From: Sandra Vets Date: 8 Feb 1999 12:15:01 -0800 Subject: The Messenger Part 1/6 Hope you'll enjoy this one, folks The Messenger (based on "The Driver") by Humbuggie san@net4all.be (c) 1997 - 1999 Edited by Laurie D. Haynes shannara@pnx.com Situation : This story takes place in Season 6, with Mulder and Scully working for Kersh. Inside information : In previous stories "The Game," "Sins of our Children" and "The File" I have introduced two new characters, Terence Davis, Mulder's former boss at the VCS, and Tom Fielding, a young FBI-agent working for Davis. You don't need to have read the previous stories, but of course it does come in handy :-) More inside information : This story is based on a short story I did two years ago called "The Driver." It was a short piece on Scully losing her eyesight and Mulder dealing with it in his own paranormal way. Since I had another plot worked out around the same principle, I've based this story slightly on "The Driver." Spoilers : References to several episodes, including "Triangle," "Mind's Eye," "Anasazi,",several mythology-episodes and the XF movie. Story : A woman from the past returns to take terrible revenge on Mulder and his partner, leaving Scully blind for life. When he is offered a chance to take Scully's place, he accepts, not only endangering his own life, but also changing his life forever, not knowing the link with his own past is closer than anyone could ever think. Type : X-File/horror/UST, Mulder and Scully Angst, Skinner friendship. Disclaimer : The characters of the show aren't mine, they belong to CC and 1013. Note : The quote "You don't need eyes to see, you need vision," has been taken from the album "Reverence" from Faithless. If you don't know their music, shame on you! The Driver Part I : An eye for an eye Tuesday, January 12 "Watch it!" A voice sounded harsh and strange through the crowded streets of the city, startling those walking on the curb. The next moment the woman felt a pair of strong hands around her waist and her body was pulled backwards. Then a car passed them by so quickly and violently she could feel it knock the wind right out of her. He was holding her still, his strong arms around her, until she found the strength to place her feet on the sidewalk again. She shivered, yet at the same time it felt like it was meant to be like this. The man next to her was bound to save her life over and over again. "Scully, are you okay?" His worried face and voice were the first thing she was aware of as they both stood shivering on the sidewalk, not only cold from winter but also from the event just taken place. "Yeah." It was the one word he needed to hear to make sure nothing was wrong with her. He was still trembling. Why in the world had she crossed the street so unexpectedly, ignoring the traffic all around her, knowing that one wrong step could kill her? "Are you sure?" he asked, turning her face towards him. "Yeah." She smiled faintly, feeling his strong touch still lingering on her body. She had been lucky. "Stupid of me," she continued, rubbing her hands over her waste as if she had fallen and hurt herself. "Should have been more careful." He grinned, "That's what you get when you want to live a healthy life and forget the car for once. We're not used to walking anymore." She stuck out her tongue and said with a smile, "Speak for yourself, Mulder. Besides I was working on a case. It's not my fault I didn't see that car." "What case?" he asked surprised. She pointed across the street, at the deli they usually got their lunch at. "I was investigating a sub with lettuce and tomato." He couldn't help but laugh, and put his arm around her in a protective mode. "Next time, let me investigate the paranormal, Scully. You suck at it. Come on." In a gesture of friendship and relaxation he kept his hand in hers as he crossed the street with her. Neither of them were aware of the woman with the cane, standing across the street. Behind the sunglasses she seemed to be watching them. But as she turned, her dead eyes stared into nothingness and the cane was the only thing that kept her from tripping o ver the obstacles on the sidewalk. The woman had been observing them for a very long time now, ever since he had first come to her attention. Oh, she could still remember the exact moment when she first saw him, before she lost her eyesight. She had been an attractive young lady then, read y to attack the world and come out the winner. And then his father's car had ended it all, leaving her scarred and handicapped for life. And the young man, the boy that would grow up to become an FBI agent, had seen it all. Now she didn't need her eyes anymore to see him or the woman he was with. He was encrypted in her mind's eye, and in the pupils that could not react to the light of day anymore. He was the one she had focused on when she knew she had the ability to do som ething about her blindness. He would pay the price for his father's carelessness and eagerness to put the accident behind him. His father was dead, so he would pay. She had been following him and watching him for the better part of five years now, knowing more about him than the ones that were close to him. She knew he had grown up quite an attractive man, but he had dedicated everything to his work and beliefs. He d idn't have anyone in his life but she knew for sure that he was in love with the woman that became his partner. She had called him a few times, pretending to work for this or that department within the FBI, just to hear his voice. She had dedicated her li fe to being close to him, knowing that he would be the one who could give her what she wanted. And she would take it at the end. He had been so young when his father hit her, leaving her blind for life. She could still remember the black Chrysler his father had driven way too fast, and the last thing she had seen before her eyesight was taken away from her was the boy's young, scar ed face as the car touched with a sickening thud. She had heard him scream, even with the metal of the car between them. And then she had woken up in the hospital and it was all over. Her career, her life, her future. It was gone because his father had not taken his responsibilities. She had never forgotten that face. It was the first thing she saw when she woke up in the hospital and it was the last thing she saw before she went to bed every night. Oh how she wanted to touch that face and to feel the curves in it, and the lines that had grown on him during the years. She had found out he was 25 at the time of the accident, such a young man still. Now he was 38 and a man with a past and a future. She would be in that future. He would become her revenge on life and its necessities. But first she would make him suffer like she had suffered. She would take the eyes of the woman he loved the most, using just that touch of magic that had grown on her during the years. *You don't need eyes to see, you need vision.* Tuesday, January 12 He walked out of the deli with the ham and lettuce sandwich in his right hand, and his cell phone in the left. Tucking it away in his coat pocket he turned to Scully only to see her fight with a clot of mayonnaise on the corner of her mouth. "Scully, you might wanna... you're spilling that goo all over the curb here!" he warned her a second before another clot dropped on the ground before her. She stopped immediately, avoiding the stuff from dropping on her shoes. She then looked at his face in triumph as if to say, "See? I can eat with spilling. How about you?" Mulder slowly shook his head and wondered where in the world Scully had become a giddy girl fighting with mayonnaise. And since when had they found this heartiness in their relationship? He couldn't help but grin at the smile on her face. She felt like sh e had just conquered the world. "I don't know about you, Mulder," she said with a full mouth, "but I don't care what assignment Kersh puts us on. As far as I'm concerned the man can stuff some lettuce where the sun don't shine." "Such words, Agent Scully," Mulder said out loud, waving his finger in front of her. "You know Kersh will be with us for a long time. I'm sure the man doesn't appreciate our little comments on him." "I don't care about Kersh. If it weren't for you I would have quit the bureau a long time ago," she said, putting another piece of deli sandwich in her mouth. Mulder had stopped in his tracks and suddenly didn't feel hungry anymore. Should he be happy tha t she said this? Was he binding her to a job she no longer liked? He didn't know and he really didn't want to find out. Anything was better than to know the truth, that she might find out some day he wasn't worth the fight. He threw away the second part of the sandwich and wiped his mouth, throwing the napkin in the garbage can as well. Then he spotted a woman in a black overcoat across the street, the cape tucked wide over her eyes and face. There was something about the wa y she stared at them. He couldn't see her eyes but he knew she was watching them. Then he spotted the white can in her hands. She couldn't be staring at them. She was blind. Mulder shook his head slightly and wondered if he saw ghosts. He was sure he had seen her before. She seemed so familiar to him. But she turned and slowly walked away from them, using the cane as any experienced blind person did. "Mulder?" Scully grabbed his sleeve and waited patiently until he looked at her, "what's wrong? Is everything okay?" "Yeah," he said turning his back to the woman across the street, "everything's fine." She smiled and said, "Let's go then." Across the street, the blind woman followed them from a distance. She knew exactly which pace to take and where to walk to make sure they didn't spot her. And she also knew the time had finally come to take revenge on the past. She had been waiting for it for a very long time. Tuesday, January 12 Not so long ago, Scully told her partner that she had some sort of omen when her father died. She explained to him how she had fallen asleep on the couch and woke up to find him sitting near her. He was reciting something she couldn't understand. His mout h was forming the words she could not hear. "I'm sure it was a dream, Mulder," she said as she told him the story, sitting at his hospital bed, "it seemed so real, all the visions I had. I saw you when I was questioning Boggs and I saw my father. You were both at that cold, dark place he mentioned and I told him that for the both of you that place wouldn't be as cold and dark. He laughed and told me it was. And I didn't want to believe him because I was afraid. I told you I was afraid to believe." "But?" Mulder had asked, waiting for her to go on. "But it wasn't the first time I had a feeling when things are going wrong. I sense things sometimes. Little things, like my mom who's going to call me, or when something happened to Melissa. I had that nagging feeling all day and I was telling myself not to listen to it. After all, I don't believe in that kind of thing." He had smiled and nodded. "I understand your fear of believing in paranormal possibilities, Scully. I know and I accept that. But if you can't face such things, you might never be able to come to terms with what you feel and how you feel it." "I know," she responded, "but it's difficult sometimes." Mulder had seen her after she had that same kind of feeling. She had come to places she would never have gone if she hadn't sensed that somehow he was in terrible danger. When everyone thought he was dead, she had believed in the fact he was still alive. She had not mourned him because she knew he would return. She told him one day she was convinced there was a connection between them that went beyond friendship or sex, beyond the need to kiss and hug and cuddle and make love. It was that friendship that bound them together and made them far more than partners. She laughed when she heard the speculations going about the office. She had walked away when he told her he loved her. Not because she didn't want to respond to it, but because she knew he was totally out of it. This time however Dana Scully didn't move an inch before it happened. Perhaps she didn't feel it coming because it involved her, or maybe she once again ignored it and didn't listen to that extra sense that made her so special. She had no idea of what was happening before it hit her full in the face, before she heard the shouts coming across the street, and the warning that was pointed, not at her but at the man next to her. She didn't see it coming when they reached his car and got in. She didn't know he was heading straight for it when they took off. She just didn't know until it was too late. Mulder didn't like the idea of driving off without telling Kersh about it, but right now he couldn't care less. Working with the man was something neither of them appreciated much, let alone be forced to deal with his ever questioning look and demands abo ut their expenses. They both just wanted to be left alone and work on the cases they preferred working on. Scully missed Skinner, Mulder missed Skinner. They both knew it and it bound them together in their attempts to escape Kersh's wrath. Mulder couldn't help but wonder why he was so content with himself as they reached his car. He was feeling lazy and quite comfortable and had a grin on his face that made her smile. "What are you smiling about?" she asked as she walked over to him. "Nothing," he murmured, "I was just thinking." "About?" "Skinner asked me some time ago, before the office burned down, what my plans for the future were. I couldn't answer him then. I told him he was holding my future in his hands. He had some files in his hands, you see. But I think I can answer his question now." "What would the answer be then?" "I don't care what my future would be like. I just want it to be with you around." She blushed all of a sudden, feeling contempt for herself for showing her feelings so obviously and eagerly. He actually laughed as she did, and unlocked the car. "Want me to drive?" she said, wondering if he was still hungry and eager for the last part of her sandwich. "No, it's okay. I got it." He got in and waited patiently until she strapped herself and looked at her sticky fingers. The bureau was just across the street but they were both too eager to escape today. Neither of them could explain why. Mulder started the car and stopped in his tracks suddenly, staring at the woman across the street in her black coat. There was something about her that just startled him. He couldn't figure out who she was. She had something so familiar in her face, yet a t the same time she seemed totally unrecognizable to him. But he had seen her before. Despite the black coat, the white cane, the eyes he couldn't see, he had seen her. It was just a matter of piecing it together. It wasn't as if they were in danger when it happened. They weren't working on a case that forced to pursue a dangerous individual or a creature from outer space. It wasn't as if someone had inflicted something on them, or wanted them out of the way for tr ying to stop something from happening. They were just driving to Quantico in an attempt to do something useful. Nowhere special to go, nothing in particular to do. Just a simple case, given to them by Kersh. And nothing that could have gone wrong. But the woman across the street had his attention. She was watching them somehow as they drove off and he could see her in his rearview mirror. He could feel her dead eyes pierce through his body and mind and it made him uncomfortable. She simply walked t here, using that white cane of hers as she did. Mulder backed away from the parking space and drove his Taurus onto the street. He drove slowly, avoiding the traffic before he mingled with the commuters. He was going slow when the car reached the end of the street and the curve leading into the next on e. And she was there all of a sudden, simply crossing the street in front of him. He couldn't even gather his thoughts together to find out how she had gotten there. It was simply the vision of hers that seemed to blind him before he continued his path. S he was in his mind's eye as he was in hers. Tuesday, January 12 The truck driver didn't care who was on the street at the time. He didn't care about the Ford Taurus that approached him and was right behind him as he pushed the gas. But Mulder suddenly saw it coming as he focused on the road again, trying to blink agai nst the image of the woman in black. And then it was simply there, jamming itself into the metal of the Taurus, hitting Scully's side first. Mulder remembered her laughter ending up in a desperate scream as she saw the vehicle approach them with full force. The truck driver simply didn't see them as he backed off through the small alley leading to the main road. He was in a hurry. Mulder would always remember how she screamed his name and her hand seemed to want to reach for the steering wheel but ended up somewhere on her lap as the truck approached them. Mulder pushed the gas hard and pulled with a vengeance at the steering wheel , attempting to escape its killing path. But the truck kept on coming and there was nowhere to go. Mulder heard a voice shout only to realize it was his own. "Fuck!" he shouted as he pushed the gas even harder, but it was already too late. Her laughter still echoed in his ears like the ringing of a bell. He loved the sound of her laughter. But the screams were ten times worse and deafening. He saw the pale and distraught face from the corner of her eyes. She turned, frightened, knowing she would be the one smashed first by the truck. She was on the passenger's seat, and she didn't have a wa y out of the vehicle. She was trapped because he had offered to drive. And then the truck hit the car at high speed, jamming them to the other side of the road. Everything turned into one big pile of blood, glass, screams, confusion, the screeching of brakes, the jamming of metal against metal, and the cries of Mulder's part ner as she turned into one bleeding mess, and her head hit the glass hard. She was wearing her seat belt but her head hit the side window anyhow, and then it was all around them. Mulder could taste his own blood in the corner of his mouth, and then the car seemed to be flying through the air, shoved backwards so violently they c ouldn't do anything but stand for its tumbling until it landed on its wheels, and then tumbled again, eventually landing on its roof. They were trapped inside and there was nothing they could do. Mulder could feel a terrible pain in his wrist as his hand and arm slammed against the door frame, and then he could feel the bone snap as his body hit full force with the steering wheel, jamme d into him by the force of the wreck. The car had no airbags. Scully was hardly aware of anything anymore. By the time her head hit the side window she was out of it, her head tilting as if she was a rag doll. But she didn't pass out before she gave one long last moan, and her hands were clutching for her eyes, prot ecting them against something Mulder wasn't aware of at the time. In her attempt to remain conscious he could hear her call out to him, "Mulder, Mulder, my eyes ..." And then the world turned black for her, as it did for him. Tuesday, January 12 The first thing he saw was the woman standing outside the car. Her face was no longer covered with the black cloth surrounding her before. He could see her dead eyes clearly now. She just stood there and stared back at him and then she smiled. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus on reality, but it was hard. He was so tired, he just wanted to fall right back into unconsciousness and sleep for a long time. Something was wrong. He couldn't quite put a finger on it but he could feel it as he lay in his car, his body trapped between the console and the seat. He ached all over yet felt numb at the same time. Something was wrong, they shouldn't be here like this . Scully! Where was Scully? He shifted and turned his head aside, stretching his hand. An enormous pain shot through his wrist as he did, forgetting for one moment he had broken it. But as he looked aside he forgot his own pain and stared at her in despair, seeing her face all blood y and messed up. How could she ever be all right again? And then he saw it. Her eyes. Something strange was happening to her. He stared at her as she opened her eyes, her pupils clearly visible. There was blood in it, and her eyes seemed to be vanishing from their sockets. Then they were there again, but the b lue had changed somehow. There was something wrong with her eyes! He heard silent laughter besides him. He turned his head again, shifting himself so that he didn't hurt himself. Where was everybody? Shouldn't there be people here to help them? What was going on? Oh god, Scully. There was something wrong with her eyes. And then the woman knelt down besides him and blinked her eyes. They changed color. He could see them change before him, and he blinked his lids again, expecting this to be some sort of nightmare. But the woman smiled and then she had Scully's eyes. He wo uld know those anywhere, everywhere. She had taken Scully's eyes! "I know you," he moaned, stretching his good hand out to touch her, "you're her. Your name, I know your name." "You should know me," she said, touching his face gently, "you were the last thing I saw before your father blinded me." "Lisa Messenger." She smiled and leaned forward, kissing him slightly on the lips. He could see her eyes clearly now. They were lovely. She got on her feet and walked away, leaving them trapped inside the vehicle. He passed out again with her name on his lips, and he remem bered. Sunday, December 15, 1986 William Mulder had always been a man of authority. Ever since he was a kid his father told him he would grow up to become a leader. Things hadn't quite turned out that way. He had sacrificed just about everything years ago, including his daughter. He had given her up for the larger Project, knowing it would rip their family apart. But he still had his son, and despite Fox's obvious attempts to stay away from the family home, the young man could not disguise his roots. He was just as secure and fitting in his job as his father had been, only he chose the right side of the line, some times balancing carefully right on the line itself. But William didn't. It frustrated him and made him angry against the world. And it stopped him from talking to his son ever since the boy went off to college. He knew Fox avoided him and he knew why. Perhaps the boy already suspected his father was involv ed in Samantha's disappearance somehow. Perhaps in his young mind he had already figured it out, and put the pieces together. Maybe that's why father and son didn't have much to say to one another when they met at the airport and his father took him home for the Christmas holidays. He saw on his son's face that the boy didn't really want to spend time at home, but it had been a while since he came home. It was time to renew some old family vows. At least that's what Bill promised himself. "So tell me, son," the man started as he drove his son home in the black Chrysler, "how is Phoebe?" His son obviously didn't want to talk about the woman that was messing with his mind and life and made a face. "Last time I heard she was on vacation in Aspen with some rich American kid she hooked up with." "Do you still miss her?" "No, I don't really care about her anymore. It's over and done with." *It should be,* Bill couldn't help but think as he considered the career his son had planned for himself. The FBI, a life working for the government, and doing everything Bill had wanted for his son -- to expose the truth Bill had been helping to hide. Ho w could he ever tell his son how proud he was of him without revealing that what he had been hiding for most of his life? Fox must have seen something in his father's eyes because the young man suddenly turned toward him and asked him if something was the matter. Bill managed to shake his head, saying, "No, not really. I just missed you." Then the old man bit his lip. He sho uldn't get emotional at his age. He hadn't spoken to Teena properly for years, let alone told his ex-wife how he felt. He was taking his son home but knew they would spend a lot of time in silence and seclusion. And then the boy would go to his mother's p lace and experience the same treatment. No wonder he hardly ever came home. He hated it here. "Dad?" Fox looked at him again and opened his mouth as if to say something. But the boy didn't. And then suddenly he yelled, "Dad, watch out!" Bill Mulder quickly looked forward, seeing something before the wheels of his car. And then it hit the vehicle hard, and was shoved over it and behind it, until it dropped on the ground. *Oh, God!