Notes: This is dedicated to my friends, for all the stalking, the brainstorming, the inspirations and the laughs. Y'all are the best. Nods to Lisa, Lesley, Jen, Trillian and Rachel, for enduring the late night whining and for reading the beta versions. To Michaela and Lisa, who got me to write this in the first place. For Kimberly, who knows. And lastly, for my Eve. Separate Oaths By: Katrina Ross ____________________ This is too easy. We slip into her living quarters as she sleeps. I stand by her bed and watch her chest rise and fall slowly. Such a shame. But she has it. We need it. I nod to my partner. He nods back, and we get ready. I touch her forehead, and she is ours. I allow myself a ping of satisfaction. Her mind is complex but wholly human. While her complexity presents a challenge, no human can resist our touch. So the woman possessing the small, slender body belongs to us. Ours. I flip her body over and pull the silky nightshirt up, revealing her back. It's not there. I look at my partner. A moment later, I pull the shirt completely off, running my fingers over the smooth skin. My fingers encounter a slight rise near her left shoulderblade and I lean closer, examining the bump. Eureka. My partner retrieves the shirt and I slip it back on. Modesty is foreign to us but we have observed it's importance in this culture. It's time. I gather her up. She is surprisingly low in mass. With our superior capabilities, transporting her from her home to our vehicle will be a simple task. My partner would levitate her, as he does not believe in exerting physical energy. I would rather weaken my physical self than diminish my mind. The transport is complete. My partner brings the vehicle to roaring, leaping life as I tend to our patient's needs. I strap her to the cot, as the trip will be rough. A lock of hair flops over her brow, drooping into her eyes. I smooth it back. Her eyes open suddenly and I stumble backwards. This is not supposed to happen. I recover my surprise quickly and move towards her. Her eyes are wide, her mouth is gaping. I kneel by the cot and touch her forehead. I notice that her eyes are a blue color as they slide closed again. This unexpected occurrence has put me off balance. I did not expect to make a personal connection with the patient. In the process of dampening the mind, we never come in contact with the patients personalities. It is a cold, impersonal procedure executed with surgical precision. Our training involves no lesson on how to cope with accidental personal contact. We are not expected to make that mistake. It creates a conflict with the treatments. In initiating contact, we create a dilemma for ourselves. We are creatures of deep emotion. Even the slightest personal involvement, such as meeting their eyes, results in a being's residence in our emotional center. It is a difficult position, but it creates within us the capability to forge deep emotional relationships with others. I would not sacrifice this capability for anything. I feel our vehicle slow. We are nearing our destination. I must compose myself. I must forget that connection ever occurred. I must forget what I saw when I met her eyes. I must forget the deep emotion that rolled from her when I saw a tall, dark- haired man. I must ignore the pain I felt when I saw a young, red-haired woman and a balding carrot-topped man. I must ignore the images of sun, water and bright laughter I encountered. I glance at my patient. I force myself to see her as a project. She possesses something we need for our profession, for our studies. She is nothing beyond a lab animal. We have a need and her position is to fill that need. The vehicle has stopped. I unbuckle her bonds quickly. My partner enters the back compartment. I allow him to take her, exerting his mind powers to transport her inside the building. We travel down the long, dark corridor together. I never realized the emptiness of this place, the coldness. All the tightly shut doors, their occupants locked away, restrained in their beds. Their silent despair hanging heavily in the cold air. She looks odd, floating in front of my partner, her red hair loose in the air. My partner stops in front of a wide, metallic door. This is the removal room. We will excise what we need inside this room. The patients are awake and aware for the duration of the procedure. We relax our hold on them somewhat, allowing them to sit upright. It allows us the easiest access to their backs. We enter the room, which is dark, save for one harsh light illuminating the cold metal table in the center. My partner and I lift the woman onto the table and I touch her forehead, keeping my eyes away from her face. I step away as she begins to awaken. I am conflicted. My connection to this woman is irreversible. There is a chance to minimize her effect on