From: "Angela Malmberg" <angela.w@spray.se>
Date: Sat, 27 Nov 1999 18:01:28 +0100
Subject: "Chosen" by Angela C.J. Wettergren
Source: direct

    Mulder knocked softly on the door to Scully's
apartment before opening it with his key. He
wanted to make sure she knew in advance that he was
coming in, so that they wouldn't once again end up
with her pointing a gun at his head. That had
happened too many times already.
    His thoughts involuntarily wandered back to the
time when Scully had thought he was with 'Them'. She
had thought that he was on the other side and that he
had deceived her. She had thought that he had never
trusted her. She had been so wrong... She, of course,
realized that later when she was back to her old
self again. But at that moment, all common sense had
been gone from her mind, and she had been pointing
her gun at him and screaming. The only thing that
had stopped her from shooting him that time was the
fact that her mother had stepped in-between them. The
words 'Scully, you are the *only* one I trust' replayed
in his head. He had meant those words with everything
that he was.
    After breaking down in her mother's arms, they
had taken her to the hospital. She had been so
ashamed of herself, even though he had insisted that
there had been nothing she could have done to stop
it. 'They' had wanted it to happen. Maybe not to
her directly, but it had been 'Their' doing completely.
    And she had pointed her gun at him again earlier
the night before, believing he was someone else - someone
who was out to hurt her. He would never do that. Not
on purpose. He knew more than well that he had hurt
her deeply on several occasions, but never physically,
and never meaning to. Right then, he swore that he
would never hurt her again.
    The past night had been the most wonderful night
of this entire life. Something he had hardly dared
dream about had happened. Dana Scully had given
herself to him, body and soul. He had found out that
Scully was the most loving and passionate woman he
had ever known, letting herself go completely. She
had trusted him with everything that she had - with
everything that she was.
    He opened the door with his free hand and entered
her clean apartment. He sighed as he closed the
door behind him. Scully's place was always so tidy,
so different from his own place.
    He carried the brown paper bag with the fresh
bread and orange juice out into the kitchen. Two
coffee cups were placed on the table next to each
other. He noticed that the coffee was already ready
for them, and he filled the two cups on the table.
    "Scully?" he called out as he put the paper bag
down next to the steaming coffee. When he didn't get
an answer from her, he walked out of the kitchen and
into her bedroom - nothing. Maybe she was in the
bathroom.
    "Scully? Are you in there?" he asked softly while
knoccking on the bathroom door. He opened it when he
didn't get an answer, but she wasn't in there.
    Where was she? A panicked feeling started to rise
within him, but he told himself nothing was wrong. She
had probably become frightened of being alone after her
dream, and went after him. They had probably simply
missed each other, and she would be back soon as she
realized this too.
    He walked back out to the kitchen, and that's when
he saw it. Below the refrigerator, the cream was spilled
out all over the floor. Something had happened. Scully
would never leave her kitchen like that.
    He couldn't breathe; he couldn't think. He ran out
of the apartment, not even bothering to close the door
behind him as he went. He stumbled down the stairs, not
willing to wait for the elevator. He ran so fast he
nearly fell over. A lot of good that would do him - and
Scully - if he fell and broke every bone in his body.
No, he had to find her, and he would.
    He finally reached the last step, and continued out
onto the street. Scully's car was still there, as was
his own. Whoever had taken her had brought his own car.
Well, that made sense... Mulder was sure that she
had been taken from him, and had not left by her own free
will. At first it had occurred to him that she might
have regretted what had happened between them during the
night and gone back to her mother's. But then he had
reconsidered. Scully would never do something like
that. Not after all they had been through. Not after
telling and showing just how much they meant to each
other, how much they loved each other. And she wouldn't
have left without telling him why. Scully was no
coward who didn't dare stand up for her opinions. And
when he had seen the spilled cream on the kitchen
floor, he had been certain. The man - monster - who
had... He still had a hard time even forming the
thought in his head. The monster who had raped Scully
had come back for her. He felt it. He knew it.
    Why the hell had he left her alone? Why hadn't he
realized what was about to happen when she had told
him about her dream, that she had felt the man invade
her mind? Because he hadn't thought anything would
happen during the mere ten minutes he had been away
from her. But that had been ten minutes too long.
    Why hadn't he just brought her with him? Just
taken her out for breakfast instead of insisting that
he would go out and buy it for them. He wished it were
physically possible to kick himself in the head.
   He looked around himself frantically, searching for
a possible witness to what had happened. Finally, he
noticed a woman getting out of her car who was about
to go into the same building Scully lived in.
    He ran up to her from behind, grabbing her shoulder,
and she screamed out in surprise. He quickly apologized
to her, and explained who he was. He was somehow able
to find his FBI identification in one of his pockets,
but he doubted he had given her enough time to actually 
see what it was he waved in front of her face. He had
probably been close to scaring the poor woman to death,
but that was far from his mind right now. He had to
focus on Scully.
    Without being aware of the fact that he had a tight
grip on the woman's arm, he started asking her questions.
"Did you see a man come out from here with a woman - a
petite, red-haired woman?"
    "Agent Scully?" she said, her eyebrows raising in
a way that reminded him of Scully. "Has something
happened to her?"
    She knew who Scully was. "Yes," he answered her,
his grip becoming even tighter on her arm. "Yes. I
believe that she has been kidnapped. Did you seen
anything? Anything at all?" His excitement grew as he
began to imagine what the woman might be able to
tell him.
    But she shook her head, looking up him with tired
eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I just pulled up here
with my car. You're the only one I've seen outside
this building."
    Mulder let go of her arm, cursing as he started
running to his own car. He had no idea where to start
looking, in which direction to go, but he had to do
something.
    "Wait!" the woman called after him. Mulder stopped
dead in his tracks, spinning around as he stopped. "I
did meet a speeding car a couple of blocks away from
here. It almost forced me off the road."
    "Where? What did it look like?!"
    "Two blocks south of here." She pointed down the
road they were standing in.
    Mulder eyes followed her gesture, and then returned
to her face again. "What did the car look like?" he
repeated.
    The woman looked as if she was in deep thought as
she took several seconds to answer. He wanted to scream
at her to speed up her brain, but he held it back as just a
thought.
    Finally she answered, after what to him had seemed
like hours. "I'm sorry... I don't really remember. I
wasn't looking too hard." Mulder sighed in despair, and
that made the woman try even harder to remember. "It
was a dark car," she continued, trying to come up with
anything that could possibly help this man in his search.
"Either black or a very dark shade of blue."
     Oh, that narrows it down, Mulder thought to himself,
but held back this comment to himself as well.
    The woman, however, saw Mulder's expression, and
felt sad that she couldn't help him with more information.
    "I'm sorry," she said once again, "but I really can't
remember."
    Mulder only shook his head. "Thank you anyway," he
said to her, taking out one of his cards from his pocket.
He pushed it into her hand, and then looked straight into
her eyes with a look he usually saved for murder suspects.
"If you think of anything else, anything at all, contact
me immediately."
    The woman nodded, and as Mulder ran off to his car,
she looked down at the card in her right hand - Special
Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI. "I will, Agent Mulder!"
she called after him, as he slid in behind the wheel in the
car. "I will," she repeated lower to herself, and then
walked into the building.

*   *   *   *

    Assistant Director Walter Skinner had been spending
almost an hour trying to calm down one of his favorite
agents. It was virtually impossible, so he didn't even
understand why he kept on trying. But he had to. Fox
Mulder was almost in hysterics; he was yelling at everyone
who stepped into the office, and he had almost scared
the living daylight out of his secretary when he had simply
barged into his office without even letting her announce
him first.
    Skinner was sitting at his desk, watching as Mulder
ordered the other agents to do this and do that. He
had never seen him like this before - not when Scully
had been abducted and not even when she'd had the cancer.
But this was different. Scully had now allegedly been
kidnapped by the same man who had raped her only a few
months earlier. There could be no other explanation. It
was the only logical conclusion based on the recent
circumstances, and that knowledge made every agent in
the room uncomfortable, not only Mulder.
    Skinner suspected that Mulder knew he thought of
Dana Scully as more than just another agent with the
FBI. He had found he respected both Mulder and Scully
more than he thought that he could ever respect any
other human beings. Scully had gone through hell and
back, and had managed to still maintain her sanity. She
had been working with Mulder for more than six years now,
and never once had he heard her complain about it. It
didn't matter how many times her life was in danger, or
how many times she had to lie for Mulder to save his ass,
risking her own career in doing so. She did it every
single time, and still had more integrity than anyone
he knew.
    She had been through too much, as had Fox Mulder.
He didn't deserve this either. Yes, he had screwed up
more times than Skinner would like to remember, but
that was who he was. He was a man who seemed to draw
trouble to himself like a magnet.
    When Mulder had barged into his office just little
over an hour earlier, he had looked so completely
lost. Apparently he had been driving around for more
than two hours, trying to find the other car which had
his partner in it. But it had all been in vain - nothing.
He hadn't even found anyone who had noticed anything
even remotely suspicious, except for the woman outside
of Scully's apartment building. It was like searching
for a needle in a haystack - impossible. That would
never stop Fox Mulder, though, definitely not. For the
past forty-five minutes he had been giving out orders
to every available agent in the Bureau, telling them
to search through the records of Scully's students
at the Academy; to question all of them and to let
nothing pass them by. This was Agent Scully's life
they were talking about, and if anyone screwed up,
they would have to answer to him.
    Skinner closed his eyes tightly, rubbing his temples
with his fingers. No matter how much he cared for Scully,
or for Mulder for that matter, the agent was giving him a
headache. Judging by the looks on the faces of the other
agents, that was probably the case with them as well. He
knew that Mulder cared about Scully more than anything
else in this world, but this had to come to an end.
    "Agent Mulder," he said loudly, using the voice
that simply said 'be quiet'.
    Mulder spun around, stopping in mid-sentence at
the Assistant Director's stern voice. "What?!"
    Skinner stayed silent for a few seconds, taking
in the expression on Mulder's face. He looked annoyed,
probably because he had been interrupted. But he also
had another look; a look that told Skinner that
Mulder was afraid - lost. And that he felt like he
had absolutely no control over anything at the moment.
    "Why don't you try to calm down for a minute,"
Skinner suggested, using a calmer voice.
    All the other agents' eyes were on Mulder, waiting
for his reaction. But before Mulder got the chance to
say anything else, Skinner turned to one of the agents.
    "Agent Durban, would you please see to it that all
of the agents know what their assignments are? Good. Now,
if you would all please get out of here and do what
you're supposed to, so I can have a talk with Agent
Mulder."
    The agents looked at each other, and then walked
out of the office, one by one, until Skinner and Mulder
were the only two left in the room.
    When the door closed behind the last person, Skinner
motioned for Mulder to take a seat in one of the chairs
that were in front of his desk. Mulder looked reluctant
at first, but then sat down and waited for the lecture
that he was sure was about to come from the older man.
    But Skinner wasn't out to give him a lecture - far
from.
    "Mulder... I understand how you feel."
    Mulder's head shot up at this. "You have no id-"
    "Let me finish," Skinner interrupted him. "I do
understand how you feel. I may not feel as strongly
as you do, but I care about Scully, too. You know that."
    Mulder didn't even nod, but Skinner took his
silence as a 'yes'.
    "I'm worried too," he continued. He looked at Mulder,
trying to make eye-contact with him, but he just looked
down at his folded hands, that were lying in his lap.
Skinner stood up from his chair, and started pacing the
room.
    "Ever since Scully was..." He stopped himself as he
felt Mulder's eyes upon him, and rephrased what he was
about to say. "Ever since the incident with Scully, I
have been worrying about her every day. I know she would
probably shoot me if she found out, but I also know that
you have been feeling the same way."
    Mulder couldn't help but smile weakly at Skinner's
words. He was right. Scully probably would have shot
both of them, had she known that they went around
worrying about her all day long. But he would rather
have her shoot him than have her missing like this. He
would gladly let her do anything to him if he could only
find out where she was right now.
    They were both silent for a couple of minutes;
Skinner still pacing the room, somehow finding it
impossible to sit down again, and Mulder still sitting
in the chair, his gaze seemingly focused on the
floor in front of him.
    Skinner was startled when Mulder finally spoke.
    "I should've been there," he said. He sounded so
sad, so remorseful. "I should've been there to stop
this. Why did I have to go out and buy that damn
breakfast?!" He hit his fist hard on the desk, and
Skinner jumped slightly as he stood by the wall,
surprised by this sudden outburst. Mulder slumped
forward in the chair, resting his head in his hands.
    Skinner's heart ached for both Mulder and Scully.
He had gathered that Mulder had been with Scully just
minutes before she had been kidnapped and that Mulder
had come back just a few minutes later. Of course he
blamed himself. That was how Fox Mulder worked.
    Skinner crossed the floor, and stopped next to
the chair, putting a gentle hand on Mulder's shoulder,
giving him all the support he could. Mulder seemed
to accept it, doing nothing to make him take his
hand away.
    "You can't blame yourself for this, Mulder," he
tried. "Not everything that happens to Scully is
your fault. You can't be with her every second."
    Under his hand, he could feel Mulder's body start
shaking. He realized that the agent was beginning to
lose control. Skinner squeezed his shoulder, and Mulder
turned around in the chair, looking up at him.
    Skinner had rarely seen Mulder so close to the edge.
Mulder's eyes mirrored his soul, telling Skinner all
about the pain and hurt he felt inside which was
something Skinner was more than well aware of anyway.
    "We will find her, Mulder", Skinner assured him,
surprised that he was sounding more confident than he
really was. "We will find her," he repeated and then
walked out from the office, leaving Mulder behind to
follow when ready.
    Mulder watched as his superior left the office,
trying to focus on the words he had spoken. 'We will
find her, Mulder. We will find her.' Skinner was right.
They would find her. They had to find her.
    He was out of the office in a second.

