The Reek of Purity (1-9 of ?)

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Disclaimer: The X-files belong to Chris Carter
and 1013 Productions, not me. I'm only
borrowing the characters for now. I'll put them
back when I'm done.

Keywords: Muldertorture, Mulderangst, Scullyangst,
Character death (*but trust me on this one*)

Summary: Mulder didn't feel the first gunshot but he
felt the second one. A sharp, breathless agony took
him in the chest and he found himself gasping on the
pavement. Overhead he heard the explosions of
gunfire, then saw a terrified Scully pulling at his
clothing....

"Conquistador, your stallion stands
In need of Company.
And like some angel's haloed brow,
You reek of purity..."

Mulder didn't feel the first gunshot but he felt the
second one. A sharp, breathless agony took him in the
chest and he found himself gasping on the pavement.
Overhead he heard the explosions of gunfire, then saw
a terrified Scully pulling at his clothing.

"Shut up, Mulder. Don't talk and don't move. Damn
it, Harrison! I said get the ambulance NOW!"

He watched her face struggle for calm as she removed
his shirt and surveyed what was left of his chest.
Then she yanked off her jacket and wadded it into a
ball, jamming it against him.

He struggled to breathe but could feel the darkness
pressing against him, his heart beating louder in his
ears. Scully was talking to him quietly.

"The paramedics are on their way, Mulder. They'll be
here soon and you'll get a nice, long government-paid
vacation, leaving me with all the paperwork as
usual.." Scully cast an anxious glance into the crowd
of milling agents. A man ducked through the crowd and
crouched down next to Scully. Harrison. Yeah, that
was Harrison. He looked anguished.

"I'm sorry, Agent Scully, but they got into a traffic
accident on the way. Some idiot ran the light and
broadsided them. Another ambulance has been dispatched
and is on the way."

Mulder wanted to laugh at the look of frustration on
Scully's face, but knew it would only upset her more.
She was still leaning against the wad of material that
had been a new wool blazer that morning. Blue, he
recalled, it used to be blue. It wasn't any more.

No time left. She knew it. He knew it. That
ambulance wasn't going to make it in time; there was
too much blood.

He tried to draw a breath, to tell her goodbye but was
surprised to find that he couldn't. The world was
fading and he could hear the noise going with it. No,
there was one sound he could hear. A woman's voice,
very loud. Calling him.

Dana Scully continued the CPR on Mulder's ruined chest
long after she knew it was useless. The paramedics
still hadn't arrived. A traffic accident. A DAMNED
traffic accident and Mulder dying. Mulder...
Scully's eyes swept through the gathered crowd of
staring faces, then back to Mulder. He was quiet and
still, in a widening pool of blood, his breath making
wet, gurgling noises.

She choked back a sob and kept working. A man's
gentle face swam into her view. He wore a clerical
collar and knelt down beside the agents.

"May I pray for him?" the minister asked hesitantly.
Scully gave him a brief smile and nodded, then went
back to her work.

The minister laid a hand on Mulder's pale forehead and
she could hear faint murmurs of sound.

Mulder floated in the darkness for an eternal moment.
It was peaceful here, relaxing. He gradually became
aware of a voice, growing louder.

<<I've tried to get you so many times in so many ways.
You know that, don't you? I haunt your dreams, fuel
your terrors and your guilts. You've slipped through
my fingers so many times now, it's become a game. But
the game is serious. The date is set and your threat
has become more immanent and I can no longer ignore
it. You cannot be allowed to discover the whole of
who and what you are.>>

The darkness was no longer soft and welcoming, but
took on an icy edge. He could feel the intensity of a
powerful regard, examining and weighing his very soul.
And finding it less than the dust on the ground.

<<It's time, Mulder. I've won and you must concede
that. You're out of the struggle, the war is over
before you ever entered the battle.>>

Mulder wanted to shrink away from that presence,
against whose enormity he felt small and
insignificant. Now he understood what an ant must
feel under a threatening boot. He searched for a
place to hide, but there was none. He began to grope
through his long memory for something, some
incantation or prayer that would hide him from this
entity.

It laughed, and the pressure of it pushed against his
soul, flowing into the empty spaces, filling his
awareness until he felt he was drowning in it.

The darkness was overwhelming and suffocating, driving
every bit of warmth and comfort away before its flood.
Mulder shivered, helpless in the blackness against it.

Scully kept working. Mulder was still, and she hadn't
heard any breath sounds from him, aside from the
exhalations of the air she forced into his lungs. The
minister was still praying, eyes closed and face
still.

She sat back on her haunches, logic slowly beginning
to awaken. She felt at Mulder's neck for a pulse and
found his skin cool to the touch, and utterly still.

She took a ragged breath and resisted the impulse to
clutch at her abdomen in grief. This wasn't the place
or the time.

She ran a bloody hand over Mulder's cooling cheek.
She'd always suspected it would end this way. He was
always going off somewhere and leaving her behind,
alone.

"Agent Scully?" An apologetic voice came from behind
her. "The paramedics are here, and so is A.D.
Skinner." She moved aside as Skinner came to a stop
next to her. He squatted down beside her and quietly
surveyed Mulder's body.

Scully gulped and began in a trembling voice. "Per
our instructions, Mulder began to negotiate with the
suspect, Aaron Sanderson. He began to gain the man's
trust. Finally, Sanderson agreed to exchange his six
hostages for just one. Mulder. But...but..."

She closed her burning eyes and wrapped her arms tight
against her chest. "Sanderson didn't want anybody
wearing any weapons or listening devices. He insisted
that Mulder make the exchange without a vest, leave
his jacket and weapon behind. We argued with him but
Mulder insisted."

She looked at Mulder's prone body, unchecked tears
rolling down her cheeks. "Mulder got ten feet before
Sanderson opened fire. He..he...Mulder took two rounds
point blank in the chest before our fire brought
Sanderson down. The hostages were already dead."

Scully found a handkerchief in front of her nose. She
took it gratefully, surprised to find that the cloth
came away bloody. Oh yes, Mulder's arterial blood had
spurted..."The paramedics were delayed.." Her voice
gave up altogether as she buried her face in the cloth
handkerchief.

"I heard," Skinner said grimly. "Dana, they want to
take Muilder's body, now. We have to leave him to
them."

The paramedic gave Scully a brief sympathetic look and
approached Mulder, then knelt beside him, checking
vitals.

Scully could have told him what the vitals would be.
She knew. He was dead. The job had finally killed him.
And now she was alone.

Scully numbly watched the paramedic kneel
beside Mulder's body and begin to check for
signs of life. Skinner had quietly draped his coat
around her shoulders and now sat with her. He
didn't try to say anything, for which she was
grateful. Platitudes would only collapsed her
fragile control in the face of her agony of loss
and anguish. One word, just one word of
sympathy and she was lost. She felt his arm
drape over her shoulders. Odd that this
undemonstrative man should know the right
gesture at such a time.

She shivered and huddled into the coat, eyes
closed and brimming. She dimly heard the
minister's soft voice repeating the Our Father, or
the Lord's Prayer as she supposed Protestants
called it. Prayer. She could pray for Mulder, for
his soul wherever it was now. Not purgatory, she
thought. Such a good and heroic man deserved
immediate welcome into heaven, and when her
turn came if Mulder wasn't there to meet her
she'd have a word or two to say to St. Peter.

Mulder huddled against the darkness, trying
frantically to hide from the clutching void that
sought him. He could feel it beginning to pull, to
twist at his being and suddenly knew that there
were worse things in eternity than death.

Just as he felt the emptiness reaching deep inside
him, it faltered. For a breath it paused and
Mulder held still lest he attract its notice again.

Reluctantly and still trailing icy fingers of
lifelessness, the entity withdrew, slowly, slowly.
Mulder trembled with relief and terror, but he
could feel a brightness taking shape at the edge
of his awareness, pushing the cold blackness
away.

The light was as warm and welcoming as the
black had been terrifying. "Mulder," a harmony
of voices spoke to him. Mulder absorbed the
impact of its presence and was overwhelmed. He
felt...loved. Accepted. Known.

"What do you mean? Am I dead? What are you?
God? An angel?" Mulder reflected that this was
probably the first time in his life that he didn't
have a single wise-crack to deflect his
nervousness. This being was so much greater
than anything he had ever imagined. He could
sense centuries of love and wisdom as well as an
intellect that sank his own mind to the level of an
insect.

"I am what I am. You must not stay here, you are
needed. Terrible things will happen if you die
now. And the Truth must be revealed to you."

"What truth? What do you mean I'm needed?
Needed for what? And what was that...that dark
thing?"

"Only you can discover these things. Take the
blinders from your eyes and see what is there, in
front of you. Act on it or you will lose yourself.
And if you are lost, so are we all. Be whole."

The glow intensified, surrounding and
permeating him. For an eternal instant Mulder
felt the weight of shame and guilt lessen and then
drop away, leaving him weightless and free of
sorrow for the first time since he was twelve. A
bolt of fierce joy stabbed through him followed
by a flood of light.

Mulder's body was awash in fire, golden flames
licking through his skin into his bones and down
his nerves. The energy coursed through him and
centered in the middle of his chest, where it
became a burning agony.

He gasped for air, then drew another breath. He
felt a deep, painful thudding in the middle of his
breast that he knew hadn't been there a moment
before. He heard a woman sobbing in anguish.
Scully? Then a voice next to him yelled aloud,
"Agent Scully! I have a pulse!"

Mulder struggled to open his eyes and looked up.
A stranger's face smiled down at him, a man
dressed in a clerical collar with clear blue eyes
and silver-blonde hair.

"Agent Mulder, praise God! Agent Scully! He's
alive!" the man said. Another man, in a
paramedic uniform began examining Mulder but
was pushed aside by a pair of small hands.

Mulder looked up into a tired pair of blue eyes.
Scully's face was blood-streaked and crossed
with tear-tracks. She bent over him, one hand
caressing his cheek and the other feeling for a
pulse. She fairly glowed with joy. "You're
alive..."

Mulder looked up in confusion. "I...think I was
dead for a while, but I'm not now. I feel fine now.
Really. Can't I get up now?"

Skinner came into view and looked down at
Mulder, then an uncharacteristic broad grin
broke across his face. He quickly stifled it.
"Agent Mulder, don't take this wrong, but you
were dead. You'd better lie still and let Agent
Scully examine you."

Scully turned as the paramedic grabbed her
shoulder. He silently pointed to Mulder's chest,
now bared of clothing and the wadded jacket.

"He was shot. Where's the wound...?" Scully
pulled the remnants of Mulder's shirt aside and
ran her hands across his smooth chest. There was
blood and grime, but not so much as a cut. "He
took two bullets. I could see into his chest
cavity...What happened?"

Scully sat, dumbfounded, and stared at Mulder's
body. She gingerly rolled him over, checking his
back carefully. "No exit wounds. Nothing. But
there's blood. The blood is still here..."

"Scully, can I get up now? I feel...really good, as
a matter of fact." Mulder sat up carefully and
looked around, his eyes focusing on the minister.

"You. You've been here the whole time, haven't
you? You did this." Mulder looked the man
over. Strange, usually he got feelings about
people but this man was unreadable.

"Yes, I was praying for you. It was too much to
hope that God could heal such a wound, but I had
faith that nothing was beyond his power."

"You healed him?" Scully leaned over Mulder's
body, still examining him for wounds, any
wound. "How can that be?"

"I am a man of God, and only his servant. But
God heals where he wills. And apparently God
willed it in this instance." The minister made a
dismissive motion. "I was only the instrument."

