From: "CLAIBORNE" Date: Sun, 19 Jul 1998 18:02:31 -0400 Subject: The Emissary -- all parts Title: The Emissary part 1/7 Authors: Darkstryder >CClaib2155@prodigy.net< RocketMan >lbontger@wmcstations.com< Rating: R Category: S, A, MSR, Alternate Universe Summary: They live in a time of mists and shadows and strange shapes, of twilight terrors and midnight madness, where the only rules are resist or serve . . . Disclaimer: Don't sue! We're starving artists. All herein belong to Chris Carter and Ten-Thirteen Productions, unless created by our own twisted minds. //\\//\\//\\//\\ Emissary: a special agent sent on a quest or mission //\\//\\//\\//\\ "We must not think our world is the only one. there are worlds outside our experience." anonymous //\\//\\//\\//\\ the emissary part I darkstryder rocketman //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->SCULLY<--- I found another cave off the main one today and it went on forever until it suddenly just ended. I shudder. That cave, just ending abruptly, was my life--is my life. We were just living . . . just living, reveling in the time I had then, the freedom of a death put off and then . . . Oh, God, even now I can't think. There's this blank white part of my memory where they came. The . . . It turned out he was right. I never really ever expected him to be actually that sane, but he was. He was right and now life's just ended. Ended. I shiver from the slight draft that comes to us from above the ground. It's a hideous reminder of everything on top, all the trees and blue sky and green things and tanned bodies and sitting on beaches waiting for your soul to calm down in the gentleness of the waves. The darkness is so much more comforting now. When Mulder dragged me down here, I hated him for making me leave. I hated him for being right. The caves . . . they saved us. The Aliens, the nightmares without eyes and lips to make them real . . . they hate the underground. They abhor the darkness and the lack of open space under here. They won't follow us. They won't. Yet. I am sitting in our little place here, in this colony of Pures, as this band of survivalists like to call themselves. They say this because they are Pure Human. They say I'm not. But, of course, they don't know I'm not. They just talk about us humans with Implants as being a kind of infectious disease, or traitors, as if we could *help* what they did to us. As if we could *stop* them from taking us. The only reason they don't know I'm an Imp is because of Mulder. Mulder protects me. I shiver again. I never thought I'd actually need his protection, fully and completely because I was unable to do it for myself. I knew it was there, but now, it is a live, moving thing. He keeps them from discovering what I am, from probing too deeply, from lusting after me, from raping me. He keeps them away. I cower in his arms just to keep it that way. He shows off his strength and abilities to keep it that way. It used to be for show: my fear and his boasting. I feel sick because I think maybe it's not anymore. I need him . . . //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->MULDER<--- "Hey, boys." The other men regard me coldly and silently, as they always do, watching me out of the corners of their eyes as they eat. They don't like me, I know. Hell, I don't blame them. Never have. There are days when I wake and look into the piece of glass that we use as a mirror and see a dark-haired man with dead blackened eyes and dull, pale skin from the lack of sunlight, and it would take me a moment to realize that I am looking at my own reflection. God, I hate my life. No one hands me any food, and I make no effort to get any. Besides, it's roasted bugs again and not even *I* can stomach those for too long. Anything that moves until you drop it into a pot of hissing oil isn't exactly on my favorite foods list. The only sound comes from other men and women working on machines in the distant background. The air between us is thick and cold with an uncomfortable and never-ending stillness. I hate the silence that surrounds us in the caves, where no one speaks or moves and the sound of one's breathing is enough to draw attention; I hate that I have to be on guard twenty-four hours a day, even in my sleep when I rest with Scully wrapped in my arms so that no one could touch her but me, lest anyone hurt her or find out . . . This is the price we pay for being "free". Sometimes the truth can hurt more than the lies. "I scouted some more of the tunnels today," says a man who is just as dark and as filthy as the rest of us. "We can---" "Oh shit!" someone shouts, the words echoing in the chamber. I turn my head. Several people are crowded around a man at a large computer, all gaping at the screen. Frantic whispers circulate among the crowd. My stomach tightens. Nothing ordinary would cause this much concern. Please tell me we haven't been caught oh please tell me we haven't been caught oh please . . . Feeling myself tremble, I stand and move towards the group. They watch me with questioning eyes as I lean over one man's shoulder, feeling him stiffen beneath me, and look down at the radar screen. It was like any other model I had ever seen Before, with a large face and circles drawn on the surface. Fire red dots flicker towards the center and move with every blink, closer and closer. Fuck. Again that cold feeling settles in my stomach and tightens its grip. "W-what am I looking at?" I demand, turning towards the seated man who had cried out, and focusing all my anger at him while cursing myself for stuttering. They can't know how frightened I am. I won't let them. I have to let them all fear me so as not to ask unwanted questions. They fear me, they loathe me, they are suspicious of me, and I intend on keeping it that way. After all, it's what I do best, isn't it? "The Aliens," he spits, eyes flaring. "What else?" "They're coming," someone moans, shrinking away into the shadows. For a moment I almost give in to the need to run to Scully; I hate that she can't be here with me at this moment. "How did they find us?" "That," a new -- and unwelcome -- voice proclaims, "is the question, Mulder." I turn my head. Whada know, looks like His Highness decided to show up. Our "leader," Marcus Sheridan, stands at the opening of the cavern like a benevolent god, smiling a wicked, cruel smile of white teeth while the cold breeze of movement touches his dark red-gold hair and flinty eyes, eyes that see everyone and everything, eyes that mock us silently one moment while softening sympathetically the next. Those cold steel eyes flicker around the room for a moment--which remains silent--before resting on me. I feel a small shiver run up my spine before I find the courage to glare back. "I'm holding a meeting of all the men." Nobody questions. Everyone follows. //\\//\\//\\//\\ Hello, my name is Fox Mulder, and I am an alcoholic. Wait, sorry, wrong meeting. We are seated around a small round table that somehow someone had saved during the chaos of the Day that reminds me of King Arthur and his knights. But here in this land there are no princesses . . . unless you count Scully . . . or dragons . . . unless you count the Aliens . . . or Merlin . . . unless you count Marcus . . . or magic . . . unless you count the fact that we are still alive. Marcus sits at the head of the table, watching us with those eyes as we watch him with our black ones. In this day everyone has black eyes. Except for Scully, hers still the palest shade of blue tinted with gray and gold. "The Aliens are directly above us." His voice rings throughout the small chamber. A low murmur runs through the group and buzzes in my ears. I close my eyes. Amazing that the statement doesn't arouse more emotion from me. Instead I feel empty and drained. There is no stopping Them this time. Oh, God, Scully. My eyes fly open as this sudden epiphany hits me and I have to remind myself how to breathe. What will They do to her? Once more I have failed to protect her. Breathe, dammit. In. Out. In. Out. "What can we do?" another man asks in a hushed whisper. Nothing, you can do nothing. "We'll have to move again," Marcus states, narrowing his eyes to slits. "We can outrun Them." The back of my throat burns and I try not to gag. Instead a bitter laugh escapes me. "Outrun Them? My God, They're everywhere. Where are we to run?" For a split second I think I see the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile, but it fades just as quickly as it arrived and I wonder if maybe I had imagined it. The man to the left of me nods. "Mulder's right," he begins, "there's nothing---" With a loud bang Marcus slaps his hand down on the table, causing us all to jump. "First off," he snarls, nostrils flaring and mouth twisting in a sneer and looking like a tiger preparing to attack, "you pathetic attempts of Pures" ( strange how that word was quickly adopted ) "we can go deeper into the tunnels. They won't catch us there unless they throw some Imps at us, which I sincerely doubt they will." The room is deathly silent. I can almost hear that Darth Vader music playing in the background. Dum, dum, dum, dum-de-dum, dum-de-dum . . . He leans towards me and a dark cloud passes over his expression, hot breath caressing my face and I wonder if I move closer if he'll bite me. "Another--how *dare* you question me, Mulder. *I* know what's right for us. *I* am the one that has kept us alive all this time. If it wasn't for me everyone here---not to mention you and your cute little girlfriend---would be crawling around in the dark, starving and freezing, if not dead." Those words he shouts, face reddening; his voice quiets and deepens to a whisper as he moves so that his face is less than an inch from mine. His pupils are so wide that I can't see his irises at all. "I. Am. God." The image of a man with thin curls of smoke escaping his stained lips and across brushing his worn face passes across my mind. Involuntarily I feel my body flinch and draw back at his words. There's this look on his face and a coldness in his eyes that speak of something sinister and twisted beneath that handsome mask of glitter and ivory. It's not the first time that I realize that there is something seriously wrong with him, whether it was caused by the Aliens or by his past that he never speaks of. Again that mask falls and he is back to normal. "Now, men, get your women. Tell them what we have to do, and then bring them to the main chamber. We've got work to do." And then he smiles again, that white smile