Disclaimer: I don't own the character's portrayed in this story. They belong to CC and 1013 productions. If I did, I would strap CC down and make him tell me *all* about Bill Mulder and tell me what Cancerman's real name is! As usual comments to me... I love them... jan...@x31.infi.net. The poem used here is "Funeral Blues" by W.H. Auden. I am adding a four tissue warning to this, cause well.. it is depressing. Also this is a alternate universe story. As you can assume from the title it changes some of the circumstances of "One Breath". Also there is some violence and strong language. So I guess I should rate this R. Hope you all enjoy. Thanks as always to Vanessa for reading this in bits and pieces and fixing all those annoying mistakes that I make. Can't forget to thank the Silver Elf for his inspiration and help with this story. The Final Breath By: Kim Adams The darkness surrounded him. The only light came from the open window. The moonlight left a small strip of the room bathed in an eerie white light. The light never touched Mulder, as if repulsed by his presence. Staying away, it was afraid of being swallowed by the darkness that surrounded him. He could feel the cold steel of the gun in his hand and the weight of the weapon as it rested on his leg. He was waiting, waiting for those to come who were responsible for Dana's abduction. Tonight he was prepared to extract the vengeance he knew she would want. Those who hurt her would pay for their crimes. This time, there would be no escape, no hiding. Mulder glanced at the door, they would be here soon. This was all that he could do for her. His weakness and inability to protect her had cost her so much. He owed this to her. He couldn't protect her from Barry, but he would make sure this never happened again. These men, would die tonight. Mulder heard the gentle clicking sound of his front door unlocking. They were here. As if he became a chameleon, he blended into the darkness, hiding in the corner waiting for the men to come into view. Neither of the intruders bothered with the light, for that would draw too much attention. As they stepped into the dim moonlight coming from the window, Mulder saw them. There faces forever etched in his memory. He slowly brought his gun from his side. He could feel the vibration and the jolt from the gun as he fired. His ears rang as the sound of the first bullet reached his ears, but there was no stopping now. The second shot seemed quicker without a breath of hesitation, he fired. He watched in horror and the two men fell to the floor before him, dead. Dead by his hand. The phone began to ring, but Mulder ignored it. The sound of the ringing phone only intensified the echo of the shots in his mind. The feelings that he expected were not there. He thought he would feel relief at knowing he had taken the lives of those that had robbed Dana of so much, but the relief was not there. He felt nothing. Empty. He looked down at the floor, he could see two pools of blood spreading across the floor. Mulder laughed. The blood continued to spread across the floor until the two pools had merged. Mulder laughed. His hysterical laugh echoed thoughout the room. *** He stood silent in the very corner where he had fired the shots. The room now filled with light, but still the corner where he stood, light was sparse. The gun he had used to execute these men lay on the table, they had taken it. The police came again asking what had happened . He repeated his story yet again. "I was sleeping, I heard someone in here. I came to see who it was, and saw these two men in here. They pulled their guns and.... I knew if I didn't shoot they would have killed me." Mulder said in a voice devoid of emotion. The detective looked across the room as A.D. Skinner stepped through the doorway. Mulder glanced at Skinner, unable to met his eyes. Mulder thought. Mulder glanced back to the floor at the now dried blood stain. As he watched, the blood began to flow along the floor. Mulder watched with amazement at the blood making its way to his feet. When it reached his feet he wanted to scream, but no one else noticed the pool of blood sliding across the floor. Mulder could feel his heart racing, the blood.... he couldn't let it touch him.... just when he was about to scream out in agony he felt a hand on his shoulder. Mulder looked away from the blood to see Skinner staring at him. "Mulder are you all right?" Skinner asked. "Umm... Yes." Mulder managed to answer, forcing himself to not look at the blood again. "Mulder, I have something I need to tell you." Skinner said as he led Mulder away from the police officers. "Mulder, Dana..... died tonight." The words didn't register at first in Mulder's mind. Dana couldn't be dead. He had done this for her, so she wouldn't be scared when she woke up. She would know that the men who took her were gone and she wouldn't be scared. "Mulder did you hear me? Dana is gone. She died tonight." Mulder looked at Skinner again, sure that he had his information wrong. Dana couldn't be gone. She couldn't. He had so much to tell her, so many things that he had never said to her. Mulder searched Skinner's face for a glimpse of something... anything that would tell him that Skinner was wrong. All he saw on Skinner's face was sadness. Sadness at the loss of Dana. Mulder could feel his already shaky grasp of reality slipping. He had lost her. "Mulder, she died about a hour and a half ago, they tried to call you, but there was no answer. Mulder, did you hear me?" Skinner asked concerned at the