TITLE:  World Without End (7/?)
AUTHOR:  Rachel Anton
E-MAIL:  RAnton1013@aol.com

xxxxxx

I think that I used to take a drug called valium.  It 
made me feel calm which is something I needed at the 
time.  It also had a tendency to garble things in my 
mind.  I would take a memory and it would float in my 
consciousness for a bit and then I'd try to put it 
back but it would disappear, or reappear but in the 
wrong place.  I think that's how it felt anyway.  
It's so hard to remember.

Anyway, it's the closest thing I can find to relate 
to the way I've felt for the past two days.  Valium 
minus tranquillity.  And with extra doses of 
confusion.  I think.

There are pieces in my head, and like the jagged bits 
of a jigsaw puzzle, they are starting to organize 
themselves and transform into a whole picture.  But 
the process is slow.  And painful.  Every few hours I 
regain a painful moment from the life I had, the life 
that is me.  Was me.  Things are so different now.

Where do I fit in this new world?  No one has told 
me.  Not here.  I don't fit here.  It hasn't taken 
long for me to figure out that much.  I remember 
enough of the time before to know that Marita 
Covarrubias should not be sleeping on a lumpy dorm 
mattress and wearing someone else's clothes.  Eating 
tasteless mush for breakfast in a loud, ugly, crowded 
cafeteria.  Alone because the only people I know are 
the doctor who started giving me some kind of 
primitive, slave reconditioning therapy yesterday and 
Alex.  Alex.  Alex sent the doctor.  And that woman 
who said her name was Dana.  I think I used to know 
her face.  He sent them and that's why I don't trust 
them.  I don't trust anyone here.  They're all 
working for him.

But what else is there?  I don't know.

I don't know who's fault it is that I'm stuck here.  
Faces creep up on me, new ones every hour.  Enemies.  
So many enemies.  Alex...

And then I see him, standing on line to receive his 
crappy breakfast.  Fox Mulder.  Fox Mulder is here 
too.  Fox Mulder brought me here.  I think.

I see us in a car, I hear him talking to me about 
going somewhere, but I don't know if we were coming 
here or going somewhere else.  It makes the back of 
my eyes burn to try and fit the memory into the rough 
timeline I have established.

No matter.  I know Fox Mulder.  I trust him.  I 
think.  I did.  Maybe.

He walks past the table I'm sitting at and I try to 
make eye contact with him.  It doesn't work.  He 
doesn't see me.  Maybe it's not Fox Mulder.  Or maybe 
it is and he never knew me at all.  Maybe I imagined 
the whole thing.

God, I want to go home.  Wherever that is.  It's not 
here.  Somewhere else.

The man who may or may not be named Fox Mulder sits 
down at the table behind me, his back to mine, and I 
hear him sigh.  I have to talk to him.  I don't know 
what else to do.

I stand up and take my tray over to his table.  I sit 
down across from him but he doesn't look up.  He's 
pushing around the gray, lumpy pile that I think is 
oatmeal on his plate.  I clear my throat and he 
shovels a forkful of the awful gunk into his mouth.  
Angrily I think.  I think he's angry.

I don't know why he'd be angry at me.  I can't 
remember doing anything to hurt him but that doesn't 
mean it didn't happen.

"Enjoying your mush?"  I ask in a voice so quiet and 
frightened it disgusts me.  This is not me.  Have I 
changed this much?

"Scully..."  he starts and then looks up at me.  I 
think he thought I was her.  He looks confused and 
disappointed and relieved.

"Are you...are you expecting her?  I can go..."

He laughs but not in a ha-ha way.  He laughs the way 
that Alex did when I asked him about his arm.  I 
think he thought I knew.  I think he thought I had 
something to do with that whole mess.  Maybe I did.

"Yeah, we have a date," he mutters, looking towards 
the door.  I haven't forgotten sarcasm.

He doesn't look so well now that I'm really looking.  
Dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, permanent 
grimace, and he keeps clenching and unclenching his 
fist on the table.  Angry wasn't a sufficient word.  
He looks ready to kill.  I don't remember him ever 
looking like that before.

"Look, did you need something from me?"  he asks 
suddenly.  I'm glad that I'm not completely thrown by 
the question.  Hostility is something familiar.  Fox 
Mulder is something familiar.

