XF Big Bang: "A Tell-Tale Truth" Part 7 of 7.
Rating: Generally a mild R, but NC-17 for an explicit sex scene.
Summary: Agent Mulder discovers the Cigarette Smoking Man is involved with smuggling in illegals and Scully goes undercover to find out why. She ends up on a journey that takes her nearly across the country and away from everything that was familiar to her.
Author's Note: Just want to thank my wonderful betas. oct0puss and ashley_west, you guys were awesome!!
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
He never came back to her room that night and she didn’t expect him to. She placed the lid back on the alcohol and emptied their glasses in the sink. She showered and dressed in her pajamas, trying not to think of what just happened in her motel room.
She woke the next morning and got dressed, forcing herself not to think too much about the previous night. Besides, she felt if she tried hard enough, she could believe that none of it actually happened to her at all. Really, it was a completely different person.
When she emerged from her room an hour later, he was waiting. He took a long drag on his cigarette and took her suitcase from her. He placed it in the trunk of the car and got in on the driver’s side. Scully climbed in on the passenger side and they drove away.
It was almost painful sitting next to him in the car. Scenes from last night would flash into her mind and they were almost too much to shake away. He remained cool and collected however and merely continued to smoke.
As nightfall gave way, they reached a familiar place. It was the cabin he had brought her to when they were shot at those so many months ago.
“We’re staying here?” It was the first thing she spoke that was directed to him.
“For a little while and then we’ll go back,” he said.
“How long?” she asked.
“A few days,” he answered. “Maybe a week.”
“Why are we doing this?” she replied. “Is it really that bad if I go back to the facility?”
“It’s best not to ask questions.”
The Cigarette Smoking Man turned the car off and got out. She remained seated for a moment as he took their suitcases from the trunk.
Scully climbed out the car and followed the Cigarette Smoking Man up the stairs and into the cabin. Upon entering, she began for the staircase in the dark, leaving him with her suitcase.
She just wanted to curl up and sleep. She was tired of the mind games and she was tired of not knowing what to do or say and she was tired of pretending that she had nothing to do with the previous night.
Scully nearly fell on her trek in the dark to the stairs, but once she reached the loft, she found her way to the couch and flopped down on it. She turned onto her side and shut her eyes. She fell asleep almost instantly, very different from the last time she was here. Scully was just thankful she didn’t have to think in her dreams.
When she awoke, the sun was filling the cabin. Scully sat up and looked to the cot, but the Cigarette Smoking Man wasn’t there. She climbed off the couch and walked down the stairs, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, fully dressed, a crossword book in hand. A mug of coffee was steaming in front of him on the table. He sipped from it.
“There’s a lake nearby.” He set his mug back down and didn’t look at her. “It has a dock. You might like to go there and sit.”
“Was that man you were talking to a hit man?” she asked, thinking of the man she saw in his motel room. She wondered for a brief moment if it was Krauss. She didn’t get a good enough view to compare him the physical description Aaron had given her.
“No, he was not a hit man, Agent Scully.” The Cigarette Smoking Man tossed a book beside him across the room. It landed a few feet from her. “Go read, get some air. There’s a tree marked with orange. Follow the path beside it.”
“What about you?” she replied.
“I’ll be working here,” he told her.
“I don’t want to go out,” she said and folded her arms over her chest.
“I’d prefer to workout distractions,” he responded.
“All right. Fine.”
Scully picked up the book and silently cursed him as she stormed from the cabin, slamming the door behind herself. She hoped he wasn’t lying about the hit man and that she wasn’t about to march to her death.
She stopped at the bottom of the stairs when she realized she had no shoes on. She wanted to go back in and get them, but after her door slam, she wasn’t about to face him so soon. She decided she’d have to go shoeless.
Scully saw the tree with the bright orange paint on it and the dirt path beside it. She winced slightly as she stepped on a particularly pointy rock and made her way to the path. The dirt was soft beneath her feet and she was thankful for that.
Several minutes later, she reached a clearing. There was a large lake cast out in front of her with a small dock extending into it. She scanned the area. It was quiet with a nice view.
Scully made her way to the dock and stepped onto the gnarled wood. It was warm from the sun and she wished she had brought sunscreen with her. She sat down at the end of the dock and put her feet in the water.
It was cool on her feet, soothing them from the walk through woods and the warmth of the dock. She looked at the book the Cigarette Smoking Man had given her. It was about the Great Depression. She raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah, just what I need,” she muttered.
Scully moved her feet through the water and thought about swimming. The sun was beating down on her and she felt it would be nice do something other than read. She set the book aside and then frowned.
If she was going to swim, she wasn’t going to do so in her clothes, but she didn’t want to go skinny dipping either. Of course, it seemed that no one else was around or even nearby, but she still didn’t want to risk it just in case.
Scully pulled off her shirt first and folded it. She set it aside before moving on to her skirt. She was careful not to get it wet as she pulled her legs through the fabric.
She set that aside, too, and grimaced against the cold that was to come. She scooted to the edge of the dock before bumping herself off into the water. She went under, letting the cold completely wash over her.
When she came to the surface, she drew in a deep breath. The water was uncomfortably cold now that she was fully in it, but she would adjust to it soon. When she was a child, she always took well to water and she knew that never changed for her.
Scully began to swim, hoping there weren’t any leeches. She probably should have thought about that before jumping in, but it was too late now. She figured she might get out soon anyway and just relax on the dock, letting the sun dry her as long as she didn’t get burned.
There was a loud bang and a whizzing sound as a spray of water shot up beside her. Then, another bang and another spray of water. Scully quickly dove under the surface of the water. Someone was shooting at her.
She opened her eyes, seeing a murky darkness with light patches spread throughout it. Scully swam toward the dock, keeping her hands out in front of her so she wouldn’t run into it. She felt the slimy wood and swam toward the surface of the lake.
Scully wiped at her eyes quickly as she drew in a breath. There was another gunshot and the bullet hit the dock. She looked to the direction of where the gunshots were coming from. She couldn’t see anyone, but she swore if it was the Cigarette Smoking Man, she would live long enough to make sure he died first.
She swam toward the small patch of rough sand around the dock. She ducked down quickly behind the dock as two more shots were fired at her. Once she was sure she was steady on her feet, she took off for the path in the woods.
It crossed her mind for only a second that she was wet, barefoot, and in her underwear as she ran for her life. That thought fled as she realized the shooter was following after her. She began to weave between the trees, straying from the path and hurting the soles of her feet on sticks and rocks.
Scully let out a cry as she stubbed her toe on a log and a bullet hit the tree beside her. She hurried back onto the path before straying onto the other side of it. She was close to the cabin and she hoped to make it without getting shot.
The cabin came into her sight and she was just missed again as she hurried up the stairs and inside. She slammed the door closed and locked it, but she was unsure of how much that would help.
“I didn’t think you’d stay out long,” the Cigarette Smoking Man spoke from the loft.
She looked up toward the loft, but she didn’t see him. She was panting, nearly out of breath.
“I was-being shot at!”
He was out of his chair in an instant and coming down the stairs with a rifle in his hand the next. Scully stared at him incredulously. It was as if he was expecting just this.
The Cigarette Smoking Man approached the window and peered out. He pulled back quickly as a bullet shattered the window. He looked to Scully.
“Get down and stay there.”
She crouched down behind the couch as the Cigarette Smoking Man approached the door. He paused a moment before pulling it open the door and firing. Scully watched as he stepped outside and fired in another direction. He fired once more and stepped back inside.
“Think there’s a third guy?” he asked her.
She stared at him. He closed the front door.
“I bet they were sent to scope out the area,” he told her. “They only fired because they thought they had you.”
Scully stood up and he looked her up and down.
“You weren’t reading, I presume,” he said.
“I thought I’d go swimming,” she responded quietly.
“There are leeches in that lake,” he replied.
She looked down at herself quickly, scanning for the dark creatures. She noticed her feet were dirty and slightly bloodied. Scully brought her eyes back up to the Cigarette Smoking Man.
“Will you-” She paused. “Could you make sure I’m leechless?”
He approached her and she turned for him, showing off her backside. He looked her over, seeing no sign of leeches. She turned back around to face him.
“Nothing,” he assured her.
They held eye contact for a moment before she looked away, folding her arms over herself to try and hide her body. He cleared his throat.
“Get dressed. We need to leave now. It’s only a matter of time before others come looking for us.”
“Who are they?” she asked.
“The same people I thought didn’t know of this place,” he answered and lit a cigarette.
“If you always come here to hide, it was only a matter of time before they discovered it,” she told him.
“Get dressed,” he ignored her statement. “We need to leave.”
