TITLE: The White Room IV: The Forest Of Her Dreams
AUTHOR: Annette Gisby
EMAIL: annette.gisby@which.net or penguin2@cableinet.co.uk
SUMMARY: Mulder/Scully married. Can Mulder save Scully and their
unborn child before it's too late?
ARCHIVE: ephemeral, gossamer, spooky's etc.
FEEDBACK: Please, pretty please, pretty pretty please?

THE FOREST OF HER DREAMS

"Come on, Scully. You've got to answer the question. You were the
one who wanted to play truth or dare."

"What if I don't want to?"

"But you do want to. I can see it in your eyes." And in her flushed
face, her rapidly rising and falling chest, the way she was licking
her lips expectantly. He half expected her to moan aloud and felt a
tightening in his groin at just the anticipation of what she would
say.

"You want to know if I have fantasies?" She reached for a slice of
pizza which was sitting on the coffee table between them, and
took a bite. A long string of cheese dangled from her mouth and he
wanted to lick it away, anything to get at those luscious full lips
of hers. But it was not to be, a tapered finger reached out and
retrieved the cheese before popping cheese and finger in her mouth.

She seemed to hold her finger in her mouth for a long time after the
cheese had been eaten and he felt himself harden even more. Did she
mean to tease him? Did she know she was doing it?

"So, what do you want to know?"

"What do you fantasise about? When do you fantasise?" His voice was
more of a croak than anything else and in a way he wished he hadn't
started this conversation. But there was no turning back now. He
wanted to know, and he hoped she would tell him.

"Well, there is a dream that I keep having. It's a bit like a movie
playing over and over in my head. Do you want to hear it?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"In it, I'm Little Red Riding Hood and--" she stopped abruptly when
he burst out laughing. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

"Sorry, Scully. Carry on, I do want to hear it. Really." But he still
couldn't manage to keep the grin of his face.

"Well, anyway. I'm Little Red Riding Hood. I'm dressed in one of those
old fashioned outfits, a full skirt and petticoats and a lace-up
bodice with a white peasant blouse underneath." She paused for breath,
her eyes shining and looked directly at him.

"And stockings?" he prompted, the vision of her already in his head.

"White stockings. With red garters and black shiny shoes. I'm in the
forest, running from the wolf, but then I realise the wolf is no
longer there. It's someone else. Someone else is running after me.
I keep running, afraid, getting further and further out of breath with
each step. I have never been so frightened.

"Then a hand grabs me and I scream. Birds scatter from the trees above
me. I try to twist away, but the grip on my arms is too strong. It's
a man. He's tall and black haired. He has an axe in one hand, the one
that isn't holding me. The woodcutter.

" 'It's all right,' he says. 'The wolf is dead.' But he looks at me
with more hunger than the wolf ever did and I feel my heart flutter
against my chest, as though it's a caged bird and it wants to escape.

"He's staring at me, at the swell of my breasts as they rise and fall
with my breathing, the bodice feeling so tight that I think I may
faint. He pushes me against the trunk of a tree and kisses me roughly,
long and deep. I feel my mouth opening under his, as he tries to
force his tongue in my mouth. I hear the axe drop onto the ground
beside us.

"His hands caress my breasts through the fabric of my clothing and I
can feel the nipples harden in response. I don't know what's happening,
but it feels good. I moan as one hand slips beneath my bodice to the
bare flesh beneath.

"'Stop,' I whisper faintly. 'We mustn't.'

"'Mustn't what?' he says, and thrusts his thigh between my legs..."

Scully's hands were shaking, he noticed, her face beetroot red as she
jumped up from the floor and headed towards the bathroom. Mulder
followed her before she could close the door against him.

He got there just in time to see her throw up, a kaleidoscope of
red and yellow against the white of the toilet bowl.

"Scully? What is it?" He leaned against the doorframe, a worried frown
on his forehead. Surely she shouldn't still be having morning
sickness? What month was it now? He counted backwards in his head.
Six? Seven months. He thought morning sickness was only supposed
to last for the first three months.

"It's nothing, Mulder. I'm fine," she said stubbornly.

That clinched it. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, he knew
she wasn't fine but didn't want to burden him with whatever it was.
How long would it be before she trusted him enough to tell him? They
were nearing their ninth month of marriage and she still couldn't trust him?

