"The Lake at Gethsemane" (7/12)

He slapped the gun down onto the coffee table and pulled
his hand away.

"No!" Scully heard him exclaim to the room. "No, I won't!
Not while she's alive. Not while there's a chance to save
her."

He buried his head in his hands, still crying.

Scully gasped with relief. /Mulder, you didn't . . .I was
sure you didn't, thank God./ But what *did* happen? Had
he changed his mind a few minutes later?

His head shot out of his hands at the knock. He
hesitated, then got up, reaching over to pick up the gun.
As he quietly moved out of the sitting room, he glanced
at his reflection in the large mirror on the wall.

Scully gasped.

He silently swore.

Mulder was a wreck. His face was heavily flushed, eyes
red-rimmed, cheeks stained with tears. And his eyes -
beneath the sheen of liquid, there was complete gut-
wrenching guilt and pain.

Scully could not believe he'd managed to stop himself
from pulling the trigger. To live with all that . . .
Reading about his feelings was nothing compared to
carrying them around.

He swiped frantically at his face, but it was obvious
there was no way to disguise the fact he'd been crying.
In the reflection, his eyes went back and forth from the
mirror to the door. More knocking. He bit his lip and
edged out into the entryway.

"Who is it?" His voice was croaky.

"Mulder, it's me."

Scully gaped. Her voice! How - ? /Mulder, it's *not* me!
Don't answer -/

But it had already happened. And Mulder carried them both
hastily forward, obviously so desperate to see her that
he was forgetting about the state of his face.

He pulled open the door.

Cancerman. Cancerman stood there smugly, an unlit
cigarette in his mouth. Standing behind him in the dim
light of the hallway was a man with nondescript features.

Their enemy smiled. "I can't believe you of all people
don't have a peephole."

Mulder just stood there. Scully could feel one hand still
on the doorknob, the other holding the gun loosely,
pointing to the floor.

Cancerman took the cigarette casually from his lips.
"Agent Mulder, I understand you wish to make a deal with
me? Do you mind coming to our apartment and discussing
it? Before any of your neighbours decide they want to
make a late night trip to the drugstore, and see us -
regrettably for them."

/Mulder, you didn't . . . DON'T!/

"*Your* apartment?"

"Number 50. Lovely neighbourhood." Cancerman gestured
around the corner.

"We wouldn't know," Mulder replied. "The rest of us
tenants are too busy stepping over assassinated
informants and going insane because of the lovely spiked
water. I wasn't warned the apartment had such a rat
problem."

"Fighting words, but they are delaying time, increasing
our chance of discovery, and not helping Agent Scully."

Mulder stepped wordlessly into the hall, gun-hand still
passive, left hand automatically patting his pocket to
make sure he had his keys.

"You can keep your gun, Fox, but if you use it rashly,
you will lose what you want the most." Cancerman stepped
back and continued up and around the hallway to 50. The
door was unlocked and he opened it, going inside.

Mulder hesitated and followed him through, the
nondescript man behind him. Mulder glanced back to see
the man carefully watching his actions.

Cancerman was going into the living room.

Scully was trying to pick up Mulder's feelings, but
couldn't. She could however, feel Mulder's soul
struggling against hers to try to remove her from this
memory. She held on tenaciously.

The nondescript man refused to move until Mulder preceded
him into the living room.

Equipment. Computer screens. TV screens.

One showing a bird's eye view of the sitting room at no.
42.

Mulder's gaze shot to Cancerman. "How long have you been
watching me?" His voice trembled with anger.

"Oh . . ." The answer was breezy. "Only the last week.
Only when our little ice-alien plan began really moving.
Your partner stumbling across Kritschgau and then
capturing him was unexpected, but it ended up working
wonders. He instigated our contingency plan very well,
better than how we planned to approach you. Now Agent
Scully really will believe the truth is lies. After what
I saw tonight, I decided it was time to make my move." He
lit his cigarette.

"And just what is your move?"

The man smiled and touched a few buttons on a keyboard
under the spy-screen. The image changed to another angle
of Mulder's sitting room. Then another. More tapping. The
camera panned in to one particular fish in his tank.

"I hope that one lasts another two weeks at least. Then
I'll win the bet."

"Are you willing to deal? Is that it? Well, I'm ready, so
just get to it."

More tapping, smoke circling. Mulder's kitchen, bedroom,
bathroom -

"Gee, thanks . . ."

"Well, Fox. You could have just as easily decided to slit
your wrists in the bath to be tidier about things. For
all we knew."

"You've been watching all this time just to see when I
cracked?"

"Tonight would have been the night anyway, after you lost
the body from the ice and were told it was fake. I was
waiting for that. And what Scully told you. But she
didn't tell you everything."

"What do you mean? And why were you waiting for that?"

"So I know you really are willing to bargain. That you
were at your wits end and knew just what was at stake.
And that I have the satisfaction of knowing I've beaten
you." He moved to another screen, a blank one, and hit
play on a VCR.

Some sort of office - a doctor's office.

Scully realised it looked familiar. It was *her* doctor's
office. And there she was, sitting pale and stiff.
Strong. Alone. The date in the top corner - oh no . . .

Mulder's gaze was totally focused on the screen. The
image changed angles and showed a side-on view of Scully
and her doctor.

Doctor Jarinine was looking through an open folder. He
looked up, but Mulder's gaze kept himself and Scully
focused squarely on *her*. The doctor opened his mouth
and the shot changed to a near full-on close up of Dana.

"Dana, I am very sorry . . .but the latest test results
show the tumour has metastasized and the cancer is now in
your lymphatic system."

Mulder let out an agonised moan. For a second his eyes
slammed shut, then came open again, and he watched his
partner on the screen. "No . . ."

Scully watched her own reaction to the news. Her face was
impassive. Then a tremor ran through it. "May I see the
results, please?"

Superwoman. She had no questions to ask. She knew what
was going to happen, what was happening inside her. And
Mulder could not know the thought that echoed over and
over in her head as she studied the sheets. /How am I
going to tell Mulder?/

The screen went blank. She heard Mulder sniffle.

Cancerman's voice was mockingly soft. "Such a trooper. So
wonderfully full of denial. So intent on keeping it all
in and marching through it. She's made our work so easy,
Agent Mulder."

"You can cure her. I know you can. What do I have to do
to ensure it?"

"Become dead. Suicide."

A nod. "If you give me proof you can heal her, and proof
that you *do* heal her, then that will not be a problem."

/Mulder - I'd rather die!/ But it was far too late.

"There's your proof." Cancerman gestured.

Mulder turned to the nondescript man. The stranger spoke.
In Scully's voice. "I have many talents." He smiled
eerily. His smile grew and his whole face and body
rippled and changed.

The Pilot.

Scully gaped. That man. And what she had just witnessed.
Was Mulder hallucinating from stress . . .? No.

"You . . ." Mulder gasped. "You killed Smith . . ."

"I saved your mother." Now the voice was deep and the
Pilot's alone. "And if you miss Smith, how about this?"
He morphed into Jeremiah Smith.

Mulder's groan was half astonishment, half growing
realisation. "You can heal Scully?"

"Certainly." The reply came in Smith's arrogant tone. "To
give you a little more proof, here, cut your hand." He
handed Mulder a knife.

Mulder took it. "What, do you want to make sure I won't
bleed green?" But he cut his palm enough to well up
blood.

Smith reached out and touched his hand, two fingers near
the wound.

Mulder and Scully watched in fascination as the cut uncut
itself, mending before their eyes. In a few seconds you
would never have imagined there had been any damaged skin
at all.

"A cut is one thing. Cancer is another."

"Your mother had a severe stroke but I brought her back.
With the cancer - we engineered and helped perform the
tests on the women; we know the results and that we can
cure it."

"The Kurts said there was no cure."

"The Kurts were kept in the dark about our healing
powers. They are workers, nothing more. Our powers will
work. We will even heal her in stages, enough for her to
think that somehow the treatments worked. The first time
will put her out of immediate danger."

"How will I know for sure?"

Cancerman blew smoke. "We will show the first healing. We
will set up devices at Scully's and her mother's house -
she might go there. And the monitoring equipment in the
doctor's office again. Of course, you will have to be
dead to the world before we cure her."

"You could fake the whole healing - the whole meeting.
Have two morphers play Scully and the doctor and say
exactly what I want to hear. Or do some technical
wizardry."

"Oh no. You know Agent Scully. You would be able to
recognise a fake or generated image with your spooky
intuition. And you will have to trust us to do the rest
of the stages. And I know you are wondering about our
intentions. We will heal her; she is of no use dead.
Especially now she is so convinced your work was all for
nothing. The truth can still be covered. We need you
dead, but if both of you died, it would raise too many
problems. Your followers would cry foul." He smiled. "You
are wondering just how we can pull off something which
will convince Scully of what you have done." He pressed a
button on a console. "Let me enlighten you." He turned.

A man came around the corner of the kitchen doorway,
through into the entryway, into the living room.

Mulder. A perfect replica of Mulder.

END PART SEVEN OF TWELVE


"The Lake at Gethsemane" (8/12)
By Ten, October 1997
E-mail: kristena@ocean.com.au
Disclaimer in Part One

"Uh . . . nice job, but won't Scully get suspicious when
she begins the autopsy and suddenly finds green blood and
the retro-virus? Or is that your plan - to kill her too?"

