By Katvictory

 
CHAPTER ELEVEN

Unknown Location
Late May

Dr. Williams advised us to take it easy that day before the surgery because it would be such a long one. Any type of microsurgery is long, because the work is so delicate but it is especially slow and tedious when surgeons are working on the arm, which is all they were going to attempt that first transplant. The brachial plexus is a very complicated and sensitive set of nerves and even with the help of robotic in the transplant it was going to be a long, arduous ordeal. Mulder's comment was to slyly offer that he was going to be getting twenty hours of sleep, wasn't the doctor was the one who needed to rest?

Dr. Williams had always allowed me free access to anything involving Mulder and it was at this time I finally got my nerve up to view the donor clone. As I took the elevator down to the laboratory where they kept the experiment, my stomach was in knots. As a scientist, I knew the organism that was giving Mulder his new lease on life should not even be classified as human. It was a sophisticated cluster of cells. I believed this as a scientist but being raised in the church, I had qualms, doubts about using another for the harvesting of limbs, organs, etc.

My fears were put to rest by one look at the thing, lying in the tank before me. It did resemble Mulder, superficially. But staring at the sightless, empty face, I knew that creature was the closest to humanity it would ever come. There was nothing to suggest that God's hand had ever touched the entity with the spark of life. It did not have now, nor had it ever had, a soul.

Having found my answer, I quickly left the lab. Dr. Williams was leaving out of an area at the end of the hall where I was denied access. He was in a rush and I barely caught up to him before the elevator door closed. Judging by the good doctor's expression, he wasn't exactly pleased to see me, at least not in that section of the underground facility.

"I'd never seen the clone," I stated nervously, wanting to explain my presence. I'd never been specifically told not to go to the lower levels and I didn't want to overstep my bounds.

"Pretty fascinating, huh?" he asked. My explanation seemed to appease him, but he still appeared to be uncomfortable.

I gave him a slight smile and a nod in answer, then quickly exited when the doors slid open to my floor. I caught a worried expression on his face as the elevator closed behind me. I stopped, gazing at the white portal, trying to sort through my impressions of our brief exchange, a frown creasing my brow. Someone I had not thought of in quite a while had made their presence known. Dr. Williams reeked of cigarette smoke.

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

Unknown Location
Late May/Early June

I said nothing to Mulder of my worries and surprisingly, we both slept well that night before the surgery. It was predawn when Jen, the nurse, came in to wake us. As I climbed out from beside him, I caught a glimpse of his eyes. The battle he had fought for a year was almost over and I could see relief in their hazel depths. I gave his hand a quick squeeze, then moved aside to allow Jen to begin prepping him.

The surgery took nineteen hours, almost to the minute. Since Mulder was their only patient and I was trained, I was allowed afterwards in the small room off the operating theater which they used as a recovery room. When they brought him to me, all his signs were perfect and he came out of the anesthesia quickly.

"You look rough," he whispered to me as soon as his eyes fluttered open.

I smiled back at his comment, knowing it wasn't entirely drug-induced.

"I can feel it," he murmured sleepily, letting his lids close again.

I cast a glance at the new limb and shook my head knowingly. It would be quite a while before feeling would come to the arm they had immobilized in traction, but it looked good, very good. The fingertips of his new hand were warm and pink and I was satisfied that so far, the transplant seemed to be a success. Since he had 'woken and spoken' and everything else from blood pressure to blood gas was fine, we wheeled him back to his room.

While the orderlies helped get him settled in his bed, he had come fully awake and after they left, I could tell by his expression he was in pain.

"Let me get you something for that," I murmured, preparing the machine that would allow him to dispense his own pain medication.

"No," he choked, his voice hoarse from the surgery.

I had finished and turned to see what was troubling him. His eyes were bright and I quickly put a hand to his forehead to check for fever.

"I feel it!" he repeated adamantly, shaking my hand away.

"Feel what?" My mouth had grown dry. I guess it was fear. I turned to touch his fingertips, worried something was wrong.

"I feel you touch me," he spoke slowly, trying to make me understand. "I can feel my fingers."

I looked at him, realizing what had him so agitated. He knew, he had been told, that nerve regeneration was a slow process -- that full feeling in his arm, especially the fingers, would take time, if it ever completely came back. What had happened in the lab animals, full mobility, was the hoped for result, but to expect feeling, hours after surgery? That was impossible.

