From wendyt@ucla.edu Tue May 13 18:50:34 1997 Subject: Part (1/5), "Anamnesis" by Sheena, MSR, NC-17 From: Wendy Thomas -------- Anamnesis by: Sheena, Empress of Evil email: wendyt@ucla.edu All right, now this is my second attempt at writing fanfic so I’m still working out the creative kinks. My computer feeds off of e-mail and if it doesn’t get lots of it, it gets grumpy. In other words, *Please* e-mail me at "wendyt@ucla.edu" and let me know what you thought of it. As I always say, flame me if you like but constructive criticism would probably be more beneficial. Warning: This is an M/S romance. It has a little bit of everything. X-File, angst, humor, sex, Mulder jealousy, so there should be something for everyone. Spoilers: This story is set after Memento Mori so it does deal with Scully’s cancer and the like. *Important* This piece of fanfic is rated NC-17 so if you aren’t over eighteen or just are fervently opposed to M and S consummating that UST then bail out now. I’m snorkeling in the gutter so you’ll have to excuse me. Look at all the pretty fishies. Summary: Scully is reassigned by forces unknown only to be mysteriously abducted. Skinner’s deal with the devil culminates in a saga of intrigue that causes an angst-ridden Mulder and an amnesia afflicted Scully to go full circle in chase of the truth. Along the way, they discover that things buried deeply enough have a way of surfacing. Thanks: Firstly, I have to give a special thanks to Catarina "goddess" Austin and Saint Meredith for the amazing editing, feedback and support. You’re the best. If I hadn’t started reading fanfic and enjoying it so much then I never would have had the guts to try it myself so I owe this piece and my courage to post it to all those fantastic authors out there who make it seem so effortless (I envy you). And hey, I gotta thank Fox Broadcasting and CC, GA and DD for making these characters breathe. Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are all mine. Mine, you hear?! You can’t have them! Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha!!! (evil cackle). Just kidding, now. Nope, they belong to CC, Ten Thirteen Productions, Fox Inc. and many other important business types. No infringement is intended in the borrowing of these characters. I’m returning them as soon as I’m done, just as I found them. And now, on with the show… · * * * * * * * Anamnesis Part (1/5) The words on the page swam under Scully’s fatigued eyes, her head swaying under the exhaustion of another day spent chasing ghosts. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Confused by the file in front of her, Scully groaned, realizing yet again that she was facing the aggravation of her logical convictions being flouted by illogical events. Like a kaleidoscope, circumstances appear one way to her but when refocused through the eyes of her partner, the images distort, generating men in black and little gray visitors. Only too often, she found herself longing to agree with him. The world is deceiving; it carefully deconstructs her beliefs like knocking down a house of cards by pulling out the bottom card. Things didn’t make sense, not any more. The carefully rendered schema of her lifeline was a collage of contradictory illustrations, bleeding through the tapestry, staining her once peaceful existence. She was tired. She was hungry. She had a headache. She shook her head. No, no, no, no. No headaches, please. Not now. Not yet. I can’t think about it. I won’t let myself. "Scully, are you okay?" She heard Mulder’s voice as if through a tunnel, tin-like and hollow. Amazed at the reassurance his mere voice provided, she smiled thinly. She was a scientist, a sagacious doctor and an employee of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. She was science. Despite which, she admired Mulder’s faith in his beliefs, his absolute conviction. She fed off it, derived strength from it, now more than before. But then again, it seemed he had more to give these days. "Just tired, Mulder." "Because I…" His words were interrupted by the phone ringing. Mulder picked it up saying only, "Yes." Then after a moment, "Alright." and hung up. "Skinner wants to see us." "Mulder, are you having those dirty magazines sent through the Bureau mail again?" she bantered, waggling her finger at him in mock reproach. "Well, gee, would you prefer I had them sent to your house, Scully? I mean, I didn’t know that’s your idea of fun…" "Sure Mulder. The day Skinner sprouts wings and joins The Barnum and Bailey Circus." He chortled as they moved in unison out of their confining office. He lightly placed his hand on her back to guide her out the door and she felt the strong warmth of his palm through the fabric of her blouse and blazer. It reassured her and as much as she tried to sway herself to the contrary, it subconsciously caused her cheeks to lightly flush. He’s your partner Dana, your friend. Don’t let your feelings get in the way of your relationship. Besides, she thought smiling, you already have more of him than you deserve. You’re a lucky woman, Dana Scully. · * * * * * * * Mulder swiftly closed the door behind him and Scully, eager to get whatever Skinner had to say to them over with and get Scully back to their office. She looked tired, overworked. He cursed himself. Because she’s working with you, remember. Do you think she’d be this tired if she worked in a forensics lab, genius? He knew he took up too much of her time and energy; he knew as well as anyone she was putting herself in physical danger by remaining on the X-Files while she was sick. He gulped. Sick. She has cancer. It was still unreal to him. Every time he thought it, it seemed like a dirty thought was sitting in his head. He’d gotten used to feeling guilty when it came to Scully, though. Guilt was second nature to him. He couldn’t figure it out. "Please, sit down, you two." Skinner broke through Mulder’s thoughts. "What’s this about, sir?" Scully asked, slowly sitting down. "Well, Agent Scully, as you know I have some… concerns about your having remained on the X-Files, what with your current state." "And what state it that, sir?" she asked dryly. Skinner appraised her carefully. "Your state of illness. Now, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I am unwilling to keep an agent on the line if it is in any way detrimental to his, or her, well being." Mulder jumped in. "What are you implying, here, sir? She’s already said she’s not leaving work." "Yes, Agent Mulder, I am well aware of Agent Scully’s position. I have a feeling, though, that she’s acting contrary to her best interests." "And I have a feeling sir," Scully stated evenly, "that you’re stalling. What’s this all about?" Skinner picked up a file from his desk and handed it to Scully. "A call came in this morning from the San Francisco office. They need an agent with medical experience to help with a series of circumspect deaths they’ve had at San Francisco Memorial Hospital. In other words, Agent Scully, I’m temporarily pulling you off the X-Files. You leave for San Francisco immediately." "You can’t just move her around like a chess piece, sir." Mulder stood up swiftly. "Agent Mulder, may I remind you that as Assistant Director, it is my job to put agents where I think they’ll best be serving the community. Agent Scully’s skills as a medical doctor are required, here. Besides, I think it will prove less, strenuous, than her current assignment." Scully leaned back in her chair and looked up at Skinner. Keeping her voice calm, she let out, "Sir, with all due respect, I belong here. And I can take care of myself." "Regardless, Agent Scully," Skinner replied, "I expect you to be in San Francisco by the end of tomorrow. This is," he added solemnly, "only a temporary arrangement." Mulder stared at him incredulously. Scully quietly stood up to leave. After Mulder had carefully ushered her out the door, Skinner collapsed back in to his chair. The phone rang suddenly and he started. Knowing without having to answer who was on the other line, he picked it up. "It’s what’s best," the voice said. Skinner could hear the man inhale a long deep drag of his cigarette through the receiver. He clenched his fists. "We have a deal. Just remember that." he said tightly. "Of course." the man replied lightly. "I’m a man of my word." Skinner’s stomach sank as he heard the dial tone. Suddenly, he started to question what he had gotten into. · * * * * * * Scully was fuming. How could he take her off the X-Files? He wasn’t her doctor. And as a physician herself, she was certainly had a better idea of how to ascertain her own state of health. "You know, Mulder, maybe we should protest this. It’s discrimination. As long as my illness doesn’t detract from my performance at work, then he can’t use it as a cause for reassignment. Countless of people who are HIV-positive have protested such demotements for the same reason." "Well, it’s not really a demotement." Scully stopped in the hallway they were walking down. Did she just hear that right? Mulder was agreeing with Skinner. "Besides," he continued. "Case suits of discrimination are generally filed when the job poses no physical threat to the employee. You have to admit, Scully" he added hoping to lighten things up, "working on the X-Files isn’t exactly the same as a job at the local IHOP." "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Mulder? That I’m not capable of doing my job just because I’m sick? That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard you even attempt to argue and please bear in mind that, considering the amount of dumb things you’ve said in the four years I’ve known you, that’s saying something." She bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to say that last remark and she could tell Mulder was peeved. His hands placed on his hips, his chin slightly jutted out, he said tightly, "Well, that’s a matter of personal opinion, I suppose. Skinner just wants you to be safe, Scully. I think he has a point. But for the record, I never," he added, his eyes darkening as his gaze locked in on her reproachful stare, "never doubted your abilities as an agent or your quality of work on the X-Files." "Just my judgment, right?" Scully spat out, before stalking over to her desk and yanking her purse and coat off the arm of her chair. "You’ll excuse me Mulder, but I guess I have some packing to do." · * * * * * * Scully bit back a yelp as she strained to close the zipper of her suitcase. She’d always been a light packer but she didn’t know how long she’d be in San Francisco and it was better to overpack than underpack in such circumstances. Still, her mind drifted back to the argument she and Mulder had earlier. She’d overreacted, she knew that, but it was so hard to maintain poise when everyone seemed to think they knew what was in her best interests. As if it wasn’t hard enough for a woman to command respect in her position. She didn’t need the harbingers of obvious events to knock on her door like cavemen in three-piece-suits. It pissed her off. She surveyed her baggage and went over a mental checklist in her mind of possible things to plan for. Suits for work, jeans for after work, hmm, what about going out? A bitter breath escaped her. Yeah, when was the last time I went out? When was the last time I had a date, for Christ’s sake? The only man in her life was Mulder. And even when she did see attractive or intelligent men, they just didn’t seem…right. They lacked something. What was most upsetting was that Mulder seemed to agree with everyone about what she should be doing. He had always treated her with the utmost respect, even when her opinions were in direct conflict with his own. He challenged her to question what is taken at face value, yes, but he never dismissed her convictions. Which made her comment earlier about his "dumb" ideas even more of a regret. Of course she hadn’t meant it, but sometimes he infuriated her so much that she acted before thinking. She sighed. Only when it comes to Mulder do I get spontaneously defiant. I guess he just brings out another side of me. The doorbell suddenly