Title: Hell on Earth Authors: Ophinea & L.A. E-mail: ophinea@aol.com or LAinNJ@aol.com Rating: PG-13 for language Category: SRA Spoilers: Itty bitty ones for seasons 1-5 and a couple tiny ones for FTF. Story takes place before the sixth season. Keywords: MSR Summary: After being kidnapped, beaten and discarded in the middle of nowhere, how do Mulder and Scully survive their own private hell on earth? Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully don't belong to us (although what we'd like to do with Mulder if...well, we won't go there, this isn't rated NC-17 now is it). They belong to FOX, Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and the amazing David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson who breathe the life into these wonderful characters. We're just borrowing them for a little bit, and promise to put them back when playtime is over :o) Dedication: This story goes out to all the writers out there who started a story that refused to end itself, also lovingly referred to as a story from hell. Well, it took us seven months, but with a little help we finally did it! Lots of thanks go out to Amanda and Lisa for making sure that Hell made sense. Hell on Earth by Ophinea and LA ------------------------- Hell on Earth: Burn Inky black fades into a foggy gray as I awake from an unconscious slumber. Where my body isn't aching, it's burning. Within moments I'm certain I've been dumped into a volcano. Lava bubbling up, ready to char anything that is in its path. Struggling to remember how I ended up here, one thought strikes me head on: Scully! Like a rubber band that's been held taut and suddenly let loose, my eyelids fly open. Only then do I realize that I am face down in a motherload of sand. Dragging my aching arms up beside me, I push up with all the strength I can manage, and yelp out in pain as my left hand collapses beneath me. Dumbly, I can't help but look down at the mangled and bruised mess that was once my hand and fingers. The soft groan from beside me instantly redirects my attention. Turning, I see one hell of a lot more desert, and the still form of Scully. She looks like Picasso had a field day with her face. All the wrong colors in all the wrong places...bumps and gouges where none were ever meant to be. xxx Too bright...four thousand megawatt bright. A blazing sun seeps through my swollen eyes threatening to consume me whole. Quickly, I bring my hand up in a pitiful attempt to block its onslaught. Taking a chance, I open one eye ever so slightly to look at Mulder. I can't pry the other one open to save my life. Damn fool that he is, Mulder is wide-eyed and searching my face for something. Anything. Why do I suddenly remember a time when Bill Jr. clocked me and I ended up with a shiner? Ahab was so mad. Boy, did he beat Bill's ass for that one. I can remember sitting on Ahab's lap, an ice bag to my eye to try and quell the knot that formed there. That was the day that Ahab told me he was going to teach me how to fight back, and then-- "Scully?" Mulder calls my name gently as he rubs his hand on my arm in a comforting motion. Something tells me I should be grateful that I could see him at all. Admittedly, I'd appreciate it if he weren't so blurred around the edges. Through the blur I can distinguish the purplish welts and angry red slashes that are blending together, battling for possession of his features. His face looks as bad as mine feels. "Scully, can you hear me?" Mulder's voice is hoarse, I note. I can attribute that to all the screaming that he had done...that we had both done. Not that it mattered in the long run. Whoever had deemed it necessary to beat us to a bloody pulp then dispose of us God knows where obviously didn't care if we yelled. "Scully!" Even a deaf man could hear the insistence in Mulder's voice. He's worried about me I realize hazily. I know I should try to answer him, but oh do I hurt. My jaw, my ribs, everything is aching. "I'm alright," I mumble. I swear someone dumped a bag full of marbles in my mouth. If that's not the case, it sure sounds like somebody did. I try to take a good look at Mulder, though in my condition that's a losing battle. I force myself to at least make mental note of the damage I can see and it doesn't inspire much hope. By the looks of him, I doubt he's feeling much better than I am. Mulder took several, severe blows, and many more when he protested our kidnapper's mistreatment of me. He assumed that if he diverted their attention away from me and towards himself, I'd be better off. Wrong time for chivalry, Mulder. As soon as they were done rearranging my ribs, they tap danced on your handsome face. That was NOT a smart move, partner. "I'm sorry, Scully," he tells me, as he lightly runs his hand across my battered cheek. If the market on apologies could be cornered, Mulder would be the man to do it. I swear he spends more time apologizing then any ten people I've known. Will he ever wise up? Not everything that goes wrong in our world is his fault. I open my eye again and attempt to form coherent words. "Are you okay?" I hear myself ask. He grins sickly at me. "Nothing a few shots of Jose wouldn't cure. I'm more concerned about you." He is still staring at me, now using his torn shirt cuff to wipe some of the blood encrusted sand off my face. I try to take a deep breath, and am hit with a coughing fit that would lead people to believe I am a smoker. Not since high school I'm afraid. I wish it was a smoker's cough; that couldn't possibly hurt this bad. Not to mention I wouldn't have to hide the severity of my injuries to Mulder. I can taste blood in my mouth, swirling across my tongue. If I tell him that now, he'll likely go into another outbreak of self- blame and 'I'm sorrys' and I just don't have the strength to smack some sense into him. Not at the moment, at least. I can't help but grimace as a wave of nausea hits me hard. Struggling to sit up, I resolutely ignore the adamant protest that my ribs are making with every move. When you have to throw up, you have to throw up. I hear Mulder grunt in a swallowed utterance of agony as he helps me to my knees. If it were any other time than now, I would insist upon examining the injury that caused that sound. However, I'm too busy retching for what seems like forever. Finally, my stomach's violent onslaught subsides. Leaning back against a jagged rock, I glance over at Mulder and try to catch my breath. What I see doesn't make me feel much better. The hand he just used to help me up, is swollen, bruised, and cradled against his side. I should be upset with him for endangering his life, even if it was on my behalf. Their abuse of me is what brought him to it. I know that in my heart. Yet, my pride is wounded. Part of me can't help but wonder if he thought I couldn't take the pressure they put on me. I want to be angry with him for that, but I find that I can't. I can no more stay angry with him for trying to protect me than I could direct my anger at him for breathing. It's second nature for him. I knew that a long time ago. "Scully," he gently murmurs my name, almost like a lover's caress. At a different time, maybe, but the idea of sweet nothings right now flips my stomach again. "Yeah," I mutter though gritted teeth. "You gonna be okay?" he asks, his face creased with worry. xxx Scully mumbles a reply. A promise or a prayer, I'm not sure which. I can tell it's hard for her to speak. Reaching out towards me she takes hold of my good hand and looks up at me. I see her fears and mine reflecting back at me in stark clarity. We both know that our chances of surviving out here are slim to none, even in top condition. I brush the sweat soaked hair from Scully's face, and put my arm around her. As the blistering sun cooks the raw skin on my face I become further convinced that we've been dumped in hell. Trying to get our bearings, I notice a large rock formation out in the distance, the only source of shade and protection to be seen for miles. It's not the Ritz, but it will have to do. I just don't know how we are going to make it that far. I look down at her, trying to surmise how badly she's been injured. She is watching me watch her. "Can you--" "I can walk," she tells me. And they call me spooky. xxx I have come to the basic conclusion that this will go much better if I lie to him. That's the ticket, Scully. Lie to him. "I can walk," I hear myself say. 