Futures Past 07: Phoenix
Arvy
DISCLAIMER
I am Arvy, writer of Futures Past. Cool words were revealed
to me the day I held aloft my magic keyboard, and typed, "By the
power of..." Sorry. Nostalgia kick ;) NEways, I might look a
little like CC with the sun at my back, if you squint and tilt
your head just right, but sadly, the characters depicted
hereinafter are not, and have never been, mine. They belong to
their respective owners: Fox, 1013, CC, Rysher, Tristar,
Paramount, etc, etc. I promise to let them return to their
regularly scheduled lives after I'm done with them. More or less
intact.
Author's Notes
Well, here it is folks. Finally! The next monsterpiece, as
promised. And it's been a while in coming, this seventh in the
series. I'm starting to think it was a good thing I didn't use
roman numerals to number them. Although the plot is pretty much
standalone, it does refer to a couple of events in previous
stories, especially Crossover and Hazel... So if you want to read
them first, email me at unmai@bigfoot.com and I'll be glad to
forward them to you. They've already been sent to gossamer, and
will also be up on my website at http://www.bigfoot.com/~unmai.
Timeline wise, the main parts happen at the same time as the
movie. When I started getting the idea for this sometime before
the movie came out, I thought I could somehow weave the story so
that season 6 and on, sans the mytharcs, might still mesh with my
universe. But seeing how it's gone so far, I'm not even going to
try. Way too many inconsistencies to keep track of or explain
away. So starting from after "The End", my universe veers off
from canon. I'm still hoping to parallel the series somewhat, so
if some scenes and situations seem reminiscent of the movie and
season 6, it's probably because it was intended.
As for the ? crossover, it's fairly minor (no characters
named, and only a small scene), although it does affect the X-
files universe. I wasn't even sure if I should acknowledge it.
Anyway, hope you like it.
Now sshhhh... Curtains!!!!
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Futures Past 07:
Phoenix
by Arvy
The Milky Way
The Archean Eon
Approx. 4 billion years ago
They were an old race, already ancient when the universe as
we know it would have been called young. They had been evolving
for millennia, and had long since achieved methods of space
travel. The barrier of interstellar space, had been traversed.
But in their travels, they started noticing something.
An emptiness. A void as it were, where the intrepid
explorers were expecting fellow life forms, others to share their
knowledge, their history with. They already knew that the niche
in time that their civilization occupied was early in the
development of the universe. But they had not expected this
loneliness.
Then it began. It was slow at first, afflicting a few
hundred among trillions. But soon the race realized it for what
it was.
Evolution.
The final stages of life as they knew it.
They did not know what they were evolving towards, only that
it brought about sweeping changes in their biological makeup, in
their very existence. The ones who were left were determined not
to lose what remained, especially since no one knew the end
result of the evolutionary changes. They sent out teams of
explorers, colonizers, in an attempt to replicate their life in
other systems.
But their course was not to be denied. Evolution couldn't be
escaped with a simple change in environment. That was when the
decision was made.
Seeding. The process of depositing or encouraging life on
otherwise barren planets. In some cases, the explorers found
planets that were somewhat hostile towards supporting life. There
they used terraforming techniques and then deposited the
necessary proteins and molecules that would eventually evolve
into intelligent life. In others, they found planets already in
the beginning stages of life production. There they simply
introduced their genetic material into the already forming
biological matrix.
When they entered this particular star system, one that had
barely formed, ecologically speaking, they found most of the
planets incapable of supporting life, even with considerable
terraforming efforts. All except for two, the third and fourth
planets out from the fledgling type I star. And the thing they
lacked most was time. So they set about implanting their genetic
material onto these two planets.
Soon all life as they knew it ceased to exist. They moved
beyond their corporeal bodies into a higher plane of
consciousness, becoming beings of pure energy, pure thought. But
they had left their legacy behind. On several star systems across
the galaxy, simple protein chains combined to form complex amino
acids within uncountable primordial soups, single-celled
prokaryotes divided into multicellular eukaryotes, until finally
slugs of various kinds started crawling out of their respective
seas.
The beings stood watch as life began to develop across the
galaxy. Their children would one day roam the stars, as they
themselves once did. Hopefully, the children would not find the
galaxy as lonely a place as their parents did.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Wright Field Military Base, OH
Hangar 18
Monday, July 7, 1947
6:43 PM
Dusk fell.
The German Shepherd stuck its head out the side as the jeep
rolled over the last rise. The vehicle moved about a dozen more
yards before coming to a stop outside the immense hangar housing
the craft that had been moved there from New Mexico.
Professor Carlson turned off the ignition, looking to his
fiancee as Nurse Garland helped the three 'people' out of the
jeep. She hardly took note when the dog jumped off as well. It
was quivering with fatigue; it had been almost 17 hours since it
had last rested. Neither it nor the others noticed pieces of its
hair get stuck on the floor mat in the back.
"Hurry... Faith, in there," Carlson urged the others
forward. After saying a final good bye, they entered the hanger
and headed for their craft. The three 'people' and the dog
climbed into the ship, finally on their way back home.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Interrogation Room
9:12 PM
"You lost them!?"
The quiet fury in the voice belied the calm expression on
the speaker's face. His form was shrouded in a miasma of
cigarette smoke, which dispelled as he got up from his chair.
General Rex Denning hung his head as the other man walked
over to the table. He stopped, leaning over the table until the
tip of the cigarette in his mouth was less than an inch from the
general's face. The big man was not easily scared. But there was
something about the other... He wasn't a military man, yet
commanded Admirals and Generals around as if he were the
President. According to some rumors, this man had his hands in
events the general thought he was better off not knowing about.
He shrank back.
"I'm sorry, sir. They surprised us. There was nothing we
could do."
The other man pulled away from the table with a grunt of
disgust. "Trust the military to..." he muttered under his breath,
shaking his head. Both occupants looked up at the sound of the
door opening.
"Sorry for interrupting, sir." A young captain stood at the
door, a file clutched in his hand.
"What is it? Have they found anything?"
"No, sir. We still have teams combing the area. But there's
no trace of them as of yet. We will keep searching, of course."
"Of course, captain." The dark man nodded dismissively. When
the newcomer showed no signs of moving, he asked, "Is there
anything else?"
"Yes sir." The captain moved forward, holding the file
folder out. "These are the results from the preliminary tests we
did on the craft."
"Good, good." He shifted the cigarette to get a better grip
on the folder. Before opening it, he turned to the man seated at
the table. "Good day, General." He waited until the general left,
then opened the folder and glanced at his contents briefly.
Turning back to the captain, he asked, "How much of the craft had
been analyzed?"
"We were able to obtain detailed schematics of one of the
engines, sir."
"One of the engines?"
"The craft appeared to be powered by two distinct engine
types, sir. We hadn't had the opportunity to examine both
before..."
"Yes, yes." The cigarette man waved his hand impatiently.
"What else?"
"There were also various force fields being generated by the
craft, which some of our best men think may have been used to
fortify the craft and its occupants for the stresses of flight.
Unfortunately, as I mentioned before, we didn't get a chance to
examine anything other than the one engine."
The other man sighed, looking through the file again. "I
suppose we'll have to do the best with what we have."
"We also found some strange tissue samples in the jeep they
escaped in." The captain saw his superior's head raise with a
jerk. "There were a few gelatinous substances on the floor mat in
the back of the jeep. Initial tests seem to confirm that it's
organic, and may have been part of something alive once. It seems
to respond somewhat to electrical activity, but it's movements
are slowing down. It's almost as if the life, what little is
left, is draining out of it with time."
"Interesting," the other responded, looking at the
biological report in the file. "Very well. Contact me immediately
if you receive any further information. That will be all,
captain."
Captain Wainwright retreated out of the room, shutting the
door behind him as he heaved a sigh of relief. He'd been uneasy
the entire time he'd been inside, and the stench of cigarette
smoke hadn't exactly helped. His mind wandered over the recent
events. His world, as he knew it, had been turned on its head.
Now it remained to be seen how the human race would learn from
its newest experience with extraterrestrial life. And how this
knowledge could be put to use without the populace suspecting the
source of the information.
Inside the room, the smoker wondered about the
possibilities.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Laurentian Mountains, Quebec, Canada
Thursday, May 14, 1998
6:39 AM
The whistle of the kettle roused him from his chair. He got
up, buttoning up his shirt as he moved towards the stove. He ran
a hand across his lips, wishing for the hundredth time for the
luxury of a cigarette. Unfortunately, the local store, or at
least the one that passed for local in this neighborhood, didn't
get its supplies all that often. He'd had to ration himself, and
it wasn't helping his temperament any.
'The bastards,' he cursed, his thoughts wandering to the
circumstances leading to his self-enforced exile. 'After all I've
done for them.' They had dared try to kill him. He, who had
started the consortium in the first place. Sometimes he cursed
his condition, that he couldn't claim the credit he deserved.
Yet. No one knew the origins of the shadow organization, not even
its own members. All they knew was that it had existed as long as
they could remember.
Except for him. He'd been the spearhead for its conception.
He'd been the one to nurse it from its infancy to the world wide
power it was today. He'd been the one to place the ones currently
in power into the positions they occupied today. Oh, he would
exact his revenge, all right. He would make sure of that. It only
remained to marshal his strength until he could strike back.