The Cigarette Smoking Man began packing downstairs as she grabbed some clothes from her suitcase and hurried up to the loft. She used a blanket to dry herself off and quickly changed into pants and a shirt. As she put on her shoes, she noticed the typewriter sitting on the desk.
Scully approached it and looked at what he must have been working on. She read the three paragraphs on the page before it ended mid sentence. He was writing what appeared to be a book of some sort. Next to the typewriter sat a stack of paper with more text.
She reached out to pick them up when she heard the floor creak from behind her. She jumped and faced him.
“There’s some coffee on the stove and granola bars,” he informed her. “You should have some nourishment before we leave.”
Scully hurried past him and went downstairs, her feet throbbing in her shoes. She walked into the kitchen and picked up a wrapped granola bar to save for later. After the excitement from earlier, she found she wasn’t too hungry now.
After he came back down, he picked up both suitcases and left the cabin first. Scully followed him out, scanning the surrounding trees for any sign that something was off. She hurried into the car and was relieved when he joined her and they drove away.
“Do you think they’ll catch us?” she asked. “Or that this is a trap to draw us out?”
He thought about that a moment and then took a sharp right turn. She clutched onto the handlebar above the door.
“They really are the ones that shot at us before?” she said, wanting to be sure they hadn’t just been trying to kill her. “I want the truth.”
“Yes,” he answered. “They want to stop us.”
“But who are they?” she replied. “How do they know what’s going on?”
“They spy,” he told her. “They’re radicals that are a threat to the government.”
“The government,” she scoffed. It was really the cause for a lot of her problems right now.
“And who have you been working for over the past few months, Agent Scully?” He glanced over at her and she fell silent.
The car was hitting tree branches out of its way. They came to a clearing and she could see a dirt road up ahead. She looked over at him.
“What were you writing in the loft?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“I was working,” he mumbled.
“That wasn’t work,” she responded.
“It’s none of your business,” he said sharply.
“Are you writing a book?” She ignored his tone. “What is it about?”
“None of your business,” he repeated.
“So it is a book,” she concluded, knowing she was right.
He took a long drag on his cigarette and she knew she would be getting the silent treatment for the rest of their drive.
The Cigarette Smoking Man opened her motel room door. Scully entered and set her suitcase down. She really just wanted to take a shower and go to bed.
“We’ll be getting back to the facility tomorrow,” he informed her. “They’ll want us there after what happened today.”
“They,” she repeated and turned on the lamp by the bed.
“What?” His eyes followed her.
“It’s always ‘they,’” she said. “These “powers that be” which control you and inevitably control me.”
“There’s more than one way to play a game,” he told her. “If you know the right tricks, you can control the game to make the outcome in your favor.”
Scully shook her head, her voice just above a whisper. She didn’t want his mind games.
“I need to go to bed.”
He left her alone and Scully turned the shower on in the bathroom. She retrieved her pajamas from her suitcase and took a much needed shower. Her feet were sore from the cuts on them, but she ignored the pain and kept the water hot.
After she had finished her shower, she quickly dried herself off and put on her pajamas. She left the bathroom, steam following her out. She stopped in her tracks when she saw a thick stack of papers sitting on the bed.
Scully approached the bed and picked up the stack.
It was the Cigarette Smoking Man’s story. Her exhaustion completely forgotten, she sat down on the bed and stayed awake reading page after page of the life of Jack Colquitt, drawing the obvious parallels between this protagonist and the Cigarette Smoking Man.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
When she stepped out of her motel room, the trunk of the car was open, but he was no where to be seen. She placed her suitcase in and carried his manuscript to the car with her. After she got in, she placed it on the driver’s seat.
Scully heard the trunk shut and felt the car bounce. The Cigarette Smoking Man opened his car door and picked up the manuscript. He slid into the seat and turned around to place the book on the floor in the back.
He closed his door and started the car.
“Is it based on your life?” she asked, her eyes never leaving him.
“It’s fiction,” he said and pulled out of the parking lot.
“He seemed lonely,” she commented on the main character. “Misunderstood.”
“Most people are,” he replied.
She became quiet for a moment. She knew this book thing was something important to him and it was strange to her that he trusted her with it. Scully had the power right now and she knew that if she wanted to be cruel, she could say something negative and it would hurt.
“I liked it,” she told him.
He glanced at her and lit his cigarette. He blew smoke from his lungs.
“Thank you.”
Scully smiled just a touch and looked out her window.
Within an hour into the drive, she was dozing off every once in a while for a few minutes. The Cigarette Smoking Man tapped her on the leg. She sat up straighter and looked over at him.
“I don’t want to alarm you,” he began, “but we’re being followed.”
“What?” Scully sat up in her seat.
“Don’t look,” he warned. “Remain calm.”
She glanced into the rear view mirror to see a dark car keeping close behind them while there were no other cars on the road.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Try to get to a populated area,” he answered. “Though, the opportunity might not present itself for at least a half hour.”
“Are they from the same group of people that came to the cabin?” she said.
“It’s likely,” he told her.
“They’re going to kill us,” she replied. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. It’s perfect.”
“There’s a gun under your seat,” he spoke calmly. “Get it. If they fire, fire back.”
Scully reached under the passenger seat and pulled out the gun. She glanced in her side view mirror.
“They’re gaining ground.” She couldn’t hide the panic in her voice.
He flicked his cigarette out the window and picked up speed. Scully kept her focus on the mirror, watching as the car behind them sped up as well.
“They’re catching up,” she informed him quickly.
“I know.”
The car slammed into them from behind. Cigarette Smoking Man struggled to keep the car under control. The car hit them again and they drove off the road going way too fast, hit a ditch, and flipped over, skidding before coming to stop.
Scully’s mind was reeling and she had no idea where the gun went. The windows were busted and she could hear the other car coming to a stop nearby. She was certain they were going to finish them off. But instead of getting out, she heard the car speed off.
Confused, Scully tried to get her bearings straight. She was hanging upside down and she knew she was bleeding. She looked over at the Cigarette Smoking Man. He was working on getting his seat belt off.
A beat up truck with its red paint chipping pulled up alongside of them and Scully realized that was why the other car fled.
“Hey, you all right?”
A man in his early fifties crouched down beside the Cigarette Smoking Man’s window. He was wearing a dirty hat and overalls over a t-shirt. Scully found herself unable to answer and the Cigarette Smoking Man ignored him.
He fell against the roof of the car as he got his seat belt unbuckled. With the help of the man, he climbed from the car. Scully watched him stand and walk away as the man crouched back down.
“Come on, hun,” he said. “I’ll help get ya out.”
Scully reached for her seat belt, her hands shaking. She still hadn’t fully grasped what had happened. She unbuckled her seat belt and hit the roof hard. Feeling nauseous, she crawled toward the driver’s side.
She saw the Cigarette Smoking Man’s manuscript on top the of ceiling, near the back windshield. Scully reached for it and brought it out with her. The man helped her to stand.
The Cigarette Smoking Man approached, burning cigarette in his hand.
“I’ll call nine one one for ya,” the man told them.
“No,” the Cigarette Smoking Man shook his head. “We need to get into town and get a car. I fell asleep at the wheel. We’re driving to her mother’s, my wife’s, funeral and we need to be there. I don’t have time for hospitals and police.”
“I’m sorry fer your loss,” the man replied, “but you could be hurt.”
Scully merely stared at the Cigarette Smoking Man, a little disgusted that he was calling her his daughter.
“The funeral’s tomorrow,” the Cigarette Smoking Man went on. “We just need to get cleaned up and get some rest tonight. We can get our car later. The important thing is to bury my wife.”
“Well, you know, I can let you come with me,” the man offered. “My name’s Roy. My wife can make ya dinner and we can get ya a rented car if that’s what you want.”
“That would be much appreciated,” he replied. “Thank you.”
It sickened her to see him act so kind and grateful because she could see right through the act. She swallowed hard, thinking she may actually throw up.
“Well, come on,” Roy told them. “She’s not looking too well.”
His eyes lingered on Scully for a moment before he headed for his truck. The Cigarette Smoking Man looked to Scully and she held out the manuscript, which had blood on it. He took it from her.
“Your head’s bleeding,” he said bluntly.
She reached up to the burning she felt on her forehead. Her fingers came across the warm liquid.
The Cigarette Smoking Man took Scully by the arm and led her to the truck. She looked him up and down and noticed a large bump by his eye, but no other physical injuries. He helped her into the truck and then climbed in next to her.
They were a little cramped in the front, but the Cigarette Smoking Man pressed himself against the door to provide more room. Scully still felt sick and she closed her eyes.
The moving truck wasn’t helping her very much and she let her head rest against the Cigarette Smoking Man’s shoulder. He looked down at her and let her be.
