From: dscully@atl.mindspring.com (D. K. Scully)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: New: Saved by Faith
Date: Wed, 24 Jan 1996 06:01:54 GMT


Author's Note: This story came to me in a flash one Saturday night
after viewing "Touched by an Angel." While it was unusual for me to
take such characters as the one on this show and mix them with such
decidedly dark characters on "The X-Files", I simply did it...and in
one night, too. This story is a bit morbid, a bit preachy but it
touches on subjects Chris Carter brought up himself....

Please excuse any typos. This is a 10 pm to 1 am writing...

Also, if you are a UKer, you might wanna wait till next season to read
this.

Disclaimer: The characters of Tess, Monica, and Andrew belong to CBS
and production company. I use them here only to illustrate a point and
lighten the very dark life of another character. Fox Mulder and Dana
Scully are property of Chris Carter/10-13 Productions. No infringement
is meant upon anyone...it *is* fan fic, after all.

Saved by Faith
Heather DeLong
Assist by: Catherine Huggins

Apt. #42
Alexandria, VA
11:22 pm

The man sat in the solitary darkness of the apartment, staring
out an open window. It was the middle of a winter night, the
temperatures below freezing, but the flood of incoming air didn't
seem to affect him. In fact, nothing seemed able to break his
stare into the night.

She had tried to call three times, he was sure, for no one else
knew how many rings before the answering machine picked up. But
he didn't feel like talking to her...didn't feel like talking to
anyone.

Another year had passed, and still nothing. He had lost his
father, alienated his mother, and indirectly caused the death of
Melissa Scully. All without finding Samantha.

Perhaps it was time to pack it all in. Perhaps it was time to
give up -- on everything....



Behind him, unseen and unsensed, two women stood, watching him.
One was robust, her black and grey hair pulled away from her
face. She pulled her coat tighter around her, fending off the
cold air. The woman next to her looked upon the man, an
expression of sadness on her face. Her long, flowing locks of red
hair cascaded down her shoulders, the curls framing her face.

"Oh, Tess, he's in such a dark place," she said, her voice
containing the slightest hint of an Irish lilt. "He can't be the
one that brought us here."

The robust woman shook her head. Her glance at the man contained
both pity and something akin to sorrow. "No," she said. "That man
hasn't been in touch with his faith in many, many years. He's all
but sold his soul since then."

"Then how?"

A faint and wistful smile crept across Tess's lips. "There is one
who cares about him very much," she answered. "And, while she has
stepped away from God, she has not forsaken Him."

"But your case has lost his faith," came a voice from behind
them. They turned, finding a familiar face standing just within
the entry way of the small apartment. His sandy blonde hair was
in one long layer, hanging down to the ears, concealing an
earring in the left lobe. He was clad in beige, this one, a light
emanating from him that only they could see.

The red head gave a grimace. "Andrew? Already? Surely this man
cannot be ready to die?"

Andrew shook his head. "No, Monica, this man is not ready to
die," he said. "If he learns what he has lost in his search, his
Time will not be for years to come; if he does not realize what
he has lost, then his Time is closer than he ever expected."

Monica looked upon the man, a new understanding in her eyes. He
had lost his faith in God and in himself. It was not a good
combination for someone who needed to live just a little while
longer before finding his "reason to continue."
                         *******

Apt. #35
Annapolis, MD
11:27 pm

She sat on the sofa, staring at the portable phone with lay
silent on the glass coffee table. She had already tried to call
him three times, hanging up before the answering machine had
begun its job, and after she realized he wasn't answering.

It had been a rough week for he had been even more withdrawn and
less vocal than usual. He hadn't argued with her all week, even
when she had purposely tried to provoke him, and that had alarmed
her even more. Regrets were creeping in on him, she knew, but to
what extent they were sinking in, she had no way of knowing. She
only hoped it wouldn't be too far.

Angry, she picked up the phone, pressing redial. This time, she
waited for the answering machine to pick up. "Dammit, Mulder! You
know it's me," she exclaimed. "Call me back! Let me know you are
still breathing!"

With this, she slapped at the "talk" button, and closed the
connection.


Before Monica could blink, the cold, dark surroundings of the
man's apartment vanished, replaced by the warm, brightly
decorated apartment of another. Looking around, she saw a fire
crackling in the fireplace, and a red head curled up on the sofa
under a blanket, her hair pulled back from her face in a low
ponytail. Several long strands had escaped and rested on her
furrowed brow as she stared at the telephone in hand.

"Who's she?" Monica asked.

"That is Dana Scully," Tess replied, pausing. "God heard her
silent prayers for that pitiful man in the other apartment. She
worries about him."

