*Disclaimer: See Part One. T h e X - F i l e s Calignosity Beckons Part Eight By Charleyne Hall (drakkar@bconnex.net) ----- April 8 Two Days Later Analysis Facility 10:13 am Danny Sanders took a deep breath, pushing the record button on the small device which sat on the laboratory bench beside him. He felt uncomfortable, and despite the air-conditioning he felt hot and sticky. A man in a black suit observed him carefully, his arms folded across his thick chest. Danny didn't look at the man as he began to speak. "Localized damage to the medial hypothalamus inducing violent behavior in subject. Cause of condition: unknown substance abuse. Tissues are damaged beyond recognition. Subject would have been unable to function normally after prolonged exposure to substance. . ." Danny trailed off, wincing at the thoughts. He'd known the two agents who were involved in this case. Fox Mulder had been a great man. Danny had done all sorts of things for him. A little phone call tracing on the side, but more medical examinations and analysis than anything. He swallowed with difficulty, wiping his hot brow. He licked his lips, which were trembling. Dana Scully, whom Danny had only met once twice, seemed polite and well mannered and most of all, she seemed balanced -- not at all the type of woman to kill someone. Sometimes people just snap. This clearly wasn't the case with Agent Scully. She'd been helped along by someone, Danny could tell. There was no way that a woman, with such an extensive medical background as Scully, would have taken such a powerful drug. Not in her right mind. It was such a shame and Danny ached at the thought that two Agents had been wasted in such a manner. What had they done to deserve it? He closed his eyes briefly, letting the darkness that the closed lids provided, envelope him for a few minutes. When he opened them again, he was focused on his primary concern -- getting this analysis finished. He switched the slide in the microscope and glanced down at the magnified tissue sample. "Along with damage to the medial hypothalamus, the amygdala seems to have been stimulated. Studies have been unable to prove the effects that occur when this area is stimulated. In rats it seems to make them kill mice, which would explain the aggressive behavior of the subject. Unfortunately, other areas of the brain have been stimulated and destroyed and I am unable to determine which exact regions were solely responsible. It is my professional, medical opinion that the substance which the subject ingested is the direct cause of all brain damage." He shut off the recording device and sat back. He took a sip of his stale coffee. This was on his head. Mulder had specifically asked him if it was dangerous. He should have extensively tested it instead of relying on the testing of rats that showed absolutely nothing. He clenched his fist and set his jaw, fighting his anger. "Would she have lived if Elizabeth Martin hadn't killed her?" The harsh tone of the man's voice scared Danny and he jumped. "Not for long. That shit killed her slowly," Danny replied, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Sanders searched the man's face for an explanation as to why he was there, but found none. Which wasn't unlikely. He'd had government thugs watching him work before. Usually they just didn't ask questions. Danny stood up and went to his desk, pulling open a drawer. He pulled out the small sample of the black dust that Fox Mulder had originally asked him to test. He held up the little bag, watching the man through it. "Do you know what this is?" Danny asked. "No." "I'll tell you what it is. It's pure death. I don't think this is anything to be messed with. If you want my opinion, I'd say to collect it all and burn it," Danny said, his voice shaking with anger. "I didn't ask for your opinion," the man said, moving swiftly forward and grabbing the sample. Danny stared in awe. The man reached into his coat. Danny Sanders didn't have to worry about his conscience bothering him. That much was certain. ----- Unknown Location He slammed the box down on the desk and sank into the chair across from his boss. He hated his job and he wasn't about to pretend he liked it. Reaching into his coat pocket, he removed a small audio tape, flipping it lightly between his fingers. He was sick of what he was doing, and he'd seen the damage his work had done. He wasn't going to continue doing it. Playing in the shadows just wasn't part of his job description. "I'm not doing this anymore," he said. He drew out the words so that the man behind the desk would know that he was serious. "If you want me to kill someone, fine. I'm not going to use other people to do it for me. A nice bullet through the head, a clean up job and you've got your assassination. Clean and simple. No messing with drugs and no messing with innocent minds." He glared angrily at the man before him. He flicked his wrist, sending the cassette flying forward. The man at the desk caught it against his chest and leaned forward, palming the tiny tape. "Are you trying to tell me something?" the man asked. He tasted bitter anger in his mouth and fought desperately with the urge to take out his gun and shoot this man in the head. He swallowed the vile tasting saliva and clenched his fist. Clench. Unclench. "I'm trying