This is a fiction story based on the characters created by Chris Carter. No infringement of copyrights held by 10/13 Productions, Twentieth Century Productions, or Fox Broadcasting is intended. All unrecognised characters and plot-lines belong to me. Names, characters, and places exist solely within my imagination, or are used fictitiously. No connection to any person, living or dead, is intended, and any resemblance is entirely coincidental. Feel free to distribute, but please keep me as the author. This idea was taken from "Death and Rebirth", with the permission of the author, Gerry Hill. - Please read "Death and Rebirth", it's a great story. - I thoroughly recommend it. "Colony" and "Paperclip" plot-lines mentioned. Danielle Culverson. "Pill." The man sat alone in the cluttered basement office of the J. Edgar Hoover building, flicking small balls of paper towards the waste paper basket by the door with one finger. His brown hair was tousled, and his dark grey jacket looked like he'd slept in it. His tie was pulled loose, his shirt collar unbuttoned, and his eyes were fixed angrily on the little paper balls on the surface of his desk. Around him, the room was as untidy as its occupant. Posters and photographs adorned the walls. Three filing cabinets stood along one wall, the top drawer of the right hand one was open, and every so often the hassled-looking FBI agent altered his target to this drawer, and fired a paper ball at it with pin-point accuracy. The desk on his left was unoccupied. It was much neater than his. A hat-stand in the corner of the room supported two overcoats, - one black, one brown, - and a small black baseball cap bearing the letters "N.I.C.A.P." Special Agent Fox Mulder slowly tore another sheet of paper into strips and squares, and balled the pieces up. He began firing them towards the basket again, his eyes fixed and intent. The door opened to admit an auburn-haired woman with green eyes. She wore a dark brown suit, and carried a folder in her right hand. "Morning, Mulder." Then she stopped. Special Agent Dana Scully closed the office door carefully, and then regarded her partner. "Mulder? What's wrong?" "Skinner's turned the Andrews case over to Greeber and Walbrook after what happened last night." Mulder replied, and flicked a paper ball savagely at the filing cabinet. "What happened?" Scully asked, moving over to her desk. - She hadn't been involved in the Andrews case, or the stake-out which had taken place the previous day. - She sat down, and turned towards her partner. He lowered his head, staring at his hands, and stopped flicking the paper pieces. "Our tip-off was wrong. Andrews was in the warehouse, but he was also armed. He shot Owens dead, and wounded Stanton. - And then he got away." "Oh, Mulder." Scully shook her head, "You weren't to know." "No. - But of course I'll get the blame for it." he said in a melancholy tone of voice, "It's too much to expect that "Spooky" Mulder won't get hauled over the coals for this one. - I've already been called to go to Skinners office." "Now?" "Yes." "So why haven't you gone? - Mulder, you've got to stand up for yourself. Skinner knows you're a good agent." "Yeah? So why does it always come back to me? I don't think I can go up there again. - I'm tired of all the BS, Scully. You know as well as I do that *they're* just waiting for the chance to throw me out." Scully sighed, "Mulder, I don't know why you're acting like this. You know *they've* always been against us. You always said you wouldn't give up fighting for the truth." Mulder closed his eyes for a moment, "The truth doesn't seem to bring anything but pain. Maybe it's better left hidden." Scully was surprised. - Mulder often got paranoid and depressed, but he seemed to be taking it to extremes this time. "Mulder, please, go up and see Skinner. For me?" He looked ar her for a moment, and then nodded. "Okay, for you, Scully." He got up, and went out of the office. * * * Skinners secretary watched Mulder with mild concern as he paced up and down the Assistant Directors outer office. She was relieved when the intercom buzzed, and Skinner asked her to send the agent in. Mulder opened the door to the inner office, and went inside. Assistant Director Skinner was sitting at his desk, signing a completed case-file he had in front of him. He looked up as Mulder approached, the fluorescent lights above reflecting off his nearly bald head. There were two chairs in front of Skinners desk, but the Assistant Director didn't invite the agent to sit down, - a sure sign that he wasn't happy. - Mulder stood in front of the desk, his hands clasped behind his back, his feet apart, almost defiant. Skinner looked up at the agent, taking in his crumpled suit, creased shirt, unbuttoned collar, and loose tie. He frowned. "Agent Mulder, will you insist on not conforming to FBI regulations for appearance?" he asked briskly, "You're a disgrace to the Bureau. I'm surprised you don't make more of an effort, considering how close we both know you frequently come to getting kicked out of the FBI." When Mulder made no response, Skinner looked down at a report he had opened in front of him. "You'll be relieved to know that Agent Stantons condition has stabilised. - He's no longer in any danger. - Of course, you can't say that to Agent Owens family." "No, sir." Mulder didn't look at his boss. Skinner sighed. Mulder was one of his best agents, and when he worked with Scully they made the best investigating team the Bureau had had for some years. - It was just a shame that they tended towards the X-files rather than Bureau mainstream. The X-files was a small department, worked only by Mulder and Scully. They dealt with all the cases which didn't fall into any other category within the Bureau, and therefore ended up doing all the cases which seemed to have no scientific explanations, - paranormal phenomena, UFOs, and such, - and those which seemed to deal with conspiracies and cover-ups. Their work hadn't gained them many friends, and Skinner was constantly dealing with the disturbed