When they arrived at the house, Roy’s wife, Annette, came out to greet them. Roy had called to let her know the Cigarette Smoking Man and Scully would be accompanying him.
“You should really get her to a hospital,” Annette commented as she watched the Cigarette Smoking Man help Scully into the small home.
“She’ll be fine,” he called back to her.
Roy led them down a hallway and to a bedroom in the back of the house. There was a bathroom connected to it and towels placed on the bed.
“You can sleep here tonight,” Roy told them. “Get a shower, pick something out of the dresser that fits. Annette’ll wash your clothes and I’ll make some dinner.”
“Thanks,” Scully mumbled.
“Yeah, you’re welcome.”
Roy left the bedroom, closing the door behind himself. The Cigarette Smoking Man helped Scully into the bathroom and sat her down on the lid to the toilet seat.
“You should get washed up,” he instructed.
Scully rested against the back of the toilet, her gaze lowering to the floor. She felt awful and nauseous. She was dirty and bloodied, but she was thankful that her cut finally stopped bleeding.
When she didn’t respond to him, the Cigarette Smoking Man turned on the shower. She still didn’t move so he took a step toward her. She was crying, completely broken now.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
“I want to go home,” she said as she tried to hold back her sobs. “I’m so... I’m so sick... with... everything.”
“Well...” He swallowed hard. “Get cleaned up.”
He left the bathroom and closed the door. Scully drew in a sharp breath and her tears continued to fall. She forced herself to stand and she quickly undressed.
She stepped into the shower, the water hurting her forehead. She turned her back to the water and sat down. Scully watched the blood and dirt swirl down the drain through a blurry mess of tears.
Once she was showered and dried off, Scully opened the bathroom door, letting steam out. She was wrapped in a towel and looking for clothes to wear.
“I need something to put on,” she said to the Cigarette Smoking Man.
He looked up from the bed and blew smoke from his mouth. He stood and picked up dress. He brought it over to her.
“It was the smallest size in her closet,” he told her.
Scully took the dress and closed the bathroom door. She slipped on the dress, which remained a few sizes too big. She looked at herself in the mirror, eyeing up the cut that had begun to bleed again since the shower.
Her eyes met the ones staring back at her. They were red from crying and hollow, wanting something that wasn’t there.
Scully opened the cabinets beneath the sink and found some gauze and tape. She patched up the wound on her forehead before walking to the bathroom door and stepping out.
The Cigarette Smoking Man was standing by the bedroom door. His eyes followed her as she crossed the room and sat down on the bed.
“Roy said there’s food,” he informed her.
“I’m not hungry,” she replied.
“Fine.”
He entered the bathroom and closed the door behind himself. She heard the shower start as she relaxed onto the bed. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.
The next morning, Scully dressed in her clothes from yesterday that were now washed and dried. However, her shirt had a blood stain remaining on it. After she finished getting dressed, she changed the gauze on her forehead and left the bedroom with the Cigarette Smoking Man.
Roy and Annette had made eggs and toast for breakfast. The Cigarette Smoking Man only had coffee while Scully attempted to choke down a piece of toast. She gave up halfway through and drank some orange juice.
Once breakfast was through, Scully and the Cigarette Smoking Man joined Roy in his truck and he took them into a town where they could rent a car. He wished them luck after dropping them off and Scully thanked him several times, but her voice was flat and without emotion.
It took a half hour to get a car and before Scully knew it, they were back on the road. She was trying her best not to cry. She wasn’t quite sure what was causing the tears, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to blink them away.
They arrived back at the facility as the sun was setting. Scully didn’t say goodbye to the Cigarette Smoking Man as he dropped her off at the fifth floor. She was angry at him for what he put her through. She was just so angry in general.
As she turned down the hallway to her apartment, she ran into Aaron. He frowned, eyeing up her bandage and noting she was very pale.
“Jeez, what happened to you?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she dismissed it. “What’s going on around here?”
Aaron shrugged, not actually knowing all that much. “Krauss was freaking out over something. I don’t know.”
She nodded and blinked back tears. “I want to go home.”
“Dana?”
“I need to... get some sleep or something.”
Scully entered her apartment and rested on her couch. She wondered how everyone would treat her upon her return. She didn’t want to face anyone. None of them believed her anyway.
A half hour later, there was a knock on her door. She stood from the couch, her head pounding. When she opened the door, the Cigarette Smoking Man was there.
“I need you in the lab in twenty minutes. It’s important.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Whatever.”
When Scully arrived at the lab twenty minutes later, she saw the Cigarette Smoking Man talking with Brandon. She approached them and just as she closed the distance between them, the Cigarette Smoking Man jammed a syringe into Brandon’s arm, injecting him with a clear substance.
Brandon let out a cry, shocked, and then doubled over in pain. He crumpled to the ground as Scully stood frozen for a moment. She came to her senses and turned to get away, but the Cigarette Smoking Man grabbed her arm, stopping her.
“No,” she begged, but he remained straight faced and slid a sharp needle beneath her skin and pushed a burning liquid into her.
Scully was suddenly in too much pain to even make a sound and she collapsed to the floor as well. He injected them both with the virus, she knew, and she was now aware of what her patients had experienced.
Brandon was a few feet over from her, trying to remain still and not cause anymore pain to himself. Each small movement was like painful pins and needles on the skin.
Scully stared at the Cigarette Smoking Man, not being able to find the words, but her eyes said it all. She was confused and scared, wondering how he could do this to her and why.
He took her arm in his grasp, exposing the underside of it, and she winced in pain. The Cigarette Smoking Man picked up a syringe from the table. She shook her head slightly.
“No...”
He injected her and she felt another burning. Scully knew it was going to put her out so she wouldn’t be suffering, but she still didn’t understand and she wanted an explanation. She tried to form words, but her whole face was tingling. The drug began to kick in; she was feeling tired.
The Cigarette Smoking Man locked eyes with her. She held his gaze, still frightened.
“It’s okay,” he told her quietly, giving a small nod.
Scully eased slightly, wanting to trust him. Her eyes felt too heavy and began to close. She faded into unconsciousness.
The Cigarette Smoking Man wondered for a moment if this was the right decision. He knew she wanted out, he knew she couldn’t hold out much longer in this place while maintaining her integrity. He wanted to spare her anymore pain and to do that, he had to either get her out or kill her.
He looked over at Brandon, who was not shaking in pain. The Cigarette Smoking Man injected him to knock him out as well before standing to his feet. He walked over to the phone on the wall and dialed.
“We have a problem in the lab,” he told Candace in security. “Another one snapped. And took Doctor Scully with him.”
The Cigarette Smoking Man hung up the phone. He had to wait there so he could make his report of lies on how Brandon had been under so much pressure, he went mad, wanting to free himself and Scully from the “prison.” He would claim he arrived looking for Scully only to see Brandon injecting himself after injecting her.
He took out his cell phone and looked at the single bar of signal. He had a few minutes before anyone would get there. The Cigarette Smoking Man dialed a number he had memorized in case he ever needed it.
“Mulder.”
“Agent Mulder,” he began, “Agent Scully needs your help.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
She was sweating and she felt awful. She wasn’t quite sure if she was awake and she wasn’t even sure if she was alive. She couldn’t tell where she was and all she was looking for right now was some relief.
“Muld...” The word caught in her throat.
Was she alone? There was someone beside her bed. It had to be Mulder. Where was he? Why couldn’t she hear him? Her thoughts were panicked and flighty.
The Cigarette Smoking Man took a drag on his cigarette. Mark entered Scully’s bedroom. He remained near the doorway.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Sick.” the Cigarette Smoking Man responded.
“Damn Brandon,” Mark said. “Damn this place. She doesn’t deserve to go this way.”
“The antiviral medication could work,” he commented.
“And it might not.” Mark shrugged.
“Mulder...” Scully groaned. “Muld...”
Mark frowned. “What’s she saying?”
“I don’t know,” the Cigarette Smoking Man lied. “You should come back in a few hours to check on her.”
“Yeah,” Mark agreed and then left the apartment.
The Cigarette Smoking Man wrung out washcloth that sat in a bowl on her night stand. He placed the cool cloth on her forehead.
Her fever broke and she was more aware of her surroundings and of what had happened. Scully felt weak now and tired. She wondered how long it would be until she went into shock. She wondered if anyone would administer the antiviral medication to her.
“Scully.”
She forced her eyes open and looked toward the sound of the voice. She immediately thought she was hallucinating because Mulder was approaching her bed.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, giving her a smile.
“Mulder?” She stared up at him.
“Yeah, it’s me Scully,” he assured her and brushed some hair away from her forehead. “I gotta get you out of here.”
