Blind Faith II: Matters of Trust (1 of 2) By TBishop27 Rated: NC-17 Category: MSR Warnings: Major angst ahead! Disclaimer: This Mulder and Scully are mine. They have defected from FOX, Chris Carter and 1013 productions because they're horribly misunderstood and never allowed to have sex. Feedback: I eagerly await your comments. As always, flames will be forwarded to that dark part of my writer's imagination that roams the night in search of victims. Author's Note: This is the sequel to Blind Faith which you can find on my archive page. None of this will make much sense to you if you don't read that one first. You can find all my stories at The Literary G-Spot. http://tbishop.freeservers.com/ or http://members.xoom.com/arcticfox42/Tbishop.htm *** Thanks to my beta krewe, David, Shoshana and Shell. And to Webmistress Grasshopper for keeping up the archive. BLIND FAITH II: Matters of Trust Last night I became an accessory to murder. I stood by willingly and watched an innocent man shot to death so that the truth that I've spent the better part of my life searching for could be concealed. Krycek killed the man on CGB's orders and I did nothing to stop him. 'We do what we have to do,' Krycek told me later as I helped him dispose of the body, sickened by my own complicity in this immoral act. But what choice did I have? CGB has to believe that I'm working for him, doing his deeds, or Scully will again fall victim to his evil manipulations. When you sell your soul to the devil, you have to accept the purgatory your life becomes. So far Krycek and his rebel friends have offered me no redemption. He just keeps telling me that it's not time yet, that when our services are needed we will be contacted. I'm starting to wonder if Scully's suspicions aren't correct. Maybe Krycek and his whole story about working with the rebels is part of a plan to keep me in line. I've refused to believe it because that would mean there was no hope at all of ever breaking free of this trap that ensnares me. There would be no hope of finding a way of giving Scully back her autonomy, of ridding her of that God damn chip that controls both of our lives. For the past five weeks I've been playing the roll of Cancerman's dutiful servant, taking his calls, following his orders, doing his bidding, living my life as his beck and call boy. In return, I've watched Scully's health steadily improve. She's back to work at the Bureau. Although our work on the X-Files seems pointless now; we spend most of the time sabotaging our own efforts at the behest of the old man. I think Skinner suspects I've sold out. He can't look me in the eyes. Hell, I don't blame him. I don't even like to look at myself in the mirror these days. It's not that I regret making the deal to save Scully's life. I'd do it all over again if I had the chance. She means everything to me. And I'm determined, if only for her sake, to find a way to make things right again. Thoughts of her fill my mind now. Vivid pictures of making love to her last night suddenly wash away the grimness that holds me captive in my waking moments. Last night was incredibly tender and poignant. It reminded me of the times we'd made love while she was ill with her cancer, desperate and needy and passionate as hell. I reach across the bed, hoping to gather her into my arms and lose myself in her once again. But she's gone. The bed is cold where she should have slept. I open my eyes and squint into the morning light as it streams through the window uncurtained. "Scully?" There is only silence. A glance at the alarm clock tells me it's just a few minutes past six. I wonder where my little G-Woman has gotten herself off to so early on a Saturday morning. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I climb out of bed and pull on my sweats that are rumpled on the floor where I left them last night. The pervading silence of Scully's apartment sets off my instinctual panic alarm. But it's what I find on the kitchen table that really frightens me. Several sheets of a handwritten note stacked neatly in a pile with a delicate shimmering gold cross necklace holding them in place. My heart sinks, and I have to force myself to pick up the letter and read. My dear Mulder, Please forgive me. I could see no other way out. Your life has become a nightmare because of me. You've given up everything in trade for my well being. It's too much, Mulder. Too much for me to ask of you. Each passing day I watch you give up a little bit more of the man I fell in love with. I cannot stand that look of defeat in your eyes. It's sad and heartbreaking to see your spirit broken like a wild animal that's been forced to live in a cage. I will not be the lock that imprisons you. I love you too much to let myself be used in that way. I know my actions will cause you a great deal of pain. I feel that pain already growing in my own heart as I write these words. But I have to set you free, Mulder. As hard as it is to say good-bye