rumblings from higher up in the Bureau. He looked up at Mulder again. "Agent Mulder, do you have any explanation for what happened yesterday?" "We weren't aware he was armed, sir, - but even so there shouldn't have been a problem. - I've no explanation for why everything went wrong." "No." Skinner said thoughtfully. Then he turned brisk again, "Well, Agent Mulder, you know as well as I do what a serious view the Bureau takes when an agent is killed in a case such as this. However, my conclusion aligns with yours in this case. - I don't see what else could have been done. - But I do suggest that you improve your punctuality, and smarten yourself up, and don't give the people higher up ammunition to use against you." Skinner fell silent. Mulder said nothing for a long moment. Finally he spoke. "Is that all, sir?" "Yes, Agent Mulder." Skinner sighed, "You can go." Mulder turned and left the office quickly. Skinner stared after him for a moment, shaking his head in despair, and then turned back to his work. * * * The elevator doors opened, and Mulder came out. He wandered forward, apparently aimlessly, and stopped in front of his door, - number 42, - staring at it for a moment as though he didn't know why he was there. Anyone who had seen him at that moment would have been forgiven for thinking that he had either been drinking, or just involved in a mugging. His hair and clothes were still disheveled, and his eyes shifted about with the quick little darts of extreme paranoia. He was so tired he could barely stand. - He had walked all afternoon. After seeing Skinner, Mulder had returned to the basement office, and sat quietly at his desk for the remainder of the morning, doing nothing. At lunch time he told Scully he was going for a walk, and might not come back that day unless he could get his head in order. She had nodded, and smiled sympathetically, knowing that he usually needed to walk these depressions into their next stage, from where he could begin to recover. He had walked all afternoon, going first to the Jefferson Memorial, and then going through Constitution Gardens and across Theodore Roosevelt bridge. He had wandered through Arlington National Cemetery, and headed for Alexandria. He had finally arrived home as it was growing dark. Mulder took his apartment key from his pocket, opened the door, went inside, and closed the door carefully behind him. He stood for a moment, looking around at the apartment, and then went into the kitchenette for a glass of water. He looked at it suspiciously for a moment, and then lowered his head to the still-running tap, and drank from the flow. Thirst quenched, he turned off the water, picked up the glass, and went back into the main room. He put the glass down on the coffee table, and then collapsed onto the sofa, grabbed the t.v. remote control, and switched on the television. - He didn't really watch it, but it was better than staring at the blank screen. - He turned up the volume to drown out his troubled thoughts. * * * Dana Scully bolted awake, a stifled scream behind her lips. She looked at the electronic alarm clock at her bedside. - It was 11.21pm. - She had been sleeping only a few minutes. She sat still for a moment, trying to remember the dream which had woken her, but only able to remember the fear which was still with her. Scully knew it had had something to do with her partner, and now that she thought about Mulder, she had the growing feeling that something was wrong. She waited a moment longer, trying to pin-point the feeling, but then shook her head and got up. She pulled on a blue robe, and slipped her feet into a pair of slippers. Then she went through to her living room to call her partner. Scully remembered her mothers hunches, and dreams, and wondered if this was a similar feeling. She reached the telephone and lifted the receiver, quickly dialing Mulders familiar number. She paced back and forth as the phone at the other end of the line rang, and then cut into the answering machine. "Mulder, leave a message please." "Mulder?" Scully wondered if her partner had fallen asleep in front of the t.v., "Mulder, are you there? Mulder, please, pick up the phone. Mulder, I... Never mind, I'm coming over." Scully disconnected. She hurried to the door, remembered that she wasn't dressed, and then ran back into her bedroom to put on the outfit she had discarded only an hour earlier. then she ran to the door, grabbed her overcoat, handbag, and car keys, and went out. * * * The warm empty blackness began to break up, and take on new aspects. Mulder became aware of a fairly hard surface along his back and legs. A short time after the awareness came, he realised that he was lying down. He strained to hear something, but there was only silence. Slowly, very slowly, it got light. Mulder was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. From the state of the ceiling, he guessed it was his own apartment. He wondered vaguely what he was doing on the floor, and tried to remember if he had had anything to drink after coming home that evening. - He couldn't remember. - After a few minutes, he realised he couldn't hear the t.v., and tried to turn his head to see if he had turned it off. Nothing happened. Guess I'm not fully awake yet from the neck down, he thought, and tried again. Nothing happened. His head didn't move. The first inklings of panic started in the back of his mind. - What's wrong with me? Why am I lying on the floor, unable to move? - This was backed by a more persistent thought, - what happened after I came in? - He tried again to remember what he had done when he got home, but everything was foggy and unclear. The phone rang. It rang twice before Mulders answering machine cut in. "Mulder, leave a message please." "Mulder?" It was Scully, and he could tell by her voice that she was a little concerned. "Mulder, are you there? Mulder, please, pick up the phone. Mulder, I... Never mind, I'm coming over." The phone disconnected. Mulder felt eased that Scully was coming over. He sighed with relief. Or he would have done. It