Mulder tried to get up but Scully pushed him
back. "Oh no, Mulder. Just ten minutes ago, you
were dead. You're going nowhere but to the
hospital for a thorough examination and that's
final!" He began to protest, then saw A.D.
Skinner frown menacingly.

Mulder wilted back against the gurney he'd just
been loaded onto. Then he saw the blonde man
starting to fade into the crowd. "Hey! Wait! I
don't even know your name!!"

The man paused and then came over to the
gurney. "My name is Charles Hayworth, pastor
of the New Enlightenment Church."

"Oh, don't thank me. God did it, for his own
reasons. But I'd like to invite you to join us for
church any time. We'll be having our regular
Sunday services tomorrow at ten a.m." Hayworth
gave Mulder a warm smile and patted him on the
arm, then walked back into the crowd.

The ambulance ride was quiet. Scully didn't talk
because she was giving Mulder the most
thorough medical checkup of his life. The
paramedic, equally puzzled, only helped her.

"From the quantity of blood on the pavement, I'd
have said that he had no chance..." the paramedic
repeated again.

"For the twentieth time, Scully, I feel great.
Don't you see? This was a miracle. A good,
old-fashioned miracle!" Mulder grinned at her
look of consternation. "Come on, Scully. You go
to church. I'm sure you were raised on stories of
miraculous healings; the acts of Jesus, the saints."

"Yes, I know the stories. I just never expected to
witness it happening in front of me..." Scully
trailed off.

"You mean you never expected to see it
happening to an unbeliever like me, huh? The
man who can believe in little green men, but is a
confirmed atheist."

"No, but you implied it. And who's to say that
God limits miracles only to Catholics or to
Christians in general?"

"Mulder," Scully paused and filled her eyes with
this man. This living man. "I can't explain why
you're alive now. You were dead, and I'd have
signed your death certificate attesting to it. But
something happened today and now you aren't
even wounded. I'm overjoyed, but worried
because I don't understand it and I don't trust
things I can't understand." She shook her head
and looked at him doubtfully. "Maybe the
whole incident was some kind of...kind of mass
hallucination. We all believed that you were
shot, but you actually weren't. When Sanderson
died the effect did as well."

Mulder just looked at her affectionately. "Scully,
I remember the pain of those wounds very
clearly. I got shot and it hurt like hell. And your
hallucination theory doesn't explain the pool of
blood I left behind or what happened to your
jacket." Mulder gestured toward the sodden,
bloodstained rag that had wound up in a corner
of the ambulance. "Besides,
something...strange...happened to me while I was
gone."

"What?" Scully moved her examination from his
chest to his skull, looking for head wounds.

"I feel different, and I met someone there.
Somebody I can't...really..describe. Not in
words, anyway. I..." Mulder stopped and
frowned. "I just don't have the words to tell
about it, but I think I met God."

1. freedom from added elements:
the absence, or degree of
absence, of anything harmful,
inferior, unwanted, or of a
different type.
2. virtue and innocence.
(From the Encarta World English Dictionary)

Skinner waited patiently until Scully had
finished conferring with Mulder's doctor. He
hadn't said more than two words to her since
she'd supervised Mulder's arrival and
admittance to the hospital. He didn't know what
had happened on that ambulance, but it was
enough to quench Scully's joyful glow and
replace it with burning worry.

He caught sight of her as she strode out into the
waiting room towards him. Her lips were pursed
and she looked angry and worried.

"He's perfectly healthy. Nothing broken, nothing
shows up on x-rays or any other kind of objective
test we can come up with. He doesn't have so
much as a hangnail." Scully shifted her weight
and glanced back toward Mulder's room with a
frown.

"Well, isn't that good news? When I arrived on
the scene you were mourning his death." Skinner
eyed his agent.

Scully looked up at him and sighed. "I'm glad
Mulder's alive, but I wish I knew how it
happened. He shouldn't be breathing now, much
less in perfect health. It's impossible."

"Mulder is in the grip of a strange euphoria; he
doesn't sound like himself. That worries me
too." Scully gnawed at a fingernail, then stopped
herself. "For as long as I've known him, Mulder
has distrusted religion in all its forms. He is, if
not an atheist, at least a fervent agnostic. The
one thing Mulder hasn't ever been able to bring
himself to believe in is a God. And he just told
me in the ambulance that he thought he'd seen
God, that he'd been healed by divine
intervention. He seems convinced of that."

"From where I'm standing, that seems to be the
most plausible explanation. Unless you have
another theory?" Skinner had never seen Scully
look this nervous. She started to speak, then
stopped. When she began again she was
choosing her words carefully.

"Sir, undoubtedly something remarkable
happened today and I can't explain it. Mulder
will be staying at the hospital tonight for
observation, hopefully to confirm that he isn't
suffering from any residual effects from his
ordeal today. Beyond that, I can't say."

Skinner was silent a moment, then realized that
she wouldn't volunteer any more information.
"All right. Just let me know when he returns to
work and keep me apprised on his condition."
Skinner picked his coat up off the couch and
slung it on. "And Scully, if you need me for
anything please feel free to call on me."

Scully watched him go, biting her lip. Skinner
didn't know about all the events that had led to
her discovering Mulder at the DOD hospital after
his 'brain surgery' at the hands of the
consortium. She'd never told Skinner about
Albert Hosteen's visits to her and his insistence
that Mulder was special, that his life had to be
preserved "for the sake of us all".

She hadn't mentioned that part to Mulder either.
He only knew that Albert had miraculously
appeared to her, wanting to help. She felt so
confused by all this, more troubled than she
could remember being for a long time.

She stopped at the nurse's station and left word
of where she'd be, then took the elevator down to
the hospital chapel. The room was deserted and
felt peaceful. Scully sat down and tried to
compose her thoughts.

She didn't know why all of this upset her so.
Mulder cheating death was a regular occurrence
and she ought to be overjoyed that he'd survived.
Well, she was happy of course. But something
just felt wrong about it.

Mulder was happy. In the ambulance he'd looked
like a man released from prison, happy, light.
The Mulder she'd known was basically a somber
man who carried his burdens by joking about
them. This Mulder...was different.

She clasped her hands together, fighting to keep
the unease from overwhelming her. And she
couldn't pinpoint just what it was that bothered
her. She simply had a feeling that Mulder was in
terrible danger, but couldn't say from what
direction.

Mulder lay back in his hospital bed. He'd turned
down the sleeping pill they'd offered. He
wanted to stay awake for a while and think
things over. That being who'd brought him back
to life had told him to look at what was in front
of him and act on it. He didn't understand why
his life might be important to others, but
evidently he was destined to find the Truth, or
some truth anyway.

It was time to get started, Mulder was convinced.
So, what was it that was staring him in the face?
Of course. Mulder grinned into the darkness.
He'd been avoiding this issue for years. At
Oxford he'd studiously avoided prayers and
chapel, and since joining the FBI Sunday
mornings were for the newspaper and strong
coffee. But it seemed that if Fox Mulder didn't
believe in God, nevertheless God certainly
believed in Fox Mulder.

Maybe some justice did exist in the world? And
maybe, just maybe, it was all going to be all right
after all.

Comforted, as he hadn't been since early
childhood, Fox Mulder closed his eyes and slept.

Scully peeked into Mulder's room before she
left. He was fast asleep, a contented smile on his
face. She felt a jolt of love for him and a fierce
protectiveness. She didn't know what danger he
was in, but she'd watch over him anyway. And
just let him try to ditch her!

Scully's sleep that night was broken by upsetting
dreams that she couldn't remember in the
morning. Unrefreshed, she decided to give up
trying to sleep and just get up. The clock said
six a.m. She'd check on Mulder. Chances were
he'd had a restful night and was still sleeping,
but she had a feeling....

The nurse at the hospital informed her that Mr.
Mulder had checked himself out at five that
morning. Oh no, all his tests had come back
normal.

Scully put the phone down, then dialed Mulder's
apartment. No answer. She tried the cellphone.
No answer.

Pounding on the door brought no response, so she
used her key. The place was dark and quiet. A
quick search found no Mulder and no evidence
that he'd even come here after the hospital. No
messages left in the usual places. It was six a.m.
on a Sunday morning. Maybe he was out
jogging?

By eight o'clock she was worried. By nine she
was frantic. And by eleven, she was debating
whether or not she ought to call Skinner and put
together a search team.

At last she'd reached the end of her rope and was
about to call Skinner when she heard a rattle at
the door. In walked Mulder, clad in the jeans
and t-shirt she'd brought to the hospital for him
to wear home.

His eyes lit up when he saw her. "Hey, Scully!
To what do I owe the pleasure on this beautiful
morning?"

Scully gaped and debated punching his lights
out. "Mulder where have you been? I was about
to call Skinner and start a search for you!" Then
she saw the small stack of pamphlets in his hand.

Mulder gave her a rueful grin and put them down
on the coffee table. "I went for a walk, then I
went to church. I had a lot of thinking to do."

Scully blinked and picked up the top pamphlet.
The title read 'The Universe is a Friendly Place
if You're Friendly First.'

"You want some coffee?" Without waiting for an
answer, Mulder went into the kitchen and she
heard the sound of water running. She opened
the pamphlet and began to read.

Mulder soon returned with two mugs of coffee to
find Scully on the couch, busily studying the
pamphlets. "So, what do you think?" he asked as
he set down her coffee.

"You hate it," Mulder said bluntly. "I expected
you to. This church's theology doesn't follow
the classic lines of the Judeo-Christian ethic."

"You could say that," Scully said
non-commitally. "Mulder, the sentiments
expressed here are...uh...admirable but they're
gross simplifications. The universe is a friendly
place? Not when there are hosts of mutants out
there waiting to kill you!"

"Come on, Scully. You have to admit that for
most people it is a friendly place, or at least it
could be if we all lightened up."

Scully put the pamphlet down. "I'm hearing this
from Fox 'I-scan-my-apartment-twice-a-week-
for-listening-devices' Mulder? This is all
'feel-good' drivel, without one ounce of genuine
theology in it. There's no belief system here, just
a bunch of California psychobabble!"

Mulder took a sip of his coffee. "Scully, I didn't
expect you to accept this. You come from your
own background and feel comfortable with faith
rituals that leave me cold. Can't you just accept
that I finally have found a niche where I feel
comfortable?"

"I did. I met some wonderful people and
felt..touched...by spirituality in a way I have
never experienced. Something changed in me
yesterday, Scully."

"I've been wanting to ask you more about that,"
she said carefully, watching Mulder closely.
"What exactly did happen?"

Mulder described the entire near-death
experience, including the cold, attacking
darkness and his rescue by the being of light.

Scully peered into her coffee mug. "If I didn't
know better, I'd say that you didn't just meet
God. You met Satan too."

"I met something and Someone. I don't know
what that darkness was and the whole encounter
is pretty blurry in my mind. Then the being of
light came and drove it away, then healed me.
As a result I feel as though years of pain and
anger have been erased somehow. I feel new. I
feel whole." Mulder's grin faded as he caught
sight of Scully's face. "C'mon, Scully. Stop
worrying. This is a good thing! You're the one
who's been trying to get me to accept a spiritual
dimension to the universe. I am. I have, finally."

She gave him a reluctant smile. "I'm glad you
feel that strongly about it. My faith has
supported me through a lot and I'm happy for you
if you can find that comfort too."

Mulder looked at her shyly. "If you'd like to go
to the services with me next week, I'd be happy
to take you."

Scully very much did not want to attend services
at this church. But she could see the eagerness in
his face and the longing for acceptance there.
She nodded slowly. "All right. I'll be here at
9:30 on Sunday and we can go together. But
aside from that, how are you feeling?"