Monica crossed the room to the couch, crouching down to look up
at the grimacing features of the woman. "How does she know him?"
"They work together," Tess said, "at the FBI. They investigate
cases of the unknown, ranging from UFO sightings to -- _ahem_ --
people who claim that they are angels."

"_Claim_ they are angels?" Monica echoed, arching a narrow brow.
"You mean there are people out there who _claim_ they are one of
us?"

"Yes, Ms. Wings," Tess said, smiling. "You should know by now
there are all sorts down here." She crossed and placed a hand on
Monica's shoulder. "Come on. Time is running out."
                              ******


Basement of the J. Edgar Hoover Building
1:51 pm

Scully entered the office, tossing a folder onto Mulder's desk.
He looked up at her as she folded her arms across her chest.
"What is it?"

She nodded, indicating the folder. "Open it." She made no move as
he opened it, watching his eyes read the lines on the first page.
"What do you think?"

"Scully, if I had a nickel for every person who claimed they were
an angel, I would have already purchased a small island in the
Fiji group, and have built myself a mansion," Mulder said. He
closed the folder, tossing it back onto his desk. His eyes met
hers, reading the interest dancing in them. "But I take it you
want to look into this?"

"If nothing else, Mulder, consider it an easy case," she said,
"Heaven knows you could use it."

"Heaven knows?" Mulder shook his head, slipping his arms into his
jacket. "No, Scully knows." He pushed past her out the door and
into the corridor. He didn't see the slight glance upward his
partner gave before following suit.

_What is it with him?_ she questioned as they stepped into the
elevator. _Why is it so easy for him to believe in UFOs and alien
clones, and so hard for him to believe in Faith?_ She sighed.
_Agent Fox Mulder, believer and Atheist._



2112 Dogwood Lane
Alexandria, VA
2:45 pm


Mulder had to admit that the woman before him looked more like an
angel than any he had seen before, and especially more so than
the man who called himself Owen. There seemed to be a breeziness
about her which put him at ease, yet ill at ease at the same
time.

He looked to Scully, who was seated next to him on the sofa. She
seemed quite taken with the woman's story, almost to the point of
believing her. But surely, someone who was such a skeptic when it
came to matters of alien existence would not completely believe a
woman who claimed she was an angel?

The woman looked to Mulder. "Agent Mulder," she said in that
soothing Irish lilt, "would you care for a cup of tea? It might
help tide you over until dinner."

Mulder allowed a small smile. "Yes, thank you."

The red head picked up the tea pot from the coffeetable and
filled a delicately decorated tea cup. He watched in surprise as
she prepared it exactly as he liked, stirring it counter-
clockwise. "Thank you," he said.

"You're quite welcome," she said. She turned to Scully. "Would
you care for a refill, Agent Scully?"

"No, thank you," Scully answered. "I still haven't finished my
first cup." She took a careful sip of the still-hot liquid, then
set the cup and saucer carefully back onto the coffeetable before
her. "You've been a very attentive hostess."

"I try to put people at ease," the woman explained, "because
sometimes my admitting what I am frightens them."

Mulder looked up from his tea. "Frightens them?" he echoed. "Why
should it frighten them, if you really are what you claim to be?"

"Because, Agent Mulder, not everyone has as much Faith as your
partner," she started. "And there are many who have tried to run
from God, and fear me because I am His messenger. They might feel
I am a threat to their lives." She smiled. "But I'm not the Angel
of Death. That's up to Andrew."

"Andrew?" Mulder's voice held a skeptical tone that Scully
recognized. The red head nodded. "What about Adam? He still
looking out for folks from up there?"

"Oh yes," she began, "and he used to be the Angel of Death. But
it was decided that he was needed to manage a few things at Home,
so Andrew took his place."

Scully allowed a slight grin as she exchanged glances with her
partner. He had not been expecting an answer, but this woman had
given him one without batting an eyelash...and now Mulder was the
slightest bit flustered.

"I take it you are a skeptic, Agent Mulder?" the red head asked.

"When it comes to matters of Faith and God, yes I am," he
answered.

Suddenly, it was as if time had stopped. Scully held her cup
halfway to her lips, her chest not moving as it should have been,
were she breathing. Even the trees outside had stilled, despite
the breeze that had been blowing occasionally all day.

He looked to the red head -- _Monica_, he thought, recalling the
name she had given them. In the instant that he had looked away,
her clothes had changed from a long, black dress to a white one,
accented with dainty pearls. A soft light emanated from behind
her, seemingly making her glow.