lack of emotion that Mulder was showing. "She... the phone..." Mulder stammered. She had died while he was killing those men. As he stood over their dead bodies watching the blood seep from beneath them, she had died. Mulder buried his head in his hands, unable to weep for the loss of someone who he cared for so much. The tears that he wanted to cry, he was not worthy of. He was not there for her, again. While she lay dying, he had become an executioner. Mulder thought to himself. ***** Mulder lay on his couch where he had stayed since Skinner had left. He couldn't will himself to move, there was no desire left that could propel him from the couch. The phone had rang several times, people calling to express their remorse at his loss, but Mulder couldn't speak. He allowed his machine to be his voice. His mind played Skinner's words over and over, "They tried to call but...." "While she lay dying, I became an executioner." Mulder said to the empty room. His mind wouldn't stop the insistent reminders that he left her alone, to die without him. His mind taunted him. Mulder drew in a ragged breath, he could not imagine her not being here with him. Those three months that she had been gone were an agony that he had thought would never leave, but she had come back. Come back to him. The agony was replaced by a quiet resolve that with time she would be fine. But as fate would have it, he would never again see the meaning of life dance within her eyes. He could still remember seeing her for the first time in that hospital bed. She was so pale and fragile. He had lost control then, tears he was unable to hold back, emotions that he couldn't deny any longer. She had been returned to him, but his relief was short lived when the family had enacted the living will, that he had signed. Signed as if signing her death certificate. The phone interrupted his thoughts of Dana, yet again. This time the person on the other end was someone that he could not ignore... Margaret Scully. "Hello" Mulder said, his voice harsh from having not spoken in days. "Fox, this is Margaret. How are you doing?" She asked, as she held back the tears that threatened to fall at hearing Mulder's pain so clearly in his voice. "How are you?" Mulder asked avoiding the question. "I miss her, Fox. There was nothing that could have been done though." She replied, but the pain was so clear in her voice. Mulder, closed his eyes and lay back against the couch... < I could have done something, if I had only been strong enough> He thought. "Fox, are you there?" She asked. "Yes, I just miss her." he said in a voice so low she barely heard him. "Fox, she cared a great deal for you. You know that don't you. She was always so worried about letting you see just how much she cared, but she did." Margaret said Mulder was silent, she couldn't have cared that much for him, not the man that he was. His love for her was not to ever be returned. Not by her. He was not worth her love, that he knew. "Fox, she wanted you to read her eulogy at the funeral. She said that you would know what she would want said. Will you, Fox? It would mean so much to me and to her." "I don't think that would be right." he said after a long pause. "Fox, please. She wanted you to do this for her." Those words ... for her.... stung like a bullet slicing through his heart. For her he would do anything. For her, he had killed. For her, he would have died. And for her he would do this. "I will." Mulder said, his voice barely a whisper. **** Mulder walked to the front door of the funeral home. he thought. If he had to see her face, still in the mask of death, he would die. He entered the building and was assaulted with those wishing him their condolences. He wanted to run and hide from these people. They all knew what he had done, he could see it in their eyes. The accusing glances, the frowns, the hatred. No one chilled him the way, Melissa did. Her face was a slab of stone, anger barely concealed under the surface. From her he shrunk away, he knew what she would say to him, they were the same words his mind repeated every moment since Skinner told him of Scully's death. He walked towards the chapel, his heart racing, fear of what he might see in this room was tempting him to run. His heart froze and his mind shut down at the sight of an open casket at the front of the room. his mind screamed. he said as he began to back out of the room. "Fox, are you ready?" Margaret asked from behind him. Mulder looked at her face, the pain so clearly etched there as it had been when they had picked out the headstone for her daughter. As if sensing his reluctance, she took his arm and led him toward the front of the room. He kept his eyes averted, he could not look into the casket. Seeing her there would make all of this real, reality was something he wasn't prepared for. Mulder made his way to the podium. His hands shaking, his mind reeling at what he was about to do. He was about to say good-bye to Dana forever. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes as he looked down at the words before him. Words that would never tell them of the deepness of his love for her. He began to speak, no explanation was needed as to why they were here. His words said it all. Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Mulder's voice betrayed him as he thought of her lying there in the casket. Her body cold with death and her face nothing more than a mask. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message She Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. his mind screasmed. She was my North, my South, my East, my West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good. He could no longer hold back the tears, she was his world and he had lost her. Forever, he had lost her forever. Mulder gripped the edge of the podium and it was then that he glanced at her coffin. She lay in the coffin, so still so pale. His mind revolted against the image he saw. The once vibrant woman who taunted him with her mind, was now gone. He had seen her face, cold, dead. His mind shattered at the sight. All he could see was red, blood pouring down the walls, out of her casket, from his hands. The blood lay on his hands, he was the executioner now. Mulder looked out at the faces of the mourners and was disgusted. They knew nothing of what he had done, or what he was to do. They hid behind the precious walls of their homes, secure that people like him would protect them. They were wrong. The man he had been would have died to protect everyone in this room, but now... vengeance would be his. **** It had taken Mulder days to find where he was hiding. Mulder was sure this was how the man had felt when he had hunted Mulder. Nothing else mattered now, vengeance would be had tonight. Mulder watched as his prey came into view. The prey's black clothing did nothing to hide him. Mulder had watched him for days, waiting for the perfect time. Tonight would be that time. Mulder's list was short, but each person on it would die by his hand. He would extract his revenge for Dana's death. All those who were responsible would die, as she did. Mulder stood at the edge of the woods, his clothing hiding him in the darkness of the forest. His eidetic memory had every inch of this place mapped out. He knew where the man was, where he was sitting, what he had done all evening, he knew the man's routine. Mulder crept slowly around the house to the door he knew he could gain entrance to. He removed the gun from its home and prepared for his next execution. He could see the red fall before his eyes. Blood slowly creeping down the door before him, time had come. ***** Krycek sat before the television, unaware that Mulder was heading his way. For days Mulder had shadowed him, but here he felt safe. This was his sanctuary, no one knew of this place, but yet beside him was his gun... just in case. He wondered what had set Mulder off? Was it that bitch dying? He heard the floor board creak, but Mulder was too quick. Before Krycek could react he saw his gun batted away, landing harmlessly on the floor as Mulder's own pressed into his face." "You are going to die, you bastard. How does it feel? How does it feel to know you are going to die?" Mulder screamed. His face contorting into a mask of pure hatred. Krycek struggled under the weight of Mulder, but he was no match for the rage that consumed him. He looked into Mulder's eyes, and there he saw his reflection. He saw the image that looked back at him from the mirror, the self-hate, the rage, the anger, and the guilt. He knew then that tonight, he would die. Mulder stepped back from Krycek, his gun aimed at his head. The blood was sliding across the floor pooling around Mulder's feet. Time had come... the force of the shot reverberated through Mulder's arm. He watched as if in slow motion, the bullet traveled through the air slowly spiraling towards it's target. He could feel the impact of the shot as it entered Krycek's head. Blood slowly slide down Krycek's face, Mulder stood before him, his face blank. **** Blood. Everywhere Mulder looked there was blood. It flowed down the walls of his apartment, it slid across the floor forming a pool beneath his feet. Mulder struggled to scream to escape from the image, but he could not. He saw through the blood the image of Dana, her face an expressionless mask, but from her eyes, tears of blood fell. Mulder tried to reach out to her, to touch her, but as he did she shrieked and pulled away from him. "It's because of you that I am dead, Mulder. This is your fault. Can you live with that? Can you live with my death on your consciousness?" Dana screamed at him, her voice brimming with rage. "Dana..." Mulder stumbled for words, but none would come. "It is because of you that I am dead...." She said as her image blended with the blood on the walls. "NO...." Mulder screamed as he awoke from his nightmare. He struggled to wipe the image of Dana's anger from his mind, he couldn't bear to think she hated him. Her death was his fault, but to hear her tell him so was a pain of great intensity. All he had done and would do was for her, to make amends for what had happened to her. To make those pay who had hurt her. He thought of the next prey he was to seek. A smile spread across his face at the thought of the next execution. He could feel the excitement growing within him, the thrill of the hunt, the power he felt at the moment he took a life. The power was intoxicating. A small corner of his mind wept. The last shreds of his humanity were unraveling and when those last threads were left in tatters, Fox Mulder would lose all that he was. ***** Mulder knew he was here. Mulder knew he felt secure in his domain that even though Mulder had been there only weeks before, he wasn't concerned. Mulder thought to him self as he watched the house waiting for the perfect time. Mulder had so enjoyed killing Krycek, but this time the rewards would be so much greater. This time the man who had caused so much pain and death would die by Mulder's hand. There would be no second chances this time, no