Disclaimer: This work contains characters and situations of the
television series "The X-Files", which are the creations and
intellectual property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions,
and FOX Broadcasting Company.  The author makes no claim to
ownership over these elements, and this work should be distributed
in a free manner without promoting monetary gain.

Feedback, both positive and negative, is always welcomed and most
appreciated.  Please respond to author: dlynn@cnsii.com

TITLE:            SEIZING THE ENIGMA 1/2
AUTHOR:           Deborah L. Wells
EMAIL ADDY:       dlynn@cnsii.com
DISTRIBUTION:     Freely 
SPOILER WARNING:  US 4th Season, set after 'Memento Mori'
RATING:           R - Language 
CONTENT WARNING:  Scully Angst.  Mulder Angst
CLASSIFICATION:   S A
SUMMARY:          Scully tries to hide the truth from Mulder, but
                  discovers she has been hiding it from herself
                  as well.
**********************************************************************
SEIZING THE ENIGMA 1/2
By: Deborah L. Wells
April 4th, 1997
************************


There was a slight twinge, and it hurt, but not too much.  Just 
enough to let her know it was there, and it wasn't going to go away.  
Enough to make her open her exhausted eyes just as she was about to 
slip over into a sleep she had really been looking forward to.  More 
than she had realized.  She shifted uncomfortably in the car seat.  
Trying to find a position that would alleviate the blazing tightness 
in her belly.  It wasn't easy though.  Finally she found one that was
a compromise of sorts, settling on a throbbing achiness.


"Tired?", Mulder questioned her quietly from the driver's seat, as
he witnessed her stirring from the corner of his eye.


"Mmmmm", she responded faintly, closing her eyes again.  Not wanting 
to waste what felt like her last remaining ounces of energy on small
talk.


He reached his arm out and touched her shoulder gently for a moment.
Gave it a soft squeeze and a reassuring pat.  "We're almost there", 
he said as he pulled his hand back, placing it on the steering wheel 
once more.  Focused on the road.  Scully opened her eyes again, her 
thoughts lingering on the way his slight touch had made her feel a 
little better.  The way her shoulder had felt warm and tingly under 
his fingers, and then suddenly, just for a moment, cold and bereft 
when he had pulled away.  Funny that.  How a simple touch from someone 
close to you could make you momentarily forget your problems.  


But not for long it seemed; as just then her stomach muscles pulled
and rippled for a second, causing another sudden sharp pain.  She
turned in her seat facing the window.  Working her way silently 
through the pain by releasing the air from her body softly through 
tightly clenched teeth.  When it was over she felt doubly tired.  
So damn tired.  She leaned her head against the window pane.  Letting 
the coolness of the glass cancel out the heat radiating from her 
brow.  She stay still there for a moment while the soft sheen of 
perspiration that had broken out across her forehead evaporated 
slowly as the effects of the spasm eased away.  She thought maybe 
she might be running a temperature.  Was pretty sure.  Oh hell, she 
knew she was.  


Yeah - all around; this had been a very bad day.


It had started first thing this morning, waking up after only three
hours sleep with that overall achy feeling that is an undeniable
preliminary to on-coming sickness.  The flu she was sure.  Or some
virus.  Whatever it was had really bad timing.  She and Mulder had
been investigating a series of abductions and murders in a small
town whose name actually escaped her muddled mind at the moment.
God she was tired.  But unlike some of their other cases this
perpetrator had turned out to be an all too run-of-the-mill villain.
No other worldly facets to this one.  Despite its first outward
appearances.  And hence their involvement.  They had cornered one
Thomas Hackard in an abandoned warehouse where he had taken his
latest victim - a ten year old girl.  She and Mulder had split up,
trying to cover as much ground as possible.


