Biological Genesis
Chapter 1
Undeniable
"Over there, Miss. They won't go too near it."
I'm confused for a second why these people would be afraid of a small chip. They don't know what it's origin is thought to be, so they can't be afraid that it's actually extraterrestrial. But then I realize they must be afraid of it because it's foreign. Understandable in a small community like this.
I find what I'm looking for as soon as I get near. It's the biggest piece yet! I bend down and begin scraping at the surrounding sand with my nails so I can uncover it. But it's too big to uncover. I follow the outline with my eyes...what the...? It can't be! I stand up, and back away while still facing it to see it better. Why didn't I notice when I approached? It's clearly visible. My God! It is! It's a UFO! I look away for a second, but my eyes quickly dart back, not wanting to let it out of my sight for too long.
I reach for my cell phone with shaking hands to call Mulder, without realizing I can't. When I do realize that, it's like a physical blow. A punch to the gut. It takes all the enjoyment out of finding a UFO if I can't share it with Mulder. He would be here on the next available flight. No. Mark that. He would have been here with me. He would deny pain and sickness and *anything* really for the chance to find Samantha-*his life quest*. For all anyone knows, Samantha could be in there! That thought alone makes me want to dig away the sand with my bare hands to check right now. Only for Mulder. Only Mulder makes me lose my well nurtured composure. My scientific reason. To chase after what I don't believe in.
Well, I can't believe I'm actually thinking this. Admitting this. But, Mulder's been right all along, and I've denied it and fought it, even when the proof was *undeniable*. God, but I've been a bitch to him! *I'm sorry Mulder*. No wonder he turned to Fowley. At least *she* believes, like him. Or acts like she does. Science be damned! I have the proof in front of me. *Undeniable*. But, I'm too hasty, this isn't like me, it *could* be a fake. It's happened before. My willingness to believe in this, just shows how I've changed over the years. I saw a UFO in the Antartic. I told Mulder so as I cradled him in my lap while I let him sleep, but I couldn't examine that one. I was inside it, but I couldn't examine it. This is *mine*. I want to protect it from the whole Goddamn Syndicate, from the entire world if need be. I gasp as I realize what I just said. Mine? Am I starting to think Mulder won't come back? That I'll have to continue his quest alone? Adopt it? I will if need be, but *geez Scully*, he's only been out of the picture for two days! I *am* going to keep this safe. But I can't do this on my own....I can't get help from Mulder...who to call? Who to call?
Skinner is my second thought, reflexive more than anything. When I remember, my hands ball into fists. *That two faced lying bastard*! I've never, ever trusted him! When Mulder was missing before, and I thought someone was betraying us, I suspected him. It was Mulder, then as always, who told me he was good. Able to be trusted. I've always been more paranoid than Mulder when it comes to who we can trust. He's always ready and willing to trust any Joe that seems nice. What a psychologist! He told me once that I'm the only one he trusts, but he's been duped by a nice face dozens of times! Aren't psychologists supposed to see past that? I would be happy to have this be a two person crusade, without the FBI or Skinner or Kersh breathing down our necks. Mulder and me against the world. Wouldn't be much different from what it's always been! Look where Mulder's ended up from trusting people. Yelling gibberish in a padded room, that's where!
Who to call? Fowley? I snort sarcastically through my nose. I never trusted Fowley and I never will. Nothing's changed there. Wonder if Mulder's opinion of her has changed? Doubt it.
Mulder asked if it was personal? Damn straight it's personal. What does he think has kept me here for almost 7 years? The crappy pay? Yeah, right! Why have I continued the search after we've discovered the *Truth*? I have no sister to find. My sister's dead. There were no little green-*damn it, gray*-men to leave me hoping that she's still alive. There was no kernel of doubt. The *Truth* I found lying in a pool of her own blood in my apartment. Gunshot. Pierced an artery. Cold hard proof. Like concrete. *Undeniable*.
The crazy thing was, when I walked in and saw this red haired lady lying dead in my apartment, I thought that I had found myself lying there dead. Quite the premonition.
So many times my apartment has been bloodied. Fouled. The worst part of the whole deal was always cleaning up the mess after it was all over. While everything was going on, I ran on adrenaline. Nothing could bother me, nothing could get through. I could solve any situation, I could lift a building if need be. Wonderful thing adrenaline. It's really like a drug in a way. A natural drug. But coming down is bad, I'm shaky and teary, and all I want to do is either curl up in a ball for a week, regardless of where I am, or get comforting. This is usually when Mulder and I hug. After the adrenaline rush.
But afterwards. After the adrenaline has worn off. I have to clean up my apartment. While I clean the blood, I think. It gives me time to realize how wrong the situation really is. How *not* normal. Countless letters of resignation have been written and crumpled, written and my nerve lost, written and destroyed. But the memory of those letters is locked in my brain. Seared. Written so many times I have it memorized and perfected:
Dear Mulder,
This letter is to inform you that I've decided to resign my position in the X-Files. I've served several years, and those years are filled with good memories and bad. None of which, will *ever* be forgotten. I've just noticed, recently, that the bad has been outweighing the good. The death, tears, and fear outweighing the rebirth, laughter, and hope. So it is with many doubts that I say enough is enough.
