TITLE: World Without End (1/?)
AUTHOR: Rachel Anton
E-MAIL: RAnton1013@aol.com

The days here are very long.  I don't remember 
anything of what the others call "life before" but I 
wonder if mine was always so dull.  I rise at dawn 
with the others.  We eat breakfast together and then 
scatter to our various duties.  I am the Special 
Handmaid to the Mistress of the house.  With a title 
like that one would expect I would actually have 
something to do.  Mostly I keep her quarters clean 
and listen to her talk.  She talks a lot.  I would 
talk back if I had something to say.  I find it 
difficult to form sentences most days so I just 
listen.  She talks a lot about her husband.  I get 
the sense that the Master is somehow very important 
to the "world outside."  I have no knowledge of this 
world either.  I usually forget the things she tells 
me by the time I fall asleep.

My duties are not difficult.  The actions come to me 
without thought or effort.  Even the first day, I 
knew what to do automatically.  I still do.  
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to work in 
the field.  Or to build.  The men get to go outside 
and build things.  I think I might like to do that 
but I'm sure I wouldn't know how.  It's not what I 
was created to do.

I seem to be the only one who wonders about other 
duties, about life in the world outside.  The others 
seem content.  When we gather again for dinner no one 
complains of boredom or restlessness.  No one 
complains of the emptiness.

The days are long but the nights are worse.  Bedtime 
is 9 p.m..  Bedtime has always been 9 p.m..  I wonder 
why I am never tired at 9 p.m..  I share sleeping 
quarters with three of the other women.  They get in 
bed at 9 p.m.  and fall asleep without a word.  I lay 
in my bed, eyes open and body rigid for a very long 
time.  I get the sense that during life before I was 
rarely in bed before midnight.

Sometimes during the long nights I try to remember.  
Usually after a couple of hours I get a headache from 
it.  I wonder if I knew such headaches before.  Once 
I got a flash, nothing more than an image flitting 
through my consciousness.  It was a very strange 
image; a man and a small girl sitting on a floor.  
The man made a funny face and the girl smiled.  The 
image made me ache.  Then it was gone.  I was left 
with a worse headache than ever and a feeling of loss 
so profound I couldn't even fathom it.  Why am I the 
only one who feels?  Am I the only one who tries to 
remember?

When I finally sleep I think I dream.  I never 
remember the dreams.

Then the day begins again and the process is 
repeated.  It has always been this way.

Today is different.  Something is happening today.  I 
am sitting in my assigned chair beside Mistress's 
sofa where she lays, sprawled across the red velvet 
cushions, still in her sleeping clothes even though 
it is well past noon.  She is talking of some kind of 
trouble brewing for the Master on the outside.  I 
hope that he is okay.  I don't know what would happen 
to us all if he couldn't take care of us.

"I'm very worried," she tells me.  "There's been talk 
of war again.  Why can't everyone be as sweet as you, 
dear?"

I shrug and she pats my shoulder with her wrinkled 
hand.  I wonder what war is.

A very loud sound makes us both jump.  Her hand 
tightens on my shoulder.

"Oh my God!  I think that was a gunshot."

I wonder what a gunshot is.  There is so much I don't 
know.  I wonder if I ever knew.  A few more loud 
sounds that the mistress seems convinced must be 
gunshots ring through the house.  She is locking and 
bolting the door to her quarters.  She runs back to 
me, looking very unhappy.  Scared?  Is that fear?

"We have to get out of here.  Oh my God!  We have to 
get out of here!"

She pulls open the curtains and looks out the large 
window.  I think she's planning on jumping.  These 
gunshots must be very bad things indeed.  But for 
some reason the sound of them makes me smile.  
Something is happening.

"God, they're outside too."

I stand up and peek through the window.  There are 
several men holding big, strange things.  I wonder if 
the gunshots come from these things.  I wonder how 
they got through the gates.  If they can get in why 
can't I get out?  I guess I never really tried.

