"Hell & Back" part 20 by livengoo@tiac.net see part 1 for disclaimers and notes December 4, 1995 7:36 P.M. The House howled and wailed the anguish of a thousand souls, and all of it through Janet's veins. Fog dripped blood down her walls and Belasco sheltered in the warmth of her flesh. His fingers slid into the gloves of her soul. She could see them all. So far below, the blood was pooling in her arm and it tingled numb. Stinking black water dripped from Dana Scully's clothes and pattered on the stones of her teeth. Web strands trembled from the front door down the dusty air and wound around Janet, wound from Janet. Puppet strings. Belasco's fingers shaped her face. Belasco's strings held her hands but he only saw through her eyes. The pressure of a finger on a trigger, the deliberate slide of steel on steel, chambering the round. Black skin on glass, cold through short hair and Ty's pulse beat under Janet's hand, and Belasco's strings held them both. He didn't know. Belasco's hands in the gloves of her mind and they held Ty there, Mulder wrapped in their soul, and he didn't see it. Jesus fucking Christ, Virgin Mary, Holy Mother of the Harvest or the Moon or whatever god they liked but Janet knew like she knew his touch in her soul that he was looking through the lense of her eyes, feeling through the web of her nerves and he was looking in the wrong direction. He didn't see her. She couldn't let him see . . . slime on carpet and red hair matted on white skin. Dry powder and strength. Couldn't let him see. Ty snarled from mirrored hell and he felt her skin through Janet's hands. Tasted the salt of her blood. Couldn't let him see. He was waiting. Janet wrapped her mind and will and soul around Ty Hammersmith and Goddess forgive her and Ty forgive her, she had to leave him blind. "What'cha waiting for, asshole? An engraved invitation? You take the safety off. You chamber the round and you pull the trigger. Even the FBI has to know that much." Janet tasted the blood when Ty bit her cheek, tasted bitter courage and fear. And held her hands tight to the glass, Belasco's touch knit through hers. This was all he'd see. He took a shaky breath that drew to the bottom of Janet's lungs. Locked the knees he held by the grace of Janet's strength and Mulder screamed behind his eyes and froze his finger on the trigger. "Your lover's watching you, black bitch. He'll pull the trigger for me." Oh, Goddess oh no . . . . Wet feet were soft and careful and too far away. Mulder reeled in light and sight and sound too long cut off. Strings and strings and his hands were Belasco's and she lifted them in hers, held them in hers, all of them were hers and she was . . . Strung. Marionette protest and she'd always hated puppets, little things in others' hands and Mulder's fingers twitched when they pulled. Puppets on strings. Puppets like gloves. And suddenly he blinked and Janet saw him through Ty's eyes. Hazel focused on her and the shock and the grief were no part of the House. Flicker-fast twist of features and the barrel trembled, lifted, dropped and lips rippled back from teeth in a smile of hate. And the soft drop of water on dusty wood echoed in the gloom. One. Two. Three. "Mulder, put it down." Janet saw her as he turned. Saw her finally, finally, red hair black with mud, clothes hanging shiver-soaked and stuck to her skin but alive, eyes clear and there and Mulder's relief smoothed his face for the instant before hatred smeared across his face and wrapped him in the dark again but this time Janet knew the way. This time she had the key. ____________________ December 4, 1995 7:43 PM "Scully." Eyes too dark and wide to be hazel followed her, intent. "Are kisses in the dark as sweet as you thought?" The chatter of her teeth almost drowned his words. Scully locked her fingers around her gun and held it still on Mulder as he shuffled in small, crooked steps. On the mirrored wall, Tylene Hammersmith hung, toes sketching scuffs in the dust beneath her. "Ty. What's going on?" She edged slowly past Janet's crumpled form, Mulder's chest framed in the sights of her weapon. The lieutenant's voice was tight and rushed. "Fucking 'Poltergeist,' Dana. Get your ass out of here, FBI." Mulder's eyes never wavered from hers, as the barrel of the gun slowly moved from a circle to an oval to a line 'til it hung by his side. The smile curled across his lips. His voice whispered dry, barely stirring hollow air, "Scully. I'm so glad to see you." "Yeah." She swallowed. Kept him framed in the steel, trembling with cold. "G-g-g-g-good to see you, too, Mulder. You've got a nice, little X-File going here, partner. Why don't you just put the gun down, and we'll figure it out . . ." "No problem, Scully." He crouched, knees folding gracelessly to drop him onto his haunches with a grunt. Set the Sig. down at his feet, smiling quizzically up at her. "Nothing up my