From: "Shaye Beaumont" Subject: Revised: Epiphany 1/1 by: Shaye *US4 Spoilers* Date sent: Sat, 26 Jul 1997 03:09:20 PDT Please distribute to archives with my name and title attached. Do not post to ATXC Title: Epiphany Length: 1/1 Genre: MSR, S, A Violence Rating: 1 (mild) Spoilers: Gethsemane Keywords: Mulder/Scully Romance Rated: PG-13 for mild language and a few adult situations. Author: Shaye Feedback: driftster@hotmail.com Summary: Learning the truth too late, M and S try to catch-up on their relationship before they are separated. Disclaimer: Characters of the X-Files are the sole property of CC, Fox Broadcasting, and 1013 Productions. The author will not accept anything except constructive feedback for writing this story. All thanks should go to the show's creator for his wonderful paranormal world. Special thanks to Kelli and Sarah for previewing. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Epiphany 1/1 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Velvet. The warmth and smoothness of velvet is what I remember of our time together that night. Everything from the soft tone of his voice to the gentle touch of his caress. No one could ever reach into my heart or comfort my troubles that way again. Never, because the person who possessed that power was gone. I had been a candle lit from his flame, my passions dormant without him as a catalyst. With a single spark and one carefree moment our emotions were ignited. Unfortunately the happiness of discovering our love for each other was to be short lived. Darkness had descended upon me. As it had onto him. I could see our love slip away in the dead, black eyes that stared blankly upwards into mine. Those eyes were not his. It couldn't be. Mulder was too full of hope and excitement for the future. Our future. Now he was gone. I felt trapped in an endless maze of possibilities and theories. Did someone make this look like a suicide? Was this even his body? My intuition told me that this could not be him. Uneasiness stirred in the pit of my stomach. Mulder always had something to say or prove . . . so why wasn't there a suicide letter? If others had ever thought that I was cold and unfeeling, I was more so now. Whoever did this to us was going to pay. So help me, I will make those responsible atone for every drop of blood they've spilled. Months have passed since I made that promise to myself. Alone in this desolate existence I can only cling to my memories of him and wait for a chance to even the score. The conspirators that left my body a raped and barren plain will try to erase those memories. They will not succeed. I am a dying and desperate soul who will fight at all costs to keep what is dear to me. There is an icy blood that courses through my veins, numbing my anger as thoughts of *them* seep through the glacier-hard barrier of my will. Save your anger, I tell myself. Use it constructively to help him. To help yourself. How could I carry on his life's work when I barely have a life to give? Not many would call my state living, but it is the best that I can hope for in the end. The end eventually comes to all of us with its bottomless appetite to devour the souls of the unsuspecting. It also comes to those who welcome its release from their disease-ridden vessels that are no longer able to weather the pain. My place in this mortal spectrum is somewhere in-between. Sadly, I may not have to look any further than Mulder's death certificate for my future. No matter what my fighting spirit says, he was probably my last hope. What sin had I ever committed that had made God's judgment swift and harsh? Is there even a God to hear my pleas? I remember Mulder asking me that question about the existence of God. I didn't care at the time. Perhaps I chose to ignore it, afraid of the answer? It is obvious that I care now, that I need an answer. What I do not . . . what I *will* not believe is that Mulder is dead. He was taken away not by his own hand, but by someone else. This *is* a hoax. I know it is. Mulder had instilled too much hope in me that night to believe otherwise. I will look for tomorrow in yesterday. There I can fall back into the comfort of his arms and he will tell me that everything will be all right. Falling. Falling faster than the tears that stream down my face. Falling away from the shadows of evil that encircle my world to destroy me. Falling as I close my eyes. I lie on my bed, too weak from the cancer to go out and search for him myself. Yet, I am still coherent enough to remember the rhythm of his heartbeat as I place my head against his gray coat. The scent of his cologne still lingers on its fabric and it seduces me to sleep. XXXXXXXXXXXXXX The room in which we stand in is dark. We have just found out that what Kritschgau said was true. I believed the D.O.D informant, but Mulder couldn't accept the truth. My partner's voice was sharp as it shattered the silence of death surrounding us. He wanted to know what Kritschgau had said to me that I believed him over everything else. So I told Mulder my reason, that those men had given me the cancer. The anger that Mulder had lashed out at me with accusation had suddenly turned inward to himself. I could read the horror in his eyes and see the fire of his anger quenched by tears. He stood motionless for only a moment longer. The look he gave me was as if death had passed over us. I thought the guilt would kill him. More than any embarrassment he would suffer in front of his peers, this revelation had cut him deeply. I was so