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From: measi2@aol.com (Measi2) , Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative ,
Subject: Story: Broken Connections , Date: 11 Jul 1995 15:13:24
-0400
Hey everyone! Well, I've got a few stories that are sitting on
my hard drive now, but I'll post them as soon as they get out on the EMXC...
This one I wrote in about 15 minutes right after my little newsgroup temper
tantrum announcement last month. It starts right after the fire in Anasazi...
Broken Connections
by Melissa Kent
(Measi2@aol.com or
mkent@acs.bu.edu)
6/8/95
The X-Files and anything therein is the
brainchild and copyright of Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. I'm just
a stressed out college student with way too much procrastination time on my
hands... (and no money to pay for a copyright infringement should the Fox
network want to come after me. They can have all of my modern lit textbooks as a
payment, though, if they *really* want them).
Enjoy!
------------------
She heard a metallic
slam, and then silence.
"Mulder? Mulder, what happened?" Scully was
trying desperately not to scream as the connection broke. The silence that
followed filled her heart with dread. she
wondered.
The past few days had put both Mulder and herself on a
rollercoaster of emotions. Mulder had been poisoned with some dope-related drug,
making him emotionally unstable. Before she'd discovered why he was acting so
strangely, she'd had to deal with the repercussions of his actions. He'd
attacked Skinner and had no reason for doing so. When he'd told her he had no
idea why he'd been provoked to throw a punch at the Assistant Director, Scully
began to question whether or not Mulder had finally crossed the line of
insanity. She'd rushed out of his apartment, confused about her partner's
behavior, but also scared that his instability would be directed at her next.
Mulder could get kicked out of the Bureau for good. She had thought. Her
concerns for Mulder's position and her own within the Bureau had consumed her
thoughts since the meeting with the board of directors in Skinner's office.
She'd learned later what was in them. Evidence of
experiments-horrifying experiments that hinted that the Nazi genetic torture in
European concentration camps during World War II had continued after the war.
And even more horrifying was that they'd occurred in the United States. She read
through as much as she could, unable to tear her eyes away from the page because
of the shock of what she'd discovered. The reports in these documents definitely
would not be something the American government would want to admit to. she thought.
And then she'd stopped
as two familiar names stared back at her in black ink on the page.
Duane
Barry
Dana Scully.
A test. They'd performed some
sort of test on her during the months she'd been missing. She forced herself to
continue reading, hoping to find more information on what had happened. But
nothing more could be translated.
She'd looked over her shoulder at
Mulder, who had been sleeping for the better part of two days since she'd shot
him in front of his apartment building. He'd been so overprotective of her since
she'd returned from that unknown place. Did he know what had happened to her?
she
thought, attempting to quiet the terror in the back of her mind.
But
part of her could not quiet down. She'd found a fear inside of her that refused
to go away. A fear that warned her of a line that she was not ready to cross.
She'd told Mulder that he had to go on his own, using the obvious reason
that she was going to be in a lot of trouble with Skinner back in Washington for
skipping a meeting. But she hadn't told him about the fear. She wasn't sure if
she could handle confronting what had happened to her during those missing
months. For only the second time since she'd returned, she needed to depend on
Mulder's strength to help her. He'd held her after saving her from Pfaster,
allowing all of the fear and anger that had built up to escape. But now the fear
was different. And she had absolutely no idea how to react.
And now something had gone terribly wrong. Her connection
with Mulder, her connection to her inner strength, had been slammed shut.
"Mulder!" she yelled once more into the phone. But it was no use.
The connection was gone.
She prayed silently, still clutching the phone to her
ear, trying to convince herself that Mulder really wasn't in trouble; his phone
battery must have just worn down.
But deep down, she knew that something
horrible had happened.
And she knew that she no longer could keep from
crossing over that line.
She flipped through the papers on the table,
searching for the scrap of paper with Albert Holstein's number. She quickly entered the number and pressed the send button.
The two rings seemed to take an eternity before Holstein picked up.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Holstein? It's Dana Scully. I lost my phone
connection with Agent Mulder, and I fear something terrible has happened."
She could feel the tension from Holstein's end of the phone as he
remained silent. "How long ago?" he finally asked.
"About three minutes
ago. He said he was in boxcar in a quarry, and suddenly the connection just cut
off."
"I'll be right there." She heard the receiver click as Holstein
hung up the phone.
she chanted silently,
pacing the room like a caged animal. She was near hysterics. She knew how
dangerous the past few days had been for the two of them. Especially since
Mulder's father had been killed, and she'd been shot in Mulder's apartment. Her
panic got the best of her as the image of Mulder lying dead in the boxcar filled
her mind.
her mind screamed, trying desperately
to keep her emotions under control. But her panic had grown too strong. She felt
her logical self start to slip away. . .
The pounding at the
door snapped her composure back.
"Agent Scully! It's Albert Holstein!
Are you there?"
Scully rushed to the door, wiping her eyes right before
she opened it.
"We've got to hurry," Holstein said. "A neighbor boy
stopped me right before I left. Said there was a government helicopter down
around the reservation right about the time you said your connection with Mulder
broke. He said there was thick, black smoke coming from one side of a quarry."
Scully was only able to nod and motion back to the car.
They
sped away toward the reservation, both silently praying that what they'd find
wouldn't resemble the gruesome events they'd both imagined.
Scully thought, hoping that somehow Mulder
would hear her.
end
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