rang. Startled, she walked to the front door and opened it cautiously. Mulder stood on her porch, looking about as nervous as a boy picking up his prom date. "Hey Scully, can I come in?" She let him in and without looking at him again walked into her kitchen. "Can I get you something, Mulder? My taxi’s picking me up in a few minutes so I don’t have long. What’s up?" "Hey Scully, retract the claws, alright. Listen, I don’t know when we’ll have the chance to see one another again. I mean, you’re leaving the X-Files and," "Temporarily Mulder." she threw in. "I have no plans to remain in San Francisco beyond the duration of this assignment." "Yeah, well, we don’t know what might happen. I mean, you could be asked to stay on, Skinner might want you off the X-Files anyway. I mean, you might, you might," his words drifted off into silence. The look in his eyes was one of defeat, bewilderment. "I might what, Mulder? Die?" She finished his thought for him. She tried to meet his gaze but his eyes seemed curiously fixated on her fireplace. She let out a breath. "Mulder, do you think for one second that I’d let go that easily? You can’t get rid of me that easily, Mulder. Everything important to me is here in Washington. I’m not about to say goodbye." He looked up at her. "To the X-Files." he stated, almost questioningly. She eyed him evenly and walked up to him, stopping a few feet in front of him so that his eyes couldn’t avoid her. "To what’s important to me." He opened his mouth as if to say something but the honking of a car horn outside her window broke his thoughts. He smiled and his posture relaxed. "Well, let me help you with your luggage. I mean, the sooner you leave, the sooner you get back, right?" he suggested in a goofy manner. His infectious grin couldn’t stop her from laughing softly. His smile widened as he picked up her bags and then moaned loudly. "Geez Scully, what do you have in here? A rare collection of pet rocks? I’m gonna get a hernia." "Shutup, Mulder." she said, laughing. "Just shutup." · * * * * * * * It had been two weeks since Scully left for sunny California and Mulder was lonely. What was worse, he was bored. Without Scully’s astute observations and constant keen witticisms, Washington lost much of it’s appeal. He kept working, refusing Skinner’s offer to find him another partner for the time being. Krychek had cured any desire he would ever have for any partner other than Scully. Mulder was confused by his loneliness. Besides, they’d e-mailed one another regularly since she left and had called one another almost every day. But he found his gaze often wandering to the direction of her desk and disturbingly found himself missing things like the smell of her shampoo and the sight of her working diligently across the room from him. Scully had long intrigued him. She was, after all, one of the most intelligent and amazing people he’d ever known. Her dedication to logic, her firm faith in science, he respected her opinion and she was his closest friend. Though, when it was late in the day and he felt the day’s exhaustion pulling at his temptations, one look at her cerulean almond shaped eyes and curvaceous figure perched behind her desk was enough to make him dizzy. He stared at her for long periods of time, playing out elaborate fantasies in his head. Of leaning her against the file cabinet and making love to her, of pulling over in that rented Ford Taurus and doing it like kids at a drive-in. He couldn’t tell if it was sexual frustration or what. Sometimes, he’d berate himself. It wasn’t right. She didn’t belong in his dirty mind, like ivory bogged down in emultion. He didn’t want to pull her any deeper into his perversions. But when a Saturday night promised no more than cold pizza and cheap porn, he all too easily turned to the explosive pleasure brought by the combination of the image of her body and the eager adolescent hand-job. And now, looking at her empty desk, he could feel the skin between his legs harden at the thought of her. Christ, I sound like some college kid who’s missing his mother’s home cooking. Well, he amended, maybe not his mother. But… The abrupt ringing of his phone broke his chain of thought. "Mulder." he answered. "Agent Mulder, it’s Skinner." Skinner’s voice echoed across the telephone earpiece and Mulder heard something disturbing in it. Something… unfamiliar. Obvious worry, confusion. But there was something else. Almost… panic. He knew immediately it was Scully. "What’s wrong? What happened to her?" he demanded. Skinner, not questioning his empathic response, responded, "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully has disappeared. She didn’t show up for work yesterday and after failed attempts at calling her, two agents went to her apartment to check up on her; she wasn’t there." "Have you tried calling her mother?" Mulder asked, trying to keep his voice calm, despite the racing of his thoughts, his lunch rising in his throat. "Yes. No one knows where she is. Signs of a struggle were found at her apartment so we can only assume she’s been…" "Abducted." Mulder’s voice completed Skinner’s sentence hoarsely. "Something like that." Skinner grumbled. Mulder’s eyes closed as he said a silent prayer. Despite his agnostic tendencies, any possibility was worth trying and Scully’s disappearances always shook his faith in his corporeal reality. Covering his mouth with his hand, he croaked, "When can I leave?" · * * * * * * * The on-duty RN stood quietly at the head counter of San Francisco Memorial Hospital, filling out inventory request forms. She looked up as several men flooded through the main entrance. Two nondescript men in brown overcoats, one balding gentlemen and another man. The last one caught her eye. Not because of his physical appearance; although, she considered, admiring his tall lean frame and engaging features, he was very attractive. But what arrested her interest was the absolute piercing intensity with which he took in his surroundings and, quickly ascertaining she was the one to talk to, approached her quickly. The balding gentleman quickly flashed a FBI badge and directed, "Where are the Bureau agents?" She looked back and forth between the two men. Several days ago, men from the FBI showed up and started conducting some sort of investigation down in the Forensics Lab. Something about a missing doctor. This morning, they had set up a "Caution" sign outside one of the intensive care rooms and only certain staff were allowed in. Of course, she’d only heard this by word of mouth. "Forensics. Third floor, down the hall, first right." She responded to him, though she was mainly responding under the interrogating gaze of the other man. He stared at her with a frightening intensity, almost accusingly. The men disappeared as quickly as they had come. "Hope they find what they’re looking for." she muttered under her breath. * * * * * * * * "Agent Mulder, please calm down." Skinner tried to put the weight of his authority behind the demand but he might as well have been a janitor for all the good it did him. Mulder wasn’t in the mood for listening. "I don’t understand what the hell is going on. First, she’s disappeared and now you’re telling me she’s back and I can’t see her?!" Mulder’s voice rose unwittingly. "What the hell kind of operation is being run here?!" "Look, there are complications.." one of the doctors tried to explain to him but Mulder was beyond the capacity for rational argument. "Fuck complications! Now," he demanded, glaring at the group which had started to form around him. "you get me in to see her before I go out and tell the press that a Federal Agent was kidnapped and the government is trying to brush it off." The men looked hesitantly amongst one another before one of them said quietly, "I’ll talk to the head doctor to see if we can get you in to see her." and meekly skittered away. Mulder rigidly started pacing the room. "Here’s to the pencil pushers," he muttered. "May they all die of lead poisoning." · * * * * * * * The doctor escorted Mulder down the hall to where a room was blocked off and attempted to converse with Mulder in a hushed tone of voice. "Mulder, there are several things you don’t know here. Agent Scully, well, she’s not what you could call fully recovered." Mulder stared at the man as if he were speaking Cantonese. "I don’t care. I just want to see her." He shoved open the door. He saw her. He let out the breath he had been unconsciously holding and his body relaxed at the sight of her. Her gaze was focused out the nearby window and a strange peace swam beneath those cerulean depths. Her auburn hair swept across her cheek and her arms were folded carefully in her lap. He almost didn’t want to interrupt her peaceful contemplation. But he had to hear her voice. "Hey, look who decided to take a premature vacation." he joked lightly, walking in the door and sitting down on the chair by her bed. "You don’t look so bad. In fact, I bet you could arm-wrestle Frohike to a draw right now." He looked expectantly at her as she turned her head to face him. Even as she smiled politely at him, a burning nausea cut a path through his stomach as he realized, without having to be told, what the doctor had meant by complications. "I’m sorry," she said lightly, "do I know you?" End. Part (1/5) <^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*> < -Wendy Thomas a.k.a. "Sheena, Empress of Evil" > < E-mail: wendyt@ucla.edu > <****************************************************************> < "Even a paranoid has some real enemies." > < > < -Henry Kissinger > <________________________________________________________________> < "Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they > < must lead. > < -Barfly > <________________________________________________________________> ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* From wendyt@ucla.edu Tue May 13 18:51:03 1997 Subject: Part (2/5), "Ananmesis" by Sheena, MSR, NC-17 From: Wendy Thomas -------- · * * * * * * * by: Sheena, Empress of Evil email: wendyt@ucla.edu Warning: This is an M/S romance. It has a little bit of everything. X-File, angst, humor, sex, Mulder jealousy, so there should be something for everyone. *Important* This piece of fanfic is rated NC-17 so if you aren’t over eighteen or just are fervently opposed to M and S consummating that UST then bail out now. I’m snorkeling in the gutter so you’ll have to excuse me. Look at all the pretty fishies. Summary: Scully is reassigned by forces unknown only to be mysteriously abducted. Skinner’s deal with the devil culminates in a saga of intrigue that causes an angst-ridden Mulder and an amnesia afflicted Scully to go full circle in chase of the truth. Along the way, they discover that things buried deeply enough have a way of surfacing. Disclaimer: See first part for ritual disclaimer. * * * * * * * * Anamnesis Part (2/5) The man next to her looked stricken. She turned to Dr. Clay, whom had been the first person she’d seen upon waking. "Dr. Clay, what’s going on here? Why am I, a medical doctor, the only person it seems unaware of my condition?" Clay looked between her and the man, hesitantly appraising the situation. "Ms. Scully, you are currently suffering from acute anterograde amnesia, the cause of which has yet to be ascertained." The shock of the news slapped her features coldly. Her eyes fell to her lap and she stared at her hands, not immediately recognizing them as her own. "What...what is, that?" the man’s voice asked shakily. He appeared more upset than her. His face ashen, his shoulders trembled slightly and his voice quavered unsteadily. He clutched the bottom of his chair, as if for support. "Anterograde amnesia, Mr. Mulder, is the most common form of amnesia suffered by trauma victims, often after say, a car accident. It is generally brought on by head trauma or brain hemorrhaging, although I’d say that isn’t the case here. It is essential to distinguish between anterograde amnesia and retrograde amnesia, or "soap-opera" amnesia which is the total memory loss of all life experiences and individual self-knowledge; an