thought of what he was doing. His goal was in mind, and this time Cancerman would die. Lighting another cigarette, he waited. He knew Mulder was coming and he knew that tonight he would die. He held no fear of death, he had seen it in many forms over the years and had since become immune to the fear. He relished at the thought of what Mulder was becoming. He thought of Bill Mulder and the path he had taken to become just as evil as he had. Mulder was like him now. He had stepped over the line, had became the very man that he hated. Tonight though, before he died, he would show Mulder the truth. Mulder didn't bother sneaking up on his prey this time. Cancerman wasn't the hands on killer that Krycek had been. Mulder chuckled to himself. His hand closed around the doorknob, Mulder watched as his vision took on a red tint and the blood began pouring down the door. Mulder was assaulted by the smell of cigarette smoke and the sounds of a battle being fought. The flicker of the television and the haze of smoke left an eerie glow in the room. "I've been waiting for you, Mr. Mulder." Cancerman said, calmly. As Mulder approached him from behind. "Your wait is over, you black lunged son-of-bitch. It's your turn to pay for your crimes." Mulder said through gritted teeth as he leveled his gun at Cancerman's face. "To pay for my crimes, what crimes are those, Mr. Mulder?" A hint of a grin spreading across his features. "The death's you have caused and the lies you have told." Mulder replied. "You are to be judge and executioner? What elevated you to this level, Mr. Mulder?" His grin growing as he thought of what Mulder would become. He wondered if after time, that he wouldn't follow in his father's footsteps. "You elevated me to this position by killing, Dana. You bastard." Mulder said, the words no more than a hiss. Cancerman laughed, it was a venomous laugh. One that would have terrified even Mulder if he had not been in such a murders rage. "You are here to kill me, Mr. Mulder, that I know. However, before you do let me tell you about your father." "What about my father?" Mulder asked "What more lies and half truths?" "Oh no, Mr. Mulder. You will only get the truth from me tonight. What use have I for lies when you are about to kill me?" Cancerman asked. "If you think that you can change what I am going to do to you, you are wrong." Mulder responded as he glared at Cancerman. Cancerman just smiled and lit another cigarette. "Mr. Mulder, what I have to tell you is the truth of what your father was involved in. You never realized that he worked with me did you?" Cancerman said. "He was part of my group, you know actually we were partners in all that happened within the group. He authorized quite a few projects in his time. You think I am cold and inhuman, but your father was much worse than me. Do you know of the choice that he made?" "No" Mulder said his voice still nothing more than an angry whisper. Cancerman laughed, "Why Mr. Mulder, you don't know that your own father made the choice between Samantha and you." "What are you talking about?" Mulder hissed. "He choose which one of you would be taken. He knew all along that one was to go, all he had to do was choose. He actually picked you first, but being the only son and all... I convinced him otherwise. I always thought you might follow in his footsteps. I must say I was disappointed when that didn't happen, but it looks as if it did after all." Cancerman extinguished his cigarettes and lit another. "You bastard." Mulder screamed. Mulder's hands shook, the rage flowed through him. The words that Cancerman spoke circled around in his mind, but they meant nothing to him now. The need to kill was great. He needed to feel the recoil of the gun as the bullet was fired. He needed to see the flash at the end of the barrel as the bullet left it's home. He needed to see the bullet enter his black heart and ripped through to the other side. He needed. He needed. Mulder's hand shook with rage he could not, nor wanted to control. He looked into the eyes of the man who had been his nemesis for years now. Hatred, rage, and revulsion, coursed through him. He wanted this man dead. Mulder could feel his finger tightening on the trigger, only a slight pressure was needed to release the death. Mulder's heart raced, his body ached to feel the release of the bullet. With deliberate ease he pulled the trigger. His mind raced as the bullet left the gun in a flash and imbed itself into Cancerman's heart. One shot was not enough this time, he needed to feel it again. He repeatedly pulled the trigger, emptying 12 more shots into Cancerman's motionless body. With a grin of pride, Mulder walked out of the room. ***** Mulder could feel the rage returning as he drove towards his father's house. His father. The words left a foul taste in his mouth. Mulder thought back to the things that Cancerman had said. Had his father given Samantha to those people, had he known all this time where she was and how she was taken? He allowed Mulder to suffer all these years with the guilt that Samantha's disappearance was his fault, and had never once offered to alleviate that pain. Mulder wanted answers and his father was the only one left who could give him what he wanted. ***** Mulder was not surprised to find his father on the porch, with a bottle of scotch. For the first time, as Mulder reached the table he took a glass, filled it to the rim and drank in one swallow. "Fox. What are you doing here?" Bill Mulder asked. "I came for answers that I believe you owe me." Mulder