"Please, Scully. Tell me what's wrong."

She splashed some cold water on her face before turning to face him.

"It changed. As I was telling it to you - the dream - it changed."

"How? How did it change?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

And that's how he knew. He knew how it had changed, how it had
upset her so much. Her dream or fantasy had become a nightmare, it
was no longer a dream of passion and love, it was a dream of rape.
Her rape at the hands of beings he had only glimpsed, but knew
in his heart were as real as he and Scully were.

The doorbell rang before he had a chance to say something he might
regret later. Mulder went to answer it while Scully cleaned up in the
bathroom. He wanted to help; nothing she did or said would stop his
loving her, when was Scully going to realise that? She'd been using
her pregnancy as an excuse to avoid intimacy with him, but now he
wondered if there was more to it than that. Maybe they had made love
too soon after she'd told him. He'd wanted to wait, but Scully had
been so insistent, that he was afraid of what she might do if he had
refused her, rejected her.

He'd often had nightmares of Scully's abduction and rape, his mind
filling in the blanks left by Scully's account. He was sure it was
even more horrific for her, but wouldn't it help to talk about it?
Why was she shutting him out? Was she afraid that by telling him all
that had happened to her, that he would stop loving her?

Was it too awful for her to tell the whole tale? He knew you didn't
get over something like that quickly, but he was afraid that Scully
would never recover. She'd already dismissed his suggestion that she
seek counselling and he didn't know what else he could do for her.

He knew what he wanted to do to the creatures who had violated
her, taken her against her will and brought her back only to
discover that she would die unless she kept their electronic
chip in her neck. He wanted to annihilate every last one of them,
slowly, painfully.

He opened the door to find a man there, a man he didn't recognise,
but who looked vaguely familiar. Scully's eyes looked out from a
rugged male face, with a beard as red as his hair.

"Hello, is Dana here?" he asked.

"You must be Charles," guessed Mulder, opening the door to let him in.

He'd never met Charles Scully before, but who else could it have been
with those eyes and hair? He wondered briefly why Bill didn't have
the red hair like most of the other Scullys, but he didn't like the
conclusion he came to. Maggie Scully just didn't seem like the type
to have an affair. But who ever knew? Maybe she got lonely when her
husband was away at sea for months at a time.

"Charles. That's right," said the visitor, although Mulder thought he
didn't sound too sure.

"Charlie!" shrieked Scully behind him and she ran up to give Charles
a hug. Mulder felt unaccountably jealous. She never sounded that
pleased to see him, not any more. When they were first married, she
rushed to greet him every night. Now he was lucky if he got a curt
acknowledgement, more often than not, he was awarded a nod. He sighed
and snatched his jacket from the rack by the door.

"You're going?" asked Scully, sounding hurt.

"I thought I'd leave you two to catch up. I won't be long." He didn't
add that he thought he would probably be in the way and that they
would be better off without him.

He walked for a while, not really caring where he was going, just
glad to get out of the apartment and away from the family reunion.
That was another bone of contention between them lately. Mulder wanted
for them to buy a house together, somewhere where there weren't so
many bad memories. How could Scully still want to live there? The
place she was abducted from, the scene of her sister's murder. He
would have been out the door like a shot.

He ended up by a mall, and although he wasn't keen on shopping, he
went in and headed to one of the baby stores. He bought a white
rabbit and some romper suits in lemon and mint green, along with a
few other toys. It'd be a surprise for Scully. She hadn't wanted
to buy anything yet, she thought it was tempting fate. But she'd been
to the doctor the week before, and everything was fine, or so she'd
told him. Nothing could go wrong now.

He couldn't keep a silly grin off his face when he left the store.
Scully would love the gifts he brought, he just knew it. He would
get home and Scully would have invited Charles to stay to dinner.
Mulder would be gracious about it and even offer to cook, although
his culinary repertoire was fairly limited. Lasagne and more lasagne.
He and Charles would discover a common interest, namely hatred of
Bill and devise ways of--

"Jesus! Scully!" he screamed and dropped the shopping bags. "Scully!"

There was blood on the door handle. And the wall. And the floor.
He was standing in a pool of it, already feeling his feet stick to
the gooey mess, a dark lake of red spreading down the hall. It smelled
sickly and metallic. He pushed the door open with the sleeve of his
jacket, in case there were other fingerprints there.

