Julia
Chapter Seventeen

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


Washington, D.C.
February 10, 2001
2:18 a.m.


Was this real?  It couldn't be.  There had to be
a reason.  Or it had to be a lie.  Julia noted
the stiff set of his shoulders and the faint
tremble of his hands.

<I killed that girl.  He handed me a gun and
told me to do it.  I didn't hesitate.>  Sighing,
he paled before her. <I told you I was a
murderer.  I also told you I wasn't worth all
your trouble.>

Nausea rose in her throat at the realization
that he was, indeed, speaking the truth.  Had he
changed that much?  Was he really capable of
such cruelty?

No.  The truth hurt him more than it did her;
she could see the pain in his eyes.  No matter
what he'd done, he had done it under duress. 
Familiar, resounding faith in him rose up to
replace her wavering thoughts.

<If you killed that girl, you had a good reason. 
And you're going to see it.  You're the same man
I knew.  The same, good man.> Her new chin
lifted in an even more stubborn fashion, daring
him to refute her.

Mulder's eyes darkened and a stain of color
heightened his ashen cheeks. <Didn't you hear
me?> he punched into the air before her face,
stabbing at her with his words. <I'm my father's
son, Scully.>

<You're not.> She was adamant in her conviction.

<You want me to prove it to you?>

Julia's brow crinkled in confusion. <I don't
understand.>

His hand slammed at his chest for emphasis
before answering, <*I* could have easily taken
the gun and blown my brains out right there on
the runway.  But I didn't.  I am the worst sort
of coward.>

<Mulder.>

<No, Scully.  You came here hoping to find the
man you knew, but he's dead.  I'm nothing more
than the lowest... > He backed away at the sight
of her fingers making a beeline for his neck. 
"Don't you dare."

Pinching seemed to be a very good way to shut
him up, she thought.  If she'd only known this
years ago.... <Are you finished?>

"No."  He raised his hands when she threatened
with her fingers once again.  "Yes.  As long as
you don't pinch me again," he grumbled, eyeing
her nails with a sidelong glance.

<I can't promise that.  You need it, I'll do it
again.  You have my word on it.> Crossing her
arms, she stood there and waited out the war of
wills.

He pursed his lips, so did she.  He walked to
the sofa and flopped down with a pout;  she
followed and sat on the coffee table before him. 
No way was he getting rid of her that easily.

After several moments of her unceasing scrutiny,
he relented, back in control and back to sign
language.  <Say what you have to say.  But it
won't make any difference.>

<Not if you persist in this angry stubbornness,>
she fumed, thoroughly incensed now with his
arrogance.  She felt the fire to the tips of her
fingers.  Her hands became red with the motions
of sign language, slapping together in her fury.

<You really don't want to let me in, do you?  I
was right.  You are the same old Mulder.  Fine. 
Go ahead.  Pretend that you don't need anyone,
that you don't need me.  You're doing just fine
by yourself.  So was I... in fact, I can very
well go it alone again.  Just watch me.>

Throughout her tirade, Mulder sat motionless,
watching her become more angry with every word. 
If she'd hoped for some reaction, she was sadly
mistaken.  He took every barb in the chest with
stoic silence, the only sign she had his
attention was the darting of his eyes from her
hands to her face.

With a broad sigh, she decided she was done. 
Tears of frustration threatened to overflow and
spill out when she gave him one last gesture of
defiance, something she'd wanted to do many
times, but never did because it wasn't the
*professional* thing to do.

But Dana Scully was the professional.  Julia was
the pro.  And the stab of her middle finger in
his face was satisfying.

Before he could say anything in reply, she was
up and stalking back to the fireplace, her arms
wrapped defensively around her.

After all she'd done, all she'd said, it had
been worth nothing.  The Underground would get
what it wanted, but she and Mulder would die
here.  Die as combatants on a field of pride and
false honor.  And they'd been so close... so
close to having what they once had.  No - *more*
than what they'd ever dreamed of.

"Julia."