"You can feel this?" I asked moving close, but not quite touching his thumb.

He shook his head.

"I feel my hand, but I don't feel you touching me", Mulder explained, calming down a bit. He struggled to look and see why he couldn't perceive my touch.

I was in shock. "I wasn't doing it then," I confessed. I gently squeezed his pinkie and saw his eyes light up in response. My knees felt weak at this miracle. "I better go get Dr. Williams." My voice was a strained whisper as I left to go find the doctor.

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

No one at the site could believe what was happening. Mulder had complete feeling in his arm, from fingertip to shoulder, making the surgery a success beyond anyone's wildest dreams. But, it was only to get better. The third morning post-surgery, Mulder called me to his side. I had been in the bath, brushing my teeth when I heard his yell. I rushed out and my stomach plummeted, tears were streaming down his face. He tried to speak but could only point. I followed the direction of his shaking digit -- he was indicating his left hand, his new hand.

"Mulder, what's wrong" I asked feeling the exposed fingers, hoping their was still the warmth of life in them, praying he was not showing signs of rejection. I backed away as though I had been burned, when I felt his fingers move beneath my touch.

"It's alive," he said playfully, his eyes still overflowing with joy. He wiggled them again and I actually screamed with delight. Jen came in at my scream and hurried to go get Dr. Williams, when Mulder gave her a fingertip wave. Within thirty minutes, we had the entire staff in the room, oohing and aahing over my partner's amazing, dexterous digits.

Joe Williams examined his arm as everyone filed out, and he smiled at his handiwork.

"Look here." He called me over to show me the incision, which was already almost healed. "We need to get an x-ray, see if the bone is coming along this quickly."

It was. Jen came in as soon as we got the results and informed us the doctor wanted Mulder put in a soft cast. He had done a month of healing in a little over three days. Mulder spent the better part of that afternoon, gazing at his hand, watching his fingers move. I sat on his bed, watching his face. I thought nothing could ruin the happiness.

That evening I strolled to the staff cafeteria, to have coffee with some of the personnel I had befriended over our stay. I ambled back to the room to find Mulder, propped on his side, his face white with pain.

"What happened?" I gasped, rushing to his side.

He was breathing deeply, trying to contain his agony. "They did a test, right after you left," he moaned, closing his eyes and fighting tears. "Said they needed bone marrow. Something wasn't right. I don't know..." A tear escaped and he gazed up at me, his eyes wounded. "It hurts."

I brushed his hair out of his eyes and ran to get Jen, demanding his chart. Written there, was the order with no explanation as to why, except some words in Latin, scrawled in Williams' ungainly doctor's hand. "Timeo danaoset dona ferentes" -- "Fear the Greeks even when they bring gifts."
~~
 
CHAPTER TWELVE

Location Unknown
Early June

I was angry, and scared and most of all, worried. After my initial concerns of a "deal with the devil" when we had first come to the underground facility, I had pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind. With all the ups and downs that had happened in the prior month, that is where they had remained -- until my elevator ride with Joe Williams and then, his scribbled warning. I decided I needed to inform Mulder of what had transpired, though I hated bringing it up at this time. He was in a lot of pain from the so called "test." But, I needed his input on how to proceed.

I prepared an injection of Demerol for him, but decided to tell him of my discoveries before I gave it to him. I knew he might choose not to take it, even though he needed respite from the pain desperately, but he might figure a clear head was needed. And it was about time he was allowed to make his own choices.

"Mulder," I bent over him, whispering close to his ear, "I need you to listen to me, okay?"

I quickly explained, telling him of what I had found out in the elevator and the warning given, and he immediately filled in the blanks himself.

"Got a bullet for me to bite on?" He groaned as he rolled over onto his back. I saw the site on his hip and knew the pain must be horrible.

"No...but, how 'bout some ice?" I offered weakly, tossing away the narcotic filled syringe.

At his nod, I hurried to get him a cold bag, watching the people milling in the pristine white hallway with a different eye now. Upon re-entering his room, he called me over with a motion and as I leaned close to put the pack on his hip, he motioned to the light fixture above the bed.

"It's a camera, I'm sure...probably a mike, too," he whispered in my ear.

I nodded that he was most likely right, knowing we most likely had been watched since the start.

"I wonder if we can get a copy of the video of last Monday night?" Mulder murmured with a lopsided grin, which broadened at my blush.