*   *   *   *

    She was surrounded by complete darkness. She tried
to move, but found that it was impossible. She was
trapped in a small space, unable to move more than just
a couple of millimeters. Her legs were tied together,
as were her hands behind her back. Every part of her
body was in pain, and if she could have, she would have
screamed. But she couldn't. Someone had put something
in her mouth and tied it around her head, making it
impossible for her to utter any sound louder than a
grunt. When she opened her eyes, she realized that she
was also blindfolded, as she saw nothing but black.
    She closed her eyes again, feeling that everything
hurt less if she kept them shut tight. Somehow she also
felt safer; shutting out the world in a way, even if she
couldn't see anything when she did have her eyes open.
It felt like when you were a small child, and you put
your hands in front of your eyes. You couldn't see
anything or anyone. And by that, you believed that no
one could see you. That was how Scully felt at this
moment; like a child - very lonely and frightened child.
    The last thing she could remember was Mulder going
out to buy them some breakfast, and standing in front
of the refrigerator, taking out some cream for her
coffee. At that moment, everything went black. The
painful pounding in the back of her head suggested that
someone had hit her. She tried to raise her hand to
her head, but was immediately reminded of the fact that
her hands were tied together, and even if they hadn't
been, she still wouldn't have been able to move because
of the lack of space.
    She fought the urge to throw up as she felt a wave
of nausea wash over her - this damn morning sickness.
She could suffocate if she threw up right now, and that
was not how she wanted to leave this life.
    Suddenly she felt the small space she was in move.
She then realized where she was. She had been trapped
like this before. When Duane Barry had kidnapped her.
She was in the trunk of a car. His car.
    Its car.
 
*   *   *   *

    His eyes were spying everything around him on the
streets; watching the other cars carefully, making sure
he wasn't driving too fast anymore. He had made that
mistake when driving away from the redhead's apartment
building, and he had met another car on the way. But he
had had to get away from there as quickly as possible,
in case that partner of hers would return. Hopefully the
person in the other car hadn't suspected anything strange
about his speeding car. Lots of people were in a rush
around these parts, and even though it had been very
early in the morning, it still wasn't something that
happened rarely.
    It had been even easier than he had thought it would
be. He had been sitting in his car outside the woman's
apartment building, simply waiting for the right moment.
And then the right moment had come. He had seen the tall,
lanky man come out of the building, apparently going out
to buy something, since he was checking his wallet for
money.
    It was then that he had acted. He had silently slipped
out of the car, walked into the building, and gone to Dana
Scully's apartment. As he stood outside the door with the
number 35 on it, he felt a rush of excitement reach his
brain throughout his body. It *was* exciting. He was coming
for his woman, to make her his again. And this time, he
wouldn't let her be taken away from him like the previous
time.
    He had grabbed the door handle, finding it to be
locked, of course. It had only taken him a couple of
seconds to get the door opened. When he had seen the
redhead with that other man in his mind, he had felt
such rage. The rage once again started to build in him
when the thoughts entered his mind again, but he pushed
them away with more pleasant images - images of *himself*
and the redhead. Yes.
    He had stepped into her apartment, hearing sounds
coming from the kitchen. Slowly, soundlessly, he had
made his way toward her, coming up right behind her
without her even sensing him in the room. At first he
had simply stood there, watching her beautiful small
frame. She truly was beautiful. No matter how much he
hated the fact that she had given her body to another
man after him, he still found her to be the most perfect
woman in the world. That was why he had chosen her.
No matter what she did, she would always be perfect.
But that didn't change the fact that she had to be
punished. She would get what she deserved. She had
to learn that she belonged to him and no other.
    Then he had hit her hard over the back of her
head, and she had fallen back into his arms.
    If he had thought he had the time for it, he would
have cleaned up the cream from the floor, so that her
partner might believe that she had left willingly, but
he decided against it. The other man would probably be
back soon, and he felt no need to face him. Not yet.
    He had picked up the petite woman in his arms, and
carried her out to the waiting car; putting her into the
trunk after first binding her legs and hands together;
gagging her mouth and blindfolding her eyes. Precautions
were everything. It had taken him no more than ten
seconds.
   And then he had been on his way. Toward his new life
with the woman of his choice.
    He smiled to himself. She was his.

*   *   *   *

    He was behaving like a complete asshole, and he
knew it. Screaming out orders to anyone that came
close, yelling at anyone who didn't get their orders
right from the beginning. He was living his own
personal hell, and right now he didn't care what
everybody else thought, just as long as they helped
him find Scully.
    What he didn't know, what he didn't realize, was
that no one blamed him for it. They all knew what
had happened to Dana Scully. Things like that didn't
stay secret for very long in a place like the FBI.
And everyone also knew how Fox Mulder felt about his
partner, even if they had no idea that the two
agents had taken their relationship to a new level.
    No one blamed him. How could they?
    Mulder had gone to Quantico with Skinner and the
rest of the agents to investigate this new lead. They
had barged into the lecture room with Scully's former
students in it. Their excitement to see Mulder again
quickly subsided as they realized why he was there.
None of them had known what had happened to Scully,
but they had all wondered why she had disappeared so
suddenly without saying good-bye to them all. Now that
they found out, they were mortified, and they promised
Mulder they would tell him and the other agents anything
that might help them find Dr. Scully.
    Nine students were missing from the day's lecture.
Three were women, which left six suspects - or so they
assumed. The possibility, that whoever had taken Scully
had left her somewhere else, only to come into class to
draw attention away from himself, had crossed all of
their minds. But they would start with the six men
who were missing from the class. It was at least a
start, and better than having nothing at all to go on.
    Mulder and Skinner were sitting together with two
other agents in one of the offices at Quantico. Spread
out before them were the files on the six men who had
been missing from the lecture, and they were going
through them all, looking for anything that might help
them come closer to solving the mystery - finding the
person who did this. They had been at it for almost
four hours, and agents Salvador and Bass were about
ready to give up, thinking that it was a waste of time.
But Mulder knew that there had to be something in
those files - something, anything.
    "Have you found anything yet?" he heard Skinner
ask the other agents. Mulder looked up at his boss,
trying to read the man's facial expression. It was hard,
tense, down-to-business, but Mulder also saw the caring,
the worrying, and the need he had to find Scully, too.
Sometimes Skinner amazed him. He surprised him every
time he showed this side of himself; every time he stood
by him and simply let him do what he had to do. He
didn't know if he would ever be able to express the
gratitude he felt toward his boss, but he would try.
    He returned his attention to the papers he had in
front of him, still desperately searching for...
something. He didn't know what yet, but he had that
feeling. He *knew* that something was in there somewhere,
just waiting to be found. And he was going to find it,
no matter how long it took him. He also knew he didn't
have all the time in the world. Scully never left his
mind, and he could feel her out there somewhere.
    Every single second, he could hear her voice in
his head. Her words were constantly replayed in his
mind. 'He was evil, Mulder.' Evil... 'It was as if...
as if he was made of pure evil.' He closed his eyes.
'I couldn't stop screaming...' She was screaming...
He hadn't heard her scream. He hadn't been there to
protect her. Time was running out. If he didn't get
to her soon... he would never get her back again.
    Six pairs of agents had been sent out to go to
each address of the suspects, and an hour later, three
of them had reported back, only to say that they had
found the men at home; all three having the flu that
was going around. That left three suspects: Steve
Johnston, black male, 24 years old; Tristan Morane,
white male, 28 years old; and Edward Hobart, white
male, 27 years old. All three with clean records, but
Mulder knew it was one of these three men who had
Scully. One of these men was the monster he wanted
nothing more than to kill. Now he just had to find
the missing piece of the puzzle.

*   *   *   *

    She didn't move. Her breathing was becoming quicker
and quicker by the second, and she mentally tried to
calm herself down. It was better if he thought she was
still unconscious from the hard blow to the back of
her head.
    He was carrying her over his left shoulder, and she
could feel the muscles in her body protest at the
uncomfortable position. Her hands and legs were still
tied up, and she still had the blindfold on as well
as the bad-tasting cloth in her mouth. There was no
point in even trying to scream or fight him off. She
wouldn't get anywhere. She didn't even know where she
was. When she had regained consciousness in the trunk
of the car, she hadn't had the faintest idea about how
long she had been lying in there. It could have been
five minutes. It could have been five hours.
    She could hear nothing around them, except for his
breathing, and her heart thumping in her chest. Could
he hear her heart as well? It was racing at what felt
like 200 miles an hour, and the pulse pounded in her
ears. He couldn't hear it, could he? God, she hoped not.
She did not want him to know that she was awake. She
did not want him to start talking to her again. She still
remembered that voice, and she never wanted to hear it
again, not if she could avoid it.
    She desperately wished she hadn't had the blindfold
on. If she hadn't, she would have opened her eyes quickly,
since she was being carried over his shoulder, to look
around and maybe get a clue as to where she was. Just
in case she would somehow be able to access a phone. Not
that that was very likely to happen, but you could never
know. Anything could happen at any time. And Scully
would take any chance she got to get away from this...
creature. She didn't want to think of him as a man.
Mulder was a man. This... was a 'creature' in her mind.
Several times, she had referred to him as 'the devil'
in her mind. She knew he was evil. There was nothing good
about him or in him. She felt it now, like she had felt
it on the night he had violated her.
    Suddenly she felt herself being dropped on something
Soft - a bed, or so she guessed. At least she wouldn't
have to lie on the floor, or be locked up in some closet.
She didn't understand his intentions. What did he want
with her? Except for... the obvious. The thought made
her nauseous again, and she pushed it all back, once
again trying to stay calm and focused. She had to, or
she would lose her mind. He had called himself 'the
chosen', and he had told her that he had chosen her.
What the hell had he meant by that?
    Did he know that she was pregnant? Was that why he
had decided to take her now? But how could he have
known about the child growing inside of her? But then
again, why wouldn't he have known? She didn't know
what powers he possessed, or what he could do. All
she knew was that he was different from the rest of
them - and not in a good way.
    The thoughts of her pregnancy watered her eyes,
and for the first time, she was glad the blindfold
covered them from his sight. When she had been with
Mulder, she had been ready to keep it. She realized
that this may be her only chance, and she had wanted
to take it. And Mulder would be there for her when
the baby came. He would never leave her side. They
could learn to love the child as their own. She had
almost been positive of that. But now as she felt
this 'creature's' hands on her body again, all the
fears came back to haunt her. What if she would never
be able to love the child? What if the child turned
out to be like him? What if it turned out to be evil?
    What if she would never get out of this alive to
find out?

*   *   *   *

    He was getting stronger in both mind and body.
When he had carried the redhead over his shoulder, she
felt as though she weighed no more than a feather. She
was a petite woman, but even small women weighed
something.
    She was conscious and awake. She hadn't wanted to
let him know, but he knew. She had tried so very hard
not to, but her body had tensed, her breathing had
become quicker, and he had felt her heart beat faster
and faster in her chest. But he let her keep up her
game - for now. It would soon be time for her punishment.
    He didn't want to hurt her. It felt somehow wrong
to hurt the Perfect One, but he knew what he had to do.
She had to learn, to be shown that she could not be
with someone else without having to pay a price. He
would make sure he didn't hurt the child growing inside
of her - his child, his son - but she would have to
suffer. She would heal and once again become flawless.
She would come out even more perfect than she already
was. And everyone would, for all eternity, know that
she belonged to him and only him.
    He watched her as she lay on the bed with her
beautiful, fiery red hair falling over her face. There
were no windows in the small room, and the only light
came from the light bulb that hung from the ceiling.
Her hair shone in the light, and he so much wanted to
touch it, smell it. But not yet. He could not let himself
be weakened by her appearance. He had work to do first.
    He let his hand float over her features; close
enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin, but
not so close that he was actually touching her. He
wanted to touch her. He wanted to feel her.
    He snatched his hand back as if he had been burned
by her. Her beauty was poisoning him. He needed to
stay focused. He would get to appreciate her beauty
and magnificence later.
    With determination in his steps, he went out from
the room and closed the door behind him, turning the
key in the lock as he did.

*   *   *   *

    <click>
    He had locked the door behind him. Not that it would
have helped her any even if he hadn't. Apparently he
didn't trust her enough to untie her, so she was helpless
to stop whatever might happen right now.
    Her wrists and ankles ached like hell. She tried to
feel how tight her hands were bound together now that
she had space to move. The only thing she found was
that he had done his job, and he had done it well, making
it impossible for her to even come close to getting
loose.
    Burning tears threatened to fall from her blindfolded
eyes, but she choked them back. She would not cry. She
wouldn't. She had felt his hand like a shadow over her
face, and she had done everything not to hold her breath,
as she simply waited for him to touch her. But the touch
had never come. Instead, he had left.
    She didn't know if she would be able to handle this.
What if she would never get away from there? What if
she would never get to see her mother and brothers again?
What if she would never get to see Mulder? She loved him
so... missed him. He had stood by her side, even when
she had tried her hardest to push him away. He hadn't
accepted it. He held her when she needed to cry; he
made her laugh when she needed to laugh. He made her feel
wanted when she felt the least desirable, he loved her
when she didn't feel like she deserved to be loved. He
didn't deny her anything, even if he could, and she
loved him for it.
    What was he feeling and thinking right now? Was
he in as much pain as she was? She could almost feel
his presence with her, in her, and that was the only
thing that kept her from going insane at this point.
She could hear his voice in her head, telling her how
much he loved her, that he would always be there for
her. Then why wasn't he here right now? She knew that
it was unfair of her to think like that, and she
hated herself for it, but she couldn't help it. Why
hadn't he stayed with her instead of going out to buy
that damn breakfast? She hadn't even been hungry...
All she had wanted was for him to stay and hold her in
his arms forever. But she hadn't told him... and he
had left. It wasn't his fault. She couldn't blame him.
He was most likely blaming himself enough for both of
them at that very second, and she didn't want to add
to it.
    She tried to make herself as comfortable as possible
on the bed, turning until she lay on her side, her
legs pulled up toward her chest, making herself as small
as she could.
    She was afraid to sleep, in case he would come back,
but she had to. Her body was exhausted, everything ached,
her head pounded so hard she felt like someone was
hitting her with a hammer... She needed to sleep. And
maybe she would find comfort in her dreams.
    She had to get away... She wouldn't give up. She
couldn't give up.