"No, not really.  I just thought maybe we could talk.  
I don't really know anyone else here."

I do know him.  I do.  God, please let me know him.

He shrugs and takes a big gulp of what passes for 
coffee here.

"Go ahead."

I take a deep breath, trying to force the question 
out.  It sounds so idiotic though.  So pathetic.

"You...you know me, right?  I mean, I'm not imagining 
that, right?"

"Yeah," he grunts, picking at a piece of browning 
fruit.  He obviously couldn't care less but he does 
recognize me.  That's enough.

"I mean, not from now, from...from the time before.  
We knew each other."

He nods, looking confused and annoyed.

"Yeah, why?"

"I just wasn't sure.  I...things are still a little 
confused in my head."

He sighs and looks even more annoyed but I don't 
care.

"So, you brought me here right?  When I was a slave?"

"Yeah, yeah, listen, what...what do you remember 
about how you got involved in all this, Marita?"

"Well, I have these memories but they're sort of 
disjointed.  It's hard to put it all toge..."

"Did you know Alex Krycek before?"  he asks, 
interrupting me, suddenly interested in *anything* I 
might have to say.

"Yes."

That I do not doubt for a second.  The memories are 
too vivid to be hallucinations.

"Well what, what do you remember about him?"

I don't know why he wants information about Alex and 
I don't care either.  I think that I used to give him 
information a lot.  He cared once about what I could 
tell him.  I'm not sure what to tell him about Alex.

"He was...he was part of the group.  Sort of.  We 
worked together.  I suppose..."

"Well, but, what kind of person do you remember him 
being?"

The question sets off a whole new flood of images.  
Alex showing up in my hotel suite in Khazikstan, 
brandishing a semi-automatic, threatening me, 
panicked, sweating, telling him that I was on his 
side.  We could bring them down together.  I told him 
that.  I wonder if it was true.  Bringing him to my 
bedroom.  I think the thought of making those old 
bastards beg for mercy turned him on more than I did.

And then other times.  Just a few.  I was only in 
Russia for a week or so.

Then the last.  My apartment in New York.  The door 
of my apartment in New York.  Out there in the 
hallway because he couldn't wait anymore.  And then 
leaving him asleep in my bed.  Sneaking out like a 
thief in the night.  Stole the one thing he had in 
the world.

"Marita?"

"What?  Oh...he...desperate.  He was a desperate 
person."

"Desperate?!  Desperate how?  For what?"

Mulder's leaning across the table now, his pathetic 
breakfast forgotten.  His leg is bouncing up and 
down.  Nervous habit maybe.  He looks ready to lunge 
at me.  He looks ready to strangle me.  I can't 
figure out why.

"For everything.  Power, money, respect, revenge, 
sex, everything.  Always running from one desperate 
situation to another.  He told me he'd come out on 
top.  I guess he has in a way."

"So, you knew him well, then?"

"Well?  No, not really.  We were lovers.  Sort of.  
For a little while.  I never really knew him though.  
I don't really know.  I just don't know..."

His eyes get wide and even more confused and he just 
stares at me for a long time.

"So...why are you telling me this if you don't really 
know?"

"Because you asked me!  I'm just telling you what I 
remember but it's a little fuzzy.  I told you."

I'm starting to feel anger rising in me.  I like it.  
It's good to feel something again.  Anything.

"So what, what are you still doing here anyway, 
Marita?  What's here for you?"

That just about does it for me.  I thought maybe this 
man could be a friend but he's sounding more and more 
like an enemy with every passing moment.

"What am I doing here?  YOU brought me here!  Why 
don't you tell me?!"

He chews the inside of his cheek and stares out the 
window, apparently not wanting to look at or answer 
me.  After several moments of silence during which I 
begin to formulate the seeds of a plan to kill Fox 
Mulder, he turns back to me.

"Do you speak Russian?"  he asks inexplicably.

"Excuse me?"

"The language.  Do you speak it?"

Is that why I'm here?  Am I his personal translator?

"I worked for the UN.  I speak a lot of languages.  
Russian is one of them, yes.  Why?"

"What does 'zhivotnoye' mean?"

"It means 'animal'," I tell him, out of curiosity 
more than a desire to be helpful.  There's got to be 
a reason he's asking me this and I think I should try 
to figure out what it is.

