CONNECTIONS
by Denise Gass
Kidders@aol.com

     Well, this is my contribution to the SciNut challenge.  What follows
are some missing scenes from "Oubliette."  The characters of Fox Mulder
and Dana Scully and anybody else from that episode aren't mine, but belong
to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions, used without permission but
no copyright infringement intended.  I welcome constructive feedback, but
this is just a short piece to take my mind off my much bigger
story-in-progress, and amounts to an hour or two of work, so don't be too
harsh.  Oh, there's a few nasty words, so be warned.

     Carl Wade's residence
     Easton, Washington
     6:20 p.m.

     A red light flashed across the darkened sky, bright and pulsing like
the beating of a heart, and even with his eyes tightly shut, Mulder saw
it.  Burning through his lids, a heat that couldn't be washed away with
tears or bring the cooling flesh under his fingers back to life.  His legs
had gone numb from kneeling beside the gurney, and he couldn't feel the
hardness of the ground or the icy river dampness clinging in his
clothes.  It didn't matter.  Lucy was gone.  Just like Sam.  Nothing he
did would bring them back.  Nothing was ever enough.
     For a long time, he sat there.  Wrapping his arms around his chest
and trying to hold in the sobs that kept coming and coming until he
couldn't breathe.  Wanting desperately to stop, but too tired to fight
anymore.  His legs were trembling and he didn't have the energy to stand,
so he just slumped forward with his hands in the dirt, forehead pushed
into the cold metal in front of him.  He'd told Scully that this hadn't
been about Sam, that his concern for Lucy was purely professional, a lead
to help him find Amy Jacobs.  But it wasn't.  It was much more than
that.  And now Lucy was dead.  He should have been able to save her,
shouldn't have left her alone in the cold and the dark, shouldn't have let
it end this way.  It wouldn't stop, it never stopped, and it just hurt so
much and his chest burned because there was no air, and he wanted to
forget.  Forget that Sam was gone, that the voice had lied to him, that
she wasn't ever coming back.  Forget the bright light in his eyes and that
they were going to take Lucy and cut her open and he couldn't do anything
to stop them.  It was so fucking unfair.  Why wouldn't they let him forget?
     Soft footsteps scraped the ground behind him, muted voices discussing
something he couldn't hear, then there was a hand on his shoulder.  
     "Mulder, come on," Scully's voice urged quietly, "let's go back to
the car.  There's nothing more you can do here."
     Words full of compassion, but he didn't want them.  Didn't want to be
comforted.  Jerked away from her touch, fingers digging into the ground so
that the gravel tore at his nails.  His hands came up with clumps of dirt
in them.  The physical pain eased some of the guilt, the awful emptiness
inside him, and Mulder clenched his fists, felt the sharp points of rock
pierce his skin.  Swallowed past the acid burn in his throat and got a
breath.  Still crying.  He didn't want her to see him this way.  "Leave me
alone."
     The hand moved back to his shoulder, her voice patient but firm. 
"Mulder, the coroner's here and they need to move her.  We're both wet,
and it's cold, and we need to get inside.  Go back to the motel."
     He couldn't fight them.  He would lose.  His control slipped away and
it didn't matter that they were all watching him.  He didn't care
anymore.  Mulder staggered to his feet, turning toward Scully, cheeks
suddenly hot as he lashed out, "Don't you tell me what to do!  You're not
my ASAC, and you're certainly not my mother, so fucking stay out of my
life!"
     Scully flinched from the angry sting of the words, but didn't move. 
Mulder's face was flushed, his eyes red and puffy, and she could see his
chest heaving as he sucked air to try and keep speaking.  Told herself
that he didn't mean what he was saying, that he was angry and hurt, and
needed her help whether he would admit to it or not.  "I'm afraid I can't
do that, Mulder.  You're my partner...and my friend.  You have to
understand that there was nothing you could have done to save Lucy's
life.  It's *not* your fault she died."
     "It is my fault!"  She followed Mulder's gaze to Walt Eubanks, where
the AIC was standing by the coroner's van, and felt her stomach knot as
she looked back into her partner's eyes.  Mulder's voice rose into a
hoarse shout.  "He thinks she was in on it, thinks Lucy helped Wade kidnap
Amy.  But he's wrong, he's wrong, and...and...she saved Amy's life...but
he's not going to put that in the r-report."  He was sobbing, loud
uncontrolled sounds that made her want to cry too.  But she couldn't.  Not
yet.  "It's not fair, Scully.  Lucy didn't do a-an-nything w-wrong, and
people like him...they c-come and talk to you an'...an'...ask you if know
what happened..."  The words became a howl of anguish, and she nearly bit
her lip as she listened.  "They ask you if you k-killed her...'cause they
doan' believe that you can't re-remember...that she could have
d-disappeared without a trace.  And they never found her."  His arms were