wrists, Scully." She was edging around, dust scuffed behind her. Clotted air tugged at her skin, tangling to trip her as she sidled, cutting the circumference around his circle. Mirror reflections played on his eyes, lit them black and deep. "Why don't you tell me what's going on, partner?" "Just what you see, Scully." The insectile way he found his feet, locking his knees, set her hair on end. His body hinged at the hips to turn, glittering eyes fixed on her face. "What's wrong with Janet?" The sly amusement of his voice tightened her finger an instant. "I d-d-d-don't know, Mulder. You tell me. Ty . . ." She glanced away, skin prickling for the sense of his motion. Reached out to tug at Ty's hand. "No -ungh - no point Dana." Her choked voice forced a laugh. "Fuckin' Hell House superglue." "Mulder . . ." She looked back at him, the blank, watchful stare in his eyes. The hair on her arms and neck prickled when she turned back to the lieutenant. "Keep an eye on him, Ty." Low and tense. "Damn it, Dana, he doesn't fucking need to DO anything!" The ragged edge of her voice trailed into panting breaths. "Oh shitohshitohSHIT! Dana oh SHIT!" She didn't recognize the sound at first: small and wet. A delicate, cracking noise like twigs in ice. But she knew the hiss of Ty's breath, the whimper of Janet's voice and the high, keening, angry shriek as the lieutenant threw her back head. Blood was dripping down the mirror. Ty's hand made the sound again, flesh on glass. Squeaky and soft and wet, hard to hear when the scream pealed and rippled the air. Bone was louder, scraping through blood and muscle and nerve and skin to shrill over glass until it cracked, stick-snapping hard. "Ohfuckohfuck . . ." Ty's voice was high, choked with pain. "Jesus Christ." Scully snarled frustration, glancing up, into the smoky glass of the mirror. Mulder's teeth gleamed in reflection. Scully looked back, sucked her breath through her teeth and tucked her weapon into the waist of her jeans. "Hold on, Ty." "Bastard." Her breath wheezed. "s'not moving, Dana. Oh, fuck, oh fuck." Slick skin. Wet and hot and sticky. Scully dug her fingers under the edge of Ty's palm, worming them between glass and flesh. Tasted the smell of blood, sweet on her tongue. Ty grunted, whined. Tendons shone pale under black skin. Muscles, ligaments, tendons bunched under sweat-slippery skin. "Pull, Dana. Oh God, pull, I think it's . . ." "Mulder . . ." He was watching, eyes glittering. Thirty feet away and weaving. Scullly braced herself, forced her fingers beneath Ty's wrist and pulled. Pulled. The hot, solid wrist in her hands slipped and she locked her hands around it. The lieutenant squirmed, elbows and heels braced on the mirror, shoving. Arched from her shoulders and hips. Strain crackled through Scully's shoulders burned the muscles at her spine as she pulled, foot against glass, pulled. Digging her fingers into flesh, achored in tendons, pulled. Ty's wrist lifted but the hand pressed flat, splayed out on the wall. Smears, black in the gloom, blurred the glass. "Oh God, oh God, pull, pull pullpullpullpull bitch PULL!" Rasp of pain in the Southern voice and Ty groaned the words. Scully leaned in, shoulder wedged against the lieutenant's thigh to push instead of pull. The black woman's sweat dripped, salty on Scully's face, drops on her bent head, sweat and darker, heavier drops soaking the dust and inch below her feet. Scully shut her eyes and pulled. Her nails dug into the flesh she held. "Oh FUUUuuuuuckkkk . . ." It trailed into a long, quavering whine. "Oh God, Ty. Ty, lift your HAND!" Dana Scully's spittle was wet on her lips, words too fast and harsh. "Fucking bitch I CAN'T!" Her blood dripped hot over Scully's fingers. In the mirror, Fox Mulder's lips smiled thin and hard. Something shifted in the wrist Scully held. Ty arched, "oh SHIT! Oh God oh God LET GO DANA! LET GO!" The smallest joint of the smallest finger flattened on glass. Bone feathered with a moist, vegetable sound. Sick, agonized retching shook the body against her side. Scully's stomach churned in sympathy and she spun away, meeting the eyes that watched them. "Mulder . . . ." She swallowed. Dark eyes moved in his calm, watchful face. A chill snapped up her spine, scraping between her shoulderblades. Stinking, clammy clothes sucked at her flesh. "Mulder. Let her go." Silky eyebrows pulled together. His lips shaped the words with theatrical clarity. "Let her go? But I don't have her, Scully. How can I let her go?" "fucking bastard . . ." Ty's faint, hoarse whisper faded into heavy, loud breaths.. Scully heard fluid splatter in even, small drops behind her. She twitched as if it splashed her. Cleared her throat.. "I don't . . ." The words caught. She started again. "I don't know, Mulder. I don't know how you could have her or how she could hang there. But please, let her go now." "C'mon, Scully," smooth and slick. "That's not enough. 