*   *   *   *

    "Okay... Yes... Thank you." Mulder hung up his cell
phone, and then put a line through one of the names on
the list with his pen. He returned his attention to the two
remaining files in front of him. Only two suspects left,
he thought to himself.
    He turned to Skinner. "Agents Carlson and Durban
finally made it to Steve Johnston's. He was home as well,
with the flu. Nothing strange about him at all."
    "So we're down to two men now?" Skinner asked, looking
up at him.
    "Yeah," Mulder confirmed. "Edward Hobart and Tristan
Morane." He fell silent and closed his eyes, resting
his head in his hands.
    "Mulder?" He felt Skinner's eyes on him.
    "I hate this," he said, his words coming out as
a whispered sigh. He looked up at his superior again.
"I really hate this." Skinner nodded in understanding.
"I can't stand just sitting here in this office any
longer, knowing that some fucking maniac out there has
Scully."
    "It's killing you from the inside." Mulder stared
at him. "I know," he explained and Mulder nodded.
    There was no point in denying it. Skinner was
right. It was killing him. He felt completely useless
sitting in an office instead of being out there looking
for Scully.
    As if Skinner had read his mind, he said, "Mulder,
there's no point in you running around out there.
Until we have something to go on, we won't find Scully.
The best thing you can do for her right now is to
stay focused. Let the other agents take care of the
rest."
    Mulder knew that Skinner was right. Before he got
the chance to say something, his cell phone rang again.
    "Yeah, this is Mulder," he answered into the phone.
"Oh... Okay, anything else? No? Okay. Yeah, I know,
thank you." He once again hung up, turning back to
Skinner and the two other agents. "Neither Hobart or
Morane could be found at their houses," he informed
them. "The agents questioned all of the neighbors, but
no one has seen either of them since last night."
    "So in other words, there is no way of knowing
which one has Agent Scully?" one of the other agents
asked. "Assuming, of course, that it is one of these
men to begin with," he added quietly, only half wanting
Mulder to hear it.
    Mulder looked at him. 'No way of knowing'? "No, Agent
Louis, not so far," he answered after a few seconds. He
refrained from commenting on what else the agent had said.
Returning to the files, he continued, "But I know that
there is something in these files, just waiting for us
to find it. Something we just haven't figured out yet.
There has to be."
    The other agents looked at each other, exchanging
glances. They wanted to find Agent Scully as well, but
they both thought that Mulder was looking for something
that just wasn't there. They had been going through
these files for hours now, each file over and over again,
and they still hadn't found anything that could lead
them to Scully. It just wasn't going to happ-
    "Yes!"
    Mulder's sudden scream made everyone in the room
jump. Skinner was already out of his chair, standing next
to Mulder, hunched over him, so that he could see what he
had found.
    "What?!" he asked, the excitement obvious in his
voice.
    "I think I've found something," Mulder explained,
showing Skinner the paper he was holding in his hand.
    Skinner skimmed through the text, but he couldn't
see what it was that had made Mulder react this way.
"What do you mean?"
     Mulder became frustrated, and asked Skinner to
read it out loud.
     "'On March 24th, 1995, Mr. John Martin's convenience
store was robbed at gunpoint'", he read. "Yeah, so?"
    "Just read on!" Mulder pushed him.
    Skinner adjusted his glasses and continued reading
out loud. "'Also in the store was Mr. Tristan Morane,
who put himself between the two robbers and Mr. Martin.
Mr. Martin later reported that since Mr. Morane refused
to move out of the way, one of the robbers pulled the
trigger on his gun. Mr. Martin says that he is certain
Mr. Morane was hit, and that he called the paramedics.
However, when the paramedics got there, there was no
sign of Mr. Morane being shot. Morane insisted that
he had not been hit, because the robber had never even
shot, but according to Mr. Martin, Mr. Morane was hit
at least two times. Since the police have not been
able to find the men who committed the crime, this has
not been substantiated.'" He stopped reading as the
rest of the report had nothing to do with Morane. "I
still don't see it, Mulder. All this is to me is a
badly written report."
    "You don't see it? Scully said that she shot the
man who-" He stopped in mid-sentence. "She said she
shot him," he started again, "but that it didn't affect
him one bit. This is our man. This is him! Tristan
Morane."
    He grabbed the piece of paper from Skinner and
showed it to the other agents as well, even though they
had already heard it being read. "See?!"
    How could he have missed it before? He couldn't
even remember reading the report before now, and yet
he had been sure he had read through every single sheet
of paper at least five times already. But it didn't
matter. He knew who had Scully. Now he had to find
her in time...
    "But he wasn't at home, wasn't that what Agent
Hall told you on the phone?" Agent Louis said, and
Mulder nodded.
    "I know," he said. "Now we have to figure out
just where the hell he took her." He turned to Skinner.
"Sir, would you please get us a search warrant right
away? We're going to his house - now."
    Skinner didn't say a word. Instead he picked up
his own cell phone, calling in a few favors.
    Only a few seconds later, Mulder was back on the
phone himself. "Danny? It's me. Get me everything you
can on one Tristan Morane. Yes, everything. His
mother's maiden name, where his siblings live,
everything. Yes, even what his pet rabbit was called
when he was a child. Great. Send it to me at this
address when you're finished." He gave Danny Tristan
Morane's home address. "And please, hurry. This is
Scully's life we're dealing with. Yeah, I'll be sure
to tell her that when I find her. Thanks, Danny."
    He hung up and grabbed his coat as they all went
out to their cars. Danny had to come up with something
useful. Maybe Morane's family had a summerhouse
somewhere, or some other place they used to go to
on holidays. There had to be something.

*   *   *   *

    Nothing. It was a dead end. Nothing... They hadn't
been able to find anything of use, not a fucking single
thing - not in the house, not in the papers Danny had
sent over. Nothing. Nowhere - a dead end. It was as simple
as that.
    He was sitting on the couch in his apartment. Files
were scattered all over the table and the floor, but he
didn't care. It always looked like that. The only
difference was that Scully wasn't there to help him this
time.
    Mulder felt the feeling of defeat build in his
chest. He pushed it away immediately. If he was ever to
find Scully, he couldn't allow himself to give up. Giving
up meant letting her down, and that was something he would
never consciously do. It had only been less than a week.
They had to find something eventually, even if he had to
search through every building in the whole country himself.
He would do it until he found her. He wouldn't let go yet -
not ever. But he had to keep himself sane, or it would
never work.
    There had to be something he had missed; something
in the house or in the files. It was like looking for a
needle in a haystack, but he would do it, not only for
Scully, but for himself as well. If he ever gave up, even
if only for a minute, he would never be able to live with
himself.
    God, he missed her... She had been missing for five
days now, and not having her there with him was killing
him. He had not know what missing someone really felt
like until Scully was taken. He didn't know what falling
in love was until Scully. None of his feelings for her
were ever easy to understand. She brought out both the
best and the worst in him, never even realizing that
she did so. She didn't realize the effect she had
on him, and that was what made her different. She
never used him against himself.
    He had only made love to her once, and what he
wouldn't do to be able to make love to her again. To
simply hold her tight in his arms, to whisper in her
ear that things were going to be all right. To be able
to tell her how much he loved her and how much she meant
to him. Tell her that she meant more than life itself.
She had to know this already... But there was something
he also knew about Dana Scully. On the surface, she was
the most confident person on earth. But beneath it all,
she was just as unsure of herself as he was, needing
assurance just as much as he did. He wanted to give her
that assurance every day. He wanted to tell her that she
was wonderful, beautiful, and that she deserved to be
loved more than anyone.
    He had to find her.
    The only reason he was at home right now was because
Skinner had threatened to suspend him if he didn't go
home to get some sleep. Had he not needed FBI resources
to help him find Scully, he would still be out looking.
    He had not slept since the morning Scully had been
taken. He could only think of her, which made it
impossible to sleep. How could Skinner expect him to
sleep, when he knew that Scully was out there somewhere,
waiting for him to find her? Sleep... Sleep was something
that would have to wait. He was aware of the fact that
he probably should get some sleep to keep his mind
alert, but it was impossible. Even if he did try to
sleep, he wouldn't be able to. He wasn't tired. And he
wouldn't be tired until he found what he was looking
for - Scully.
    Scully's mother had come over earlier and cooked
him dinner - a dinner that he had hardly taken a
bite of. Normally, he thought Mrs. Scully would have
been offended that he didn't eat, but this time she
had hardly eaten herself. She had tried to talk to him
on the couch after dinner. When she had started to cry,
he had carefully taken her into his arms, and tried to
give her the comfort he didn't feel himself. Mulder
loved Mrs. Scully dearly, but right now he needed to be
by himself. So he had pretended to fall asleep on the
couch, and Mrs. Scully had silently left the apartment
after gently planting a kiss on his forehead. She put
such faith in him. He couldn't let her down either.
    He picked up one of the papers in front of him
and began reading it through for the hundredth time
that night.

*   *   *   *

    The bright light from the bulb that hung from
the ceiling still hurt her eyes, even after all this
time. Her eyes simply refused to get used to it, giving
her a constant headache. If she had dared, she would
have asked her kidnapper to put a shield around it, to
shut out some of the light. But she would never ask him
anything; she would never force him to speak to her. His
voice was just as terrifying as she had remembered and
she did everything in her power to avoid making him
speak. She hadn't spoken a word since he had removed the
ropes around her wrists, the blindfold, and the disgusting
cloth in her mouth. She did as she was told - that way
he didn't have to use many words.
    She had hardly eaten any of the food that he had brought
her over the days, but had eventually forced herself to
eat something, not wanting to endanger the child she was
carrying - even if the only reason she had it was because
of him. She could never hurt the child consciously - it
was an innocent participant in all of this.
    She didn't know how long she had been here - wherever
here was. There were no windows, and therefore no way of
telling whether it was day or night. She estimated that it
had been close to a week, but she couldn't know for sure.
She couldn't be sure of anything. This... this 'creature'
had not yet told her what he wanted with her.
    Several times, he had hinted that he knew about the
baby, but she convinced herself that she had read something
into his words that just wasn't there. But just like with
everything else, there was no was she could be absolutely
sure.
     There was one thing he had said to her that had
stayed in her mind, and haunted her every hour, every minute,
every second - punishment. He had told her that she had
to be punished for what she had done, but that she didn't
need to worry, because when it was all over, she would
once again be perfect - more perfect. This frightened her
more than anything else. She didn't think that the actual
punishment had taken place yet - if you didn't count
the fact that she had to listen to his voice every day,
something that was more than enough for her. She sensed
that something much worse, something she couldn't imagine,
was going to happen to her. And it was going to happen
soon - very soon.
    A chilly wind ran through the room as the door was
suddenly opened, and she instinctively curled her arms
around herself for protection. She slowly opened her
eyes, even though she wanted nothing less than to see
his figure standing there. One of the most frightening
things about him was that he looked just like any
other person. He looked... normal. But she knew what
lay behind that facade. She knew it better than anyone.
She knew because she had experienced it.
    She watched him watching her as she pushed herself
up on the bed until she was sitting. When his eyes
met hers, she quickly looked away to the other corner of
the room, staying silent, praying that he wouldn't
speak. That had been asking too much.
    "It's time," he hissed at her.
    Her whole body involuntarily started to shake. She
didn't want to show him that she was frightened, but she
was, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She
froze. She couldn't move. Had it not been for the shaking
of her body, she wouldn't have moved at all.
    "I said, 'it's time'," he said again. Scully gave
him no reaction as she stared at him and his voice
seeped into her mind, deeper and deeper.
    Then he started walking toward her, and her mind
set her body free. She panicked and leaped off of the
bed. Somehow, somewhere in her mind, she thought that she
might be able to escape him through the open door. She
failed. Even though she was quite quick for her small
stature, he was still a lot faster than she was. He
caught her before she was even halfway to the door,
and spun her around to face him. She hadn't even stood
a chance against him.
     "Are you trying to escape me, Dana?" Her name
coming from his lips was something she would never
forget. Why was his voice sounding like that?! "Haven't
you accepted it yet that you are mine forever?"
    "Never!" she screamed at him and tried to pull
herself loose, all in vain. His grip on her arm was
so hard that the thought that he might be breaking her
arm ran through her head. But she didn't show that she
felt any pain. She would not give him the satisfaction.
It had been enough that she had frozen and shown him
her fear. That would not happen again.
    "Never," she repeated again, this time with more
determination in her voice and sounding less frightened,
even though she had never been more afraid in her life.
What the hell was going on in his mind? What was he
planning on doing to her?
    He didn't say anything else to her, but simply pulled
her out of the room toward another door. He pushed her
in front of him, still holding onto her arm in a steady
grip, and made her stand right in front of the door.
    She wondered what lay behind it; thinking it was
hell if this was where he was planning on punishing her.
She slowly closed her eyes, and the last thing she felt
before waking up again was another hard blow to the back
of her head...

