#i just finished fool's fate and it made me unwell so

[hargr00vy]

Fitzloved instagram reel because I make those now apparently ...

[admiralty-xfd]

the whole truth

The events of Biogenesis. Mulder learns the truth about Diana.

This is chapter 14, to go back to the beginning click here.

Chapter 14: The Betrayal

THE WATERGATE APARTMENTS

WASHINGTON, D.C.

JULY 1999

It’s over.

It was truly all over.

Diana sat alone in her apartment with the copy of Native American Beliefs and Practices that Spender had given her months ago in the hospital. She’d read it cover to cover multiple times, and often turned to it in times of confusion and hopelessness. It seemed she had little to live for anymore and whenever she felt that way her mind always crept back to the work.

The savior this book promised hadn’t turned out to be Gibson Praise. It hadn’t been Cassandra Spender. So who could it be?

Not only did the work feel particularly hopeless at this point, but having any kind of future with Fox felt so, as well. As each day passed Diana knew there was nothing to be done to win him back; short of kidnapping him, brainwashing him and somehow forcing his heart to feel something it didn’t, she was out of options.

She wondered why, if Fox were truly in love with Agent Scully, he hadn’t done anything about it. And why hadn’t Agent Scully? What exactly was holding them back?

She thought about her own past, and how she’d avoided romantic entanglements like the plague until Fox had come along. Even now, she couldn’t explain it; it was just something that had happened. Maybe there really was no explanation for why nothing was happening between Fox and Agent Scully either. If there was a reason, she’d probably never know it.

Alone in her thoughts, her cell phone buzzed from the pocket of her jacket, which was strewn across the arm of her couch. She dug around and looked at the caller ID.

Fox.

“Hello? Fox?” she said, answering after the fourth ring.

A familiar voice answered, but it wasn’t the one she expected. “I’m sorry, he can’t come to the phone right now.”

Diana felt her stomach drop. “...Alex?!” She hadn’t spoken to him since the fertility clinic.

“Your boy isn’t looking so good.” She heard a rustle, then moaning she couldn’t deny was Fox. She could hear him whimpering in the background, in a clear state of distress. “ Scully… Scully…” she could hear him saying. “Fucking Krycek…”

Fucking Krycek was right. What the hell was going on?

“Looks like Mulder wants to be where the action is,” Alex said cryptically. “Although I think you should come get him before somebody else finds him.”

“Alex, what action? What are you talking about? What is going on?” She could hear Fox mumbling “Scully” over and over. She couldn’t decide if she was more hurt or annoyed.

“I’m thinking maybe I called the wrong person,” Alex said, clearly enjoying the hell out of this. “Maybe I should have called Agent Scully instead.”

“No!” she responded immediately. “Tell me where you are.”

“American University, southwest stairwell of the biology building.” The phone clicked off, and she was on her way.

When she arrived she was not prepared for the sight that awaited her. Fox was curled up into the fetal position and grabbing his head, wincing in pain. His cell phone was next to him, crushed beyond repair.

“Scully...” he was moaning, and every time the name escaped his lips it pained her. “I need Scully.”

“Fox, it’s me, it’s Diana,” she said. She bent down and touched his shoulder.

“Scully…”

She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t Scully, she couldn’t be Scully. But she could tell he was in pain and she wanted to help him.

“We should get you to see a doctor,” she suggested. She realized as the words came out how stupid they sounded, considering the only thing he’d asked for since she’d arrived had been, in fact, a doctor. But she couldn’t bring herself to call the woman she knew he was in love with.

“I just need to go home, I have to rest,” he sputtered, and she nodded, knowing that was something she could do. She helped him up slowly and they made their way down the stairs, across the campus and to her car without drawing any unnecessary attention.

When they arrived at his place she dug his keys out of his pocket and helped him inside. It was unusually hot in his apartment and she wondered if perhaps his air conditioner was broken. They made their way into his bedroom.

“What are you feeling? Can you describe it?” she asked him.

“I don’t know, I just… my head,” he said as he stumbled towards his bed. He started to take his shirt off and winced again, so she helped him undress down to his undershirt and he got into bed. “I’m hearing voices.”

This gave her pause. “Voices? What kind of voices?”

“They come and go,” he explained. “It’s hard to describe. I think… I think I feel a bit better now.”

“Just relax, Fox,” Diana said as she pulled the comforter over him. “I’m going to get you some water. Then we’ll figure out what’s going on.”

She searched his kitchen for the glasses, which he’d moved since she last used his kitchen. The tap blasted lukewarm, surely from the blazing hot weather, and as she watched the stream of water swirl around the sink, waiting for it to cool, her mind raced.

Voices. He’s hearing… voices?

She might have thought nothing of it if she hadn’t just been thinking about Gibson Praise and his abilities, and her search for the one person who was going to save humanity. But now her wheels were spinning wildly.