'Science can explain anything. You just have to know how to phrase the question.' So, I'm waiting, Scully." "I don't knnow what you're waiting FOR." Her lips skinned back off her teeth. "'Ask Dr. Science.' You've got a degree in SCI-ENCE, Scully. C'mon, try it. Just for me." He cocked his head. Body balanced a little too forward, hands still at his sides. "Let's hear you do it, Scully. Explain it all." "I need data." She eased her hands around her weapon, forced her finger to relax away from the trigger. "That's why we're here, remember? 'The I in FBI?'" "Oh, that's very cute, Scully. So is it extra-ter-RES-trials holding the lieutenant up there?" His eyes glittered. "Tractor beams maybe? Not very rational. You're making me nervous, Dr. Scully." His foot kicked a little, and metal scraped as his sole tapped his weapon on the floor. "Maybe I need to worry about your powers of reason." She swallowed. Stepped out and away from the wall, the smell of blood and sour sweat. "I don't know, Mulder. Maybe . . . maybe it's magnet fields, I don't know, but I know we have to get her down. Help me. Please." He bent, ratcheting chitinously from the hips. Never looked down but his fingers found the Sig's butt in an instant. "Magnetic fields? Is that what you'll tell them in those oh-so-rational little reports of yours? Or maybe it's . . . what your other pet theory, Dr. Dana?" "I don't what you're talking about. Please put the gun back down, Mulder. You don't need the gun." His sing-song chant kept time to the little steps he took, scuffing through the dust. "Oh, I think I need it. What was it you thought? Hallucinogenic gas?" She edged away from him. "I don't know, Mulder." "Tell me, lieutenant . . ." He turned his head with that even, motion, eyes moving with his head like a doll's. "That the problem? Are you up there with the swamp gas?" "Fuck . . .you . . ." Scully glanced up. What little light shone from the hall gleamed on the sweat that etched Ty's face. Her wheezing breaths paused, then she spat. It was dark and messy on the floor. He grinned. "I ought to make you lick that back up, bitch." "Jesus Christ!" Scully's weapon snapped up, sighted on him before she even knew it. "Jesus Christ, Mulder!" "What's the matter, Scully? You let people spit in your house? Or am I hallucinating that, too?" "Mulder I don't know what's going on or what you're doing but you're sick. You need help. Just put the gun down and . . ." "I don't think so." And she was looking down that deep, black pit of a barrel. Bottomless pit. Hair raised in ticklish ridges on her scalp and her bowels were icy loose in her gut. Her knuckles were almost as white as his teeth. ____________________ December 4, 1995 8:04 PM He could see it in her eyes. She knew. It was in the small line between her brows, the pinched narrowing of blue eyes, the thinning that whitened her lips and set dark lines bracketing them.. In the dark reflection of his own gun in her eyes. And he could feel the air on his teeth. "Mulder, just put it down. You don't need it." Her voice was steady. Flat with control. Her lips moved, perfectly framed by the sights. Hot breath at his ear. - You've looked down her gun before. - His father's voice sent electric tension down his side. "I don't know, Scully. I've needed a gun with you before. I don't like looking down your barrel." "Then talk to me, partner." Scully blinked fast as water rolled from her soaked-dark hair. "Tell me what's happening." The barrel of his gun didn't shake. "How would I know, Scully?" He wanted it to shake, fought to make it shake, squeezed the crosshatched grips between his hands and strained to lift the barrel. Hard, hot hands wrapped around the backs of his, bracing them. Pressure whitened his skin but his eyes told him nothing touched him. "You shouldn't even be standing, Mulder. You should be asleep." Water pooled at her feet, blurring dark where it mingled with blood at the mirror's edge. "Tell her, bastard. Why you awake?" His own face was startle-white in the mirror as he glanced up. Brown eyes, blood shot, looked down through sweat-glittered lashes. Saw his own eyes narrow and his mouth twitch as the lieutenant gasped and droplets pattered to the floor. "Stop it." Three quick steps put Scully in his path. "Don't hurt her anymore." "How could I possibly be hurting her, Scully?" His palms were stippled and sore with the pressure, tendons pale in his wrists but the fingers wrapped over his held his hands still, kept his finger on the trigger. "I don't know." He could see her swallow, the tremor of her shivers ran through her, blurrring the metal she held. He wanted to see his sights shake, craved, wanted, desired to see anything but Scully and he couldn't couldn't couldn't. The gun was hard as truth between his hands. Hard floor under his feet. Mulder wove slightly, weight balanced