Sincerely,
Agent Dana Scully
There was always a P.S. tacked on. That changed with the years, though. P.S. Don't give up the quest, for I've never doubted the *Truth* is really out there, I've just disagreed with your perception of the *Truth*. P.S. I love you. P.S. I've never blamed you for any of this. Any of the pain or loss. *Please* don't blame yourself. P.S. When you ever get your head out of your ass, and realize what a bitch *Diana* is, come see me. We'll talk then.
And then there were the silly resignation notes: Dear Mulder, I've reached my quota of *I'm Fine's*. If I say it one more time, I'll explode. To protect myself, I must leave.
Of course, when I finally tried to resign, I did it face to face. That just gave him a chance to change my mind. Honestly, I wanted him too. So, he blurted out a few cryptic phrases, that in Mulder's translation book are epiphanies. And that almost kiss, and my resolve was gone. *Whoo boy*, when I saw how he reacted to my resignation, I regretted throwing away those notes. That could have happened *so* much sooner, but with no bee to get in the way!
The notes, though they're gone, are seared in my brain. *Undeniable*. The bloodstains on my carpet remain too. *Undeniable*.
I try to remain normal in my apartment. Incognito. Joe Schmo not Joe FBI. Impossible. There have been so many times when my apartment has been swarming with all breed of law enforcement. So many times when my door has been broken in by a bang of the shoulder-*on the count of three*-then replaced. So many times my work has overflowed into my personal life. Enough times for my neighbors and landlord to know something's up. The looks I get from them is proof that I can't lead a separate but equal personal life. Proof *undeniable*. I'm *not* like Mulder, where it's enough for me to chase after aliens 24-7 and have no life. I want a life! Unlike him, a porn, an occasional Elvis related trip, and I'm good for the year is not true. It's not enough for me. I want friends. I want hobbies. I want a man in my life. Is that too much?
*Damn Bee*! Damn straight it's personal! It's been personal since the first case, one of the very first nights I knew him. When I launched myself, in only my undies, into his arms, he launched himself into my heart. Solidly wedged himself further into my heart daily. I love him. And it's driving me crazy! Absolutely nuts! Every time he rests his hand on my lower back, every time he gives me a trademark Mulder-look, every time I face the realization that the only thing keeping me from his motel bed on trips is a flimsy door, makes me go spiraling further into insanity. In fact, I always figured it would be *me* in the straight jacket, flinging myself at the padded walls and screaming Mulder's name, not him. Would Mulder think about me every second, like I can't get him out of my mind? That is the 10,000 dollar question. I too am on a life-quest. Although, not for my sister. I'm on a life-quest for the answer to that question. I love Mulder. The proof is *so* obvious. Every second I stay on the X-Files is because of him. Because I love him. *Unde-fuckin'-niable*!
I mentally shake myself. This isn't helping at all. Who to call?
The Lone Gunmen? No. This is way over their paranoid heads. And besides, I'm still pissed about them faking Mulder's voice to get me to go to Vegas. They certainly know which buttons to push. The ner...I just thought of the perfect person! My God! Why didn't I think of him 1st? Chuck Barnes
I quickly punch the buttons and get that annoying nasal voice saying, 'Sorry but you're out of range.' *Perfect*.
He walked down the hall quickly and looked through the window into Mulder's door. Mulder was sleeping peacefully, curled up in a ball.
He turned to his two working companions, who were walking down the hall towards him. "How long has he been like this?"
The female spoke up first. "He said he was having mild reactions. The usual ones we've heard. Head ache, hearing voices, and the such. I went over to his house about 26 hours ago-"
The male cut in. "Right after I saw him in the stairwell and called her." The male jerked his head in the direction of the female.
He nodded slowly, suddenly tired. He looked his female companion in the eye. "And you did it as planned?"
The female's eyes flickered. An action he knew from experience that meant she wasn't being completely honest. "I did everything you told me to do."
He fixed her with his 'deadly bastard' look that made her squirm. "And what did you do that I didn't tell you to do?" His voice was soft. Dangerous.
The female thought for a minute, but in the end, shook her head mutely.
Suddenly his hand snaked out, and caught her by her throat, crushing her windpipe. He couldn't lift her up, though. Another thing that made him remember his advanced age. When he was in his prime, he could have lifted her above his head by her throat with one hand.
The male chortled. Obviously enjoying that she was getting her comeuppance. The three's bond wasn't close at all. They all hated each other's guts, and were only together by necessity.
"What did you do?" His voice was cruel.
"I...I...fucked 'im" She gasped out.
He dropped her quickly, and she collapsed into a pile on the floor. He shook his head in distaste, and brushed his hands together, as if trying to get her germs off of him.
"I should have guessed. I know from personal experience you just can't keep your hands to yourself."
A couple walked by, and turned to stare at the female lying in a heap and dry heaving as she finally got some air.
"Get up. Get *up.*"
She continued to lie there. He nodded to the male, and the male nodded back before kicking her viciously in the ribs with his steel-toed boot.
"Now, get up." She finally stood.
He looked at her with his lip curled in distaste before shaking his head and laughing a short bark that turned into convulsive coughing. When he recovered, he looked at her again. "I'm not sure of the logistics of it. He was unconscious, and you should have gotten it through your overly thick skull by now that there's no way he's going to get over Scully and want *you*. How did you do it? He must have been 'putty in your hands.'"