He already had some feelers out, some ideas for how to make
his return. And he still had his project to get back to. The one
he'd spent almost a half century on. He thought about the one
survivor of the project, the one who'd actually managed to beat
the odds. Who would have thought she would be the one. Yes, there
was definitely work he had to get back to.
He approached the kettle, moving it off the flame as he
finished buttoning his shirt. Suddenly his head jerked up as he
heard the noise.
Beee.....
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dana Scully's Apartment, Georgetown, DC
Friday, May 15, 1998
6:30 AM
...eeeeeeepppp!!!
A hand reached out of the covers, hitting the snooze on the
alarm clock. The owner of the hand turned in her bed, feeling the
space beside her for a familiar body. Her hand encountered
nothing but empty space. Special Agent Dana Scully sighed as she
pushed back the covers and prepared to get out. True, she missed
Mulder. But both of them knew they couldn't spend every night
together. They would have to make do with what they could get
away with.
As it was, they had found a couple of bugs a month in
Mulder's apartment, and an equivalent number in the basement
office. They hadn't come across any at her place, which was
somewhat surprising, but given that most of the excitement
usually wound up happening at Mulder's place, it was also
understandable. And although it was possible that a few bugs
might have been missed, the Gunmen were good enough that it was
impossible they had missed every single one. At least, she hoped
that was the case. So, by unspoken agreement, the X-files agents
had decided to use Scully's apartment on the nights they spent
together.
Her thoughts floated from Mulder to the memo that had come
across her desk the day before, the one she had decided to hide
from him for the time being. She had been requested to join a
team for a meeting the next day. Something about an assassination
with international repercussions. But what disturbed her most was
the fact that Mulder had been specifically rejected from the
team. Sure, she'd been asked to consult before, both as part of
the X-files team, and by herself for her expertise. But that
wasn't the case this time. Now she was just one of many agents,
providing manpower for this particular case. This time, the SAC
simply did not want Mulder on his team. Thinking about it, she
was glad Mulder hadn't come over the night before. She didn't
know how she would have answered him if he'd asked her about her
plans for the day.
She didn't know if she should be flattered that she had been
asked to be on the case, or angry at Mulder's treatment. They had
just made up after the Pine Bluff scare, when he'd left her to
work the case by himself. It was only because she had followed
him that she'd stumbled onto the sting operation. It had hurt
that he hadn't been able to confide in her, although, she
amended, he had been under orders at the time.
And then that case with the giant bug... What had he called
her? His one in five billion. An old joke, repeated this time in
deadly earnest. And when she'd finally let down her walls to
believe in what he'd seen... Madness shared by two indeed.
She sighed as she swung her legs out and climbed out. She
thought about how the rest of the day, and the next week would
probably progress, and pinched the bridge of her nose in defeat.
Some days it just didn't pay to get out of bed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building, Bullpen
Monday, May 18, 1998
7:41 PM
Ding!
The elevator doors opened onto the bullpen. He stepped out,
holding the single file in his hand. He walked forward, just in
time to see the prodigal son come around the corner. He stopped
short, clutching the file harder as the younger man walked
towards him.
"Can I help you?"
He almost smiled at the question. Who was helping who? He
looked at his newest protege, wondering what he should tell him.
Did he need to know now? But he'd spent so much time on this one,
just like another, more haunted man. He couldn't resist.
"Actually, I can help you."
That brought the other man up short. "How did you get in
here?"
In here? Into his very own playground? God, he'd missed
this. "Access, Agent Spender. It's about access. It's what I can
give you. It's what can make you." He took in a breath as he came
to the crux of his explanation. "It's why I'm doing this for
you."
"Who are you?" The agent was obviously lost.
Who indeed? That question could be answered on so many
levels. His mentor, his guide, the words were so many. Finally,
he chose the one that was the furthest from the truth, yet
encapsulated all that he was to the agent in one single word.
"I'm your father." He smiled a little at the way it came out. All
that the statement left out was a final, "young Skywalker."
"What?"
The alarms chose that moment to announce his recent
activity. As the agent turned his head in surprise, he walked
past, satisfied for now. Soon, he would have everything he'd
wanted.
Soon...
A few floors below, the flames licked at the ceiling, having
already consumed the more important items in the room.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dana Scully's Apartment
Wednesday, May 20, 1998
7:21 PM
"I don't love you, Scully. I've never loved you. You were
only a convenient substitute until Diana returned to me.
Goodbye." Mulder turned away from her and walked out the door.
"NO! Mulder, no! Don't leave...," she screamed. "MULDER!!!"
Her hands reached out to clutch at him, horrified as her fingers
seemingly passed through a wraith that had once been her partner,
her friend, her lover, her soulmate. A ghost that disappeared in
a spurt of flames, just like the X-files, just like her life. The
silent scream echoed within her head as she sat up on her couch,
drenched in sweat.
For a few seconds, the harsh breathing was the only sound in
the room. "Only a dream, Dana. It was just a dream." She turned
her head to look at her clock. Almost half past seven. 'Damn!'
She hadn't meant to doze off, but she'd been so tired, what with
the constant OPR meetings and the consults with Skinner and
allies within the Justice Department in a vain attempt to save
the X-files. What was left of it, anyway, she amended.
She reached for her phone, intending to call Mulder, just to
talk to him. She dialed his home number, but placed the phone
back down after four rings. He wasn't home. At this hour? She
frowned as she picked up the handset again to try his cellular.
She waited through three rings before it was picked up.
"Uhh... Hello?"
She pulled the handset away from her head and stared at it.
Definitely not Mulder. The voice on the other end was a woman.
For a moment she considered that it might be Agent Fowley, but
she was still in the hospital. Placing the phone back to her ear,
she asked, "I'm looking for Agent Mulder. Is he there?"
"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am. He's not here. He must have just
stepped out."
"Who is this?" Her mind was turning cartwheels now.
"I'm Nurse Watkins. I heard his phone ringing, so I decided
to answer it in case it was important."
Nurse? Where the hell was Mulder? A hospital? All at once
the answer came to her. Of course. "Nurse, is this Diana Fowley's
room?"
"Yes, it is. Should I call Agent Mulder?"
"No," she replied instantly, closing her eyes in defeat.
"That won't be necessary. I'll just call back later." She hung up
the phone with a sigh. Her thoughts flew back to something
Natalie had mentioned while she had been in Seattle a few months
back.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
DeSalvo's Gym, Seattle, WA
Tuesday, Feb 24, 1998 (3 months ago)
8:57 AM
The hilt of the sword caught in the blade of the other. With
a snap of the wrist, the weapon flew out of her hands. She backed
up a little as the blade came to rest at her throat.
Natalie pulled the sword away, leaning down to pick up
Dana's weapon and handing it back to her. She smiled at her
friend. "Nick taught me that move a couple of weeks ago. I've
been dying to use it."
"I hope you got your quota of fun satisfied," her friend
retorted. But Natalie could see the twinkle in her eye as she
said that, and took the retort good-naturedly, laughing along
with her friend.
"Yeah, I think I got my fill. Do you want to quit? It's
almost nine."
Her friend nodded, and together they walked over to the
bench to wait for Mulder and Duncan to finish their sparring.
Dana told her friend what had happened the night before,
prompting Nat to let out a squeal of delight.
"He proposed? Oh my god! What did you say?"
Dana blushed. "I said yes. What else could I say? I love him
so much, Nat."
"I understand. The day Nick proposed to me was the happiest
day of my life. At least, it seems that way."
"Exactly."
"So when are you two planning on..."
"Not for a while yet. Like we said yesterday, it would just
be too dangerous. But the commitment is enough for me, for now
anyway." She paused, fingering the ring on her right hand
thoughtfully, then said, "I suppose congratulations are in order
for you too. When are you two going to tie the knot?"
"Next year. Nick wanted to do it on the anniversary of our
first kiss. He can be such a romantic sometimes."
"You know, I was wondering. Has Duncan ever been married?"
Natalie frowned. "Hmm..." She shook her head. "Not that I
know of. Why?"
"Just curious, I guess. Surely after all this time, he must
have found someone."
"Actually it's not as common as you might think. Most
immortals don't maintain relationships so well."
"Huh?"
"Think of it, Dana. You have two people, at least one of
whom, according to the rules, is destined to die. After all,
there can be only one, right? Some immortals can see past that.
They believe they can overcome the supposed instinctual urge to
fight all other immortals when the Gathering finally happens.
Duncan's even told me about a couple of his friends who love each
other so much, they've been together for quite a few centuries,
renewing their vows every hundred years or so." She paused to let
out a breath. "But, it's generally hard to build that kind of
trust. In fact, from what you told me, you and Mulder have
something very special. Don't lose that, Dana. Not ever."
She saw the redhead give her a smile in understanding. She
continued, "Most immortals are either loners, or find
companionship with mortals, like Duncan usually does. Besides,
sometimes, being with someone, day in and day out can get boring.