that is flat and cold and bitter, that tells us he could kill us as easily as he looked at us, that told us we are nothing more to him than puppets. There was nothing I wanted more than to go to Scully. So I left. //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->SCULLY<--- There's this look that he gets when something awful happens: my father had it when I told him I was going to be an FBI agent: as if surprise, your daughter has grown up without you. Mulder looks like this late at night when neither of us can get to sleep and all we hear are the sounds of violent love pouring through the caves. He turns then and looks at me and his face is so shocked, so horribly disillusioned that I take him close to me and make it sweet, sweet love. Only then do we sleep. As the men's meeting breaks up, Mulder's face echoes this horrified shock. While they were gone, the women were talking. We were whispering and wondering and frightened and so ashamed of what we had become yet couldn't change. I think we all had on this face Mulder carries like a banner. It is hopelessness. It is numb resignation and the horrifying realization that people aren't innocent anymore. His hands are cold as he pulls me aside and I see in one panicked glance that all the other women are being treated just the same. Roughly, harshly, pushed into the middle of the Main Cave like they were herd animals. But Mulder protects my dignity. "Dana . . . they're here." I can't be hearing this. No. No, this isn't happening. "They're on the Top, milling around, waiting to come down here and kill us all . . . but you." It is the first time I have heard him talk of my implant. I can see he hates that I have it, almost, maybe, hates me for being there, trapping them all. If I wasn't here, then maybe these Pures wouldn't be doomed, Mulder included. "Scully . . . " The name is a reminder of the past, of the equality between us then, and the equality that still exists in his mind. For me, being a possession is still being owned, even if the master is nice. "So." I say and refuse to look at him. "So, they're suspicious of us. Marcus . . . he probably has it figured out. If we're not careful, we're dead." "Mulder, we've been dead since the Aliens got here." My words slap him hard. He reels away in pain as he blinks through tears. I don't know when we all got so sensitive. Maybe it was when we trusted each other enough to live like this. "This is better than nothing. Being here with you, Scully - for me, that's living." I wait for his sudden tirade to cool and let him walk ahead of me to the middle of the Cave, clustering with the others as the men walk around aimlessly. The silence is absolute: children here don't make noises; they don't really live. The mothers are in the center because they are precious commodities: things to barter with if we need to. Sad, sad, but true. A truth I never wanted to learn. Mulder doesn't roam off like the others, yet neither does Marcus. Marcus has three woman, I guess to show he has sexual power as well as political, and his woman are all without children. His woman talk: they say he is sterile and impotent and that his muscles may be hard, but nothing else is. At first, when we heard that, we laughed. Now we sigh and wish his women would have some sense of loyalty. Mulder sits right next to me and the others shy away, leaving a sort of fallout circle around us. His hand captures mine and I make no move to get away. "Scully . . . I'm not letting this happen." I look at him out of the corner of my eye. It's so hard to know what he's thinking when I'm not allowed to look at his eyes. It's hard for him to know what I need to say, too. He takes my face in his hand and pulls my chin up and I hear the others gasp at such a violation. I feel proud for the first time since we got here. His eyes smile and he takes his hand away and I continue to watch him, studying his face as I do in the dark of our little cave. I can see the pride in him that I am doing this small act of rebellion. Something in me is burning. Burning. //\\//\\//\\//\\ Marcus and Mulder are left behind to guard us while the rest of the men are on a certain suicide mission. It is like deathwatch, where we simply wait for the men to come running back screaming that all is lost. Or the cold face of the Alien with its sleep gas to come spray us all like the Sandman sprinkling dreams. Mulder stays right next to me, and his body is tense, wound, panther-like as he waits for the right moment to leap on Marcus and lead me away. Maybe all the women will come with us, to be free, and we'll form a kind of harem around Mulder . . . or be his body guards or . . . Marcus' eyes never leave us. I can feel them sliding across my skin, along my neck, through my hair, like his hands in love. I shiver and pull in closer to Mulder, but he looks at me and his face is sad and I realize what I am still doing. I don't need Mulder for protection anymore. I don't. I can hear the sounds of dying even from here and then, running feet. Mulder and Marcus stand, their simple guns held tightly, Mulder's body slightly blocking mine: an easy shift and he's protecting me again. I take no comfort in this. The feet stop and a voice calls out and Mulder and Marcus relax. It is one of the boys: Jesus. I'm not sure why his mother named him that, but it was Before, and so it must have been some kind of statement. Jesus is out of breath and his ribs go in and out like huge bellows that expelled gas to the concentration camps during the second world war. He pants and gags and then looks straight at Marcus as if he is talking to the President, or maybe Hitler. "Everyone's dead. We are no more." he breathes. There is no response. The women are mute and I think, I hope, secretly pleased. I thank God Mulder wasn't out there. "Then there's only one thing left: Mulder I believe you brought it up." Marcus looks determinedly at Mulder with nasty eyes that drive spikes into me. I wonder what the hell Mulder said to him. "There is only one noble way out, for the Pures. We will commit our souls to God." Jesus looks at him in askance. "I thought God was dead. Didn't the Aliens kill him too?" I feel bile raise in me and I gag, trying not to attract attention. I still have this cross, but it is not around my neck, it is on Mulder. He keeps it safe for me. My faith: Mulder keeps it. Mulder suggested death for us. Death for himself, death for me. "Mulder, help me line them all up." My eyes flail wildly to him and he looks away. The women are calmly being positioned around the walls by Mulder and Marcus. I shake. I know the difference between them and me now. I have hope. Mulder gave that to me, only hours ago, when he lifted my eyes to meet his. And now . . . he's killing hope. //\\//\\//\\//\\ Sitting on my knees, my face to the wall, I keep hearing the guns being reloaded and the sound of soft sighs as bodies slump forward. Each time the noise echoes, I wince and squeeze my eyes tighter. The woman on my left is crying and holding to her child, but they are tears for nothing, tears that life turned out to be so awful. I am at the far right of the semi-circle: Mulder and Marcus started in the middle and are working their way out. I am last for him to kill. I can't believe he's doing this. I can't believe he's doing this. I feel his hand touch my shoulder and my stomach turns to slush. I hunch forward, waiting, waiting. "I'm sorry Scully." //\\//\\//\\//\\ stay tuned for part II same bat time same bat channel feedback is not optional resist or serve CClaib2155@prodigy.net lbontger@wmcstations.com _________________________________________________ The Emissary Part 2/7 By Darkstryder and RocketMan CClaib2155@prodigy.net _and_ lbontger@wmcstations.com Info in Part I Disclaimer: Don't sue! We're starving artists! Warning: All Noromo's better board the next flight. //\\//\\//\\//\\ the emissary part II darkstryder rocketman //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->MULDER<--- I think I'm going to throw up. //\\//\\//\\//\\ "My mom, Scully---she's dead." We sat on the cold bench by the Reflecting Pool that gleamed azure and emerald in the dark and if you looked closely enough you could see the stars moving so slowly, so slowly. Scully sat beside me and looked up into the heavens. The night painted her a vampire. Alabaster skin. Shards of ice for eyes the color of the raging sea. Black lips I wanted to kiss so badly that formed a half-moon smile and made me want to forget our worries and our troubles but I never could. Small, stable body carved from marble. She said something about being sorry, and moved towards me. I felt her fingertips touch my bare arm and I shivered, but not from the chilled air. I told her how I had ran home to say goodbye and maybe---just maybe---try to set things right between us one final time. Instead I had found her on the floor, an empty body. I had laid her on her bed and kissed her soft cheek and then I left for D.C. I didn't know why I didn't cry for her like I had for Dad. "How did she die?" Scully asked, lips curving downwards in a slight frown of concentration. "They killed her," I said simply. A strange look danced across her face for a second. I suppose I surprised her, although she should have seen it coming. On second hand, if she had seen it coming I doubted she would have been there at that moment. "We have to leave." Her eyes met mine and I knew her answer before it left her lips. "No." I asked her why she wanted to stay, and that They were going to come for us eventually. She got that look on her face that she did when we were arguing a case: the way her chin tilted stubbornly, the way one thin eyebrow rose higher than the other, the way her eyes flashed with a stubborn and determined look I knew and loved so well. She had her mother. She had Bill. She had Charles. At that point I gave myself a mental slap; of course, she had people who loved and cared about her; I had no one, save her and maybe Skinner, and I wondered briefly if he still gave a damn about me. And the Gunmen. I had the Gunmen. So I had nothing left to say. "Okay. We'll stay." //\\//\\//\\//\\ When I first suggested this idea to Marcus I thought I was doing the right thing. There is nothing left for us: the Earth itself is in ruin, there is no escaping this labyrinth where we live, there is no way to resist. If we let the Aliens capture us they will turn us into Imps and we will do their bidding, becoming nothing more than drones, just like the others. Then why do I feel like such a monster? <"Monster boy."