*   *   *   *

    Tristan Morane watched Dana Scully with big eyes. She
was his, for now and for all eternity. Nothing would
separate them - nothing. Not even that damn partner of
hers. She would forget about him, and if she didn't, he
would make sure that she did anyway.
    She was so incredibly beautiful. And the scars would
only make her even more beautiful. They would be the sign
that she was his. At first, he had only thought of it as
necessary - her punishment for doing wrong. But, now it
took on a different purpose as well. She would forever be
marked as his chosen one. It would hurt her badly, but that
was what it was supposed to do - hurt her, punish her. Make
her realize that there was nothing she could do to fight
this. Make her accept that this was her fate. She would
understand it one day. She would understand that she
was chosen, and that it was something that should make
her feel special. She didn't feel that way yet. She
fought him too much; she thought too much about this
Mulder character.
    If he closed his eyes, he could still see his woman
in bed with the other man. It was a sight that made him
feel sick to his stomach, and made the rage build within
him. The thought of his woman with another man was enough,
let alone the sight of them in his mind. Fox Mulder would
pay one day, too. That was something he would make sure of.
No one touched his chosen one and got away with it. No
one.
    He turned his head around in the dark room. Candles
were lit everywhere, giving away the only light in the
room. They were standing on the floor, on small tables
in the corners, and hanging from the walls in candlesticks.
Fire represented strength and power to him. He respected
it. He had never been afraid of it. He was not afraid of
anything. He had stopped feeling fear a long time ago.
The 'Chosen' didn't feel fear; that had been made clear
to him right from the beginning.
    His gaze focused on one of the corners, and there he
met a sight that made bile rise in his throat. A woman
hung there, her arms tied up on the walls. Her long,
blonde hair hung almost down to her waist. Her short,
black skirt had inched its way up even further, showing
off more leg than he wanted to see. Her white top clung
to her breasts in a way which made her look like a hooker.
Her once well done make-up had now run down her face from
sweat mixed with tears.
    She was dead.
    He had met her in a bar when she had tried to pick
him up. He had been disgusted by her, but had also seen
the possibilities. He had let her take him with her
back to her place. She had probably expected sex. Stupid
woman. He would never sink so low as to have sex with
anyone else than the woman of his choice.
    She had told him that her name was Savannah. He
hadn't wanted to know her name. She had been one of those
women who always went to bars, and had different men every
week. He wondered if she had anyone who even cared about
her. Not that *he* cared either way, but the phone in
her house hadn't rung even once, and no one seemed to
miss her. It had been over two months now, and still no
phone call, no knock on the door.
    They probably all knew what kind of woman she was.
Surely he couldn't be the only one who had seen that right
from the beginning, could he? No one was worried about
her because they probably thought she had gone off with
another man again. If they only knew.
    It wasn't really the sight of her that disgusted him.
It was the way she had come on to him. He had been sitting
at the bar, enjoying his drink, when suddenly this woman
had come up to him and whispered in his ear what she wanted
him to do to her. He bet this wasn't what she had expected.
She had run her hand up and down his thigh, squeezing it,
and he had turned to look at her. She was the kind of woman
that many men would dream of spending a night with - tall,
leggy, blonde, with a big chest. This woman who would talk
dirty to them in bed. Many men's biggest dream. But she was
the kind of woman he despised more than anything else. The
kind of woman who was only out for one thing - sex.
    His woman was not like that at all. But she had made
a big mistake making love to Fox Mulder, something he
would certainly not accept from her. He would have expected
it from anyone else, but when it came from Dana Scully,
it disappointed him. In a way, he supposed he shouldn't
be surprised that it had happened. After all, Dana Scully
was a woman, and being a woman, she was like that by
nature. He had expected too much of her when he had thought
that she would be that different from the rest of them.
    She *was* different. But apparently not different
enough. He would change her though. He would make her
realize that she could only give herself to one man. Him.

*   *   *   *

    Mulder looked up from the paper he was reading when
he heard the knock at the door. Whoever it was, he would
make them go away. Mrs. Scully had left four hours earlier
and he did not want to be disturbed again.
    He rose from the couch with a loud sigh, and made his
way through the apartment to the door. When he reached it,
he looked out the peephole to see who it was.
    Mrs. Scully? Again?
    Without a second thought, he opened the door to her.
"Mrs. Scully? I thought you left," he said, trying to
come up with something that would make her go away quickly.
But he stopped as he saw her tear-streaked face. "Mrs.
Scully, has something happened?" Had she heard something
about Scully that he hadn't?
    Margaret let herself be guided into the apartment
she had left only a few hours earlier. She didn't even
bother taking her coat off before she sat down on the
couch, and waited for Mulder to join her.
    Mulder watched her in silence as she made her way
through the room. Something had happened; something that
had scared her. He didn't know what, but it was something
serious. The look she had on her face made him feel
frightened as well. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear
what she had to tell him.
    "Fox..." she started, as Mulder sat down beside her.
Mrs. Scully was the only one he let get away with calling
him by his first name. In some strange way, hearing
the name he despised so much come from her lips comforted
him. "I had a dream, Fox." She looked him straight in
the eyes, looking for any signs that he was listening
to her and giving her his full attention.
    He was. He remembered the last time Mrs. Scully had
told him about her dreams - when Scully had been abducted.
She had told him that she had had dreams about something
bad happening to Scully, but that she hadn't wanted to
worry her daughter. Her dreams had been right before.
    "What happened?" he asked, afraid of the answer,
but needing to know. He tried to keep himself calm -
for her sake.
    Mrs. Scully looked at him with her big eyes. They
reminded him of Scully. They both showed so much emotion
in their eyes; emotions that they were sometimes trying
hard to keep to themselves. "I went to Dana's apartment."
Mulder nodded to encourage her to keep going. "I didn't
feel like going home to that big empty house all by
myself, and I thought that I would feel closer to Dana
if I stayed at her place."
    Mulder understood completely. He had done the exact
same thing himself more times than he could count.
He had been to Scully's apartment in the hope that he
would feel her presence; hear her speak to him and tell
him where to find her.
    He grabbed her hand, gently squeezing it, letting
her know that he understood; that he was having the
same feelings himself. When he saw the silent tears run
down her cheeks, he forced himself to look away. He did
not want to cry, and he wasn't going to. Not now. He
cried when he was alone.
    "He is doing something bad to her," she suddenly
said. They had both been silent for several minutes;
each caught up in their own thoughts and he was
startled by the sudden sound of her voice. She was
still clutching his hand so hard it almost hurt.
He didn't mind; he had hardly even noticed. He was
holding onto her hand just as hard himself; knowing
that at that moment, it was the only thing that kept
him from falling apart.
    He turned his head slightly to look at her again.
"Bad?" he asked his voice barely louder than a whisper.
    Her nod was almost invisible. "Yes... bad..." She
paused for a few seconds, a soft sob ripping through
her body. "I could see it so clearly. He had a... He...
And he..." She stopped, unable to continue.
    Mulder closed his eyes as he put his free arm around
her shoulders and carefully drew her to him, trying to
give her the comfort he so desperately sought himself.
    "It's okay," he heard himself tell her. "I'll find
her... I promise." He was saying words to her that he had
to believe in no matter how hopeless things started to
look. This was something he held on to like nothing
else - the belief that he would find her. He had to find
her. How would he be able to go on without her? She was
his everything. His partner. His best friend. His love.
    His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the
phone. For a brief second, he considered not answering
it. But then he realized that the phone call might have
something to do with Scully. Why else would someone
call him in the middle of the night?
    Before he picked up, he pressed Mrs. Scully's hand,
sharing a silent prayer with her that this wasn't bad
news.
    "Mulder," he answered to the person on the other
end of the line, his voice strained.
    "Agent Mulder?" a light, female voice asked.
    "Yes, this is he."
    "Oh... This is Heather Stewart. I'm the one who
lives in the same building as Agent Scully. The one who
saw the car." She almost said the words as questions,
as if she was wondering if he remembered her.
    "Yes, I remember you, Miss Stewart," Mulder said,
not even having to search his photographic memory to
remember the woman he had half scared to death that
morning. Did she remember something new? He prayed that
she did.
    "I remember something about the car," she said,
hesitantly.
    "Yes?" His voice sounded annoyed. What was it with
this woman? Why did she take such a long time to get
it out? "What do you remember?"
    "I think I remember what the license plate said. It
was different, so that's why. I'm sorry I haven't thought
of it before now, but it just hasn't crossed my mind until
I saw another car with a strange license plate while driving
home from work tonight. And I am also sorry for calling
so late, but you did say I should call you immediately."
    "Yes!" he almost screamed at her. He didn't care if she
was working late or if she was calling him late. "What
was different about the license plate?"
    "Oh, I'm sorry. Of course." The woman seemed to realize
that she had been rambling on about things that were not
important or interesting to him. "It said 'BARFLY'. Rather-"
    He cut her off. "Thank you, Miss Stewart. You've been
a lot of help." He hung up and immediately picked the
phone up again, dialing Skinner's number.
    "Fox, what's happening?" Mrs. Scully asked from the
couch.
    He turned around and she could see the excitement on
his face. "We have a lead, Mrs. Scully. We're going to
find Dana."

*   *   *   *

    Darkness and a dull, pounding ache in the back of
her head - that was all Dana Scully could see and feel
as she regained consciousness. Then she realized that
her eyes weren't open and that was why the world
suddenly seemed to be pitch black. She couldn't
remember how she had gotten here in the first place -
wherever 'here' was. That creature had tried to take
her somewhere... She had tried to escape him, but it
had been impossible. He had been too fast, too strong.
She had been too slow.
    Scully had always prided herself on her ability
to take care of herself as a woman and as an FBI agent,
but this - this was more than even she could handle.
She wanted Mulder to help her. She needed him to help
her. This creature wasn't *human*. He couldn't be.
    Slowly, she opened her eyes. Her eyelids felt so
heavy it was as if someone had put weights on them to
keep her from opening them at all. She blinked rapidly
a few times, trying to make her sensitive eyes adjust
to the light even if it was very weak. The pain in
her head got stronger the longer she kept her eyes open,
yet she didn't close them again.
    She let her eyes make their way across the dark room,
but she did not see anything or anyone. There was nothing
except lit candles that were seemingly placed everywhere.
Never again would she look at candles the same way.
    As the seconds slowly passed by, she started to
regain the feeling in the rest of her body parts as well.
She tried to move her hands to her head, to somehow try
to make the pain go away, only to find that it was
impossible.
    She rolled her head back and looked up. Her hands were
cuffed together, fastened to something in the ceiling.
Then she suddenly realized it. She rolled her head and
looked down instead. She was hanging several inches
up from the floor with her feet bound together just like
her hands.
    She was naked.

*   *   *   *

    His eyes were following hers intently as they wandered
over the room. The moment when she had realized that she
was hanging from the ceiling, naked, had exhilarated him.
Fear had shown through her eyes; tremors had ripped through
her body.
    At that moment he had wanted to step out of the
shadows and let his hands wander over her slim frame; feel
the tremors of her body as they passed from her through him.
But he restrained himself. He would not let her appearance
make his mind waver from what he had to do. She would be
punished first. Then... there would be time for other things.

*   *   *   *

    "What did you say the address was?" Mulder tried to
write down the address as he drove, which was not an
easy task. "809 Connor Street? Where the hell is that?!"
The voice on the other end of the line explained it
to him, and Mulder calmed down a little. But then he
realized that he was still far away from the location
and that it would take him at least another hour to get
there even with the speed he was driving in.
    The car had belonged to one Savannah Hope. Mulder
had never heard the name before, and he had no idea
what her connection to Tristan Morane was. There was
no time to find out either. The house on 809 Connor
Street was hers as well. Skinner had questioned him
when he had called. How could he be so certain that
this was where he would find Scully? But, somehow he
knew and he couldn't afford to be wrong. That was not
an option.
    Skinner had sent backup as soon as Mulder had called,
but he was way ahead of them. He was going to have to
handle this alone. He knew, that if he reached the
address long before the other agents, he would not be
able to wait for them. Morane was hurting her. He knew
this. Not only because Mrs. Scully had told him about
her dream - which he believed in without a doubt, a
mother's instincts were always right - but because he
felt it himself. He felt the fear Scully was experiencing.
The pain.
    What if he didn't get there in time? Would she still
be alive? Somewhere in his mind he doubted that Tristan
Morane would kill her. If that had been his intentions
he would have done it a long time ago. But Mulder wasn't
so sure that being alive in Morane's company was any
better than being dead.

