Extreme Possibilities
(Part Three)
by Annie Reed
(FancyKatz@aol.com)

*  *  *

Historian's note:  This story takes place early in the second season of
X Files following the episode "Little Green Men."  


*  *  *

Disclaimer:  All characters are the property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen
Productions, and Fox Broadcasting. No infringement of copyright is intended.
This is a work of fanfiction and is not for profit. Unaltered copies may be
freely distributed as long as no money is received in return and this
disclaimer is included on the copies. Whew... hope I made everyone happy
there!

Author's note: I would like to thank Rhoda and Melissa for continuously
cracking the creative whip at me to get this story done, and I also want to
thank Cheryl, my guardian worrywart, for her patience.

*  *  * 

7:35 p.m.

  Dana put the phone back in the cradle, a frown wrinkling her forehead.
The crucifix hadn't come from her mother. Dana had described it to her
mother in detail, but as far as Margaret Scully knew, no one in the family
owned one like it. "Maybe you have a secret admirer," her mother had said.
Dana had dismissed that suggestion immediately.  Outside of Mulder, she had
no personal life to speak of.
  And speaking of Mulder, he was due here any minute.  He had called her
briefly on her cellular during her drive home, suggesting dinner and
offering to bring Chinese. Dana looked at her watch. With any luck she'd
have just about enough time to change before he got here.
  She had just slipped into a comfy pair of jeans and an oversized
sweatshirt when the buzzer rang. Assuming it was Mulder, she pressed the
button by her front door and said "come on up" into the speaker box.
There was no response. Dana frowned at the speaker grill. What, no snappy
come backs? Mulder must really be tired or distracted, she thought. She
shrugged, pressed the security release for the door to the apartment
complex, and went into the kitchen to put on some water for tea. Coffee
just wouldn't do with Chinese, it had to be tea.
  The kettle was simmering smartly on the stove when the buzzer rang
again. Dana walked over to the speaker and pressed the button. "I
swear, Mulder, you're the only person I know who can get lost in an
apartment building," she said with a smile at the grill.
  "What do you mean? I just got here." Mulder's voice sounded tinny over
the tiny speaker. "Come on, Dana, open up. Smelling this food all the way
here has been torture."
  Dana smile faded as she stared at the speaker. She buzzed Mulder through
as her mind churned a mile a minute. If that hadn't been him before, just
who had she let in? Dana walked over to the kitchen and opened the drawer
where she kept her gun. She pulled it out of the holster and flipped off
the safety.
  The tea kettle whistled stridently about the same time as the knock on
her front door, loud and persistent. Dana jumped as she turned to move the
kettle from the hot burner. "Mulder?" Dana called. There was no response.
"Mulder, this is no time to be playing games," she said as warily
approached the door, holding her gun in front of her, not yet in shooting
position, but not held idly by her side either. No one answered her.
  Taking a deep breath, Dana flattened herself against the wall next to the
door. With her left hand she reached over and opened the door, then drew it
back to support her gun hand. The light from the hallway created shadows in
the open doorway. She watched as one large shadow filled the space as it
entered her apartment.
  "Freeze!" she yelled at the figure which stood just inside her door.
  "Scully?" a voice squeaked out. She heaved a sigh of relief as she let
the gun drop back down to her side, thumbing the safety back on. Mulder
turned around slowly, taking in her position against the wall and the gun
held loosely at her right side.
  "If I'd have known punctuality was so important to you, I'd have made
more of an effort to get here on time," Mulder said as Dana closed and
locked the door behind him. She relieved him of the bag of Chinese take
out and put in on her kitchen counter, along with her gun.
  "Why didn't you answer me?" she demanded, refusing to give in to the
shakes which always threatened following every time she was forced to draw
her weapon.
  "Scully, I just got here and found your door open. I didn't hear you say
anything. When I saw the open door, I thought something was wrong and I
just walked in." Mulder stopped and took a good look at her. "Tell me
what's happened."
  Dana filled him in on the 'present' she had received at work and the
buzz and knock at her door. "Did you see anyone in the hall?" she asked.
  "Not a soul," Mulder replied, opening the box to look at the crucifix.
He didn't know exactly what he was looking for. Scully may not have been
a religious person, but Mulder was an agnostic. How could he believe in a
benevolent god with all the things he'd seen in his life. How could a
benevolent god let Sam be taken from him? No, Mulder did not believe in
god, and had a idea that even if there was a god, that god did not believe
in him.
  He wasn't an expert in religious artifacts, but this one certainly looked
unusual. The crosses he'd seen were usually gold, either simple like the
one Scully wore around her neck, or gaudily ornate like the ones in many
churches. This one was plain white enamel, maybe glass or a synthetic
polymer. Mulder picked it up. It was surprisingly heavy for its size. He
turned it over, searching for anything at all, any clue, but there was
nothing on the back except for a small loop for hanging the crucifix on the
wall. Something nagged at the back of his mind about the cross, but he
couldn't make the connection.
  Mulder walked over to Scully's dining room table where she was busy
opening up the little boxes of take out and pouring tea. He fished the
answering machine's tape from his pocket and put it on the table as he
sat down.