> The gun feels heavy and slick in my hands. With every pull of the trigger I'm saving someone who does not deserve this, does not deserve to live in this wasteland of lost hopes. Saving them or destroying them? Is there a difference? I've never been very good at denial. //\\//\\//\\//\\ //bam!\\ there goes hope //bam!\\ there goes dreams //bam!\\ there goes life //bam!\\ there goes love //\\//\\//\\//\\ And then there was one. //\\//\\//\\//\\ The last one left is Scully. She is hunched over, eyes dry, not watching me while she bites her red lips and trembles from the fear that she tries to hide. In the shadows she looks like an angel carved from white marble and adorned with rubies and sapphires. The only thing that mars that perfect picture is the tortured expression on her face, and the way her body seems to grow tighter as each shot rings out in the cave. My angel. With a sickening feeling my stomach lurches, and I back away, clutching the gun to my chest. I have to touch her one last time. My hand finds her small, tight shoulder, and I can feel the blood rushing through her veins with a quickening pace. I can feel the life that poured out of her. The life that I am about to take. "I'm sorry, Scully." Her eyes snap open, and she turns and looks at me, eyes flashing from blue to gray. She has such a revolting look on her face, one of such loathing, that I draw away. Her haunted eyes never leave mine. She doesn't understand that the only way I can protect her is this, the only way that I can atone for all my sins is this. She thinks I'm a monster, too. Marcus moves beside me, watching us, and I see his eyes slide slowly over Scully. He looks as if he is tasting her from here. Bile rises in my throat and I force myself not to gag. I hold my anger in check while he looks, pretending not to see his eyes all over *my* woman. The bastard. He finally turns towards me, and his expression turns bitter. "Look, Mulder," he snaps, "if you won't do it I will. This was *your* idea in the first place." I know. I shake my head. "No, no, I'll do it." Scully edges closer to me, eyes never leaving mine, face impassive. But her eyes scream with pain and fury and silent shock. Oh, God, what am I doing? She looks so small and vulnerable that all I want to do is envelop her in my arms and never let go. But I know I can't. I know that there is no difference between saving her and killing her. A spark flickers through her eyes and I know that she realizes this, too. My view of her is abruptly blocked by Marcus's head as he steps in front of me, face dark and angry. "Are you going to do this or just stare at her until the goddam Aliens come to take us away?" I can't . . . I must have whispered those words aloud because he makes a noise in his throat that sounds like an animal's growl and sneers at me. "Christ, Mulder, you can't do anything right, now can you?" He shoves me aside. "I'll do it." "No!" A flash of anger overtakes me and I push him against the wall with astonishing ease. He gasps loudly but doesn't struggle. I'm as shocked at my strength as he is. But I can't let him touch her. I have no idea why, I just know I can't. Roughly I grab the gun out of his hands and then release him. He stumbles slightly when I moved away from the wall and back towards Scully. Her eyes widen when she sees that I still have the gun aimed at her but says nothing, only watching me. I point the gun in the middle of her perfect face. I cock the hammer. She wonders if I will go through with it. I wonder if I will go through with it. "Mulder . . . " Just the way she says my name destroys that wall I was building up slowly. Her voice is filled with I-love-you's, I'm-sorry's, and please-don't's. With that simple word she tells me everything. And with that simple word I realize that I could never kill her. //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->Scully<--- In the last moments, I beg for my life. I hate myself for begging anything from Mulder, anything, but this has been my life the past few months, ever since we ran. I beg and something happens. I feel the tense rigid air, hear the breath of the little baby dying next to me, her body crushed by her fallen mother. I wait and feel time unravel around us. And then it explodes. "Mulder! Kill her now!" The gun shudders alive in its death giving, and I fall . . . Silence in death sounds, fear in last breaths. I spasm when he touches me, pulls me to my feet, yanks me up so hard that I wonder if he hates me for not making this easier for him. "Scully. We have to go." I raise my eyes, challenge his; I want to see his brown orbs fall away from my blue ones. But they do not. "Scully, where's the tunnel?" Time hasn't slowed enough for me to realize his words, only enough for me to understand on some basic level that he has killed for me. Killed instead of killing me. I look past him, past the urgent fire in his eyes, to the cold ones of Marcus. Marcus is on the floor, his blood bubbling as his lungs force air out of his body, just as they are supposed to do. His body twitches, his mouth gargles some kind of death riddled profanity as I stare. I turn and gag and strip away from Mulder, away from the animal that has become him, the non-human that has killed helpless woman sobbing and trembling in a circle. Killed children in the circle, hope in the circle, my own faith in him in this circle. "Scully, the tunnel the women found. *Where is it*?" he hisses. I shake and start walking, maybe if only to escape the coldness in him. As we approach the tunnels, he grabs my arm and I cry out. His face is tortured, anguished. "Scully, please . . . " He needs me to help him and I can't. I can't. "You were going to kill me." I turn away and walk again, walk blithely into numbness and darkness and the painless truth found there. //\\//\\//\\//\\ Feedback is not optional. Resist or serve. CClaib2155@prodigy.net lbontger@wmcstations.com //\\//\\//\\//\\ The Emissary Part 3/7 By Darkstryder and RocketMan CClaib2155@prodigy.net _and_ lbontger@wmcstations.com Info in Part I Disclaimer: Don't sue! We're starving artists! Warning: All Noromo's better board the next flight. //\\//\\//\\//\\ the emissary part III darkstryder rocketman //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->SCULLY<--- When he came to me, that hot July summer heat probably addled his brains, I thought, and definitely confused mine. Because I thought he came to kiss me. His lips worked in silence, his mouth opening like his fish when hungering for more, and I smiled at him encouragingly. "We're in danger," he whispered. I gaped at him. "Mulder," I began. "The Lone Gunmen, Scully . . . oh God, they're all dead." I blanched and refused to listen. "What?" "Frohike . . . Lang- oh God, Scully, someone murdered them. Their place is torched and they're gone. Gone." "They could have left, Mulder. You've been telling them thing's are getting hot, maybe they-" "They're dead. And we need to leave before that's us." He placed his hand to my cheek, tangled his fingers in my hair, stared longingly at what he thought he'd never have. I jerked away, grumbling at his pessimism and yelling some spiteful things about being friends with idiots and wackos, even though they were my friends, too. I couldn't face the idea that everything was going to hell, couldn't face the idea that Mulder might care a more for me than just . . . just whatever the hell we were. The next day, Mulder was gone. He, however, left me a note and tried to explain. Something about things moving, the future coming into focus for him and he not liking what he saw. Then three last words that always make my heart jump when I remember them - jump in fear: We're all dead. I remember his face as he came to me that night. So young and so shocked, as if he could not believe that things were really happening. //\\//\\//\\//\\ Now, walking through the dark to the light of freedom, I remember his face as he worked up the nerve to shoot me: so old, so numb. We are both so numb. Numb to the change, to the hatred and fear growing between us. I want to trust him, I need to trust him, yet I can't even put my faith in him anymore. I see in this darkness, his eyes as he prepared himself to shoot me. So dead and devoid of any of the things I had seen in him when we laid together that first time in the Caves: the wonder and sweet purity of our need pouring from us in waves: this was not here now. Next time he's feeling apocalyptic, will I be on the receiving end? //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->Mulder<--- It seemed like a hundred years ago we were running through these caves and gasping from the thin, cold air as we escaped from the lives that we had taken advantage of. Our lives Before had been masked with shadows and lies; now the shadows are gone and we see what made them: monsters. Monsters that took away life and dreams and replaced them with death and fear. I wonder if I have become one of those monsters. Scully is walking in front of me, calm and cold and collected, a tiny little thing, but there was something missing. Something the dark have stolen from her. Something the monsters have stolen from her. Something the truth has stolen from her. Something I have stolen from her? I remember the stormy ocean of her eyes and the emotions that floated behind them. That was gone now and instead her eyes are the sky. Empty. Faded. Polluted. She hates me because she thought I was going to kill her. I couldn't do that, never could I do that, and yet she thought I was. And what frightens me the most was that for a few frozen seconds I thought that I was going to kill her, too. //\\//\\//\\//\\ I never thought of Hell in these terms before. I always envisioned it with fire and flames and burning and pain and suffering and forever. I never imagined it to be cold and colder and hard and empty and frightening. "Scully---" "Don't speak to me," she hisses, backing away with each step I take towards her. Her whisper is louder and hurts more than any scream ever could have. I want to make it all better but I don't know how. //\\//\\//\\//\\ After what seems like hours Scully stops suddenly, giving me a sharp look that obviously means not to speak, and it rips my heart everytime she looked at me with such venom. My legs are burning from walking for so long, so I welcome the pause. I wonder what has stopped her and entertain the thought of asking; but then I remembered with a pang the way she said not to speak, and I remain silent. "Do you