"This isn't a morpher, Agent Mulder. This is a clone."

"And he's perfectly fine with the company he's been
keeping? You obviously didn't manage to recreate my
personality."

The clone just stared calmly back at him.

Mulder looked at Cancerman. "And he knows what you've got
planned? What you're going to do - what you're going to
get him to do? And he's willing?"

"Completely. Our brainwashing techniques are quite
exceptional. For example, Agent Scully remembers little
about her abduction. Three whole months gone. And with
you, we had to remove what you discovered at Ellen's
Airbase. Clones, however, do not have the memories of
their original - all we can reproduce is the body - so
instead of deleting key aspects, we had a blank canvas to
fill. Enough information planted so he can carry out a
convincing conversation if he were to run into neighbours
when he came into the building, and when he takes his
final journey to your apartment. Hypnosis so we can be
sure of his devotion to our purposes and that he will
carry out our orders to the letter. Or the bullet. After
all, he may not have your memories, but he is still Fox
Mulder and by sheer chance your passionate feelings may
have surfaced at some time and complicated things."

Mulder circled his duplicate. "How did you do it?"

"We've had plenty of time over the past four years to
take samples from you and grow a clone. Slower than the
process to make the Kurts because of their hybrid nature,
but worth the wait. Perfect DNA and bloodwork matching.
To keep Agent Scully happy - or shall we say, convinced -
we recreated the plate and screws in the leg, did some
dental work, and reproduced the scars . . . Every time
you were injured enough to require a healer, we had
always made sure the old scars conveniently faded a bit
more to make our work easier. Early this year when the
clone was developed enough, we injured him in the same
ways, then healed him up to the stage we required."

/So that's why the scars always healed so well - much
better than I expected./

Mulder snorted. "And I just thought I had a great
moisturiser. So you're even responsible for my smooth
skin. Are you responsible for my *DNA* too? You said
you've know my mother since before I was born."

"Our relationship didn't start until after Samantha was
about four."

"If your brainwashing is so good and I've been in your
clutches over the years, why haven't you rewired my mind
to stop pursuing the truth? To think that UFOs are fake?"

"Fox, we had blocked the memory of your sister's
abduction, and for years that held up very well. By the
time you underwent regression hypnosis you were already
an FBI agent with good connections in Congress. You had
been interested in the paranormal for a long time and
gained quite a reputation. Developing a sideline into
extraterrestrials and the X-Files was a logical
progression for you. If we did anything to alter your
blinding beliefs, people would notice. Especially Agent
Scully. She would never accept you calmly giving up your
religion. That would attract to us the wrong sort of
attention. So we decided to be creative and use your
passion against you instead. To our advantage."

"Where is my sister?"

"Sorry, this is a one-wish deal. We're only granting you
one miracle." Cancerman eyed him keenly. "Of course, you
can choose to get your sister back . . ."

"Not at the cost of Scully."

The man chuckled, clearly expecting this answer.

Mulder's voice was tight with fury. "Why should I believe
you'll heal Scully if I do what you say? Apparently
Skinner's been quite your little whipping boy in the same
hope, and it's gone nowhere."

"Oh, Skinner was just an amusing diversion while I waited
you out. He wasn't the one I needed the big sacrifice
from. Now I have your clone to swap you with to avoid any
messy complications and I have you wanting to deal. So
much more satisfying than doing a snatch and replace."

"What about if I had blown my brains out or slit my
wrists? Would've saved you all this explanation."

"We want you alive - but not to the outside world. If you
had slit your wrists we could have got into your
apartment in minutes and healed you. When you were
holding the gun we had your phone number programmed into
our special line there, ready to phone and make you an
offer."

"And if I'd ignored the call?"

"We would have come over. If you had blown your brains
out before we could stop you, we could still make use of
your dead body. And your death. But alive is more
convenient."

"Why do you want me alive?"

"Experiments. Now please be kind enough to remove your
clothing and give it to your stunt double. There are
other clothes for you to wear." He pointed to a pile
which had a hooded sweatshirt on the top. "He has a duty
to perform after we leave. Oh, I suggest you give him
your keys and gun for the job."

Mulder did so. He watched Cancerman bring up the
apartment complex on the TV screen, all floors and angles
and hallways, to study which would be the best way to
leave the building.

"A quiet night. A shame we have to ruin that. And don't
think someone next door might have heard us talking at
your door. No. 44 is on holiday, No. 43 are out, and no.
40 was asleep, rooms away. We checked." He tapped the
screen. "Though the shot will wake him up . . ."

"I didn't want her to - I didn't want her to be the one
to find me. I mean, the body. Not like that. She will
probably have to identify me. Can't you . . .cut the
wrists instead of pulling the trigger? Please?"

/Thinking of me, he's still thinking of me./

"No. This is the way it has to be. And with a gunshot,
someone other than Scully will find you first. If you
slit your wrists, she would stumble in on the scene.
Vanity. A naked face or a naked body." He laughed and
took the gun from Mulder's unresisting hand, passing it
to the clone, who took it without hesitation.



Mulder yanked her out of the memory with a great effort,
but they were still in their nexus.

/Where are you, Mulder?/

<I *am* dead, Scully. The experiments killed me.>

/You said you shot yourself./

<I didn't want you gunning for revenge against these
people. I still don't. Please go on with your life;
that's all I want. That's all I wanted. Please promise me
you will, Dana.>

/You aren't dead. And I'm going to find you./ She leapt
back into his memories and grabbed.



Bright lights glaring down. Masked faces. Operating room?
Scared. Resigned. Needles. Oxygen mask. Black out.

They hadn't wasted any time. He'd barely handed himself
over to Cancerman before the experiments began.

A small cell. White. His body full of drugs. Footsteps
coming. Coming for him again.

Shuffling in a line of walking corpses. An order to halt.
Obedience. Two orderlies/guards arguing over something on
a clipboard. A glance round. An open doorway. A whisper
behind him. Another prisoner: "That leads to a way out!
I've seen it, but been too drugged to try. Let's attack
the guards!"

"No. I promised to stay here. Besides, this isn't a very
subtle test."

More masked faces. Lights. Pain. Blood. Always taking
blood.

Being wheeled down a corridor. So dizzy . . . Lights
going by one by one. Head slowly moving from side to
side. Vision clearing. A giant orderly pushing the
gurney.

A logo on his lapel. An orange circle with lettering -
Sorsha . . .r . . .? A clothing insignia or a company
logo?



Scully woke up on Mulder's sofa. She was clinging to a
cushion, her forehead pressed up against it.

Pounding at the door. "Agent Scully!"

Blinking in the early evening dimness, she hurried to let
Skinner in.

"Agent Scully -" He cut off and stared at her.

/The leather jacket again? Why are people so surprised?
Isn't it customary to wear the skin of the beast you
slew?/ Her mind was automatically on dark thoughts. /But
no, no he is NOT dead!/

The A.D. went to speak.

"Sir, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, Agent Scully."

"Cut your hand."

"What?"

"Enough so I know you're who you are."

He stared, but drew blood. Red blood.

"Okay. You could be a clone, but I'll have to take my
chances. This apartment was checked for surveillance
devices after the death, wasn't it?"

"Yes . . . Agent Scully, what *is* this about?"

"I need another search, even more thorough. And of
apartment 50, though they'd be long gone." /The clone
must have got rid of it all . . . How perfectly they
planned it! Only him coming into Mulder's apartment so
there would be no trace evidence. Cancerman not even
lighting up near it./ "The team you get could be rigged,
but there's no way of knowing. I need you to trust me on
this. I can't tell you what's happening until I know
we're not being overheard here."

He asked anyway. She couldn't blame him. "What is going
on?"

"I know you went to Cancerman to help me, Sir." She
watched him blanch. "Well, so did Mulder. And I need your
help now to save him."



STILL DAY SIXTEEN: late evening

Apartment 50 was empty. It had been under the same lease
of Benjamin Gillington for three years. Gillington was
untraceable. Either it was all a set-up, or the real
Gillington had been snatched when the apartment was
needed. There were no traces of any surveillance devices
in Mulder's apartment. Scully didn't put it past some of
the search team to put a bug or two down just before they
left to find out what she was up to, but there was no
time. She had used Mulder's computer and net access to
get into the FBI database and look up "Sorshar".

Not Sorshar - it was _Sorchan_ Sanatorium. A privately
run hospital in D.C. Scully looked it up in the phone
directory. She sucked in a breath when she found the
correct page. The insignia she saw on the advertisement
was identical to the one in Mulder's memory.

It seemed too easy. Too convenient that the answer could
come from a uniform logo. But why not? The place must be
Consortium-run. They would have to cover by making it
look like a normal private hospital, complete down to
what the employees wore. All the patients would be under
strict security - unlikely anyone would be capable of
breaking out to enlighten the world. And how would the
Consortium know Scully would make the connection through
a nexus in a dream?

/I'm coming, Mulder. You saved me. Let me do the same./
Fortunately Skinner had been too shaken about her
reinstated health, her knowledge of his deal, and her
certainly that Mulder was still alive after making his
own deal, that he had not asked her how she made the
connection with this sanatorium.