to you, I do so willingly and without regret, for we have shared the strongest of bonds and a love that will always transcend time and distance and remain forever strong and true. It's impossible for me not to shed tears as I watch you sleeping so peacefully in my bed tonight. I am tempted to kiss your sweet lips one more time, but I'm too afraid I might wake you; and if I were to look into your beautiful eyes, how would I ever find the strength to tear myself away? Making love to you tonight, knowing that it would be our last time, I couldn't get enough and I never wanted it to end. I prayed that you would not see me crying as our bodies joined for the final time. And afterwards, as you held me, relaxing into sleep, I felt so terribly alone knowing that our companionship had come to an end. We've shared only a small portion of our lives, but somehow I can't help feel as though we've been together for many lifetimes. You've been my teacher, my partner, my friend, and now my lover. I cannot begin to thank you for being the truest of confidants, for being my constant, and my strength. We had so little time together as lovers, I can't help but wonder what our lives would have been like if only the world would have left us alone. Would we have had that normal life? It would have been nice to try. I was hoping that somehow we would find a way out of this mess we are in, but when you came home last night with blood on your clothes and that horrible look in your eyes, I knew that I had to put a stop to this now. Whatever you've done for me, Mulder, I cannot let you do it again. These people are evil. You do not belong among them. Don't trust Alex Krycek. I'm sure he's just a clever part of the scheme to own you. Walk away from the Smoking Man, Mulder. Tell him he can go to hell. Now that I'm gone, he won't be able to coerce you into abandoning your work on the X-Files and betraying your conscience. Fight the good fight, partner. And no matter what, don't let the bastards win. I love you, Mulder. Always will. I'll be praying for you, and thinking of you, and holding you close in my dreams every night. Please forgive me for not having the courage and the strength to tell you all of this in person, but I know that you would never have let me go. And I have to go. It's the only solution. I wish there could have been some other way. I'm begging you not to come after me. I don't intend to be found, so you'll only be searching in vain, wasting precious time that should be used to fight our enemies. I'll be safer if they can no longer use me against you. As difficult and painful as it is, we must say good-bye. I'll miss you, my love. Forever, Scully As I clutch her necklace possessively in my fist, and my tears fall upon the pages of her note, a wrath builds within me, an overpowering need to seek revenge against those who have conspired to bring about this end. Scully's gone. They have finally succeeded in taking her from me, regardless of whether it was their intention now to do so. She's gone. God damn them! I vent my anger on the nearest vulnerable object; a pottery bowl that rests in the center of Scully's kitchen table now smashes into a million tiny shards as it hits the wall. For a moment I feel guilty, I remember her telling me that her sister gave her that bowl as a gift... for her birthday, I think it was. What the fuck does it matter now? What does anything matter now? She won't be coming back. She's gone and I am once again alone. Falling into the chair, I bury my face in my hands and let my sadness, fear, anger and frustration come together in retching sobs. How will I go on without her? For seven long years I resisted temptation, keeping our relationship platonic, fearful of the complications of intimacy, having failed at every personal relationship I ever attempted to sustain. I was determined to keep her close, but not that close, love her from afar, protect her from me and protect me from her... protect me from her. I'm in as many pieces as that shattered piece of clay, having left myself imprudently vulnerable once again to the whims of someone I let myself care too much about. She's gone. How could she do this to me? Leave without warning, running away to ease her guilty conscience, abandoning me when I need her the most? How does she expect me to go on fighting without her? Why the hell would I even want to? Like a fool I let myself believe again that a loving relationship wasn't beyond my grasp... that the fates would allow Fox Mulder to love a woman and be loved in return. What am I doing? Blaming her for my past mistakes? This woman's only crime is that she DOES love me back. Loves me beyond all reason and common sense. She was willing to die for me. And now she's left me because she thinks she's saving me somehow. Oh, Scully... Where the hell did you go? <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> I started to feel it again three days ago. They're calling me. I should have