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YANKEE STADIUM
BRONX, NEW YORK
APRIL 3rd, 2005
He was like a child, and if she hadn't known or seen who was
sitting beside her she would have guessed that he was a little
boy.
He wriggled, he hummed, he tapped his feet, he occasionally
bounced up and down on the seat...
It made her smile, but God did it ever annoy her!
Scully eyed her partner yet again as he stood up and then
disappointingly sat down - having missed his chance to appear on
the large video screen.
"Wow! Please, Scully, if I'm dreaming *don't* pinch me!*
Mulder beamed, turning to face her.
By some miracle, she'd managed to get a pair of tickets to the
New York Yankees' opening game of the baseball season against
Boston off eBay, and to say Mulder had been over-zealous when
he'd opened the envelope on Valentine's Day would be a bad
understatement - he'd lifted her up into his arms, spun her
around, kissed every millimetre of her face and then carried her
into the bedroom to show how happy she really did make him. Now,
dressed in faded jeans, baseball shirt and matching team cap, as
he stared into her eyes, she understood that this man had never
really had a childhood after the abduction of his sister, and
what she saw now was that locked-away boy finally being let free
- despite the pain and turmoil the older version of him suffered.
It made him look relaxed.
It made her feel relaxed.
And all irritation was forgotten...at least for now.
He swallowed hard and ran the tongue he'd burnt with a hot dog
shortly after their arrival across the roof of his mouth.
"You know how grateful I am, don't you?" he asked
quietly, sincerely.
"Your excited and restless bouncing beside me was a small
giveaway," Dana chuckled, reaching out a hand and entwining
their fingers together. "Just try not to injure yourself any
more, please - it's *our* day, and I just wanna enjoy it,
okay?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Giving her hands a gentle squeeze but refusing to let go, he
turned back to face the baseball field just as Randy Johnson
stepped up to pitch for the Yankees.
"Come on, guys - we can show them who the true kings of this
game are!" Mulder whispered through grit teeth - beginning
his session of bouncing once again.
Scully just smiled, shook her head and settled to watch the game
as well.
By the seventh inning stretch, everything had remained so perfect
that it had become easy to forget who they were - the evening
weather was unseasonably tranquil, she was in the company of this
beautiful man, and the game had been entertaining. Boston had
taken an early lead, resulting in the most grumbling, whining and
shouted expletives she recalled ever hearing pass Mulder's lips,
but it had only taken New York a couple more innings to regain
their hold on the game and score a two run lead - much to her
partner's boyish excitement.
Perfect.
...A little too perfect...
"Ooh, need to drain the lizard," he suddenly exclaimed,
standing up. "Want anything while I'm gone? Soda?
Popcorn?"
With a slow shake of her head, Dana replied, "No, thanks.
Their popcorn's far too buttery for human consumption - it should
be made illegal."
Mulder let out a loud, relaxed chuckle and shook his own head.
"Ugh! I really need to work harder on changing your opinion
about that!"
"You won't get far."
"Sure you don't want anything?"
"No, I'm fine, really."
Adjusting his jeans slightly, Mulder made his way to the aisle,
gave one last look in her direction over his shoulder, and then
disappeared just as the visiting Red Sox ran back out onto the
field.
A curious glance sideways fifteen minutes later, she spotted him
making his way down the stairs toward their row.
"Next to bat, the first baseman, number 25: Jason
Giambi," the announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeaker.
The crowd cheered, and Mulder's pace quickly increased. Scully
turned away briefly to watch the first pitch, but looked back at
her approaching partner as a strike was called.
"Took your time," she joked as he made his way down the
line.
There was the sound of bat hitting ball and the crowd became even
more excited. Mulder desperately tried to get past the
now-standing, mitt-raised fans without losing his footing,
replying, "Damn queue," at the top of his voice so she
could hear, before a sharp pain ripped through his skull and
everything went to black.
Scully's eyes opened as wide as possible, and she dropped to her
knees beside his motionless body. "Mulder?" No
response. "Mulder!" She gently patted his face several
times, and was rewarded with a low groan.
"Is he okay?"
Only just realising that everybody in their row, the row in front
and the row behind was interested in the health of her injured
partner, Dana raised her eyes to stare at the small boy that had
asked the question and gave a weary smile.
"He's gonna be fine," she replied, quietly - unsure if
she was trying to convince the boy or herself more. "Just a
big lump on his head is all he has to look forward to - that'll
teach him to be more aware of his surroundings next time, won't
it, Mulder?"