was then that he realised why it was so quiet. He couldn't even hear his own breathing, or his heart-beat. The panic started up again, and he quelled his fears with thoughts of Scullys approach. - She would know what was wrong. * * * After what seemed like hours to Mulder, he heard his partner approaching. He heard her low-heeled shoes on the floor in the corridor. Her footsteps stopped outside his door. There was a resounding knocking at the thin door, and Scullys voice came through. "Mulder?" There was a pause, followed by a more insistent knocking and call. "Mulder!" He heard her sigh of impatience, and the sound of a key in the lock. He felt a slight draught as the door opened and closed, and heard his partner approaching. Scully looked around the apartment. All the lights were on, but the apartment was silent. She started to walk forward, and then she saw her partner. - He was lying at the foot of the sofa, half underneath the coffee table. His tie lay haphazardly across his chest, and draped down to the floor on his right side. His eyes were glazed and staring at the ceiling. One limp hand lay above his head,the palm upwards, and the fingers curling up towards the ceiling. "Mulder?" Scully rushed to his side, and dropped to her knees. She pressed her fingers to the artery at his neck, and searched for a pulse. She couldn't feel anything. "Oh my God, Mulder, what's happened?" Scully lifted her eyes from her partners fixed expression, and her gaze fell on a pill bottle on the coffee table. Next to it was an empty water glass with lip marks at the top. She snatched the bottle up, and looked at the label. - She recognised it instantly. - The bottle had contained Mulders late fathers tranquillisers. Her mother had taken the same tablets for some time after Melissas death. - But the bottle was empty. - Frantically she felt for a pulse again, and then she realised that Mulder wasn't breathing. She bent over him, and started to give artificial resuscitation. "Please, Mulder, please come back to me." she whispered between breaths. Mulder was nearly screaming inside. When Scully had arrived he had thought she would know what to do, but she had seemed horrified at his condition. From her reaction when she felt for his pulse, he didn't have one. Then she had picked up a bottle from the coffee table. It appeared to be empty, but he couldn't see what it was. He tried to move, and tell her that he was okay, but he couldn't. She felt for his pulse again, and then a look of open fear crossed her face. As she lifted his head, he realised what was bothering her, - he wasn't breathing. Scully lowered her face to his, and he felt her lips cover his mouth even as the fingers of her left hand closed his nose. He could feel his chest rise and fall as she breathed into him, and heard her desperate words between breaths. They tore at his heart. She carried out external heart massage, and Mulder could feel the extra surge of blood in his arteries. She breathed into him again, trying to restore life, but he could feel it wasn't working. Finally Scully gave up. - As a doctor, she knew that Mulder could have been pronounced dead when she found him, but she had been unable not to try and resuscitate him. She sat back from Mulders body, and pulled her mobile phone from her handbag. Her fingers were shaking so much that she had to try three times to correctly dial 911. "This is Special Agent Dana Scully, ID number 2317-616. I require an ambulance at Apartment 42, West Block, Braddock Road, Alexandria, immediately... Yes, okay." Scully disconnected, and then stared down at Mulder in horrified disbelief. She moved around to his head, and closed his eyes. She lifted his head and upper body in her arms, and rocked gently back and forth. "Oh Mulder," she whispered, "why? how could you do this and leave me?" Mulder felt comforted by the touch of her hands as she held him, and gently stroked his face. The fingers of her right hand combed through his hair, and he could hear the pain in her voice. He was crying inside at the pain he was causing, and he desperately wished he could say something to stop her pain. "Mulder, we... we had so much more to do. I didn't realise our time was so short... I..." Scully broke off as tears blurred her eyes. The tears did not fall, but they seemed to sink in, and Mulder could hear them in her voice, "There was so much I wanted to tell you. I just never realised... You should have told me it had gone his far." Her words choked off again, and there was a long silence. It was broken by the distant wail of an ambulance siren. Scully evidently heard it too. "They're coming to take you away from me now." she whispered. A moment later Mulder felt her lips gently touch his. he savoured the gentle caress of her lips, and stored the memory away in a mind he feared wouldn't be sane much longer. There was a knock at the door, and Mulder heard Scullys choked voice call out, "It's open." He heard three sets of footsteps enter the room. Scully laid his head down gently on the carpet again, and he felt her move away at the prompt of one of the paramedics. "Are you alright?" the first paramedic asked Scully, who was now sitting on the sofa. The other two were working over Mulder, establishing his condition, and then preparing to move him into a body bag. Scully shook her head. "No, I'll never be alright now that he's gone." "Do you know what happened?" Scully closed her eyes and nodded slowly. Then she pointed towards the pill bottle on the table. The paramedic slipped it into an evidence bag. "Is there anyone who should be contacted? Do *you* want someone to come around?" "I... I'll tell his mother." Scully said carefully. She watched as the body bag was zipped up, and carried out of the apartment, chewing on her lower lip. "I'll be better on my own for now." Mulder was now certain he would go mad. He knew there would be an autopsy, but he kept pushing this thought to the back of his mind. More immediately, Scully was grieving for him at his apartment, and would soon tell his mother, and he was being taken to an ambulance in a black plastic body bag. Mulder wished unconsciousness would come and take him, but it either refused, or was unable, to come. * * * Scully arrived at FBI headquarters after a bad nights sleep filled with nightmares spent on Mulders sofa. Her brown suit was creased, and her hair unwashed, but she barely noticed. She made her way quickly to Assistant Director Skinners office. Skinners secretary looked up when she arrived. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully, the Assistant Director is busy at the moment." she said. "When will he be able to see me?" Scully asked, her face impassive, although the dark circles beneath her eyes gave away a lot. "This is important." "He'll be busy all morning. - I don't know about this afternoon..." "This is urgent. - I need to see him now." Scully was getting angry. The secretary shrugged, and then thumbed the intercom. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but Agent Scully wants to see you. - She says it's urgent." "Umm... okay, send her in." Scully headed towards the inner office door without waiting for the secretarys agreement. She went inside, closed the door carefully behind her, and approached Skinners desk. Walter Skinner looked up from the paperwork he was doing, and pushed it to one side as Scully came in. When he saw the state of her clothing he came very close to commenting how alike she was becoming to Mulder, but one look at her face silenced him. He gestured towards one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, sit down." Scully sat, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Skinner regarded her for a moment before speaking again. "So, why did you want to speak to me, Agent Scully?" "Sir, I... I need to know what you said to Agent Mulder yesterday." "Well, I told him I agreed there was no way of avoiding what happened during the stake-out in the Andrews case, and I told him he needed to smarten up his appearance, - which I have to say goes for you as well. Did you sleep in your clothes or something last night, Agent Scully? What has happened that you look like you've been to hell and back in a night?" "Sir..." Scully broke off, fighting back the tears which threatened to burst through, "I slept at Agent Mulders apartment last night. - He... He killed himself last night." Skinner sat stunned for a moment, just staring at Scully. His voice, when he found it, was weak. "What? What happened?" "He took an overdose, - tranquillisers. - I... I found him on the floor, already dead." "I... I don't know what to say. - I'm sorry, Dana." Skinner tried to regain some composure, "I'll send someone to tell his mother..." "No, sir." Scully cut in firmly, "I'll do that myself. - I need to do it." Skinner nodded slowly, "Is there anything I can do?" "I don't think so." Scully shook her head, "I... I think I'll need some time off. - I'm not sure I can continue with the X-files without Mulder, even if he wanted me to." Feeling the tears threatening again, Scully stood up quickly. "I'd better go." she said. Skinner nodded. "If I can help at all, you know where I am, - just call me." Scully nodded, and hurried out of the office. * * * Mulder wished he could shiver. He had been brought to the hospital morgue in the ambulance. - Or so he had guessed from the cold antiseptic smell of the place that permeated the body bag he had been left in. The three paramedics had laid him on an examination table, and then left him. Some time later, - he wasn't sure how long, - two technicians came and took him out of the bag. He still couldn't see anything as Scully had closed his eyes, but he could hear and feel them quietly removing his clothing. A tag was tied around the big toe of his left foot, and then he was placed in a cold metal drawer, covered with a thin sheet, and the drawer was closed. It was very cold. The drawer was of steel, and refrigerated to prevent too much decay of the bodies the morgue contained. Mulder wanted to shiver, - both at the cold, and the sure proximity of the corpses that surrounded him, - but he couldn't. His mind bubbled quietly in his subconsciouss, and his consciouss mind was desperately trying to avoid thinking about what was to come, but his thoughts kept roaming back to it. Mulder wondered absently if he actually was dead, and if everyone who was dead were consciouss of their surroundings like this. If so, how long did it last for? Were people who were cremated consciouss of being burned? If so, what happened after their bodies were gone? Were those who were buried consciouss of the grief around them, and their eternal fate of being sealed in a box underground while their bodies decayed away? Mulder tried to steer his mind away from these painful thoughts, but succeeded only in thinking about Scully instead. He remembered the tenderness and pain in her voice when he had last heard her, and his photographic memory replayed again and again the sensation of her hands stroking his face, and her lips kissing his. He tried to block out the painful images, but having thought of his partner, it was like a dam breaking, and memory after memory of her assailed him. He was crying inside now, racked with dry sobs that never even reached his lungs. A desperate and impossible wish to kiss her, and say goodbye to her properly hit him, and he gave up fighting, and allowed himself to be carried along by the painful fantasy in his mind. * * * Scully stood outside the front door of Mulders mothers house in Chilmark, Massachusetts. She steeled herself to press the doorbell. The door was opened by a lady with greying hair, only a little taller than Scully. She peered at the agent uncertainly around the edge of the door. "Mrs Mulder, I'm Dana Scully, your sons partner at the FBI..." "Yes, I know who you are." the woman interrupted bitterly, "You're the woman Fox traded the girl he thought was his sister for a year ago." She stopped, seeing Scully flinch at the words, and softened slightly, "I'm sorry. - Come in." Scully smiled gratefully, although it was little more than