“Where?” she replied.
“Home,” he told her.
“Mulder...” Scully drew in a breath. “I’m dying.”
“I know,” he responded. “That’s why I’ve got this.”
He held up a small bottle with a clear liquid in it. Scully stared at it.
“The antiviral,” she said.
“Yes,” he agreed.
She brought her eyes over to him. “It might not work.”
“I know,” he replied. “Now, let’s get you out of here.”
Mulder helped her to painfully sit up. She stood from the bed and almost collapsed, but he held onto her tighter. She was doing her best to walk, but it felt like the floor was moving beneath her.
“How did you know...” She trailed off because it was too hard to walk and speak at the same time.
“The Cigarette Smoking Man,” Mulder answered.
“Why would...”
“I don’t know,” he told her. “Come on. We don’t have much time. I’m not too sure about the diversion.”
“Diversion?” she repeated.
“I’ll explain that to you later,” he replied.
She winced in pain. “Mulder, I can’t...”
He picked her up then, in one weeping motion. Scully clutched onto him as tightly as she could.
Mulder was driving fast. She was curled up in the back seat. She felt she was growing sicker by the minute and she knew he needed to administer the antiviral medication to her soon. She was in the third stage and failing fast.
“Mulder,” she called out to him, but her voice wasn’t very loud. “You need to...”
“What, Scully?”
He glanced back at her and pulled over the car. Mulder turned in his seat, looking down at her.
“You need to administer...”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Okay. Just hold on. I wanted to get to the motel, but... hold on.”
Mulder opened his car door and got out. He popped the door open to the back seat. She let her eyes fall closed and swallowed hard. Mulder took out the syringe he stole from the lab and filled it with the antiviral.
Drawing in a deep breath, he half climbed into the back seat. He picked up her limp arm and turned it over. He pushed the needle into the delicate skin and injected her with the antiviral medication.
“Take it easy,” he told her as he climbed out of the back seat. “We’ll get to a comfortable place soon.”
Scully drifted off and the next thing she knew, she was being set down on a motel room bed. She opened her eyes as Mulder walked over to the door and closed it. He sat down in the armchair near the bed and took off his shoes.
“Mulder...” Her voice was just above a whisper. “Could you...”
He stood from the armchair and approached the bed, concerned.
“What do you need?” he asked.
“Next to me...” She trailed off and swallowed hard. “Come down...”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah, sure, Scully.”
Mulder climbed into bed beside her. He placed an arm over her, holding on to her gently.
“You’ll be okay,” he soothingly assured her. “You’re going to fight this thing and make it through this... You will...”
Scully lost herself somewhere in unconsciousness, the sound of his voice following her there.
She woke up and immediately knew the antiviral was working. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She was feeling better, but still pretty weak. The motel room door opened and Mulder stepped in. He smiled at her.
“You’re awake. I went to get ice.” He set the bucket down on the table. “How are you feeling?”
“Sick and weak,” she answered, “but better.”
“You think it’s working?” he asked.
“I hope so,” she said.
“Here.” He brought the ice bucket over to her. “Suck on some ice chips.”
Scully shot him a look, but accepted the melting ice into her mouth. She was thirsty and the ice helped.
“If you’re feeling better tomorrow, we’ll try to head home,” Mulder told her. “Flying wouldn’t be the best thing in your condition.”
“Yeah,” she agreed and refused the next piece of ice he offered to her. “I need to sleep.”
Mulder nodded and walked away from her. He set the ice bucket on the table and sat down in the armchair. Scully closed her eyes and soon fell asleep.
“Wanna tell me about it?” Mulder asked, glancing over at her from the driver’s seat. “What happened while you were gone? How you became infected?”
“No,” she shot him down, eyes on the road in front of them.
He frowned. “Scully...”
“Lots of people died,” she said, but wouldn’t look at him. “I think I lost part of my self somewhere and...” She let out a sigh. “I don’t think I’ll ever learn the Cigarette Smoking Man’s name.”
“Well, that is the mystery of all mysteries.” He tried to lighten the mood. “I’m just glad you’re coming back home.”
“They’re going to kill me.” Her eyes were still fixated on the passing scenery.
“Who?” He glanced at her.
“The men in charge,” she answered.
“Isn’t the Cigarette Smoking Man one of the men in charge?” he replied. “He told me to get you.”
“Right,” she agreed with him.
“So wouldn’t that mean you’re safe?” Mulder asked. “He could have just let you die.”
She shrugged and fell silent. Mulder frowned. He knew this was going to change her, but he didn’t know it would be like this.
“I met Tom,” he told her. “He was... friendly.”
Scully smiled slightly and brought her eyes over to Mulder. “He didn’t hit on you, did he?”
“Oh, he did,” Mulder assured her. “He also led the uprising.”
“Uprising?” she repeated.
“He teamed up with Aaron and they said they were going to cause a diversion to get you out,” Mulder explained.
She swallowed hard. “They’re probably dead.”
He shook his head, realizing he shouldn’t have told her that part of it. “Maybe not.”
“That’s unlikely,” she replied and turned back to the window.
It was strange to be home. There was snow on the ground and it was too cold for her liking. Mulder walked her to her apartment, but neither spoke. The drive home had been much to the same effect. She didn’t want to talk and he didn’t know what to say.
Scully opened her apartment door and the smell was familiar to her. She stepped inside and Mulder followed her.
“Just as you left it,” he said.
She looked over at him. “How soon do you think Skinner would want me back?”
“Well, I was working with some asshole,” Mulder told her. “But that guy’ll be glad to be gone, so whenever you’re ready.”
Scully nodded and turned her back to him. She walked toward her kitchen.
“I don’t have my gun, though,” she responded. “Or my cell phone. Or half my clothes.”
“Scully...” He waited for her to face him. “It’ll be okay. You just gotta give yourself time.”
“Yeah,” she agreed.
He drew in a breath. “I guess I should let you get settled in.”
“Mulder...” Tears suddenly clouded her vision. “Thank you. For...”
Mulder quickly closed the distance between them and hugged her tightly. She held onto him, her tears soaking into the fabric of his coat.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “You’re fine. It’s fine, Scully. If you want me to stay...”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, that’s okay.”
Scully pulled away from him and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. She gave him a tight smile.
“I’ll see you later,” she said.
“Call me if you need anything,” he replied.
“I will.”
Mulder let himself out. Scully sat down on her couch. She needed to call her mother and she needed to let Skinner know she was back. But instead of picking up the phone, she drew in a deep breath and cried.
The knock on her door startled her. It was the next evening and it was going for midnight. Scully shuffled to the door and peeked through the peephole. She was constantly worried that a hit man would come looking for her. However, it was the Cigarette Smoking Man.
Scully opened the door and he entered with a suitcase. He placed it on the floor and closed the door behind himself.
“Your things,” he said.
She stared at him, annoyed at how calm he was. “You tried to kill me.”
He locked eyes with her. “I tried to save you. You’re here, aren’t you? Back where you belong?”
“It doesn’t matter if someone wants me dead,” she replied. “I left the facility and I know too much.”
“But you’re not going to say anything,” he told her. “Besides, even if you did, you have no way to prove it. The last I heard, the facility caved in on itself. No one wants you dead.”
“No.” Scully shook her head. “Did the others get out?”
The Cigarette Smoking Man shrugged and took a drag on his cigarette. He reached into his pocket and pulled out her gun and cell phone. He extended them to her.
She had half a mind to shoot him right there, but she blinked away her tears and took her gun and cell phone back.
“It was nice working with you, Agent Scully.” He turned toward door.
“I wish I could say the same,” she bitterly responded.
The Cigarette Smoking Man stopped, his back to her, for just a moment before opening the door and leaving her apartment. Scully held back a cry of frustration and slammed the door closed.
A week later, Scully stepped into the familiar office. Mulder turned away from the open filing cabinet and smiled at her.
“Good morning, Scully,” he said brightly.
“Morning, Mulder,” she replied and sat down across from his desk.
“Scully...” he began as he walked over to the chair behind his desk, file in hand. “Did I ever tell you the story about the Georgian Gargoyle?”
“No, Mulder, I’m afraid you have not.” She watched him sit down.
“Well, you’re in for a treat.”
He tossed the file to her. She picked it up and opened it to see the picture of something that resembled a mud-caked child with sharp teeth. Scully looked to him and raised her eyebrows. He gave her an encouraging nod and she looked back down at the file.
Mulder believed this thing existed with as much passion as she believed in the way the antiviral had affected the virus, causing it to save certain people and not others. However, Scully didn’t believe in the Georgian Gargoyle and she was certain they were about to go on a trip to try and find it. But as she thought about it, she knew there was no other place she’d rather be.