Another unintelligible groan of pain from the barely conscious
FBI agent.
The boy - at least five years old, if Scully had to guess -
glanced up at his father with a frown, but then turned back and
gave an accepting nod of his head before returning to his seat.
"You sure you okay there with him, ma'am?" the man that
had been sitting next to Mulder and was now being forced to
remain standing by the body at his feet queried.
"He'll be fine," she repeated, making a closer
examination of the growing lump on the left side of Mulder's
forehead. "But I'd be grateful if you could help me get him
back on his seat."
Without hesitation, the stranger obliged, and it wasn't long
before Mulder was seated beside her again.
"Mulder, can you hear me?" she whispered in his ear.
He made some kind of grunting sound and let his chin drop to rest
against his chest, but it took several minutes before his eyes
opened and he blinked a few times.
"Mul--" Her voice died in her throat and she froze as
he looked up at her and she saw the completely blank expression
on his face - there was just nothing there...
Absolutely nothing.
No recognition, no compassion, no familiar spark burning behind
his eyes, no sign of the twelve years-worth of memories that she
has shared with this man through thick and thin - no sign, in
fact, of any memory whatsoever in his life. Everything gone as if
the slate had been wiped clean.
He glanced down at the hands she rested on his forearms, then
frowned at her - silently asking, 'who the hell are you?'
Her heart broke into a million pieces then and there.
*crack*
The crowd immediately burst into enthusiastic cheering once again
as another ball was hit, and Mulder turned away to look down at
the players on the field. All Dana could do was watch him
intently as he tilted his head a fraction to the side, then
glanced down to examine the clothes he wore, and then turned his
attention back to the players - unsteadily standing up.
"Mulder, what ar--"
But he was already gone - quickly making his way back down the
row and then running down the stairs toward the field.
"Oh, God, no..."
It took several long seconds for her motor functions to kick in,
and by the time she was on her own feet and awkwardly trying to
squeeze past the people, Mulder had already jumped the wall onto
the field, and was casually making his way to the right fielder -
security in close pursuit.
"I'm a federal agent, and he's my partner," Scully
frantically explained to the first uniformed man that grabbed her
to stop her going out onto the turf also. At his doubtful frown,
she pulled out her ID wallet (thankful she'd thought to keep it
upon her person today.)
"So, what? That gives you the right to jus' go wherever you
wan'?" the officer angrily replied, shaking his head.
"No, of course not, but Agent Mulder was struck on the head
by the last home run, and I have reason to believe he may be
suffering from amnesia."
The tall, broad, officer frowned and glanced over his shoulder at
the men now forcing Mulder off the field. He had a job to do and
order to uphold, but as he looked into the fear and anger-filled
eyes of this petite woman, he had no choice but to let her go to
her partner and order his colleagues to let their captive go.
Mulder shrugged the retreating hands away, and then watched as
the small, red-haired woman he'd been sitting next to earlier
approached. The expression on her face begged him to remember
her, and the increasing rate of heartbeat indicated he more than
likely should, but his brain just refused to retrieve the
necessary information... Hell, he didn't even have a clue as to
who he was!
The woman stopped directly in front of him, and one of her slim
hands reached out to touch his arm. His heart almost flipped at
the contact, and he fixed his gaze on her face - frowning at the
unexplainable sensations her proximity was rousing within him.
"Who--"
"It's gonna be okay...Let's just get you to the
hospital," Scully somehow managed to choke out - unable to
hear those words passing his lips, despite all they'd been
through together. Now was when he would need her strength and
support the most, but that empty look had taken so much out of
her, she didn't know if she could offer him anything. "We're
gonna need to do an x-ray and scan on your head to see how much
trauma that baseball inflicted."
His frown deepened even further. She was a doctor? Did that mean
he was a doctor also? And, if so, what were they doing here?
"Is that okay, Mulder?"
'Mulder'? Mulder...Mulder... Nope, nothing familiar about that.
With a hesitant nod of his head, he allowed her to guide him out
of the ballpark.
XxXxXxXxX
"What is your name?"
"Uh...That lady that came in with me kept calling me
'Mulder', so I guess that's what it is...unless that's some kind
of nickname or...uh...or pet name..." The last two words
came out in a bare whisper (part-embarrassment and part-anger at
the fact that he couldn't remember something as important as
that) and his face blanched considerably.
Dana - unable to watch any longer as the doctor questioned her
partner in his hospital room - turned and left, quietly pulling
the door shut after her.
Her cellphone picked that second to ring to life.