sorry that I had opened my mouth, but it was the only way that I could get him to realize the truth. After a couple minutes I decided to go talk to him. He had always been there for me. Now we needed each others' strength. When we returned to his apartment hardly a word had passed between us until he turned on his computer. "What are you doing? Mulder?" "Take these disks to Frohike. It's the only safe place for them. I can well imagine that everything in the office has been destroyed." "You're giving up? Just like that, Mulder? Finished?" He turned his head in my direction. The light from the computer's screen illuminated his face with a lifeless eerie blue. He looked tired, the years of pressure under the weight of the Consortium had taken their toll. "No, I'm not giving up. I'll do this on my own, but first I have to make them *think* that I have given up. I'll give them what they want. . . ruin my reputation. . .I never had much of one anyhow." It was then, when his voice dropped an octave, I knew that his reputation meant more to him than he had let on. "Just when they think I've destroyed my own credibility and have vanished from the forefront . . . I'll reemerge . . ." I couldn't let him finish. "What am I supposed to do? Vanish with you? I can't do that to my family, Mulder." "Scully, you're not going to do anything. You are going to rest and try to fight this disease. You're dying and it's my fault." There was an urgency that laced his voice. He was trying to show me that I was the most important mission in his life. His sincerity touched me beyond words. How could I have been so fortunate to find such an unselfish person. This is not the Mulder I met four years ago. "Scully . . . I'm going to find the cure. I will make you well again. Afterwards, I'll deal with those bastards. The truth will be known and they will answer for everything they've done." Always the hero, but an underdog. He wouldn't have a chance outside the Bureau. He wouldn't have a chance without me. We had always balanced each other out. He wasn't a quitter and neither was I. He knew that and he couldn't possibly think I would settle for anything less than to be in the fight together until the end. "Mulder, I'm dying, but I am not dead!" It was then that I reached for his hand and placed it angrily over my heart. "Do you feel it?" Then I moved his hand to my neck. "Do you? I'm alive and I'm not giving up until the day . . . you place your hand there and feel nothing." He left my grasp to gently sweep a tendril of hair from my face. "You know I look at you and wonder why the heck someone like me became an FBI agent. You're a brave and loyal soldier, Scully, but I can't afford to have you along on this one." My anger grew. He was trying to ditch me again. "You're right, Mulder. You should have never gotten into this line of work. You can't handle the guilt that someone may get hurt. What about the fact that you have to answer to someone and play well with others, Mulder!? You cannot be the leader all the time and carry the weight on your shoulders. I am a partner in your mission, not a soldier." "Scully, you know damn well what I mean. There were others that I've worked with that got hurt or died. . . and I've always had to answer to someone and play by the rules of their game. What I cannot handle is the fact that I've quite possibly killed someone that I care about very much. Will a simple *I'm sorry, Scully* be enough!?" He was shaking and I knew he wanted to shore all this pain by himself. "Stop with the excuses. Stop blaming yourself, Mulder. If it wasn't you and I, it would have been someone else. It's bigger than you and it has been going on long before you were born. Ever since Samantha's disappearance you have been living in the past." I had to catch my breath and relax. I couldn't lose it, because he needed my stability. He had always touched me deeply, bringing out the best and sometimes the worst of my personality. "Mulder, you're doing the same thing now, thinking that you could have done something different that would have prevented my illness." I searched his face for answers to see if anything I was saying was getting through. He averted his eyes from mine and shook his head in disagreement. "No, Scully, I'm thinking about all the loved ones that we've lost. Is this really going to be worth it? Because if it isn't, I don't know if I can stand to lose another person that I love." "Mulder, I can never replace your sister. Please, do not dote over me like I am one. I am a fully capable government agent." He laughed a bit. I couldn't figure out why. Whatever had come over him, it made me smile. I felt the tension between us disappear for a moment. "Well if you're not my sister, would you settle for being a "kissin' cousin"?" His laughter was more forced than genuine. He knew were he had gone. I had rarely held anything against him, but I couldn't let his words go scot-free. I crossed my arms and backed slowly away, frantically trying to assemble my mental defenses. "You don't want to go there, Mulder. If you could take anything back in your life . . . you should take that back. I think it would be best for me to leave, now." The space between myself and the door seemed to be a mile away. I couldn't reach there fast enough for my liking. "Scully." I stopped without turning to face him, just short of my salvation to the outside. "Take these disks I made to Frohike. I can't get near the Gunmen. I'll give you the phone number to his mother's house. She'll relay a