Eventually the water cooled and she filled the glass, taking a dish towel and dampening it. She returned to his bedside and he drank the water, sighing and sinking back into his pillow. “Thank you for helping me get home.”

“Of course,” she said, and held the damp cloth to his brow. He immediately moved his own hand to hold it, pushing hers away. She became aware in the moment he had no intention of letting her touch him in any intimate way and although he was unwell, although she suspected it was over between them in any event, it still stung.

“Can you tell me what happened to you?”

“I think I just want to sleep,” he said.

“You won’t even tell me how this started?”

He hesitated, and she wondered briefly if he was deciding how much to reveal. Things had been awkward the last time they’d seen each other, but it had been purely personal. She had no reason to suspect he was suspicious of her.

“Scully and I were investigating a case, and I don’t know exactly how, but I’m having some kind of reaction to… an object we found.” He winced again, every word probably causing him pain.

“And this object didn’t affect Agent Scully?” she asked.

“No, she…” he trailed off, again hesitant to reveal more, but seemed to change his mind. “I think it’s only happening to me. I was exposed to something years ago, something… alien.”

Ten years ago she might have been a bit more skeptical of this revelation. But she knew this was all quite real, and that by the very nature of Fox’s work, exposure was entirely possible.

Just then his phone rang. Fox turned over and made no effort to get it so she answered it.

“Hello?”

“Yes… I’m looking for Fox Mulder…? ” It was, of course, Agent Scully. She sounded confused and slightly irked, and Diana still found her behavior amusing in spite of everything.

“Hold on, please.” She held out the phone, and only because she wanted to annoy the other woman, she added, “...Fox?”

He took the phone and she sat silently next to him on the bed, listening to his end of the conversation. They were arguing about something, probably the very X-File he’d been just referring to. Fox didn’t seem to mind what Diana heard and it was a small comfort. But then she heard words that piqued her interest.

...Artifact...

...Extraterrestrial…

...Genesis...

These words weren’t uncommon in the files themselves; she’d gone through most of them during her tenure in the basement. But used together… her mind continued to reel.

This artifact, whatever it was, had been drawn to Fox. Why? Was it truly the source of whatever was causing him distress?

“Well then, go ahead and prove me wrong, Scully,” Fox grumbled into the phone.

He was exhausted and Diana knew his head hurt, and she wanted to enjoy his annoyance with his partner but she couldn’t. Maybe it was the familiarity with which he’d dismissed Agent Scully; despite his frustration Diana knew he wasn’t really angry.

Fox handed her the receiver and turned his back to her, covering his head with his comforter and seeking sleep. His body language indicated clearly that he had no more use for her; she’d served her purpose this afternoon.

It was in this moment, this final rejection by the man she loved, that a strange feeling came over her: that the timing of all of this had been preordained somehow, driven by destiny. Any nagging doubts that had clouded her mind and perhaps her better judgment over the past few months were drifting away like sand through a sieve, and she felt her old reliable modus operandi creep over her like camouflage.

The work.

Could Fox himself be the very person the Company had been searching for, for years?

She wasn’t stupid, and she hadn’t been a believer in fate her entire life for nothing. Fox had to be the one. Very suddenly, she’d never been more certain of anything. And she remembered what Spender had told her. The three of them seemed to indeed have been thrown into the mix together, just as he’d said, for a singular purpose: to finish the work.

If Fox knew, if he only knew what he was, how important he was, surely he would agree to what needed to be done. To save the world. When he came out the other side a hero, he’d understand.

It occurred to her she was at a crossroads. Her first instinct was to turn Fox over to Spender. But when she thought of Fox ending up in the hands of the man he hated, the man who’d controlled so many aspects of her own life for years, she hesitated.

She could warn Fox, tell him what was going on. Let him decide what to do. She’d never fooled herself into believing she could keep her deception from him forever, but she had entertained the hope that if he did learn of it, he might understand. That when he learned everything she’d been doing, the sacrifices she’d made, and the reasons she’d made them, it would all be worth it in the end for the truth.

For his truth.

She stood to leave his bedroom, knowing what she needed most desperately of all right now was time. She was due to check in with Spender and the unanticipated distraction of the fox had kept him waiting. Spender didn’t like to wait.

She clicked the receiver back on, dialing. She then removed her jacket as she waited for an answer.

“Yes?”

“I received a call from Agent Mulder this evening, he was in a particular state of distress.”

“Distress? Why?” Spender asked.

“I don’t know why,” she lied. “But I’m staying here until I find out.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

She hung up the phone, knowing she didn’t have long to make a decision. Her mind was reeling with possibilities, choices and consequences and feelings and it was all wrapped up in what she now suspected Fox could discern with his newly forming powers. If she wasn’t careful, he might learn everything. And there would be no stopping it.

There were questions she needed to ask him, important questions that would ascertain her beliefs and help her make the right decision. Perhaps there was a way to keep his mind off her thoughts and on something else. She began to undress, a strong suspicion coming over her that between his half-conscious state and her half-naked body in his line of sight she could easily get the information she needed.

