Title: My Constant Author: Vickie Moseley Spoilers: BIG TIME SPOILERS for Amor Fati and The Sixth Extinction. Even in the disclaimer. Hit save and wait a few months. Summary: Fill in the blank, like the quantum leap from the DOD to Mulder's apartment. First of a series. Disclaimer: I saw it somewhere else, probably Haven's site, but it says it all: "Welcome Back, Mr. Car-ter!" So, here's the deal. You and David get your little heads together and write the next movie, and I won't infringe on your copyright in the mean time. Deal? By the Way, you had two terrifying scenes in this one. The scene of the house with the fires in the back and well, I'm really glad Diana isn't around to wear that outfit again Finished: Monday, November 15, 1999, 2:05 am CST. Archive: Yes, please Notes: To my betas, if this one sucks, it's all my fault. I wanted to get it out ASAP, so I didn't run it past anyone. But I did run spell check :) But I still love my betas and ladies, this one is for you! PS: Can you tell that my office is now WINNT and Y2K compliant? ;) My Constant by Vickie Moseley vmoseley@fgi.net "Help me, Mulder. Get up. Help me." I hear her through the fog. My Scully. My savior. Not here to stare at me with deep regret and then walk away. Here to haul my ass off this table and save me. As she always has. As I hope to whatever God she prays to she always will. I feel a tear drop land on my face, very close to my eye. It takes all my concentration to focus my next autonomic blink, but I see her. Scully is crying. Oh, God, the world really is ending! Only that would make Scully cry. "Help me, Mulder!" Like I could refuse her anything. Even lying on this flat, cold surface, certain these moments are my last, I could no more refuse her than I could fly. She gathers me in her arms. It's so much warmer than the metal and glass I'm lying on. I want to die here, now, in her arms. It would be such a welcome rest. I would be at peace, except . . . "Help me!" Except I could never rest knowing that I gave up, knowing that I denied her anything, even with my last breath. "Help me, Scully." It sounds weak to me, but I try with every fiber to crunch my way up and into a sitting position. The world decides to become a carnival ride of lights swirling around me. I start to fade back to the blackness. It's not so bad, but my stomach decides it doesn't like the ride and wants to get off. Or out. Or . . . something. "Hold on, Mulder. Just for a minute." Now that I'm upright, I can see Scully. She's sort of tilting and I can't figure out how she's managing to walk when the floor is obviously at a 45 degree angle, but then she walks on stilts all the time, so this is probably a piece of cake. She walks away and I feel like she's leaving me to die. But then she's back, holding out a wheelchair. Instant chariot. "Let me help you get in. We have to hurry." For a little thing, she's mighty. And if she could read my mind like I read hers just a few days ago, my arms would be ripped off my shoulders right about now. Instead, she reaches under my armpits, encircles me as best as she can, and gives a mighty heave. "Alley oop," I whisper and she gives me a look that speaks of relief and exasperation all at once. I'm really glad I see it because the room tilts again, the lights go out and all is blackness. When the lights come on, it's another world. The hallway. The lights are red and they strobe around me in time to a siren bleating in my ear and I have to clench my eyes shut or I'll be puking all over this nice, shining waxed floor. The wheel chair is racing and I can feel Scully's breath on my neck as she leans into the weight, pants against the effort. I wish I could help. Hell, I wish I could run and let her ride for a while. But I don't have the energy to lift my hands to help her with the wheels. I just concentrate on breathing and watching for surprises up ahead. I need to be useful, somehow. "A door," I elucidate. Not much, but I think she appreciates the effort. She doesn't say anything, but as she pulls up to the security lock and slides a metal card key through the slot, she gives me a wink. Good. The tears are gone. Jesus, she scared me that time. No more tears, Scully. My heart can't take it. We watch the light on the door. It glows red. My heart stops and I'm pretty sure Scully isn't breathing. She runs the card through again and chews on her lip, searching the hallway behind us. Oh, God. I don't need deja vu at a time like this. The light turns green. I'm sure I would have soiled this towel wrapped around my waist, but then again, I don't think there's anything in me to soil anything. Through double glass doors we go and out into the night. Fuck! When did it turn cold! Every nerve in my body is screaming, my muscles contracting and my breath burning my lungs. Scully is still racing, the light is too dim for me to make anything out. What ever happened to well lit parking lots? Guess you don't need to worry about employee safety when you're a secret government installation performing illegal experiments. We arrive at a car. I don't recognize it, have no idea where it came from. All I know is that she's pulling and pushing at me to get in and then there's a coat being wrapped around my shoulders. I lean back and the darkness is just too much to resist. "I found him . . . in a car. In a ditch." Scully is lying again. I can tell when she's lying. Her voice gets this authoritative tone to it like if you question her, she'll rip your head off. And she probably would. I haven't opened my eyes, but I can tell I'm on a gurney. We're moving at a fairly good clip, not the 'get the hell out of here' pace of the last hallway, but a 'this is an emergency, get out of