All HALLOW'S EVE II - EXTREME UNCTION  (8/8)
By Sue Esty (Windsinger@aol.com)

For Disclaimer see chapter 1.

The Compound 
A few minutes later

Chapter 8

     In the darkened room Dana folded back the sheets and the
maroon comforter on the bed, dark blue sheets that would not
reflect the light. "All done?" she asked as he entered closing the
door behind him.

     "Hardly. I'm just getting started," Mulder leered as he
enjoyed the view of the slight, sweet, fruitful body through the
sheer draping of the gown. 

     "I mean the journal... You've been at it for hours."

     Turned so that his right side was towards her, Mulder began to
undress. The shoes he kicked off, the trousers slid down exposing
strong, lean mottled legs. "Oh, that. Yes, for the moment it's up
to date. Are you happy?"

     "I don't know, can I read it?"

     "No," he teased. 

      Dana drifted over to help him with the buttons of his shirt.
He had learned to do it months before one handed but both enjoyed
her assistance. Standing this close she smelled of spice and
lavender. Her fingertips trailed over his chest, just the thin
undershirt between her and his skin. The joy shivered down about
half way to his toes.

     "Uncle," he groaned. "All right, vixen, you can read it. I
must've said about a dozen times how much I love you."

     "A dozen? Is that all? I was hoping there would be something
juicy about your clandestine love affairs."

     His arms came around her, strong and possessive the way she
liked them. "There are none. Even if there could be anyone who
would ever look my way, there will never be anyone but you for me."

     "More fool they. I'm just relieved not to have to battle the
competition."

     Shirt and t-shirt gone he pulled her down on top of him onto
the bed. She covered his face in little kisses, the sensation from
the left side different from the right but both were still her. The
fact that he did not flinch this time when she touched the
moonscape which was the left side of his face was a testament to
how far he had come. To his everlasting gratitude and wonder she
had never hesitated to touch him anytime, anywhere even from the
very beginning. 

     "What would you like?" she asked the inflection in her voice
suggestive.

     "Hmmm," Mulder was all too aware of the swell in her stomach
as it fitted comfortably into his groin. It had not been this
noticeable four days before. "Ellens," he whispered.

     "Again?"

     "Since Samantha broke the news about what 'else' happened
there, the vision of some lovely, sensuous lady doctor teasing the
glory juice from my body really turns me on."

     She breathed into his ear as her hand reached for something
beside the bed. "I'd be willing to testify to that. The first time
I don't think I was able to get past bondage before you were
panting for torture." She was kneeling beside him, the white terry
cloth tie of his robe in her hands. She began to slowly tie it
around his wrist. His eyes burned with pleasure in the darkness.
The lovely lady doctor wasn't going to have to work too hard this
time around either.

     
     After they had scaled the heavens they dozed damp, limp,
satiated, both glowing. Her body was curled around his so
completely it was hard to tell in the darkened room where one of
them ended and the other began. After a time Mulder rolled over to
let the air of the room cool his body. With amusement he found one
wrist still bound with the robe tie, the other end tangled
somewhere beneath them. He laid with his free arm flung back over
his head and stared at the ceiling. After a few minutes as if
sensing his mood, Dana propped herself up on one elbow to watch
him, one finger languidly tracing the muscle groups on his chest.
He raised an eyebrow at her.

     "Anatomy CAN be fun, as my old professor used to say," Dana
explained. An amused smile was his only response. His mind was
clearly about a million miles away. "What's up, Mulder?"

     "Not me," he confessed, "at least not at the moment but keep
that up and the transportation boys downstairs are going to be
charging me for overtime."

     She batted him playfully. "You know what I mean. I can almost
see the hamsters running inside their wheel in your head."

     He sighed long and low. "It's just that writing the journal
got me thinking."

     "Dangerous," she said automatically then her expression
saddened and she instinctively snuggled a little closer to him.
"I'm sorry. It was never my intention to bring up... " Her hand
sought his and squeezed it gently. 

     "It's all right." He paused but Dana could see there was more.
"Remember the cold night on the rock in the middle of that lake
waiting for Big Blue to gobble us up?" 

     A light dimmed in Dana's eyes. Though she spoke slowly her
response came quickly as if the memory of the incident lay close to
her heart. "You said that you envied Ahab because at least his
burden was visible to the world so he could be respected for all he
had to endure. No one would dare question the cause for his
obsession either."

     Mulder raised his head a little to stare at her. For a moment
her voice had reminded him of the old days and their cases
together. Another life. "Scully, you just made your American lit
professor proud." She returned a weak, uneasy smile and gripped his
hand more tightly as he laid his head back on the pillow to survey
the ceiling once again. "What I said that night comes back to haunt
me now and again. I imagine Yahweh and Zeus playing dice and
listening in on Man's folly below. Upon hearing my particular brand
of foolishness I envision Yahweh leaping up and shouting 'Thou
shalt not tempt the Lord your God!'"
 
     "Be careful what you wish for," Dana agreed. "But, Mulder, God
doesn't punish us here on earth - the wicked don't seem to suffer
half so often or as severely as their victims. You need only to
look in the case files over at VCS to know that. Do you think that
with all that's going on that God has time to admonish the good who
err occasionally by tempting Him?"