my emotionalcenter. Do I restrain myself, my emotions, in a possibly futile attempt to salvage detachment? I turn to a bin against the wall, resolving nothing but a decision to withhold final judgement till a later time. I collect the items I will need from the bin. A soft pair of pants, a stack of bandages, an anesthetic, a scalpel. I hand the pants to the woman and indicate that she is to remove her clothes and don the pants. She obeys hesitantly, turning her back on us. She removes her garments quickly, hunching over to minimize the amount of skin she reveals. When she is finished, she crosses her arms over her front. I touch her shoulder hesitantly and she jumps slightly, putting distance between us. I gesture towards the table. She stays still. I gesture again, feeling impatience. I do not appreciate my position but I have a responsibility, a task to complete. I amcomfortable again. In my element. This is an area I know well and I have achieved a level of clinical detachment whenever I am in this situation. In a typical setting, my clinical views are merely a means of getting the job done. Now, they are a necessity. I could not continue if I allowed this connection to cloud my judgement. I focus on the wall and take another step forward. She flinches, then concedes and slowly hoists herself up. I approach the table. I cleanse a small area of skin and administer the anesthetic. She hisses softly as I plunge the needle into her skin. I have noticed this reaction in all of our patients. Humans must have an unusually tender epidermis. I place the syringe on the table and take up the sterile packet containing the scalpel. I open the packet and discard the wrapping. I pull taut the skin surrounding the small lump I have been instructed to remove. This will be my first chance to fully examine my colleague's work. Once it is removed from the patient, my partner delivers it to a laboratory for further study. Unless the findings are conclusive, I will likely never see another specimen. It is tiny, what we have implanted for growth. No larger than a human fingernail. There is great detail, despite the minuteness. I peer closely at it, observing the clarity of the whites, the startling redness of the irises, the depth of the black pupils. My colleagues have indeed been successful. ____________________ My patient is resting peacefully now. My work with her is finished, so I am in the shadows of her cubicle. She cannot see me or sense my presence. I have weighed my options and reviewed the eventualities of every possible scenario and have come to realize that the connection forged requires me to stay with her as long as necessary or until I cannot avoid detection. My strangeness to her leaves me useless as a comfort-giver, but I cannot abandon her in this frightening time. My emotional center will not allow it. I now understand that she must be terrified and fearful for her very existence. If a strange being appeared, unwelcomed, in my home and took me away from family and friends, all for the purposes of weird science, my emotional center would certainlyexperience distress. My previous and current contact with and knowledge of human technology has given me a certain freedom. I obtained a wireless communication device and placed it in the bed with my patient. My hope is that, in her slumber, she will roll atop the device, discovering it, and use it to connect with her family. It is customary procedure to restrain our patients for the recovery process. It allows them to become accustomed their surroundings, to recover from the effects of our mind dampening. Forget customary procedure. This assignment has departed so far from where it was intended to be that I will abandon all caution and treat her the way she deserves to be treated. Atonement, in a way, for the careless attitude shown her previously. I attempted to locate her own garments, but apparently my partner has discarded them. She still wears the soft pants from earlier, and I managed to find a light sheet to cover her with. Her incision will need treating soon. I can see the bandage is already becoming soaked with blood. I move forward with the intent to clean the wound and change the dressing when she moans quietly and rolls to her side. I am surprised but recover quickly. It is good to see she is awake. She had been silent for so long, I was beginning to fear something had gone awry. ____________________ Scully moaned softly, feeling cool fabric slide over her skin as she turned over. She felt something under her side and reached down to push it away. Her fingers closed around the object and she realized it was a cell phone. *What is my phone doing in my bed?* she thought, feeling muzzy and disoriented. She sat up slowly, fighting dizziness. *Oh, my God. Where am I?