TITLE: Refraction, 1 of 3
AUTHOR: Snark
E-MAIL: snark_911@yahoo.com

CLASSIFICATION: Angst, MulderTorture, Character death,
implied MS-love-for-each-other.

RATING: R for torture descriptions and the death of a 
main character. Did I mention one of the main persons 
dies? There's a death here, people. But I also have to
say that I think this isn't just a horrible death 
story--there is a little bit of hope at the end that
just may make it worth the read for those of you that
normally shy away from character death stories.


SUMMARY: While attempting to learn more about Samantha's
disappearance, Mulder and Scully are themselves abducted...

And only one will survive.


SPOILERS: This story is set somewhere after The Unnatural
but before Biogenesis. No specific spoiler references are 
made, but you will understand certain one-liners better 
if you've seen:  The Unnatural, Miracle Man, Quagmire,
Max, Irresistible, Wetwired, Memento Mori.

In terms of my own fiction, this story is a stand-alone 
piece. There is no need to have read any of my previous 
work to understand this one. As far as the events of this
story are concerned, none of my other works exist.


DISTRIBUTION: OK to forward to ATXC newsgroup and to
Gossamer. Please ask permission before archiving anywhere
else, please. If you already have one of my stories, 
permission is granted, but still let me know that you 
are grabbing this one too.

DISCLAIMER:
(Singing to the tune of the Addams Family)

There is a show on FOX,
'Bout aliens and plots,
The characters are so fine,
Alas, they are not mine.


(No longer singing)
The character of Kovje, however, is my own creation. He is
not for use by any other fanfic author without my express, 
written consent.

FEEDBACK: Mail all comments to snark_911@yahoo.com.

AUTHOR HOMEPAGE: http://members.tripod.com/~koosn/index.html





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Outside its host, blood knows not time.

Blood is in no hurry--it has no agenda to fill, no goal to seek. It 
flows slowly, ponderously without a heart behind it. Blood 
pauses at its own whim to form thick, viscous pools of crimson 
which swell and undulate as though alive. Only when the pool 
grows too large to contain itself does the blood pour forth to 
resume its course. The light cascades across its surface as oil on 
water, the colors of the rainbow visible for a split second before 
the crimson recaptures control.

Outside its host, blood becomes not the carrier of life but the 
portent of death.

Tugging at the chains enclosing her wrists, Scully glanced across 
at the man lying motionless before her--once more, she closed 
her eyes and hoped Mulder was already dead.


                *   *   *   *   *   *   *

 
The night had begun like any other. The work day had wound 
down to its inevitable close, Scully stopping by Mulder's office 
to offer a quick goodnight before heading home. He had barely 
nodded at her, his ear pressed tightly to the phone as he had 
concentrated on the voice at the other end. 

For a fleeting moment, she had considered staying, curious as to 
what had held his interest so completely. But she had promptly 
remembered it was Friday night--he had most likely been either 
arranging cheesesteaks with the boys or calling his credit card 
company to see if Marty could still come out and play. Either 
way, she had thought it best to leave quickly and quietly. She had 
gone home, eaten a quiet supper over an old movie, and 
generally enjoyed the relaxation of the all-too-rare quiet evening. 

Then the phone had rung. She remembered glancing over at it, 
the thought it was someone other than Mulder never even 
entering her head. Who else calls me at midnight on a Friday, she 
had thought as she briefly closed her eyes. Or at midnight on 
*any* night, for that matter...

At the fourth ring, she had simply reached over and picked up the 
phone, her customary "Scully" exchanged for the more direct 
"What do you want, Mulder?"

"I'm on my way over, Scully. I'll be there in about 10 minutes--
meet me downstairs," he had said in a rush.

"Wh-" was as far as she'd gotten before the click of him cutting 
her off had reached her ear, followed by the monotony of the dial 
tone. She had simply stared at the phone, anger rising to the 
surface as he once again simply commanded her to do 
something.

Looking back, she supposed she could have simply refused. She 
could have stayed in the apartment and told him what he could 
do with his midnight calls and his imperious commands. 

But then he'd be here by himself, she thought as she opened her 
eyes. He would be dying all alone.

For Mulder was dying, she was sure. The pool of blood beneath 
his curled form was large, even as it crept slowly away from him, 
following the cracks in the floor. She could see where it soaked 
through his clothes and matted his hair as he lay on the concrete.

She couldn't tell if he was still breathing. Even as part of her 
automatically hoped he was, the rational part of her hoped his 
breath had stilled. Hoped he would not suffer any more pain at 
the hands of their abductor.

Scully still wasn't sure exactly how it had happened. Mulder had 
arrived just as she had stepped into the lobby, his arm waving her 
out even as he pulled the car up against the curb. She had picked 
her way through the gathering snow in her tennis shoes, cursing 
herself for not being able to find her hiking boots and cursing 
Mulder for... well, for needing to find her hiking boots in the first 
place. 

She had forgiven him a little as he had explained his actions. She 
knew he had been in contact with a new informant over the past 
few weeks, although he hadn't told her any real details 
previously. This man, Mulder had told her, had claimed to be 
tangentially connected to their smoking friend's group. Not a full 
inside member, but someone they went through for information 
and materials. 

"He says he knows where Samantha is," Mulder had said finally.

"What? Where... how... and you believe him?" she had managed 
to stutter at last.

"He has too much information that could only be known to an 
insider, too much that could only be learned from Samantha 
herself," he had said confidently.

"But what if it's a trap, Mulder? You know they've laid them for 
you before--what's to say this isn't another?" she had asked 
softly. As she had feared, her words had crushed his enthusiasm--
she had seen the smile drain from his face, seen the same pain 
return to his eyes that always appeared when he spoke of his 
sister. The question had needed to be asked, but she had hated 
herself for doing it.

"I have to know, Scully," he had said after a long silence. "Either 
way, I have to find out. I have to take this chance." His voice had 
shook with both apprehension and determination. 

So they had driven in silence, Mulder following a circuitous 
route until even Scully was lost--how he had kept his bearings, 
she hadn't known. Arriving at a deserted warehouse at nearly 
2:00 am, they had parked the car and waited. At slightly past 
3:00, the car had shaken suddenly, a violent rumbling coursing 
over the car as they had exchanged surprised glances.

And then there had been nothing. Scully had awoken at some 
later point, her body sliding over rough ground as she was 
dragged down a steep passageway of some sort. As she had 
struggled to get her bearings, to rise and fight back, a heavy boot 
had kicked her into unconsciousness with one swift motion.

When she had finally regained her senses, the first thing she had 
seen was a large figure standing in front of her partner...

Methodically slicing across Mulder's bare chest, shoulder to hip, 
with slow strokes from a Bowie.

As she had cried out in fear and anger, desperately trying to twist 
free of her chains, the figure had paused. He had looked at her, 
his eyes seeming to stare right through her as though she were of 
no consequence. Turning back to Mulder, the man had thrust the 
knife deep into Mulder's abdomen--without expression, without 
hesitation.