She still wasn't sure what had happened.  There was a sound.  A
movement.  A flash of color.  Scully had her gun pointed and ready
to shoot; her finger applying a slight controlling pressure to the
trigger when she had realized it was the kid.  The bastard had
pushed the kid out hoping she would take the fire instead of him.
Had she been some rookie on her first stake-out that may have well
been the case.  But she had seen way too many human monsters in
her career to fall for that trap.  She lifted the gun up in the
air away from her, and yelled at the child to get down....and then
...well, she wasn't sure.  One second she had been upright.  The
next she was face down on the concrete floor.  The breath knocked
out of her hard, and an intense fiery pain in her belly like none
she had ever felt before.  He'd hit her with a stick, a bat, or
maybe he had just kicked her.  Whatever it had been had carried
a lot of force.


Hackard had thought she was down and out for the count.  But she
had turned over quickly.  In agony, but running on pure adrenaline.
The gun still grasped in her hand beneath her body.  She raised
it with a lightening speed that would have brought shame to the
gunslinger's of the old west.  She brought him down with three
rapid fire shots.  When Mulder had caught up with her he found
her tight-lipped and ashen, holding the almost hysterical little
girl, and Hackard dead at their feet.


Now six hours, and probably ten reams of paperwork later they
were finally on their way back to their motel.  A lot of red tape
where bodies are concerned.  A sad pity too that sometimes it 
seemed there was more forms when it involved the killer rather 
than a victim.  She lifted her weary eyes now to follow the passing 
scenery.  Trying to divert her mind from other unpleasant things, 
such as the pain that was refusing to be ignored.  There wasn't
much to see though.  It was after midnight, and the streets were
pretty much deserted.  Not that small town streets of this size
offered much action after dark anyway.  A barber shop with one
of those red and white candystriped electric tubes that run
endlessly up and around again.  Swirling the stripes to a dizzy-
ing blend of mixing colors.  A one-engine fire station.  She
wondered idly as it passed her line of vision in a quick blur of
speed, whether there was a black and white spotted Dalmatian keeping
guard.  Could pretty much bet on it she figured.  Probably rode
shotgun with the mayor in the 4th of July mainstreet parade.


She swallowed hard, around a cotton-dry mouth, feeling yet another
pain now.  This time in her throat.  It too joining the rest of
her miscellaneous parts, as they gained up on her and declared
mutiny on her body one section at a time.  She shifted in her
seat again.  Not able it seemed to sit still comfortably for very
long in one position.  She leaned back against the car head rest.
Wanting to reach down and pull the reclining lever, but pretty
sure she couldn't bend down that far in her current condition.
She stole a quick glance at Mulder as he drove.  A large shadow
formation illuminated only by the dashboard light.  The lumines-
cent green coloring his features in a ghostly echo hue.  Seeming
to blur his form around the edges.  His face was ruddy with a five
o'clock shadow, and his clothes rumpled from not having been 
changed for the last 24 hours.  He looked about half-asleep on
his feet.  Neither one of them had gotten much sleep on this
case.  Hackard had liked to kill one a day.  And that little
girl's time had all but run out just before they had gotten the
tip about the warehouse.


Scully looked down at her lap now. Her hand, palm flat, just bal-
anced over her abdomen.  In a half parody of the mythical laying of 
hands.  Hoping for a magical cure.  Her fingers hovered in mid-air, 
just an eighth of an inch away from actual contact.  If she had been 
totally honest with herself she would acknowledge that she was in 
fact almost afraid to touch it.  Because it was bad.  Real bad.  
She was sure there wasn't any major internal damage, no hemorrhaging.  
And there was nothing broken.  But it hurt, hurt a lot, and it was
getting worse.  Plus she had the flu on top of that.  She bit her lip 
hard.  Mulder suddenly stretched his arm out to the side emitting a 
very exaggerated yawn.  Scully jerked and pulled her hand away from 
her tummy, almost as if she had been caught with the proverbial hand 
in the cookie jar.  He turned her way and smiled.  She returned the 
smile weakly and then leaned back into her seat again.


And then there was of course the small matter that she hadn't yet
made mention to Mulder that she had been hurt at all.  As a matter
of fact she had neglected to put that little tidbit into her 
report as well.  She had to admit it hadn't been one of her better
decisions.  Most decisions she made based on emotions rather than
clear-cut rationale had a habit of coming back to haunt her in the
light of day.  This was turning out to be no exception.  But it
had been Mulder who had forced this one upon her.  Even if he 
didn't know it himself.