  "All done with the analysis already?" Dana asked.
  "Murray likes you," Mulder replied with a grin.
  "Don't remind me," Dana groaned. "Wait a minute, Mulder -- you didn't
tell him it was my tape, did you? You promised..."
  "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me, ma'am," Mulder said gallantly.
"But Murray thinks that maybe someday I'll put in a good word for him with
you. Say, I bet your mother would like him..."
  "Mulder, don't you dare," Dana glared at him only to see him smiling back
at her. "So how'd you get a night off from surveillance duty?"
  "The primary suspects are out of town for the weekend, so another agent's
got the pleasure of the earphones for a couple of days. That gives us time
to track this guy down," Mulder said, poking at the microcassette.
  "What did Murray find out?" Dana asked, spearing a piece of eggroll with
her fork. For some reason her appetite had come back and this food looked
really good.
  "A couple of things. First, there is a low frequency sound which was not
made by the caller and not made by your answering machine." Dana arched an
eyebrow at that. "It's just below the range of human hearing and was not
made by any known surveillance equipment, at least none that Murray has
ever seen."
  "Did he identify the music?" Dana asked.
  "Well, he had a lot of blanks to fill in, but he came up with a couple
of possibilities." 
  Mulder had no sooner gotten the words out of his mouth when the phone
rang. Dana walked over to the extension on the kitchen counter, where the
caller i.d. device was plugged in, Mulder following on her heels. The
screen on the i.d. device was annoyingly blank. 
  "Hello?" Dana said. There was no response. She motioned Mulder to stand
next to her, holding the phone slightly away from her ear so that Mulder
could hear. "Is anyone there?" Dana asked.
  This time there was no music and no static. There was only laughter --
hysterical, mad laughter. Dana hung up the phone. It rang again immediately.
Again, there was no number displayed on the small screen next to her phone.
  Dana picked it up without saying anything, holding it so that Mulder could
hear. The laughter was still there, but somewhat subdued. For the first
time, Dana heard a voice, but it was so garbled and distorted she could not
recognize it. "Don't do that again," the voice commanded.  
  "Who is this?" Dana asked forcefully. Mulder stood stock still by her
side, his entire being focused in concentration.
  "I have a message for you," the voice said. There was something about
this voice, strange and dark and malevolent, that chilled Dana to the
bone, and she started to tremble. "I've had trouble getting through. It's
hard to see in the dark," the voice whined, "and they won't leave me alone."  
The voice trailed off and was replaced suddenly by a scream, as
bloodcurdling as the one on her answering machine. "Leave me alone!" the
voice wailed. Dana slammed the phone down and stood shaking in her kitchen.
  Mulder put his arms around her shoulders and gently pulled her into a
hug, his arms enveloping her. He could feel her trembling against him, and
he was overwhelmed with a desire to protect her. From whom, or from what,
he didn't know, but he would protect her.  
  He didn't know how long they stood there, but gradually he could feel
Dana's shaking subside. Finally she raised her head, looked up at him
sheepishly, and pulled away from him. "Sorry," she mumbled, "very
unprofessional of me."
  She took a deep breath and looked over at the i.d. device.
"That's strange," she said. "It worked fine a little while ago. I had my
mother call me back, just to make sure the thing was working."
  "Maybe the caller wasn't local," Mulder suggested.
  "But it's supposed to register every call," Dana insisted. "Even if the
number doesn't show up, it's supposed to tell you something."
  "AND NOW WE HAVE A SPECIAL REQUEST..." blared a voice from Dana's living
room. Her stereo was turned up full blast, the receiver tuned to a local
FM oldies station. Only neither of them had turned it on.
  "From 1960," the announcer continued, "here's Bobby Darin with his
million seller, going out to Starbuck..." Dana stood numb in the kitchen,
listening to the beginning strains of "Beyond the Sea." The last time
she'd heard that song had been at her father's funeral. No... oh no...
it couldn't be.
  "What's the station?" Mulder asked, grabbing the phone. Dana didn't
respond. Mulder reached out and turned her around to face him. He didn't
like the pasty white look on her face. "Dana," he shouted at her, "what's
the name of the station?"
  "WTXZ," she mumbled, barely audible over the music. Mulder dialed
information and got the number of the station's request line. Dimly, as
if from very far away, Dana heard him dial the number and ask who
requested this song.
  Beyond the Sea... it had been in her dreams for months following her
father's funeral. It all came back to her now. Waking to see her father
sitting in her living room chair, only to find out that he'd died an hour
earlier. Seeing him again in Boggs' cell, in Boggs' place, asking if she'd
gotten his message. Boggs taunting her with his so-called ability to let
her talk to her father, to try to tie up all the loose ends left by his
unexpected death. And the white cross, splashed with bright red blood,
where she'd nearly lost Mulder. No, it couldn't be. It was some horrible,
cruel joke. No, no...
  "NO!" she screamed at the stereo, running across the room to turn it off.
As she reached out to the power switch, electricity arced out between the
stereo and her fingers. Dana felt herself thrown backward across her living
room as if she'd been pushed by a giant's hand. She slammed into the coffee
table, fell over onto the couch and tumbled to the floor. As she lay on the
floor between what remained of her coffee table and the couch, she felt
herself slipping down deeper, to someplace dark, someplace very, very cold.
  
