The Traitor

TITLE: The Traitor.

AUTHOR: Olga G

DISCLAIMER: The X-Files, Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and Walter Skinner belong
to Chris Carter, 1013, Twentieth Century Fox Television, and whoever else I
don’t know. No copyright infringement is intended and no money will be
made. But thanks for the inspiration.

RATING: NC-17

This is the first fiction I’ve ever written. And it may sound strange but I
want to thank everyone who took part in the creation of that wonderful
thing called the Internet - for giving me a chance to have my work read.
I’d like to thank Shirley and everyone else who came up with the idea of MTA
and created this wonderful site - you allowed me to see that I am not crazy
and if I am, I am far from being alone in that. :) And last but not least,
I’d like to thank David Duchovny whose life story and the way of thinking
has become one of my biggest inspirations - not for this particular story
but for the mere fact that I actually sat down and wrote something.

Your feedback is welcome at ogorelik@telis.org.

Anyone who wants to take the story to post elsewhere can do so, but I would
appreciate it if you notify me about it at the above address. And don’t
forget my name.

SUMMARY: Mulder is kidnapped (I know, I know, what else is new) and
tortured by people who are very good at concealing their identity.
Warning: RAPE - it is not graphic, but if that stuff bothers you no matter
what, stay away, you’ve been warned.

P A R T 1

FRIDAY, 9 PM.
MULDER RESIDENCE.

Nothing can compare to a cool shower after a hot day. It was the end of
September, but the weather was more like July. You don’t realize how bad it
is sitting all day in an air-conditioned office. You may even decide to go
out for lunch. Mulder just walked across the street and back, but that was
enough to make him feel sticky and stinky for the rest of the day. Until
now.

Amazed how little it took to bring him into a good mood, he placed himself
on the couch and turned on the TV. The only few channels he had decent
reception on all showed "news". Traffic accidents. A drive-by shooting.
Anti-sanitary conditions at a food processing plant - something you don’t
want to know unless you are planning to stop eating. Mulder felt a really
strong smell. It obviously couldn’t have come from the TV, even though the
story matched. Even Mulder's always open to extreme possibilities mind
immediately decided that he was just imagining the smell. Except it didn’t
go away after the story ended. "Oh, shit!" - there was a much more material
explanation. The garbage disposal at the building has been broken since
Tuesday. The disposal was on his way out, but now he had to go completely
different direction to the back door and that required a mental effort to
remember.

Darn, he just got so comfortable. He stayed on the couch for a bit, as if
hoping that the need to get up, get dressed, and go somewhere will somehow
disappear. Finally, he got up, digged an old T-shirt and a pair of jeans
out of the closet, got the trash, and in sneakers on his bare feet headed
to the alley behind the building.

Actually, it turned out to be really nice outside. The heat subsided. Cool
wind was creating an impression of fresh air. Mulder even thought about
staying for a little longer, not next to the garbage obviously.

The steps behind caught him off guard. By the time they registered in his
mind the person was close enough to touch the back of Mulder’s neck. That
was all he felt.

He woke up to a complete darkness and very little air. His hands were
cuffed behind his back and his feet were tied. He was gagged, blindfolded,
and on top of everything, something he’s never heard of, he realized that
his ears were plugged. The place was so small he could feel its boundaries
with nearly every part of his body. Cold metal. A trunk of a car? He
could not hear the engine or anything, but he could feel the movement, his
bones were painfully hitting the metal on every bump. The lack of oxygen
became more and more noticeable, Mulder began to feel that he may just pass
out if he doesn’t get more air any time soon. By the time the car finally
stopped Mulder didn’t even care what’s going to happen to him, all he could
think about was a breath of fresh air. If they open the trunk. And they
did. But with the fresh air came somebody’s hands, two, three pairs, latex
gloves. They rolled him out of the trunk and let him fall on the ground
hitting the rear bumper on his way. As much as he tried to use the falling
technique it still hurt. Bad enough to make him grunt really loud. At
least that’s what it sounded to him. Another touch on the neck and he was
out again.

Mulder woke up in a rather strange position. His feet were each tied to
what felt like legs of a table. Yes, wooden table. His body was lying on
that table and he could feel the wood with his cheek. His hands were still
cuffed behind his back, but not for long. He felt gloved hands taking the
cuffs off and then stretching his arms in front of him at an angle. The gag
was gone. Apparently his captors were no longer afraid that someone might
hear him. He wanted to say something, ask something, just do something,
just make himself feel like he is doing something. But than he realized
that he won’t hear answers anyway.

They opened his palms and pressed them tight against the table. He felt
something pointy touch the back of his hand. Suddenly it pierced his hand
all the way through causing so much pain he thought his hand would fall
apart along with his head. He screamed until there was no more air in his
lungs. Then he clenched his teeth - didn’t like listening to himself
screaming. Especially when that was the only sound he could hear. But he
still couldn’t help letting out a cry when the procedure was repeated on
the other hand. Every move was now causing agonizing pain in his hands.
Like when the gloved hands pulled his T-shirt up and over his head letting
it rest on his arms.

There was no doubt in his mind that this was only the beginning. It also
appeared that they did not intend to kill him, otherwise why go through
all that hassle to not give him any clues on their identity or the identify
of the place so that he wouldn’t be able to find them later. So, maybe,
they won’t let him die, but will he be able to keep his sanity?

His thoughts were interrupted by scalding pain all the way across his back.
Another lash followed. Then another. They were coming from different
directions. Ropes, wires. He couldn’t quiet figure out what they were
using. Whatever. Not that it mattered. It was just that his never dying
curiosity. Or maybe an unconscious attempt to take his mind off his burning
back. He tried clenching his teeth, biting his lips. Until it didn’t
matter to him anymore if his reactions were dignified enough. His world now
consisted of darkness, pain, and is own screams. Like in a nightmare or in
some strange movie. Only he couldn’t wake up or stop the tape. He wished
he could just turn his mind off. Finally he started feeling dizzy. That
was a good sign.

Mulder woke up with a moan and immediately realized the mistake. If he
could keep quiet, he would be able to buy himself a little more rest. But
now they knew he was awake. He smelled gas, a very faint smell, as if
someone lit a cigarette lighter and left it on. If the smell of cigarette
smoke followed, he’d have an idea on who he may be dealing with. But it
never did. Instead, a familiar gloved hand grabbed his upper left arm and a
moment later he felt it cut or burned, probably both. For some reason
instead of screaming he cursed his invisible torturers. And he cursed the
next cut, and the next. When he ran out of standard curses, started coming
up with his own. Somehow, he felt like he was doing something. Besides,
trying to come up with new, more elaborate curses kept his head occupied.
Until his tongue became heavy and once again he slipped into sweet painless
unconsciousness.

He woke up quietly this time. And he managed to stay quiet and they didn’t
touch him just like he thought. But he was fighting so much pain that it
really didn’t matter. But he didn’t want to just give up, just let them
know: "OK, I am awake. What’s next?" He didn’t want to lay down there and
let them continue treating him like a piece of meat without a fight. He
wanted to do something, anything. An idea came to his mind. He knew
almost right away that it wasn’t a very smart one and that it probably
wouldn’t do him any good, but he wanted to do it anyway. He wanted to take
the blindfold off, to look at their faces if only for a moment. Wreck their
plans. He gathered all the strength he had left in his right arm and pulled
it up trying to force the nail through his hand. But either the head of
the nail was too wide. Or Mulder wasn’t strong enough. The head got stuck
in a middle leaving him screaming in pain. He was so close. Immediately
the gloved hands returned and pushed Mulder’s hand back down. But to his
surprise moments later the nails were pulled out of both hands.