Fox was a smart man, he always had been. But he was still a man. And from everything she’d witnessed over the past few months, everything she’d known about him since the night she met him, he could be incredibly stupid around women.

She’d just pulled her shirt off when she rounded the corner and found Alex sitting stock still in a chair in the corner of the living room.

“Jesus- ” she dared a glance into Fox’s bedroom. Still not moving. She closed his bedroom door quietly. “Alex!” she hissed. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I had no idea you two were still so cozy,” Alex said.

“What, are you jealous?” she challenged, hands on her hips, standing there in her bra.

“No,” he said smoothly, and she believed him. It didn’t matter. She’d never cared before, and she certainly didn’t intend to start now. “It just irks me when I’m the last one to know something.”

“There’s nothing to know,” she said, bristling. “He’s sick and he’s resting.”

“Ah,” he said, with a smirk on his face she found all too familiar. “Is this ‘nothing to know’ why you’re undressing in his apartment?”

She shrugged, crossing her arms across her chest. “It’s hot, and I’m getting comfortable. I’m going to be here for a while. As if it’s any of your business.”

“It is my business,” he said. “Especially if you have a personal relationship with the guy who’s quickly becoming the most important man on the planet.”

It occurred to her then that Alex was the link between Fox and Spender she hadn’t anticipated. She wondered how he knew about Fox, his current condition, any of it, then the answer came to her. Skinner. Alex had had Skinner under his control for months now, and if AD Skinner knew, Alex knew.

And if Alex knew, Spender certainly wouldn’t be far behind.

“It’s over between us,” she said flatly, not wanting to believe it.

“Doesn’t look over,” he indicated, his eyes raking over her body. “Surely you wouldn’t be… so foolish as to put the project at risk for the sake of your personal pleasures?”

A line straight from Spender’s playbook. She shook her head. The nerve.

“What are you doing here, Alex?” she asked. She stole a glance back towards the bedroom where Fox was snoozing away. “You have to go. If he finds us here together-“

“Then… what? He’ll know you’ve been sleeping with the enemy?" He smirked. "Seems like he’s the one who’s been doing that.”

She drew her lips into a tight line, wanting to say no more. Wanting to reveal no more. And she felt oddly protective of Fox. “I can handle him, Alex. Please go.”

Alex stood and moved towards the door. “I know you know what he is, what he's become. And the old man’s going to know now, too.”

A chill ran up her spine at this; that her suspicions were in fact correct, and she wasn't the only one who knew about it. Fox was in danger now that was beyond her control.

“Think carefully about your next move, Diana.”

He took one long look at her, then at Fox’s bedroom door, and as he left the apartment she had the crippling realization he had taken all of her options with him.

***

Fire. His brain was on fire.

It had been smoldering since Diana found him in that stairwell and brought him home. What he remembered was bits and pieces: her helping him to his feet, just barely. Walking, driving; it was all a blur. He didn’t even remember calling her. Had he called her? He only wanted Scully. But here was Diana, walking with him through the door of his apartment once again.

“Fox, what happened? What’s wrong?” he could hear her asking him.

“My head…” he answered, holding it with his hands. The pain was intense. “Before, I was hearing… voices, loud voices…”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “When did this start? Do you know what’s causing it?”

He wanted to talk to Scully; that’s who he needed to tell. But Diana was here and she had been on the X-Files, after all. And she wanted to help. “I don’t know, I…” He wasn’t sure how much he should reveal, but he knew she would probably believe him. So he told her.

Diana was silent, looking at him hard, and he wondered what she was thinking. The aural dissonance he’d experienced in Skinner’s office had been returning in fits and starts, but right now there was nothing.

She wasted no time getting him undressed and into bed, and he was in such pain he let her. He remembered asking for Scully as he drifted in and out of consciousness, knowing she could somehow figure this out, that she was the only one who could help him.

When Scully did call, he could immediately detect the annoyance in her voice.

“Mulder, where are you?”

The question was pointed, but it wasn’t the question she was really asking. She’d called him at his apartment, not on his cell phone. She knew exactly where he was.

“I’m here. I’m resting.” I’m doing exactly what you asked of me.

“Who answered the phone?”

It wasn’t lost on him that her first questions, those that would typically inquire after his health, were instead focused on the woman answering his phone. The woman whose voice she must have recognized.

Fucking Diana, answering his phone. She was too comfortable here, and he’d allowed it. He was more annoyed with himself than anything else, but his head hurt too much to care right now.

“I’m home. It’s okay.” He’d promised Scully that Diana’s name wouldn’t come out of his mouth again. This was awkward enough, and there were more pressing matters.

He wanted to tell Scully about his condition, but she clearly hadn’t been just patronizing him when she told him she’d find the artifacts. She’d actually found one. She was in New Mexico, hours away, and he’d have to wait to see her again anyway. He didn’t want her rushing back on his account; not when they were so close to the answers they’d sought for so long, again.