a twitch of her lips. She followed Mrs Mulder into the house, and they sat down in the living room. Scully couldn't meet the older womans eyes. She stared at her hands for a long moment, before taking a deep breath. "Mrs Mulder, I don't know how to tell you this, so I'll just come straight out with it." Scully swallowed back the tears that were threatening again, "Your son... he killed himself last night." Mrs Mulder stared at her without saying a word as Scully continued, "He took some of his fathers tranquillisers... I had the feeling something was wrong, so I went to his apartment, and when I got there I found him... lying on the floor,... - he was already dead..." Scully broke off, the pain in her chest making it difficult for her to speak. She barely noticed the tears that were now running freely down her face. Mulders mother couldn't accept the words Scully was telling her, but the tears running down the agents face told her without words that Scully was telling the truth, and Mulder was really dead. "Did... did he leave a note?" she asked, fighting back tears herself now. Scully shook her head mournfully. "Do you know why he did it?" Scully shook her head again. "He often got depressed if a case wasn't going well, and the last one... well, - there was an accident, and one of the agents involved was killed, - but our boss told Mulder he didn't blame him for that, and Mulder knew it wasn't really his fault. - After all, it *was* an accident. I don't know, maybe it was that, maybe it wasn't." "I think I would like to see him, - to say goodbye." Mulders mother said carefully, "Do you think I'll be able to?" Scully nodded, and wiped her tears away with her hand, "I'll take you to see him." she said. * * * Scully had called ahead to the hospital, so when she and Mrs Mulder arrived at Saint Elizabeths, Mulder had already been laid out ready for them. They were escorted to a small viewing room next to the morgue by a nurse, who waited outside while they went in. The room was small, and lit by a light in the shape of a candle by the door. Heavy curtains hanging along the walls tried to take away the hospital appearance, but the smell of antiseptic permeated everything. Mulder was laid out on a gurney which had been locked into place. A large white sheet was draped over him. Its edges reached all the way to the floor, hiding the gurney. His head was still covered, so Scully carefully turned down the sheet so that his head and shoulders were exposed. She felt the tears pricking at her eyes again as she looked down on him, and heard Mrs Mulders sharp little gasp as she saw the body. Mulders mother stepped forward, and reached out to touch her sons face. She hesitated at the last moment, and almost drew back, but then she allowed her fingers to gently stroke his cool skin. Tears spilled from her eyes as she looked down on him. "Oh Fox, I'm sorry." she whispered. Scully put her arm around Mulders mother, and the woman accepted the embrace. The two of them stood in silence for nearly ten minutes, giving each other comfort in their grief. Tears ran silently down Mrs Mulders face, while Scully held her own in check. Finally, the older woman reached to touch her sons face again. "Goodbye, Fox." she whispered, and then turned and left the room quickly, leaving Scully alone. Scully stepped closer to her partners body, and let her hand stroke his hair and face. She whispered his name over and over, and the tears she had been holding back streamed down her face when she could no longer hide them. "Oh Mulder, why?" she pleaded, "Why did you do this? We've come so far, learned so much... Why now?" The words she had wanted to say failed her as her grief took over, and she closed her eyes to try and battle the pain. She had cried so many tears for her partner in the past, when time and again his life had been threatened, but always in the past the tears had been laced with anger at those who had caused Mulders condition. Now there was only an unbearable grief. Scully wondered if the pain she was feeling would ever ease. Unable to look at him any longer, Scully whispered goodbye, and left the room to join his mother. * * * Mulder too was crying inside. Back in the refrigerated morgue drawer after the viewing, he cried for the pain he was once again causing those he loved. He had felt touched by his mothers words, coming so unexpectedly. - For many years they had barely spoken, and although the rift between his parents had been beginning to heal when his father died, he knew his mother was still upset with him for trading the clone he had believed to be his sister for Scullys life. Scullys grief tore so at his heart that he thought if he wasn't already dead he would surely die from the pain inside him. He had felt some of her tears which had fallen on his skin, strangely warm, and once again savoured her gentle touch. He was still uncertain what had caused his death. Scully appeared to know, but she had not said in his presence. Muffled voices reached Mulders ears. Suddenly the drawer he lay in was opened, and the sheet which was covering his face pulled back. He quickly gathered that there were two men looking at him. From their words, he gathered that they were not hospital staff. "This is him," the first voice announced, lifting the sheet back at Mulders feet to check the toe-tag, and then replacing it. ""Spooky" Fox Mulder." "Well, at least it's certain." a second voice answered, "What happened to him?" "You didn't hear?" the first voice sounded surprised, "He killed himself. - Overdosed on tranquillisers." "I wonder why?" "What does it matter? - He's done our job for us. It wouldn't have been easy trying to make his death *look* like suicide. Now it really *is* suicide." "And we're not murderers." the second voice added, and then a sour chuckle reached Mulders ears, "Or rather, we are, - but not of him. How's his partner taking it?" "Not too good, I think. She's taking time off work for the first time in years when she hasn't actually been confined to bed by a doctor." "Shame." the second voice