The male snickered at this rare dirty joke.
The female scowled and looked away.
"How did you do it?"
She remained silent and he could feel his hand trembling in it's will to wrap around her pale, delicate neck again. It had felt *good*.
Suddenly the male burst out laughing. "He thought...he thought she was...Scully. Oh God! It's too funny!"
The female let her eyes drift shut, and tried to imagine she wasn't really there.
The male continued. "*Oh Scully. Oh Scully. It feels so good Scully. Oh SCULLY!*"
The female wrapped the remains of her dignity around her like a tattered cape. She straightened her spine, and looked at him with ice in her calm gaze. "We have a past. Fox doesn't forget about the past." She snorted. "It just shows what you know."
He looked at her with barely controlled disgust before sighing. He needed a cigarette.
The male reached for his gun with one hand, before remembering it was his fake arm, and then pulled it out with his other hand. "Should I kill the bitch, boss?"
He thought about it seriously for a moment, but shook his head. "The slut *does* have a purpose." He reached into his pocket with shaking hands for a cigarette. Maybe several.
The male frowned at him. "Not in a hospital, boss."
He again wondered if he really needed these two fucks tagging along with him. What he really needed was a cigarette. With a shake of his head, he took one more pitying glance at the man huddled unaware in the padded room. He cared more about him, his enemy during this too-long battle, than he did about these two peons who were supposed to be his friends. Or, as close as he allowed himself to having friends. He spun on his heel, and quickly stalked towards the exit, and nicotine ecstasy, but quickly turned back.
"What does Scully think?"
The female let a cruel grin overtake her face, and the two men watched in disgust as an almost Snow White's stepmother transformation occurred. "She thinks *he* called *me.*"
He grinned maliciously. "Nice touch."
The male looked hurt. "But-but I thought of it."
The female looked at him in shock, and had to physically restrain herself from sticking her tongue out at him.
He looked at the two of them for another second, and then began walking again.
The female and male turned and followed a respectful distance away. The female poked the male's butt with one finger. The male looked at her with disgust, and then attraction.
"Don't get overly excited," said the female as she rolled her eyes.
"Then what the hell was that?"
"I was checking for a rat tail," said the female with a cool shrug.
The male looked confused for a second, and then let pain surface on his face before he reached out a hand and slapped her ringingly.
The female allowed a small triumphant smile to widen her lips before she looked straight ahead.
He looked back at the two of them with a wry grin as he pushed open the door. "Children, children. Behave."
Chapter 2
A Call to Arms
"Hello. This is Doctor Burks
"Hello Doctor Burks. This is Agent Scully." I twirl the phone cord on the desk into figure eights. I'm using the man who took me to the UFO's (I can't remember his name, too much going on, too little sleep) office for the call, after I gave him strict orders not to let *anyone* near the site. He just laughed, and said that would be no problem considering the fact that no one wanted to go anywhere near it. I told him that not everyone is afraid of it. *Those* are the people to keep away.
"Ah. Agent Scully! How nice to hear from you so soon! How are you?"
I swing my legs up onto the desk. Exhaustion is finally setting in. I didn't sleep in New Mexico, but I slept a few minutes on the flight from New Mexico to Mulder, er, DC Then, after seeing Mulder obviously feels like a nut, (humor in any situation helps to keep reality from setting in), going to the office, finding the bugs, and then 5 minutes later, getting a call from Doctor Sandoz, saying that he had something he wanted to show Mulder...as soon as possible. I caught the next plane. A red eye flight. And being a last minute ticket, wonders that they are, I ended up in coach, sitting next to a man who took up a seat and a half and snored loud enough to wake the dead, (okay, okay. I know that saying is completely cliched, but I'm too tired to spout my usual witty...witticisism). Not like I could have slept then. I had, and still have, too much on my mind to even relax. Let alone sleep. But that has left me with no sleep for the past, (I check my watch, which is still set to DC time), three days. Give or take a few hours. I could outdo Mulder with my sleeplessness.
"Oh. I'm fine. Fine." I say, drily, but he doesn't pick up on it. "How are you doing?"
"Just great. My son pitched a no hitter in Pee-Wee today. What an arm that kid has. We've been out celebrating with the team. You're actually lucky you caught me at home. I *just* walked in the door a moment ago."
He pauses, and I'm left wondering just what he wants me to say. No hitter? I have *no idea* what this means. Where's Mulder when you *finally* need him for God sake? In a padded room, that's where. He at least knows about baseball. No hitter? Boy. Baseball sure is getting violent these days!
"Well...that's great! Just fantastic! Tell him I said congratulations!" Okay, don't push it Dana. It isn't like Graduation or something. Just don't offer the kid a congratulatory check.
"I will. I will. And how's that rogue partner of yours doing? Still fighting crime in the far reaches of the galaxy?"
*Nope, but that sounds like a good episode of Star Trek.* "Er...well, you see...not good." God, it's hard to talk about.
"Oh dear. Nothing serious I hope?" The man may be a cheese, but his concern for Mulder is obviously heartfelt.
"Well, none of the doctors know actually...."