He had simply left then, the sounds of his retreat obliterated by 
the screams of his victim...

And those of Scully.


                *   *   *   *   *   *   *


So now she simply watched and waited. There was no sound, the 
rock walls and cement floor dimly lit by an unseen light source. 
She was restricted by the chains binding her feet and wrists, but 
could turn her head enough to see the chamber was fairly large, 
perhaps 30' x 40'. She wasn't sure, but there seemed to be a small, 
glass-enclosed room behind her against the rear wall--what the 
hell would that be, she wondered. 

The minutes crawled by, each future one passing her slowly to 
join those already in the past. They seemed to mock her as they 
went by, their taunting whispers filling her ears in the silence...

'you couldn't save him...'
             'he's going to die...'
                            'you didn't protect him.'

She wasn't sure when she had decided she needed to be Mulder's 
protector. It certainly hadn't been when she first met him--he had 
seemed so self-assured, so in control of every situation that she 
had been slightly awed by him. His ability to leap from a 
disparate, seemingly unrelated set of facts to a cohesive case 
resolution had seemed almost as magic to her. She certainly 
hadn't viewed him then as anybody who needed her help.

But as the months had passed into years, she had realized that 
Mulder was somewhat lacking in personal survival instincts. 
With *her* life in danger, he became a raging fire, doing exactly 
was necessary to save her, easily and without hesitation. But he 
very rarely protected himself. He often took foolish risks, alone 
and without any support in place, relentlessly pursuing his goal 
beyond the point of caution.

So she had stepped in. She had become the voice of vigilance, 
the one who protected Mulder while he ran about the world in 
search of the truth. Even when he took off without her, she still 
protected him, always finding a way to get him back to safe 
ground, a way to return him in one piece.

As she glanced at him now, curled in front of her, she feared that 
she might not find that way this time.

The sound of the chamber being opened broke into her thoughts, 
a set of footsteps clicking across the floor. The door was behind 
her, though, so she didn't see the owner of the footsteps until he 
stepped around her from the side and crossed over to Mulder.

It was the same man she had seen earlier. Perhaps slightly under 
six feet tall, his broad shoulders tapered to a small waist. The 
tight white T-shirt he wore did nothing to conceal the heavily-
corded musculature of his arms and chest. But the man was not 
overweight or plodding--his feet barely seemed to touch the 
ground as he glided forward. No wasted movements, no excess 
motion--extreme self-control, Scully thought as she watched him. 
It was like observing a powerful weapon, something dangerous 
and savage, but temporarily at rest.

The man knelt by Mulder, swinging a small pack off his shoulder 
and placing it on the ground near him. He rolled Mulder onto his 
back and Scully winced as she saw the Bowie still protruding 
from his stomach. The man removed the knife in one swift 
motion, his other hand staunching the new flow of blood even as 
he dropped the knife and reached for the pack. Almost faster than 
Scully could follow, the man cleaned and bandaged Mulder's 
wounds.

"Is he alive?" she asked, finally managing to bring her voice to 
her lips.

"Do you make a habit of bandaging dead men, Scully?" the man 
replied, never turning from his task. Scully started a little at the 
use of her name, but even more so at the man's voice. Each word 
was spoken crisply, a precise British accent flowing over the low 
and modulated tones. It was like listening to a university 
professor or a narrator for an educational program.

It certainly wasn't the voice of a torturer.

"What do you want, why are you doing this?" Scully asked, not 
bothering to waste her time protesting their situation and 
demanding justice. There was only one person in control inside 
this room, and she knew it sure as hell wasn't her.

The man ignored her, finally standing to place his equipment in 
the pack and set it near the wall. He reached down suddenly and 
lifted Mulder into a standing position with a single grip on the 
upper arm. Disregarding Scully's screams for him to take it easy, 
he slammed Mulder up against the far wall. 

The man held Mulder in place with his hip as he fastened first 
one, then the other of Mulder's wrists into manacles set into the 
rock wall. Mulder's body slid downwards as the man released his 
hold, his knees sagging towards the ground but not quite 
reaching it--his stretched arms held his body upright in an almost 
puppet-like manner. Scully gave no small thanks for the fact 
Mulder was unconscious through it all.

The man crossed the chamber, lifting Scully from the floor as 
though she weighed no more than a child. Her feeble attempts at 
resistance might as well have been no attempts at all--the man 
held her in place easily. With a key or device she never saw, he 
removed the chains from her wrists and ankles. Before she even 
realized she was moving, he had shoved her through a doorway 
to the small glass enclosure--she would discover later that it was 
a clear plastic of some kind, completely unbreakable.

Scully stumbled to the floor, her hands grinding on the cement 
floor as she caught her weight on her palms. She stood 
immediately, twisting back and leaping towards the entrance. Her 
efforts were a moment too late, though--only cold solidity met 
her as she slammed into the door.

The man watched her for several moments. He stood easily, his 
hands clasped behind him in a quasi-military 'at rest' position. 
Scully got the distinct impression she was being studied, her 
movements catalogued and recorded. At last, the man spoke. 
Whatever shred of hope to which Scully had been clinging 
slowly drowned as his words reached her.

"You may call me Kovje," the man said. "In my past, I have been 
many things, seen and killed more men than you will ever met in 
your life. My purposes have never been my own--I have been, 
and remain forever, an instrument for hire. 

"From this point forward, I serve but a singular purpose:  to 
cause you pain by causing him pain. And I shall not rest until 
either your mind has been shattered or your body has grown cold 
in death...

"The choice will be yours."


                *   *   *   *   *   *   *


Shocked, Scully watched as the man left the chamber, seeming to 
simply disappear from the dimness. She heard the whisper of the 
door as it opened and closed, but she didn't actually see it.

Glancing around, she slowly began searching the small space 
into which she had been thrown. The three clear walls reached up 
perhaps ten feet, but were open at the top--there was no ceiling to 
the enclosure. The wall facing Mulder had a square hole in it, 
only a few inches in diameter. The back wall was the natural 
stone of the chamber, the plexiglass-like material somehow fused 
right into the rock face. The entire area was no more than 8 x 8.

As she ran her hands along the stone, Scully was surprised to feel 
a slight warmth beneath her fingers. The air temperature, though 
not uncomfortable, did have a noticeable chill to it, so she was 
curious how the rock was warmed. Perhaps a heating unit of 
some kind behind the wall, she though. 

At the far end of the enclosure, she found a small steel plate set 
flush into the rock. There were no markings of any kind on it--in 
fact, it was not distinguished or remarkable in any way. Just a 
blank piece of steel, nothing more. Curious, she reached out and 
laid her fingers on the metal.

Out of the very stone itself, a small slot popped open, pushing its 
way out from the wall near the middle of the enclosure. Scully 
tensed up, immediately scanning the chamber for any other signs 
of activity. She knew there was nothing she could do about such 
activity, but she nonetheless wanted to make sure she saw it 
before it saw her. When nothing else seemed to happen, she 
walked slowly over to the slot and peered inside.