Some mortal couples claim 50 years of wedded bliss. Who knows if
the same could be said of a couple of centuries of marriage?" She
turned to look away, her thoughts obviously turning to the man in
her life. "Personally, I don't see myself ever getting tired of
Nick. He still manages to constantly surprise me." Her gaze
returned to rest upon her friend. She shrugged, "But, it's been
known to happen." She got up, leaving behind a very thoughtful
young immortal.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Present Day
'Is that what Mulder wants?' she asked herself. 'Is he
already getting tired?' She found the thought horrifying. It was
some consolation that if Mulder were getting bored with her, he
would be seeking new avenues, not trying to get back to what had
obviously been a failed relationship. But not much. Now that the
X-files were gone, for all intents and purposes, he didn't really
have a reason to stay with her, did he? Sure he'd confessed his
undying love for her. But what did they know of long term
relationships? Look at her and Jack Willis. Him and Phoebe. God,
him and Diana.
Flash.
An image of Mulder and Diana, in the psychiatric facility in
Maryland, holding hands like a couple more intimate than just
friends.
She blinked back her tears. No, damn it. She wouldn't cry.
She'd promised herself. Unheeding, a drop fell anyway.
Flash.
Mulder looking at Diana's wounded body, then walking away
to... what? mourn?
She blinked again, trying to push the unbidden memories and
tears away. What had they been thinking? Did they really expect
their relationship to last? They had a wonderful friendship
before. What she had had with Mulder was the best relationship
she'd ever had. Had they destroyed it for the sake of a few brief
months of passion?
More importantly, could she live without Mulder in her life?
Not for the rest of a mortal life, but forever? Is that what she
was looking for from him? Forever? Could he even give her that?
Could anyone be expected to?
She glanced at the clock again, deciding she'd given him
enough time. She redialed his cellular, and didn't know whether
to be glad at the familiar, "Mulder," or not.
"Hey, it's me."
"What is it?"
She gulped. 'What is it?' Couldn't she call him just to
talk? Did she only have the right to call when there was an
emergency or something? "I just...," she began, then let out a
breath. "I just wanted to talk. We haven't spoken more than a
dozen words since..." She broke off there, not wanting to be the
first to say it.
The fire. Neither of them had spoken about it since Monday
night. She had tried to offer him her support when she'd found
him in the blackened office, but he'd pushed her away once the
events had finally registered. "I want to be alone, Scully," he'd
said. Were those the words of someone in a committed
relationship? Why hadn't he accepted her offer of help? His next
words simply made her bite her lip harder to hold back the sobs.
"I... uh... I can't talk right now, Scully. I'll see you
tomorrow."
The click and then the silence at the other end was more
deafening than anything she'd ever heard. She felt a sharp pain
as she bit through her lip. Her face crumpled as she hugged the
phone and curled up on her couch and closed her eyes.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Washington Hospital Center
Lounge
Across the city, a phone slipped, a head bowed, the face
hidden behind trembling hands as a man cried.
He had dropped by to see Diana. Curiously enough, he
couldn't bring himself to stay in her room more than a few
minutes. He walked down the hall, almost reaching the elevators
when he realized he'd left his coat in her room. He turned back
to retrieve it. As he left, he'd wandered into the lounge, not
feeling like driving all the way back to his lonely apartment.
He'd lost. Totally and completely, this time. He, they, had
been manipulated from the very beginning, since the moment
Spender had been assigned the Gibson case. How could he have not
seen it coming? And now, he had nothing. He'd lost the X-files,
in more sense than one. But most important, he'd lost Scully.
Reassignment. His breath caught in his throat even thinking
about it. He'd failed her. Once again. He'd sworn he would find
out the truth, if only to find out what had happened to her
during her abduction, what had been done to her. Now, due to his
own blindness, his stupidity, he'd lost the only means to do so.
They had taken advantage of his beliefs, once again, except this
time he hadn't realized it in time to protect himself, to protect
Scully, to protect the X-files. They had wanted to stop his work.
What better way than to disgrace the only two people determined
to continue it?
So when he heard his phone ring, it was with trembling
fingers that he'd lifted it to his ear.
"Mulder."
"Hey, it's me."
Oh, god. It's her. 'What do you mean, it's her? Of course,
it's her. Who else would be calling you now? Quick Mulder, hide.'
"What is it?"
"I just..."
He heard her pause then continue.
"I just wanted to talk. We haven't spoken more than a dozen
words since..."
'Go ahead, Scully. Say it. Since I betrayed you. Say it.'
He'd failed her, just like he'd failed his sister, his father,
everyone who'd ever depended on him. What would she think of him
now? When he found himself in his office, staring at the soot
laden walls, he couldn't even remember how he'd gotten there. All
he knew was that Scully was standing with her head against his
shoulder. She wouldn't meet his eyes, and he knew why. She wanted
to hide the betrayal she felt from him. Betrayal from the very
government they worked for, from their superiors, their enemies,
but most importantly from the one person who should never have
had to enter into that equation. Him. Suddenly he couldn't find
the courage to face her anymore, not then, and not now.
"I... uh... I can't talk right now, Scully. I'll see you
tomorrow." 'That's right, Scully, tomorrow. In the safety of the
office, where I won't have to face the hurt that you'll hide
behind your professional's mask. Not yet, Scully. But I swear to
you, I'll find a way to make everything okay. I promise.' His
fingers slid over the phone, cutting him off, severing the
connection.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Margaret Scully's Residence, Baltimore, MD
Friday, May 22, 1998
7:26 PM
"Yeah, mom. He's been resisting the Admiral's stars for a
couple of years now. Finally, I get to be the captain and order
everyone around for a change." Bill Scully's eyes twinkled as he
turned from his mother to look at his friend, and once CO.
"I thought that was what being an XO was all about,
'Captain'."
"I'm not captain yet, Jeff, not for another couple of weeks.
Or should I call you Admiral now? Besides, the XO may have some
authority, but the captain's the one who gets to have all the
fun."
"Jeff's fine, Bill." The guest let out a laugh. "And don't
get carried away with all the fun now. If you let becoming
captain go to your head, you're liable to run the ship into the
docks one of these days."
"Ha, ha. Verrry funny, Jeff. He's a regular comedian, isn't
he, mom?"
Margaret Scully laughed as she gazed at her son with a
measure of pride. "Now, now, children," she began in a reproving
tone of voice, smiling when both the men seated before her let
out snorts of laughter at that. Her eyes teared up at their next
words.
"To the Eagle." The men held up their glasses in a toast. "A
worthier ship there's never been."
"And to her newest captain," Margaret Scully's words were
quiet as she held up her glass as well. "Oh, Bill. Your father
would have been so proud. I only wish he could have been with us
to see this."
"Don't worry, Mrs. Scully. Bill will do the Eagle proud.
Just like his father."
Bill Scully simply smiled at the compliment, raising his
glass in acknowledgement.
"And now, I do have to get going. Later, skipper." Jeff
rose, shaking hands with Bill.
Margaret rose as well. "Oh, do you have to leave already? Do
stay for dinner, won't you?"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Scully. I have an appointment to keep. But
how about a raincheck?"
"Actually, that sounds even better. I'll see if Dana can
come up sometime this weekend. How does Sunday sound? You two
haven't seen each other in..."
"Seems like forever. Yeah, that does sound good. Why don't
you give me a call and we'll set things up. You have my new
number, right?" he asked, picking up his jacket. At his hosts'
answering nods, he nodded as well. "Good night, Bill, Mrs.
Scully," he said, heading out into the night.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Arlington National Cemetery
8:03 PM
Rear Admiral Jeffrey Green of the United States Navy let his
eyes roam over the series of slabs and markers, squinting against
the dim light as he tried to read the nearest epitaph. 'Rest in
peace indeed,' he grunted, shaking his head as he checked his
watch for the fifth time. 'Damn it. He said eight. Where was the
goddamn son of a...'
"Ah, you made it. I see congratulations are in order,
'Admiral'. I hope you're settling in well."
"What do you want?" Green hissed, turning to face the source
of the voice. His eyes tried to adjust to the gloom underneath
the shaded area. There was a small flare, quickly extinguished
until the only thing he could see of the other man was the
burning tip of a cigarette. He waited until the other stepped out
of the shadows, then walked towards him.
"Now, now, Admiral. Show a little respect. I made sure you
were transferred off that boat of yours, didn't I? Provost of the
US Naval Academy is no small feat, let me assure you."
"I only did that to be close to my son. You know that."
"Ah yes. How is little Jeremy?"
"The same. Can we get on with this? I would like to see my
son before he has to go to sleep."
"Very well, Admiral. I'm here to offer you a deal. On top of
the promotion we arranged for you."
"Oh, please," Green cut him off haughtily. "I would have
been promoted anyway."
"Maybe," the smoking man shrugged. "However, this next offer
isn't something you're likely to come by as easily. Your son is
dying of cancer, isn't he? Just like your wife."
Green sucked in a breath, then let it out in a pained gasp.
"Yes," he whispered.
"Intractable, isn't that what the doctors said? You watched
your wife die so horribly, Admiral. What would you say if I told
you I could spare your son that pain, that I could cure him?"
Green's eyes widened in surprise. "You can do that?"
"Of course, Admiral. I have certain... resources available
to me. What do you say?"
For the first time since his wife's funeral almost a year
ago, Jeff Green allowed something resembling hope to enter his
voice. "Can he still remain at Lombardi?"
"I'm sorry. The Georgetown Medical Center simply doesn't
have the facilities little Jeremy would require."
