Dear ( potential ) readers, I am reposting this on behalf of my friend, who in a foolish attempt to do the same about a month ago, did not seem to succeed spectacularly. Part Five, especially, kept refusing to manifest itself. At her request, I am dutifully reposting this. Please send ALL feedback to shawne@cyberway.com.sg, and not to me or anyone else. Archiving details should also be forwarded to her. Bear in mind that arcturus@arcturus.com isn't gonna work. Thanks :) p/s please excuse any weird formatting. i'm not too used to these things. ===================================================== Title : The Wrong One Author : Shawne Wang Rated : PG-13. Some 'undesirable' words here and there. Spoilers : ( post ) FTF, mild Memento Mori / Small Potatoes Keywords : MSR, MA, SA ( the perspective changes ), semi-XF, mild H Summary : Who believes in parallel universes? And an infinite number of Fox Mulders? Just you, Mulder? Oh dear. Disclaimer : Totally not mine. CC, 1013, DD, GA, all yours. Feedback : Definitely. My life-force. ( shawne@cyberway.com.sg ) Archive : Anywhere, just requires some notification. Prologue This was tiring. He simply could not understand how she was able to navigate across the keyboard with such ease when it was proving to be so difficult for him. He did use computers, and knew enough of the basics to handle basic word processing and marginal surfing. After all, he did type some of their reports. Though obviously not all of them : she usually handled most of the administrative side of the job ( and he was certainly glad for that ). But her laptop was rather small and the keys a lot closer together than he remembered. Besides, she had gone off somewhere and he'd been bored. So he had settled himself before the tiny screen and logged on to the Internet, using his own password and government account for access (what she would have done to him if he had tried to log on under her name, he had no real desire to find out ). Searching for the 'R' key, he reflected on the practicality of signing up for a computer course. Sooner or later he would have to learn some of this stuff, and rather than admit his ignorance to her, he might as well make use of the employment benefits worked into his contract which he had never bothered too much about. Apparently, he had the right to take a few days off work if the time was " gainfully " employed. He usually hated such words. Too typical of the bureaucracy he was trying to escape from. But he figured that " gainfully " probably included things like self-improvement. He could take a gamble on it. Maybe Skinner would let him take a short break anyway. He proceeded to enter more personal information into the empty boxes, slowly and labouriously and gripping the mouse almost as if it might run away. He had almost completed the form when he heard the door open behind him. Oops. She was back. He hadn't thought he would take quite so long, but of course, he had also thought himself a much better typist than he really was. " Mulder? " She walked over to the desk, her arms loaded down with manila folders, a scowl on her face. " What are you doing? I was working on a report. Which I haven't saved yet. " Throwing her burden down on the floor next to her desk, she crossed her arms in front of her and turned the steeliest of glares at him. " How many times have I told you not to touch my laptop, especially during office hours? If you've erased my report, I'm telling you, I'll... " " Peace, Scully! Keep calm! " Grinning sheepishly ( and knowing she could never stay angry at him for too long anyway ), he apologised. " I was bored, so I went online. I found this really interesting page, and I've started filling out some forms... " " Don't you ever have any real work to do? " she asked, exasperated. " I don't know... what do you consider real work? " " Don't ask me. It just seems to me as if you never have any paperwork to deal with! While I, on the other hand, am swamped with all this... " She gestured at the piles of paper on her table and on the floor. " ...and most of that! " Swinging around to face the newly-installed cabinets, which were already bulging with papers and files of all types, she made a face at them. Almost imperceptible, but he noticed it. " Well, don't blame me for knowing how to have fun, Scully. I'd much rather be doing this anyway! " He turned his attention back to the screen, and clumsily manoeuvring the mouse, managed to return to the top of the page. " Come on; take a look!! " Relinquishing the mouse to her hesitant control, he moved back in the swivel chair, allowing her to lean forward over him to read the tiny words. As she adjusted herself into a more comfortable position, her hair fell forward, brushing past his face. He tensed for a moment, but relaxed quickly. He could hear her breathing, could feel her head very close to his, and inadvertently, he looked up and into her eyes, though they did not look into his. He watched them dance as she sped-read the article; observed the way the corners of her lips always turned up slightly when she found something to be amusing. If he had to, he could stay like this forever, just watching her. Watching, and admi... Her hand flew up from the mouse, and found a connection with his head. Momentarily shocked, he paused to allow his eyes to focus on the rest of the world again. " Scully, what was that for? " It was not a particularly hard hit, more like a gentle shove, but it had served its purpose. " To get your attention, of course. " Matter-of-fact, straight to the point. This was Scully in action all right. " I can't believe you're actually doing this, Mulder! How can you subscribe to such a bizarre theory and actually even consider signing up for their... " She looked to the screen for confirmation, and almost allowed a laugh to escape the hold of her lips. "... weekly newsletter? I mean, I knew you had some pretty far-out theories about the world and all the conspiracies against the human race, but this? " He remained quiet for the time being, knowing that once she got started on the paranormal universe, she could talk herself hoarse ( and still not convince him one iota to the contrary ). " And another thing... do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be giving out personal information like that on the Internet? Anyone with a computer and a modem could hack into the system and discover that you prefer wearing boxers to briefs! " It was obvious to him that she was quickly losing the battle against her sense of humour, and this irritated him. She continued. " Even if this article is legit in the first place, which I seriously doubt... " " What's wrong with parallel universes, Scully? " he interjected, tired of her mildly disparaging comments. He had known all his life that he was slightly different, that his ideas and his way of thinking weren't always accepted, that a lot of people would think him eccentric ( to speak euphemistically ). And even though Scully was the most rational of scientists, with the most practical of minds, he thought that she had finally seen enough of the X-Files with him to know that not everything could be explained logically. If being imprisoned in a cryogenic tube in the middle of the Antarctic with an alien embryo gestating within her hadn't been enough to convince her -- he only felt that he should defend his own stand now, try to make her see things his way. " I happen to think it's a credible theory. It's been around since H.G. Wells, anyway. Maybe there are other parallel worlds out there, Scully, with their own history, their own time. In fact, a timeline for every single possible outcome of every single event. The idea that if you made one choice, just one choice, differently, your whole life could and would be affected. " He fixed his gaze with hers, so intently that she moved back almost involuntarily. She quickly shifted back. " Wouldn't it be interesting to see how your life might be drastically different if, for instance, you hadn't killed that bug in the playground when you were six? " This time, she could not contain her laughter, try though she did, and a muffled kind of snort interrupted his lecture. He frowned. " OK, bad example. But you get what I mean, don't you? " He looked hopefully at her, and she immediately stopped laughing. Instead, she shook her head silently, and flashed him one of her usual small and serious smiles. " Do what you want, Mulder. " Bending down, she picked up the top half of the unruly stack of papers next to her desk. She straightened back up, and shoved them into the remaining empty corner of her over-flowing desk. " No one has ever been able to stop you from doing what you want. I'm certainly not about to start now... I just know I really need to clear all this red tape. Which means I really need my laptop, and my desk, back sometime soon." He smiled. All he needed really, was her assurance. Wrestling again with the mouse, he managed to scroll all the way down to the bottom of the list he had so painstakingly filled out earlier, and aimed the little white blinking cursor at the 'SUBMIT' button. " All yours! " he proclaimed, standing and ushering her into the chair. " Now if you'll just tell me which of these papers need shredding, I guess I'll get right down to work! " A disarming grin. A typically restrained smile in response. END : ( 1 / 8 ) Day One Finally. After so many years -- another match. His fingers were cold; neither the gloves nor the central heating seemed to be doing much good. Of course, he had been sitting here for rather a long time, with just one cup of coffee, which had turned icy a few hours ago. The best part about this place, seedy though it was, was that it was a place of no