'I CAN walk, I CAN walk,' I repeat the words over in my mind. If I can stand, I can walk, I assure myself. In the next instant, I am falling over to my side, my ribs howling in protest as I strike the uneven ground. In an instant Mulder is next to me, his useless hand still tucked protectively across his stomach. I am an idiot, and his hand is obviously broken. He gingerly helps me to a sitting position, placing his good hand on the back of my neck to try and keep the angry sun off it. I tentatively reach forward and take his injured hand. He yelps when I touch it, and pulls away. It reminds me of when he ended up with a broken pinky. This time though, there is no miracle first aid kit. "Mulder, let me see it," I say, willing my jaw to work. It's a losing battle. He gets this look on his face...how can I describe it...he looks like a little boy playing a grown up. I can tell the injury is bad enough, that if he could, he'd sit himself down and bawl his eyes out. The man in him tells him he should tough it out. At least in front of me. "Mulder," his name rolls of my tongue plaintively. "Let me help you." He looks at me, reaching to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. "It's fine, Scully, really. Besides, we've got to get out of this sun." After a brief pause, he tilts his head in my direction, giving me a lopsided grin. "Want to give that walking thing another shot? " I signal with my hand for him to help me up. He pulls, and soon I'm standing, albeit rather unsteadily, on my feet. If there were a breeze in this godforsaken desert, I'd be over in a second. xxx Scully's determination is indomitable. She looks like she's ready to fall over face-first, and yet somehow, she manages to stay upright. I wrap my arm around her waist, and we begin our trek forward in silence. One foot in front of the other. We can make it. One in front of the other. It is my mantra now, and I use it to try and drown out the howling complaints that my body is bombarding me with. Including my ankle. I haven't mentioned that to her yet. For now, it is supporting my weight, but it feels like a spike is being driven through it with every move. Grin and bear it, I tell myself. I look over at Scully and notice that she is watching my feet. Without warning, she stops. At most we might be about half a mile from where we started. I figure she needs a well-deserved rest, and I too am grateful for the momentary reprieve. That is until she looks up at me, one blue eye shooting fiery arrows in my direction "Damn it Mulder!" She spits my name out in a half holler. "What?" I ask, confused. "Look Scully, I'm sorry. I had no idea that our trip out here would land us in this hell they call a desert. I swear to you had I--" "Shut up," she says in a monotone voice. "Excuse me?!" "You're limping Mulder." "So?" "So why are you limping, and why the hell didn't you say something?" "I'm limping because getting repeatedly kicked in the ankle hurts like a son of a bitch and I didn't say anything because it doesn't matter." xxx "Mulder, it matters to me. You should have told me." "And what could you have done, Scully? Nothing. There is no sense arguing over a moot point, besides which, you're in worse shape than I am." He cringes as his eyes meet mine. THE look. Mulder knows it well. My eyebrow has managed to shoot towards the heavens, oblivious to the pain in my eye. "When I need your help, Mulder, I'll ask for it." I turn from him and attempt to walk away, defiant to the last. That would be a good trick if I could bear to stand alone for more than five seconds at a time. I stop, raise my hand to my face, and gingerly caress my jaw. Risking a glance back, I see him still standing where I left him, hurt evident in his eyes. It dawns on me that there is a part of him quietly pleading for me to need him. Slowly, I walk back to him. "I..." Who knew this was going to be so hard for me to say. "I...you're right Mulder. I...I can't do this alone." I pause again, forcing myself to allow the next words to pass my lips. "I need you." He doesn't say a word but I see an amazing transformation in him. The ache within him seems drain away. It's almost as if it was a tangible creature, one that in moment decided it would be left in the distance. We continue on in silence for quite a while before he whispers, just barely loud enough for me to hear, "Together." xxx I let her support the smallest possible amount of my weight and we continue onward as the sun beats down on us without mercy. I wipe the sweat from my brow and hers, continually. I'm surprised that she's allowing it. She falters and we slow for a moment, only to pick up the pace, double time. Her face is pale, and it worries me. In this heat she should be beet red, but even her lips are nearly white. This time it is I who insists we stop. She'll kill herself at this rate. Knowing her, it will all be because she feels she has to prove that she is not weak. xxx I can remember when we caught Kurt Crawford in Allentown. So long ago, it seems. My nose began to bleed and Mulder couldn't take his eyes off my face. I remember this well because I am using the same exact words on him now that I did then. "Quit staring at me, Mulder. I'm fine," I tell him, irritation distinct in my voice. The only difference between Allentown and now is that he refuses to look away from me. He shakes his head and his eyes bore into me. "Scully, if you were fine, you wouldn't look like a ghost." Admittedly, my retort was an attempt to piss him off, anything to distract him from his current focus: me. I can tell by looking at him that he has no intention of backing down, but it's worth one more shot. If he gets a close look at the shape I'm in he's going to be significantly more worried about me than I know he already is. "Mulder, I'm fine. Neither of us is in any condition to be traipsing across the desert, let alone any place else, but that doesn't change the fact that if we don't keep moving we'll die out here. Let's just go." "No." His response is simple, and so is the determination in his voice. Damn the man for having the tenacity of a pit bull. "I was going to wait until we got to the rocks but this needs done now," he says as he reaches for the buttons on my shirt. "That isn't necessary, Mulder. I'm fine." I'd rather die than let him know that with every step, my ribs are grating together mercilessly and that I haven't drawn a decent breath since we woke up out here. Weakly, I brush his hands away from my shirt only to have him grab both my wrists with his good hand. I try to pull away. He refuses to let go. Trying to scare him off, hoping that he'll back down, I look up at him defiantly. I'm stunned when I see the set of his jaw. Gone is gentle concern, only to be replaced by outright fire. "Dana Scully...you WILL sit there and you WILL let me check you out. You don't have a choice in the matter, so get used to the idea! Now sit your ass down and open up your goddamn shirt!" This would be comical coming from Mulder at any other time. We tend to push each other's buttons. It's a form of banter unique to our partnership, and at any other time I'd return the parry. This time is different though. This time, he is dead serious. As my skin gets clammier, I look up at him, and then bow my head. It isn't easy, but I admit my defeat. I ease myself down onto a small, flat rock, trying to avoid the burning sand. He kneels down behind me as I fumble with the buttons on my shirt. Silently, I thank god that I had the sense to choose a button-down when I last got dressed, however long ago that was. I try to take it off my shoulders, but can barely move in either direction. Mulder, seeing my struggle, gently pulls the silk down and away from my back. I hear his sharp intake of breath. So much for not burdening him. xxx "Jesus Christ, Scully!" Hot, arid air suddenly catches itself in my throat. The woman has balls to chastise me about my foot when her back looks as if it had been used for batting practice. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, wincing as my fingertips graze across her side. With a rib cage smeared in shades of Barney purple, I'm sure she is fighting to breathe, and yet not a word from her. Not one single god damned peep about it. In addition to the myriad bruises and cuts, there is the prominent mark of what can only be a boot, on her back. I think back to when it could have happened. Chances are it was while they were dragging me head-first across the room. I think back even further, to the first aid training that all new agents receive. 'A precautionary measure,' they had informed us. What the hell did they say about broken ribs? Fractured jaws? Head injuries? God...now when I need my eidetic memory, it's taken a vacation. Figures. "Scully, can you take a deep breath for me?" I watch her closely as she struggles to do what I've asked. Finally, she gives in, letting her shoulders sag. Dana Scully...the brilliant Dana Scully...is daft. Granted, she may have degrees out the yin yang, but she's insane. She is nuts for staying with me after hearing my first psychotic ramblings the day we met, crazy for not going back into medicine after Antarctica, and absolutely fucking stupid for trudging almost two miles across the desert in this shape. She looks over at me, and I know that she has finally resigned herself to the situation. "No more beating around the bush, Mulder. I think I have two or three broken ribs, my jaw is killing me, and I can't seem to rid myself of the taste of blood that's in my mouth. I know I should have told you s--" "Damn straight you should have told me. Why do you do this? Why do you feel you have to prove yourself, to ME of all people? I KNOW what you can do, Scully. I KNOW what you are capable of...what you have achieved. I depend on it every day for Christ's sake. But by doing this," I point to her ribcage, "you aren't helping anyone, most especially not yourself!" My anger is quickly spent, and is directed as much at myself for getting us into this mess as it is at her for putting herself in greater danger by keeping silent about this. I begin ripping apart the inside of my suit pants from the hem up. Frustrated with the slow progress I'm making, I finally take them off to finish the job. Scully is looking at me as if I've completely lost my mind. "We've got to brace your ribs," I mumble with a mouth full of fabric as I try to rip through the soft lining of my slacks. For some reason I thought tearing these things apart would be simpler somehow. That's what I get for buying a decent suit. After a fair amount of work, I don my slacks minus most of the lining and return to her with several strips of the soft fabric. I begin wrapping her chest to the best of my untrained ability. The last strip tied around her midsection, I quietly watch from behind as she loosens the death-grip she's had on her pant legs since I began. Four crescent shaped imprints are left in each of her palms and I can feel each one dig into my heart. I move around to face her, taking a closer look at her bruised eye. xxx Damn his hazel eyes there are no two ways about it, the man is positively infuriating. Yet, I can't begin to imagine what my life would be like without him. Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking a cute little house and white picket fence. In all honesty, after my time with Mulder and the X- files I don't think I could stand to live that quiet, peaceful and in comparison staid existence. I accept the fact that my chance at that life is long gone, even embrace it, because what Mulder and I have together goes far beyond the ordinary. It doesn't mean that life between us is perfect. On occasion, it's quite the opposite, we can argue like an old married couple. What amazes me about our relationship is that somewhere along the line we became two halves of a whole that I don't think either of us fully comprehends. We work in instinctive tandem. Thoughts transferred by just a look or a touch. The ability to communicate those thoughts, sometimes before we realize we've had them. It can be an invaluable asset for us in the field, but it can also be maddening. There are times when it doesn't work at all, and there are other times, like now, when I wish I could turn it off. As he sits in front of me, assessing the damage to my face, I know exactly what is going through his mind. He may be looking at my eyes, but I'd bet my last dollar that he's a lot more focussed on how I'm breathing. What really gets to me, is the fact that he is probably right. "A lung is damaged, isn't it?" he asks me with what I swear is a superior air. I wonder how he can be so smug with me, but as I look in his eyes, I see something that makes me feel comfortable. Deep, genuine care. Mulder would do anything for me, and I know it. So why do I feel the hide things from him? "I'm really not sure," I admit. "Christ, Scully...you need a doctor. You shouldn't be out here, you shouldn't even be walking," he sighs. I can't seem to control the annoyance creeping into my voice. "No shit, Mulder. Neither of us should, but it doesn't change the facts." He lowers his eyes, and then looks back up at me. This time it is he who knows that I am right. Yes, both of us need medical attention, but first things first; we need to get to shelter soon. We rise to our feet and he takes hold of my hand as we head off towards our only hope of respite. -end part 1. "Hell on Earth: Burn" ------------------------- ---------------- Hell on Earth: Without You by Ophinea & L.A. I can see the rocky crag looming ahead of us like the proverbial beacon in the night; so close yet too damn far. I shift my hold on Scully's tender side, trying at the same time to hold her close yet give her breathing room. We have stopped a half a dozen times or more since I did my mock bandaging. Each time as she sits down to catch her breath, she has to spit intermittently. I notice the pinkish tinge to her saliva, and the fact that it's becoming deeper red, but I don't dare say anything to her about it. We need to conserve what little energy we have, use it towards moving on, and not waste it by bickering. I sneak a glance at Scully out of the corner of my eye as we trod onward. Searching her face, I see strong determination etched into her features. No wonder Mrs. Scully is so proud of her daughter. Dana Katherine Scully always gives those who know her, reason to be. And yet, Scully is modest. She never searches for praise. I can remember once, when she received a commendation for her heroic efforts during a particularly nasty hostage situation. She was embarrassed by the attention, but her eyes betrayed the pride she felt. Personally, I don't think I was ever more proud than when I heard them call her name. So why is it that I turn away from my feelings towards her? Would it be so bad if we didn't keep it strictly professional? There is nothing I would love more in this world than to wake up beside her, her bare shoulder exposed to me. I would kiss it and rub her arm-- "Mulder!" a voice breaks through my reverie. I look over at Scully who has stopped beside me, and try to tamp down the fear that is gnawing at my gut. "I have...to stop. My chest...is killing me," she pants, as she slumps down onto her knees. I crouch down beside her urging her to lean against me, let me support her. I am so scared for her. This is the woman who would sooner bite off her tongue rather than let the outside world know that she is hurting, and yet she is pleading for us to stop. Tenderly, I rub her back with a light hand, so as not to cause her any further discomfort, as I pray for some type of shade...a cloud...anything. The heat is unrelenting, and I know we're both suffering from dehydration at this point. Between the two of us, I'm sure we've lost gallons by sweating alone. xxx "I'm sorry, Mulder," I manage to get out between wheezing breaths. "I am holding you back." He looks me square in the eye. "Scully, when you hold me back, I'll be sure and let you know. Okay?" As he rubs my back, I am acutely aware of my tenuous grip on our situation. I try to control the intense pain assaulting me, the worst of which is the sharp stabbing sensation in my left side. I feel like I'm being torn in half. I try not to scream. I try to breathe through it, but the knife twists in my side again. Suddenly, my lungs begin to spasm and I'm thrown into another fit of ruthless coughs, the coppery tang of blood assaulting my taste buds yet again. If the elements don't kill me, this will. I lurch forward as the pain in my side ratchets up beyond my breaking point. "Oh god. Mulder!" The words bubble forth in a groan of agony that I can no longer control. I feel Mulder's arms tighten around me. His actions prevent me from hitting the ground, but it also infuses me with strength, although, I doubt he's aware of the latter effect. Mulder seems to sense the moment in which my pain begins to subside. He loosens his grip, and instinctively I draw my knees up and turn in towards him. I feel his hand cover the side of my face as he gently cradles my head against his chest. I can just barely hear the rumble of his voice above the rapid pounding of his heart. "I know it's bad, Dana. I know." Lifting my head, I see Ahab where Mulder was just a moment before. He is smiling and beckoning at me to 'get up, go forward'. Then I hear his words. "For Mulder, Starbuck. You can do this for Mulder." I blink and want to call out to him, but in that instant, he is gone, leaving behind the very worried face of one Fox William Mulder. "Scully, I know you're hurting, but we're so close. Do you think you make it just a little further?" His eyes fall on me with equal parts imploration and apprehension. I nod slowly and attempt to stand, but my knees buckle refusing to hold me up. Instantly, Mulder is reaching out to catch me. He yelps in pain as his hand knocks against my elbow, but he latches onto me nonetheless. Forcing myself upwards, I make it to my feet somewhat steadier this time. "I swear...I'm gonna take care...of that hand," I say between gasps. "It's nothing, Scully," he says, casting his gaze downward. "I just uh...stubbed...my toe." He knows I don't believe him, and the hint of a smile settles itself on both our lips. He wraps his arm around me again supporting me, and God forgive me, I let him, even though I know his ankle is killing him with every step. xxx The hacking cough bombarding her is only getting worse, and now with each cough, more blood. There's no more pink...only a startling crimson. I am flat out amazed that she can manage to stand upright let alone walk. "Only a little more, just one more step," my mind urges as it wills both our bodies forward, and finally we are here. After trudging for what feels like days through rocky sand that hungers to swallow us whole, we have reached our destination. Whether or not it will be our salvation remains to be seen. I motion for Scully to stop and tell her that I'll look around. With one silent nod she collapses weakly onto a nearby rock. Making my way around the outcropping I try to find a crevice wide enough for the two of us to squeeze into for protection. I find that it is larger than it appeared in the distance. Looking high and low I have still found nothing. I round the final edge of the rocks and limply collapse to my knees, my shoulders drooping and my head hanging low. If I were a religious man I'd be praying right now. Refusing to let exhaustion claim me for it's own, I tilt my head back and force my eyes open where, to my shock, they come to rest on a hole in the rock, about nine feet up, jagged and partly covered by brush. Dumbfounded, I rub my eyes, unable to believe what I'm seeing. After blinking several times I find that it's still there, but I will not get my hopes up. I can't. Not until I know whether or not this is viable. Finding a foothold, I inch my way towards the opening at a snail's crawl, spikes of pain shooting through my foot, calf and hand with every centimeter up. After a few failed attempts, I grab onto the edge of the entrance and haul myself inside. It is more than I could have hoped for. The entrance is cramped but the area inside is cavernous going back deeply into the rock. The further back I go, the cooler it gets. Much cooler than outside. With renewed hope, I scramble back down to tell Scully of what I've found. She listens carefully, but seems less than exuberant. I can't blame her. It's hard to get excited about anything when you're fighting for every breath. I help her up, and slowly we retrace my steps back to the entrance, purposely keeping quiet along the way. It's hard enough for her to walk, let alone speak. I point out the opening to the, and she looks up at it doubtfully. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that her chances of climbing the rock are between zero and none. The only way she'd be able to make it up there is if she sprouted wings. It's times like this I can't help but wonder just who I pissed off in my last life, providing I actually had one. Our combined disappointment gives me the sudden urge to bang my head on the rock until I'm unconscious. Taking a slightly more rational option, I recite every expletive I can think of and create a few new ones for good measure. Scully clears her throat, and I look up to see what would resemble one hell of an impish grin if her poor face weren't so swollen. It makes my heart skip a beat. The smiles from this woman are precious and rare. This smile is priceless when you figure in the pain that it cost her. Racking my brain to come up with a solution, I can't help but mutter, "How stupid can I be," as it dawns on me that our combined height should be more than enough to get her safely inside the entrance. Not for the first time, I am thankful for my stature. "Scully, I'm going to boost you up to it. If you stand on my shoulders, it should be enough to get you in there without you having to try and climb or pull yourself up." Silently, I bend down, with my back towards her. Several seconds pass before I start wondering what is taking her so long. I look over my shoulder towards her. She is standing where I left her, arms crossed over her chest, and shaking her head no. For me it is the last straw. Something inside me snaps. "Damnit Scully, I will NOT leave you down here. You stay. I stay." Frowning at me, she bites her swollen lip. "Mulder, you can barely support...your own weight," she whispers. "You go up." "NO!" I bark more forcefully than I mean to. Wincing, I come to my feet, bringing us toe to toe. I tilt her head up gingerly and lower my voice to a quiet murmur, "I can no more easily leave you here than I could cut myself in half and leave a part of myself out here. We go together or we don't go at all." Turning back around I lower myself down enough so that she can climb onto my shoulders. I refuse to look back at her, and it is not until I feel her knee digging into my bruised flesh that I know we will make it up there together. Never have I welcomed pain, until now. "We made it, Scully, " I whisper, stupefied, as we stumble inside the cave. With Scully close behind me, I find a clear spot on the ground and help her to gently ease herself down. This victory, which I realize is small in the scheme of things, makes me feel as if we've somehow managed to conquer the world. I know the sensation will be short lived, especially as I look at my partner. For this brief moment alone, I let myself revel in it, if only to gather enough strength from it to continue. I help her edge back towards the support the cave wall will give. Even in the dim light, I note with growing worry that she is looking worse. The $64,000 question looms over us: what do we do now? "Let me...look you...over Mulder," Scully gasps out, as she watches me gingerly rub my ankle, which at this point is screaming at me for its most recent abuses. "Don't worry about it, Scully." She locks eyes with me and I shrink under her glare: her 'don't-fuck- with-me-because-I-am-not-in-the-mood', glare. Keeping in mind that this is woman is quite skilled with both a scalpel and a gun; I meekly remove my shirt, shoes and socks and sit down between her outstretched legs. It is useless to argue with her about it. She won't relent until she's satisfied that I'm all right. Her feather-light touch eases over the gashes and bruises on my back. She nudges me and I turn towards her until we are face to face, and I let her continue. It's ironic how the most chaste of touches can turn a man on, even in a dire situation. Striving to keep my libido in check, I let my mind drift. For the first time in many, many years, I come face to face with just how terrified I am. I am filled with it. Not so much for myself, but for her. We have no way out of here. Even though our trip to the Arctic was both terrifying and life threatening, at least we had been armed with a vaccine and transportation. No such luxury has been availed to us this time. Neither of us will put it into words, but we both know that the longer she goes without medical supervision, the less likely it is that she'll end up living through this. It is that fear which turns the blood in my veins to ice. The way she's been spitting out blood, I'm damn sure there are internal injuries, and there's not a thing I can do about it. I have no easy answers this time. Shit, who am I kidding? I don't have any answers at all. I realize then that her ascertaining my injuries is like putting a Band-Aid on a shotgun wound. The mental picture that creates causes me to begin laughing hysterically. Scully eyes me, clearly confused. I think she's wondering if I have finally gone off the deep end. Who knows, maybe I have. My laughter suddenly disintegrates into barely restrained tears, because I know that if she doesn't make it out of here with me, it is my soul...my heart...my existence that will be shattered. Breaking every bone in my body, one at a time, would bring me less torment than watching Scully die. xxx What the hell?! I ask myself as Mulder breaks down in front of me. Out of nowhere he starts laughing like a man deranged and now...now he is sobbing. I want nothing more than to scoop him into my arms and hold him tightly to me. Instead I fight the screaming protest of my ribs and draw him as close to me as I can. His arms snake around my waist as he half collapses on top of my legs, the rest of his lanky frame spread on the floor below us. The way his body is convulsing, I know he is still crying, hard. His face is buried in my stomach and I am caressing his damp cheek. Though I could never admit it aloud, the contact is reassuring to me, and I pray it is having the same effect on him. Drawing a short breath, I croon to him in what I hope is a soothing voice. "It's okay, Mulder. Shh." He begins to calm and slowly, and after several deep, shaky breaths, his crying subsides. Suddenly, he pushes up and away from me, turning so that he is facing the far wall. "Mulder?" I call his name softly in hopes that he might explain what just happened. Instead, he closes himself off even more, wrapping his arms around his bare chest, refusing to look at me. If I felt only an iota better I'd be pulling the answers out of him with tweezers. Circumstances being what they are, I am forced to try and cajole him into answering me. Once he shuts down, getting him back goes beyond tough. It's nearly impossible. "What's going on?" I ask quietly. Unable to sit still a second longer I carefully, slide across the sandy floor until I'm beside him. Still he stays silent; his eyes clenched shut as if by doing so he can make everything around him go away. "Mulder, please answer me. Don't shut me out." I watch as he draws further into himself and his reticence kills me. "Dammit Mulder ...don't do this...I NEED you!" The words flow from my lips with such ease this time that it surprises me. Repressing the urge to analyze that fact to death, I come face to face with how true those words are. I need him as much as I need air to breathe, or water to drink. Actually, given the choice at the moment, he'd be at the top of the list. "I need you too." His reply is like a soft breeze rustling through tall grass. It was so quiet that I pause a moment, wondering if I actually heard it. Hoping that his response was not imagined, I ask, "Is that what this is about?" His affirmative nod is barely perceptible. Suddenly, he snatches his shirt up, and puts it on in record speed. It isn't until he goes to stand up that I latch onto his arm. "I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't...I didn't mean to..." "Please don't apologize again, Mulder. You have nothing to be sorry for." "But I do, Scully. I have so much to apologize for. I've managed to nearly ruin your life, on what's becoming a regular basis. How many times has your association with me caused you to be put in extreme danger?" The only reason I don't share my right hook with him is because his face hurts enough already. Restraining myself, I figure it's time to do what I do best. Punch one huge hole into what has to be the most megalomaniac theories he's ever managed to drum up. "First off, Mulder, I'm not even going to grace that asinine question with an answer. And second...that has got to be the stupidest mother fucking statement to ever come out of your mouth! You're trying to tell me my life is ruined. Not only that, you're also trying to say that all by yourself you managed to ruin it. Well G-man, I have an update for you. I happen to be pretty