A .357 Magnum centerfire handgun with a single round lay 
inside the slot.

She recoiled from the wall as though it had burned her. She 
surveyed the chamber quickly, but nothing had changed. Backing 
up slowly, keeping her eyes on the slot, she returned to the small 
steel plate and again laid her fingers on it. The slot immediately 
snapped shut, its outline disappearing completely into the stone 
surface--had she not seen it seconds earlier, she would have 
sworn the slot had never existed.

"So you've found your little toy, have you?" Kovje's voice rang 
out, though she could see no one besides Mulder. "They said you 
were quick and I see that you are indeed so. I must therefore 
assume they were correct on other things as well, then."

"Who is 'they'?" Scully asked. She had her share of enemies, she 
knew, but this seemed a little out of character. Traps and 
deceptions, sure--but outright torture? It didn't fit.

"It matters not. Even if you knew, it would change nothing," 
Kovje replied. Scully was startled to see Kovje standing just 
outside the left wall--she would have sworn the chamber was 
empty just seconds ago. She realized the murky interior and 
darkened stone walls were probably designed for just that 
purpose, to allow people to enter and exit unseen.

"What is it that you want from me?" Scully wondered, trying to 
keep her thoughts focused on the man in front of her instead of 
the gun behind her.

"My, my... so full of questions, aren't we?" Kovje said, turning to 
circle her cage slowly. For that's what it is, she realized--just as 
not all that glitters is gold, she knew not every cage had bars.

"Do you have the answers, or are you just the puppet?" she asked 
quietly, testing.

"I have the answers to many things, my girl," Kovje answered 
easily, almost brightly. Beginning her own informational catalog, 
Scully knew that this man was not going to be tricked easily or 
goaded into making a mistake. 

"The answers you seek? Yes, I have them. I'm not inclined to 
share them, though," he explained, turning on his heel to circle 
the other direction. 

"Why not?" Scully asked, wanting to keep him talking if for no 
other reason than to keep him away from Mulder. If what Kovje 
had said earlier was indeed his plan, Scully needed to keep him 
talking and focused on her as much as possible.

As though reading her mind, Kovje stopped and looked at her. 
"Where are my manners?" he said, almost to himself as he turned 
and strode across the chamber to Mulder. Reaching the far wall, 
he seemed to simply touch his belt, but the room suddenly 
became much brighter. Scully could clearly see Kovje now as he 
pulled out a small vial, uncapping it quickly. Pulling Mulder's 
head back, Kovje pried open Mulder's jaw and poured a liquid 
onto the back of Mulder's tongue. 

Before Kovje even made it halfway back across the small 
chamber, Mulder came fully awake. His first instinctive move to 
stand brought an agonized scream to his throat. The stab wound 
in his abdomen, combined with the other gashes across his chest, 
made it nearly impossible for him to contract the muscles 
necessary to rise.

"It's so much better to be all together, don't you think, my girl?" 
Kovje said, as though he had just invited another guest to a 
companionable dinner.

"Sc... Scully?" Mulder managed to say, trying to see past Kovje 
across the chamber.

"I'm here, Mulder," Scully called out. "Don't try to move, 
Mulder, you've been hurt pretty badly."

"Oh, he hasn't even begun to be hurt yet, trust in that," Kovje 
said. "He is in fine condition right now, compared to what he'll 
be in a few hours."

"What did you give him?" Scully demanded, not really caring but 
wanted to keep Kovje distracted. Mulder had been out cold, 
though, not just drowsy or disoriented--traditional smelling salts 
didn't work on a truly unconscious person.

"An extremely high-potency stimulant, in essence, combined 
with a few other elements. The chemical compound or derivation 
would mean nothing to you, though," Kovje said. "Be satisfied to 
know it strengthens his physical awareness, heightening his 
senses while at the same time depressing his body's ability to 
escape pain."

"What do you mean?" Scully asked warily.

"When presented with an intolerable pain input, either physical 
or mental, the human brain attempts to shut down, to escape the 
source of the discomfort," Kovje explained easily. Scully was 
again reminded of a teacher or mentor. "Physically, a person 
might pass out or retreat into a coma, something such as that. 
Mentally, the brain seeks to break away from the pain, perhaps 
partitioning to a separate personality or falling into outright 
insanity.

"But all of those actions require the brain to respond in certain 
electro-chemical fashion, virtually the same in every case. The 
mixture I gave him interferes with that process rather nicely," 
Kovje finished. He paused for a moment, and when he spoke 
again, the words were spoken with almost child-like glee.

"I mean really, my dear--what fun is it to torture someone if they 
can't even feel it?"


                *   *   *   *   *   *   *


And with that, it began.

Kovje first broke all of the fingers on Mulder's left hand, slowly, 
deliberately. From the agonized shrieks emanating from Mulder, 
Scully had no doubt that his pain receptors had been made hyper-
sensitive. She screamed continuously at Kovje to stop, trying 
everything she could to break through her cage to reach him. But 
with not even a chair to smash against the walls, she 
accomplished nothing.

From another pack against the side wall, Kovje then pulled out a 
long, sleek device. It looked too polished to be a simple club 
weapon, Scully thought, but she couldn't see any distinguishing 
marks on it at all. As he flipped it end for end, though, she finally 
glimpsed a set of controls set into the device. After punching in a 
series of codes, Kovje turned and pressed the device to Mulder's 
chest.

A blue surge of electricity coursed over and through Mulder's 
body, its crackling intensity a backdrop for Mulder's renewed 
screams. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod--Scully could do 
nothing but watch as the horror unfolded before her.

With a calm viciousness almost beyond belief, Kovje performed 
one cruelty after another to Mulder. He beat him, he cut his 
hands, burned him, shocked him--all with the same composed 
manner. He would sometimes wait several minutes between one 
act and the next, seeming to enjoy giving Mulder the chance to 
re-catch his breath.

After perhaps an hour, Scully saw Kovje step back. As he began 
cleaning his tools, she realized he was actually going to stop--she 
scrambled to her feet to be ready for whatever might happen 
now. He returned his various instruments to the pack, again 
positioning it next to the wall. Before sealing it, though, he 
removed a smaller bundle, tossing it next to Mulder. Turning, 
Kovje came to her enclosure and unlocked the door.

"The pack contains a meager set of standard medical supplies. 
You can decide whether to patch him up or not," he said simply, 
stepping aside as she rushed into the chamber.

"What do you mean, whether to patch him up or not? Why 
wouldn't I treat him?" Scully asked angrily, kneeling by Mulder's 
twitching form to try and take stock of his injuries.

"If you leave him, he's just that much closer to death, to the final 
relief of his pain. Treat him, and you simply lengthen the amount 
of time he will feel agony," Kovje said, as if explaining 
something to a small child. "The decision is yours... 

"But the pain is his."