His jaw clenches and he swallows.  The answer seems 
to piss him off.  I'm glad.

"Then, what about 'divotka'?"

"Divotka?"

"'Devotska'?  Is that it?"

"'Devotchka'?"

"Yeah, that.  What does it mean?"

"It means a little girl.  Why are you asking me 
this?"

The sound of plastic and glass hitting the ground as 
he sweeps the contents of the table onto the floor 
with his arm is the only answer I get.  After that he 
gets up and storms out of the cafeteria.  A few 
people stare after him but he doesn't seem to care.

That went well.  Very pleasant.

I don't think I'll be talking to Fox Mulder again for 
a long time.

xxxxxx

In the novel "Cat's Cradle", Kurt Vonnegut described 
something called a Karass.  This Karass is made up of 
a collection of people whose lives keep tangling up 
with your own for no explicable reason whatsoever.  
Vonnegut said that these people were a team, created 
by God to help you get something important done.

Scully is certainly part of my Karass.  And so is 
that smoking bastard.  And I realized a long time 
ago, much to my dismay, that Alex Krycek was also 
part of this group.  Although I can't for the life of 
me figure out why I've been cursed with such a 
karass.  What *am* I supposed to accomplish with 
these people?

I wonder what happens if you kill a member of your 
Karass.  Or two of them even.  Or all of them.  What 
would happen if you killed all of them?

This is one of the many questions I've spent the past 
twelve or so hours pondering.

The truth is though, no matter how hard I tried, I 
couldn't imagine murdering Scully.  Or even hurting 
her.  And killing Krycek would hurt her, for whatever 
ungodly reason.  So I can't really do that either.  
That doesn't leave me with many options.

Suicide started looking rather appealing early this 
morning, as images of the two of them fucking seemed 
to overwhelm my consciousness.  But upon reflection, 
it seemed a bit too pathetic.  Not to mention 
melodramatic.  And then she'd know.  And so would he.  
They'd know how much they were killing me inside and 
I can't think of a worse bruising for my pride to 
take.

So, instead of a grand gesture I've chosen to carry 
on with the day as planned.  As if I hadn't gotten my 
heart shredded last night.

I went to the cafeteria and had breakfast.  Had a 
normal conversation.  Okay, it wasn't exactly normal.  
Come to think of it, it wasn't even a conversation.

What was my point again?

Oh yeah, normalcy.  So, now I'm going where I'm 
supposed to go.  Today is supposed to be my first day 
working at the lab.  With Scully.  It's where I'm 
expected to be and I plan on handling myself with 
class and maturity and, well, pride.  More pride than 
Scully seems to have these days.  What happened to 
her dignity?  Her integrity?

I will not stoop to their level.  I will be better 
then that.

That's the plan anyway.

I will not drop to her feet and beg her to leave him.  
I will not yell, stomp my feet and make a scene.  I 
will not cry when I see her face.

I repeat those sentences over and over on my walk to 
the lab.  And when I get there I've almost got myself 
convinced that this is possible.  And then I hear 
them.

No, not *them*.  Scully, yes.  But not him.  She's 
talking to another woman.  They're standing over a 
huge basin, washing equipment and chattering.  I 
think the woman's name is Roseanne.  I've seen her 
around before.

I walk in and slam the door behind me.  Just 
announcing my presence.  Not making a scene.  
Honestly.

They both turn around and give me irritating smiles.

"Hi, Mulder," the traitorous, back-stabbing bitch 
says and I give her a phony grin back.  Okay, this is 
gonna be more difficult than I thought.

"Um, I guess we should show you around, huh?"

"Guess so."

"Oh, can I do the grand tour?"  Roseanne asks, 
batting her eyelashes at me revoltingly.  Why is this 
woman here?  Maybe if I ignore her she'll go away.

"So, Scully, what is it exactly that we're going to 
be doing here?"

She looks confused.  We've talked about it before, I 
know.  Hell, this whole thing was my idea.  I just 
didn't expect someone else to be here.

Scully's cheeks are pink.  And her eyes are 
sparkling.  She's glowing.  Beautiful.  Beautiful 
bitch.  I love her.  Dammit.