almost fictitious condition. Anterograde amnesia is the loss of memory from a certain point in time, in Ms. Scully’s case, approximately four years ago." "Four years..." the man’s voice trailed off. "That means-" "Which means," Clay interrupted, "That Ms. Scully does not remember any of the events of the past four years, from her assignment to the X-Files to her disappearance this past week." Scully broke in, "Excuse me, but could you please stop referring to me in the third person, doctor? I’m not incompetent, you know." She looked between the men, trying to assert some semblance of authority from her vulnerable position. "Now, if I’m correct, then my condition was brought on by some sort of accident or trauma. What happened to me?" Suddenly, a man walked into the room. He was about forty, maybe, balding, but pulled her attention immediately. "Good to see you, Agent Scully." Then, looking to Dr. Clay asked, "Has she been appraised of her condition?" Clay paused briefly, before saying, "Not,...fully, Mr. Skinner." Uncertainty itching at her skin, she felt like one of the dissection subjects in her first year Gross Anatomy class at medical school. "Excuse me, but does *anyone* feel like telling me what happened to me?" she demanded in exasperation. Mr. Skinner turned to her. "Well, Agent Scully, we were hoping you could tell us that. You see, you’ve been on assignment here in San Francisco for the past few weeks but you disappeared about five days ago and just when we started figuring out where to look for you, you showed up on the front stoop of the hospital. The only problem being, you don’t remember where you’ve been." "Yeah," she grimaced, "for about the past four years." An overwhelming sensation of emptiness suddenly consumed her as she realized what had happened. My God, she thought, four years gone, just like that. A silence filled the room as all three men stared at the transformation brought on by her morose epiphany. After a few heavy moments, Clay broke it with, "Well, I suppose the bright side is that Ms. Scully is all right for the time being. After we finish some tests, she can be released." "Released?" Scully asked timorously. Skinner took the lead, "Of course. You’ll want to return home immediately. You’re work here obviously can wait. What’s important is that you work on getting back your memory." All of a sudden, she felt very tired. The very prospect of moving, of thinking for another moment about what faced her cut her energy to nil. Her eyes closed slowly. The last words she remembered saying before the welcoming numbness of sleep embraced her was, "I just need a minute." · * * * * * * * Mulder stared at her. He stared at the almost imperceptible rise and fall of her chest, ensuring her breathing. He saw her porcelain features and her skin like milk and for not the first time, he couldn’t help but see her innocent beauty. The peace that seemed to embrace her in sleep he knew must come from the memory that escaped her. Four years with you, jerk. Why did she stay? Knowing that her presence would forever endanger those close to her, why did she stay with him on the X-Files? Because, he thought self-loathingly, she doesn’t need a personal saga to spur her. She’s that good a person. Now he envisioned her as she might have been had she never encountered him or the X-Files. A thought beat at his skull, and try as he might to avoid personal biases at such a precarious time, it slowly seeped in, like an uninvited visitor, gnawing at his sanity. She’d be better off without you, the voice churned,. You’re the cause of her suffering. You brought this plague to her doorstep and then, like the Big Bad Wolf, dared her to open the basket of goodies. Her memory’s gone now, good riddance. Your memory is the worst kind of infection. God, he thought in disgust, you’re so fucking selfish. Here she is, god knows what she’s been through or is about to go through, and here you are thinking about yourself again. While guilt had always been a key role in Mulder’s life, he had never before known so clearly what is was to hate oneself. Scully stirred in her bed and Mulder immediately snapped out of his contemplative state. "Hi." he said. She looked at him with a vaguely friendly expression on her face. She doesn’t know who’s staring at her, he thought. "Hi there. Where is everyone?" "Most of them went home. Things have calmed down pretty much." he took a deep breath. "I guess,... I guess I should introduce myself." "Oh, I already know who you are. I remember hearing about you at Quantico. Agent Fox Mulder, Oxford educated and supposedly one of the best in his field. I should think I’m very lucky to be working with you." He grimaced at her words. "Well, my concentration has changed somewhat. You and I have been working on a project together for the past four years. The X-Files." "Sound’s kinky." she said, arching an eyebrow. She leaned back in her pillows and scooted up to a sitting position. She opened her mouth and then closed it as if unsure of what to say. She opened her mouth again, "Listen, if we’ve been partners for four years then, well, you probably know me better than just about anyone else. I know," she stated firmly, "that I can regain my memory. Anterograde amnesia is often a temporary condition. I can,.. I will regain my memory and I would really appreciate any help you can give me, Mr. Mulder." She looked up at him expectantly. "Mr. Mulder?" he asked quizzically, an almost pained look on his face. "Uhh, Agent Mulder. Or, no I’m sorry. Fox, is it?" An even stranger look flickered across his features. His voice spoke again, this time, hollow and chilled, "No, it’s... just Mulder." She nodded slowly. "Scully, please, don’t forget I’m just Mulder." he whispered. He looked pleadingly at her. She swallowed and looked away. He was looking at her so intently, she began to wonder just what kind of relationship they’d had. "Of course,.. Mulder." the words formed on her lips easily, it sounded familiar in some way, a good sign, to be sure. At that moment, Dr. Clay entered. "Ah, Mr. Mulder, may I have a word with you?" the urgency in his voice betrayed his collected exterior. Mulder, nodded, and taking one look back at Scully, allowed himself to be escorted out by Clay. "What’s this about?" "Mr. Mulder, I think it’s best you come with me." He quickly guided Mulder down the hall to a nearby office and without speaking, handed Mulder an X-ray. Mulder examined it carefully for a few minutes while Clay stared out the window anxiously. "Am I supposed to know what this is?" "Mr. Mulder, several months ago, Agent Scully was diagnosed as having a growth. A cancerous growth. From what I’ve heard, it was almost certainly a terminal case. What you see in front of you is a medical miracle. I can’t explain how but Agent Scully’s cancer has... well for the lack of a better word, disappeared." Mulder gasped. "How…" he trailed off. "I have no idea. I’ve already informed Mr. Skinner but I think Ms. Scully needs to know what’s going on. This is, well, baffling. I only know that her disappearance is the key here. To both her memory and her miraculous cure. No technology exists to surgically remove such a growth." Clay added as he headed for the door and then, grinning, said, "at least, no technology available to us mere mortals." Mulder’s heart simultaneously sank and rose. Clay’s words reverberated within him. Not the technology of mortals. Of something, supernatural. His feet treaded heavily on the hospital linoleum. He approached Scully’s door and almost tripped after hearing the unmistakable sounds of her laughter. He opened the door to her room and saw a man sitting next to her, stroking the palm of her hand. The man didn’t seem to notice him as he spoke to Scully, giving a wicked impression of a fortune teller. "And yis, it says heeere," he said, tracing the lines of her palm, "zat yoo have been bevitched by zee sorcerer and in order to regain your memoree, a handzome Prince must lift zee spell." Scully chuckled. "Uh-huh, and how does he do that?" The man looked up at her and smiled. "Well gee, Dana, I thought you’d never ask." he let slide before leaning in to plant a light kiss on her forehead. Then sitting back, he asked, "Any luck?" "Umm, nope." Then, as if noticing Mulder for the first time, she looked up at him and said mockingly, "It looks like I’ve got a defective Prince Charming here." Acting offended, the man stood up, almost reaching Mulder’s height before shrugging, "Well, hell, I could always try harder." He strode to Mulder reaching out his hand. "Agent Mulder, I presume. I’m Agent Garrison, I’ve been working as Dana’s partner for the past few weeks. Your a lucky man," he said and then whistled enviously, "Phew, imagine, four years with the lovely Dr. Dana. My heart, be still." He smiled at Mr. Mulder, at the same time Mulder could tell he was sizing Mulder up. Turnabout’s fair play, Mulder mused. After all, Mulder had been doing the same during their whole exchange. Not many people made Scully smile. Her mother on occasion, him even more rarely. Garrison was tall, had thick dirty blond hair, strong features, was well built and displayed charisma, wit, intelligence and humor. Mulder liked Garrison about as much as a trip to the DMV. Never mind that it was purely out of an instinctual jealousy he couldn’t check. Mulder hated him for his good looks and for the kiss he just stole. He rarely made Scully smile, and that was when she at least knew *who* he was. This guy breezes in her door and has her smiling after two minutes with her. Mulder gnawed at his lip and shook Garrison’s hand. Firm shake. Scully spoke then, probably the best thing. Mulder wouldn’t want to mess up the pretty puke green linoleum with a pissing contest. "What’s the word, Dr. Clay? Am I ready to leave?" Clay returned to the chair, leaving Mulder to stand disconcertedly in the corner. "Yeah, can we bust Dr. Dana out of the joint, yet?" Garrison muttered, relaying a perfect Wise Guy accent. "Mr. Garrison, Mr. Mulder, could you excuse us for a moment? I need to speak to Ms. Scully privately." Garrison sighed loudly and stood to leave, turning to Dana briefly, "Farewell, my love." Mulder got the distinct impression that he was the unanimously voted runt of the litter. Not able to bring himself to look into Scully’s eyes he murmured a goodbye and slunk out the door. Garrison was waiting for him. "You know," he started, "you’re not what I expected. She described you in such glowing terms, I think I expected Superman to come in through the window. But then, you know Dana." Mulder bit back a bitter reply about the usage of her first name being reserved for family members only and merely smiled thinly. Garrison continued, not paying much attention to Mulder. "Still, I’ll be sorry to see her go, you know? It was nice having a partner who wears silk and smells like jasmine come in every morning. She’s a great dancer, too. But hey, you already know all this." Mulder nodded his head vigorously. Dancing, huh, whaa? "Oh yeah, sure." he managed to utter. Garrison looked him directly in the eyes. "Listen, Mulder. If anything happens, let me know." "Sure." They left without saying another word. · * * * * * * * A coil of smoke climbed it’s way from the tip of a cigarette through the air, seeking the ceiling, sinking into the sky. The man sat quietly, and placed his hand on the receiver of the phone. It rang almost as if on command. He lifted it to his ear. "Yes, Mr. Skinner?" he voiced. The man on the other end demanded, "Losing her memory was never part of the deal." "That doesn’t interest me. Such trivialities are irrelevant." He could hear Mr. Skinner breathing heavily on the end of the line. "Why did you do it? She was never a threat." "Mr. Skinner, one doesn’t grow oysters merely to eat them. One plants a grain of sand inside it, and as an irritant from within, it grows into a pearl. Ms. Scully’s memory loss is a grain of sand. I’m interested in the pearl." "Mulder. You know what this will do to him. You’re using her against him. Now that she’s not sick, you’ve found another way to destroy