* He heard his son shout, his voice hoarse and strange. He looked aside. Fox was shivering in the front passenger seat, and he didn't know why. Bill stopped quickly, parking his car neatly aside the road. He grabbed his son by the shoulders, shaking him almost violently. "Fox? Fox, what's wrong?" Then the man saw it. The strange pile of clothes and flesh and bone behind his vehicle, lying in the middle of the road. He got out with trembling legs, wondering how anyone could inflict death upon another human being. He thought he had just killed someo ne. They weren't alone on the road. Several cars stopped and he heard himself yell at someone to drive to the nearest house and get some help. Then Bill Mulder sank to his knees beside the woman who lay on the street face down, one arm twisted underneath her, and the other one above her head. *I killed her.* It was the only thing going through his mind as he stared down at her. And then, *I'm going to jail.* But he knew he would never see the insides of a jail. He had too many friends in high places. They would help him. He would help himself. Someone else was suddenly beside him, pushing him away from her, but not before he got a good look at her. Her blonde hair was covered with blood. Her slim body seemed broken and battered. How could anyone survive a blow like this? "I'm a doctor," the man next to him said. "Step aside." Bill obeyed automatically, giving the man all the room he needed. Then he remembered the young man sitting in his car, shouting and near hysterics when he saw the body fly over the vehicle. He knew his son had seen it happen more clearly than he did. His son had been the one looking straight into the woman's eyes before she hit the vehicle and then the pavement. Bill walked up to his son's side of the car and saw him just sitting there. He had no tears in his eyes nor was there any sign of distress. He had just paled and seemed to have seen a ghost. Bill understood. "Fox, are you okay?" The young man nodded his head and then turned towards his father, "Did you kill her?" Bill Mulder felt like a jackhammer hit his head hard. "No," he said, clenching his teeth, "I didn't." The boy nodded again and said, "I want to see her." Then he simply got out of the car and stepped towards her, leaning over her. Bill watched him as his hand touched the woman's face gently, pulling away the blonde hairs. His gesture was so gentle Bill held his breath. His son was so sensitive. How would h e ever be able to accept the truth? Fox spoke softly with the doctor that kept the woman alive until the ambulance arrived. They were surrounded by a crowd but he didn't seem to notice. Bill heard words of wonder and then the cops were there asking him how it happened. He told them the trut h. He hadn't seen her and then it was too late. No, he hadn't been drinking. No, he hadn't been speeding. It just happened. It seemed to take forever before the girl was moved into the ambulance and the EMT's were treating her, trying to keep her alive until they reached the hospital in Quononchontaug. She would survive. Or at least that's what they expected. But her vision ap peared to be damaged and her insides seemed one bloody mess. Bill Mulder sighed and rubbed his eyes before returning to his car. The police would be expecting him at the office for a full statement but witness had supported his version of the story. It was an accident. In the car, his son didn't say a word until they reached the house. Then the boy went upstairs and locked himself inside the room that had been his for years. Bill didn't know he sat on the bed, his arms protecting his pulled up knees. He didn't know his son had been a witness to the most horrible of crimes as he was finishing his studies in Oxford. He didn't know his son was taking it so hard. And he had no idea of knowing his son was dreaming about Samantha again, dragging back all the memories hidden i n his special photographic memory. Bill Mulder could only think how weak and vulnerable his son was. And how very much responsible for Samantha's disappearance. After all, for Bill it was the only way to deal with her vanishing. Blame it on the one other person in the room when it happened . Just don't blame it on yourself. Tuesday, January 12 The next thing Mulder knew, other faces were there, staring at him as he blinked his eyes again. There were several people outside the vehicle and he felt trapped and vulnerable in his weak state. The voices he heard were coming from the outside, mingling with the sounds of sirens of police vehicles and paramedics. He listened to them because there was nothing else for him to listen to. He couldn't stand to stare at his partner, knowing her eyes were damaged somehow. But it must have been a dream! The woman, where was she? In panic he tried to move, causing a terrible pain shooting through his body. He moaned. He moved his neck and tried to see her, but she wasn't there. They were alone and she was gone. "He's awake," he heard someone say, and then they were pulling at the metal trapping them from the outside world. "Sir, can you hear me?" Mulder nodded quietly and cleared his throat, trying to find the correct words, "We're FBI agents. My partner's eyes are damaged. Please get her out of here first. She's hurt badly." The man looked at the agent in surprise, as if wondering how in the world he knew the woman had damage to her eyes. From the angle he was lying in right now he couldn't have seen it. He had been sitting on his knees to talk to the man behind the steering wheel, but he now he lifted himself and stared at his friend on the other side. The man nodded silently as if to confirm what the male agent had said. The man's Pinto was parked just two yards away from the crash site. He had seen it all happen. The truck that suddenly and swiftly backed out of the alley, ramming the Taurus that had been driving calmly through the streets of Washington, D.C. The witness had heard the sickening crash of metal and glass and the continuous screams of the young woman as she was hurt badly by its deadly impact. Even with the radio on he had heard that. He would never forget it. And then everything went quiet and t ime seemed to stand still. He had seen a woman near the site, kneeling down next to the vehicle. She said something but he couldn't make out what and then she got up and left so quickly he couldn't even remember where she went. It didn't really matter. The folks inside the car were the main priority now. The truck driver had left his vehicle and stared in shock at the damage he had caused. How could he have been so blind? How could he not have seen what was going on? The man bit his lip and waited patiently until the cops came, arriving just before the EM T's. The man driving the Taurus seemed awake and lucid. The truck driver couldn't help but feel gratitude that at least one of the victims was okay. But the woman was still out of it and her eyes were bleeding and he couldn't even look at her. He knew that blo od often gave a worse impression of a wound but in this case he just knew he had caused permanent damage. He hated himself for it. The truck driver concentrated on the cops entering the crime scene. There were several other cars, now, as well, and he recognized what he suspected were FBI agents, since the police had told him the people he had hit were agents. The new arrivals were al l wearing suits and trench coats. Two men, one of them bald and the other one a younger, blond man seemed eager to get to the car. The truck driver watched them until the cops came to question him. He was then forced to turn away from the site and to give a statement on the events. to be continued Subject: The Messenger Part 2/6 Tuesday, January 12 Walter Skinner, an assistant director with the FBI, was the first one to reach the site where the crashed Taurus lay. He felt anger as he walked over to the vehicle and was forced to stare down at the bloody figures of two of his former agents. He was ang ry because Kersh was out of reach and had no idea of what was going on. Thus the man couldn't give his support. He was even more angry because it happened just one block away from the bureau, allowing everyone to know about the accident almost instantly after it happened. Several cars approached the scene now, all of the agents eager to help somehow. *Mulder would have loved this,* Skinner couldn't help but think as he approached the crashed car. In his mind he was already considering the possibility of Mulder's death, but by the time he was at the driver's side, he could hear the agent's hoarse voice as he spoke to a cop guiding him through the events. Mulder was wide awake and Skinner couldn't help but think that was bad thing at this time. If the agent was hurt badly and they had to pull him out of the car, he might be going through the worst pain he'd ever experienced. On the other hand, Skinner couldn't help but be grateful for the fact Fielding was with him. Having encountered the man in the hallway on his way out, he had quickly explained the situation. The agent offered to go with him, and Skinner knew Fielding was a good friend and had a calming influence on Mulder. Skinner stared over the collapsed vehicle to the other side and caught a glimpse of Scully, her eyes still closed. By the way they were maneuvering her around he knew she was hurt badly. And when he heard Mulder beg the people around him to help her first , he was convinced the female agent wouldn't live to see another day. *Jesus, if something happens to Scully, I'm not sure if Mulder will survive.* Skinner knew that for a fact. By looking at Tom's face he knew the younger agent thought exactly the same thing. The agent walked quietly over to the other side of the car, show ing his badge to the cops at work. Skinner identified himself as well, taking charge of the situation immediately. A few moments later he was bent through his knees to look into the eyes of his agent. Mulder couldn't help but smile at the fact his former boss was there. Why was he not surprised? "Hey, sir," he said weakly, wondering when they would finally get them out of the vehicle. It seemed to be taking forever, but in reality, the car had only collided with the truck a few minutes ago. "Hey, Mulder, how are you doing?" Skinner bit his lip after asking this stupid question. How could Mulder be doing with his body trapped inside the twisted metal? "I'm okay," the agent said quickly, pointing at Scully. "Her eyes are hurt. I'm sure of it. There was a woman here .. she ... I'm not sure what happened but she came and she took Scully's eyes. Then she left." Skinner had to bend closer to make out the agent's words. They didn't make any sense. "Lisa Messenger," Mulder continued, "she was blind and now she can see again. I saw her become blind. My father hit her with his car. She was here, sir. You have got to help Scully. Don't leave her." "Tom is with her," Skinner said quickly, pointing inside the vehicle to the man sitting next to Scully, waiting patiently until she was ready to be moved. "See? Scully's fine. Concentrate on yourself now." "She told me she was going to get even," Mulder murmured as he closed his eyes. "She said so and I didn't listen to her." The car started to rock as they shifted Scully from her uncomfortable position onto a gurney. Quickly, she was strapped and removed in an ambulance. Tom went with her, taking a seat normally reserved for Mulder inside the ambulance. As the doors closed an d the vehicle left, Mulder opened his eyes again and looked at the men getting ready to take him out as they got the twisted metal cut away from him. "Internal injuries," Skinner heard one of them say, "he's hardly lucid. Trauma to the head. Be careful with his neck." Then Skinner concentrated on the friend he cared for a lot, whose office he had visited before it burned down and destroyed Mulder's life. Skinner had asked Mulder about his future and had wondered about it. If he had known then what would have happened, he would have never gone to Mulder to discuss the case of the murdered chess player. If Mulder had been set up, it was Skinner's fault as much as anyone's. Mulder moaned as they slowly lifted him out of the vehicle, supporting his body on all sides to make sure they didn't cause any further damage to it. The agent grasped his good hand on the side of the gurney and let himself be moved. As the gurney started to move, Mulder grabbed Skinner's hand and said, "Don't go. We need to talk." Skinner nodded his head in surprise and waited until the agent was moved inside the vehicle. Before the doors closed, he hopped in and sat down, waiting for Mulder to gather enough strength to talk. An oxygen mask was placed on Mulder's nose and mouth but he grabbed it and pushed it away. His voice was hardly audible when he said, "You have got to find the woman. Lisa Messenger. She's the one doing this. I saw her." "I promise," Skinner said, trying to calm down his agent, "I'll find her." Mulder closed his eyes and let himself be lulled into the darkness by the movement of the vehicle. Skinner leaned back and wondered how a perfectly good afternoon could have gone to hell so easily. Monday, December 16, 1986 *The silence in this house is near deafening,* Bill Mulder thought, pouring himself a scotch. Sure, he had screwed up the day before. Sure, he was responsible for the young woman lying blind in the hospital right now. Sure, he had done it all, given his o wn daughter away and turned the blame on his only son. Sure, he had driven away his wife and made sure she wouldn't return. Sure, it was all his fault. Then why did he feel so goddamn guilty about it all? He was a man with unlimited possibilities. He coul d turn the whole world to himself, making sure it all revolved around him. He had written his own future down in blood by vowing to Strughold he would work on the Project. Bill Mulder had given his soul to the devil and let him take his baby. It had never bothered Bill, never even made him lie awake in the dark. Until today. Until his son had asked him if he had killed that woman. He had killed several people, and she wasn't even involved in the Project. She was just a woman crossing the street at the goddamn wrong time, pushing herself to the limit so that she c ould be home in time. She had been running, her face and body covered by a warm coat. She was the one not watching out. She was the one that damaged his car. Bill sat down on the chair and stared at his glass. Why was life treating him like this? He was working his ass off to preserve a bit of the future! He couldn't be punished for doing the right thing. Or at least, what he thought was the right thing. It wa s just unfair. All of it. The only person in life who could make him feel guilty was his own son. Ever since that night he had deliberately left Fox alone with his sister, knowing they would come for her that night, he had been avoiding the boy. Now, the boy had grown to become a man and still, that guilt was present. Perhaps Fox had been right all these years to avoid his father. Avoidance is the best way of dealing with things that weren't to be dealt with. Fox had grown up to establish his own life and would become what his father had wanted him to become. Perhaps i n the future, father and son would find a way to talk about all of this, and Bill would find a way to tell his son the truth. Bill was disturbed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs and looked up to see his son dressed in jeans and sweater, pulling on his jacket, ready to go out. "Where are you going?" "I'm going to see that woman," Fox responded, grabbing his father's car keys from the counter. He knew he didn't have to ask for the use of the vehicle, "I want to see if she's okay." "I'll go with you." "I don't think that's a good idea, Dad." "Oh?" Bill asked feeling the scotch lift his spirits. "And why is that?" "You're drunk." "I'm not drunk, nobody gets drunk from one glass of scotch." "Whatever the case is, I want to go alone and see if she's okay. I'm sure she won't appreciate talking to the man that ran over her " Bill became furious and threw his glass against the brick wall. The liquid and shattered pieces of glass flew everywhere, leaving their marks next to the fireplace. "Do you think I did it on purpose?" he yelled, knowing that he was turning his anger again st the one person in this all deal who was innocent. "Do you think I loved hitting her?" "You didn't even have to talk to the cops anymore, did you? Who did you call to fix it all? That chain-smoking friend of yours? The one that used to come all the time before Samantha vanished? Or did you simply call one of your political friends to make i t all okay again?" Bill couldn't stand for the accusations. He was responsible, yes, but so was each and every one of them. If his son thought he would spend time in jail because some crazy woman ran out into the road unexpectedly, he had another thing coming. Bill raised h is hand, lifting his palm towards his son. Somewhere in the air the hand remained still, and the blow to his son's head did not come. As suddenly as it had come, the anger disappeared. Bill stared at his own hand. He hadn't hit his son. Not ever. He would never do so. He turned away from the boy and said, "Just go and see her. Tell her I'm sorry. I'll tell your mother you'll be coming s ooner than expected." Fox didn't wait for his father to continue but stared at his father's back, knowing Bill was never going to change. It was all too late. It was too late for any apologies or accusations, even to try and regain something of the father and son relationship they once had. This accident had only confirmed the situation once again. If there had been any doubt before, it was all gone now. "I'm sorry, Dad," Bill heard his son say before he walked outside, "I know you didn't do it on purpose." Bill turned to talk to his son only to find that the door had already been closed. Yes, it was too late for apologies. Tuesday, January 12 Mulder woke in the solitude of a private hospital room, the thoughts of his dad lingering in his mind. Strange, it had been so long ago since he had thought about all of this, so long because he had pushed it in the back of his memory as he had done with the rest of the unpleasant past he didn't want to remember. Eyes closed, he listened to the silence. He felt safe and secure somehow, despite the circumstances he was in. But his gratitude for still being alive didn't last long. Before long, he started to remember what had taken place and exactly why he was here. He winced as he tried to move, feeling an enormous pressure pushing against his chest. Immediately he heard noises in the room, and he opened his eyes quickly, automatically saying, "Scully?" But she wasn't the one sitting next to him. The seat usually taken by her was occupied by someone else who came into sight as he moved. It was Tom. "It's me, Mulder," he said, using Scully's standard sentence without even knowing it. How could he possibly know the language they used for one another? "Where's Scully?" Mulder asked, staring at the cast his wrist and arm were encased in. He quickly scanned the other parts of his body, feeling nothing but a very sharp pain in his chest and a dull headache already forming in the back of his head. "She's in another room. You're both going to be fine. She's still sleeping. Concentrate on getting better now, you were in an accident." "I know," he said, remembering the sickening crush when the truck pushed into their car, "She's blind, isn't she?" Tom bit his lip, for one long moment not knowing what to say. Mulder didn't need to hear the confirmation. He had known the moment he had woken up inside the vehicle and felt the presence of Lisa Messenger next to him. The bitch. She was the one responsib le for this, just as she had sworn she would be. Why hadn't he listened to her? Mulder cleared his throat and tried to concentrate on reality. It was hard. Whatever they had given him was making him slightly high and he felt like dozing of again. But he couldn't. Not before he found the woman responsible for this. "She was there, Tom," he said hoarsely, grabbing the man's wrist as he pulled him closer. "You have to find her." "Who?" "Lisa Messenger. She was there, I saw her. She caused this." "Mulder," Tom said patiently, "A truck hit your car. The driver didn't see you until the car was already in shambles. I saw the vehicle, Mulder. You were lucky to be pulled out of there alive. There was no woman there." "But I saw her. She was near the car. She took Scully's eyes somehow." Mulder noted Tom's disbelief. He knew he was skating on dangerous, thin ice but he couldn't let this pass. Someone needed to listen, to make it all right. "I'm not crazy, Tom! It's a l ong story but... I can't tell you about it right now. It's too difficult to explain. Just find her. Lisa Messenger. She's the one. Promise me!" "I promise, Mulder," Tom said soothingly, trying to calm down his friend, "I'll talk to Skinner about it, okay?" *Skinner already knows and he hasn't done anything about it,* Mulder thought. *I need to find her myself if need be. She had Scully's eyes. Oh sweet Jesus... Scully!