I knew the ice couldn't be helping too much, but maybe having a problem to concentrate on helped more. He patted the side of the bed and I sat down next to him, leaning close to discuss the matter.

We were still in our unproductive discussion an hour later when Dr. Williams burst in, Jen and two white-coated assistants in tow.

"We need to prep you -- now." His words were a rush and his eyes, as they met mine, were wide with excitement and fright. I started to speak, to question the fact he was moving the second surgery up by a week, but he shook his head. When I stood up, his staff instantly went to work. "I knew HE had to sleep sometime. We've got to do it now. He planned on keeping him by not giving him his legs. Wait here and when we're done, I'll try to tell you everything."

The doctor's hurried explanation left me speechless. I never got a chance to recover, because then, they were gone, leaving me alone.

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

It wasn't the doctor who came next. It was two large, burly men. They grabbed my arms and led me away to a holding cell on a lower level. What followed, were three of the worst days of my life -- not that they hurt me. No, I saw no one. My meals were pushed through a little door in my windowless cell. I had the clothes I had been wearing, a toilet (with no lid, I might add) and my watch. That watch kept my sanity and also drove me insane. I counted the minutes, the seconds. I fretted, I paced, I screamed and pounded on the door. The only way I knew I existed was three times a day, a tray of food arrived.

I was left completely alone with my thoughts. They were not good company. What happened with the surgery? Was Mulder alive? Why was I still alive? What did they plan on doing with me? I tormented myself, cursed the fact I had gotten us into this. I knew Mulder would be dead right now, if we hadn't gone through with the experiment. But then, I argued with myself, he might be dead now anyway. What had I accomplished? He surely would have had an easier death, had he done it himself, than the one our enemies would plan for him. Like I said, I was not good company.

Finally, three days, ten hours and thirteen minutes into my captivity, HE showed up. With the same burly guards that had taken me. Without a word, they each grabbed an arm and led me out of my cell. I had no idea where they were taking me, or for what purpose. I didn't ask, for I figured any place was better than the solitary hell of that windowless room. Even death would be better. I'd faced death before and I felt like Mulder -- sometimes you welcome it.

My whole body was shaking with relief when we entered Mulder's room, but it quickly turned to anger when I saw my partner. The first thing I noticed was his legs. Two legs, encased in bandages, lay beneath the sheets. The miracle was complete. Then I saw his face. Both eyes were blackened, swollen almost shut. His cheeks were covered with scratches, molted with bruises. And his neck was covered with a gauze bandage, through which blood seeped in a dark maroon spot.

When he saw me, he let out a moan that shook me to the core. It was part wounded animal, part hurt child. It broke my heart. I flung off the arms that held me and rushed to his side. He grabbed me, both arms encircling my waist, and he buried his head into my stomach. I stood holding him, offering soothing words of comfort, stroking his hair.

As his sobs tapered off, I looked up at the man who had done this, trying to burn him with my hate. He smiled and took a drag off his cigarette.

"You both need to listen." He spoke calmly, in even tones. "You have what you want now. There will be no more 'episodes' like this morning." My eyebrow raised in question, but the man ignored me and continued his speech. "We will get what we want now. You will be well taken care of. Your needs will be met. You'll give us what we want, when we want it. You'll NOT try to fight. You WILL NOT try to escape. And, when we have what we need, you'll be released unharmed." The smoke curled about his face as he paused to make his point. "If you try a repeat of your little stunt, Fox, she will be killed. And on top of that, if you don't succeed in killing yourself...well, let's just say...what has been given, can be taken away...and then some." a hint of a smile crossed his lips as he motioned to Mulder's new legs.

I felt my stomach rise into my throat with his threat. Mulder, his arms still holding me tight, lay his head against my side and said nothing. There was nothing more to say, so the man left, but his smoky stench like his threats, still lingered in the room.

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

I had thought Mulder had control of himself. He did while our enemies were in the room. But, as soon as the Smoking Man was gone, he fell apart. I eased up next to him and held him tight. Offering him comfort seemed to help calm my own nerves, so frayed by my solitary ordeal. Finally, he calmed enough to look up at me.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice a thin rasp. "Did they hurt you?" I shook my head, my own tears starting to fall. His hand, his new left hand moved to clumsily wipe the wetness from my cheeks and I smiled. "They look good on you," I laughed softly, nodding at his legs.

His response was not what I expected. His face crumpled once more, his tenuous grasp slipped and his body began to shake again with sobs.