back as his shoes pushed his feet forward, one after the other. Blinked his eyes. And the ballroom was brilliant. Candlelight's lurid glare, summoned in memory that wasn't his, glowed in redoubled ivory from the mirrors, shone glossy on Ty's brown, wet skin. Caught sparkling in each drop, clear or ruby-wine, that rolled down the glass. It burned in the sodden copper of Scully's hair. He could see his own hands, feel the echo of them down nerves borrowed back from the thief. Tangled threads in his mind and the words in his mouth weren't his, the voice that was his was a lie. "What's the matter, Scully? Don't you trust me?" "I don't know, Mulder." The black circle balanced between her hands steadied. "I don't know, . Do I trust you?" - She never did trust you. - The fingers locked around his tightened. Whisper-clear pressure forced his finger against the trigger. In the mirror his image stood alone, his hands pointed the weapon at Dana Scully, level in front of his body, the tendons ridging their backs with strain. "I want to trust you, Mulder." "And you want me to trust you, hmh? Got my files and my gun, Scully?" Memory kiss of cold and hands on his skin, and an alien scent in the air. "It's so easy to trust me, isn't it Scully?" "Easier to trust you if you didn't have a gun in your hands, partner. I just want you to talk to me, Mulder. Tell me what's happening. What happened to Nicholson? To Janet?" "How would I know, Scully? You said science had all the answers." Treacherous feet shuffled forward, yanking against his control. "If you know how to ask the questions." She took a small step backward. His feet edged forward again, off-balance with the body that did not want to move and he lurched. Saw her flinch back. "If you don't trust me, who do you trust Scully?" "You taught me to trust no one." She shifted her weight back and forth over her feet. He watched her flex her fingers, ease her grip. The fingers over his pushed. Bone ground on bone in his hands and it was pushing his finger in on the trigger as he stood there, watching Scully through the sights. Tension through the little piece of spring-weighted steel. "Get out of here, Scully." She froze, staring at him, and he hated the hope he saw in her face. Felt the ligaments of his finger notch through the channel of bone and the trigger's tension was that tiny bit more against his skin. "Mulder?" Her gun wavered. "Scully, get the hell out of here NOW!" Salt stung his eyes, sweat blur and he felt his hands tremble the tiniest hint as his father's breath panted in his ear and his fathers hands gripped his. - She won't betray us again. I won't let her betray us again. - "Mulder, let me help you." He heard steps he couldn't see, eyes squeezed shut and shoulders taut as he tried not to squeeze. "You stupid bitch . . . !" - Trust me, Fox. Trust me. - "No!" But the fingers pushed and he was so tired. Bruises hot on his hands and bone grinding and he was pushing and . . . "Mulder . . ." Her tentative steps closer and he knew where she was didn't want to know knew . . . ". . . no." Trigger to spring to . . . He could smell her, her sweat warm under the tarn's reek. Almost feel her standing there. The sound of water hitting wood, right in front of him. Tension under his fingerpad. Tension through his wrist and his gut. Tendons burning in his hands and he squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, imagining bone and steel and concrete between his hands. Anything that would not move. "Get out of here . . ." His own voice, thin and strange and forced past the grip on his throat. - Shoot the bitch now! Shoot her before she shoots you! - Stench of amber scotch and aftershave. "no." Broad chest against a twelve year old's reedy frame. Muscles played at his back, past the skin of his arms. "Mulder?" Hands pushed his towards her voice, squeezed down on his own. - You won't miss. - "NO!" _____________ She shook her head slowly, never letting her eyes leave his face. In the mirror behind her he watched his own, stolen lips curve up. "Who do you trust, Scully? Yourself?" He could feel his lips forming the words, feel when the words fell away. Saw his own face crease with effort as his fingers were forced, strain locking the muscles across his shoulders and his finger didn't move. Not yet. The weapon in his hands finally trembled with the effort to pull the trigger and not pull the trigger. "Scully . . ." In reflection, the smile dropped away and his eyes went wide. "Scully, get out of here!" "Mulder?" Her weapon wavered, barrel dropped an inch and his father's voice screamed in his ears, "fool! She'll kill you. She's a spy and a liar!" "No!" But the gun steadied. His own teeth bared, reflecting light that only lived in a memory that wasn't his. _________________ That's it! That's all!... Damn you Goo!... Aarrghhh... someone finish it!!! --SciNut(O'tay!), host EMXC