questions. He smiled. If it could be described as such. The corners of the mouth turned up, the sides of the eyes crinkled slightly. But it held no real emotion, no true feeling. It was simply a reflex action, a physical contortion his body was given to executing when he felt satisfied. And he certainly did feel satisfied today. The laptop on the dirty Formica table before him hummed softly as it busily saved the information he had downloaded. An alert sound, muffled as the sounds of laptops usually are, and a box popped up onscreen. . Another laconic smile spread across his face as his fingers flashed across the keyboard. He read the words softly to himself, savouring the feel of the name on his tongue. " Fox. William. Mulder. " He would have to get down to work pretty quickly. This one was almost certainly the only one left. " I've found you at last. " * " You should think about taking a break too, Scully. You work too hard. " I laughed, enjoying the slightly annoyed look on her face. " Take a leaf from my book. Do absolutely nothing all week long, and then take a vacation. Sounds great to me! " As I spoke, I loosened my tie and unbuttoned my coat. I had had to put on the works to meet with Skinner and confirm my rest period, and now that goofing off was officially sanctioned, I couldn't wait to get out of these business suits. God knows I wear them more than enough everyday. " Oh keep quiet, Mulder. " She shuffled some papers on her desk, and shot them rather a despairing glance that I picked up on. Obviously Scully was at least slightly envious. I knew it wasn't very nice to tease her about it, but a vacation for either one of us was usually a rarity at best, and an event to be celebrated and commemorated. I couldn't resist. " Don't you wish you had thought of this first? " Heading over to my desk, I sunk easily into my seat and threw my legs up. Leaning as far back as the chair would allow, I pulled the tie off and flipped it casually into an open drawer just behind my head. " Wow... sitting at this desk when I'm on vacation is a lot better than when I'm supposed to be working! " " Very funny, Mulder. Don't forget you're taking an official vacation. " Stressing the word, she stood up from behind her mountain of paperwork and walked over to my desk, settling herself in the wooden chair across from me. " You're supposed to be enriching yourself this week. Besides, Skinner only let you off because there don't seem to be any cases at all requiring your expert analysis. " The heavy sarcasm that infused the last sentence was so typically Scully, I had to laugh. " I'll figure out ways to have fun, Scully. Trust me. " " I always do, Mulder. I always do. " Her tone softened for the briefest of seconds, and then she pushed herself up abruptly, almost as if afraid to give herself a moment's pause. " Well, you had better go. Get a start on the rest and relaxation I'll have to miss out on. In the meantime, let me get back to work. I don't understand why I seem to have so much more paperwork than you do. Sometimes I think you must have friends upstairs who are making me push double duty for you! " She returned to her desk, and I used mine to pull myself to a standing position. Much as I liked the new office, and much as I would miss seeing her and being basically the brunt of her sarcastic comments everyday, I really did need a break. If for nothing but to clear my mind. A lot had happened in the past few months. I needed some space. Not necessarily from her. Just the X-Files in general ( who would have thought this day would ever come? ). Snatching up my briefcase, I walked around my desk, and passing by her on the way to the door, did something I never thought I would ever dare to. I tousled her hair. " Watch out for yourself, Scully, " I called over my shoulder as I pulled the door open. Walking out into the hallway with a strange feeling of liberation, I turned to close it, and caught a glimpse of her pushing her hair back into shape. Just before I completely shut out my professional concerns for a week, I heard her voice, heard the two words she threw after me. " Take care. " * I felt like a clown in a circus, as I stood in the hallway trying to get the door of my apartment open. It wasn't easy juggling an armful of magazines, video tapes, and a few ( hot ) cartons of Chinese take-away, while trying to keep one hand free to deal with the problem of the key. It also didn't help very much to feel as edgy as I did. For some bizarre reason, I felt as if I had been followed all afternoon, as I had proceeded from the Bureau to the shopping mall downtown to pick up my entertainment for the night. Maybe I really was stressed. Though I didn't see how that could be possible. If I was stressed, Scully should have been committed by now. The hallway was eerily quiet, but even so, it held a certain quiet magic for me, a mystery that eluded me that night when Scully got stung by the bee. Screw the bee. Perhaps that was the event that triggered off my new enthusiasm for the ' science ' of parallel universes. Maybe in one of the alternate worlds, I did get to kiss Scully. Did get to finally tell her, and show her, how much she means to me. But in this world, the moment had been ruined, the chance torn out of our hands forever. I only hope that if there's another me in another time zone with another chance at the kiss, that other me had better cherish it and not foul everything up like I did. Chasing trucks in Arizona! Running through swarms of bees in giant white domes! What was I thinking? Curse the cheap cardboard those Chinese restaurants use for packaging!! The oil ( or grease, I never could tell which, and have no real wish to know for sure ) had seeped straight through and coated my hands. I could feel the metal key slipping out of my grasp, and struggling to maintain balance, performed a waist twist a contortionist would have been proud of. It didn't help. The key fell with a clatter to the ground, as did a couple of videotapes. I probably would have tried to pick up the key without lightening my load any, but the videotape embedding itself in my foot persuaded me otherwise, and I ended up relinquishing most of the magazines to the hallway floor. Feeling much lighter, I picked up the key and inserted it into the lock and shoved the door open with my tender foot. I struggled in with half of my purchases, dumped them on the coffee table, and returned for the rest. When I bent down to scoop up the magazines, I turned my head slightly towards the elevator -- I had heard a soft shuffling noise. Out of the corner of my eye, I was positive I spotted a flash of brown, the tail of someone's trench coat disappearing out of sight. The magazines forgotten, I sprinted down the hall, hoping to catch up to the mysterious figure. The door guarding the stairwell swung slowly back and forth on its creaky hinges, as if someone had burst through it with some measure of force just one minute ago. I pushed through the door, following the steps down a few floors. I heard nothing more, no sounds of hurrying, nothing. When I was almost all the way down to the basement, I realised how stupid this looked. If Scully were here, she would be enjoying herself at my having made such a spectacle out of myself. Talk about paranoia. I trudged up the stairs, winded, taking pains to remind myself that not everything in this world was against me. Sometimes, I found that awfully hard to believe. But this much I had learnt from Scully at least. I suppose being with her all the time has forced her to become more receptive to my fantastic ideas, just as some of my long-hidden sensibility has finally been unearthed and brought to the fore. Rationalising now works for me in a way it never did before : I used to survive on gut instinct, following the directions of my heart rather than my head. I still find it hard to control sometimes ( as is obvious by my asinine chasing of a person who probably bore me no ill intent ), but I was a great deal more restrained in my actions now than when I first met Scully. Not that Scully would agree. But that's another matter. By the time I returned to the apartment, the Chinese food was freezing cold and night had effectively fallen. I switched on the television, popped a tape into the VCR, and settled back on the couch with some clammy Kung Pao chicken. As I poked listlessly at my food, I had to fight off the urge to call Scully and tell her what had happened. To have her laugh at me and tell me I was being silly. I hadn't seen her for a few hours, and I missed Scully already. Some vacation. END : ( 2 / 8 ) Day Two Yes, this was the place. The Federal Bureau of Investigation, Washington D.C. He had made nice time. Barely a day had passed since he had downloaded the fortunate information. With luck, he would be able to return home soon, where he would finally be able to set his mind at rest and enjoy being with her. Pocketing the piece of paper on which he had quickly jotted the reminder to himself, he straightened his tie. Now that he was here, there was no real need to hurry. Fox would be gone all day, and probably all week too, if his sources were accurate. And they definitely were. Pushing open the glass door, he walked quickly past the reception desk, enjoying on the immediate recognition that registered on most faces as he continued on through the lobby. It had been a while since he'd been able to pull this one. It felt great. Leaning on the elevator button, he checked his watch again. This required fairly precise timing. He had to avoid everyone but the redhead. She was his target. She was the one he had to deal with. She was the one Fox Mulder could not live without, the one Fox Mulder lived for. And this was