The answering machine was blinking and he pressed it automatically,
even as he eyes scanned the room and its mess.

The living room was a mess, with books and ornaments scattered and
broken on the floor. The chairs, table and couch were upturned, as
though someone had been searching underneath them. But for what?
Scully? Charles?

"Dana? Dana, honey?" Maggie Scully's voice came on the machine, she
was sobbing and trying to talk through her tears. "If you're there,
please answer. Please." A pause while she waited for a daughter who
wasn't there to answer. "It's your brother, Dana. It's Charlie. He-
he- he's dead! Oh God, he's dead!" There were more sobs and Mulder's
heart lurched somewhere towards his feet. He barely heard the click
as Maggie rung off.

Charlie had never been here. They couldn't have been visited by a
dead man, although Mulder wished they had. He had been a shape-
shifter, not Scully's brother at all.

"Scully?" he called again .

There was more blood on the couch and in the bedroom. But no Scully.

This couldn't be happening again. It couldn't.

"SCULLEEEE!!" he wailed to the empty apartment and sank to the floor,
his head in his hands.

*****


He was dreaming. It was dark. He was in the forest of *her* dreams.
A low lying mist obscured his legs from the knee down and embraced
the trees like a lover. In the distance he heard a wolf howling at
the moon. It was joined by others and he felt shivers running up and
down his spine.

There was a scream. Scully's scream. He tried to run but it was as
though he was running through sand.

"MULDER!!" screamed Scully again and he tried to increase his pace,
but it was no use. Mulder was stuck to the spot no matter how hard
he tried to run towards her. His heart and lungs felt as though they
were about to burst from his chest at any minute.

The screams continued. Sometimes she called his name, other times it
was nothing more that a horrifying sound devoid of words. Her screams
were mixed in with the baying of wolves. And then he heard the most
horrifying sound of all. Silence.

Suddenly he could run and he ran in the direction he thought the
screams seemed to be coming from. He could see nothing in the fog.
He stopped, gasping for breath and listened. The screams were coming
in the opposite direction now. He turned, but no matter which way he
ran, the screams seemed to come from a different direction. He stood
and looked around him, trying to decide which way to go, when the mist
began to clear. He didn't need to go any further.

Scully was lying on the ground, naked, her clothes strewn about the
clearing, ripped to shreds. There was a gaping hole in her abdomen,
the blood glinting in the moonlight, the wolves still hunched over
her body. One of them turned and looked at him, something in its
jaws.

No, it couldn't be. It couldn't be that.

Mulder found his voice and screamed then.

In the wolf's mouth was a dead baby with Scully's face.
*********

He woke up, his heart still pounding from the dream. His shirt was
stuck to his body with sweat, as he in turn was stuck to the couch.
If only it was just a dream

It was like he was missing a limb, she'd been so much a part of
him. He didn't want to do anything except die. But they wouldn't let
him. His so - called friends wouldn't grant him the courtesy of 
surrendering to death, when that was all he wanted.

Byers came by every day to ensure he was eating, even cooking if
necessary. Mulder ate, but then threw it up again as soon as they had
gone. There was no point in prolonging his excuse of a life. Langly
and Frohicke had gone through his apartment, getting rid of anything
they thought might be a danger to him. All the pills, knives, razors,
they even took all his belts. He felt like a prisoner, but he let
them do what they would. He didn't have the energy to care.

He heard noises from the kitchen and wondered who was stuck with
guard duty this time. There was something classical playing on the
stereo. Byers, then. Byers had given him an electric razor, but
Mulder had long since stopped caring his appearance. What was the
point when Scully couldn't see him anymore?

He couldn't remember the last time he had showered. His beard was
itchy and he wondered briefly if he had fleas, but then the thought
disappeared, he couldn't concentrate on anything for long.

"Mulder," called Byers. "Soup's up."

Mulder levered himself up from the couch feeling like an old man, and
hoping he would die long before old age claimed him, with nothing but
memories to torment his weakened body.

Byers had set the table with two bowls of steaming tomato soup. The
spoons were laid beside them with military precision. A basket of
bread and a jug of iced tea was in the centre of the table.

<If there's iced tea in that bag, it could be love>

He shook his head to try and clear from it the memories, but it was
no use. Scully was everywhere he was, because she was in his head.
He hadn't been back to her apartment, the apartment they had shared
for their brief married life, he just couldn't face it. He wondered
if the blood was still there, or had someone cleaned it up.