hear that?" she murmurs, turning her head slightly so that I can hear her. I feel pleased and relieved she is saying something to me, even if it's just that. My joy that she is speaking to me was short-lived. There is a scraping noise coming from up ahead. The sound of nails running against blackboard over and over again. The sound of something hiding in the dark. My stomach tightens with a familiar feeling of panic. I clench my teeth and manage to keep my face from betraying my fear. Scully moves forward and I'm afraid that what lies ahead will harm her, so I grab her arm and pull her towards me. She tears out of my grasp so quickly that I stumble backwards, and her face takes on a look of malice that crushes my heart and I felt like she has done more than pushed me. Her eyes stab me like ice shards and tell me that I'm forever damned because what I had done. When she starts to walk again I almost grab her arm but think better of it, and I just whisper, "Stop." She hesitates for a second and I take that opportunity to rush in front of her towards that sound. I don't want to go there but I don't want her to go either. I hear her footsteps behind mine. Shit. The sound grows louder with every step I take, until I find what's making them. //\\//\\//\\//\\ Gaveid Jones is a small, brown-skinned man with hair that he keeps in dreadlocks and a beard, dressed in threadbare clothing and worn shoes. His lopsided smile is honest and there seems to remain a shimmer of his innocence that hasn't already been stolen by the Aliens. Or worse: by the Pures. In some ways he reminds me of an older Byers. In some ways he doesn't. When we stumbled across his little cavern he had been so excited to see other humans that he hugged us both. Even Scully is taken by his charm, which annoys me a little. I wonder if that's her goal. He offered to share his meager lunch with us. We were so hungry that we ate it, even though it was grilled rats. They taste bitter and dry and hot and rough but we choke them down anyway. Yum, yum. Scully asks the first question while I finish my meal. "What are you doing down here?" Gaveid grins at us, eyes twinkling. "The same reason that you two are down here, missy." I look at Scully but her eyes remain focused on Gavied. "We're down here for more than one reason," I reply, shifting my gaze back to him. "Which are?" Instead of answering him, I decide to focus on why he was here. "Did you know that there was a group of more humans not too far back that way?" I ask, giving him my best "FBI Look." His smile falters a little. "You don't say. Why aren't you folks with them then?" "Because they're dead," Scully replies calmly. Her eyes meet mine for a second and narrow, but I won't turn away until she does. I hope she won't add who killed them. "Dead?" he echoes, sounding shocked, as his jaw drops. He knew they were there and yet he remains back in his little cave all to himself . . . "Why were you hiding from them?" For a moment I feel like I'm back in the X-Files. His brows draw together. "Oh," he says casually, "you know how they can be, with all their talk about evil and Aliens." As if showing us how calm he was he pops a silver rat's eye into his mouth and I hear a squishing noise as he bites down and savers the taste. My stomach turns and I grimace. "You're an Imp, aren't you." I look at Scully in surprise. How does she know that? Then again, it makes a lot of sense. "I was," he answers, voice dark and mysterious and, if I'm not imagining it, a little bit amused. "I took it out." I remember the demon called cancer that ate at Scully's body and nearly took her life and did kill so many others, and with her sharp breath I knew she remembers the pain and suffering and death. "Taking it out will kill you," she says, and her voice wavers slightly. Gaveid raises his eyebrows and looks at her like the Cheshire cat. "Leaving it in will kill you, too." "What do you mean?" I ask. Taking it out will give you cancer. What will leaving it in bring? I look at Scully but she didn't turn her gaze from his. Panic time. He doesn't answer me, but instead speaks to her: "You remember when They were calling us to our abduction sites, don't you? They also work in reverse." Scully's eyes grow huge and---if it was possible---her skin turns an even whiter shade. The answer strikes me like a bolt of lightening. It's in her neck. It's always been in her neck. It's calling Them. They've been following us. They came because of us. They're coming. Have we been doomed from the beginning? //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->SCULLY<--- I can't believe I hadn't thought of it before. I can't believe I didn't even think that . . . The stupid chip in my neck was a tracking device. The little pervs were laughing while we ran our butts off underground, thinking we were escaping when, in fact, they knew where we were every second. I've condemned us. I can feel acid eating away my stomach and my mouth tastes like sulfur. The dredlocks sway a bit and Gaveid looks straight into me with the calmest eyes I've seen since Mulder's Before. "It's cool, missy. I'll stick around for a bit. Show you guys some stuff, then I'll be going before they decide to pick you up." My stomach revolts and the images of Mulder's cold eyes as he shoots, as the bodies crumple, as the baby suffocates under her mother, rampage across my eyes. I gag and twist away toward the darker corners, feeling breakfast and acid come boiling up my throat. Mulder reaches for my head, to hold and comfort me but all I can see is his face as he kills, his face as he thinks nothing, his face as he murders. "Don't touch me," I hiss, and recoil away from him. He can't seem to hear me and his face takes on a look of utter anguish, but I can't even feel that either. "Don't touch me, oh God, please don't touch me." His hands jerk away as if he had stung them on hot steam. I turn away and let my tears run over my cheeks under the camoflauge of retching. When I'm exhausted, I feel hands again, but it is Gaveid and he whispers nice things that make me want to fall asleep in his arms. He reminds me of my father in some ways and the Lone Gunmen in others, and I can rest here. //\\//\\//\\//\\ stay tuned for part III same bat time same bat channel feedback is not optional resist or serve CClaib2155@prodigy.net lbontger@wmcstations.com missing parts? want some great fanfic? http://members.tripod.com/~Darkstryder/index-2.html ____________________________________________________ The Emissary part 4/7 By Darkstryder and RocketMan Disclaimer: Don't sue! We're starving artists! Look for info in part I Warning: All noromo's better board the next flight. //\\//\\//\\//\\ the emissary part III darkstryder rocketman //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->SCULLY<--- Before this all really happened, Mulder kept visiting at odd hours, calling me up and out of bed to meet him in strange places for that time of night. He never asked again, but somehow I knew he wanted to us to leave. I couldn't relate to him though. He spoke little and simply spent the hour staring at me, memorizing my face as if he never expected to see me again. I should have known then what was going on. A month after he told me his mother had been killed, he wasn't at his apartment anymore. He was roaming around, staying with the Gunmen, with me a few times, in hotels, in the red light district even. He never talked of leaving but it was always the subject of our silences. I couldn't speak about it though, because I still had my family, I still had people that needed me, that loved me. Mulder had no one. At that time, I didn't even regard out partnership as family exactly. Not until my brothers disappeared. Mom called me at three in the morning and I answered with, "Hello, Mulder." She was sobbing and screaming that things were all wrong now, and I couldn't understand a word she said. I pulled on some clothes and went immediately to her house, where she held me for a long time and then said that my brothers were gone. Just like Samantha, I added mentally. I shook the entire day, my hands could not hold a glass without spilling it. My mom begged me to stay safe, to do anything to stay safe. She wanted me to quit work, or at least to hide for awhile. She begged me to do exactly what Mulder had asked of me before. Except Mulder had seen it coming. And because I hadn't, Charlie and Bill were gone. To say I felt guilty and sick is an understatement, to say I felt ready to quit is wrong. I wanted to hunt down every single one of them who had taken my family and kill them. *Kill* them. For once, I completely understood what Mulder had been through since he was twelve. That night Mulder had actually come to my apartment, thrown his arms around me when I woke frightened, and held me tightly. He cradled me on my bed and told me he had been contacted and given information. Then Mulder had shown me the pictures of my dead brothers. Having Mulder be the bearer of such news had not tainted my view of him, but this new image I have, this image of Mulder suggesting death, suggesting murder and ready to murder *me* makes me very sick. Sick and disgusted and frightened. I pretend to be angry because it's the only way I can keep going with him, but it's not working. //\\//\\//\\//\\ When I wake up I feel familar arms and smell the sweat of him. For an instant, it comforts me and makes me relax back into sleep. Then I hear the death rattles and the cries of a child trapped under her dead mother and Marcus screaming for Mulder to kill me. I jerk out of his arms and attempt to scramble away from him. He traps me with his powerful grip and I whimper unintentionally, revealing my fear. Where's Gaveid? Where is he? "Scully!" I close my eyes and some part of me realizes that I'm still half asleep and freaking out because of it, but most of me is tensed for the gun shot. "Dana, please . . ." I bury my face in my hands and shake, too senstive to his touch. Oh . . . I miss his touch. I miss the gentleness he held for me. I miss the way his arms would circle slowly around me and lift my chin to meet his eyes. I miss the dignity I felt when I was with him. I miss the trust we had most of all. "Scully, please, I just want to hold you." I want to crawl in his arms, but there is this picture in my head that won't go away: death and cold eyes and it all being his idea. "How could you?" I cry and hit his chest with as much force as I can, sitting awkwardly like this. He sits there, stunned. "How could you? Even