* Mulder pushed himself up with one hand, deliberately ignoring the dull pain in his body. He needed to see her, to make sure she was all right. Why didn't Tom say anything? Was her condition worse than he thought? Was she dying and didn't he know about it? He licked his dry lips, trying to regain his senses, "Where is she, Tom? Tell me the truth!" "She's in bad shape, Mulder," the young man said, trying to find the right words to state this, "she's in the ICU. She was in surgery for hours and hours. She has massive head trauma. They had to drill burr holes in her skull to release some of the pressu re on her brain. She hasn't regained consciousness yet, it's been two days." "Two days?" Mulder asked in disbelief, wondering where time had gone. Why had he been sleeping for two days while that crazy woman was still out there? He needed to find her. But Tom's hands were keeping him from getting out of the bed, and the man seemed to have all the trouble in the world to calm his friend down. "Easy Mulder," the VCS agent continued, "you're in bad shape yourself. You've had surgery. You've got two broken ribs, one of them slightly punctured your left lung. You've been in and out of consciousness for the past two days. The doctor kept you sedate d to give your body the chance to heal." "I need to see her," Mulder moaned, again trying to go against his friend's wishes. "Please, Tom!" "Not yet, Mulder. I'm going to try and find a doctor. Just don't try to get out of here on your own, got it? Promise me you'll wait until I get back." Mulder impatiently nodded in agreement and leaned back heavily on the pillows of the soft bed, concentrating on pushing aside the dizziness. He felt like shit. The world seemed a particularly violent place right now, with that one woman who was out there, fulfilling a vow she had made to him so many years ago. How could he make the others understand this thing was for real, and it was responsible for Scully's current situation? Then he started thinking. Perhaps no one was responsible for her blindness but him. After all, he had been the one driving. Thursday, January 14 "Mulder?" He felt a slight pressure on his arm and realized before long he had fallen asleep again. With contempt, he opened his eyes to look at the face of a man he had never seen before. "Mr. Mulder, glad to see you're awake," the man said, shining a small light in his eyes, "I'm Dr. Roberts. We spoke briefly in the ER, but I'm sure you don't remember. How do you feel?" "Like a truck hit me." Roberts smiled as if he had said something really funny. "You'll feel better soon. You were pretty lucky. The damage to your lung was minimal, but you're going to need some respiratory therapy. The broken ribs were set in surgery. You've suffered a light concussion, but that will heal with enough rest." Mulder cleared his throat, asking hoarsely, "I would like to see my partner." "That will have to wait. You are in no condition to leave this room just yet." "You don't understand. She's in danger. I need to see her, she needs me!" Roberts seemed annoyed with his demand and frowned, "If you feel better in the morning, I'll have you brought up to the ICU to see her. Her mother and your boss are there." "Kersh?" The man frowned again, "No, someone named Skinner, if I'm correct. He's been shifting between her room and yours. He was very concerned because you were out for two days. I'm sure he'll be here soon as soon as he knows you're awake. Are you in any pain?" "No," Mulder lied, persuading himself not to accept any more painkillers. They made him feel groggy and he needed to be lucid right now to find the woman who did this. If no one believed him, he would go after her by himself. Roberts smiled as if knowing he was lying. He nodded at the nurse who emptied a syringe in his IV, and said, "You get some sleep now and I'll be back in the morning. Take care, Mr. Mulder." The doctor left the room quickly, leaving him in the hands of the nurse who quickly checked his bandages and left him alone again with Tom. Mulder sighed deeply, feeling the drugs already settle into his system. He hated this. "Mulder," Tom said slowly, sitting down on the chair next to the bed, "what you said about that woman. What did you mean?" Mulder blinked his eyes, trying to fight against the darkness. "She was there, Tom. I saw her. I hadn't seen her in thirteen years, not since that day when I visited her at the hospital. She used me, Tom. She came close to me and then she told me she woul d get even. I saw her do it, Tom. It made me believe in the paranormal for the first time. I watched her take what she wanted." "You don't make any sense, Mulder. What did she take?" Mulder's mind simply seemed to block the world out as he closed his heavy eyelids, murmuring, "She took everything." Monday, December 16, 1986 Fox Mulder didn't feel at ease as he sat down at the side of the bed at her beckoning and watched her bandaged face as it turned towards him. Her eyes were invisible for him, covered by stacks of bandages that covered them. The doctor had told him she wou ld never see him again. The damage had been extensive, causing immediately blindness beyond repair. They had already told her, since there was no relative or anybody to be supportive enough to her to tell her the truth in a more subtle manner. She simply lay back in the bed and listened as they explained how the damage had caused her blindness and how h er eyesight could not be returned. She actually smiled when the doctor offered her therapy and an appointment with a psychiatrist who would help her to deal with this. She had sent the doctor away and had been lying in the bed quietly since, ignoring the pleas to eat something or to try an d cope with the situation. At the end they were forced to feed her through an IV, telling that if she didn't want to listen to them, she would be fed through a tube. She didn't even budge when they told her. The ironic expression on her face said enough. She simply did not care. Therefore, Fox Mulder felt uneasy when he sat down beside her, not knowing what to say. "I know you," the woman said, her hands resting calmly on the sheets that covered her bruised body, "I saw your face before I lost my eyes. You're his son, aren't you?" "Yes," Mulder said after clearing his throat. Coming here was a mistake, he could feel it. He wanted to get out of here and forget all about her, like his father did. But he couldn't. If his father didn't feel guilty, he did. It was their fault the woman was lying here and he couldn't turn his back on her. The woman turned her face towards him as if she could see him, and continued, "Did you come here to ease your conscience?" "No, I came here to see how you were." "To see how I am." She smiled. "That's a good choice of words. What's your name?" "Fox Mulder." "Strange name." He smiled. "Yes, I know. Please call me Mulder, everybody else does." "I'm not like anybody else ... Fox." Her mouth spat out his name as if it was a curse. He couldn't help but shrink a bit, feeling restless on the seat next to her. "You are an attractive guy," she said, her hand rummaging through her hair. "Are you married?" "No." "Girlfriend?" "No. Not that it's any of your business." "How come you're single, then? You sound hurt. Did you have a relationship recently that faltered? Did she hurt your feelings and dump you?" He thought of Phoebe knowing how much it still hurt. He didn't want to talk about this. Not with some complete stranger whom he had just met. Not while this stranger was in hospital trying to get used to blindness. "I like you," she suddenly said after a short silence, "I wouldn't mind getting to know you better. That is, if you don't mind." *I do mind.* "I don't live here anymore," he quickly said, taking the opportunity to grab his coat, "I left Martha's Vineyard years ago." "Then why were you here?" "With all due respect, Miss Messenger, that is none of your business. I came here to tell you I'm sorry this has happened to you, and that's all. I hope you'll feel better soon." Her hands suddenly clawed at the bandages around her eyes. He watched her frantically as her long fingernails tore at the skin around her eyes. Then he could see her eyes. They were simply dead. There was not a spark of light in them anymore. She was simp ly blind and her pupils seemed to have lost all their color and expression. It was terrible. He held his breath and stared at her for a long time. "If you think I'm going to let you get away with it this easily, you have no idea what is coming to you. I'll get even with you, I swear. You have caused this, so don't come here and pity me with some fake sentiments. If you think you've been wasting your time here, think about this for the rest of your life. You hear me?" Her voice became a harsh sound, almost unbearable. He couldn't listen to it. "You hear me?!" she shouted as he left the room with his coat over his arm. Outside, in the hallway he trembled as he leaned heavily against the white wall. The nurse passing him stared at him in surprise, asking him if he was okay. He continued to tremble as he passed her, leaving the hospital in a hurry. Every fiber in his body told him it had been a mistake to visit this woman, but he felt like he had to. After all, it was his father that had caused all of this. And it was his father that stayed away from her right now. As he left the hospital and walked into the parking lot, he felt someone watching him. As he looked up he could see her standing behind the window of her hospital room, her dead eyes focused on him. He knew she could see him somehow. He just couldn't expl ain it. Friday, January 15 "Mulder?" Scully woke with his name on her lips before she was even fully conscious and aware of what was happening to her. It was the last thing he had heard her say before she passed out, and now it was the first thing she said when waking up. He felt a shiver run down his spine. Dressed in sweats, Mulder sat in the wheelchair next to the bed. He had been here since early this morning, refusing to listen to the doctor's advice to stay in bed and rest. He made it perfectly clear he didn't want to sit back and enjoy the ride, knowin g that the person most important to him in life was still fighting for her life. He had been taken here by Tom, accompanied by Skinner as they entered his hospital room early in the morning. He had been wide awake, refusing to take any more painkillers or sleeping pills. Slowly but surely he was regaining his senses and his mind was f inally able to recapture what had happened. Despite everyone's conviction it had been a dream, he knew for a fact he had seen the woman sitting next to him as she took Scully's eyes somehow to see again. He knew that when he found her, she would no longer be blind, thus defying every law of nature. But now, Scully was the one lying with bandages over her eyes in the ICU, and it was her blindness that shocked him the most. He knew he would never forget. As he came in the room, Margaret Scully looked up surprised, immediately hugging him and asking him if he was okay. He smiled faintly and told her he was fine, desperate not to see the tears in the woman's eyes. She sat down again immediately, telling him her daughter was still unconscious. For the first time Mulder stared at the pale, bruised body of the woman in the bed. Everything in her had seemed to have lost its color, even the redness of her hair. He hardly recognized her. Machines were pumping life into her, oxygen was provided to he lp her breathing. The respirator they had intubated had been removed an hour before he entered the room. She was slowly regaining consciousness. As if on cue, she started to mumble words, incoherent and vague. Then she called out his name, her hands searching over the blankets that lay on top of her frail body. Mulder grabbed it uneasily, remembering the last time he had seen a woman like this. It was the hardest thing for him to do right now, to reach out for her and comfort her when she needed him the most. He wanted to leave this hospital and find the one who had done this to her, but not now. How long before she would start blaming him for her situation? How long before she would send him out of the room and tell him she never wanted to hear his voice again? How long before she would realize she was blind for life, leaving her without a single spark of light? "Mulder?" she said again, grabbing his fingers with an amazing force, "Mulder, talk to me." He couldn't. He just pushed himself up and leaned over her, kissing her on the cheek. "It's okay," he finally said soothingly, his eyes focused on the woman sitting on the other side of the bed, "I'm right here, Scully." "Mulder, are you okay?" "Yeah, I am. Don't worry about me. Just concentrate on getting better." Her fingers touched his face, following the lines over his cheeks, nose and mouth. He could feel the tips of her fingers entering his mouth, her touch softly scanning the insides of his lips. He kissed them. She seemed content with his presence and fell asleep with her hand still in his. He realized she had to know he was all right before she could concentrate on getting better, but how was he ever going to tell her the truth? He couldn't tell her. He couldn' t face up to the facts. Mulder felt a soft hand on his shoulder and looked into Maggie's face close to his. "You should get some rest," she said, "Dana needs you." The scent of medication and hospital was intruding his nose. He couldn't stay here. He needed to find her. But they wouldn't let him leave, he knew that. "You're right," he said hoarsely. "Will you tell me when she wakes up again?" "Of course." Maggie kissed him softly and watched as he sank down into the chair and let himself be wheeled out of the room by Tom. As they left, Skinner turned towards her. "He's up to something," she said softly, "I can feel it. I've seen that look in his eyes before, when my daughter was in the hospital." "I know he's looking for someone to blame," Skinner responded, frowning his forehead with the thought of having to restrain his former agent from making stupid moves." "That woman he's been talking about?" "The woman doesn't exist, Maggie. Nobody saw her except for him. It was all in his mind." "But she did exist once?" "Yes, and she died in 1986. There is no more Lisa Messenger. Whatever ghosts and demons Mulder has to face, he's seeking them from his past. He's putting the blame on someone he can blame for this, not knowing he isn't the one to be blamed." She sighed deeply and sat down on the chair again, staring at her daughter's sleeping form. She would be the one telling Dana she was blind for life. Right now she could only feel gratitude for the little time she had left to prepare herself for it. But w hen Dana woke up again, she would demand answers. And she knew her daughter well enough to know she would not accept them easily. to be continued .. Subject: The Messenger 3/6 Monday, December 16, 1986 Bill Mulder heard the car pull up but didn't make the effort to see who it was. He knew the sound of that engine, and by the footsteps heard nearby, he was convinced his son had returned home. But it wasn't him. Another Chrysler was pulled up in the driveway and the man approaching the house was one he hadn't seen in a few days. Bill sighed and put down his glass, angry because he was disturbed in his time off. "What do you want?" he asked angrily as he didn't invite the man in. The smoker however didn't bother to ask permission to enter the house and passed him by, sitting down immediately on the couch he was familiar with. "I heard you were involved in an accident," he said, looking amused at the glass in Bill's hand, "heard you blinded a girl." "So what if I did?" "The cops wouldn't mind having a go at you, Bill. They don't like the influence you have in our government." "Are you saying they would come after me for this? I didn't do anything wrong. I wasn't the one being careless here." "I know, but witnesses claiming you drove too fast are easily found. You of all people should know that, Bill." Bill Mulder sat down and groaned, putting his head between his hands. He slowly began to understand the consequences of his actions. They could nail him easily if they wanted to. But why? He had done nothing wrong. He had sacrificed his own daughter to th e Project. What more could they want from him? The smoking man inhaled and then pushed the cigarette butt in the ashtray. "I've been told your son is going to join the FBI soon. I thought we had an agreement on that matter?" "No," Bill said calmly, shaking his head, "You had an agreement, not me. I never intended to stop him from pursuing his goals." "And what is his goal?" "To become a profiler. To be what his father refused to be, a good man. To work for a government he still believes in, even if I don't anymore." The smoker smiled sarcastically, wondering when in the world Bill Mulder had become such a sentimental guy. But this wasn't about sentiments. They all knew it was about Samantha. "I want you to stop your son, Bill. He is not allowed inside the FBI. If he starts snooping around he will become his father. We had to stop you too. What would it take for you to realize you are crossing dangerous paths here? Stop your son or I will stop you." Bill swallowed, knowing the man who used to be his friend wasn't lying. They would do anything to stop him, even use an accident that had caused an innocent woman's blindness. Bill bit his lip, staring too hard in front of him and waiting too long to give an answer. "I can't stop my son. We don't speak much these days." "Then I suggest you start talking. The moment he enters the FBI, a price will be put on his head, Bill. Is that what you want for him?" The smoker rose and prepared to leave. "And now, I've got to fix this mess you've caused with this woman, before your trouble causes problems for the Project." The Smoking Man laughed silently at the look of guilt on Bill's face. His old friend had no idea what had really gone down. A second car pulled up the driveway, identical to the first. Fox Mulder stared at the vehicle in contempt, knowing who drove it. He hated the man that used to come to their house so often in the past. What would it take for his father to face up to realit y? Didn't he see he was being used? Fox Mulder was angry and hurt when he entered the house, using the spare key. In the living room, he found the two men arguing, their conversation suddenly coming to a stop as they watched them. The man whose name he didn't know got up quickly and left wi thout saying a word. As Fox stared at his father, he knew something had happened. But Bill wouldn't be willing to talk about it. Sunday, January 17 The room was just as quiet as when he had left it. He couldn't face it by himself. He wanted to lock himself up in a dark, silent room and become a solitary man again, as he had been before he met Scully. When was the last time he had gotten involved with someone before she came? Diana? Funny, he hardly thought about her anymore now. She seemed to be a part of the past he had wanted to forget. But now it all came back to him. The big fight with his father before turning his back on Martha's Vineyard for over a year. The cause of the fight, a woman who was not worth fighting for. The reason he first started to suspect his father was involved in something too hideous to be true. It was all so long ago, yet today it seemed like it happened only a few weeks ago. "Mulder, are you okay?" Tom's voice was close to his. The man seemed worried about Mulder's state of mind. Even if he kept his voice under control, Mulder without a doubt could make out the concern in the man's eyes. They had become good friends over the past six months. If something happened to either of them, the other one soon learned of it. But even though Mulder had come to trust Fielding, the distance sometimes was still there. How could he tell the man about everything he had seen and heard? How co uld a stranger ever comprehend how far a human being could go into concealing something so hideous from his own son? "Yeah, I'm fine," Mulder responded, eager now to get back into the bed and forget all about it for a while. But as soon as he slipped in between the covers, the fatigue and exhaustion made him restless and unable to find the peace he needed so badly. He j ust couldn't get the image of that woman out of his mind, knowing she was the one he needed to find. Tom waited until he leaned back into the soft pillows before sitting down, saying, "I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, Mulder, but you are not responsible for this accident." He looked at the man eagerly, "Have you even tried to find her?" "Yes. We found a Lisa Messenger in the FBI databases, a woman who died in 1986 in Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts. She is dead, Mulder, as I'm sure you already knew." "Someone died in '86 but it wasn't Lisa. I saw her, Tom. Even if you have difficulty comprehending it, please believe me on this one. She was there." "Mulder, someone must have seen her but there weren't any witnesses to the fact. By the time they reached your car, you were unconscious. You only regained consciousness when they started talking to you. You passed out again inside the ambulance and weren 't lucid when they brought you into the ER. If there was a woman, no one saw her." "Then people were lying. You need to talk to them, Tom. Try and find out. Someone's lying and I want to know why. And I need to know..." Mulder's voice choked as he cleared his throat. "I need to find out why she took Scully's eyes and not mine." Tom glared at the feverish expression on his friend's face. The man obviously wasn't doing too well. He resisted the urge to leave the room and get some doctors in here when Mulder grabbed him by the wrist again, using all the waning strength he had in hi m. "Talk to the Cancer Man about it. I'm convinced he knows." *Cancer Man?