"But when it comes to alien abductions, government conspiracies,

and clones, you are willing to believe," she retorted. "What
makes the jump from believing in such things as that to having
Faith in God so difficult for you?"

Mulder's glare became cold. "What has God ever done for me? Your
God didn't save my father _or_ Melissa Scully," Mulder blurted
out. "And your God _never_ answered my prayers when Samantha
first disappeared."

"That is because you stopped praying, you stopped believing,"
Monica said. "You live in the Dark now, Fox Mulder, by your own
doing. Your apartment is cold because _you_ leave the windows
open; your life is empty because _you_ shut everyone out. But you
have got to understand: God is with you, even in these cold, dark
moments...He loves you, despite everything you have done to try
to shut him out of your life."

Monica reached over and placed a warm hand atop his. "You see
Dana as your salvation and, in a way, she is. It was because of
her Faith that you survived Alaska, and because of her faith that
you escaped the bomb that was meant to kill you in New Mexico.
She has prayed for you, Fox. She sees the good in you, the Light
that struggles against the Darkness you have locked it into. You
have to find that Light for yourself."

"And if I don't?"

"If not, Andrew says your Time here is shorter than you think,"
Monica answered. She smiled. "Suicide is your choice...But I know
you will make the right choice, Fox."

Before he could blink, the light was gone, and Scully resumed her
sip of tea. She drained the last of it, placing it on the
coffeetable, then looked to her parter. "Well, Mulder?"

"Hm?" Mulder looked at her, still disoriented. "Oh. Yeah." He
turned to Monica. "Well, Monica, we'll take what you have said
into consideration."

"Well thank you for listening to me, Agent Mulder," she said,
rising with them. She followed them across the living room to the
front door.

Mulder held her eyes with his a moment longer, silently seeking
an answer to the questions with which he had been charged. His
brow furrowed when Monica shook her head. "The Truth is out
there, Agent Mulder. Open your eyes to it." She smiled, then
closed the door to them.

Silently, he followed Scully back to her car, lost in his own
thoughts. What had he just seen? An angel? _Could_ have seen an
angel?

"Did I miss something, Mulder?" Scully asked, slipping her key
into the driver's side lock.

"No, Scully," he answered distractedly. "Nothing to be concerned
about."
                         ******


Apt. #42
Alexandria, VA
10:42 pm

Mulder opened the door to his apartment, entering, and closing
the door behind him. Darkness suddenly surrounded him, broken
only from the dim light from the street lamp allowed in through
the slats of the living room blinds. Without switching on the
lights, he slipped out of his coat and traipsed into his bedroom.
A few moments later, he emerged wearing his black sweatpants and
black tee shirt.

_Angels. God. Faith. What were they, anyway?_ Mulder questioned
as he flopped onto the leather couch, popping open a beer.
_Overrated excuses to hope for the best when nothing positive was
going to happen, that's what._ He hadn't really seen anything
today. Just a red head with connections to Industrial Light and
Magic.

...And yet, things which she had said struck a chord deep within
him. Alaska and New Mexico were two cases that she could have had
no knowledge about; his brush with death in New Mexico was not
even a matter of record. How had she known that he had stopped
praying? And how did she and this "Andrew" know that he had been
contemplating suicide?

His eyes glanced to the gun which lay on the end table. He had
sat many a night staring out into the darkness, his hand gripping
that pistol, trying to summon up the courage to pull the trigger.
For some reason -- usually a call from Scully -- he had never
found the strength.

The doubts came flooding back. What had he accomplished with this
life of his? Whispers behind his back at the commissary? A
different girl every night, without hope of attaining who he felt
more intimate with -- without ever having touched her in such a
manner? And Sam. Where was she? She was still out there, being
held by those monsters.

His eyes flitted once again to the gun, illuminated by the light
filtering through the blinds...


Monica, Tess, and Andrew watched with interest as Mulder
continued to sit in the dark, his eyes falling on the gun once
again.

"There's nothing we can do?" Monica asked of Tess.

"No, Ms. Wings. We've done all that we can do," Tess answered.
"The rest is up to him."

Monica looked to Andrew. "And you don't know the outcome yet,
either?"

"Not I," Andrew answered, shaking his head. "The Boss has me as
much in the dark about this one as you."

Pursing her lips, Monica turned her attention back to the dark
haired man whose eyes still rested on the gun. She clasped her
hands before her, closing them as she mumbled soft prayers...
                         ******


Apt. #35
Annapolis, MD
10:42 pm


Closing the book she had been absently reading for an hour,
Scully glanced to the phone which lay silent once again on her
coffeetable. Their interview with Monica today had left Mulder in
a quiet, contemplative mood, almost seeming to challenge his
skepticism; he had withdrawn farther into himself, battling the
demons that she knew were there.