him without having to wield the ax yourself. What do you have against him? Why are you attacking him personally if this is about the X-Files?" "Who’s to say it isn’t personal?" The man on the phone inhaled another drag. "These wheels were set in motion years ago. Mr. Mulder is a point which I cannot concede. What I do is for a past neither of us can change." "How far do you intend to take this?" "Mr. Skinner, you shouldn’t speak whereof you don’t know." he affirmed, inhaling deeply on his cigarette before replacing the receiver on the hook. · * * * * * * * Mulder and Scully sat on the plane in quiet contemplation. Scully glanced at him from the corner of her eye when he wasn’t looking. He seemed troubled but tried to keep a pleasant appearance. Her mind wandered back to the hospital. God, Garrison, she thought. She shook her head. How did he ever fit into her hospital room with the giant ego he’s lugging around? I mean, my god, he kissed her not ten minutes after he arrived. The only reason she let him was out of respect for whatever association they’d had previous to her disappearance. She’d noticed how Mulder maintained perfect chivalry with regards to her. He insisted on bearing both her and his carry-on bags and politely gave her the choice in whether she wanted an aisle or window seat, not once encroaching upon her personal space. And they’d been partners for four years. She considered what that meant. Seeing the man he was, it was understandable why she’d want to continue to work with him even after she got sick. Her heart sank. Sick. She gulped in apprehension. Only a week ago, she’d been living with cancer. Her head clouded briefly under the weight of that knowledge. She didn’t know how she could get used to the idea of the illness itself, let alone her spontaneous recovery. It made no sense. She had no scars so she couldn’t have endured a surgical procedure. She couldn’t remember hearing of such a case of remission. Her chain of thought broke as the plane started to shake from turbulence. She stiffened slightly in her seat. Mulder leaned over slightly and murmured, "It’s only because San Francisco has a lot of cold and hot air currents adjacent to one another. It makes for a lot of bumping around." Suddenly, the plane dropped and she accidentally bumped her head against the window rim. "Damn." she muttered. He immediately leaned in to her and examined her head carefully. He lifted his hand to her temple and, hesitating slightly, gently moved her hair out of the way, brushing it behind her ear. It was the first time he’d touched her and she held her breath, mesmerized by his eyes. They were a deep, luminous hazel, obfuscated by concern for her. My god, she wondered, how did I ever go four years without falling in love with him? · * * * * * * * They stood outside her apartment, her key poised at her doorknob. She shook her head. "I’m nervous. What if I don’t remember anything?" "Hey, no pressure. If you don’t remember, that’s okay. We’ll keep going until you do." His confidence reassured her. She opened the door and stepped inside. It was well furnished in soft appealing colors. Tastefully decorated. It seemed like somewhere she would live but, she didn’t remember it. Mulder’s voice penetrated her thoughts as he stepped inside, turning on the light, "Anything?" She shook her head. "Okay. No problem. Let’s just take a look around." She saw pictures, some of which she did remember: her and her father, both wearing sailor hats at the beach, her and Melissa dressed up for Halloween when they were kids. But, she couldn’t for the life of her remember where the frames or some of her furniture had come from. It was both alien and familiar. "Scully, is there anything familiar about this apartment?" "Well, I remember some of these things. I know who I am, but not in this context." "Do any of the elements of the past four years seem similar to you?" "You do." "I do." "Yes. You seem familiar, Mulder. I don’t know you but our being together… I mean, working together, it seems right. That’s a good sign." He smiled lightly. "Yeah." and then, as if breaking from a trance, "Well, I’ll let you get reacquainted here and I’ll stop by later if that’s okay. I’m just going to check in at the office." "Sure. I’d like that." · * * * * * * * Mulder opened the door to the basement and was surprised to find the light already on. Skinner was seated at his desk, flipping through a stack of files. Mulder stared at him momentarily, before nodding slowly and tersely pacing across the room to sit down opposite him. His lips curled slightly. "Looking for the Sunday Funnies?" he spat out sardonically, trying to keep his voice respectably even. "Where is Scully’s file?" Mulder stared at him incredulously. "Excuse me sir, but this isn’t a panty raid. Don’t you have…" "Where is Scully’s file, Agent Mulder?! From two years ago, I know you kept a file of her abduction, now where is it?" A creeping paranoia bit at Mulder’s toes. "What’s this all about? Does this have something to do with Scully’s disappearance?" Skinner sighed. Mulder almost allowed himself to feel pity for him. Like Atlas, he appeared to be straining under the weight of the world. "Agent Mulder, the men whose footprints you trace and follow, they’re very good at tying loose strings into knots." "Scully’s no loose string. She’s a human being, she’s a federal agent, she’s…" "Agent Mulder, these men have lied through the teeth of those they slaughtered while still shaking hands with them. Scully’s not a person to them. She’s a tool. A means to an end." "I want to meet with them." Skinner stood up and turned away from him. "Sir, once I asked you to set up a meeting between us in the hopes that I could save her life. I need you to do this. I need to free her past." "I owe these men a debt, Mulder. You can’t make a deal with the devil and then live to see Saint Peter. It doesn’t matter what the fine print says. I’m sorry." Mulder stared at him. Didn’t he realize what was at stake? Scully didn’t know him. When she looked in his eyes, nothing clicked. The years he’d been searching for Samantha brought him only one joy and now it had been taken from him. While standing in front of him, she was slowly fading away. It was maddening. More than anything, he wanted to take the men responsible and gut them like animals, twist their intestines out of their bodies and spit on their graves. Well, he considered, almost anything. What he truly wanted more than anything was to take Scully in his arms and hear her say his name and know what it meant. He didn’t deserve her, but he needed her. As she drizzled through his fingers like sand, he wanted to hold onto her more tightly, but it didn’t work. She just kept… slipping away. "I’m sorry, too." · * * * * * * * Scully sat in her living room, idly flipping through a picture album, reading old mail, trying to remember anything from the past four years. The only thought that kept finding it’s way to her brain was that of Mulder. She wanted to see him again, she realized. The phone rang. "Hello." "Dana. Dana, it’s mom." "Mom, my god, I can’t believe it. Oh, god." "Dana, I know what happened, I,… Fox called me. How are you?" "I’m fine. I just, I don’t remember my life, mom. What I’ve been doing, the people I work with, nothing. Hey listen, is dad there? I’d love to talk to him." Her mother was silent. "Mom? Is dad there?" Silence. She thought she heard her mother make a noise that sounded like a muffled cry. "Mom? What is it?" "Oh, Dana. You don’t know… anything that’s happened in the last four years. Oh Dana. I need to tell you some things." End, part (2/5) · * * * * * * <^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*> < -Wendy Thomas a.k.a. "Sheena, Empress of Evil" > < E-mail: wendyt@ucla.edu > <****************************************************************> < "Even a paranoid has some real enemies." > < > < -Henry Kissinger > <________________________________________________________________> < "Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they > < must lead. > < -Barfly > <________________________________________________________________> ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* From wendyt@ucla.edu Tue May 13 18:51:27 1997 Subject: Part (3/5), "Ananmesis" by Sheena, MSR, NC-17 From: Wendy Thomas -------- · * * * * * * * by: Sheena, Empress of Evil email: wendyt@ucla.edu Warning: This is an M/S romance. It has a little bit of everything. X-File, angst, humor, sex, Mulder jealousy, so there should be something for everyone. *Important* This piece of fanfic is rated NC-17 so if you aren’t over eighteen or just are fervently opposed to M and S consummating that UST then bail out now. I’m snorkeling in the gutter so you’ll have to excuse me. Look at all the pretty fishies. Summary: Scully is reassigned by forces unknown only to be mysteriously abducted. Skinner’s deal with the devil culminates in a saga of intrigue that causes an angst-ridden Mulder and an amnesia afflicted Scully to go full circle in chase of the truth. Along the way, they discover that things buried deeply enough have a way of surfacing. Disclaimer: See first part for ritual disclaimer. And now, on with the show… · * * * * * * * Anamnesis Part (3/5) Mulder knocked lightly on Scully’s door. After waiting a couple of minutes for an answer, he cautiously tested to see if the door was locked. It was unlocked. He opened it anxiously, relaxing only after he saw her sitting on her sofa. She sat cross-legged with all the lights off, the whites of her eyes standing out against the dark exterior of the room. "Scully?" he asked tentatively. "Mulder." Her voice chilled him slightly. It echoed of something distant and extinguished. "Scully, what’s wrong? Did you remember something?" A sad laugh escaped her lips. "In a manner of speaking." She turned her gaze towards the fire place opposite her. "My mother called today, Mulder. You’ll have to remind me later to thank you for telling her what was going on. She told me... what’s happened in the past four years, Mulder. I’ve been a busy girl." Mulder swayed slightly and bowed his head like Christ on the Cross. He knew what was coming and silently accepted any punishment she would lay on his shoulders, embracing any sentence of condemnation. He waited. When the silence became more than a mere pregnant pause, he looked up. No accusation lay in her eyes. Only tears. They flowed freely down her cheeks. "Mulder, I’ve come home to find my father dead and my sister murdered by men who, if I saw them on the street, I couldn’t recognize. I’ve seen death mirroring the eyes of everyone who looks at me. I’m a walking ghost, Mulder. It doesn’t matter whether I’m dying or not." Mulder strode to her side, speaking without casuistry, "No, no, oh god Scully. Don’t say that. I’m sorry," he sank defeatedly to the sofa beside her and bent his head to his hands, "It should have been me." She snapped her gaze to his bent frame and firmly placed her hand on his shoulder, willing him to look at her. "No, Mulder. My mother told me, she told me about how I was abducted, how you stood by my memory when everyone else took me for dead. She said that you stayed by my side, you saved me, Mulder. Whatever’s happened, it wasn’t your choice. I know myself well enough to know that I’ve chosen my fate. I’m not giving up, Mulder. Just mourning a past I didn’t know I had. Please, Mulder. You saved my memory once, you’ve... you’ve always been there for me. I know that without having to ask." Unshed tears lay in his eyes but he restrained them as she scooted forward on the couch and lay the side of her face against his chest. He stroked her back lightly, comforting himself as much as her and murmured against her ear, "I’m here for you." She wept then, and he held her until the tears subsided. How had he ever lived without her? "Mulder?" She leaned back to look into his eyes. "How are we, as partners I mean? How are we together? Everything’s so confusing but you seem real. Familiar. What’s our relationship like?" He held his breath though he needed air. There was very little space between