"Then where?"
The smoker held up a hand. "So you agree to the deal?"
He paused, regarding the other man coldly. He knew something
of the kind of things this man dealt with. But then, what choice
did he have? Weighed against a cure for Jeremy, was there
anything he wouldn't do? "Yes," he replied finally. "What would I
have to do?" he whispered.
"It's actually quite simple, really. You are going to
arrange a little dinner next week, Monday if possible..."
As Green listened to the details of the deal, he closed his
eyes in horror. Oh Lord, what had he agreed to? And why did he
feel like he'd just bartered away his very soul?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dana Scully's Apartment
Saturday, May 23, 1998
8:15 AM
The sudden ringing of the phone almost caused her to drop
her glass of orange juice. She'd been reaching for it when it had
gone off.
"Scully."
"Dana? It's mom. How are things, dear?"
She really didn't feel up to talking with her mother right
now. She hadn't yet told her about the office, or the X-files.
She had been hoping there wouldn't be a need to, but with each
passing day, a little more hope seemed to wash away. And with
Mulder being so distant lately...
"Everything's fine, mom. How are you?" She tried to inject
as much nonchalance as she could into her tone, but knew that her
mother was picking up on some of her fear and hopelessness
anyway.
"Dana..." her mother started, then seemed to think better of
what she'd been about to say. Instead she asked, "Did you know
that Jeff Green has been promoted to Admiral? He's been appointed
Provost at the Naval Academy."
"Jeff?" Dana tried to search her memory for the name. Her
eyes widened as she remembered the rude young boy next door who'd
grown into a thoroughly charming Commander in the US Navy, and
then made Captain at 35. The last she'd heard, he was the captain
of the USS Eagle, her father's old ship. If he'd been promoted,
that would make Bill...
"Mom, does that mean Bill..."
"Yes. He's due for a promotion in about two to three weeks.
Isn't that great, Dana?"
"Oh, mom. I'm so happy for him. I'll have to give him and
Jeff a call sometime."
"Well the both of them dropped by yesterday evening to give
me the good news. Bill said that Tara and Matthew will probably
be coming up for the ceremony in a week or so. But the reason I
called was because I was wondering if you'd like to come to
dinner tomorrow night and help celebrate. You could bring Fox
too, if you'd like. I haven't seen the two of you for so long.
How does that sound, dear?"
"It sounds wonderful, mom. How about I come by earlier to
help?"
"That would be nice. It'll also give us a chance to get
caught up." She paused. "But won't Fox get bored?"
What could she say to that? Scrambling frantically for an
answer, she replied, "I don't think Mulder will be able to come,
mom. He's... uhh.. he said that he might be busy tomorrow."
On the other end, Margaret Scully was silent for a few
moments. Something was wrong. She'd felt it as soon as Dana had
answered the phone. If only she would confide in her, tell her
what was wrong... She sighed. But she had to try. "Dana, are you
sure everything's okay?"
'Damn. How does she do that?' If there was one person Dana
could never hide her feelings from, it was her mother. "Yes, mom.
I'm fine. Everything's fine. I... umm... I'll see you tomorrow.
Bye." She hung up, a little abruptly, she realized. But better
that than break down completely on the phone with her mother. She
drank the last of her juice and headed to the kitchen, her
original intention to call Mulder forgotten for the moment.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Mulder's car, en route to Georgetown, DC
Sunday, May 24, 1998
7:42 PM
Fox Mulder wasn't ecstatic. He wasn't jumping with joy
either. But he was more relaxed than he'd been the entire week.
He'd managed to talk to Senator Matheson, and had procured his
support in the upcoming Justice Department deliberations. Running
into the congressman had been a stroke of luck. After his
informant had told him that the senator could no longer offer him
any help, Mulder had pretty much given up on him as a helpful
connection. As it was, the senator didn't have all that much
sway, but it was better than nothing. He hoped he could convince
at least a few others to support him when the fate of the X-files
was finally decided.
He hoped Scully was at home. He couldn't wait to share the
good news with her. It wasn't much, but it was a start. A brick
in the wall he was building to put their backs up against. 'Just
a little while longer, Scully. I swear, I'll make it right.' He
should have called her, but he'd been excited enough that it had
slipped his mind. He noted that her car was in its usual place as
he pulled into an empty space. He hurried into the building and
knocked on her door. There was no answer, and, after a moment, he
realized he couldn't feel her either. As he used his key to let
himself in, he was struck by how different everything was now. He
would never have dared to enter her apartment so boldly before...
before Seattle. Now it was almost second nature.
He stepped into the empty apartment. "Scully?" No answer.
Not that he'd expected one. She'd probably just stepped out. He
moved towards the couch, intending to wait. He picked up her
phone, calling his machine for any messages.
"Mulder... It's me. Bill's in town, so I'll probably be at
mom's all day Sunday, if you need to get a hold of me."
He frowned. She was going to her mother's? She hadn't said
anything about it to him before. Of course, he hadn't seen her
since work on Friday. With a start, he realized how little time
he'd actually spent with her this past week, time outside of the
office. Suddenly feeling somewhat guilty, he sat back in the
couch, deciding to wait for her to return.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Margaret Scully's Residence, Baltimore, MD
8:27 PM
Yes, she decided, something was definitely wrong. Margaret
Scully looked across the table at her daughter, who was currently
engaged in an animated conversation with Jeff and Bill. To anyone
who didn't know her, Dana Scully looked the picture of
contentment, happily chatting with friends and family during
dinner.
Those who knew her better, like her mother, would
immediately note the tightness around her lips and eyes whenever
the talk wandered anywhere near work. She'd almost bitten Bill's
head off when he'd casually asked where 'that blasted Mulder'
was. And she was strangely reluctant to talk about her work when
Jeff asked her about it, deftly steering the topic to safer
waters.
What Margaret couldn't decide was whether there was
something wrong at work, or with Fox, or both. Of course, every
time in the past, the two had always been irrevocably
interconnected. She would have to have a talk with Fox soon. It
was a slim chance, but she might be able to pry something from
him that Dana would never tell her. Sometimes, she found herself
cursing the secrecy that her daughter's job perforce required.
"Dinner was wonderful, Dana, Mrs. Scully."
The comment shook her out of her reverie. She watched as
Jeff rose from the table, moving forward to help her and Dana
with the dishes.
"A man with manners. Will wonders never cease? I'm surprised
Bill hasn't picked up any of this after being your XO for so
long." Dana chuckled, teasing him.
Jeff smiled at the good-natured ribbing. "After that
delightful meal, it only seems fair." He shrugged, following Dana
and her mom into the kitchen. "You know, now that I'm going to be
around here more often, we'll have to do this again sometime. I
won't say I don't miss the sea, but there's something to be said
for a homecooked meal, every once in a while."
"You know you're welcome here anytime, Jeff." Margaret
replied.
"Thank you, Mrs. Scully." Jeff looked up to see Bill
gesturing towards his sister. He nodded. "In fact, I had such a
wonderful time, I hope you don't mind if I ask your daughter to
dinner tomorrow night." He turned an inquiring glance from the
mother to her daughter, his unasked question hanging in the air.
"Say yes, Dana. Don't be rude." Bill chimed in from the
doorway.
Dana colored up at the comment, and was about to refuse when
Jeff added, "Don't worry, I won't bite. I can even make a decent
lasagna. What do you say, Dana? After all, you cooked for me,
right? Let me repay the favor."
Dana considered the offer again. Tomorrow night would
probably be the last night of rest she would get before plunging
back into the ratrace come Tuesday. She felt a niggling feeling
of guilt at accepting the invitation without consulting Mulder,
but pushed the thought out of her mind for now. Knowing him,
Mulder would probably be out tomorrow night as well, doing
whatever he'd been up to all of last week. And she'd be damned if
she was going to spend another night all by herself. She'd
enjoyed herself tonight, and she certainly couldn't say that
about the past week. She sighed. "Oh, all right, Jeff. Tomorrow
night it is."
"Great." Jeff smiled at her. "It's a date." He finished up
in the kitchen and moved to the living room, followed by Dana and
Bill.
Margaret Scully looked at their retreating backs, and
silently wondered.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
9:30 PM
They had spent the time eagerly catching up on the myriad
happenings in their lives. Finally, Dana rose to put her coffee
cup up.
"Are you ready to go, Dana?" Bill asked, reaching for his
keys.
"There's no need for you to get up, Bill," Jeff interrupted
getting up himself. Turning to Dana, he asked, "Will the fair
maiden allow her willing servant to escort her home tonight?"
Dana blushed. "Still the charmer, aren't you? And yes, you
may take me home, my good man."
"That's my girl. Come on. I'll see you later, Bill. Bye,
Mrs. Scully."
The two of them walked out to his car. Jeff, acting the part
of the perfect gentleman, pulled out the door on the passenger
side, placing an arm around her, ushering her in.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dana Scully's Apartment
9:57 PM
Mulder blinked awake, turning his head to stare at the
clock. Almost ten, he realized. And Scully still wasn't home. She
didn't usually stay at her mother's this late, not unless she was
planning on staying the night. He decided that, with Bill in
town, and the next day being a holiday, she may very well have
decided exactly that.