Skinner reported in his background check: "Scully - we
have nothing on this place. They'd never allow a search
warrant."

"I don't care what it takes. I'm going in there with or
without backup. After what you did for Cancerman to save
me, Sir, I think this is the least you can do for Mulder.
You're an Assistant Director in the FBI. Forge something!
Haul out a police squad so no one in the FBI tips off the
bad guys. Be creative or illegal - I don't care!" She
made to leave.

"Scully - wait. We just got you back; we can't afford to
lose you again. And if there is a chance that Mulder is
alive . . . Give me ten minutes to make some phone calls.
Then we'll go get him. I promise." He got onto a SWAT
team whose leader he knew well.



DAY SEVENTEEN: approximately 2am

The SWAT team raided the hospital. Scully was in the
first wave, going through an entryway she instinctively
knew was *right*. Somehow closest to him. Her group came
across a security guard/orderly sitting at a desk
overlooking a bank of black and white numbered monitors.
All showing little white cells. Most occupied by ravaged
looking men.

"Where's Mulder?" Scully demanded of the guard, who was
now pressed face down on the floor by her men.

"Who? I don't know! I just work here!"

Scully scanned the monitors anxiously. Her gaze halted at
an empty cell. She knew that room. She knew it, but not
from her own fuzzy abduction memories.

She told the team members to haul the guard to his feet.
Alarms were blaring now. "The man who was in that cell -
where is he?"

"I just watch the cells . . . I don't -"

She seized his head. "If you watch, then you saw where
they took him!"

"Please - they wheeled the guy out about half an hour
ago. Heading for the surgery. That's all I -"

"Surgery? Which surgery? Where?"

"Room 102."

Scully raced off down the corridor. The SWAT team tried
to keep up.

Room 102. Swinging surgical doors. Round windows. Holding
her gun ready, Scully peered through one, the team
fanning out, ready. A second later she burst through.
"Federal Agent! Hands in the air! Get away from him!"

There was a lone, masked doctor. He leapt away from
leaning over a still form on the operating table,
surrounded by machines and trays of equipment. There was
a syringe in one of his raised hands.

The SWAT team covered the doctor as she raced to the
table.

Mulder. She knew it was not a clone. He was lying limp
and still and so very pale. She went over to him and
touched his forehead.

"Mulder?" Her voice trembled. Had she traded one corpse
for another? No - there was a pulse.

She looked up at the doctor and saw the syringe was
empty. "What is that? What did you give him?"

"Poison," the man said calmly, unperturbed by his
predicament. "He's ceasing to breath as we speak."

A shiver went up her spine. A monitor began beeping
urgently. Mulder wasn't breathing properly. Frantically
she looked around for a respirator. Fortunately the room
was well equipped. She found one and began inserting the
intubation tube just before he went into complete
respiratory failure.

"I'm here, Mulder. Hang on. Please hang on," she begged
as she checked the monitors to ensure he was getting the
oxygen.

Scully didn't look at the doctor again until she was
satisfied the respirator was working. Then she turned.
"What have you done to him?"

"You're a doctor, Agent Scully. What does the equipment
tell you?"

He was in a coma.

And one screen had a very familiar image on it. Branched
DNA. Branching as she watched. Only this time it was
labelled "MULDER_FW".

END PART EIGHT OF TWELVE


"The Lake at Gethsemane" (9/12)
By Ten, October 1997
E-mail: kristena@ocean.com.au
Disclaimer in Part One

STILL DAY SEVENTEEN:
Georgetown Hospital.

Mulder was in critical condition. He was now on a
ventilator. If he was taken off it, there was a strong
chance he would not be able to breath for long on his
own.

The doctors could not explain what was causing his
condition. Complete unawareness of self and environment.
No language comprehension. No voluntary responses to
extreme stimuli. No acute injuries, traumatic or non-
traumatic. No degenerative or metabolic disorders.

Scully had them pull her folder for her coma details, but
her own recovery from this state was still a mystery and
a miracle. Did the DNA affect males differently?

There was no implant anywhere on his body. And he was not
sterile - they did a sperm check. Had the Consortium
still harvested him? After all, getting a large amount of
reproductive material from a male did not require a high
amplification radiation procedure. So when he recovered,
he wouldn't get the cancer in a few years time.
Shouldn't.

The solution in the syringe could not be analysed because
it had broken down and no one could work out what it had
been. Perhaps it was poison - as in something to
accelerate the branching DNA. The medicines in the
operating room were labelled in some sort of strange
code.

The sanatorium doctor was gone - Scully was told somehow
he had locked a SWAT member into his own handcuffs. By
the time Scully managed to alert them their handcuffed
team member probably *was* the good doctor/shapeshifter,
he had been released and disappeared.

/Why didn't I sense he was one of them?! He could have
healed Mulder!/ She sighed. /I *did* sense it . . . but I
was so focused on Mulder and the situation . . . And he
wasn't one of the serene ones./

She told Skinner to have all the arrested sanatorium
staff quarantined, and checked under strict caution to
see if they were shapeshifters - a blood test would tell,
as long as the medical staff were suited up to prevent
the toxic reaction, and under security to avoid becoming
victims of the incredible strength these "people"
possessed. If they could find one shapeshifter, they
would find a healer for Mulder. But no luck - when the
team raided, either there were no other morphers in the
building, or they changed into patients or tricked their
way out of arrest.

Skinner had agents going over the records in the
sanatorium - the directors of the institution had
disappeared, and the one official who was found had
blustered about the outrage, but quickly shut up at
charges of kidnapping a federal agent and bad medical
practice. Then he was found dead in his cell.

When Mulder's coffin was exhumed, the clone body was
gone.

Scully ordered guards on the hospital room door and sat
stroking Mulder's forehead. She kept her eyes away from
all the needle tracks on his arms. "We're going to
approach this on several fronts, okay? Medical - we're
going to try some manufactured viruses that make a normal
human gene to combat the DNA. Miracle - I've got Skinner
trying to find us a Jeremiah or contact Cancerman. Yes,
Mulder. I think I believe in those healing aliens. If it
heals you, I'll believe. Or hopefully a Jeremiah will
come *to* us, just like the other times, apparently. But
I can't sit and wait, so there's also the spiritual
approach - I'm going to have a nap now and see if I can
reach you again. Time you left the lake."

Mrs Scully came in. She stopped as if she'd hit a brick
wall, and crossed herself.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Scully said. "You should
have seen him in Alaska just after we got his heart
beating again. He was worse than this. I was the same as
this, and I survived." She turned to Mulder. "Mulder, my
mom's here. She can do the praying for us all."

Scully slept. It was a deep, refreshing sleep, her head
nestled beside his arm on the bed, but she did not, could
not, get back to the forest or the lake. She could not
feel him in her subconscious. Had whatever was in the
syringe affected him so badly that he was out of her
reach now? But she had been in an almost identical
condition, and she had been on the lake, heard her
hospital visitors . . .

She got the Lone Gunmen to print out hard copies of more
journal files for her - she couldn't have a laptop around
all the equipment - and she sat reading and reading until
her eyes were dry and her fingers stained with ink. More
sleep; but she knew she could not get back to the lake.
Long begging talks to Mulder did not seem to help.

She was getting frantic now. No sign of a Jeremiah.
Skinner was drawing blanks in his investigations. While
the folders were clearly labelled by patient name, the
contents were in a strange code. Cancerman had not turned
up to taunt their boss.

Scully asked Skinner to put a call through to Albert
Holsteen, to ask if the Indian elder could possibly come
and perform the Blessing Way ceremony over Mulder again.
They were waiting for a reply.

"Please, Mulder. I've been given my life back, but I
can't live without you. I . . .I read your journals.
There are so many things I never knew, Mulder. So many
things I want to tell you or took for granted."

There was a knock and Mrs Mulder entered the room. Scully
stood up and the two women eyed each other. Then Scully
offered her the chair.

Mrs Mulder came over and looked at her son.

Scully spoke softly. "He will be all right, Mrs Mulder."

"That's not what the doctor told me."

"I am a doctor too. And I know he will be all right."

"You believe in scientific facts, Miss Scully. Not
miracles."

"I believe in miracles. A miracle has happened to me, and
to you. And I believe in him."

Mrs Mulder faced her squarely. "Were you and my son
sexually involved?"

"No. Were you and that cigarette smoking man sexually
involved?" Two could play at this.

"That is none of your business."

"Mulder is completely my business."

"What if I told you he was that man's son? Would you
leave him then?"

"No, I would never leave him. That's why I fought the
cancer. If that man is his father, it wouldn't change how
I feel for him."

"Fox was eight when I became involved with him. For a
brief time. Are you happy now?"

/Samantha was four. Just like Cancerman said to Mulder.
Then it is the truth . . . Unless that's what he told her
to say . . ./

At her silence, Mrs Mulder spoke again. "I came to spend
some time alone with Fox. I understand you are his
Medical Power of Attorney."

"Yes."

"Does he have a living will?"