them and he couldn’t ignore his body’s instinctual reaction to her presence. It had been questioned for too long, put off until too late. He vowed then that when she regained her memory, he’d tell her what he’d only recently started to realize; the depth to which his feelings ran when it came to her. Despite his yearning to answer her questions with action, he held back. She was too vulnerable right now. "You’re the only one I trust, Scully." Their ability to silently communicate with one another wasn’t lost. She smiled privately. "Then, I guess you won’t turn me down if I ask you to spend the night on my sofa. I don’t want to be here alone tonight." The tension broken, he returned the smile and then snickered, "As long as you don’t start snoring." She laughed and feigned offense at the remark. "I do not snore, Mulder." "Hey, how do you know? You’re like a lumberjack sometimes. I can’t shut you up." She squealed and threw a pillow at him. The strain of the conversation relieved, he stood up to pull some linens from the closet. An idea struck him. "Hey Scully, do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?" She looked thoughtfully at him. "Well, logically, I’d have to say no. I know what we’ve been doing on the X-Files, Mulder, but I have to question the validity of some of your notions." "Trust me, Scully. I wouldn’t have it any other way. But do you believe in any sort of paranormal phenomenon?" "What are you getting at, Mulder?" she arched her eyebrow at him and he felt his throat rise, aroused at the typically Scully gesture. It felt just like old times. "Scully, I once went to a hypnotist to try and remember my sister’s abduction. Do you think that might work on you?" She looked at him uncertainly. "I don’t know, Mulder. Why? Do you want to try and regress my memory under hypnosis? Why are you bringing this up?" "It’s Skinner. I saw him tonight at the office. He said something about the men who we’ve been trying to trap on the X-Files and while he didn’t specifically say so, I think there’s a connection between your abduction two years ago and what’s happened. Somehow, everything has to tie together." "And you think Skinner knows what’s going on? Well, why not just go to him and ask? Why should I go under hypnosis?" "I think he’s prevented from telling us anything. I think he wants to, but he’s somehow trapped. My point is that the key is in your memory. What happened to you when you disappeared. Who took you and why? Why were you cured? The only way we’ll ever know is if you regain your memory of your disappearance." She nodded slowly, the prototypical Scully pragmatism rearing it’s head. "Okay. That’s logical. But are you sure hypnotism is the only way? I’m not sure I trust it." She looked unsure. "Do you trust me?" She looked up at him. "Yes." "I’m telling you that I believe that these are the people responsible not only for your abductions but for countless conspiracies within our government, the abduction of my sister and the death of Melissa. Will you do it for your family, Scully?" She paused, considering his words. "No." She walked towards him. "I’ll do it for you." He exhaled slowly. With that, she turned and walked to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. He knew, without having to try, that he wouldn’t be getting much sleep that night. · * * * * * * "Now, Ms. Scully, do you understand the procedure?" Dr. Kennedy had gone over several times what he’d be doing. She sighed inwardly. She didn’t really believe that this would work. Hypnosis is a frame of mind, she repeated to herself. It’s merely the illusion of power established by very coercive charismatic people. She looked over at Mulder who was listening intently to Kennedy’s every word. So much faith, she mused. She’d woken up this morning to find breakfast carefully laid out for her. He’d gone out to buy a newspaper and had read her the funnies over coffee. He didn’t eat himself, which worried her a little, but she assumed he’d eaten before she’d awoken. It didn’t look like he’d slept much either. And since he didn’t have a razor at her place, and had refused to use one of hers, the dark shadow owed from a day without shaving made his appearance even more haggard. But he seemed content in being with her. "Yes, I do." She leaned back in her seat. "I’m ready at any time." Kennedy nodded. "Very well. Mr. Mulder, could you excuse us?" Mulder stood up to leave but Scully took his hand. "No, I,.. I’d prefer it if Mulder could stay." "Very well, as long as he’s quiet and doesn’t interrupt the process." Mulder nodded earnestly and sat down in the chair adjacent to Scully. Kennedy sat across from her. She closed her eyes. "Now," Kennedy began, lowering his voice to a soothing level, "imagine yourself in a very comfortable place. You’re very warm and safe. Where are you?" "I’m... in my bedroom." "Very well. Now, in front of you is a candle. I want to you focus on the movement of the flame. It flickers in front of you and changes color. It may be green or blue or yellow but the longer you look at it, the more it starts to look white. It’s a very soft flame, very soothing. Now, I want you to start counting slowly back from one hundred to one. If you skip a number, don’t worry, it doesn’t matter. Just relax and keep your focus on the flame." Scully began to count backwards and Mulder’s eyes were mesmerized by the movement of her lips and the slightly sleepy sound of her voice. She was relaxing even as she was counting and her voice sounded, not slurred, but definitely blurred slightly. When done, Kennedy, lowering his voice even further, continued, "Now, imagine yourself walking down a long flight of stairs. These stairs lead you to a door which will open to the day of your disappearance. If you ever get afraid of what’s going on, just relax and pull back from it. It can’t hurt you. When you get to the door, open it." They waited for a minute. "Where are you?" Scully spoke dreamily, "In the hospital. I’m in the forensics lab, working on my computer." "Are you alone?" "No, Jim’s there." "Jim?" "Jim Garrison, he’s my partner. He’s talking to me. He’s flirting with me." Mulder tightened his fists momentarily, his territoriality temporarily taking over his rationality. "What are you thinking about?" Scully smiled. "Mulder. I want to talk to him." "About what?" "Nothing. I just want to hear his voice. I’ll make up a reason later." Mulder smiled slightly. "Now I want you to progress in the day. What do you do after work?" "I go out to dinner with Jim. A club in North Beach with a cafe. We eat clam chowder out of bread bowls like at Pier 39. He buys me a margarita, says they’re the best in town. He’s trying to get me drunk." "What do you think?" "I think he’s forgetting that I’m Irish." Mulder couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. Trust Scully to put the man in his place. "Now what are you doing?" "We’re dancing. Something loud and frantic. My head is buzzing. I tell Jim I want to go home." "Then what?" "He drives me home. I think he’s bothered by my wanting to go home early. But Mulder might have called. I don’t want to get home so late that I can’t call him back. Jim follows me up the steps of my place. He wants to come in." "Does he?" "Yeah. I don’t want to offend him. But now he’s," Scully moved almost imperceptibly in her seat, propping her hands against the cushions and pushing down on them, "he’s groping me. Kissing me. I don’t," she paused, shifting in her seat, "want him to do this, but he’s pulling up my blouse. I keep telling him that he’s drunk, that he need’s to go home. He’s…" she paused, "persistent." Mulder’s eyes darkened. That shit. If Garrison had been in the room, Mulder would have had no problem with personally making him sorry. "What happens?" "I get him out the door. He’s angry about something, he keeps muttering to himself. I just want to go to sleep. I’m," she sank down in her seat, "I’m very tired. I go to sleep without even taking off my clothes. I don’t know why I’m so tired." "Where are you when you wake up?" "In a room. It’s cold, dark. I can’t see anything. I think, I think there’s something over my eyes because I know I’m not alone." "Who’s with you?" "I don’t know. They have cold hands. Thin fingers. Feels like rubber gloves only, too smooth." "What are they doing?" "Someone is touching my head. I try to speak to him… it. But I can’t. I gag on something. I’m suspended in something, I think. I feel wet but not slippery. Ohh," she let out suddenly. "No, please." Mulder clenched his teeth to keep from not speaking. He desperately wanted to touch her, to let her know he was there with her. "What’s happening?" "Now there’s someone touching my abdomen. I hear something. Clicking noises. Shuffles and hissing noises. There’s something on me. It’s rubbing against me. I want it off of me. Get off," Her voice rising in agitation, "Get it off me! I can’t stand it!" she cried out frantically, brushing herself in a frenzy. Unable to prevent himself, Mulder leaned over and placed his hand on her knee. She screamed. "Stop it!" Mulder cried out. "Please, she’s hurting, please stop it." He looked to Kennedy pleadingly. Kennedy flashed him a warning look. "Dana, pull away from it. It’s not here. Don’t let it affect you." His voice seemed to calm her down. "Now, what’s happening?" "I hear someone now. He’s speaking," she coughed. "I smell smoke. He wants them to do something to me. He’s promising an exchange. What he’ll give them in return." She leaned over, exhausted from the effort of remembering. "I can’t take the pain. I feel weak. I’m ashamed." "What are you thinking?" "I’m… I’m glad Mulder’s not here. They’d do the same to him. Probably worse. I," her voice faltered, becoming faint, "I miss him, though. I need him. I keep thinking about him to make the pain disappear. They’re sticking a needle in me. I pass out from the pain. There’s nothing." "What’s the next thing you remember?" "Waking up in the hospital. I don’t know who I am." "Why? What happened to your memory?" "They," she started, "it was necessary that I don’t remember. It fulfills some requisite." "How can you get back your memory?" "I don’t know." She exhaled. "Can I leave now?" she pleaded weakly. "Yes. I want you to find the door that led you here. Go through it and start walking up the stairs. It doesn’t make you tired." He paused. "Now look at the candle again. Look at it move in front of you. Start counting forwards from one to one hundred and when you feel comfortable, you will wake up, remembering only what you are comfortable to remember." She did so, her voice slowly gaining strength. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at them. She had been crying with her eyes closed and her cheeks were wet. "I’m tired." She finally said. She looked at Mulder who tried to smile encouragingly at her. "You should be." He stood up, and taking her hand, slowly pulled her up. Her legs unsteady under her, she swayed slightly and clutched at him. "I’ll take you home, Scully." She turned to Kennedy. "Thank you. I don’t know what we got out of this but it was worth the effort. I remember," she looked at Mulder again, "some things." He let his hand fall to the small of her back, reassured in the familiarity of the gesture and escorted her out. · * * * * * * * "I dunno Scully, I just feel that I’m missing something. Like, we’re skipping over something obvious." He idly stirred his tea bag, his focus elsewhere. "What do you remember about the hypnosis session?" He looked up at her, curled up on her sofa. Her head cocked slightly to the side and she looked at him. His breath caught as it seemed she could see the worry he was trying so desperately to hide. He had stayed up the night before, unwilling to let himself sleep while she may be in danger. He knew that just as swiftly she’d been returned to him, she could be taken again. And he wanted to be there if they came in the hopes that maybe they’d take him instead. Towards daybreak, he’d given into his desires and lurked into her room, with the stealth of a derelict catburgular, just to watch her sleep. What a strange fascination I’m finding with this. God, what a creep I am, sneaking into her bedroom, ogling her like some pervert. I want to climb into bed with her, to make love to her while she sleeps. It could be a dream, he imagined. She’d never know and I’d have a memory to feed from for the rest of my life. But no, deprived of the beauty of her eyes, he couldn’t conceive of it. He wanted to hear her cry his name and lick her skin. He wondered if she tasted as good as she smelled. He’d crept to the edge of her bed but hadn’t dared to touch her or invade her space, despite his urges to the contrary. And as twisted as he knew his fantasies were, he couldn’t bring himself to suspend them. Like all fantasies, they were infinitely preferable to reality. His faded reality stung his eyes with sweaty tears and the demons, like a thicket, clawed his escape to fantasy. Which made returning all the more painful. Suddenly, he started, realizing Scully was talking to him. "Are you even listening to me, Mulder?" "What?" "I said, why are you looking at me like that?" He turned away, afraid his gaze would stain her virtue. "What?" he tried to put as much incredulity into his voice as possible. "Mulder, sometimes you look at me, and I swear you’re staring right into me. And other times, like now, you stare off into space with the same look on your face." Heat crawled up his throat and he struggled to remain cool. "Short attention span, I guess." Scully was quiet and for a moment, the only noise was the faint ticking of a clock. "Mulder, were you and I ever more than partners? Than friends?" His breath strangled him momentarily and he started coughing. Had she just said what he’d thought she’d said? Suddenly, he felt her hands on his back, attempting to calm his breathing but the feel of her so near to him only worsened it. He pulled away from her but she tugged him back to her and laid her hands gently on his shoulders. He realized the only way to avoid her scent was to stop breathing and tried that for a minute but failed after noticing that she wasn’t leaving him alone. "I’m sorry, it was just a thought." she said. "Didn’t mean to offend you." He turned to her, and her eyes widened at the emotion behind those hazel depths of his. He wanted so badly to pull her to him, to kiss her, to lay her down on the dining room table and quench his thirst for her. But as much as he longed for her, he couldn’t attempt to be worthy of her. He didn’t want to pull her any further into his reality than she already was entrenched. Guilt washed over him. He’d already taken her sister, nearly her life and now her memory. He refused to condemn her to follow him down the winding stairway to dementia. "You didn’t. I just," he faltered, "I want to stay focused. So, what do you remember about the hypnosis?" She pulled back with resolve and sat down opposite him at the table. "Bits and pieces. Fragments. I remember being in San Francisco with Garrison, the forensics lab, my assignment and of course," she added "his behavior. God, what an asshole. I can’t believe they’d let someone like that into the Bureau." Mulder thought briefly of Krychek. "You’d be surprised who’d they let in." "I know, but damn, I could bring him up on charges." "You should." he added gravely. "And then he comes to the hospital like nothing ever happened." she added, starting to fume a bit. "I know, I can’t believe he had the nerve to show his face. It’s almost like…" his voice trailed off slowly as he felt a dark canvas illuminating itself. "Almost like he knew that you wouldn’t remember." His gaze caught Scully’s as they both apprehended the implications of what he’d said. "He did know." Scully concluded. "He knew I wouldn’t remember him when he came to the hospital. Which means he knew about my memory, which means," "Which means," Mulder broke in, completing her thought, "He knows about where you were during those missing days." He rushed to the front door and turned back to her. "We’re leaving as soon as I grab some clothes and stuff from home. Pack your bags, Scully, and call Skinner. We’re going back to San Francisco." End, Part (3/5) · * * * * * * * <^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*> < -Wendy Thomas a.k.a. "Sheena, Empress of Evil" > < E-mail: wendyt@ucla.edu > <****************************************************************> < "Even a paranoid has some real enemies." > < > < -Henry Kissinger > <________________________________________________________________> < "Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they > < must lead. > < -Barfly > <________________________________________________________________> ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* From wendyt@ucla.edu Tue May 13 18:52:46 1997 Subject: Part (4/5), "Ananmesis" by Sheena, MSR, NC-17 From: Wendy Thomas -------- · * * * * * * * by: Sheena, Empress of Evil email: wendyt@ucla.edu Warning: This is an M/S romance. It has a little bit of everything. X-File, angst, humor, sex, Mulder jealousy, so there should be something for everyone. *Important* This piece of fanfic is rated NC-17 so if you aren’t over eighteen or just are fervently opposed to M and S consummating that UST then bail out now. I’m snorkeling in the gutter so you’ll have to excuse me. Look at all the pretty fishies. Summary: Scully is reassigned by forces unknown only to be mysteriously abducted. Skinner’s deal with the devil culminates in a saga of intrigue that causes an angst-ridden Mulder and an amnesia afflicted Scully to go full circle in chase of the truth. Along the way, they discover that things buried deeply enough have a way of surfacing. Disclaimer: See first part for ritual disclaimer. And now, on with the show… · * * * * * * * Anamnesis Part (4/5) It was starting to drizzle by the time they reached their hotel room. Garrison was reported to live just across the Golden Gate Bridge in Sausalito. Agents had already been dispatched to his house and were instructed to, upon finding him, place him under arrest. But the agents had reported back saying merely that he was nowhere to be found. Which made Mulder nervous. As long as you don’t know where he is, she’s not safe, he kept repeating to himself. Their hotel was by the water and he could see the myriad boats floating on the rocky bay like toy dinghys in a Whirlpool jacuzzi. The sky darkened, almost in adherence to his darkening mood. Scully was obviously worn out. He had slept on the plane briefly, despite nightmarish images clouding his overactive subconscious. She’d tried to read over Garrison’s FBI profile and the strain was obvious on her face. "Why don’t you take a nap, Scully? I’ll have some Chinese food delivered and by the time you wake up, Kung-Pao chicken will be waiting for you." "Chinese food?" "Scully, San Francisco is world renowned for its Chinese food." he added in mock solemnity. "I think I’m just groggy from the plane ride. Maybe a quick walk will do me some good. Some fresh air." "I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s starting to rain, and things can get pretty wet out here." She smiled thinly and pulled on her overcoat, "Just a quick one down to the water. Don’t worry, Mulder." she stated, then adding, "You can’t hold my hand forever, you know." She slipped outside into the graying exterior until he could barely make out the contours of her figure. He then quickly pulled on his own coat to follow behind her. "Would that I could, Scully." · * * * * * * * Scully walked in a trance up the dirt path that led to the hills. She knew she shouldn’t go too far, but something was nibbling at her. A memory. She stopped and leaned against a large tree. What was it? The path fell before her and her shoes gripped the soil like they knew where it led. Something intruded upon her state. "Scully, wait." Mulder’s voice came, from behind, quiet against the howling wind. Suddenly, he was by her side, placing himself between her and the storm. His body was warm, near her. "What is it?" he asked, his breath steaming her face. "I know this place, Mulder." she admitted, fear swimming in her voice. Suddenly, she glimpsed a man under a dripping tree across the heath. Her eyes swallowed him whole. He stood as though he was waiting for someone. She walked towards the grove where he stood, Mulder trying to dissuade her. "No, Scully. Wait. Let’s call in other agents. We can’t do this. It’s.. against Bureau procedure." "Since when have you been interested in Bureau procedure?" He slowed slightly. "How would you know?" She looked at him vaguely. "I’m beginning to remember something, Mulder. It’s almost clear. I have to do this. You can go or stay. It’s your choice." What choice, he thought. I’m either with you or not, I’m either alive or dead. It’s the same difference. He tried to block her behind him but she pushed past him until they reached the man. He looked Scully up and down. Mulder wanted to strike him. "It’s getting late." He said. "I was beginning to wonder if you’d show. We’d better hurry." He started walking up a path and Scully resolutely followed. Mulder mutely followed, put to silence by the eerie atmosphere surrounding him. They came to a clearing in the center of which stood a large tent-like structure. What the hell is that doing here in the middle of nowhere? Mulder thought. This is insane. He looked at Scully and whispered to her, "Scully, this is ridiculous. Let’s call the other agents in." She turned to him. "The game has to be played out, Mulder. It’s the way they want it." Garrison pulled back the opening to the tent. A fire smoldered in the center of the tent and a trail of smoke snaked up through the opening at the top. "Why are we here?" Mulder menaced. "Dammit, Mulder. After all this commotion, I want to talk to you. Your behavior has intrigued the hell out of a lot of us." "This isn’t about me." Mulder stated. Garrison looked at Scully, briefly, before turning his gaze back to Mulder. "It would seem that way, wouldn’t it? But really, for men such as us, men of action, are things ever what they seem?" He looked at Mulder curiously and Mulder’s skin crawled. He wanted to scratch his way out of his skin. He wanted to bury his face in Scully’s shoulders. He wanted to lie next to her in bed, to see daybreak through her eyes. "What do you mean?" "I have a message for you, Mulder. I practically had to memorize it. You wanna hear it? I bet you do." He cleared his throat. "To be effective in this line of work, one has to know two things. Firstly, what scares people, motivates them to action. And secondly, that to succeed, one must not hesitate to sacrifice the world; or more aptly put, what is most important to someone. You’d never have a problem sacrificing yourself to save others. So what’s the point in threatening your life. It means too little to you. And sacrificing Scully’s would only provide you an abyss to bury yourself in, destroying you completely. However, as much as I’d love it, they don’t want you destroyed, Mulder." Mulder snorted in retort. Anger was swelling in him. "Are you sure about that? They’ve done a pretty good job, so far." His swarming thoughts suddenly crystallized. "All this time. None of this has anything to do with her. Why couldn’t they leave her out of this!" he cried in anguish. "Why didn’t they take me instead?" He looked at Scully, knowing in that moment he loved her. "Why didn’t they let her be? What threat could her memories hold for them?" Mulder was silent for a moment. "Why wasn’t it me?" Ignoring him, Garrison went on, "They don’t want you ended, Mulder. For reasons which you and I aren’t even aware. He," Garrison looked pointedly at Mulder, "for some reason wants to keep you out of direct harm. However, he has to defer to their wishes on certain issues. They merely want to end your pursuit. By removing Scully’s memory, they remove her from your past. Her life only concerns them insofar as what she can bring to the game." He turned to Scully. "Do you see now, why they took it? They tried to move you out to San Francisco, they even thought I might distract you, but it only brought you closer together. And together, you are