"Doctors? Oh Dana! What's wrong? I *must* know." *Oh brother. Now you're pushing it.* I feel my ire begin to rise when he calls me Dana. I feel...violated. That name has become reserved for friends, family, and Mulder exclusively. It's like he's calling me Honey or Sweet Pea. *Ugh*. That violation is exactly the way I feel when I hear everyone and their Grandmother call Mulder Fox, after he told me he forced even his parents to call him Mulder. I'm starting to think that everyone calls him Fox. Everyone *except me* that is. The thing that really pisses me off, is Fowley calls him that, and he doesn't give her the Fox versus Mulder speech! "Is it related to the aural dissonance he was experiencing the last time I saw him?"
"Yes. It got worse after that. Headaches, confusing noises, disorientation. Things like that. I was out of state for awhile, and when I came back...." My voice catches, and my eyes start to water. *It's the dry air. I swear*.
"Agent Scully?" *That's more like it Buster*. I take a deep steadying breath and continue. "He seems to have gone crazy."
"My God!" His shock is apparent. I wait for a joke. Like: well, isn't he already? Or: well, I always knew it would happen sooner or later. When I see that none is coming, I 'm-hmm' in agreement.
"You know, a good question is, why it would affect Agent Mulder so strongly."
I frown in confusion. "I don't think I understand...."
"Well, you and I, and I'm sure others have been around the chips, and I'm sure even more for the rubbings, and we weren't affected at all. Why is that?"
I gasp. "I'd never thought of that! It's a very good question though." I swing my feet off the desk, get up and begin pacing. My exhaustion forgotten. "It seems selective. Maybe there's some characteristic Mulder has that I lack. Something in our genetic makeup that differs." My fingers are suddenly itching, and I can't wait to run some tests. This is my forte. In a sea of extraterrestrial mumbo jumbo that I'm naive about, finally something I can understand, and cling to like a rock.
"Seems possible. Look, Agent Scully...I'm sorry, but if this is the reason behind you calling me, I must confess that I can be of little to no help on this matter. As I said, it's right up my alley, but I know less than you do about Agent Mulder's condition, not having seen him as he now is, and despite the brief research I did after we met, I still have no idea of what could be causing the effect those chips have on him. I really don't know what to say."
I had almost forgotten the true purpose of my call. "Oh no. There's something else. Something you *can* lend your expertise on...is your end safe?"
I ransacked the room earlier, and took apart the phone and found nothing, so I'm quite satisfied with the security on *this* side, but I'm not willing to trust *anyone*. Not even Burks
"Safe? I guess so." He seems confused by my question.
"Is there anyone within hearing distance? Have you checked for bugs lately?" I clarify.
"Oh that! I thought you meant safe from *crime*!" He chuckles a bit, but I've been running to hard lately to see any humor in the misunderstanding. When he realizes I'm not joining in, he tapers off to a halt, and with a clearing of his throat, begins again. "I can very definitely assure you of its safety. Agent Mulder has quite rubbed off on me. I get three men to thoroughly comb my house and office weekly. Quite eccentric folk, but they do a good job. They write a *conspiracy* newspaper and are even more paranoid than our dear Agent Mulder. I know what you're thinking, but, yes, it's possible. The stories they tell! Just the other day in fact, the one with long blonde hair and glasses told me one...."
I raise an eyebrow. So, the Lone Gunmen are doing bug checks? I always secretly wondered what their source of income was. Hacking probably costs more to buy the equipment then it brings in, as they seem to do it just to prove that they can, rather than to do anything malicious. And their Magic Bullet newspaper subscriptions could only be in the double digits...and I'm being generous here. You would figure, if there were that many people like the Lone Gunmen running around talking about conspiracies, there would be that many less conspiracies left. Wouldn't you? And the way Doctor Burks
"...So that's why I don't eat Pop Tarts anymore."
I realize I wasn't paying any attention to what he was saying. "Uh huh. Interesting. So the line *is* safe?"
"Oh...yes." He seems miffed by my lack of verbosity on the subject. *Sorry, but you're talking to the wrong agent*.
"Okay then. I got a call from a Doctor Sandoz
"It wasn't? That's what I was expecting you to say. What is it then?" His interest is piqued now.
"It's made of the same materials as the chip that I showed you...but it's an entire UFO."
"My God! Are you sure it's real?" He's awestruck.
"Well, as sure as I can be on my own. I do need a second opinion though."
"Yes of course! Who?"
*My God, but this man is dense*. "Does your son have any more Pee-Wee games coming up in the next few days?"
He's now screaming at the top of his lungs. "You want me too...well, I've never...but that doesn't mean I'm not qualified...yes. He has one Tuesday, but...screw his games!"
"Okay. Calm down. How soon can you come?"
"Now. Before now!"
"There is one problem...."
"What? What? What is it?"
"I don't know how I stand on the X-Files. I kind of yelled at my boss, and I'm not sure if I want to work for him anymore. Can you buy your own plane ticket?"
"Is that it? Sure." He begins laughing. "I just thought of something!"
"What?" Is
"Think of this." He's laughing so hard, he can barely get this out. "All these fantastic *chips* we've *oohed* and *aahed* over are just scraps. They're just pieces that fell off of the UFO and found their way to the shore miles away. Literally the tip of the iceberg."
"My God! You're right!" I can't help but laugh with him at the irony of this. We laugh together for a second, but my laughter is cut short by an enormous yawn.