known it wasn't going to be as easy as just walking away. Easy? Yeah, right. Leaving Mulder was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. But we Scullys are as tough as the sea itself... at least that's what Ahab always used to say. I don't feel so tough anymore. Actually, I feel tired and lonely and hopelessly lost. I miss Mulder more than I ever would thought possible, and I haven't even been gone a full week. I've been living in one Godforsaken dumpy hotel after another, not sure where I'm going yet, or what I'm going to do. I stuck around DC long enough to empty my bank accounts. I didn't dare take my car, relying on public transportation to cover my tracks as I disappeared into obscurity. Mulder can be as relentless as a bloodhound when he's on the hunt. I needed to make sure that he had no trail to follow should he decide to ignore my plea and come after me anyway. But Mulder was apparently the least of my worries. That God damn chip is calling me back, reminding me that there is no hiding place safe from CGB and his cohorts. As long as that chip remains embedded under the skin of my neck, I am Mulder's undoing. And removing it is my undoing... I can't win. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> "This is MY office, get the hell out or I'm calling security." "We had a deal, Agent Mulder... You seem to have forgotten." "Deals off." "Then Agent Scully's well being is no longer a concern of yours?" At the mention of her name I fly out of my chair and come face to face with that smoking bastard. "She's gone! Threatening her life is pointless!" "You doubt my capabilities?" "You son of a bitch! I'm going to kill you!" My Sig is in his face before I even realize what I have done. Mr. Cool doesn't even blink as he stares down death. "Pulling that trigger within the walls of the Hoover Building? Agent Mulder, even you wouldn't be so foolish. Besides, I've come here to help you." I should just shoot him and be done with it. Refuse to take the bait that he dangles so arrogantly. "You're going to confess and turn yourself in then?" The corners of his tobacco stained lips turn up only slightly at my remark. "Bell d'Air Motel, Houston, Texas. She's paid in advance for one more night. Bring her back, or we'll have no choice but to reconcile this unfortunate situation ourselves." <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> When Scully's photo gets a noncommittal shrug from the lowlife desk clerk, I pull out my badge and ask him to take a second look. Amazingly, this time he remembers checking her into room eight. It's late now, almost midnight, but there's a light in the window of her room. For just a minute, I stand in front of the door trying to decide what I will say when I see her. She's going to be furious with me. But again, what choice did I have? I don't doubt for a moment that Old Smoky would make good on his threat. Scully and I are only pawns after all, to be strategically used and sacrificed as the game is played out. She startles me by opening the door before I can knock. "Mulder, are you just going to stand there all night?" she asks, greeting me with a shy smile as she lets me into her room. I forget everything I was going to say the moment I see her standing there, dressed only in an oversized T-shirt, looking more like a college co-ed than Doctor Scully, my FBI partner. She's so beautiful, her face scrubbed clean of makeup, her vibrant red hair pulled back in a tousled ponytail, errant wisps of auburn framing her face. Her blue eyes look up at me, and to my wonder, I see no trace of the anger I feared I might find. She falls into my arms, holding me tight. "I've missed you, G-Man." We kiss. And as my wandering hands roam over the soft cotton of her nightshirt, they slip under the fabric and my body responds instantly to the softer flesh beneath. She presses herself more purposefully against me, making her intentions blatantly clear. As our lips part, I tell her, "I love you, Scully. I know you said not to come after you, but..." She cuts me off with another kiss, this one more passionate, her tongue taking the lead in a silent and erotic conversation that ultimately leads to both of us wrestling upon the bed. Getting her naked is a simple matter of slipping that T-shirt over her head. I, on the other hand, am fully dressed right down to my damn shoes. Scully struggles to peel away layer after layer... overcoat, suit jacket, tie, shoulder holster, dress shirt, and she curses when she realizes I'm wearing an undershirt too. I reach back behind my neck and grab the tank top with one hand, easily slipping it off and flashing Scully a leer of a grin. Returning my smile, she worries her bottom lip with her teeth as her skilled fingers work the buckle at my waist. I'm as eager to get out of these clothes as she seems to be eager to get me out of them. I help her finish her task, and she both pleases and surprises me by foregoing the usual foreplay routine and