His eyes.  The way he had rushed into the part of the warehouse
she had been in; holding and soothing the trembling and crying
child in the aftermath of Hackard's death.  Mulder had looked
stricken.  Lost.  And for a moment, for just a single split second
moment she knew without a doubt what he was thinking.  Could see
it as clearly as she saw his face.  She almost expected him to be
carrying a banner.  Proclaiming the prophecy.  The coming.  The
inevitable.  The word.  The one damn word. The one word that had the 
power to drive a wedge between them that four years of fighting 
shadow conspiracies had never been able to do.  The one word that 
now seemed to cover and devour every aspect of her life with a
rotting, clinging, fetid daily reminder of death.  Hers.


Cancer.


It was a word that carried significance.  And power.  Power
to change.  And to destroy.  Not only those that possessed its 
poisonous venom spreading and growing within their fragile shells.  
But also to those who must bear witness.  She knew there would come 
change with the knowledge of her illness.  And pity.  But not this 
soon.  She thought she would have time to adjust.  She wasn't ready 
for it yet.  And she truly wasn't ready for what she saw mirrored in 
his face this day.

 
He was afraid somehow that her cancer, and its growing repercus-
sions would in some way cause her to be negligent in her duties 
as an agent.  He had expected to come in there and find not only 
that she was dead, but the child as well.  He recovered his 
composure quickly, and had never openly said a word to her.  But 
it was too late.  She knew.  She saw.  And that had hurt.  Oh God, 
that had hurt.  Even more than the pain she was experiencing now.  
She had never thought she would see the day when Mulder would 
question her job performance.  Her abilities.  And that lack of 
faith, however brief, could well signal the beginning of the end 
for their partnership.  If he couldn't trust her.  If he didn't 
have absolute faith that she could and would be able to cover his 
butt in times of need, as well as take care of herself - than what 
was the point?


But instead of bringing it all out in the open then and there...
she had lied.  Falsified reports.  They....them....it, whatever
the powers that be considered themselves, were just waiting for
something like this to force her off of field assignment.  Work.
She needed to work.  She couldn't risk having that taken away
from her.  Without her work, she might as well just give up, 
crawl in a hole and die right now.  She knew she made people 
nervous.  She was a curiosity.  A conundrum.  The whispers in 
the hall as she made her way to the basement office.  The stolen 
glances.  Those looking for some outward signs of the killer that 
grew within her body.  The damn bloody nose episodes that happened 
frequently and conveniently enough to serve as a constant reminder. 
Lest they ever forget. Or she.  They would like nothing better 
than to pat her on the head and send her away into some cubby hole 
with a desk and a chair where she could stay hidden behind 
appropriately locked doors. It wouldn't do for the FBI to have 
their dirty laundry on display.  What a shame they would 'tsk'. 
Poor Scully.  Poor poor Scully.  She refused to make this easy for 
them.  For her.


It wouldn't matter that she had been the one that had saved that 
child's life.  It wouldn't matter that she had been capable enough
to fire on and kill the suspect without endangering the hostage.  
And she could explain until she was blue in the face that she 
wasn't feeling well because she had the flu.  The simple flu for 
Christ's sake.  That the injury she had sustained in the line of 
duty was in no way related to the cancer, and the possibility that 
it was slowing down her reflexes.  It wouldn't matter.  None of it.  
Because she wasn't Agent Scully anymore.  That person was lost and 
gone forever. Now she was Agent Scully with the terminal cancer.  
And that was what it all boiled down to now.


Mulder pulled their rental car into the motel parking lot.  It
was deserted and quiet.  Lighted only by a single street light
which gave off a muted yellowish glow.  He pulled into the space
in front of their rooms, and turned off the engine.  


"Well now that we're here I'm wide awake.  Feel like some food?",
he asked her.