"I bet you've been so worried about Mulder that you haven't been able to sleep since. I'll let you go, but you have my orders to get some sleep. Worrying isn't going to help a thing."
"Thank you. I'll try." The thought is what counts, and it's a very nice thought indeed.
"Oh, and something else, Agent Scully."
"What's that?"
"Don't worry about your boss. I've heard tell that Agent Mulder *kind of* yells at him too and *he* has yet to be crucified."
"Thank you again. In fact, I think now, crucification is the only thing that Mulder has yet to have happen to him."
"Good-bye and good night."
"Same to you. Call me when you know the time you'll be arriving." I give him the office number that I'm calling from, since I can't get a cell signal. "You can leave a message, and it'll get to me."
I sigh when I finally hang up. That man certainly can talk. I'm used to Mulder and my comfortable silences. Neither of us are Chatty Cathy's. We like to let things that are obvious, or pertaining to emotion, left to a look instead of spelling it out. I regret this decision now. What if Mulder never gets better? We've never...well, we've never done anything, really. I push that morbid thought to the back of my mind. Mulder *will* get better.
I look up at the sky on the way to my car. It's a 20 minute drive to my motel, and then I'm going to stew in the hottest, bubbliest bath I can create. Father McCue said that God works in mysterious ways. Well, this has me completely baffled. Are you mocking me God? Well, maybe not mocking, but proving to me that it's never ever done? I remember my discussion with Mulder in the elevator about there being nothing left. About us having all the answers, and nothing left to do or find. This was fueled by our last couple of cases being rather...dumb. Mulder said something about it not being over until the fat lady sings...er...Samantha's found. If I wasn't duly chastised enough by the reminder of his *life quest* the only reason for him living (sigh) I had to have this case dumped solely on my lap that holds in the balance, not only the root of religion, but the existence and beginning of man himself.
"Okay okay! I give! I believe it's not over! Just make this *case* be over. Make Mulder sane! Maybe that's too much to ask for. Just make him his old self! I WANT TO BELIEVE!" I shout this up to the empty sky, before I remember my comment from before that the next step in my paranoia would be shouting that and THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE to the sky. Well, one down, one to go. Now I'm *really* turning into Mulder. My unusual behavior gets me a few curious glances, and some comments that make me glad I don't understand the language.
Give me a man eating 'shroom monster any day over *this*.
He nodded to the male, and the male pressed the button to disconnect the phone tap.
The male and female looked at him apprehensively as he closed his eyes, and took a deep drag on his cigarette. He finally opened up his eyes, and looked at one and then the other of them.
"Can either of you tell me what just happened there?"
The male and female looked at each other, and waged a silent, 'you first. No, ladies first. No, rats first,' battle before he pounded his fists down on the table, making both of them jump.
"Fine. Since you're both idiots, I'll tell *you* what just happened. We just got FUCKED! That's what!" He felt a vein pulse dangerously in his forehead, and took a few deep breaths with his eyes closed before continuing in a deadly calm voice. He kept his eyes closed. "Why did we not know about this? Why was I not informed there was a UFO?"
The male spoke up. "We have a short number of contacts in Africa. We were going to send one of Strughold's men from Tunisia to check it out, but he never contacted us. We assumed that he was there, but we got a call from him earlier today that he got drunk and missed his flight and was finally calling to inform us."
"Kill him," he said in a flippant tone.
"It's already been done," said the female.
"Good. Now what?"
"Sir, you should tell the rest of the Syndicate." said the female, hesitant to bring up the subject she knew he hated the most.
His eyes flew open before he calmed. "No. What's the use? No one's left. They're either burnt to a crisp, or out of the loop." He cackled humorlessly without choking this time. "I could kiss every single one of those faceless fucks. They really made my life so much easier. No. I have a plan."
"Kill 'em all?" Said the male eagerly.
"No. That's always been my last resort." He rolled his eyes as the male 'oh'ed in disappointment. He certainly was the 'shoot 'em up' type. It was a recent phenomena too. Probably to make up for having one arm. He regretted it, and not for the first time. The 'shoot 'em ups' were sloppy. He abhorred sloppy.
"Then what's the plan Sir?" The female hated the two males camaraderie. She felt left out. They used to be like that too. It had stopped when she stopped having sex with him. Maybe she should rethink that idea.
He smiled. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know."