     "If not God, then the Devil must have been lingering nearby to
try to get in the game and he dredged up that little snippet of
imprudent conversation when I confronted him at the bonfire last
Halloween."

     Dana shook her head with exasperation. "I just knew that would
come up again some day."

     "I wouldn't want to disappoint you."

     "Mulder, I thought you were over that. The devil didn't curse
you and if he had the harm's been done. It's too late. Almost two
years too late."

     "Is it? When I was first diagnosed I used to wake up every
morning and before I opened my eyes I would say to myself 'This is
a dream, only a dream'. But then I would move and the nausea from
the chemo would just about rip me open. Even later towards the end,
during those nights and nights when I couldn't sleep for the pain
but I didn't have the strength to do anything other than to lie
there, I would be in tears sometimes trying to will myself to sleep
if only so I could wake up from this nightmare." He raised up his
left hand with it's scars and claw-like stiffness. "When I came out
of the tank like this, it was just as bad if not worse. I could not
believe this was me, part of me. That we were working for 'them'.
This could not be real." His voice took on ghost of the hysterical
tones she had heard those first weeks out of the tank. "I wanted to
wake up, dear God, I wanted to wake up."
  
     For a moment lost in memory, he began to shake. Dana took him
in a fierce embrace and desperately kissed him. "Mulder, stop
thinking like that. Stop or you will go mad."

     He stared into her eyes and she saw the sanity flood back
though he had not really been so very far from her, not like those
bad times. Eagerly he hugged her, running his fingers over her back
in the way that made her squirm under his hands with contentment
like a large cat. "Sorry. Believe it or not what I was getting at
was that I don't have those thoughts very often any more. In many
ways I'm content with my life."

     "Fox Mulder, content? Never."

     "All right, as content as I'm likely to get and, you, Dana,
are the reason for my happiness. The only reason."

     "Careful, Mulder," Dana said nestling close to his side,
"you're getting maudlin and you'll tempt the gods again."

     "What else could they do to us?"    

     At that moment the cellular by their bed chimed. Grumbling,
Dana extracted herself from atop his long limbs to lean over the
side of the bed and hunt for the phone. She listened for a moment
then dropped it back on the floor. When she turned to him again she
was smiling in a way that made his blood begin to simmer.
     
     "Bad weather at the designated landing site. We, sir, have
another four hours." She found the loose end of the robe belt
somewhere and wrapped it around and around her wrist to draw her
near to him. Straddling his bare flanks, she purred, "I think the
lovely lady doctor needs another sample. Are her victim's batteries
recharged?"

      He reached up to run his finger slowly from the tip of her
chin, down her throat, between her breasts, over the curve of her
stomach and as far down into her musky depths as he could go. He
felt her shift deliciously on his hips. "Just call me Die Hard
which, by the way would not be a bad way to go."

     Incensed by his terrible pun Dana attacked only to find that
her victim could easily turn the tables - and her. From her
position on her back trapped beneath his body she looked lovingly
up into his face. "I think the lovely lady doctor is going to get
some of her own medicine," he told her.

     This time when the game was over there was no more talk.
Entwined in each other's arms, they slept, drifting as one in their
dreams.

                            ********


     Mulder turned in his sleep, not wanting to wake but freezing
and in search of blankets. Where was that comforter? When he felt
the drag of the binding on his wrist and the weight which he knew
was Dana on the other end, he moaned. "Dana, you're insatiable. The
well is dry ...."

     He was going to go on to describe what might be required to
prime the pump when he realized that he did not feel that wonderful
tingling lassitude in his arms and legs that followed great sex. He
was also fully dressed and the sun was in his eyes. When he reached
out to push himself up to a sitting position he put his hand into
a clump of chill, wet grass. Recoiling as if he had been burned, he
found himself blearily awake sitting on a grey wool blanket and
indeed staring into the burning orb of the newly risen morning sun.
It's lower curve had not yet even cleared the top branches of the
ring of trees which surrounded the field. 

     A million images stampeded through his foggy brain: a doctor's
office; examination rooms; a Grandfather's chair by his window;
bags of poison dripping into his veins; a body he refused to
acknowledge shriveling into nothingness; a bed but no longer a
lonely one; a long black limousine; a ring of stern faces; the
tank; warm, green fluid everywhere; a pair of blue, anguished eyes;
a pool and a white sheet; the horror that was his left hand; the
rare reflection of what had become of his face in the mirror-like
surface of a lake; Samantha; a new bed in a darkened room; Dana... 

     Dana... Scully!

     She stirred beside him. She had been awakened by the tug on
the rope around her wrist as he sat up, a tug that had nearly
dislocated her elbow. Still thick-headed, she uttered a small cry
of surprise and pain as she looked for Mulder to find out what all
the commotion was about. Had the transportation people changed
their minds? Did Mulder have to leave so soon? They must have
another hour at least...

     Her eyes focused finally on his face.

     Oh, God.... 

     Her eyes widened, staring.