crossed, hands clenching and unclenching on the sleeves of his coat,
smearing mud over the wool, and he was crying harder now, wracking
shudders that barely let him force out anything coherent.  "I know w-what
it's like to lose someone.  I know and they don't and...an'...that's w-why
I can f-find them."
     "Okay, Mulder," Scully whispered, reaching slowly for his wrists.  He
let her touch him, and she continued softly, "I understand, I do, but we
need to get back in the car.  Okay?"  She gave a gentle tug, but he
resisted, pulled his hands tighter against his arms.  "Please, Mulder.  I
promise it'll be all right.  Things will seem better in the morning. 
You're exhausted.  You need to rest."  She shot a quick glance at Eubanks,
saw him observing the exchange with a tense expression, saw the other
agents shifting nervously, knowing they were wondering if they might need
to go for their guns.  "Please, Mulder.  For me.  Do it for me, okay?"
     His eyes closed, tears still tracking down his cheeks, and finally,
took a shuddering breath and nodded.  She led him to the car, opened the
door and got him inside, leaned over to fasten the seat belt.  He wouldn't
look at her, kept his eyes tightly shut, and clutched his hands in his lap
as she shut the door.  Wasn't crying any longer, just sniffing and taking
long gulps of air.  She grabbed her purse from the back seat, fumbled
through the contents and handed him a package of kleenex.  He wouldn't
take it, and his knuckles turned white under the dome light, and she saw
his fingers were smeared with dirt and blood.  Sighing, Scully pulled out
several tissues and reached for his left hand.  He flinched under her
touch, and she held the kleenex to his nose, urging firmly, "Come on,
Mulder, blow your nose."  She was grateful when he didn't argue, just did
as she said, and she put away the kleenex, started the car.  Drove them
back to the motel in silence.
     "Mulder, where's your room key?" Scully asked as she walked with him
up the stairs.  He mumbled something, made a jerking movement to reach in
his coat pocket, but she stopped him.  "No, I'll do it. Your hands are a
mess."  Fished in his pocket and stuck the key in the lock, went in after
him and locked the door.  He was standing there in the middle of the room,
a vacant look in his eyes, and she helped him take his coat off, then his
suit jacket and tie, finally his shirt, and guided him over to the sink. 
He followed her without question, didn't say a word, just sniffed
occasionally, his face pale and eyes red and swollen.  She ran lukewarm
water and gently scrubbed his hands, washing away mud and dried blood,
along with bits of gravel.  Checked and noted that the damage was only
superficial, some shallow cuts in his palms and a couple of torn
cuticles.  
     "I'm going to go over to get something out of my bag.  Can you
finished getting undressed by yourself?"  He just stared, and the lack of
response was beginning to worry her.  Knew he was in a mild form of shock,
but also knew that she needed to get him to snap out of it.  Repeated the
question, louder this time.  
     His eyes seemed to focus, and he shrugged, looking at his hands. 
Nodded.  When she came back, his clothes were piled at the foot of the
bed, and he was burrowed under the blankets.  Scully got a glass of water,
set it on the nightstand while she smeared antibiotic ointment on his
hands.  Picked up the pills she had brought and the water, and said,
"Mulder, I want you to take these.  They'll help you to sleep."
     He looked up, but made no move to take the pills.  His eyes were
round, dark black pupils searching her face.  "I tried so hard to save
her," he whispered, swallowing, and Scully saw him wince.  "Tried so hard,
and it wasn't good enough."  He scooted up until his back was resting
against the headboard.  "I just wish..."  A trembling sigh, and his voice
trailed off.  He blinked, fumbled with stiff hands for the pills, gulped
them down with a swig of water.  He didn't want to sleep, but he was so
tired, wouldn't be able to stay awake all night.  Recognized the little
silver wrapping as leftover Dramamine from his shaving kit.  What he'd
packed so he wouldn't puke on the plane.  Maybe they would keep the
shadows at bay.  
     "Mulder, Amy's still alive," Scully said, placing her hand on his
chest, feeling the cool skin under her fingers.  "You have to hold onto to
that.  At least one life was saved, the life of a fifteen-year-old girl,
and you were the one who found her.  You and Lucy.  The two of you shared
something, something very special, and it helped you to find that little
girl.  That's what you need to remember and focus on.  You did make a
difference, Mulder.  Lucy died, but Amy is still alive.  Be thankful for
that."
     Sliding down onto the pillow, Mulder pulled the covers up to his
chin, felt Scully move her hand to his forehead.  Closed his eyes and
didn't say anything, just accepted her touch and let the exhaustion lull
him toward sleep.
     "I'm going to leave the connecting door open, okay?"
     "Okay."
     The lights went out.
     He slept.
     Lake City Inn
     4:25 a.m.