far more dangerous than as separate people. Sorry, Dana. Your place in the game is over. You can’t remember your past ergo you cannot throw the game." Scully, who had remained silent, watching the power play in motion, stepped forward and faced him. She eyed him up and down before stating disdainfully. "You’re wrong. You failed. They didn’t dissolve my memory. They couldn’t. Probably had something to do with your incompetence." Garrison’s eyes darkened but she went on. "I mean, how did you get into the FBI in the first place? And how pleased do you think they’d be if they knew you were telling us all this? From what I know, The Smoking Man doesn’t react well to independent thinkers in his organization." Garrison looked warily at her, swallowing slowly. She went on. "Doesn’t make much sense to me. Besides, I’m starting to remember a few things. And aside from remembering what a truly lousy kisser you are, I also remember what you said that night. About how you wanted to play the game. At the time, I thought you were just drunk. In reflection, though, you must have been desperate. Because you knew you never stood a chance of succeeding. I do remember, Garrison. And my memory will last and endure till the game is called because of darkness." The man looked away briefly, to the storm raging beyond their vision. He clucked his tongue lightly despite the tension emanating from him. "You know, I should have fucked you when I had the chance." Mulder stepped forward but Scully stopped him with one look. "You never had a chance, Garrison." She taunted. "You shouldn’t be out on a day like this, Dana. In the chill of the rain, you’ll catch a cold." Once again, she stepped forward such that she blocked his vision. "Thanks for your concern. Alright, this is getting pretty tiresome. Enough with the cloak and dagger, cat and mouse bit, why are we here? Why am I drawn here?" "I’m just following orders, Dana." She snorted in disgust. "Following orders. The age-old cry of cowardice, Garrison." Garrison glared up at her and croaked hoarsely, "How can you mock the devil? Don’t you know what they’ll do?" She shrugged almost nonchalantly. "I never shook hands with the devil, Garrison. I have nothing to fear." "Not little gray men, big gray conspiracies, or a forgotten memory?" he questioned. "You’re forgetting, Garrison, I remember." "You won’t have to remember after tonight." Scully looked to him abruptly. "What do you mean?" she demanded, her voice quavering slightly. The man sighed and slouched forward. "I mean, that you cannot be allowed to remember this night. It risks too much. They’ll be here soon to take care of that." Mulder nodded. "They’re here." "I believe you’ve been told this before. They’ve been here," he looked to the sky, "for a long time." "They’re coming for us." Garrison smiled slightly, before turning his head slightly to Scully. "For one of you, at least." And with a start, he turned and ran from the tent, cowering under the din of the storm. Mulder snapped his head back to the disappearing figure. "No." he said aghast. Scully had gone white. Her knees wobbled slightly and he rushed to her side, slowly letting her sink to the ground. "No, Scully." he pleaded. "Please, don’t leave. Don’t leave me." Scully stared up at him, smiling through her fear. "Mulder, it’s the strangest thing. I… I just remembered something else." A noise from the air above them descended upon the tent but Mulder momentarily ignored it, focusing on her small frame and angelic features. "What is it, Scully?" "That I… I love you." She smiled up at him like a child opening a rare gift. Tears welled in her eyes as his head fell against her shoulders and he trembled while holding her. The din from above shook the tent and Mulder looked up to find that the man and Garrison had left them. Then, with a brief flash and a loud crashing sound, Scully disappeared. A strangled guttural moan escaped him as his head fell to his hands. The light seeped from his eyes, obscuring them like the passage of some lantern down a well. She was gone. <^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*> < -Wendy Thomas a.k.a. "Sheena, Empress of Evil" > < E-mail: wendyt@ucla.edu > <****************************************************************> < "Even a paranoid has some real enemies." > < > < -Henry Kissinger > <________________________________________________________________> < "Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they > < must lead. > < -Barfly > <________________________________________________________________> ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* From wendyt@ucla.edu Tue May 13 18:53:30 1997 Subject: Part (5/5), "Ananmesis" by Sheena, MSR, NC-17 From: Wendy Thomas -------- · * * * * * * * by: Sheena, Empress of Evil email: wendyt@ucla.edu Warning: This is an M/S romance. It has a little bit of everything. X-File, angst, humor, sex, Mulder jealousy, so there should be something for everyone. *Important* This piece of fanfic is rated NC-17 so if you aren’t over eighteen or just are fervently opposed to M and S consummating that UST then bail out now. I’m snorkeling in the gutter so you’ll have to excuse me. Look at all the pretty fishies. Summary: Scully is reassigned by forces unknown only to be mysteriously abducted. Skinner's deal with the devil culminates in a saga of intrigue that causes an angst-ridden Mulder and an amnesia afflicted Scully to go full circle in chase of the truth. Along the way, they discover that things buried deeply enough have a way of surfacing. Disclaimer: See first part for ritual disclaimer. And now for the conclusion, folks. Here we go. · * * * * * * * Anamnesis Part (5/5) He proceeded across the grassy field scattered with pools of tears on his way to the motel. Thought escaped him. He looked up as he thought he heard his name being called. Standing inside the motel room with the window flung open was Scully. Her gaze bent back to his figure silhouetting the heavens. For one flickering moment, his swaying movements blinded that toned awning cast across his veiled pursuer. He closed his heart in a disbelieving prayer and thanks, and then opened it again. His line of vision shut out the cobblestone paths, the creeping line of darkness and all the drowning silver forest that lay between him and his window. He moved to her. Is she real?, he questioned. "Scully." The word echoed his memory. "Mulder." She smiled. He stepped inside the room, it’s warmth encompassing him and he stripped off his coat, not letting his eyes leave her for fear she might vanish. She walked to the bed and sat down. His spirit whispered to her a slumbering moist meaningful stare. "I remember, Mulder." The words shook his heart and he quivered. "You remember? What do you remember, Scully?" She smiled. "I remember, Mulder. I remember you, telling me that you thought I was sent to spy on you, telling me that I’m the only one you trust, telling me that the truth will save us both. I remember laughing with you in the rain on our first case, waking up with you next to me in the hospital. I remember us, Mulder." He looked at her, and for the first time in a long time, he saw Scully looking back. His Scully, the one he’d fought with against the others for four years. She knew him, he realized. "But, how? What happened?" "Well, I was taken again, you saw that. I was there again, with the same strange noises and wet fingers. But, someone else was there. They had different orders. They gave me back my memory." Seeing the unsure look on his face, she added, "Don’t worry. No tumor. No cancer. I’m fine." He nodded his head and sat down beside her. He looked at her in awe. "You’re not afraid, are you?" he stated admiringly. He watched her tenderly. Her skin glowed though the sheets of water clinging to her frame. "I have felt God’s hand on my shoulder, Mulder. When I was sent to you four years ago. They can’t take that from us." She held his gaze. "What about you? Are you afraid, Mulder?" Mulder looked down and closed his eyes before speaking the truth. "I fear becoming a passenger in life. I fear that which dies inside a man while he lives." "But you offered Garrison your memory for mine. You weren’t afraid then?" Mulder shook his head. "Because I remember, I despair." Memories were his demons. All those torn memories. Samantha, his past, everyone who’d betrayed him. "Mulder, you once said that the truth would save us both. Maybe my remembering is enough for both of us." "You remember." He said hesitantly, trying to convince himself it was true. She took his hand and looked into his eyes, and then looked down at their clasped hands. "I remember that night Mulder, like the only one I’ve ever known." She gazed out the window as she spoke. "After being sent to San Francisco, I started thinking about us. About the X-Files. I never," she paused, "I never would have thought, looking back at Med. School and what I always thought I wanted, that this is where I’d end up. But when Skinner told me I was being sent to San Francisco, I realized that I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. All those past fantasies, instilled in my by my upbringing, by an outdated sense of what was expected of me, they were so hollow. Mulder," she looked up at him, "there’s no place for me but by your side." She held her gaze and he held his breath. She filled him with a sense of awe and faith. He couldn’t help thinking that if there was a God, that the only holy proof of it was her. She was an angel sent to save him. He silently thanked the powers that be for sending her to his rescue four years ago. "I knew I had to return to you, that you needed me. I knew because I needed you in the same way. I was going to call Skinner and ask to be transferred back to D.C. That night I was taken." Her voice became quiet and speculative. "It was a cold night. Dark. After Garrison left, I went for a walk. Took the same path. I don’t know why. The air broke into my lungs and stole my breath right out from under me. I thought I saw a frisbee. Kids playing, I thought. But it lit up when it went in the air with the spinning lights and it looked like a flying saucer. I was a little tipsy, I guess. I kept thinking that I didn’t know how anyone could see to catch it or who they were throwing it to because it was so dark. The grass was wet. The air stung my face until I couldn’t feel my face or my hands, or my feet. I just felt the air clenching me. I was scared. I think I knew it wasn’t a frisbee, that something was coming for me. So I imagined you were with me. That you put your arm around me, and kissed my face, and rubbed my hands. That warm breath, that caressing. I remember it now. All this time, it kept whispering real loudly that I was afraid or had forgotten where I was. But no, I knew. You and I, Mulder. I couldn’t forget. Remember how I asked about how you kept looking at me? It reminded me. I knew then as I do now. They couldn’t keep me from you for long, Mulder." He leaned his face down and reverently brushed his lips across her hands. "I don’t deserve this." his words started with a note and ended with a sob. Choking on the tears that began to stream down his face, he felt her words wash over his guilt and felt it disintegrate beneath her strength. "I don’t deserve you." She looked up into his eyes. Tears began to fall down her own cheeks, quieter than his own, but tears just the same. "I don’t know if either of us deserve each other, or our love, but I have to believe that we do. I want to believe. I don’t want to try and stop it any more. We’ve waited too long." And with that, she raised her hand to his face and lightly brushed a lock of his wet hair behind his ear. He pressed his face against her hand, letting her touch soothe his weathered being, and then reached up to catch it. He turned his face down to it and kissed her palm. He looked into her eyes, then down at her soaked body. "You’re still wet." he said. She smiled secretly. His gaze on her features warmed her against the dampness of her clothes; a stinging sweet sweaty soft tingle woke up her chilly hands. "So are you. Besides, I