"Scully." Tired and emotionally drained, she mentally
congratulated herself for managing to get the word out at all.
"How's he doing?"
"Sir? How--"
"Agent Scully, it's Sunday evening and the first day of the
baseball season. Assistant directors of the FBI do try to have
lives as well, every now and then, and even find the time to be
interested in things other than paperwork," Skinner's deep
voice chuckled over the line before sobering a minute later.
"I was watching the game on TV, and saw Giambi's ball knock
Mulder down. Is he okay?"
"He's..." She hesitated momentarily and sighed as she
cast a glance over her shoulder at the closed entrance to
Mulder's room. "He's functioning, but...He can't remember
anything - not who he is, what day of the week it is, who...who I
am...It's as if the ball hit a 'reboot' button on his head and
all information's been lost."
Now standing up, Skinner nervously begun to pace the length of
his apartment and wiped a hand across his dry mouth. "Jesus,
Dana. Have the doctors done tests? Do they know how long it'll
last?"
"They've run x-rays and MRI scans on his head, but apart
from the large bump on his forehead, there's no other signs of
trauma that would explain the amnesia. As for how long it will
last...I really don't know..."
Skinner remained quiet - unsure of what to say.
"My fear is that the encounter with the artifact at the
start of the year left his brain so vulnerable, any little thing
could have triggered this."
"You want me to come up there?"
"No, sir. I..I just wish I knew..." Scully's voice
trailed off as the doctor stepped out of Mulder's room.
"Sir, I need to go. Can I call you back in a few
minutes?"
"Of course. You take care and keep me updated," the
older man sighed, desperately wishing there was something more
assuring he could say or do.
"Agent Scully?" Doctor Homer Muzzy started as he
watched her put away her cellphone. "Can I talk with you in
private?"
Dana's level of panic heightened, and a ball of dread formed in
the pit of her stomach. "Why? I know he can't remember
anything, so what else is there to discuss?" She didn't mean
to be so sharp with the defenceless man, but at the moment all
that mattered was that she got back to her partner and helped him
recover.
"The scans showed no swelling, no blood clots - nothing.
There's no logical explanation for this extent of memory
loss," Muzzy explained.
She'd been about to make a joke about nothing to do with Fox
Mulder ever being logical, but then she realised what the doctor
was getting at...
"You think he may not regain his memory?"
Muzzy's shoulders shrugged and then sagged considerably. "If
there were visible signs of internal trauma, we could make an
estimation on how long this would last, but without those, and
the fact that he can't even remember his own name... I'm sorry,
but you may have to prepare yourself for the possibility that
this will be permanent."
Scully shook her head and set her jaw. She couldn't accept this;
she *wouldn't*. She'd once told Mulder that she wouldn't pick him
up off the floor again, but she wasn't about to stand aside and
watch him fade away like his memories
Wouldn't give up on him.
Wouldn't give up on them.
"There's got to be another way..."
"I--" Muzzy cut off as his pager bleeped. "I'm
needed elsewhere. I'll come by later to check up on him and
consider releasing him from my care, but really: consider what
I've said, and think about how you're gonna help him fit back
into society." With that, he turned and disappeared down the
corridor.
Stepping toward the room entrance, Scully paused and took a deep
breath. Just the thought of staring into that emptiness again
tore at her, but she fought against it and opened the door.
"Hey," she smiled, moving with forced confidence until
she stood directly in front of Mulder.
His lowered head raised so that he could stare into her sky blue
eyes and feel the love he saw there warm his heart. "Hey. I
thought you'd have run a mile away by now."
"You really have forgotten who I am, then." The chuckle
lacked all trace of humour, and yet - ironically - felt natural.
"No, I haven't."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "What?"
"That's...That's the thing...I know I know you and that you
mean..." He hesitated and blinked several times to clear the
wetness beginning to form in his eyes. "That you mean the
world and everything else to me, but only because that's what my
body and heart are telling me. Ask me to recall your name or when
I was born or how we met and I'll only be able to answer with a
blank expression. I musta been pretty crazy before this if this
hasn't scared you off."
Tears begun to blur Scully's vision also at his words and the
sight of his shy smile. Her mouth opened to reply, but suddenly
the door opened and a man dressed in a baseball uniform entered.
Both agents turned simultaneously to frown at the intruder.
"Hi, I'm Jason Giambi," the man smiled, turning
slightly to reveal the name on the back of his jersey, as if that
was validation enough of his identity (seemingly forgetting, in
the process, that you could buy a identical one from the local
sports store for eighty dollars). "Bud from security told
me, after the game, how you got knocked out by my home run,"
he explained, facing them again. "We managed to retrieve the
ball and I figured the decent thing would be to return it to its
rightful owner."