* Tom remembered the man's old, wrinkled face and the scent of the Morleys he was always smoking. If there was one man in the world he didn't want to mess with, it was the chain-smoking bastard that always seemed to be involved. But how would he be involved, and why? "Okay, Mulder," Tom said calmly, forcing himself to regain his posture. "I promise I'll try everything to find out. But you have to promise me not to do anything stupid, all right?" Mulder smiled, "Stupid? Me? Never." Tom couldn't help but smile. Sunday, January 17 The woman sitting in the booth smiled as she looked outside, taking in the colors of the world for the first time in long. She hadn't remembered what it was like to be able to look at the world with real eyes, and not from the inside of a mind, gathering information encrypted in the brain. She inhaled deeply as the cigarette lingered on her lips. She would never return to the past again. Thirteen years of blindness had been enough to drive her almost insane. And now the promise had been fulfilled and she had gotten what she wanted. But it w asn't over yet. The man slipping opposite of her in the booth smiled sarcastically as he watched her smoke. "Bad habit, Lisa." "Look who's talking." She watched his wrinkled face and remembered seeing it for real so long ago. He had changed but not much. He had just grown older. The eyes were still dead and cold, the insides of his brain were probably still as rotten as it had be en before. "How do you like your new eyes?" "I love them. I guess I should thank you for participating in this." "I didn't do anything other than pay your medical bills and make sure you were provided for -- comfortably. We owed you that much. You did all this by yourself, though." "What's going to happen to the woman now?" Lisa asked lighting another cigarette, "is she going to die?" "No. But I suppose it depends on you now. I suspect if you want her to die, she'll die. You have the ability to control that, Lisa, though. We've never come across that before. You took her eyes to give yourself new ones. That kind of ability could be val uable." "I don't want her dead. I got what was mine, that's all I wanted." "Good." The man quickly slid out of the booth but was stopped by her hand on his wrist. As he looked down on her he saw her forceful blue eyes piercing into his. "I could have taken his eyes, but I decide it would be more punishment if it happened to someone he loved. She'll end up hating him for this, I know." "Agent Mulder is not to be harmed," the man said, "He's a necessary part of a classified operation. A man without a goal or a purpose in his life is a dangerous man. If the woman had died, he would have become dangerous. If you had taken his eyes, he woul d not have been stopped." "And what if I change my mind?" The smoker's face changed into an angry smile, "We won't have another discussion on the subject. I approached you for a reason. I took care of you and you agreed to remain silent. Let's leave it at that, shall we?" She nodded slowly. "All right." As he left the diner, he knew she would not keep her promise. His face turned angry and full of contempt again. She had become a liability. Tuesday, December 17, 1986 Fox Mulder woke up with his sister's name on his lips. He pushed himself up on his elbows, immediately realizing he was at home in his own bed. Oh, God, it had been such a vivid dream again. He struggled to escape the barriers that held him out of reality . Quickly he shoved the blankets away from him and slid out of bed. It was quiet in the house. He didn't like the silence. He had long since gotten used to falling asleep with the TV on, its humming working as a sleeping pill on him. As he walked downstairs, he could hear faint voices in the living room arguing with one another. He froze and stood still in his tracks, and listened to them as they fought. His mother was here! Why hadn't he been told? Surely, she would have come up to s ee him, wouldn't she? He was eager to talk to her and tell her he was going to go with her. He didn't want to stay with his father anymore. But the woman's voice was angry and filled with contempt as she argued with the man she had been married to for over fifteen years. "No, Bill," she said forcefully, her back turned toward her son who stood behind the door, watching them, "I won't talk to him." "You don't understand, Teena," Bill responded, his hands clutched together as if he was in pain. "He's been threatened, you see? You have to tell him to back away from the offer the FBI has given him. He can't start working there, not if it means endanger ing his life." "Our son will not have to pay for a mistake you made. If you hadn't run over that girl, all of this wouldn't have happened. Your failure will not ruin my son's life!" "He's my son, too, Teena! Do you think I like what is happening here? Do you think I wanted all of this?" "Your stupidity has cost us our daughter, Bill! I will not have you punish Fox for this, too." "Then what do you expect me to do? To tell my son the truth? That I am partly responsible for my daughter's disappearance? That I have let them take her to commit myself to the Project? This will kill him, Teena! It will destroy him. I cannot do this to h im!" A gasp coming from just outside the door startled them both. Then, the running footsteps told them their son had been listening and heard it all. "Oh, God," Teena exclaimed before running to the door to find her son. But he was already gone, taking the ca r keys of Bill's vehicle with him. A few seconds later he drove off. Teena bit her lip, knowing what she had done. *Oh, God. It's over.* They heard a loud screeching of tires followed by a crash just outside the house, and they were both startled when it shook them out of their stupor. "Fox!" Teena heard herself scream as she ran out to the driveway, knowing what she would find. Bill's car had collided with another one, her son obviously not paying attention to where he was going. The crash had been hard enough to overturn his vehicle s o that it would be difficult to get him out. As she ran to the driver's seat she could see her son's unconscious form pressed against the metal of the vehicle. His face and head were bleeding. "Fox?" she said, reaching in through the broken out window to touch his face with her hand. He didn't respond to her as he lay unconscious, oblivious to anything they were trying to say or do. Bill Mulder could only stare in shock., thinking, *Don't let me lose him too. I need him to expose the Project.* But his son was unaware of his silent pleas. Monday, January 18 What Mulder dreaded had finally come. Seated next to her bed he could suddenly feel her fingers clutch in his, and then they freed himself to touch the bandages on her face. He hadn't known she was awake because he couldn't see it. Her eyes were still cov ered, her face still pale and damaged. "My eyes hurt," she said slowly," why are they covered, Mulder? I can't see. What's wrong with my eyes?" A silence followed because he couldn't tell her the truth. In despair he stared at her mother, begging her silently for help. He grabbed her fingers and brought them to his lips as he had done when she was in the hospital fighting off the cancer. He couldn't say it. He couldn't be the one telling his friend she would never see again. She tore herself from him and brought her hands to her face again, her fingers clawing at the wrapped eyes, trying to pull off the bandages. She had become Lisa Messe nger. Her calm voice sounded louder now, more terrified and pale like that of a small child. "Mulder, I can't see. Mom, Mom, are you there? Talk to me!" Her mother rose from the chair quietly. She touched her daughter's face, taking her hands into her own, and whispered softly, "It's okay, Dana, I'm right here. So is Fox. You'll be all right. Your eyes need some rest right now, you've been through a lot. You will be okay, I swear." Mulder stared at the woman in shock. How could she promise something that was not going to happen? She was feeding her daughter with promises she couldn't keep! But he knew why she did it. What was life but a mixture of feelings and promises given to some one that you cannot keep? Margaret reached for her daughter's hands and took them in hers, pulling the woman closer to her. Then her arms were wrapped around her daughter and she soothed her with small, soothing words like she was a child again. "I'm here, baby," she said, and he could hear the distress in her voice, "It's going to be fine." Scully clung to her mother like a baby to its mother's breast. They were one, those two, and needed each other more than anyone else in the world. Mulder felt contempt for himself. He had helped to cause this somehow, and now there was nothing to do but t o stand back and see what happened next. He watched as her mother attempted to stop her from clawing at the bandages. He didn't want to see her eyes, because he knew exactly what was underneath them. The shattered memories from that time so long ago were all coming back to him now, as was the kn owledge it had all been a setup. He closed his eyes for one moment, remembering Lisa Messenger in a similar hospital room, her eyes bandaged as well. Then she had shown him what was underneath those bandages and he had been shocked and unable to conceal his contempt for her. She had been right to scream at him and accuse him of being involved in her misfortune. If he hadn't returned home that day, and if he'd had a good relationship with his father, they might have been somewhere else at the time. But they had crossed Lisa Messenger's pa th and it had left the woman blind for life. How could they ever make up for that? Mulder knew Scully would not be able to go on like this. She would do everything in her power to stop from living like this, knowing what it was like to be blind. He had seen it in her eyes when they talked to Marty, the girl that had been blinded the day of her birth. She could not imagine what it would be like to live in darkness forever, not able to work as you pleased or to do what you wanted, or to see the people you loved. If there was one thing in her life that she could not miss, it was her eyesig ht. She would not go on like this. *I'm sorry, God.* He almost grinned when he said it, knowing he didn't even believe in a God. How could he ever give her back that one thing she wanted? Scully's doctor entered the room, taking in the scene. He was as calm and cold as ever, sedating his patient with the air of someone who can control life and death. It didn't take long for Scully's weak body to give in to the darkness, and she slept almos t instantly. Then the man looked at Mulder, obviously dissatisfied with the fact he had ignored his previous suggestion to rest. "If you don't go to your room voluntarily, Mr. Mulder, I'm going to have someone drag you to it, okay?" His impatience infuriated Mulder. H e wanted to get up and kick his ass, but then Skinner's hand was on his arm and he said, "Not here. Come on, Mulder." Skinner guided him back to his room, knowing exactly what was going through the agent's mind. Mulder was exhausted but hadn't been wanting to give in to the fatigue. Skinner watched him with concern, not knowing what to say. "Kersh told me to let you know you can take all the time you need. But I want you to talk to someone about this, Mulder. You're obviously not doing well." "I'm fine," the agent said hoarsely as he ignored the sharp pain in his chest, "I'm not the one lying blind in a hospital bed, am I?" "Would you have preferred it to be you?" "Do you mean, if I could take her place, would I do it? The answer is yes." "That wouldn't help anyone, Mulder, and you know it. Scully's blindness has been caused by an accident. Whatever you feel might have happened is subject to discussion. I know you think you saw a woman there you haven't spoken to in thirteen years. I know you think she's somehow responsible for this accident. But wouldn't it be more plausible to consider the fact you are mixing up your current accident with events from your past? I read your file, Mulder. You had an accident in Martha's Vineyard and woke u p in the hospital with memory loss. You couldn't recall how you ended up there. You stated that the events leading to the accident were confusing. Perhaps this accident triggered your memory somehow." Mulder couldn't help but smile sarcastically, "You could say that. I remember everything now. Every single detail." "I don't understand." Mulder leaned back against the pillows, "Sir, I don't want to talk about it now. I'm tired." He closed his eyes, determined not to speak. Skinner frowned angrily and sat down. *I'll indulge you for now, Mulder,* the man thought, *but not for much longer. You are going to talk to me, whether you like it or not.* Skinner had no way of knowing Mulder's mind was reforming the events that happened so long ago, but that had been pushed into the back of his mind by the accident that put him in the same hospital as Lisa Messenger. Thursday, December 19, 1986 *Oh, God, my son is dying and it's my fault.* Bill Mulder stared at the near-lifeless form of his son, hooked up to the machinery in the ICU unit of the small local hospital. He wanted to go in there and touch his son's hand and to tell him how sorry he w as, but he didn't dare to. It all seemed so pointless right now, all so trite. And to think that the woman he had ran over was only four doors down. The doctor walked over to him with a frown on his face, a file in his hand. "How is my son?" Bill heard Teena ask. The words "my son" hurt him more than he could say, but he bit his lip and listened to the doctor's explanation that all depended on how long the young man remained in this state. "I am afraid that this accident will cause memory loss or even brain damage," the doctor said, deliberately staring at the file in his hands, "I have no way of telling you at this point how long it will be before he wakes up, or what the situation will be like as soon as he does." Bill heard his ex-wife cry and wondered whether he should even attempt to comfort her. He didn't. He turned away from her and stared behind the glass at his son's body. *I'm sorry, Fox. I'm sorry you heard our argument. I'm sorry I did this to you. I'm so rry they took Samantha away from you.* The man frowned and walked into the room, sitting on a chair next to his son's body. The boy suddenly moved and jerked his eyes open, fighting against the respirator in his throat. His eyes seemed unable to focus on anything. "Fox?" Bill grasped his son's fingers and waited filled with tension until the boy reacted. The doctor was in the room immediately, talking soothingly against him. Eventually Bill's son calmed down and closed his eyes again, almost getting used to the tub e in his throat. The doctor turned towards them, saying, "I'm going to see how it goes. We'll pull out the respirator the next time he wakes up. If he manages to breathe on his own, there is a great chance he'll be okay. It does look hopeful, I'm glad he woke up." The man smiled and left them alone in the room, staring awkwardly towards each other. "I'm sorry." Bill could hardly make out his own words. "I know." Teena sat down on the chair and watched her son. Right now she didn't really need to talk to her former husband, let alone discuss with him why all of this was happening. She would have to be the one talking to the man that had once been so impo rtant in her life. And she would have to be the one persuading him to drop the matter. If not for Bill, then at least for her son. Tuesday, January 19 Mulder was persuasive in his conviction not to stay in the hospital any longer. Despite the doctor's advice he released himself, pressuring Tom into bringing him clothes and driving him home. It had been less than a day since he last saw Scully but he did n't want to talk to her right now. He didn't want her to know how he felt. Her family was more important to her right now. He would not be able to bring in anything to help her get through this. Tom was quiet during the drive to Mulder's place, waiting patiently until his friend spoke to him. Mulder didn't however. He sat quietly next to his friend and stared outside. It had been a couple of days since he had seen the outsides of the hospital. Th e only thing reminding him of the accident was the pain his chest and the cast around his wrist. He was a wreck, but mentally more than physically. He had ignored Skinner's plea to talk to someone about it. He wanted to linger on the memories of happiness before the accident happened, and to see the light in her eyes before the car was crushed by a truck. That was the only thing to keep him going rig ht now. That, and the knowledge that he needed to find Lisa Messenger. Or she would find him. Suddenly, he saw a woman on the sidewalk, her face and body covered with a black, hooded coat. "Stop the car!" he heard a voice yell, only to find out later it was his own. Tom instinctively reacted by pushing his brakes, leaving the car to jerk and stop on the curb. Before the vehicle had come to a full stop, Mulder was already out and running to the woman in the black coat. The woman turned and walked away from him, but not before he had caught a glimpse of fierce blue eyes and a pale, scarred face. It was her! He ran towards her, covering his chest with his good arm, the other still in the cast and sling. He had trouble bre athing as he ran towards her, hearing someone behind him calling his name. Then he reached the spot where she had been, only to find she was lost in the crowd that surrounded him. He stopped and breathed heavily, concentrating on the present to keep himself from passing out. He felt lightheaded and angry with himself for letting her slip away from him. "Mulder!" Tom was next to him immediately, and the next moment he felt a strong hand on his arm. He swayed on his legs, thankful for Tom's support. "Easy does it, Mulder," the man said, waiting patiently until his friend was able to catch his breath again. "Are you okay?" "Yeah." Mulder pushed away the arm and forced himself to look up again, his face covered with sweat. "She was here, Tom!" He could feel his friend's sympathetic look as he said, "Take it easy. If she was here, we'll find her." Mulder noticed people were staring at them and regained his composure. As he looked up, the woman was nowhere to be found. Tom finally let go of him and watched him as he did a few steps forward. Angry with himself the agent turned and walked slowly back to the car, again feeling a sharp pain in his chest. In the car, Tom waited for Mulder to speak again, but he didn't. Mulder closed his eyes and waited until the car started again, before drifting off into a dreamless sleep. By the time they reached the apartment, Tom was ready to drive back to the hospital in despair, worried that Mulder had hurt himself. But the agent opened his eyes as soon as the vehicle stopped and started to climb out of the car. This time he didn't argue when Tom offered a helping hand, leading him inside the building. By the time Tom had him seated on the couch, he was ready to drop. He didn't argue when his friend fetched a blanket from the closet and pulled it over him, leaving him on the couch fully dressed but without shoes. The last thing he knew before he fell as leep, was Tom's worried look as the man grabbed the phone and made a call. Wednesday, January 20 Fox Mulder woke up to the sound of voices in his apartment. His first reaction was to make a move towards his gun and point it at the intruders, but something told him these were his friends talking, and they were concerned about him. Sun was peering through the window of his apartment, wakening him as he lay on the couch. Quietly and unmoving, he remained there for a long time, wondering how long it would take for them to find out he was awake. He didn't want to give them the knowledg e of his current state of wakefulness, knowing that they would immediately stop talking and pretend he was the victim in all of this. "If he doesn't want to talk to someone voluntarily, I'm going to make sure he's going to see the FBI's psychiatrist. I don't like the way he's reacting to all of this." That was Skinner's voice. "He won't appreciate this, sir," Tom's voice said softly, and Mulder could just imagine the man's concerned eyes as they rested on him. From all the friends he had made within the bureau, Tom was the one that knew him the best, and he didn't even know the whole truth. He would also be the one most difficult to fool. "Mulder doesn't want to accept the possibility of being the victim, he's too busy to find out who this woman is he claims to have seen." "Do you think she was for real?" "Frankly, sir? I don't know. I believe Mulder but I also believe the possibility that he might be mixing up the past with the present. If this accident triggered responses from the previous one, triggered his memory somehow, he might in fact be seeing thi ngs that aren't real. But I believe that he believes and that's enough for me." "So what do we do then?" "Keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't go after that woman by himself, because we all know he'll go looking for her, sir." "You're right," Skinner said after a while, "you are absolutely right. I want you to stay with him, Tom. No matter what cost, I'll make sure you get some time off to do this. If you need help, call me, but I'm already putting my ass on the line here. If t hey find out that I've spent all of my spare time with Mulder and Scully, they'll haul my ass right back in. I shouldn't even be here, and definitely not be talking to you." "I understand, sir," the younger agent said. A silence followed and then the men spoke briefly again before saying goodbye. Mulder could hear the door close and opened his eyes only to find Tom look at him. The agent carefully got up from his comfortable position and sighed, shifting his body so he could lean against the fabric. "You heard, didn't you?" Mulder nodded and accepted the glass of water his friend poured him. "I am going after that girl, Tom. If you're with me, then fine, but if you're not, I'm going after her myself." Tom frowned. "What about Scully?" Mulder looked at his friend. "What about her?" "Are you going to leave her alone in that hospital, frightened? Don't you think your first priority is her?" "That's exactly what I'm thinking," Mulder said slowly, emptying his glass, "I need to find out how Lisa did it, and then I'll find a way to undo the deed. I'm no use sitting in that hospital at her side. I need to find Lisa first, and then I'll spend tim e with my partner." "You're afraid, aren't you?" Tom said, waiting for his friend to look back at him angrily, "you think that by running away you can solve this matter? Why don't you tell her how you feel, Mulder? She needs to hear it from you!" "She's not in a coma, Tom! She's not dead. She can talk and she can respond. She'll start to hate me soon. It's like that, you see. At the end you always blame the ones that are responsible for what has happened to you." "You're not responsible." "Yes, I am. I got the message and I ignored it." "What message did you get?" Mulder sighed deeply, "There's so much you don't know yet. So much I cannot tell you. It's too difficult to explain, too long a story." Slowly Tom took the glass from his friend's hand and said softly, "I've got all the time in the world." Date: 8 Feb 1999 12:21:09 -0800 From: Sandra Vets Subject: The Messenger 4/6 Friday, December 20, 1986 Fox Mulder woke up in the solitude of his hospital room and wondered where he was. Out of the darkness came a body and a voice said, "Fox, it's your mother. I'm right here, you're going to be fine." He looked at her and tried to remember why he was here. He was in the hospital, but why? And where? It was all so vague. He remembered a woman's body slamming into the windshield of the car, and her screams seemed to deafen him forever. He could remember every single detail. But why was he here? What had brought