*   *   *   *

    Her eyes slowly got used to the darkness, and enabled
her to make out contours and shadows in the corners. She
feared what those contours and shadows might be.
    Her body still shook uncontrollably. She had never been
so afraid; never been so sure that someone was going to
hurt her in ways unimaginable. She was a strong person,
she knew this, but it was too much. Her mind was tired,
barely able to think straight. Her body was weakened
from not having eaten properly in a long time. She was
sure that had she not been tied up, her legs would not
have been strong enough to carry her.
    She had no idea how much time had passed since she
had been knocked unconscious. She wasn't sure she wanted
to know. She didn't want to know what he might have done
to her during that time.
    Suddenly something in the left corner caught her eye;
something more than just a shadow. She tried to focus
her gaze as well as her eyes and brain would let her,
but she could never have prepared herself for the horrible
sight that met her eyes. A young woman was hanging from
the wall. Her arms were tied above her head, making her
back arch in a way that looked so extremely painful. The
faint light made it hard for her to distinguish her
features, but it was more than enough light for Scully to
realize that she was dead.
    She didn't get the time to process the images that
invaded her vision. They were forced into her subconscious
with the frightening promise to stay there forever.
Suddenly her kidnapper showed himself before her, by
stepping out of the big, dark shadows. The flickering
light from the candles splashed over his face. A quick
thought flew into her mind as she felt a draft coming
from somewhere. Where was the door?
    She looked around - as well as she could - feeling
the panic rise within her. Where the hell was the door?!
She desperately tried to get loose; to escape the madman
standing in front of her. He was watching her with a
calmness that somehow made it all seem like a very bad
nightmare. But it wasn't. This was reality. And she
soon found that getting free was an impossible. It wasn't
a rope that held her hands together; it was handcuffs.
And she knew from experience that they were impossible to
escape from. There was no point in even trying. It would
only bring him more pleasure to see her fight in vain.
    Scully forced herself to look back at the creature -
the monster. He looked so damn... normal. If she had just
seen him in a photograph or something like that, he would
not stand out. His light, blonde hair was cut in a common
style for young men. He had green eyes, with straight
eyebrows above them. His mouth was perfectly normal; maybe
a little bit too thin, but it was nothing that you would
notice when you looked at him. There was nothing special
about his looks, nothing that would give away his true
nature.
    But now... She could see the insanity in his eyes,
flashing out like lightning on a dark sky. His eyes
weren't green anymore - they were almost as black as
the darkest night. Underneath his 'normal' facade lay a
man - a monster - full of darkness and evil. There was
nothing good about him. She couldn't explain it, but
she knew this. He had always been evil. She didn't
even want to imagine what he had done to the other
woman before she had died.
    Would she walk down the same path? Would he kill
her? But something that he had said stuck in her mind.
He wouldn't kill her. In some sick, twisted way, he
worshipped her; thought of her as the perfect woman.
But she had done something wrong; something that he did
not like. Something he did not accept. She suspected
that it was the fact that she had made love with Mulder,
and by that, given herself to another man. It was when
she was with Mulder that she had felt him invade her
mind, stealing her most personal thoughts.
    When he had come to her with food and water, he
had kept repeating the same words and sentences over
and over again. She closed her eyes as the words
echoed in her mind. Words like, 'I have chosen you.'
Words like, 'You were mine. Someone took you away
from me. Now I will have to make you mine again. And
this time, you will stay mine forever. No one will
ever take you away from me ever again.' It wasn't as
much the words he had said, but the *way* he had
said them. He had sounded so certain of his words.
Like... like even if she did escape him one day -
got free from him - a part of her would always be
lost to him.
    When she opened her eyes again, he was still
standing in the same spot, simply watching her battle
her feelings. He looked so damn pleased! He liked
seeing her scared, and she had figured that out quickly.
It brought him pleasure. She would do everything in
her power to deny him that pleasure.
    Gathering strength, she took a long, deep breath.
"Let me go," she said, her voice not betraying any
of the fear that raged inside her.
    He didn't say anything; just continued to watch her,
smiling.
    She would not turn her eyes away from him; she could
not let herself succumb to the fear.
    "Let me go," she repeated. This time her voice was
lower, but even stronger than the last time, surprising
even herself.
    But the only reaction she got from him was a low
chuckle, coming deep from his throat. It was a chuckle
that sent chills down her spine.
    The silence that followed was almost deafening. Her
ears started ringing, bringing back the throbbing ache
in her head. It was strange. Almost... almost supernatural.
There was silence, but she still felt as if someone- or
something - was screaming inside her head.
    The silence seemed to go on for an eternity; neither
of them speaking, neither of them averting their eyes. Not
until Scully saw something glitter from the corner of her
eye. She slowly lowered her gaze, just a little, and
once again the object shimmered in the soft light of
the candles.
    In his hand, he was holding a knife.

*   *   *   *

    Getting closer by the second, having broken every
speed record in the universe, was Mulder.

*   *   *   *

    She gasped as she saw the knife.
    He was clutching it tightly in his right hand, holding
it close to the side of his body. It was not a big knife,
but the blade was long, and she didn't even want to think
about what he was going to use it for. But suddenly, as
if she could read his mind, the images flashed through her
mind. She knew what he was going to do with it.
    Once again, she desperately tried to free herself from
the handcuffs around her wrists - only to once again fail.
She felt the tears stinging in her eyes, but angrily
blinked them away. She would not cry. She wouldn't.
    Suddenly, he spoke. Slowly.
    "You are so beautiful," he said, and she could feel -
rather than see - his eyes wander over her exposed body.
"So beautiful."
    He started moving toward her, and by pure reflex, she
tried to kick him away. The cuffs around her ankles held
her back.
    As he got closer and closer, walking so slowly it
sometimes seemed like he wasn't moving at all, he kept
repeating the words, more to himself than to her. "So
beautiful. So beautiful..."
    Finally, he stopped right in front of her. He was so
close she could feel his breath on her naked skin. She
thought she was going to throw up.
    Just as she thought the nausea couldn't possibly get
any worse than it already was, he raised his left hand
and laid it on her stomach. She felt the bile rise in her
throat, and was barely able to force it back again;
leaving an acid taste on the back of her tongue.
    The panic rose in her, and she said through clenched
teeth, "Get your hands off of me, you fucking *maniac*!"
    He, of course, didn't do what she had told him. It
didn't even seem as if her voice registered at all.
    Instead he let his hand wander over her stomach,
stroking it in slow, even circles. She wriggled her body
to try to get away from his disgusting touch. But she
could hardly move any part of her body except for her
head, and this desperate try only resulted in him pressing
his hand even harder against her body. So she willed
her body to stay still. She already knew that every
movement she made - every sound she made - would only
bring him pleasure. Pleasure she had already sworn to
herself she would not give him.
    She could not escape and she would not give him any
more pleasure so Dana Scully did the only thing she
could do. She retreated into herself. She went deep
enough so that she did not feel his touch or hear his
voice. She detached her mind from her body. Her eyes
remained open - only blinking involuntarily - staring
at a spot on the wall, but focusing on something far
beyond it. The throbbing pain in her head left as she
drifted further and further into herself.
    In this place, she was safe. Safe from everything
that surrounded her; safe from everyone who tried to
hurt her.    

*   *   *   *

    His free hand followed his eyes as he let them
wander over her slim waist. Her skin was so smooth, so
soft. It really was a shame that he had to ruin it. But
it was necessary; it was something that he had to do.
And it would make it clear to everyone that she was his
and nobody else's. Just that simple thought made the
adrenaline flow through his body.
    He stopped right behind her and looked at the snake
that was swallowing itself on her back. He traced it
with the tip of his finger, slowly following its contours.
He crouched down and placed his lips over it and kissed it.
    She wasn't reacting. Something was wrong.
    He quickly went around her until he stood in front of
her again. She was staring at the wall, but her gaze
looked distant as if she wasn't there. Was she playing
with him?
    In a flash the knife in his hand was up against her
throat, pressed against the artery; just barely light
enough to not actually break through the skin.
    Still, she did not react.
    "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked her.
He knew she was a strong woman and that was what was so
special about her. That was one of the reasons he had
chosen her. But even the strongest person would react
if someone put a knife to their throat; especially the
way he had done it. Even she would react. But she hadn't
even blinked. Her gaze hadn't wavered.
    He started to get angry. This wasn't part of his
plan. She had to be aware of what he was doing to her if
it would serve any good at all. She had to feel the pain
if she were to remember and learn. He needed to see and
hear her reactions. She had to suffer.
    He was a tall man, and when he stood right before her,
he could look right into her eyes. Her eyes were on him
but were focused on something far beyond this room. She
wasn't with him.
    "Where are you...? See, there is no point in me doing
this to you if you're not here to appreciate it." He
chuckled at his own words. 'Appreciate it.' Somehow he
didn't think that would be the way she would look at it -
not now at least. One day she would understand why he had
to do this; why she had to be punished. And one day she
*would* appreciate it. She would thank him for it.
    He leaned forward, closing his eyes as he felt her
closeness, her hair against his skin. "I think I know of
a way to bring you back to me," he whispered in her ear.
"You can't stay where you are forever."
    He raised his hands and put one of them behind her
head, holding it steady. The other one he placed over
her nose and mouth. Without air, she would have to react.
She would soon start to struggle. It was the survival
instinct. She would react.
    For a long time, nothing happened. She didn't struggle;
she didn't move; she didn't gasp for air. For a second
he thought she might die without even fighting against
it. But he soon got the response he had been waiting for.
    Suddenly her eyes went wide, showing the panic she must
have felt. He grinned. She was back.

*   *   *   *

    Tires were screeching all around him as he ignored
yet another red light at an intersection. He was distinctly
aware of the sound of metal smashing against metal
behind him, but he was too busy trying to keep his car on
the road to even bother looking back.

*   *   *   *

    As she felt the hand disappear from her nose and mouth,
she greedily inhaled as if it was the first time she had
ever felt air fill her lungs. It all went so fast. As she
gulped the air, she started coughing, almost choking herself
in the process. Her eyes felt dry, and despite the risk of
starting to cry, she blinked rapidly to bring back the
wetness in them.
    Why hadn't her body let her stay in the 'other place'?
Why had it brought her back? Why hadn't it just let her
die from suffocation?
    She had felt safe in the 'other place'. She had seen
Mulder there. She had felt his friendship. His trust. His
love. And she had felt safe. Mulder...
    Then she heard his laugh. That sickening laugh... He
was laughing at her.
    "Nice of you to join me, Red." His voice sounded like
it had that first time. That voice sent ice flowing through
her veins. It was that evil.
    "Fuck you," she hissed at him, surprised at how sure
she was sounding. Inside, she was feeling anything but
sure. She was truly afraid.
    He simply continued laughing. "Maybe later," he said,
his lips turning up in a smile that looked more like some
twisted grimace, "but then you will join me in the fun."
    Scully closed her still hurting eyes and mentally
assured herself that she could handle this. She could.
She would - for herself, for her mother, and for Mulder.
    When she opened her eyes again she tipped her head
toward the corner - the corner where the blonde woman hung.
    "Who is she?" she asked him, the disgust audible in
her voice.
    Without looking back at the other woman, without ever
averting his eyes from Scully, he replied, "Not you."
    She returned her eyes to him again. "Why did you
kill her?"
    He simply looked at her for a few seconds as if he
was thinking about how to answer her. "Because she's not
you," he finally answered her.
    She let her throbbing head fall forward. It felt so
heavy... Why had he decided she was so special? Why had
he chosen her...?
    "You are fighting me, Dana," he suddenly said, but
she didn't look up. "That's good," he continued. "You
are strong and that will make it even more satisfying to
see you break down and succumb to me. Because you will
break down, Dana. You know that, don't you? It doesn't
matter how strong you are, you can't keep up that cool
facade forever." 
    "Fuck you," she said, but this time her voice was
lower, less confident.
    He laughed. "Haven't we been through this already,
Dana?"
    Why did he keep calling her Dana? She wanted to
scream at him and make him stop speaking to her. "Why
didn't you just let me stay where I was? What kind of
psycho are you?!" There was more desperation in her
voice, and deep inside she realized that for her own
good she should stay calm. But she no longer could.
"I hate you."
    He did nothing but chuckle at her words. "You just
think you hate me, Dana. But you can't fight your
destiny. You will love me one day. You'll see."
    "I will never love you."
    "Oh, you will. Trust me, Dana."
    At this, her head shot up, and against her better
judgement, the words started flowing out of her mouth.
"I don't trust you! There is only one person I trust
and he is the man I love! He's not you, do you hear that,
you fucking bastard?!"
    She didn't even get the chance to react before his
eyes clouded and his fist connected with her jaw. Her head
spun around to the other side and she could feel the taste
of blood in her mouth. Her head pounded so loudly that she
could hardly make out his next words.
    "Don't you ever mention him again!" he hissed at her
through clenched teeth. "Do you hear me? If you ever
mention him again you will live to regret it."
    Scully almost laughed at the absurdity of his words.
"I will never love you," she continued despite of what
he had told her, her voice strong and confident. She
actually felt more confident. He wanted her to break
down, to let him see her fear for him again. The fear
was still there, but why should she let him see it?
"You are some sick monster to think that!" she screamed.
"No woman could ever love you, let alone me! I love
Mulder!"
    Once again his fist hit her jaw, this time sending
her head flying in the other direction. But she didn't
mind the pain anymore. She knew what set him off now, what
made him lose control. And somehow, that didn't scare her.
Instead it made her feel like she was the one in control,
even if she was the one hanging naked from the ceiling
with cuffs around her wrists and ankles.
    She didn't know what made her do it. Why was she
deliberately making him angry with her? Why was she
pushing him to do the inevitable? Maybe she felt that
there wasn't any use in caring anymore. Being frightened
hadn't done her any good. For a moment, she wondered if
she truly hadn't lost her mind. But, she realized that
she hadn't - she had begun to think like the strong,
in-control woman that she was instead of the victim
hanging from the ceiling. She would provoke him. If this
illusion of control only lasted a few minutes so be it.
It was better than letting him see her fright.
    She slowly turned her head back to him, ignoring
the pain it caused in her neck. "You don't like that, do
you?" Her voice was as provocative as her words. "But I
love only him. Only Mulder. And that will never change."
    This time it wasn't just his fist that hit her. She
felt the knife that he held cut just below her jaw at the
same time as her head spun around to the other side again.
When she opened her eyes she looked down and saw the blood
dripping down on her bare chest. Then she looked up at him
again. He looked more surprised than she felt. He was
looking at her in shock as if he couldn't believe what he
had just done. But then his expression changed and he
looked right into her eyes.
    "Well," he said, "at least I cut you below that
beautiful face of yours." He raised his hand and touched
his fingers to the blood on her chest. He let them trail
a path in blood down to her stomach, where he started to
draw small circles.
    He didn't say a word, but the way he was looking at
her stomach confirmed her suspicions that he knew about
the child growing inside of her. That simple thought made
her feel like vomiting again, but she held it back.
    "Get your hands off of me." Her voice held no emotion,
nothing that would suggest she knew that he knew.
    But he didn't listen to her. Once again, it was as if
he didn't even hear her. "You are so beautiful," he said,
sounding mesmerized. "Even your blood is beautiful." He
put one of his fingers to his mouth and sucked on it,
letting himself taste her blood. "I should have known."
    Putting his hand back on her stomach, he started
walking around her. As his hand trailed over her stomach
once again, she thought she heard the words 'my son' come
from his mouth, just little above a whisper. He stopped
behind her with his hand on her back. He let his hand trail
over the tattoo until it was completely covered in her
own blood.
    She couldn't see him anymore, but she could feel him
behind her; she could feel everything he did. He raised
his hand with the knife in it and touched it to her bare
back. He only touched her with the side of the knife and
not the actual edge of the blade, letting it run up and
down her back, as if he was trying to figure out where
the best place to start was.
     Then he decided. He stopped his hand right below the
back of her neck and then just let the knife hover there
for a few moments. He slowly turned the edge and pressed
it against her skin, making a few small drops of blood
appear. This was all the motivation he needed to continue
his task. He drew the knife down her back to the left,
leaving a deep gash in is wake.
    Scully clenched her teeth and closed her eyes hard
to force back the scream that leaped to her throat. She
tried to be strong, but nothing could have prepared her
for the pain that ripped through her aching body.
    He lifted the knife from her body, and for a second,
she thought he might be finished with her already. How
she ever could have thought that, she didn't know.
    The next time the blade touched her, it cut even
deeper than the last time, and this time she wasn't able
to stifle the scream.