     "Oh, God... Oh, God... Oh, God..." she whispered. "Mulder,
your face..."

     He didn't move, his eyes were as wide as hers. "What's wrong
with it?"

     "Nothing's wrong with it, it's... beautiful... that's what's
wrong with it."

     Mulder's hand reached for his left cheek but Dana's beat him
to it. She ran her fingers gently across the planes on that side of
his face, felt the stubble of his beard, the tightness of the skin
beneath which was a pure mirror image of what she saw on the right.

     Pulling her eyes away she saw that he was staring at his left
hand, watching it with awe as he made it into a fist then released
it, again and again, marveling at its precise and supple movements
as if he were witnessing the most fascinating sight in the world.

     His eyes fell on the rope which still bound them together. It
was a simple white rope, not Mulder's terry cloth robe tie, a robe
which both of them were rapidly realizing had never existed. Open-
mouthed they stared around them. They were sitting on the familiar
grey wool blanket in the middle of a bowl of a field filled with
tall grass. In the sun, the dew glistened off the grass and the
roofs of the teenager's cars parked a distance away. The branches
of the trees that circled the field yet held onto a few dry, brown
leaves. Down in the lowest section of the bowl was a blacked circle
where the bonfire had burned the night before. All around it bodies
in singles and pairs, three-somes and more huddled, still sleeping,
still dreaming, under blankets and sleeping bags.
     
     Swiftly Mulder tore off the white rope, jumped to his feet and
extended a hand to pull Dana up. It felt the most natural thing in
the world for them at that moment to reach for each other. Reach
they did and touched only to fall apart again almost shyly. The
embrace had felt both as comfortable as coming home and as strange
as a first kiss. 

     Home... home.... Dana felt a shudder run through her that
matched the trembling she felt from Mulder who was clearly having
trouble dealing with his own shock. Where was home? Their spartan
little apartment in the Compound came first to mind. Her home with
Mulder... with Mulder and soon...

     A tiny cry of despair cut the crystal cold morning air, not a
loud cry but loud enough to bring Mulder around from the barrage of
emotions pounding against his crumbling walls.

     Dana was standing before him, her eyes turned inward. An
expression of such dismay and loss showed on her face that Mulder
feared she had been shot. Her hands were spread across her stomach.
Frantically he searched but couldn't find any blood. No there
wouldn't be, he hadn't heard a shot, but something was wrong with
her stomach. It shouldn't be so... flat.

     Dana had gone ghostly pale. "He's gone," escaped from her lips
in a hoarse whisper.

     Mulder swallowed feeling a vast emptiness open up within him.
"Dana, he was never there."

     "It was a dream..."

     Mulder frowned. "A nightmare." 
     
     "HE wasn't a nightmare."

     "No, no, he wasn't," he took her chilled hands in his, his
eyes beginning to burn far off with a cold anger. "No, he wasn't a
nightmare but losing him certainly is."

     Mulder didn't care any more about the strangeness they had
felt. Without hesitation, he put his arms around her in a fierce
embrace and let her bury her shaking body against his. Gazing
steely-eyed out over red hair, he stared across the expanse of wet
grass towards the place where the tall, emaciated demon-priest had
stood and cursed them, where Mulder had put his hand on the thing's
arm - his left hand if he remembered correctly - and where he had
felt the heat of the fire on the left side of his face. 

     "Damn you!" he screamed. "Damn you to HELL!" The echoes of his
anguished cry rolled on and on across the plain. 

     In a short time Dana pulled away from him by herself. Staring
down, hiding her face, she began adjusting her wrinkled clothes,
pushing back her hair, straightening her spine. Mulder touched the
point of her chin with his finger and raised her face to his. It
was pale, full of sorrow but without tears. "Scully, I think it's
well past time we got out of here."

     Numb lips nodded agreement. With the damp blanket trailing in
the grass behind them they moved off over the rutted field. They
walked close to each other, at first not touching, then almost
without her conscious thought, Dana's hand crept into his larger
one as they headed towards the woods, on the other side of which
they had parked their car.   

     "We need a warm shower," he told her as he drove, "some food
if that dump has room service, and some sleep."

     "And you accuse me of being the practical one," Dana replied
bravely trying to lighten her tone. It was hard, though. She looked
over at him. He sensed her searching eyes and turned briefly from
the road. 

     "What can I do to help?"

     The edges of her white teeth came down over so gently on her
bottom lip that still trembled slightly. "Mulder, would you... I
don't want to sleep alone." 

     "Not a chance that either of us will be sleeping alone
tonight."

     "Today," Dana corrected staring at the rising sun.

     "Whatever."

     The solid, real, down-on-its-heels Motel 6 loomed up in the
distance.  

     "Mulder, could I ask a favor?"

     "Anything."

     Her voice was sullen, lacking its usual warmth. "Next
Halloween, let's just rent about a half dozen kids and go trick or
treating like normal people."

     His eyes were half closed, warm and understanding but he was
still Mulder. "Could we soap the windows of the FBI instead?"

     "Sure, why not. It's got to be more fun than this."


End of Chapter 8 and the end (until next Halloween).

****** And please send comments... I love email.