What she described didn’t surprise him, however; somehow he’d known the truth ever since he saw that artifact. There was something inside him that had reawakened, and he knew not what exactly, but it was most definitely alien. It had to be. This wasn’t a theory, or a hunch. He felt it deep down inside him; he knew it in his soul the same way he knew he was human, the same way he knew the sky was blue. It was simply the truth.

Scully, however, didn't have the luxury of being in his position.

“Mulder, that is science fiction. It doesn't hold a drop of water.”

“You're wrong,” he said. “It holds everything. Don't you see?”

See it, Scully. See.

“All the mysteries of science- everything we can't understand or won't explain, every human behaviorism; cosmology, psychology, everything in the X-Files, it all owes to them… it's from them.”

“Mulder, I will not accept that. It is just not possible.”

They were dancing again, and through it all, through everything they’d been through in the past several months, it felt wonderfully familiar. And as frustrating as the dance could be, he loved it now more than ever.

I’ll always want you around to prove me wrong.

“Well, then, you go ahead and prove me wrong, Scully.”

His head pounded as he handed the phone back to Diana and dove back underneath the covers, desperate for sleep. He hoped she’d take the hint and leave. It felt as if his mind wouldn’t rest, couldn’t rest.

Tunguska. This all went back to what had happened to him in Russia, he knew it. Whatever vaccine he’d been given had merely rendered the microbial alien life inside him dormant and the artifact must have had reawakened it. It was all so clear to him now.

He needed to see Scully in person. When she saw him, the state he was in, she would have to believe. She couldn’t prove him wrong this time, he was sure about that. But he also knew she’d go to the ends of the earth for the truth if she had to.

That truth was inside him now. She would have to believe.

He squeezed his eyes shut and time passed; he was vaguely aware of voices in the living room, which was odd, considering he’d thought he was alone with Diana. But his aural dissonance had been coming and going so frequently it was difficult for him to discern which voices were real. In any event, the silence soon returned and he could feel sleep approaching at last.

***

He awoke dazed, distracted, and in pain. For a moment he forgot where he was; the room was dark, only dim lamplight from his living room illuminating the form of Diana sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Fox…” she whispered.

“Where’s Scully…?” he moaned, rolling over, his back to her. “Please, go.”

“Tell me about this artifact, Fox… let me help you, please.”

“I don’t...” he said, pain reverberating within each word. “I want Scully…”

He heard her sigh. “It’s never going to work with her, Fox. You have to see that.”

Besides the fact that he was in no state to navigate this love triangle at the moment, he knew it was a fool’s errand in any case.

“I know her, Diana," he mumbled into his pillow. "You don’t.” She didn’t get it, she never would. He didn’t want to bother trying. “Please, just let me rest.”

She was silent for a minute, and then suddenly, as if switched on by his rejection, the voices returned.

“...Must deliver him to the facility…”

“...It has to be Fox…”

“...The work..”

“What did you say?” he asked, suddenly fully at attention.

“I didn’t say anything.” He couldn’t rest. He rolled over in the bed, gripping his temples in pain.

“Fox?”

“...He knows, he has to…too late…”

“...I have no choice…”

“...So many years…”

“Fox..? Are you alright?” she asked. And what had occurred in Skinner’s office suddenly became clear to him.

He was reading her mind. He could hear her thoughts.

“Who was here before?” he asked her. “I heard voices in the living room. Were you by yourself?”

“No.” he heard, plain as day. But her lips didn’t move.

“Yes. Of course,” she lied. “What kind of question is that?”

Tell me it isn’t true, tell me…

He sat up in the bed, and slid out, backing up against the wall.

“It’s starting… the artifact… he doesn’t suspect…” the sound of her voice came from closed lips.

He shook his head, it can't be... The trust he’d given her over the past few months, the trust he’d always had in her as long as he’d known her… had any of it been real? Had any of it been true?

Mulder pressed his hand to his temple.

“not possible… gain his trust… Alex...” Her thoughts continued, uncontrollable.

Alex? Could she mean Krycek? Had he been here, in this apartment? Was she involved with him?

And if she was… could that mean… Jesus, he’d been so stupid ...

“You’re lying,” he said firmly. “Someone was here. Why were you talking to Alex Krycek?”

She began scrambling, climbing off the bed. Through his haze he could see her standing there, clad only in her skirt and a bra. “Fox, you’re not well. I think I need to take you to the hospital.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” he said firmly.

Liar, she’s a liar, he thought. After everything, Scully had been right. And he’d ignored every sign, every indication. Pushed aside every shred of her evidence because he wanted to believe.

She reached for him. “Fox, please…”

“Why is it so hot in here?” He was sweating; from the pain, from the betrayal, from what else he didn’t know, but he felt like hell. “Why are you here?”

“You’re not yourself, Fox.”