At his whisper so close behind her, she
straightened, but didn't turn around.  She
didn't trust herself not to hit him, and she
couldn't bear to bring more hurt upon him, even
if he was being an ass.

"Kiss me, Julia," he said, louder now.

Julia whirled at the command, ready to spit fire
at him with her eyes.  But as soon as she saw
his face, the anguish drawn in harsh lines, she
knew his purpose was not one of amorous intent. 
Letting her rigid arms fall away, she took his
face in her hands and brought her lips to his.

For a moment, he let their mouths meet, his kiss
tentative at first, then strengthening until
they were both gasping for breath.  His arms
went around her and she found herself crushed to
him, his ragged breathing matching her own. 
Content that she had at least made a crack in
his defenses, she burrowed closer, her nose
nuzzling the thump of his pulse at the base of
his throat.

One of his hands came up and brushed aside the
hair at her ear.  She was pleased at the soft
words that started to pour from him, despite the
hurt and pain that serrated each syllable.

"I could have let her live, could have fought
them again," he began, so quietly Julia had to
strain to hear him, rising up on tiptoe to bring
her ear closer to his lips.  "But by that time,
I'd begun to sneak out information on the
manifests."

That's what he'd been doing all this time.  A
surge of joyful justification brought tears to
Julia's eyes.  She'd known it all along... he
was still her Mulder.  She tried to pull away,
to let her smile communicate her belief in him,
to ask how he'd been getting the information
out, but he held fast, the confession
continuing.

"He's someone we can trust, Julia," he
whispered, giving her a slight shake, "but once
this information leaves here, I don't know which
transports will be hit.  They're randomly
picked, the attacks spaced far enough apart to
divert suspicion from the leak.  From me.  If
the manifests went missing, they'd know, so I
memorize what I can and write it down later." 
He paused, then added shakily, "It's why I fell
apart when I saw Skinner's name.  I knew I had
to sign it... I don't know if his transport will
win this week's rescue lottery."

But she had it now, it was still in the pocket
of her dress.  Mulder felt her tense and
hastened to calm her.

"I told them when they came for me last night
that I didn't know where it was.  I denied all
knowledge of it.  They tried... *intimidation,*
but after a while, I guess they figured I was
telling the truth.  My - *father* believed me." 
He paused, then added, "I don't think they know
yet that Skinner's name was on that manifest. 
And they won't, not if I can help it."

Julia gulped and held him closer.  Intimidation
- they'd beat him because the manifest was
missing.  His injuries were her fault.

"No, no," he whispered.  "Don't blame yourself. 
I was the one that took them from the office in
the first place."

For a few moments, she let herself grieve over
his hurt as he murmured soft words of
commiseration.  "What I did to that girl -
*that's* unforgivable."

No it isn't, she wanted to scream.  I forgive
you - why can't you forgive yourself?

She wanted to shake him.  Wanted to slap some
sense into him.  She understood that he'd been
through a very traumatic experience, and the
fact that he chose to blame himself for the
whims of fate was not unexpected.  But they had
more important things to do.

They could still save Skinner.  And
themselves.  A fact she would make sure Mulder
realized when he would let her respond.  For
now, though, she let him go on, urging him to
let it all out by rubbing her hands up and down
his back.

"If I'd refused to kill the girl, they would
have punished me, put me back in the cell.  And
I couldn't do that to the thousands waiting to
be saved."  He began to choke out the words as 
soundless sobs threatened to burst forth.  "It
was wrong to sacrifice one person so that others
could live.  I'm not God."

At this, Julia did pull away, though Mulder kept
his hands at her waist, holding on as if he
thought she'd flee.  Tears shimmered in his eyes
as he waited for her response.

<Would you rather have seen her become a host,
sent her away to slow, torturous death?>

"No," he said, his eyes still haunted but
brimming with a burgeoning understanding.  "But
-"

<No buts,> she interrupted. <You did the only
thing you could do, Mulder.  Forgive yourself
and move on.>

"Easier said than done," he replied with a grim
smile.