*   *   *

  Darkness.... she was surrounded by darkness. Floating, drifting aimlessly
in a pool of absolute black.
  No, this wasn't right, she wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed
to be...
  Where? She couldn't remember. Why couldn't she remember?
  She tried to turn her head, to spot something familiar, get her bearings,
but she found she couldn't move. She could only drift, helpless and alone.
Frustrated and terrified, she began to cry.
  "Don't much like death, do you?"
  The voice came from nowhere, from everywhere, grating at her, sparking a
glimmer of a memory... Of mad laughter and... of music.  
  <I'm not dead!> she thought angrily. <This is all a dream! I can't
be dead....  can I?>
  The voice laughed at her, a sound that froze her soul. She was cold,
so very cold.
  "Well, that's up to you now, Starbuck."
  <You're not my father!> The voice was too cold, too cruel. Her father
had never been cruel.
  "You never came back for the message!" the voice accused, the volume
ringing in her head. "I sat alone and afraid and YOU NEVER CAME!!!"
  <I didn't believe you!> she whimpered, wishing desperately that she
could shut out the voice, make it stop.
  "I told you that death was a cold, dark place for liars, Scully,"
the voice rasped, "but you didn't listen to me." The mad laughter rang
out again. "Well, how do you like it so far?"
  <No,> she sobbed, <no, I'm not dead, I'm not...> Thoughts of a seldom
seen smile, of soft hazel eyes danced briefly through her mind, and she
ached for what was lost.
  "You're afraid to believe, Scully," the voice mocked. "In your heart
you knew I told the truth, but you were afraid."
  Yes, she'd been afraid to believe then, and she was terrified to believe
now, because belief would mean accepting the darkness.
  "Starbuck." The voice had changed, become softer, familiar.
  <Daddy?>  
  "I'm here, honey." She was almost more afraid of this voice than the
other, afraid that it was a trap.
  <Daddy, is that you? Ahab???>
  "Yes, Starbuck, my sweet baby girl."
  <Oh, daddy,> she sobbed, both for herself and her father, lost forever
in this cold, dark place.
  "It doesn't have to be this way, Starbuck. It isn't for me, and it's
not what I want for you."
  <I don't understand, daddy,> she thought, her sobs subsiding as she
struggled for understanding.
  "You have to be careful, Starbuck. We'll be together, again, but you
have to be careful."
  She fought for control, trying desperately to see the source of her
father's voice, to catch a glimpse of him. All of sudden she felt a
terrible pain in her chest and a brilliant flash of light blinded her.
  "Remember, Starbuck... you have to be careful..."
  Her father's voice faded as the pain consumed her.
  
*   *   *

9:15 p.m.