“Where’s Scully?” He had a sudden urge to locate the only person he knew he could trust. The only person he should have trusted all along. He’d wanted to believe that Diana was at the very least his friend, that she was worthy of his trust. He’d wanted to believe it so badly he’d become blind. Why did this keep happening to him? Why was everyone in his life such a fucking disappointment?

Everyone except Scully, he corrected himself.

He wanted to scream, to rage at the injustice, but he had no one to blame but himself. He’d broken all of his own rules for Diana and now all he had left was shame and regret.

Trust no one.

“Why are you here, Diana? Why are you back in Washington? Was this entire thing a setup? Just to get to me, to get to the X-Files?”

“No, of course not…” She looked afraid of him, and he could hear her conflict.

“I never wanted any of this, you have to believe me…”

“Spender…”

“Tell me the truth! ” he shouted at her. “Are you working for him? For that black lunged sonofabitch?!”

He heard her searching her mind for something to say, but no words were forthcoming. It didn’t matter in any event, Mulder heard it all. The whole truth. Everything she’d hidden from him since the day they met.

“The Company… all along… the truth… the Syndicate…”

“Fox, I…”

He shook his head, the cacophony getting louder and louder. The pain was unbearable. “I don’t believe this… Diana…”

“I love you.”

He fell to his knees, this unspoken declaration the last thing he heard before he passed out completely.

GEORGETOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON, D.C.

JULY 1999

Scully burst through the doors of the medical facility, panicked. She’d switched flights twice, the anxiety and fear of flying completely pushed to the back of her mind in favor of the more pressing matter at hand.

Mulder’s in serious condition.

Skinner had never sounded so grave, and she worried that he hadn’t been more forthcoming over the phone. She never would have left Mulder’s side at all if she’d known he was in real danger.

The things she’d learned in New Mexico only strengthened her belief that whatever this artifact was, it held power she didn’t understand. The cosmic galactic radiation all over it indicated Mulder could be right, that whatever this artifact was, it had come from outer space. And that radiation was not only affecting Mulder, but had put Albert Hosteen in critical condition as well.

She felt a connection with the old man that was more than just sympathy; it was empathy, for she was reminded of her own cancer and how incredibly lucky she’d been to survive. Was the source of Albert’s cancer the same as hers? Could it possibly have originated from exposure to the craft: weeks and weeks of translating and handling it? It was far too coincidental not to be the case. She had no idea how much time he had left, but she sincerely hoped she’d be able to speak to him again.

And she prayed Mulder’s own prognosis was not so dire.

When Skinner grabbed her hand a fear took root that continued to grow as she saw Mulder locked in that room all by himself. Then that fear turned into dread. This was much worse than she’d expected.

How would she learn how to help him if she couldn’t even talk to him? If he couldn’t tell her with his own words what had happened to him? She couldn’t trust doctors; she couldn’t even trust Skinner.

And she certainly couldn’t trust Diana Fowley, whom she was not pleased at all to be confronted with once again.

“Thank you for coming,” Fowley said. “He was asking for you last night.”

Ignoring Fowley, she tried to listen to the doctor. Abnormal brain activity. No sign of stroke. She was trying to take what the doctor was saying and make sense of it, but thoughts of Diana Fowley at Mulder’s apartment again- at night, no less- irritated her to no end.

“...he’s a danger to anyone,” the doctor finished.

“Not to me,” she declared. She just wanted to be with Mulder, to see him up close. She knew he would never, ever hurt her.

“Can we speak in the hall?” Fowley interjected.

Scully turned to look at her, never before having wanted to punch anyone in the face so fervently. “About what?”

It was disconcerting enough that Mulder would have Fowley at his place again after everything she and Mulder had talked about over the past few weeks, but it was downright suspicious that Fowley was the last person he’d apparently spoken to before ending up in his current state. Maybe Mulder wouldn’t see it that way, even now, but Scully wouldn’t put anything past the woman at this point.

Skinner seemed to want to move the drama out of the observation room, and gently motioned for them to step out. Scully took a last look into the monitor where Mulder faced the camera and shouted directly into it. “Scully!”  

The sound of her own name had never ached so much.

When they were out in the hallway, Fowley faced Scully. “When did all this start?”

You tell me, Scully thought. Mulder seemed to go from having a slight headache to being a psych ward patient after spending time with you.

“When we took this case, when Skinner gave it to us,” she said, looking at her boss.

“What kind of case is it?” Fowley asked.

“Investigation into a murder,” Scully answered shortly.

“Of whom?”

Skinner interrupted. “The case has nothing to do with what’s happened to him.”

“Agent Scully says it does,” Fowley insisted. “Now you know my background, my previous work on the X-Files. If I can help on this case…”

Scully regarded the other woman. She had no desire to tell Diana Fowley the details of what was really going on here. What was her angle? If she truly wanted to help Mulder, why was she asking for information rather than offering it?

“Why were you with him last night?” Scully asked.

He wouldn’t lie to me. He’s finished with you. Tell me why.

“He called me. I found him in a university stairwell, he could barely speak. He said I was the only one who would believe him, about an artifact.”