said as he re-filled the glass. Bill Mulder looked into his son's blood shot eyes and at the sunken features that his face had taken on, he had seen that face before. Every time he looked in the mirror he saw what he was seeing now. Guilt, remorse, loss and desperation. He saw it clearly now, like father, like son. Bill knew that he had done this to his son. Regret, however came to late, and was replaced with fear. Behind the pain and the desperation he saw the rage. Rage that would be unleashed on Bill Mulder. "What answers are those, Fox." Bill said carefully. "I want to know what happened to Samantha. The real story this time, you bastard. What did you let them do to her?" Mulder said as he began to pace the room. "I don't know what you are talking about, Fox. Samantha was taken, but we never knew by who." Bill said as he re-filled his glass. "Your colleague seems to think otherwise." Mulder said with a hint of a smile growing on his face. "Who might that be, Fox." "You know who I am talking about. The black lung son of a bitch. He told me all of it. All of the lies and what you did to Samantha." "I don't know who you are talking about, Fox." "Don't play dumb with me. He had no reason to lie, he knew he was going to die." It was then that Bill Mulder knew the extent that Fox had gone to. Would he have murdered a man? "What happened to him, Fox." Bill asked, fear growing in his chest. "I killed him." Mulder said without emotion. Bill looked into his son's eyes, and knew he had spoken the truth. In his life, he had feared his son learning the truth, but not until this moment did he fear his son. Bill knew somewhere deep in his soul, that Mulder had come here tonight to kill him. To add him to the list of those he had deemed guilty. Would he be wrong in thinking that? Bill thought to himself. It no longer mattered, Mulder had to be stopped. "Son, he was wrong. He told you those things to confuse you and turn you against me. I don't know any more about Samantha's disappearance than you do. She is gone, Fox. There is nothing that can be done to bring her back." Hs father said, bringing as much emotion into his plea as he could. Mulder glared at this father, uncertain of who to believe. Should he believe Cancerman, his nemesis for years or his father, a man who had been distant his whole life. Thoughts whirled in a frenzy in his mind. Too many thoughts, he couldn't find the ones to believe. He had to stop the thoughts and the feelings, the pain. He knew what he had to do, his father was the same as Cancerman, he could see that in his eyes. He was afraid of his own son, afraid that he would kill him. And kill him, Fox would do. Fox reached for his gun, he saw his father flinch expecting what Fox was about to do. Fox saw the blood, felt the pure cold rage flare through him. He needed this, he needed to feel the pleasure of the kill. He needed. "Fox, you know what you are doing is wrong. This isn't you." Bill Mulder pleading, knowing that his life was hanging by a fine thread. "What ever I am now, you are part of it's creation. Your lies and deceits led me to this point. So thank you father, thank you for taking my life away." Fox said slowly. He could see the blood flowing across the floor to pool around his father's feet. It was time. Time to execute another guilty man. As Fox raised the gun towards his father, he saw from the corner of his eye a picture on the wall. Hesitating, he glanced at the picture. A young Fox and Samantha Mulder smiled at him. He could feel the cold steel of regret and loss clamp around his heart. He had lost her as he had lost Dana. Samantha. He could feel the rage leaving, being replaced with the cold hard truth. He had lost them both. He looked at his father, the rage now gone. He felt weak and worthless. He could see himself in his father's eyes. He had struggled for years to outrun his father, but in the end he had become what he hated the most. Putting the gun away, he turned to leave. "Fox... " His father started but words failed him. ***** Bill Mulder watched as his son drove away. Somewhere deep in his heart he knew the choice he was about to make was wrong, but he knew what the consequences would be if he didn't act now. He picked up the phone and made the call he had known one day he would have to make. Just as he sentenced Samantha to a life of torture he was now sending Fox to his death. "Hello. Yes, I am aware of that. He was just here. Yes, it is time. You were right. It is in your hands now." Bill Mulder replaced the phone and poured himself another scotch. ***** Mulder sat alone in the darkness of his apartment. The walls were covered with blood. Blood from the men he had slaughter, from Dana, from Samantha and now he would add his own. Tonight as he stood before his father, ready to snuff out his life he had realized the man he had become. Steel jaws of doom had closed around him, he had lost all that mattered in his life when Dana died. However, until tonight he had not realized that he had lost himself. Mulder looked at the gun on the table before him. It was loaded and ready to end his worthless existence. Even as he watched the pale light from the moon play on the steel of the gun, he knew he was not strong enough to take his own life. Leaning back against the couch he rested, unaware of the quiet click at the door. His thoughts blocked out the silent footsteps. He didn't even open his eyes, as the flash erupted from the gun. But a smile played across his face as the hot lead of the bullet sliced through his heart. The End