  "Clear!"
  All hands moved away from the woman on floor as the portable
defibrillator shot it's charge through her. Her body jerked and the
paramedics looked at the monitor, willing the lines to move in a normal
rhythm. Nothing.  
  "Ok, that's it," the paramedic said.
  "No." A man's hand shot out and grabbed the paramedic's arm. "One
more time."
  The medic looked into the man's eyes, hazel eyes made deep with emotion
over the fight for this woman's life. One more time.... Not that it would
do any good, but it really wouldn't hurt anything either.
  "Okay, charge..." she said to her assistant. She watched the gauge on
the machine, and when it was fully charged and the plates were placed on
either side of the woman's bare chest, she yelled "clear!" Once more the
body on the floor spasmed as the charge shot through her, and one more time
the paramedic looked to the monitor for any sign of life.
  She was as startled as everyone else when the woman drew a deep, sudden
breath and the monitor beeped with a heartbeat. The paramedics flew into
activity, monitoring the woman's returning vital signs, doing everything
possible to make sure that the fragile spark of life grew into a strong
flame.
  Mulder sat back against Dana's couch, his face wet with unnoticed tears.
That was too close. 'Dana, I almost lost you,' he thought as his hand
reached out to touch her hair. 'I will never let that happen again,
I promise you.'
  
*   *   *

Arlington, Virginia
8:45 a.m.