Summary: Agent Mulder discovers the Cigarette Smoking Man is involved with smuggling in illegals and Scully goes undercover to find out why. She ends up on a journey that takes her nearly across the country and away from everything that was familiar to her.
Author's Note: Just want to thank my wonderful betas. oct0puss and ashley_west, you guys were awesome!!
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
He never came back to her room that night and she didn’t expect him to. She placed the lid back on the alcohol and emptied their glasses in the sink. She showered and dressed in her pajamas, trying not to think of what just happened in her motel room.
She woke the next morning and got dressed, forcing herself not to think too much about the previous night. Besides, she felt if she tried hard enough, she could believe that none of it actually happened to her at all. Really, it was a completely different person.
When she emerged from her room an hour later, he was waiting. He took a long drag on his cigarette and took her suitcase from her. He placed it in the trunk of the car and got in on the driver’s side. Scully climbed in on the passenger side and they drove away.
It was almost painful sitting next to him in the car. Scenes from last night would flash into her mind and they were almost too much to shake away. He remained cool and collected however and merely continued to smoke.
As nightfall gave way, they reached a familiar place. It was the cabin he had brought her to when they were shot at those so many months ago.
“We’re staying here?” It was the first thing she spoke that was directed to him.
“For a little while and then we’ll go back,” he said.
“How long?” she asked.
“A few days,” he answered. “Maybe a week.”
“Why are we doing this?” she replied. “Is it really that bad if I go back to the facility?”
“It’s best not to ask questions.”
The Cigarette Smoking Man turned the car off and got out. She remained seated for a moment as he took their suitcases from the trunk.
Scully climbed out the car and followed the Cigarette Smoking Man up the stairs and into the cabin. Upon entering, she began for the staircase in the dark, leaving him with her suitcase.
She just wanted to curl up and sleep. She was tired of the mind games and she was tired of not knowing what to do or say and she was tired of pretending that she had nothing to do with the previous night.
Scully nearly fell on her trek in the dark to the stairs, but once she reached the loft, she found her way to the couch and flopped down on it. She turned onto her side and shut her eyes. She fell asleep almost instantly, very different from the last time she was here. Scully was just thankful she didn’t have to think in her dreams.
When she awoke, the sun was filling the cabin. Scully sat up and looked to the cot, but the Cigarette Smoking Man wasn’t there. She climbed off the couch and walked down the stairs, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, fully dressed, a crossword book in hand. A mug of coffee was steaming in front of him on the table. He sipped from it.
“There’s a lake nearby.” He set his mug back down and didn’t look at her. “It has a dock. You might like to go there and sit.”
“Was that man you were talking to a hit man?” she asked, thinking of the man she saw in his motel room. She wondered for a brief moment if it was Krauss. She didn’t get a good enough view to compare him the physical description Aaron had given her.
“No, he was not a hit man, Agent Scully.” The Cigarette Smoking Man tossed a book beside him across the room. It landed a few feet from her. “Go read, get some air. There’s a tree marked with orange. Follow the path beside it.”
“What about you?” she replied.
“I’ll be working here,” he told her.
“I don’t want to go out,” she said and folded her arms over her chest.
“I’d prefer to workout distractions,” he responded.
“All right. Fine.”
Scully picked up the book and silently cursed him as she stormed from the cabin, slamming the door behind herself. She hoped he wasn’t lying about the hit man and that she wasn’t about to march to her death.
She stopped at the bottom of the stairs when she realized she had no shoes on. She wanted to go back in and get them, but after her door slam, she wasn’t about to face him so soon. She decided she’d have to go shoeless.
Scully saw the tree with the bright orange paint on it and the dirt path beside it. She winced slightly as she stepped on a particularly pointy rock and made her way to the path. The dirt was soft beneath her feet and she was thankful for that.
Several minutes later, she reached a clearing. There was a large lake cast out in front of her with a small dock extending into it. She scanned the area. It was quiet with a nice view.
Scully made her way to the dock and stepped onto the gnarled wood. It was warm from the sun and she wished she had brought sunscreen with her. She sat down at the end of the dock and put her feet in the water.
It was cool on her feet, soothing them from the walk through woods and the warmth of the dock. She looked at the book the Cigarette Smoking Man had given her. It was about the Great Depression. She raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah, just what I need,” she muttered.
Scully moved her feet through the water and thought about swimming. The sun was beating down on her and she felt it would be nice do something other than read. She set the book aside and then frowned.
If she was going to swim, she wasn’t going to do so in her clothes, but she didn’t want to go skinny dipping either. Of course, it seemed that no one else was around or even nearby, but she still didn’t want to risk it just in case.
Scully pulled off her shirt first and folded it. She set it aside before moving on to her skirt. She was careful not to get it wet as she pulled her legs through the fabric.
She set that aside, too, and grimaced against the cold that was to come. She scooted to the edge of the dock before bumping herself off into the water. She went under, letting the cold completely wash over her.
When she came to the surface, she drew in a deep breath. The water was uncomfortably cold now that she was fully in it, but she would adjust to it soon. When she was a child, she always took well to water and she knew that never changed for her.
Scully began to swim, hoping there weren’t any leeches. She probably should have thought about that before jumping in, but it was too late now. She figured she might get out soon anyway and just relax on the dock, letting the sun dry her as long as she didn’t get burned.
There was a loud bang and a whizzing sound as a spray of water shot up beside her. Then, another bang and another spray of water. Scully quickly dove under the surface of the water. Someone was shooting at her.
She opened her eyes, seeing a murky darkness with light patches spread throughout it. Scully swam toward the dock, keeping her hands out in front of her so she wouldn’t run into it. She felt the slimy wood and swam toward the surface of the lake.
Scully wiped at her eyes quickly as she drew in a breath. There was another gunshot and the bullet hit the dock. She looked to the direction of where the gunshots were coming from. She couldn’t see anyone, but she swore if it was the Cigarette Smoking Man, she would live long enough to make sure he died first.
She swam toward the small patch of rough sand around the dock. She ducked down quickly behind the dock as two more shots were fired at her. Once she was sure she was steady on her feet, she took off for the path in the woods.
It crossed her mind for only a second that she was wet, barefoot, and in her underwear as she ran for her life. That thought fled as she realized the shooter was following after her. She began to weave between the trees, straying from the path and hurting the soles of her feet on sticks and rocks.
Scully let out a cry as she stubbed her toe on a log and a bullet hit the tree beside her. She hurried back onto the path before straying onto the other side of it. She was close to the cabin and she hoped to make it without getting shot.
The cabin came into her sight and she was just missed again as she hurried up the stairs and inside. She slammed the door closed and locked it, but she was unsure of how much that would help.
“I didn’t think you’d stay out long,” the Cigarette Smoking Man spoke from the loft.
She looked up toward the loft, but she didn’t see him. She was panting, nearly out of breath.
“I was-being shot at!”
He was out of his chair in an instant and coming down the stairs with a rifle in his hand the next. Scully stared at him incredulously. It was as if he was expecting just this.
The Cigarette Smoking Man approached the window and peered out. He pulled back quickly as a bullet shattered the window. He looked to Scully.
“Get down and stay there.”
She crouched down behind the couch as the Cigarette Smoking Man approached the door. He paused a moment before pulling it open the door and firing. Scully watched as he stepped outside and fired in another direction. He fired once more and stepped back inside.
“Think there’s a third guy?” he asked her.
She stared at him. He closed the front door.
“I bet they were sent to scope out the area,” he told her. “They only fired because they thought they had you.”
Scully stood up and he looked her up and down.
“You weren’t reading, I presume,” he said.
“I thought I’d go swimming,” she responded quietly.
“There are leeches in that lake,” he replied.
She looked down at herself quickly, scanning for the dark creatures. She noticed her feet were dirty and slightly bloodied. Scully brought her eyes back up to the Cigarette Smoking Man.
“Will you-” She paused. “Could you make sure I’m leechless?”
He approached her and she turned for him, showing off her backside. He looked her over, seeing no sign of leeches. She turned back around to face him.
“Nothing,” he assured her.
They held eye contact for a moment before she looked away, folding her arms over herself to try and hide her body. He cleared his throat.
“Get dressed. We need to leave now. It’s only a matter of time before others come looking for us.”
“Who are they?” she asked.
“The same people I thought didn’t know of this place,” he answered and lit a cigarette.
“If you always come here to hide, it was only a matter of time before they discovered it,” she told him.
“Get dressed,” he ignored her statement. “We need to leave.”