wrong. Criminally wrong. * I groaned. The paperwork seemed to be multiplying, breeding within my In box even as I finished proofing report after report, and stuffed them most carelessly into my Out box. Yet, by comparison, the papers I had left to clear were apparently increasing in what can only be termed a geometric progression, while what I thought I had completed was dwindling by the second. My eyes blurred, and I leaned back into the soft comfort of my padded chair. I definitely needed a break from all this crap. Pulling my reading glasses off, I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, and tried to empty my head of all thoughts. It didn't work. Numbers and statistics and accounts flew through my brain at a dizzying speed, and I felt almost nauseous. Even closing my eyes didn't help. Ever since Mulder had left for his ' vacation ' yesterday, I had been working ceaselessly. And yet I didn't seem to be making even a slight dent in anything. The logistics of the past five years, as well as the reorganisation of the office after the fire, required a lot more administrative attention than I had even imagined possible. That and the fact that Mulder wasn't really much help in this area of our chosen profession. Over the years, he's grown increasingly adept at using the paper shredder. Not that that's a qualification that's going to get him very far should he ever have to look for another job. Lucky Mulder. Perhaps I should have listened to Mom. I should have taken a break immediately after Antarctica, to give my batteries a chance to recharge themselves, to give myself some space. Instead of thinking about the things that had transpired over those few hectic weeks, I had shoved them all to the back-burner, plunging straight back into life in the F.B.I. ( isolated and co-dependent as it may be ). So many strange things had happened then, and now I found them coming to life within my mind's eye, unbidden: I had seriously considered quitting the X-Files, had filed for transfer to Salt Lake City, Utah. I had also shared a very special moment with Mulder, in the hallway of his apartment, when we had come very close to stepping over the line drawn between our professional and personal relationships. I suppose it's difficult to explain : we hardly have a personal relationship in any true sense of the word. He knows about my family, I know about his, he knows about the stuff I like, I know about the stuff he likes. But all this can come about from being constantly thrown together for five years. For us, there was always something different. The unspoken huge thick line we'd slapped between us from the start had disintegrated to practically nothing over the five years we've been partners. I don't know if that really bothers me or not. He saved me, both physically as well as from a future I would have fought against with all my might had I known I was being subjected to it. When he held on to me and urged me to move on, when his hands half-carried me through the winding passages of that subterranean craft, I felt his strength flowing into me and merging with mine. He has helped me conquer the inevitable so often, supported me through my illness, that it only felt right to accept his help then. But we haven't broached the subject since. In our treatment of each other, we have returned to the old comfortable system, safe within our own boundaries, protected by our casual words and actions. How long can that last? I shuddered to think. I would eventually have to speak to him about it, difficult as I knew it would be. Great. Allowing myself to ponder this subject had not helped my head any. I now had a pretty much full-blown migraine. There was no way I would get any sensible work done at all. So I decided to take a break. After all, I deserved it. Grabbing my coffee mug, I decided to head down to the cafeteria to replenish my store of caffeine. Not that I even wanted to bring myself to consider the huge backlog of work I still had to do. And the fact that I would have to rely on an artificial source of energy to even keep awake. Most of the time, Mulder's quirky comments always managed to sustain me through the day ( probably because I spent most of the time either irritated by his actions or trying my best to ignore him ). Pushing open the door, I ventured slowly into the hallway, allowing my eyes to adjust to the glaring brightness. I had been working from morning till now, and had not noticed that the lighting in my office had become progressively dimmer as evening set in. It was only too clear to me now that there was really no use in working any more. In my present state of mind, I would not only be driven insane by the paperwork, I would also be turning in more and more reasons for the Bureau to have me fired ( by virtue of my ineffieciency ). Deep in thought, I rounded a corner almost too quickly, and realised almost too late that I had run into somebody. Hard. And knocked that person down in the process. ( Don't ever think that small bodies don't have force and / or impetus, they DO. ) Flustered and a tad embarrassed by it all, I bent down in abject humiliation to offer my apologies. And then I realised who it was. " Mulder! " He sat staring up at me, slightly bewildered. Obviously disorientated from having a five-foot-three body mass semi-launch itself at him, he was slightly taken aback by our timely collision. " I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to knock you down. " I offered him my hand. " What are you doing back here? I thought you were going to enjoy your one-week vacation? " For a while, he didn't say anything. He only sat on the floor, looking at me, looking into my eyes. I tried to return the familiar brown gaze, something I am skilled at doing... but could only hold it for a few seconds. For some inexplicable reason, I felt as if something had gone wrong between us. Badly wrong. Finally, he took my hand, and as I helped to pull him to his feet, my arm trembled. Trembled so strongly that I wrenched my hand out of his iron grip and held it tightly with the other against my side. I immediately blamed the discomfort on my sensitivity. I had spent the whole day cooped up in the office, labouring over invoices and accumulating a horrible case of stress. The fact that I had spent the last twenty minutes or so pondering my relationship with Mulder probably didn't make me feel any more at ease with him now. It certainly wasn't his fault. I hadn't seen him all day. Making an effort to smile, I tried to look into his eyes again, but somehow could not bring myself to do it. Instead, I returned to making small talk. " Why are you back? It's only your second day of freedom, isn't it? You should be resting or something... " My voice trailed off. " Have you been here all day? " The same low voice, the melody of which I had learnt by heart so long ago, the timbre so recognisable... and yet a slightly different tone. He spoke with a particularly striking intensity which characterised Mulder at his most passionate moments. " Mulder, is something wrong? Is that why you're back here? " I was worried now. Maybe I was reading too much into the situation, my heightened perception simply a product of lethargy. That was the only rational explanation I could offer myself. Subconsciously, I knew that something was not right. Either with him, or with me. " Have you been working all day, Scully? " He spoke in a gentler voice now, the harsher tone he had just used moderated; the colder, more remote eyes seeming to soften into the ones I knew so well. " Aren't you tired? " I nodded mutely, not knowing what else to say. He seemed stumped for a solution as well, and we stood quietly in the hallway for what seemed an interminable length of time. Finally, he spoke. " Come on, let's get out of here. You need a break. We'll go grab a cup of coffee or something. " To say the very least, I was startled by his sudden friendliness, but I accepted and returned to the office to get my coat. Maybe now would be a good time to sort out our problems, to speak our minds freely and come to some definite conclusion about our relationship. That was the only other reason I could come up with for the sudden distance that had sprung up between us. We really had to talk. With my coat over my arm, I pushed open the door and saw him standing uneasily in the hallway, waiting for me. I flashed him a quick smile, and with my hand on the light switch, swept the room with my eyes to check if I had forgotten anything. I hadn't. Pushing the switch, the room fell into a pool of darkness, and I was about to emerge from it when suddenly the telephone rang. " Are you going to get that? " he asked me, reaching out to take my coat and helping me into it. I shuddered slightly at his touch. Something was definitely wrong, confirming my realisation that a good conversation was now imperative. I made a quick decision. " No, it can't be anything too important. I'll let the machine get that. Let's go. " As I let the door swing shut behind me and prepared to follow Mulder out into the cold night, I heard the insistent beep of the answering machine as it picked up the call. But I did not hear what followed. " Scully? It's me, Mulder. Guess you've gone home. Give me a call. " END : ( 3 / 8 ) Day Three This was turning out to be easier than he had ever imagined. The redhead wasn't even half as tough as she appeared to be. Talk about implicit trust. Didn't she know it was bad to trust strangers? Another wry smile crossed his face. She had not suspected a thing when he slipped some sleeping pills into her coffee. She had only spent the whole time before she got knocked out staring at him intently, as if trying to piece together his identity. He looked