"I wish...I'm so sorry..." The words wouldn't come for him and he finally gave an anguished cry that chilled my soul.

"Mulder, no, don't," I cried, pulling him even closer. "This is all my fault. It was my idea to come. I brought us here."

"For ME!!" he argued, "You've given up everything for me -- everything. Scully. I thought you were dead. I thought he killed you. I don't want it to be about me, I really don't. I want you to have a life. I want you to have a house, kids..." He stopped and looked up at me. I'd never such hopelessness in anyone's eyes.

"I have you," I whispered softly, hoping he understood. Hoping he knew, that was what I wanted. " If I have you, that's all I need."

He searched my face and saw it was true. I don't think my confession was entirely a comfort to him. There was fear in his eyes when he gently kissed my neck and pulled me close.

We spent the afternoon, laying together in bed, talking. I told Mulder of my three days and he shared his tale with me.

"The first thing I remembered was waking up in my room. You weren't here, but I just thought you'd stepped out. I guess I had dreamed about you, because I remembered talking to you in recovery. You were holding my hand, talking to me. But I guess it was a dream."

"Maybe it was Jen," I offered.

He shook his head. "Not unless she loves me. You told me that. You called me Fox. You said, 'I love you, Fox.' Must have been a dream. I waited for you to come back, and when you didn't, I called for a nurse. The one that came was one I'd never seen. Scully, I haven't seen Dr. Williams since before the surgery. Jen either."

I knew what he was thinking, I was thinking the same thing. We most likely would never see the affable doctor and the kind, young nurse again. They had crossed the devil himself.

"I asked her where you were. She said she didn't know. That was all it took. I went nuts. That's where I got the bruises. From her and the goons. I got in a few of my own, though. Then, that bitch and those guys tied me down. They gave me a sedative. I woke up the next morning. They brought in breakfast. I threw it back at them. I wasn't going to fight them again. I knew they'd just tie me down. But I wanted them to know I wasn't happy. I do know how to show my ass in a hospital. In more ways than one."

"You've made it a fine art, Mulder," I agreed.

He was proud of the fact so he didn't mind my comment. In fact I got a smile out of him with it.

"Last night they told me if I didn't start eating they'd force feed me. I guess they planned on giving me one more chance because they brought my tray this morning. When they left, I broke the juice glass. I guess somebody wasn't minding the store," he nodded to the light fixture over head. "I did this."

He lifted the gauze on his neck and I gasped. I knew it had been a threat, not a real suicide attempt, but he had come dangerously close to really killing himself. They had repaired the gash well; it was no longer oozing blood. I changed the soiled bandage while he finished his story.

"I guess somebody woke up and saw what I was doing. Next thing I know there was a room full of people. Then HE came in...took one look and brought you back to me."

I did get a real smile, then. He touched my face tenderly and I kissed his hand.

"It's working pretty good," I whispered, feeling the warmth of the transplanted limb in his fingertips on my face.

"It's weak, I'm pretty lopsided here."

I nodded, acknowledging the fact his new arm lacked the muscle tone of his other appendage. I drew back the covers to check out his legs. He obliged me by wiggling his toes.

"I just have to do that sometimes," he admitted ruefully. "Just watch them move. Although I gotta tell you, I never realized how ugly my feet were."

I shook my head with a laugh. Ugly they might be, they were a miracle. "They'll do."

He nodded in agreement, his eyes bright.

~~
 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Late June/Mid August
Unknown location

The man was true to his word. We were "taken care of," not harmed. But a prison, is a prison, is a prison. The bars were there, we were being kept against our will. We could not escape. He would not let us go -- not as long as Mulder's body produced bone marrow, not as long as he was alive. So what did we do, with no chance of ever leaving this prison? We went on living.

Mulder worked hard, trying to gain control of his new parts, to learn to walk again. He jokingly suggested, we should have waited for a more "in shape" clone. His arm, aside from the fine motor skills, was gaining strength and he was beginning to use it unconsciously. His new legs, however, could not support his weight and he had to struggle to train them to function.

I watched him, holding tightly to the bars, his right arm taking most of his weight, but the left, doing none too badly, considering.

"Your dragging them. Lift them," I called out.

He raised his head, sweat flinging from his sweat-soaked hair, and gave me the evil eye. He just couldn't seem to get the flex motion of a normal stride. In disgust, he lowered himself to the mat, his lower lip protruding in anger. I squatted beside him, offering a towel, which he took without a word and slung around his neck.