muttered, "Poor "Spooky", - perhaps his aliens got to him." The sheet was replaced, and the drawer closed. Mulder could hear the departing laughter of the two men. Now, at least, he knew what the pill bottle Scully had been holding at his apartment was. No wonder she and his mother were so upset. - Suicide! - Mulder wished he could remember what had happened after he came home the night this had happened. - Surely he wouldn't have killed himself? Mulder could understand Scullys belief that he had, - he had been very subdued that day, and had left the office at lunch-time and not come back. He realised with a start that all this had happened less than 24 hours ago. If one day could hurt so much, what would eternity do? * * * The two women walked slowly along the path which circled the Jefferson Memorial. There were few people about in the cold weather, and it was very quiet. A lonely seagull circled overhead, crying out its plaintive call, and then flew away. The two women walked with their arms around each other, each drawing comfort from the other in their grief. They came to the front of the monument, and looked out across the waters of the Tidal Basin towards the Washington monument. Then they turned to face the memorial, and walked slowly towards it. The air inside the memorial was cool and still. Mrs Mulder, who had seldom visited Washington, wandered to the back of the dome, and read some of the inscriptions there. Scully stood in front of the statue, looking up at the tall bronze figure. "I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." she quoted, not needing the inscription to recite the words. Tears sprang suddenly to her eyes, too suddenly for her to bite them back. She sobbed, and her legs abruptly gave way beneath her. She collapsed to the floor, shaking, tears streaming down her face, at the foot of the pedestal. Mrs Mulder rushed over to her, and knelt down at her side, putting her arms around the distraught younger woman. "Dana?" "This is *his* place." Scully whispered, "That's why I brought you here. He used to come here often when he was depressed, or when he needed to think about a case. He probably came here yesterday before... before he went home." Scully looked up at the older woman, and saw that she had tears in her eyes too. "He said that being here helped him to think *around* things, instead of in a straight line. He said... the cracks in the walls follow crooked paths, the same as his thoughts needed to for him to solve a case. I..." Scully took a deep breath, trying to get her emotions under control, "I guess he was right, too, because it always seemed to help, and he was so good at seeing things no-one else had been able to see." Scully looked up at the statue of the third president, and said with the pain evident in her voice, "It's ironic that at the end, he was blind to his future, while we could still see hope for him. - And yet at the same time I was blind too, I didn't see it had gone this far." "You musn't blame yourself, Dana." Mulders mother said gently, "Fox was always good at hiding what he was really feeling." "Not from me. - His eyes could never hide anything from me." "Maybe this time, he felt that it was best you didn't know how he was feeling." the woman said slowly, "You musn't blame yourself. - I blamed myself for my marriage breaking up for years, until I finally realised that I wasn't solely responsible for its failure, and neither was Bill. We grew apart, and were forced even further apart when... with what happened to Samantha." "Mulder said he believed she was still alive." Scully commented, looking up at the older woman. "Maybe so, maybe not. - I don't know. His search, at least, is over." "Maybe," Scully agreed, "or maybe it's just become my search." The two women sat together at the base of the pedestal, joined in their grief, and yet still separated in their understanding. * * * Mulder didn't sleep during the night, - in his condition sleep was impossible, - but his thoughts drifted, and in his own way, he dreamed. As consciouss and more coherent thoughts had returned, he thought again of his mother and his partner. He wanted to cry out, scream, yell, flail his fists about until he hurt himself enough to make up for what they were going through. And yet, inside, his pain was as great as theirs. Between these thoughts, came the terror of what was to come. If he was really dead, as he was now coming to believe, would he be consciouss for the rest of eternity? Would he never truly sleep or rest again? If not, what a mockery it made of the words "rest in peace". Mulder was startled from his morbid and painful thoughts by the drawer being pulled open. He could see light behind his eyelids again. Two pairs of hands, working in silence, lifted him onto a metal bench, - probably and examination bench, - he thought, and then realised in cold horror, - the autopsy! A fresh sheet was placed over him, and he heard the drawer behind him rattle shut. Two pairs of footsteps moved almost silently away. Silence reigned again. For a while, Mulders troubled thoughts moved away from his partner, and to his own situation. He had seen Scully carrying out many autopsies in the past, and knew exactly what it involved. He seemed to be able to feel everything that happened to him, so surely he would feel every cut of the autopsy as well. What would happen to him when the pathologist started to remove his organs one by one? - He didn't know, but he felt certain that he would be insane by that part, - if it was possible to go insane in his condition. Mulder waited, there begin nothing else he could do, and hoped for release. * * * Scully arrived at Saint Elizabeths Hospital morgue, and put on a white coat. She stood at the side of the room, near to the door, her eyes fixed on the sheet-covered body in the centre of the room. She waited for Dr. Larson, who would carry out the autopsy, to arrive. Five minutes later, he did. "Dr. Scully!" Dr. Larson exclaimed in surprise when he saw her waiting for him. The morgue door swished closed behind him. "What