Chapter 3
Lost
*Scully? Scully...can you hear me? Um, uh, I'm here Scully. I'm with you. I just wanted you to know that. That I'm okay...well, sorta. I know this will sound weird, but, I can hear your words. In my head. Along with about 10 million other people's. It's getting kinda crowded in here. Let me tell you, it's getting a little insane in my head...even more than I'm used to Scully. Your words are keeping me semi-sane. They're reminding me of what I have to go back to, so I don't allow myself to get too far.*
*I just wanted to tell you...you're doing a good job without me there. You're doing so good, baby. I'm so proud of you. It's making me kind of nervous how good a job you're doing. It scares me how much you don't need me on this, and how much my welfare is solely in your hands alone. I know you can do it Scully, my faith is in you. I just...I wish I could be there with you right now...so much.*
*Just stay safe Scully. I can't be there to watch your back. Just...stay safe for me...I want...no, I need Scully...I need you to do that...can you? For me?*
*Trust no one Scully. Trust no one. Take it from me, I learned that the hard way recently...I hope you know what I'm talking about here, because it's too painful to spell out. I hope you can hear this. I really do. I know that I hurt you when...when I told you that you don't know her. Dammit. Neither do I. Neither do I. I thought I did. I did, but I don't know the her that she is now. She's bad stuff Scully. Real bad. Is there anyone in this world I can trust besides you? You who was first sent to spy on me. Make my quest fail. That's really ironic if you stop and think. I've had tons of time to do that. You...you don't have any big secrets do you? Do you really have a package under those skirts? Ew, right? Okay. I trust you.*
*I'm okay here Scully. I get three square a day from this annoying tube, I'm allowed no visitors, and let me tell you, this place is guarded more securely than the federal reserve, and a little less than the Syndicate's secrets. I'm safe. Don't worry about me Scully. I'm probably the safest here that I've ever been. The funny thing is, that with the padded walls and straight jacket, they think they're protecting me from myself. But really, they're protecting me from what I really need protection from with the mega security: the outside world. Don't worry about me. Please.*
* I just wanted to tell you that you're doing such a good job. You're doing it all right. You're doing alright. Just...just get me out of here, okay? Stay safe okay? I gotta let you go now. It's just...Jesus, I miss you...oh, do you hear that? I gotta let you go...go on, answer the door. Answer the door.*
"Go away. Cantchu see that I'm talkin' with Mulder? Go away. Lemme talk." The banging doesn't stop, and I finally, reluctantly, allow my heavy eyelids to open. I'm shocked by what I see. Huh? How did I end up in the bathtub? I search my memory frantically, and then it all comes back in a rush.
Running into the bathroom as soon as I returned last night. Losing my shirt, bra, and pants on the way. Leaving a path of clothing to the tub. Running the hottest water I could, while searching through my cosmetic bags for bubble bath. Other things, unneeded in relation to the purpose on my mind, were tossed left and right. Finally, at the bottom of my bag, there it was: ocean scented, and bubbly as all hell. Running to the tub, noting in the back of my mind that it had run over. Jumping in and sending more liquid cascading over the side. Dumping half a bottle in the tub and blowing at the froth that reached my nose. Finally, sighing and leaning back. I believe my crocheted muscles unkinking and untangling were audible to my ears. And then, feeling so tired...so tired. The hot water was seductively luring me into the world of the sleeping. "Okay," I murmured, giving my verbal consent to the overwhelming temptation, "I'll just close my eyes for a second...just for a second...." Then, end of transmission, roll credits: I fell asleep in the bath.
With a shiver, I lift myself out of the water, not even tepid anymore, ice cold, wrap myself in a robe, and run to the door where the pounding has yet to abate. I almost fall as I jump out of the tub. I had forgotten the overflow water that has left a giant puddle in the bathroom.
"Hello Miss Scully." It's the man who took me to the UFO, and I still can't remember his damn name, even with some sleep
"Yes. Yes of course. Thank you, I just..." I laugh in embarrassment. "I fell asleep in the bathtub before I could set my alarm."
His eyes flicker in amusement, but he quickly hides it when he continues. "Miss Scully, I'm sure you must be very tired. I'm sorry to wake you...I'm sorry, but I must ask, I heard you call something before you came to the door and I must ask. You said you were talking with Mulder. I was wondering, have you heard from him? Can he come?"
"Miss Scully? Did something I say scare you? Was it the mention of Mr. Mulder? Are you okay Miss Scully? Do you need to lay down?"
His forehead crinkles in confusion. "You think? Are you sure you don't need to lay down Miss Scully?"
"I'm positive. I just...I need," *I want...no, I need Scully*, "to get dressed. I'll be to your office in minutes." I try to give him a reassuring smile.
He looks unconvinced, but leaves anyway.
I close the door and fall onto the bed. I lay, knees pressed to my chest, on my side, while I try to remember the whole thing. It shocks me how easily it comes to mind. The entire one-sided conversation runs through my head. It's Mulder. Only Mulder could sound like that. It was so reassuringly Mulder. Another thought comes to me, and I frown. What if this is the way my reaction to the UFO is manifesting itself? The thought scares me. If we're both insane, then who's going to do this? The bleak answer scares me. No one. There's no one else to trust. *Trust no one Scully. Trust no one.* I need a test. A test to trust myself. The tenure of my sanity. I know this will sound weird, but....
"M-Mulder." My trembling voice comes to life, hesitant and embarrassed that I've come to this. Desperately talking to an absent man while curled up on my bed trembling. "Mulder. You said you can hear my words. Can you hear me? Can you hear me Mulder? I just need...I'm scared Mulder. I'm scared that I'm going insane too. I'm scared Mulder. I need you to talk to me. Please Mulder." I wait too long for a reply, and when I get none I swipe at my eyes with an angry hand. "O-okay Mulder. I'm...I'm insane." I almost laugh at how...insane...that sounds, but realize that laughing by myself would seem even more insane. "I'm going nuts. You're going to have a partner in your padded room soon Mulder."
*No. No Scully.*
I gasp as his calm voice fills my head. "N-n-no?"