But no, he wasn’t about to be let go. His hands were now tied to
something else leaving him in a pretty much the same position. But now
he could move, at least jerk. Which is what he did when a gloved finger
pulled his jeans on the back and he felt a thin piece of metal next to his
skin. The metal moved down leaving his buttocks open to the air. Mulder
knew what was coming. He knew it was going to happen ever since he first
found himself on that table in such a perfect position. "No! No-o!" -
the words came out of his mouth more from an instinct, rather than hope that
they would change anything.

It didn’t happen right away, maybe because they were getting ready, maybe
because they purposely wanted to tease him. Mulder was panting from fear
and anxiety.

He didn’t scream. The pain was so severe and so different, it took his
breath away. But even when he finally managed to get enough air in his
lungs, he found himself still unable to scream - too exhausted. He could
feel the blood running down his legs, he could smell it. Tears gushed out
of his eyes, so many as if they were collecting this whole time and now
broke free. His blindfold was taped to his face for maximum hold and
protection, but now his tears not only saturated the fabric, but seeped
trough the tape loosening it enough to let some light in. But Mulder did
not see it. He lost all ability to think. He was just watching his
tortured body from high above as if his mind really separated itself from
it.

The surface under his cheek was different. No longer wood, more like dirt
or asphalt. The smell was different too. He heard gunshots. Not close
enough to alarm him, but not too far either. And then he realized that he
actually heard them. He opened his eyes, but it was too dark for him to see
anything. He moved his arms and legs and discovered that they were no
longer tied. But the movement brought back the pain. So much of it that
making another move seemed like an impossible task. It appeared that he was
free to go. But how? And where to?! As his vision adjusted to the
darkness he could see that he was in an alley. No street lights, no lights
whatsoever. And the smell was like he was in a middle of a dumpster.

Two beams of the bright light cut through the darkness. A car was speeding
through the alley towards Mulder. No, wait, another car. Almost on
an instinct Mulder rolled closer to the wall, although he knew that if his
torturers came back, they’d find him anyway. But people in two cars
couldn’t care less about him. They were busy shooting at each other and as
the cars got closer Mulder began silently pleading to them to miss, so that
they don’t get stuck next to him. Be careful what you wish for. Something
scalded a side of his thigh. One of the bullets must have bounced off
the wall and hit him. It got stuck right under the skin, he could feel it
with his fingers.

A surge of self-pity ran through him and before he knew it he was sobbing
uncontrollably. But it helped. Cleared up his mind. He began to think
about the perfection of the crime committed against him. To hurt him to
the point that he can’t move and then dump him in a place where he is more
likely to be killed than helped. No way he was going to let that plan work.
Not without a fight anyway. He began slowly getting up. First on all four,
then on his feet. But he was too lightheaded. One wrong move and he
crashed back on the ground nearly passing out from the pain it caused. In
the next attempt he took more time for each move and there he was - on his
feet. And his cut up jeans began threatening to fall off. No shoe laces to
tie them together - the old sneakers were Velcro. No socks. But his
T-shirt had a hole in it (Good thing he didn’t throw it away!). Mulder
stuck a finger into the hole and pulled down tearing off a piece of fabric.
His fingers could barely move, but he still managed to tie the knot good
enough to keep his jeans in place.

He took a deep breath and made his first wobbly small step. Waited until
the dark world around stopped spinning and made another step. And another
step. He forced himself not to think how far he would have to go, just took
it one step at a time. Until he reached the street that was, however, just
as dark as the alley. The nearest bigger street was rather dark too, but
the one on the other side seemed to have more light. And that’s were he
went. Step by step, by step... By the time he reached that street he was
so exhausted, even one more step seemed impossible. And then he saw it.
Hope. A phone booth. He tried to tell himself that in an area like that
chances of that phone even being there, let alone working, were slim. He
tried not to get his hopes high. But suddenly his energy came out of
nowhere and he began walking towards that booth faster than ever before.
One more step. And one more. And one more. The phone was there. He
stepped inside the booth which appeared to be used for other purposes as
well. Mulder tried not to think about what he was standing on. He took
the receiver off and brought it to his ear. Nothing! The exhaustion
overwhelmed him and he began sliding down unable to even hang up the phone.
That’s when he heard a noise coming from the receiver. He moved his head
closer to it and heard a hoarse dial tone. Careful not to move the receiver
he reached for the panel with his other hand and dialed the number.

P A R T 2

SATURDAY, 7 AM.
SCULLY RESIDENCE

Dana Scully heard the phone ring. Didn’t want to wake up. When it rang
second time, she opened her eyes and looked at the clock. Only 7 o’clock,
so much for sleeping in on Saturday. She picked up the phone and almost
said into it: "So, what is it now, Mulder?" But the voice on the other end
wasn’t his.

"Special Agent Dana Scully?"

Her heart dropped. She knew something happened. Something very wrong.

"Yes?.."

"This is Detective Harrison from the police. I am calling from Walter
Reed Army Hospital. We have a man here who is believed to be your partner."

Believed to be? But wait, he said "man", he didn’t say "body".

"Believed to be?"

"He made a 911 call from a pay phone and gave his badge number. But by
the time paramedics found him, he was unconscious. And he’s been that way
ever since. He had no ID, no weapon."

"What’s the nature of his condition?"

"He’s been assaulted. It doesn’t appear to be life threatening, but we
would like for you to come over. If possible."

"I am on my way."

By the time she hanged up the phone she was already half dressed. And
within the next five minutes she was out the door.

SATURDAY 7:30 AM.
WALTER REED ARMY HOSPITAL.

Scully walked up to the Emergency Room admission desk and pulled out her
badge.

"Hi, I am Dana Scully. I am looking for a patient that was admitted here
earlier this morning."

"Oh..." - The nurse who just a moment ago seemed oblivious to everything and
everyone, picked up her head and gave Scully mournful look. - "Go to room 2,
straight down the hall and to your right."

Scully did not like that look on the nurse’s face. It really made her
worry. And the hallway seemed way too long. Room 2. Here it is. She
opened the door and stepped in. Mechanically showed her badge. Eyes peeled
to the naked body on the table. Mulder. Back covered with bloody stripes.
Torn skin, pieces of fabric from his shirt stuck to the wounds added to
the shredded look. Another bloody mess of cuts and burns on his upper left
arm. A bullet wound on his left thigh. That’s when she noticed that his
inner legs were covered with blood - the entire length. She gasped. She
knew what it was. But she raised her head and looked at people around as if
hoping that they’d tell her that she was hallucinating.

"He was raped." - A man in a suit finally broke the silence. - "The doctor
says that judging by the extent of the damage - more than once."

Scully felt dizzy.

"Buy the way," - The man in the suit continued. - "I am detective Harrison,
we spoke on the phone."

Scully barely nodded. She was looking for a chair. She’d seen awful things
done to people, but nothing like that, not to someone so close to her. She
wanted to sit next to Mulder, look at his face, hold his hand. No, she
hasn’t seen his hands yet.