* She looked around her surroundings. The room was pitch black, a deep blackness, she realized, passing her hand in front of her face and seeing nothing. A tickling sensation on her back distracted her, and she reached back to scratch the spot. A warm, wet, sticky substance covered her hand. She fished desperately for the abandoned phone, fumbled for the on switch and dialed Mulder's number from memory. ____________________ I feel an odd relief at her obvious despair. She is aware of her situation. She is contacting someone who will hopefully bring her comfort. This is all that matters to me. Her well being is of utmost importance. ____________________ Scully clutched the phone to her ear, hearing the rings echo, filling the room. Six rings. Seven. *Oh, Mulder, please.* A sleepy, husky voice on the other end. "Mulder." She gripped the phone tighter, trying to steady her voice. "Mulder..." His voice leapt up, soaring. "Scully? What is it?" Her hands trembled and the phone began to slip. "Oh, God, Mulder, I...they, Mulder, I'mbleeding. It's so dark." "Scully, hold on. Where are you?" he asked, keeping his voice steady. She shook her head. "I don't know, Mulder. There are doors...and men...it's so dark." "Oh, Scully." he whispered, slumping against the wall. "Can you...do you feel all right?" She nodded. "Mulder...I don't understand. I'm afraid...but I remember...something, telling me--no, in my head, it made me believe everything would be all right." He stared blankly at the wall. "Scully, I don't know where to start. Do you think you can keep in touch with me?" "Mulder, don't hang up. Please. There has to be something you...we can do." she said quickly, forcing the words out before he could hang up. "The phone, Scully. How are you able to call me? Are you in a building? Outside?" She hesitated, gripping the phone tightly. "I...I don't know, Mulder. I'm in a building...it's like a hospital. The phone, it's a cell phone, Mulder. I woke up and it was just in the bed with me. I rolled over and felt it under my side." *Jesus. Benevolent abductors.* he thought, anger and disbelief surging through him. "Listen to me, Scully, do you think you'll be able to hold onto the phone?" She bit her lip softly, considering. "I...think so, Mulder. I remember an odd gentleness...I think the phone is here to stay." "Scully, I'm going to get to you. I promise. If you learn anything--anything, you understand, you call me. Okay?" "Okay, Mulder. Okay," she said with some measure of relief. "All right, Scully. I'm hanging up--call me. I'll be there." "I will," she said, ending the call quickly, knowing that if she hesitated even the slightest second, Mulder would never let her go. ____________________ It is good. The fear and despair in her has lessened greatly. I feel her mind awakening, stirring, churning ideas through, then discarding them. I sense the complexity of her mind again and am pleased. The strength of this human woman has been a pleasant contradiction to the perceptions I previously harbored. I know from experience that not all humans have this inherent strength about them. Many of them are foolish, weak, pliant---and I had nothing but disdain for them. She is sitting in this bed in this thick blackness, aware of her situation, aware that she is bleeding and she is planning her escape. ____________________ Mulder sat silently in his car, hands gripping the steering wheel, running his conversation with Scully through his mind. The frightened tones of her voice alerting him to a danger he'd not anticipated. God. They'd done it, they'd taken her again and this time without purpose. Fear and anger rose in him, built and grew and then burst into a white hot explosion of noise and desperate emotion. His hands slammed against the steering wheel as his vocal cords unleashed a cacophony of sound. A white light obscured his vision and he felt disassociated from himself, growing increasingly dizzy. He detachedly realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to gulpseveral long breaths of air. His eyesight slowly returned and his breathing slowed. *This is not helping her.* he reminded himself. He took a deep breath and hummed tunelessly, readying his voice for speech. "Da da da." he said softly, clearing his throat. "Okay." he told himself as he reached for the phone and pressed "4" to speed dial Skinner. One ring, a quick beat, and the gruff voice of his boss was answering. "Skinner." "Sir, this is Mulder." "What is it, Agent Mulder?" "Scully called me, no less than ten minutes ago. Sir, she was taken from her home to an unknown location earlier tonight. I need agents to watch her building...." "What?" Skinner replied, removing his glasses and standing. "Sir, I don't---there isn't time. My partner is missing, quite possibly injured, and I am *not* going to sit back and let this happen," Mulder said, his voice