The only one who would believe him, Scully repeated in her mind. Not a chance.

She’d tried Mulder’s cell phone multiple times before finally reaching him at his apartment. It had been turned off, or disconnected. It was odd, because Mulder’s cell phone was never off. But she’d brushed it aside at the time, thinking maybe in his disillusioned state he’d forgotten to charge it or left it somewhere.

He called me.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

“You’re a liar,” Scully said, venom in her voice.

She glared at the other woman, daring her to argue, fed up with these games. It was more manipulation, more posturing. It was as if Fowley had taken what little she knew of Scully and Mulder’s relationship, made a huge assumption, and called her bluff about it. But Fowley knew nothing about their relationship, nothing.

She didn’t know Scully was his one in five billion.

Skinner made to protest, but she stopped him, knowing just as she had been right about Fowley, Mulder was probably right about Skinner. No one was to be trusted, not anymore. “You’re both liars.”

She turned and strode out of the hospital, frustrated at her inability to see Mulder but determined to help him in whatever way she could. Her mind raced with thoughts of the piece of the puzzle she already had: the artifact that had caused this. It was the only thing she had to go on, and that artifact had come from the Ivory Coast.

The answers were in Africa, and she planned to find them there. She would do whatever she could to find the cure; to save him.

I’m afraid… I’m afraid to believe.

She was afraid again, but this time she was afraid not to believe. Not believing could cost her Mulder’s life.

***

Twenty two hours later, Scully found herself wandering the coast of Africa. She was exhausted, hot, and desperate. Her hair was plastered to her neck and her clothes stuck to every inch of her skin, but as the breeze whipped across her face and sand stung her eyes, she saw.

She finally saw.

The waves crashed and receded, revealing the surface of what she could only describe as an enormous spacecraft.

Dana Scully’s entire world changed in a single instant.

[prissyhalliwell]

Cover art by @rumple-belle, TFG’s amazing and talented fairy godmother!!! I’m freaking out a bit because this is basically a scene out of this chapter! *dies*

Chapter Summary: After saving Belle from the crow, Rumplestiltskin’s day continues to be full of surprises. (Read on AO3)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rumplestiltskin teleported into Regina’s quarters in her castle, making sure he kept to the shadows. His former pupil wasn’t stupid, but neither was she as clever as him, something he’d made very sure of from the beginning of their relationship. He’d taught Regina everything she knew, but he’d purposely left a few things out.

Which was why she didn’t see the fireball aimed at her head until it narrowly missed, scorching the wall just an inch from her head.

Regina whirled around, hands already up to retaliate. He saw the confusion in her eyes when she realized it was him, but that didn’t stop Rumplestiltskin from conjuring another fireball.

“What the hell is going on?” she demanded, the worry in her voice making her sound less threatening than usual. “Are you crazy?”

“No dearie, just fancied a bit of target practice.”

This time he aimed his fireball just to her left, leaving a matching scorch mark on her other side.

Regina growled. “Stop doing that!”

“Stop lying!”

“You haven’t given me a chance to! How can I lie if I don’t even know what has your leather knickers in a twist?”

“You sent that crow after Belle! Whether to hurt her or kidnap her, I don’t know. But you know better than to  - ”

Regina let out a gasp of laughter. “This is about the fairy?!” She threw back her head and laughed again. “Oh, this is too precious.”

“Making light of your crime is hardly going to help.” He raised his hand, as if to throw another fireball.

“Okay, wait.” Regina held her arms out placatingly. “Let’s think about this rationally.”

“Why?” he sneered. “This way is so much more fun.”

Despite his words, he let her speak. Knowing Regina, she’d incriminate herself within a minute.  

“I think you’re forgetting one tiny little fact here,” she said. “I don’t use crows. I’ve never used them.” She held his gaze confidently. “I’ve only ever used ravens.”

Rumplestiltskin paused, her words making him search his memories. When several popped to the surface of his mind, he let the fireball fizzle into nothingness in his hand.

“I suppose you’re right.”

Regina smirked, clearly pleased at her victory. She walked towards a nearby table to pour herself a drink, raising one eyebrow to ask if Rumplestiltskin wanted one as well. He waved her off. As stupid as he’d been today, he didn’t need additional help.

“Mistaking crows for ravens?” She tutted. “You’re slipping, Rumple.”

“Old age, dearie. These things happen. Don’t get too excited.”  

“And here I thought it was because someone threatened your little pet.” Regina looked over to find Rumplestiltskin studiously ignoring her, examining his blackened nails instead.

“Hmm?” he asked nonchalantly.

Regina gasped, clapping her hands together in delight. “It’s true! You do like her.”

Rumplestiltskin scoffed. “Don’t be absurd.”

He watched as Regina practically skipped around the table towards him, a look of malicious glee on her face.

“She’s very pretty.”

“I hadn’t noticed. As you’ve so often reminded me over the years, I have no appreciation for aesthetics.”