Mistress is making strange noises and there is water 
coming from her eyes.  I guess this is crying.  I've 
heard her mention it before I think.

The loud noises get closer and then they are right 
outside the door.  Mistress seems extremely unhappy 
now.  I want to tell her that it's okay, the door is 
locked and the noises can't get through but I think 
part of me wants them to come through.

There are several pounding sounds from the outside 
and suddenly the door is open.  There are two men 
I've never seen.  Men aren't allowed in Mistress's 
quarters.  I get up to tell them that but before I 
can say anything one of those things they are holding 
makes a gunshot and Mistress falls to the floor.  
Black fluid comes from her chest.  Is this how she 
bleeds?

I kneel down beside her, an instinct to put myself in 
front of the gunshot engulfing me.  Mistress is dead.  
I must also die.

The man who fired the gunshot comes to me and pulls 
me up by the arm.  

"Did you make her die?"  I ask him.  He looks at me 
strangely.  He has green eyes.

"Scully?  Jesus Christ, is that you?"  I shrug.  I 
don't know if I am a Scully.  I've never heard that 
word before.

"Oh my God.  Of course it is.  The chip.  I'd almost 
forgotten."

I shrug again.  I don't know about this chip he 
speaks of but I am happy he is here for some reason.  
Even though he made Mistress die.  Maybe he will have 
something more interesting for me to do.

"Did you make the Master die too?"  I ask him, 
suddenly very excited.

"God, this is too fucking weird.  I'm gonna get you 
out of here, Scully."

"Who is this woman?"  the other man asks.  He is a 
very large man.  They are both large but this one is 
larger than any of the other men I've seen.  Larger 
than the Master or any of the other workers.  The 
green eyed man shakes his head.

"Someone I used to know.  Kind of.  She was...she 
worked for the fucking FBI if you can believe it."

Someone he used to know.  Someone...someone from the 
time before!  Someone who remembers the time before!  
I didn't know such people existed.

"Come on Scully, I'm gonna get you out of here."

He takes my arm again and I follow him through the 
house.  There are many dead people in the rooms we 
pass through.  There are also many living people, all 
from the outside.  They are taking things and 
stuffing them into bags.

There are more dead people on the lawn.  Is this war?

The green-eyed man brings me to what I recognize as a 
car, although I've never been in one.  I see the 
Master leaving in one through the window sometimes.  
Cars take him to the world outside.  We must be going 
to the world outside.

We sit together in the backseat and the large man 
gets behind the wheel.  Another large man sits beside 
him.

"Get us out of here fast," the one who knew me once 
tells them.  We start moving.  Very fast.  So fast I 
feel strange in my stomach from it.  It feels like I 
think the birds must feel.  Flying.  It feels like 
flying.

When we pass the gates I feel a jolt, almost like a 
headache but sharper.  It shoots through my head and 
my neck.  The man next to me turns to me.  His face 
is covered with stubble.  Not like the workers.  They 
shave every morning.

He stares at me and I stare back.  We don't speak for 
a very long time.  It's good to be with one who 
doesn't speak as much as the Mistress.

We drive into the night without words.  Many hours 
pass and I realize it is probably past 9 p.m..  The 
world outside is very empty.  I look out the windows 
of the car as we drive and there is nothing but dirt.  
We pass places that look like they used to be 
something but they are broken.  Buildings that look 
like they've only been partially built.  Or maybe 
they were whole once and someone knocked them down.  
There aren't any people.  The world outside seems 
even more boring than the Master's house.

Eventually we reach an area where there is no real 
path.  Only trees.  The big driving man brings us 
into the trees.  It is very dark here but he seems to 
know where he's going.

"I don't think we were followed," he says.

"No, but the others...I don't feel entirely 
comfortable yet," the green eyed one says.  "Just get 
us back, Bryan.  Hopefully everyone's been as lucky 
as we have."

Bryan.  That's what they call the big one.  These 
people are called strange things.  