"The doctor checked me out. I'm fine. No bullet
holes or wounds. I'm not even suffering from the
effects of blood loss, although I did lose a
perfectly good suit. No, really, I'm fine.
Scu-leee..." He whimpered as she pushed him
back onto the couch and began timing his pulse.
He grudgingly allowed her to take his
temperature and reassure herself that he still had
no holes in his body. Finally she sat back with a
sigh.

"Okay, I'm satisfied. I'm still very puzzled, but
happy to see that you haven't picked up any
bullet-holes since I saw you last. I'm starting to
wonder if we shouldn't recommend you as a
candidate for sainthood.." She smiled.

Mulder grimaced. "No thanks. All those saints
were celebate, weren't they? Nope. Not for me.
So, how would you like to go to brunch? My
treat."

Spending the day with Mulder had allayed most
of Scully's reservations about his new
spirituality, but she still woke unrefreshed after a
troubled sleep. She had a vague feeling that
Mulder had featured in the dreams she couldn't
recall.

She broke a nail and ran her nylons at the same time
When she stopped for gas on the way to work, she
mused that this was not going to be a good day. She
pulled the pump from the gas tank and was fastening on
the cover when she saw a movement out of the corner of
her eye.

Looking up she stared into the anxious eyes of Albert
Hosteen. He stood, not ten feet away, looking at her
with an expression of worry.

"Albert?" she said and walked toward him as he faded
out. "Albert! Are you here?" She looked around but
he
was gone.

Troubled, she paid for the gas and got back into the
car. Why would she see Albert Hosteen?
Why now? Perhaps a figment of her imagination. Yes,
that was it. She was worried about
Mulder and this was her mind's way of communicating
it. She wished she could believe that.

Scully arrived at the office breathless and
worried. Planning to discuss her vision
with Mulder, she was startled to find the
office empty. A call to Skinner's office
confirmed that Mulder had decided to take
the week off.

"After what happened to him the other
day, it seemed like a reasonable request,"
Skinner said. "Is there something wrong?"

"No. No, nothing wrong. He just didn't
discuss it with me, that's all. No, I'm fine.
Worried? No, he can use a rest. It's time
he took a vacation." Scully set down the
office phone and stared at it for a moment.
No, she wouldn't telephone Mulder. But
why hadn't he told her that he was
planning to take some time off? Why
hadn't he said?

She shifted restlessly in her chair for a bit
more, then grabbed the phone again and
dialed Mulder's number. She got the
answering machine. A call to his cellphone
drew voicemail.

"Not again. Dammit Mulder, don't tell me
you've ditched me!" she muttered, then
decided to check her e-mail. At the top of
the queue was a note from Mulder.

Since the Sanderson case is closed we have
some lag time. Reverend Hayworth has
invited me to a weeklong retreat and I've
decided to take him up on it. Skinner has
cleared the time off, so I'll see you in a
week!

Scully stared at the screen, feeling her
fingernails dig into the palm of her hand.
Mulder was fine. He hadn't ditched her at
all; he was just at some nice church camp,
doing nice churchy things.

Albert Hosteen's face swam in front of her,
the look of worry in his eyes. She blinked,
and he disappeared.

"I don't understand why you're so
worried," Frohike commented as he
booted up the computer in the dim little
lair the Gunmen called home. "From the
sound of it, the Rev saved Mulder's life."

"Yes, Reverend Hayworth is very widely
respected throughout the D.C. area,"
Byers added. "His church's drug abuse
program is considered a model of its kind."

"I just have a feeling. A very strong
feeling that something is wrong. I want...I
*need* to know where he is." Scully
struggled to put her forebodings into
words, but couldn't. It just didn't make
sense. All she had was a vague feeling and
a vision that nobody had seen but her. Still,
although doubtful, the Gunmen were trying
to help.

"Here it is," said Langly. "The New
Enlightenment Church. Wow, what a bank
account!" The others clustered around the
monitor. "The Reverend certainly isn't
hurting for funds; look at that real estate!
He must own half of Virginia. Okay, there
it is, the New Enlightenment Retreat
Center. That's probably where they are."
Langly hit a few keys. "Looks like it's a
farm in rural Virginia. Here's the
address..." He jotted it down on a piece of
paper and handed it to Scully.

She read it over and rushed out the door,
leaving the Gunmen gaping in surprise.

The "farm in rural Virginia" was a modern
building complex, surrounded by a tarmac
parking lot, tall brick wall and iron gates
with security guard.

Scully flashed her badge at the man but
drew nothing more than a polite reply of
"I'm sorry ma'am, but this is a silent
retreat. No visitors allowed."

Scully swallowed back her anger although
her urgency had increased. "I demand to
see Agent Mulder. Either you bring me to
him immediately or I'll have an FBI team
on you so fast it'll make your head swim!"

The guard paled a bit and spoke into his
telephone. Soon a very relaxed Reverend
Hayworth walked up to the gate.

"Agent Scully! So nice of you to come
visit us. I'm sorry about Tom's reaction.
Badges make him nervous and we had
intended this to be a silent retreat; avoid
outside distractions and all that. Have you
come to join our retreat? You're certainly
welcome." Hayworth gave Scully such a
disarming grin that she immediately felt
ashamed of her suspicions.

"Oh, I just wanted to see Agent
Mulder...to...um...discuss some business
from the office. I'm sorry, but it couldn't
wait."

"By all means. Come on over. The last
time I saw Mulder he was playing a pickup
game of basketball. Just this way..."
Hayworth led her past a neatly pruned
tennis court and through an ornamental
garden to a set of basketball hoops
mounted on the side of a garage-like
building. She saw Mulder in the middle of
a busy game of basketball, clearly having
the time of his life.

"Two points! Game to us!" yelled Mulder
and whooped, giving his teammates high
fives. He caught sight of Scully on the
sidelines and wandered over to her.

"Hey Scully, I see you got my note." He
grabbed a towel from the sidelines and
began mopping off his face.

"Your note was unnecessarily cryptic,"
Scully said bluntly. "Frankly, I didn't
know whether to send out search parties or
take the week off myself. You didn't even
leave a phone number." She fixed him
with a glare and saw Hayworth's
apologetic smile from the corner of her
eye.

"I'll leave you two to talk. But remember,
Agent Scully, you're more than welcome
to spend the week with us as well. We'd
love to have you. I'll be in the retreat
center if you need me." Hayworth gave
them a genial wave and wandered back to
the larger building.

"Why shouldn't I take a week off if I want
to?" Mulder asked calmly. "I had a pretty
rough week, if you recall."

"Only too well. And I still can't figure out
why you survived." Scully returned look
for look. "At the very least you could have
told me where to find you."

"I knew you'd call out the Gunmen if you
got worried," Mulder said casually,
glancing to one side and waving at one of
his teammates. "I think you're overreacting
to all this."

"And I can't understand your reaction at
all," she said in exasperation. "Mulder,
you've never had any religion in the seven
years I've known you. Now suddenly
you've joined a church and you're going
on a weeklong retreat?"

"Is that what's bothering you?" he asked
coldly. "The fact that, after all these years,
I've found something I want to believe in?
I thought you'd be happy for me, Scully.
Just because this isn't a mainline church
doesn't make it any less valid."

"That isn't what I'm trying to say," she
sputtered. "I don't care if you worship
iguanas in your spare time! Don't you
understand, Mulder, how uncharacteristic
this is for you? Doesn't that make you
question it just a bit?" I need to tell him
about Albert Hosteen, she mused. I have
to tell him, whether he believes me or
not....

"What about Saint Paul on the road to
Damascus? Wasn't his life changed in a
flash of light? So why can't mine change
the same way? Scully, I'd hoped that
you'd understand but I can see that this
isn't something we can discuss together.
Why don't you just go back to the office
and I'll see you in a week."

"I could stay here; join you. I can use a
vacation..." her voice trailed off when she
saw his expression.

"I don't want a nursemaid dogging my
steps, Scully. I know you're worried
about me, but I'm fine. Really. The
doctors checked me out and everything. I
just want a quiet week to sort all this out.
Go home, Scully."

"But Mulder, I..." she started but saw the
determined pout on his face. Damn. In
this mood he wouldn't listen to anything
she had to say. Still, he seemed healthy
enough and the church grounds were
beautiful. She firmly pushed her
misgivings into the back of her mind. "I'm
sorry, Mulder. I'm being an
overprotective partner. You're right. You
have the right to your own life and some
time off. I'll hold down the office for you
and see you in a week."

Mulder grinned back at her. "I'll take you
up on that. Don't call unless the mutants
start taking over the world, or the 'Skins
win a game! I want to get away from it all
this time."

"Okay. I'll see you then," she mustered a
smile back at him and walked back toward
the gate. She waved at him as the iron
gates crashed shut and slowly drove back
to the office.

<< Have I told you what an offense you
are to me? The stench of your
single-minded heroics wafts to me and
turns my stomach. Figuratively speaking.
You will not be turned from your course.
You have been beaten, shot, threatened,
burned, tortured and rejected by those you
love but still you persist. You are a loyal,
truthful and loving human being with the
capacity to sacrifice yourself for a greater
good.

I'm not allowed to kill you; that has
become evident. My agents cannot corrupt
you; that has been tried. So what is left?
The only thing that remains, that hasn't
been tried. Oh, I know you Fox Mulder. I
have seen you and I know you for what
you are, what you will be unless I stop
you first. You were given the free will to
make your own choices and your own
nature will help me. You don't believe in
me, you know ((laughs)) but you will.
You will.>>

Mulder woke in the darkness, jerked
awake. Had he heard voices? Probably
the guy in the next room. It was nice of
Hayworth to give him a room to himself;
no roommate. Hayworth said that the
solitude would be good for him. Mulder
did miss the television set, though.
Nothing like a good porn flick to put you
to sleep at night....

He lay back against the pillow, troubled by
a niggling sense that he wasn't alone. He
turned on the light and surveyed an empty
room. Nope. Nobody here. He turned the
light off and closed his eyes again. He fell
asleep to the sound of a soft muttering
voice in the back of his mind.

"Mulder!" she cried, then realized where
she was. She turned the bedside light on
and came face to face with Albert Hosteen.

She recoiled back against the headboard,
then sighed in relief when she saw who it
was. "Albert, what are you doing here?
Albert?"

His lips moved but she couldn't make out
what he was saying. He looked, if
possible, even more anxious than he had
before.

"Albert, I can't understand you, but if
you're worried about Mulder I saw him
today. He's fine, healthy and well.
There's nothing to worry about."

Hosteen shook his head sadly, then faded
out again. Scully dimly wondered when it
had happened that she had begun to take
ghosts for granted. She shook her head
and got up to make herself some herbal
tea.

Mulder and Hayworth sat in a quiet room
at the conference center. The Reverend
had taken a particular interest in Mulder
and had offered to give him personalized
instruction in some meditation techniques.

"You have to make your mind a blank and
welcome any revelations that might
surface," Hayworth said soothingly. "I
know that this is difficult, but you're doing
very well. Just remember to open your
spirit to the revelations of the Universe.
Take down any blocks or barriers you may
have. Trust that the spirit will fill you with
its wisdom. And when you have that
spiritual connection, you'll never feel
lonely again, never feel alone. You'll feel
complete."

Mulder sat Indian style, eyes closed.
"That's easier said than done. I think the
line's disconnected."

"Try again. Imagine that all the barriers
are down and that there's nothing between
you and the Universe but a great empty
void. No barriers. No hindrances. Only
trust. Open yourself to the experience."

"Okay..." Mulder's face grew blank as he
sat quietly for several minutes. He took a
deep breath and opened his eyes in
startlement. "What the...?"