     Scully twisted in the blankets, struggling to free her legs, sitting
up in bed with her heart pounding and listening to the loud and terrified
screams coming from the next room.  God, she'd hoped the Dramamine would
have kept him asleep the whole night.  Her fingers managed to connect with
the light switch and she bolted from the bed, flipping the lights on in
Mulder's room and finding her partner completely buried under the
blankets, his screams going on and on and on, even when she yanked the
covers off his face and the light hit his eyes.
     "No," he howled, "turn it off, turn it off.  Make it go away."  His
voice rose, hysterical, pleading, "make it go away, please...please...make
it go away."
     Hands shaking, Scully twisted the switch on the bedside lamp,
pitching the room back into darkness.  Heard Mulder's whimpers gradually
taper off until he was just taking panicky-sounding breaths.  She sat on
the bed and reached for him, his arms tensing up where her fingers brushed
his shoulders, and he jerked away, and she heard his head hit the wall with
a hollow thud.  "Mulder, it's me, it's Scully.  You're okay, it was just a
bad dream, and everything's okay now."  Grabbed one hand, felt if slide
out of her grasp.  Damn, she couldn't do this in the dark.  Flipped on the
lights again.  
     "NO."  Mulder's cry was shrill, his eyes wide and unseeing, head and
shoulders pushed against the wall, feet shoving into the mattress as he
tried to scoot away from her.  "Don't let the light come back.  Don't let
them take her.  DON'T LET THEM."
     Scully made her voice calm, but inside, her nerves were snapped
taut.  Made shushing noises, tried to get him to listen.  "Ssshh, it's
okay, Mulder.  Get back under the covers, and we'll turn out the light. 
No one's going to come."  Didn't touch him, but waited, praying it was a
reaction to the drug and that he would be able to shake off the nightmare
on his own. 
     Arms drawn around his knees, Mulder had grown very still, was staring
fixedly at her face and frowning, eyes shaded by distrust.  At last,
recognition drew a whispery sigh from his lips, and he dropped his head
onto one knee.  "Scully," he mumbled, hiccupping softly.  
     Scully let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding,
briefly closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of gratitude.  Looked at
her partner, the bowed head and tense shoulders, and asked quietly, "Do
you want to talk about it?"
     The reply was muffled, and Mulder didn't raise his head.  "No.  I
just want to...I need to be alone, Scully.  I'm okay.  I'll be able to go
back to sleep."  His voice had choked up into another sob, and it was
obvious that things were far from being resolved, but she also knew now
wasn't the time to push.  Stood and watched him for a moment, chewing her
lip.
     "Do you want the light left on?"
     "No."  One word, flat, dejected.  A deep breath, and his voice became
a thin, ragged murmur.  "Please turn it off."
     Leaving Mulder alone in the darkened room, Scully crawled back under
her blanket and curled up on her side, trying not to listen to the soft,
pitiful sounds that drifted through the open door.  For once, wished her
hearing wasn't so acute.  Left her light on, because she wouldn't be
sleeping anymore.  
     The first streamers of dawn were weaving behind the canvas curtain
when the sounds faded into a rainbow of silence.
     Bright Angel Halfway House  
     11:15 a.m.