him here? He remembered an argument, a fight. The words seemed important but he couldn't grasp them. He couldn't find out what they were, or who was saying them. It was all a blur. "Mom," he croaked, feeling the soreness in his throat, "I don't remember." A strange look in his mother's eyes and then a flash of relief, perhaps even happiness. "It's okay, honey," she said soothingly, stroking his face, "It doesn't matter. It's over now. Don't think about it." He fell asleep knowing there was something so important in his life that he needed to remember. But he didn't. And he trusted his mother more than anyone in his entire life. If she said it wasn't important, it was the truth. After all, why would she lie? Wednesday, January 20 Dana Scully had seen the world in good and bad times. She had shared the demons and anger that Mulder has been fighting off for years and years. She had encountered murderers and abductors. She had looked death in the eyes. And everybody knew she wanted t o die when she became blind. For her, without the light in her eyes, there was nothing left. The bandages were finally being removed but it didn't change the facts. Test results concluded that much of the damage to her eyes has been repaired through surgery, but the extensive damage inflicted by the glass was too grave. It had scarred her for lif e. Her eyes were dead and cold, but strangely enough it wasn't just the light that had vanished from them. It was also the anger that came from within her that made her look this way. Somewhere during her stay in the ICU and then the private hospital room, she had turned into herself, refusing to allow anyone to come within two feet from her, shouting and screaming at them for all she was worth. The fatigue inside her had turned into r age, and she was angry with the world and herself. She could smell the flowers in her room, but they reminded her of the fact she could not see them anymore. She wanted to grab them and throw them out of the window, forgetting at the same time everything that was happening to her right now. She wanted to remember the old days and think of her past with Mulder. Yes, it was all in the past now. For her there was no more future. But the man sitting in her room seemed to have found the strength again somehow to be at her side and to make sure she survived. He was the one talking soothing her even though she knew that he didn't believe his own words. She could hear the distress and stress in his voice and realized she loved listening to his soft tones. Then the voice started to change and she found out she started to hate the way he spoke to her. She started to remember everything that had happened to her and how it had happened. She started to think. Why wasn't he the one blind from the crash? What had he been hiding from her? Who was the woman she had heard him talk of when he sat down at her bedside, not knowing she was awake to listen to his words? Deep inside of her the fear of being blind indefinitely changed into rage, but she didn't know how to express it. She simply turned it to the person closest to her, knowing he would be hurt more by the tone of her voice than the words spoken harshly. Litt le did she know it had taken all the conviction of their mutual friends to persuade him to sit here and focus his attention on her. Little did she know he was ready to fight whatever battle was needed to regain what was the most important to her. For Dana Scully all that mattered was the frustration of being blind forever, and the knowledge that the pain inflicted on her could have been caused by others. She needed someone to blame. So, on that cold and chilly night, she turned her attention to her partner, knowing exactly where he was sitting and said with a loud, harsh tone, "I want you to leave." Mulder didn't even know she was awake at the time. Her eyes had been closed for a long time while she let the thoughts run through her system. But her sudden words shook the hell out of him. She couldn't see the shock on his face, nor the way he grabbed a hold of the chair he was sitting on. He knew it had finally happened. She was turning the blame toward him, focusing on the one person that was in the car with her. She couldn't see him, couldn't know that he was eating himself alive. All she knew was that he was there, and he was the one sh e wanted to punish. Her dead eyes stared straight into his and he knew she didn't need to see him. *You don't need eyes to see, you need vision.* She had a vision of him buried in her mind and she used it now to punish him. Mulder opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn't want to talk to her about this. He simply got up and left the room, as Margaret Scully behind him said, "Dana, why did you say that?" He couldn't hear Scully's answer but didn't need to. He closed the door behind him, but Tom was faster and opened it again and stepped outside with him in the hallway. Unconsciously Mulder protected the broken ribs by placing his good arm over his chest a s he sat down, the other arm still encased in a cast and tucked in a sling. Tom was shocked by the dead, numb stare in his friend's eyes. He knew the man could not see him right now. Everything he had worked for these past years was gone. "Mulder, please." Mulder turned toward him, suddenly seeing so much of Scully's type of strength in that man. Mulder wanted to warn the guy that sticking around him was too dangerous for anyone, but he would probably not even listen. He would simply ignore the warning and get on with it. But Mulder knew. He was a liability, not only to himself but to those around him. To Lisa Messenger. He remembered now. December 21, 1986 The face of the woman standing near the bed seemed vaguely familiar to him but he couldn't remember where he had seen her before. He blinked his eyes and moved his face and head to take a better look at her. Then he saw the eyes. They were dead, and he re membered why. Her face smiled, the grin on her was enough to warn him for the danger she represented. "So you're in here, now," she said softly, and her hand seemed to be caressing his arm. He could feel her light touch as her fingers stroked the skin and flesh on his forearm, but it didn't feel good. He hated her touch. "How did you find me?" "You don't need eyes to see, Fox. I know my way around here, in the darkness. You have put me there, you and that father of yours. I'm already used to it." "What do you want? I had nothing to do with your accident. It was an accident after all." "I'm here to tell you that it is not over. It might take a long time before we meet again, but one day I will come to you and offer you a choice, one which you must make. One you will be forced to make. I have made a deal, you see, with someone that will help me. He has come to me and promised me his help and I believe him. He will do what is right for me." "Who came to you?" She smiled as if she was talking to an unknowing child. "Does it matter? The choice has been made, you will suffer the consequences. Some day soon, I promise." She turned and left him alone in the room. He stared at her self-assured walk, and the way she left. She hardly touched the door, hardly seemed to need a way out. She knew every inch of this hospital already and he feared and dreaded the day that promise would be fulfilled. But who did she make a deal with? The door opened again and his father entered the room, his face pale and distraught. He had seen her in the hallway, probably spoken to her as well. Did he make the deal with her? Oh, God, if he could only remember what had happened that night before the accident that caused his memory loss. He needed to find out, but he couldn't. No matter how much he forced his photographic memory, all he got were blurry pictures. Nothing made sense whatsoever. "It's okay, son," Bill Mulder said as if he knew what Fox was going through. "Some day it will all come back. But right now it's not important. You don't need to remember." The man seemed to want to say more, but didn't. His wife entered the room and looked at him with anger and hatred in her cold eyes. What he wanted to ask his son was never asked. She had spoken to their mutual smoking friend and agreed to keep the Consort ium's secrets in exchange for their promise not to hurt Fox. She had saved both Bill and Fox. Bill should be grateful to her but couldn't show her the gratitude she was entitled to. He knew she had to have made some sort of deal, just as he had. The only problem was, what kind? As Bill looked at his silent son, he wished for him to have everything he ever wanted in his life. But not the memories of that one night when he had overheard the conversation between his parents. If he remembered, he would probably remember the truth ab out his sister as well. Bill sighed and left his son alone. It was better if Fox returned to Washington and stayed there. As long as he wasn't with his father, he would not be able to ask him the questions that were burning in his mind. Let him become an FBI agent and let him fi nd out the truth. The cigarette smoking bastard that had caused all of this would have to find other ways to stop him. Wednesday, January 20 Margaret Scully sighed deeply as she left her daughter's hospital room. The young woman had finally fallen asleep, giving her the chance to leave and freshen up a bit. She saw Mulder's downtrodden face as the man stood outside, not knowing what to do. "She didn't mean it," Margaret finally said, hugging her daughter's friend. "She's just confused. We all are." "I know." Mulder attempted a smile as the woman passed him by. He felt years older now, almost her age. He could tell she'd been crying. They all had. Only some of them showed it. Tom Fielding felt more fear for the state of Mulder's mind than for the woman that lay inside the room. He knew Mulder well enough to see the empty depths inside his shallow eyes, staring into something only he could see. Not so long ago, Mulder had told him the story about his sister's abduction and the way it had destroyed the family. Then he had found out what had happened to Scully, her abduction, the return, the cancer. Based on his own experiences, Mulder had convinced Fielding that there was more to the world than could meet the eye, that there were people inside the government that caused innocent people to suffer. He had told him about some of the cases they had inve stigated, looking at Tom carefully as he did. It was almost as if he was challenging the man to run away from him, to get as far away as possible. Tom knew Mulder didn't have many friends. The geeky bunch called The Lone Gunmen (he had read some of their publications), a few friends here and there, and of course the people inside the bureau that cared more about him than he probably knew. Perhaps, t hat was why the man seemed to jump at the opportunity to have someone to trust. He trusted Tom, that was obvious. The question only was, to what length? Mulder still turned inward whenever something went wrong. He still didn't talk when trouble was at hand, and he still stared at Tom sometimes in surprise as if wondering why the man was there. But Mulder was working hard on changing his posture towards hi s friend. He tried. This time, however, Tom felt like shaking Mulder, forcing him to look at him and telling him to straighten himself up. But the dead look in the man's eyes stopped him, and all he could do was grasp his arm and say, "Don't do this to yourself, Mulder. This is not your fault! You weren't the one driving that truck. You could have been killed. Both of you could have. You could have been the one turning blind. Is that what you wanted?" "It would have been more bearable," Mulder quietly said, softly pulling himself free from his friend's grip. Tom stared in shock, knowing what went through the man's mind. "So that's what you wanted, then?" "I would kill myself if that's what it took to give her back her eyes." "Or you would just kill yourself trying to find that woman." Mulder smiled suddenly, but it was a smile that chilled his friend. "Yeah," he laughed almost hysterically, "Yeah, I would, if it would do any good. Is that what you wanted to hear, Tom?" Shocked, Tom let go of him and pointed his finger at Scully's hospital room. "That woman in there needs your help, Mulder. Face it, man. No matter how much you try, she will never blame you. She's confused right now, but she'll live. She'll cope with what has happened to her, but you need to help her. She needs you now more than ever. Go in there and tell her how you feel. How you really feel! How do you expect her to get through this when she doesn't have you to lean back on?" "She blames me." "Only because you blame yourself. You are not to blame, you hear me? Tell her that! She needs you, man. Go back in there." Mulder's face seemed to change from expression as he hesitated, not knowing what to do as he seemed to struggle to compose himself. Finally his hand rested on the doorknob and he opened it. It was as if he needed all the strength inside of him to do so. As they entered the room, a click was heard and then everything went quiet. She wasn't in her room. The bathroom door was closed. Mulder stood still as Tom walked over to it and knocked on it. "Scully?" No answer came and then he tried to open the door. It wasn't locked. Mulder stared through the room at the IV dangling next to the empty bed, leaving a trace of fluids on the floor. The sheets and blankets were pulled back, it was obvious she had been wai ting for her mother to leave. Then he heard a shout coming from the bathroom and as he walked over, he saw through the open door the face of a woman he hardly recognized. In shock, Mulder stared at her, as she sat on the floor with a piece of glass in her fingers. Small pieces of glas s were embedded in the palm of her hand. She had cracked the bathroom mirror with both fists, knocking against it so hard that it broke under her strength. Then she had taken one piece, obviously in an attempt to slash her own throat. "Oh, God," Mulder heard himself say. Tom ran outside to get help as his friend stepped forward and sank down next to his partner. Her hands were bleeding from the glass. Her fingers were gripped tightly around it and were moving blindly toward her throat. Mulder had known she couldn't live like this, and now it had finally come to this point. He grabbed both her hands with his good hand, holding her hands away from her throat. He squeezed her wrists hard and forced her to drop the glass. Then he pulled he r to him, as her face showed the expression of pure fear. She shivered and startled as he moved towards her. She pounded her fists against his chest, leaving blood on his clothes. He stared at it as an enormous pain shot through his body, and she damaged his ribs and body even more without knowing it. He didn't even wince when her fists hit him so hard. Mulder couldn't do anything but stare at her blood. She was the religious one. And now, she was one doing what her religion told her not to do. Sweet Jesus. She pushed herself away from him finally as she crawled closer up to the wall, protecting herself by putting her hands over her knees and rocking back and forth, her face covered with her own hair. He didn't try to move in closer, knowing how much she nee ded this bit of privacy still left. For days, people had bathed and dressed her. For days she had not had one inch of privacy. Now she needed this to survive. "Scully..." he almost choked on that one word, putting in all the terror and fear he felt for her. His body felt like it was going to explode soon. He needed to tell her how important she was for him. "Let me die..." she suddenly blurted out, and tears rolled down her cheeks as she rocked back and forth, back and forth. "Please, just let me die. I can't live like this." She was like a small child in need of comfort. Her words shocked him beyond repair. He stared at her as if he had never seen her before. This was not the Scully he knew but a woman created in a few days time, created by something beyond their reach. He sh ould have seen it coming. As others entered the room and looked at the scene, she suddenly turned towards him like a fury, her blind eyes staring into nothingness as she screamed, "Why did you have to drive? It's your fault! You caused this! I hate you! I wish you were dead. I'm g lad I can't see you anymore. I hate you! You killed my sister, now you've killed me!" He backed away from her and got up, his hand instinctively across his chest. He blocked out the physical pain but the mental one was still there. He ignored the others in the room and refused to stare at Bill Scully, whom he hadn't even seen before. In th e man's eyes lay all the hatred one human being could have for another. *You sorry son of a bitch.* He could almost hear the man thinking it. He watched from a distance as they calmed her down, putting her carefully back into the bed. She was cleaned up and bandaged, and he could hear the doctor whisper about her talking to a psychiatrist. They sedated her, leaving her in oblivion as her brothe r sat down next to her and stroked her hair. Her mind was gone. Everything was lost. Or so it felt. He stared at her pale, numb face and knew it. She would not live like this. She was too proud to depend on others. She wanted to die, and unless they stopped her, she would kill herself. She would end it all. Mulder turned and left the room, walking through the corridor when Skinner called out his name. He ignored it and kept on walking until he was in the cold air suddenly, shivering in his sweater and jeans. And there she was. Standing in the parking lot of the hospital, staring at him from under the hood of that black coat, and her eyes peered at him. Jesus, he knew those eyes! He had fallen in love with them so long ago. Now they weren't Scully's anymore. T hey were Lisa's. As illogical as it sounded, that's what he knew right now. She had taken Scully's eyes. And when he looked at her, he knew the time had come to listen to her offer, one she was more than willing to make. He stepped toward her, grabbed her arm and watched as she winced with pain from the force he used on her. "Easy now, Fox," she calmly said, her face in that grin he had seen so many years ago, "you don't want to harm the one person who can save your precious little partner, now can you?" Mulder let go of her and stared at her as she turned and walked to a waiting car. There, she turned and looked at him. She could see him struggle with his own thoughts. Would he go with her and take the risk, or have her arrested and charged and then watc h as everyone declared him nuts? "Well?" she said as she opened the door. He hesitated no longer and opened the passenger door, sliding into the vehicle next to her. As he did, he could see Tom leave the building and walk toward them, his face filled with fear and anger at the same time. The car left the lot quickly, driven by the woman that had become his nemesis. Mulder stared at his hands. Part II : A life for a life Wednesday, January 20 The woman had slim fingers and hands. She hummed as she drove her vehicle to the edge of town and glanced over at the man seated next to her. "Tell me how you've been, Fox," she asked, her voice soft and almost gentle as she showed genuine interest in her victim's life. "I'm sure you know," he responded, knowing what he read and saw in her eyes. "Who was the man that contacted you so long ago?" She whistled slowly. "So you remember." "Yeah. How did you know I had forgotten?" She smiled, "A little bird told me. Do you miss your father?" He swallowed away his anger and impatience, knowing he would be more than happy to kill her with his bare hands right now if she said one word wrong. "Yeah, I do. Did you miss your eyesight?" Her face changed expression quickly, her anger taking over as she clasped the steering wheel, forcing herself to stare forward. "It's been hell," she finally said, and a sense of sadness came over her. Mulder leaned back heavily against the seat as he stared at her, the pieces slowly falling together. He remembered the conversation between his parents. He remembered the promises and the contact his father had with the smoking man. How did the Smoking Ma n figure in all this? "Why don't you ask me the question?" she suddenly said, her voice filling the emptiness. "All right. Did you jump on purpose in front of my father's car?" She smiled. "What if I did?" "Then you alone were responsible for your blindness. How did you take Scully's eyes?" "It seems I wasn't quite the acrobat I thought I was. I was supposed to pretend to be injured, but I miscalculated and your father's car actually hit me. Would you believe me if I said I don't know how I took your partner's vision? I had the ability someh ow and I used it. Sounds irrational, doesn't it? I don't think your partner would believe me, but you do. Otherwise you wouldn't be in the car with me." "Why Scully? Why not me?" "I wanted to hurt you in the worst way that I could, and still help myself. You would give everything for her. You are irrational as well, Fox, to invest so much in one woman. Don't you know that the best men have fallen that way? Is she worth the fall?" "She's worth everything to me," he blurted out, swallowing the lump in his throat as he did, "I would die for her." She laughed again, taking the car out of town. As they did, she turned to him and said, "They would kill me if they knew I had taken you with me. He told me not to but I ignored him. I am enjoying my revenge on you and your father. Someone has to pay for what was done to me." "Someone has to pay?" "Yes, and I've decided it will be you." "An eye for an eye?" "And a life for a life. I'm sure Agent Scully wouldn't mind getting her eyes back, would she? And as for me .." she touched his face with her fingertips, "I've always loved hazel eyes." Her touch burned in his skin like a hot iron. Wednesday, January 20 The smoker found her hospital room easily. He knew her family and friends hadn't left it for days, not willing to give her what she wanted. In the hallway he found out she had tried to kill herself with a piece of glass, gashing her hands in the process. He almost smiled when he heard. He remembered the last time Scully had lain in a hospital bed. He had given her partner the cure for her illness, knowing and anticipating it would buy him his loyalty to the man he had always hated. But it hadn't. It had all backfired on him and it had n early cost the smoker his own life. He had paid dearly for his betrayal towards the Project and his loyalty to Fox Mulder. He had done it because of the last bit of feelings he still had for Teena Mulder, and for the growing respect he felt for the FBI agent struggling to survive in a world that was too tough for him. It had all gone wrong and then he had set the office on fi re, hoping this would stop the man. It hadn't. The trip to the Arctic had nearly cost the Project a valuable asset and a lot of time. Mulder