"Mulder, you know that there's no such
thing as evil. There's only human mental
illness. Today this world suffers the result
of human psychoses, the effects of social
ills and poverty. Those who do wrong are
just ill or misguided. They deserve our
compassion. You're just reacting to a new
experience. It's understandable that the
Voice of God should be distracting at first.
But just relax and you'll adjust."

Mulder gave Hayworth a panicked look
but was rewarded with the same beatific
smile he'd seen when he woke up alive and
not dead. Yeah, that was right, this guy
saved him. He knew. He could be trusted.
Okay. Relax.

"All right. I'll try again." Mulder
obediently closed his eyes and opened
himself to the Universe.

Mulder woke to a loud voice and sat up.
But it wasn't in the room. It was in his
head.

<<Hello, Mulder. I'm so glad that you can hear me. I
am the Spirit of God and I want to
help.>>

Author's Note: The rating is PG for now, but may
range toward the NC-17 as the story progresses in
future chapters. This is a story of Satanic
possession, based on the accounts and transcripts of
actual exorcisms found in Malachi Martin's book
"Hostage To the Devil" and M. Scott Peck's "People of
the Lie". To the extent possible I will use actual
events to flesh out this story within the boundaries
of a fictional work and the twistings of Mulder's
character. But it won't be pretty. Be warned.

"Blessed are the pure at heart, for they shall see
God." (Matthew 5:8--sometimes translated as 'Blessed
are the single-minded...')

Mulder sat bolt upright in his bed and turned the
light on. He looked around the room frantically but
found nobody there.

<<I'm here.>> Mulder heard a voice without pitch or
tone, deep and ancient. But he didn't hear it with
his ears, it was inside him somehow. The thoughts
were being forced into him in a way that reminded him
horribly of his experiences with the alien artifact.

"What are you?" His fear began to roll away as his
curiosity got the better of him. "You say you're God?"

Mulder pondered that for a bit. "You say you're God,
then. What do you want? Are you the one who saved me?
You don't...feel the same."

<<You are chosen for wonderful things but have been
told lies. I am here to show you the greater truth.
I will reveal to you all the answers to your questions
but you must listen.>>

"I'm listening," Mulder sat up straight in his
eagerness. At last he would learn the Truth.
Hayworth had been right, the meditation was working.
The voice of God was talking, to him, Fox Mulder. Or
if not the voice of God, then the voice of somebody
who claimed to know....

<<You have been right, all your life, about the basic
falsity of men's beliefs in the dry rationalism of
science. You are stronger, more intuitive than the
common run of man. You were born different and your
abilities so transcend theirs that they can't
appreciate them. They are blind, but you can see.>>

Mulder felt a glow of accomplishment, almost a
smugness. He'd always suspected that he was smarter
than most of those around him. Now this spiritual
voice was confirming what he'd known these past years.
In fact, he considered, it was a wonderful, relaxing
sensation to give in to the realization that most
other people were just ignorant clods. Then he felt a
vague stab of unease.

What about Scully? She believes in science and she's
not ignorant. Mulder ignored the little voice. He'd
had more than enough humiliation in the past 7 years,
laughed at by the 'scientific' brains at the Bureau.
Scully wasn't a clod, he knew, but neither was she
average. No, most people were uninformed and really
rather stupid.

"So, what do you want with me?" Mulder found it easier
and easier to speak subvocally. The communication was
becoming almost effortless.

<<As I said, I want to help. There are truths that
you don't understand fully; errors you have fallen
into. I want to lead you into the Light, to make you
a Bearer of the Light. And then, a leader of your
people, teaching and bringing them into that same
Light.>>

"What? Am I a prophet,then?" Mulder didn't know
whether to be amused or frightened or very very
flattered.

<<You will be my Voice and my Spirit in this world.
You will lead others and you will change the world
forever.>>

Mulder could see the picture forming in his mind,
crystal clear. His parents..fighting. They were
arguing about...about Samantha. Now for the first
time he could see it, all of it. His father insisting
that none of his children be taken, then the Smoking
Man insisting just as strongly that Samantha must go.
And why....

No. NO, it couldn't be true. Not his mother and that,
that oily bastard of a smoker. They couldn't have
fathered him. He saw the crushed look on Bill
Mulder's face as he faced Teena, his wife. And she
couldn't deny it. She just broke down crying.
Samantha got up and ran into the living room to
comfort her mother and was held back by the Smoking
man and he was wearing a smug smile.

All the time, after Sam was taken, his parents had
known that he wasn't Bill's son. That was why they'd
divorced. In a single night the Smoking Man had
destroyed his family. That strange vision he'd had in
the hospital, the vision of another life was true, in
part. The Smoking man was really his father.

<<You inherit his legacy but you don't have to live
it. Take the power and wisdom I can offer and fight
the good fight. Only you can lead the resistance.
Only you can be this world's savior. I can help you.
And with my help you can know it all, everything they
did to you and to your sister. You can grind those
men into the dust, where they belong!>>

Mulder lay in the bed and considered. He had no idea
what this voice was. Maybe it really was God? But
even if it was an alien or spirit of some kind, it had
power and had already shown him more of the truth than
he'd seen in ten years of looking. Surely that was
worth a little cooperation on his part?

Mulder nodded. "If it will bring down that
black-lunged bastard and all his works, I'll do it."

Mulder opened his eyes to a world strangely different.
He blinked but couldn't imagine what was wrong. Then
he realized that his senses seemed to have changed.
The colors were brighter, more distinct somehow. And
he saw everything, almost through a filter,
differently. He could feel his mind expanding,
experiencing the world in a new and almost alien way.

He sat up and stared around him. He also felt
strangely calm, as though a soothing and calming
litany of thought flowed through the back of his mind.
Maybe a leftover of last night's experience?

He laughed and got out of bed. Mulder the prophet.
Fox Mulder, the visionary. It had a ring to it. He
wondered what Scully would say?

He frowned. He had a vague feeling that she would not
approve. Well, that made sense. Her first objection
would be the lack of solid scientific grounding for
his experience. Never mind that the whole dogma of
the Catholic church was unsupported by science. Then,
too, she was accustomed to equate holiness with
celibacy, ordination and ugly black clothing.

Poor Scully, warped by a narrow childhood. Mulder, on
the other hand, felt gloriously free. What he'd always
known had simply been confirmed. He couldn't wait to
tell Hayworth and receive more spritual guidance.

Mulder held his breath and struggled to relax. "I'm
sorry, Chuck, I just can't seem to get the trick of
it. Every time I try to let the revelations in, I get
such a flood of resistance, almost revulsion, that I
barrier myself against it."

Hayworth's smile was tinged with impatience, then he
sighed. "Of course, Mulder, all this is very
different for you. But I'm committed to working with
you until you can hear the Voice of God in your every
activity. Nothing should shut it out. It's been
revealed to me that you're very important to Him.
You're his Chosen One, perhaps a new prophet."

Mulder reminded himself of all the work Chuck had put
in that day, helping Mulder beat down his natural
resistance. He'd already had visions of the Smoking
Man's early meetings with the alien colonists. He'd
seen the first ship land, and the first hostages
taken. He had to know more, get more detail. Once he
was privy to all their secrets he could begin to
fight. The flow of thought was becoming clearer if he
could just let...it...in..." Mulder closed his eyes
and focused on being entirely open, mentally inviting
the Spirit to take up residence in him.

Dana Scully stood on the front steps of Saint John's
Church, waiting for Saturday confessions to begin.

This was her normal routine, and she'd come to look
forward to her talks with Father Gordon. But today she
felt unsettled and nervous. Foregoing the brief time
in the confessional, she'd elected to make a personal
appointment with her priest instead.

She hadn't heard from Mulder but had no reason to
worry about him. Her sleep was still troubled by
dreams that she couldn't remember, although she hadn't
seen Albert Hosteen since Tuesday. Tomorrow she would
meet Mulder at his apartment and go with him to his
new church, glad for him that he'd finally found a
path to God.

"Dana, how good to see you," Father Gordon unlocked
the church and let her in. "Come over to the sacristy
and we'll talk."

He settled her down in a chair and took the one across
from her, studying her carefully. He knew her
history, including the paranormal bits, courtesy of
Father McCue. "You look troubled, Dana. What's
wrong?"

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned..." Scully began
the familiar ritual, the stopped. "I..I need to talk
to somebody who will listen. I don't know what to do
about this, it just doesn't make sense."

"My best friend was injured a week ago. He was..he
was killed. And then he wasn't dead any more. He was
healed. Miraculously. He claims it was done by God,
through the prayers of a clergyman. And now he's
joined the man's church, gone to a weeklong retreat."

Father Gordon watched Scully twist in her chair,
failing to meet his eyes. "Well, that certainly
sounds like an unusual occurrence. But how wonderful
for your friend that he's found a faith that works for
him."

"That's the problem. I should be happy for him, glad
that he's finally content. But Father, I have the most
horrible feeling that he's in terrible danger. I can't
prove it, but I know that he is." Scully fixed him
with her eyes. "It just doesn't make sense."

"Have you had these sort of feelings before?" The
priest leaned forward. "I know that you routinely
investigate the unusual."

"Yes, but I always try to investigate from a
scientific viewpoint. What's happened to Mulder
defies science. It defies everything I know to be
true."

"But what about your spiritual beliefs? Do you believe
in miracles? Can you accept them?"

"Yes, I think I can. I've seen many strange and
miraculous things over the past 7 years. But
this...this doesn't feel right. And yes, I've had
these kind of feelings before. Usually when Mulder has
ditched me for some dangerous case of his own." Scully
laughed roughly. "I generally find him, but at the
point of death."

"Do you think he's dying now?" The priest watched her
closely as she struggled for composure.

"No. No, it..it..feels worse this time. Like
something worse than death is stalking him. Something
ancient and heavy and very very evil." Scully
shivered. "I have no proof and I'll probably see
Mulder tomorrow and laugh about it. This is silly,
Father Gordon. I'm sorry I'm wasting your time."

She got up to go, but he stopped her. "Dana, it isn't
scientific but there may be something in your
intuition. I'd trust it if I were you. You say that
you feel an ancient evil stalking him? You've
experienced the presence of evil before. I seem to
recall another conversation we had once, about your
daughter Emily and a child with the soul of an angel.
Have you stopped believing that you kept her from the
Evil One? What did you feel when you were in the
presence of the one who tried to take her?"

Scully sat down, tears beginning to blur her eyes. "I
felt the same...the same as I do now. Terrible danger
and a cold, calculating presence. But this can't be!
Mulder isn't a believer. If I told him that I thought
some evil spirit was stalking him, he'd just laugh at
me and ask where my scientific detachment had gone!"

She looked uneasy. "With that experience, I've felt
evil of this kind before, three times. Once, we
investigated the..the demonic possession of a child. I
could feel a...a...a heaviness in the environment, as
though we were being studied by a truly inhuman
presence." She looked away and twisted her fingers
together.

"We were in a small town and found a cult of
devil-worshippers and a very...strange...woman who was
a substitute teacher there. Mulder and I were held by
the cult and they were about to...to kill us...to
sacrifice us. I could feel the pressure, the power of
evil building in the air just as Mulder moved forward
to shield me with his body. Then...the leader of the
cult shot the others, then himself. The leader wasn't
in control of his own actions. You could see it in his
eyes." Scully shivered. "She...Mrs.
Paddock...disappeared that night and we never found
her. I have never felt...experienced...such a feeling
of evil in my life."

"You aren't saying that...not Mulder. What can I do?"
She stared at the priest in amazement. "Exorcisms
went out with the Middle Ages!"