soft but his tone fierce. "All right, Mulder. I'll get a few agents out there as soon as I can. Meanwhile, Mulder, what are you going to be doing?" Mulder hesitated, staring out the windshield, unseeing. "I don't know, sir. I'll think of something." He quickly pressed the end button and tossed the phone onto the empty seat next to him. ____________________ Scully sat cross-legged on the bed, the sheet tucked around her shoulders. Her eyes had not become adjusted to the lack of light, as she had hoped they would. Her surroundings were still a mystery to her. She closed her eyes and gathered the fragments of her composure together. *You can't just sit around like a damsel in distress and wait for a knight in shining armor to show up.* That brought a slight smile to her face. *Mulder, in shining armor. Right.* She slid off the bed slowly, unsure of what her feet would come in contact with. When her feet touched cold concrete, she gasped, relieved that it was a very normal, earthly floor. She stretched her arms out in front of her, reaching for the wall. Her fingertips barely grazed the pebbly surface and she took a tentative, shuffling step forward. *Ahh...success.* she thought, allowing herself a tiny victory moment. She placed her palm flat against the wall and began to walk, growing acquainted with the room. She walked the room twice, discovering a small table to the right of the high hospital bed and, best of all, an unlocked door. Collecting the cell phone, she carefully pulled the door open and peered into the hall. It was dimly lit and blessedly empty. She slipped out of her small, pitch black room into the hallway. She rested against the wall briefly, allowing her eyes to adjust to the change in brightness. When the afterimages blurring her vision disappeared, she took a moment to get herself oriented. She was leaning against a cement block wall in a nondescript, sterile corridor. Doors lined each side and each was windowless and appeared to be tightly sealed. Looking right, she noted two heavy metal doors at the end of the hall. Left, the hall dead ended. *I guess I go right.* She pushed off the wall and walked slowly towards the double doors. A slight breeze caressed her bare arms and she shivered, drawing the sheet tighter around her body. Reaching thedoors, she slipped one pale arm out of the sheet and pushed hard. ____________________ She has chosen her path. Sooner than I had anticipated. I find myself once again in admiration of her character. I am thrilled. The pure energy of the moment rushes through me and I am in the hallway with her. She is stubbornly pushing on the doors with all her strength. I slowly approach and touch her arm gently. She jerks backwards and stumbles into the door. Her eyes are wild as she gazes at me, her mouth open. Then, her face changes, calms. Recognition dawns on her face. The realization that she recognizes me, accepts that I am not here to harm her, is staggering to me. I move around her and press my hand to a small panel embedded in the wall. The doors open noiselessly and I pass through. Hesitantly, she follows, keeping a wary distance. ____________________ The muted lights did nothing to soften the harshness of the computer screen. Mulder rubbed his face and tried to focus. "Anything?" he asked, his voice worn and soft. He watched Byers give a small shake of his head, then glance backwards at him. "Not yet." "Dammit!" his voice exploded. He jammed his hands roughly through his hair and moved away. He leaned against the cool block wall and closed his eyes. *not fair.* His eyes flew open, guilty thoughts disappeared as the ringing of a phone filled the room. He glanced at Langly, lounging in a tall chair, reading. Then to Byers, still hunched over the computer screen. And lastly, Frohike, tinkering with some piece of salvaged equipment. No one moved. Mulder realized the phone's ringing came from his jacket pocket and quickly pulled it out. "Scully?" "It's me, Mulder." "Jesus," he breathed. He glanced up and noticed Langly peering at him over the top of his book. Langly ducked his head and Mulder turned away, facing the cinderblock wall. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and private. "I'm fine, Mulder," she said, her voice sounding very small and tired on the phone. "Honestly, Mulder, I'm worn out and not exactly in the best situation, but I think I'm fine." "You sound better," he murmured into the phone, pressing it tightly to his ear. "I'm with the boys, Scully. We're trying to get a location..." "Mulder, I'm on a cellular phone. Much as I appreciate the effort, and I do, Mulder, but we all know the best you can get is the signal origin." He rubbed his face tiredly and pulled his lower lip into his mouth, biting it gently. "Oh, Scully," he said finally. "I don't know what to do." "Mulder, I've been moved." she said abruptly. He jerked his head up. "What? Where? By whom?" "Listen to me, Mulder," she said softly. "I left my room after I talked to you. The building I was in appeared to be an abandoned factory of some sort. The floors are cement and the walls are cement blocks, unpainted. I think I was on the third floor, which was laid out like a hospital ward. Doors lined the halls, each tightly locked. The second floor was a large room, completely empty. The first floor was identical to the second." "Where are you now, Scully?" he asked. "I'm not sure, Mulder. Another factory. I'm alone, I think. I'm not one hundred percent certain on how I got here, who brought me, so on. I remember seeing someone in the hall after I left the room, but it all gets hazy. I can remember having a conversation, or at least talking to someone, and being angry, then feeling calmer and more rational. It was---they showed me something and suddenly I understood," she shook her head. "Beyond that, Mulder, I can't say what happened to me." He bit his lip, choosing to concentrate on her location. "A factory, Scully?" "Yes," she replied. "It's dark in here, and it's mostly empty, but there are a few crates scattered around." He moved away from the wall, brushing past Byers and beginning to pace. "Can you tell if there are windows, or have they just been boarded over?" "Umm, I think they're boarded over, Mulder. I can see tiny cracks of light streaming in. Is it daytime, Mulder?" she asked, her voice holding a hint of excitement. He stopped in his path and glanced at Langly, who'd abandoned his book and was now listening to a Walkman. "Is it light out there, Langly?" he asked loudly, peeking at his watch. Langly shrugged, turning the tape off and pulling his headphones down. "Dunno. I haven't been outside in hours." "Scully?" Mulder asked, turning away from Langly. "It's nine a.m. It's daytime." "Mulder, I'm standing on a crate. I can see outside," she said. "There's nothing out there. Just a dirt road and some more buildings. Nothing of consequence." she said disappointedly. "Damn," he cursed quietly. A noise on the other end of the phone startled him. "Scully?" "Yeah, Mulder." "Everything okay there?" he queried. "Yeah, I-oh shit!" she cried out suddenly. "What?" he said, gripping the phone tightly. Silence. "Scully?" he said loudly. "Scully? Are you there? Scully!" he yelled. No answer. He pressed the end button angrily and dropped the phone none too gently on the desk beside him. "What is it, Mulder?" Byers asked, appearing at his side, eyes wide and worried. "I don't know," he said, looking away from the bearded Gunman. "She's gone." he said bleakly. "There was a noise, I heard something, she said it was okay, and....she's just gone." *Gone.* the word echoed miserably in his head. *Gone. Your fault...* ____________________ Scully peered into the darkness. She held the phone in one hand, raised as if she had her gun in hand. *Damn.* She placed the phone on the floor and stood still. A small form moved from behind a stack of crates, and she tensed. It moved forward and stood still, trapped in a shaft of light. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the small being she'd encountered earlier in the hall. She took a few small steps forward, stopping as it began to walk towards her. It was much shorter than her, with large darkish eyes, a gray-green skin tone, and tiny facial features. It extended a scrawny arm towards her, it's three fingers gently touching her forearm. She sucked in a tiny breath and closed her eyes, forcing herself to stay still. The fingers were cool, her clinical knowledge telling her that the being's body temperature was likely a few degrees below regular human temperature. The fingers rubbed her forearm gently, soothingly, her arm beginning to tingle slightly. She opened her eyes, feeling a bit woozy, and stared with unfocused eyes at the being. A lock of brick-red hair fell into her eyes, and the being reached up and smoothed it away, his fingertips lingering at her forehead momentarily. She gasped as words began to invade her mind, pouring in, a steady stream of consciousness. At first, they made no sense. She caught random words. Home. Family. Return. Memory. Then she began to concentrate, and the wordsbegan to form sentences. "I don't mean any harm. You are looking for a way home, to return to your family. Your memory will be intact. I can show you the way. Listen." She nodded, listening intently the the voice inside her head. "You are at a warehouse outside of Germantown, Maryland. 