Mulder was in a warm safe place. His face was calm. Dirty but unharmed it
carried no sign of what he’d just been though. Except for deep bite marks
on his lower lip. Scully sighed. She began coming to her senses.

"When did he arrive?" - she asked the detective.

"About 6:30."

Scully looked at her watch: "And it’s now 7:45. Why hasn’t he been
treated yet?"

"We are trying to find some trace evidence before they wash it away.
The doctor said he is not in any danger."

Scully finally realized what Harrison and two men in the police uniform
were doing to Mulder’s body all this time. Harrison’s words weren’t
totally senseless, but they just didn’t feel right. Leave a badly hurt man
untreated just for the sake of maybe finding revenge? Plus, he’s got an
active bleeding - mild and not life threatening, but still. Although
Mulder, if he was awake, he would have probably approved it himself, he’s
been known for getting fixated on revenge.

She looked at Mulder’s face again. It looked different, not as peaceful.
Maybe she was just imagining it because of the way she felt. But it was
different.

"Mulder?" - she called.

His eyelashes shook. Next moment one of the detectives working on him must
have touched a hurt spot. Scully heard a soft moan. She gave the detective
a killing look and immediately turned back to Mulder.

"Mulder it’s me."

"I thought...I’d never...never... hear this... again..." Mulder struggled
to speak. Struggled to keep his eyes open, struggled to smile. A groan
escaped him and he clenched his teeth.

"Nurse, did you give him anything for pain?"

"Well, I was just about to call the doctor and the anesthesiologist. We
were going to put him under general as soon as he wakes up. He is going to
need it for the surgery anyway."

"As soon as he wakes up?!" - Scully was getting really angry and
frustrated. - "So, now he is awake and in pain and it is going to take your
anesthesiologist 20 minutes to get here. Give him something now!!"

"I was told..." - the nurse started to object, "I am sorry, I am going to
go and get it. It shouldn’t be longer than a minute."

The nurse left. Scully turned to Mulder. His breathing was shallow and
fast. Eyes and lips tight shut. He was beginning to break into sweat.
She checked his pulse.

"Hang in there, Mulder."

He was this close to starting to sob uncontrollably. And he did not want
to let this happen. Not in front of a bunch of strangers anyway. That’s
why he was afraid to breathe. One tear did escape sliding from under his
eyelid onto his nose.

The nurse came back. Scully watched Mulder’s face change, relax as the drug
began to work. Finally he opened his eyes. Detective Harrison squatted
next to him.

"Agent Mulder, do you remember being touched with bare hands at any time
during this? We can’t find any fingerprints anywhere."

"No." - Mulder’s teeth were still clenched. "Only latex... That’s all I
remember... Just latex... No bare hands..."

Harrison turned to Scully.

"Whoever did this to him did a great job concealing their identity. Aside
from that bullet we’ve got nothing."

"No... Bullet may not be theirs... On the street... some guys... shooting
one another..." The drug was now kicking in full force and Mulder began
dosing off.

7 HOURS LATER.

Mulder still hasn’t waken up. Scully was sitting next to his bed. She
wanted to be there when he wakes up, she wanted him to feel safe. They
decided not to try wake him up or keep him awake after the surgery. He
needed a lot of rest - for his emotional well being even more than for
the physical one. They figured that they can just keep an eye on him.
Except, their "keeping an eye on him" was pretty much Scully doing that.
Although they did treat her rather nicely for doing their work - brought her
lunch, magazines to read.

Mulder spent three hours in the OR. They put somewhere close to 100
stitches on him. They had to call in a cosmetic surgeon. But everyone’s
main concern was the rape trauma. 15 stitches in a place where they don’t
heal very well. And one could only guess at this point the extend of
the psychological trauma.

Scully noticed a slight move and a faint moan. Another move. Louder moan.
He was still asleep, but it may not be for long. He hasn’t been given any
pain medication since the surgery which is probably why he was waking up
now. She pressed the "Call" button. The nurse came in almost immediately,
but by then Mulder was thrashing and moaning loudly and clearly, even though
he was still asleep. Then thrashing and moaning stopped abruptly, almost as
if he passed out. But he didn’t. The nurse bended down to his face.

"Mr. Mulder, can you hear me?"

Mulder opened his eyes with visible effort. That was about as much response
as he could come up with.

"Mr. Mulder, I am going to go and get you your medication. It won’t take
long."

He closed his eyes. Once again he was quiet, but his breathing was fast
and shallow, teeth clenched , mist of perspiration covering his face.

"Mulder, you don’t have to do this. Relax. Let yourself scream or
whatever you feel like."

"I’ve done my share... of screaming..." - he squeezed out the words. -
"Now I want my dignity... back."

Scully sighed.

As soon as the drug allowed him to relax a bit he asked:

"So, they haven’t found anything on me, have they?"

"On you - no, but IN you."

"You mean after with all those precautions they used a condom with a hole in
it?!" - Mulder lightened up for a moment. But only for a moment. - "So,
what are they going to do now? Test every male in the country?"

He paused. His attitude changed.

"I’ve got to figure out. I’ve got to... think..."

But the drug was controlling him and it wanted him to sleep.

"I can’t ... Scu... I can’t ... think... damn... drug..."

"Don’t worry about it. You’ll figure it all out when you get better. I
need to run a few errands and then I’ll come back and we’ll think together."

"S-scully... I-if you come back... before... meds... again... tell no... have
to think... can’t..."

"Mulder, you need to rest. Once you are rested the medication won’t be
knocking you down like that. Just wait."

"No... Promise... you tell them..."

"OK, I promise."

A moment later he was asleep. She left.

She ate. She bought groceries. She picked up her clothes from the dry
cleaners. And this whole time she was hoping that something would get on
her way, something would prevent her from getting back to the hospital in
time for Mulder’s next dose. But of course, there was no traffic and no
lines at the supermarket. And she didn’t have a heart to be late on
purpose. She just couldn’t betray him that way, even though it would have
been for his own good.

SATURDAY, 7 PM.

When she got to the hospital Mulder was still asleep. But just like the
last time the pain began waking him up, except that now he woke up faster.
The nurse with the meds was there just in time.

"I am going to give you some more pain medication, Mr. Mulder."

Scully was hoping that he forgot about his request, but she was wrong.

"Scully?!!" - he pleaded.

Scully had no choice.

"Agent Mulder told me earlier that he would like to postpone taking the
medication, so that he could remember what happened to him. He says that he
can’t think when he is on that drug."

"Well, I can’t force him." - The nurse shrugged. - "Call me when he is done
thinking."

She left.

"Scully, I need your help, not your pity!" - Mulder sounded very agitated.

"But Mulder..."

"I asked you this small favor, only because I wasn’t sure the pain won’t
make me change my mind and you wanted to betray me!"

"So I wanted, for your own good by the way, but I didn’t. And now that you
got your wish, don’t waste your energy arguing with me."

His eyes widened with surprise and hurt. She probably shouldn’t have said
what she said, but how do you talk to a person that has just been through
hell and back. Is there ever a right thing to say?

"I don’t even know where to start." - He said quietly.

"Do you know what they carved on your arm?"

"No. I couldn’t tell."

"Three letters - F, B, and I."

Something between a moan and a cry of pain came out of Mulder’s mouth.

"I should have known. Idiot! I should have known!!"

"So you know who did this?"