"I'm not hungry," pouted Mulder.

"For God's sake, Mulder! You've got to snap out of it!"

"Why? Scully's gone."

"You're acting like she's already dead. We'll find her. She was found
before."

That was what was worrying Mulder. She should have died before, but
against all the odds, she'd come back to him. But not this time. He
had been lucky once, he wouldn't be again. Scully was gone for good
this time. He felt it in his soul. An ache that he knew would never
be filled.

He sat at the table, sipping his soup, aware of Byers looking at him
swallowing every mouthful. Mulder was glad it was soup, anything
more solid and he would have choked on it. How could they expect him
to eat when Scully was God knows where; having God knows what done
to her and their baby. He should have realised, he should never have
let himself get so happy. Childhood was happy until Samantha was
taken; he and Scully were expecting their first child. Happiness
always led to sadness in the end. He should have been miserable, then
perhaps she wouldn't have been taken.

The telephone rang just as he was finishing his soup. Mulder stayed
where he was, leaving Byers to answer it. He didn't want to talk to
anyone. What was there to say?

"Hello, Mrs. Scully," said Byers into the receiver and Mulder looked
up. Scully's mother? He couldn't talk to her now. Byers was quiet as
he listened to her.

"Yes, I'll just get him for you. Hold on a moment," Byers thrust the
phone into Mulder's face. He had no choice but to talk to her.

"Hello?"

"Have you had any news?" she asked hopefully.

"No, I'm sorry, Mrs. Scully. I'm sorry," he sobbed into the phone and
let the receiver drop to the floor. He was a mess. Byers was right,
he had to snap out of it. He wouldn't find Scully sitting here moping.
He had to do something, but what? Where could she be?


*********

LOCATION UNKNOWN

She was paralysed, paralysed but awake. She could see and hear, but
she couldn't move. At first she thought it was a dream, a nightmare,
the remembrance of things past. She had been in this white room
before and thought she was only dreaming about it. But no, she
was really here. Again.

She would have shuddered if she'd been able to move. Her mouth was
dry and her lips felt cracked. How long had she been out? She could
hear moans and sometimes crying from nearby. If only she could move
to see who else was with her.

It was different this time. This time she wasn't alone. There were
others here, others like her. The thought didn't comfort her. She
didn't think it would matter whether there were others here or not.
Terror and pain could be inflicted with an audience, maybe that's
the way *they* wanted it.

She hadn't seen *them* yet, but she knew they couldn't be far away.
If she thought too much about what had happened to her before, of
what *they* had done to her, she would be sick. She couldn't be sick
lying on her back, she would probably choke.

"Hello?" queried a timid voice from her left. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Scully felt the urge to laugh hysterically. It sounded like the other
woman was trying to contact spirits at some sort of seance. Friendly
spirits she hoped. Before she could reply, another voice rang out,
this time from her right. Another woman.

"How many of us are there? I'm Kelly," said the voice on her right.

"I'm Susan," said the voice on her left. "I can't move."

"Me neither," said Scully. "I'm Dana." Her throat was sore from
lack of use and lack of anything to drink. What she wouldn't give
for a cold glass of water right now.

"I'm Stacey," came another voice, a little bit further away and
Scully wished she could turn her head to see her new companions.

"Are any of you pregnant?" asked Scully.

"Yes," came a chorus of voices. "How did you know?" asked Kelley.
She sounded suspicious, as though she thought Scully might be involved
in them being trapped here.

"I'm pregnant too. That's what they want. They want pregnant women."

"Who?" asked Susan, who sounded like she might burst into tears at
any moment. Scully wanted to be able to tell them that everything
would be all right, but in her heart she knew it wouldn't. All this
had been planned. Ever since her return, *they* had planned to take
her again. Once she was pregnant, pregnant with a human baby. What
did they want with the babies?

"I can't be pregnant," said Susan, she sounded young. "I've never-
you know- been with anyone."

Scully swallowed a lump in her throat, remembering Catriona Malone.
There was every chance Susan was pregnant and not with a human baby.
How was she going to explain that? How was she going to explain any
of it? They wouldn't believe her even if she tried. It sounded so
far fetched. Now she knew how Mulder felt most of the time when she
knocked down all his theories.