*   *   *   *

    Outside, Mulder pulled up on the driveway. When he
exited the car, he quickly, but carefully, ran up to the
door, taking the gun in his hand. As he felt the handle to
see if the door was unlocked, he heard Scully. Screaming.

*   *   *   *

    His eyes gleamed as he saw the patterns beginning to
take form on her back. Her dark, red blood ran down her
smooth, white flesh, to finally drip down and make a
small pool on the floor below.
    Her screams got louder with every single second that
passed, and the sound of them was like music to his ears.
They proved that he had won over her. He had been able
to make her fall apart. And that was the beginning of
making her his.
    "You are mine now," he said as he once again let the
knife cut deeply through her skin, drawing even more
blood. "Only mine. Only mine." He repeated the words
until they became almost like a mantra that was inaudible
to anyone but himself.
    Suddenly, another sound made him stop. He fell
silent as his hand stopped.
   "Quiet," he said to her, his voice low as he tried to
hear where the other sound had come from. But she was
still screaming, lost in the pain he had caused. "Be
quiet!" He quickly stepped around her, grabbing her face
with his hand. He shook her head back and forth until
she realized he was talking to her and stopped screaming.
He let go of her; straining to hear the unfamiliar
sound again.
    There it was again - a cracking sound. He looked up
at the ceiling right above him, and realized that someone
else was in the house with them.
    "Damn..." The interruption angered him.
    He quickly put his arms around Scully's body and
lifted her up slightly so that her cuffed wrists fell off
of the hook attached to the ceiling. Her body fell forward,
and she was now hanging over his shoulder, almost unconscious
from the horrendous pain.
    With the knife in his hand, he ran toward a door on
the other side of the room; a door that Scully had not
seen in the darkness.
    Suddenly a loud shot rang out, and in the next moment,
Mulder crashed in through another door at the top of
the stairs.
    "Let her go!" he screamed, and Tristan Morane swung
around to find Mulder pointing the gun at him.
    "Mulder!" Scully impulsively tried to get away from
Morane, but his grip around her was too strong, and her
body far too weak to even fully carry out her tries.
    Mulder carefully started to walk down the stairs
so that he wouldn't accidentally fall in the dark.
    Morane started to turn around toward the other door
again and Mulder cried out, "Freeze!" Morane stopped
and looked at him. "Let her go. Now. Or..."
    "Or what?" Morane smiled at him as if nothing Mulder
could say would frighten him.
    "Or you'll get a taste of what this gun can do to
a body."
    Morane threw his head back in a heartless laugh.
"Don't you understand it yet?" he asked. "Didn't my
dear Dana tell you? Your gun won't do you any good.
Your bullets won't affect me. I am the Chosen, please
don't insult me like that."
    Mulder stared at him for a few seconds, knowing that
what he had said was true, but still pointing the gun
directly at him. Then his eyes wandered to Scully's back.
The sight made him gasp. "Scully, are you okay?" The
panic in his voice was obvious.
    Scully started to answer him, but Morane's voice
stopped her.
    "Shut up! No one talks until I say so!"
    Mulder stayed silent, afraid that Morane would do
something else to hurt Scully if he didn't. He couldn't
look away from the gashes on her back. What the hell
would Morane have done to her if he hadn't come here
when he did? And what had he done to her before he
got there...? He could hardly make out where the actual
cuts were because her whole back was covered in dark
blood. God, it had to hurt. <Scully> he thought to
himself, <I am going to get you out of this. Even if it
kills me, you are going to get out of this.> He so
desperately wished that he could see her face, her eyes.
But maybe it was better that he didn't. If he had to
look into her eyes, he would see the pain, the fear,
and her trust in him. And at this moment, he wasn't
completely sure he deserved her trust. How could he have
been so stupid to only bring a gun he knew would not
threaten Morane in the least? He could have tried
teargas - anything to distract him for a few minutes
so he could get to Scully. But he hadn't. All he had
been able to think about was getting to her as quickly
as possible.
    "Please, let her go," he finally said, even though
he seriously doubted that Morane would even listen to
him. But he didn't know what else to do at this point.
    "And just why would I do that?" Morane questioned,
grinning.
    Mulder didn't hesitate for a second. Morane wouldn't
like his answer, but at least Scully would hear him say
the words again. "Because I love her."
    Hanging over Morane's shoulder, it was impossible
for Scully to see Mulder. But she heard his words, and as
he said he loved her, she felt the tears well up in her
sore eyes, and this time she was unable to hold them back.
Would they ever get out of this together? Or would Mulder
have to go on without her? She knew he wouldn't be able
to. She knew this because she would feel the same way if
Mulder was in her place.
    "You love her, you say?" she heard Morane shout. She
wanted to wring his neck, although she knew it would be
impossible even if she got the opportunity.
    Mulder nodded at Morane's words. "I do. And I want
you to let go of her. Now."
    Morane laughed at him once again. "She belongs to
me now, Agent Mulder." The 'Agent' came out with despise.
"She is mine." And with those words, he quickly turned
around, and before Mulder could even blink, both Morane
and Scully had disappeared through the door that had
been right behind Morane.
    "Fuck!" he screamed, more to himself than to anyone
else. He practically threw himself down the stairs, and
ran out the same door Morane and Scully had passed through
just seconds earlier. He got out right in time to see a
car drive away quickly down the street.

*   *   *   *

    Where the hell was that car?!
    Mulder had run around the house and jumped into his
car that stood where he had left it. He had quickly
pulled out onto the street, but Morane's car was nowhere
to be seen. He had followed in the direction it was
heading just a minute earlier, but it seemed to have
vanished into thin air.
    It was still dark outside, considering it was at
6:30 in the morning, and several cars were out on the
streets; their drivers probably on their way to work.
The streetlights lit the road for him as he drove faster
and faster.
    Morane and Scully couldn't just have disappeared like
that... They couldn't have.
    Just as he considered stopping one of the other cars
on the street and asking if they had seen anything, there
it was - Morane's car, just a few hundred yards in front
of him. Apparently Morane spotted Mulder as well, because
he increased his speed immediately.
    Mulder cursed loudly as he sped up, trying to follow
the car in front of him. Morane was a damn good driver, but
Mulder had been involved in enough high-speed chases to know
what to do, and he soon caught up with them.
    Mulder thought that the car would flip over at every
curve, but that did not make him slow down. He couldn't
afford to lose sight of them again.
    The chase went on for several blocks until they
reached an intersection. What happened next would forever
be etched into Mulder's mind.
    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another car
come toward Morane's. It wasn't going too fast, but Morane
was, and Mulder knew that the crash would be serious
even before it happened.
    He stepped on the brakes, and as if in slow-motion,
he watched the scene play out before his eyes.
    The car came from the right and collided with Morane's
car as he started to turn, apparently not having seen the
other car coming. The sound of the collision was so loud it
sounded like an explosion to Mulder's ears. Less than a
second later, the windshield shattered, as he saw Scully's
naked body crash through it, splinters of glass flying all
around her.
    He was convinced he could hear every bone in her body
break as she hit the hard asphalt, but he was later told
that there was no chance he could have heard it from
where he was.
   Within seconds, he had his seatbelt off, the door
opened, and he was running toward Scully, screaming to
another driver that had stopped to call for an ambulance.
    To Mulder, the seconds it took him to get to Scully
felt like hours. When he finally reached her, he crouched
down next to her, and tried to get her to respond to him.
But she didn't. He quickly checked her pulse and breathing.
Her pulse was weak but steady; her breath was shallow. But
she was alive.
    "Scully, please don't leave me." He so much wanted to
cradle her petite body in his arms, but he knew he shouldn't
move her until the paramedics got there. He quickly took
off his jacket and laid it over her exposed body, protecting
her both from the cold air that surrounded them, as well
as the curious looks they received from the people that
started to gather around them.
    He looked over to the car in which Morane was still
trapped. He could see him struggling to get out from behind
the steering wheel, but it seemed hopeless.
    The sudden explosion made Mulder throw himself down
on the ground next to Scully, trying to cover her the
best he could from the objects flying toward them. He
felt something hit him in the back of his leg, but he
didn't care as long as nothing hit the woman under him.
    When he looked up again, there was practically
nothing left of the car. It was just a burning mass of
metal and rubber; the flames raging up toward the dark
sky.
    In the distance, he could hear sirens coming closer,
and he looked down at Scully again. People were screaming
around him, but he didn't hear them. A small splinter of
glass was stuck in her delicate skin just below her left
eye, and he carefully removed it, wiping away the blood
with the sleeve of his shirt.
    "Scully?" he softly whispered into her ear. "If you
can hear me, please don't leave me. Please stay. Fight."
He paused for a second. "I love you, Scully. I won't be
able to live without you." He tenderly kissed her
forehead. "Please..."
    "Sir?" Mulder looked up at the young man that had
come up next to them. He had a paramedic suit on, and
Mulder realized that the ambulance had arrived. "Sir, we
need to check her out and then take her to the hospital."
    Mulder nodded as he stood up. "I'm going with her,"
he told him, and the paramedic simply looked at him,
sympathy in his eyes, and then nodded back.
    More paramedics came up to them, and they worked
quickly, putting Scully on a stretcher and then into the
ambulance. Before hopping into it with her, he glanced
toward the burning car, thanking whoever or whatever was
up there that it was finally over.

*   *   *   *

    The men were efficient.
    Soon all trace of the once burning car was gone as if
it vanished into thin air. They didn't care about the people
around them, watching them with curiosity as if they were the
hottest show on Broadway. They would never be recognized anyway.
The men knew what they were doing. They had done it before. And
they would do it again.

*   *   *   *

    "Dana Scully?! Where is she?!"
    Mulder could hear Mrs. Scully's frantic voice long
before she reached him. He could hear his own fear mirrored
in her voice, and he closed his eyes tightly together to keep
the tears from welling up again.
    "Fox?"
    He raised his head and looked right into Mrs. Scully's
eyes.
    "Where is she?"
    He grabbed both of her hands in his and then hugged
her to him. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Scully." His voice wasn't even
a whisper. "I'm so sorry..."
    She broke free from his hold and looked at him with
questioning eyes. "Fox?"
    "I'm so sorry... I didn't get to her in time."
    A lonely tear ran down her cheek. "Dana... Is she
dead?"
    Mulder's eyes widened. Oh God, he had made Scully's
mother believe that her daughter was already dead. "She's
still alive, Mrs. Scully, she's in the ICU. They say she's
in a coma."
    "Oh my God..." She buried her face in her hands, a
deep sob escaping from her throat.
    Mulder felt the guilt wash over him once again, and
he lowered his gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry... I'm so
sorry..."
    Mrs. Scully sighed loudly, tilting her head slightly.
"Fox... You have got to stop this. You have got to stop
blaming yourself for *everything*. The truth is, it's
getting on my nerves." His head shot up. "Yes, Fox, you
heard me. Don't you think I blame myself, too? She is my
daughter. It should be my responsibility to keep her
safe from harm." Her voice became softer as she said,
"I've already lost one daughter, Fox."
    He grabbed her hand again and squeezed it gently. "I
know."
    She nodded and then took the seat next to him. "When
can we go in and see her?" she asked after a few minutes
of silence.
    "The doctor wanted to talk to us first."
    "Okay..."
    The silence felt so wrong. It was as if Scully was
already gone, and all they were waiting for was for
someone to tell them so. But right then, Scully's
doctor walked up to them, and they both jumped from
their seats.
    "How is she doing?" Mulder asked the question
before even giving the doctor a chance to speak.
    The doctor didn't answer him, but instead turned to
Mrs. Scully. "Are you her mother?" She nodded, and next
he spoke to both of them. "Would you join me in my
office? I feel we shouldn't discuss this out here in
the waiting room."
    Mulder and Mrs. Scully followed him down endless
hallways which seemed like one big labyrinth with no
end. Finally they reached a door that had the name
'Dr. James Medford' on it, and they stepped into a big
office.
    "Please, sit down." Dr. Medford motioned for them
to take a seat in the two chairs in front of his desk.
    Mrs. Scully sat down, but Mulder said that he would
rather remain standing. The doctor simply nodded and
then sat down behind his desk, clasping his hands in
front of him. He looked exactly the way doctors always
look when they have bad news to tell, Mulder thought.
Like he was really sorry, but at the same time he
couldn't possibly understand what the family of the
patient was experiencing at the moment.
    "How is she doing?" Mulder asked for the second time.
He was standing in the corner of the office and Dr.
Medford looked over at him and then back at Mrs. Scully
again. Mulder just wished he would say something. The
silence was killing him.
    "I won't kid you," he said in a grave tone. "Dana is
in critical condition."
    Mrs. Scully's gasp felt like a stab to Mulder's heart.
    "She has a serious concussion and a lot of internal
bleeding. We tried our best to stop it, but at this
time we just can't tell. A broken rib punctured her left
lung which caused respiratory problems for a while, but
we think that is going to be all right."
    "Will she live?"
    The doctor looked up at Mulder again. "As I said, she
had internal bleeding, and she's lost a lot of blood. And
the pressure on her brain..."
    "I said, 'will she live?'" Mulder repeated, and this
time his voice was high, almost angry.
    "To be honest with you, Mr. Mulder... we don't know.
    Mulder's head fell forward. He took a deep breath,
trying to collect his thoughts. Then he walked up to stand
behind Mrs. Scully, putting his hands on her shoulders.
"What about the baby?" he asked.
    Mrs. Scully's head shot around to look up at him. He
could see the absolute shock in her eyes and suddenly
realized that he hadn't told her about the child growing
inside of Scully.
    "It's still alive," they heard Dr. Medford say. "How
it still can be is a miracle, though. With all that her
body has been through, she should have lost the baby a
long time ago.
    "A miracle..." Mulder mumbled under his breath. A
miracle... He didn't know if he should be happy or not.