*Not yet. I need you to continue. Please Scully. For me. For us. For the X-Files. You can't stop now.*
Suddenly I realize that this is more insane than anything so far. I could care less. I'm talking with Mulder. Lemme talk.
"I-I miss you Mulder. I need you on this." I laugh gently when I realize he said those words to me before. I can hear his soft laughter in my head too. "Hey Mulder, I saw one. I saw a UFO. In fact I have it. I'm keeping it safe."
*I'm glad Scully.*
My voice drops to a whisper, and tears come to my eyes. "I saw the one in Antarctica too. I never told you that."
*My Scully. My Scully. I'm so glad.*
His voice makes my heart throb painfully. It makes me wish he was here even more than before. "I don't know if I can do this without you, Mulder. I don't even know if I want to." I tell him this before I've fully realized it. When I hear his soft gasp, I realize I just said the rest of what he had called to me in his hallway. A day that seems an eternity ago.
*Scully, you can. You're doing better without me than I did without you. Hey Scully, what are you doing in bed at this time of day? Lazy bones. Up and at 'em.*
"Okay Mulder." I sit up, but then think of what's the most important to me. "Mulder. Mulder, I'll do this, but I need you to do something for me. Can you do this for me? Can you get better? I need you to do that for me Mulder." My voice trembles with the intensity of my words.
Mulder sighs, and is silent for a second.
*Scully. I don't know how. It's not like I'm doing this on purpose. I don't know what the cause is, and I don't know how to stop it.*
I pause for a moment. This isn't easy. What ifs are running rampant through my head. "Just...just stay safe. Eat your food and rest."
Mulder laughs.
*I don't have much of an alternative do I? What else could I do here?*
"Dammit Mulder. This isn't easy on me." My voice is harsh, but then it relaxes. I can never stay mad at Mulder for long. "What can I do for you?"
*Just have Chuck
"A frightening thought indeed. Okay Mulder. Okay. I have to go now."
*Okay Scully.*
I arrive at the
"Hello
"Ah hello. I guess you got my messages."
*Yes. All 7 of them.* "Yes, I certainly did."
"I just wanted you to know that I'm on the plane right now."
"Oh really?"
"Yes. I'll be landing in about 15 minutes."
"I'll-I'll pick you up then."
"See you later."
"Yes. Bye."
I pick him up and drive him, at his request, directly to the UFO. On the way, he asks me about 100 questions, and to each, I reply either, 'you'll see when you get there', or 'I don't know that yet.'
When we get to the UFO, Burks
"It's...it's so big."
Mulder's ruined me. He's made all other men look like nincompoops. "What tests can you do on it?"
"I can find out whether it's real or a fake. I can date it too. Find out what it's made of. Do you want to see what's inside?"
"Not just yet. Do the tests first, and then we'll go from there."
"Now?"
I blink at him in amazement. "Could you?"
He shrugs. "Well, sure. All my stuff's in your car. I could get a sample and then take it to my hotel room. I could have conclusive results within the hour."
"Well...well that would just be fantastic." Nincompoop he is not.
I watch as he goes to the car, gets his equipment, and then hurries back. He takes a medium-sized chunk of the UFO that's half buried in the sand nearby.
We drive to the hotel in complete silence. Burks
We say our good-byes, and then part ways. He goes to his room, next door to mine, to do the tests, and I'm left with nothing to do.
I go to my hotel room. I turn on the TV, and then I turn it off a few minutes later. I pick up a book I've been reading, and even though it's a page-turner, it can't hold my interest. I finally end up pacing the room and wondering how in God's name I got here. The chubby high school science geek with glasses and no boyfriend until she was 18 is now a doctor and in the FBI. She's in Africa waiting for the results of a UFO that could change what is known of the origin of man. Who woulda thunk it? Not me. It's as if it was destiny, and not something that I had control over. It certainly seems like destiny. Or something.
The pounding on our connecting door makes me jump, and I check my watch as I scurry to open it. 35 minutes. Is it good or bad that it went so fast?
I yank open the door, and am instantly swept into an exuberant hug.
"It's real!" He crows triumphantly.
I'm shocked for a second. Real. It's real. My UFO is real. Mulder's been right. Mulder's right. *Oh God Mulder.*
"And the...the date?" I stutter.
"Well, how to put this...zero."
I frown at him.
"It's zero." He laughs at the hilarity of it. "It's between BC and AD. Between thirty BC and thirty AD."
"But, but." I truly don't know how to take this added piece of information.
"I know. I know. Odd, right? Do you think it's a coincidence?"
"What do you mean?" I ask this, sharper than intended.
"Well, the coming of Christ coinciding with when the UFO came. Kind of a major coincidence."
"Are you...are you saying?" I know what he's saying; it's just not something I can start to comprehend. Talk about a double whammy.
"Yes. Yes I am. What if Christ was really an alien?"
I choke, and my eyes start to bug out.
"I mean, it makes sense."
"*No it doesn't*" I try to yell it at him. Get him to stop. But it comes out a gargle.
His eyes lower to my cross. "I'm sorry Dana. It does."
"Don't just keep saying that. *Why* do you think it does?" He called me Dana again. He's a nincompoop. Plain and simple.