"I have a pretty good idea now." Mulder paused trying to calm himself down,
then continued: "About two weeks ago someone gave me a flyer. Some group
was inviting everyone to their meeting. ‘We’ll tell you the truth about our
Government. Blah-blah-blah.’ I had nothing better to do, so I went there.
Just for the sake of curiosity. But as could be expected they didn’t say
anything I didn’t already know. Except, they said that they have the actual
authentic papers, Government documents proving tests on humans, use of alien
technology, and stuff like that. So I approached them. I told them that I
have other evidence, documents they may be interested in and if their papers
are, in fact, authentic, I'be willing to trade a copy of it for the copy of
mine."

"Mulder, you were going to give them classified information?!!"

"No. Not everything I have is classified and not everything belongs to
the bureau. Anyway, they agreed. They brought those docs to the next
meeting. And let’s just say I was not convinced enough that they were real.
They were on the right paper, in the right format, but I read one a bit and
it just wasn’t written the way those documents are usually written. So I
told them that the deal was off."

"Now, wait a minute. Did they ever ask you where you got your stuff?"

"I told them that I was a member of another group like theirs."

"And then they must have found out that you, in fact, work for their enemy."

Mulder was already thinking one step further.

"I don’t even know their names... We can probably find out who rented
the place for those meetings... I would be surprised if they used real
names though."

"Do you remember the address?"

"I think I might still have the flyer somewhere in my apartment. ...
Actually, I do remember. 1317 M Street."

"Good. That’s good, Mulder. I’ll check on the place and I’ll see if I can
get you a sketch artist with a laptop so that we can have pictures of those
guys."

"Scully, let the police take care of it. Please. I don’t want you to get
involved with this case. It’s not your job responsibility and I don’t want
you to spend your time." - He paused for a second. - "And I don’t want you
to come near those people. Just stay away. Please. Promise me."

His mind drifted away for just a moment, but that was enough for the pain to
grab and twist him with its full force. He squeeze-shot his eyes and
groaned before forcing himself back into thinking.

"But even if they find them, there is no way in hell they are going to agree
to tests. And without it there wouldn’t even be enough ground for an
arrest. After all, it’s just a guess."

"Mulder, let the DA worry about it. At least for now."

Mulder didn’t have any more strength left to argue. He closed his eyes and
a minute later said hoarsely:

"I want my drugs."

MONDAY, 7 AM.

For the first time in two days it wasn’t pain that woke Mulder up. It was
just 7 in the morning. Scully was right, once his body accumulated enough
sleeping time, the drugs stopped knocking him out. He was still misty and
drowsy, but at least he could think. But Mulder did not resent his earlier
impatience, pulling himself through drugless torture trying to speed up the
investigation - first with Scully, then yesterday with the sketch artist.
Now there was a chance to actually determine the identities of the four man,
although still nothing but Mulder’s guess was connecting them to the crime.

For two hours Mulder kept himself busy trying to figure out how to create
that link. But no matter how hard he was straining his drugged out brain,
he couldn’t come up with anything that would work. It wouldn’t be too hard
to sneak out a hair or something else containing DNA from them, but there
was no legal way to do it. Which means that even the worst public defender
would be able to convince the toughest judge to dismiss that part of
the evidence.

Suddenly, Mulder became anxious. He could no longer wait until someone
calls him. He needed to know if they found anything. Or if they didn’t.
And what were they doing. He needed to be in control. He needed to know -
now! He began trying to reach for the phone, ignoring both the muffled pain
and the terrifying feeling that the paper thin skin that have just covered
his wounds was getting stretched to the limits. He took the receiver off
and put it next to the phone, then with the same hand he reached for the
dial panel. Only then he realized that he doesn’t know the number. But
the dispair lasted no longer than 10 seconds. His wrist tag gave him
the name of the hospital he was in and it wasn’t too hard for him to figure
out which police station they would call.

Dialing the number took some balancing. One thing Mulder definitely wanted
to avoid at this point was falling off his bed. Finally, what a luck, he
got Detective Harrison on the phone.

"Good morning, Detective Harrison. This is Agent Fox Mulder."

The voice on the other line sounded surprised.

"Hey! How are you feeling? I was going to call you later today. It looks
like you finally got some luck coming your way. One of the guys you
described is Roger Phillips. He’s been arrested before. Rape. The woman
later dropped the accusations, so he was never convicted. That’s why we
couldn’t find him in our main database. But we do have his blood and sperm
test results. We did some preliminary analysis and it does match yours, I
mean, the one found in you."

"Does that mean that you can now go and pick him up?" The news did not
thrill Mulder as much as he thought it would.

"Yeah, we just need to get a warrant from the judge, which shouldn’t be
a problem."

"When do you think you are going to leave?"

"In about two hours, I would guess. Why are you asking?"

"I want to go with you."

"You mean, you feel that much better?"

"Well..." Mulder didn’t know yet, why he wanted to do it, nor if he could.

"No, seriously, we don’t need you there. It’s our job, you know, we can do
it just fine."

"I don’t doubt that." Mulder rushed with the answer. The last thing he
wanted was to offend the Detective. "I may be of some help gathering the
right evidence at his place..."

Mulder paused. Yes, it would be nice to find those documents that got him
in trouble. But he now knew that there were other reasons.

"I just want to be there. I want to see him, look him in the eyes."

Mulder was a little worried that Harrison may not take that kind of "wimpy"
revelation well, but Harrison’s reaction was just the opposite.

"I understand."

"I promise, I won’t be a burden."

"I am not worried about that. If you feel up to it, fine. I trust you with
your body. Do you want to ride with us?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Then I’ll call you when we are ready to leave, OK."

"Thanks."

Mulder didn’t actually think it was going to work, but now he had no choice
but be up to it. And as if on a cue his pain started coming back. He
pushed the "Call" button. A young nurse came nearly running to his room.

"I am sorry, sir. I know your meds are due. I’ll bring them in a second."

"No, wait. I don’t want any more of those drugs. I called you because I
need to speak to the doctor."

The nurse’s enthusiasm evaporated.

"What do you mean you don’t want your medication?"

"Just the pain killers they’ve been giving me."

"You are not hurting anymore?"

"I need to be out of here in two hours. And that’s why I need to talk to
the doctor."

"Are you nuts?"

"Uh-huh"

She giggled.

"Well, I doubt the doctor is going to be able to help you with that part,
but I am going to try to find him for you." Another giggle.

Mulder wanted to sit up, but he had too much attached to him. He was
especially worried about the catheter - sure didn’t want to take chances
with this one. So, he reached for the phone in the same rather
uncomfortable position as before.

"Scully, it’s me."

"You sound a whole lot better. I was going to stop by in the morning,
but I overslept. So, I’ll come at lunch."

"No, Scully, I need you to do something else for me. I need you to get me
some clothes."

"You don’t need them right away, do you?"

"In about two hours."

"Well, that’s right away."

"Whatever."

"Mulder you are crazy, you can’t even walk."

"How do you know?"

"Because I saw you last night. What, somebody waved a magic wand at you?"

"I spoke to Detective Harrison. They were able to find the link. They are
going to arrest the guy. One of them. One of the four. They will be
leaving in about two hours. I am going to go with them."

"Do they know about it?" Scully started sounding increasingly annoyed
and sarcastic.

"About what?"

"That you are going with them."

"Oh, yeah, they are OK with it."

Scully signed with resignation.

"Mulder did you even try to walk?"

He couldn’t lie.