to tell you, sir," he put emphasis on the last word, sarcasm dripping from his mouth, stinging the air. "That I don't want to mess with the shit your scientists created. That tape details just the beginning of what really happens. She developed inhuman powers, but you already knew that. You knew what I could tell her that would make her go crazy. I've had it. No more." "Did you kill Danny?" He snapped his jaw shut, speaking through tightly clamped teeth. "I killed him." "Then you're dismissed." He thought for a moment. He wanted to say so much more. His anger bubbled and his conscience was playing havoc on him. He glared angrily at the asshole behind the desk, who stared unblinking right back. Finally he just snorted and briskly stood. He took a deep breath and straightened his back, walking out the door. ----- When his man had left, he slowly pulled the box toward him. He opened it, amused to discover vials upon vials of the drug, all neatly packaged in test tubes and styrofoam protection. Beneath the vials, his man had carefully folded the black cloak. This experiment had been a disaster, but at least they had learned one thing -- it could be accomplished. He smiled and pulled the box off his desk, preparing it for storage in the Pentagon, among the dozens of other experiments and projects that had gone awry. At least now two of his biggest worries were out of the way. He sat back and let out a sigh of relief. ----- Darlington Memorial Cemetery 10:15 am Elizabeth Martin stood too far away. She felt so detached. Her heart ached to be closer to them, to be beside Dana's family. She wanted to envelope Margaret in a hug and tell her how very sorry she was. She would give anything to go back to that night and avoid the alley. She wished that she had never met that dark man. Her memories slowly recovered in chunks, mostly in her nightmares. She remembered the alley and the man, his silken voice and the dust he'd held. She shivered, but there was no warmth for her. Her heart felt so cold. Dana was dead by Elizabeth's own hand and that was something Liz would never ever forgive herself for, no matter how necessary it may have been. Liz watched them carry Dana's coffin through the wrought iron gates and into the beautiful green cemetery. At least she's at rest, Liz tried to tell herself. She couldn't shake the thoughts of Dana growing old, having a husband, children. . . She had taken it all. All of it, gone. And why? Why had she really done it? Because she knew, deep down, that Dana would never be the same. If there had been any shred of the real Dana left, she would have been screaming at Liz to pull the trigger. Put me out of my misery, Dana would have said. She felt a hand on her shoulder and then it moved to her cheek. He stood beside her, wiping at the tears that slid down her face. Liz looked up into Robert's eyes and slowly, as they mirrored her own sadness, she realized that maybe there could be a little light. Dana had deserved better than to die at such a young age, but Liz also deserved to live. She would live her life for Dana. She would live her life for Mulder. Elizabeth Martin was alive, be it a God sent gift, or mere luck. Whatever it was, there must be a reason. Robert Vedette drew her to him, hugging her tightly. She let herself go, the silent tears turning to a harsh, uncontrollable sobbing. He held her head to his chest, letting her relieve her anger, and the frustration and grief take complete control. It was the only way she would recover. "I hate this," she said, after the tears had dried, slightly. She pulled away from him and looked up. "I know." "No, you don't. You don't know what it's like to kill your best friend, knowing that she's too fucked up to even know who you were. You don't know what it's like to be wanted for murder. . ." she trailed off, realizing that he did indeed know. He would know. "What are we going to do now?" "Start fresh?" "You and I?" "If that's how you'd like it." She heard him breath in and let it out slowly. He'd been protecting her for a few days now, since the moment she awoke from fainting that fateful night. He'd taken care of the slight fever she'd developed, held her when she cried, talked to her when she needed to talk about Dana. He even listened when she had to scream and shout. He did all this for her. She'd refused to leave until after the funeral, willing to risk being caught for one last glimpse of her friend's family. Dana had been such a part of Liz that the hole she found in her heart was almost unbearable. But with Robert there, the hole was at least manageable. Like a simple rubber bicycle wheel patch, Robert was going to help her get through this. "That's how I'd like it," she answered, so quietly that he could easily have missed it. He didn't say anything. She felt his lips touch her cheek before he finally took her hand and guided her away. ----- End (Completed June 7, 1996 6:29 pm EST) *Note: There may be a few medical inaccuracies within the text, so please excuse them. I used some research (thanks Kim!) and muddled it around a bit so that it would fit. Special thanks go to Lisdean Warner (Queen Angst herself) and Kim Adams (secondary to the queen) for their wonderful comments and editing help. Vanessa Len fits somewhere in there too. Thanks! Comments? drakkar@bconnex.net