     Scully glanced back at her partner, watched Mulder stare through the
partially-slitted blinds, the rays of light scattering over his face like
a checkerboard.  Shaded areas of grey along his cheekbones, brighter white
around his eyes.  Wondered if he even felt the warmth from the sun as he
stood there clutching the envelope filled with Lucy's childhood
pictures.  Thought about the night before and how little sleep they had
gotten, and got up and joined him by the window.  
     "Mulder, I told Eubanks we'd stop by this afternoon and give him our
statements."  Her stomach growled, and she shifted uncomfortably.  It had
been a long time since she'd snacked on a stash of airline-issued pretzels
at six-thirty in the morning, even longer since she'd eaten a complete
meal.  Probably yesterday at lunch.  Suspected that Mulder hadn't eaten at
all.  "We have time to grab a bite to eat before we go over there."
     He didn't respond right away, just continued to look out the window
at the street below.  This close, she could see the blood-red lines of
exhaustion in his eyes.  Finally, he turned his head.  "Were you able to
get us a flight out to D.C. tonight?"
     Scully picked up the tension in his voice, but held back her sigh,
replying, "No, there wasn't anything available.  I booked us on a
seven-thirty-five tomorrow morning, United through Denver.  It was the
best I could do, Mulder.  It's Friday night, the weekend before
Thanksgiving, and all the evening flights were full."
     "I don't want to stay here tonight," he said softly.
     Carefully folding her hands, she saw the anxious way his teeth
clenched, and asked evenly, "Then what do you suggest?"
     "I..."  His gaze revolved once around the room, settled back on the
street again.  When he resumed speaking, she had to lean forward to catch
the words.  "I don't want to have to think about what happened.  I just
want to be able to forget."  Shadows darted across his eyes, hiding his
expression, but the pain was evident in the low and tightly controlled
voice.  "But they won't let me, will they?  It'll be on the news, in the
papers, and Eubanks'll want to play twenty questions, and I'll have to go
through it all over again."
     "I know, Mulder."  There was nothing she could say to make things
easier for him.  The truth was often hard and cruel, and both of them had
been down that road before.  More silence, and Scully let her eyes follow
a dark-haired man as he walked along the sidewalk in front of the house. 
His hair was long, pulled back in a ponytail, and he walked with his head
bowed and his hands thrust deeply into the pockets of a denim jacket.  As
she watched him grow smaller and smaller, finally vanishing from sight,
she heard Mulder release a quiet sigh.  She glanced up, blinking as
painfully bright sunlight stabbed her pupils.
     "His name's Henry," Mulder offered after a pause.  "He was a friend
of Lucy's.  Before you came in, I asked him...about...about the funeral
arrangements.  Lucy didn't have any next-of-kin.  Her parents are both
deceased."  He gave her a sad, lost smile, tipped his head back against
the fingerprint-smudged glass.  "I told him to call me if he needs
anything.  He was...helping her, you know.  Helping her get her life
together.  He cared about her, I think."
     Scully considered her partner, considered the parallels of the case
in relation to Mulder's own experiences, expelled a long, tremulous
breath.  Gripped his hands fiercely in hers, and said, "You cared about
her too, Mulder.  I think she knew that, and I think when the time came,
the choice was easier for her because of your strength.  Your
conviction.  Lucy died knowing she saved Amy's life."
     Mulder studied her closely, and though his expression didn't change,
she thought she saw a spark of life return to his eyes.  "Do you really
believe that, Scully?" he asked in a husky whisper, the words catching
slightly, and Scully gathered that her opinion meant a great deal to
him.  More than the truth he always sought, more than the job, and what
she said would determine the course of their friendship.
     She didn't doubt.  Not this time.  "Yes, I do, Mulder.  I believe
every word."

     The End.

     Okay, okay, kind of a sappy ending.  It just sorta happened, purely
by accident, and I couldn't resist.  But not to fear.  For those of you
who don't like the sugary-sweet taste, wait for my much, much longer
version of Mulder and Scully adventures.  Lots of edges and violence
there.  If I ever get it finished.  Hope you enjoyed this little short.

     Kids.