“Well, that’s certainly true,” Regina replied. “However, it’s never too late for an old dragon to learn new tricks. Perhaps you’re having a midlife crisis.” She gave him a lascivious grin. “Some men just get a new horse and carriage, Rumple.”

He flashed his teeth at her. “And some men get a new curse caster.”

It was slight, but Regina definitely flinched. “Touché.”

Despite his utter embarrassment at the situation, he stayed a half an hour longer. He knew that disappearing after realizing his mistake would make him look even more foolish to Regina and he couldn’t afford to do that, not with the constant power struggle that defined their relationship. He was so close to having her where he needed her for the curse; he couldn’t afford to have her think he was becoming senile or weak.

After Regina had consumed several glasses of wine and suggested some truly horrible ideas on how to get her revenge on Snow White - a fairly regular afternoon for her, he assumed - Rumplestiltskin teleported back to the Dark Castle. He was anxious to check on Belle and make sure she was alright. Since he had been wrong about who had sent the crow, he was also concerned about Belle being home alone.

With Regina gone, his list of suspects became fairly short. He knew Maleficent sometimes used birds, but he quickly discounted the idea. Last thing he’d heard, she’d retired from the vengeance game and had flown off into the sunset with a swashbuckling shapeshifter.  

The rest of his enemies didn’t even know Belle existed. That left only one real option. He’d never heard of Blue using birds before, but he’d learned long ago not to put anything past the bug queen.

He appeared in the Great Hall, his feet already taking him towards the table, when he saw that Belle’s bed was empty. He immediately panicked, glancing quickly around the room for any sign of her.

“Belle!” he bellowed, magically amplifying his voice throughout the castle. “Belle!”

He heard the distant sound of a door slamming closed, and not long later, Belle zoomed into the room, her face flushed.

“You’re back early!” she said, her voice coming out in a near squeak. “I thought you said you’d be gone a while.”

There was something about her behavior that screamed guilt. Maybe she thought he was angry that she had disobeyed his order to stay in bed? That didn’t seem like Belle, but perhaps the ordeal with the crow had left her more shaken than he realized.

“Sit down,” he commanded gently. “You look unwell.”

Belle meekly settled onto her bed. “What did you find out?”

He wasn’t fooled by her changing the subject, but he let it pass.

“It wasn’t Regina.”

She frowned. “Did we think it was? I know I gave her that poison ivy rash a couple months ago, but sending a bird to kidnap me seems a bit excessive.”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. “You don’t know Regina very well then.” He leaned back against the table, his expression sobering. “I think it was Blue.”

Belle’s face fell. “Oh.”

“I knew she’d go to great lengths to get you back, but I guess I didn’t realize how far.”

“I’m not surprised. Blue’s horrible.”

“You’re preaching to the choir.”

“No, but she’s even worse than you know! She acts like fairies are the guardians of everything good and pure in the world, but she’s a hypocrite.”

Belle stared at him appraisingly, her next words catching him off guard.

“Do you know the story of the Golden Fairy?”

Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were enjoying belittling Blue.” When Belle gave him one of her looks, he sighed. “I doubt I could tell you anything you don’t already know. Didn’t they teach you the whole thing in fairy nursery school?”

“I’d like to know what you’ve heard.”

He rolled his eyes. When he spoke, it was in a monotone voice, as if he was reciting a story he’d heard long ago as a boy. “The Golden Fairy was the first fairy. She had two daughters, the Blue Fairy and the Black Fairy. The first was all goodness and light, blah blah blah, while the other was pure evil. The Black Fairy killed her mother, and in retaliation, the Blue Fairy exiled her to the Dark Realm.” He spread his hands wide, fingers splayed out, his voice taking on an eerie quality. “It is said she is able to escape on moonless nights, in order to steal children from their beds and devour them whole.”

Belle gave him a level look. “And you believe that?”

He snorted. “Hardly. I’m sure Blue has twisted the story over the years to make herself sound better. Also, the ‘only comes out at night’ part sounds like complete rubbish.”

“But you’re okay with the part where she steals children?” Belle asked. She was trying to sound nonchalant but he could hear the concern in her voice.

“Of course not,” he said gruffly. “But she’s hardly the first monster to take children.”

“So you don’t care enough to stop her?”

“It’s not that simple, Belle.” He sighed, unsure of how they had even gotten on the topic. It wasn’t one on which he wished to dwell. “There’s always a price. I stopped monsters like that once. I thought I’d gotten away with it too, but fate always finds a way of making you pay eventually.”

“What - ”

He waved her off. “Never mind about that.” He glanced out the window, noting the position of the sun. “Will you be alright if I go back and check on the Jekylls? I’d like to finish the tests I started this morning.”

Belle nodded, rather more eagerly than he would have liked. Surely, his company wasn’t that bad?

“Yes, I’ll be fine. I actually have some tests to run, too.”

