Date: Fri, 06 Mar 1998 15:43:12 +0000 From: Lyle Bontrager Subject: The Inquisitor--Chapter One of Two Title: The Inquisitor Author: RocketMan >lbontger@wmcstations.com< Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. The Inquisitor is from "The Brothers Karizimov" (I think that's how you spell it) and no infringement is intended for either. Parts inspired by a Babylon 5 episode, all credit to JMS. Spoiler: Up to and including Bad Blood Notes: This is rated R because of Scully torture(?)....I mean, it is, but not graphic. If the idea disturbs you, then please do not read. The Inquisitor--Chapter One "But these have no root; they believe only for a while and in a time of testing fall away." --Luke 8:13 She was sweating and twisting in the bed, her face flushed and eyes roving behind half closed lids. She hovered on the edge of sleep and restlessness and could not keep her mind from replayinig everything that had happened. The deaths, the lives broken, the lights in the sky that Mulder had seen, and yet had not seen. She saw his face as he came towards her: crushed hope, squashed belief, pulverized pride. He was not as he was. Mulder had changed somehow, someway. In the time she fought and defeated her cancer, Mulder had fought and lost his own private battle. He had been so sure the man from DoD was fake, so sure that he was right, that this was absurd, the ravings of a man made to believe a lie. Somewhere, he had decided that he was the man made to believe a lie. But surely not all . . . surely not all were lies? It would be nothing then, everything would be nothing, for nothing, meaning nothing. She herself, had not wanted to face that. Mulder had taken it and rammed it down his throat until he gagged it up. He was spitting up blood now. She was trying to heal him and he was ramming it down further. She could not sleep. She stood and pulled jeans from the floor, tugging them on over her white T-shirt, needing to feel the sharp and rough fabric against her skin. It reminded her they had things to do, things to prove. Mulder had forgotten these things. She padded barefoot to the living room, glancing at the luminous clock as she passed. 11:27. Pretty late to be up and moving, pretty late to call Mulder. He would be asleep. Contrary to popular belief, Mulder slept easily now. Did it come with the knowledge that he had no control over his life and so he might as well sleep? She sighed and stretched out on the couch, hoping that the fevered dreams would slip away and that she could finally rest. She closed her eyes and felt the heat again. She felt the glow across her skin, the heat of pain or maybe just confinement, and it burned her intolerably. She opened her eyes and realized why. She was enveloped in bright white light. Light. "Not again....." The anguished cry was all that remained in the room. ~~~~ His eyes opened and something was gone. He stirred, eyes roving, body taking stock, fingers flexing to remind himself that blonde nurses hadn't held him down and taken his arms. His bleary eyes ran across the room and found nothing. *Something* was gone. He looked at the clock and squinted a bit, pushing it a bit further back so he could see clearly. 11: 28. He blinked once more and laid back down. But sleep would not come. Strange, he'd been sleeping very well since he had decided that he need not care anymore. He groaned. He didn't need that life again. He didn't want it. He shoved his head into the couch and forced his eyes to close and his breath to slow. He *would* fall asleep. ~~~~ The clicking sound came first. A click of cold steel on cold floor. She shuddered awake and opened her eyes to find the cold steel coming toward her. A formless, shapeless nothing was coming toward her. No eyes, no ears, no mouth: a grey face and grey body dressed in a black suit. It could have been one of Mulder's suits. Then she realized she was wrong. Suddenly, there was a nose, there was a mouth, and long cruel fingers tipped with short, white nails. A man. Possibly. Not a woman. Defintely. But a man? She wasn't sure of that. It came forward and the clicking resumed. It echoed across her body and into her soul and shook it hard like the earthquake does the ground. It was the clicking of manacles. She felt her soul shiver and she crawled away from the form. The manacles were on her wrists anyway. She let out a startled moan and realized that this was something more than she was prepared to face. The man without a face, or with form and suggestion of one, came to her and stood her up and placed her against a wall. All without touching her once. She moved on silent, bare feet, her eyes trained on the man and watching for a chance to get away. She had no chances. That was clear in his grey eyes. The mouth flowed open and shut and words were formed in her mind: "This is your test. Should you pass, you will be returned. Should you not, you will die." And she knew this to be the truth. ~~~~ end part one adios RM Title: The Inquisitor Author: RocketMan >lbontger@wmcstations.com< Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. No infringement is intended. see chapter one for other The Inquisitor--Chapter Two "But these have no root; they believe only for a while and in a time of testing fall away." --Luke 8:13 "Who are you?" Her bewildered head shot up, away from the cold of the floor that seeped into her body and froze her soul. "What?" "Who are you?" The thing's head swiveled, looking directly at her as if she was being asked a direly important question. "Dana Scully." "No!" The thing's voice was cold; she had expected an animal like growl. "Who are you?" "Da-" The shock ran up her arms and knocked her heart out of rhythm and made her blood boil in her veins. She gasped and wrenched at the manacles, the skin itching around them where the eletric shock had originated. "Who are you?" "I told you! Dana Katherine Scully!" The force was more powerful, the shock more deadly, the pain more intense. "That's an incorrect answer. I know your name. I know you. Now, who are you?" "If-if you know me, then why are you asking?" "WHO ARE YOU?" She jerked away from his thunder, her mind scrambling for an answer. "Agent-" "Not worthless human titles! Not names given to you by others! You! WHO ARE YOU!" She shivered and quailed as the currents ran through her skin, as if he was reminding her what he could do. "I don't know what you mean. I don't know what you're asking . . . I don't-" "That is sad. How can you survive without knowing who you are?" "I know *who* I am! I don't know who you *want* me to be!" "You." She went silent, choking away tears and standing defiantly in front of the man, the thing with the shifting face. *Shifting face!