      *** 30 *********  Section End  *********** 30 ***

 

Continued in part 2 of 3.

Complete story can be found at:

http://members.tripod.com/~koosn/index.html

TITLE: Refraction, 2 of 3
AUTHOR: Snark
E-MAIL: snark_911@yahoo.com


Complete disclaimer and notes can be found in section 1.


FEEDBACK: Mail all comments to snark_911@yahoo.com.

AUTHOR HOMEPAGE: http://members.tripod.com/~koosn/index.html





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As she heard Kovje's boot heels retreat from the chamber, Scully 
concentrated on Mulder. His left hand was a twisted, mangled 
mess--the fingers lying at unnatural angles, at least one bone 
protruding through the skin. His wrists were basically burned 
away, the arcing intensity of the electricity having seared away 
the skin. The beatings Kovje had given him had reopened most 
of the wounds on his chest--blood soaked through the bandages 
Kovje had originally placed there.

And the list just went on and on. She knew that Mulder should 
have been rendered unconscious several times over, but whatever 
stimulant Kovje had administered left Mulder awake even now. 

Rummaging through the pack, she found several sets of bandages 
and gauze, plus what appeared to be a single dose of painkiller. 
She quickly deduced that this pack was going to be the only one 
she'd ever see--again, Kovje was in control even as he outwardly 
provided her what she wanted. She would now have to decide 
how much to help Mulder and when, leaving some injuries 
untreated and reserving some supplies for... future treatments.

Quickly, she began unwrapping the bandages Kovje had 
originally used--the blood loss was Mulder's first enemy. The 
cloth had begun to dry to the wounds, and with no water to soak 
them off, she knew she was causing Mulder a lot of pain as she 
peeled them away.

"H... how... bad is it," Mulder whispered slowly. She was startled 
at his voice, raspy and haggard as she had never heard it before

Theoretically, she could lie to him, try to give him a bit of hope 
and say it wasn't that bad. But it would serve no purpose, she 
knew--Mulder could feel the pain firsthand, and was much more 
aware than she was of how badly he was hurt.

"It's... it's not good," Scully said at last. She managed to remove 
the last of the bandages, turning to grab a couple of fresh pads to 
begin re-wrapping Mulder's torso. "You've lost a lot of blood and 
you've been... you've suffered injuries over a large percentage of 
your body."

"Yeah, I... feel that," Mulder said, raising his head up a bit to 
glance at her. Even through the pain, he couldn't stop trying to 
make a joke of his situation--he was Mulder after all, she 
thought. 

"Kovje only gave me a small amount of medical supplies--I'm 
going to have to ration what I use," Scully said, inspecting the 
worst of the burns on Mulder's arms and hands. Burns had a way 
of becoming infectious more quickly than cuts, she knew, but she 
didn't think she could spare bandages for them.

"Gotta make it last, huh," Mulder said, dropping his head back 
down to his chest.

"It has to last until I can find a way to get you out of here," 
Scully said firmly. She decided she would have to settle for 
simply stopping the bleeding on the rest of Mulder's wounds--she 
didn't want to use any more bandages than absolutely necessary. 
As gently as she could, she began applying pressure to each cut.

"Somehow, I don't think... we're going to get out of here unless... 
that's what Kovje wants," Mulder mumbled. 

"I'll find a way, Mulder. There is always a way," Scully said, 
wishing the conviction in her voice were real. "Mulder, there's a 
gun up there, with a single bullet. It has to be there for a reason. 
Perhaps I can use it to..." 

"It's got to be a trick, Scully," Mulder said as he raised his head 
to look her in the eye. His voice regained strength as he spoke of 
her safety. "You go for the gun, a bomb goes off or something... 
or the bullet is a blank, just to crack your mental state. It can't be 
real, it-" 

The sound of the main chamber door opening cut off the rest of 
Mulder's statement.

"Oh, but it is real, my good fellow. As real as you or I," Kovje 
said as he walked up to Scully. "Time's up, doctor."

"I still need to set the broken--"

Kovje backhanded Scully across the jaw, sending her wheeling to 
the floor. Chains rattled as Mulder instinctively tried to help her--
only the heat of his anger kept him from feeling the intense wave 
of pain that washed over him.

"Don't you touch her," Mulder said, each word clear and laced 
with warning. 

"I'll do whatever I please and don't you forget it," Kovje stated, 
his tone matching Mulder's menace for menace. Scully had 
scrambled to her feet by this time, and now stepped between the 
two of them.

"Mulder, it's OK, I'm fine," she said, holding a hand up towards 
each of them. She turned to look at Mulder, trying to use the 
contact to calm him down. She needed to break the moment, to 
make sure Kovje didn't attack again.

After a few seconds of mutual glaring, Kovje finally laughed, the 
sound completely out of place in the dim chamber. "Well, that's 
true for now, I suppose," he said, motioning for her to return to 
the cage. Realizing further argument could endanger Mulder, 
Scully walked across the chamber and entered the cage. Kovje 
again locked her inside, even though she still couldn't see an 
obvious lock mechanism.

Kovje turned to leave the chamber again, but turned at the last 
second, snapping his fingers. "Oh, I almost forgot. There are a 
few things you should know about that gun, my dear," he said, 
stepping into the center of the chamber so she and Mulder could 
easily hear him.

"The gun is real in every way--the bullet is every bit as capable 
of killing its target as your own weapons. But there are a few 
additional enhancements," Kovje explained. "It has been 
specially altered to release several electronic signals when the 
trigger is pulled. Upon firing, the exit from this room will be 
exposed and your enclosure will open. 

"However, at 120 seconds from initiation, a sequential detonation 
of explosives will also occur, destroying the entire length of the 
access tunnel. Running at top speed, unencumbered, you have a 
perhaps 30% chance of reaching the surface safely.

"If you were to take up that weapon and kill me, as I know you 
are considering at this very moment, you would accomplish 
nothing but condemn Mulder to an excruciating death by slow 
suffocation. You would not have sufficient time to assist Mulder 
to safety, even if he were only slightly injured--you could barely 
move him from this chamber before the explosions would occur.

"So the choice becomes yours, Scully," Kovje said, his arms 
spreading wide in an almost victorious gesture. "If you shoot me, 
you both meet a certain death. If you shoot Mulder, you walk 
from this room unhindered, but the weight of that action will kill 
you just as surely. Of course, you could shoot yourself and 
relieve yourself of this decision--but Mulder would then know 
the meaning of true pain, I promise you.
 
"So you hold his fate in your hands. Will you release him from 
his pain, end his suffering in one quick motion? Will you give 
him the quick death he deserves...

"Or will he die in agonizing pain, cursing your name with his last 
breath?"


                *   *   *   *   *   *   *


The pattern repeated itself a few hours later. Kovje entered the 
room, gave Mulder a dose of the stimulant, and tortured him. 
This session lasted only the half the time, but was just as serious, 
if not more so. Kovje smashed through Mulder's right shin, 
dislocated a shoulder and, in a striking act of simple cruelty, 
poured salt across Mulder's chest.