The Cigarette Smoking Man began packing downstairs as she grabbed some clothes from her suitcase and hurried up to the loft. She used a blanket to dry herself off and quickly changed into pants and a shirt. As she put on her shoes, she noticed the typewriter sitting on the desk.
Scully approached it and looked at what he must have been working on. She read the three paragraphs on the page before it ended mid sentence. He was writing what appeared to be a book of some sort. Next to the typewriter sat a stack of paper with more text.
She reached out to pick them up when she heard the floor creak from behind her. She jumped and faced him.
“There’s some coffee on the stove and granola bars,” he informed her. “You should have some nourishment before we leave.”
Scully hurried past him and went downstairs, her feet throbbing in her shoes. She walked into the kitchen and picked up a wrapped granola bar to save for later. After the excitement from earlier, she found she wasn’t too hungry now.
After he came back down, he picked up both suitcases and left the cabin first. Scully followed him out, scanning the surrounding trees for any sign that something was off. She hurried into the car and was relieved when he joined her and they drove away.
“Do you think they’ll catch us?” she asked. “Or that this is a trap to draw us out?”
He thought about that a moment and then took a sharp right turn. She clutched onto the handlebar above the door.
“They really are the ones that shot at us before?” she said, wanting to be sure they hadn’t just been trying to kill her. “I want the truth.”
“Yes,” he answered. “They want to stop us.”
“But who are they?” she replied. “How do they know what’s going on?”
“They spy,” he told her. “They’re radicals that are a threat to the government.”
“The government,” she scoffed. It was really the cause for a lot of her problems right now.
“And who have you been working for over the past few months, Agent Scully?” He glanced over at her and she fell silent.
The car was hitting tree branches out of its way. They came to a clearing and she could see a dirt road up ahead. She looked over at him.
“What were you writing in the loft?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“I was working,” he mumbled.
“That wasn’t work,” she responded.
“It’s none of your business,” he said sharply.
“Are you writing a book?” She ignored his tone. “What is it about?”
“None of your business,” he repeated.
“So it is a book,” she concluded, knowing she was right.
He took a long drag on his cigarette and she knew she would be getting the silent treatment for the rest of their drive.
The Cigarette Smoking Man opened her motel room door. Scully entered and set her suitcase down. She really just wanted to take a shower and go to bed.
“We’ll be getting back to the facility tomorrow,” he informed her. “They’ll want us there after what happened today.”
“They,” she repeated and turned on the lamp by the bed.
“What?” His eyes followed her.
“It’s always ‘they,’” she said. “These “powers that be” which control you and inevitably control me.”
“There’s more than one way to play a game,” he told her. “If you know the right tricks, you can control the game to make the outcome in your favor.”
Scully shook her head, her voice just above a whisper. She didn’t want his mind games.
“I need to go to bed.”
He left her alone and Scully turned the shower on in the bathroom. She retrieved her pajamas from her suitcase and took a much needed shower. Her feet were sore from the cuts on them, but she ignored the pain and kept the water hot.
After she had finished her shower, she quickly dried herself off and put on her pajamas. She left the bathroom, steam following her out. She stopped in her tracks when she saw a thick stack of papers sitting on the bed.
Scully approached the bed and picked up the stack.
It was the Cigarette Smoking Man’s story. Her exhaustion completely forgotten, she sat down on the bed and stayed awake reading page after page of the life of Jack Colquitt, drawing the obvious parallels between this protagonist and the Cigarette Smoking Man.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
When she stepped out of her motel room, the trunk of the car was open, but he was no where to be seen. She placed her suitcase in and carried his manuscript to the car with her. After she got in, she placed it on the driver’s seat.
Scully heard the trunk shut and felt the car bounce. The Cigarette Smoking Man opened his car door and picked up the manuscript. He slid into the seat and turned around to place the book on the floor in the back.
He closed his door and started the car.
“Is it based on your life?” she asked, her eyes never leaving him.
“It’s fiction,” he said and pulled out of the parking lot.
“He seemed lonely,” she commented on the main character. “Misunderstood.”
“Most people are,” he replied.
She became quiet for a moment. She knew this book thing was something important to him and it was strange to her that he trusted her with it. Scully had the power right now and she knew that if she wanted to be cruel, she could say something negative and it would hurt.
“I liked it,” she told him.
He glanced at her and lit his cigarette. He blew smoke from his lungs.
“Thank you.”
Scully smiled just a touch and looked out her window.
Within an hour into the drive, she was dozing off every once in a while for a few minutes. The Cigarette Smoking Man tapped her on the leg. She sat up straighter and looked over at him.
“I don’t want to alarm you,” he began, “but we’re being followed.”
“What?” Scully sat up in her seat.
“Don’t look,” he warned. “Remain calm.”
She glanced into the rear view mirror to see a dark car keeping close behind them while there were no other cars on the road.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Try to get to a populated area,” he answered. “Though, the opportunity might not present itself for at least a half hour.”
“Are they from the same group of people that came to the cabin?” she said.
“It’s likely,” he told her.
“They’re going to kill us,” she replied. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. It’s perfect.”
“There’s a gun under your seat,” he spoke calmly. “Get it. If they fire, fire back.”
Scully reached under the passenger seat and pulled out the gun. She glanced in her side view mirror.
“They’re gaining ground.” She couldn’t hide the panic in her voice.
He flicked his cigarette out the window and picked up speed. Scully kept her focus on the mirror, watching as the car behind them sped up as well.
“They’re catching up,” she informed him quickly.
“I know.”
The car slammed into them from behind. Cigarette Smoking Man struggled to keep the car under control. The car hit them again and they drove off the road going way too fast, hit a ditch, and flipped over, skidding before coming to stop.
Scully’s mind was reeling and she had no idea where the gun went. The windows were busted and she could hear the other car coming to a stop nearby. She was certain they were going to finish them off. But instead of getting out, she heard the car speed off.
Confused, Scully tried to get her bearings straight. She was hanging upside down and she knew she was bleeding. She looked over at the Cigarette Smoking Man. He was working on getting his seat belt off.
A beat up truck with its red paint chipping pulled up alongside of them and Scully realized that was why the other car fled.
“Hey, you all right?”
A man in his early fifties crouched down beside the Cigarette Smoking Man’s window. He was wearing a dirty hat and overalls over a t-shirt. Scully found herself unable to answer and the Cigarette Smoking Man ignored him.
He fell against the roof of the car as he got his seat belt unbuckled. With the help of the man, he climbed from the car. Scully watched him stand and walk away as the man crouched back down.
“Come on, hun,” he said. “I’ll help get ya out.”
Scully reached for her seat belt, her hands shaking. She still hadn’t fully grasped what had happened. She unbuckled her seat belt and hit the roof hard. Feeling nauseous, she crawled toward the driver’s side.
She saw the Cigarette Smoking Man’s manuscript on top the of ceiling, near the back windshield. Scully reached for it and brought it out with her. The man helped her to stand.
The Cigarette Smoking Man approached, burning cigarette in his hand.
“I’ll call nine one one for ya,” the man told them.
“No,” the Cigarette Smoking Man shook his head. “We need to get into town and get a car. I fell asleep at the wheel. We’re driving to her mother’s, my wife’s, funeral and we need to be there. I don’t have time for hospitals and police.”
“I’m sorry fer your loss,” the man replied, “but you could be hurt.”
Scully merely stared at the Cigarette Smoking Man, a little disgusted that he was calling her his daughter.
“The funeral’s tomorrow,” the Cigarette Smoking Man went on. “We just need to get cleaned up and get some rest tonight. We can get our car later. The important thing is to bury my wife.”
“Well, you know, I can let you come with me,” the man offered. “My name’s Roy. My wife can make ya dinner and we can get ya a rented car if that’s what you want.”
“That would be much appreciated,” he replied. “Thank you.”
It sickened her to see him act so kind and grateful because she could see right through the act. She swallowed hard, thinking she may actually throw up.
“Well, come on,” Roy told them. “She’s not looking too well.”
His eyes lingered on Scully for a moment before he headed for his truck. The Cigarette Smoking Man looked to Scully and she held out the manuscript, which had blood on it. He took it from her.
“Your head’s bleeding,” he said bluntly.
She reached up to the burning she felt on her forehead. Her fingers came across the warm liquid.
The Cigarette Smoking Man took Scully by the arm and led her to the truck. She looked him up and down and noticed a large bump by his eye, but no other physical injuries. He helped her into the truck and then climbed in next to her.
They were a little cramped in the front, but the Cigarette Smoking Man pressed himself against the door to provide more room. Scully still felt sick and she closed her eyes.
The moving truck wasn’t helping her very much and she let her head rest against the Cigarette Smoking Man’s shoulder. He looked down at her and let her be.