<If I get out of here, Mulder, I'll never doubt you again.>

She felt something prick her arm, like a needle. She tried to turn
to see what was happening, but she couldn't move.

The light was fading, no it was her, her eyes were closing, they
felt so heavy.

<No. Got to stay awake.>

But it was no use. The darkness claimed her once more.

*******


The next time she woke, she was alone. She wondered if she'd dreamed
the other women. Was her mind playing tricks on her? More with hope
than anticipation she tried to move. It worked, she could move. Not
that it made much difference.

The white room was similar to the one she'd been held in before, but
not exactly the same.

<Held down with grey hands>

No! She shook her head. There was no point in remembering what had
happened in the past. It wouldn't help her now, and she had to figure
out something. Before the baby was born. She didn't want to give
birth in this place.

Again.

*********

The lock was easy to pick, just a matter of finding the right
combination of clicks. It slid open easily, and he wondered briefly
why the lock hadn't been changed since the last time he'd picked it.
Maybe other people weren't as paranoid as he was.

She jumped when she heard his footsteps and whirled round, dropping
the cup she was holding, it shattered on the floor, a broken mosaic
of blue and white ceramic.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"The door was open," he lied.

"No, it wasn't. I always lock it."

"That's not a very nice welcome, is it Diana?"

"What do you want, Fox? I take it this isn't a social call."

"And you'd be right. Where is she, Diana, where have they taken
her?" Mulder sat down on the sofa and waited for her answer, folding
his arms. He could wait all night if he had to. He wasn't leaving
until she told him what he wanted to know.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Diana and went into
the kitchen, after gathering up the shards of the broken cup. She'd
cut one of her fingers and put it in her mouth, sucking off the blood.
That's what Diana had been to him. A vampire sucking at his soul and
love until there was nothing left only hollow void where his heart
had once been. He did hate her now, there was no doubt about that.
He wished he hadn't needed to come here, he didn't like relying on
Diana for anything. Not anymore.

Mulder followed her into the kitchen. It was very clean, sterile
even, white tiles and counter tops, a stainless steel sink and
stove, which looked as though it had never been used. She never
used to cook much then either. They had relied heavily on a diet
of takeaway and eating out in restaurants. He couldn't imagine
sharing a meal with her now.

Diana dumped the broken pieces of cup in the sink, her back to him.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Diana. Where is Scully?"

"Just why do you think I would have any idea where she is? You're
crazy. I don't know anything." Her shoulders were tight, tense.

"You were there, Diana. You were there before. Did you think Scully
wouldn't remember eventually? She remembers everything."

"You mean she can remember what they did to her? Everything?" She
turned to face him, her cheeks pale.

Mulder nodded.

"She wasn't supposed to remember. None of them were. They did
something to them to make them forget. How did she remember?" Diana
seemed to be talking to herself, as if forgetting that Mulder
was in the room with her. He had to make sure she didn't forget that.

"Where is she, Diana?" he persisted

"In a- in a  facility," she said quietly.

"Where is it?"

"You won't find it. No-one can find it."

"You know where it is. You were there before."

"Fox, I'm sorry. I don't know where it is. They took me there while I
was unconscious. They didn't want anyone to know, not even me."

"But you were there. You watched what they did her and you did nothing
to help her! How could you let her suffer like that? How could you let
anyone suffer like that? Were there others? Did you watch what they
did to them too?"

"Fox, you don't understand..."

"What don't I understand, Diana?"

"They threatened to do the same to me if I didn't co-operate. I had no
choice."

"There's always a choice, Diana. You just made the wrong one."

They stood and stared at each other. Stalemate. He wanted the
information he was sure she had, but how to get it out of her
if she didn't want to co-operate?

Diana sidled towards him and reached out a finely manicured hand
towards his face. He grabbed her wrist and held it midway between
them.

"There is a way I can tell you what you want to know," she said
quietly, and snaked her other hand around his crotch. Despite who
it was, Mulder felt himself harden and his face redden at how easily
he could be manipulated by a certain part of his anatomy.

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Fox. Or have you forgotten so soon?"
She squeezed him through his clothes and attached her mouth to his
neck, sucking like a leech. Bile rose in his throat.

"Sleep with you and you'll tell me where she is?" He didn't believe
this. It was blackmail, pure and simple.