our way' pace that you expect to see in most hospitals. I'm back in the hospital. I hope I'm not headed for the neuro-pysch ward again. "XRaystatalertOR. He'sbleedingatthesitecouldbeintercranial . . . I'm trying really hard to catch all that's being said around me, but it's becoming slurred, and I'm sure I can still hear the siren from the hallway. It's blaring in my ears. Like the voices from before, but more annoying, if that's possible. My stomach is upset again. I really don't want to hurl now. First of all, I can't get the strength to turn my head, so I'll probably aspirate before anyone notices. Is that less dignified than auto erotic asphyxiation? Could anything be less dignified than that? But my second thought is when I throw up, Scully never takes it well. She doesn't freak out, per se. She doesn't get all 'girly' on me and turn green or anything. She sticks her hands in dead bodies all day, my little bit of stomach contents is child's play to her. But she hates it when I'm sick or injured and the only time I upchuck it's one or the other. Or both. Maybe this time, it's both. "Rollhimhe'svomiting!" I feel like a piece of clay that some one is trying to form into a snake. I'm on my side, someone is supporting my head, and I'm heaving for all I'm worth. But nothing is coming up. I can't taste anything but bile and gas and yet, I can't stop it. It goes on forever. "ItsOKMulderitsOK." Why can't anyone talk in slow motion, and enunciate their words? But I'm not going to yell at her because Scully is stroking my forehead and that's the only part of me that doesn't want to be dead right now. You don't hurt when you're dead. Right? Not that I've ever been given definitive proof of that, but you would suspect it to be true, wouldn't you. Then I really, really want to be dead. I'm being lifted off the gurney and land on a cold metal table. I can't help myself, my instincts take over. Wasn't this what we were running from just a little while ago? I put up what I consider a valiant fight, but it doesn't take many of them to hold me down, pinning me to the cold surface. "CTscanAgentMulder . . .Xrayofyourhead . . .determinedamage . . ." "LetthemdoitMulderI'llberighthere." Scully's voice. Good, she wasn't a dream. OK, that's more like it. I open my eyes and see blurring images, one with the right height and a smear of red on top, pulling down a black thing and fitting it over her shoulders. A bullet proof vest? Is anyone shooting at us? I wish I could remember. I feel like I've been lying here forever. I can't open my eyes, I can't turn my head. Where am I? I can't hear Scully's voice, I don't know where she is. Was that all a dream? Was she ever really there at all? It frightens me to think that I conjured her up. She is real. She's my only reality. If she wasn't there, if she's never been there, what do I have left to hold on to. Why do I bother to try and hold on? They lift me again. I can hear them, but they are a buzzing in my head not unlike before. But this time, it's not _in_ my head. I know the sound is external. It's just incomprehensible. I can't make sense of what is being said. I want to, my mind just refuses to decipher the noises. My throat is dry, my body aches, but my head, my head is going to explode. I feel pressure building, I feel the sides of my skull pulsating with the need to release what is growing inside. An alien-human hybrid? Have I become the alien host? Is it growing inside my head, gestating, ready for birth. Will my head explode and out pop a little gray, blinking it's huge black eyes at a world it's kind has set out to conquer? I'm sorry, Scully. I'm sorry I wasn't stronger. I'm sorry I didn't let go sooner and die with the thing still tiny and needy inside my skull. I'm sorry. So very, very sorry . . . I'm in that bed again. In the house he led me to. It's night and I'm lying there on the soft mattress, covered with the down comforter. The wind howls outside, and I'm chilled by a draft from the window. I get up to check the window, draw down the storm pane to keep out the cold. I see her in the light of the hallway. She comes toward me. Scully. Dressed in nothing but gossamer veils. I smile, I never thought I'd see Scully dressed like one of the women from my videos, but here she is, walking toward me with one intention on her mind. Her hands are behind her back and she has a cheshire cat grin on her face. I reach out for her and she breaths in a deep breath, her chest rising with the air entering her lungs. I reach out for her and she smiles again and brings her hands forward. It's a folder in her hands. A file from my office. She looks at me with such passion and says "We have work to do, Mulder. Quit lying around and let's get back to work." Suddenly, I'm sitting at my desk in the office. There's a computer on my desk and I'm trying to access the files. Each time I hit the command keys, the same message appears on the screen. "Error, operating system not found." I hit the keys again and again in frustration. Nothing changes, the error message is the same. I get up and angrily punch the buttons to turn off the machine. I storm out of the office and go up to the second floor, to MIS. All the agents assigned with the responsibility for our computer system sit idly around drinking coffee. "I need a systems disk," I announce, when one finally deems it timely to look at me. "Agent Scully has your OS disk, Agent Mulder. I gave it to her when we changed your computer over to Windows NT." "That's ridiculous," I tell him. "It should be installed already." He just smiles at me and goes back to his coffee. I growl in frustration and leave the building. I find myself in front of the Gunmen's place. After