Date sent:        Thu, 25 Sep 1997 17:33:26 -0400 (EDT)
From:             TofuGirl7@aol.com
Subject:          Don't Give Up Yet 1/1 Cara Pamell


TITLE: Don't give up yet 
AUTHOR: Cara Pamell
E-MAIL ADDRESS: TofuGirl 7@aol.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: everywhere!
SPOILER WARNING: Gethsemene, minor reference to
Small Potatoes
RATING: G 
CONTENT WARNING: 0 violence
CLASSIFICATION: S
SUMMARY: This is my resolution to the episode
Gethsemene and I challenged myself to write it as Scully is
not helping Mulder with the whole thing. 

DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, and the gang belong to
Chris Carter, 1013, Fox, and whoever else. I'm not making
any money off this, so suing me would be pretty pointless. 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I want to sat thanks to Euphrosyne
for beta reading, Abby for telling me to build a story
around the journal (she also got me into fanfic), and to
everyone else who helped and encouraged me. This is my
very first fanfic, it's taken me this long to get the nerve to
post it. By the way, I'm sorry about any little holes in the
story. I started watching The X-Files in the fourth season
and still have some catching up to do...

FEEDBACK: I desperately need feedback! Did you like it?
Hate it? Want to flame me? I just need *some* feedback. 

ARCHIVE: Please archive anywhere as long as my name
and e-mail address are on it.




Special Agent Dana Scully walks out of the FBI conference
room, wondering if what she did was right. She has been so
confused lately, with her cancer and now Mulder's death.
Did she just destroy his life's work?

 In her car, she finds herself driving to Mulder's apartment.
The police just took his body, there was no crime scene to
be investigated. Suicide. How could he just leave her? She
shook these thoughts from her mind as she unlocked his
door with a key he had given her. 

She sits upon his bed, she has too many confusing thoughts
on her mind and this was the perfect place to clear them.
She was gazing into the air when a small composition
notebook caught her eye. She bent over to see what she had
found. The notebook was old and weathered, the
pages were yellow.

She flips to a page that had been folded in. Almost half the
book was entries from test subjects. She begins to read the
folded page.

Day 1- I don't know where I am. The people here want me
to write a journal to mark what is happening to me. I want
to write in here for Fox. I don't like staying here, it's cold
and the people try to be nice, but they scare me. I don't
recognize anyone here, except for one man. I can't think of
where I know him from. I'm tired and confused, and I want
to go to sleep.

Day 2- The people started the tests on me today. The
people put shots in me, poked me, and they weighed me
like in a doctor's office. That man was there watching it all.
I can't remember where I know him from. I'm still in my
pajamas from the night before I came here. I don't
remember what happened, I was just playing with Fox and
now I'm here. I want to go home.

Day 3- I don't know if I'm the only one here, I haven't seen
anyone besides the people and that man. I think he was a
friend of my parents. My memories are getting fuzzy. The
tests today were terrible. They gave me a shot that put me
to sleep, then they put something in my arm. It's a circle
thing that makes the skin around it all pink and tight. It
itches a lot. I wonder how Fox is, I hope he isn't mad at me
for going away. 

Day 4-They let me rest today in my tiny room, only they
injected something into me to make me remember stuff. I
guess it worked because I can remember about that man.
He was friends with my parents, only they fought a lot
when he was around. He always smoked, Fox and I would
choke at the smell and pretend to die. I miss him. I miss my
mom and dad, my house, my friends. I want to cry, but I
can't.

Day 5- I think I'm catching a flu. My nose is all stuffy and
my head feels like it's going to explode. I found out that
there are other kids here, I overheard one of the people
talking. They said that the other subjects (I think that
means other kids) were having the same side effects.
Everyday I can remember more and more. I want to
remember. I remember a few days before I came here, we
were at the summer cottage. The man was there, and my
parents were fighting like they never had before. My mom
was crying. I'm tired and my head hurts from all this
remembering.