Kovje did not release her right away this time, instead coming to 
stand outside the enclosure. He did nothing, said nothing, made 
no response whatsoever to her promises of revenge, her cries for 
mercy--he simply watched her. It was a torture all its own, she 
realized, to have the object of her hatred not three feet away but 
completely unreachable.

After at least two hours, he finally opened the door, calmly 
walking from the chamber as she raced to Mulder. She was 
grateful when she saw that Mulder had finally passed out, despite 
the stimulant. As carefully as she could, she set his shoulder and 
tried to clear away the loose salt. 

Looking down at Mulder's leg, Scully felt the bile rise in her 
throat at the sight. The tibia was broken cleanly in half, making it 
appear Mulder had a second knee joint halfway down his shin. 
Thankfully, the bone had not broken the skin, but it needed a 
splint or it soon would.

After a futile search for something to use as a splint, she resorted 
to cutting the soles off her shoes. The hard rubber was relatively 
flat and would provide at least some stability to the leg. Quickly, 
she set the bone as best she could, sickened as she bent the leg 
where it had no business bending. When she felt it was correctly 
aligned, she quickly placed and wrapped the makeshift splint.

Since Kovje didn't seem to be stopping her this time, Scully 
moved to Mulder's hand, setting the bones as best she could. She 
had nothing to use as splints for the fingers though, and wouldn't 
have had bandages enough to use them if she had. She had to 
settle for straightening each finger and then letting it bend down 
naturally.

Slowly, she worked her way over the rest of Mulder's body, 
searching out every wound, every bruise. She felt the tears rise to 
her eyes as she continued, scarcely able to believe that so much 
injury could have been inflicted in such a short time. She 
bandaged two cuts she deemed too serious to leave open, but 
otherwise could do little to help him.

"Oh, Mulder, I'm so sorry," she whispered, stopping at last as she 
reached his face. For some reason, Kovje had deliberately stayed 
away from Mulder's head--there were no cuts or bruises above 
the neck. She laid her hand across his cheek, brushing a finger 
gently across his eyes.

"I'm sorry I can't protect you."


                *   *   *   *   *   *   *


The hours passed slowly. Scully didn't understand the break from 
Kovje's previous pattern, but she didn't question it. Every 
moment he wasn't in the room was one more moment he left 
Mulder alone. She sat quietly by his side, standing every so often 
to check him.

What the hell am I going to do, she asked herself over and over. 
With each hour that crept by, Mulder was getting weaker and 
weaker, both from blood loss and lack of water and nourishment. 
Even though she was relatively unhurt, she could still feel the 
effects of no water in over... she realized she had no true idea 
how long they had been held here. Eight hours, twelve, sixteen? 
It might have been a full day or even more, she knew, depending 
on how long she was originally unconscious.

Could I kill Mulder to save him?

The thought sprang unbidden to her mind. At first, she pushed it 
firmly away, burying it beneath the hot fire of denial. No, she 
would find some way to save him--there are always options, she 
told herself. There is always a way.

But as time continued to crawl by, the force of her conviction 
began to fade. As she watched Mulder's body convulse 
periodically, as she listened to the rasp of his breath, she 
wondered if she had any right to make that decision for him. Do I 
have the right to preserve his agonized life simply to avoid my 
own pain, she asked herself--who am I to make that choice?

A soft moan broke into her thoughts. She scrambled to her feet 
immediately, reaching out to place a soft hand on Mulder's head.

"I'm right here, Mulder," she murmured to him. "I'm right here. 
Try not to move at all, Mulder. Don't flex any muscles or attempt 
to make any motions."

"Leg... hurts," he managed to say.

"Kovje smashed out your shin."

"Shoulder..."

"He dislocated your shoulder."

"Chest..."

"Salt."

Pause.

"Bastard..."

Scully almost chuckled at that one. "Yes, he is," she said quietly, 
running her hand lightly through Mulder's hair. She wanted to 
make sure he felt her presence, a gentle touch to war against the 
agony.

"Talk, Scully," Mulder said finally. He shifted his head under her 
hand, opening his eyes to look at her. Shackled the way he was, 
knees bent as he hung from the chains, Scully was at even eye 
level with him. 

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Just talk. Having something... to listen... feels better," he said, 
too exhausted to make complete sentences. But she understood 
nevertheless--give him something to concentrate on other than 
pain.

"Well, let's see. Kovje hasn't shown himself in several hours 
now, perhaps eight or more," she began. "I'm not sure why he's 
doing it differently this time, but it must-"

"No, Scully... talk," Mulder interrupted. When she didn't 
immediately reply, he continued. "Not about this... not about... 
tell me... you, something about you... something I don't... know." 
His head drooped back down onto his chest as he spoke, the 
effort to speak draining him.

"Like when my birthday is?" she asked. She smiled as she heard 
an exhaled chuckle.

"Low blow... I didn't forget... day..."

"You just forgot to get me something, yeah, I know," she 
finished for him. 

"Make it up to... later... I promise," he said, raising his head 
beneath her hand just slightly. She stroked her fingers through 
his hair, a tear tracking across her cheek as she prayed he would 
get the chance to do just that.

"OK, then. Um, something new about me," she said, trying to 
think of something that would fit the bill. "Might be rather hard, 
Mulder. You've learned pretty much everything about me over 
the last 6 years that's important to know."

"You like... Exorcist..."

"Yup."

"You liked Loch... monster as a kid."

"Yup."

"You... never played baseball..."

Silence. 

"Scully..." Mulder asked, the teasing I-got-you tone becoming 
clear even through the rasp.

"Well, I may have lied the tiniest bit about that one. I grew up 
with brothers, Mulder--of course I was drafted into the 
occasional pick-up game here and there," she said.

"Why... did you say... hadn't?" Mulder said. 

"Well, it wouldn't have been very much fun that night if I had 
walked up to the plate and started banging out homeruns right 
away, now would it?" she said, laughing as she remembered. 
God, what a gorgeous night that had been, she thought--every 
star in the sky had seemed to shine on that field.

"Admit it... you just wanted me... hold you."

"Oh, now, I wouldn't say that."

"But... you think it," he said. When she didn't contradict him, she 
heard another soft chuckle. "Knew... it."

"Anyway, moving on," she said, a teasing tone of her own clearly 
audible. "Why don't you tell me something you want to know, 
and we'll go from there? I'm not very good at just picking a 
subject out of the air."

"First person... kissed," Mulder said after a moment. 

"Joshua McLeary," she answered without hesitation. 

"Good... bad?" he inquired.

"Didn't really have much to base quality on then--he was my 
desk partner in kindergarten," she said, hearing Mulder laugh 
with her a bit. "It was Valentine's Day and we had just exchanged 
those silly little cards that all classes do. For some reason, we 
thought we should seal the exchange with a kiss, just like the 
grownups."