at her now, sleeping serenely on the narrow hard mattress covering the cot he usually occupied himself. She was pretty in her own way, not a stunning beauty, but pretty enough. Under duress, he could understand the attraction. Though why Fox allowed himself to love this woman into distraction was beyond his ability to fathom. She was slight too, barely five-three in height. But he could also detect a strength in this woman, a strength she only allowed to lapse in the company of those she trusted. Too bad. Enough time had passed. He was certain that Fox would now be frantic, looking for his darling partner everywhere and anywhere possible. Let Fox stew in his own juices for a while. Fox deserved it, after all. Fox had strayed. And he had to be punished. Punished, and brought back to the right course. * It seemed odd to be somehow, that Scully never bothered to call me back. It wasn't like her. She was usually most diligent in returning her messages. I had even called her handphone a few times, leaving increasingly worried and frustrated voice mails as the day wore on. But... nothing. That put me out all the more. Scully always carried her handphone with her. Our calls to each other ( often necessary ones to do with cases we were working on ) had become so frequent that she never really bothered to answer with anything more than the easy " Scully. " Something was wrong. I had initially called her last night for no another reason than to hear her voice. I had spent the whole day lounging around my apartment in rather an unkempt state, making half-hearted attemots to sign up for the computer course I had promised Skinner I would take. That, and trying to resist the temptation to call her. After all, a vacation from the office meant a vacation from each other as well, not that I was too sure I wanted one from her. Still. I consider it as proof of my strength, that I actually managed to hold out till near nightfall. When I finally called the office and she didn't pick up, I didn't assume the worst. It was silly of me to call the office really, thinking she would still be around. So I hadn't been too worried when she didn't return my call that night. Maybe she was tired and had slept early. But if she had gone to the office in the morning and heard my message, I have no doubt she would have responded in kind. That's when I started to worry. A lot. All the reasons I came up with to explain Scully's lack of response became progressively less grounded in reality ( even for me ). Maybe she went on vacation too, stressed and disgruntled by the work. That theory didn't pan out too well. She would at least have had the courtesy to call me and inform me about any leave of absence she was going to take. She was painfully scrupulous about such matters. Besides, Skinner had been quite clear about not allowing the both of us to go off simultaneously. So that was out. I also reasoned that it was entirely possible that all the phone lines in the F.B.I. building, as well as Scully's own personal lines, had temporarily malfunctioned. After placing about ten frantic calls to the local telephone company ( as well as the long-distance carrier Scully subscribed to ), I came away with the knowledge that no, everything was working fine, and that in a matter of days, I would probably be sued for at least two counts of harassment. I suppose counter-suits would be out of the question. So she didn't go on vacation, and her phones were all in perfect order. I had one last resort. Scully's mother didn't offer much consolation as to the whereabouts of her daughter either. I knew that wherever Scully was, she wouldn't want to worry her mother, so I had to be really careful in my inquiries. They availed nothing. I even went all the way back down to the Bureau and spoke to Skinner. He said Scully hadn't been in all day, and that she was technically absent without leave. That was what convinced me that something was really wrong. Scully is nothing if not responsible. I couldn't imagine her causing everyone she knew needless anxiety the way she was now. The worst thing was the perpetual feeling of helplessness that threatened to sink me into depression and panic. The idea that I could not save her, that her wellbeing was beyond my control, gnawed away at me when I was awake and kept me from sleeping. It brought back the fear of the past, when she had cancer. When Scully was dying. And knew she was dying. She only broke down once when she was with me, just that once. But it allowed me to see the vulnerable side of Scully, to realise that there were times she needed the strength of others to go on. It made me realise that I could help her. She was so important to me, then and now, that I had to help her. And this time, I couldn't do anything. I couldn't even find her. No matter how hard I tried. END : ( 4 / 8 ) Day Four The night had left the room, and the early morning sunlight filtered in spotty patches across the floor. He sat on a chair next to the bed, a position from which he had barely moved at all for the past two days. The occasional slight amazement he expressed at her ability to sleep for almost a day and a half straight were simply idle wonderings. He was thinking of other things, thinking of Fox. She was stirring at last. Straining weakly against the ropes that now bound her wrists tight, the blue eyes filling with greater awareness as the deep sleep left them. He sat on a chair next to the bed, watching her chest rise and fall, watching the increasing fear build up in her tense frame. He usually enjoyed this immensely, observing them as they gave in to the intimidation. He fully expected it from her. But he was to be disappointed. She looked at him quietly at first,saying nothing, her eyes wide. There was a simple determination in them, one he could easily understand. It was a challenge, a tussle of wills. She was refusing to give in to him, refusing to ask the first question, refusing to be submissive. He was annoyed. He had never before failed to at least disconcert them. Yet she hardly seemed to care at all. Neither was she deceived by his appearance. It wounded his pride, if nothing else. He often believed that he had gone beyond the realms of emotion, that he only cared about one thing in his life. Only one. But this woman was stirring up petty feelings he thought he had long ago suppressed, feelings that had no room in his world. She was obstructing Fox. And she was annoying him. He had met with obstacles before, but had always succeeded in destroying everything that stood in the way of his vision. All the more reason she had to go. * I could only watch him, stare at him in a mixture of amazement and wonder. Even through the groggy distractions of sleep, I trusted my instincts. I refused to say anything. I just allowed myself to stare, hoping to unnerve him, hoping he would give me an explanation for all this. I had no idea how much time had passed since I lost and regained consciousness, but it seemed almost irrelevant now. My mind was churning furiously. So was my stomach. Bad sign. This was not Mulder. And yet it was, it was him. I couldn't convince myself otherwise. His every movement, the depth of feeling I could always detect in his eyes, even the same regular way of breathing. It was Mulder. And yet it wasn't. It couldn't be. I watched him watch me. I saw his face twist with annoyance, very much the same way Mulder's did whenever I refused to accept the bizarre theories he incessantly forced on me, ideas I had always been reluctant to accept. Well, this certainly qualified for bizarre. I shifted slightly on the bed, working my hands against the rough cloth, trying to find a better position. His eyes followed me, and I looked away. They were Mulder's eyes, yes, down to the same light-green flecks that danced in the brown. Mulder had used them on me so many times, captivating my eyes with his, tuning my soul in with his; I had thought I could stare at them forever. I was wrong. He checked his watch, then stood almost triumphantly, pulling himself up to his full six-foot frame. Mulder usually towered over me even when I was wearing three-inch heels. Suffice it to say, he looked a lot more intimidating from where I was now. " It's time. " Mulder's voice. I closed my eyes momentarily, wishing I could pretend that it was Mulder. My Mulder. But I couldn't. It wasn't. I forced back the fear that had been nibbling away at me, a fear that I had refused to acknowledge. I was not going to panic, not going to give whoever this impersonator was the satisfaction of seeing me lose control. I just continued to stare. Even now, it was hard to think of him as an impersonator. They were identical in every way. He wasn't at all like the shape-shifter I had encountered almost two years before. He was - and yet he wasn't - Mulder. " Fox has been waiting, Dana, " he spoke with such a cold cruelty that I shivered. I hated the fact that he had the audacity to use Mulder's voice, to use it to speak to me and call me by name. If I could have freed my hands from their prison, I would have used it to stop up my ears, to cover my eyes. I knew, however, that there was no way I could bring myself to hurt him. It would be like wounding Mulder, and I could never stand to watch Mulder in pain. I knew this wasn't the right one, that it wasn't my Mulder. Call it irrational. But the physical resemblance was too strong. And besides, I somehow could feel that this was Mulder, just a different Mulder. Confusion was setting in, and I wanted to protest, to scream, to do anything to vent my frustrations. I refused to give in to the temptation. I chose to ignore him instead, turning my head stubbornly to the wall, avoiding his searching gaze. Mulder's