to suggest such a thing, then to stand there and point your gun at all those innocent women and pull the trigger! And then . . . then to point it at me . . . " I'm sure my voice is cracking, weak, scared to death; I can see this by the way he's staring at me. "Scully . . . " "How can it ever be the same again? Wasn't what we had . . . wasn't that enough to give you hope, Mulder?" I think I'm pleading with him to say something: to explain that he was momentarily insane and that he never meant to, or that it was his plan all along to shoot Marcus. Even that I could accept. I can't accept that he was drowning far enough into despair to suggest suicide when this life we lead is sometimes far sweeter than the one we led Before. He's not speaking and I want him to reach out and hold me close and say that he's sorry and that it was all a mistake. Even now, I want to love him . . . I want him to love me. "Scully, I can't . . ." he whispers. "Doesn't this make you want to live?" I say, grasping at one last hope and leaning over to touch his lips with mine. //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->MULDER<--- Okay, now I'm *really* confused. One minute she was screaming at me not to touch her, and the next she's kissing me passionately. I think that maybe she's finally lost it. I think that maybe she'ss trying to convince me that there's something worth living for---her. And then I stop thinking. I wrap my arms around her, drawing her closer, running my hands against the length of her back as hers go to my hair; I feel her need, desperation, and love in that kiss and I try to give back the same feelings. Centuries later she pulls away, slowly and carefully, and I open my eyes to find her pale ones looking into mine. I can see right into her soul. For once she's letting me see her naked and vulnerable, and I see my love for her reflected in those eyes. And I love her for it, oh, God, I love her. "Doesn't this make you want to live?" she repeats, breath hot against my lips. "Yeah, it does," is my breathless answer. Those are the first completely honest words I've said in a long, long time. //\\//\\//\\//\\ "Agent Mulder." I turned my head to see a man, fair-haired and wide-eyed, standing in a suit beside me. His face was marred with the frown of someone who had seen too much and could no longer smile, and a thick manilla envelope was in his hands. The suit he was wearing screamed Government Agent. I narrowed my eyes at him and demanded how he knew my name, although it was pointless to ask; he had the look of one of Them, that old and bitter look the Cancerman always wore, and the one that matched Scully and my own. He had not answered, only handed me the envelope, and moved back into the elevator, but not before I saw him mouth the words *I'm sorry.* It wasn't until five minutes later, when I looked at what he had given me, that I realized what he meant. //\\//\\//\\//\\ When I showed Scully the pictures of her dead brothers, it had taken a moment for the news to sink in. Her body shuddered next to mine, and I thought she was going to cry but she never did. Her face turned to mine and I saw an expression of utter hatred and anger directed not towards me but at the men who had done this and maybe herself. For the first time I knew that she felt the way I had for nearly my entire life. And that frightened me. //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->SCULLY<--- He sits back, watching me with a far away look that tells me he wants things to be good again. I couldn't stand to touch him, but then I kissed him. He's probably thinking I've gone nuts, which I'm not so sure I haven't. The squirrelly little Gaveid has run off; I'm sure of it. He doesn't trust us, and I have a feeling I wouldn't trust us either, if I came upon us. Oh my gosh, what have I done? The walls are climbing around me and they trap me in and when I first agreed to come with him, I never, never thought it would end up like this. Me afraid to let him go or to let him stay, and him, afraid of living. //\\//\\//\\//\\ His eyes were dark with the blackout and I shook in the living room when he came in. He stood there, that freezing night, promising to take me away so I'd never have to worry, I'd never have to think about strange phenomenon again. It was like the white knight had been knocked off his white horse and dragged through the mud, but still, I needed him to rescue me. I grabbed his hands as he sat down and shook. It wasn't because of the cold, or the bombs raining down, or the fact that he had been so right, but the very sight of him there, in my house again, coming back for me, that made me so afraid. And so thrilled. He started to make me feel again. When he had left, I had no brothers and no life, simply a mother that needed me. I have no mother now. I have no family except for him and I was more than willing to hide away with him. He was making me feel life and fear and pride and love again. And all with those words: "I've come back for you." As the chemical bombs leveled DC, Mulder looked straight into me and promised we'd make it. I believed him. For the first time, I actually believed every word Fox Mulder spoke to me. I grabbed a few things, namely my gun and a change of clothes, and we stumbled from the dark building into the dark street, praying that no one would stop us. There was a curfew and anyone connected with the government was sure to be shot on sight. People despised the government; Uncle Sam had made a deal with the Aliens and been royally screwed. We ran for our lives through fire and smoke and destruction and found a group going into hiding and followed them and made it to the tunnels. At least, I'd like to say it happened like that. But I don't know if it did. I can't remember if I cracked and became a screaming, clutching, empty-headed woman in front of Mulder, or if I ruthlessly murdered a man threatening us. I have an empty spot where our flight happened and so does Mulder. We wonder what happened to us. I secretly fear they found us again and wiped our memories and made us unknowingly, spies. Maybe it's why the Pures were found. All I know is one thing - I need Mulder. //\\//\\//\\//\\ "Scully?" "Ah-What?" I say, turning to see him. His eyes are watching me very carefully, every nuance of me is being absorbed by him. It feels exhilirating. To feel his eyes on me like hands . . . "Scully, do you mean it?" "What?" "That life with me is worth it . . . " My breath comes in and out and I stare at him and wonder if this is something he has been thinking about a long time. I wonder how much I hurt him by pushing him away. "Mulder, did you mean to kill me?" I can't answer his question until I know the reasons behind his betrayal. "Yes," he whispers. My whole body seems to be evaporating while my stomach and heart turn to lead. He reaches for me, long fingers imploring something I'm not able to give. "I was going to . . . I couldn't. I didn't want them to take you, to hurt you, to make you afraid." "Mulder! You made me afraid!" "I know, I know. Oh God." His words are like a continuous prayer. "Scully, I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know...." I want to find forgiveness in me. I want to put this away and never have to think about it again. But he hasn't given me the shovel to bury it with. He looks up and his eyes are filling with tears. He reaches for me again and his bottom lip trembles. "Scully . . . please come back to me. I never thought you wanted this. . . I thought you'd be better without me . . . " His twisted logic is making sense. That's the first sign that I *am* coming back. I follow his theory, I understand this convoluted mess of words. He stops reaching and just watches me, not too proud to weep. I feel the echo of his tears in me, coursing through my blood, bouncing around these walls and slamming into my heart. I snake closer, my hand almost reaching for him, but needing him to come to me, needing that one last reassurance. He crashes into me and buries his head into my stomach, laughing and crying and squeezing me tightly. "I thought it was better if we didn't have to live to see ourselves imprisoned," he muttered, his lips smoothing across my skin. I run my fingers through his hair, letting the strands part like the Red Sea, springing back to place and feeling so soft. I lean forward and kiss his chin, then his jaw, then beside his eye. "Yes, Mulder, life with you is more than worth it." //\\//\\//\\//\\ Feedback is not optional. Resist or serve. CClaib2155@prodigy.net lbontger@wmcstations.com //\\//\\//\\//\\ The Emissary part 5/7 By Darkstryder and RocketMan Disclaimer: Don't sue! We're starving artists! Look for info in part I Warning: All noromo's better board the next flight. //\\//\\//\\//\\ the emissary part V darkstryder rocketman //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->MULDER<--- She loves me . . . she loves me . . . My heart's singing. Oh, I know how cliche that sounds, but it's true. God, when did I turn into such a romantic mush? She loves me . . . she loves me . . . Still on that natural high, I raise my head and notice something. "Hey, where's Gaveid?" Scully snorts. "Probably ran off. He doesn't want to get captured." She pauses. "Although I can't say I blame him." I consider this. Stay with two wacko ex-FBI agents who enjoy inflicting pain upon each other and are being chased by a group of Aliens who have enslaved the entire human race and want to add two more to their collection, or run away and eat rats for the rest of his life. Hmm. Tough choice. No, I can't say I blame him either. "I wonder how much longer we have," she murmurs, but I think she's talking to herself. A shiver runs up my spine, that weight settling in my stomach again. They will kill me, or take me to one of their camps and brainwash me to do their bidding like a good little human, while she will be taken and brainwashed to be one of our "leaders." Either way, none of us will remember who we are, what we believe in, what we stand for, or who we love within a few hours of being captured. The thought of losing Scully again frightens me. I need her. "Why do bad things happen to good people?" I sigh. Her arms tighten around me. "Maybe we're all cursed." For a second my last image of Marcus, a hateful and dying creature with blood flowing from the wound that I inflicted on him, his mouth trying to form words of scorn, floats behind my eyes. I force that picture away, trying to concentrate on now, with this woman by me. My mouth twists into a