"Never pegged... you as conformer, Scully," he said. 

"I was five, Mulder. Conforming is pretty much required when 
you're five, unless you want to spend every day in your room, 
grounded," she explained. 

"So... who was first... real kiss?" Mulder asked, not to be denied 
the answer.

"First real kiss, hhmmm. I'd have to say Ren Valechaux, ninth 
grade," Scully answered after a moment.

"You kissed... girl?!" Mulder said, his teasing tone even more 
apparent now.

"*He*... was an exchange student from France," she said firmly, 
trying hard to keep the amusement out of her voice. "We 'went 
steady' for several weeks, which at that time, didn't amount to 
much more than just holding hands in the halls and sitting at 
lunch together."

"And kissing him," Mulder amended.

"And kissing him, yes, eventually," Scully said. "The first time 
we kissed, he had just given me the first gift he'd ever gotten 
me."

"What did... give you?" Mulder asked. "Something cool... 
keychain?"

Scully laughed outright at that one. "Oh no, he hadn't quite 
mastered 'cool' as well as some, Mulder," she said, ruffling his 
hair a bit as she spoke. "He was forced to stick to a more... 
traditional gift."

"Football video?" he murmured.

"He went with the necklace that first time," she said, still 
laughing. "I'd have to wait a few years to receive my first sports 
video. No, he gave me this very simple silver chain with a 
beautiful crystal rose on it. It was the first piece of jewelry a man 
had ever given me. 

"Ren gave it to me before the homecoming dance that fall. He 
said that when he saw it, the rose reminded him of me, bright and 
delicate. I was too young to realize it was probably just a line to 
get a kiss--"

"Which you gave him..." Mulder pointed out.

"Like I said, I was too young to know it. Or maybe it wasn't a 
line, I don't know," Scully said, her voice softening as she 
remembered. "He certainly seemed to be sincere, and was 
honestly surprised when I put my arms around him and gave him 
that kiss."

"Probably just... surprised it worked," Mulder said. 

"I'm sure he filed it away for future reference accordingly. 
Anyway, that was my first kiss--standing in Locker Cube D, 
teetering on my tiptoes and scared to death Ahab would see us. 
He was chaperoning the dance that night, you see," Scully 
finished.

"Would pay money... to see... get caught," Mulder said, 
managing a weak smile. 

"Well, we managed to keep it a secret from Ahab for as long as it 
lasted, which was only about a month or so. Which, of course, in 
high-school terms was practically marriage," Scully said, 
laughing. "No, we broke up several weeks later. I don't even 
remember the reason why, now that I think about it. We 
remained friends for the rest of his year at the school."

"Still have... the necklace?" Mulder asked. 

As he spoke, he must have aggravated his throat a bit--he 
couldn't quell an involuntary cough, which then tensed his body 
and sent another wave of pain coursing through him. He barely 
had the strength to scream any more, managing only a low moan 
which was somehow even more terrifying to hear. Scully wished 
so badly should could reach out and hold him, wrap her arms 
around him and shut out the pain and fear. But she could do 
nothing more than just lay her hands on his head. 

After a few moments, he seemed to get through it, his body 
slowly relaxing again. She remembered he had asked a question, 
and hastened to begin talking again--it had seemed to help him 
through the last several minutes.

"The necklace? Actually, I only have the chain left," Scully said, 
smoothing Mulder's hair beneath her hands. "The clasp came 
undone one day as I was out jogging. Even though I felt it start to 
slide away, I managed only to grab the chain. The crystal slipped 
off the end and smashed on the pavement. I remember standing 
there looking down at it, the sun shining through the shattered 
fragments. It was an odd thing--it was still pretty, even then, 
glittering and twinkling in the light."

She paused, remembering. Even though the rose had been the 
real 'purpose' behind the necklace, she had never been able to get 
rid of the simple chain. Every time she had sorted through her 
jewelry, she had always taken the chain out as if to toss it away. 
But whether because it was a reminder of that first kiss, or of her 
first love or something else, she had never been able to actually 
get rid of it. She had always replaced it in its little box and 
tucked it away safely.

With a start, Scully realized Mulder hadn't spoken since his 
coughing attack. "Mulder?" she asked, bending down slightly to 
look up at his face--his head had drooped back down to his chest 
and she could no longer see his eyes directly. 

When she got no response, she ran her finger under his jawline, 
feeling for a pulse up against his throat. After a frightening few 
seconds, she was able to feel it, weakened and tired but there.

At least for now. She had felt that type of pulse many times in 
her life. The heart, exhausted, was simply beginning to shut 
down, the strength required to keep beating slowly diminishing.

Seeping away as crimson blood through open wounds.

Scully sank back to the floor, slowly giving into the fear she had 
been fighting for hours now. She was no longer able to contain 
the wracking sobs. She wept for Mulder, for his pain and his fear, 
and she wept for herself...

And for the choice she knew she had to make.



      *** 30 *********  Section End  *********** 30 ***

 

Continued in part 3 of 3.

Complete story can be found at:

http://members.tripod.com/~koosn/index.html

TITLE: Refraction, 3 of 3
AUTHOR: Snark
E-MAIL: snark_911@yahoo.com

Complete disclaimer and notes can be found in section 1.


FEEDBACK: Mail all comments to snark_911@yahoo.com.

AUTHOR HOMEPAGE: http://members.tripod.com/~koosn/index.html




/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=/=




When Kovje returned a few hours later, he found Scully curled 
up in front of Mulder, having finally given in to exhaustion. 
Stepping around her carefully, he was careful not to wake her. At 
least not quite yet, he thought with a smile--there are much better 
ways to do that. Kovje brought forth another vial of the stimulant 
as he jerked Mulder's head back. He poured the liquid down, 
using his hands to clamp Mulder's jaw shut to ensure he 
swallowed immediately, even in unconsciousness.

As Mulder began to come awake, Kovje drew up his leg and 
kicked him square in the chest. The sound of cracking bone was 
soon buried beneath another sound--Mulder had found the 
strength to scream again.

Scully was awake and on her feet instantly, but as she whirled to 
face Kovje, he dropped her with an uppercut to the abdomen. As 
she went down, he grabbed her shoulder and dragged her across 
the chamber. She scrambled to regain her feet as soon as she 
could, but was no match against Kovje's fully-intact strength. 
Soon, she was locked inside her cage again.

"I grow tired of the game thus far, my friends," Kovje 
announced. "You two are much stronger, both physically and 
mentally, than most I have encountered in my life. So we will 
begin anew, with a refreshing change of pace. I like to call it 
five-sixty, but you may, of course, come up with whatever name 
you feel appropriate--for really, what is terminology among 
friends?"

Kovje returned to Mulder, reaching into his boot to retrieve the 
Bowie he had used before. He paused a moment, seeming to 
glance over Mulder's body as if searching for something. Finally, 
he stepped forward and placed the knife against Mulder's right 
elbow...

And began skinning him.