"It's gotta go faster..." he muttered, as much to himself as to me.

"It will," I whispered into his ear. "We've got time."

He nodded in agreement and offered me a wry grin. "Better than when I didn't have a leg to stand on."

I gave him a warning glance. "No more, Mulder."

He took my hand to help get back in his chair. I knew he wasn't going to heed my warning. The wicked gleam in his eye told me as much.

"Hey, Scully," he grinned wheeling over to me.

I backed away, "I don't want to hear it, Mulder."

He followed me relentlessly. "We won't be moving to Vegas, when we get outta here."

My pace quickened. "I'm not listening to you." My hands went to my ears and I hummed a tune loudly, trying to drown him out.

"Yeah, guess the transplants ruined my career plans for becoming a one-armed bandit."

"I warned you Mulder," I spat, hurrying away. He was getting too damned fast in that chair. He caught up with me at the showers.

"Hey, Scully."

I gave him my sternest look, which he ignored.

"Mulder, just get your shower and get changed. I'll meet you at the pool." My words came in a rush as I sprinted through the swinging door.

"If they'd done my eyes," he shouted after me, his voice echoing off the tiled walls, "I could be singing 'Tears of a Clone.'"

"That's lame, Mulder." I chuckled to myself, dressing for our swim. I grabbed a towel and was heading out when I heard the women talking. I didn't know them. I wouldn't have even paid attention to their conversation if I hadn't overheard Mulder's name being mentioned.

"...Yeah and they said she took the clone."

I stood still, straining to hear more.

"For what?" another female's voice questioned.

"I heard she buried it -- as him, her son. It only had the one arm, no legs. Nobody would know it wasn't him."

"How sick."

I stumbled away, my mind reeling. Mulder was officially dead. Nobody would miss him. Nobody would come looking for him. Or us. He was of course, already in the pool, skimming through the water, doing laps. I moved to the side and stood there lost in thought. At some point he noticed me and stopped.

"Scully?"

I heard him call and I blindly searched for him through my worried haze. He was right below me and saw my face. Mulder had become an expert at reading me.

"Scully?" He pulled himself up to sit on the side and grabbed my hand.

I finally noticed him and sank down beside him, my legs dangling in the warm water. I felt his hand on my cheek and turned to face him.

"Scully, what's wrong?" he asked panic-stricken.

"You're dead, Mulder," I whispered, then proceeded to relate my overheard conversation. "Do you think they told my mother I'm dead?"

He put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close, "I don't know, Scully," he murmured, his voice tinged with sorrow.

"She's got to be so worried. If you're dead and I haven't gotten hold of her, I know she must think I'm dead, too." My voice broke as I took my logic the next step further." This proves he's never going to let us go."

"I know."

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

The worst part of our incarceration, was that we were forced into realizing Mulder was no more than a lab rat to our captors. They were constantly taking something out of him or from him -- bone marrow, blood, skin cell scrapings, even semen. It devastated him to be treated as a specimen and it pained me to watch his hurt.

Days seemed to run together and time really had no meaning except in its passing. We kept busy, but it all soon became a blur. The one thing I do remember from those weeks were our conversations. We did have some very interesting talks.

"Mulder?"

"Hmmm?" he was almost asleep, his arms and legs wrapped around me.

"Ever wonder if all this is part of a plan?"

"I know it is, the black-lunged, son of a..."

"No, I mean God's plan. I mean I don't think we'd ever have gotten together --not like we are now, if you hadn't gotten hurt."

"So it was God's plan to make me into third base, so we could get together. Nice plan." He was silent for a while, considering my question. "Maybe it was for me to learn a lesson. You know, to suffer to learn from my sins."

"What were your sins, Mulder?" I thought I knew what was coming. I knew Mulder wore his guilt over his sister's abduction like a shroud. He surprised me.

"Pride," he replied softly. "My biggest sin was pride."

I raised up on my elbow, straining to read his expression in the darkness. "Pride? How so?" I doubted the reasoning of his answer. In most ways, Fox Mulder was one of the most insecure people I'd met. His tortured childhood had left him doubting his worth throughout his life. Pride. I didn't think so.

"I thought I didn't need anybody," he explained, "and I always knew what everyone else needed. If the world would see life my way, then everything would be perfect. You don't get egos much bigger than that, Scully."