"I haven’t had a chance. I am waiting for the doctor to disconnect me from
all those machines."

"OK." She said after a pause. "I’ll get you your clothes but on one
condition - I’ll go with you."

It was the time for quick decision making. Conceivably Mulder could ask one
of the nurses to go out and buy him some clothes. Especially since that’s
what he would have to ask Scully to do anyway. But then he didn’t have any
money on him, so he would have to find someone who would be willing to loan
money to a complete stranger. But the biggest problem was that in all
honesty he really wanted Scully to go with him. He was filling worse with
every second and he knew it was going to be much tougher for him without her.

"OK."

Not that he forgot that he was dragging her into something that was really
his personal business and putting her in danger - again. He just decided
that he’d deal with it later. Maybe when she comes over with clothes, he’ll
change his mind. Although a little voice on the back of his head was
telling him that he won’t.

"So, do you want me to stop by your place and grab some clothes?" She
didn’t sound too excited.

"No, I was supposed to do my laundry on Saturday. I don’t think you can
find anything I can wear in there. Just stop by a store and get me some
sweats, underwear, and a pair of sneakers. I’ll write you a check when I
get home."

"And you expect me to know your sizes too?" Now she really sounded agitated.

"Listen, if you don’t want to do it, why don’t you just say so. It wasn’t
my idea to have you go with me. You are not my keeper. If you want to
mommy me, if you feel like I won’t survive unless you watch me even in my
personal life, that is your problem, not mine." Pain, drug leftovers,
stress - on the back of his psyche trained mind he knew why he was talking
like that. And he hated every word he said before it came out of his mouth.
But he couldn’t stop. He could only hope that she would understand. But
the voice on the other end snapped back at him.

"Mulder, you have this amazing ability to make your personal life a work
related issue. For your information, Skinner told me to keep an eye on this
case. Because there is a chance it may be related to some of the cases
we’ve been working on in the past. So, are you going to tell me your sizes
or you are going to go as you are and remind this guy what your ass looks
like?"

Good thing Mulder had his sense of humor.

"Get sweats in Large, underwear - 32, no make it 34, sneakers - 11 1/2.
And are you telling me that you were going to disobey Skinner’s direct
orders?"

"Skinner didn’t order me to go and apprehend the suspect. See you later."

Mulder hanged up the phone. He was beginning to really regret his
decision. And it wasn’t because he just had one of his worst fights with
Scully. But because his pain was getting really bad, he was suddenly
feeling tired. He couldn’t help realizing that all he wanted at this
moment is to get that little shot and jelly himself on his bed. And it was
too late. The doctor walked into the room.

"Good morning Mr. Mulder. How are you doing?"

"Fine."

"I was told that you wanted to leave. Is that still the case?"

This was his chance. The last chance to back off without major
embarrassment. Two voices in his head were fighting. One was begging him
to listen to his body and stop the nonsense. But the other one was holding
on to the idea of going with deadly determination. The third voice, the one
that still remembered what Mulder learned in Oxford, was however silent. It
knew perfectly well the origin of the second voice and its ultimate
delusion. But knowledge is not a cure and just like back then he couldn’t
keep himself away from an abusive relationship, he now couldn’t stop himself
from answering.

"Yes."

"But I can’t let you go."

"You mean I am going to have to leave against medical advise?"

"Yes, if you choose to leave. Do you realize that you can’t take anything
by mouth other than clear liquids? Until you can deal with the
consequences. You would have to have someone inject you with liquid
nutrition."

"My partner is a medical doctor." So much for keeping Scully away from
the case. She is right, he can’t survive without her, he’ll die. Now for
example, he’ll starve to death.

"How convenient," the doctor said with a note of sarcasm. "OK, according to
your chart you are off all pain medication at the moment. How is your pain?"

"Bearable."

"You need to tell me what kind of activities you are planning to be involved
in, so that I can decide what kind of medication I can give you."

"I can’t take anything that would make me drowsy, dizzy, or affect my
judgment."

"That leaves us with Tylenol."

"Better than nothing."

"Your partner is going to have to give you that in injections too. I am
going to give you a shot now. Then I am going to disconnect you from
the machines and you’ll see if you can actually get up and walk, before we
go into trouble of signing all those papers."

Mulder slid his feet off the bed and raised his upper body on his arms.
The pain shot through his body, his head filled with smoke of dizziness.
Gravity seemed stronger than ever, his already weak muscles were weakened
even more by the fear of more pain. He was this close to getting his face
smacked back into the pillow. He was afraid that it would break him, make
him give up. So he kept pushing. And the opposite happened. Suddenly he
felt strong, in control, capable of just about anything. Or at least of
flipping himself into sitting position. He exhaled rather loudly and looked
around. The room was moving. But eventually the view stabilized and he
decided it was time to get up on his feet.

A few hesitant steps with the doctor tightly holding his arm. A few more
steps - now on his own. He made it to the opposite wall. Then back. His
walk was almost normal.

But when Scully walked into the room about 20 minutes later, he was in bed
lying on his side turned away from a working TV. He turned his head and
raised his body a bit to see who came in. A hesitant "Hi". He still wasn’t
sure how he should talk to her after their last conversation.

"Are you still going?" She asked.

He could sense hope in her voice. Too bad.

"Yes, of course. Did you bring me my clothes?"

"I’ve got them. I just wasn’t sure why you are lying like that. Away from
the TV and everything."

"Oh, I just can’t lie on my other side and I am absolutely sick of being
on my stomach. And I can walk OK in case if you are wondering."

She smiled a bit and then went serious again.

"Listen, I want to apologize for the way I’ve been talking to you this
morning. That was... That was cruel."

"Me too. I am sorry, Scully."

The doctor walked in followed by the nurse with a tray.

"When are you supposed to leave, Mr. Mulder?"

As if on a cue Scully’s phone rang. Harrison.

"They are going to be leaving soon." She said with resignation and turned
to the doctor. "How long is it going to be before he can be out of here?"

"I have brought some paperwork for him to sign. I am going to check him out
and give him some topical anesthetic."

Mulder perked up when he heard about the anesthetic. Maybe he won’t end up
torturing himself after all, at least not as much. But applying that thing
turned out to be the torture of its own. He couldn’t help gasping and
grunting as the doctor made his round over his external injuries and
the suppository made him cry out loud no matter how much he was clenching
his teeth. And just as he began wondering if it was worth it, his pain
started disappearing as if it was erased.

"It will last for a few hours." The doctor smiled at the sight of relief on
Mulder’s face. "After that you’d better be real nice to your partner."

P A R T 3.

MONDAY, AROUND NOON.
PHILLIPS RESIDENCE.

Mulder was quiet amazed by the amount of information Harrison managed to get
on Phillips in such a short period of time. It turned out that Phillips was
not listed anywhere as an employee or a business owner. He's been known to
do home assembly though. Which meant that home was the most likely place
for him to be at noon on Monday.

The house, small and rather unattractive from the outside, turned out pretty
neat on the inside. Cozy furniture, pictures on the walls, everything on
its place.

The arrest was going quietly. Phillips did not resist, he just kept saying
"I don't understand. It's got to be a mistake." And he was actually very
convincing. Except he couldn't keep his eyes off Mulder. No matter how
hard he tried, brief stares were escaping him. And Mulder was getting
kicks out of it. He now knew exactly why he wanted to take part in this.
Although his reason turned out to be much more selfish than he was trying
to convince himself it was.