"Well, we're...we're going to be doing research on 
your physiological make-up, Mulder.  Like you 
suggested..."

"And when did 'we' come into play, Scully?  I thought 
you were driving this project."

I glare at Roseanne and she shifts around 
uncomfortably.  I think maybe I might be overreacting 
just a tad.  It's not her fault.  I don't even know 
her.  I really oughtta calm down.  Maybe I shouldn't 
have even come here today.

"Well, I am, Mulder.  Roseanne is my assistant."

"Assistant?"

"Yes, assistant, Mulder.  She's a scientist.  What 
exactly is the problem here?"

"No problem, Scully.  I just wanna be sure that I 
know exactly what's going on here.  I don't wanna be 
left in the dark about anything."

"I'm gonna go...clean the microscopes," Roseanne 
mutters and makes a quick exit.  I guess that's what 
I was going for although I can't say why.

"Mulder, we talked about this.  Why are you being so 
rude to Roseanne?"  Scully whispers to me in her most 
nagging tone.

"I'm not being rude."

"Mulder..."

"All right, I'm not entirely *comfortable* with her 
being here, that's all."

"Why not?"

"I thought it was just gonna be us.  That no one else 
would be around getting in the way."

"Mulder, she works here!  She won't be in the way.  
She'll be helping."

I think I should probably go.  This is not working 
out the way I wanted it to.  Not at all.

"Mulder, I don't really see the problem.  I know you 
can play nice with the other kids if you try."

She smiles at me after her little joke.  I've never 
actually wanted to hit her before.  Never ever.  The 
thought is so abhorrent to me.  And yet, right now...

I have to get out of here.

"Play nice, right.  Hey, maybe they'll even let me 
join the swim team," I grumble under my breath, 
making my way for the door.

I feel her tiny fingers surrounding my arm and I jerk 
away reflexively.

"Mulder what...what's wrong?"

I look down into those eyes, eyes I thought held the 
answers to all of my questions, my truth, my 
salvation.  Last night I saw those eyes gazing at one 
of my worst enemies.  With lust.  Maybe even love.  
And I can't keep quiet anymore.

"Were you ever gonna tell me, Scully?  Or were you 
just gonna wait till I made a complete fool out of 
myself?"

To her credit, it only seems to take her a few 
seconds to figure out what I'm talking about.  It's 
quite obvious when it hits her.  Her eyes squeeze 
shut and her whole body seems to deflate.

"Oh...Mulder, I wa...I was going to..."

Right.  I heard that story.  Just couldn't find the 
time.

"Scully, do you know...GOD!  Do you know what I went 
through to get here?  What I wanted to...the 
whole...whole reason I came here?"

"Mulder, I know you came here for me.  And I'm sorry.  
I'm sorry that I haven't been completely honest with 
you.  I guess...I guess I was just afraid.  I'm 
really very sorry."

"Sorry.  You're sorry.  Sorry you didn't tell me you 
were FUCKING Alex Krycek?!  Sorry that wasn't the 
first goddamn thing out of your mouth?!"

What was that I was saying before about not making a 
scene?  God, Scully, just leave me alone.  Just let 
me get out of here before I say something *really* 
stupid.

"Yes, Mulder, I am sorry.  It's not exactly the 
easiest thing to say.  But I...I don't have any 
excuses.  I'm sorry."

"Scully I...."9

I don't even know what to say.  She looks so sad and 
remorseful and embarrassed.  Maybe she didn't tell me 
because she really is going to break up with him.  
Maybe he's got something he's holding over her head 
that's keeping her with him.  Or he's brainwashing 
her.

God, what is wrong with me?  Am I so pathetic that 
all she has to do it look at me a certain way and I 
turn into a pile of delusional mush again?

"Scully, I just don't understand why.  I mean how?  
It's...God, Scully, it's Alex Krycek!"

"So what does that mean?"  she asks, indignant all of 
a sudden.  Why did I even ask.  I can't stand here 
and listen to her defend the bastard.

"Mulder, you don't...you don't know him anymore.  I 
don't know if you ever did.  He's been...he's been 
there for me.  He's a good person.  Not the person 
you think."

I wonder if they have a bucket around here for me to 
hurl into.

"So, what Scully, you screw a guy and all of a sudden 
you know everything about him?"