4914 East Auburn Road. I must leave. Take care," the being said, removing it's fingers from her forehead, disappearing into the depths of the warehouse. Scully sat down suddenly, feeling her knees beginning to buckle. Tears began to fall down her cheeks. "It's been a hell of a day." she murmured, feeling about the floor for the phone. Her hand closed around it and she pulled it to her gratefully. She wasted no time dialing Mulder's number. He answered on the first ring. "Scully?" he said, hope and worry coloring his voice. A small smile appeared on her lips. "Mulder, it's me." she replied. "I've been dying to say that," she said, her relieved smile growing bigger. "Jesus, Scully. You scared the living daylights out of me. What the hell happened?" "Oh, I ran into an old friend." she answered. "What? Scully, you're not making any sense. Are you all right?" "I'm fine, Mulder. I know where I am. Please come." "What?" he said, feeling breathless. "How the hell? What happened, Scully? Where are you?" "Germantown, Mulder. 4914 East Auburn Road." "I'll be right there." he said, turning and leaving the Gunmen's office. "Thank you," she said. "It's been a hell of a day." she added, her voice sleepy. "I know. Rest. I'll be there soon." ____________________ He took the stairs from the Gunmen's office too quickly, almost losing his step once or twice. *She's alive, she's okay, must get to her.* ran through his head like a mantra as he exited the building, spilling into the warm, sunshiny day before he even realized where he was. He stood in the alley, a wild look on his face. His dark hair was tousled and his hazel eyes were protesting the brightness of the day, sliding shut against his will. He blinked twice and rubbed his eyes with a fist. He took off down the alley towards the street, hoping he left his car where he thought he left it. He burst onto the street, almost running into a short man who jumped back, then began yelling curses. "Sorry." muttered Mulder, jogging down the street. He spotted his car and reached for his keys. He quickly unlocked the door and got in, starting the car and pulling into traffic with nary a glance. The traffic was low and the lights kind. He arrived at the warehouse in twenty minutes, knuckles white from clutching the steering wheel too tightly. He dashed to the nearest door, turning the knob. Locked tightly. "Wonderful." he commented, unholstering his gun. He clicked the safety off, stepped back, and fired one round into the lock. He replaced the gun in it's holster and tried the door again. It opened with just a tiny shove. He entered the dark confines of the warehouse warily. His heart leapt into his throat at the first glimpse of her. For a long moment, he could only stare at her. *Alive* She sat on the floor, knees hugged tightly to her chest, face tear-stained but calm. His eyes devoured her--her disheveled hair, her face, her slight frame. Two giant steps brought him to her side, and he knelt, placing a hand on her cheek. "Scully?" he said softly, searching her face. "Mulder," she murmured, focusing on him at last. Her small hand came up and covered his. "You came." "I promised." he said simply. She nodded, pulling away from his hand. "Can we go home?" she asked, looking into his eyes. "We need to get you to a doctor." he replied, tucking the sheet more tightly around her body. "Mulder," she sighed. "I'm fine." "No, Scully. You have to be checked out, immediately. Who knows what you were exposed to?" "I told you--they took something from my back. Nothing else. This...man helped me to escape, helped me to save myself. Gave me a way to connect with you." she said, lowering her voice. He paused and touched her cheek. "Aw, Scully," he murmured softly. "Come on, Scully," he said, gently helping her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Lean on me. We're going home." She complied, sliding her arm around his own waist and leaning into him as they walked out to his car. "I want a bath." she said as he helped her into the car. He chuckled softly. "I'll draw you one, as long as I get paid back in full." She quirked an eyebrow at him, a faint smile on her face. "I'll pay you back, all right." she murmured, her eyes lingering on his face. He leaned down and looked at her for a long moment, touching her cheek. "Scully, after you rest, you need to see a doctor." "Not today, Mulder. I just want to sleep." she protested, watching him buckle the seatbelt around her. He walked around the car and got in the driver's side. He sighed, starting the car. "Okay, we'll go tomorrow." "We, Mulder?" she asked, curling up in her seat, facing him. "Unless you'd rather go alone." he replied, tapping a finger idly on the steering wheel, then stealing a look at her. She shook her head. "No. Come with me. I'd like you to be there." "I'm there, Scully." he said, pulling into traffic. "Always." ____________________ The End. You like? Want to send glowing remarks or constructive criticism? Send to Sivara@aol.com. Flames will be cheerfully replied to, as well! Bring 'em on--I made myself a flame-retardant suit.