He raised his eyebrows, but she didn’t elaborate. “Fine, have your little fairy secrets.” He crooked a finger at her. “But I better not find plants growing in my lab when I come back.”

She smiled. “No promises.”

He snorted, but didn’t prevent the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Not many fairies are brave enough to tease the Dark One, my dear.”

“I’m not teasing the Dark One,” Belle replied cheekily, overencunciating the title. “I’m teasing you, Rumple.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Belle pondered the question for a moment. “No, the Dark One is like a mantle or a title. You’re still you underneath.”

He shook his head at her in amusement. “You make me sound like a bloody king,” he said, before standing. “I suppose you’ll want me to start dressing like one next.”

“Nah, I like the leather.” Belle’s smile faltered for a moment. “I mean...it suits you. The leather, I mean.”

“At least we can agree on that much,” he said gruffly. “Now, do try and stay out of trouble this time. If I have to save you again, it’s going to start affecting my - oh what did you call it? - mantle.”  

“I’d offer to pinky swear, but you said we couldn’t do that again.”

Rumplestiltskin felt his face redden as he remembered the awkwardness of that particular experiment. “I’ll pass.”

“Alright, then you better get going. I’m sure the Jekylls will be happy to see you.”

He was about to argue with her when he saw the twinkle in her eye.

“Cheeky fairy.”

Before Belle could fire off any more quips at his expense, he waved his hand and disappeared from the Dark Castle.

Rumplestiltskin arrived at the Jekylls’ lab a moment later, reappearing in the exact same spot he had vacated earlier that morning when he had heard Belle’s summons.

One of the Jekylls jumped while the other merely glared at him. “Where have you been?” the second asked, standing over a bubbling experiment. “We’ve been waiting.”

Rumplestiltskin held back the impulse to turn him into a toad. “A bit of an emergency popped up. I had to handle a few things.”

The man’s jaw twitched, but he kept his temper. Unlike his counterpart, who looked like he would like nothing better than to disappear into a corner, this version of Jekyll had no problem with voicing his opinion.

Rumplestiltskin sighed to himself. The two Jekylls really needed to settle on some proper names one of these days. Of course, if they could agree on anything, apart from their mutual loathing of each other, he’d consider it a miracle.

“P-p-perhaps you can talk some sense into him,” the quieter Jekyll said, finally speaking up. “He’s being rather reckless. Barely documented a single thing - ”

“Just because I’m not paralyzed by fear, doesn’t mean I’m being reckless.” The other man laughed unkindly. “You’d have me double check that my own shadow was still there.”

Rumplestiltskin glanced back and forth from one man to the other. Tensions were continuing to mount between them and he could do little to stop it. There was still much work to be done before they understood the exact effects of the serum. Until then, he couldn’t let them part ways or get distracted by their hatred for one another. It was crucial that he learn as much about the potion as he could.

Jekyll Two - Rumplestiltskin refused to keep calling them the same name in his head any more - was calmly stirring the potion in front of him as he continued to taunt his more timid half.

“Your hesitation is what held us back for so many years. Without my perseverance, we never would have gotten here.”

Jekyll One blushed bright red, a vein in his forehead standing out. Though he was usually quieter than his counterpart, his thinly suppressed anger worried Rumpelstiltskin far more than the other’s lazy arrogance.

“At least we got here! You would’ve have blown us up y-y-years ago!”

The two men glared at each other. For the space of a heartbeat, Rumplestiltskin feared he would have to break up a brawl.

But the moment passed as Jekyll Two looked back at the serum, a bored expression on his face once again.

“I’m tired of arguing. Let’s get back to work.” He glanced up at Rumplestiltskin. “Or did you just come to stare at the freaks, Dark One?”

Rumplestiltskin groaned internally. It was going to be a long afternoon.

Several hours later, a tired Rumplestiltskin teleported back to the Dark Castle. The Jekylls had continued their sniping at each other until he had grown so tired of it that he had allowed Jekyll One to go out for a couple hours while he ran tests on Jekyll Two. He had hoped a break would do all three of them good, but upon the man’s return, the two had started in on each other immediately, leaving him to wonder if it would ever be possible for two halves to live in close proximity to each other.

Belle wasn’t in her bed on the table, but he was hardly surprised. He ignored the worrying voice in the back of his head that helpfully suggested all the terrible things that may have happened to her in his absence.

Reaching out with his magic, he let out a breath as he realized she was in the library. Within a second, he was there as well, scanning the shelves for the little fairy.

The sight that met his eyes caused him to stagger back. He ducked behind a bookshelf, his gaze never straying from what was before him.

His little fairy was human-sized.

Author’s Note: This chapter was inspired by a deleted scene from Season 4 and a suggestion by @rumple-belle that Rumple suspects the wrong villain for sending the crow. You can see the scene here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8hBkIWk3Jg 

In the scene, Regina claims she uses crows, not ravens. Since the Evil Queen in the original Disney film has a pet raven, I decided to switch this for my fic. Unlike some OUAT writers, I do my research ;)