The priest smiled. "You'd be surprised. Still, this
type of occurrence is very very rare and only happens
to a special type of individual, usually someone who
has heroic or saintly qualities, but is vulnerable
because of his loneliness or isolation. And you'd
obviously want to rule out any medical or psychiatric
conditions from which he might be suffering. For the
time being, I'd advise you to keep an eye on him. And
pray for him, that never hurts. I'll add him to my
prayers as well."

Mulder felt the world shift on its axis as a hundred
different personalities flooded him. He couldn't
stand, couldn't hold against it. The cacaphony of
their shreiking, laughing, shouting, cursing beat
against him and drove him back into a tiny corner of
himself.

He was aware that he was crouched on the floor,
physically as huddled small as he was psychically.

"What....are....you?" he gritted through closed eyes.
The voices echoed through his mind, soprano and bass
at first slightly out of sync and then aligned.

"You know who I am, Fox. We've met. Many times." A
slightly wavy image formed in his mind of a high
school substitute teacher he'd met years ago. Mrs.
Paddock smiled at him, then the image rippled into the
form of a gargoyle, then flashed into a hundred
different faces, Cancerman, the Bounty Hunter, Luther
Lee Boggs, Donnie Pfaster, and then settled into a
form vaguely human but tall and serpentine in manner.

Mulder was silent, trying to gather his chaotic
thoughts. "What do you want with me?"

"No...you...don't," Mulder clenched his hands against
his ears in an effort to shut out the hellish voices.
He was driven to huddle against the floor. He felt the
pressure of them building, building from his gut, up
his spine and into his brain, a ripping, tearing pain.
The dark voice broke through the howling chaos.

"Fox, you will be very useful to me. I've been looking
forward to this day for a long time. Now that you'll
be working with me instead of against me, we'll be
closely associated. Very closely."

Mulder felt his body move around him, sitting up, and
then standing. He tried to fight it, but it walked
over to Charles Hayworth and extended a hand.

"Thanks for all the good work and help, Chuck. Your
contribution will be remembered and rewarded."
Mulder's hand shook Hayworth's while his voice
complimented the man. The reverend beamed a smile
back.

"Such an honor to work directly with you," Hayworth
said proudly. "I'm happy to be of assistance."

Mulder gathered all his strength of will and pushed at
the presences, trying to force them from his mind. The
agonizing rebound was almost more than he could take.

"Don't try that again or the punishment will be worse.
We don't need you, we have your body and that's
sufficient," the cold presence warned. Mulder felt his
nerves run with cold fire, from his toes to his chin,
freezing him with pain. He dropped to the floor and
lay panting, unable to move. A strong sense of
satisfaction, of glee, radiated from the entity. It
was drinking in his pain.

"You will cooperate, Fox. Besides, there are benefits
to our help. You will see the consortium fall and I
will personally ensure that you kill the Cigarette
Smoking Man with your bare hands."

"It's the culmination of many years planning and you
are the center. You are the leader in the upcoming
struggle, but you are mine. You've always been mine.
But until now you've been a problem for me. You have
been single-mindedly focused on finding the truth,
about the aliens, the consortium and incidentally, my
activities. That purity of outlook cannot be allowed
to continue."

"He has been, although he doesn't believe in my
existence. Still, he's old and failing. Time for his
son to replace him."

Mulder closed his eyes and sheered away from the
voice. He could hear the ironic laughter following
him. "Your father engineered your conception and
birth, but who gave him the idea? And if my idea
engendered you, what does that make me? Oh, Fox, you
are mine...."

Mulder left the retreat center, mechanically driving
the car along the highway home. The voice would allow
him control over simple things: brushing his teeth,
washing his face, packing his bag. But whenever he
interacted with another human being, the voice stepped
in and took over. Mulder was then relegated to a tiny,
dark corner of his own mind, helpless to do anything
but watch, and fume.

The fuming turned to despair as he silently took stock
of his situation while his body slept. He was trapped
inside himself, powerless to move a muscle without
permission. He couldn't figure out whether there was
one entity or many occupying him. Or maybe there was
a multitude, but controlled by the single voice.

"You still haven't told me what you want," Mulder said
as he drove. He looked up at the rearview mirror and
was startled to find his back seat occupied. The form
was tall and thin, with a misshapen head on a
pencil-thin neck. It was a grotesque caricature of a
human being. It grinned at him with sharpened teeth.

"I want everything you have. Everything you are. And I
want to see the look on your face as I take it all
from you piece by piece. And then, when Fox Mulder
becomes the great leader of the resistance, I want to
see the destruction, the killing and the despair. The
Kingdom will find a home in the bodies of your
followers."

"I *will* take people, many people, like I have you.
It's simple enough; convince them that you offer what
they desire. And more will become toys for my
entertainment."

"Oh no, Fox. You aren't toys. You are the shit between
my toes, and I revel in it."

Mulder hung onto the steering wheel, watching his
knuckles grow white. "I will stop you, somehow I will
stop you."

"You are an impotent, narcissistice,
mental-masturbating excuse for a man," the voice said.
"Do you think I worry about your threat to me? I've
watched you. Every night you jack yourself off in your
solitary apartment, dreaming dreams of a cunt who'll
never have you. Not that you've ever tried to screw
her. No, you just sit in front of the videos,
watching red-headed women being fucked by worthier
men than you'll ever be." He could feel it smile. "I
think I'll try her."

A vivid picture flashed across his mind. He saw
himself, forcing a naked and bleeding Scully onto the
ground, then sprawling on top of her. She screamed as
he forced himself into her, holding her wrists
confined as she tried to throw him off. He could hear
her sobs while his body tore into her, and he saw the
betrayal in her blue eyes. Then he felt the pleasure
of it rolling through from his groin and through his
body, enhanced and amplified by thing inside him.

Mulder kept his mind a blank then deliberately trained
the car on a tree in the curve of the road and floored
the gas pedal.

To his chagrin, his own foot stomped on the brake and
veered away from the tree. "You shouldn't have tried
that. You can't kill yourself yet, you know."

Scully put down the phone. She'd just left a second
message for Mulder but assumed that he wasn't back
from his retreat yet.

She went to the couch and picked up a magazine, then
put it down again. This was stupid. She was feeling
nervous and fidgety for no good reason.

"Good. Good. I was just checking to see if we're still
on for church tomorrow," Scully wrapped her fingers
around the phone cord.

She dismissed the last of her unease.
Church with Mulder tomorrow. How bad could that be?

Dana Scully opened the door to her apartment and found
Fox Mulder there at 9:30 sharp.

"Hi," she said breathlessly. Mulder had worn her
favorite black jeans and turtleneck. He grinned at
her.

<<I'll do whatever I please, Fox. You can't stop me.
She does look sexy in that sweater, doesn't she?>>

"Hi, you ready?" She nodded and he followed her out to
the car. After she had taken her usual seat on the
passenger's side of the car she became aware of an
unusual musky odor.

Her nose twitched as it became more obvious, and a bit
noisome. "New cologne?" she asked.

<<She's very perceptive, but her innate skepticism
will prevent trouble. And, in any case, she trusts and
believes in you.>>

Mulder gave her a strange, unreadable look then
nodded. "Yeah. And a new dry cleaner."

Scully nodded and fixed her eyes on the road. "This
is the first time I've ever been to the New
Enlightenment Church. I hear that they have a new
church building made entirely of glass."

"Yes, they do. It's beautiful." Mulder swung the car
into the parking lot and came to a stop. He walked
around the car and held the door for Scully as she
stepped from the car.

She raised an eyebrow and unbuckled herself from her
seat. As she slid out she cursed a bit under her
breath. "Damn, that clasp came undone again. Mulder
would you fasten my cross for me?"

She turned to him, blue eyes wide and guileless, her
gold cross and chain a puddle in her open palm.

"Gaaah...uh..excuse me, Scully, but I think the
services are starting. Let's take care of that later,"
Mulder walked swiftly toward the church building,
Scully trailing along behind.

Inside the building she could find no evidence of
anything she might identify as religious. Of course it
wasn't as though she'd been in many non-Catholic
churches in her life. Still, usually there was a cross
or two, something to make it look like a place of
worship.

She glanced around as she and Mulder took their seats
in the theater-style chairs. She sank deep into the
plush of hers and thought wistfully of the threadbare
kneelers at St. John's. The carpet here was lush, as
deep a pile as the plush on the chairs. No decoration
on the walls, just dim lighting.

She craned her neck and looked up into the mezzanine
to see more well-dressed people taking seats. The
lights lowered and a single spotlight focused on the
stage-like area in front. Nothing she might call an
altar, no religious symbols at all in the front.

Reverend Hayworth appeared from the side, dressed in
clerical garb, and began a rousing welcome to new
church members. Dana watched spellbound as, behind
the reverend, the carpet parted and a podium rose from
the depths of the basement, freezing in place when
fully erect.

The reverend stepped behind it without missing a beat,
still talking. Scully was about to nudge Mulder and
call his attention to the podium, when she saw his
face.

It was blank. Completely empty of emotion or
expression. Even the eyes looked dead, as they focused
forward. She got the vague impression that some kind
of inner dialog was going on, excluding her.

***Leave her alone. I can hear your thoughts, your
fantasies about her. She's not yours. I'm the one you
want, just get away from her.***

<<Because she's yours, I take it? No, she's your
partner and should be put to work in your cause. If
not from love, then from fear. But...I'll make a deal
with you.>>

<<Cooperate with me. Stop fighting me. If you don't,
when I'm done with her she'll be nothing more than a
living, breathing lump of disfigured meat. And she'll
remember. All of it. For the rest of her life.>>

Reverend Hayworth finished his sermon and a turntable
just off the stage began to move, rotating a full
choir into view. Scully was puzzled. They'd been her
a full thirty minutes but she'd yet to hear the word
"God". She glanced to one side, Mulder's face was no
longer blank. If she had to give it a label, she'd say
she saw despair. He turned to one side and he met her
glance, a deep sadness in his hazel eyes.

Mulder was aware of a deep and revolting aura of
satisfaction coming from the presence. He steeled
himself against struggling as the entity wrapped an
arm around Scully's shoulders and led her to meet
Reverend Hayworth.

From where he now sat, Mulder wondered why he'd ever
been taken in by the Reverend. He supposed it was the
fact that Hayworth's was the first face he saw when he
was revived. He didn't know how it was that he'd
survived those gunshot wounds but had a strong feeling
that Hayworth had nothing to do with it. The entity
that possessed him was unlikely to heal anyone or
anything.

Interesting, its reaction to her cross and chain,
though. Hmmmm, folklore said that demons didn't like
crucifixes or crosses or anything holy. He remembered
the time he'd faced a vampire with two crossed
breadsticks and the memory. But he wondered, Scully's
cross was truly holy, imbued with the force of her
belief.

He began to very subtly work on the muscles of his
right hand, easing it over toward the pocket where
Scully's cross lay.

The entity was distracted by conversation and didn't
know what he was up to. Good. Mulder moved his hand
closer and was conscious of a feeling of heat
radiating from the pocket. Closer now, closer....

He felt a stabbing pain in his fingertips as they
brushed the fabric of her jeans. His body jolted and
Scully moved away in startlement.

"Oops, sorry Scully," he heard his own voice say
apologetically. "I think I just got a shock. Must be
static electricity." The entity rubbed Mulder's
fingers to ease the sting.

***You can't stand holy things, can you? Crosses, holy
water, they're anathema to you.***

Mulder wasn't sure how much of his thoughts the thing
could read, but he kept his intentions focused very
very narrowly in a tiny portion of his soul.

Mulder sat quietly and brooded over his coffee. His
tenant hadn't objected to the extra strong espresso
he'd brewed himself. So far he'd managed to keep his
thoughts to himself.

He had to find a way out of this. If he could just get
word to Scully, she'd help him. But what was the help
for somebody in his position? Exorcism, he supposed.