When they arrived at the house, Roy’s wife, Annette, came out to greet them. Roy had called to let her know the Cigarette Smoking Man and Scully would be accompanying him.
“You should really get her to a hospital,” Annette commented as she watched the Cigarette Smoking Man help Scully into the small home.
“She’ll be fine,” he called back to her.
Roy led them down a hallway and to a bedroom in the back of the house. There was a bathroom connected to it and towels placed on the bed.
“You can sleep here tonight,” Roy told them. “Get a shower, pick something out of the dresser that fits. Annette’ll wash your clothes and I’ll make some dinner.”
“Thanks,” Scully mumbled.
“Yeah, you’re welcome.”
Roy left the bedroom, closing the door behind himself. The Cigarette Smoking Man helped Scully into the bathroom and sat her down on the lid to the toilet seat.
“You should get washed up,” he instructed.
Scully rested against the back of the toilet, her gaze lowering to the floor. She felt awful and nauseous. She was dirty and bloodied, but she was thankful that her cut finally stopped bleeding.
When she didn’t respond to him, the Cigarette Smoking Man turned on the shower. She still didn’t move so he took a step toward her. She was crying, completely broken now.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
“I want to go home,” she said as she tried to hold back her sobs. “I’m so... I’m so sick... with... everything.”
“Well...” He swallowed hard. “Get cleaned up.”
He left the bathroom and closed the door. Scully drew in a sharp breath and her tears continued to fall. She forced herself to stand and she quickly undressed.
She stepped into the shower, the water hurting her forehead. She turned her back to the water and sat down. Scully watched the blood and dirt swirl down the drain through a blurry mess of tears.
Once she was showered and dried off, Scully opened the bathroom door, letting steam out. She was wrapped in a towel and looking for clothes to wear.
“I need something to put on,” she said to the Cigarette Smoking Man.
He looked up from the bed and blew smoke from his mouth. He stood and picked up dress. He brought it over to her.
“It was the smallest size in her closet,” he told her.
Scully took the dress and closed the bathroom door. She slipped on the dress, which remained a few sizes too big. She looked at herself in the mirror, eyeing up the cut that had begun to bleed again since the shower.
Her eyes met the ones staring back at her. They were red from crying and hollow, wanting something that wasn’t there.
Scully opened the cabinets beneath the sink and found some gauze and tape. She patched up the wound on her forehead before walking to the bathroom door and stepping out.
The Cigarette Smoking Man was standing by the bedroom door. His eyes followed her as she crossed the room and sat down on the bed.
“Roy said there’s food,” he informed her.
“I’m not hungry,” she replied.
“Fine.”
He entered the bathroom and closed the door behind himself. She heard the shower start as she relaxed onto the bed. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.
The next morning, Scully dressed in her clothes from yesterday that were now washed and dried. However, her shirt had a blood stain remaining on it. After she finished getting dressed, she changed the gauze on her forehead and left the bedroom with the Cigarette Smoking Man.
Roy and Annette had made eggs and toast for breakfast. The Cigarette Smoking Man only had coffee while Scully attempted to choke down a piece of toast. She gave up halfway through and drank some orange juice.
Once breakfast was through, Scully and the Cigarette Smoking Man joined Roy in his truck and he took them into a town where they could rent a car. He wished them luck after dropping them off and Scully thanked him several times, but her voice was flat and without emotion.
It took a half hour to get a car and before Scully knew it, they were back on the road. She was trying her best not to cry. She wasn’t quite sure what was causing the tears, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to blink them away.
They arrived back at the facility as the sun was setting. Scully didn’t say goodbye to the Cigarette Smoking Man as he dropped her off at the fifth floor. She was angry at him for what he put her through. She was just so angry in general.
As she turned down the hallway to her apartment, she ran into Aaron. He frowned, eyeing up her bandage and noting she was very pale.
“Jeez, what happened to you?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she dismissed it. “What’s going on around here?”
Aaron shrugged, not actually knowing all that much. “Krauss was freaking out over something. I don’t know.”
She nodded and blinked back tears. “I want to go home.”
“Dana?”
“I need to... get some sleep or something.”
Scully entered her apartment and rested on her couch. She wondered how everyone would treat her upon her return. She didn’t want to face anyone. None of them believed her anyway.
A half hour later, there was a knock on her door. She stood from the couch, her head pounding. When she opened the door, the Cigarette Smoking Man was there.
“I need you in the lab in twenty minutes. It’s important.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Whatever.”
When Scully arrived at the lab twenty minutes later, she saw the Cigarette Smoking Man talking with Brandon. She approached them and just as she closed the distance between them, the Cigarette Smoking Man jammed a syringe into Brandon’s arm, injecting him with a clear substance.
Brandon let out a cry, shocked, and then doubled over in pain. He crumpled to the ground as Scully stood frozen for a moment. She came to her senses and turned to get away, but the Cigarette Smoking Man grabbed her arm, stopping her.
“No,” she begged, but he remained straight faced and slid a sharp needle beneath her skin and pushed a burning liquid into her.
Scully was suddenly in too much pain to even make a sound and she collapsed to the floor as well. He injected them both with the virus, she knew, and she was now aware of what her patients had experienced.
Brandon was a few feet over from her, trying to remain still and not cause anymore pain to himself. Each small movement was like painful pins and needles on the skin.
Scully stared at the Cigarette Smoking Man, not being able to find the words, but her eyes said it all. She was confused and scared, wondering how he could do this to her and why.
He took her arm in his grasp, exposing the underside of it, and she winced in pain. The Cigarette Smoking Man picked up a syringe from the table. She shook her head slightly.
“No...”
He injected her and she felt another burning. Scully knew it was going to put her out so she wouldn’t be suffering, but she still didn’t understand and she wanted an explanation. She tried to form words, but her whole face was tingling. The drug began to kick in; she was feeling tired.
The Cigarette Smoking Man locked eyes with her. She held his gaze, still frightened.
“It’s okay,” he told her quietly, giving a small nod.
Scully eased slightly, wanting to trust him. Her eyes felt too heavy and began to close. She faded into unconsciousness.
The Cigarette Smoking Man wondered for a moment if this was the right decision. He knew she wanted out, he knew she couldn’t hold out much longer in this place while maintaining her integrity. He wanted to spare her anymore pain and to do that, he had to either get her out or kill her.
He looked over at Brandon, who was not shaking in pain. The Cigarette Smoking Man injected him to knock him out as well before standing to his feet. He walked over to the phone on the wall and dialed.
“We have a problem in the lab,” he told Candace in security. “Another one snapped. And took Doctor Scully with him.”
The Cigarette Smoking Man hung up the phone. He had to wait there so he could make his report of lies on how Brandon had been under so much pressure, he went mad, wanting to free himself and Scully from the “prison.” He would claim he arrived looking for Scully only to see Brandon injecting himself after injecting her.
He took out his cell phone and looked at the single bar of signal. He had a few minutes before anyone would get there. The Cigarette Smoking Man dialed a number he had memorized in case he ever needed it.
“Mulder.”
“Agent Mulder,” he began, “Agent Scully needs your help.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
She was sweating and she felt awful. She wasn’t quite sure if she was awake and she wasn’t even sure if she was alive. She couldn’t tell where she was and all she was looking for right now was some relief.
“Muld...” The word caught in her throat.
Was she alone? There was someone beside her bed. It had to be Mulder. Where was he? Why couldn’t she hear him? Her thoughts were panicked and flighty.
The Cigarette Smoking Man took a drag on his cigarette. Mark entered Scully’s bedroom. He remained near the doorway.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Sick.” the Cigarette Smoking Man responded.
“Damn Brandon,” Mark said. “Damn this place. She doesn’t deserve to go this way.”
“The antiviral medication could work,” he commented.
“And it might not.” Mark shrugged.
“Mulder...” Scully groaned. “Muld...”
Mark frowned. “What’s she saying?”
“I don’t know,” the Cigarette Smoking Man lied. “You should come back in a few hours to check on her.”
“Yeah,” Mark agreed and then left the apartment.
The Cigarette Smoking Man wrung out washcloth that sat in a bowl on her night stand. He placed the cool cloth on her forehead.
Her fever broke and she was more aware of her surroundings and of what had happened. Scully felt weak now and tired. She wondered how long it would be until she went into shock. She wondered if anyone would administer the antiviral medication to her.
“Scully.”
She forced her eyes open and looked toward the sound of the voice. She immediately thought she was hallucinating because Mulder was approaching her bed.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, giving her a smile.
“Mulder?” She stared up at him.
“Yeah, it’s me Scully,” he assured her and brushed some hair away from her forehead. “I gotta get you out of here.”
“Where?” she replied.