She shook her head slowly.  Her headache now pounding a steady 
beat matching the other aches and pains of her tortured body.  
"No, I'm going to take a hot bath and sleep for the next 12 hours."
She reached out and pulled the door handle, conscious of Mulder's
eyes following her every movement.  Twisting her body to the side
and pulling it up and out of the car was paramount to being hit
once again full force in the stomach.  Each move bringing fresh
shock waves of pain to her system.  Starting in her stomach and
working its way outward.  Her head hammering.  Her body aching.
Her mind only running on fumes, but somehow she made it to a
standing position.  Once there she realized that Mulder was still
sitting in the car.  She gave him a questioning glance.


"I'm going out to make a fast food run.  You want anything?"


She shook her head again quickly.  Her stomach churning at the 
mere mention of food.   Queasy.  She felt like road kill.  Not
even that good.  Mulder nodded in return and started the car again.
He leaned over in the seat almost as if he wanted to say something
to her before going.  But he seemed to change his mind, straight-
ened in the seat, and backed the car up.  She watched him drive 
away.  And then turned back towards the door of the motel room
that suddenly seemed much too far away.  Now that Mulder was gone
she let her shoulders slump forward in exhaustion.  Dropping her
defenses for the first time tonight.  She walked slowly, with
baby steps.  Agony in motion.  Halfway there she realized she was
actually groaning out loud with each step, and clamped her mouth
shut to further noise.  


Once inside she shrugged slowly out of her jacket.  Her skin felt
hyper-sensitive as she worked to shed each layer of clothing.
Dropping them unceremoniously on the floor in piles.  She winced
loudly, as the brush of material rasping across her skin felt like
the stunted irritation of fingernails on a chalkboard.  She cringed
inwardly and shivered.  Her lips and teeth chattering loudly against
each other, as her exposed skin came in contact with the chill of 
the room.  She was too hot.  She was too cold.  Both at the same
time.  


She walked naked into the bathroom and leaned down to turn on the
water, having to drop painfully to her knees trying to avoid bending
at the waist, as she placed the plug into the tub drain.  It took
her a good minute or more just to stand up again.  And then was hit 
with a wave of nausea and vertigo for her efforts. She leaned against
the wall for a moment, trying to regain her equilibrium. As the water
filled the bath she turned slowly toward the mirror.  She almost
gasped in shock as she saw the intense severe bruising that just 
about completely covered her stomach area.  Beginning just under the 
rib cage and ending just below the soft swell of her belly.  Mostly
purplish blue in color.  Some red.  A spotting of yellow.  Mottled
in appearance.  It was even worse than she had envisioned.  But it
wasn't as bad as it looked she told herself.  Placating her own
subconscious. She just needed rest.  A relaxing bath and a decent 
night's sleep.  The oldest simplest panacea in the world.  And still 
the best as far as she was concerned right now.


Once the tub was filled with steaming water, as hot as she could
stand she shut off the spigot with shaking hands.  Stepping into
the water she braced her hands against the tiled wall of the stall.
She tried bending her knees at different angles, and after quite
a few tries and a lot of pain she had finally managed to ease her
body into a sitting position with her legs out in front of her.
It was a small tub so she was able to lean her head back against
the rim with her feet touching the other end.  Using them to secure
her position.  She was still shivering despite the heat of the 
water.  She sighed deeply, letting go, allowing the soothing calm-
ness of the water to work its promised magic on her tired and abused 
body.  She hurt so bad.  All over.  Inside and out. She just wanted 
to sleep.  Sleep and forget.


"SEIZING THE ENIGMA"
 END OF PART 1
 CONTINUED IN PART 2.......

***************************************************************
...People who are wrapped up in themselves make small packages
                --Poor Richard's Almanack--
***************************************************************



Hands.  Grabbing, with a vise-tight grip.  Pulling her under the
water.  She couldn't breathe.  And the pain.  It hurt so much.
She....tried....but....so weak.  She was so confused.  And she was
panicking.  Needed air.  The hands were holding her down.  And then
there was air.  A little.  And water.  Mixed together.  The combina-
tion making her choke with a coughing fit that pulled cruelly at
each and every muscle of her pain-ridden body.  She moaned.  Her
stomach hurt.  Her head.  Her body.  Achy.  Hurting.  The hands....
strong and capable....and she was wrong, they weren't pushing her
down.  They were pulling her up.  Up towards the air.  The bitter-
sweet air, wrapped around the molecules of the water trapped in
her windpipe.  And then a voice.  Familiar.  Calling her name.
Somewhere.