"He used to, but after my coma . . . and then Alaska . .
. In Alaska he was well below the requirements he'd
designated and the doctors gave up, but I couldn't . . .
I knew he'd get better. And he came back. After that he
revoked the living will and told me I was to use my own
judgement in future. I told him never to end up in that
situation again." She smiled sadly at Mulder. "He trusts
me."

"He's in this coma because of you!" Mrs Mulder snapped.
"Dying. You should tell the doctors to discontinue the
ventilator."

Scully was split between rage and shock. "What? Why?"

The woman looked down at her son, tears glistening in her
eyes. "I talked to the doctors. And I see him here, now.
He's not going to get well. He's better off without you -
you've killed him. And as his mother I refuse to let him
linger on in this state when it isn't natural."

"As his mother? You haven't done anything for years as
his 'mother'! You've done nothing to show you care. I'm
the one who's sat beside him when he's sick or hurt or
recovering or so sad he can't even cry. Even if I'm not
sleeping with him, I'm closer to him than you or anyone
else. We're in each other's blood and hearts and we keep
each other alive. So don't you dare come in here and tell
me it is your right and decision over Fox Mulder's life.
I've seen him when he didn't *have* a heartbeat! It took
two tries to restart his heart that time, and I would
have stuck with it if it had taken a hundred. Mulder is
not dead until *I say* he is. Now either you agree, or
you get out."

"You're willing to put him through all that unnecessary
suffering?"

"Nothing compared to the lies you've told him and the
facts you've hidden from him over all these years. You
can try going to court to get the MPOA revoked, but I
doubt you'll win," she challenged. "Because one thing I
can do well is fight for Mulder. Did your ex-lover make
you come here to do this? At the cemetery, how *did* you
know my cancer was gone, Mrs Mulder?"

Beaten, the woman hurried out the door.



DAY EIGHTEEN:

Scully went over all the information Skinner could find
about the Jeremiahs and the strange Sorchan records and
anything else he thought relevant. He had gone over them
many times himself, but there might be something missed.
Hours and hours and she couldn't come up with any new
avenue to try. The manufactured viruses did not seem to
be doing any good at all. They had been a flimsy avenue
at best.

Still no word from Albert Holsteen. Skinner was sending
an agent to the reservation to find him.

Scully put the files down and spoke to her partner. "I'll
get rid of the tattoo, Mulder. Laser, easy. So when we do
come together, it will be just us. No cancer snake or
visual reminders. No misunderstandings or guilt. I'll
hold you for as long as you want. As much as you want. I
always wanted to. I'll soothe you to sleep every night -
I have other Scully-soothe methods I'm quite willing to
patent under our names." She grinned. "Though they may
not make us very sleepy!"

She even began considering having the ventilator removed.
She herself had come back to the land of the living on no
more than an oxygen cannula. And Mulder's words. And
apparently alien intervention . . . But if the latter was
true, where were they? No, she didn't dare remove the
ventilator without them. It was not breathing 100% for
him, but it was currently doing most of the work.

Should she go to Mrs Mulder and demand she contact
Cancerman, to get a healer? How much did she know about
Scully's recovery and her own? If she knew of the
healers, why wasn't she pleading with her ex-lover for
her son's life instead of giving up?

A nurse came in. Scully gave her a brief glance, saw it
was one of the regulars, then turned back to her
partner's still face. Then she felt . . .

She looked up at the large, dark-haired woman who went
around to stand at the other side of Mulder's bed. The
nurse met her gaze and smiled. "Hello, Dana."

Scully stood up. "You're one of them; I can sense it . .
."

The nurse morphed into a smaller, plumper shape.

"Nurse Owens."

END PART NINE OF TWELVE



"The Lake at Gethsemane" (10/12)
By Ten, October 1997
E-mail: kristena@ocean.com.au
Disclaimer in Part One

"It is good to see you again, Dana. You only remember me
from your coma, but there were other times through the
years."

There was no denying what she had just witnessed. What
she felt. And she certainly did not want to deny it.
/There *are* aliens. Mulder - there are aliens! The
Consortium must still be behind a lot, but Kritschgau
lied./ A bubble of hope formed in the cavity where her
heart had been. Scully knew this woman - this being - was
not here to harm. "Please save him for me."

Nurse Owens looked at Mulder hesitantly. "It is not that
simple."

"Why not? You've done it before! Please - what do you
want? I'll give it to you!"

"You do not understand. I came to check and explain. Just
wait a moment." She rubbed her hands together, face
concentrating, then placed one hand palm down on Mulder's
forehead. After a pause, she removed it.

Scully hopefully watched his face, but nothing stirred.

"It is as we thought." Nurse Owens sighed. "I cannot
bring him back. Let me explain. Mulder's spirit has given
up; only his body is tethering him to life at this
moment. When he was taken for the experiments, he
withdrew in his mind to cope. He could not kill himself
because he was afraid they would not cure you; and when
they did cure you he was still afraid they would hurt
you. He hoped the experiments would kill him, and in a
way, they have. By taking himself so far into his mind,
he could protect you and let Them use him for their
experiments - but he has gone so far now that with the
drugs and what they have done to him, he does not know he
has been rescued. He does not know he is safe. He does
not want to come back."

"But how can that affect your healing him?"

"The soul must want to come back for the body to heal.
All the other times, he has wanted to come back, for you
and for his sister. You wanted to come back when you were
in your coma - I had been ordered to heal you gradually,
but after Mulder spoke to you, you were so ready to come
back to him, you absorbed more of my power than I
intended and so your healing looked like a miracle. In a
way it was; I had never seen such dedication. That is why
your recovery was so rapid. Though I had to leave enough
of the DNA and effects of the radiation to give you the
cancer later on, so you and Mulder could be manipulated
as required. It has happened other times too, with me and
some of the others, when we heal Mulder or you. Your
determination and strength takes us by surprise."

Scully blinked. "So that's how Mulder could walk around
so quickly after getting shot in the femoral artery. I
expected him to have months of desk work, but he just . .
. bounced back. And the scar wasn't half as bad as it
could have been . . ."

"Us again."

"Hang on - you said the soul has to want to come back, to
live. *I* didn't want to live two and a half weeks ago
when one of you came to me as my father. So how . . .?"

"We tricked you. We made you believe you were accepting
death by absorbing the warmth, but really in doing so you
were being healed. That was another time it was supposed
to be gradual . . . And seeing as you seem more disposed
to believe miracles, we came as your father's ghost."
Nurse Owens studied her. "We restored your ability to
have children too. Your partner insisted on it. You still
had eggs, but they were infertile after the treatment. We
corrected that. You never checked if you were barren
after you woke from your coma."

"I was too scared . . ." She swallowed and whispered. "I
didn't want to face the fact that's what they took me
for, even though I knew it wouldn't have been for
anything else . . ." Her mind went back over what Mulder
had told her about the fertility clinic. He'd been
reluctant, however decided the information could be vital
to help them both search for a cure, and he couldn't
afford not to mention it to her if it would affect her
treatment. The concept of cloning was hard for her to
accept when he explained. He reshowed her the photo of
all the eight year old Samanthas and the identical boys
working on a farm. Said how science was cloning animals -
why couldn't the government be lying about how far their
experiments had progressed? And then he produced the vial
with her now-dead ova. His hand and voice shaking.

Scully stroked her partner's hand, wishing it would shake
now. /But those Kurts - they are not really my sons. They
were not using my DNA, just the egg as a carrier for
their genetic material. Their DNA, whoever that poor boy
was they used as the template, was already established,
they didn't need mine. I hate whoever took me for doing
it, but at least they didn't make a real baby from it. I
couldn't cope if - / She refocussed. She didn't matter
now. "Mrs Mulder's recovery?"

"She did want to come back. You saw the photographs of
her and Cancerman - as you say - at the Mulder summer
house? Just after they were taken, he told her Samantha
is alive and if she did as she was told, she would get to
see her. Then Mrs Mulder collapsed in the house. But she
held on because she wanted to see her daughter."

"Did she get to?"

"I do not think so. He has been 'stringing her out' as
you say. Getting her to stay quiet when your partner
comes seeking information. She did think he was dead -
dead as a price for curing you. And when you rescued him
Cancerman knew our opinion of his condition. He told her
Mulder can't be healed by us like we saved her. She
begged, but even if he could indulge her, now is the
perfect time to have Mulder dead and ensure he will not
be turned into a martyr, seeing as the ice-alien is a
fake."

"Then why are you here if they don't want him alive?"

"Sometimes the ideals of my race conflict with those of
the men who help us. We still believe you and Mulder are
of more use alive," she said simply. "However it seems I
can do nothing here."

Dana was getting desperate. "There must be some way to
help Mulder."

"I can sense the spiritual world he is in, the one you
were in. He is there in darkness. I cannot go there. You
were there in daylight; you wanted to live."

"No, wait - in his journals . . . New Mexico. He
described a near death experience. He was floating in
blackness, a sky of stars. He saw his father and Deep
Throat. That was in darkness and so was the dream I had
of him at the time."

"Mulder had to go temporarily into another spiritual
stage to talk to those two men. Just like you went into a
different one when your father talked to you. Not the
lake. In those other stages dark or light does not
matter. The spirits which reside there are dead."

"I'll go in again and convince him to live. If I can
bring him back into his mind, or into the light, can you
heal him?"

"I should be able to; yes."