* A bounty hunter? Was that him? She stared at him and did not let her anger and frustration shine through. "So, Little One, who are you?" She searched blindly, desperately for the right answer. "What kind of answer do you want?" she said, voice still steady, thankfully. "The truth." "Dana Scully. I told-" It was a train slamming her body through the air: no breath, no vision, no thought. Except, Oh God, don't let me die. "Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?" It was a mantra running through her mind now. A taunting question that plunged through her sanity and ripped it to shreds. ~~~~ Cold. Why did he feel cold? The four blankets on top of him should have defeated the cold, banished it from his body. Yet it remained. A terrible, soul splitting cold that seemed to emenate from him. Why was it so cold? ~~~~ She shuddered and drew her body closer to her, relaxing in the relief of his absence, his lack of presence in her mind. She was cold. "Who are you?" she whispered to herself, trying to dissect the question, understand its complications. She was . . . Dana. He had rejected that though. What was the right answer? What would pass the test? He had said, no titles, no names given to her by other. He wanted *her.* He had said that, explained as best as he knew how, she guessed. So, who was she? A woman. Yet being a woman did not matter overall. It gave her certian genetic differences, but did not make her *her.* What else? --click-- She thought frantically. What else? --click-- He was coming, slipping back into her mind. Think! --click-- "Who are you?" No....she didn't know. She didn't know. "Who are you? Do you think you are worthy of being accepted? Are you worthy of the things you have?" What? What did this mean? "You beleive you are chosen to do the things you do, chosen by God, by a weak man named Mulder. Chosen by shadows, chosen by someone for your abilities, your beliefs, your notions. How ever you were chosen, you were still chosen. You beleive that." He paused. "But I don't beleive that. And by the time I'm through, neither will you." ~~~~ He woke in sweat and fear and could see her in his mind, cold and alone and frightened, not knowing a very important truth that could save her life. He breathed fast and felt the image slip and he let it go. When had he started having nightmares again? He laid back down and pulled the blankets tighter around him. ~~~~ "This is your test, Little One. Your test. He cannot take it for you. He could not pass it. This is your test." She rolled her eyes away from his face, her head lolling on her shoulders, her body slumped into a tight ball of confusion and fear. Why was there a test? For what? She wanted to leave..... "Who are you? Pass or fail, Little One." "I am . . . " He looked at her expectantly, eyes seeking something he knew lurked in her. "I am . . . Chosen?" He shook his head. "No. Not chosen. Foolish. Foolish to think a man might need you, would let you, dispel his demons. Demons are hard to let go of. You could never do it, right, Little One?" "I could do it," she protested stubbornly, like a child. "No," he said softly. "You've already convinced yourself of that. Remember?" "I could." She let the words slip out indignantly, even as her consciousness passed in and out. Shocks came regularly, now to keep her awake, now to keep her from oblivion. Intense ones when she did not make the attempt to answer. Sharp, knife like ones when she stared at him in defiance. Body wracking, nerve shredding ones when she spoke in anger or hate. Exploding, death longing ones when she gave answers that were not what he wanted. She longed for death many times. "Who are you, Little One, that you could dispel his demons? Who are you to presume you can make a difference?" "I can . . ." Pain.... "Who are you to assume you will mean something to him, that you will make him change? Who are you to know what he needs?" "I do . . ." And Pain..... "Who are you to chosen to guide him? Who are you to say you have a Destiny?" "Everyone has a Destiny.....everyone is meant for something, someone...." And again, Pain.... Her cheeks were raw with pain, heat and weakness poured into her like rivers. Her hed fell back and she let her eyes close in weariness. Who are you.... "I'm here for him...." she muttered. "Little One, have you heard nothing? Who are you?" She whimpered and felt like screaming. The man made no sense. He gave her many opportunities to answer and then narrowed down each with an open ended question that could mean anything. "I'm tired.." she said. "Yes. Yes." Her head rose sharply. That was right? "I'm tired of this. I'm tired of trying to answer a question that means thousands of different things...." "Little One, who are you?" She stayed silent and for once, there was no shock. "Little One, what is your faith? She balked. Another question? "Faith. Faith that Mulder will be there, a strength and protection. Faith that God will not fail. Faith in who I am . . ." "Who are you?" Light dazzled her and she understood. She understood. "A Beleiver. I am a Believer." And then came black relief. ~~~~ His eyes were wide and panicked when she met them. "Scully. Scully, answer me." She realized he'd been calling her name for awhile. Her lips would not move to form 'I'm fine.' "Scully? Scully, come on. Look at me," he murmured to her with soft tones, ones meant to soothe. She flung her arm wildly for his hand and found it. She felt the bruises from the manacles and remembered her words. She had been returned. "Mulder..." It was a slurred effort, but he heard it. He buried his head in her shoulder in relief. "Scully, Scully, Scully. I came in and found you here on the floor. You had me so afraid.....You've got brusies everywhere....." She nodded and let her eyes slip shut. "Someone came for me." she said softly. "Who did this to you?" His voice was agonized. "My doubt." she whispered. His face was confused. He pulled her up and into his arms anyway, then carried her to the couch. She shivered and he wrapped his arms around her. The words came back to her. She had to tell him who she was. "I believe, Mulder. Even if you don't. I believe." He nodded against her and said nothing. All he cared was that she had been returned. ~~~~ end adios RM