"Scully!", Mulder tried again in a loud harsh voice.  "Wake-up",
he called, shaking her roughly by the shoulders.


The water stone-cold around her.  An embryonic cocoon of freezing
cold that make her tremble and shake.  Her skin had turned a light
shade of blue.  Some of the bath water spilled out and over the
edge of the tub unto the floor.  She tried to lift her head, but
it fell back down against her chest, stubbornly defying her 
commands.  Couldn't even find the strength to open her eyes.  The 
water pitched and sloshed noisily around her legs as she felt 
herself being hoisted to a standing position.  Unsteady and weak.
And she was so cold.  Shivering violently.  And then a small patch
of warmth as a dwarf-sized motel equivalent of a bath towel was
wrapped around her shoulders.  Another across her chest.  Her 
knees were weak and threatened to collapse.  More hands, now under
her back and knees.  Carrying her from the bathroom into the 
bedroom.


Softness and coarseness underneath her now.  A bed.  Then a feel-
ing of terrycloth dragging thirstily across her face and torso. 
Drying her skin hastily.  Awakening the hyper-sensitivity of her
aching body.  Painful in its almost sandpapery feel.  Then a stab
of intense pain that left her gasping for air as the towel ran
unknowingly over her recent stomach injury.  And an audible gasp
from Mulder.


'Wait', her mind tugged now at her memory insistently.  Sending 
a time delayed warning to her fevered brain.  She remembered then
as she tried in vain to use her water-pruned wrinkled hands to
cover her bruised stomach.  Desperately hoping to hide her secret.
But he brushed her hands away impatiently.  Almost angrily.  A
colorful expletive curse muttered under his breath as he took in
the extent of her injury.


"Dammit Scully, why didn't you tell me?  We have to get you to a
hospital."  A heavy knocking clank of plastic on plastic as he
reached for the old-fashioned rotary phone receiver on the table
next to the bed.  She struggled to open her eyes.  Clear her mind.
Tried to turn to the side.


"No....no, please Mulder."  


"This is Special Agent Fox Mulder in room 22, I need an....."  He
paused as she lifted herself partially on one elbow reaching for
the hem of his jacket.  Pulling on it with a sorry show of her
lack of strength.  Trying to convey the importance of her next
words.


"Please no....no hospital....please Mulder....it's not what you
think."  She could hear the faint murmuring echoes of the person
on the other end of the line, wondering if Mulder was still there.
He paused for a moment before talking again.


"Sorry, I'll have to call back later", he said quietly as he hung
up the phone.  He pulled a blanket from the bottom of the bed and
covered her completely with it, sitting down on the side of the
bed next to her.  "What's going on Scully?  What happened?  I
come back from getting something to eat.  Your light is on, but
you don't answer the door.  It's unlocked, and your clothes are
all over the floor.  I knocked on the bathroom door.  I called.
Nothing.  I come in to find you asleep in the bathtub with your
head slipping underneath the water.  Scully, you didn't even 
wake-up when you went under.  What if....and now this."  He 
pointed in the direction of her stomach.  "Hackard?", he 
questioned her.


"Yes."


"Why Scully?  Why did you feel you had to hide this from me?"


"I'm sick Mulder.  It's nothing."


"I know you're sick, that's why...."


"No.  Not that.  Everything isn't that.  It's the flu.  Dammit,
it's just the flu", she punctuated this statement by roughly
turning over on her side, but only succeeded in aggravating
her injury.  She cried out loudly with the pain.  Mulder put
his hand on her shoulder.


"Scully, this is stupid.  We need to get someone to look at
that.  You're a Doctor.  You should know better."