Day 6- My cold got worse. I puked three times last night. I
guess the people felt bad for me because they sent in a
really nice lady. She explained to me that I was being sick
so that other people could be healed of their sickness.
I asked her when I could leave. She seemed sad and said
that I would leave soon. She left my room after that. The
man who I knew from the beginning came in after the lady
left. I didn't want to talk to him, I think he's bad. He told me
that my family is OK. I don't know if I can trust him. He
kept on staring at the egg-shaped thing in my arm. When I
asked him when I could leave, he looked at me for a while.
I think I heard him whisper my mom's name. He left too,
and he never told me when I could go home.

Day 7- I feel like I'm dying. The people took blood from
me and stuck a Q-tip in the side of my mouth. I was going
to gag. One of the people came in and asked for my
journal. I lied and said I lost it. I don't think they should
see it. I can remember the day before I came here. The man
came over when my dad wasn't here. He and my mom
argued, Fox and I saw it from the stairs. She said my name,
and the man looked up at me. Fox and I ran into our rooms.
I was scared in the night and I came into his room to sleep
on the floor by his bed. I'm so tired.

Day 8- This is my last day here. I'm leaving tomorrow,
that's what the man said. He came into my room and told
me that my family missed me, and that I could go home. I
was so happy I almost forgot how sick I was. When I get
home, I'm going to hug my mom and dad, then see all my
friends, and I'm going to play Stratego with Fox. I'm
remembering something now. The night I came here, Fox
was baby-sitting me. Mom and Dad were out, and Fox was
watching television. I wanted to play Stratego with him.
The there was a light so bright I thought it blinded me. I
saw Fox from far away, holding my dad's gun. He look so
scared. I want to go home. I know that Fox will find me
here and rescue me. He'll take me away from here and I'll
never have to take another test again. I want to go home .

Day 9- We're leaving, some of the people and me, to go
back home. I only have an hour until we leave. I'm going to
put this journal in the back of my nightgown, where they
won't see it. We're leaving now, I've never been so happy,
even though I'm still sick. I think I might be getting better,
either
that or I'm to happy to notice how sick I am. The thing in
my arm is still there. It doesn't itch anymore, it just feels
weird and looks funny. Fox will probably make fun of it.
We're leaving now and I don't want this to be taken away.


She thumbs through the rest of the journal. It is filled with
other classified abduction material. All the tests, all the
abductions, all written down in this book. There were
signatures in the back. She flips through once more to
see if she has missed anything. A piece of paper flutters to
the ground.


Scully, I knew you wouldn't believe the lie. Meet me in the
FBI parking lot on Saturday at 11p.m. Come there no
matter what happens.  

Now she doesn't know what to think. She came her to
relieve her mind and now she is even more confused.
Should she go?


Scully drives into the parking lot, but stays in her car. She
doesn't know why she has come, Mulder won't be here no
matter how much she wants him to be. She needs
him, not only as a partner, but as a friend. Her cancer is
worse. Things are harder, the pains and nosebleeds come
more often. Now she truly is alone. At 11:05, she drives
home.  

She finds the door to her apartment unlocked, her hand is
holding her gun as she slowly opens he door. She walks in
to find Cancer Man standing by her kitchen table.

 "Hello, Ms. Scully." He seemed amused at her
bewilderment.

"What are you doing here in my house?" She demanded. 


"I believe we're both searching for the same thing, Ms.
Scully. We both know that  Mr. Mulder is alive." He
replied in a calm voice.
 	

 	Scale's heart fluttered when she heard his words.
But how could Mulder possibly  be alive? She had been the
one to identify him, she had seen the single  bullet wound
in  his head. How could he be alive?
 	
 "I don't know what you're talking about. Mulder committed
suicide last night.  He was  dead. I was the one to identify
him at his apartment." Even though she said these words,
 she didn't want to believe them. Her mind raced at the
mere thought of him  being alive.