message to him in a code we use. He will probably want to meet you at a laundromat downtown. It's a favorite hangout of his to check out women's underwear." Damn him. I tried to summon my steely composure, but it melted away when I looked into his eyes. His face was peaceful and his gaze understanding. I knew he wasn't going to push the subject. On the other hand, I knew he saw right through me. He saw my secrets as clear as day or he wouldn't have even tried. My hand shook as I reached to take the disks from him. "Scully, listen, I'm sorry." "You're right, Mulder, in what you had said before. *I'm sorry* doesn't make it better." Emotions had taken over and I had begun to cry. My grip on the disks was firm, but I couldn't stuff them into my jacket pocket. I couldn't move. I was coming apart from the inside-out. One person had turned the tough-minded Dana Scully into a panicked wreck of a woman. Mulder's expression grew hard as he briskly turned his back to me. My tears were too painful to watch. He sat down at the computer and began to format the drives to destroy our work. The final admission of his feelings came when I saw that the password on his computer had been changed from TrustNo1 to Starbuck. My legs, willed by my heart, moved my body stiffly towards him. Common sense, my golden rule, had been thrown away. I stood behind the chair and gently wrapped my arms around him. Together we stared at the computer's screen, viewing the deletion of files. Everything we had done together in four years rapidly disappeared. Our history was being obliterated with the press of a button. What would remain to prove we existed? His body was strangely relaxed as if he had often thought of a moment like this occurring between us. Gently I laid my cheek against his and shut my eyes. It was not at all like I had imagined. His skin was warm and soft, not rough. Even his jaw that was always held in rigid form was at ease. It dawned on me that perhaps I hadn't really known the true Mulder at all. He moved his hands to mine and gave them a gentle squeeze. "You better go. I've got a lot to do before I break clean from them. On your way out could you put my NASA tape in the VCR?" "Sure." My reply was immediate, but far from the confidence of being *sure*. I didn't want to leave him here. "I. . . I guess listening to other babbling fools like myself, makes me feel better. Except, their work was proven and accepted." "Mulder, you are not a fool. Someday soon you will be accepted. The truth will be known and the world will listen." "Scully, I don't know if I could handle the publicity, because just getting you to believe me was astonishing enough." He had kept a hold of my hands as he turned the chair around to face me. "Stay out of trouble. I'll be in touch." His words were friendly, but direct. "So if I was going to get into trouble, I better do it now?" Did I really say those words? Apparently I had, judging from the amused look he gave me in return. "I don't know, Agent Scully, is it the kind of thing I can include in my report?" "No one is going to believe you, remember?" >From the heavy silence that lingered in the air, I knew that our light-hearted conversation had ended. "Yeah, but let's not make a decision out of sympathy for each other." He stood up and escorted me to the door, managing a brief smile, trying to regain a bit of happiness. "Don't forget to feed my fish. They're in your protective custody." Mulder made a funny puckered fish face while looking towards the aquarium. He had an innocent quirkiness about him, even now as everything was falling apart. Only he could laugh in the face of chaos. I couldn't resist my feelings any longer. Without hesitation I raised my hand to his face and brought him down for a kiss. Seize the moment before it's gone. How true those thoughts would be. In less than eight hours I would have to come and identify his body. Or what someone wanted me to believe was his body. His lips had tasted of the sweetest drops of honey, and I never wanted to part from there. The excitement that he stirred in the core of my soul was intoxicating. My hands trembled as they felt the firmness of his back and moved to his shoulders and finally upward through his hair. I wrapped as much of the silky chestnut strands as I could around my fingers. He was enjoying the kiss, but his hands remained paralyzed on the middle of my back. He wanted to take it slow; to make sure it was right. I let him pull back and place tiny kisses on my face and neck. I craved to get closer to the heat of his body, wanting him to lift me up so I could wrap myself around him. After the four years that we had spent together, I cannot explain the magnitude of passion that we had denied each other. For truth seekers we surely lied a lot. We had always had a certain rapport from the very first day we met, but it wasn't until much later in the partnership that I dared to wonder if I loved him. It was during the aftermath of the committee hearing that I realized the fact that I had never told him that I had loved him. The meaning of hitting rock-bottom was quite clear. I was there, looking up, knowing he wasn't there to throw me a lifeline. "Scully, you better go. We're getting caught up in something that we better wait to enjoy. I know this is hard, but we're not saying good-bye. I promise you." I kissed him one more time before I left. He had given me his life's work on these disks, but I had also left my life in his hands. I prayed that God would let my battered spirit watch over him until he was able to come back to me. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I want to call him and tell him how my days are passing. A stupid wish, really, it is more like a form of self-torture that I am putting myself through. I should have never have left him that night. I should have told him that I loved him. Violence had never been my way of solving problems, but the hate that was contained in my heart for those men was unfathomable. Rage was pushing me along, whispering to my subconscious that it would be okay for me to open the flood gates of my emotions. I acted upon my own advice. I swung the gates wide open and screamed at the top of my lungs. I took my badge and threw it across the room before shredding all of the photos of myself at the Academy. There was to be nothing left to indicate that any loyalty remained between myself and that corrupt organization that had imprisoned us. When I was finished I noticed tiny droplets of blood falling onto my shirt. Another reminder. Except I couldn't rip it up and throw it away. This reminder, the ugliest of them all, would haunt me every waking moment. Slowly I rose from the sofa to go into the bathroom to stop the bleeding. I viewed myself in the mirror and cried. With a washcloth I wiped away the blood the best I could. Faint reddish stains lingered above my lip. I couldn't stand what had become of my life. I have never felt so vulnerable. Those were my last thoughts before I fell to the floor. The cancer was winning. Soon the temporary blackness of unconsciousness would be permanent. The cancer wanted to leave me dead in a pool of my own blood. Time was running out. The day of Mulder's funeral my family attended the service. My brother stood beside me, but did not say a word. He didn't have to, because I could see it in his eyes. He looked at me with contempt. It was almost like he was happy that Mulder was dead. Why did Bill feel this way? Mulder wasn't responsible for Melissa's murder or Dad's death. Why? If my family only knew how much Mulder loved me they wouldn't judge him this way. XXXXXXXXXXXXXX Mulder has been gone for three months. I still sleep with his jacket every night. It's a tangible part of him that keeps me warm and protects me. My mother wants me to go back to the hospital, but I told her that there was nothing the doctors could do for me. I would rather fight this battle on familiar territory. In the end I will beat this monster that grows inside me. In the end I will live out my days with him. XXXXXXXXXXXXXX "Mr. Mulder, you are no longer an agent for the Bureau. You are now owned. . . belong. . to this Organization." Fox was dressed in a dark gray suit. He sat at the end of a long mahogany table, listening to the Smoking Man brief him on his new line of work. "You do realize, Mulder, that you can never go back. If you do, we will kill you and all your hard work will be for naught. Although, I will give credit where credit is due; you just about got away with it. No matter, you will take over your father's position." Mulder narrowed his gaze at the Consortium member's offer. "And you will cure Agent Scully of her cancer? What I don't understand is why Barnacle Bill here couldn't make a deal with you." The Smoking Man smiled slightly and looked towards Bill Scully who was standing behind Mulder. "That's a good question, Mulder. Well, you see, Mr. Scully doesn't have anything to deal with. A small incident that killed several Navy crewmen on his ship led him to our service. An unfortunate accident such as that could ruin one's career and proud family reputation. Not to mention the potential loss of a large military pension. He's a hit man, Mulder, but he will assist you and see to it that his sister is cured." Bill Scully laid a heavy hand on Mulder's shoulder and eyed him threateningly. "I'm sure Mulder and I will work well together." XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 9/15/97 Scully, I keep this journal for my sanity as I am forced to carry out their work. I can't tell you how many lives they have ruined, how many people they have pinned under their thumb. What I want to tell you is that your brother and I are doing what they want so you can be cured. Yes, these bastards have gotten to Bill too. What I didn't know was that your brother has been working together with Kritschgau. With their help I will find a way out of this. Someday soon we will crumble this organization from within and the truth will be known. Stay strong, Scully. Don't give up hope. There are still good people in this world who want to make a difference. Do you know that occasionally I check on you? Remember, I still have the keys to your apartment. I stand there in the dark while you sleep, wanting to take you in my arms. You are so valiant and beautiful, but I can never look at you for too long. The sight of you holding on to my jacket rips me apart. You never told me, but I know what you couldn't say before. Those tears that linger on your face, that sparkle in the darkness tell me all. Time has not passed easily for us. I understand why you wrote that letter to me in the hospital. You know the one I wasn't supposed to read. What's funny is that I don't want you to read this, either. Not out of embarrassment, but because I would prefer to tell you in person those three unspoken words. FWM ********************************************************************* End 1/1 E-mail: driftster@hotmail.com *********************************************************************