"They call me twenty-four," I announce and everyone 
in the car turns to me and frowns.  Okay, so it's not 
much of a name.  Better than Scully, though.  What 
the heck *is* a Scully anyway?

"Jesus Christ," the one next to me grumbles.  I guess 
he likes the other name better.

I shrug and decide silence was a much better policy.

We drive through the trees for another long while and 
eventually come to a clearing.  There is a path and 
we take it down to a building so large I can see it 
from very far away.  It looks even larger than the 
Master's house.

"Is this your house?"  I ask the green eyed man who I 
suppose is my new Master now.

"You could say that, I guess."

We pass through a gate and the driving man shows 
another man in a booth there some kind of card.  The 
booth man looks in the backseat and smiles with 
recognition at Master.

"Glad to see you back, sir," he says and waves us 
through.

When we get closer to the big building I realize 
there are many other buildings around it.  It looks 
like a picture I saw once in one of Mistress's old 
forbidden magazines.  She kept a stack of them in a 
locked box under her bed.  Sometimes she showed me 
the pictures.  I couldn't read the words, though.  
She showed me a picture of a place like this and 
said, "This is what they used to call a prison.  You 
used to need places like this."  That place also had 
fences with sharp tops and guards standing around it.  
Is this place a prison?

We drive into a big hidden place under the building 
where there are a few other cars and get out.  The 
two big men go in one direction and the Master takes 
me by the arm again and leads me in another 
direction.  We take a set of stairs up and then we 
are walking through a long hallway with many doors.  
Things are not as nice here as they were at the other 
Master's house.  The walls are green and the carpet 
is orange.  It's ugly.

We go up another flight of stairs and around some 
corners, more stairs, some locked doors that he has 
the key to and finally we arrive at what I suppose 
are his quarters.  This is strange.  The females 
never went into Master's quarters in the other house.

My new Master's quarters are not very big.  He has a 
small table that I suppose is for eating, a little 
kitchen area and a couch.  There are some tables and 
lamps and some things that look like the magazines 
but they are bigger and they have hard covers.  Could 
these be books?  Mistress used to complain that we 
didn't have any books.

"Sit down," he tells me and I do, on the chair next 
to the couch.  I open the one of the books on the 
table next to me and peer at the words scrambled 
across the page.  I wish I knew what the words meant.

He tosses his coat onto the couch and goes to the 
kitchen area.  He places his gunshot machine on the 
table and pours himself a glass of water from the 
sink.

"Want a drink?"  he asks me and I shrug.  I don't 
know what I want.  He sighs and comes back, sitting 
on the couch.

"Scully, do you know who I am?"

"You're my new master, from the world outside."

I think that this is a good answer but he doesn't 
seem pleased.  He rolls his eyes and runs his fingers 
through his dark hair.

"They really fucked you up good, didn't they?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means you are not the woman I remember.  Scully, 
look, you've got a few choices here."

"What is choices?"

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and makes a groaning 
sound.

"Scully, there's something in you, in your neck.  
It's making you...it's making you not yourself.  It's 
making you forget.  It's letting them get into your 
head and control everything you do, everything you 
feel."

I don't understand what he is saying and yet it makes 
sense.  I have forgotten.  I thought everyone had but 
this one remembers.  I want to be like this one.  I 
don't want them to control me.  Whoever they are.

"Can you take it out?"  I ask him and he nods.

"I can take it out, Scully but...I have to tell you, 
if I do, something bad might happen to you.  You 
might get very sick.  In fact you probably will.  
You'll probably get cancer eventually and then, 
unless we've found a cure by then, you'll die."

He looks very serious.  I am not worried about death.  
I want to remember.  I want to remember this strange 
one who knows me with the green eyes.  I want to know 
who the man and the small girl are.  I want to be 
able to read that book.

"Take it out, please."

"Scully, are you sure?  It's gonna...it's gonna be 
very strange for you.  You're gonna remember a lot of 
shit at once and it's probably not all gonna be good.  
I mean I envy you in some ways, not being able to 
remember the way things were before."