are you doing here?" "I've come to oversee Agent Mulders autopsy." Scully replied, "No offence to you, doctor, but I need to see everything is done right." "I'm not sure this is a good idea." Dr. Larson argued as he scrubbed in, "You were very close to him." "It's okay." Scully replied, "I'll just stand at the side and watch." "I don't know..." Dr. Larson continued. "Doctor, I'm not going anywhere, so you might as well begin." Dr. Larson sighed, and went over to Mulders body. He turned back the sheet at the head, and opened Mulders eyes. At the side of the room, Scully swallowed nervously. The morgue door opened, and Walter Skinner came in. "Agent Scully, I thought I'd find you here. - You shouldn't be here now, - you'll only make yourself feel worse. How do you want to remember Mulder? As your partner, or as a corpse in a morgue autopsy bay?" Skinner gestured towards the doctor standing by Mulders body. Mulder had been both relieved and distressed to hear Scullys voice. Maybe there was still a chance to let her know he was consciouss. If only he could move! Then the doctor opened his eyes, and he was able to see again, - although his field of vision included little other than the ceiling. He realised he was now going to be able to see the autopsy taking place as well as hear and feel it. He tried as hard as he could to make his eyelids blink, but there was no movement. When Skinner turned up, and started trying to persuade Scully to leave, Mulder realised that it was his last chance. He made a supreme effort, willing his eyelids to shut, and after what seemed like eternity, but was really only a few seconds, he felt a movement, and his eyelids flicked briefly over his eyes. Scully saw it. "He blinked!" she cried, and started forward towards her partner. "Mulder!" Skinners hand on her arm stopped her. "No, he didn't, Dana." he said, gently pulling her back towards the door. "He did!" she insisted, "He's alive!" Skinner looked towards Dr. Larson, who shook his head. "Dana," Skinner said gently, as he firmly guided her out of the morgue, "I know you've been under a lot of stress. - You really shouldn't have come..." Skinners words were lost to Mulder as the door closed between him and his partner. He had thought for a moment that he had succeeded, but now Scully had gone, and if he was alive, - as it now appeared he was as he could move, - then Dr. Larson was about to kill him by performing the autopsy. Mulder saw the doctor switch on the microphone. "Subject is Special Agent Fox William Mulder, badge number JTT047101111, aged thirty-five, height 183 centimetres. There is a healed gunshot wound in his left shoulder." Even as he said these words, Dr. Larson was moving the sheet that covered Mulder back and forth in order to check him over. "There are no recent puncture wounds, cuts, abrasions, or bruises. the subject appears to have been in good health, and the cause of death is not visually apparent..." Mulder was losing it. He could feel his sanity slipping away. The knowledge that after all this he was really alive, and Scully knew but thought she was mistaken, was driving him closer and closer to the edge. The only stability he had was Dr. Larsons droning monologue, and Mulder knew where *that* was leading. * * * "Let go of me!" Scully demanded, shaking off Skinners hands, "Are you trying to kill him?" She used no name, but her meaning was obvious. "Dana, Mulder is dead. He killed himself. - I don't mean to be brutal, but you've got to accept that, so that you can learn to live with it, and move on with your life." Scully shook her head in despair. She looked longingly at the door, and then started to speak quickly. "Sir, you know that Mulder and I have been through a lot, come up against many unusual things, seen things that are theoretically impossible. You know as well as I do that our lives have been on the line for the last two years, and that since the MJ files *they* haven't even bothered to hide it. Most of the way you've been with us, if not on our side. - You know how much both Mulder and I have been through, and that with a little faith we've always pulled through. I've heard the words "it's over, there's nothing more we can do" too many times to accept them now. It musn't end here. - You must let me go back in there." More words hung on her tongue, but she bit them back, - before it's too late. - Skinner shook his head slowly. "No, Dana. - You don't know what you're saying." Scully stared at him, and then pulled her gun out with a swift movement. "Out of my way." she said firmly, her jaw set. Skinner frowned at the weapon. "Scully, you may have got away with threatening me before, but..." "I don't care. Out of my way, or I'll shoot you where you stand." Skinner reluctantly stepped to one side, and Scully rushed back into the morgue. Dr. Larson was just about to make the first incision into Mulders prone chest. "Stop!" Scully cried, rushing forward, and pushing Dr. Larson out of the way. She re-holstered her gun, and leaned over her partners body. "Mulder, can you hear me?" she pleaded, "Please, Mulder, show them that you're alive." There was a long pause, and Scully was just beginning to think that Skinner and Dr. Larson were right after all, when Mulder blinked again. Scully let out a sigh of relief. "You're alive, oh thank God." She pulled the sheet up to his neck, "It'll be alright, Mulder, I promise." Dr. Larson and Skinner had both seen the small flicker of movement this time, and were staring in amazement. "Don't just stand there," Scully ordered, "get someone to move him to a private room, and get him into a proper bed." Dr. Larson nodded, and hurried out. Scully stayed at her partners side, clutching his hand through the sheet. Skinner approached her. "Dana, I'm sorry, I really thought he was..." "I know." she nodded, "Lucky for him I believed what I saw. - Lucky for me too." she added. Two technicians hurried in with a gurney, which they lifted Mulder onto, sheet and all, and then wheeled out. Scully went with them, leaving Skinner standing alone in the