Tiny strip after tiny strip, Kovje peeled the skin from Mulder's 
living body, elbow to shoulder each time. Mulder writhed 
underneath the blade, his wordless screams suddenly refocusing 
to become curses on Kovje's soul and promises of retribution.

Kovje, of course, paid no attention whatsoever. But unlike 
before, he stopped after only a few minutes. Noticing the change 
immediately, Scully wondered what it meant. She became even 
more wary as Kovje came and unlocked her door.

"You have one minute, my dear," Kovje said, gesturing 
pleasantly for her to exit.

Five-sixty, she repeated to herself as she saw it. Five minutes on, 
sixty seconds off. Oh my god...

She ran to Mulder, reaching to scoop up the medical pack as she 
passed it. Mulder was breathing heavily, his muscles twitching 
from the stimulant's effect.

"I've only got sixty seconds, Mulder. That's what he meant," she 
said, working quickly to bandage the new wound. She had often 
seen skin peeled away and muscles exposed, but always during 
an autopsy--she had never seen living muscle, glistening in blood 
as it flexed and contracted. In a way, it was one of the most 
gruesome things she had ever seen.

"Surprised he... even giving me that," Mulder said, still unable to 
speak in anything more than fragments.

"Just one more way to make it 'interesting' for him, I'm sure" 
Scully said, checking the bandage to make sure it was secure. 

"Yeah, I-"

"Time's up, darling."

Kovje again locked her into the enclosure before returning to 
Mulder. This time around, he peeled Mulder's other arm, and 
again, Scully bandaged the bleeding muscle. The next 'five', 
Mulder lost a few fingers. The next, his other knee was smashed 
out. Somewhere along the way, Kovje poured another dose of the 
stimulant into Mulder.

At the seventh session, during her 'sixty', Scully again reached 
into the medical pack for a bandage. With a sickening whisper, 
she felt her hand slide across the material, coming in contact only 
with the side of the pack.

There were no more bandages.

She knew Mulder was watching as her hand emerged from the 
pack empty. She turned to him, reaching out to touch his face as 
his eyes met hers.

"Fly... solo now..." he managed between gasps. She knew 
breathing was becoming increasingly difficult for him now--
Kovje's kick to the chest had cracked Mulder's sternum. Each 
subsequent movement or torture was only breaking it further.

"Mulder, what do you want me-"

Kovje's slap to the back of her head signaled the end of her sixty.



                *   *   *   *   *   *   *


Kovje was obviously well aware that the bandages had run out. 
Scully assumed he was trying to think how to best take 
advantage of this new situation. He seemed to think about it for a 
bit, circling Mulder as a predator for a minute. Suddenly, he 
seemed to brighten, and Scully would have sworn she actually 
heard him say "A-ha!"

Kovje reached out, ripping the bandage off Mulder's abdominal 
stab wound. At first, Scully was relieved to see that it didn't 
immediately begin bleeding again. 

She was soon horrified, though, as Kovje slowly inserted the 
blade into the same wound again. He just left it there this time, 
quietly waiting for the rest of the five minutes to pass. After 
checking his watch, he released Scully with a pleasant smile.

She spit at him. It fazed him not in the least, of course, but it 
gave her a tiny feeling of satisfaction nonetheless. That feeling 
faded quickly as she reached Mulder.

His skin had taken on a sickly grey tone, even as his body still 
trembled from the stimulant. Blood was beginning to trickle out 
from beneath the knife, and she saw that the skinned muscles 
were beginning to soak their bandages as well. She knew it 
would not be very much longer, and yet she still felt the need to 
try to help him, to heal him. She didn't know what to do, though.

Mulder opened his eyes then, almost as if he had heard her 
thoughts. As his eyes sought hers, as she realized his eyes had 
gone cold and grey just as his skin had, she read the message in 
them as though it had been inscribed with fire.

Protect me.

The tears flowed then, cascading across her face with a heat she 
never even felt. She reached into her pocket, withdrawing the 
single painkiller shot she had put there when she had first seen it. 
She had not wanted Kovje to suddenly change his mind and 
whisk away the medical pack with the painkiller still inside.

She stepped close to him, easing the needle in just beneath his 
clavicle and releasing the shot. She was scared that it might have 
just been a blank, a placebo shot to give them each a false feeling 
of hope. But within a few seconds, Mulder's body seemed to 
relax, his eyes losing just the tiniest fraction of their pain. He 
nodded a little bit, indicating that the shot was taking effect. 

"Sc... Scul... love..."

She leaned across to him then, brushing her lips across his even 
as Kovje approached from behind. 

"Me too, Mulder... me too."



                *   *   *   *   *   *   *


"Well, well, well. This presents kind of an interesting challenge 
now," Kovje said as he locked the door behind her again. 
"You've administered the pain suppressant, how very intriguing. 
Mulder will feel nothing for the next half-hour or so, which 
makes me wonder how to proceed."

"Straight to hell, hopefully," Scully said, surprised at the 
deadness of her voice.

Kovje laughed. "Oh, of that I have no doubt, my dear. But I've 
always figured that I might as well go there for as many reasons 
as possible," he said, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his 
lips as he spoke. 

"So what to do, what to do. To achieve maximum results, I 
suppose I need to inflict damage that will be instantaneously 
painful when his senses begin working again. A little salt always 
works well in that case, I suppose." Kovje began pacing, a few 
strides in each direction, alternately turning to stride first towards 
Scully, then back towards Mulder. 

"But that just seems too mundane, so 'been there,' so to speak," 
he said, his tone one of a person thinking out loud. Scully 
watched as he came towards her. "I must think of something 
new. Something original or at least unusual. Could puncture a 
lung, I suppose, but where's the fun in that. Gouge out an eye? 
Perhaps..."

This time there was no mistaking the "A-ha!" as Kovje whipped 
around to begin walking towards Mulder again. His arm rose to 
point a finger in the air as his idea came to life. "I'll just-"

The shot rang out across the chamber, slicing through the air as 
sharp steel through bone. Kovje rocked with the impact, 
stumbling as he turned to face Scully again. A bloom of crimson 
appeared on his chest, soaking through the white T-shirt as the 
blood flowed. For the first time since she had seen him, his face 
contorted into a grimace of pain, his disbelief and anger rising to 
the surface as he realized what had happened. 

Kovje fell to the ground, his hands instinctively rising to cover 
the wound, to try and staunch the blood flowing from his chest. 
But as he felt the blood pour over his hands, covering them with 
a sickly heat, he knew the attempt was futile.

For outside its host, blood becomes not the carrier of life but the 
portent of death.

"You have chosen rather unwisely, my dear. He will suffer... 
even more horribly now," Kojve rasped. "Suffocation death... is 
partic... particularly painful." His voice became choked, the 
blood welling up in to fill his lungs as he gasped for air. 