"I want to remember.  Please make me remember."

He smiles and I think for once I have made my new 
master happy.

"C'mere," he says and moves over on the couch so I 
can sit next to him.  "Wait one sec."

He stands and leaves the room.  When he comes back he 
is carrying a bottle and some tissue paper.  And a 
knife like we use to cut our food.  Although it looks 
a lot sharper.  He sits beside me again.

"Turn around."

I turn so my back is facing him.  He pulls my hair to 
the side and over my shoulder.

"Got so long," he mutters and I shrug.

"This is gonna hurt, Scully.  I'm sorry.  I'm not a 
doctor like you.  We need a doctor.  I hope you 
decide to stay.  And Scully, I want you to keep the 
chip.  In case you ever change your mind and want it 
back."  With that I feel a sharp burning pain in my 
neck.  It's horrible.  Worse than any pain I've ever 
felt.  It seems to go on indefinitely as he cuts and 
pulls.  I bite my lip and try not to make a sound.  
"I'm so sorry," he tells me again and then I feel 
cool liquid on the wound and a bandage and then I am 
holding a small circular chip in my hand.  "So 
sorry," he says one last time.  And then...and then I 
remember.

xxxxxx

It had been going on for several nights now.  Just 
like before.  Like the last time.  Skyland Mountain.  
The pull, the numb, the feeling and lack of feeling 
that she couldn't explain but remembered well.  She'd 
caught herself staring out the window with that same 
yearning, almost a craving more times than she could 
count.  Always at night.  They were calling to her.  
They wanted her back.  She wanted to go in the night 
time.

When the craving came to her in the day she went to 
Mulder.  He would help her fight it.  He would make 
it stop, keep her safe.  She would tell him.  She 
would tell him finally.

She drove to his apartment quickly.  So quickly that 
she barely noticed that people were dying in the 
streets.

She knocked and then let herself in when there was no 
answer.  On the couch.  He was sick.  So sick.  It 
was so hot.  July, it was July and the heat was on in 
the apartment and he was shivering and wrapped in 
wool blankets.  The strings holding her were 
snapping, thinning down to nothing.

"Scully...help," he pleaded.  She wanted to ask the 
same but couldn't.  Holding him, trying to keep him 
warm, trying not to leave.  The pull was almost 
overwhelming but the need to care for him was 
stronger still.

He shook in her arms and she thought maybe she should 
kiss him.  Was it too late for all of that?

"Mulder, you've got a fever.  I'm going to see if 
you've got any ibuprofen."

She stands and he whimpers, reaching out for her.  
She hopes she doesn't jump out the window of the 
bathroom.  Hands shaking, pulling open the cabinet, 
dropping the bottle once, twice.  She jumped at the 
sound of the bottle hitting the floor a third time.

"Don't go, don't go, don't go," she tells her 
reflection.

Screaming from the other room and tears filling her 
eyes.

"Don't go..."

She runs to him but it's too late.  He lies on the 
couch, same as she left him.  Head resting on 
pillows, hands limp at his sides, but now there is a 
gaping, bloody maw where his stomach once was.

His face, twisted into a grimace of pain, a masque of 
death.  She touches that face one time and finally 
she knows she can go.

xxxxxx

I don't think this was the best idea in the world.

Okay, vast understatement.  This was the worst idea 
I've ever had.  I knew it would be hard for her.  
I've seen this process before.  A lot of the people 
here are former slaves.  It's always painful.  
Getting back all your memories, all your feelings, 
total self awareness delivered in one sweeping blow, 
it can't be easy.

I didn't realize it would be quite this bad.  I 
didn't expect her to sit there staring blankly at the 
wall for almost two hours without moving, without 
speaking.  I don't know if my movement would startle 
her and cause her to lash out at me like a frightened 
animal but my ass is starting to hurt and I'd really 
like to just crawl into bed and go to sleep.

"Scully?"