He did have a point. "And what happened to you was your penance?"

"Well, pride kind of goes out the window when you have to have somebody hold you up so you can take a crap. I needed somebody for everything I did. And I found out it didn't kill me to need somebody."

The night was quiet once more as we both mulled over what had been said. He was the one that spoke first to break the silence.

"Maybe you're right, it was God's plan to get us together."

"Maybe?"

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

By late July, Mulder had gained enough strength and control to be able to get around with the aid of a walker. His mobility did cause a problem, because being upright caused his back injury, lying dormant these many months, to flare up again. Heat and massage did help, but the more active he became, the worse the pain got. His new doctor was the Smoking Man's lap dog and his skills, unlike Joe Williams', ran exclusively to research. Why did they care if walking was becoming unbearable? They could still get what they wanted from him if he never left his bed.

My frustration was growing. He pushed himself so hard, he felt he had to be ready if we ever got the chance to escape. But once again, his body had turned against him. By mid August, each step was unadulterated agony. My nerves had frayed to the point of snapping and my demands for treatment for him were loud and constant. The staff stayed away. Any help he got came from me. Until that one day, when help finally came.

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

August 18th
Location unknown

I watched Mulder as he shuffled across the floor to the bathroom. He tried to hide his pain, but it was there, so easily read in his face. He started to go inside, but turned at hearing me move angrily to the door.

"Where are you going?" His tone was sharp with worry.

"I have to do something!" My frustration came out in tears.

Mulder stopped and hobbled over to me and seeing his painful approach, made me cry all the harder.

"I'm just going to go talk to him. Maybe he'll listen. Please, I have to do something!" I repeated, almost in hysterics.

Mulder wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. He murmured, soft words of comfort. My sobs were playing out when the knock at the door came. It opened before we had a chance to speak. His embrace tightened and I was stunned silent when our visitors came into the room. It was Teena Mulder, with the Lone Gunmen in tow.

~~
 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

August 18th
Location Unknown

Teena Mulder had a way of entering a room like she owned it -- which knowing Mulder history, she just might have.

"Well, Miss Scully," she proclaimed, in her most queenly of tones, "I guess your complaining worked. Spender wants Fox to see my personal physician about his back."

She motioned to Langly and Frohike to bring in the stretcher they had left in the hall. The two men, clad in overalls that claimed they worked for L. G. Ambulance Service, quickly obeyed. Byers, wearing a nondescript white lab coat helped Mulder to settle down on the rolling bed. My partner and I both were stunned into submission. We did as we were told without a word. Smoking Man's lap dog doctor hurried into the room to see what the commotion was about, but he, too, was silenced by Teena's presence.

"Oh, Mrs. Mulder, what are you doing back here?" he questioned meekly, only to regret his hastily-spoken words.

"Jimmy, go back to your lab", she commanded and Dr. Burrell immediately scurried out of the room.

Mulder's grin was the widest I'd ever seen it, until his mother cast him a stern glance.

"You're sick," she hissed softly. "Lie down."

Her son composed his face, without a sound, and lay his head back on the pillow.

"You may accompany us, Miss Scully,'' she announced and led the procession out the door.

I was amazed that the entire staff of C.G.B. Spender facility parted to let us by. We walked unaccosted into an elevator and rode it silently up. The metal doors finally opened and we smoothly walked through a foyer to freedom. The sun was blinding and I breathed deep my first breath of unfiltered air in six months. I looked around at the beautiful summer day in disbelief. It had all happened too quickly.

"We need to hurry, Dana," Teena Mulder whispered, softly grabbing my arm to move me over to the waiting ambulance, where the two clean-shaven gunmen were loading Mulder.

Byers took my arm and helped me inside and Teena stood in the doorway, finally allowing herself the grin that was so like her son's. She stared at us all and I saw a mist of tears in her eyes.

"You need to be going." Her voice was hoarse as she struggled with her emotions.

Mulder pushed himself up to sit at hearing her words, a puzzled frown on his face.

"Mom, you're not coming with us?" he asked, stretching out his hand to her.

Byers assisted her inside and she leaned over her son, shaking her head in answer to his surprised question.

Mulder grabbed her arm. "You have to," he said, panic in his voice.

She placed a hand on his cheek and sadly shook her head again. "Fox, I have to stay. It's the only way to make sure you'll have enough time. Hey, I can handle Spender. I have for over thirty years. He only bested me that one time, Fox. Don't worry."

