Title: Waltzing Down the Fair Weather Highway (1 of ?)
Author: phoenix99 (xphoenix99@hotmail.com)
Category: MSR Angst angst ummm... angst.
Rating: R for stuff , yes this is WIP
Spoilers: Tithonus  
Summary: A raid on a serial killer's hide out. 
Disaster strikes and Scully makes a decision she and 
Mulder have to learn to live with.
Archive: Everywhere. Just give me a holler so I can 
visit.  
Feedback:  uh yeah. love it. need it. please.
Disclaimer: The X-Files and everything related to it 
belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and 
Fox, and is used without permission. No copyright 
infringement intended, and no profit will be made.

*** if you haven't seen the season six episode ***
               *** 'Tithonus' ***   
     *** this will make no sense at all! ***

X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X

They gave the signal. The first wave of agents were in.

That's where I may have altered Mulder's life forever. 

Maybe not. 

Looking back at it now, I may be over reacting.

Maybe not.

The decrepit factory had been immense. The suspect was 
reportedly shacking up in the attic of the old building. 
Thats where he had his picture gallery on display. 

7 victims. All well educated, bright girls between 15 
and 18. Artistic. 

Currently, they all took up residence in this man's art 
gallery... 

...as the paint that adorned the ragged canvases.

Mulder's profile said that this man had become obsessed 
with death, and was most likely trying to express a true
sense of it in his paintings by using the victims' body 
fluids as his acrylic.

I have a simpler answer for you. 

He was insane.  

After the evidence that the seventh victim had been 
killed (he quite enjoyed sending the bureau samples of 
his work), a meeting was held and a plan was devised. 
They had found the monster's layer. 
And the factory it was in was a fucking maze.
 
We were briefed on it, then we saddled up.

Mulder and I were both in on the first wave. So was 
Agent Fowley, who had been involved with this case from 
the beginning; she was the one who recommended us when 
the raid was suggested. 
At the time that kind of made me wonder. 

We were entering in the north end, making noise and 
shouting, hoping to flush him out to the other side 
where a flock of agents were waiting.  

We were in groups of two, because of the strange 
nature of the building, normal protocol had to be altered. 
Small hallways and narrow passages made searching it a 
longer procedure. Agent Fowley seemed to think it better 
if she watched Mulder's back. I was stuck with some guy 
from VCU. 

Agent Mason... Manson... whatever.

I remember seeing Fowley follow Mulder up the closest 
flight of stairs, on their way to where this sicko's 
gallery was most likely located. Like hell I trusted her 
to watch his back, and knowing Mulder, he had a damn 
blueprint of the building in his head; so I decided to 
follow them with Agent Manson in tow.

We ran up the stairs after them, following them to the 
top floor, but they were too far ahead for us to follow 
accurately and we lost them. So, we continued to run 
through the maze of corridors until I heard it.

Through the noise of people shouting 'FBI!' was a 
familiar voice shouting 'DROP YOUR WEAPON!'.

I quickly backtracked from where I had just come and 
tried to follow the voice.

I came in on the scene just as I heard the shot.

At this point everything seemed to slow down. The 
ensuing minutes seemed like hours, even days.

The moments I do recall, I remember with haunting 
clarity.
Mulder's startled expression was fleeting, his gun 
fell from his slacking grip and he toppled back with 
a grunt. I did the next most natural thing.

I pumped three bullets into the back of the bastard 
who shot him.
And I didn't give him another thought.

Rushing over to Mulder, I tore open the front of his 
kevlar vest, and placed my hands firmly over the 
leaking hole in his abdomen. The bullets had gone 
right through his vest...

I was vaguely aware of Diana mumbling something and 
Agent Manson yelling 'AGENT DOWN!'. The voices seemed 
to blend into the background noise, which was filled 
with muffled shuffling and shouting.

I had pulled Mulder into my lap and was painfully aware 
everything happening to him.

His life oozing through the cracks between my fingers; 
his shallow breaths; his pleading eyes peaking through 
drooping lids; his quavering hand, which Diana held 
tightly in her own.

But I didn't hear the usual reassurances and promises 
pass by my lips. 

Bending my head down so low, my lips brushed his ear 
when I spoke, I watched his expression closely; felt an 
overwhelming calm take hold of me as I whispered the next 
few sentences that would change everything.

"Do you see him?..."

His eyes flickered slightly and he let out a small choking 
sound.

How terribly familiar.

It was as if what I was about to say was as natural as 
'Hello', and came to my lips maybe even more easily.

"Don't look. Close your eyes."

He didn't respond at first as he took slightly longer 
to process the information. But slowly his eye lids closed, 
the effort to make them do so seemed almost too much, and 
he turned his face toward the side of my arm.

I bowed my head down with his. Closing my eyes, and 
curling around him, my auburn hair draping down covering 
his face, as if I could protect him from the sudden chill 
in the room.

Without warning I heard Diana gasped suddenly, making me 
jerk my head up to see her hands releasing Mulders' and 
clutched her chest as she screamed.

At first it was a scream of pain. A gut retching yell. 

But it quickly changed into something much more familiar 
to me. 

Fear. A shrill cry of absolute horror. 

I watched dumbly from my position around Mulder as she 
attempted to stand, but fell backwards writhing in pain. 
Reaching unsuccessfully for her gun, her face contorted 
into a grimace of agony and confusion, until her body 
went limp.

This is when the full impact of what I had done hit me. 
Full force.

My hand flew up to check Mulder's pulse.

...

..Still there.

The pressure against my arm from his head increased as I 
felt myself begin to shake.

Violently.

Diana's body splayed out beside us. 

Mulder's blood staining my hands.

What have I done.

At that moment, the room seemed to suddenly jump from 
slow motion to fast forward. The disturbing gallery was 
suddenly filled with moving people. My arms were pried off 
Mulder's body and I was dragged away.

My vision began to fuzz, and I felt the tell tale signs 
of shock set in. 

EMT's were buzzing over Diana still form. 

What have I done...

I could hear the sound of thier shouts and the portable 
defibrillator as they tried to bring her back. 

And all I wanted to do was throw up.

I noticed I was still sitting on the floor. People 
continued to dance around the two agents bodies.

A few feet away Manson was being questioned fiercely by 
Skinner and the AD in charge.

No one had ventured to talk to me yet and I was thankful. 

I just needed a few minutes. I'd be fine. 

So, I sat there and trembled. 

Someone approached me and checked me over, asked me if 
I was in any pain. I can't remember if I responded.

John Mathew's body lay a couple metres away. Crumpled up on 
his stomach, his head sitting in a puddle of blood, his 
eyes gazing up at me vacently. 

Hollow blank eyes. Accusing. 

'I know what you've done.'

The dizziness accompanied with rising too quickly from the 
dusty floor, almost made me pass out. I bowed my head to 
try and relieve the impending nausea but instead only made 
myself feel sicker as I was confronted by blood.

Mulder's blood. 

Everywhere.

The floor, my hands, clothes. 

Everything.    

Despite the growing blur my vision had become, I turned 
quickly and made for the closest exit, where Mulder had 
just been carried out, but a firm hand grasped my shoulder. 

"Agent Scully, I think you should let me drive you to the 
hospital."

Skinner. 

"I have to go in the ambulance, sir, I should be with Agent 
Mulder. I need to know what's happening."

"I just talked to the paramedics--"

"No, I have to..."

He gave me a look, and seemed to be deciding whether or 
not to stop me, when I made the choice for him. 

Two people passed by us on their way out carrying a 
stretcher. Brown, wavy hair peaking out for beneath the 
sheet that covered the lifeless form. 

And I passed out.

X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X

to be continued...