She jerks a bit and turns to me.  Her expression 
remains blank for about ten seconds and then a little 
lightbulb seems to go off.  Her eyes narrow and her 
mouth gets very tight and angry looking.

"You?  You...  What did you do to me?  Oh God..."

Her voice cracks and she pulls herself into the 
corner of the couch, as far away from me as possible.

"Scully...I..."

"Oh God," she moans and buries her face in her hands.

"What..."

"I just left him there.  I just...I left.  Oh God," 
she groans through her hands, barely audible.

"What are you talking about?"

"I just left," she says again.  And again.  And 
again.  She must be remembering the abduction.  She 
doesn't know how lucky she was to have left.  I've 
always envied the slaves in that.  They got out 
before things really went to hell.  She seems to be 
pretty upset about having left though.  She's 
starting to rock back and forth and shake.

"Scully, I don't think you had a choice.  A lot of 
people left.  They made you leave."

"I...I left him and he was...he was...oh God."

I guess he is Mulder.  I've been wondering for some 
time what happened to him.  I keep waiting for him to 
bust down the door and tell me this little resistance 
I've got going is nice but ya know, he could do it so 
much better.  Sometimes it makes me smile to think 
that day might come.  Sometimes it actually gives me 
hope.  Don't ask me why.

"He was what?"  I ask.  Again, I'm not quite sure 
why.

"He was...he..."  She bends over, clutching her 
stomach.

"Scully?"

"He was, it was just...  blood ...he was...God..."

Damn that little shit.  I should have known he'd do 
something lame like drop dead before things even got 
started.  Instead of feeling sad or happy or 
vindicated, the apparant news of his demise just 
really pisses me off.

Scully's still bent over at her stomach, her hair 
hanging in stringy chunks over her face, her whole 
body trembling.  Christ almighty Mulder.  What a 
legacy you've dumped on my sofa.

"How could I have left?  What kind of...what did 
I...I can't...I, I can't..."

"Scully, take a deep breath.  Do you want a glass of 
water?"

"I can't...I can't..."  she keeps whispering.  I have 
got no idea how to deal with this.  Should I leave 
her alone?  What if she trashes my room?  I've seen 
people do some pretty weird stuff after getting their 
chips removed.  Should I just sit here and keep 
trying to talk to her?  Should I try to take her to a 
room of her own and leave her there to destroy things 
at her own discretion?

For some reason instinct gets the better of logic and 
I do something very very stupid.  I reach my hand out 
and touch her back.  I can feel how cold her skin is 
through the thin fabric of her potato sack dress 
immediately.  She must be in shock.  For a moment she 
doesn't seem to notice that I'm touching her and I 
leave my hand resting on her, hoping she'll continue 
to not notice but that it will help in some small 
way.  No such luck.

Her head darts up suddenly and her eyes, red and 
watery, lost and furious, take hold of my face.

"Get your hand off of me right now," she growls 
through clenched teeth.  I do.  Quickly.

"Scully..."

"What do you want?  Why am I here?  What did you do 
with Mulder?"

How did I know I'd end up getting blamed for whatever 
the hell happened to him?

"I didn't do anything with him."

"WHY AM I HERE?"

Oh boy.  I don't even know where to start.  I don't 
even know what she actually means.  And she just 
keeps getting more and more angry.  Why did I even 
try to talk to her in the first place?

"I just kind of...found you," I offer lamely.  It's 
the truth but she's not likely to believe me.

"Yeah?  Well guess what.  Now that you've "found" me, 
you're gonna help me find Mulder."

"Um..."

Is she talking about his body?  Or him?  The chances 
of the first are slim and from what she said before, 
the chances of the second seem non-existent.

"Do you understand me?"

"Scully..."

"Dammit Krycek, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

This is obviously not a good time to try to reason 
with her.

"Yes, I understand."

I understand that this woman is in for a really awful 
letdown.  I understand that when she gets a grip on 
reality the only person who's gonna be around to pick 
up her shattered pieces is me.  And I understand that 
this is the last thing she would ever want.

END PART ONE