He got up with a sigh, heading for the door himself when he
heard a car pull up outside. And it was faint, but the laugh
sounded a lot like Scully's. He moved towards the window,
reaching it in time to see his partner climb out of a parked car.
She turned to the man who held the door open for her, giving him
a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. She waved goodbye, and
headed into the apartment building. Mulder's eyes narrowed as he
watched the man stare at Scully's retreating figure for a few
minutes before he climbed back into his car and drove away.
It wasn't long before he felt the familiar sensation wash
over him. He turned to see the front door open. Scully entered,
looking around cautiously, relaxing slightly when she noticed him
standing next to the window.
"Mulder. I wasn't expecting you." She walked in, putting her
coat up and heading for her bedroom.
"I can see that."
She stopped midstride, her head jerking around to stare at
her partner. His tone sounded positively venomous. She flinched
at the glare he directed her way.
"And here I thought you were going to your mother's to see
Bill. So who was he, Scully? And don't tell me you have another
brother that I knew nothing about."
Now he was almost sneering at her. Her eyes widened at his
tone, then narrowed in anger. How dare he... "For your
information, Agent Mulder, that was Jeff Green, a good friend of
mine," she replied through gritted teeth. "He was recently
promoted, and I was at mom's, having dinner with him and Bill to
celebrate. How dare you even imply..."
"I don't like the way he was looking at you."
Scully blinked. She couldn't believe he'd just said that.
How neanderthal could you get? "*What*?" Suddenly the color of
her hair couldn't compare to the shade of red she was seeing now.
This was the absolute last straw. "Well, at least *he* takes the
time to look, Mulder. Which is more than I can say of you. Do you
want to drag me by my hair to your cave now?"
She watched with satisfaction as his jaw dropped. He was
speechless. She continued with her verbal assault. "Oh, I'm
sorry," she drawled, her voice dripping with malice. "Did I say
something to offend you?" Her voice rose with each syllable. "Why
don't you go to Diana and cry your heart out? Cause you seem to
be with her every free moment you get." She was practically
screaming now. Mulder winced at the volume. "Every fucking day at
five, ditch the partner to go see the old lover, is that the
game, Mulder? Huh?"
She saw the flushed look on his face as his expression
changed from one of surprise to anger. He was livid. "Don't you
dare... Don't you *dare* bring Diana into this, Scully," he
shouted back at her. "She's lying unconscious in a hospital room,
hanging by a thread. I don't even know if she'll be alive next
week. She doesn't deserve this, least of all from you."
"Oh, and I suppose *I* deserve this? Is that what you think?
Because I can't live like this, Mulder. I've tried, but for the
past week, it just seems like I'm extra baggage in your life."
"I should have known..." He let out a derisive chuckle,
shaking his head. "You knew what my life was like, Scully. You
knew what you were getting yourself into. If this is not what you
want, don't look to me to change anytime soon." He bit off the
last part through clenched teeth, moving past a startled Scully
as he headed for the door.
She sucked in a breath as his words sunk in. Her heart broke
in two as the implications became clear. He was telling her to
get out of his life. 'Oh, God. It's happening!' And she couldn't
do a thing to stop it all from falling into a million pieces all
around her. It was as if she was across the room, staring at a
stranger yelling the words, "Get out, Mulder."
'*NO*! Stop! You don't know what you're saying.' The silent
screams had no effect on the stranger. "Go on, Mulder. Go to your
precious Diana."
He paused at the door, turning to face her. His eyes flashed
a dangerous gold, causing her to start a little. "What do you
want me to say, Scully? That I love her. Fine. I love her. Is
that enough? You want more? How's this? I never loved you. I was
only waiting until something better came along. There. Satisfied?
Have a nice life." He turned away from her and walked out the
door.
Inside the apartment, the redhead stared at the back of the
door, stunned. The nightmare had come true. For a moment, she
couldn't quite remember what she was supposed to do now. How had
it gotten to this? As she recalled the last few minutes, the
tears started. She determinedly wiped them away, but they kept
falling regardless. She stumbled back until she hit the wall,
then slowly slid to the floor. She closed her eyes in a vain
attempt to prevent the tears, and found her head nodding.
Exhausted, frightened, and heartbroken, Dana Scully leaned
her head against the wall and cried herself to sleep.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Mulder looked at the fist sized hole now gracing the outer
wall. He'd almost made it to his car before he'd lost control.
The pain had already disappeared, the broken skin on his knuckles
healed within moments. If only everything were that easy to fix.
'I never loved you? I was only waiting until something
better came along?' Where had *that* come from? Suddenly he felt
nauseous. He'd barely made it to his car before his breakfast,
lunch and dinner decided to become intimate with the pavement.
Wiping his mouth, he dared a glance back up to her apartment.
Seeing the darkness, he slowly hung his head, turning to get in
his car.
He didn't even notice the tears as they rolled down his
cheeks.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Fox Mulder's Apartment
Monday, May 25, 1998
7:49 AM
He glanced around his apartment for the millionth time,
wondering how it had gotten so bad. He remembered what Scully had
said that night on her birthday. She'd stayed on in the X-files
division after her abduction because of the work, not him. The
only reason she'd not left was to bring the men who did this to
her to justice. How could he have deluded himself into thinking
otherwise? How could he have thought she would want to stay by
his side without the X-files to hold them together?
Scully. His eidetic memory played back the last few minutes
in her apartment the night before, second by second, in
excruciating detail. He grimaced, feeling the familiar nausea,
and grateful that he hadn't eaten anything yet to sacrifice to
the porcelain god. What had he done? He hadn't meant a word of
what he'd said. Not a one. But the damage was done, wasn't it?
Could he take back any of it? More importantly, would Scully even
allow him to? He'd betrayed her one too many times. Looking back
over the last five years, it seemed to be all he was capable of,
somehow. Let her get abducted, let her get cancer, let the
fucking bastards harvest her ova for their experiments. He'd let
all these things happen to her.
And now, he'd let her down once again. It was only fair for
her to leave him. He'd been expecting this day, dreading it for
the past three months, hell, for the past five years. When the
fates cut the thread that was his life, they'd also unraveled the
fibers that were his family, his friends. Little wonder that he
never let anyone get so close to him. He'd already lost Samantha.
And now he'd made the same mistake over again. He'd let someone
else get close. In retrospect, it had been inevitable, yet he'd
blindly let himself fall in love. What could he have been
thinking? How could he have deluded himself so thoroughly?
He sighed, getting up and reaching for his coat. He couldn't
stay in here any longer. He hadn't slept a wink the night before,
and now the apartment walls just seemed to be closing in. On
second thought, he didn't even want to take his coat with him. He
ran out, desperate to get away from anything familiar, anything
that reminded him of her.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dana Scully's Apartment
5:52 PM
She awoke with a start, lifting her head from the couch. She
felt the headache even before she opened her eyes, trailing a
line of fire from just behind her eyes, all the way to the back
of her head. The events of the previous night came back to her in
a rush, and the headache only grew worse. She felt a bad taste in
her mouth, and rushed to the bathroom.
She'd woken a couple of times before, remembering each time
the vehemence of her words the night before. And each time she
had to fight to force the bile from rising in her throat. She'd
even tried to call Mulder, hoping, praying that it wasn't too
late. There had been no answer, not on his home phone, not even
on his cell. Knowing Mulder, she was sure he was deliberately
ignoring it, ignoring her. She had simply consigned herself to
her couch, trying the phone each time she woke up, too tired to
even consider doing anything more.
'Over.' The words seemed almost foreign as she thought about
them. 'It's over.' She emerged from the bathroom, her head still
pounding. She couldn't seem to think much beyond the fact that
she would never be the same again.
Her mind ran over her harsh words from the night before once
again. She flinched as she remembered the way she'd cut him down,
then asked him to get out of her life. Had she meant it? She
stopped next to her couch, forcing herself to think about it.
'*NO*! Of course not,' her mind screamed back at her. She
blinked, accepting the answer. Of course she hadn't meant it. Not
now, not even as she'd said them. But then he'd said...
She sat down hard, her face blanching at the memory. 'I
don't love you. I never loved you.' Had *he* meant it? Could she
allow herself to believe that? 'Oh Mulder. I love you so much. I
need you, Mulder, please.' Her silent pleas fell upon deaf ears
as she felt the blessed darkness wash over her again.
The next time she awoke was to the sound of the phone. She
gasped, hoping against hope that it was who she thought it was.
Her hands shook as she reached for the handset. She brought it to
her ear, wishing, praying with all her might for it to be...
"Dana?"
She almost broke down in tears. It should have been Scully,
not Dana. It wasn't him. She blinked, wondering who could
possibly be calling her now.
"Dana? Are you there? It's Jeff."
"Jeff?" She was still trying to figure out the caller's
identity. For some reason, the name didn't seem quite right. It
should have been Mulder.
"Jeff," she said, finally coming to herself. "Listen, I
really can't talk..."
"Oh, this won't take long. I was just wondering when I
should pop the lasagna in the oven."
"Huh?"
"The lasagna. For dinner, remember? Don't tell me you've
forgotten our date."
"Oh, Jeff. I'm so sorry. But, I really can't make it
tonight. Something's come up."
"Oh? Don't tell me you have to work on Memorial Day."