Several blue flashes filled the room, and Scully turned her head
to see five photographers standing in the doorway. Mulder kept
his attention on the ballplayer and watched in awe as he offered
a signed baseball. The frequency of flashes increased and Scully
decided it was time to bring the circus to an end.
"Well, thank you very much, Mr. Giambi, but Mulder really
needs to rest now," she started as politely as possible,
outstretching a hand to shake the visitor's.
Giambi hesitated, frowned at her and then gave an acknowledging
nod of his head. "Of course. I just thought I'd stop
by," he smiled, accepting the proffered hand. "It was
nice to meet you both, and hope to see you at another game some
time."
After several more minutes of stalling so that the journalists
managed to get as many photographs as possible, the celebrity
sportsman left.
"Wow, an autographed baseball," Mulder exclaimed,
examining the black ink inscription between the two seams.
"I take it from the clothes I'm wearing that he plays for
the team I like?"
Scully was still staring thoughtfully at the closed entrance.
"Ma'am?"
That word coming from his lips and referring to her caught her
attention immediately, and she sharply turned to stare at him.
"Sorry, but I still don't know what your name is," he
quietly apologised.
"Scully," she almost whispered. "It's Dana Scully,
but you've always called me just 'Scully'."
"Scully..." He tried it out, and the sound of it on his
lips felt familiar, but it still didn't conjure up any memories.
"Scully..."
"It's gonna be okay," she quickly cut in, although this
time definitely to reassure herself more.
He stared at her thoughtfully, and the sinking feeling in his
stomach made him feel guilty. The words "I'm sorry,
Scully," escaped before he even had chance to understand why
he was saying them.
Tense silence rested between them for long seconds as they simply
stared at each other - Scully desperately searching the depths of
his soul for the flicker of flame that made him him, whilst
Mulder frantically sought the lighter in hers. Despite the fact
that she knew she probably shouldn't, Dana felt herself drawn
towards him and took several steps forward so that she could
reach a hand up to cup his cheek.
"We've been through everything together - literally to Hell
and back - for over twelve years, Mulder, and I've never wanted
to turn away from you...*We've* never turned our backs on each
other, and I certainly don't intend to start now," she
almost choked. "Especially when now is probably the time we
need each other the most."
The warmth of her skin against his kicked his heart into a fast
beat yet again, and the top half of his body begun to lean
forward - his face resting more fully in the cradle of her palm.
"Scully..." It was suddenly the only word he could say
despite his brain's refusal to remember it, and the autographed
baseball fell from his grasp. "Scu--"
*thud*
The ball hit the ground, and at the instant of impact Mulder's
body suddenly jolted upright - his head shaking several times in
a desperate attempt to dispel the waves of giddiness now
overwhelming him.
Unsure of what was happening, the hand that had been resting
against his cheek moved up to press against his creasing
forehead.
"Mulder, what's wrong?"
Frightened eyes that needed to blink several times before they
could focus properly fixed on her and silently begged her to make
everything better.
"We were at the game," he whispered through grit teeth.
"It was supposed to be our day out..."
"Mu--?"
"I promised I wouldn't injure myself anymore after burning
my tongue, an--"
The ball slowed before bumping into the wall on the opposite side
of the room and stopping. All the muscles in Mulder's body
relaxed and his head dropped to rest against the top of his
chest.
"'And' what?"
His head shook, but did not lift. "I can't remember."
Feeling the same desperation she sensed in his voice, Scully
looked around the room and fixed her gaze on the discarded
projectile that had caused all this in the first place. She
frowned and stepped over to bend and pick it up.
Something didn't feel right.
It felt too heavy - moreso on one side than the other.
The frown deepened and she lifted the ball to shake it by her
ear. There was no audible sound coming from within the object,
but she saw a shiver wrack Mulder's frame at exactly the same
moment.
"Jesus..." The coincidences were too great, but she
needed one more test to be certain, so her hold loosened on the
ball and she purposely let it drop to the floor.
*thud*
"And, God, I love you so much, Scully! Please, make this
stop!"
A hand shot up to cover her mouth whilst the other reached out to
rest on something and support her weight before her knees gave
way. "Oh, my God..."
Exhausted and nauseated, Mulder collapsed onto the bed so that he
was laying down - both hands coming up to cover his sweating
face. "What the hell's happening to me?" he begged to
know, sobbing.