morgue. * * * Scully sat down on a wooden chair at Mulders bedside, finally able to relax a little after thirty-six hours of torture. Mulder still stared straight up, his green eyes glazed, and she had to tell herself again and again that he wasn't dead. He hadn't moved since his second blink in the morgue, and deep inside Scully knew that he was still badly affected by the drugs he had taken, and might die, but she almost forgot this in the relief of having him back. She had phoned his mother, who was getting the next available flight back to Washington. Now, shattered from the pain she had been experiencing, and contented that everything would be alright for a little while, she dozed in the chair. Mulder slowly recovered from the effects of his "illness". He felt his heart beating faster and stronger, his breathing getting quicker and deeper. Movement returned quickly once his body had woken up, inside, and he blinked, and managed to move first his fingers, then his toes, then whole limbs at once. It had never felt so good to move. Turning his head, he watched his partner as she slept. He smiled, and as though she felt his eyes on her, Scully awoke. "Mulder?" Seeing he was awake properly woke her fully, and she got to her feet, "Are you alright?" He nodded, and tried to answer. "No, don't talk." Scully picked up a wet face cloth from the bedside table, and wiped his face with it. Then she picked up a glass of water, and lifted it to his lips. He sipped slowly, not taking his eyes off her face. She put the glass down again. "Scully..." Mulder said hoarsely, and smiled at her. She smiled back, and then a look of apprehension crossed her face. "Were you consciouss throughout the time we thought you were dead?" she asked, dreading the answer. Mulder nodded slowly. Scully winced. "Thank... you," Mulder whispered, and his eyes gleamed, "for the kiss." Scullys eyes widened as she remembered kissing Mulder goodbye when she heard the ambulance coming. She had said a lot of things to him then as well. What had she said? She looked down at her partner, and saw that he had already drifted into sleep. He was tired too, having been unable to sleep for two days. She didn't like to think what must have been going through his mind during that time, - when she had found him, when she and his mother had come to say goodbye, and during the start of the autopsy. It was a wonder he hadn't been driven insane. Scully looked at her partners peaceful face, and smiled. then she too drifted into sleep. * * * Scully was woken four hours later by cries coming from her partners lips. He moaned and writhed on the bed, and she dreaded to think what he was dreaming about. She got to her feet, and leaned over her partner. His eyes flicked behind his eyelids, and he screamed out loud. She caught hold of his shoulders, and shook him awake. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. "It's alright, Mulder, I'm here. It's okay." she reassured him. He smiled gratefully, and relaxed. Scully sat down on the edge of the bed, and took his hands in hers. "Are you okay?" she asked. He nodded slowly. "Yes, I think so." Scully smiled, and then looked a little uncertain, "Mulder, why did you do it? Why did you try and kill yourself?" Mulder shook his head, "I didn't, Scully. Don't you know I wouldn't hurt you and my mother like that?" "But,... the tranquillisers..." "I didn't take them." Mulder replied, "I've been thinking about that. - While I was in the morgue, two men came to see me. From what they said to each other, I think they were confirming I was dead. They said I'd done their job for them. - Scully, I think that someone in the shadows on our side knew that I was about to be murdered, and took steps to make me look dead." "Who?" Scully asked, "What happened that night?" "I don't remember." Mulder answered, "I just remember coming home, getting a glass of water, and sitting down in front of the t.v.. The next thing I remember is hearing you calling me on the answering machine." "And you were consciouss all the time between then and the autopsy?" "Yes." he nodded, and the corners of his lips twitched up, "I remember you trying to resuscitate me." he said, "And I remember you kissed me before the paramedics arrived." Scully blushed furiously, but he continued, "It kept me sane, I think, that kiss. I told myself that I wasn't going to die without saying goodbye to you properly, and that if I could ever move again, I'd return that kiss." Scully stared at him for a moment, and then she leaned down towards him, "Welcome back, Mulder." she said quietly. Her lips touched his gently, and she felt the life there. When she pulled back, he was smiling up at her. "Thank you." he said, and then his face turned cloudy, "I remember you touching my face when you and Mom came to see me. - And I remember you were crying. - I'm sorry, Scully, I've hurt you again. I always seem to be hurting you..." "Nonsense." Scully cut him off, "It wasn't your fault." she paused, "I took your mother to visit Jefferson." "You did?" Mulder smiled. There was a knock at the door, and they turned to see Dr. Larson standing in the doorway. He smiled at the two agents happy faces. "I thought you'd want to know as soon as possible," he said, " - Agent Mulders blood test results are back. - It was what we expected. - Any trace of the drug that was there has been degraded. - But it does mean that you should be okay to go home now, if you feel up to it." Scully turned to her partner. "Well?" "Let's get out of here." he said enthusiastically. Ten minutes later, having got his suit back, and got dressed, Mulder walked unsteadily out of his room. He waivered to the side as he let go of the door-frame, and Scully rushed forward and put her left arm around his waist to support him. He smiled gratefully, and rested his right arm across her shoulders. Slowly and carefully, they made their way down the hospital corridor, and back to life. The End. I'd greatly appreciate any comments or constructive criticism from fellow X-Philes. Email me at . Danielle Culverson.