"No. It's not that. It's just..." She sighed. "I just got
some bad news. That's all. I just need to be alone."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Dana. But you really shouldn't be
alone, if that's the case. Why don't you come over, and we can
talk or something. Besides, you do have to eat, right? I promise,
we won't talk about anything that bothers you. But I've found
that it usually helps to have a shoulder to lean on."
"I don't know..."
"Oh, come on. It'll at least get your mind off your worries,
if nothing else. You can go back to worrying tomorrow, if you'd
like, along with the rest of the government employees."
She almost smiled at the hidden quip. She thought about the
offer. Did she really want to talk to Jeff about her problems?
Not really, but the food did sound good. It wasn't as if she was
going to be able to make anything herself, not tonight anyway.
And maybe, just maybe, the dinner would get her mind off the
misery she was going through, if only for an hour or so. No
longer, she promised herself.
"All right, Jeff. I'll be there in an hour. Is that enough
time?"
"Perfect. Just you wait, Dana Katherine. My lasagna's going
to have you begging me for the recipe."
"We'll see in an hour, won't we? Bye, Jeff." She hung up the
phone, walking into her bedroom to wash herself up and change.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The Reflecting Pool, DC
6:42 PM
This was his fifth stop of the day. He'd spent all morning
and afternoon wandering from place to place, but couldn't find a
single spot that didn't somehow remind him of her. The little
restaurant around the corner where he'd delightfully wiped off
the barbecue sauce from her chin, with his fingers this time. The
bar where he'd taken her dancing once, just to show her he could,
and to find out to his pleasant surprise that she could dance
rings around him any day. And now he was at the bench by the
pool. He'd finally given up trying to find a way to escape her as
he remembered the many times they'd shared this seat, this view.
He stared at the shifting waters, letting his mind wander.
Five years of memories coursed through his head, their first
meeting, and how awkward it had been, the slow buildup of trust
and friendship. He wondered if he might have been better off
never confessing his feelings for her that night. They'd been
good friends up until then, but if this was what taking that next
step brought, he wondered if they hadn't made a terrible mistake.
And now, how could they ever go back?
Okay, so she'd left him. Couldn't he live with that,
continue without her? Sure the months during her abduction had
been terrible, but he hadn't died from it. His mind conveniently
edited out the night Melissa had come to his apartment to
persuade him to come to Scully's bedside, the night when he'd
almost put a gun to his head. He could survive, he told himself.
He'd gotten over Phoebe, over Diana. He could do this. All it
would take was time, something he had plenty of, something he was
sure he would need plenty of.
But god, he missed her. It had been less than a day since
he'd last seen her, but he already missed the way her hair fell
in her face when she tried to hide the smile he'd managed to
evoke in her. The way she'd look at him, her eyes shining with
trust that he'd do the right thing, even while arguing full bore
against one of his crackpot theories. The way she held his hand,
so gentle, yet so strong. The way... oh god... the way she felt
in his arms after a night of making love, the way she screamed
his name as they lost themselves in each other. Hell, he even
missed the small mole on her upper lip that she usually tried to
cover up with makeup, something he would never understand.
He thought again of what she'd told him the previous night.
She'd all but accused him of cheating on her with Diana. The
woman was in a coma, and the doctors weren't even sure if she
would ever wake up. What gave Scully the right to insinuate that?
Was she that petty, that insecure? He remembered her blatant lie
at the Maryland facility, asking him to meet her at the office
after he'd clearly felt her presence in the hallway outside. Had
she totally misconstrued his conversation with Diana then?
He sucked in a breath as he ran the past week through his
mind. Yes, he'd hardly seen her outside the temporary office
they'd been assigned to, but that had only been because he'd been
afraid to face her without any good news to give to her. He'd
been searching so hard, trying to find some way to defend
themselves in the upcoming battle. But had he actually lost sight
of the final goal? Had he given her the impression that he didn't
want to be with her? How could she possibly think that?
Suddenly the image of his Scully in another man's arms
floated into his mind. It was all he could do to keep his
emotions in check. Yes, he admitted, he was jealous of this Jeff
Green. He'd had more of Scully's attention this past week than he
himself had had. Of course, he realized, he didn't really have
anyone to blame for that but himself. Besides, did he really
think she was going to fall into bed with somebody, just like
that? Would the Scully he'd known all these years betray him like
that, no matter what she thought of him, no matter what he did?
Besides, how was her jealousy of Diana any different from what he
felt towards this friend of hers?
He jumped up from the bench, reaching for his cell. He had
to talk to her. He had to apologize, try to convince her how
wrong he'd been the previous night, the previous week. He cursed
as he remembered his coat, lying on the couch back in his
apartment. With renewed determination, he turned and headed back
towards his car.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Jeffrey Green's Apartment
US Naval Academy, Annapolis, MD
7:02 PM
Knock. Knock.
The door opened to reveal a smiling Jeff Green. He pulled
back, letting her pass before he closed the door behind her.
"Something smells nice." Dana walked over to the kitchen,
smelling appreciatively. Her stomach growled as she realized she
hadn't eaten anything the entire day.
Jeff laughed at her embarrassed expression. "And I see
you're just in time. It'll just be another few minutes. Why don't
you go have a seat while I finish setting up the table?" He
pointed to his couch, then moved into the kitchen.
Dana glanced around the living room as she waited. Her eyes
fell on the mantelpiece, sweeping over the pictures Jeff had
lined up there. She let her eyes wander over them, her mind
picturing the events they depicted. Memories, captured within a
five by seven piece of paper. She smiled at the picture of little
Jeremy, scampering around chasing a balloon. The picture was
obviously taken in a park somewhere. Her eyes moved past it,
coming to rest on an older photo, a wedding shot of Jeff and
Kyra. Her face sobered immediately. Sometimes, photos, and
memories, were all you had.
She recalled hearing from Bill about his friend's tragic
loss almost a year ago. She felt a small shiver pass through her
body. Jeff's wife had died of cancer, and from what Bill had told
her, it had been extremely painful for Jeff. She had almost
followed the same course not that long ago. She could almost
picture Mulder and her in the Greens' place. Mulder... She
blinked as the thought inevitably led to other, more depressing
ones. Mulder, and the state of their relationship pressed into
the forefront, overshadowing all other thoughts.
In the kitchen, Jeff pulled the forks out of the cabinet
drawers as his mind wandered. He looked down at the silverware in
his hands, almost as if he couldn't quite remember what to do
with them. Internally, his thoughts were in turmoil. He could do
nothing, and nothing would have changed. But then, his thoughts
turned to his little boy, lying in the hospital, usually so sick
from the treatments, he couldn't even recognize his own father.
If there was even a small chance... He closed his eyes, trying to
bring his chaotic emotions under control. 'Forgive me, Dana,' he
thought as he picked up the phone, dialing the number from
memory. "She's here," he said, then waited for the speaker on the
other end to finish before he hung up. 'Half an hour, and it
would all be over.' He let out a deep breath, reaching into his
pocket for the small vial. Upending its contents into one of the
wine glasses, he gave the table a final once over, then walked
out of the kitchen.
'What am I doing here?' she chided herself. She needed to
think. She needed to figure out what she... '*no*,' she corrected
herself immediately... what they were going to do. She had to...
Her thoughts were interrupted by Jeff's voice.
"Dana?"
He moved out into the living room. "Dinner's ready anytime
you are." He smiled as he ushered her towards the small dinner
arrangement in the middle of the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind
the bachelor's apartment. It's kinda small, but it's more than I
need."
She didn't miss the pain in his voice as he said that. It
shouldn't have been more. Sometimes life was so unfair. To
everyone. She placed a hand on Jeff's arm, squeezing it slightly
before sliding into the seat across from him. "Dinner looks
wonderful, Jeff," she said smiling at him. "Now to see how good
it actually tastes." Her smile widened into a teasing grin as she
tried to lighten the mood.
"Oh, you wound me, madame. Dig in and find out for yourself,
why don't you?"
Jeff watched as she brought a piece of lasagna to her mouth,
blowing on it slightly before eating it. He saw her eyes widen as
she chewed and swallowed.
"It's good, Jeff. I'm surprised. Where'd you learn to cook
like this?" Privately she wondered if it might be possible to get
the recipe from him. It really was good, almost as good as her
mom's, but different. "And there's something in here," she said,
her brows pulling together as she tried to figure it out.
"Ah, yes," Jeff answered proudly, "the secret ingredient."
"Well..." Dana waited expectantly. "What is it?"
"If I told you, it wouldn't exactly be a secret anymore,
would it?" His eyes crinkled as he started in on his plate.
They ate in silence for a few minutes before Scully asked,
"So where *did* you learn to cook, Jeff? Most men I know wouldn't
know a dishpan from a broomhandle."
Jeff placed his fork on his plate, moving his elbows up onto
the table. He interlaced his fingers, resting his chin on them as
his thoughts flew back to happier times. "In my case, I suppose
it was the exact opposite. My Kyra couldn't cook worth a damn,
and at first, neither could I. So it usually ended up being take-
out on most nights. I finally decided that if we were going to
survive, one of us was going to have to learn." He let out a
small laugh. "When I suggested it to her, she gave me this glare
that would have frozen hell over. So, I broke down, and asked my
mom for some pointers. It took a while, but now I can cook
lasagna, meatloaf, chicken, pasta, you name it." He shrugged
slightly, as he turned back to his dinner. "I guess I just had a
talent."