gaze. " You've been missing, Dana. Missing for two whole days. Aren't you worried about your darling little Fox? What must he be thinking? " My stomach wrenched, dropped a few miles farther south. Two days? I had no doubt that Mulder would have spent all forty-eight hours searching tirelessly for me, getting no sleep and worrying himself crazy. This was going from bad to worse. It simply had to be a nightmare. I bit my lip, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to loose themselves from the stronghold I had constructed to hold them back. " Still nothing? " The remark was made casually, but the intensity lying beneath it was unmistakable. " You certainly are a tough nut to crack, Agent Scully. Good for Fox. He's had a good five years with you, hasn't he? Such a sweet little partnership, don't you think? " For the first time in my life, I hoped with all my heart that I could go deaf. That I need never hear the cutting words dropping so easily from his hard lips, need never hear them spoken in a voice I thought I had loved so dearly. One tear escaped. I kept my head turned resolutely to the wall, hoping he would not notice I was on the verge of crying. He was silent for a few seconds, and the first thought that flashed into my mind was that my wish had come true. No such luck. I heard a soft click, one I quickly associated with the opening of a handphone as he began to dial a string of numbers. He continued to speak, continued to attack my ears with his weapons. The weapons that belonged to Mulder. " Why don't we have a little talk with Fox, huh, Dana? Think he'll be home by now? Or maybe he'll still be out in the city, roaming the streets looking for you? What do you think? " He was enjoying himself, the sadist. " Fox Mulder? " he pitched his voice slightly lower, changing the accent to a more obscure brogue. Obviously Mulder was home. I was trembling now, shaking so hard that I was worried the jiggling of the bed would give me away. He didn't seem to notice, intent as he was on the conversation. Just like Mulder, every single matter required the same fervent concentration, the same intense focus. What I had grown to love in Mulder ( stubborn as it made him sometimes ), I feared completely in this man. If he could be called a man. " I know Dana Scully's whereabouts. " Straight and to-the-point. Who said Mulder could never be succinct? Somehow, the irony was just a bit too much for me. " And I know you've been looing for her. " A pause. I could guess what Mulder must be saying; he was probably making all kinds of bargains and promises and guarantees for my freedom. I didn't want this to happen again, didn't want Mulder to have to sell himself out for my benefit. He always did this, always gave up things that were important to him for me. Gave up looking for the truth, gave up on looking for Samantha. I listened in growing agony as he set up an appointment with Mulder for the next day, a meeting in an alleyway near the F.B.I building. Feeling the hot tears slip easily down my cheeks now, I struggled to keep from making any noise. I pulled my legs up, closer to my chest, trying to tighten into as small a ball as possible, hoping against hope that it would offer some meagre protection from him, from the fear. When he hung up the phone, satisfied, I closed my eyes, hoping for a miracle. A miracle never came. END : ( 5 / 8 ) Day Five He stood watching the anxious pacing of the figure at the end of the alleyway. He observed the manner in which his target ran his hands helplessly through his brown hair, tugged uneasily at his clothes, twisted his loosely-knotted tie into a tangled mess. This was... fun. It was pure, unadulterated entertainment for him. So enjoyable, watching Fox squirm. Knowing that Fox had been haunting the alley ever since he received the call, knowing that Fox hadn't slept in days for lack of Dana Scully. Knowing that all this would soon change. Fox was a stupid man. A very stupid man. He had allowed himself to love, allowed himself to forget. Forget the one who was most important. Had immersed himself in a battle that was too complicated for his own good. Fox had to be reminded of his true duty. That was only possible by eliminating the troublesome redhead. And making sure Fox knew she was no more. He really did enjoy this. * It had been hours. The time flew by, the hands on my watch bearing no real significance for me now. The moment I had received the call late last night, I had dressed. Marginally, but I was dressed. Dashed out of the building like a maniac, running the whole way downtown. I had almost become a permanent fixture in the alleyway, pacing back and forth, muttering words of comfort to myself. I simply couldn't dispel the fear or the anxiety. The phone call had not been reassuring, to say the least, and my suspicions had only been heightened by my recognition of the tone of voice. It was vaguely familiar to me. I had heard it many times before, but I couldn't place it. I swore to myself that if this was one of the Lone Gunmen's cheap tricks, I would send them to hell and back. And throw in another return trip, just to make sure they got there. But sick humour wasn't Byers' style; neither was it Langly's or Frohike's, really. And no, I could not imagine AD Skinner plotting with Scully to drive me insane. It had to be someone else. Frustrated, I leaned against the cold brick wall, resting my head for what seemed like the first time in days. Which was probably true. I hadn't slept much more than two hours tops in the past two and a half days. This was wreaking havoc with my system. But my necessity to find Scully never failed to replenish my dwindling energy, thoughts of her always jolting me back to reality. Strange that this was a reality I would dearly love to escape from. I just wanted her back. I needed her back. This was driving me wild. I began my restless pacing again, occasionally stopping to pound ineffectively at the wall, hoping it might reveal something, anything, about Scully. Obviously, it kept quiet. I felt nauseous, a combination of lack of sleep and Scully withdrawal. My internal organs were in a mess. They were scattered all over the place, none in their rightful positions. The next thing I heard caused all of them to palpitate within me. It was my own voice, coming from behind me. Soft, unmistakable, me. " Agent Mulder. " It was a statement, cold and direct. So it was a voice I recognised after all. It was mine. I spun around, not quite knowing what I would see, not quite daring to venture a guess. I had seen enough strange things in this world, things beyond the mere limits of one's imagination. Or at least I thought I had. Somehow you're never quite prepared to come face to face with your own doppelganger. It was unsettling, to say the least. My eyes travelled up and down his lanky frame, following the contours, observing the face. It was me, all right. Immediately, my thoughts catapulted to my mother, coming up with the most plausible and sensible explanation I could on the spur of the moment. Maybe I had been born twins, and this was my long-lost twin brother. Reunited after thirty-odd years. No amount of fantastical suggestions would have made up for what followed. " Hello, Fox. " He spoke calmly, in a very controlled tone, as if he had done this many times before. The slightest hint of a smile coloured his face. It was practised, rehearsed to a fault. But subconsciously, I knew he was excited. I could tell from the way his eyes blazed. I'm sure mine do that too around Scully, whenever she lets me fill her ears with more of my theories, whenever I get keyed up. But even I wasn't prepared to meet another me, to see a walking talking three-dimensional photocopy of myself in broad daylight. I was speechless. " Dana is fine. For the moment. " The last three words galvanised me into action. " What do you mean, ' for the moment '? " I demanded suspiciously, moving closer to him so I could get a better look. My God. He really was me, to all intents and purposes. If he killed me now, he could probably pass himself off as me and no one would be the wiser. Except maybe for Scully. I shook my head, forcing myself to concentrate on the situation at hand - this was not the best time to be thinking about her, much as I wanted to. " Just that, Fox. For the moment. " " Who are you? " I changed tacks now, hoping I could extract some answers. It was obvious he was the one I was supposed to meet. This meant he knew where Scully was. That information, at least, I had to pry out of him, no matter how tight-lipped he was. " You, Fox. I'm you. Can't you tell? " A bitter, caustic laugh ( more like a bark ) issued from his lips, and his eyes danced merrily with pleasure. " Don't I look just like you? Sound just like you? She thought I was you, you know. Your Scully. She couldn't tell the difference. " My hands tightened at my sides, balling themselves up instinctively into fists. But it would be too weird to punch his lights out now. It would be too much like decking myself. I endeavoured to keep calm. " You're not making any sense. Whoever you are. Just tell me the truth. " " But I am, Fox. I am. I'm you -- you're me. We're just from two different worlds, that's all, " he spoke with a gleeful relish that was hard to miss. He was enjoying himself. " Don't you remember? I thought you believed in parallel universes- Can't you accept proof of it now? " " You must be kidding me. " I snapped, almost losing control of my temper. " I do believe in parallel universes. You probably figured that out already. But parallel means simultaneous separation. Just as two parallel lines will never meet, the different worlds and timelines can never coincide. It's a mathematical