Phillips was now tying his shoes. His hands were shaking leaving the end
of one lace dragging on the floor. Mulder noticed it. He felt that there
was some kind of significance in it, but he didn't have time to figure it
out. As Phillips was passing Mulder on his way out, he stepped on that lace
and started to fall in Mulder's direction. The cops caught him, but it was
too late. Showing just how unsteady he was on his feet, Mulder crashed
flatly on his back. The wind was knocked out of him but as soon as he
caught his breath, he bounced back up and turned to Harrison half serious:

"So, Detective Harrison, can this qualify as a confession? Seems strange,
doesn't it, that someone who is such a neat freak would leave a shoe lace
dragging on the floor."

Phillips ignored that and kept playing innocent:

"I am so sorry, sir. I swear, I didn't mean it. My shoe laces are too long
and I am a little bit in shock, you know."

Cops pushed him out. As the door closed behind them, eyes of those left in
the house turned to Mulder. He was holding onto the wall for balance but
his face and his voice were almost calm:

"I am fine."

"Mulder, let me check you out."

"Don't worry, Scully, it wasn't as bad as it looked."

"Mulder, you may be bleeding."

"So what? I am not going to bleed to death." With a slight hesitation he
let go of the wall. - "Let's get to work."

Phillips was a pack rat. It seemed like he kept every piece of junk mail he
received. Nicely sorted and dated - what could be a better place to hide
something than a pile of menus from a local restaurant, or an envelope full
of useless coupons. After three hours of fruitless search Mulder felt
himself close to a breaking point. On top of everything he was starving.
The cops got some Chinese take out and the smell of it along with the
thoughts about what those tasty spices would do to his stitches were making
Mulder nauseous and dizzy.

"It's not a good idea for me to eat, huh, Scully?"

"Not that! I've got YOUR food." She looked at her watch. "And it's time
to give you your shots anyway."

She left and then returned with a bag.

"I want to warn you, Mulder, that I haven't done it in a while, so, you are
going to have to bear with me."

The first time she missed the vain, then she got it right. It did hurt, but
what else was new.

"You are doing a great job, Scully."

She quickly looked up at him and smiled. She bought it. Good.

Mulder looked around. Right in front of him on the wall was a portrait of
Clinton. Working for Government he'd seen it to many times in so many
places that it didn't even register with him during the first three hours
he's been in the house. And now it suddenly hit him: What is Clinton's
picture doing in the house of an anti-government protester. He could barely
wait until Scully was done.

Mulder's instinct was right. Inside the frame he found a piece of paper.
One of THE pieces of paper. He looked through it trying to figure out if
his initial feeling of hoax was correct. He wasn't sure. Something did look
wrong, but so many things looked right. A good analysis would help and now
it was possible.

He should have been excited, but he wasn't. He just couldn't. The pain was
taking everything out of him. He could barely walk.

"We ARE going to the hospital, right?" - Scully asked when holding his
breath he gingerly placed himself onto the front sit of the car.

She shouldn't have asked. She should have just driven him there, but now
she gave him a chance to shake his head.

"No. The police station."

"Mulder!" - She almost screamed. - "What is it now that is worth doing
this to yourself?"

"I want to watch the interrogation."

"And what do you expect to see?"

"I don't know yet. Do you have that anesthetic they gave me at the hospital
with you?"

"Yeah." - Scully once again felt like lying to him. If only she could.

"Do you mind?... When we get there?"

"You know what? As a matter of fact I do. It's not hard for me or
anything. It's just that I feel like I am helping you with something I
shouldn't be helping you with. I keep worrying about betraying you, so I
keep going along with your wishes, when in fact I am probably betraying
you more by not trusting my own judgment when your judgment is affected
by things you can't control!"

She couldn't even tell if he was listening to her - his face and body were
frozen in the same tight expression, eyes closed, lips locked. In truth, he
was just too afraid to make even a slightest move that might hurt him, too
tired to argue with her, especially when he knew too well that she was
right. For a moment Scully even thought that he was out. She hoped. But
his cheekbones moved and she continued.

"And you depend on me so much now that I could have just driven you to
the hospital and end this nonsense. I should have."

"You should have." - Mulder almost said, but instead he heard himself
whisper: "Please, don't." And even less audibly: "I'll die there."

He knew he was exaggerating. But not by much. He couldn't bear a mere
thought of laying on his stomach all day with nothing but memories of that
night to occupy his head, worrying that without him the investigation might
miss something important. He knew that he would have to be drugged out of
his mind just to make it through his every hour existence. He didn't want
to tell Scully that and he didn't know why. But somehow she understood.

"Mulder, I am sorry for the way I treated you today. I just, I just don't
know what to do. I am lost. I don't know how to act around you."

For a moment she once again felt like she was talking to a wall. But his
lips parted and he said rather blankly:

"You did just fine. Now drive. To the station."

He greeted just about every road bump with a groan. Sweat was running down
his face. When they got to the station, he tried very hard to appear OK,
but he couldn't even smile at Harrison's "Boy, you are good."

Finally they were alone, just the two of them in Harrison's office locked
from the inside. Scully washed the blood off Mulder's back - the result of
his fall - and put the anesthetic ointment on all his wounds. His breath
was coming in gasps, but aside from that he didn't make a sound. He was
almost used to the pain and he could never imagine such thing to be possible.

"Mulder, I need you to lay down on your side somewhere." - Scully said
pulling a small package out of her bag.

Mulder got up from the chair and reached for the package in her hand.

"I think I can do it myself, Scully."

"I can't believe it, Mulder, you know better than to get embarrassed. I am
a doctor." - She pulled the package further away from him, but only to have
his hand follow it. - "Besides, it's not like I haven't seen you without
your pants before."

"Oh, is that what you want to see?" - He took the package from her. - "Just
wait for me outside. I'll call you if I need your help."

But 10 minutes was about as long of a wait as she could handle. She opened
the door and slid in. At first she couldn't even see him. Mulder had found
probably the least visible corner of the room and was lying there in a
semi-fetal position. He was sucking on his lower lip but his eyes were
shining. And he was already dressed.

"Mulder, are you all right?"

"Yeah. The doctor told me to lay down for 15 minutes after this, don't you
remember?" His talking revealed a fresh bleeding bite mark on his lower lip.

"Munching on your own blood?" - Scully smiled.

"I haven't thought of it that way. Eeewww!" He looked at his watch and
slowly got up.

The interrogation turned out to be a waste of time for Mulder. Phillips got
himself an apparently experienced lawyer who was very aggressive about his
client's "right to remain silent". They did however made on crucial
mistake. Phillips named Ron Montgomery as someone who could provide him
with an alibi. Mulder immediately recognized him from the DMV photo and
that was enough to get a warrant to search the man's house.

Scully didn't even bother this time to try to talk Mulder out of going
there. And she noticed a change in his behavior. He no longer acted as if
he was tired or in pain. Almost as if he turned off every sense in his body
and brain to concentrate whatever strength he had left on the only thing in
him that was important to him at the moment - his investigative genius.

Mulder and Scully arrived to a quiet suburban street about 5 minutes after
the police. They were about to enter Montgomery's front yard when Mulder
suddenly stopped and turned around - like a zombie that received a signal.