Great. He could see himself in bed spewing pea soup,
like a bad 1970's exploitation flick. Oh well, why
should this aspect of his life be any different from
the rest?

<<I'll name several. Protection. Credibility. Power.
Aren't you tired of being emasculated by those over
you? You have easily twice the talent of the paper
pushers upstairs, yet you are relegated to the
basement.>>

<<Who better? You have underutilized gifts, my
friend. You should be getting more respect, more
authority.>>

***And you can offer it to me, huh? So is this my 40
days in the desert? You gonna offer me kingdoms?***

<<The world is your birthright. I can't offer you what
you already own. But I can help you hang onto it; the
world an anything else you want.>>

His thoughts turned to Scully. Anything he
wanted...No. No, that was wrong. She had no part of
this and he wouldn't risk her.

<<Consider the benefits of full cooperation. You can
have it all. Wife, family, home, wealth. Just let me
help you.>>

Dana Scully woke unrefreshed from another nightmare
she couldn't remember. She hadn't seen Albert
Hosteen, but since his warning had been passed along
his mission was probably fulfilled.

She got up slowly, stretching tense muscles. Mulder
had been so normal yesterday, for the most part. It
was tempting to decide that this was all in her head.

She walked over to the dresser and picked up her
cross. He'd avoided touching it, and even the brush
of his fingers against the pocket where it lay caused
him to flinch away.

She put the cross on and went into the kitchen. There
on the windowsill she saw a tiny statue of the Virgin
Mary that her mother had given her years ago. She
picked it up and considered the serene face of the
image, garbed in translucent blue. Then she went to
the closet and tucked the statuette into her coat
pocket.

Mulder was there first, as usual. The office was icy
cold; unusual, since they were next to the boiler room
and the basement tended to be stuffy.

"Mulder, it's freezing in here. Can you call the
janitor and get some heat? Mulder?"

He looked up, a strange glint in his eye which made
her shiver. Then it was gone, so fast that she thought
she'd imagined it.

"Don't worry, Scully. I already called them. But for
the time being, I also got you some coffee." He
pointed to a styrofoam cup on her desk.

She was touched. It wasn't like Mulder to be this
thoughtful. "Thank you," she said and picked it up.
She heard a faint 'clunk' as her coat brushed the desk
and remembered what she'd brought from home.

She replaced the mug and gently took the little Virgin
from her pocket and sat her on the desk, serene glance
facing outward and toward Mulder. Then Scully seated
herself behind the desk and began to work.

She could sense Mulder's unease, gradually increasing
as the morning wore on. He looked uncomfortable, as
though he suffered from a myriad of subtle aches. She
studied him quietly, wondering if he'd take offense if
she suggested he take the day off.

She was looking at him when he caught sight of the
little madonna on her desk. His eyes were filled with
loathing and disgust, quickly stifled.

"What? This?" Scully picked up the statuette. "It's
the Virgin Mary. Mom gave it to me a few years ago,
when I had cancer. I thought she'd look good on my
desk." She held the statue up and walked toward
Mulder. "Do you want to see her?"

Mulder cringed back, his hands raised defensively. She
stopped and stared at him, while Mulder shakily tried
to pass it off by stretching his arms overhead and
then clasping them behind his head.

"Very pretty, but are you sure you want to risk her in
the office? I mean, the janitors are pretty clumsy.
They might break her some night while dusting."

Scully watched him steadily, never breaking eye
contact. "Oh, I think she's a lot sturdier than she
looks." She put the statue back on her desk and picked
up a file. "Skinner said that he wants us to
investigate this one right away. We're needed to help
interview witnesses in a murder case the VCU is
handling."

Mulder watched her as closely. "Yeah, I heard about
it. I thought we could interview Loretta Hynes
first."

"That's fine," Scully said warily and wrapped her coat
around her more fully. Mulder followed her out the
door to the office. The last thing she saw before he
closed the door was the placid face of the little
Virgin.

Loretta Hynes shared a tiny apartment in a bad corner
of D.C. Scully felt nervous as she and Mulder walked
the narrow alley from the car to the building itself.
Normally in situations like these she felt better for
knowing that Mulder was at her back, his tall presence
a shield against danger.

Not today. She hated to admit it, but she didn't want
Mulder at her back. She wanted him where she could see
him. She didn't...quite..trust him.

She was relieved when they got to the apartment door
and Loretta had opened it for them. The agents walked
into a neatly kept living room with a coffee table and
couch in it. Over the mantel, Dana could see a large
oil portrait of Jesus and the children. Not in the
best of taste, Dana considered, but...

She turned as she heard Mulder stumble. Ready for an
attack on her partner, she was surprised to see him
hovering by the door as though afraid to enter.

"Mulder, what's wrong?" she asked anxiously. He was
sweating and his eyes were darting around the room.
No, they were darting around the room except for the
mantel.

"I...um..I think I'll wait in the car, Scully. I
think I've got a touch of flu today. Okay?" Mulder
stumbled out, leaving Scully and Ms. Haynes
dumbfounded.

<<You wouldn't know a..a..such a thing if it bit you,
cock-sucker! These things are trash! Bits of garbage
people decorate their homes with. We'll wait outside
for her.>>

Mulder found himself in control of his body but with a
difference. Everything felt strange. He felt powerful,
his senses were sharper, enhanced. He could feel the
lives around him, some good-feeling like Scully and
others corrupt, like the entity inside him.

He paced as he waited for her, beginning to sense more
than just the presences. He could feel their lives,
petty, sordid little triumphs and their vile
pleasures. An old woman was drinking herself into a
stupor. A teenaged boy had just raped his sister; he
could feel a self-satisfied grunt from the back of his
mind. The slut had probably deserved it.

He had to admit that he felt more energetic, brighter
since the transformation. And the entity had been
right about his general uselessness to women. He
hadn't been with a woman in years, but the things he'd
imagined for Scully....

Scully finished the interview as gracefully as she
could and went downstairs. Mulder was waiting at the
doorway for her.

"Like I said, I felt sick," Mulder's voice said
defensively. "I had to get some air. Honestly, how
you could stand the stench of that apartment is beyond
me."

"Stench? What stench?" Scully moved down the alley.
"That apartment was cleaner than yours is!"

"Well, I...hey!" Two dark figures jumped at them from
behind a dumpster. Scully grabbed for her gun, but it
was knocked from her hand. Mulder wasn't doing any
better, no gun in his hand.

While she watched, Mulder stood motionless and made
eye contact with first one, then the other thug.

Both young men stopped in their tracks, frozen with
terror. Mulder moved a step toward them and they
broke, running back down the alley as swiftly as they
could.

Scully looked at Mulder with emotions she couldn't
describe. That smile. She'd never seen a look like
that on Mulder's face, on any human face.

Mulder turned toward her and she began to back away
from him slowly, coming to a stop against the brick
wall behind her. "M..m..mulder? What happened?"

"You're safe now, Scully," Mulder said gently. "You
will always be safe with me." He moved toward her.
"You look frightened, Scully. You know I'd never allow
you to be hurt." He stood very close to her and
lifted her chin with two fingers, considering all the
things he'd never had the power to do.

"What would you do if I kissed you?" he murmured and
slowly lowered himself to kiss her.

She could feel herself melting at the pressure of his
lips, her eyes closing in dreamy wonder. This was what
she'd always secretly wanted from Mulder and to have
it happen now, in this place was unreal,
unexpected...All thought began to drift from her mind.

He saw her eyes close and was irritated. Why couldn't
she look at him? See him as he was? Finally, he'd
gotten the balls to kiss her, really kiss her and she
shut her eyes.

She opened her eyes, then froze. Mulder's face was a
perfect blank. The eyes were open, but unblinking and
still. They were empty of love, passion or soul. She
began to struggle against his arms. "No! NO! Let me
go! Mulder, let go!"

Mulder saw her fighting for the game it was. She was
a tease; all women were. All she really wanted was to
be screwed, right here in this alley. Her hands,
clawing at his face were only her expression of
passion for him.

He grabbed her wrists in one of his big hands, leaning
in to kiss her again, his tongue forcing itself into
her mouth. He pushed against her body with all his
weight, slamming her back against the wall. He could
hear her grunting beneath him and her passion only
roused his.

She was crying, her eyes looking betrayal at him. Her
blouse was torn and she had a bleeding scratch down
one cheek. Although she was still fighting him, he
could feel the sobs deep in her chest. He looked into
her eyes.

Oh My God, what was I doing? Mulder thought and felt
his mind begin to clear. What did they make me do to
you?

He tried to move back and away from her but his body
wouldn't respond to his commands. The entity was back
and in full force.

"Mulder...Mulder you don't have to do this," she
panted. "Mulder, I don't know what's happened to you,
but let me help you! Please Mulder, fight it. This
isn't you. It's not you!"

She turned her head away as he forced another soul
kiss on her. Mulder watched his hands tear her skirt
away. Soon her panties and nylons followed and she
was thrown down onto the pavement.

Abruptly she stopped struggling and looked up at him,
her eyes boring into him like twin lasers. "Mulder,
this isn't you. You have to fight it."

He heard a low voice come from his lips, "I'm your
fucker, your fucker and you're my cunt..." He settled
his body on top of hers and unzipped his pants.

Another comment. The descriptions, dialog and bits of
text are taken almost word for word from the Martin
book, as are descriptions of the sensation of being
possessed. These are not meant to be plagiarisms, but
the thought communicated in the book was so evocative
that I cannot paraphrase it adequately.

In addition, the demon's dialog is very crude and it
isn't just Xenith getting off on a bunch of bad words.
In the transcripts, very little of what the demon(s)
are recorded saying is printable and most of it is
offensive. I'm toning it down somewhat, but am trying
to convey the (gaaagh) flavor of it here.

"Conquistador there is no time
I must pay my respects
and though I came to jeer at you
I leave now with regrets
and as the gloom begins to fall
I see there is no, only all
and though you came with sword held high
you did not conquer, only die"

Pure: Free from moral defilement or guilt; Free from
that which harms, vitiates, weakens, or pollutes;
genuine; real; perfect; fitted for holy services.
(Webster's Dictionary, 1913 ed.)

Mulder struggled and fought but couldn't regain
control of his hands or any part of his body. He
could feel Scully struggling beneath him and see the
terror on her face.

His left arm was draped across her neck and chest
while his right fumbled inside his pants. Her hands
came up and clawed his face, but the entity didn't
flinch, so intent was it on its actions.

He racked his brain for every bad knock-off of the
Exorcist he'd ever seen or read. What is it that
frightens the devil? Crosses. Prayers. Bible verses.
Holy Names.

Resisting the demon's motion wasn't working. He needed
to try some strategy. The demon was leaning forward
against Scully's chest, staring into her eyes. Mulder
added just a bit more push and forced his chest
against Scully's. Bingo. Right on top of the cross.

"Aaaaugh!" The demon started away as though he'd been
burned. Mulder followed up his advantage quickly.

***In the name of Jesus Christ, let her go!*** he
blasted mentally as loudly as he could.

Mulder's body jerked suddenly with a spasm of pain.
He could hear the feral snarl the creature gave as it
suddenly convulsed. Good. This was good. The burning
in his chest only intensified with the holy Name.
Mulder could feel its attention wandering and the iron
control dissolved just a little bit.

"Scully! Run! Get away, quick! I can't hold him much
longer," Mulder gasped, rolling his body off hers and
over again onto his face. He tried to put his hands
out to stop himself, but couldn't move them. "Holy
things, prayer...can't stand 'em!" His last words were
gulped as his throat closed up on him. He was left
panting for air, trying to catch a breath in a body
gone rigid.