Scully suddenly laughed. "So all those times I thought I
was finding a great revolutionary medical way of saving
him from a retro-virus or rapid aging, it was all you lot
. . ."

"No. Often you kept him and yourself alive until we could
reach you. We are not positioned in every town or remote
research station you go to. And often your methods would
have worked perfectly on their own; they just would have
taken a lot longer."

"Why save us? Just what do we mean to your people -
whatever? To Cancerman?"

"The Government did not create Mulder, but they do try to
manipulate him, to use his passion against him and for
their advantage. He is the enemy, but an enemy they know
and can try controlling. He is a convenient way of
uncovering information, then it can be simply taken from
him. He tests security at bases and UFO crash sites. The
two times he was exposed to green blood - once hybrid
human/alien, once pure alien - he survived. The first
time he did not require our healing; the second, you kept
him alive until we got there - that one was a gradual
healing. But the government wanted to observe him to see
if his body had created any antigens which could be
potentially used against us aliens."

Dana stared down at her partner, mind racing as the alien
continued. "And with the black cancer, it was an
opportunity to find out just what vaccine the Russians
had invented. Mulder was a convenient lab rat. To them he
could be a walking biological weapon. The Government
might even have been keeping him alive to use against us,
not for us. A faction of our own people are even working
with them on this. That was why they were eager to
finally have him completely in their power for thorough
experiments. But from reading him, from touching him, I
can sense his body chemistry is not a threat. So my race
will let me heal him. And we do admire his strength and
spirit, the dedication of both of you - we hold such
characteristics in high regard. That is why sometimes we
go against the plans of your Government for you and
Mulder."

Scully wanted to scream at her. How could she stay so
calm when there was so much at stake? "I have to get
through to him."

"I do not know how you can." Owens concentrated over him
again. "He is degenerating. You need to try this as soon
as possible, otherwise it will be harder to get him back.
All this equipment and machinery might block my chance of
connection - it did not with his mother, but this is a
more delicate case. Remove the ventilator and bring him
back enough before he dies. Then I can take over."

/How to reach him though? I need a bridge, enough of a
connection to get back into the forest or to the lake. If
only Albert would come! Wait . . .what about . . .?/



Scully heard a nervous voice talking to the armed agents
outside the hospital room. "I'm Dr. Mark Pomerantz,
Psychotherapist. Agent Scully phoned and asked me to come
immediately."

The door opened a few moments later, and the man she had
not seen in two years entered the room, tucking an ID
card back into his pocket. That horrible post-New Mexico
time, but before Missy was killed.

Scully got up and shook his hand. "Thank you for coming
so quickly, Dr. Pomerantz. This means a lot to me."

She watched the Doctor's gaze fall on Mulder. He seemed
very curious. "I must admit, I'm still not sure exactly
what you want me to do."

"A variation on your regression hypnosis. I need to get
back to a place I saw in a near-death experience, and
which I've also been recently in . . . well, dreams . . .
I guess you could call them. It is a spiritual state of
existence." She described the lake from her coma and how
the lake of Mulder's mind was different. She told him
everything she thought would be useful. "I need to go to
the dark star-lake again. I think if I'm put into a
trance it will be enough of a bridge for me to find him.
I need to try."

She saw the bemused expression on his face. "Don't worry,
Dr. This time I won't panic and run. But don't startle me
into ending it once I'm in there. Now I just have to
organise a few people and removal of some of this
equipment, and we can begin."

"Uh . . .shouldn't we have a test run first, to see if we
can access that memory?"

"Time is running out. If it doesn't work the first time,
it won't work at all." She briefly wondered if Melissa
was watching over this, smiling that her little sister
was finally opening up. /Missy, if you can hear me, help
me find him. Guide me through the darkness to him./



Breathing. Breathing for herself and Mulder. Her eyes
were closed. The doctor's voice was washing over her.
There was no hiss of the ventilator. It was gone. Mulder
just had the heart monitor and an oxygen cannula now. His
breathing was not strong. It could cease at any time.

Nurse Owens was in the room. So were Skinner and Mrs
Scully. Mrs Mulder had not wanted to be present.

Breathing. Reaching out with her mind, searching for the
lake as the voice told her.

Time. How much time had passed? How much time had *not*
passed?

No sense of anything.

//Seek the lake.// Was that Pomerantz or . . . Missy? She
could not tell. The voice directed her when she was lost
in a maze of darkness and depth of the unknown. Her mind
focused and she knew the way, using her dreams and own
ability, building the bridge between herself and Mulder.

He was there. She could just sense him. Blackness to
thick grey mist. Thick grey mist to thinning white mist.
Mist to forest, forest to lake. Lake still in darkness,
glittering with stars.

She stood on the dock. Mulder was sitting in the rowboat.
It was sinking.

END PART TEN OF TWELVE



"The Lake at Gethsemane" (11/12)
By Ten, Posted October 1997
E-mail: kristena@ocean.com.au
Disclaimer in Part One

She went out onto the water. Her strength and
determination kept her from being sucked down into it.
She approached the boat. Mulder's eyes were closed, head
slumped against his chest. His hands were neatly folded
in his lap. The water was coming in over the sides of the
boat.

/Mulder? Mulder, can you hear me?/

Nothing.

The water sucked at her insistently as she reached the
boat. But she pushed back at it in her mind and kept
herself buoyed. She stepped into the craft and sat down
in front of him. She took his cold, unresisting hands and
held them, sliding forward to take his face in his hands
and hers, to raise his head.

She pressed their foreheads together. /Mulder, I'm here
to take you back home. You're safe, Mulder. I rescued you
from the sanatorium. You're in Georgetown Hospital. Nurse
Owens can heal you, but you have to come out into the
light first. Can you hear me? Can you understand?/

No movement. No flicker of feeling or recognition. She
tried to press into his mind, but found emptiness.
Desperately she searched. Had he stopped breathing in the
real world? There must be some tiny piece of him left . .
.

There. A tiny grain of Mulder. She sent her soul out to
gather the grain, to cup it in her protection.

/Come back with me, Mulder./

She could faintly sense him as she nursed the speck.
Scully tried to make it unfold and grow, and for a second
she felt it respond, but then resist.

/Mulder, I know it's hard. I know there's pain and you're
scared for me and you think it would solve everything to
give up, but I can't let you do that. I love you and I
need you. And you were right - there *are* aliens! I've
seen them. *Please*, Mulder./ She wanted to convince him
with her words, but there was no time. She thought she
had a quicker way. /Now I'm going to share something with
you - what I feel without you./

She opened the shuttered sections of her soul which she
had rarely let him see, or rarely let herself wallow in.
Her guilt, her sorrow, her agony, her loss, her
devastation . . .

All for him.

Not over her cancer or her sister or her abduction or
missed opportunities.

The other things could not compare to this black hole in
her psyche.

She heard him groan, incredulous.

/And Mulder, this is what I feel *for* you./

She let down an even stronger wall and poured all her
love for her partner into that tiny grain.

There was a gasp, and hesitation. Then the grain unfurled
slightly. Slowly.

/Yes, Mulder. Come back to me. I can't live without you.
Otherwise I might as well still have the cancer. I love
you. No one else could ever mean this much to me./ She
kept filling him with her love, encouraging.

<Scully?>

/Yes. I'm here./

He was growing. Shakily, uncertainly. Reaching out for
her love and opening up his own.

The passion she felt from his journals was nothing
compared to this. Their love radiated through them.

Their foreheads were still pressing together, then their
lips. Scully knew they were sitting in the boat, but her
eyes were closed. She could sense the boat was still
dangerous, going under. Keeping up the kiss, she rose,
gently pulling him up. He came willingly.

She broke the kiss. Holding him, her hands still entwined
with his on his face, she led him over the side of the
boat onto the water. His gaze was fixed on hers. Her eyes
did not leave his as she walked backwards in the
direction of the dock. There was life in those eyes; it
was not star-shine.

Was the world around them changing? It seemed to be
getting brighter. She hoped so, but didn't dare look. All
her attention and feelings were entirely focused.

Another step and another and another -

Suddenly something hit her hard against the back of her
legs and she fell, pulling Mulder with her. They landed
on the dock.



With a start, Scully woke up. Her head lifted slightly,
then halted. Her face had been half-pressed against a
pillow. Hospital issue. The other half of her face was
warm from being pressed against Mulder's face. Their skin
was still almost touching and she could feel where the
oxygen cannula had left an impression.

"Mulder?" She raised her head. Was she in time?

His eyes were still closed. No response. The heart
monitor was still beeping. Faintly. But he barely seemed
to be breathing.

"Mulder?" She could sense Nurse Owens coming around the
other side of the bed, and wondered if she had brought
Mulder back far enough for the alien to heal him. In a
way she had wished - hoped - she could bring him back all
by herself. Through her love and his.

Before Nurse Owens could reach out with her hand, Mulder
took a large breath. Nurse Owens halted. The heart beeps
grew stronger.

Scully leaned down closely, vaguely hearing a few gasps
from the others in the room. "Mulder?"

His eyes opened. They did not have far to search, and
though sleepy, they glowed the second they found her. He
smiled up and tried to speak. He couldn't, but it didn't
matter.