“Home,” he told her.
“Mulder...” Scully drew in a breath. “I’m dying.”
“I know,” he responded. “That’s why I’ve got this.”
He held up a small bottle with a clear liquid in it. Scully stared at it.
“The antiviral,” she said.
“Yes,” he agreed.
She brought her eyes over to him. “It might not work.”
“I know,” he replied. “Now, let’s get you out of here.”
Mulder helped her to painfully sit up. She stood from the bed and almost collapsed, but he held onto her tighter. She was doing her best to walk, but it felt like the floor was moving beneath her.
“How did you know...” She trailed off because it was too hard to walk and speak at the same time.
“The Cigarette Smoking Man,” Mulder answered.
“Why would...”
“I don’t know,” he told her. “Come on. We don’t have much time. I’m not too sure about the diversion.”
“Diversion?” she repeated.
“I’ll explain that to you later,” he replied.
She winced in pain. “Mulder, I can’t...”
He picked her up then, in one weeping motion. Scully clutched onto him as tightly as she could.
Mulder was driving fast. She was curled up in the back seat. She felt she was growing sicker by the minute and she knew he needed to administer the antiviral medication to her soon. She was in the third stage and failing fast.
“Mulder,” she called out to him, but her voice wasn’t very loud. “You need to...”
“What, Scully?”
He glanced back at her and pulled over the car. Mulder turned in his seat, looking down at her.
“You need to administer...”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Okay. Just hold on. I wanted to get to the motel, but... hold on.”
Mulder opened his car door and got out. He popped the door open to the back seat. She let her eyes fall closed and swallowed hard. Mulder took out the syringe he stole from the lab and filled it with the antiviral.
Drawing in a deep breath, he half climbed into the back seat. He picked up her limp arm and turned it over. He pushed the needle into the delicate skin and injected her with the antiviral medication.
“Take it easy,” he told her as he climbed out of the back seat. “We’ll get to a comfortable place soon.”
Scully drifted off and the next thing she knew, she was being set down on a motel room bed. She opened her eyes as Mulder walked over to the door and closed it. He sat down in the armchair near the bed and took off his shoes.
“Mulder...” Her voice was just above a whisper. “Could you...”
He stood from the armchair and approached the bed, concerned.
“What do you need?” he asked.
“Next to me...” She trailed off and swallowed hard. “Come down...”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah, sure, Scully.”
Mulder climbed into bed beside her. He placed an arm over her, holding on to her gently.
“You’ll be okay,” he soothingly assured her. “You’re going to fight this thing and make it through this... You will...”
Scully lost herself somewhere in unconsciousness, the sound of his voice following her there.
She woke up and immediately knew the antiviral was working. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She was feeling better, but still pretty weak. The motel room door opened and Mulder stepped in. He smiled at her.
“You’re awake. I went to get ice.” He set the bucket down on the table. “How are you feeling?”
“Sick and weak,” she answered, “but better.”
“You think it’s working?” he asked.
“I hope so,” she said.
“Here.” He brought the ice bucket over to her. “Suck on some ice chips.”
Scully shot him a look, but accepted the melting ice into her mouth. She was thirsty and the ice helped.
“If you’re feeling better tomorrow, we’ll try to head home,” Mulder told her. “Flying wouldn’t be the best thing in your condition.”
“Yeah,” she agreed and refused the next piece of ice he offered to her. “I need to sleep.”
Mulder nodded and walked away from her. He set the ice bucket on the table and sat down in the armchair. Scully closed her eyes and soon fell asleep.
“Wanna tell me about it?” Mulder asked, glancing over at her from the driver’s seat. “What happened while you were gone? How you became infected?”
“No,” she shot him down, eyes on the road in front of them.
He frowned. “Scully...”
“Lots of people died,” she said, but wouldn’t look at him. “I think I lost part of my self somewhere and...” She let out a sigh. “I don’t think I’ll ever learn the Cigarette Smoking Man’s name.”
“Well, that is the mystery of all mysteries.” He tried to lighten the mood. “I’m just glad you’re coming back home.”
“They’re going to kill me.” Her eyes were still fixated on the passing scenery.
“Who?” He glanced at her.
“The men in charge,” she answered.
“Isn’t the Cigarette Smoking Man one of the men in charge?” he replied. “He told me to get you.”
“Right,” she agreed with him.
“So wouldn’t that mean you’re safe?” Mulder asked. “He could have just let you die.”
She shrugged and fell silent. Mulder frowned. He knew this was going to change her, but he didn’t know it would be like this.
“I met Tom,” he told her. “He was... friendly.”
Scully smiled slightly and brought her eyes over to Mulder. “He didn’t hit on you, did he?”
“Oh, he did,” Mulder assured her. “He also led the uprising.”
“Uprising?” she repeated.
“He teamed up with Aaron and they said they were going to cause a diversion to get you out,” Mulder explained.
She swallowed hard. “They’re probably dead.”
He shook his head, realizing he shouldn’t have told her that part of it. “Maybe not.”
“That’s unlikely,” she replied and turned back to the window.
It was strange to be home. There was snow on the ground and it was too cold for her liking. Mulder walked her to her apartment, but neither spoke. The drive home had been much to the same effect. She didn’t want to talk and he didn’t know what to say.
Scully opened her apartment door and the smell was familiar to her. She stepped inside and Mulder followed her.
“Just as you left it,” he said.
She looked over at him. “How soon do you think Skinner would want me back?”
“Well, I was working with some asshole,” Mulder told her. “But that guy’ll be glad to be gone, so whenever you’re ready.”
Scully nodded and turned her back to him. She walked toward her kitchen.
“I don’t have my gun, though,” she responded. “Or my cell phone. Or half my clothes.”
“Scully...” He waited for her to face him. “It’ll be okay. You just gotta give yourself time.”
“Yeah,” she agreed.
He drew in a breath. “I guess I should let you get settled in.”
“Mulder...” Tears suddenly clouded her vision. “Thank you. For...”
Mulder quickly closed the distance between them and hugged her tightly. She held onto him, her tears soaking into the fabric of his coat.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “You’re fine. It’s fine, Scully. If you want me to stay...”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, that’s okay.”
Scully pulled away from him and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. She gave him a tight smile.
“I’ll see you later,” she said.
“Call me if you need anything,” he replied.
“I will.”
Mulder let himself out. Scully sat down on her couch. She needed to call her mother and she needed to let Skinner know she was back. But instead of picking up the phone, she drew in a deep breath and cried.
The knock on her door startled her. It was the next evening and it was going for midnight. Scully shuffled to the door and peeked through the peephole. She was constantly worried that a hit man would come looking for her. However, it was the Cigarette Smoking Man.
Scully opened the door and he entered with a suitcase. He placed it on the floor and closed the door behind himself.
“Your things,” he said.
She stared at him, annoyed at how calm he was. “You tried to kill me.”
He locked eyes with her. “I tried to save you. You’re here, aren’t you? Back where you belong?”
“It doesn’t matter if someone wants me dead,” she replied. “I left the facility and I know too much.”
“But you’re not going to say anything,” he told her. “Besides, even if you did, you have no way to prove it. The last I heard, the facility caved in on itself. No one wants you dead.”
“No.” Scully shook her head. “Did the others get out?”
The Cigarette Smoking Man shrugged and took a drag on his cigarette. He reached into his pocket and pulled out her gun and cell phone. He extended them to her.
She had half a mind to shoot him right there, but she blinked away her tears and took her gun and cell phone back.
“It was nice working with you, Agent Scully.” He turned toward door.
“I wish I could say the same,” she bitterly responded.
The Cigarette Smoking Man stopped, his back to her, for just a moment before opening the door and leaving her apartment. Scully held back a cry of frustration and slammed the door closed.
A week later, Scully stepped into the familiar office. Mulder turned away from the open filing cabinet and smiled at her.
“Good morning, Scully,” he said brightly.
“Morning, Mulder,” she replied and sat down across from his desk.
“Scully...” he began as he walked over to the chair behind his desk, file in hand. “Did I ever tell you the story about the Georgian Gargoyle?”
“No, Mulder, I’m afraid you have not.” She watched him sit down.
“Well, you’re in for a treat.”
He tossed the file to her. She picked it up and opened it to see the picture of something that resembled a mud-caked child with sharp teeth. Scully looked to him and raised her eyebrows. He gave her an encouraging nod and she looked back down at the file.
Mulder believed this thing existed with as much passion as she believed in the way the antiviral had affected the virus, causing it to save certain people and not others. However, Scully didn’t believe in the Georgian Gargoyle and she was certain they were about to go on a trip to try and find it. But as she thought about it, she knew there was no other place she’d rather be.