pounding far too long, Langly appears at the door. "I need a DOS systems disk," I tell him and push past him to enter the room. He raises an eyebrow and glances over to where Byers and Frohike are huddled over their computer. "Umm, call Scully," he says casually. "I don't know where she is. And why should I call her? It should be in my computer," I counter. Frohike lets loose with a low rumbling laugh. "God, you really are pathetic, Mulder. You're nothing more than a geek without an OS. That is really sad, man. You're lost without her, you know. But that didn't stop you from throwing it all away." He's not making any sense, and it's getting me angrier. "What are you talking about?" I demand. "You tossed her aside for a quick screw with Diana. And you didn't even have the good sense to wake up when Diana tried to trap you with that whole 'parenthood' deal! What the hell did you expect? That Scully would be willing to sit around and wait for you to take time out from playing 'Hubby and Daddy' to come do the work you were sent here to do?" "Yeah, man. I mean, we're geeks, too, but at least we're _honest_ about it," Langly chimes in. "We don't try to pretend we can have a normal life. You've gotten lazy, man. Just plain lazy." "Where's Scully?" I demand. "Same place she's always been, poor kid. Watchin' your sorry ass," Frohike hisses. I run out of the apartment. It's cold and it's starting to snow. I step in puddles of ice and slush and my feet are frozen. Everything is white, a field of white. The buildings are gone and I'm all that's left. And I am so totally alone. I look off to the horizon. I have no idea which way to go, where I can find shelter or rest. I'm going to die on this cold, lonely plain. There's is nothing for me now. I sink to my knees, feeling the ice bite into my flesh. I remember once, when I was so cold. But warm arms enfolded me, drew me in and kept me alive. I beg for those arms around me now. Scully! Where are you? I never meant to leave you. Never. I don't know how long it's been, but my muscles ache from lassitude. I try to lift my hand, to rub my temple which echoes with a dull pain, but my hand decides not to obey me. Can't really blame it, I've been a shit to work with, that's for sure. Just when I've about given up, a warmth enfolds my arm, just below the elbow. My eyelids don't want to cooperate, either, but this time, I force the issue and they finally pull apart. She's sitting there, the same angelic smile on her face that I always live for. "Hey," she whispers. I would love to give her a witty reply, but the voice has taken a vacation from the rest of the body. She holds a straw to my lips. "Just a sip. The doctor will kill me if you throw up again," she warns. That thought is enough to restrain even my parched body. I take a sip and then steal one more then burrow back into the pillows of the hospital bed. "Where?" It's a complete sentence, but I doubt few beyond the woman sitting next to me would see it as that. "ICU, for just a while, yet. Then down to the regular ward. "Not . . ." "Neuro-psych, no. Just plain old neurology. You've had surgery. Who ever the hell decided to crack open your brain wasn't exactly neat on the way out. They nicked an artery, caused a hematoma, generally should be censured by the AMA. If they even have a license." She says all this with that deadly calm of hers that tells me whoever they were had better hide. For the rest of their lives. "What else . . . did they do?" It bothers me that whoever had me might have taken something out. Or left something behind. She shakes her head sadly. "I wish I knew. The dura matter is intact. There is a scratch or two, but nothing is gone, at least that we can detect. It's in an area of the brain that we couldn't really tell, until you woke up. And, as usual, you took your own sweet time. I brought you here three days ago. You were starting to get me worried." She says it lightly, but that's just a facade. If I look hard, I can see tear tracks down her cheeks and her forehead has those worry creases she gets sometimes. "I'm sorry," I tell her, and I hope she understands how much I mean that. There's so much to be sorry for. But now I understand. I know what path I'm supposed to be on. I won't be led astray again. "It's not your fault, Mulder. You didn't ask to be kidnapped from your hospital bed. I'm just grateful . . ." She trails off, she doesn't want to go into this, I can tell. To tell the truth, I don't think I could be awake for the rest of the lengthy discussion, anyway. What I really need to do is go back to sleep. Maybe this time, not dream so much. "Rest, Mulder. You're stuck here for another couple of days at least. They won't move you to a regular room till the doctor comes by this afternoon and checks you over, so you might as well make the most of it." As I close my eyes, I feel her hand on my brow, stroking it so gently. It takes away the dull ache there. God, I'm glad I found her. But before I drift off, I have to know one thing. "Scully, have you been messin' with my computer?" the end Vickie Come visit my web page, brought to you by the fabulous Shirley Smiley! http://vickiemoseley.freeservers.com "When you start, you make certain choices, and those choices accumulate and create a number of [other] choices. The story starts to tell itself, and that's been very exciting in a way. There's so much that has come and been told that you are, in a way, a slave to the facts you've created, and it's a really fun way to tell stories. That's not to say it's simplified. In fact, it becomes complicated, but it all starts to make sense, and that's been a really wonderful thing." Quote from Chris Carter on development of The X Files