offering herself for my immediate gratification. "I want you in me now, Mulder. I can't wait another second." Her demanding tone and the added stimulation of her hand on my cock sends me into overdrive. I'm so fucking hot for her right now, I couldn't drag this out even if she wanted me to. "Mulderrr," she purrs my name and positions herself on hands and knees, tempting me with a wiggle of her curvaceous little ass. Jesus! I think I could come just looking at her waiting for me like that. Never let it be said Fox Mulder kept a lady waiting though. Kneeling behind her, I use my own hand to guide my ardent manhood into its proper place. A bit of a tight fit at first, but as I ease back and forth, her body accommodates and lubricates, welcoming me home. She moans and arches her back as I push into her deeper and deeper with each successive thrust. As the rhythm increases, Scully begins rocking back into me, frantically demanding more. My hands are on her hips, pulling her into me, wanting and needing beyond what I'm able to take. She's mine and I have her and claiming her this way is perhaps a reaction to the loss I've felt all week, but I can't help myself as the sound of our bodies slamming together and Scully's animal cries reach my ears... I have to take her harder, because I can, because she's mine, because I need to be the master of something at a time when my life is dangerously beyond my control. When she looks back over her shoulder at me, peeking out from under disheveled strands of her fiery mane, those baby blues dark with passion, I see a wild creature burning with primitive desire. "Mulder..." she pants. "Don't... stop... don't ever... stop." Christ! I'm spilling into her in an explosive climax. And my cry of ecstasy is not alone. Scully claws at the sheets as her own orgasm overwhelms her. I fall over her, sinking my teeth into the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder as my body is depleted of the last of its strength. A moment later, Scully collapses beneath me and we both lay quiet and spent upon the bed. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> I am awakened from deep sleep by the horrific sound of Scully's agonized scream. My first thought is that she has cried out from a dream state, tormented by some demon that haunts her REM time musings. As I have on so many occasions before, I roll over to offer her comfort from yet another bad dream. But I'm alone in the bed. Seized with panic, my heart now pounding wildly in my chest, I sit bolt upright, searching the blackened room for my partner and the cause of her distress. And then through the darkness, I find her; and I see an assailant, the shadow of a blade in his hand, as he pulls back and drops her nude body to the floor. Oh, my God! He stabbed her! This can't be real. It must be another of my own nightmares instigated by the inexorable dread of losing that which I hold most dear to me. But even as I refuse to believe the brutal atrocity that I have just been witness to, I cannot suppress my gut reaction to strike back at Scully's attacker with vengeance and deadly force. My gun! Jesus Christ, where the hell is it? Rolling off the bed, I scramble to find my weapon in the jumble of clothes littering the floor. A frantic search produces nothing but an empty holster. Damn it! The bastard must have taken it while I was asleep. Forced to confront the intruder barehanded, I fly across the bed at the man who is slowly backing away from Scully, making his retreat towards the door and escape. I only dare a moment's glance at my partner who lies motionless on the floor, her eyes staring blankly upward, and her mouth open in a silent and eternal anguished scream. The son of a bitch killed her! In that heartbeat of time everything else fades away. I can feel the rage coursing in my veins, threatening to explode each tiny capillary as it surges through my body. Consumed with the madness of my furor, I throw myself recklessly at Scully's murderer, pinning him against the door, heedless of personal danger. As my hands close around his throat, the neon light from the motel sign outside the window catches his face and my anger goes beyond insanity. Alex Krycek. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> "I received this by courier two days ago. Along with her defiant proclamation of her refusal to be a party to the blackmail of Agent Mulder." "The chip? She removed it?" "I should have expected as much of her. You have to admire her courage, choosing death so contumaciously for the sake of her convictions." "What are you going to do now?" "It's already been done." Reading the note that accompanies the parcel, CGB dumps the tiny chip from it's vial onto the desk in front of him. Then, thoughtfully he crushes his cigarette out, destroying the fragile microprocessor as it melts beneath the glowing embers of his addiction. "Touche, Agent Scully, and farewell." To be continued... Life is too short to drink bad wine.