 "Is that the full truth Ms. Scully? We both know Mr.
Mulder fairly well. What would he do after finding what
seemed to be an authentic alien?  What would he do if that
was taken away? Then, Ms. Scully, what would Mr. Mulder
do after being told his whole life was an illusion set up by
our government? Suicide seems reasonable for anyone, but
we both know Mr. Mulder better than that. The only thing
I'm now wondering is where he is. And I think you have the
one clue I need." The man's eyes were cunning, and he
knew more than what he was telling. 

 	"I'll ask you again, how could he be alive? He was
dead when I saw him. No matter what we know of Mulder,
he was dead. I don't know what you need to find him, but I
don't have it." As soon as Scully had said those words, she
 remembered the journal in the pocket of her jacket. If he
was the man  mentioned, Mulder would've confronted him.
"What did Mulder tell you before he died?"
 	
 The man smiled and replied, "I see you are beginning to
figure things out.  Now will you tell me Mulder's
whereabouts?"
 	
 Scully knew she couldn't trust him. "How could he be
alive?"
 
 The man looked scornfully upon her. "Surely in the
medical field you've heard  of  belladonna?"
 	
 "But that herb takes such careful incisions, there are side
effects, and it  would probably kill him even if he did take
it. All that does is slow  breathing and heartbeat, how
would he fake a gunshot wound? "  Scully wanted
 to believe, but the facts were too hard to overcome. 
 	
 "You're right in that, Ms. Scully. But, you and I both know
Mulder. He would  risk  the side effects, even death, for
what he wanted."
 	
 This time it was he who had slipped. "What did he want?
"Scully asked. She  realized that she starting to assume that
Mulder was alive. 
 	
 "Our friend Mulder wanted three things his whole life.
Samantha, proof of  aliens, and  your cure. He believed that
in faking his death, he could gain those three
 things."
 	
 "How would he find my cure?" She asked him, not eagerly,
but coldly. 
 	
 "I know many things, Ms. Scully. Maybe we could work
something out. I need that journal and we know what you
need. So if you would please give me the  journal..."  He
had found her weakness, and he intended on using it.
 	
 She looked straight into his eyes. "Leave. Now." The man
half-smiled and  left. 
 
 Scully sat down in her bedroom, her hand lifted to her
nose. She went into  the bathroom to wipe the blood away.
Is Mulder alive? Belladonna is so risky, and the bullet
wound... 
 
 The scene flashed in front of her. She had entered his
room, the policeman lifted the  sheet. She had only looked
for a split second. The pain had been to much for her. The
blood covered everything, she had noticed that. 
 	
 She looked up to the ceiling, as if up to God. She sighed.
After closing the X-Files, there wasn't much work she had
to do. They would let her on medical leave because of her
cancer. Now all she had to do was find Mulder. 
 
 	The next morning she made her calls to FBI, then
fixed a pot of coffee. She had nothing left to do besides be
with her family, that was painful enough. She did love
them, they just couldn't understand her. Bill had proven
that. She could devote all her time to searching for Mulder,
even though that seemed insane; spending her final days
searching for a dead man! She just couldn't help herself.
Then, something deep down inside, told her the real reason
she was searching. It wasn't about her cure, the X-Files, or
boredom. She needed Mulder. Holding back the thought,
she stood up and went to change out of her robe. 

 	
 If she was going to do this, she would do it logically. She
went to the morgue and requested to see Agent Mulder's
body. She knew that with a flash of her FBI badge there
would be few questions asked.	

 "I'm sorry Agent Scully, Fox Mulder's body has been taken
by his mother for a  funeral. I could give you her number, if
you'd like?", the nurse said politely.  

 	
 "No, that's all right. Thank you." Scully turned and left. In
her car, her  mind  couldn't help but wander, as it had these
past few days. Perhaps his mother  is in on this, and 
requesting a body for a funeral would've seemed perfectly
 natural. She sighed. It *was*  perfectly natural, that was
the problem. There  would be a funeral, and Mulder would
be buried, because he just couldn't be alive. All she had
was the journal. Cancer Man had seemed to think that it
 contained the "clue" needed to find Mulder.
 	
 She stepped out of her car in unlocked her door into her
house. For the second time in two days she had an
unexpected visitor. 
 	