"I'm fine Mulder.  Leave me alone."


The bed creaked as he stood up beside it.  Running his hands
through his hair in frustration.  Silence filled the room.
Finally.


"Scully, if I have to I'll take you there by force.  You're
not thinking clearly, and you're endangering your health.
You need help."


She turned over slowly in response to his words.  His threat.
There were pools of unshed tears in her eyes.  She was exposed.
Vulnerable.  Hurting.  In a way that Mulder had never seen
before.


"I'm sick, but it's not the cancer, Mulder.  Don't you under-
stand?"


He sat down again beside her taking one of her hands in his.
"No Scully, I don't.  Tell me."


"I saved that little girl.  I took care of Hackard.  Isn't that
enough?"


"Scully, what does that have to do...."


"If you take me to the hospital.  If they know that I've been
hurt.  That I'm sick.  They'll think it was because of the
cancer.  That I'm slipping.  That I can't handle the field work
anymore.  Don't you see?"  She searched his eyes for understanding.
"Everytime I get one of those fucking nosebleeds I have to prove
myself all over again.  To them."  She paused.  "To you.  This
is no different."


He put his other hand on her forehead, feeling her fever, but
ignoring it for the moment.  "That's not true Scully.  You never
had to prove yourself to me."


A single tear fell down her cheek, as she blinked her eyes.  "Yes
I do Mulder.  Like today.  I saw the way you looked in the ware-
house.  You were scared.  Afraid I wasn't pulling my weight."


He furrowed his brow.  "Scully, I don't know what you're talking
about.  If you saw anything it was just my usual concern over
your safety.  Nothing more.  I'm still allowed to care, aren't
I?"


She shook her head sadly.  "No.  You've changed.  You've started
making concessions because of the...."


"Scully, don't you see. *You're* the one that's making concessions
because of the cancer.  Not me.  But in the opposite direction.
You're trying to be super-human.  Wonder Woman."  He smiled down
at her.  "But even Wonder Woman has bad days."


She smiled slightly at this.  Her eyes beginning to close, but
she opened them slightly again.  "No hospital Mulder.  Promise
me."


"All right Scully.  If that's the way you want it.  I promise."


She closed her eyes and promptly fell asleep.

**********

She opened her eyes later.  Much later.  As Mulder pulled down the 
blanket to her waist.  Gently he lifted the nightshirt he had been
able to get on her earlier.  Pulling it up until it rested just 
underneath her breasts.  


"It hurts", she croaked quietly.


"I know.  This should help a little.  I wasn't sure what to get.  I
also got some aspirin for you to take when I'm done here.  Over the
counter, but it has an added sleeping aid.  I think it will help.
He rubbed his hands together.  Warming them, before he reached for
the tube of creme he had placed on the nightstand.  He squeezed a
sizeable dollop on his hands.  And then began massaging her stomach
with a extremely light touch.  A bull in a china shop scenario coming
to mind as he treated her like she would break.
  

She felt the warmth covering her tummy.  His touch was soft, and it
felt good.  The creme working to soothe away most of the achiness.
She sighed deeply.  Sleepy.  Closing her eyes again.  


"Mulder?"


"Yes Scully?"


"....It's not the....it wasn't because of the...."


"....cancer.  I know."


"....oh, did I already tell you that?  Can't....can't remember"


"It has that deja vu' quality."


"Do you believe me?"


"I never doubted you Scully."


"That's good.  I'm glad."


"Me too."


They were both silent for a few minutes.  As he continued to rub
her stomach.


"I....I think I'm going to go to sleep for a little bit now.  I'm
so tired."


"I think that's a very good idea Scully.  I'll be right here if you
need anything."


"Okay.  Mulder....it didn't happen because of the cancer."


"I know.  Shhh....sleep Scully.  Just sleep."


"Night Mulder."


"Night Scully."


"SEIZING THE ENIGMA" 2/2
 END OF STORY

************************************************************
....'but here was heroism, the kind that honor sings; the
courage to be lovely, and smile...in spite of things.'
                       --unknown--
**************************************************************