slight smile. "Cursed? Okay, who are you and what have you done with Dana Scully?" She looks at me without smiling, her face taking on that oddly impassive look. "The Dana Scully you knew wouldn't have believed in aliens either, Mulder," she replies softly. I suck in a sharp breath, blood suddenly thundering in my ears. What's she telling me? That she isn't the same woman? Ha. She's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine. Perfectly fine. F-I-N-E. Fine. Uh-huh. And what have you been smoking today, Foxy-boy? Neither of us are the same person we were Before, I think with a touch of bitterness. Although I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing: She knows that I love her and I know she loves me, which we didn't have Before; Before we didn't have each other in the same way we have each other now. Happiness seems to live in five-minute time spans down here. I don't know why her words affect me like that, but I feel like I'm going to toss my cookies. Again. Fingers trembling, I stroke her burnt copper hair and kiss her gently. "Let's just sleep, okay?" After a moment she nods and closes her eyes. But it's a long time before I manage to fall asleep. //\\//\\//\\//\\ I had been kicking around DC *that* night. After I had been walking for what seemed like hours I ended up at Skinner's apartment. Deciding to stop by and say hello, I knocked quietly. The door flew open to reveal Skinner pointing a military rifle directly at my forehead, aimed to kill. "YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, YOU BASTARDS!" he shouted. I let out a surprised yelp and tried to move but my body was frozen with fear. Holy mother of -- Luckly he noticed it was me he was aiming at and, eyes widening, said, "Shit, Mulder." "Nice to see you, too," I said dryly, finding my voice again. He grabbed my arm and pulled roughly. "Get inside before someone sees you." "What the hell's going on?" I demanded. Skinner's apartment was dark, the only light the flickering blue and green of whatever it was he was watching on TV. It reminded me of my place and I found it oddly comforting. He looked at me, something strange reflected in his eyes. "Didn't you hear?" he hissed. "It's been on TV, in the paper, on the radio." His talk was frightening me. A cold feeling settled in my chest. "What has?" Without releasing the rifle---where the hell did he get a *military* rifle?---he moved towards the table and shuffled quickly through the papers, scattering some to the floor. He didn't seem to care that he was making a mess. Skinner grabbed the newspaper and handed it to me. "This." Swallowing, my eyes traveled over the paper as I absorbed the information. "Oh, my God," I whispered. The government was collecting people and dividing them into two different groups. One was to go to a "re-eduction" camp and begin "training" to serve our country better; the other going to a similar camp and then turned into an elite intelligance and security force. Every name of every person in the DC area was on either list. My name was under the first group. So was Skinner's. Scully's was under the latter. The back of my throat burned and I felt sick. My vision blurred and I had to sit in fear that if I didn't I would faint. After a moment my eyes cleared and I looked back at the list of those who had been chosen for the elite group. I recognized some of the names immediately. "Some of these are the names of the survivors of the group abduction on the dam, that Scully was a part of," I told Skinner. He was standing beside me, face taking on that hardened military look that told me he was enraged at what was taking place. He nodded. "Mulder, that list was written up by the Smoker's people, that's obvious. But for what purpose, I don't know." Neither did I. Shit. Shit. Shit. Double shit. He began telling me that They had already began collecting people, and that They were shutting down national forces like the FBI, CIA, and DOD. That every city around the country was doing the same. And that the public was *really* pissed. Marital law had been declared earlier that morning. He also heard that the Air Force had been told to await the arrival of a very unusual air craft. One that was, most likely, of extraterrestrial origion. His lips twisted into a bitter grin. "Through unofficial channels, of course." Of course. I winced. How I wished the Gunmen were still alive . . . "Mulder." The way he said my name made me look at him. Fire burned in his eyes. "You and Scully have to get away. You're the only two people who can stop this." I couldn't help but grimace, knowing it was true. We were the only people---alive---that knew what was going on. "Yes, sir," I answered. "But what about you?" Skinner straightened up to his full height and squared his shoulders. He gestured to the gun. "Like I said, they'll never take me alive. I won't be a part of this." Well. There was nothing more to say. I wanted to tell him thank you. For saving my life more than once, for protecting me, for being my friend. But the words wouldn't come. He clapped me on the shoulder and I hoped that he knew. "Take care, friend," he said. "You, too." Impulsively, I grabbed and hugged him. He seemed shocked for a moment but then relaxed and responded. After a minute he shoved me away. "Now go to Scully." A shaky smile formed on his mouth. I rushed off into the night. As I was running, I thought I had heard the faint sounds of gunfire, but I could have been wrong. //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->SCULLY<--- He's asleep. Finally. Mulder hasn't ever been good at sleep, but lately, he's been so exhausted, working with the crews to dig deeper into the caves that he's come home and fallen straight into bed. Home. The word just seems to insinuate itself into my mind, roll around like wine in my mouth and tumble out onto the floor. Home. This place, these caves of stink and human leftovers is not home. Not *a* home at all. Simply a hide-out before we're all captured, or before we rise up and crush the aliens. But anything's a home when I have Mulder. Anything. It's a place I carry around with me, tucked into his heart and buried within the soul of him. I truly can't do this without him. It's quiet. I miss the sounds of civilization: the air conditioner laboring to keep my small apartment cool, the click of the keyboard as I type a report, the far away noise of Mulder's motel room television when we're on a case. I miss hearing him get up in the morning, miss the sounds of his shower through paper thin walls, miss the thud of the ritual dropping of the soap and his muttering as he fishes around for it. I miss these things, but I have new ones too. I have his getting up in the morning with a kiss; I hear the sounds of his stealthy creep across the stone, the grunt as he moves to a better spot in the night, the shudder as I give him love. These things will never leave me. These things are imprinted into me like a brand in cattle. I can smell him too. Good smells of cave and human and sweat. Blood and death are there too, along with nightmares and guilt, but these things wash away. Eventually. I do not blame him. He did what he thought was best for me, was best for life in general. I hadn't told him yet when he made his decision. I hadn't really wanted to. Now though, I understand his love is always, always there. I finally said it back. I love him. I do. And everything should be okay. //\\//\\//\\//\\ stay tuned for part IV same bat time same bat channel feedback is not optional resist or serve CClaib2155@prodigy.net lbontger@wmcstations.com missing parts? want some great fanfic? http://members.tripod.com/~Darkstryder/index-2.html ____________________________________________________ The Emissary Part 6/7 By Darkstryder and RocketMan Information in part I Disclaimer: Don't sue! We're starving artists! Warning: All noromos better board the next flight. //\\//\\//\\//\\ the emissary part VI darkstryder rocketman //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->MULDER<--- I'm awakened by the sound of pounding. It's a deep, hollow noise that bounces against the walls of the caves and echoes for miles. I sit up with a start, trying to focus on its source and to control my rising panic. Scully gasps beside me and shoots up, eyes wide but remaining silent. Thud. Thud. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head towards the left cavern. The sound grows softer. I move it to the left. Yeah, it's definitely louder there. I swallow thickly and look at Scully, who meets my gaze evenly, eyes flashing from blue to green in the light. "They're coming, aren't they." Not a question. "Yes," I answer, nodding. My heart pounds in my chest like a drum as a cold hand grips my heart. "Time to go," I exclaim, jumping up and pulling her with me. Scully's calm mask falls over her face and I know she's perfectly in control. "Which way?" For not the first time since we ran I miss my gun. "Right." And so we start running. Auto-erotic asphyxiation, my ass. //\\//\\//\\//\\ Damn. Damn. Damn. Ow. DAMN. Floor getting closer. And closer. And closer. Oops, I'm there. Ouch. DAMMIT. White-hot pain shoots up my leg and I clutch it in agony. That's *not* good. Cursing under my breath, I feel Scully's hand on my arm. "Are you okay?" she breathes. Clenching my teeth, I lie, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just--just help me up." Her small hands find mine and she pulls me to my feet. My leg feels like it's been split open with a knife and I try not to scream as I shift my weight. I'm feeling a little light-headed but glad to find that my leg could still move. Scully goes into doctor mode, probing softly and running her hand down it in a way that makes me shiver. God, I'm such a pervert. But now's not the time to dwell on such things. Scully studies my face, her brow furrowing. "I'm fine, Dana," I tell her. I suppose that's not exactly a lie; my leg's starting to go numb at this point. I must've fallen harder a hell of a lot more than I thought. She licks her lips and for a second looks like she doesn't believe me, but nods. "We'd better keep going," she points out. "Yeah." We start again, and I pray to a god I don't believe in that we don't get into any more trouble. //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->SCULLY<--- I remember that first night together, unsure of what was really going on, unsure if I'd ever find normal. I'm not sure what normal really is anymore. It used to be going to work, having a case, solving or not solving