definition. " " Can't they? " He closed the distance between us quickly, taking a few measured steps and forcing me to back up against the wall. " There's a fine line, Fox, a very fine line drawn between the worlds. There are so many of them. So many. An almost infinite number. Of course they can overlap. " Another smile. " Of course I can step over the lines. Anyone can. You just have to know where to look for them. Wouldn't you like to try?" He was getting some sort of sick malevolent joy out of all this. I could just tell. It turned my stomach, made me feel sick that this was another me, not just a shapeshifter playing with my mind. Normally, the very idea of proving the existence of parallel universes would have thrilled me no end. It only repulsed and disgusted me now. I recoiled from him, but could move back no further. " You've got to have a reason for doing this. Why did you come out of your world? What made you leave it? Why are you in mine? And why did you take Scully? " " My, my. So many questions. We always did have inquisitive minds, didn't we, Fox? Ever since we were children? " Any trace of a smile was now gone; the menacing mask was firmly in place as he moved ever closer towards me. Suddenly, his arm shot out, caught me square in the chest, and shoved me painfully against the wall. Ouch. The brutal contact with the hard surface wasn't kind to my already tired back, and the breath was effectively knocked out of me. " You've forgotten, haven't you, Fox? You've forgotten. Forgotten why you joined the F.B.I in the first place, forgotten the reason you're searching so hard for the truth. You've forgotten what started it all. You've forgotten Samantha. " Sharp intake of breath. He was talking about my sister. Our sister. Sam. " No, I haven't, " I protested weakly. " I never have. I think about her every day. Look for her in everything I do. Just like I used to. Ever since I was ten. " I felt curiously defensive. I couldn't let him be proven right. He wasn't right. How could he be right? Sam was constantly on my mind. Always. Forever. " That's what you've deluded yourself into thinking, Fox. " The words poured out of his mouth now, his slim control over himself replaced by a harsh intensity that was startling in itself. " You pretend, pretend that Sam is still the most important thing. But you're lying, to yourself, to the world. I've checked, Fox. I went and made sure. I've been to most of the other worlds. You're my last stop. And the most disappointing one of the lot. " His hand had found my neck, was squeezing it. Not hard enough to suffocate me, but making it pretty difficult to breathe. " Why? " I spluttered as best I could. " Why am I so different? What did I do that's so wrong? " " What else, you big fool? You let yourself fall in love. You lost the focus, Fox. You're supposed to be looking for Sam. Not protecting that pathetic little redhead. She's not the most important thing. Sam is. " I shook under his grip, wishing I could tear my eyes away from the pair that was so identical to mine, yet stood glinting dangerously in his face. In my face. The raw power, the insanity of his obsession, flowed through him like a current of electricity. He was a livewire, a hazard. He could have been me. He was me. I wrenched myself out of his clutches, pushing him back into the open alleyway. " Shut the fuck up! " I yelled. " Stop saying these things! Sam's just as important to me as she is to you! And so what if I did fall in love? So what, huh? I don't remember ever signing a contract that said I had to stop being a person just to look for my sister!! " " There's no room for feelings, Fox, " he continued calmly, brushing himself off primly and adjusting his tie. " I've met a lot more Fox Mulders than you might think. There have been satisfactory ones. Not many, but enough. There have been ones like you. But they're dead now. They all died for Sam, Fox. But not you. Oh no. You went and fell in love. " He stressed the last word, almost as if it was sacrilegious. " How did they die? " I demanded, panting slightly from the exertion. " They died while searching for her, Fox. All of them remembered her. Only you allowed yourself to forget so completely. It's that woman, Fox. Dana. Katherine. Scully. Her. I should bring you to worlds where she has never existed, or to times when she never came into your life. Then you can remember, remember the goal you promised yourself to pursue so many years ago. Then, and only then, you can remember Sam. " I didn't know quite what to say. This was certainly not what I had expected to discover when I picked up the phone yesterday. And I barely had the strength to protest anymore, really. Because I could detect some truth in his demented ramblings. Scully had come to mean more to me than anything else in this world. I had given up chances to meet Sam, to discover the truth about her abduction, in favour of saving Scully. In order to be with Scully. Guilt. I hated the feeling. And I detested the fact that I was allowing this nutcase to get to me. " What are you going to do now? " I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. " Me? Oh, nothing much. I've finally met you, Fox, and reminded you of the quest you should be on. That's all I set out to do really. Just- checking. " Just checking? I was incredulous. It sounded so innocent, but I knew it was anything but. This man's psyche was totally twisted, his obsession taken so far beyond the realms of sensibility that even I had trouble fathoming the depth of his emotions. Even though he professed to have none. " No. " I cleared my throat, and forced out the next question, already dreading his response. " I meant- what are you going to do now.. to Scully? " " I already told you Fox. Nothing much. Just forget about her. We'll all be better off for it. " With that, he turned to walk away, cutting an arrogant figure in the business suit that was a perfect duplicate of mine. This time, my temper did flare. I flung myself at him, wrestling him down to the ground, and in my mindless fury, began throwing blind punches. Big mistake. With incredible strength I didn't know I had, he pushed me off him, pinned me to the ground, and sent a heavy punch right to the middle of my abdomen. My body doubled up; I groaned in agony. The colours before my eyes swam, the alley flickered slightly, the pain shot right through me. " You're really asking for it, Fox. Talk about flogging a dead horse. " He leaned over me, but my eyes blurred and all I saw was a distorted image of myself, as if I had been looking at my own reflection in water. " Looks like you'll get to see Dana one more time, after all." His fist came barreling down towards me, and in my hazy state, I barely had time to throw up my arms to shield myself. It was no use. Solid connection with my head. I moaned, and the world began to grow dimmer at an alarming pace. " You just never learn, do you? " His last words echoed eerily in my head, bouncing back and forth repeatedly in the cavernous reaches of my murky consciousness. And the world went black. END : ( 6 / 8 ) Day Six It was almost over. Soon, he could return to his own world, return to Samantha. He felt comforted, felt glad that he was changing the course of events in another world, as he had done in so many others. He really did not mean to be cruel. He had intended to do away with Dana Scully when Fox wasn't around to witness it. It would only have caused needless pain on both sides. But damn Fox. He was as stubborn as a donkey. Just like all the other Fox Mulders, actually. All of them. The only way Fox would give up on his ridiculous dreams for a future with Scully would be to allow him to watch her die. That way, Fox could bury his hopes with her, and return to his rightful quest for Samantha. He smiled again. This was turning out to be one of the most interesting worlds he had ever visited. He just hoped that not too many people would realise he would be departing from this world leaving it one life short. He didn't want to affect too many things. * The bright glare of the afternoon sun shone directly into my eyes, and I tried to wiggle into a position on the bed that was relatively more comfortable. I had dropped off to sleep unknowingly, tired out by all the apprehension that had been building up in me the whole of yesterday, after he had left to meet Mulder. I had worried and cried and tried my very best to undo the bonds of my captivity. Nothing had worked. I could barely raise myself even to a sitting position. I hated feeling so helpless. Usually I was right in the thick of action with Mulder, facing the same dangers, solving our problems together. I usually had power over the events I involved my self in. I needed it, needed the authority, to help me get through life. Knowing that I could survive on my own if I had to. But this cursed situation brought me straight back to the cancer days, a time in my life when I felt as if everything was spinning out of control, when I felt my world was subject to a malicious higher power. When only Mulder's strength had allowed me to carry on, had given me the conviction I needed to continue the rest of the journey, no matter how short it might be. That was when I realised how much he meant to me, and how difficult surviving would be without him. These were thoughts I had had often before; they only resurfaced now as I considered my options. There weren't very many of them. I could wait. Or I could wait in a more comfortable position. I chose the latter. I was doing my utmost best to push myself into a half-sit when the door burst open. Him. I frowned, looked away, and busily ignored him. I had no desire to speak or even look at him. No matter how much he reminded me