"Some talent." Dana chuckled. "If only you could bottle it."
"Tell me about it," Jeff answered wryly. "Sometimes, Kyra
would bring her entire clique of friends to try out her husband's
excellent cooking, just so she could show me off." He shook his
head. "I used to get so mad at her for making me cook for so many
people on such short notice. Now..." he trailed off.
"And now, you miss it," Dana finished softly. She knew
exactly what he meant, and could certainly relate. She had gotten
so pissed off at her father for fighting with her about joining
the FBI, and about so many other things they'd disagreed on. Now
she'd give anything to be able to talk to him just one more time.
"More than anything," Jeff whispered. "I miss her so much."
He closed his eyes, then let out a small laugh. "Look at me,
trying to burden you with my problems, when you've obviously got
enough on your own mind to deal with. Not to change the subject,
but would you like to talk about it?" He could almost see the
wall as it slammed down over her face.
"I'd... rather not, Jeff. It's just..." She paused, taking
in a deep breath before continuing, "It's just too painful right
now." She stopped when she felt his hand move towards hers,
squeezing it reassuringly as she had done for him earlier.
"I... understand. But Dana, you know I'm here, right? If you
ever want to...," he trailed off, smiling wanly at her grateful
expression.
"How...," she began, then seemed to change her mind. "Tell
me about Kyra," she said instead.
Jeff blinked. He placed his fork down on his empty plate,
then stood up to clear the table silently. Dana sat at the table,
watching him go through the motions as the expressions flitted
across his face. He placed the dishes in the sink, then retrieved
his glass of wine before he moved to the counter. He turned
around, leaning against it as he sipped his wine.
"I'm... sorry if I...," Dana began, but Jeff cut her off.
"No." He sighed. "It's alright. You just caught me by
surprise, that's all. I haven't really stopped to think about
Kyra too much after she... after she..." He closed his eyes,
raising his glass to finish draining it in one swallow. He paused
to refill his glass, then started talking. "Where do I begin?" He
looked away from Dana, his eyes focusing on something in the
distance.
Following his gaze, Dana spotted the picture in the living
room, the one of their wedding day. She turned back to listen to
what her friend was saying.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Fox Mulder's Apartment
7:04 PM
His fingers trembled as he tried to fit the key into the
slot in his door. After fumbling for a few minutes, he finally
managed to get it open. He ran inside towards his couch, reaching
immediately for the phone. He furiously dialed the number he'd
memorized so long ago, then sat back to wait as the other end
rang. And rang. And rang.
He uttered a curse, slamming the phone down before the
machine on the other end had a chance to pick up. He leaned back
on his couch, his breath coming out in gasps. He waited a few
moments to get his breathing under control before reaching for
the phone again. He'd already been a fool once. It was past time
to rectify his mistakes.
He told himself that he was utterly calm as he dialed her
cell phone this time. The mechanical voice notifying him that the
party he'd tried to reach was not responding didn't faze him in
the least. He simply dialed her home number again, waiting this
time till her answering machine came on and he heard her voice on
the recorded greeting.
And then his calm facade cracked.
"Scully? It's me. I'm... I... I'm so sorry, Scully. I didn't
mean..." He let out a huge breath before deciding. "This is
ridiculous. Scully, if you're there, pick up the phone." His
voice dropped, his tone taking on a more pleading note. "Please,
Scully. I'm so... very... sorry. I don't know what I was saying
last night. I... God, I feel... I feel so stupid talking to a
machine. If you're there, Scully, pick up the goddamn phone." He
waited for a few seconds, then, "I'm coming over there Scully. We
need to talk."
With that he hung up the phone and reached for his coat. He
got up and ran out of his apartment, slamming the door shut
behind him. He didn't even notice the brass 2 as it came loose
from his door and fell to the floor.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Jeffrey Green's Apartment
7:27 PM
"... so, of course, I had to prove myself now. I mean, I
couldn't very well let the challenge go unanswered, could I?"
The two of them moved out of the kitchen and into the living
room. Sitting down, Dana asked, "So? What did you do?"
"I went up to the jerk and pounded his face in." Jeff raised
an eyebrow at the sudden gasp of laughter from the redhead. "What
else was I supposed to do? He was drunk and he'd badmouthed
pretty much every single woman at the party, not to mention
harassing all the married ones. If he had touched Kyra one more
time..."
"But, Jeff, an admiral's son?"
"Yeah, well, the admiral wasn't exactly around at the time.
And after the party, everyone seemed to remember him slipping and
hitting his head against the table. I got more than one pat on
the back after that, I'll have you know." He shrugged. "I only
did what every other crewman in the room was itching to do. In
fact, after the brass had cleared out, the entire crew gave me a
round of applause."
"And what did Kyra have to say about that?"
"Oh, she was angry as hell. She went on and on about how she
could handle herself around a moron like that, and how could I
possibly put myself in such a position by hitting an admiral's
son, and what if I'd gotten caught."
"I can imagine. It was a pretty dangerous thing to do."
"Yeah," his eyes twinkled. "But then Kyra took me home to
show me her appreciation."
Dana allowed herself a small smile at the picture as she
sipped her wine. "You make it seem like you had such a happy
marriage. Didn't you guys ever fight?"
"Not too often," Jeff admitted, "but when we did, you can
bet the entire base would be talking about it the next day."
Seeing his guest's raised eyebrows, he went on to explain. "I
knew Kyra for a couple of years before we even decided to start
seeing each other. She was my friend before we ever became
intimate. So you see, she knew all my buttons, and exactly which
ones to push. God..." He shook his head, smiling slightly as he
remembered. "When we fought, it was like the 'Clash of the
Titans' or something. I remember when we wouldn't speak to each
other for days."
"But you always made up," Dana prompted. She couldn't help
noticing the parallels between the Greens' relationship and hers.
She hadn't had too much experience with serious or long term
relationships, but what Jeff had just said would probably sum up
her and Mulder's fight in a nutshell.
"Oh yeah. Making up was always the best part." Jeff's voice
lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "In fact, sometimes, the
making up almost made the whole thing worth it." He couldn't help
a smile at the blush that rose up his friend's cheeks.
"Thank you Jeff."
The quiet statement took him by surprise. "Hunh? Whatever
for, Dana?"
"For dinner. For everything. For talking to me about Kyra. I
know it couldn't have been easy." She held up her hand to
forestall his protest. "No, Jeff. I think this is exactly what I
needed tonight. I thought I wanted to take my mind off my
problems, but I think, in a way, you've indirectly helped me make
a decision." She glanced up at the clock, then turned back to her
friend. "I'm sorry to eat and run, Jeff, but I have something I
need to take care of."
Green looked at the clock himself, frowning when he saw the
time. "So soon? You barely got here. Dana, I haven't seen you in
over six years. I thought we could get caught up on what you've
been doing with yourself all this time."
"I'm so sorry, Jeff. But this is really important. Besides,
you're not going anywhere, are you? Maybe you could come over to
my place for dinner sometime. There's someone I'd like you to
meet."
Jeff raised his eyebrows at her statement. "Oh? Is this
someone special?" Seeing her blush again, he said, "That's a
relief." When her expression turned to one of confusion, he asked
tentatively, "Um... Dana? You do realize why Bill was pushing you
to take my invitation, don't you?"
The look of confusion only intensified. "I was talking about
my partner from work, Jeff. Anyway, why would my brother have
anything to do with..."
"He was setting us up, or at least he was trying to." He
laughed at the expression on her face, which had gone from
confusion to realization to outright anger and embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, Jeff. I didn't even..." She trailed off as a new
idea presented itself. "Oh my god, you didn't expect..."
"No, not at all," he hastened to assure her. "Bill's a great
friend, but he can be a little dense sometimes. I'm nowhere near
ready for anything in my life now. I've tried telling him a
million times, but he's seemed to have made it his life's work to
cheer me up, so to speak."
"That's Bill for you. On behalf of my brother, Jeff, I'd
like to apologize..."
"There's no need, Dana. I'm just glad you weren't expecting
something I wasn't prepared to offer."
"Thank you, Jeff. You're a sweet friend." She reached over
to gently kiss his cheek. "I'll see you later." With that she
picked up her purse and walked out the door.
Jeff Green shot a glance at the clock and heaved a breath of
relief. He then raised a finger to trace his cheek where Dana had
kissed him. Immediately, he rushed to the bathroom and proceeded
to throw up.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dana Scully's Apartment
7:28 PM
His hands reached into his pocket, fingering the keys on the
ring as he walked up to her door. His mind was rapidly sorting
through various scenarios as he debated what his first words
should be.
'I'm so sorry, Scully...'
No. That wouldn't work. How about, 'What I did last
night...' or 'Every one makes mistakes...'
He shook his head. No, not those either. None of them
sounded right, for some reason. His steps slowed as he approached
Scully's door. He swallowed quickly, steeling himself as he
pulled out the keyring. Which was when he realized it. She wasn't
at home. He frowned as he pushed open the door, entering the dark
apartment. Where could she have gone? He walked in, moving to the
couch. Sitting down, he leaned back, trying to calm himself.