Unable to answer, Scully shook her head and eyed the ball that
had stopped rolling at the foot of his bed. She didn't have a
clue how to explain this; all she knew was that they had to get
out of here as soon as humanly possible.
Taking a second to regain her balance, she let both hands drop
down by her sides and approached him.
"Mulder?" she whispered in case somebody else should be
listening in. "Mulder, we need to get out of here,
now." He didn't respond, so she tenderly combed her fingers
through his hair. "I know you--...you don't remember me, but
please trust me."
The hands slowly lowered away from his face and hazel, red-rimmed
eyes sought out her watery blue ones. "I..." He paused
and swallowed hard. Emotions he didn't know and couldn't explain
surged through him, and yet - despite the ball of confusion
engulfing him - there was one thing he knew with the certainty he
should have had for his own name: this woman was the truth and
could save him from this nightmare.
"I've always trusted you," he croaked.
With a sad smile, Scully nodded and helped him to his feet - only
leaving his side briefly to pick up the baseball and carefully
place it in her purse.
A few minutes later they were out of the hospital and on their
way back to D.C.
XxXxXxXxX
RESIDENCE OF THE LONE GUNMEN
TACOMA PARK, WASHINGTON D.C
"Holy kamoly."
All still dressed in their pyjamas, the three paranoid geeks
gathered around the baseball they'd carefully dissected the top
off of and stared with awe at the exposed mechanical interior.
"I take it that's not normal?" Mulder started uneasily
from a short distance away, wincing whenever one of the other men
poked a pencil at the ball's contents.
"Man, we've never seen anything like it!" Frohike
exclaimed, reaching out to touch the oddity again. Having seen
the affects their earlier probing had had on her partner, though,
Scully stopped him in mid-air and shook her head. "I mean,
are you sure this isn't another of your tests to try keep us up
to speed?"
Mulder shrugged his shoulders and looked away.
Byers stepped away from the magnifying glass he'd been using to
examine the electronic device more closely and folded both arms
across his chest. "The circuit looks designed to process the
cosmic galactic radiation from the small piece of the alien ship
into microwaves and direct the signal to only affect a particular
part of Mulder's temporal lobe."
Having been up for twenty hours straight - including a long,
exhausting journey home from New York - Scully was pretty much at
the end of her tether, but she tried to stay as polite as
possible... After all, the guys were helping.
"But the tests showed no abnormalities in his brain at
all," she countered, reaching for the magnifier so she could
look at the baseball also.
"That's what we got suspicious about when you first
called," Langly explained, "so we hacked into the
hospital medical records and--"
"Surprise, surprise, there's no record of any such tests
being done on Mulder at all. Whatever they showed you were either
fakes, or they 'accidentally' mislaid his results," Frohike
cut in, bitterly. "I'm sure you can guess which one we
subscribe to."
"And, in case you're in any doubt, we tried checking up this
Doctor Homer Muzzy dude and, nope, he doesn't exist," Langly
added. "We got a couple of interesting results when we
searched the net for that name, but no doctors, and certainly not
at that hospital."
Scully stared at the single symbol engraved on the piece of
artifact and frowned, but then looked back up at the Gunmen.
"They're not trying to kill him," she uttered,
distantly. "They've tried that and it didn't work, so they
thought..." Trailing off, she cast a sideways glance at
Mulder, who was looking back at her over his shoulder. "They
thought if he completely forgot who he was, he'd no longer be a
threat..."
"Nice to know I'm so popular," the dry retort came from
the other side of the room.
"But how do we stop this from shutting down his memory
banks?"
"Well, you said on the phone that when the ball incurred
damage, he remembered things again," Byers hesitated.
"No," Dana quickly replied. "No, there has to be
another way...You didn't see how much pain his body went through
during those moments...I won't let that happen again."
"But maybe that was because when the microwave processors
malfunctioned the C.G.R took control of him as we've seen in the
past," Byers went on, more confidently. "Maybe if you
were back at your place - away from the artifact - it wouldn't
have the same effect. Then we could get rid of the piece so he
was completely in the clear."
Close to falling asleep whilst still standing, she desperately
tried to process it all into a logical order.
In the end, there was no denying it was probably the only answer.
"Oh-kay," she exhaled, taking a step back. "Call
me as soon as it's done."
Arrangements were made, and all Mulder could do was watch as
decisions were made regarding things to do with his brain that he
probably should have had more input on, but he put his faith in
Scully and five minutes later she was driving them to what she
called 'their home'.