Julia smiled back. <Then will you forgive me
instead?>

"For what?"

<For everything I did or didn't do.  For
everything I said a little while ago.  For not
believing in you, trusting you.>

With a sigh, he brought her close again and his
lips moved against the curve of her ear.  "If
you'll do the same for me."

Deal, she replied with a nod against his chest.
It was going to take time to heal.  For the both
of them.  And that time would come, after they'd
made it out.  For now, this was enough.

The fire hissed an crackled as they silently
embraced, surrounding them with warmth.  Julia
felt that she could stay that way forever and
she was saddened that she couldn't.  But there
was one more thing she wanted to ask him before
they got down to the business of escape.  And
though she realized he could very well refuse,
she wanted to know.  Needed to know.

Tell me, her eyes pleaded, as she moved slightly
away.  Soft, tender fingers touched the scar,
trailing down its length to settle over his
heart.

Though dry now, his cheeks flushed with
something that looked almost like guilt.  Julia
wasn't sure she wanted to hear what he had to
say, despite her curiosity.  They'd covered a
lot of difficult territory already and from the
hesitant set of his chin, his next disclosure
promised to be just as formidable.  But she
wanted no more secrets, just as he did.  The
time for solitary crusading was over; if they
wanted to get out of there alive, they had to
trust each other again.  Had to be together in
their resolve.

Putting a bit of distance between them, he
stepped away, his hands slow in his reply. <What
do you want to know?>

What *did* she want to know?  Why put herself
through this?  If he slept with any of the women
that had been paraded in and out of this suite,
what would it matter?

But it did matter, deep inside where her logic
and reason couldn't reach down to squash the
jealousy.  Yes, she knew he loved her.  Had
loved her for a long time, with a sweetness and
passion undeniably focused on her, and her
alone.  But they'd never become intimate.  It
just wasn't *them.* She'd resigned herself to it
long ago.

And now?  Impossible.  Though they were still
the same inside, there was no reason in this
mangled world they lived in to succumb to the
pleasures of sex.  Much more important things to
do... like always.

If jealousy wasn't her motivation, then what
was?  She told herself that health concerns were
paramount; despite her assumption that the
others had undergone the same rigorous
examination that she had, it was best to be on
the safe side.  And that meant abstinence.

<Did you sleep with any of them?>

There, that was straightforward enough.  She
could see his reply in his hardened gaze before
she heard from his fingers.

<No.  Did *you* fuck anybody?>

Fair enough, her eyes blinked. <No.  Though I
suppose I would have if I'd had to.>

Mulder tensed, but bit back his angry retort. 
She knew he wanted to pounce on her last
statement, but their newborn truce forbade it. 
Instead, he answered her with another story.

<After they put me up here, gave me my...
*job*... the women started showing up.  All
redheads, most looked like you.  And I can't
deny that I was tempted, Scully.  But mostly, I
ignored them, just to piss him off.  My father
knew that I wasn't fucking them... he could hear
everything that went on in here.  Hell, he can
still hear everything.>

Julia let the corners of her mouth turn up in a
wry grin.  They'd figured out how to beat the
surveillance.  Thank goodness for sign language.

<Then one day he shows up with one... she looked
*exactly* like you.  Her voice was different,
but somehow the plastic surgeon was successful
in every other way.> With a pointed look he
added, <Took only a few days for my resistance
to fade.>

Oh, Jesus, she thought.  Hang in there, he's
just being honest.  He said he hadn't slept with
any of them, hadn't he?  And she knew he was
sexually attracted to her, just as she had
always appreciated his sensuality.  It came with
the territory.  Put two reasonably attractive
people together in a very stressful partnership
and they were bound to have developed some sort
of physical desire for one another.

<She was good, I'll give her that.  Didn't even
flinch when I touched her.  I was totally
unprepared for the knife.>

<The knife?> Julia butted in, thankful he'd
skipped over the juicier details.  How had she
smuggled in a knife?