it, simply being. Now, everything is normal. Normal. Being. It's not right or good or perfect, but it is normal. Normal because a routine happens every day and every night and is essential to our survival. Remembering that first night makes me cold all over. We couldn't go back to DC after everything that had happened. I think I tried to--there was some good reason at the time to go back. Mulder kept me away. Mulder held me back and finally threw his entire body on me to keep me from leaving. I hated him. I hated him. I wanted to find my mother, I wanted to crawl into her arms and have her heal my hurt again. I needed her safe, but I think I knew even then that she would not be alive. Whether they had murdered her, or whether the siege had gotten her, I might never know. In my heart, I know she is dead. I knew then and I sobbed and screamed at Mulder to let me go. I have never, never, never sobbed or screamed at anyone for anything. It frightened him to see me like that but I couldn't hold onto the pain any longer. I couldn't keep up the "everything's fine" mantra I had built around me. Things weren't fine. I was going to hell, and very quickly the world was following. He fell asleep on top of me, there in the car about sixty miles from DC. He had intended to drive further but my scene had prevented it. As he slept, I calmed down and quit shuddering. I found that I was resigned to what was happening, numb now to any of the pain I had been carrying around inside me. I watched the fountains of fire flare up in the sky as my city was burned, blown-up, demolished. I cried soft tears that made slow trails down my cheeks and pooled in my hair. I thought numbly that this was death. Worse than death. This un-being. He woke sometime in the night and moved to the side, off of me but still with me. Thinking about it now, I don't know why I was in the backseat, stretched out like that, but I think we were in DC as the first of the attack began and I remember him carrying me. Carrying me to safety. I think that's how it happened. We stayed like that for a long time and I was glad, later, that he stayed. At that time, I felt sick and I just wanted him to leave, wanted him to leave me alone. I sincerely think that if he had, I would have killed myself. I'm not yet able to say that I'm glad to be alive, but I am able to say I am glad I did not miss what Mulder and I now have. I'm glad I've experienced his love. It is a blindingly powerful and potent thing. He reaches into every core of me and fills me with his wonderful passion, his never ending life. That night, in the cold car with his heat warming me, I watched our old lives crumble in the ash of a dead city. I watched nature around me grow deadly and predatory. I watched a new order come to the world, an order of kill or be killed. I also watched Mulder lean in to me and kiss my lips with a softness I never knew he could have. I watched a bright wonderful love flare in his eyes and kindle his soul. I watched things be destroyed that night, and I watched them be created. I was one of those new creations he made that night. //\\//\\//\\//\\ The sound of pounding doesn't get any softer, doesn't get any farther away. Mulder limps and grinds his teeth together as I haul him forward. I feel weak and unprepared for this. I didn't think they'd come after us. I thought they'd see all the suicided bodies and assume everyone was dead. They didn't. I know for certain it is this chip in my neck that keeps them here. They know I am here and they know they can get me. Oh God, save us. Please, save us. I jerk Mulder into a darker and smaller crevice and push him in front of me. "You have to climb this part Mulder." He lets out a muffled moan and scrambles forward, only to slide back. "Come on, Mulder. Come on. You can do this. You have to do this." He pants. "Why are we going up? They're up!" "It goes back down, further down. They won't even be able to fit in some places." "Then how the hell will I fit?" "You will. Trust me. Now climb." His breath is ragged, as is mine, and I lean against his back as he tries to pull himself forward using only his hands and upper body. "Scully. I can't." "You can. You can. Come on." "Scully." "Mulder, please. Please, just start climbing. It'll hurt, it'll hurt, but just start climbing." He sets his face and tries, tries one more time. He gets partway. I can hear his breath whistling in his mouth; I can taste his pain, taste the extreme agony as he puts weight onto his leg. He screams. I stop breathing and catch him as he slides back down. "I can't . . . " he moans and his eyes are fluttering shut. The pain is too much for him. Walking hurt, but it could be surmounted. This was killing him. And I was making him do it. "Mulder, I'll come in behind you, support you as much as I can. It's not for long. Please, please, just do this for me." "Scully . . . go on. Leave me here. I'll find another way down." There is no other way and he knows it. "I will not leave you here," I say, stressing each word until I can feel my blood pounding. "I will not. Mulder, get up and start climbing." I am hissing in his face and he's not even flinching, he's off, gone, no longer awake. I shake him. His eyes flicker open. "Mulder, you have to do this for me. I need you . . . too much." His body hitches and he raises his head to clutch me. "What?" "You heard me. Get up, Mulder, I need you on this." He shakes his head and places his hands to either side of my cheek. "Oh God, please, don't do this to me," he prays, and his eyes are tightly shut. I feel a tremble in me and for the first time, I believe he isn't going to make it with me. He opens his eyes and tears are sliding down his dirty, shadowed face. "I want to, Scully. I want, but I can't. It's just not --" "Don't you ever give up on me, Mulder. Get up. Get up. I will not do this on my own." I pull him up and support his entire body as he stumbles to the entrance of the shaft, one more time. I shove him up and immediately crawl in behind him, pushing at him with my weight. I hear him whimper and it digs right into my heart. I have to stop feeling if we're both going to make it. There are tears squeezing out of me. "Come on, Mulder." I whisper, knowing he can't hear me over his heavy breathing. Mewling noises are coming from his mouth as he inches forward and I feel the thudding echo through my body like shock waves. I push up with all my strength and feel my muscles ripping in my legs and back. I feel slightly less pressure as he shifts upwards and I inch forward myself. I keep looking back down with a vivid nightmare of the aliens coming up on us, and shooting at us and tearing out my brain as I think "this is all my fault." Mulder is quaking with pain and he stops for a moment. "Just as second, Scully. Let me stop. Just a second." I pause, my back aching and pushed to extremes, his own legs trembling and barely maintaining support. I can tell he has no weight on his wounded leg at all. Then he begins again, scraping up and resting briefly on me before he scrapes forward again. "Just a bit more, Mulder. Just a bit more." His movements are slower, weaker, refusing to obey his mind's strict commands to move him up. "Mulder?" "Can't feel anything in my legs, Scully." "It's okay. We're almost there." I hear him panting, feel the frightening closeness of the rock all around me, hear the insistent thrumming of the aliens breaking through. Give him strength, oh God, give him strength. I can't be alive without him. He grunts and I feel him stop again. "Are you . . . are you okay?" I say softly. "No. No. But I'm still conscious." I bite my lip until thick blood pools in my gums and I gag. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm so sorry." "Not your fault." I help him up one more inch and he pants loudly, too loudly. His body is weak, his mind drifting away from the pain. "Mulder." "Uh?" he grunts. I want to tell him that I'm alive because of him, that I am still me because of him, that I live because of him, for him. These words, I don't find. "Mulder, I need you with me." "I -- I know. Scully. I need you, too." We don't need to say more. I push him from behind and he inches forward and we both pretend we're okay. Suddenly I hear a gasp from him. "What?!" "It's ended. I can see out into a little cave. It's ended." I want to laugh with relief. I feel the pressure of his body ease from me as he lifts up and I soon scramble after him, slowly because my energy is just about gone. His arms catch around me and drag me down to him. I smile and close my eyes as my head hits his chest. His breathing is erratic, his heart misbeating. I pull back. "Mulder, let me check you over." He nods. "If I pass out --" "We can rest here for awhile yet, Mulder." He gives me a little whimper of relief. "Scully, just lay down with me. I need to feel you." I feel heat flood through me and I know I am just as exhausted as he is. He pulls me back to rest on his shoulder. "We'll just catch our breath." I nod and I can't keep my eyes open. All I see in my mind is his face as he screamed and fell back down to me, and yet how he kept going. He kept going for me. "Mulder?" "Mmm?" "I love you." //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->MULDER<--- When I wake I find that my face is buried in Scully's neck and her arms are tightly wrapped around me. She has the softest skin I've ever felt and her small body makes a wonderful pillow. I start to pull away but my leg suddenly jerks and feels like it's on fire. In an effort to force back a scream, I clench my jaw so tight that it hurts and I feel a blood vessel in my neck pulse. My breath comes out in sharp, burning gasps. The earth beneath me spins with a sicking lurch and my shivers are so cold that they scorch my icy skin; my mind is sluggish from the wave of agony that courses through my body and it takes me a moment to focus my thoughts. It's only physical pain, I shout silently. It's only physical. You can make it. You have to make it. Scully needs you. This gives me a new feeling of determination and I force myself to open my eyes. I slowly shift my leg into different positions to see which hurts the least. With every movement I have to choke back tears and my face is covered in thick sweat. I wish my leg had remained numb, the dull throbbing was far better than this. When I finally find a position that doesn't cause quite as much pain I'm about to ready to pass out with relief. Scully makes a small cat-like whimper and slowly opens her eyes. "Mulder?" She sounds like a little girl when she wakes and I give her a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. "How's your leg?" she askes, brushing her fingertips along my thin cheeks. I open my mouth to say that I'm fine but something makes me reconsider. "It hurts like hell," I admit. My voice is hard and raw, shocking me. A frown creases her forehead. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" "Not really," I reply. "Unless you have a magic wand or a Jeremiah Smith nearby." Her sharp intake of breath quickly makes me feel guilty. Dammit, we do *not* need to be reminded that the Aliens want our asses. I mutter a small, "Sorry." Scully nods without saying anything and sits up; in this cavern everything's tinted in hues of blue and her eyes are as clear as glass as they flicker around. She turns her head in the direction that we came, exposing her neck. If I stare hard enough I think I can see the implant beneath her skin, a living thing that has the power to bring both life and death and take either away with nothing but a single touch. An entity created by the men who brought the entire world to its knees or maybe the beings we run from. A shudder racks my body but I cannot take my eyes off her, my little flame-haired angel of fate. Without thinking I reach out and run my thumb across the back of her neck. I think maybe I can feel it, sitting there . . . Her head snaps towards me so sharply that I can hear the bones move but she doesn't do anything but watch me with her doll eyes narrowed to shimmering slits. Her eyes are the same color as Marcus', I think through a haze. My own eyes slip shut and I hear the whisper of cloth beside me and feel her hot touch on my skin. I fall asleep to the sound of her breathing. //\\//\\//\\//\\ Feedback is not optional. Resist or serve. CClaib2155@prodigy.net lbontger@wmcstations.com //\\//\\//\\//\\ The Emissary Part 7/7 By Darkstryder and RocketMan Information in part I Disclaimer: Don't sue! We're starving artists! Warning: All noromos better board the next flight. //\\//\\//\\//\\ the emissary part VII darkstryder rocketman //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->MULDER<--- "I think we should take it out." The cave goes absolutely silent and I swear she's stopped breathing. Maybe I'll have to CPR on her again, something in the back of my mind whispers. This grey matter, as it is, is fuzzy but I realize that it's been this way for a long time but I've never realized it before. Perhaps I've finally gone insane. But aren't those who are mad don't *realize* they're mad so that means the ones who *think* they are really aren't? I shake myself out of that thought and see that Scully's looking at me with a horrified expression, eyes huge and face white and one eyebrow raised so high up that it's almost to her hairline. I almost ask her what's wrong but then think that if I do she'll probably beat me with a blunt object. "Mulder," she breathes, "you *can't* be *serious*?" Grimacing, I nod. Yup, I'm quite, quite serious. "But *why*?" Well, sweetie, it all has to do with the fact that if we don't take it out we're going to DIE and if They don't kill us on sight They'll take us Above and take out the frontal lobes of our brains and turn us into MINDLESS ZOMBIES. Oh, wait, I forgot; *you'll* be dragged off and brainwashed to think that humans are the scum of the Universe and do Their dirty work collecting slaves and whipping people for not doing what you want. Not that the thought of you with a whip doesn't excite me the least bit, but you have to realize that seeing you as one of Their cronies ain't exactly a Kodac moment, hon. Plus the fact that becoming a drone isn't on my Things To Do list. So ask me again, Scully, my dear, *why* do I think we should take out the implant? Ouch, that was bitter. My throat burns and I realize that Scully's been staring at me wide-eyed for the past, like, five minutes waiting for my explanation. "I just -- Dana, They're coming after us because they can track us through IT. We can't really escape their clutches until it's destroyed. We can't be free until it's gone." I grip her shoulders and gaze into her eyes. She shivers and looks off to the side. Her voice is a thick whisper. "Sometimes I think I can feel it calling me. Almost like -- " She stops suddenly and turns away, embarrassed. "I don't know. I can't describe it." My throat tightens with the thought of that thing beckoning her with invisible fingers and whisking her away from me. I start to pull my legs up to my chest but a sharp pain pierces the injured limb and a small whimper escapes my throat before I can stop it. Scully looks at me again and swallows thickly. "But you're right. We have to take it out. There's no other way." //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->SCULLY<--- I'm quaking. It's too much. This is too much. It's so unreal, so horribly not real, and yet, this is my life here. My life. There's a chip in my neck that could kill me, and if it's not in my neck, it could kill me. But I'd rather have Mulder alive than mindlessly working for the aliens. I'd rather have Mulder being Mulder. Even without me. "We have to take it out. Right now." He stares at me for a moment, in the same way I was just staring at him. "I was just sort of thinking out loud. We really don't have to --" "Shut up, Mulder. Do it now, before they come get us." He's slack jawed, hands are trembling. He shakes his head, a quick decisive movement. "I can't. It's certain death." I glare at him. "I don't recall you having a problem with killing me before." It's low, it's cruel, I've hurt him. But it needs to be done. His lips purse, his eyes squeeze together. "Please, please, don't do this." "Mulder . . . remember Before? When I was taken and they suddenly gave me back and no one thought I'd make it? I asked for life support to be pulled if a case like that ever happened, and you abided by my decision even though it went against everything in you. I'm asking you to do that again. Who knows, I might just surprise everyone again." I look up to meet his eyes. There are tears streaming silent rivers down his face. "I can't knowingly pull you off life support. I can't take my two hands and kill you, the same two hands that have touched you, the same two hands that held you when you cried, the same two hands that ache to give you love. I can't. And you can't ask me to." I set my chin, wipe all the hurt from me, all the fear and terror this is causing. "I'm not asking. I'm telling you. And you're going to do this for me for that very reason. Mulder, we're dead. Both of us, right now, sitting here, we're dead. But with this thing out . . . at least one of us is sure to live." His tears are fresh, unashamedly shed for the act he knows he will commit. He takes my neck with one thick, heavy hand and squeezes it tightly. Then he pulls out his fish knife, the knife I watched him make when we first came to the tunnels, to the caves. I take his fingers and kiss them lightly. He closes his eyes, blanks out his mind and wipes his eyes. He leans forward and pushes my hair from my neck. I can feel every nerve dancing, every skin cell quaking with fear and arousal at his nearness. He breathes hot against my neck, places chapped, rough lips to my skin, and then sighs a long, soulful sound that shreds my strength into nothing. I cry. He slits my skin and takes my life from me. And I feel no different. //\\//\\//\\//\\ I taste salt on his face, I kiss blood from his hands. He turns to me mute and gone. I wonder if I have killed him too with this. The chip lies crushed under a rock somewhere, smashed beyond anything by his own fear and anger and frustration at having my death be our last resort. We moved on, pushed our way past the low caves and into another set that goes further into the deep earth. We left the chip behind us, hoping to be safe now. I pushed him down, checked his hurting leg, his hurting heart. He said nothing but shoved me to him, took me so hard there are marks, scars I'll never heal from. I don't want to heal from them. I want them forever. He still hasn't said anything. Even as I felt him soar in me, he said nothing. I watch him lay there, wishing he would tell me that I was right, that this was our only choice. I close my eyes, listen to the sounds of his breath, feel the rhythm of his fingers drifting along my arm, taste the skin of his chest under me. And then he lets out a strangled cry. I look up, to soothe his tattered soul, to let him know that I'm not dying without along hard fight. And then I see. They found us. Right here. As we lay together, they lay in wait. I clench his hand, kiss his chest, his neck, his lips, his eyes, knowing that I'll never remember this after today, but hoping to sear him into my body, into my mind so that I could never ever forget. He feels this and his teeth clash with mine, his hands dig painfully into my shoulders, his fingers squeeze and touch and take. And then we're dragged away from each other. Dragged to opposite sides, both os us screaming, kicking, biting, remembering the taste of one last kiss. His eyes catch mine. His eyes. And I know that there is no way I will ever, ever, ever forget. Not this moment. Not the pure love radiating from him in waves like radiation from an atom bomb. And then the world goes black around me. Dana Scully is dead. //\\//\\//\\//\\ --->MULDER<--- This is the end. We're being taken away like animals, and I claw and shout and even beg, I think, as hot tears fall down my cheeks. The pain in my leg is hurts enough to die but it is no match for what I feel inside. I still feel her lips on mine, soft and warm, filled with such desperation and longing. Out of the corner of my eyes I see her fall limp, her small body easily lifted by one of Them, and hair red, so red, against the death-black shirt of the Alien. He . . . he? . . . turns to me for just a second and I see his lips form a dark, mocking smile. And then they're gone. The others surround me, one with a needle, and I cry out for our loss. I love you, Scully. Never forget that, please, never forget. The ground swims beneath me and the world fades to black. This is the end. This is the end. This is the end. //\\//\\//\\//\\ the end for now //\\//\\//\\//\\ feedback is not optional resist or serve RM: lbontger@wmcstations.com DS: CClaib2155@prodigy.net Visit DS's 'shipper/angster site I need bodies to fill my audience Don't make me come and get you http://members.tripod.com/~Darkstryder/index-2.html //\\//\\//\\//\\