*   *   *   *

    "Fox, why didn't Dana tell me? Why didn't *you* tell
me?"
    The questions had started right after they had stepped
out of Dr. Medford's office. He didn't blame her.
    "Mrs. Scully, I..."
    "Why didn't I know that my daughter is carrying a
child?" Her voice was low, but he could still hear the
hurt in it.
    She sat down in one of the chairs out in the waiting
room and then hugged herself, rocking back and forth,
trying to make sense of what she had just learned. Dana
was pregnant - by the man who had raped her. And she had
kept it.
    She felt stinging tears well up in her eyes as she
thought about her daughter. Dana had wanted a child so
much and she understood the depth of her want after Emily.
And she didn't know of anyone who deserved a to have a child
more than Dana. She didn't know anyone who wanted it more.
And Dana had thought that she would never be able to have a
child of her own. Now she had one growing inside of her. But
it was all wrong. This was not the way it was supposed to
happen.
    Mulder slowly seated himself next to her, not knowing
what to tell her. He didn't feel that it was his place to
talk about this. But he had to.
    "I'm sorry, Mrs. Scully," he started. "Dana didn't
find out until the day before he... before he took her
again. She didn't know. And I..." He couldn't finish.
   "No, I'm sorry, Fox," she said to him. "It's not your
fault. It's just a shock. I didn't think that Dana could
have children."
    "She can't." He looked up into her confused eyes. "We
don't know how she got pregnant," he explained. "She's
not supposed to be able to bear children. I don't know
if it has something to do with Morane's nature, but..."
    Mrs. Scully cut him off by raising her hand, and
Mulder realized that this was not something she wanted
or needed to hear about right now.
    "Did she really want to keep it?" she asked softly.
Her voice sounded so fragile, yet so strong at the same
time. He knew where Scully had gotten her strength of
character from, and he was amazed by the admiration he
felt for both of the women.
    "I'm not sure," he told her sincerely. He and Scully
had discussed it, but she had never decided anything, and
he told Mrs. Scully this.
    "How do you feel about it, Fox?"
    The question shocked him. He hadn't expected it, and
now she had him cornered. He had to face his own feelings.
Mrs. Scully didn't know what had happened between him
and Dana, and Mulder didn't know if he wanted her to know
about it yet either. But he suspected she had already figured
it out by herself, and that was why she was asking him about
the child.
    She confirmed his suspicions. "Fox, I know... I know
about you and Dana. I realized it when we talked. The
way you looked when you spoke about her... It was as if
you were talking to her and not to me." She gently put
her hand over his. "It's a good thing, Fox," she told him.
"You are good for her, no matter what you think. I know
you love her more than anything and that you would do
anything for her."
   He nodded. "I don't know how I feel, Mrs. Scully," he
confessed. "I tried to convince her to keep the child. I
told her this could be her only chance." Mrs. Scully
squeezed his hand to encourage him, and he continued.
"But I don't know. She told me she was afraid to keep the
baby. That she was afraid she wouldn't be able to love
it. That it would turn out like..." He stopped, looking
at her and there was understanding in her eyes. "But I
do love her, Mrs. Scully. And I will support her, whatever
her decision will be. If she will just come back to us..."
    Mrs. Scully simply nodded again, and then excused
herself, telling him she needed to use the bathroom. He
knew she was going away to cry, trying spare him her
emotions - to be strong for him. He followed her with his
eyes until she disappeared around the corner, and then he
was once again left alone with nothing but his own thoughts
to keep him company. Company he would rather do without.

*   *   *   *

    Mulder was constantly sitting by her side; holding her
hand in his, waiting for her to squeeze it back. He kissed
her forehead, he talked to her. But she never squeezed
back, and she never answered him.
    He was acutely aware of the fact that the longer
patients stayed in a coma, the greater the possibility
that they would stay that way. She had been in a coma for
over three weeks now, and he knew that the doctors were
starting to give up all hope of her ever waking up again.
The internal bleeding had stopped and she was stabilized.
Other than her heart beating and her chest gently rising
and falling, there was response. But he refused to believe
that she would not come back to him. She had to live. She
had to survive. She had to come back to him. Or else he
would die with her.
    Morane was gone. The car was gone. All evidence had
simply disappeared. Skinner and the rest of the agents
had arrived at the scene of the accident not long after
the ambulance had left for the hospital, and they had
nearly driven right by it. The only reason they had even
stopped at the right place was because an elderly lady had
stepped out right in front of them, demanding to know
what was going on; who were the strange men that had come
and taken the burning car away? Shouldn't there be
someone there to collect evidence of what happened first?
Where was this society going?
    It was all gone, and Mulder had no idea what to do.
He felt like he had failed her.
    Both Mrs. Scully and Skinner had repeatedly asked him
to go home and get some real sleep, but it was no use. He
was not going to leave her except for the few minutes he
needed to shower and change clothes.
    She was so pale. Her hair had lost its shine and laid
spread out on the pillow under her head. The tube running
down her throat looked as if it was going to choke her,
when in fact it may have been the only thing keeping her
alive.
    He gently squeezed her hand, hopefully waiting for a
response but one never came. He slowly brought her hand to
his lips and carefully kissed each knuckle before opening it,
pressing her palm against his cheek. His tears silently fell
over her small hand, dripping down on the white sheet that
covered her body.
    Suddenly the steady beeping in the room stopped and
was replaced by one long, sharp tone. His head shot up
and his eyes focused on the monitor next to the bed.
    She had flat lined.
    He was distantly aware of the doctors and nurses
running into the room, asking him to please step aside,
but he was paralyzed, his body refusing to obey him.
Finally one of the nurses pushed him to the side, and he
backed up against the wall, watching the people before
him try to revive the woman he loved.
    His eyes darted quickly from one doctor to another as
they gave out their orders, but too soon he heard one of
them declare the time of death. A nurse came up to him,
telling him how sorry she was, but that there had been
nothing they could have done to save her. It was all
over.
    Ever so slowly, the realization of what had happened
sank into his mind. She still looked the same as she had
just a few minutes earlier. But he knew that her heart
was no longer beating in her chest. Her lungs were no
longer filling with air.
    His body collapsed to the floor as he screamed out
his pain and anguish in the quiet room.

*   *   *   *

    Margaret Scully stood silent in the doorway, leaning
her tired body against the door frame. She felt drained.
Drained of life. Drained of hope. Drained of everything...
    When she had first found out that Dana had been raped,
she had thought that things couldn't possibly get any
worse. She had been wrong. She had been so incredibly
wrong. Dana had been shutting the rest of the world out,
but they had at least known that she would be all right
eventually. Now they couldn't even comfort themselves
with that thought.
    She let her heavy eyes close for a short moment,
before opening them again, resting them on Mulder's
seemingly sleeping form in the middle of the room.
    He was sitting in the chair that stood next to Dana's
bed, with his head lying on his folded arms on the bed in
front of him. She knew he was experiencing the same feelings
she was. But he had so much hope. He never left Dana's side
for more than a few minutes; wouldn't risk not being there if
there was any change.
    She had spent endless hours standing in the doorway,
just like now, watching him sit with her. Listening to him
talking to her. Saying silent prayers as he did everything
in his power to bring her back to them again.
    To him.
    Margaret knew that he loved her daughter more than
anything else in this universe. He hadn't even had to tell
her so. She had already known. She could tell it from the
way he acted around Dana, from the way he looked at her
and stole little touches whenever he could. Always a
gentle hand at the small of her back as they walked into
a room together. The little smiles and glances that lasted
just a bit too long to be considered just friendly.
    One of the times she had asked him to please go
home and get some sleep, he had said something to her
that had hurt at the time, but that she later realized was
the truth. He had told her that she would never be able to
understand his and Dana's relationship. That what they had
was different; something not many people were ever lucky
enough to have.
    Margaret had had a happy marriage with William
Scully. They had loved each other deeply, but it wasn't
the same as with Dana and this man. They were partners
and the very best of friends. They didn't trust anyone but
each other. They had a special bond no one could explain or
even understand. And in a way, they only had each other.
    She crossed her arms over her chest, absentmindedly
rubbing her cold arms as she slowly walked into the room
toward Mulder. When she reached him, she noticed the shaking
of his body, and she put a hand on his shoulder and gently
tried to wake him.
    "Fox?"
    Her voice was soft and quiet, but to Mulder it seemed
as if someone had just screamed inside his head. He
slowly turned his head and looked up at her, his eyes
wary and filled with sadness. Tears started welling up in
his hazel eyes, but they never broke contact with
Margaret's.
    "I'm sorry, Mrs. Scully," he blurted out, almost choking
on his own words. "I did everything I could to save her.
I'm so sorry. I want... I want her back. I thought she
would come back..."
    "Fox...?"
    "I don't know how I'll be able to live without her, Mrs.
Scully. She was everything in my life... Now there is
nothing left."
    Margaret didn't understand what he was saying. "Fox,
what are you talking about? You can't give up hope. Not
now."
    She looked away from his eyes and instead looked
down at her daughter.
    Mulder followed her eyes, and gasped when he saw
Scully still lying in the hospital bed next to him. He then
realized he was still holding her hand tightly in his own.
The beeping of the heart monitor was still steady. Her
chest was still rising as it filled with air. It had all been
a dream.
    She was still alive.

*   *   *   *

    She had to choose.
    To step into the light, or fight against the darkness
that was behind her.
    The darkness was frightening; threatening her with
pain and fear. The light was comforting, promising her
happiness and a new life without nightmares.
    In the light, she could see her father... She could see
Melissa... And she could see Emily.
    She slowly started walking toward them, toward the
almost blinding light.
    But then something stopped her. She stood completely
still. Behind her, she could here Mulder's voice calling out
for her, begging her to come back to him. She slowly turned
her head around, carefully. At the dark end of the tunnel,
she could see Mulder. He was surrounded by a soft light,
reaching out his arms toward her.
    She had had to make the same choice once before. That
time she had not seen Mulder at the end of the tunnel, but
she had felt the strength of his beliefs. Now she saw him,
and she could feel his love reaching out to her.
    She once again turned to look at the people waiting for
her in the light. They looked so happy.
    She had to choose.

*   *   *   *

    Mulder sat next to her, day and night. He held her
hand in one hand and a copy of 'Moby Dick' in the other
as he read it out loud to her. The doctors had told him
to speak to her as much as he could since the voice of
a loved one was often helpful in bringing patients out
of a coma.
    So he read her 'Moby Dick', knowing it was her
favorite novel, while hoping and praying that it would
bring back good memories for her; that it would bring her
back to him. After he had finished each page, he would
look up at her face and look for any sign that a change
had occurred while he had been reading. So far, there
had been no signs.
    In between reading, he told her stories about them,
about everything that they had been through together. He
reminded her about their conversation on the rock when
she had first told him about her love of and connection
to 'Moby Dick'. He talked to her about their night in the
forest when she had sung to him. He smiled softly at the
memory of hearing her voice singing 'Joy To the World',
sounding as unenthusiastic as someone could possible sound.
He would give anything to hear her sing again.
    He returned his eyes to the book in his hand and once
again started to read yet another page.
    Suddenly, he thought he felt a slight movement in
his other hand. He quickly laid down the book on the bed
next to Scully and covered her hand with both of his own.
    "Scully?" He held his hands completely still, watching
hers intently. There it was. He had even seen it this time.
Her hand moved.
    "Mrs. Scully?!" His excited voice woke the sleeping
woman sitting in the chair on the other side. "She moved
her hand!"
    Margaret was at his side in a second, watching her
daughter's hand in Mulder's. And then she saw it as well.
    "I'll get the doctors," she told him, and then she was
out the door.
    No more than thirty seconds later, she came back in
again with two doctors and a nurse behind her.
    Dr. Medford stood next to Mulder and then said in
a loud voice, "Dana? Are you awake? Dana?"
    "Scully..." Mulder spoke softly to her. "Scully, it's
me. You're safe now. Open your eyes, please... It's over;
you're safe - come back to me."
    Every person in the room held their breath as they
waited for a reaction. Then her eyes fluttered open.
    "Scully!" Mulder squeezed her hand, and the joy he
felt when she carefully squeezed it back was indescribable.
Behind him, he could hear Margaret break into tears of
relief and happiness.
    Scully tried to say something, but started coughing as
soon as she realized there was a tube running down her
throat.
    "Dana, don't try to talk just yet, we're gonna take
the tube away, okay?"
    Mulder moved out of the way, reluctantly releasing her
hand, as Dr. Medford reached out to take it away.
    "Okay, Dana," he said, "when you feel me starting to
pull it up, I want you to cough for me."
    She did as she was told and a couple of seconds later
she was breathing on her own with ease. Mulder quickly
returned to her side again and took her hand in his. She
carefully turned her head to him and the most beautiful
smile he had ever seen lit up her face.
    She didn't have to say anything. Her eyes and smile
told him everything. There would be time for them to
talk later. He simply smiled back at her and then leaned
down to gently touch his lips to hers in a quick brush.
She once again squeezed his hand and then looked behind
him.
    "Mom..." she said, her voice raspy from not having
spoken for a very long time, at the same time as she
reached out toward her with her free hand.
    Margaret stepped up to her daughter and then grabbed
her outstretched hand in her own. "Dana..." She couldn't
find the right words. She sat down next to her on the bed
and then brought Scully's hand up to her lips, kissing
it. "Dana..."
    Scully gently stroked her mother's cheek, wiping away
the tears. "I know, Mom," she whispered. "I love you, too."
    Then she looked up at Mulder again who was still
standing next to them, watching them. "Thank you, Mulder,"
she whispered, her eyes glimmering as they met his. "Thank
you."
    And in that second, Mulder knew that he had brought
her back. Finally, he had been able to save Scully.

