~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
   TITLE:    The World DID End...   
   AUTHOR: Wylfcynne   
   E-MAIL ADDRESS: Wylfcynne@wordsinrows.com   
   DISTRIBUTION: Please ask; that way I'll know where it all goes, so I can   
   visit.   
   SPOILERS: this is a post-ep for Millennium   
   RATING: NC-17   
   CLASSIFICATION: post-ep, MA, MT, MSR, LURIDfic   
   SUMMARY: hmmm... smutfic written to pacify the smut addicts at Believe the   
   Truth; my penalty for inadvertantly double- and triple-posting...  Oh, you mean   
   the story?  The World DID end...   
   DISCLAIMER: They certainly aren't mine; if they were, they'd be having more   
   fun, and I wouldn't have to save up for vacations!  Mulder, Scully, Skinner and   
   the rest belong to FOX Networks and 1013; I'm just borrowing them for a   
   little fun and games.  I promise I'll bring them back on time and unharmed and   
   they   
   won't remember a thing.   
   FEEDBACK: The Wylf howls at the moon for feedback.   
   DEDICATION: Overall, all my X Files work is dedicated to my writing partner,   
   Ravenwald, without whom I would still be doing all this using a ballpoint pen,   
   who introduced me to fandom on the ‘Net, and awakened the Muse, who had been   
   sleeping for a VERY long time.  This piece is for the Good Friends at Believe   
   the Truth, who never let me get away with ANYthing.  :)   
      
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
      
      
      
   The World DID End...  By Wylfcynne   
      
      
   (In the basement of the Necromancer, just before midnight, December 31, 1999)   
      
   *click*   
      
   *click*   
      
   *click*   
      
   Crouched protectively over the supine form of Frank Black, Mulder heard the   
   hammer of the big revolver snap down fruitlessly on another empty chamber, and   
   felt a wave of utter terror sweep over him.   
      
   If he and Frank lost, and the fanatical Necromancer upstairs won, then this   
   would be the End of the World.  As melodramatic as that sounded, he was sure   
   that it was the truth.   
      
   (*Dammit, Scully, if the world is going to end, I wanted to be with you...!*)   
      
   The zombie snarled again and lurched toward them, and Mulder prepared to sell   
   himself dearly.   
      
   *BLAM*   
      
   *BLAM*   
      
   *BLAM*   
      
   The zombie collapsed.  Stunned, for a moment he could only stare up at the   
   amazing sight of Dana Scully standing at the top of the stairs, her SIG Sauer   
   held professionally in both hands.  Backed by the light from the kitchen, her   
   hair was a flame-colored halo, and for a moment Mulder thought wildly that she   
   might actually be an angel, after all...   
      
   (*If the Archangel Michael has a sister, that's what she looks like!*)   
      
   He glanced down at Frank Black then, and their eyes met in a moment of   
   perfect concord.   
      
   "It's over," Frank said softly, his usually low voice hushed with awe.  "It's   
   really over..."   
      
   Hours of pain, fear and bloodloss caught up with Mulder quite suddenly, and   
   he went to his knees hard, cradling his torn arm against his body, fighting not   
   to drop the revolver.   
      
   "Mulder!"  Scully dashed down the stairs, holstering her weapon as she came.   
      
   Frank caught Mulder and kept him from collapsing completely.  He sat up,   
   himself, and took the revolver from the other agent's weakening grasp.   
      
   "I'm all right.  I'm all right..."  Mulder insisted.   
      
   "You obviously aren't all right, Agent Mulder," Frank's voice rumbled.  "He's   
   lost a lot of blood," he added, turning to glance at Scully as she dropped to   
   her knees beside them and reached for her partner.   
      
   "I see that," Scully's practiced eye was judging the size of the blood stain   
   on Mulder's shirt, the fine tremor that she could feel rather than see as her   
   hands found his throat to judge his pulse.  It was racing, but then, so was   
   hers.  "Mulder?  Are you cold?"   
      
   He chuckled and pushed far enough away from Black's hold to grin at her.  "Am   
   I in shock?" he interpreted her question.  "Probably.  Aren't you?  We WON!   
   We saved the world!"   
      
   Any other conversation seemed foolish in the face of that statement.  Black   
   and Scully helped Mulder stand, and Frank helped him up the stairs.   
      
   Once they were safely above ground, Frank locked the basement behind them,   
   and went to check on his prisoner.   
      
   Scully guided Mulder to a kitchen chair, where he sat down heavily and leaned   
   on the table with his good arm.   
      
   "Mulder?  How long were you down there?"   
      
   Now he was visibly shivering.  "I don't know.  Too long.  I killed the first   
   one, but the second one ripped my arm up and I lost my SIG.  I couldn't find   
   it in the dark, so all I could do was make a circle of salt and hope it worked.   
    I didn't know the spells, so I had to hope that the salt alone was enough.   
   I guess it was."   
      
   "Salt?" she asked, carefully peeling his shredded jacket off him.  She could   
   see that the bleeding had essentially stopped, except for an   
   almost-insignificant trickle.   
      
   "There was an empty fifty-pound bag of salt in the trash outside the gate.   
   There was a handful left so I pocketed it."   
      
   "It saved your life," Black said as he joined them.   
      
   Mulder nodded.  "I guess."  He flinched when Scully started peeling away his   
   shirt.  She found his tie looped around his upper arm in a fair attempt at a   
   tourniquet.   
      
   "Nice job, Mulder.  You must have been listening during one of your first aid   
   refreshers."   
      
   Scully turned to Black.  "My Gladstone is out in my car; would you get it for   
   me, please?"  She dug her keys out of her pocket and handed them to him.  "In   
   the trunk."   
      
   "Certainly."   
      
   "Thanks."   
      
   Unwilling to go any farther in treating her partner's injuries without her   
   supplies, Scully looked around the room.  She saw a telephone mounted on the   
   wall nearby.   
      
   "Oh, good!"   
      
   Mulder lifted his head off the table and watched her listen for a tone then   
   dial a familiar number on the old-fashioned circular dial.  Talking took a lot   
   of effort and he made no attempt to speak, conserving strength that seemed to   
   be draining away.   
      
   "AD Skinner?  I found Mulder and Frank Black.  The situation has been   
   resolved.  We have a prisoner: the Necromancer.  Mulder's hurt."  She listened   
   briefly.   
      
   "No, sir.  Mr Black and I are uninjured.  One of the... one of the deceased   
   agents tore Mulder's  arm up pretty badly."  There was another pause, and she   
   threw her partner a sly grin.   
      
   "Yes, sir.  But I believe we can recover the weapon easily; he lost it when   
   he was attacked in the Necromancer's basement.  The weapon's still there.  We   
   just haven't found it yet.  It's dark down there; I'd rather wait for   
   daylight."  There was another pause as she listened to her supervisor.   
      
   Mulder felt a surge of irritation; he hated being harassed for losing his   
   weapon.  He did not drop or otherwise lose his weapon any more than any other   
   field agent, but both Scully and Skinner were constantly on his case about it.   
      
   "No, sir.  I don't believe air evacuation is necessary; I can patch him up   
   well enough for him to survive the trip to the nearest hospital by car."  There   
   followed a series of questions that she answered briefly in the affirmative.   
   Then the conversation was plainly over; Scully's body language changed with   
   her tone.  "Thank you, sir.  Happy New Year to you, too, sir.  From both of   
   us."   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)