Now she looks downright pissed off.  I'm glad.  I 
want her to feel what I'm feeling.  Of course, to 
truly accomplish that would take a hell of a lot 
more.  First I'd need to get some woman she 
absolutely despises to have sex with me right here on 
the floor in front of her.

"Is that what you think, Mulder?  That I'm just 
screwing him like some kind of whore?"

I wish that's what I thought.  I wish I could tell 
her that I thought that.  That would really hurt her.  
But I can't.  I know that's not who she is.

"No...Scully, no.  I just...I think he's probably 
taken advantage of the situation.  Of...of you."

"Oh, so now I'm some pathetic damsel, so distraught 
that she can't make any kind of decision for herself?  
Is *that* what you think?  That I have no will of my 
own?"

Why does she have to twist my words around like this?  
God, she's always done this.  Never listens to me.

"He killed my father, Scully..."

She doesn't have a snappy comeback for that one.  I'm 
half expecting her to feed me his line about it but 
she just turns away and starts fiddling with some 
thermometers on the table next to the basin.

"Look, Mulder, I don't know what you expected.  You 
disappear for six years.  Six *years* Mulder.  You 
let me think you're dead and I'm supposed to what?  
Wait my whole life for some heavenly visitation from 
you or something?"

"Well, I just didn't expect it to come to THIS, 
Scully!"

She turns around quickly and I notice that her eyes 
are watery.  I wonder if mine are.  I really hope 
not.

"I am sorry that I didn't tell you about this sooner, 
Mulder.  But I am *not* going to apologize to you for 
moving on with my life.  Just because you happen to 
disapprove of whom I've chosen to move on with."

Well, that's very logical.  Her thinking is so 
precise.  I'm so impressed with her ever-present 
ability to cut through the bull and get right to the 
heart of things.  Too bad she's gotta cut through my 
soul as well.

"I grieved for you for five years, Mulder.  Wouldn't 
let anyone get in, get close.  And a year ago I 
finally decided to move on.  To try to get some of 
the happiness I thought you would've wanted for me."

A year ago?  Has she been fucking him for a whole 
year?  God...

"Scully, of course I want you to be happy.  That's 
all I've ever wanted."

"I know that.  And it's been hard.  But I have been.  
I have been happy."

What am I supposed to say to that?  Am I supposed to 
stand here and begrudge her her happiness after 
everything I've done?  Everything I've screwed up.

"He really makes you...happy?  After everything he's 
done?"

"Yes, Mulder, he does.  He's good to me and he's done 
wonderful things for the people here."

All I can do is stare at her.  Watch this crap pour 
out of her mouth and try not to regurgitate my 
breakfast.

"I...I need to go."

I need to go far away.  I don't want to be part of 
the Alex Krycek adoration society.  I don't want to 
listen to this anymore.  I don't want to see her 
every day and know who she goes home to at night.

"Mulder, I'd...I'd like you to stay.  I mean I hope 
that you won't leave because of this."

Dammit.  Why did she have to say that?  Just let me 
go, Scully.  Kick me out.  Do something horrible so 
that I can hate you.

"I dunno..."

"I just...I like having you here, Mulder.  I've 
missed you."

God, shut up, Scully.  Shut up!

"And we could really use your help.  I could."

"What's this?  The great Doctor Scully needs *my* 
help?"

She smiles at me and my heart twists into a knot.  
What am I doing?

"And I always thought Dana Scully needed no one's 
help."

"Well, you know, finding a cure for cancer and all.  
It's hard work."

I find myself smiling back at her like an idiot and I 
just have no idea what to do.  This feels so good.

"So, will you stay?"  she asks me and I shrug and nod 
and then she's hugging me.  She's hugging me.  It's 
so good.  God, it's been so unbearably long since 
she's been in my arms.  All the walls I've spent the 
past night building to protect myself from her come 
crashing down and she's everywhere inside me again.

Why does she have to be so...so Scully?

Why does she have to still care about me?

Why is it my fate to love this woman?

I guess those are pretty stupid questions.  The most 
important thing is, will I ever be able to stop 
hugging her?  Will I ever be able to let go?

I don't think so

xxxxxx

End Chapter Seven
Continued in <a href="wweb208.htm">Chapter Eight</a>