*   *   *   *

4 YEARS LATER

    Scully watched herself in the mirror. Her eyes looked
haunted as if they had seen something that had frightened
her more than anything else ever had. And in a way,
something had.
    She quickly turned around with her back to the mirror.
She reached her arm around and carefully touched her
fingers to the scars on her back. They had paled with the
years and were hardly  visible anymore. They had never
been able to figure out what Tristan Morane had been trying
to do to her. The two long scars were connected at the left
side of her back near the top and each continued down the
sides of her back, one of them longer than the other.
    But in her dream - in her nightmare - Scully had seen
something else. The scars had still been red and bloody
as if they had just been made. And there had been more
than just the two lines. They had formed a word. The word
'CHOSEN'. She closed her eyes, remembering the sight of it,
and her body trembled.
    She reassured herself that it had only been a nightmare.
It had been... She splashed a handful of cold water on
her face and then left the bathroom to return to bed.
    She slipped in between the sheets and her naked body
welcomed the warmth radiating from the sleeping form
next to her.
    She scooted up next to him, resting her head on her
arm. She raised her arm and carefully ran her fingers
through his hair. She felt so lucky to have him. He had
stood by her through everything, never leaving her side
or betraying her trust in any way. She had come to love
him even more over the years, more than she had ever
thought possible.
    He had helped her try to forget not only the scars on
her back, but the trauma of her ordeal. He made her feel
like she was the most beautiful and most desirable woman
in the world.
    A lonely tear slowly found its way from her eye, and
made a wet pattern down her cheek.
    She eased up on her arm and leaned down to kiss him
softly on the lips. She smiled as she felt him wake up
under her.
    "Hey, Beautiful," he murmured against her lips, and
then kissed her more deeply, making her head feel light.
    "Hey, Handsome," she whispered back as he kissed his
way down her neck.
    He had heard the sadness in her voice, and he looked
up at her again, for the first time noticing the salty
tear on her cheek.
    He raised his hand and gently wiped it away. "What's
wrong, Scully?"
    She gave him her usual reply. "I'm fine, Mulder." At
his skeptical look she continued, "Really, Mulder, it's
nothing. I just thought about how happy I am with you."
She once again ran her fingers through his ruffled hair
and then pulled his head up closer to hers. "I love you
so much, Mulder. Do you know that?"
    "Yes," he smiled. "But it feels good to be reminded
sometimes."
    "Mulder, I'm serious," she sighed.
    "I know." He ran a hand through her soft hair just
like she had done only a few seconds earlier, and then
placed a kiss on her lips. "I know", he repeated. "I love
you, too, Scully. Always. I hope you know that."
    "I do."
    He slipped his hand under the covers and caressed her
side as shivers of anticipation ran through her body.
"What did I ever do to deserve you, Scully?"
    She rolled them over until she was lying on top of
him. "You loved me," she whispered against his mouth, and
then kissed him passionately. "You loved me..."
    And he still did - more than ever. In one quick motion,
he had rolled them over again, and Scully was pinned under
him.
    "May I make love to my wonderful wife, whom I love so
very, very much?" he smiled at her.
    A soft laugh escaped her. "Has she ever been able to
refuse you anything?" she smiled back.
    The answer was no.
    He grabbed her head in his hands and leaned down,
gently touching his lips to hers. He sucked lightly on her
full bottom lip, letting his tongue run over it until she
finally let him in. Their tongues dueled fiercely for
control of the kiss for a long moment until they had to
break away from each other for air.
    Their eyes met, dark and heavy as they gazed lovingly
at each other. Scully reached down between them, stroking
him, finding that he was already hard against her. He
gasped at her touch, and she caught his lip between her
teeth, carefully nibbling on it, pulling it into her
mouth. He quickly took control of the kiss, and it made
her feel like she was floating on air. His kiss was
hard and demanding at the same time as it was warm and
gentle. No one had ever kissed her like he kissed her.
No one's kisses had ever made her feel like his did
each time she felt his lips move against her own.
    He broke the kiss, and she missed the feeling of
his lips. She didn't have to wait long to feel them
again, though.
    He started covering her face with kisses that felt
light as a feather. He enjoyed the way she moved beneath
him, arching up against him. He moved to her ear,
whispering sweet nothings to her as he gently bit down
on her earlobe, and she moaned under him with her hands
gripping his shoulders. He returned his focus to her face,
kissing her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, and then
finally her mouth. Her lips didn't want to release his,
but his will was stronger, and he once again broke free.
    He continued down her neck, kissing her right above
the collarbone. He knew she loved it when he kissed
her there, and he was delighted to hear her uncontrolled
moan followed by a gasp as he lightly nipped at the
sensitive skin.
    He took her breast in his hand, squeezing it gently
as he rolled her nipple between his fingers until it
hardened under his touch. He gave the other one the
same attention, squeezing and kneading with hard and
gentle touches at the same time. She laced her fingers
through his hair as he let his mouth and tongue follow
where his hands and fingers had been, making her writhe
with pleasure.
    "God, Mulder!" she gasped, her hands gripping his
hair even harder.
    She decided she couldn't take it anymore; she had to
touch him back. With a force that should be impossible
for such a petite woman, she pushed him off of her onto
his back and straddled him.
    She ran her hands over his chest, up and down, and
then bent down to kiss him. "I love the feeling of you
under my hands, Mulder." Each word was punctuated by
yet another kiss.
     He grabbed the back of her head to deepen the kiss,
but she pulled away from him, putting a finger against
his lips. He quickly sucked it into his mouth, and Scully
laughed at him. "You're incorrigible, Mulder," she told
him, and he just smiled.
    She gave his body the same attention he had given
hers and let her tongue swirl over his nipples just the
way she knew he liked it, and the way he moaned into her
hair as he placed a kiss there made her whole body tingle.
    She scooted down to straddle his thighs instead of
his stomach, letting her tongue dip into his navel. Then
she paused for a moment and looked up at him. Her eyes
searched his as she came back up to face him again, kissing
him with a passion that could only come out of love.
    "God, I love you so much," he breathed against her.
He barely got the words out between his quick breaths
before he kissed her again, gently this time, and once
again rolled them over.
    He draped himself over her and his straining erection
pressed against her thigh. He lowered his hand between
them, caressing her soft skin as he moved it down until
he reached the core of her pleasure. He gently parted her
folds with his fingers and skillfully stroked her clitoris
in slow, tantalizing circles. She cried out under him,
her head falling back on the pillow.
    Small drops of sweat broke out on her forehead and
she arched up against his hand, her body begging him
for more.
    He kissed the hollow of her throat, his tongue snaking
out to taste her sensitive skin, his fingers never stopping
their work. Her head tilted to the side, giving him better
access to her throat, her breaths coming out faster and
heavier.
    "Mulder..." she sighed into his hair. "I want you
inside me. Now."
    He pushed himself onto his hands, almost hovering
above her, his breath hot on her face. She drew her
legs up and parted them, allowing herself to cradle him
between her thighs. She took him in her hand and in one
swift moment, he sank into her.
    She cried out at the feeling of him, pushing deep
inside her, and he silenced her with his mouth.
    She was so incredibly hot and tight. Her inner
muscles clenched around him, and this time it was she
who silenced his gasp as they kissed.
    He began moving slowly, easing himself in and out
of her. She met him, thrust for thrust, her nails raking
over his arms and back, urging him on.
    Soon, their movements became more frantic, and
they found themselves lost in their passion. She rotated
her hips against him, and his whole body started to
tremble from the feeling of her around him, against him.
    He pushed deeper and deeper inside her, and she
tried to get even closer to him, as if they could merge
into just one person.
    Suddenly, she felt the intensity of her orgasm
wash over her, and she screamed into his mouth. She
contracted around him, and he followed her over the
bridge to ecstasy in just a matter of seconds, finally
collapsing on her chest.
    He gently rolled them over on their sides so that
he wouldn't crush her small body and then carefully
slipped out of her. They both sighed as each immediately
missed the feeling of the other.
    He raised his hand and pushed her hair out of her
face, sweetly kissing her forehead, and then met her
lips in a lazy kiss.
    "I love you so much," he told her for the third time
that morning, and then tucked her head in under his chin,
kissing the top of her head.
    "Me too," she answered him, her voice sleepy.
    It was only a matter of minutes until they were both
asleep in each other's arms again.
    Two hours later, they were woken up by a little
redhead jumping up and down on them both.
    "Mommy, Daddy, wake up!!" Her little fists were
punching Mulder's arms that were wound tightly around
his wife's smaller body.
    He slowly turned over onto his back and opened his
eyes to look up at their daughter who was now bouncing
up and down on his stomach.
    He quickly grabbed her on each side of her tiny,
little waist and lifted her up in the air like an
airplane.
    "Now Caelyn, you know you shouldn't be jumping on
Daddy's stomach," he told her with a voice that almost
sounded serious. "It hurts."
    Then he leaned his arms to each side, over and over,
and the three and a half year old Caelyn squealed
happily as she flew in her daddy's arms.
    "More, daddy, more!" she laughed, and Mulder obeyed
her wishes.
    Then Scully's voice interrupted them as she said,
"Mulder, put her down. One of these days you're accidentally
gonna knock her into the wall."
    Mulder put Caelyn down onto his chest, and then
whispered to her loud enough so that Scully would hear it
too, "I wonder who woke up on the wrong side today," and
Caelyn's giggles filled the room.
    "Mommy did!" she exclaimed as she threw herself into
Scully's arms. "Good morning, Mommy," she said and placed
a big wet kiss, that was supposed to end up on the lips,
on Scully's cheek.
    "Good morning, sweetie," Scully replied as she kissed
her daughter back and gave her a big hug. Then she looked
over at Mulder and said, "I'll go and get us some coffee,
okay?"
    Mulder nodded and pulled Caelyn over to him again as
Scully put on her bathrobe and went out to the kitchen.
    While she was in the kitchen making the coffee, she
could hear Mulder tell Caelyn stories about the X-Files.
She just knew the child would start getting nightmares
one of these days, and she had told Mulder a million
times that he would be the one that would go up into her
room to tell her it was all right when it happened. He just
answered that it wasn't doing her any harm; that he was
probably saving her from being afraid of things when she
got older.
    Finally the coffee was ready, and she poured it into
two cups, one of which had cream in it. She picked them up,
careful not to spill any of the hot liquid on herself, and
walked back to their bedroom.
    She stopped in the doorway, watching the scene play
out before her. Caelyn was once again up in Mulder's arms,
with her arms out like the wings on an airplane.
    She was so grateful to Mulder. She didn't know of any
other man that would have been able to accept the child
into his life like he had done with Caelyn. He considered
them both her real parents, and there was never any talk
about it. She didn't think - actually she *knew* - that she
would never have been able to go through it without him.
And without him she wouldn't have her wonderful daughter.
Now, she couldn't imagine her life without Caelyn in it.
    Caelyn looked exactly like her. She had the exact
same features. Her deep blue eyes, her auburn hair. Her
Roman nose, and her pouty rose lips. She thanked God for
that every day. And Morane had been wrong. Instead of
giving birth to a son, like he had told her she would,
she now had this wonderful little girl in her life. And no
matter how much she had been hurt in the past, she loved
her daughter more than anything.
    Scully set down Mulder's coffee cup on the little table
next to her, waiting for Mulder to finish playing with
Caelyn, and sipped on her own. Suddenly the thoughts of
her earlier dream rushed back, and her free hand flew to
her back. She still only felt the two scars and nothing
more. Mulder looked up at her with a big smile, and she
quickly hid the panicked look on her face, and smiled
back. He didn't notice anything, and returned his
attention to the screaming girl in his arms, raising her
higher and higher, much to her delight.
    But Scully felt uneasy. Somewhere out there, she felt
the evil. And it was just waiting for her...


THE END.

*   *   *   *   *   *  *

Well, I guess that's it. So... sequel? With some flashbacks
to what happened during those "missing" four years, maybe?
It's up to you, people. You want it, I write it. If you
don't, I won't. angela.w@spray.se or starbuck79@hotmail.com
are the addies. ;o)

When it comes to the name Caelyn, I read that in another
fanfic story once, and I just loved it. Sorry, but I can't
remember which story it was.

Also a special note. Maureen, one of my wonderful betas,
wanted me to add some things to this last chapter, but
I didn't want to do so. This is where the sequel comes
in. So... I might just have to write that sequel all for
her... Happy, M? ;o)

Angela