of Mulder physically. It just wasn't the same. My passive, non-confrontational methods didn't have much effect on him. He turned violent anyway. " Get up. " Striding quickly over to me, he pulled me up roughly by the collar of my business suit, and forced me to stand even though my legs felt weak from three days ( at least ) of inaction. " Come on, move it. " With one hand tightly clenching my left arm, he propelled me out of the room to the parking lot directly outside the motel. There was a seedy rental car stopped at the curb, the motor having been left on. He flung open the back door with great force and threw me most unceremoniously in, as if I were a limp sack of potatoes. Which I probably was in his hands. He got in too, gunned the old engine ( which emitted a sputter or two of protest ) and then took off at an alarming pace, sending the car hurtling forward at a speed that would have gained the respect of any race car driver. After I accustomed myself to the bumpy ride, I began to wonder where he was taking me. This did not bode well for the future. If he was planning to attack me, or to kill me, there was no way I could resist. I would be forced into submission. If he was bringing me to some out-of-the-way place with no sign of human life around for miles, I would not even be able to call for help. It was a dire situation, but for some inexplicable reason, I was not panicking. I was still holding on to the slim and dreadfully unrealistic hope that he would not do anything bad to me. That he could not bring himself to do anything to me. That since he looked so much like Mulder, he would find a little of Mulder inside him. Talk about navet. It would have been funny if I wasn't about to die. I just didn't want to believe, couldn't bring myself to believe, that if I did die today, I would die at his hands. The last face I would see would be Mulder's, in a perverted sense. But I wanted to remember Mulder's face the way I loved it, and not have it corrupted by this lunatic in Mulder's skin. The tears were close again. Well, I would not give him the satisfaction. I forced myself to calm down, to close my eyes, to cling on to the only thing left to me now - prayer. I prayed for my soul, for my mother, for Emily, and Melissa. For Ahab, for Skinner, and for all the people who had meant something to me one way or the other in the course of my life. But most of all, I prayed for Mulder, prayed that he would one day find the truth that meant so much to him, and had come to mean so much to me. Prayed that if I never got to see him again, I would remember the right Mulder. Not the wrong one. * I watched him from where I stood, my hands still tied tightly behind my back. I would have run, save for the fact that he had parked the car in such a way that I was completely walled in. The ocean wind swept through my hair, blowing it across my eyes, and I surveyed my position reluctantly. He had helmed me into a small enclosure on the side of a dirt road. Behind me was a vertical two-hundred foot drop, straight into the craggy rocks that lined the cliff face. Well, I could imagine worse ways to die. Or so I thought wryly to myself. Probably a last-ditch attempt at bravado. What I did know I had to do was never to let him see me run scared. Even though night was quickly falling ( we had driven for hours ), and visibility was worsening rapidly. I could still make him out though. He was poking away at something in the boot of the car, and I simply could not understand why he did not just get it over and done with as quickly as possible. I was even sorely tempted to jump over the railing myself. Something restrained me, That was when I heard it : a rather loud moan of pain coming from the general direction of the car. The word was out of my mouth before my brain could even process the thought. " Mulder? " I asked excitedly ( and loudly ). He rounded the car now, a small black revolver firmly in his grasp. Behind him he half-dragged a dazed Mulder, who was rubbing his head and muttering curses to himself. I couldn't tell if the happiness I felt on seeing Mulder was stronger than the sudden fear that threw my heart into a series of rapid palpitations when I saw the two of them side by side. They were positively identical. They were even dressed in business suits of the same cut. In the darkness, there was no possible way I could tell them apart. Except of course, that the wrong one was advancing towards me with a gun and pretty bad intentions. I swallowed. I didn't know what was going to happen now, but at least Mulder was here. Even if I was going to die tonight, he was here. The realisation did wonders for my mood. " Mulder, it's me. " I could no longer care less if he should be further antagonised by my attempting to speak to Mulder. I just knew that I had to try. " Mulder, talk to me. Please? " The plaintive note in my voice irked me a little; I wasn't used to appearing or sounding quite so vulnerable. But I suppose it was justified. " Scully? That you? " His thick voice cut through the darkness, and I could practically hear the stupor that still clung to his words. " Are you OK? Did he do anything to you? " I shook my head vehemently in response, tears of relief now springing to my eyes. Then I remembered he couldn't see me. Taking a step forward, I muffled a scream of surprise when I brushed up against a man's hard chest. Oh. It was Mulder. With a sigh of happiness, I allowed myself to melt against his strength, almost forgetting for the moment that-. Shit. Wrong one. He grabbed me around the neck now, and pressed the revolver against my temple. I could feel the cold distant metal meld itself to my skin, becoming almost a part of it. I heard the distinct click of the tumbler as he cocked the gun, and I could imagine his fingers, Mulder's fingers, closing in on the trigger. Ending my life. I had to bite my lip till I tasted blood to repress the scream that threatened to compromise the dignity I had at least intended to die with. " Want to play Russian roulette? " he teased, as he lifted the gun from my clammy skin and jabbed my temple with the barrel again, just to make his point. " See if you get lucky. " I hated the fact that he still seemed to be enjoying himself so much, even if I wasn't struggling, even if I wasn't begging for mercy. He was sick. He was perverted. This couldn't be Mulder. There couldn't be any relation between them. And yet they looked so much alike. " Naw- I'm not a gambling man. I'm sure you know that, now don't you, Scully? " A chill flew down the length of my spine when his lips wrapped themselves around my name. He was speaking directly into my ear now, and I could feel his hot breath against my cheek. I shrank as far out of his reach as I could, but seeing as he had entangled his hand in my hair, that wasn't very far at all. " I don't like to take chances. Once and for all. That's my motto, eh? " " Mulder, " I groaned softly. " Mulder, I'm sorry. I should have realised he wasn't you. " The cold night air caressed my face gently, and I realised that, unbeknownst to me, I had begun to cry, But the words coming out of my mouth gave me strength, they made me feel better. So, ignoring the insistent jabs at my temple, I continued. " I should have known. Mulder, don't blame yourself. Don't ever blame yourself. " " Aawww. Isn't that sweet? " Mulder's voice said the words, but I knew that Mulder would never have said them. Not the Mulder I knew. Not the Mulder I believed in. " Well, guess it's time to say goodbye to Fox, Dana. Fox, don't you have anything you want to say to Dana? You'd better take this chance, you know. There won't be another one for- " He laughed. "-a very long time. " This was it. Somehow, I instinctively knew that his finger was squeezing the trigger now, that I was seconds away from having my brains blown out. I closed my eyes, closed my eyes and prayed. And waited. But nothing happened. Was he waiting for me to open my eyes before he finished me off? Did he want to see the fear I knew would be reflected in them, and that I knew I couldn't hide? Did he want me to see his face, his twisted and deranged face, before I died? To carry the memory of the wrong Mulder to my grave? Was that what he wanted? I heard a soft whimper fall from my lips, a sound I never thought myself capable of. Without warning, I felt a body run full-tilt into me, knocking me over and out of his grasp for the moment. Mulder!! He had body-butted the wrong Mulder and had succeeded in freeing me from the latter's imprisonment. My eyes flew open, and as they adjusted to the darkness, I heard loud grunts, and the sounds of scuffling. The two of them were rolling around on the ground, caught in the deadliest of embraces. As they continually exchanged punches and positions, I pulled myself up off the ground, and began searching for the revolver in the darkness. Thankfully, I had been forgotten in the struggle, and it wasn't long before I spotted the gun, thrown a few yards off into the bushes nearby. Moving as quickly as my trembling hands allowed me, I crawled over to the hedge, fitted the gun into my palm, and stood on unsteady legs still skaing from the exhaustion. I cocked the gun, and turned towards the two fighting men. And stopped short. The only thing I could make out in the darkness was two Mulders. Two. Grappling with each other, fighting to gain the upper hand. I couldn't tell the difference. Damn. I ran a quick check list in my mind, hoping to find some discrepancy in their appearances, but found none. Even their hairstyles were the same, though much the worse for wear now. " Mulder? " I asked tentatively, holding the gun up and pointing it in their general direction, my arms shivering