Mulder started to argue once more, but seeing the woman's determined expression, decided against it. He turned his head, struggling against his tears. I moved to comfort him, but her hand touched his head first, so I stepped aside and she sat down next to her son. Her embrace was stiff at first, but she quickly melted into his arms, when he returned her hug.

"I love you, Fox," she whispered, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

"It was you that first day," he cried, realizing who had comforted him that day of his surgery, when he had been alone.

Mrs. Mulder nodded, then slowly stood. She squared her shoulders after leaving the van and walked back to the building without a backward glance.

Byers climbed in back with us, and an awkward smile played across his lips. The front doors slammed shut and Langly pulled away, like a bat out of hell. I glanced down at Mulder and he gave a weak smile through his tears. We were free.

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

August 18th, dusk
Outskirts of Atlanta, GA

Frohike made his way to the back clumsily, swaying side to side with the movement caused by Langly's erratic lane changes. He sat on the jump seat, pulling papers from his knapsack as he spoke.

"Looking good, big man," he offered, motioning to Mulder's new limbs.

Mulder, still grieving over his mother's departure, gave him a solemn nod of thanks.

"Okay," Frohike announced, back to business at once. "Let's do this fast. We're about...how far from the airport?" he yelled up to Langly.

"In this traffic, ETA 20 minutes," was the grumbled answer.

"I'll talk fast," he grinned, raising a flirtatious brow my way. "Two tickets, first class from the queen. The only way the lady flies."

Mulder flinched at the mention of his mother, but Frohike continued without noticing. He was on a roll.

"Stopover in LA, twenty minutes for refueling, then you're on your way to Hawaii. Passports, license, birth certificates, credit cards, check book."

"What is all this?" I asked taking the pile of documents he was handing me, one by one. I tried to make them out in the dim light.

"They're your new identity," he replied, grinning with pride.

"What?" Mulder asked softly.

"Best money can buy," Frohike bragged. "Pretty lady, you now are Amy Morgan, nee Oxley. We were lucky with you. Amy Oxley was born February 23, 1964 in Appalachia, Virginia. She died the next day. So you get to keep your birthday my Pisces lovely."

"Thank you," I replied, too stunned to understand.

"Mulder, sorry but the best we could do for you is 1960, so you gained a year."

"Thanks," Mulder muttered, taking his own papers to scrutinize by the fading sun.

"Well, we did get October at least, missed yours by a day -- the 14th. New name is Dave Morgan. You and Amy married in Loveland, Colorado. May 27, 1991. You're childless of course and Dave has just sold his home security firm in Houston for a tidy sum. You're taking a two week vacation before you move into your new home on the beach in La Paz, Me-hee-co. The lady has such style." Frohike said in admiration.

"Where did these come from? We're supposed to use these?" Too much had gone on in too short of time. My brain was already suffering jet lag before we'd even boarded our flight.

Mulder put a hand on my arm in encouragement. "They're from my Mom. It's a new start. We were dead remember, Dana? It's so the Smoking Man won't find us." He spoke slowly as though talking to a child, but I guess it was what I needed, because my nerves finally calmed and the light finally came on. All these papers and cards were us. And Mulder called me Dana.

"I'm Amy, remember?" I said softly with a sour smile. I was scared.

"She's here." Langly called and I looked out the side window to check out who he had spotted.

We were at the airport parking lot. When we pulled into a space, I saw with delight that Teena Mulder had at least one more trick up her sleeve and this particular trick was for me. A woman stood surrounded by an enormous set of matching luggage. Langly barely had time to stop the ambulance before I had the door open and was leaping out. The woman was my mother.

"Mom," I cried rushing into her arms. I don't know which of us shook harder with our tears, but we held each other tight, rocking back in forth in time. "Momma," I breathed into her dark curly hair.

She pulled back and held my face in both her hands, looking at me. I reached up a hand to wipe at the tears, streaming down her cheeks, just as she fussed with my own. Byers had helped Mulder from the van and the men all stood a respectful distance away, watching our tearful reunion. I glanced around at all of them, my eyes shining, and smiled at seeing each of our rescuers had tears in their eyes. All three turned their head in unison, to swipe at their running eyes. I laughed.

"Ohh, Fox you look wonderful," Mom cried, letting me go to give my partner a much-needed hug.