seemed a man unable to be stopped. But everyone had his weak spot and Mulder's weakness lay inside that room, ready to give up. So many years ago, Lisa Messenger had been kept from destroying Bill Mulder and thereby damaging the Consortium. That she had turned out to have this strange abil ity was unforeseen, But why wouldn't someone use the power they possess for the greater good? Maybe these unforeseen circumstances could work on the Consortium's behalf. Why not take Dana Scully and use her against the one man that needs her more than anyone in the world. Us e her to stop his meddling in affairs that were best left alone. "What the hell are you doing here?" The smoker turned around to see the assistant director stare in anger at him, his hands clenching and unclenching, eager to punch out the Smoking Man's lights. "I came to see how Agent Scully was," he responded, resisting the urge to light a cigarette. For once he would respect the No Smoking sign, "I heard what happened so I thought I'd come and take a look for myself." "Scully's doing fine." "She's blind, isn't she?" "Yes." "I suppose this is the end of her career within the bureau, isn't it? I'm sure she won't be of much help to her partner without her eyes." Skinner bit his lip, not feeling the pain as his teeth entered the flesh and skin. "Why don't you leave?" The smoker smiled, his face wrinkled into an attempt to sound lighthearted as he said, "Tell her I'll see her soon." As he walked away he turned and grinned, "On the other hand, tell her I'll *talk* to her soon." His laughter was heard through the hallway . As the smoker left, he passed the young agent he had seen a few times before in Mulder's presence. Tom Fielding. An interesting character working for Terry Davis. A brilliant mind but still a rookie who believed in the common good. How long before the kid found out the world was filled with junkies and rotten apples? The kid passed him without hardly glancing at him. As the smoker touched the door, he felt a shiver down his spine. There was something in the young man's eyes he couldn't describe -- fear and anger perhaps. The smoker suddenly had an idea of what must ha ve happened. A sudden rage filled the Smoking Man as he stared at the busy parking lot. Mulder was with Lisa Messenger. And the woman would take his eyes. The smoker bit his lip and walked over slowly to his own car, taking out his cell phone. to be continued .. Subject: The Messenger 5/6 Wednesday, January 20 The men and woman sitting outside of Scully's hospital room all looked concerned, except for one. He was the one that couldn't care less what happened to Fox Mulder. As far as he was concerned, there was only one person responsible for the blindness of hi s sister, and Mulder had just taken off with another woman. "I don't understand why you defend him, Mom," Bill Scully muttered angry, ignoring his mother's fierce looks, "if he's so caring about Dana, where is he now?" Margaret Scully frowned. A long time ago she had stopped explaining to her son the bond that existed between Dana and her partner. Nor did she feel like explaining it to her son right now. For days, now, she had known that Fox Mulder was up to something, and just like the rest of them, she had ignored the feelings that brought her to this point in life where his fate might be something worse than death. She knew her daughter's blindness was an accident, but why did it feel like Mulder was the only one abl e to help her? And at what cost? "I don't know," she finally muttered and stared in concern at Dana's former boss, the only official within the FBI who seemed to care about what was going on. She sought out this man's help silently, hoping he would understand her plea for assistance. The man looked at her and nodded silently, and she saw the confirmation in his eyes that Fox Mulder was in grave danger. He didn't need to say it out loud for her to understand. "We'll find him," the man said seriously. He had been on the phone for over an hour now, giving the license plate from Lisa Messenger's car to every enforcement agency in the area. Sooner or later they would find him. But how much time did they have? "I can't sit around here until he's found," Tom Fielding had said, in his eyes the impatience that should have been Dana's. If Scully wasn't confined to a hospital bed, she would have been the one eager to jump in a car and find her friend. At least, she would have in the past. Now, her role seemed to have been taken over by the young man Maggie Scully trusted. Skinner had calmed him down, telling him explicitly that running around town was not going to help Mulder. A search for Lisa Messenger was underway. Skinner did not add the idea of talking to the smoker. It was no coincidence the man had been at the hospi tal just around the time Mulder had taken of. As Skinner's cell phone rang, the man excused himself and stepped away from the small party. A few seconds later the serious expression on his face told the others something had happened. "What is it, Mr. Skinner?" Margaret asked as she watched the man put away the cell phone in his pocket, "has Fox been found?" "On the outskirts of town, they've found the car Lisa Messenger was driving. There's no trace of Agent Mulder or his abductor. They're already scanning the area for them." "But?" "But there was blood inside the vehicle. We have no idea whose. Agent Mulder might be hurt." Maggie held her breath as she stared at her hands, not knowing what to think. She had always considered Fox a part of her family, ever since the day she had talked to him after her daughter's disappearance. He had seemed so helpless then, so very alone in the world. Now, he was alone again and she had no way of telling him how much she cared about what happened to him. She should have told him. She should have stopped him. Now it was too late. Bill Scully's voice seemed hard and cold in the corridor as he said, "Why are you worrying about a perfect stranger, Mom? It's your daughter in there you should be sitting with. She's the one who needs you now, not him." "Shut up, Bill." Maggie's voice was as cold and hard as her son's as she turned towards him, saying again, "Shut up, or leave." Bill Scully closed his mouth and stared at her in shock. Then he left her and entered his sister's hospital room. He felt anger and contempt -- for the man that had done this, but also for himself. What was it about Mulder that got other people to worry a bout him? And why was he, Bill Scully, worrying about him too? Wednesday, January 20 The car stopped as abruptly as the one his father had driven so many years ago. Having been preoccupied when he had gotten in the car earlier, Mulder had not buckled his seat belt, and now his face hit the dashboard hard, leaving him dazed and almost unco nscious as the vehicle stopped. "Damn it!" he heard himself mutter as he brought his hand to his face. A hint of blood on his face and fingertips, and on the dashboard. She smiled ironically, "Sorry. Guess I'm not used to driving anymore." He turned towards her, wiping his forehead with his fingers. "Should've let me drive." The car had stopped on a parking lot near the Whelmed Shopping Center. It was a slow day. Not many cars. A perfect place to dump a vehicle and get out. She opened the car door and looked at him. "You can still back away if you want, Fox. Do you?" "No." He left the car quickly, bringing his hand instinctively over his broken ribs. She watched him as he winced with pain, smiling as he did. It would be a while before he forgot the consequences of the accident, and it had only just begun. "Come with me, then." She started walking slowly towards a small building behind the center and used a key to get in. It was some sort of warehouse, stacked with empty and full boxes. It was large or at least large enough to harbor a vehicle. He watched a s she opened the gates, and waited until she had taken out the car. She closed the gates again and dropped the key into a mailbox just outside of it. When he went for the passenger seat again, she said, "You drive." "I can't." He lifted his damaged arm in the air. "You can drive with one hand. You drive." He sighed as he got in behind the steering wheel, wondering where she would take him. Right now, he didn't really care. The rest of the trip continued in silence as she had the agent drive to the Baltimore area. There, near another warehouse she made him stop and get out of the vehicle. He waited patiently until she got out as well, and opened the iron doors to the abandon ed building. As they walked inside, a pigeon was startled by their presence and flew out one of the cracked windows. *A pigeon in a building means bad news,* Mulder thought, remembering hearing these words once from a superstitious Irishman. *It's a foreboding of death.* She walked inside the building, looking at the scattered wood and piles of iron on the floor. "What is this place?" Mulder asked, noticing the strange sadness in her eyes. "My father used to own this building," she spoke softly and for the first time since he met her she seemed sad and honest. "The place went down when he joined in a partnership with a group of people for shipping iron overseas. They were a strange bunch of people, you know. They had him working hard, and he earned his keep well. Then it suddenly stopped. Something was wrong and they jumped ship. He never knew why. They told him never to tell anyone about their partnership. He had to destroy the papers and invoices and contracts they had made. Their boss was a strange character, a German. He owned a number of companies." "Where did your father ship his goods to?" "Virginia. Some old abandoned mining company. The German was never there when he delivered the goods and he never knew what they were used for. There was a lot of work going on in there and then it suddenly stopped. My father returned there once after it was over. There wasn't a sign of them. But he was spotted. They followed him and stopped him and he disappeared for three days. When he was gone, a man approached me and told me I would not see my father again. He'd had a massive stroke and was in a coma. He would not regain consciousness. The man brought me to see him in a hospital in Washington. I watched the man in that bed and knew it wasn't my father. It was just a vegetable. All life had been drained from him. He died that night." She had taken a seat and was now simply staring in front of her, her eyes filled with tears. Her thoughts were in the past, far gone. "The man told me my father had seen things that weren't meant for him. He said that people punished him for it and caused his stroke. He said that a man named Bill Mulder was responsible." Mulder held his breath as he sat opposite her and listened to her story. "You believed him?" he asked softly. "Of course I did. What other choice had I? He had taken me to see my father before he died. I wanted to believe him, I did believe him. I had no other choice." "So the man set up a scheme with you to punish my father for his wrong doing, is that it?" "Yeah." She smiled. "It was very simple in fact. The man told me he needed to have a hold on Bill, saying that he would be the one punishing Bill but that I needed to help him. I needed to cause an accident. I would risk my life but it would be worth it. I had nothing to lose at the time. My father was gone, I had no family. I was on the brink of suicide anyhow. I was always good at gymnastics and figured I could probably get out of this in one piece. And if I didn't... He knew exactly when Bill would be there and I jumped in front of his car. But I didn't jump onto the hood and over the car in time and I was hit and turned blind." "So how did he give you your eyesight back?" "He didn't." She lifted her face and looked straight at him. "I think I did it myself. I started concentrating on the world outside of my sight, you see. I started to see things as others saw them, and concentrated on that. I simply started seeing people and things without needing my eyes. It was strange." *You don't need eyes to see, you need vision.* "How did you do it?" "I don't know. I don't care. I knew that I could take anyone's eyes if I wanted to, but I took hers because I wanted to get back at you." "How does the Smoker figure in all this after your accident?" "He provided for me. I wanted revenge, and he told me to lay off you but I couldn't. I wouldn't. Because at the end I am punishing someone else for something I want to finish with you. And because I know you would do anything to help that cute partner of yours. That's why I'm here with you right now. To offer you a deal" "You want me to turn blind instead of my partner?" She laughed. "Yeah." He straightened his back and looked around, not knowing what to respond. He knew he wanted Scully's eyesight to return. He would do anything to get her back what she wanted. But how would he cope? He bit his lip and stared at her. "All right." She smiled and touched his face slightly with the tips of her fingers. "I brought you here to let you know why I'm doing this, Fox. I won't take your eyes right now. Go back to her and sit with her so she knows. I'm not a monster. Enjoy the end of the day and the night as long as you still can. And in the morning I'll take your hazel eyes." Mulder swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly got out of his chair. She would simply let him go without attempting to stop him. He walked over to the door and turned around to look at her. Her face seemed extremely young and vulnerable. Now he knew w hy she was doing it, self-preservation. It was the basis for every human being. He couldn't even be angry at her anymore. She had done what she had to do. She wanted back the life she had given up so many years ago under false pretenses. Now she would sta rt to live again. "I'm sorry about your father," he slowly said with his hand already on the door. "My father did not kill yours. He was involved in a project our government cooked up. The man that approached you is one of the key players in this project. If you want to kn ow what happened to your father, talk to him. And the German that made the deal with your father is called Strughold. The Strughold Mining Co. in Virginia. I'm sorry, Lisa." She didn't respond as he left the building and started to walk until he was able to hail a cab. A while later he was back in Washington. Wednesday, January 20 In the middle of the night, the hospital corridors were abandoned, except for a few nurses that strolled around and checked on their patients. She was alone in her room now. He had waited until her family had left. He knew everybody was looking for him. H e had heard it on the radio. He had not called anyone since his return, knowing that he would have to give them answers. But he couldn't. Not just right now. He would return to his apartment in the early morning, after spending some time with her. He would probably have to talk to Skinner in the morning, but not right now. This moment in the night was for him and his partner, even if that partner was in a drug -induced sleep. She stirred slightly as he sat down next to her bed, remembering the last time he had done that. She had been dying of cancer then, and he had taken her hand in his and had cried silent tears without tasting the salty water in his mouth or on his lips. Now he was here again but there was no time for tears or crying. He needed to see her and know he was doing the right thing. She was dying. Her mind was killing her. She could not live without her eyes, and he would be responsible for her death. He could not take that responsibility onto himself. He might be able to live without his eyes, but she wouldn't. He touched her eyelids with the tips of his fingers and remembered the brightness in Lisa Messenger's own eyes when she stared at him. He bent forward and kissed her on the lips, favoring the taste for a long time. He resisted the urge to wake her and tel l her. She would not understand. The door softly opened. Mulder was startled by the sight of Bill Scully. The man seemed just as surprised to see him, then regained his speech and said, "So you did just take off. Do you like having your friends worry about you, Mulder?" Mulder didn't respond but backed away from the woman in the bed. Bill looked at him with the anger of someone who sees his most loved one die in front of him. Besides the anger there was also the defeat. "I don't care what you think," Mulder said softly, "I know what I have to do. I know what kind of mess I have caused everyone around me. I'll deal with the consequences myself. I've chosen a path which I'm going to pursue now." "Do that and leave her alone. Dana doesn't need you anymore. You weren't there when she was in pain. Get out, Mulder." Mulder took out an envelope from his pocket and gave it to the man that disliked him so much. "Would you mind giving this to Scully in the morning? Or read it to her?" To his surprise Bill Scully didn't even object. "Sure." Defeated Mulder walked over to the door and threw one last glance at her. He knew it would be the last time he saw her. "She'll be fine in the morning," he muttered, "you'll see." He left Bill Scully with his sister. Outside the building Mulder hailed a cab and ordered the driver to take him home. The apartment building was dark. No one seemed to be watching for him. It would give him the chance to deal with the situation before the situation dealt with him. Wednesday, January 20 Tom knew his friend had come home as soon as the door was opened with a key. After he had left the hospital he had come here, somehow knowing Mulder would find a way to come here. He was right. "Mulder ..." The man at the door seemed surprised by Tom's presence. "Tom, what are you doing here? It's the middle of the night." "How did you escape her?" Mulder laughed. "There didn't have to be an escape. She didn't abduct me, you know." "Where is she?" "I don't know." Tom got out of the couch and stared at his friend just standing there, scanning the room as if he had never seen it before. "Mulder, what's going on?" The agent threw his keys on the table and sat down. "I don't know." Tom turned on a light and stopped in surprise, staring at the pale features of his friend. The man looked like he'd been through hell. His face was twisted with pain and something else .. a sense of defeat. Something had happened. He noticed the way the m an held on to his chest and bit his lip against the sharp pain that seemed to be a constant reminder of the accident. He noticed the way Mulder took in every single item in his apartment. "Tom, I would like you to go home. I'm tired and I'd like to get some sleep." Mulder's voice wasn't sharp when he said it, nor did it sound angry or relentless. It was just a remark like any other remark. "Don't you owe me an explanation?" "No. Please, just go home." Tom bit his lip and said, "Okay, I'll go. But I'll be back in the morning, Mulder. You are going to talk about this. If not to me, then at least to someone you do trust." Mulder sighed deeply and hid his face between his hands. It wasn't a matter of trust. As his friend left, he lay himself down on the coach and turned on the TV, muting the sound. He didn't need to hear the sounds nor the conversations between the artifici al characters. They could only have it better than those who lived in reality. Thursday, January 21 Hours later he woke up in complete darkness. The room had changed somehow. He could feel it as he lay on the couch with closed eyes. He didn't want to open them right now. He knew what was going to happen. He wanted to postpone the inevitable and ignore t he fact his wish had come true. It was immensely still in the room and he opened and closed his mouth, like a fish catching its air. He flung his eyes open and stared into nothingness. Everything was dark around him. Not a glare of light he could see coming through the curtains. Not a g limpse of the people on the TV even though he knew it must have still been playing. He touched the couch and table, his hand stretching out to feel the familiar furniture he had chosen years ago when moving into this apartment. Nothing had changed but he could feel the fabric and wood as if he had never felt it before. The table still ba red the curves and scratches caused by him, the fabric of the couch still felt the same under his weight. Carefully, he got up and made his way to the window. He tripped and hit the chair, dropping it on the floor. He didn't yell as his knee hit it hard, making him struggle to gain his posture. He found the curtains and opened them. The windows were ice cold, but there was warmth coming in from the outside. A pale winter sun that was brightening up the world. He could actually feel a sense of it on his face. It had to be daytime. His hand reached instinctively for the phone to call Scully. But then he realized what was happening. He couldn't get her to help. It was for her this was happening. No one could know, not until it was all over. And it would be over soon. *Oh, God, Scully , please have your eyes back. Please be all right.* He couldn't see. He was convinced there was a woman called Lisa Messenger out there right now with hazel eyes. She saw the world through him now, and had returned Scully her eyesight. It didn't matter how it happened. It just did. The phone rang. The noise startled him. It lay on the table and he tripped while getting it, feeling the edge of the table too late. Another sharp pain shot through his chest as he fell and hit his chest hard on the wood. He was not cut out for blindness. Everything that seemed so familiar had become his enemies. He would not make it like this, not when the world was working against him. Even in this apartment, his safe harbor, he was surrounded by things that seemed strangers to him now. He grabbed the phone, ignoring the strange pains and sensations in his chest. His eyes seemed to ache as if something has scratched them. "Yeah," he said hoarsely into the speaker. He was greeted with a muffled voice, and then someone familiar said, "Fox, it's Maggie. You'd better come to the hospital quick. Something's happened." *Oh, God, it's too late. She's dead and I killed her. Oh please don't tell me this is true. I can't stand it.* "Fox?" "Yeah." He found a seat on the couch, still grasping the phone in his good hand. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable news. He wanted to hang up and not listen to Maggie's voice. He couldn't hear it over the phone." "Fox, are you coming down?" "What happened to her?" "Fox, a miracle has happened. I don't know how to explain it. You need to see it for yourself. Dana is asking for you. You need to come down here and talk to her, Fox! Fox, I don't know how to explain it, but she can see again! She woke up this morning an d her eyesight had returned. She's okay, Fox! She needs you. She wants to see you." Mulder almost passed out with relief as he clasped the receiver against his ear. Scully could see again. And he was blind. Thursday, January 21 The phone was somewhere on the floor. He could hear Maggie's voice as she tried to get him to talk to her again. Then a click and she was gone. He slid off the couch onto the cold floor, found the correct button to turn off the phone, and ended up on the floor hiding his face between his hands. He could feel salt tears on his lip now, but he wasn't crying for himself. He cried for the one that was most important to him. The one he would have done anything for. For him it wouldn't matter anymore. He could feel it as he sat down on the floor. He had traded his eyes with Scully's, now he would trade his life with hers. She had been on the verge of suicide, now she was okay. Her life for his. Mulder smiled suddenly, and he could feel laughter from the deepest of his insides. It was worth it! Everything that was happening here was worth everything that would be coming soon. He didn't know how much time passed. He spent it sitting on the floor, recapturing her image that was engraved into his mind. Was this blindness? Capturing the images you've gathered throughout your life so you can see them from your mind's eye? He got up with difficulty and stood in the middle of the room. The cars outside. Why had he never heard them before? Noises outside the apartment. Footsteps approaching the door. They stopped in front of it. A knock. "Mulder?" He recognized Tom's voice. He didn't answer. "Mulder, open the door." He knocked continuously, knowing instinctively his friend was inside and in trouble. Mulder didn't bother to tell him he was in there. A rummaging of keys and Tom unlocked the door, letting himself in. He had Scully's keys. Mulder took a seat on the couch and sat in the darkness. He could hear Tom's footsteps in the room, and then the man approached him. "Mulder? Are you okay?" A silence and then he sat down next to his friend, looking straight into Mulder's eyes. Mulder stared back, but his eyes were dead. Tom held his breath as he stared into the blindness of his friend. All the light was gone. *Sweet Jesus,* Tom thought, *He' s become Scully.* "Mulder, tell me this isn't true. Oh, God, this can't be true." Mulder could feel some sort of movement, perhaps a hand being held in front of his eyes. "It's true." Mulder confirmed it with ease, actually smiling as he did. Tom knew why. He had given Scully back what she wanted the most and to Mulder that was all that mattered. "How?" Tom asked hoarsely. "I don't know. She offered me the deal and I accepted." "Your eyes for Scully's?" He asked the question as if they were discussing the price of bread. "My life for hers." "No." Tom got up from the couch. Mulder could hear him walk, and then another movement as if he had turned. "I don't understand," he said confused, his voice small and near silence. "Your life?" "Scully couldn't go on like this. I couldn't let her go on like this. We all make choices in our life. I have made mine." "By offering yourself to save her? What kind of choice is that?" Tom's voice sounded angry and confused as he sat down again. The man shivered with anger. "Mulder, don't you do this to yourself, you hear? This can't be happening. Oh, God, this isn't real. " Mulder actually smiled, leaned back on the futon and said weakly, "It's too late. It's over. It's done." "I don't accept that. We can do something about this. We can look for that woman. We need to get you to a hospital. You're... this can't be happening. Oh Jesus." Mulder couldn't help but wonder why his friend was so upset. It hadn't been his choice to make. The phone rang again, startling the men in the room. Mulder listened as his friend picked up. "Yeah, he's right here. No, something's wrong. It's difficult to explain. Yeah, I hear them. Okay, I'll go to the hospital with him." A knock on the door startled Mulder and he wanted to get up and open it, forgetting for one second he was blind. Then Tom was already on his feet and Mulder could hear him speak again to the men entering the room. Skinner was among them. Walter Skinner was the first one to enter the room. The sight he found left him as stunned as Tom just a couple of minutes before. The man sitting on the couch was obviously blind. Bright light was shining in through the window, but Mulder's pupils were c ompletely dilated. The expression on his face spoke of defeat and relief at the same time. Skinner didn't know what to do. He found himself taking a seat on the couch next to his former agent. "Hey, Mulder," he sat soothingly, actually putting his hand on Mulder's. Fox Mulder stared back with his dead eyes, picturing him as he was sitting there. *I wish I had the chance to get to know him better,* the agent thought, already saying his goodbyes silently. *I wish I could have told him the truth. I wish he would find a way to help me out of this mess.* "Hey sir," Mulder finally said quietly. Skinner bit his lip and stared at Tom's startled face. Neither men knew what to say or do. There were more men in the room now. They must have read the letter he had given Scully. "We were worried about you, Mulder," Skinner said, "Scully received a disturbing letter from you. Do you remember what you wrote her?" "Yeah, of course. I told her she would be okay and that I would take her place. I said goodbye to her and wished her well." "How did you know this was going to happen?" "Lisa Messenger. She offered me a deal." "Did you take anything, Mulder? Did you do this to yourself?" Mulder laughed. "No. I know you don't believe me, but I made a deal with Lisa. She offered me a choice and I accepted it. I'm glad I did. I caused this to begin with. Scully needs her eyes. Her family needs her." "Don't you think Scully is the one feeling guilty now?" Mulder turned towards him, and stretched his hand to feel the man's face. His former boss just sat there and let his agent put his fingertips on his glasses. Mulder withdrew and said, "She has enough people to take care of her. After all, I was the one dr iving the car. It was my father who started all of this. There was no reason for Scully to suffer for him." Skinner sighed. "We need to get you to a hospital, Mulder. If your eyes are damaged, we need to know how or why. You don't look too good. Are you in any pain?" "No," Mulder lied, ignoring the pain in his chest. It wouldn't do anyone any good, "I'm fine." "We all know that's a lie, Mulder," Skinner said not unfriendly, "there are paramedics here. We're going to take care of you, all right?" "No gurneys. I'm blind, not sick." "All right. Come on." Mulder could feel a strong hand lift him from the couch, and the hand was protective and strong and helpful. He could feel the pity and sympathy in the men's eyes as they watched him struggle with his blindness. He straightened his back and walked forward , step by step and guided by them. Outside, there was an ambulance waiting for them. He refused to lie down but sat in the back of the vehicle and let them take his blood pressure and vitals. All of it didn't matter. Then the vehicle started moving and he could picture it as it drove through the city streets. They would pass his favorite spots, the bench near the Potomac, the view on the river, the buildings that made Washington such an amazing city. He would never se e them again. The man in the vehicle next to him didn't know what to say. Skinner had offered to take the ride with him, but for the first time in his life he didn't know what do. He felt helpless as a baby. He didn't know how to offer his help. He didn't even know if the man he thought he knew so well wanted his help. He just sat back and watched him, wondering why and how all of this was happening. Thursday, January 21 There was something strange about the way Mulder responded to the questions the doctors asked him. He was almost non-responsive even though he was wide awake and showed no signs of a concussion, an illness or anything else that could explain his sudden bl indness. The tests were still ongoing when Dr. Roberts spoke to the man's supervisor, not even knowing Walter Skinner wasn't even supposed to be there. He didn't really care. Agent Mulder's next of kin was in the hospital herself, one of his own patients. Only 24 hours ago he had seen her go crazy because she was blinded for life. Now it was her partner, the man he had seen holding her and comfort her, that had turned blind. Now it was this man that worried him. It was almost as if the two had traded places. The darkness that Dana Scully would have had to encounter for the rest of her life was taken over by her partner and friend. Scully's blindness could have been explained medically. The woman had suffered majo r trauma to her eyes after being involved in an accident. But who could explain Fox Mulder's sudden blindness? There wasn't a medical explanation for the fact, nor could there be a psychological one. The doctor had never heard of anyone forcing himself blind beyond repair just by mentally thinking about it. It s imply could not be true. There was the small matter of the head injury that Mulder had suffered the night before. He had explained how he had hit his head hard against the dashboard, and been dazed for a while. The pain, however, had resided into a dull headache that was slowly w ithdrawing. The doctor did not leave out the possibility the blow might have caused neural damage, thus leaving the man blind. Scans, however, showed no damage on the inside. The blow had been too minor to cause blindness. "Then what has caused this?" Walter Skinner asked firmly, demanding answers to questions none of them knew how to ask properly. Skinner had been in the small ER cubicle ever since they had brought Mulder in and started the tests on his eyes. He had listen ed to the man's soft voice as he answered standard questions but refused to give any further explanations on his whereabouts the previous day. It was Tom Fielding that explained how Mulder had returned home the previous night without telling him the exact facts or events. "I'm at a loss here, Mr. Skinner," the doctor said, "to be frank, I've never seen anything like it. I cannot explain Agent Mulder's sudden blindness, nor can I tell you how his partner suddenly regained her eyesight. The answers I believe lie with Agent M ulder. He knows but refuses to tell us anything." "I know," Walter Skinner sighed, "can I talk to him?" "Of course. There's nothing physically wrong with Agent Mulder. He is still suffering from the injuries due to the accident, but those will have to heal in due time. I would like to admit him and perform further tests to find out what's going on. Agent Mu lder refuses to be admitted. However, since you are his immediate supervisor .." "I'll sign the necessary papers," Skinner interrupted him, "I just want to find out what the hell is going on." "What about the woman Agent Fielding has mentioned?" "There's an ongoing search for her. We're doing everything we can. It seems she's the key to this whole mess, so she'll have to be found." Dr. Roberts nodded. "All right. One more thing, Mr. Skinner. Mr. Mulder refuses to talk to his partner. She's been requesting to see him and frankly I see no reason why not. But I'm worried about Agent Mulder's state of mind. He's becoming rapidly depress ed. I would like to keep him monitored around the clock." "I'll make sure Agent Mulder is not left alone," Skinner quickly said, dreading the moment he would have to do something against Mulder's wishes. He had respect for the man. "Thank you." The doctor nodded slightly and returned to the ER cubicle. Through the glass and open curtains Skinner could see his agent sitting on a bed, waiting patiently while the tests were being performed. Suddenly the agent turned his face to the gla ss and stared straight back at him. Skinner instinctively backed away, even though he knew Mulder could not see him. Mulder slowly smiled. Skinner froze and chilled. Now he understood it all. Mulder *had* taken her place. And to him it was all worth it. Every single shiver of hurt and pain that went through him was worth it to him because Scully would live and be in one piece. He wasn't only trading his eyes for hers, he was also trading his life. to be continued .. Subject: The Messenger 6/6 Thursday, January 21 Dana Scully had awoken before daybreak into the darkness of her room. She lay still for hours, dreading the moment she would have to be forced to open her eyes and come to terms once again with the fact she was blind. She moaned deeply, letting air suck i nto her lungs eagerly. The dizziness and sleepiness inside her head and mind were clearing quickly, leaving her with the distinct feeling something had changed. There was no one in the room for once. She had fallen asleep with her mother's hand on hers, telling her it would all be all right. She had cried and shouted and gone crazy the night before, and she had screamed at the one man she cared about the most. It was her fault that he had taken off and was missing. She wanted to get out of this bed and find him, but she couldn't. Reality bites hard. Slowly, she opened her eyes and stared into the darkness. Was this her fate for the rest of her life? Would she be wondering about the sun and the moon forever? She tried to turn on her side and sink back into that darkness. At least, when she was asleep, she could forget it all. But something *had* changed. She knew it as soon as she turned over, and stared at her hands. There was something different. The darkness was slowly changing into shadows. She could see her hands! In shock she stared at her arms, wrists, hands and fingers , gasping at the sight. This had to be a dream. She was still asleep and dreaming that she could see again. Oh, God. She turned quickly on her back again and stared at the ceiling. Spots of lights and traces of shadows were playing with her. She stared aside, directing her gaze at the window next to her. She could see the sun peering through the curtains. Oh, God, she c ould see again! Clumsily she pushed herself up on both elbows, reaching for the alarm above her. As she pushed the button frantically, she pulled away the blankets and stared at her legs, covered only with the long, white hospital gown. She could see her legs, her knees, her feet. She could bring her hands to them and touch them and see them. The door opened quickly. She turned her head to see her mother enter the room, accompanied by her brother and a nurse. "Dana," her mother said and she could focus on her mother's face and see her, "what's wrong?" Dana stretched out her arms and hands and touched her mother's face as if she was still blind. But she could look straight into her mother's eyes and see the tears her mother had shed for her for so long. Then she turned to see her brother's blue eyes. He r gaze went down to see an envelope in his hand. She looked up again and knew it wasn't a dream. Mulder, she had to talk to Mulder. "Mom, I can see." She almost choked on the words, not believing them herself. Then she repeated it for herself, flavoring them on her lips. "I can see, Mom!" Maggie Scully didn't know how to react or what to do when her daughter repeated these words and quickly slid out of bed, letting go of her mother. The woman walked firmly up to the bathroom door, in nothing to be compared with the woman she had been only a day before. She opened the door, turned on the bathroom lights and stared at her own bruised face for minutes. She could see them in the mirror and turned around and repeated it, "I can see!" It was without a doubt these words were enough to stir the entire floor. The nurse left and returned with her doctor and more nurses. More doctors came into the room and they all stared at her as if she was a miracle. She sat down on the side of the bed a nd smiled and laughed as they probed her and scanned her and performed every single test on her they could perform. She had her eyesight back. She could see again. Through it all, Bill Scully stood in the corner of the room, feeling the envelope in his hand. Eventually he tore it open and read the note Mulder had left for his partner. He bit his lip as he did, understanding now. While the excitement in the room brok e loose, the one man that detested Fox Mulder probably the most in the world, knew the sacrifice the man had made for his sister. Bill Scully didn't believe in little green men or the work Mulder had dedicated his lifetime to. He didn't care for all the encounters with monsters and bugs and strange viruses. But this time he did believe. He could read it in Mulder's eyes when the man left the night before. And now it was on a note, in black and white. Bill finally stepped forward and handed his sister the note, watching her pale face and disturbed expression as she read. As she looked up, she said frantically, "Where is he, Bill?" "I don't know, Dana." The euphoria from the moment had vanished. Scully was near tears as the men that were concerned about her partner entered the room and read the note. A few minutes later they left to retrieve him. She wanted to go as well, but Skinner refused. She put up a fight but gave in eventually. They all dreaded the sight they might find when they left for Mulder's apartment. She didn't want to go there and find him in whatever state he was in. She wasn't ready for it yet. Hours later, the inevitable news came that her partner had been found. And that he was blind. Thursday, January 21 The smoker knew where to find her. It was so obvious, in fact, where she would be. For her, there was nowhere else to go. She had no family, no friends, nothing to fall back upon. She had screwed up and now she would have to pay the price. Everybody that didn't do as they were told paid a price in the end. She sat in the corner of the large open room, staring at the bricks and iron that lay in front of her. She knelt down with her hands in the dirt, letting it slip through her fingers. She seemed fourteen years old. He could just picture her playing her whe n she was a kid, while her father was working for a project he didn't even know existed. He lit a cigarette as he walked over to her. He had come alone. Nobody knew about the deal they had made so long ago, nor would they ever. He had found out about her gift too late. But he had warned her against going after Mulder. Blinding Mulder was not part of the plan he had in store for the young man. He had wanted to take this opportunity to reign Mulder back in, to offer him his partner's eyes in exchange for his complete loyalty. The last time he had offered Mulder a deal, it had almost backfired o n the both of them. This time the deal would have been perfect. He would have made an end to the threat Fox Mulder had become the day the FBI had enlisted him. Thirteen years ago he had told Bill Mulder to keep his son from his plans. It had not worked. Today, he might have the perfect tool to work with. But he needed to get Mulder back on track. If not, it was all over. Lisa Messenger looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He almost felt sorry for her. In shock he stared at the color of her eyes. It had changed into hazel, the color of Fox's eyes. He chilled as he realized the extent of the situation. It needed to be r eversed. "It's too late for changes," she said slowly, touching her eyes with her fingertips, "I've made my choice, so has Fox." "It wasn't your choice to make, Lisa." She smiled wryly. "Of course it was. I'm the one with the talent, remember? It was your fault I was blinded in the first place. Would you trade his eyes for yours?" "No." She laughed near hysterics, "I thought so. Why is he so important to you? He's your enemy. His father was your enemy." "He's not my enemy, never was. The things he does are what I have a problem with. When you're in the business of hiding secrets, the one thing that becomes a threat to you is the person that wants to expose those secrets." "But you pushed him into this business, didn't you? You let his mother talk to you and you backed away thirteen years ago. All the secrets he has already uncovered might be too important for you to protect, yet at the same time you seem to invite him to d iscover them. Why?" The man bit his lip and didn't respond. The truth was something only he knew. He was not about to tell her. He looked down on her as he approached her. She seemed small and insignificant, yet at the same time she had succeeded in ruining the plans he had for the FBI agent. It needed to be reversed quickly. She seemed to understand. She slowly shook her head, saying, "No. He wanted to trade. An eye for an eye, a life for a life. She was going to kill herself. He offered his life for her." "Are you saying he's going to die?" She smiled wryly again. "Who knows? That depends on him, doesn't it? How strong is he, you think? Will he withstand what has happened to him? Perhaps you underestimate his strength. He might want to go on living, even in darkness." "What will it take for you to reverse it?" "The truth. I want to know who killed my father." He stared at her back. "Bill Mulder did." "You're a liar." "I don't lie." She smiled and turned towards him. "You know, the one thing that I'm not afraid of is losing my life. You need me, don't you? You want to figure out how I did it. You know I alone can give him back what he wants. So you'd better be nice to me." He resisted the urge to bludgeon her with one of the bricks on the cement floor. She was right. He needed her. At least, for now. "Good," she said, "I'm glad we came to an understanding. Now, why don't you take me with you into town and we can talk a deal?" She turned her back to him as she walked over the cement floor to the large iron factory doors. He followed her from a distance. Friday, January 22 Mulder could feel a hand on his wrist and knew who it was but he didn't respond. The grip felt safe and protective, yet at the same time he dreaded the feel of it. The time had finally come to face her and tell her what he had done. But he knew she alread y knew. He could feel it in the way she approached him and talked to him. "Mulder, I know you're awake in there. I don't know what to say." He opened his mouth and sucked in the air to fill his lungs. He had been lying in this bed for the past evening and night, wondering how he would ever get out of this mess. The answer was, he didn't. They wouldn't let him alone in the room. They were afra id he would try to kill himself. He had become Scully. Scully had become him. He wondered what she looked like right now. The last time he saw her she was covered with blood and bruises, attempting to slash her throat. Her voice seemed calm and self-assured now. She had recovered from the pain that others had caused her. She was re covering still. "Scully, leave me alone," he spoke with closed eyes. He didn't want her to see his dead eyes. It would shock her as it had shocked him. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked softly, her fingers still touching his wrist. "No." "Why not?" "It's not important." "How can you say that? It's your life, Mulder! Why can't you fight for yourself like you did for me?" "It's not important," he repeated, savoring the thought of her as she had been in his arms outside his apartment. He had wanted to kiss her so eagerly and had taken the chance to feel her. What might have happened if she hadn't been stung? Would they have ended up in bed together, creating a new start to their relationship? He knew she was crying. He could see it in his mind's eye. She was sitting next to the bed and cried. He was hurting her again. He always hurt her. "You should go," he said abruptly, making a deliberate distance between them. She held her breath. He knew she was startled by his sudden exclamation. "Yeah," he said repeated, "go now. It's time for you to leave and get on with your life." "Do you possibly think I could?" she said sharply, her hand still clasping his. She refused to let go of him, knowing how much she needed to feel his warm skin next to hers. She was the one who struggled now. He was the one staring into the darkness. "Of course you can. I'm not going to kill myself, Scully. I'll go on with my life. It's best that you leave." "I know what you're trying to do, Mulder." "Go now!" he said loudly. "Leave me alone." "I don't want to leave you." He sighed deeply and opened his eyes. She was shocked to see all the light vanished from them. It was strange, surrealistic. And shocking. "Oh, God," she exclaimed, and her fingers went up to his face, touching his eyelashes. "Oh, Mulder." He turned away from her and closed his eyes. The echoes in his head seemed to scream in pain. She didn't hear it. Quickly she turned and did as he asked her. She left the room, leaving him alone in the darkness. The rules that had counted for Scully were also counting for him. He knew he couldn't live like this. He would never be able to find out what had happened to his sister, and what the government was up to. He needed all his instincts and trades to work on discovering the truth. Without his eyes, ev erything he had worked for was gone. Mulder was tired of staying in the room. He didn't want to be cooped up in here. Quickly, he slid out of the bed, and headed for the walls, carefully avoiding any obstacles that could make him trip. Eventually, he found the closet with his clothes. He gra bbed them and reached for his shoes on the bottom shelve. It took a while before he was able to find the bed again, but then he laid everything on it and probed with his fingers until he found his shirt and jeans. He felt vulnerable in the hospital gown. The broken wrist was making it difficult for him to get dressed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Scully said angrily as she found him half-dressed in his room. Within a second she was at his side and started tugging at the shirt he had painfully put on. "Scully, leave it. I'm getting out of here. I thought I told you to get out!" "When have I ever listened to you, Mulder? I thought you might be up to something. You're not going anywhere. You don't have anywhere to go!" "Yes, I do." "Where would you go?" Impatiently he pulled the sweater from her hands and started tugging it over his neck. She knew he wasn't about to answer her, but he did. "I'm going on. I'm not sick, Scully. I'm blind. People live with blindness." "Not you, Mulder," she said quietly, putting the finger on the sore spot. "You know I can't leave you alone. I know you too well to know what you are going to do. Don't you even try to deny it. We need to talk about this before it devours you alive." His dead eyes were pried into hers now. She couldn't stand for it. She wanted to see him look at her again, she wanted to hear him say how much he needed her again. She didn't want this. Not like this. He sank down on the bed. Suddenly, out of nowhere, tears seemed to blink in his eyes and he stuck out his good hand, leaving the other one in the cast against his chest. "I can't do this," he said hoarsely, almost begging her silently to hug him. She unde rstood. The next moment she was next to him and her arms were around him in a fierce caress. "I know," she croaked softly, knowing just what he felt right now. If he had traded his eyes for hers, how would she be able to return the favor? How would this mess ever come to an end? "I know, Mulder, but you're not alone. I'm right here with you." "Then help me find her. Please, Scully. I know you believe in it, in what she has done. We need to find her again and find a way out of this mess." "Then tell me exactly what has happened. I need to know every detail. There must be something we can do and we will find it. But you can't give up hope that it will be okay, all right? Don't give up." He nodded slightly. The following moment he felt her hands tug at the sweater and pull it over his neck. Carefully she pulled it over his chest and pulled his broken wrist through it, reattaching the sling. Then she helped him stand up. She tugged at his sweater as well. He could feel her warm fingers as she buttoned it up, and knew that in other circumstances they would probably be on the verge of making wild love. Now was not the time. "All right," she said finally after helping him with his shoes, "let's go find her. But we can't use the FBI resources, Mulder. According to Skinner she's dead. All the tracks leading to her are gone." "The only chance we stand is to go back to that warehouse her father owned," Mulder said. "But she won't be there. But she'll get in touch with us." "How can you be so sure?" "I don't know." He smiled wryly. "Call it a hunch." She offered a helping hand eagerly, hoping he would accept it. Gratefully he leaned upon her as they left the room under her directions. There was no one else in the hallway who could stop them. She was grateful for it. She didn't want to explain right no w what was going on. She didn't even understand it herself. Friday, January 22 The woman sat down calmly opposite the man offering her the deal. Money and power didn't matter to her. All she wanted was to find out the truth about her father's death. The smoker gave it to her. He confessed to her he was partly responsible for her fat her's death, revealing the details that had been lingering for so many years. She listened to it with detachment, wondering what would happen next. She had found out the truth now, and it was all that mattered. For herself, she had already decided that this was the end. She would go to the second site and stay there until it was ov er. Then she would say goodbye to the world. "Can I go, now?" she said with detachment as she got up after listening to his story. The smoker seemed disappointed in her reaction but nodded and said, "Okay. I'm counting on you, Lisa." "I would like to hitch a ride from you if you don't mind. I need to make a phone call." The smoker guided her to his car and watched as she got in. Then she picked up his cell phone and dialed a number. He listened to her as she talked to the woman on the other side, and then hung up. She looked at the smoker as she handed back the gun. "It's done," she said. "Good." Following her directions, they drove to a second site her father had owned before his death. It was situated in Virginia, near the Strughold Mining Co. It seemed appropriate to end it all here. Friday, January 22 Scully felt uncomfortable after her phone conversation with Lisa Messenger. The young woman's voice had sounded defeated and sad. Despite everything, Dana Scully felt like there was a lot more to the case than either she or Mulder knew. She shifted in the driver's seat as she took off to Virginia, following Lisa's directions. She was still sore from the accident and the bandages around her hands still reminded her of her actions the previous night. It all seemed a dream to Scully. The blindness, the sudden reappearance of her sight. It all seemed so long ago and unimportant right now. All that mattered to her was the man sitting next to her. He had told her about the deal he'd made with Lisa to get Scully's eyesight back. He had explained how his father had caused an accident so many years ago, and it had brought them to this point in life. Funny how old demons can sometimes destroy the present and future. The drive to Virginia didn't take long and happened in silence. Scully wondered what they would find. A distraught Lisa who would demand the world in return for Mulder's eyes? Would Scully even believe her when they talked about it? How could anyone have an ability like this? Lisa needed to be examined closely. If this was true, it could change everything. "Stop, Scully!" Dana brusquely pushed the breaks. The vehicle came to a stop before the old offices of the Messenger Iron Co. She looked aside, noticing her partner's dead eyes staring at the front gates. He winced as the sudden stop threw him forward. "Sorry," she said. Mulder's hand rested on the dashboard as his blind eyes stared forward. "She's here." She didn't ask him how he knew. She trusted his judgment, since it was the only thing they had right now to go on. Quickly, she left the car, feeling the gun press against her waist. Whatever they would encounter, she would protect the both of them. The site reminded her of the old mining company in Virginia they had invaded so many years ago. Back then, the only thing that had saved them was their perseverence in finding the truth. Mulder had claimed to have seen a UFO, a claim she could not substan tiate. She had believed he had seen something, but not everything was as black and white as it seemed. The knowledge that one woman had the power to take control over several person's lives was something she still had trouble comprehending. But she was here to help her partner, and to make sure he got back what was his, even if it was difficult for her to believe in it. He had opened his car door and stood blindly, his face directed at the factory. Somehow he knew she was in that building, and blind or not, he would find her. Scully reached for his arm and directed him towards the factory, telling him where to put his fe et. He let himself be guided by her, and leaned heavily on her as she did. She could tell from his strained movements he hated this form of dependence. She hated seeing him like this, swaying over the grass towards the large building that was now abandoned. She regretted not having called for backup. As soon as they found the wo man, they would do so. She stopped in front of the iron fence and tried to open it. The lock had been severed. Someone was inside. Quickly, she pushed it aside and helped her partner onto the grounds. A few moments later they stood in front of a large door whose lock had been s evered as well. She opened it, ignoring its creaky sound as she did. A pigeon or two flew up from the inside, leaving the building through the cracked glass. Mulder heard the sound and remembered the last time he had seen pigeons fly away. *A pigeon in a building is a foreboding to bad news.* "Be careful, Mulder," she said, leading him over the cement floor to a large, open space on the bottom floor. "There's all sorts of debris here. Why don't you stay here while I go look for her?" "Okay." He let her settle him down near an old table. He leaned on it as he listened to her footsteps. Scully walked up the old stairs to the first floor and stopped as the old, wooden floor showed a large hole. As she looked further up, she noticed another hole on the second floor, leaving the roof visible. It gave a weary sight to the place. Old desks an d chairs were still standing all around her. It was as if the place had been left empty from one day to another, leaving the owners no time to clear it. More birds were startled by her appearance as she walked around the hole in the floor towards the smaller rooms built from plaster. Inside she found stacks of old papers and pictures. Everything was covered with years of dust. More weariness. "Lisa Messenger?" she said out loud as her hand rested near her gun. She didn't want to threaten the woman or scare her off, but she didn't underestimate the possibility either that Lisa might have set up this trap in order to finish what she started a co uple of days ago. "Lisa," Scully repeated, looking up at the second floor above her. "We don't mean you any harm. Please, we just want you to talk to us." No answer came from inside the building. Slowly, Scully made her way to the second floor and started scanning every single room. Then she saw it. Inside the largest of the rooms she found a woman sitting behind a dirty, wooden desk. Her hands lay on the t able. She stared in front of her, as if she saw old times revived. "Lisa?" Scully's urge to take her gun and aim it at the woman was stopped by one look at the woman's teary eyes, "Lisa, I'm Dana Scully. We're here to help you." "Where is Fox?" "Downstairs. He wants to talk to you. Why don't you come with me?" Lisa Messenger slowly shook her head and got up. "You don't understand. There's no way back here. I came here to say goodbye." "You don't have to die, Lisa. We're here to help you. We know about the deal you made. We want you to talk about it, in order to punish the men that did this to you. We need you to testify so we can find out what really happened." Tears rolled over Lisa's cheeks as she said, "Why? To make an end to the Project your partner has been looking for for so long? I'm not going to be a traitor. I made wrong choices in my life and I'm living up to them. As did my father. I know who killed h im now and why they did it. The truth is too ugly to be revealed. I can't be the one telling the world this. I can't live with it either." "But it doesn't have to be this way, Lisa. You have an ability other people can learn from. Why don't you come with me so we can help you? You still have a life to lead, but Mulder needs you. Without your help, he will die. He's been very sick these past few days. He doesn't want to live like this. You've been there, why can't you help him? He doesn't have to go through this." "At the end someone always has to pay, Agent Scully. That's the other side of the coin. Someone has to pay for someone else's happiness. It's a matter of choice." "You didn't leave me a choice." "It wasn't your choice to make. You weren't the demanding party. Fox was." Scully bit her lip. "So you won't help me help him?" "What deal can you make me?" "What kind of deal do you wish to make?" Lisa sighed. "Do you always answer a question with a question, Agent Scully?" "Only when it concerns something I happen to have a great interest in. My friend is in trouble and I want you to help him. If you won't help me, you leave me with no choice but to arrest you and charge you. I will make your life a hell, that's my promise to you. If you help me, I will let you go." Lisa smiled, "That's a lousy deal, Agent Scully." Scully couldn't help but smile wryly back. "I know. It's the only deal I can make." "All right. You've got yourself a deal." Slowly Lisa made her way through the office that used to belong to her father. She had spent so many hours in here wondering if the company would be her once, if she could put as much love in it as her father had. It was a question that would be left unanswered. Towards the stairs they went, passing the gaping hole in the floor. Scully resisted the urge to grab Lisa's arm and force her to undo what she had done immediately. They would have to be patient for a while more. The next moment Lisa made the move Scully hadn't even anticipated. The woman seemed to take two steps forward and threw herself through the gaping hole on the second floor. Lisa's body seemed to drift through the air before she crashed down on the cement bottom. "Lisa!" Scully heard herself scream and her hand was reached out still, as if she had attempted to rescue the woman from the fall. The next moment Scully screamed again as she saw her partner. Friday, January 22 Mulder listened to the sound of his partner's footsteps up the stairs and on the first floor, and then her call for Lisa. Then everything went quiet above him. He didn't like it. They had taken his gun, he couldn't defend himself or his partner when thing s went bad. He heard a noise near him. Instinctively he turned his head towards it. "Who's there?" No answer came. He backed away from the table, putting his hands and arms in front of him to scan the area. He tripped over an iron pipe and fell, hitting the ground hard with his right knee. "Damn it!" he murmured before getting to his feet again. The noise remained. Someone was near him! He stretched out his hands again, trying to find whoever was in the room. The silence was deafening. Suddenly he felt wood against his fingertips. He touched it and pulled himself towards it. The stairs. Someone w as walking up the stairs. Step by step he made his way up, trying to find a way to get his opponent to talk to him. Suddenly no more steps. He was on the first floor. The noise came from further away. He could scent something. The vague smell of smoke. He knew that scent all too well. The Smoking Man . "You bastard," Mulder said out loud, stepping forward and tripping over the iron, "I know it's you. What the hell are you doing here?" No answer came. The noise stopped. Mulder stood all alone on the first floor, fighting the anger inside of him. He heard noises above him. Then something flew just past him, or so it seemed. He could feel something brush his face. Then a thump and everyth ing went quiet. He knew his partner was somewhere in the area. Oh, God, was it Scully's body that had fallen? He stretched out his hands and stepped forward again, calling out her name. Suddenly the world slipped from under him. One second long he floated in the air, and then the cement floor rose up and hit him rock hard, and the world turned into one abyss of pain. Friday, January 22 In despair, Scully watched her partner take the steps towards the edge. "Mulder, no!" she heard herself scream, and the next moment her partner stepped into nothingness and fell through the gap on the cement floor below him. A sickening crack and his shout was the last thing she heard before she stared down at his form. Lisa Messenger lay only a few inches from him. "Mulder." She ran toward him with his name on her lips. Her fingers probed his neck, looking for a pulse. He was still alive as he lay on his stomach, the broken wrist underneath him. His face was turned aside, she could see its pallor. Quickly she grabbe d her cell phone and dialed the emergency number, ordering them to contact the FBI as well. She was angry with herself. Why the hell had they come here without backup? Now he could die and there was nothing she could do about it. She dared not to look aside at the woman that lay inches away from him. She lay on her back. The back of her head was gone. Blood and brains were underneath her, her dead eyes stared to the world. Why had she jumped? Scully bit her lip knowing what this would mean. Her partner would be blind for life. He wouldn't struggle to save himself as he fought against death. He wouldn't want to live like this. She had to turn him to see how he was. Carefully she supported his neck with her hands as she attempted to turn him. He rolled onto his back and against her legs. She held her breath as he winced with pain, despite his unconscious state. Quickly she probe d his head for injuries. His temple was bleeding profusely. The old wounds had reopened. His shirt was drenched with blood from a cut to his arm. As she pulled up the sweater, she could see the dark bruises on his chest and abdomen. "Mulder, it's me," she said slowly, caressing his face carefully, "Mulder, open your eyes." He didn't respond to her calls. Unmoving, he didn't seem to hear her words. Scully bit her lip as she waited for the sound of sirens approaching the building. The next moment she could hear a car engine at the back of the building. Quickly she got on her feet and ran outside, just in time to see a black sedan leave the site. She couldn't make out the license plate. When she entered the factory again, she stopped at Lisa Messenger's body. The color of her eyes had changed into a dark, deep blue. The man next to her lay with his eyes open. For one long moment Scully thought he was dead. But he blinked his eyelashes suddenly, and turned his face slightly in her direction. At that exact moment Scully knew he saw again. A smile covered his face as he croaked, "Scully, you're wearing my favorite sweater." Saturday, January 23 The man lit a cigarette as he stood outside the small ER and looked in at the young man lying on the bed and the woman next to him. She couldn't keep her hand from his, or so it seemed. She talked to him and supported him as the tests revealed what she al ready suspected. He had regained full vision. The smoker smiled and turned to bump into Walter Skinner. The AD watched him with fierce eyes as he said, "All's well ends well, Mr. Skinner?" "You were lucky," Skinner snapped. "If Mulder had died, I would have hunted you down like an animal and killed you. You were in that factory, weren't you?" The smoker's smile vanished as he threw the cigarette on the floor and left it burning there. "Be glad he sees again. I wouldn't risk my luck if I were you. Goodbye, Mr. Skinner." The smoker walked away quickly. He'd had enough of hospitals for now. Saturday, January 23 Mulder woke up in the darkness of the room. For one long moment he thought it had been a dream and he was still without vision. But the movement of the woman in the room quickly relieved that fear as she approached the bed and reached for his face. She ca ressed it quietly, without saying a word. He remembered now what had happened. The strange feeling that invaded him even in his unconsciousness as he lay on the cold floor in the abandoned factory. He had turned his face towards the broken body of Lisa Messenger next to him, her eyes turned upwar ds and dead. He had felt a tingling inside of him and then, as he blinked and opened his eyes, he could see the shadows lift. Her death had given him back his eyes. He was convinced Lisa knew. It was the reason she had jumped and killed herself in the factory that had been her father's. She had wanted to die here, and she had wanted them to be present. It had been the only way to right the wrong. He remembered Lisa's face as he had seen it when she was struck by his father's car. He remembered her as she had knelt down to take Scully's eyes. He remembered her as she had explained her father's involvement in a strange project she didn't know anythi ng about. Now he wanted to remember her as a woman who made wrong choices in life and paid for them dearly. She was, after all, only human. In the darkness of the room he looked at the other woman that meant the world to him. She knew he was staring at her quietly and didn't say a word still. It wasn't necessary. "Hey Scully," he said after a while, "Now that I have my eyesight back, do you think you could let me drive again?" She smiled. "Sure. My short legs still can't touch the pedals." The End