She jumped up and scrambled back to her gun, then
trained it on Mulder. But she needn't have bothered.
He was plastered to the ground, held flat as though a
giant fist were pressing him into the asphalt. She
could see his face, flattened to the pavement as
though he was held there.

He gasped for air and tried to say something, but
couldn't force the words out. The entity was angry.
No, it was enraged and at him. It had lost its planned
prey and needed...needed...oh no...

"Mulder? Mulder are you in there?" She crouched near
him at arms' length and gathered up her torn clothing.
She kept one eye fastened on him, and gun trained
steadily at him while she dressed.

He couldn't respond, but the demon was still there. It
was there and playing possum. He tried to tell her
with his eyes to get away, get far away.

Scully, being Scully, paid no attention. Dressed now,
she moved forward toward him, cuffs in hand.

"Mulder, put your left arm behind you, nice and slow."
When Mulder didn't move, she snapped, "Do it!"

He could feel his face curling into a rictus grin as
it turned and looked at Scully. "Try and make me,"
said a gravelly voice from deep inside him.

"I am Fox Mulder. I'm the Mulder you never knew, Dana.
What makes you think I'm anybody else?" The demon
twisted his face into a leer.

"You aren't Mulder, but I don't know what you are. So
put your arm out, NOW!" she snapped.

"All right, Dana. I always knew you liked bondage. Did
you ever tell your partner about the vibrators you
keep in your nightstand drawer? Especially that big
one you named....Mulder?"

Scully flushed but moved forward to put the cuff on
his left wrist. Mulder could feel the demon gathering
itself to grab her and began to recite "Glory be to
the Father, and to the Son..." Mulder kept up the
internal litany, reciting psalms, hymns, moving into
the text of the Book of Common Prayer.

The demon shuddered and Scully quickly snapped the
cuffs on both wrists. It glared up at her through
unwinking, serpentine eyes.

"Mulder, I know you're fighting this. Keep on
fighting. I'm going to get help for you, I promise."

She pulled her cellphone from her pocket and dialed a
number. "Father Gregory, it's Dana Scully. Do you
remember the conversation we had on Saturday? Well, I
think my friend needs your help very badly. We're
at..."

Mulder could feel the demon thinking, but couldn't
read its thoughts. It had barriered itself against
him. Good, maybe that meant it wouldn't read his own
plans.

<<Oh, I can hear you, Fox. But your use of the words
of the Unnamed One, while uncomfortable, can't stop me
for long. After all, you have no faith. They're only
words to you, after all. You don't really believe any
of this, now do you? You have never sought the High
One's help, have you? You avoid congress with Him as
much as we do! You belong to us, and always have!>>

Scully's voice began to fade into the howling
darkness. He could feel chaos swirling around him,
hundreds of personalities moving around him. They
hemmed him around, shrinking him, plucking away at his
soul bit by tiny, irreplaceable bit.

Memory left him. His litany stopped because he no
longer had any words to say. He could not consider his
past, for he no longer had one. He only had a memory
that once there had been a memory. He had no future,
only a consciousness that anticipation was possible.

Emotions drained away. There was only an eternal now.
External actions, sensations, thought were collapsed
and encompassed by the darkness until they
disappeared.

He was drenched in the Other, infused with its
purpose, its meaning and intent. He saw through the
mirror of the Other, which in turn saw only Itself. An
endless reflection of itself in itself in itself to
eternity.

"You'll be here soon? How long? About thirty minutes?
Yes, yes I can. I'm armed and I have him cuffed."
Scully's eyes widened as Fr. Gregory made his next
suggestion.

"You need backup, Dana. Do you know anybody who could
physically restrain Mulder if necessary? In his
current condition, he may be subject to fits of
unusual strength and violence. Often victims of
possession exhibit telekinetic powers as well."

"That might not be enough. He won't feel pain the way
an unaffected person does."

Scully looked down at her captive and sighed,
realizing that a second call needed to be made.

"All right, Father. I know who to call. Okay, I'll
see you in thirty minutes or so."

She had hoped to keep this as quiet as possible but it
was unavoidable. She speed-dialed a number on her
cellphone.

"Sir, this is Agent Scully. There's been some trouble
and I need your help with Agent Mulder."

"No, sir. I'm not at a hospital. Agent Mulder needs
treatment...but of a special kind. Could you meet me
and I'll explain it to you?"

She could hear his frown as he jotted down their
location. "Are you sure you got the address correct,
Agent?"

"Yes sir, we're in the alley. And sir, I'd appreciate
it if you could come soon."

Skinner was there in five minutes. He strode down the
alleyway and stopped dead when he caught sight of his
agents.

Dana Scully stood, training a gun on her partner. Her
skirt was torn and obviously had been ripped off her
body then put back on again. She hadn't bothered with
the nylons, that lay in a shredded heap on the ground.
Her blouse was untucked and half the buttons had been
ripped off. She looked like a victim of a sexual
assault.

But it was her face that stopped him. Her neck was
black and blue and a long scratch ran down her cheek.
And her expression was grimmer than he'd ever seen it.

"Sir, this is going to be hard to believe, but Agent
Mulder is possessed by some...some entity that I
believe is demonic in nature."

Skinner's jaw dropped. He'd heard many things from
this team, but this was a first.

"Sir, that's a lie!" Agent Mulder called from the
ground. "Would you make her put the gun down? I can
explain this."

She looked at him doubtfully but complied. Mulder
pulled himself into an awkward sitting position.

"Why don't you tell me your side of it, Agent Mulder?"
Skinner crouched down, equidistant from both agents.

"Sir, we..um..Agent Scully and I have been
romantically involved for a while and she suddenly
wanted to have sex here, in the alley. She's kind of
an exhibitionist at times." Mulder looked embarrassed,
then flashed a glance at Scully. She tried to
interrupt but Skinner waved her down. Mulder went on.

"Anyway, she suddenly brings up the way I've been
flirting with one of the file clerks at the office and
gets mad at me. Then she pulls her gun on me and cuffs
me. She said it was the last time I'd cheat on her and
swore she'd get me. So she called you and made up this
dumb story that's so far out there I wouldn't believe
it." Mulder looked up at Skinner with honest green
eyes. "Can you take the cuffs off me and give me a
ride back to the office? I want to get my request for
transfer in before the day is over."

Skinner was puzzled and disturbed. Scully claiming
that Mulder was possessed? Mulder wanting a transfer
away from Scully? He looked from one to the other
uncertainly.

"Sir, you have to believe me," Scully said earnestly.
"Whatever it is that's using Mulder's voice and body,
it isn't him. It isn't Mulder. Please, just listen to
me."

Scully nodded and reached behind her neck. "Sir, would
you have your weapon ready? I can prove what I say."
She unclasped the cross and walked over to where
Mulder sat on the pavement.

"Hey, Scully, what do you think you're doing? I'm not
into jewelry, you know that. I know I promised you a
ring, but we can work that out. You don't have to play
this little revenge game.." Mulder began edging away
from her as she approached, wielding the gold cross in
her right hand.

"This won't take long," she said to Skinner, her eyes
fixed on Mulder's face. "Let him go, damn you," she
muttered for the demon's ears alone.

Scully knelt next to the demon and pressed the cross
against his cheek. As she drew near, he pulled back
but wasn't able to go far.

He hissed as she pressed the cross against his cheek,
then the sound grew to an inhuman howl. Mulder's face
turned white as chalk and lay jerking back and forth
as if in great pain.

Skinner jumped as the garbage cans behind him began to
rattle and shake by themselves. The lid of one flew
off and careened off the brick wall and landed
clattering on the asphalt. The second can toppled over
and began to roll away, uphill, Skinner noted
absently.

He took an uncertain step toward Scully and Mulder,
gun drawn and pointed but he wasn't sure at which
agent.

"Noooooo, take it away! Take it away! He's dead! I
can't give him back because I'm all that's left. He's
dead, he's been absorbed! He is me and I am he and we
are all together..." Scully had dropped back at the
demon's words, taking the cross with her. The demon
grew silent and drew a panting breath, looking at
Scully through half-closed lids.

"He is dead. Fox Mulder is dead. I devoured him. He
belongs to Us now. He lost the battle. He could call
on the names of the Unmentionable One but he had no
faith, no faith at all. We overwhelmed and destroyed
him while you watched."

He cocked his head to one side and gave Scully a
lizard-like smile. "And your faith isn't very solid
either, is it? How many of those sins have you failed
to confess to your priest? That married man in med
school? Didn't confess that, did you? And you...so
capable, so competent. As long as you are at his side,
you can save him from wherever his folly takes him."
The demon's voice was rising to a shreik.

Skinner slowly walked up behind Scully, unable to
believe what he was hearing. That was Mulder's body
but not his voice, or intonation.

"You believe that your scientific precision, your
training is the answer to all problems. Your pride has
killed him, little Catholic-School-girl. Nothing
exists now but this body and it contains only Us.
Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! We are filled with Nothing.
He is filled with Nothing. What is, is because of what
isn't, isn't it? Ha! Are you ready for extreme
possibilities, Dana?"

"In the shadow cast as you were leaving
In the beauty of the ending day
There is always something to return to
Something you allow to slip away....

Whatever you fear
Whatever you hide
Whatever you carry deep inside
There's something more than this!

Whatever you love,
Whatever you give,
Whatever you think you need to live.
There's something more than this!

In the Shadow cast as you were leaving
In the beauty of the ending day
There is always something to believe in
Something...as I watch you slip away."

Skinner heard footsteps behind him and turned around
to see a priest walkind swiftly through the alley.

"Hello, I'm Father Gregory. Dana asked me to come
by." The priest extended his hand to Skinner and gave
it a hearty shake, then walked over to where Scully
still crouched full attention still trained on Mulder.

Painfully, she pulled her eyes away from her partner
and stood to greet the priest. "Father Gregory, I'm so
glad to see you," she said quietly and extended her
right hand. She stopped, seeing the gold cross and
it's puddle of gold chain there. She took a trembling
breath and shakily refastened the chain around her
neck, then extended her hand to shake Father
Gregory's.

In the interim, Father Gregory had been studying
Scully. "Dana, what's happened? Are you hurt? He
attacked you, didn't he?"

She gave him a little smile. "I've had worse. The one
who really needs help is Mulder." She gestured to the
agent, quietly seated on the asphalt. All three people
turned to regard him and were greeted with a sarcastic
smile.

"Sure is great to be popular," he drawled. "So, you
brought in the goon patrol, huh? I should have known."
Mulder fixed his stare on the priest. "You're awfully
young for that collar, aren't you? That vow of
celebacy has to be bunching your trousers into a knot,
or is that why you're so cozy with Dana here? Get a
little afternoon delight in the pews?"

"I see the problem," Father Gregory said thoughtfully.
"I'll have to get the Bishop's permission to conduct
an exorcism and he'll have to be examined both
medically and psychiatrically to be absolutely sure
that this is a case of possession and not simple
illness."

"Not so long ago, people with schizophrenia and
Tourette's Syndrome were thought to be possessed by
demons, not to mention those with seizure disorders.
No, the rules are there for a reason. All medical
avenues must be ruled out first."

"He's had a thorough medical examination recently, but
I'd like to have some tests run on him to rule out
stroke of some other brain event. A psychiatric
evaluation is also a good idea." Scully said calmly.
"As for a psychiatrist, I'd suggest contacting Dr.
Heitz Werber. He's treated Mulder in the past."

"Ambulance, then?" Skinner mused. At Scully's unhappy
nod, he dialed 911. A calm Mulder was soon strapped
to a gurney and loaded into an ambulance.