"Well, if my Sunday school doesn't fail me. That's right around the time of the Egyptians, Aztecs, and Mayans. All of them were extremely, unusually, gifted for their time and used technology and building skills that weren't understood for centuries, and still aren't truly understood even today. There have been serious theories that they were taught by aliens. That aliens came down and gave them the technology and knowledge. It makes sense. The date checks out. And think of where we are. Where the crash site is. How far are we from the events in the New Testiment? A couple hundred miles at the very most. And think of the writing. It's believed the Navaho descended from them."
He fades off, and all I can do is shake my head in confusion and denial. I'm going to allow myself denial for a while. "What...what about the materials?"
"Nothing known. Nothing that's from this world. The materials are a close match with what has been found in other, more modern, crash sites."
I think for a moment. What next? What next? "I can't just leave it here. And I don't know how or where to take it. I need to be back in DC, though."
"There are still a few tests I would like to run. I took off work for a week. I wouldn't mind a bit staying down here with it."
I close my eyes and thank God--wait...is there one...? Too much to think about--that I have this man to rely on. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Okay. Okay. This could work. I'll take the results you've gotten so far with me back to DC. I'll check in with you daily. By the end of the week, I should know what to do with the UFO."
"Fine with me. Oh. Agent Scully, can I go in it now that we know it's real?"
I shake my head vehemently. "No. In fact. Now that it's real, there's even more reason *not* to go in it. We don't know that much about aliens. What if they live forever? What if they're mean? I don't want you getting chewed on....Oh my God, I can't believe that I'm talking like they actually exist."
He grins at me. "I'm going to go down there again. I want to take pictures of the outside so you can take them back with you."
I grin back at him. "You just think of everything, don't you? I'm going to call the airport and book the next available flight. I hope you have a quick camera."
"Yeah. A disposable camera. But there are only 15 pictures."
"Well, I'll take those for now, and then when you get some more, send them to me."
"Fine. I'll be back in 20 minutes at the most."
I turn to pick up the phone, but his voice stops me. "Hey Dana. I'm glad you thought of me."
*Trust no one Scully* Mulder's voice nags in the back of my mind, but I try to shake it off. "I'm glad I did too."
*Scully, it's getting worse. There are more voices now. It's getting overwhelming. I think I've lost you in the crowd. That scares me more than anything. It's like I'm standing on a street corner in my brain, searching the sounds of a faceless mob as they go hurtling by at breakneck speed. Trying to pick your voice out of the caucophony, but none of them are you. None of them fit.*
*I feel like chicken tonight-I did everything you told me to do. What did you do?-KILL THE POPE!-Where's the beef?-Stop the insanity!-They're coming for me, they're coming for me, they're coming for me-Kill 'em all?-You better get outta town before sundown-Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!-Every time a bell rings, an angel gets it's wings-I can't get no...satisfaction-And Bless Mommy and Daddy and Fluffy-Can't we all just get along?-If the vice-president's name was Gutz, it would be 'Gore and Gutz in 2000!'*
*And then...I hear you. Crystal clear, and life saving, like a bubble of pure oxygen reaching me where I'm drowning, tangled up in the weeds at the bottom of a scummy pond.*
Mulder? Mulder? Are you there? I'm coming. Coming tomorrow-*You take the lime and the coconut and mix it all up*-...taking pictures....-*You've been a bad, bad, girl*-Gonna stay-*Then you add 2 cups of water*-Can you believe it's real?-*Send me an angel, piece by piece*-...old, zero to thirty AD-*Heeeere's Johnny*-...just can't believe that he thinks it's Jesus-*2 times 2 is 4, 2 times 3 is um...7?*-...makes sense though-*Sprint isn’t that the point…of contact? (that voice...sounds oddly familiar)*-...scaring me. Are you there?-one is the loneliest number (I could deal with one right now, instead of 5 billion)*-...something Mulder. Just...say something 'kay?
*She sounds like she's crying, so I try. I try my hardest for her.*
*Scully? Scully? There are so many people now. I'm losing you Scully.*
*Mulder. Please. Dammit. Say anything.*
*I realize that she can't hear me anymore. This scares me more than anything. And then I'm not scared anymore. I'm pulled off my feet from where I stand on the corner, and swept along with the crowd. Pulled along against my will. Carried hand by hand over the heads of the crowd like I'm at some otherworldly grunge concert. I close my eyes and let the helplessness overtake me, as a deafening wave of speech crashes over me. I'm drowning in the noise.*
*I'm lost.*
End Note: "Don't worry about your boss. I've heard tell that Agent Mulder *kind of* yells at him too, and *he* has yet to be crucified."
"Thank you again. In fact, I think now, crucification is the only thing that Mulder has yet to have happen to him."
Well, my Mom and I have been getting together once a week to rewatch all the old episodes, to sum up with the movie (which I've now learned is Monster of the Week style, and not related to the Mytharc, so this probably hasn't been necessary.). I posted this right after we rewatched Biogenesis, and my memory was refreshed enough to make the necessary edits. The next time, we rewatched The Sixth Extinction 1 and 2, and my mind went back to these line, which I had originally written in the summer between Biogenesis and those episodes. Do you know what made my mind go back to those lines? How about the scenes with Mulder stretched out on a big shiny cross looking table, and CSM is comparing him to Christ? Just another eerie coincidence...I'm starting to feel like the writer in Milagro!!!