XxXxXxXxX
3605 N STREET NW
WASHINGTON, DC
APRIL 4th, 2005
Mulder looked around the living room like a child seeing the
wonder of Christmas properly for the first time, and Scully was
reminded of his excitement at the baseball game yesterday before
this nightmare began.
"I thought you said we were FBI partners?" he queried,
looking at the comfortable furniture. She nodded, but he remained
unconvinced. "You sure we're not married?"
"In your dreams, Mulder," Scully chuckled, watching him
settle down on the couch before pacing out into the kitchen.
"No, we're just FBI partners that took seven-and-a-bit years
to confess their undying love for each other."
"You don't make it sound very romantic," Mulder snorted
in reply as she re-entered the room carrying a bottle of wine.
"What's that for? To numb my brain in case this 'plan'
doesn't work?"
She sat down beside him - grimacing at the sarcasm in his tone -
and shrugged, "Well, you never know."
He shrugged also and let out a burst of laughter, but then fell
very serious. "You know how much I love you, don't you?
Please say I'm not that crazy a person to have not proven it to
you..."
Scully frowned, suddenly afraid of where this conversation might
go. "Of course you have! Often more times than
necessary!"
"I just--...I mean, since the 'accident', I've not known a
single thing about you, but my heart always reacts in a different
way to your presence and it told me when I saw you that you were
important - that I did know you, even though my brain couldn't or
wouldn't."
"Mulder, what--"
"What I'm getting at is if this thing doesn't work, and I'm
stuck like this, I want you to walk away."
Her jaw dropped, but no words could form.
"I can't dump the responsibility on you of trying to bring
me back up to speed on a life I'm not sure even belongs to me
anymore..."
*If I quit now, they win*
He was gonna let them win! After everything, he was--
"No," she said simply. "You don't know what you're
saying."
"Maybe now's when--" He stopped as his body stiffened
and then began to shake. The fit lasted for several minutes, and
when it ended he was unconscious.
"Mulder?" Dana whispered into his ear, reaching for one
of his hands. "Mulder, you have to wake up."
The persistent ring of the phone went on...
But then she heard it: slow and low, but definitely coming from
her partner:
He was humming the tune 'Take Me Out To The Ball Game'.
When he finished, one eye opened and fixed on her. "D'you
think we should maybe try for a mid-season game next time?"
he asked, trying not to smile as the memories he couldn't believe
he'd ever been able to lose came back in their full Technicolor
glories and terrors.
All the air whooshed out of Scully's lungs, but as ever she
couldn't be reassured by the first words out of his mouth, and
her eyebrows raised in question.
Knowing that look too well, Mulder grinned and sat up so that he
could stare at her and pleaded, "*Please* tell me the guys
kept Giambi's autograph intact?!"
It was enough, and her arms tightly wrapped around his neck as
her face burrowed against his heaving chest - the annoying phone
now completely forgotten.
"Don't you *ever* do that to me again!" she chided as
his hands ran up her back.
Somehow, though, he knew it was about his trying to make her walk
away, not the fact that their trip out together had been ruined.
"I promise."
They'd never turned their backs on each other in the past, even
on the journey to Hell and back, and they certainly had no plans
to change that now or ever - there was no stopping what they felt
deep inside, and what their union could do to anyone that tried
to destroy that.
XxXxXxXxX
"Another one of your supposedly 'great' plans going down in
flames," the man shrouded in shadows laughed sarcastically
as he reached to light another cigarette and turn off the video
display of Mulder and Scully in each other's arms. "This
technology is not a toy you can just distribute however you feel
like it. You know what happened to John Gillnitz when he played
with this technology?"
The other man threw down medical charts and scan results.
"The technology worked. If they hadn't figured out how to
shut it off, he would have remained neutral."
"But that's the point: they *did* figure it out - a little
too easily, in fact." The seated man exhaled a cloud of
smoke and spun round on his chair so that he faced in the
opposite direction. "Don't bother coming back until you have
something a little more complex than a puzzle a five-year-old
could solve. Your sister became an important player in the larger
picture when she joined the FBI, so stop trying to save
her."
Charles Scully's shoulders squared before he cursed the seated
man through grit teeth and then reluctantly left the room.
Darkness reigned in his departure as the lone figure reached for
the phone and started to make his own plans.
**********
THE END
**********
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The X-Files are property of CC, Fox, 1013 and co.; all baseball
teams, players and field remain property of Major League Baseball
and their affiliates. No infringement's intended, and I guarantee
I'm making no monetary profit for writing this.
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