Mulder had none of the Gunmen's qualms over his own tears as he returned my mother's heart-felt embrace.

"Dana, I tried to get what I thought you'd want," she explained, indicating the luggage." And Fox, Your Mom had no idea what size you wore, so I hope they fit."

"They're fine," Mulder reassured her, not really wanting to let her go.

It was fine. I didn't mind sharing her.

The Gunmen had gotten a skycap to help with the luggage, and after loading it and ourselves onto the cart, we all headed to the terminal. Unfortunately, our visit was to be brief. We had less than fifteen minutes to make our flight. I burst into tears as they called us to board and gave my mother one final hug -- long, because I didn't know when the next one would be. It was a quick, tearful goodbye and my partner and I boarded the plane, leaving Fox Mulder and Dana Scully behind.

~~

Rating:
NC-17 (sex, subject matter)

Category:
Angst, MulderTorture, MSR, Scully POV

Spoilers:
Up to mid-Season 6

Summary:
Scully becomes her partner's lover, nurse and savior after a tragic accident leaves Mulder
severely handicapped.

Chapters:
1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13 
14  15  Text
Top
 
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

August, One year later
On a private beach
La Paz, Mexico

Sometimes, he can still look like a little boy to me. I watch him running through the surf with Elvis, his Lab, and he plays as if he's ten, after all he's been through. And they say we women are resilient. He looks so good, so healthy, so fit. My lecherous side arises as I watch the tall, tanned, lithely muscular man who is mine, and I want to tackle him, rape him right there on the beach. I just might do that -- later -- after I finish my tea.

I sit beneath my umbrella, as always watchful of this torrid subequatorial sun. It's a bitch being Irish. I'm sure I've complained of that here somewhere in this journal. My easily-freckled skin has always been a pet peeve. It's been a year of rest, of healing, of getting used to the wonderful burden of being filthy rich.

It's been a year of sadness, too. Teena Mulder was dead within a week of our rescue. She didn't realize you can't call the devil out to play and expect him to behave. I know a few others who have made the same mistake. We knew he wasn't playing -- maybe that's how we survived. I don't know. I try not to think much any more. I'm on an extended vacation.

We were still in Hawaii when we were faxed the obituary. She died in the house at Chilmark. The autopsy was inconclusive as to cause of death. The body, like the house, was burned to ashes. Mulder took it well, becoming an orphan. I think he'd known it would happen when they said their good-byes. I think she knew it, too. She saved one child from the devil. I like to think she died happy.

She left us very well-provided for. Beneath her regal, calm exterior, Teena Mulder had a criminally devious mind. Two months before her death, she had transferred millions into a bogus corporation, L.G. Inc. Hence, the money for us, for the escape. Her will probably caused C.G.B.Spender to have a stroke. I hope so. She left her entire fortune, being both her children were gone, to the Lone Gunmen, Incorporated. The battle rages on for truth, justice and the paranoid way.

I have yet to see my mother again, but our fabulously wealthy friends, the afore mentioned Gunmen, are working on it. For now, I'll have to be content with the weekly phone calls our buddies arrange. Mom loves the cloak and dagger style that we use to communicate. God, I miss her.

For the most part, though, it's been a very good year -- a wonderful start to a new millennium, one of the best years of my life. I've found it hard to believe that I've adjusted to marriage so easily. Dana Scully, overachieving career woman, a happy homemaker...and soon-to-be mother. Mulder, excuse me, Dave and I are adopting a one-year-old girl, from an orphanage in La Paz. She's gorgeous, so sweet, so cuddly...I can't wait. Mulder can't either. He's ready, more than ready, for fatherhood. Losing so much helped him to find himself. All the love he kept inside all those lonely years has poured out and I have been the happy recipient. And now Kristina will have some of it too.

Mulder had surgery on his back -- they fused a couple of disks six months ago. Like always, he healed miraculously fast, amazing the doctor. I can't believe I had never questioned his recuperative abilities before the treatments. I guess I probably wouldn't have believed the reasons, then.

Today, he is the picture of health. Lately, he's been a little restless. I think getting Kristina will help him deal with his restlessness -- I pray. I'm just not ready to pick up the gauntlet again. I know there are still lies and treachery and deceit out there -- truths are still waiting to be found. But not now, not yet, not by me -- or my partner. Maybe someday we'll return to the fight -- someday, but not today.

The End

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