damn happy with my life, thank you very much. You want to know what else? I'm pretty fucking happy with the people in my life, that is until they start spouting unbelievably stupid bullshit like this!" His eyes put saucers to shame. Well, it seems as if I've got his full attention now. I send a silent prayer of thanks that my body gave me the respite I needed to rattle off that little diatribe. During the nearly six years we've spent together, I'm fairly sure I haven't exposed him to my quite colorful vocabulary. Even under extreme circumstances I've bitten my tongue and avoided most of the less than professional expletives. This time I was beyond caring about protocol and professionalism. If this was what it took to get through to him, then so be it. The sound of my voice breaks the silence again. "You know what else?" I'm struggling not to laugh as I watch him narrowly avoid flinching. My struggle is a brief one, however. The importance of what I have to say far outweighs the humor of the moment. "I will never, EVER regret a single moment in my life that has been spent with you." Whatever response it might have been that I expected, the one he is giving me is definitely not on the list. His eyes are open wide in childish amazement and his jaw is hanging slack. - cont. in "Hell on Earth[2/3]: Without You [2/2]" xxx "Hell on Earth[2/3]: Without You[2/2]" xxx I sit in awe. That anyone would want to run from me, I understand. That this wonderful, brilliant, passionate woman could care so deeply for me is beyond my realm of experience. Still in shock, I realize that my mouth is hanging wide open. Quickly composing myself I snap it shut, only to have a question slip from my lips unguarded. "None of it?" "Not a single second of it, Mulder." The conviction with which she speaks those words makes my hands tremble. I want nothing more than to enfold her tightly in my arms, but I know doing so would cause her more pain. Instead, I draw her head to my chest, softly stroking the nape of her neck. She relaxes into me, and I lean back, bringing her with me. Contented silence soaks into us both like a healing balm. Exhaustion taking its mighty toll, it is not long before we're both fast asleep. xxx I awake slowly only to discover that this nightmare is not a dream. We are still trapped on earth's most unforgiving land. Scully is still settled peacefully, her head pillowed on my chest. She is my angel. An angel forged of steel: strong, yet so exquisite and compassionate. A surge of possessiveness flows through me and I find it harder to quell it now than it has ever been. She would probably shoot me again if she knew that I think of her as mine and mine alone. I don't suppose I really have a right to these feelings, but it doesn't seem to make a difference. It never has. I am careful not to wake her as I rub the sleep from my eyes. I can see through the opening of the cave that dusk has fallen, and it occurs to me again that we may never be found out here. Once more, I begin to wonder if Scully can read minds as she awakes from her slumber on cue with my disturbing thoughts. Pushing those thoughts back into to the dark recesses of my mind, I turn her face towards mine. She looks worse than before, but I catch the faint smile she offers me. "Scully, have I ever told you how completely a smile transforms your face?" She looks at me, confusion briefly passing over her features. "Changes?" she asks. "Is that a...good thing?" She struggles again to take another deep breath. I realize then, that I have been holding my breath as I waited for her response. "I like it, Scully. Your rare smiles turn me on." xxx At the site of his waggling eyebrows, I can't help but chuckle, which is a huge mistake. The pain in my side and chest flares up. "Oh god, Mulder...don't make me...laugh...it hurts." Stubbornly trying to control the pain I focus instead on Mulder's laughter. When and if we do make it back to civilization, I'm going to insist that we laugh at least once a day. Then I can watch as he throws his head back and listen to the magical sound that emanates from him. A Mulder that is laughing is a Mulder that has managed to hide from his demons. God knows he deserves at least that much, we both do. I shift against him and take in his face, noting the colorful bruises that are announcing their presence with authority. Truth be told, he kind of looks sexy with that black eye. Sexy enough for me to want to brush my lips over it and then-- "Scully? Can I ask you something?" Whoa--near busted on that one. Keep your thoughts chaste, Dana, I think to myself. No time for what might have been. "Sure, Mulder...what do you...want...to know?" It's getting harder to gather enough air in my lungs to speak, and the coughing doesn't help matters any. Another sudden attack has left me breathless. Mulder gently massages my back and I glance up at him wanly. "Now...you were...saying?" Seeing the trouble I'm having, Mulder changes his mind. I can see the guilt there again. He doesn't want to pain me or to push me. "Uh nevermind, this isn't the right time." "No," I whisper. Whatever is going through his head is important. I'm done waiting for the right time, especially now, when all of our time may quickly come to an abrupt end. "Please...what were you...going to...say?" "I just wanted to know if you've ever...I mean did you...have you ever...thought about just...well...us?" A vivid memory makes my body tingle. I was leaving the bureau, and in an effort to keep me with him he finally opened up to me, almost literally handing me his heart on a silver platter. 'You make me a whole person', he had said, and I know without question that statement rings true for me also. The intensity of his eyes in the moment just before he tried to kiss me, is nothing in comparison to the intensity of his eyes now. Have I ever thought about us? Absolutely! So much so that I had to reinvent ways to try and NOT think about it. They say that actions speak louder than words, so now I take his face in my hands and brush my lips over his, wishing that I could kiss him with all the passion that's in my heart. I back away only enough so that he can see my face, hoping that he can read what I know is plainly written there. "A thousand times over and more, Mulder." Bewilderment can be read plainly in his every feature. Why is it so hard for him to understand that he is worth even more than the love I could give him? Though he is trying hard to mask it from me, I watch as his bewilderment shifts to fear. He is afraid of letting me down, afraid that he won't live up to what he feels he should be for me. If only I could get him to understand that he has surpassed any expectation I might have had for him many times over. He begins kissing me, his lips trailing over my bruises with a butterfly's light touch. I can feel in him the need to kiss the pain away in every spot he touches, and I admit that if I didn't feel like a Mack truck had mowed me down, it just might work. He moves to place a feather's kiss on the base of my jaw and I shift ever so slightly under his touch. The pain that courses through me at the movement feels like the burn of molten steel, chewing straight through to the bone. Immediately, a saddened, guilty look fills his eyes. I know what's coming but can't stop it in time. "Oh God, Scully, I'm sorry." Damn it, one more thing for him to beat himself up about. I swear, if I have to hear those words even ONCE more... "Mulder...don't. No more I'm sorry...please." He nods and shifts me so very gently in his arms until I am leaning back against him. His body cradling mine, I melt into him and immediately begin to drift off. The last thing I remember before slumber overtakes me is his voice in my ear like crushed velvet. "I love you, Scully..." And for a few brief moments, I am content. xxx Our night has been peaceful, almost as cold as Alaska, but peaceful nonetheless. As dawn breaks the horizon it brings with it a chance, no matter how small, that we might still make it home alive. I look down at the petite redhead in my arms and tremble. Her color is worse, her lips are cracked and dry, and she is entirely too still. I have to get water to her and into her, and I haven't got a clue how I'm going to do either. I know one thing for sure, if I'm going to be any good to either of us, I'd better get moving now. Wasting time is foolhardy when you're in one of the few places on earth whose temperature goes from thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit to one-hundred and two quicker than a Mustang will do zero to sixty. Ever so carefully I ease Scully out of my arms, wishing I had more than packed dirt to replace me as a cushion for her. Still on my knees, I lean down, placing a feather light kiss on her temple. "I promise I'll be back soon," I whisper, not allowing the possibility that she is beyond hearing me to even enter my mind. I brush the matted auburn tangles away from her face, dropping one last kiss on her cheek and then head for the opening to the cavern. On the off chance that either Skinner has missed our shining faces, or that some nut has decided to take in the aerial view of Hell today, I begin the hunt for as many rocks as I can find to mark off our location. My progress is slow and as my ankle continues to swell I'm fairly sure that it, along with half of my left hand, is fractured. The sun burns its way up the eastern sky, quickly bringing the temperature up along with it. As I dump several