"There's one way to find out," said Diana and leaned up to kiss him.
"I know you want me, Fox. You still want me after all this time.
She'll never compare to me. She doesn't know what you like."

He put his arms around her, forcing her back towards the sink. There
was an audible click as he managed to handcuff one of her hands to
the door handle on the cupboard beneath the sink.

"You bastard!" she shrieked, and lunged for him, the handcuff
rattling against the steel handle. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Waiting. What's the matter, I thought you liked it rough? You used
to."

"You can't do this!"

"I just have. Now, shall we do this the easy way or the hard way?
You can either tell me where she is, or I can get some friends of
mine to come round and get the truth out of you. It won't be pleasant,
I can assure you of that."

"Friends? You don't have any friends!" spat Diana. A drop of saliva
decorated his shirt and he wiped it off with a grimace, feeling a
little sick. "You think I'll believe that your so-called friends
will come round and torture me?" She laughed, deep and throaty. It
was like someone running a nail down a blackboard and he shivered.

"Who said anything about torture? No, my friends have a simpler way.
A truth serum, anything you know, you'll have to tell us. They're
very good with needles."

He thought he heard her whimper then, but he couldn't be sure.


***********

The pains were coming more regularly now, and Scully could no longer
pretend that it was just backache or indigestion. She was in labour.
Not in a hospital or safe at home with Mulder, but in the white room
of her nightmares. She didn't want to have her baby here, but she
knew there wasn't a choice. The baby was going to arrive whether she
wanted it to or not. As a second pregnancy, she knew that the labour
would probably be short and she was panicking. There was no one to
help her. Would she be able to deliver the baby by herself?

What if something went wrong?

She doubled over as another pain shot through her abdomen, so at
first Scully didn't see the creatures enter her white prison.
They stared hard at their captive for a while before letting it
know of their presence. Such fuss these creatures made, but there
was no sympathy in the hard obsidian eyes. It was time.

Scully felt a touch on her arm, and looked up in horror at the
grey faces which had plagued her nightmares and her waking hours.

"NO! NO! NO!" she screamed as they lifted her between, two of them
her held her underneath the arms, while another held her legs. They
heaved her onto the trolley bed. Her nails tore at them, her legs
kicked out but they didn't seem to feel it. Her struggles were
useless against their combined strength.

There were three of them this time, but no sexual organs from what
she could see. Were these females? Or something else? Black eyes
scrutinised her coldly as they strapped her down, pinning her legs
and arms to the bed, tugging to make sure the straps were tight
enough.

One of the creatures pulled up the hospital gown she was wearing
and thrust a hand between her legs, the pain causing Scully to
cry out.

What were they doing? She was sure she was in labour, were these
supposed to be some sort of midwife? Alien midwives who maybe knew
nothing about human pregnancy. She felt sick and faint. The pains
were coming faster now, they were worse lying down and she thrashed
her head from side to side, the only part of her she could move.

"Please!" she begged. "The baby. The baby!"

It felt as though she was being ripped apart. They were ripping her
apart, tearing at her insides. Were they trying to kill the baby?

Or deliver it?

One of the grey creatures moved to then top of her body, clamping
a four fingered hand to her forehead, effectively pinning her to
the bed. Now she couldn't move any part her, and she had nothing
to help the pain. She wanted to be in hospital, with Mulder by her
side and the best doctors looking after her with the strongest
epidural they had.

She didn't want to be here with strange creatures invading her,
violating her.

(You must be still) said the one holding her head, although she could
only hear it in her head. She realised that they had no mouths, maybe
they couldn't speak at all, but they did have two small holes at the
side of their heads which could be ears. Obviously they dealt a lot
with other races who could speak, or who couldn't communicate by
telepathy. Or maybe she was just imagining this whole thing and she
would wake up from this nightmare soon.

She was washed away on a red river of pain, the only thing she could
feel now. A tight band around her abdomen and between her legs. There
was enormous pressure on her pubic bone and she knew it wouldn't
be long now. Her baby was about to come into the world and there was
nothing she could do to stop its first sight from being that of the
wizened grey creatures around her.

Something glinted in one of their hands. Sharp and pointy, but not
of a metal she could recognise. She could however recognise its
use, for it was an instrument she had used herself in countless
autopsies. Spots danced in front of her eyes before she was welcomed
into black oblivion.