Mulder gave Scully an accusing look while he the cuffs
were being removed and the restraints applied.
"Scully, it's me. It's your partner. How can you do
this to me? You know I'm sane."

"Mulder...or whatever you are, you will not be allowed
to hold onto this man. You will be removed from his
life."

The green eyes glittered. "That's what you think. I
leave this body only when it dies."

Dana Scully sat in the waiting room and riffled
through Mulder's medical file one last time. Every one
of his tests had come back normal. Tox screen, normal.
Nobody had poisoned him. CAT scan normal. PET scan
normal. No unusual brain activity at all.

She looked up as Dr. Heitz Werber walked over to her.
"Well?" she asked as she stood.

"Why is he in the Special Section?" Werber asked. "Fox
recounted to me the substance of every session we ever
had, passed all the psychiatric tests with flying
colors and sounds saner than I am. His nurses tell me
that he's been charming and cooperative, an ideal
patient."

Scully grimaced. "That, in and of itself, should tell
you that something's wrong." She sighed and gathered
up the medical file, handing it to Werber. "Here are
his records, but you won't find anything there either.
He's in perfect health. All that I can tell you is
that two days ago he almost raped me. Then I had a
series of conversations with the...personality...that
inhabits him. It's determined not to leave him and
claims that Mulder the man is dead. All that's left
behind is the body which is inhabited by something
else."

Weitz frowned. "I've seen multiple personalities
before, but Fox shows no sign of that disorder. Are
you suggesting that he's possessed by an evil spirit
of some kind?"

"I'm convinced of it," Scully folded her arms against
her chest and wandered over to the control room.
Mulder sat quietly in his padded cell, seeming to
meditate. Then he slowly looked up at the monitor and
smiled.

Shivering, Scully returned to Dr. Werber. He had
spread the reports and records onto the coffee table.
"I think you're right, Dana. Everything looks normal.
That's what I'll have to write in my report. I'm sorry
I can't come up with a treatment for him."

"That's all right, Dr. Werber. The treatment that's
been suggested can't go forward until Mulder's been
thoroughly examined and a lack of physical or
psychiatric cause established." She bit her lip and
brought a hand up to her cross.

She nodded. "As soon as the Bishop authorizes it." She
looked over her shoulder toward the conrol room. "Now
the hard part. Do we kidnap Mulder or persuade him?"

"This is an unusual case," said Father Gregory. "We do
have the Bishop's authorization to go forward, but I
can't proceed without the consent of the possessed. I
have to know that there's somebody still *there* who
can be saved."

Skinner shrugged and took a sip of his hospital
cafeteria coffee. "And, Agent Scully, we can't very
well abduct Agent Mulder off the streets and take him
to his own exorcism. That's a Federal offense."

"He has to go willingly, then." Scully grimly stirred
her coffee, wishing that hospitals stocked liquor as
well. "That means that we have to break through to him
somehow, get his formal consent." She took a sip and
grimaced. "I know that this is what Mulder wants. He's
the one who enabled me to get away from the creature
when it attacked me." She looked up and her gaze
hardened. "He said that it can't stand holy things."

Skinner nodded. "The new one just clocked in. I'll
wander by the desk and make sure that this room isn't
under surveillance." He glanced at Scully and Father
Gregory, each of which held a heavy silver crucifix in
hand. "Good luck. Or should I say, God go with you?"

"Either one helps. Thanks," said Scully. She watched
Skinner approach the nurse's station and begin to
converse with them. She bit back a smile. Who knew
that Walter Skinner could flirt?

She patted her coat pocket. "I already have his
durable power of attorney, but this consent form will
allow us to transport him from the hospital as a
psychiatric patient under my care. Well, we'd better
get to it."

They cautiously entered Mulder's room to find him
standing against the far wall, alert.

"Why do you bring that excrement into my room?" he
demanded, his eyes stabbing at the crucifixes.

While Mulder watched, Father Gregory calmly removed a
stoppered vial of holy water from his pocket and
drizzled water onto both crucifixes, and then onto
Scully and himself.

"I bless you in the name of the Father, and of the Son
and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

Mulder lowered himself to hunker down against the
farthest wall of the room. "What do you want, bitch?
Why'd you bring the faggot here with you?"

"Mulder, I have some papers for you to sign that'll
authorize us to remove you from the hospital and do an
exorcism."

The creature smiled. "The law will protect me, won't
it. I'm not insane and I'm not ill. You can't hold me
here and you can't 'treat' me without my consent." It
laughed. "Mulder is dead, dead, dead! He can't speak
and I say NO!"

Scully gentled her voice and approached Mulder,
crouching at arm's length. "Mulder, we have to get rid
of this thing and exorcism is the only way. You have
to fight and we'll help you. Fight, Mulder! You have
to sign the release and we'll get you out of here."

The creature spat at her. She calmly brushed the
spittle off her face. "Mulder, try. You have the
strongest will of any man I've ever known. Don't let
this thing win! I won't give up on you no matter what
this thing says. It's the Father of Lies and I know
you're still alive in there. Come on, Mulder...."

Behind her she could hear Father Gregory beginning a
prayer. "God, Creator and Defendor of the human
race...Look on this your servant, Fox William Mulder,
who is assaulted by the cunning of the unclean
spirit....Repel, O Lord, the power of Evil Spirit!
Dissolve the fallacies of its plots! May the unholy
temptor take flight...."

As she watched, the creature began to writhe in pain.
She brought up the crucifix and kissed it reverently,
then held it before Mulder's eyes. "Sign it," she
said firmly.

"N...no, fuck you bitch! You and the shit-fucking
piece of garbage you brought with you!" the creature
snarled. She could see the expression on its face
rapidly changing, as though personality after
personality claimed Mulder in its turn.

"Mulder! I want Mulder!" she demanded, thrusting the
crucifix forward. The demon howled as it touched
Mulder's head. At that moment, she heard a low mutter.

"S...scully..." Mulder gasped for air and looked up at
her, his eyes tearing. "Scul..." He weakly reached out
a hand for the pen. "Sign...quick!"

"Here," she shoved the paper at him and held it steady
as he signed his name. He scrawled it with a trembling
hand and almost was unable to finish before he was
overwhelmed.

"Noooooo!" a hundred voices screamed and the creature
clutched at the paper, trying to rip it from Scully's
hand. But she was too quick for it, leaping back out
of its reach. She held her crucifix out in front of
her and the creature retreated back to its corner.

She heard a click and the door behind her opened. She
quickly shoved the crucifix and papers back into her
pocket, noting that the priest had done the same.

"What are you doing here? I didn't let you in for a
visit," the nurse looked at Scully with amazement. "I
was just bringing Fox his breakfast."

"Well, I don't want visitors, especially them!" Mulder
yelled and waved toward Scully. "

"Nurse...Jefferson," Scully read the nametag. "We're
transferring Mulder to a private facility. Here is the
consent form. I'm his doctor and his next of kin. Can
you arrange for the necessary paperwork?"

She and Father Gregory left a Mulder yelling and
screaming hysterically behind them. The nurses had to
admit that their patient certainly seemed psychotic
now and any doubts about Mr. Mulder's need for further
hospitalization faded. They couldn't know that Father
Gregory had liberally sprinkled Mulder with holy water
before leaving the room.

Skinner met them in the hallway. "So where are we
going to take him? Back to his apartment?"

"We need someplace quiet and undisturbed," said Father
Gregory. "I wouldn't recommend an apartment. Exorcisms
can be very noisy and disruptive."

"Anywhere from eighteen hours to two weeks. He'll need
to be under twenty-four hour watch as well. We need
helpers who can physically restrain him as necessary."

"Well, he does own a summerhouse on Martha's
Vineyard, doesn't he?" Skinner asked doubtfully.

"No, not there," Scully said firmly. "That place has
too many...evil...associations. I know a place. Let
me make a call."

They wrestled Mulder into Father Gregory's van.
Although Mulder didn't struggle, neither did he help
and it took all three of them to wrestle him into the
vehicle. Skinner kept getting the eerie feeling that
the demon knew something that they didn't and was just
watching for its chance.

They stopped the van in front of a white house and
Scully got out. The door opened before her knock.
Maggie Scully stepped out and gave her daughter a hug.

"He needs a safe place to be for a while, doesn't he?
And this is a devout home, that's sure to help. I'm
more than happy to open my house to help Fox. Hello,
Father Gregory!" Maggie enfolded the priest in a hug.

"Thank you Father," Maggie stopped and watched as
Skinner removed Mulder from the van.

Still handcuffed, Mulder walked with a cocky stride
full of arrogance. Skinner grimly hung onto him, left
arm on Mulder's left shoulder and right hand clasping
the cuffs binding the agent's wrists.

"No, Mom. He isn't himself." Scully shut her mouth
abruptly before she could say anything more.

Skinner nodded grimly to Maggie. "Hello, Mrs. Scully.
It looks like we'll be your guests for a while."

Maggie shut the door behind the group. "I've made up
the guestroom and the spare bedrooms. I've also
cleared the basement of anything breakable, as Father
Gregory asked."

Mulder was taken to the basement room. Father Gregory
surveyed it with approval. "No windows, good. Usually
we have to board them up. We need to move any
unnecessary furniture out. I'd advise taking out the
desk, dresser and bookcases, leaving only a bedframe
with mattress and blanket. Remove everything else."

"Even the pictures on the walls?" Maggie asked in
dismay. This had been her husband's den while he was
still alive.

"I'm afraid so. Any loose object can become a weapon
and telekenisis is a common occurrence during an
exorcism. We'll need a small table to act as an altar
and that's about it. Oh, and we'll need some extra
helpers. Dana, you said you thought you had some
candidates?"

Scully smiled grimly. "Oh, I know of some people who
know Mulder and are unlikely to be shocked by
anything." She excused herself to use the telephone in
Maggie's kitchen.

"You want us to what?!?" Frohike's voice rose several
decibels after Scully explained the problem.

"Mulder is possessed by a demon and we're going to
hold an exorcism. The priest who's organizing it says
that it could take up to a couple of weeks and Mulder
can't be left alone. Skinner and I will be here, but
we need a second shift, and we need people who aren't
afraid to restrain Mulder if necessary."

"Is this like that Linda Blair movie?" Frohike asked
hesitantly. "I mean, is it going to get that gross?"

"Frohike, I honestly don't know, I never saw the
movie. But it's already been pretty ugly. It's
Mulder...but it's not him. Something has him,
something not human. And it won't let him go."

Scully met Skinner and Father Gregory in the basement.
Mulder was seated on a trundle bed that Dana
remembered from her girlhood. It had been stripped of
mattress cover, pillow and sheets. All that remained
was a single blanket. A small telephone table had
been placed in the room and the other furniture and
pictures were gone.

"I should be going. I need to talk to the Bishop and
meet with the Diocesan Exorcist."

"Most of them do. Generally it's a parish priest or
somebody with special knowledge that qualifies him. He
may never be used, but the position is kept filled. I
understand that Dr. Werber is completing his report?"

Skinner nodded. "He'll be here tomorrow morning. The
hospital is couriering Mulder's medical records here.
You really think that this is a...a...demon and not
some psychiatric condition?" He addressed Scully and
the priest. "He's had unusual...er...neurological
conditions before."

A wintry smile flashed across Scully's face. "There's
no question in my mind that Mulder's trouble is
neither physical nor psychiatric. The only thing left
is a spiritual malady."

Skinner gave her a look of mixed compassion and
determination. "Well, my leave request was approved,
so I'm in for the duration. I brought some clothing
with me, so I guess I'm on first watch tonight."

"Frohike, Byers and Langly are on their way too.
They'll be able to help as well."

"Then, after Father Clarence looks over the medical
records tomorrow, we can begin," said Father Gregory.