<She was fucking one of the Guardsmen assigned
to watch me.  Later, she told all, confessed to
stealing it from him.  She hated my guts, hated
me touching her.  Can't really blame her, you
know.  Torn from all that she loved, made to
wear a different face the rest of her life. 
Treated like a slave, whore to the man most
likely responsible for your family's death.>

Don't start, she warned with her eyes.  Don't
make me listen to your guilt trip all over
again.  It's done.  She brought her fingers up
and snapped the thumb and forefinger together
like pincers, daring him to make her do it.

"Okay, okay," he said aloud, throwing his hands
up in surrender.  "Just keep your fingers to
yourself."  A small smile accompanied his added
murmur, "For now, anyway."

<Go on.> She wasn't letting him off the hook
that easily, though she couldn't help her
answering serious smile.  Always ready with the
innuendo - she was glad to know that hadn't
changed.

Sighing, he signed, <I would have slept with
her, you know.  I lost all reason.  It was
you... or as close to you as I'd ever come.>

His eyes drifted into sadness, his playfulness
of a moment ago forgotten. <I even called her by
your name.>

Julia wanted to hold him, to comfort him, but
she stayed back.  Finish it, she pleaded with
her gaze.

<She saw how far gone I was and took the
opportunity.> He swallowed hard, as if the fear
and panic had taken hold of him once again. <I
managed to get her off me and grab the knife. 
In a minute or two, the Guardsmen burst in.  I
guess it's the only time I was glad they were
listening; by that time, I'd lost the will to
die.>

For all her rage at their captors' insensitivity
and suspicion, she too was thankful they'd come
to his aid.

<They took her away.  I never saw her again. 
Then the next one....> He lowered his gaze. <The
next one drowned herself in the bathtub after
the first day.  I'd told him time and again I
didn't want anymore.  And I thought he'd finally
listened to me; I was alone for weeks.>

Mulder finally looked at her again, this time
with watery eyes. <Then he brought you to me.>

Through the fresh tears, he laughed, a short,
mirthless exhale.

"Looks like he finally succeeded," he whispered. 
"You always could bring me to my knees."

Julia quickly moved forward and shushed him with
her hand.  Mulder's mouth opened beneath her
fingers to press a kiss into the pads.  She felt
the moist breath caress her skin and her tears
joined his.  He was wrong; it was *him* that
could bring her to her knees.  She'd known all
along that her mission was not one of blind
devotion to the resistance.

The only mission in her life was Mulder.  Saving
him, saving herself.  Leading him out of this
place of despair and greed back into the more
uncertain world of thin hope and tenuous
freedom.

Together, they moved into a tight embrace, and
Julia's hands moved slowly over his back,
soothing the scars on his body and soul.

"We're gonna make it out, you know," he
murmured, rocking her in his arms.

She nodded, feeling in her heart that he was
right.  They'd make it out, or die trying.

"Ready to let me in on this plan of yours?"
It was so soft, breathed into her ear with
a feathery sigh.

At that moment, her empty stomach roared with
displeasure.  Mulder laughed, pulling away to
grin at the interruption.  "I guess we missed
dinner, didn't we?"

Glancing ruefully at the cold plates of food on
the table, she shrugged.  She'd gone without
eating many times in the past months and she
could do it again.  This time, though, she would
gladly put up with hunger, as long as she could
feast on Mulder's presence.

"Let me call downstairs.  We need something to
eat.  Suddenly, I have quite an appetite."  He
winked and moved to the telephone.  When he saw
her follow him with her gaze, he added, <We can
discuss where we go from here while we eat.>

Okay, she answered, bringing her thumb and
forefinger together.  As he dialed, she made
herself comfortable on the couch.

It had been a long night already, and there was
still much more talking to come.  She wondered
if she could stay awake.

Coffee, she needed coffee.

"And a pot of coffee... don't forget the
creamer."

Mulder's order made her smile.  Who needed
words?


End Chapter Seventeen