more rocks, a moronic thought occurs to me; you definitely can't get any water out of these friggin' things. Dropping the last of the rocks, I move on, concentrating my efforts now on finding anything that might contain moisture. Examining the sparse amount of plant life that I've crossed thus far, I figure less than half of it is anywhere near safe for human consumption. Gathering as much together as I can get, I make my way back toward the cavern. Towards Scully. Slowly scaling the wall upward I loose my footing again. As rock turns to powder my ankle twists. Struggling to right myself, I become painfully aware of one fact: I won't be able to make it up this wall again no matter how hard I try. Hoisting myself up and through the entrance I sprawl bonelessly on the cavern floor. Lying here trying to catch my breath, I will the endless ache tearing through every muscle to ease. The thought of ever having to move my limbs again makes me want to curl up into a ball, kind of like the way the pill bugs used to do when we played with them as kids. Conversely, the need to get sustenance into my partner lights a fire under my ass. Careful not to crush the pitiful amount of provisions I found, I roll into a sitting position and all but crawl over to Scully. She is groggy and I am afraid fever is setting in. I work hard to get as much moisture as possible into her system, but I know it's not enough. As another coughing fit starts anew, I hold her still, trying to prevent her from worsening whatever internal injuries she has. With each cough that racks her small frame it brings with it another curse at myself for ever letting her become involved in the X-Files. I was--no not was--I AM a selfish fool. As Scully's breathing becomes more labored her pulse weakens. With each hour that ticks by in agonizing slowness, each minute is drawing me closer to my most unthinkable fear. She is gradually dying in my arms and I can't help her. I can't stop it. Panic. Grief. Dread. Like massive stones being hurled at my soul. I am bombard from all sides. It takes everything I have not to fold over into myself and just give up. I weave a strand of her coppery hair through my fingers, letting it glide over them. Even dirty there is so much fire to it. That same fire fuels her soul and I feel it infuse itself into me. Closing my eyes, I tuck her head under my chin. I will not give up on this woman. I never have and I am not about to start now. -end "Hell on Earth [2/3]: Without You" ---------------- Hell on Earth: Loving Me The sounds of a far off voice invades my consciousness and I wake with a start, disgusted with myself for having fallen asleep in the first place. The only thing left for me to do here is watch over Scully and I can't even manage that right. I listen intently hoping to hear the voice again. After several minutes of deafening silence, I fear what I heard was nothing more than a concoction of my desperate mind. Suddenly, it's there again, clearer this time. "Agent Sculleeee, Agent Mullllder." Our names--someone is actually out there calling our names. "Here!" I try to holler in reply, only to find that my voice is rustier than a forty-year-old nail. Begging my unconscious partner's forgiveness for moving her again, I lay her down with the utmost care and hobble at top speed to the entrance. What I see couldn't be a more welcome sight. The face of another human being! Judging by his uniform I'm guessing he's a ranger. Clearing my throat and cupping my hands around my mouth, I try to make the most of what is left of my voice. "Here!" I holler again. "We're over here!" The sound of my voice, though pathetic to my ears, is enough to catch the man's attention. Surprised, he swings around and looks directly up at me. "Agent Mulder?" I nod my head once and he continues. "My name is Trevor Hale. Assistant Director Skinner arranged a search party for you early this morning. Are you alright? Is Agent Scully with you?" I nod again in the affirmative. "Scully is injured and unconscious," I croak out. "I think there's internal damage." "How severe?" he queries, concerned. "Very." The word is barely out of my mouth before he is relaying the information over a two-way radio. Clipping the equipment back on his belt, he makes quick work of the wall. Leaning out, I clasp his hand and help him inside. He assesses me with a critical eye and I immediately shake my head no. "Scully first," I rasp. Taking the canteen from his shoulder's he opens the container and presses it into my hands. "Drink. Slowly," he orders. "I'll take a look at your partner." Somewhere between elated and numb, I follow his direction. Taking the proffered beverage I tilt the canteen back until the cool water washes over my desert-parched lips and tongue. I never imagined anything could taste so good, much less water, but it does, sinfully so. Ambrosia has nothing on this. Following his advice, I resist the urge to swallow it all in one greedy gulp. After a quick assessment of Scully, the sandy haired ranger turns towards me. "I have a med unit on their way to the station already. Brian Adler, my team partner is already on his way here with the equipment to get your partner out of here safely." It takes much longer than I had hoped for us to reach the station, but as Adler had promised a fully equipped paramedic unit is waiting for us. Scully is loaded onto the van, the paramedics set to work, and immediately we are on our way. The youngest emergency technician is foolish enough to try to attend me. The glare I present him with gives him cause for second thought, and he resumes his work on Scully. Fortunately for all involved, our journey to the hospital is short. Scully is wheeled to one exam room and the hospital staff is trying like hell to show me to another. They are fast discovering that you should never, NEVER try to separate partners who have just stared death down. Especially when one is still unconscious. Much to the hospital personnel's dismay, I have managed to hoot and holler loud enough that two of their illustrious "security guards" pop in. One look at the feral snarl on my face and they cower and leave. Scully isn't the only one with a "don't-piss-me- off-unless-you-want-shot" look around here. Relenting, a staff member finally shows me to a wheelchair and deposits me in a corner of her exam room where I am left to watch and I wait. It is not sitting well with me. Why? Because watching and waiting doesn't provide me with answers and truths that I need. It only serves to make me make me more nervous and anxious than before. I don't have much choice in the matter, however. More is the pity. Scully still hasn't regained consciousness, and though the doctors don't think I can hear their hushed talk and whispers of possible coma, it's coming through like a screaming siren, reverberating off of every cell in my body. At last, one doctor removes himself from the group of several and approaches me. Discarding his latex gloves, he extends a hand towards me. "Agent Mulder, I'm Dr. Winston. The paramedics who brought you in were able to give us some information, but I was hoping you could fill in a few blanks." "Such as?" I ask, my patience running dangerously close to the end of its frayed rope. "How exactly did you and she end up in this condition?" I look up at him with a rueful grin. Now there's a story and a half, I think to myself. I opt for shortest version of it in the hopes that it will get Scully into surgery more quickly. "We pissed off the wrong people, were beaten, then dumped in the middle of the Mojave. That help any?" Dr. Winston regards me with a nod. "Yes, actually it does. In ascertaining the source of Agent Scully's injuries, it helps quite a bit." At this point I'm sure it's quite obvious that I am close to wit's end where she's concerned. Dr. Winston pauses only long enough to take a breath and begins explaining the extent of her injuries and their plans for surgery. He finishes by telling me, "An operating room is being prepared for her now, Agent Mulder, and I must INSIST that you allow yourself to be examined during that time. I promise you, we WILL keep you updated regularly." My body's once overabundant supply of adrenaline is finally running out. With the reassurance that Scully is under the best of care, exhaustion is now taking over. My eyes slide shut, and I nod once before they wheel me away to an exam room of my own. xxx I am told that through a stroke of pure luck Skinner had tried to hunt Mulder's ass down just after we'd disappeared. When we failed to check in on the night of our disappearance, and Skinner was still was unable to contact either one of us by morning a search party was assembled fanning out in a large radius from the no-tell motel we had stayed in. I have also been told that over seventy-two hours have passed since our arrival in this hospital. While the doctors were at it, they informed me that I have a small hole in my right lung, a few cracked ribs, and dare we not forget a multitude of bruises and lacerations. For good measure, toss in a dose of dehydration for the two of us and you have the recipe for "another day in the life of Mulder and Scully". I sneak a glance over at Mulder who is sitting beside me in hospital scrubs that are, without a doubt, the most hideous shade of green I've ever laid eyes on. Both his left arm and right foot are encased in a cast and his bruised face hasn't looked up at me for over an hour. Then again, neither of us has said