Scully didn't answer him. She didn't hear him. She didn't even 
see him anymore. Stepping down from her suddenly-opened 
enclosure, she barely noticed the door to the access tunnel 
swinging open. Scully simply looked across the chamber at 
Mulder, her eyes focusing only on him. She looked at his face, at 
his eyes, at his hair as it fell across his forehead...

And at the place where, having already passed through Kovje, 
her bullet had pierced Mulder's heart.


                *   *   *   *   *   *   *


Scully had little doubt her aim was true, but she had to know for 
sure. Somewhere in the middle of the chamber, the .357 dropped 
away from her hand to clatter to the floor near Kovje's body. She 
never even heard it. Reaching Mulder, she placed a finger against 
his throat, pressing up tight against the skin.

Only stillness met her touch.

She knew she should be running, racing for the surface instead of 
wasting time with a dead man. But this wasn't just any dead man, 
a victim of some nameless criminal somewhere.

This was Mulder. And he was dead because of her.

Knowing she couldn't hurt him now, Scully wrapped her arms 
around him, dropping her head down onto his as she held him 
close. 

"I hope you're safe now, Mulder, wherever you may be," she 
said, her whisper loud in the silence...

"I hope someone can protect you."

Releasing him, she turned and headed for the door. She didn't 
look back as she slipped through the doorway. She didn't look 
back as she began running up the steadily inclining tunnel, the 
rough concrete cutting her shoeless feet. She didn't look back as 
she heard the first of the explosions occur beneath her.

And she didn't look back as she reached the surface, bursting 
forth from the tunnel to a blast of cold wind as the ground shook 
beneath her.


                *   *   *   *   *   *   *


The next several days were nothing but a formless void for her. 
She had vague recollections of meeting with Skinner, with the 
OPR, with Mulder's mother, with the boys. She thought she had 
stood by an onyx headstone at one point, hearing someone speak 
in soft tones about a man named Fox.

She had wondered who they were talking about, for she had only 
known a man named Mulder.

As the funeral had closed, Skinner had stepped up to her side, 
simply telling her to go home. He said he would arrange a leave 
of absence for her, that she could take as long as she needed to 
heal. 

Sitting at Mulder's apartment window now, staring blindly through 
the window as the hours slid by, she knew there wasn't enough 
time in all of history for that.

Because even though only one person had died that day, the 
bullet had ended two lives. Her soul had grown silent at that 
instant, her heart surrounded by a coldness only the loss of hope 
can bring.

A knock at the door interrupted her silence. At first, she did 
nothing, remaining seated at the window, unmoving. Again, a 
soft knock at the door echoed through the dark apartment.

At the third intrusion into her silence, Scully sighed and closed 
her eyes for a moment. Rising, she walked slowly to the door, 
her body moving mechanically, lifelessly. 

In an uncharacteristic motion, she simply opened the door to the 
hallway beyond. Normally, her gun would have been in her hand 
as she called out a cautious question to her visitor. But now? It 
didn't matter now.

No one stood outside his door. She turned away, sliding the door 
closed even as she walked away from it.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I didn't think anyone was going to answer." 
The voice seemed to slip through the crack of the nearly-closed 
door, reaching through to halt her motion.

Turning, she eased the door open again, revealing a man standing 
in the darkened hallway. She couldn't see him clearly--just a 
vague figure of average height and light hair.

"Can I help you?" she asked. She spoke out of habit, completely 
without interest.

"A man passed me outside, stopping me to ask if I would deliver 
something to you," the man explained. He reached inside his 
coat, bringing out a small fold of cloth. When at first she merely 
watched him, unmoving, he pushed his hand out a bit further, 
indicating she should accept the item.

Normally, a stranger at the door, offering a mysterious package 
under the cloak of darkness, would have warranted a handcuffing 
at the very least. But now? It didn't matter now. She reached out, 
taking the cloth from his hand, letting her arm drop back down to 
her side. She didn't even glance at it, simply withdrawing back 
into her apartment to signal the end of the conversation.

The man raised his hand in a pre-emptive gesture, taking a step 
forward. "He gave me a message as well, ma'am. I didn't 
understand what it meant, but he said you'd know."

Staring blankly at the man, Scully simply quirked an eyebrow at 
him. She had neither the energy nor the desire to do anything 
else.

The man cleared his throat, glancing down for a second as he 
remembered the message. "You always protected me, Scully, in 
my life and in my death," the man said, obviously reciting words 
that were not his own.

"Now, let me protect you."

The words took her breath away. Unbelieving, she took a step 
backwards, shaking her head slightly as she stared at the man 
before her. She could feel the blood drain from her face as her 
legs trembled beneath her. The man, unnerved by her reaction, 
mumbled a parting comment and quickly retreated down the 
hallway, disappearing into the stairwell. 

Scully backed up slowly, blindly, stopping only when she 
bumped against the sofa. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't see, 
she couldn't think--she could only stand and remember... 

Crying in a darkened house as strong arms wrapped around her...

  Pointing a gun at a man who told her he trusted only her...

    Embracing that man in a hospital corridor as he invited her 
      to come back to him...

        Playing baseball under the shining stars, laughing with 
          the only man she ever loved...

A man passed me...

With a start, Scully remembered her visitor's first words. She 
turned and felt her way back to the window, glancing down at the 
street below. The moon cast just enough light to accent the snow 
and deepen the shadows, making the world seem oddly two-
dimensional.

A man stood across the street, looking up at her even as she 
looked down at him. She couldn't see him clearly, getting only a 
vague impression of tallness, of dark hair and broad shoulders. 
He lifted a hand to his heart, extending it towards her as he 
turned and slowly walked away.

Even in the half-shadows of the moonlight, she knew that walk. 

Scully sprinted through the apartment doorway, the door banging 
against the wall as she flung it open. Down the hall, into the 
stairwell, crashing through the lobby doors to race to the street 
beyond. She stopped only when she reached the very spot where 
the man had been standing. She turned a slow circle, her eyes 
searching every silhouette, every shape, every moon-swept 
corner where light met darkness.

The man was gone.

She dropped her head to her chest, fighting a wave of tears which 
threatened to overwhelm her. Whatever she had been hoping for, 
whatever miracle had risen within her, was not going to present 
itself. As she brought her hands to her face in despair, she 
suddenly realized she was holding something.

The cloth the visitor had given her was still there, her hand 
wrapped around it gently but completely. She uncurled her 
fingers, using her other hand to slowly peel back the folded 
layers of the material to reveal what had been concealed beneath. 

Perhaps it was a trick of the snow and the moonlight, of the 
elusive quality of the night. But for a second, for the merest blink 
of an eye, the object was awash with light, a twinkling rainbow 
cascading across her hand. The barest of smiles crossed her face, 
the coldness in her heart breaking ever so slightly...

In her hand lay a single crystal rose. 



      *** 30 *********  Story End  *********** 30 ***

      *** 30 *********  Story End  *********** 30 ***

 

Comments? Feedback? Questions?

Please contact me at snark_911@yahoo.com to discuss this story.

Thanks for reading!

~Snark