INTO THE DARKNESS   
   by Laura Castellano   
      
   Wow.  I never thought I'd be posting another X-Files story.   
   What can I say?   
      
   I'd like to be able to thank Mary, my usual beta reader, for   
   her excellent commentary on this story, but instead I must offer   
   her my apologies.  Mary, I would have loved to have you beta, but   
   I know how you love a happy ending, and I just couldn't bring   
   myself to inflict this one on you.   
      
   RATING: If you can handle "hell," "damn" and angst, you should   
   be ok.   
      
   *NO ARCHIVE* to Ephemeral and Gossamer.  Already sent.   
      
   ARCHIVE: Yes   
      
   DISCLAIMER: Not mine, never were, never will be.   
      
   SUMMARY: Light or dark.  Life or death.  Good or evil.  All   
   of life is made up of choices, and we have to live with   
   every choice we make.  Mulder knew, when he picked up the   
   gun that morning, he was facing his destiny.   
      
   KEYWORDS: Angst.  More angst.  Still more angst.   
      
   TIMELINE: Now read this, because this is important.  This   
   story begins with the events of Anasazi, and branches off   
   into a totally different storyline.  There's a DAT tape, but   
   there's no boxcar, no fire, no Blessing Way, no murder of Melissa,   
   etc.  I hope you enjoy it.   
      
   WARNING! THIS IS NOT A HAPPY, FLUFFY STORY!  Neither Mulder   
   nor Scully dies, but this piece is not MSR.   
      
      
      
      
   "Fox?  I need you to come here.  Now.  Tonight."   
      
   Mulder fingered the sharp outline of the DAT tape inside the   
   pocket of his leather jacket.  He'd barely returned to his   
   apartment before the sound of the ringing phone had startled   
   him.   
      
   "This really isn't a good time, Dad.  I'm in the middle--"   
      
   "*Now*, Fox."  The senior Mulder's voice was colored with   
   urgency and something else--fear?  Mulder wasn't certain of   
   that, but he was absolutely sure he'd never heard his father   
   sound this way before.  The realization spurred him to   
   action.   
      
   "I'll be there as soon as I can."  Mulder put down the phone   
   without saying goodbye, and stared at it for a long moment.   
   He knew he was followed on a regular basis, but he'd been so   
   careful tonight.  Was it really possible that they already   
   knew he had the tape?  If that was the case, then The   
   Thinker was a dead man.  If not already, very soon now, and   
   Mulder had no way of warning him.   
      
   Cursing under his breath, Mulder hurried to his car.  He   
   wondered, briefly, if he should call Scully, but decided   
   this wasn't the best time to bring her into it.  If his   
   suspicions were correct, he just might be walking directly   
   into a trap.  He didn't believe his father would willingly   
   put him in danger, but they could be using him, as well.   
   Anything was possible with these people.  The last thing   
   Mulder wanted was to have Scully taken away again.  The   
   thought of her so near death still made him break down   
   inside, although so far he'd managed to keep that secret   
   carefully to himself.  The gulf of emptiness he had   
   experienced at almost losing her had shocked him. Up until   
   that time, he knew he cared for her; he had not known he was   
   in love with her.   
      
   The drive to West Tisbury should have taken him around seven   
   hours, but Mulder made it in just over five.  He hopped the   
   ferry to the Vinyard, then had to cool his heels for another   
   interminable hour.  By the time he reached the Vinyard, dawn   
   had already broken.  The air was chill, and Mulder inhaled   
   the aromas of his childhood.  Fish, salt, excitement.  This   
   was the Vinyard Mulder tried to remember. This was the way   
   it had been, up until the time Sam had disappeared.  The   
   times after that...well, he didn't care to reflect on them   
   too deeply.   
      
   He didn't even have time to knock before his father opened   
   the door and ushered him quickly into the house, glancing   
   around the street before closing the door behind them.   
      
   "Do you still have it?" he demanded without preamble.   
      
   "Have what?"   
      
   Bill Mulder sighed, and grasped his son by both arms.  "Fox,   
   if you still have the tape, tell me now.  Everything depends   
   upon it."   
      
   Mulder intended to lie, but the truth spilled out as soon as   
   he opened his mouth, and his father seemed pleased to hear   
   it.   
      
   "I have it."   
      
   His father's lips twisted into what could have been a wicked   
   smile. "Good.  Hold onto it.  When you reach your   
   destination, put it somewhere safe, somewhere it can never   
   be discovered.  It could save your life one day, if they ever   
   find you."   
      
   Mulder frowned, shaking his head slightly.  "Dad, what are   
   you talking about?  I'm not going anywhere.  Don't you   
   understand?  I finally have the proof I need to bring them   
   down!  I'm not going to run away, like some--"   
      
   "Yes, you are!"   
      
   The ferocity in his father's voice took Mulder aback.   
      
   "I don't know what you're talking about."   
      
   "What you don't know is who you're dealing with.  What   
   they're capable of. Oh, you think you know," he forestalled,   
   seeing Mulder about to speak.  "You think you've seen the   
   worst they can do.  Let me tell you, son, you haven't even   
   scratched the surface of their capabilities!"   
      
   Mulder snorted.  "What can they do?  Kill me?"   
      
   "Not just you."   
      
   That gave Mulder pause.  "Scully?"   
      
   "They control her now, Fox."   
      
   "No!" Mulder denied angrily.  "No one controls her.  Scully   
   would never betray me!"   
      
   "I don't mean of her own free will.  I mean," he said,   
   leaning in closer for emphasis, "they can *control* her.  They   
   can do to her anything they want. You've gone too far this   
   time."   
      
   Mulder searched his father's eyes, still confused, and the   
   elder man sighed. He released his son and slumped wearily to   
   the sofa.  "I used to be a powerful man in this organization.   
   There was a time when my word was law.  Then, someone else managed   
   to edge me out.  He took control, and from that moment on, we were   
   doomed."   
      
   "We?"   
      
   He was ignored.   
      
   "When they took your partner, they did things to her.   
   Horrible things.  Things you can't begin to imagine.  I   
   haven't time to go into detail.  The only thing you need to   
   know is that they control her.  Whether she stays lucid or   
   sane, healthy or ill, whether she lives or dies, is all in   
   your hands now.  She'll be protected, but only if they think   
   she can't possibly be a threat to them.  Even after you're   
   gone, they'll be watching her.  You can never contact her.   
   You can never come back, Fox.  Ever."   
      
   Leaving Scully forever.  Such a thought had never occurred   
   to him, even in his worst moments.  He felt the tape inside   
   his pocket once more, felt the promise its smooth plastic   
   casing held, and knew he'd give it all up just to go back to   
   yesterday.   
      
   "Here," he said, pulling it from his pocket and holding it   
   out.  "They can have it.  Give it back to them.  Call it an   
   even trade--Scully's safety for their damn tape."   
      
   His father suddenly looked sad, and very, very old.  "I'm   
   afraid it doesn't work that way."   
      
   "Well why not?  They want their tape back, they can have it.   
   I haven't had a chance to even find out what's on it yet.   
   I'll just...have to find the truth another way."   
      
   "It's too late, Fox.  You can't just cry 'no harm, no foul'   
   at this point." He fixed Mulder with a steady, pointed   
   stare.  "They have to believe you're dead."   
      
   "Dead!"   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)