much more than "boo" to each other since I opened my eyes several hours ago. The silence that hangs over this room is becoming deafening. Unable to stand it any longer, I gently reach for Mulder, my fingers grazing his forearm. "Mulder..." Startled, he jumps in his seat, all but snatching his arm away from me as if my touch has suddenly become caustic. Confused, I call his name again, questioningly. He turns to look at me his eyes vacant yet haunted at the same time. There is no longer any question in my mind, something is very wrong. Fear, cold and ugly, wraps it's fist around my heart and begins to squeeze with relentless ferocity. I tamp it down with equal tenacity, forcing myself to concentrate on calming him and getting to the root of the problem. "Deep in thought, partner?" I ask, trying like hell to hide the alarm that is creeping up on me. His eyes meet mine for only a second before he returns his gaze to the floor. "Hey," I call out in a soft whisper. "Are you feeling okay?" "Fine," he mumbles. "I just...there's a lot...everything is fine, Scully, don't worry," he stammers. I attempt to hide what I'm sure has become my patented look of disbelief. Sure Mulder, you're fine...and I'm a blond Amazon, I think acerbically. The urge to challenge his obvious lie is strong, but what right do I have to challenge him? How many times have I thrown those exact same words in his face? "Really Scully, I'm fine," he tells me as he gives my hand a tender squeeze. "I should go anyway, you need your rest." Before I have the chance to say anything, he places a light kiss on my cheek and propels his wheelchair out of my room at lightning speed. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pinch the bridge of my nose, take a deep breath, and stew in the pain that it causes me to do so. xxx The old adage is "time flies when you're having fun". I've recently come to the realization that time flies when you are wallowing in misery and self-pity as well. Almost three weeks have passed and I haven't spoken to Scully in that time other than to grunt her standby, "I'm fine." It's not a lie. Physically, I am fine. Both casts are due to come off in a few days, and the doctors say that I will be one hundred percent very soon as long as I don't push it. My ankle is still tender but the pain I had felt a week ago has lessened, as has the pain in my hand. It's my heart and my mind that are hurting miserably. The longer I mull over what happened between us out in the desert, the more sure I become that I made a grievous mistake. I never should have opened up to Scully the way I did. I never should have told her I love her. Even though it is, has been, and will always be the truth, I don't deserve the right to that woman's heart. I could barely face Scully in the hospital. By now, I'm sure she's come to the conclusion that I'm completely demented. After leaving her side the day she came awake, I made sure that we wouldn't be alone together for the rest of our stay. Mrs. Scully had shown up only hours after we had arrived at the hospital, and stayed with us until the day that we were released. The cop-out was there, and for both our sakes, I took it. When our condition was deemed satisfactory, we were both cleared to go home, Scully with strict orders for bed-rest that would last at least another 2 weeks. We barely spoke on the plane and once we were on the ground, I decided to grab a cab to my apartment. "Call me, Mulder," Scully said, as she leaned on her mom for support. "Please." I smiled at her sickly and walked the other way. The memory of Scully's perplexed blue eyes and saddened face is still imprinted on my memory. It's just about the only thing I have to keep me company as I sit here in my darkened apartment. Maybe that's the way it should be. I don't know what to do with myself. I can't call her. Nearly a dozen times I've gone as far as dialing her number, but end up hanging up before the call goes through. I can't hear her voice without it tearing me apart. And it does. Every night since we escaped the desert I've watched her die again and again, in a hundred different ways. Each time I am useless, I can't stop the bullet that pierces her brain, or the cancer that eats away at her body, or the monster that rips the beating heart from her chest. With each nightmare I awake on the edge of insanity, another fresh wound slashed into the scarred mass that is my heart. The love I have to offer her, though pure, is poisoned by the evil that lurks in the shadows around me. I refuse to allow that evil into her life again. We got lucky this time, but how long is it going to take for that luck to run out? The time has come for Scully and I to part ways. It's time for her to start a new life, one free of the taint of my soul. xxx Evening has overcome day once again and darkness hovers just outside the window I've been staring out of for hours. I continue to brood over the situation between Mulder and I. It is fast becoming untenable. It has been over four weeks since I woke up in the hospital and not once during that time have Mulder and I had anything that could even remotely pass for a conversation. The line between patience and anger on my part is quickly becoming wafer thin. The bottom line is this: he scared himself off. Mulder is afraid to be hurt, afraid to love, and afraid he will inevitably lose me. Admitting aloud that he loves me brought him face to face with those fears, and now he can't deal with it. If he could just come to grips with the fact that this is NOT something he has to deal with alone, we'd be well on our way. Looking down at my hands, I am reminded of the mug of strong Earl Grey I've been holding that long ago cooled as I was lost in my thoughts. Taking another sip of the tepid, amber liquid, I conclude that our time has come. If he won't come to me to talk about this, then to hell with it, I'm going to him! xxx I stare unseeing at the images flickering before me on the television screen. Don't ask me what's going on. I don't know, and at this point, I really don't care. Disgusted, I turn off the TV and fling the remote to the other end of the couch. At one point in our career, Scully tried to leave the X-Files. Leave me. Selfish prick that I am, I couldn't let her go. Now I am surer than ever that she was right in the decision she had made, yet still I cannot bring myself to action. 'Let her go!' my mind screams, but my heart refuses adamantly. My head collapses into my hands and I grind my fists into my eyes whose tears threaten to spill onto my cheeks yet again. Weak, selfish, cowardly bastard, that's what I have become. I make myself sick! To add insult to injury, my head is beginning to pound, literally pound. I pull my knees to my chest and cover my ears and yet the pounding continues, becoming louder and more incessant with every beat. The sound of a very familiar, irritated, feminine voice makes its way through to my foggy brain. "Open the door, Mulder. I know you're in there." Scully. The pounding in my head wasn't in my head after all. Christ, I truly am losing touch with reality aren't I? God hates me, I'm sure of it now. Deciding that I can't ignore her and hope that she will just go away, I slowly walk to the door. I should be surprised that she is up and about but what I find more shocking is that she actually WANTS to see me. Shaking my head, I open the door. Run as far from me as you can Scully. Don't be a part of this nightmare anymore. "Can I come in?" she asks, holding onto the doorjamb. I don't reply, but step back to admit her entry into my dark realm. She passes by me slowly, with measured steps and lowers herself to the couch. I walk over to the other side of the room, going as far away as I can get without actually leaving. I look at her and see the concern in her eyes. The questions. The hurt. "Haven't talked to you in a few days. I was beginning to wonder if they'd accidentally removed your vocal cords while they were patching the rest of you up," Scully says, meeting my guilty gaze. I think about telling her everything but find that I can't. "Scully, you should go," I say, as I start to move back towards the door. I can tell by her posture, that she's getting angry. "No, I'm not going anywhere!" Let me rephrase that. She isn't getting angry; she's already there. Scully's eyes have gone icy blue and they pin me where I stand. "You owe me answers, Mulder. I deserve as much, don't you think?" Through the ice I see determination mixed with anger, mixed with another emotion that I can't quite place. Unexpectedly and with the fluidity of a tigress, she stands and comes at me with intent, stalking. It appears that I am the prey. xxx Mulder has gone stock still in the far corner. From this distance, minus the Levi's and navy blue Henley, he could easily be mistaken for a Greek sculpture. His face is pale and full of surprise and the tragic woe befitting the characters of that time. As I come nearer I can see his beautiful eyes glassy and shot through with red. He's been crying, I realize. The realization is a sharp spur in my side and I close the remaining distance between us in even wider strides. I'm standing before him and he is looking down at me in shock. I feel the first kernels of doubt begin to take seed. Am I doing the right thing? Will what I am about to do scare him even further away? The answer smacks into me with the force of an anvil. He can't get much further without walking out of my life completely. I don't want