It was a scalpel.


******

In the end, Mulder had no need of the Lone Gunmen and their truth
serum. Diana gabbled it all, all that she was willing to tell him
anyway. Mulder knew there must be stuff she was holding back,
otherwise the truth serum wouldn't have spooked her so badly.
There were some truths she didn't want anyone to know. The truth
serum didn't actually exist, Mulder was using it as a ploy to get
her to talk.

And talk she did. She still insisted she didn't know where the facility
was, but she described it in as much detail as she could remember, or
told him she could remember. Mulder wasn't willing to take anything she
said at face value and he was now in the Lone Gunmen's office to
see what they could make of the information.

"So, have you any idea where it might have been?" he asked again.

"There's nothing specific, it could be one of hundreds of bases. They
all have their own medical facilities, Mulder. Isn't there anything
else you can tell us?" asked Byers, looking over his shoulder at
Langley, who was busy accessing their unofficial database of military
sites.

Frohicke was busy making coffee, but Mulder didn't think he could
swallow anything without choking. They had to know where to look,
he had the feeling that time was running out. Langly's hands flew
over the computer keyboard like a whirlwind and Mulder felt dizzy
just watching him.

"She said she thought they were testing other things there, it had
a weird smell, like some sort of chemical, but she didn't know what."

"Well, that narrows it down," said Byers dryly and Mulder wished that
the truth serum had in fact existed and they could use it on Diana.
They were getting nowhere fast and he was rapidly losing hope.

"Fort Martha," said Langley. "It's been decommissioned since 1973, amid
public fears that they were testing a lot more than planes, people
thought they were testing nuclear weapons, there were reports of a lot
of bright lights and noise. No-one knows what it's supposed to be used
for now. I'd say it's a good starting point. If it's been out of use,
it would make a good hiding place, don't you think?"

"Langley, you're a genius," said Mulder, just as Frohicke returned with
the coffee. "Get your coat, Frohicke. I think we may have found her."
Mulder slapped him on the back and felt a lump in his throat when he
saw the tears run down Frohike's cheek. Despite all the innuendo and
risqu comments, he knew how much Scully meant to Frohicke, meant to
all of them.

They would find her. Nothing else mattered.

********

It was the pain which woke her. Pain as sharp and jagged as the
instrument inflicting it. She screamed and tried to move, to crawl
away from the pain. But it was no use. The restraints were too tight,
and she could no more move than she could fly. She felt everything as
one of them reached inside her and there was a sickening twist of
flesh. In the end her body took pity on her and sent her to a place
where there was no pain.

She didn't want to come back.


*********

It was just like in his dream, only this time he didn't scream. He
was too shocked to scream. Scully lay on a trolley bed, blood pouring
from a hole in her abdomen and staining the white gown she wore. She
was as pale and still as a marble statue. Byers was pressing down on
the gaping wound with his jacket, even while at the same time he was
on the phone calling for an ambulance. Looking at the still form of
his wife, Mulder wondered if they were not already too late.

Frohicke was busy being sick in the corner, Mulder felt like that, but
he hadn't eaten for so long there probably wasn't anything to bring up.
Langly came into the room, studiously avoiding looking at Scully and
walked over to Mulder.

"It's the white room," said Mulder, almost to himself. "She had
nightmares about it. I thought it was in a spaceship. I didn't
think she would have to go there again."

"She isn't the only one here. There were six of them altogether.
They're all dead. I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm sorry," said Langly with
a catch in his throat.

"Were they all pregnant as well?" asked Mulder, his hands opening
and closing into fists. The violence was just simmering beneath
the surface and he knew it wouldn't be long before he would have
to hit out at something, at someone, and he preferred it not to
be his friends.

"They all had the same wounds as Scully," said Langly. "It
looks like they were trying to do some sort of caesarean."

"Did you find any of the children?" asked Mulder faintly.
There was a tight band of pain around hid chest as if someone
was squeezing tight. It was getting difficult to breathe and
he knew that this white room would now feature in his
nightmares, as well as Scully's.

"No. There's no sign of anyone else," replied Langly.

Mulder marched over to Scully and laid his head on her chest,
trying to avoid looking at the red wetness seeping from beneath
the jacket.  He and Byers shared a poignant look over Scully's
quiet form.