Her answering smile would have melted a glacier. "My
life, my universe, my everything," she whispered, nearly
choking on tears of joy. She touched his cheek, spreading
her fingers out, and he managed to move his head slightly
to press up against her hand.

"Forty-two . . .back at you . . ." he managed with a
croak, grinning madly.

"That is such a guy thing to say," she scolded gently,
stroking his forehead, hair, lips. Her world was restored
with the sight of those hazel eyes.

He managed to kiss her fingertips. He swallowed, trying
to draw moisture into his mouth. "Then how . . .about . .
.I love you?"

Scully bent down the few inches more to kiss him. She
knew she should be getting him some water, asking Owens
if he was healed enough, dealing with the other people in
the room, but she did not care. She did not care who saw
her kiss him, or about anything else but her need.

The kiss on the lake had been wonderfully spiritual. This
kiss did have that too, but was wonderfully physical as
well. Even though Mulder was tired, no one could have
told that from his input. She let his tongue into her
mouth and responded in kind. When they parted lips, but
not hold, he needed to take a good inhale on the cannula.

For a second his shortness of breath scared her, then she
realised he'd just become overexcited at kissing her.
Scully blushed. "Sorry, Mulder. Should've had an oxygen
mask on standby . . .

"Scully, may you always make me short of breath . . ."

They were both back. More complete than ever. Knowing
exactly what they felt for each other.

A hand came down and lay over Mulder's forehead. Nurse
Owens. Mulder stared up at her in surprise, then his eyes
closed as the healer concentrated. She removed her hand.
She smiled at Scully. "He needs to sleep now. I just gave
him more strength, but you did all the hard work. The
both of you. I think this one could really be called a
miracle. I have never felt such a bond between two people
before."

"Thank you." Dana looked over at Mrs Scully, Skinner and
Dr. Pomerantz, who were cautiously approaching the bed
with expressions of varying degrees of amazement.

Scully spoke to Skinner. "Sir, could you go have Mulder's
doctor paged, please? I think he'll want to check him
out." She smiled widely at them all. "But he's fine. He's
really fine."

Maggie ran a hand through the sleeping Mulder's hair.
"Thank you, God." She smiled. "I've heard about faith
healers, but . . ." She looked up to talk to Nurse Owens,
but she had slipped from the room when Skinner left.

Scully noticed too, and smiled. It was best that her
mother thought the alien was some sort of faith healer
for her own safety.

Maggie hugged her. "And you're fine now too, aren't you,
dear?"

Scully could only nod, holding her partner's hand.

She looked out the window and saw it was night-time.
There were stars in the sky. They were back in their
proper place. So was she. Now she could appreciate it.
After all that had happened, at last she was alive again.



DAY NINETEEN: Mid-afternoon

Dana was exhausted, but determined to sit with him, even
over Maggie and Skinner's offers. She wanted to be able
to just watch *him*, the simple joy of him asleep and
alive, and breathing in and out on his own, free of
monitoring equipment. Maggie brought in magazines for
her, but they lay virtually untouched.

Skinner had plenty to do organising analysis of the
sanatorium documents - which were still resisting
decryption. But they were hard evidence, so his team was
keeping at it.

Albert Holsteen and his family had been away on holiday
when they were tracked down, and Albert sent his
blessings.

Scully was almost asleep upright when Mulder's eyes
opened.

"Hey . . ."

She could not remember even their victory in Alaska being
this sweet. "Hey, back." She touched his face. "How do
you feel?"

"I'm fine." He grinned when he realised what he said.
"No, I really mean it." He stretched under the sheets
with a blissful expression. "Amazing what the love of a
good woman can do."

/So he does remember the lake. He knows it wasn't a
dream./

He reached for her hands. "Scully . . .Dana . . . You are
cured, aren't you? The cancer is gone?"

"Yes. Yes, it is completely gone, thanks to you."

His face went from pure joy to worry in a second. "But
the Consortium . . .I broke the deal. What will they do
to you now?"

She delayed the answer by giving him some water to sip.
"Whatever they do is not to you or to me, it is to *us*.
I have you back. Let them try their worst. Look, Mulder -
we can't live in fear of what they will do. They may do
nothing. Nurse Owens told Skinner she'd make sure we were
left in peace for a while. We'll keep an eye out, but I
for one am going to not worry - I'm going to enjoy having
you back. Using my second chance instead of going back to
normal, which was denying what I felt for you."

"Scully . . . Are you sure you want to stay with me.
After all they've done to us? After all *I've* done to
us?"

"You know how I feel for you and you still ask? I'm not
going to shut this away behind a wall again, Mulder. What
about you?"

He stroked her cheek. "I'm not exactly a responsible
boyfriend. Though I think . . .I *know* . . .that I'm
going to love being able to show you how much I love you.
When can I get out of here? And how long since the night
the clone shot itself?"

"Nineteen days." She could feel every individual one as
if they were ten years each. But one look at him
lightened the burden.

"That long? That means there would have been . . .was it
a good funeral service?" His cheeky grin faded when she
didn't match it. "I'm sorry - I'm too curious for the
good of those around me. But you must admit, it's not
often a person gets to ask."

He did have a point. She nodded, unable to stop watching
him, appreciating and remembering and glorying in every
little detail of his face and body. "I'll show you the
poems that were read out. The one I read . . . Skinner
gave a nice eulogy, what I heard of it at least. Oh - I'd
better do something about that grave next to yours I've
got the paperwork on -" It came out before she realised.

"What?"

"Nothing - I, um, wanted to be buried with you or as
close to you as I could, because I didn't know if your
mom would let me."

He just stared at her.

"And you'll have to get a lot of your stuff back from the
Gunmen and I sent most your clothes to the charity shops
. . . I stayed at your apartment for days packing it up -
and . . .and I found your journals. The disk box. I'm
sorry, Mulder, but they were all I thought I had left of
you and I thought you'd killed yourself because of me and
I had to read them and know before I joined you -" The
faster she spoke, the quicker her tears fell.

He threw the sheets aside and swung his legs out so he
was sitting on the edge of the bed. He pulled her to him,
making soothing noises. "It's okay. Shhhhh. I understand.
I'm not angry. There was so much in there I wanted to
tell you - and some things I wish you'd never seen . .
.but it's okay, Dana."

"I'm sorry - I'm so sorry that we fought in the
warehouse. Every word I said has haunted me -"

"It's okay. We were both scared and too much had happened
too fast."

They held for a long time before she gently stepped out
of his arms. "The doctors ran tests and you are fine. You
just need rest, which you can get at home. Yours or mine.
Probably mine because there isn't much of yours left. The
doctor said you can go home when you are ready. I got Mom
to get you some clothes."

"I'm ready! Wait - your mom had to go through my boxers?
That might skew the lovable image she has of me."

"I'd already given most of your clothes away; she had to
go buy what we didn't have. You weren't a match for
anything my brothers left at Mom's. Underwear-wise, I
gave her strict instructions for a set of cotton boxers
in ordinary colours, and she came back with a set of silk
'Star Wars' ones, an empty purse and a big grin! I can't
let that woman go anywhere . . ."

"Um, how did she know the size?" He looked very
intrigued.

"Mulder, I've stripped you often enough when you're sick
or injured to know - um, I mean, when I was packing them
up, I couldn't help noticing the label." She gave him a
Don't Push Me glare, remembering how embarrassing it had
been asking her mother to run the errand, and hastily
changed the subject. "Now, I'll get the doctor -"

But with supernatural timing, just then there was a knock
on the door and the doctor entered. "Ah, he's awake." Dr
Leon's association with the agents went way back. He
shook his head at his patient, very amused. "We've had to
get an entire filing cabinet just to house your medical
file, Agent Mulder. Now let's make sure you're fine and
ship you out so you can come back like a homing pigeon."

"Oh Leon, you wound me."

The doctor shrugged fatalistically. "If you love someone,
set them free. If they return, they are yours. If they
don't then they never were. You just keep coming back to
me . . ." He dramatically thumped his heart with the
medical charts and sighed mournfully.

He soon gave Mulder the all clear. Scully noticed Dr Leon
notice them holding hands. His mouth quirked up. She knew
he was surprised at such visible display of affection
between them at this stage, when Mulder was safe. And
with someone else present.

"I'll send Debbie in with the discharge papers. Unless of
course the two of you want to redecorate the room and
begin paying rent. A cosy little love nest . . ." He
hurried out the door as Mulder and Scully tried to
simultaneously throw a pillow.



The paperwork was taken care of. As the nurse left with
the forms, Scully stood and grabbed her jacket off the
back of the chair, putting it on as she spoke. "Now I am
going to call a taxi and get the transportation orderly.
No arguments. Get dressed."

He didn't reply and she was relieved to have won. Then
she saw he was staring at her with an odd yet familiar
expression. "What's wrong? Are you feeling sick?"

"No. Uh, no . . . It's okay." He looked puzzled.

"Right, then I'll be back in a few minutes. I'll draw the
curtains if you want." She went to pull the screening
material around as he sat up. Then she realised where she
had seen that look at the same time she noticed her
leather-encased arm. The look everyone had the first time
they saw her in Mulder's jacket. She thought of the
garment as her own now, and hadn't considered . . . just
automatically reached for it.

