, reaching up to place a finger on my bottom lip. "I didn't want to do this to you again. I wanted so badly for it to work ."

Silent tears rolled down his face and I kissed them away. We lay there quietly, silenced by our grief. Words wouldn't make things better, but holding each other did. After a while, Mulder drifted off to sleep. I couldn't. There would be time for sleep after he was gone. I curled up beside him, studying his face, committing it all to memory. Because in time, that would be all I had.

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

I did finally sleep.

"The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak."

I'd never felt so bitter about the truth of Christ's words as I did that morning when I awoke to find Mulder, peacefully watching ME sleep. He grinned and my disappointment vanished.

"What a smile," I murmured in admiration, reaching up to touch the corners of his mouth.

His look became one of boyish embarrassment and I laughed out loud. I wanted to drink in his every expression, consume all I could, while I had the chance.

"I'm hungry", I whispered into his ear, playfully nipping it as I spoke. He turned to look at me, searching my face. I was stunned by his reluctance, disappointed.

"Why?" he whispered.

At first, I didn't understand his question. Then realization came and I knew what had to be said.

"Mulder, this isn't about pity. Don't you know by now, how you make me feel when you touch me? Look at me. You've been like this for almost a year, so you know what pity looks like. How can you say you see pity in my face?"

I stopped a moment to touch his mouth, softly with the tips of my fingers. For years, I had wanted to touch those lips. He caught my eye and I knew he'd read the truth in my face. I shivered when he kissed each digit. When you know each time might be the last, you want that much more for it to be the best and we moved through our passion with deliberate slowness, savoring every touch.

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

There were no new tumors the next morning and no change in the ones that we'd detected, so a stay was granted for another day. Twenty-four hours later, the results were the same, with one happy exception -- the large mass on his side that had begun to compromise his chest cavity, was noticeably smaller. I detected a twinkle in Dr. Williams' eyes when he reported the news.

"And this means?" Mulder asked, keeping any excitement in check as best he could.

"I don't know?" Williams shrugged with a grin, " I'm just a mad doctor, not a psychic."

We laughed, a vain attempt to ease the electric excitement that was in the air. Hopes that had been dashed were now rising, but we all seemed to have a silent agreement to keep them restrained. Maybe we feared the fates might steal them away again.

Throughout the week, the atmosphere among everyone involved was tense and hair-trigger. Everyone except Mulder. He had always been the excitable, impatient one in our partnership. He now spent the week calming me, which I must admit, was a nice change. He showed great imagination in figuring ways to burn off my nervous energy.

The tenth day after Mulder's death sentence had been passed, it was repealed. Each day passed with no new masses and the others had either not changed or shrank in size.

"Think you'd like to have surgery tomorrow?" Doctor Williams asked Mulder, a teasing gleam in his eye. "Maybe a little transplant or two?"

Once more I had to perch on Mulder's bed because my legs wouldn't hold me. It was going to happen. My mind was reeling.

"Okay," Mulder's normally quick repartee had left him.

Joe Williams beamed at us, then proudly announced, "It's time."

Go to Chapter 11

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