The tears fell from his eyes and he felt them on his lips, salty
and tangy. He felt her heartbeat beneath his cheek, slow, as if
the life was trickling from her even as they waited. A glimmer of
bright hope in the darkness which had become his soul. He prayed,
prayed that she would be spared, even though he knew he didn't
deserve her.

She was growing cold beneath him and he hugged her fiercely,
trying to impart some of his warmth into her body. This wasn't
how it was supposed to end. What happened to happily ever after?
Hadn't they been through enough? He wailed at the unfairness of
it all, and soon another wail joined his own. Artificial, mechanical,
the ambulance.

The paramedics had to drag him off her, he didn't want to let go.
He had to let her know that he was here, that she was safe again.
He saw the look of shock on the men's faces as they began to work
on Scully, before it was replaced by a mask of professionalism.

"Are any of you O neg.?" asked one of the men, the shorter of the two
paramedics. "We need to get some blood into her as soon as possible."

"I am," said Frohicke quietly as he took off his jacket and rolled
up his shirtsleeve. Mulder was impressed, knowing full well Frohicke's
fear of needles and he nodded towards his friend. There were no
need for words to express how grateful he was, Frohicke knew.

Mulder could hardly watch as they gave Scully the transfusion, but
he knew it wouldn't be enough to save her, she had lost too much
blood already. She needed to get to a hospital and soon. The pain
in his chest was getting worse, radiating from his shoulder downwards.
He could hardly breathe and gasped for air. The last things he heard
were the whirr of helicopter blades and Byers shrieking his name.

"MULDER! MULDER!"

********

A memorial service was decided on, rather than a funeral. Maggie
Scully was there, dressed all in black and it occurred to him that
ever since he had known her, she had always been in mourning. He
wondered how she coped, how she survived. There wasn't a tremble in
her chin as she laid a white rose beside the tiny grey marble
plaque.

She laid a hand on his shoulder, sharing his grief, but not
intruding on it. He could hardly see for the tears streaming
down his face and onto his suit, black today, like Maggie's.

"Come on, Fox. It's time to go."

He nodded, the weeping making it difficult for him to talk, and
he followed her to the black limousine which had been arranged by
the funeral home. He stopped in his tracks, blinking away the
moisture from his eyes. For a minute there he thought he saw -
no - it couldn't be - he dared not hope.

"Scully?" he croaked, unsure if he was actually seeing her or was
his mind playing tricks on him in his grief. She didn't disappear,
and Maggie Scully ran to embrace her daughter, kneeling down beside
the wheelchair. Mulder watched for a moment, not willing to spoil
their reunion, but he so much wanted to take his wife in his arms.

Scully looked over her mother's head and smiled at him, the first
smile he'd seen from her in weeks.

"Mulder," she said quietly, beckoning him over. She hugged both of
them then, her mother and her husband. "Show me," she said.
Maggie stood up, asking the nurse to let Mulder take over pushing
the wheelchair. She relinquished her charge with a frown and a
mutter, but Mulder was allowed to wheel Scully.

It was tough going over the uneven grass and gravel, but Mulder would
have walked over hot coals just to be  with her again.

"So they let you out?" he asked, pleased and worried at the same
time. It would be a while before she was fully recovered, and he
didn't want her to do too much too soon.

"Just for today. I have to go back to the hospital after this."

He stopped Scully's wheelchair beside the plaque. After putting on
the brakes, he went in front and kneeled down beside her, placing
his head on her lap. Her fingers curled around his hair and he
could feel the tears drip down even as she caressed him.

"It's a beautiful plaque, Mulder. It'll remind us of her. How
we should never give up hope. She's still alive, I know it. I
feel it."

"I feel it too," admitted Mulder, yet he had gone ahead with the
memorial anyway. It was really for Maggie's benefit. She wanted
closure, and he guessed she was entitled to that. He and Scully
knew the truth and they would continue to search for their child,
no-one need know except them. It was a private matter, after all.

"We'll never give up, will we Mulder?"

"No, Scully. Never."

He looked up and took her hands in his, holding them to his
lips and kissing them fiercely. He turned round to see a
shaft of autumn sunlight illuminate the plaque and the writing
upon it.

"Aletea Mulder.
Born 13 November 2000
The truth will set you free."

THE END
check out my x-files fanficiton at
http://homepages.which.net/~annette.gisby/index.htm