Bright red, she turned to face him. "Um . . ." She
gestured at the jacket. "I, um, started wearing this a
few days after the will was read. It made me feel close
to you. Ah, you can have it back now, you must want to
wear it -" She was babbling and pulling at it.

"Don't!" he responded, standing up now. He reached out
for her and tucked the jacket back around her and admired
her in it. Then he drew her against him, murmuring in her
ear. "Looks much sexier on you than me."

"I think, Mulder, *I* will look very sexy on you."

Both their grins grew very broad.

"Scully, there's so much I want to ask you, to tell you-"

"Not now; let's just get out of here. There will be time
to talk later."

"Take me home, red."

"Not until you put on the Stormtrooper boxers. And a bit
more!"

Mulder was dressed when the transportation orderly came
in trundling a wheelchair.

"Hi guys."

"Hi, Mike." Scully smiled.

Mulder gave him a "Hi," and the wheelchair a pout. The
pout nearly caused Scully's knees to go liquid on her.
God, she had missed that expression. He was back.

The jocular blonde grinned at them. "Soooo, do you want
me to duck out and get a coffee while you two argue about
the wheelchair, or has Mulder finally worked out it's
regulation?"

"I don't need it." Mulder sounded like a four year old,
and by his expression, he was quite aware of the fact,
but determined to act out their normal discharge scene.

"Come on," Mike coaxed. "I made sure I got Speedy for you
- your favourite. You can put a glow-in-the-dark UFO
sticker on the frame if you want."

"Mmmmm, I don't know . . ."

Scully was enjoying the banter, but she wanted to take
Mulder home. "Remember when we had this argument after my
coma? What did you tell me then?"

"Either you got in the wheelchair or I would carry you."

"And what happened?"

"Well, I was really hoping you'd be stubborn and I could
carry you, but you saw sense and got in the chair. Your
mother was laughing. And I'll be laughing in a minute
because I can't wait to see you try to carry me!"

"I carried you back to life, Mulder. Don't think I
couldn't do this too. Now get that Stormtroopered behind
into the chair."

Mike chuckled. "Sounds like there's a story in that
sentence."

Mulder obeyed, having put up enough of an argument to
satisfy all involved. As they moved out the door, Mulder
reached for her hand and Scully hesitated. She knew they
were about to encounter a lot of people who would notice.
People who knew them or were strangers. Anyone spying on
them would see. They would be out in the world again.

For all she did feel for him and was willing to show him,
for all that had happened, could she let herself show it
so boldly *out there*?

His hand wrapped around hers before he noticed the lack
of response, and her uncertainty. She saw a whirlpool of
emotions on his face, then a look that seemed to say
"Oh." He squeezed her hand then let go. His hands went to
rest on his knees and he started taking great interest in
passing signs.

END PART ELEVEN OF TWELVE

"The Lake of Gethsemane" (12/12)
by Ten, October 1997
E-mail: kristena@ocean.com.au
Disclaimer in Part One

/No. I can't box this up again. I don't want to. But it
is a big step./ She took his hand and held it firmly.
"I'd sit in your lap, Mulder, but I'm sure there's a
regulation against it."

"I could look the other way," Mike said helpfully.

"Yeah, and wheel us right into a wall!" Mulder pointed
out, grinning, but his eyes were not on Mike, and he
wouldn't have noticed if the orderly had done so.

"A bang for your buck. Or the taxpayers."



They didn't let go their hold right through the hospital.
Or in the taxi. It felt perfect. Scully couldn't get
enough of looking at him now. She wondered when this
needy feeling would fade. Perhaps it hadn't really sunk
in that she was cured and that he was really back for
good.

Mulder was looking everywhere - he was finally out in the
hustle and bustle again. Free. But his gaze kept
returning to her, and his eyes were dark magnets.

He let out a big sign of contentment when they entered
Scully's apartment. They stood staring at each other for
a few minutes, smiling gently.

"You're tired," he said quietly.

"You must be too."

"No, actually, I'm more hungry than tired."

She pulled a face at the thought of food. She was so
sleepy.

"Hey," he said gently, "How about you get ready for bed
and I'll come and tuck you in, then I'll channel surf and
eat while you get some rest?"

"Okay, that sounds great." It didn't really. There was
something wrong with the plan, but she couldn't put her
finger on it.

Scully changed into her pyjamas. Mulder came in and true
to his word, he tucked her in. He looked so sweet as he
knelt down beside the bed and stroked her hair, kissing
her forehead, then her lips briefly. "Go to sleep, Dana.
I'll be here until you do, then I'll just be in the next
room."

She nodded and closed her eyes as he kept stroking her
hair and murmuring words that did not need to be
comprehended. Lulling her into peaceful slumber -

Her eyes popped open and she half-sat up, her hand going
to her neck.

Mulder leapt back, nearly ending up sitting on the floor.
"What is it? What's wrong?"

She gave a shaky laugh. "Sorry. My cross - I just
remembered. Ah, it's in the jewel box on the dresser."
She pointed. "Can you get it for me, please?"

"Oh . . ." He appeared relieved as he obeyed, but as he
came back with the necklace dangling in his long fingers,
he was puzzled. "You *always* wear this, especially when
. . . when you had the cancer. Why weren't you now?"

"When I led the raid at the sanatorium, I was in riot
gear, all jewellery had to be removed beforehand. Then we
found you there and I went with you straight to the
hospital and I've been there ever since. I forgot to ask
Mom to get it for me." The lies slid easily off her lips.
/Dana! Habit *is* hard to break./

"Oh. Right." He nodded. "Here, you hold your hair out of
the way and I'll put it back on."

The cool links settled once again across her skin, this
time joined by his soft fingers.

She whispered, "I so much wanted you to do this when I
got out of the coma and you came to see me - when you
gave it back to me."

He was astonished and suddenly near tears. He avoided her
gaze as she turned.

"I know you wanted to," she pressed. "I read it. You
wanted to hold me, but you came and went in a second. And
you were the one I most wanted to see."

"I did want to hold you, to stay, but I was so close to
breaking down, I just had to . . . and your Mom and
Melissa were there . . . I had to get out before I lost
it, big time . . ." His voice was barely audible.

She fingered the cross. "I never wear this when you die,"
she blurted out.

"What?"

She knew his truths from his journals; it was time she
reciprocated. "I stopped wearing it after I lost you in
New Mexico, and the same after I got the autopsy results
this time."

"Why?"

"Without you there was no faith. If you were dead, my
faith had betrayed me."

He tried to speak, but nothing came out. He held her
instead.

Scully realised the other missing part of the plan.
"Mulder, would you come and lie down and hold me? I want
to be in your arms, in bed." She felt scared to be so
needy, but she wanted it so much and from his expression
she was giving him a great gift. Superwoman could take a
long hike. Hopefully an eternal one.

"Even though it means ruining that great job I did of
tucking you in, I'd be honoured."



They woke up around midnight, both needing food and
bathroom breaks. Afterwards Scully went out into the
sitting room to close the curtains, but stopped and
stood, gazing out.

"Is someone out there?" Mulder's voice was low and
urgent.

"No. Well, I can't see any spies. But someone, something,
is out there. Up there." She pointed to the stars and
smiled at him.

Mulder came up and put his arms around her waist. "You
really think that now? I wasn't sure if I'd hallucinated
that bit. Or whether you'd come up with a logical theory
about it all."

"I, Dana Katherine Scully, now solemnly believe in alien
life forms."

"I always found you sexy, Scully, but do you have any
idea how much more sexier that announcement has made
you?"

"I don't know. I'll have to gather the facts and come to
a logical conclusion."

The kiss he gave her as evidence turned logic inside out,
as well as every nerve her body possessed. They went back
to bed, but apart from more kissing and holding, did not
go any further. Both wanted to, but they had just found
each other again and there was so much to go over first.
For now, there was sleep in each other's arms.



DAY TWENTY: Morning

Scully drifted near to consciousness. She felt *so* good,
so complete. They had made love. And "love" was the only
way she could describe it.

Then why was a horrible bereft feeling creeping over her?

She couldn't feel him spooned against her. She woke up
with an awful jolt and turned over, hands seeking
desperately. Mulder was not in the bed.

Had it been a dream? Had she not found him at all?

Or had the final consummation proven too much for him to
face this morning? Had it been all he was after?

She couldn't breathe. "*Mulder?!*" It was a desperate
wail.

The bathroom door was flung open. "Dana - what's wrong?"

She reached out for him desperately, scrambling over the
mattress even though he was hurrying to her side. Her hug
nearly pulled him into her very bones.

He rocked her, his voice frantic, "Dana, I'm here, it's
okay! Did you have a nightmare? Shhh, love; it's okay."

She woke up properly and was suddenly able to separate
reality from her dream. They had only taken that final
step in her imagination. It didn't stop her pouring it
out. "I - I dreamed we made love, and, and I woke up and
you'd left me and I needed you there and you'd left me .
. ."

"I was just in the bathroom. I'm not leaving you."

And now, she could hear that a tap was still running.
Humiliation shot through her. What had she done? What had
she just revealed of herself? She may have wished
Superwoman would go away, but it wasn't easy to just kick
out the habit of years. She gently pushed away from his
embrace. "I'm sorry. I just got a bit carried away. I'm
sorry."