"Scully, look at this car." He was pointing at a black Chevy Caprice
parked in front of the house. It looked like police car except it didn't
have any marks or visible equipment on it. An undercover police car, maybe.
Something undercover. But what was it doing there?

"Mulder, I think it's a private car. It's too dented." - Scully seemed to
be reading his mind.

"Yeah, it's rather old too." Mulder paused. "But it's got a big trunk."
With those words he turned around and headed towards the entrance of the
house.

Just like Phillips, Montgomery would not admit to ever seeing Mulder. And
just like Phillips, he couldn't take his eyes off him. Montgomery came up
with a fairly decent story about what he and Phillips were doing the night
from Friday to Saturday. So, unless the cops could find something
incriminating in his house, they'd have to leave empty-handed. But the guy
was too organized for his own good. Near the front door Mulder noticed a
key hanger with a couple of sets of keys on it. He took them all.

"I'll be right back." He stepped out the door.

Scully went after him.

"Scully, I need you to stay there with them. Someone has to keep an eye
on what's going on."

"Would you at least tell me where you are going?"

"Later."

"Won't you need a flash light?" She offered him the one she had in her
hand.

"Oh, yeah."

He returned no more than five minutes later. He was panting and sweating.
Scully looked at him with concern.

"Mulder, were you running?"

The zombie in him wasn't programmed to answer that kind of questions.

"I need ... you ... Harrison ... come over there."

"Where?"

"The black Chevy... And I need you to call and check on the owner."

When three of them approached the black car, Mulder pulled a key out of his
pocket and opened the trunk.

"Look!" He pointed the flash light to the inside of the lid. It looked
recently washed and the paint was shining white (the car's original color).
Except in the place where Mulder was pointing there was a trace of brown.

"What... what does it look like to you?" Mulder was still panting.

"It look like a good enough reason to arrest." Harrison tried not to sound
too triumphant. "And if it turns out not to be blood, we can always
apologize. Good job, Agent Mulder!"

Mulder didn't answer. His face was so white, it was almost glowing in the
darkness. He made a shaky step back - away from the car, whispered
"Lay down... One minute..." and slowly descended to the ground curling
up on his side as if for a nap. Scully immediately squatted next to him.

"Mulder?"

No response. He was unconscious.

P A R T 4.

TWO MONTHS LATER.
FEDERAL COURT BUILDING.

"Please, state your name for the Court."

"Fox William Mulder."

He'd been waiting for that moment. Anxiously and nervously. He was nervous
not because he would have to re-live every minute of that terrible night,
but because from the very beginning he had a strange feeling that there was
something else behind what was done to him, something other than a simple
hate crime. At first that hunch appeared to have no ground and he basically
dismissed it thinking that post-traumatic stress may have increased his
paranoia. But then two minimum-wage workers got themselves two of the best
attorneys in DC area. And finally the document Mulder suffered so much for
mysteriously disappeared from the lab. That was all too familiar.

Another blow came when Montgomery's lawyer got his case dropped on
technicality: the car was not on the property and it was registered to
Montgomery's ex-wife, so legally Mulder had no authority to search it.
The case that once seemed so solid, was getting weaker, but Mulder was
determined to fight to the end.

There was a barely noticeable tremble in his voice as he described nearly
frame by frame the course of the night. Or rather not frame by frame, but
sense by sense. He didn't get upset as he was worried he might, but his
pain came back. Suddenly he could feel every scar on his body - aching,
burning. By the time Mulder finished his story, he was drained both
emotionally and physically. And he knew it was far from over. He
remembered from his time at the Violent Crimes how people often get
victimized for the second time by defense attorneys. And there he was - a
well-groomed middle aged man in an expensive suit, a face with no senses.
William Lombardi - the man whose name alone would get Mulder on the front
pages of newspapers. Not exactly the place he wanted to be, not as a
victim anyway. Fortunately, FBI was somehow able to shot the media circus
down before it even opened.

"Mr. Mulder, would you please describe to the court your present
assignment with the FBI."

"I investigate X-Files - cases that cannot be solved using traditional logic
and techniques. Mostly homicides and missing persons reports."

"Do you investigate claims of UFO sightings and alien encounters?"

"Yes, I do." Mulder didn't like that at all. He was preparing himself for
nasty questions but he never expected those kind. And what was the DA
doing allowing such irrelevant things to be brought up.

"Mr. Mulder, is that true that you believe your sister was abducted by
aliens when she was a child?"

"I have reasons to believe that this is how she disappeared."

"How old where you when this happened?"

"I was twelve."

"Where you with her at that moment?"

"Yes."

"Is that true that you didn't remember what happened for about twenty years?"

"Yes." Why does he keep asking me this? And why does DA thinks it's OK?

"What made you remember?"

"I underwent regression hypnosis."

"And when did that take place?"

"June 1989."

"And when were you assigned to the X-Files?"

"1991."

"Mr. Mulder, is that true that FBI never had the X-Files unit until you
requested its creation and your assignment?"

"There was no such unit, but there were a lot of unresolved cases that
could have been resolved if such unit existed." Mulder was no longer
counting on the DA to control the possible damage of counter accusations.

"And is that true that once assigned to the X-Files you took on your
sister's case?"

"Yes, that's true. Her case is a registered X-File and it was assigned to
me since there was nobody else doing that kind of work at the FBI."

The DA finally got up.

"Objection. This whole line of questions is irrelevant."

If only it was that easy. Without a blink the defense attorney turned to
the judge.

"Your honor, since the evidence against my client is entirely circumstantial
I am trying to establish the character of the witness."

'Witness', not 'victim'. Well, victim, of course, but not of his clients.

"I'll allow it. But don't get carried away, Mr. Lombardi. Mr. Mulder is
not the one on trial here."

Lombardi didn't take anything personally, that was one of the reasons he was
so successful. He got what he wanted and ran with it.

"So, Mr. Mulder, you've used the taxpayers' money to investigate a personal
cause of yours when you were the only witness and you weren't even sure
what you'd witnessed."

"An 8 year old child disappeared without a trace and all traditional ideas
and methods failed to find out what happened to her. Does it matter whose
sister it is?"

Mulder may have succeeded in the damage control. He may have even scored
some with the jury. But Lombardi was already on the next chapter.

"Mr. Mulder, do you consort with Government conspiracy theorists?"

"I have friends that are into UFOs and they also have some theories
regarding our Government."

"Isn't it true that, in fact, you are fairly well known among people like
that."

"I may be known for some of the articles I've written about UFOs and other
paranormal phenomenon."

"Do you personally believe in Government conspiracy, Mr. Mulder?"

"I've seen some evidence that suggests such possibility."

"Did you ever actually investigated cases of an alleged Government
conspiracy?"

"I investigate cases that involve paranormal phenomenon. Over the course
of those investigation I have encountered situations where Government may
have been involved."

"In other words, you did."

"To some extend."

"Mr. Mulder, is it just me, or does it sound a little strange that you work
for the Government and against it at the same time?"

"No. Government officials are citizens of this country, just like you."
Mulder couldn't help saying it. Lombardi cracked an evil smile.

"Were you ever able to find hard evidence that would prove Government
conspiracy against American people?"

"Yes, I was."

"Then how come we've never heard about it?"

"Because the evidence was taken away from me. By whoever didn't want you to
hear about it." Mulder was trying very hard not to get agitated.

Suddenly Lombardi switched the topics catching Mulder off guard.

"Mr. Mulder, are you married?"