now feel the sun from both sides. What have I to fear of the cold rain or catching a chill." He chuckled and her face lightened at the sound. She slowly sat up and, holding onto the lapels of his coat, slid it off him. He froze under her touch, not breathing, mesmerized by her eyes. The air between them was suddenly thick, sparking with the electricity they created. All those dark nights and fantasies. He shuddered slightly. He hoped they wouldn’t be the only things keeping him warm from now on. She took his face in her hands and slowly sat up to straddle him. He leaned in to indulge himself in tasting the warmth of her neck. His mouth briefly moved up to kiss her ear before moving on to the damp saltiness of her cheek. Then, she settled herself over him and leaned in and touched her lips to his. He started at the contact of her body and then, because he couldn’t prevent himself, drew his hands around her back to bring her even closer to him. His body rose under her, seeking her softness to command him. She kissed around the edges of his full, moist lips, drugging him. His mouth opened and his tongue entered her mouth, moving over hers, exploring her thoroughly. He was determined to go slow. To be gentle and prolong his fantasy, even if it killed him. A sigh deep in her throat sent his body reeling and he could feel his erection, leaping in response to her body unwittingly. His tongue moved deeper into her mouth, trying to possess all of it. She pulled back slightly and nipped at his throat, drawing her nails down his front. He groaned quietly. The sudden rush of adrenaline left her gasping for air. His arms continued to pin her fiercely to his waist and she could feel every breath that he took through the swelling of his belly against her own. She drew him even closer to her, kissing him deeply. Their mouths sought one another’s hungrily and his hands skimmed restlessly up and down her back. Tugging lightly at his shirt, he raised his arms to allow her to pull it away from him. She then pulled him up, dragging him to the center of the bed. Once again she slowly pulled herself astride him and inwardly smiled at the look of awe that he gave her in response. Sitting over him, she looked beautiful, wild. Her damp hair framed her delicate face and her mouth was opened slightly, giving her an untamed look. Mulder was shaken by her uninhibited responses. She stroked him with as much loving curiosity as he did for her. She tossed his crumpled damp shirt to the floor and then, smiling slowly, moved her head down to touch her mouth to his exposed chest. He gasped aloud at the sensations her mouth moving over him provoked. She opened her mouth and let her tongue dance across his chest, biting lightly at his nipple. As her tongue danced over his chest, she brought her hands to his pants and carefully unbuttoned the top button. Pulling down his zipper, she slid her hand inside his pants and felt for his erection. She found it and held it gently. He groaned and tried to grab her head, to draw her up to him, but she moved away, down further, laving his well-muscled stomach with feathery light kisses. She quickly slid her hand up and down his length a couple of times and he jumped subconsciously. "Scully, please.." he groaned. A hushed yet primitive groan thrummed in his throat. He couldn’t bear her tormenting movements, the feel of her hand stroking him. He sunk his hand into her hair and pulled her up to face him. He anchored her mouth to his, kissing her hard and simultaneously rolling her under him. Shaking with arousal, he let his hands run up her sides, wanting desperately to make love to her. He pulled at her blouse, unbuttoning it with the reverence of any benediction, exposing the lovely skin beneath. The sight of her unveiled beneath him made him lightheaded and he lowered his mouth to smell her skin and then, holding her arms down against her bed, opened his mouth to taste her. She tasted better than his fantasies could ever permit, fragrant of spice and soap and sweetness. Her chest rose and fell rapidly and he could feel her squirming beneath him, her movements hardening his already unbearably swollen erection even more. He looked up so that he could watch her. Her head was turning from side to side and she clenched and unclenched her fists. Her lips were swollen from their kissing and her cheeks were flushed. God, she looked beautiful.. He slowly released one of her arms to place a hand on her breast. Through the fabric of her bra, her nipples hardened beneath his touch and he was eager to taste her. He quickly unclasped the bra and exposed her soft breasts to the air. He then closed his mouth over one nipple, his hand moving over her other breast and he suckled her fervently, laving her skin with affection. Scully moaned beneath him and her legs parted to wrap themselves around him, trying to listen to the sounds emerging from him. And she was powerless against them. The sensation of his mouth on her burned her and a warm wetness spread from beneath her. She wanted to touch him, hold him in her hands and show him how much he aroused her. She shimmied beneath him and a growl escaped his lips. He held her down, suckling her nipples and moving his hands under her to hold her buttocks. Her hands caught in his hair and she pulled him away from her, staring into his eyes. He looked crazed, lost in devotion and passion. There was such honesty in his reactions to her, such trust. She slid out from beneath him and rolled him beneath her, her hand moving quickly down to stroke him eagerly. He arched his back and moaned loudly. "Ohh, God, Please." Not willing to let up, she drew down his unbuttoned pants, tossing them aside, following with his boxers. She cast them to the ground and quickly returned to his side. He drew his hands up to her to peel off her saturated clothes. She held her breath as he unbuttoned and unzipped her slacks and then slipping one finger beneath the elastic of her underwear, drawing them off in one swift stroke. They lay naked, discovering one another, on the bed. And for a time, they were the only two people in the world. They were young, new, free of the misery that had stained both of their existences. She moved down to hold his erection in her hands and he cried out, shaking beneath her. She moved her hand over him and he moaned, his hips lifting to meet her, despite himself. "No, Scully, wait.." he panted. He pushed her hand away from him and stared at her, amazed. He wanted them to be together at that moment of ecstasy. Unable to control himself, he dragged her up to him, to kiss her. He held her tightly, too tightly, he knew. But god, he couldn’t help himself. One of his hands traveled down and cupped her bottom firmly against his lower body. She breathed deeply, willing thought back into her mind, longing to comfort his torment, to ease his guilty conscience. To assure him and reassure him until they were both convinced in the awesome power of what they shared. She longed to end the fulfill that had driven her for so long. His mouth slanted over hers and she felt him against her stomach, the friction of their bodies sensitizing him still more to her touch. Her body was impossibly heavy and light at the same time. Hot. Aroused. He had to take her, now, he couldn’t wait. Rolling her beneath him, he touched her point of entry and she writhed beneath him, tantalizing him with her movements. She moved her hips in an ancient rhythm, grinding herself against him and her arms went around him, her nails scratching him lightly. The sting of her nails drove him mad, and the erotic whimpers grazing past her lips inflamed his groin. Her hands traveled lower, clutching at his hardened buttocks, bringing him closer to his goal. Unable to hold out, he sank into her slowly, gasping at the sensation of her welcoming folds. Though he longed to stay still, to stay buried in her forever, his body clamored for release. He moved slowly at first. His thrusts were powerful and slow at the same time. He thrust into her solidly, trying to make it last. She whimpered beneath him and his thrusts instinctively got faster and a flood of heat and need saturated the lower part of her body. They moved together, and she wrapped her legs around him to bring him even deeper into her. "Oh, Mulder." He could feel her muscles tightening around him as she got closer. He smiled with the knowledge that he had brought her to this. He felt her tighten suddenly and then buck beneath him, spasming as she came. With all the desperation and need that had controlled her, she shuddered against him, absorbing the lightning shocks that shook her spine. He held her tightly, trying to watch it in her eyes, trying to control himself. But his own needs couldn’t be reigned in. Faster and faster he went on, clenching her tightly to him, continuously plunging into her until he went rigid above her, she felt a hot explosion deep inside her body with his own release, crying out her name and burying himself within her. Moments later, after the waves had finished crashing, he pulled out of her, careful not to crush her beneath him. He carefully pulled back the covers of the bed and ushered her beneath them. Following, he felt a strange fulfillment spreading through him. Sleep drifted over them like an angel’s grace, embracing them in their moment of joy. · * * * * * * * Skinner sat contentedly in his office, warily thanking the man before him. "When did you know?" he asked the well-manicured man. "About our friend and his… connection to Mr. Mulder? I’ve always suspected. Mr. Mulder shouldn’t be punished for mistakes made long before his time. Our friend was really acting in his best interest, in a way. Trying to keep him out of the limelight. But Mulder’s can’t dodge destiny any more than the next man. The day of judgment comes for everyone. But not today." "And as for our friend?" Skinner asked calmly. "He and I had a score to settle. Mr. Mulder is free to pursue the truth, or one version of it, on the X-Files, so long as he doesn’t come too close to my backyard. Our friend will deal with him in his own time, I suppose. Give them today, and tomorrow will take care of itself." "Mulder’s not out of danger, is he?" Skinner looked gravely at the man who merely turned his perfectly coifed head to Skinner as he stood up to leave. "Not out of danger, no. But out of judgment, at least for today." * * * * * * * Mulder stared up at the clearing clouds. Scully was packing the car. She winked at him as she passed him while walking back to their room. "Hey Scully." "Yes, Mulder." "You remember, don’t you?" She arched her eyebrow at him. "Which time, Mulder?" He laughed out loud and then shook his head. He walked up to her and gently caressed her cheek. "No, I mean, you remember what you said?" "About what?" "Last night in the tent. You said, you said.." "That I love you." He smiled at the words and his heart swelled. He turned to the car, walking to it and then stopped, turning back. "Scully." "What’s that, Mulder?" "I love you." He stated simply. She smiled. "I know." she voiced, before returning to the room. He looked to the sky once more. All the gray seemed to seep away, revealing a perfect blue horizon. He once again took up the path before him and passed beneath that which had preceded him until the end of his last descent, upon reliving what was said. THE END Well folks, what do you think? Please let me know. Those of you who have responded in the past can tell others how much I loooove feedback. So drop me a line at "wendyt@ucla.edu". <^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*> < -Wendy Thomas a.k.a. "Sheena, Empress of Evil" > < E-mail: wendyt@ucla.edu > <****************************************************************> < "Even a paranoid has some real enemies." > < > < -Henry Kissinger > <________________________________________________________________> < "Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they > < must lead. > < -Barfly > <________________________________________________________________> ^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*