He went to reach for her again, then stopped at her
defensive body language.

She spoke to the bedspread. "You'd better turn off the
tap."

He remained sitting close to her. Watching her closely.

"The tap, Mulder. It's wastage. The bill'll go through
the roof."

"I don't care about the damn tap -"

She went to get out of the other side of bed to do it
herself. He shot forward and blocked her, gently taking
her arm.

"Dana, forget the tap. Forget being practical for a
moment. You just expressed a very deep need. Don't be
ashamed of that. It doesn't have to sound logical or
sensible." She shook her head, but Mulder continued. "I
didn't want to get out of bed, believe me. I wanted to
stay holding you, but unfortunately nature has its own
needs. I'm sorry."

"But now . . . now if we do . . . get together and if the
morning after you do change your mind and realise it's a
mistake, then you won't say so because of my . . .
display. . . You'll feel you won't dare leave me because
I'm so dependent -" God, she was a stammering mess.

"The morning after, the only thing I would be frantic
about would be *you* regretting it." His fingers moved up
and down her arm. "Dana, the lake showed what we feel for
each other. We are dependent on each other, as much as
we've tried to kid ourselves. But it's not just because
we need each other, it's because we want each other. Not
just physically. We've sustained each other for four
years spiritually. We want to be together and your
display of those feelings doesn't make you weak. Not to
yourself or to me. It is you being honest."

She gave a brief ironic smile. "Not Superwoman? But I'm
scared. I was scared when I realised that after all the
ambition I had to get my med degree and become an agent
and do well in the boy's club and solve the cases, that
all I wanted, really wanted, was to wake up in your
arms."

"After all those lofty goals, bit of a letdown, huh?" He
grinned. His eyes showed how touched he was by the
relevation.

"No. You are everything, forty-two."

"God, you turn me on when you go all sci fi babe on me."
He sobered. "When were you going to tell me that your
tumour had metastasized? You knew the night we went to
the Smithsonian . . . I saw the date on the tape. Were
you going to tell me, or was I going to find out at the
funeral?"

"I was so worried that if I did tell you, you'd go off
and kill yourself, either by your own hand or trying to
get answers that weren't there . . . And I was right. I
didn't blame you for my cancer - I thought you knew - but
I knew you'd still blame yourself." She shook her head.
"We've left too much unsaid through assumption. Let's
make these unspoken understandings *spoken*! First of
all: I don't blame you. I stayed in my job because I
loved you and I enjoyed the work. I fought the cancer to
stay with *you*, not anyone else."

He swallowed, looking like a man granted reprieve from
death. "Why did you keep up those walls when you were
ill? Couldn't you see how much I wanted to help, to hold
you?"

"I wanted it so much . . . but I was so scared because I
knew that if I let myself accept your affection, your
comfort, it could, it would lead . . . I'd blurt out how
much you meant to me and you'd have to respond, but out
of pity and we'd be kidding each other and I didn't want
it to be like that. I didn't want my cancer distorting
our feelings. I wanted to be able to see them clearly,
and I couldn't, it was all so tangled and I felt so
vulnerable, so it was easier to keep the walls up. I
didn't know what it was doing to the both of us . . ."

"I love you, Dana. I loved you before the cancer and I
loved you through it. Even when Superwoman was in
residence."

"Mulder, go turn off that damn tap and then get back here
immediately so I can hold you and try out the Scully-
soothe method."

It did work wonders too. They drifted off, his head
against her chest, safe in her embrace.



SEVERAL WEEKS AFTER MULDER'S DISCHARGE:

There had been no sign of Cancerman or any related
trouble, or the plethora of nightmares for either of
them, only a few, and even then, quickly soothed and
forgotten. Mulder was staying at Scully's. In fact, he
had pretty much permanently moved in. They enjoyed their
break, though went into the office a few days in the last
week to begin easing themselves back into the X-Files and
look at the still baffling Sorchan records. They
reentered the basement as believers. Scully had pointed
to the wall. "Can we get His and Hers 'I Want To Believe'
posters?"

And Scully had appointments during that time, to check
that her health really was fine, and to remove the tattoo
by laser treatments.

"You don't have to," Mulder said about the latter, but
there was a darkness in his eyes he couldn't hide about
that period of their lives. He had not seen the tattoo in
these weeks, but the memory of the image from the photos
was vivid.

"No. I hate seeing it myself. I'm not proud about that
time. I don't want it as a reminder. Let's celebrate this
change - the cancer is gone, so let's get rid of the
cancer snake."

He got a bittersweet look, one he wore when she referred
to anything which was clearly from his journals.

They spent the nights entwined in each other's arms, but
had not taken the final step until last night.

First they had wanted to make sure of what they were
doing. Scully told him how she wished she had journals of
her own to show him - how she had regretted destroying
the one she started when she first found out she had
cancer. But she could still share her thoughts and
feelings with him - and did. She told him. Hours and
hours of sharing. Explaining. Clarifying.

How she had wanted to phone him the night the ice alien
vanished. What she'd had to say at the FBI meeting after
his "death". Her confusion about Eddie Van Blundt. How
she had not slept with Ed. Her anger about the "soul-
mate". How long she had stood outside the office door
after that brief hug at the end of the Roche case,
wondering if she should go back in. How she wanted Mulder
to kiss her on the lips in the hospital hallway when he
held her so tenderly. How close they came that day after
so much pain, and how awful it was when things went
downhill again. How she was very much looking forward to
being called "Mom".

Dana showed Mulder the Sunflower poem. They danced to
"Jupiter", visited Melissa's grave together, had a picnic
at a real lake in sunshine, bought a huge bunch of
sunflowers to decorate the sitting room, and did many
other things. They visited Maggie a lot, and Scully was
so happy to see her mother with a complexion that was not
just made up of varying shades of white. As for Mrs
Mulder, that relationship was still up in the air. Mulder
had rang her for a few brief conversations, with no real
idea of how he or his mother would react to each other.
They acted like polite but distant relations at first,
but slowly it seemed there might be willingness on each
side to build a new bridge between them. It would take a
while though.

Now Mulder and Scully were laying in bed, complete. Snake
and misunderstandings gone. Star Wars boxers and an empty
foil packet on the floor. Dana was aware when Mulder woke
up.

"Hey pretty lady," he whispered into her hair.

She raised her head to look into his eyes. She smiled
radiantly at him, showing there were no regrets.

"Hey beautiful lady," he immediately amended, eyes
glowing, as he bent down into a kiss. "What are you
thinking?"

"I'm thinking how to put this down in my new journal. How
to sum up in words how I feel."

"Come up with anything?"

"The Youth and the Virgin have finally found their sweet
golden clime together."

"That's beautiful. You won't like mine."

"Why not, dare I ask?"

"Too typically male. The spy and the twelve year old are
at last in from the cold."

She laughed and snuggled against him. "Definitely in from
the cold. No more dark lakes, Mulder. No more guilt."

"You can call me Fox if you want."

She grinned. "I think that's very appropriate."

"And . . ." He suddenly seemed shy. "If you want - could
I call you Mrs Mulder?"

"Fox?" she gasped.

"Yes, you would be Mrs Fox Mulder. Well, to me at least -
I guess you'd have to keep the Dana Scully, M.D., bit
professionally. If you want to marry me. Would you marry
me, Dana?"

Her reply removed the need for words for quite a while.
Eventually they came back to reality.

"If we do marry, the FBI could come down on us," Scully
couldn't help pointing out. "We're already skirting the
line by living together."

"Yeah . . . Skinner might come up with something though
or we'll think of something. He'd stand by us. Perhaps
for now, if we just stay unofficially engaged while we
consider our options and sort it all out. No ring. Well,
I can buy one, but no wearing it to work. If that's
okay," he added hastily.

She wanted to make him sweat on it a bit, but decided
she'd already done enough of that. "Yes, but I'd like to
tell Mom."

"Of course. Otherwise she won't buy me the Star Trek
boxer set for my birthday. What?" he asked innocently as
she laughed.

"We'd better invite half of Georgetown Hospital to the
wedding - especially Mike, because if you're true to
form, he'll have to wheel you up the aisle."

"You're the one who'll put me in the wheelchair, woman!"

"Well at least that'd be something refreshingly normal on
your medical records!"

God, the laughter was great to hear. They held in silence
for a long time.

"Mulder?"

"Mmmm?"

"We will find Sam. One day. I promise."

His arms tightened around her. "Thank you. But at the
moment I'm just glad that we've finally, *finally* found
each other."

THE END. (PART TWELVE OF TWELVE)

Author's Quote:

When I was getting close to finishing the first draft of
this, I got a little carried away when excitedly
informing my brother of the fact via e-mail:

"I've only got two more parts of Mulder to resurrect!"

I found it intriguing exploring Mulder's thoughts - even
if he wasn't present in body through most of the story.
He permeated Scully's life so much I wanted to go through
her grief process (because we were robbed in "The
Blessing Way") and reveal how he saw the dark months they
had gone through, together but separate.

Chris, please make Season Five a bit more cheerful! And
now for a while I'm going back to shorter pieces . . .
Thank you all and goodnight!