"No."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"When was the last time you had sex with a woman?"

"I don't remember..." - Mulder felt embarrassed, but quickly realized that
nobody can check the accuracy of an answer to this particular question.
"About three years ago."

"Prior to the incident two months ago, have you ever had sex with a man?"

At this point the DA objected, but it only made matters worse because
Lombardi's response was: "I am just trying to establish other possibilities
of how my client's sperm got into Mr. Mulder's body. A possibility of
consent."

Mulder has managed to stay calm until that moment, but this was way too much.

"Oh, yeah, of course, why would I not want to consent to be ripped apart
so that I needed 15 stitches in my ass alone."

"Mr. Mulder, I suggest you keep your sarcasm to yourself while you are on
a witness stand. You don't want to be misinterpreted." Apparently it was
OK for the judge to be sarcastic. - "Answer the question, please. Did you
ever have sex with a man prior to this incident? Simple yes or no."

"No! As if my answer is going to make any difference. Now he is just
going to suggest that I may be lying." Mulder didn't actually say that,
managed to keep his anger inside. Just a simple "No". As ordered.
Knowing that it probably wouldn't matter after the jury had been given so
many reasons to doubt Phillips' guilt, yet still hoping.

And now, sitting outside the courtroom he was still hoping. But for what?
That his defense's "Exhibit A" will generate enough compassion that some
jury members may still be willing to convict? He remembered that moment
when the DA said:

"I'd like to present Defense Exhibit A."

For some reason Mulder got really nervous. His fingers trembled as he
struggled to unbutton his shirt. Finally, naked from the waist up he walked
up to the jury. He was shivering. He allowed them to touch his scars, to
see for themselves. It definitely had an effect on some of the members, but
one man pressed so hard that Mulder involuntarily jerked away and gasped
loud enough to earn an apology. What did this guy think? That they were
fake?

Mulder remembered the medical expert's testimony.

"From the pattern of the injury I conclude that Mr. Mulder almost certainly
has never had anal sex prior to the incident."

Almost. 'Almost' doesn't count. Mulder understood perfectly that something
like that could never be said with the absolute certainty. But he just felt
so angry. At everybody. He couldn't help it. He was trying to prepare
himself for the acquittal, but subconsciously he was still hoping that the
preparation won't be necessary.

"Has the jury reached the verdict?"

Mulder shot himself off the reality. Everything turned into blur. People's
faces, their apologies. He didn't even remember how he eluded Scully and
wound up in his car driving he didn't know where. He didn't know what made
him turn to a parking lot of some strange bar and go in. The music was so
loud, he felt like he couldn't hear not only people's voices, but his own
thoughts. Thick cigarette smoke filled his head as well as his lungs. He
didn't remember having a drink and then immediately going to a filthy
bathroom and vomiting until he nearly passed out. It was only when he
stepped inside his apartment the next morning that his world finally began
to regain focus.

Scully was sleeping on his couch curled up in front of a working TV. He
wanted to talk to her. To cry on her shoulder or just simply hold on to
her. He's done it before. But now something in him balked against that
idea. He hated the tone of his voice the moment he heard it.

"Scully, what are you doing here?"

She nearly jumped up, startled.

"Where have you been? I was so worried about you. Why did you run away?"

"You know why I ran away." He couldn't bear looking at her hurt face, but
he couldn't stop himself either. "And where I've been is nobody's business."

Scully got up, adjusted her clothes and said dryly:

"Well, I just wanted to see if you are OK."

"I am OK. You can go now."

There was only so much abuse and disrespect she could tolerate. She headed
towards the door but stopped in hesitation before opening it. That's when
she heard Mulder's quiet trembling voice behind her.

"I was hoping they'd at least hang."

She turned around. He sat on the couch and grabbed his head.

"I guess, you can look at the bright side - you won't have to go through
the trial again."

"I would have had time to find out what this was really about. Someone is
behind it, Scully. I could have found out who. I could have."

He stopped short under Scully's look. A mother looking at her stubborn
restless child wondering if he'll ever grow up. At least that's how Mulder
read her. He got up again and started pacing around the room.

"You think I am crazy. Of course." Scully opened her mouth trying to
object but he wouldn't let her. "That document. Scully, how many documents
do you know that would just disappear from a Government lab like that?
Except for the ones we find. Got shredded by mistake! And I am supposed to
buy that? Even that car. I checked, Scully, only the police model has bare
metal in the trunk."

"Those cars are sold to public after police uses them. That doesn't mean
anything. But other than that, Mulder, I am with you on this one. Yes,
someone is behind this. And I think we both know who it might be. And
justice..."

She cut herself off before voicing her next thought. She wished Mulder
would just stop seeking justice against those people altogether. He'd
tried, they'd tried so many times and every time they got nothing but cause
more pain to themselves and to others. This wasn't the first time she
wished Mulder would stop. It would make his life easier. Somewhat. It
would make her life easier. Maybe. But at the same time she knew that
giving up would be wrong. It wasn't about Mulder. It long wasn't just
about Samantha. Or Scully herself. But about everything else they saw.
And about betraying it. But this fight was over. And the best thing to do
was to accept that and move on.

"Twelve people, Scully. Fucking twelve people! And not one would believe
me. Not a single one. Why?! What a fuck is wrong with them, Scully?!"

Mulder may not have been the most considerate person in the world, but he
had manners. In all those years they've worked together he'd never allowed
himself to use that kind of language in her presence. But there are moments
in life when no language seems more appropriate. This was that kind of a
moment. Scully wondered how she would react and a mere thought of being in
his shoes made her sick to her stomach. She wanted to say something but
Mulder gestured to her to "hold it".

"I know. I know. I know, but... Their entire fucking reasonable doubt is
based on the assumption what I was lying on the witness stand. I am a
Federal Agent, does that mean anything?"

"Mulder, it probably hurt you more than anything. People hate Government.
And you and I both know that there are legitimate reasons for that. But it
is unfortunate that people can't see beyond that..."

Mulder interrupted her.

"But there were people who work for Government on that panel. They should
know."

"And they see you consorting with people like Phillips. So, maybe both
sides saw you as a traitor. Did you ever think about that?"

"Do you see me as a traitor?"

"Mulder, if I did, I wouldn't spend a night on your stinky couch waiting for
you!"

"Oh, now my couch is a problem!"

"Mulder, please!" Scully came up to him and put her hands on his upper
arms. He shook as if a jolt of electricity went through his body and pulled
away.

"Scully, I want you to leave now. Please. I really need to be alone now."

"Mulder, I think what you really need now is to see your therapist."

"I promise you that I won't kill myself." A barely noticeable smile ran
through his face. "Now, please, leave. Give me some respect just this one
time."

She let the door close behind her. Heard the lock turn. The elevator door
opened, but she just stood bewildered staring at the empty cabin. The door
closed startling her. She took off her shoes and walked back towards
Mulder's apartment.

Mulder was crying. From behind the door Scully heard him sobbing out loud,
almost screaming. And she didn't need to be inside to see him writhing on
the floor in unbearable, almost physical pain. Eventually the exhaustion
took its toll. The noises behind the door ceased. Scully wiped out her own
tears, waited a bit and walked in. Mulder was on the floor in fetal
position. His eyes were partially open but he was asleep with only
occasional sobs interrupting steady breathing. Scully took a blanket from
the couch and covered him.

There wasn't much more she could do.

END