to spend a lifetime that way, a lifetime without him. Taking his face in my hands, I draw Mulder toward me. For a fraction of a second I feel him resist and begin to pull away. I refuse to let go. I won't let him pull back from me, physically or emotionally. Not now, not ever again. As I look into his eyes, straight down into his soul, my doubts disintegrate, falling away from me like dust. My lips graze his like silk whispering against silk. I feel his tongue dart out to taste the beginnings of the kiss I've left on his lips and I capture it gently between my teeth. I begin to explore his mouth learning its texture, it's flavor, savoring every single nuance. I feel one arm wrap around my waist, his hand taking its rightful place at the small of my back as the other snakes into my hair, cradling my head. His grip on me tightens and I deepen the kiss with the fervor of every pent up emotion that has coursed through me in our time together. The intensity of this--of us--is that of a white-hot fire and it is igniting every nerve ending and synapse in its wake leaving my senses roaring. Suddenly frigid air engulfs me as I feel myself being pushed back away from him forcefully. "No...no." Puzzlement settles on my face, and immediately I wipe it away, letting semi controlled rage take it's place. "I...we...you don't understand. I can't--" Mulder stutters. Enough was enough, and this was too much. "Stop it Mulder. Stop it now!" "Scully, you have to--" "I don't HAVE to do anything!" I bark arduously. "But you don't understand--" "I understand perfectly. You're the one who hasn't got a clue." "But--" I cut him off before his has the chance to spout more nonsense. "Mulder, listen to me! For once in your life just shut up and listen." "The X-Files, you can't--" "Forget about the X-Files. Just sit down, shut up, and listen to me. Please!" He goes to open his mouth once more but changes his mind after taking a good long look at me. Shoulders slumped, he moves to the couch and sits down. He reminds me of a scolded puppy with its tail between its legs. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I pray that I'll get this right as I charge into what has long been unmarked territory for us. "Mulder, I know without doubt that you trust me. I need you to trust IN me as well, and in the decisions I make." He nods and bolstered by the knowledge that he will hear me out, I continue. "Don't try to tell me that working beside you and fighting for the truth and what we believe is not what I should be doing. Or that you and I would be better off if we were not part of one another's lives. And don't you DARE tell me that loving you is the wrong thing to do." I watch as Mulder rears back in shock at my words, but don't let it break my stride, hoping that this is what it will take to make the words I'm saying sink into his stubborn head. "You've known me long enough to know that I will live my life by the rules that I see fit, not by someone else's rules, even yours Mulder. So, no matter how badly you want to protect me from the rotten shit in this world, in the end it is ultimately my responsibility." His hazel eyes morph to a greenish gray, and for a brief moment it occurs to me to wonder if he knows that his eyes betray his emotions so openly. Before I have the chance to delve any deeper into that line of thought I notice that he has regained his mental balance and is ready to come at me full bore. I reach for him and he bolts only to walk halfway across the room and return to me again. Taking my hands firmly in his he comes down to his knees in front of me. "Scully, I'm a walking time bomb. Every person I have ever truly loved ends up destroyed in the wake that is me. There is nothing else in this world that means more to me than you, and I can't willingly and knowingly put you in harms way anymore." His voice is so solemn and resigned that it tears at me like a knife. "I couldn't save her, I couldn't save you, and I can't lose you as well as her. I just can't, I can't let that happen." My mind spins over his words. Samantha. Even now, after all we've been through, he fears I'll still end up sharing her fate in one form or another. I take my hands from his and place them on his shoulders, nudging him back away from the couch only far enough to allow myself room between the two. Kneeling before him until we are face to face, I choose my next words with the care of a soldier surrounded by land mines. "Mulder, what happened to Samantha was a tragedy, one that sadly cannot be undone, but it wasn't your fault. As much as we would like to rewrite the past at times, it can't be done. The past is not changeable. What changes is us. Our experiences, whether they be good or bad, have made us who we are--from how we react to those around us to how we managed to survive that hell in the desert. It is a part of life you have to accept, just as you need to accept that you and I weave together in a fabric this is meant to hold us together. I don't know how to explain it, I don't even know if there's a language that contains the words to do so, but I do know that it is right, Mulder. You and I. Together." "Don't you think I don't know that, Scully?" Mulder asks, lowering his head to his hands. "Everyday, I think to myself 'what if'? What if we took that chance? What if we made love right now? What if you die because of me? I couldn't live with myself if that were to happen, Scully." He pauses and looks up at me, his face bearing the telltale streaks of tears. "I have spent my entire life trying to change the past and all I'm left with are the ghosts that haunt me night and day. I don't need new ghosts to torment me. Scully...if I fail you...the torment would eventually kill me." His words taper off in a ragged whisper. Anguish radiates from him and spreads over me, coating me like crude oil. I refuse to choke in it. Instead, I grab his chin and pull him towards me, locking eyes with him. My heart breaks at the prospect of never looking into those depths again. My voice is quiet, all resolve pours into my words. "You're right, there's risks, our lives are full of them. God forbid if something were to happen to you it would rend a gaping hole in my soul, one that I doubt would ever fully mend. But, when I think about what we have together...the potential... Damn those risks, Mulder. Damn them, because this is too precious to let go of." My throat begins to constrict but I refuse to give in to my emotions, not until I have said my peace, not until I'm certain that there isn't a shadow of a doubt in his mind as to my feelings on this. "You are my everything, Mulder. You have made me yours--by your thoughts, your words, your actions, your touch. I don't want to be with anyone else. I CAN'T be with anyone else. I accept you for everything YOU are, more importantly I love you for it." His surprise brings a small smile to my lips. "You still haven't gotten it yet, have you?" I ask, my voice just above a whisper. "I want you beside me always in every way." xxx Full-scale delusion has apparently set in. I know I couldn't have heard what I just heard. My partner, Dana Katherine Scully, wants to spend the rest of her life with me? Me... Mr. My-shrink-would-need-a-shrink, if I had a shrink. How does she do it to me, render me so senseless that I want to crush my body to hers and make love to her until the world is a world no more? She has this mysterious effect on me, just seeing her face, or hearing her voice, is enough to send me scrambling to hold onto my senses. Is that really what I'm being? Sensible? How could something that is wrong feel so very right? She is holding my chin still, her blue eyes searching intently for the answer that she wants. Can I give it to her? Do I want to take this chance? I couldn't save Samantha before. Everything in my power and she was gone. But I CAN save Scully. I can save her by being a part of her, loving her. Dana Scully is a survivor. It is why she keeps coming back after everything is said and done. We are such similar people. Knock us down and we get right up and continue on. Epiphany dawns on me without the fanfare you read of in books. It settles over me with the warmth and comfort of the new day's sun. She's right. Together we will save each other. Reaching up, I take her hands in mine, laying my palm along her bruised cheek. I don't know if I will ever understand the good fortune that saw fit to grace me with her love, what I do know is that throwing it away now would be a sin that neither one of us could forgive me for. "Mulder, I--" she begins. "Shh," I murmur as I lean my forehead against hers. Raining kisses down along her cheek, I am loathe to break the contact but I pull back wanting to see her eyes, needing her to see mine as I make a promise you would have to kill me to break. "If beside you is where you want me, we will walk together always." --- -finis Thanks to everyone who has sent feedback on "Burn" and "Without You," it really made this story worth the struggle to finish (believe me Hell on Earth isn't just the story title). For those of you who have been with us since part one, "Burn," thanks for sticking with us, and we hope you enjoyed the ride. If this is the first you've seen of the series and you'd like to read the rest, drop one of us a line, we'd be more than happy to send parts one and two your way. Also, this story and the rest of our X-Files fanfic can be found at http://syzygy.8m.com. Oh, and don't forget... SEND FEEDBACK! :-)