violently. " Mulder? " My finger hesitated on the trigger. I needed confirmation. My eyes could be lying to me. They had once before. They had led me to believe in a lie. I didn't want to risk making the same mistake again. A lot more was at stake here now. If I killed my Mulder by accident- I almost threw the gun away, so that I would not have to make the decision. But I knew that was stupid. " Mulder? Mulder, please talk to me. " I begged. I trained my eyes on the two figures, still deeply engrossed in each other, still looking unbelievably alike. Finally, one of them, the one who was now pinned to the ground by the other, opened his mouth. " Scully, he's the wrong one. " It was Mulder's voice. I almost cried with relief. But then the other one, the one on top, drew back and said in the exact same voice, " No, Scully. I'm not. He is. " I looked from one to the other, and my arms quaked with the tension, the burden. Obviously, I couldn't rely on them. They had stopped fighting now, and were watching me, waiting for me to make my choice. I moved closer to them, as close as I could get and still stay just out of reach. In the darkness, I could see their faces, but could barely discern their eyes. I knew that if I could look into their eyes, just once, either one of them - I would know which one was the wrong one. But I couldn't see. I couldn't see well enough. I cursed my tears, cursed the darkness for obstructing my view. For making things so difficult for me. I realised it was no use now. I had to make my decision. One Mulder would have to die. I just hoped the wrong one did. And so I trusted my heart. And I pulled the trigger. END : ( 7 / 8 ) Epilogue She felt so small in his arms, so tiny and so helpless. He was tired, his legs ached and his stomach was still sore from the beating it had endured not too long ago. The drive back hadn't done him very much good either. It had been interminably long. But he had kept going all the same. The fact that she was very much alive, the proof he got with his own eyes of her breathing, the knowledge that she still shared his world. His time. It was strength enough. Most of her things were still in the motel, and he hadn't bothered to retrieve them. So he had driven the both of them back to his apartment, and he was now carrying her upstairs gently, carefully, almost afraid to wake her. Somehow he got the door open, manoeuvred himself and his ( rather delightful ) load inside, and pushed the door shut with his foot. He carried her over to his couch. She was still asleep, wrapped in his dark coat to ward off the cold. Her cheeks were still slightly flushed, her breathing a little ragged. But she was sleeping well, and that was a good sign. Almost reverently, he lowered her down to the level of the couch, placing her in as comfortable a position as he possibly could. Then he sat down on the floor next to her, took her small hand in his, and proceeded to wait. To remember. To think. When he had seen Scully standing before them, the gun shaking uncontrollably in her hands, he had felt awful to put her through so much. To always cause so many problems for her. It must have been terrible, training the gun on two men who looked exactly alike, having to make a decision, having to trust her heart so completely. Something Scully didn't do very often. He knew that from experience. She always forced her mind to overrule her heart. There was no way she could have done that last night. Still, subliminally at least, he had known to trust her. To trust her to make the right choice. He was glad she had. His free hand moved towards her, his finger lightly tracing the contours of her face, trailing gently down her smooth pale skin. God, he loved her. She was so beautiful, so strong. She was all he needed, really. His hand tightened around hers, and he hoped she would never let go. Once again, his memory returned him to the previous night, caused him to replay the entire scene in his head. Thankfully, he had timed his tackle just perfectly, had given Scully the chance to get away. To get hold of the gun. The tussle had been painful, in more ways than one. A few pretty solid punches had been landed in his gut, and he knew he had thrown some good ones himself. But like before, he had found it difficult to beat up someone, especially someone who looked so much like him it was eerie. Unsettling. The moment Scully took to make her decision had caused his heart to stand still. He trusted her completely, but still, as her gun took aim, as her finger released the bullet from its cage, the whole world seemed to be some slow-motion horror movie nightmare. Her aim was spot on; only one shot had been necessary. When the grasping fingers around his neck loosened suddenly, when the salty night air rushed freely into his lungs again, he breathed a sigh of relief. He had disentangled himself as quickly as he could, wanting to run to her, to hold her. But the stress of the moment, of the past few days, had taken its toll, and the gun fell from her limp hands with a soft thud. Before he could reach her, she had swayed unsteadily for a few seconds, then slumped to the ground in a dead faint. Of course, he had had to check if the other one was really dead before he could leave safely with her. He wasn't about to risk a reprisal. Then he had scooped her up, so light in his arms, had brought her to the car which had been their prison scant minutes before, and here he was now. In his apartment, holding on to this woman for dear life. She was asleep, and had no idea he was next to her. But even so, she still gave him strength, still reminded him of the things that were really important in this world. He did remember Samantha. He always would. Sam was the reason this had all begun, and in a strange way, the reason he had met Scully. Sam still occupied a crucial position in his life. He knew that now. He could never forget her completely. He owed her too much, owed too much to her memory to forget. But he also knew, had also learnt, that he was a different person from five years ago. His convictions then, the forces that drove him on, weren't the same ones that fuelled him today. Meeting Scully had changed all that. He no longer had a desire to see the possibilities of parallel universes, to imagine what life might have been like if he had kissed her that night. He did not even want to think about what he would have been like, the person he would have grown into, if not for Scully. If not for her trust in him, her strength, her believing in his believing. But he had met that person, had come face to face with a Fox Mulder whose life had never been touched by Scully, whose world still revolved around Samantha. A Mulder so obsessed, so haunted by a sister he couldn't save, that he had dedicated his life to finding her. Finding ALL of her. That Mulder had seen universes he would never see, had changed lives in a way he never would. But he was thankful he wasn't that Mulder. There was nothing in this world he was happier for. Except for the fact that Scully was alive, that he was alive, that they were still together. She stirred slightly, and her mouth curved into a gentle smile. A dreamy smile. He hoped she was having a good dream for once. He knew how troubled her dreams were, how her consciousness was ruled by a past he wished he could help her erase. A past he had helped to create. But she looked happy now, looked so contented as she moved slightly in her sleep. But she was about to wake up now. " Scully? " he asked quietly. His hand travelled up to her hair, and he stroked the soft red tresses delicately. Her eyes opened fully, and they looked honestly and fearlessly into his own. " How you doing? " " Mmmm- " She was still slightly groggy, the sleep not quite having left her system. " Hey, Mulder. I'm awfully tired. " Her mouth widened into a yawn, but her hand tightened around his, giving it a measured squeeze. He smiled down at her, smiled at this woman he knew he loved. " It's OK, Scully. Go back to sleep. Everything's fine now. We're safe. " Leaning over, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, then wiped it off just as quickly. Her eyes were already fluttering shut; it was obviously an effort for her to keep them open. But she still managed to shoot him one of her small smiles, a smile that meant everything to him. Everything, and anything. He had to let her know. He had to. " Hey - Scully? " The question was tentative, his voice almost inaudible. " Yeah? " Her blue eyes, her exquisite blue eyes, captured his breath for the moment. " Thanks. " It was just one word, but it held everything he had wanted to say for the past five years. Appreciation for saving his life so many times, gratitude for saving his soul so many times. " He's the man I would have been without you, Scully. Without you. " The light pressure on his hand reassured him. She was accepting his thanks, and was reciprocating with her own. They needed no words. None would have been good enough. He stayed next to her for a few more minutes, his hand wrapped around hers, observing the regular rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to have drifted back to sleep. Slowly, he removed his hand from her grip, not wanting to disturb her. There was no way he could sleep now. Maybe he'd gone downstairs and buy some breakfast for the both of them. As he turned to leave, glad that this parting would not be forever, he was recalled by the sound of her voice. She had turned over on the couch so that he could not see her face clearly. It seemed almost as if she were talking to him in her sleep. " Mulder? " " Yeah? " " There has got to be a rational explanation for this. " END : ( 8 / 8 ) all feedback to shawne@cyberway.com.sg thanks