Mulder had become the closest friend she had found in years. They
somehow, with mere glances and slight gestures, managed to
communicate questions, answers, and occasional actions. He knew
her very well, but not as well, she suspected, as she knew him;
to her, Agent Fox Mulder was very much an open book....And an
open wound.

The years of red herrings, death threats from Cancerman, and lack
of support from the higher ups had taken their toll on Mulder,
shaking his belief that Samantha was still out there. Add to that
the blame for the deaths of William Mulder and Melissa Scully,
and one could visualize the size of the gash that ran through
Mulder's psyche.

But he wanted to be alone, just like Garbo.

Scully didn't want him to be alone.

She wanted to be with him, to soothe the nightmares.

As she closed her eyes, she sighed. An imaged flashed across her
mind. A darkness, much darker than she had ever seen, broken only
with narrow shafts of light, as though through miniblinds. A hand
-- one that felt like _her_ hand -- rested on a gun, a pistol,
that was heavy, loaded.

In the darkness, she felt the dispair, the loss, and even the
isolation. She was sensing Mulder. Mulder, sitting in the
darkness of his apartment, gripping a fully loaded pistol.

Scully's eyes flew open and she grabbed the telephone receiver,
punching in Mulder's number faster than she ever had before.
"Come on, Mulder," she mumbled, "answer me this time...."
                         ******

Apt. #42
Alexandria, VA
10:45 pm

In the darkness, Mulder could hear the phone ring. Even before
her voice flooded into the room through the answering machine, he
knew who it was: Scully, calling to check on him. His grip on the
gun loosened.

"Mulder," came Scully's voice, "please pick up the phone. I know
you are there." There was the slightest hint of panic in her
voice. "Mulder, please."

Glancing at the gun in his hand, Mulder then glanced in the
general direction of the phone and answering machine. Did he
really want to answer it? She was just going to try to talk him
out of this, wasn't she? Did he want to be talked out of it?

"Mulder, since you're obviously not going to pick up, at least
listen to me," Scully's voice said. "I want you to put the gun
down and turn on the light. It's not your Time yet, Mulder, you
can't leave me like this."

_How does she know I have the gun?_ Mulder furrowed his brow.
_How does she know I am sitting in the dark?_

"Look, you son of  bitch, you have put me through Hell these past
years, but I haven't stopped believing in the work that we do,"
Scully said. "You cannot sit there and think that your work isn't
important to me, that finding Samantha isn't important to me,
too. It is dammit! You sacrificed her once for me, and I am not
going to let you sacrifice yourself."

There was a pause. "Mulder, please. Put down the gun and click on
the light."

_It's the only way I can protect you, Scully. The only way that
they will be happy,_ he thought. _The only way to keep from
saying what needs to be said..._

Then, as if reading his mind, "Mulder, you can't protect me if
you are dead."

His grip loosened a little more.

"Mulder?" Scully's voice was little more than a whisper, the
slightest tremor of worry and fear reaching into it. "_Please._ I
-- I..."

Mulder closed his eyes. Those were the words that needed to be
said, the ones that even she was afraid to utter. Reaching over,
he turned on the lamp, setting aside the gun. Drawing in a deep
breath, he then picked up the receiver. "Scully, I'm here."

There was a great sigh of relief on the opposite end, then a
voice that was filled with tears. "Thank God," she said. "I --
I...was worried."

"I know," Mulder said. His voice was gruff, as his own tears were
fighting to free themselves. This brush with Death had been too
close, even for him. He sniffed, giving a sigh. "And, Scully?"

"Yes, Mulder?"

"You don't have to say it. I already know."

"You do?"

"Mmm-hmmm. And it goes right back to you."


Heaving a sigh, Monica finally allowed a smile as Andrew crossed
the room back to join she and Tess. "So that was why we were
here," she said.

Tess nodded. "Mmm-hmmm, that, too, Ms. Wings," she said, smiling.
"He should be all right now, even if things will still get a
little dim here and there. His life hasn't been an easy one, and
it isn't going to get any easier."

"But at least he'll have her to look out for him," Andrew added.
He looked to Monica. "I have a bit before my next appointment.
Care to catch a cup of coffee?"

"I love coffee," Monica said with a smile. She looked to Tess.
"Want to come along?"

"Not tonight," Tess answered. A mischievous twinkle entered her
eyes. "Gotta go wax the car."

"Oooh," Monica said, understanding. "Well, see you later, then."
With a flash, she and Andrew were gone, followed by Tess a moment
later.

                         THE END