  Dana sat in her hospital bed, looking at the sun shining outside the
window. The emergency room doctors had insisted she spend the night in
the hospital so that they could monitor her condition. Her attending
physician, visiting her on his morning rounds, was remarkably impressed.
Outwardly she didn't look like someone whose heart had stopped beating
only the night before.
  She couldn't wait to leave. "I just want to check your test results,"
her doctor had said. "If they look as good as you do, you can go home."
There was a soft knock on her door. Dana turned to see Mulder poking his
head into her room. "You decent?" he asked.
  Dana smiled. "Come on in, Mulder," she said, patting the bed next to
her. He walked over and sat down on the bed, regarding her with those
solemn eyes.  
  Dana had been told that Mulder had performed CPR on her until the
paramedics arrived. Without his efforts, they might not have been able to
bring her back. Her chest was still a little sore from where he had pushed
to keep her heart beating. "You've got a hell of a CPR technique, Mulder,"
she said with a rueful smile, rubbing her breastbone, which was already
bruising. She sobered a bit and stared into his eyes. "Thank you,"
she said, reaching over to give his hand a squeeze.
  Mulder dropped his eyes to gaze at their joined hands. "All part of the
service," he mumbled, squeezing her hand back. They were silent for a long
moment, sitting there holding hands, each grateful for the other's presence
and all too aware of what they'd almost lost.
  Mulder broke the silence first. "I checked with the radio station this
morning. The request for 'Beyond the Sea' came in over their fax line. It
was unsigned, and the return fax number wasn't displayed on the print out.
'Beyond the Sea' was one of the possibilities Murray came up with for the
music on your answering machine's tape."
  Dana only nodded, not saying anything.
  "I'm afraid your receiver is a total loss. The wires were fried. The lab
techs wanted to know what the hell I hooked it up to that generated that
much electricity." Mulder remembered the bright blue arc and the smell of
ozone as Dana had gone flying across her living room. He had a feeling the
scene would haunt him in his dreams for years. "Your landlord told me there
was a power surge last night that knocked out a half dozen circuit
breakers," Mulder continued. "He was busy replacing them this morning.
Apparently a few of your neighbors were upset because the power outage
meant they couldn't watch 'Picket Fences.'"
  "That would be Mrs. Malloy," Dana said with a smile. "What about
the cross?"
  "No log entries for a package delivered to you yesterday, nothing to
indicate it was left at the front desk." Another nod, as if she expected
nothing except unanswered questions. Mulder paused, unable to bring himself
to voice a question of his own.
  "You want to know what it was like," she said, seeming to read his mind.
  "Dana..." Mulder stopped as his throat closed up on him, and he had to
clear it noisily before he could continue. "You don't have to talk about
it if you don't want to."
  "Actually, there's not much to talk about. I don't remember seeing a
bright light." She looked at him, puzzled. "It's more like a dream you
can't quite remember when you wake up. You know you had it, and it leaves
you with an unpleasant feeling, but you can't remember the details or why
you feel that way."
  She turned her head to look out the window. Her room was on the ground
floor. Tall rosebushes were planted in a decorative hedge against the
hospital's outer wall, and Dana gazed at the flowers before she continued.
"You know, there are a lot of things in nature that science just can't
explain, from why bumblebees can fly to whether human beings have a soul.
Science can't explain what happened to me last night, and I can't remember
it, but I do know this. I was dead, technically dead," she saw him flinch
at the words, but she continued on relentlessly. "According to science that
should have been it... no more thoughts or feelings or experiences. But I
know that's not what happened to me." She laughed, a short, humorless sound. 
"You know, just yesterday I was explaining to one of my students that you
have to be willing to look beyond the obvious, beyond scientific textbook
rhetoric for the answers to otherwise unexplainable mysteries... that you
have to consider all possibilities."
  "Even extreme possibilities?" Mulder asked.
  "I would certainly say this whole thing qualifies," she replied. "I guess
this is a good case of practicing what you preach."
  Dana's physician chose that moment to reappear in her room. Mulder
realized he'd still been holding Dana's hand, which he released as he got
up from the bed.
  "Dr. Taylor," Dana said, "this is my friend, Fox Mulder."
  Mulder shook hands with the doctor. "Mr. Mulder," the doctor said,
"you have a very lucky friend. She's lucky to be alive, much less in such
great shape. If the nurses' gossip is right, which it usually is, you had
a good deal to do with that."
  Mulder looked down at his shoes, embarrassed. "CPR training is standard
stuff at the Bureau," he explained.
  "Well, the training may be standard, but no amount of training prepares
you for actually having to give CPR in an emergency situation. You're to
be congratulated, young man."
  Now Mulder was really embarassed. He didn't say anything, hoping that
the doctor would change the subject.
  "You ready to go home?" Dr. Taylor asked Dana. "Your tests are normal.
I see no reason to keep you here."
  "When can I leave?" Dana asked.
  "The nurse will let you know when the paperwork is processed and then
you can go." Dr. Taylor turned back to Mulder. "And keep her quiet,
Mr. Mulder. She may not think so, but she still needs her rest."
  Dana started to protest, but the doctor cut her off. "Tests and good
looks aside, your body still suffered a severe shock. It's going to take a
few days to recover. And I don't want to see you back here any time soon."
With that, the doctor left.
  "Believe me, I don't want to be back here anytime soon, either," Dana
said, swinging her feet over the side of her bed. <Be careful, Starbuck...>
Dana stood up suddenly, swaying a little on her feet. Where the hell had
that come from?
  Mulder was at her side in an instant, holding on to her arm to help her
keep her balance. "You okay?" he asked with concern. "Should I call the
doctor?"
  Dana shook her head. "No, I just got up too quick. I'll be fine." She
smiled at Mulder to let him know she meant it, and he let go of her arm.
"Any idea where they stashed my clothes?"
  "Uh, oh. Well, your jeans are probably in the closet. I should stop by
your apartment and get you another shirt."
  "What happened to my sweatshirt?" she asked, puzzled.
  "The paramedics used a defibrillator. They had to cut the shirt away..."
he trailed off, suddenly unwilling to meet her eyes.
  "Oh," she said as the picture formed in her mind. Defibrillator paddles
had to be placed on bare skin, and she hadn't been wearing a bra. No wonder
he was uncomfortable. "Okay," she said, trying desperately to put her own
discomfort behind her, "well, make sure you pick a comfy one."
  Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. This could have been a sticky
situation, but he should have known she'd be able to handle it. "Any
other requests?" he asked.
  "Yeah," she paused. "Be careful, Mulder."
  He frowned at her. "What's wrong, Dana?"
  She shrugged, genuinely puzzled. "I don't know. I just have this feeling
that we need to be careful." She smiled at him. "It's your turn to humor
me, Mulder."
  He nodded. "How about this... I'll stop by the video store on my way back
here and we can spend our Saturday watching movies, followed by the take
out dinner of your choice."
  "Sounds great," she replied. "Only don't make them all sci-fi, okay?"
  "What, you're not in the mood for 'Aliens' or 'Body Snatchers'? And here
I thought I was converting you," he said, hand over his heart in mock
pain. She laughed at him, which is exactly the reaction he was looking for.
"And this time," Mulder said, "we eat at my place, okay?" He smiled at her
and she smiled back. 
  "It's a deal," she said.
  
*   *   *
End