 "Mulder!", she cried out, unable to believe her eyes. There
he was, sitting  on her couch, the journal in his hands.
"What are you doing here? Alive? "  She asked in
amazement.
 	
 "Sit down and I'll tell you all about it.", she sat down
beside him as he  explained. "As I was sitting at home that
night, watching an old video, I  started to think about what
I could do. For you. For Samantha. For myself. I went to a
place that they had belladonna. I knew the side effects, but
I didn't care. I put the blood all over my head. I put in the
belladonna. I had a suicide note all written out, saying how
depressed I was. When the police came, they saw the note,
the weapon, the blood, they were gone. I didn't think you
would believe it so quickly, I thought you would do an
autopsy or something. Just in case, I wrote you a note in the
journal, which you found. In the morgue," he laughed, " I
did the old Leonard thing, sure did scare a nurse!" He
looked at her, smiling.
 	
 That's what she had missed. His humor through everything.
She looked at him and tears overflowed in her eyes. It was
just too much. He put a hand on her shoulder and looked
into her eyes. "What's wrong?" She shook her head and
 dried her eyes. 

"What now?" She asked. She had destroyed the X-Files,
what was left for them?
 	
 "I haven't told you the best part. I went to Cancer Man, the
night before I "died". I told him about the journal, and he
agreed to trade with me. I gave him a fake journal, he gave
me your cure." He took out a needle filled with a reddish
 liquid.
 	
 "But Mulder, what if it isn't a cure? Or worse, what if it's
tainted with something worse. I can't risk that." Scully was
back into her skepticism.
 	
 "It's worth a shot, isn't it? What do you have to lose?" His
eyes shone as he spoke. "And imagine if it did work?"
Looking at him, she couldn't say no.
 
 They talked and laughed over a Chinese dinner, discussing
Skinner and most past cases. They did not, however,
mention Eddie VanBlundht. After dinner, Mulder took his
place on the couch and Scully went into her bedroom. She
walked into the bathroom and took out the needle. She
looked into the mirror and injected it's contents into her
arm.
	
 The next morning, Mulder woke up and made a breakfast
for the two of them. After a while, he opened the door to
her bedroom. Scully had woken up early the previous
 morning, why was she sleeping in today? He saw her
sprawled onto the  made bed, wearing the same clothes she
had on the night before. He rushed over to her and checked
her pulse. It was weak, but there. He picked her up and
carried her out to her car. He couldn't take her to the
hospital, what if they asked what she had taken?
 	
 He drove out to the summer home his parents had owned.
He drove into the gravel driveway that was covered in
weeds. He carried her into the house and laid her onto a
 couch covered by a white sheet. He brought her a glass of
water, checked her pulse again, and sat down to wait. What
else could he do? There was nothing to do, nothing but
wait.
 
 He took the journal out of the jacket he had grabbed on his
way out. He still couldn't believe how the Lone Gunmen
had found it. 
 	
 Scully stirred and he gave her some water. She went to
sleep. Eventually so did Mulder, on the floor beside the
couch.	
 
 In the middle of the night, Scully sat up and blinked. She
didn't know where she was. She could vaguely remember
Mulder carrying her to the car, nothing else was clear.
Where was he? 
 
 She looked down and saw him sleeping peacefully. He
rolled over and saw her sitting up looking at him. 
 	
 "How are you?" He sat up also, almost eye-level with her.
"I thought that ..." and he left it at that as he didn't really
want to remember what he *had*  thought. 
 	
 "I don't know if it cured me, but I feel so energized. And
there's no pain." her hand went up to her nose. For the first
time in weeks she found no blood. Suddenly, a thought
came into her head. "Mulder, what if I am cured? Where do
 we go from here? You can't be seen anywhere around here.
What happens now?" she looked at him questioningly.	
 
 "I don't know. But maybe, maybe this is enough." When he
looked back up at her, and it *was*  enough. More was
communicated between them then, in a moment of silence,
than had ever been  said in four years of working together
 hand in hand.
 
Thank you for reading! Please send me feedback!! I'm
begging.