Debating the various possibilities, he finally picked up her
phone and dialed her cellular again. He almost jumped at the
sound of the ringing behind him. He hung up, reaching behind him
to come up with her coat and the cell phone within. She hadn't
taken it with her, wherever she was. Meaning she was someplace
she considered safe. 'Think, Mulder. Where would she go,
especially after what happened last night?' His eyes came open as
the answer came to him. 'Of course.'
He picked up her phone again, dialing another familiar
number. He frowned when he heard a male voice pick up, then
realized who it probably was.
"Bill? Could I speak to your sister?"
"Who is this?"
"Fox Mulder. I'm her partner."
"I know who you are, Mulder. And I'm not going to disturb my
sister on her day off. You can talk to her at work tomorrow. Good
night."
Mulder flinched as Bill abruptly hung up on his end.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Margaret Scully's Residence
"Who was that on the phone, dear?"
Bill turned from the phone to see his mother standing in the
doorway. "No one, mom. Just a wrong number."
Margaret nodded, then turned to head back when the phone
rang again. She paused, listening as her son picked up the phone
again.
"Listen. I told you not to call here," she heard him whisper
harshly. "I won't have you taking over her life..."
"Bill? Is that Fox?"
"What? Umm..." Bill looked up, embarrassed at being caught.
"Let me talk to him." She moved forward, taking the phone
from him.
"But, mom!"
"Not another word from you, William Scully, Jr. Now don't
make me make you go to your room." Her eyes flashed, emphasizing
her threat. Hanging his face, Bill reluctantly turned around and
left.
"Fox? This is Maggie. Is something the matter? Is Dana
okay?"
"She isn't there?"
Maggie frowned at the puzzled tone in his voice. "No. She
was supposed to be having dinner with a friend tonight." Her
frown deepened at the sudden intake of breath she heard from the
other end. "What's wrong? Dana seemed a little preoccupied the
last time we spoke. Is everything all right at work?" 'And, more
importantly, between you two,' the silent question hung in the
air.
"Mrs. Scully." Mulder paused, steeling himself. "I think...
I think I've made a terrible mistake."
"Oh, Fox. What happened?" Mentally, Maggie prepared herself
for the worst.
"I... We... we had a fight, Mrs. Scully. A really bad one. I
don't think... I don't know if we..."
"What about?"
"I don't... if she hasn't told you... I don't think I
should..."
Maggie closed her eyes, shaking her head. 'Of course not.'
She should have known better than to think Fox Mulder would break
a confidence. Maybe she could approach the issue indirectly.
"Fox. Listen to me. Have you talked to her about this yet?"
"No," the reply came in a small voice.
Maggie let out a silent sigh. That was the main problem with
these two. For all the closeness between them, neither of them
really talked. They knew each other inside and out, and at the
same time, were almost clueless about the simplest of things.
Sometimes it almost made her want to scream in frustration.
"So, tell me. What are you going to do about this?"
The unexpected question caught him by surprise. "Mrs.
Scully?"
"You heard me. What are you planning on doing now? Staying
in your apartment and sulking? Or are you going to go out and
find my daughter and try to climb out of whatever mess you both
have gotten yourselves into this time?"
The sharpness of her tone almost threw him for a loop. She'd
never spoken to him so harshly before. He almost couldn't find
the words, but managed to say, "I... I'm in her apartment now,
Mrs. Scully. I've been trying to find her. But I don't know where
she is. I know she's angry with me, but she didn't take her cell
with her. And she didn't leave any messages or anything. And,
after the way I treated her, I'll be lucky if she doesn't request
a transfer come tomorrow..."
"Fox...," she interrupted. "Fox, you're babbling. Now we
both know that my daughter is not going to request a transfer.
She wouldn't have stayed with you for so long if she was that
fickle. I'm sure she wants to work this out as much as you do."
She paused, her voice growing softer as she continued, "Why don't
you wait at her place till she comes back, then talk to her about
it. You've always worked out your differences in the past. Will
it be any different now?"
"I... I don't know, Mrs. Scully. But I *will* wait for her,
I promise you that. Can you tell me where she went?"
"She was invited to dinner at Bill's friend's place. In
fact, she should be back in an hour or so," she said, glancing at
her clock. "Fox, don't worry. And don't give up on Dana. She's
never given up on you."
"Thank you, Mrs. Scully. What you said... it meant a lot.
I'll talk to you later."
"Good night, Fox."
"Good night, Mrs. Scully."
With that, Fox Mulder hung up, leaning back and awaiting a
new lease on life.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
US Naval Academy, Annapolis, MD
7:31 PM
It was so clear what she had to do. She walked towards her
car, her mind trying to sort through the various scenarios. Maybe
she could swing by his place, or... maybe, she could call him. Of
course, it would have helped if she'd remembered to bring her
coat along, she chided herself. Not only was she missing a phone,
but her sword as well.
'What was I thinking?' she asked herself, flinching as the
answer presented itself in all its glory. The fight, her cutting
remarks, the way he'd left, his parting comments, scathing in
their intensity. Had he meant them? She hoped he hadn't. She
herself had said things she desperately wished she could now take
back. The memories raced across her mind, each one in chilling
clarity. It took her a few moments to realize that the bright
lights swinging across her field of vision were not her
imagination, but the too bright streetlights that lined the
sidewalk. She stumbled, her hands reaching out to grab a pole.
She shook her head to clear it and steady herself before turning
back towards the parking lot.
Jeff had been right. When you loved someone as much as she
did Mulder, you knew exactly which buttons to push. And boy, had
they been pushed. It was almost scary, the amount of power each
of them had over the other. But then, it was dealing with that
power, wielding it not to cut, but to build that defined a
healthy relationship, didn't it?
God, she hoped so. Mulder was the one thing that mattered to
her in this life, the only thing. The one constant. And she would
be damned if she'd let him go so easily. 'Not without a fight,
Mulder. Not without one hell of a fight. You're not getting out
of this so easily. If you even want out...' And she didn't
believe that, not when she thought about it. Really thought about
it, that is. The man had asked her to marry him. Twice! Surely,
he wouldn't have done that if he hadn't meant it.
She squinted against the bright streetlights, trying to
figure out where she'd parked. For some reason, the light from
the streetlights was almost blinding. She could hardly make out
the shape of the cars in the lot, let alone figure out which one
was hers. Had they been this bright when she'd parked her car
earlier?
Through a haze of confusion, she remembered what she'd
promised Mulder all those months ago. Forever. And one thing Dana
Katherine Scully had never been accused of was going back on her
promises. She looked around, her vision clearing up just enough
to allow her to recognize her car a few yards away. She headed
towards it, resolving to give Mulder a call as soon as she
reached home. A few feet from it, she stumbled again. With a
small moan, Dana Scully fell to her knees, trembling hands trying
to hold herself up. A few seconds later, they gave way as she
quietly slid down to lie on the concrete. She never noticed the
figures hurrying to her side, lifting her and placing in the back
of the van. And in her current state, nor did she notice the man
climbing into her car to follow the van as it slid silently out
of the parking lot.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dana Scully's Apartment
8:32 PM
By now, he'd almost worn a trench in her floor, going by the
number of times he'd paced across her living room. He'd finally
given up a few minutes before, calling the Gunmen for any
information on a newly promoted Jeff Green of the United States
Navy. He rushed towards the couch when he heard his phone ring.
"Mulder."
"We found him," the gruff voice of Frohike answered back.
"Captain Jeffrey Green, late of the USS Eagle, newly promoted to
Rear Admiral. He's been appointed Provost at the Naval Academy in
Annapolis."
Langly cut in then, "And, listen to this, Mulder. He's been
offered the Admiralty and a transfer three times, but he refused
each one. This last time, he was the one who requested to be
transferred off his ship."
"Any idea why?" Mulder asked.
"Apparently, his son's sick. Cancer. He wanted to be close
to him."
"Did you guys find anything suspicious in his file?"
"Only the Provost posting," Byers voice filtered through the
speakerphone in their office. "The post was made available for
him pretty quick, just when his son was admitted to Georgetown
Medical. Other than that, this boy's as squeaky clean as they
come. Although, here's another interesting tidbit. His wife died
of cancer too. A nasopharyngeal tumor. Sound familiar?"
Mulder pinched his lower lip in thought, then asked, "Do you
have an address and phone number for him?"
A few moments later, Fox Mulder waited as the phone rang on
the other end. He frowned after the sixth ring, then hung up the
phone and reached for his coat.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Jeffrey Green's Apartment
US Naval Academy, Annapolis, MD
8:57 PM
Knock. Knock.
The door opened to reveal a scowling Jeff Green. He leaned
forward, blocking Mulder's view of the apartment behind him.
"Whatever you're selling..."
"Admiral Green? Fox Mulder, FBI," Mulder interrupted him,
holding up his badge. "I tried calling earlier. I was told that
Dana Scully was supposed to be here. I'm her partner. Could I
speak to her please?"
"Dana?" Green blinked, as if surprised at the question. He
then nodded, "Sorry, I must've been on the phone. But, yeah, she
was supposed to meet me here for dinner." He frowned. "But that
was a couple of hours ago. She never did show up. I'm sorry,
Agent... uh, Mulder... did you say your name was? But as you can
see, she's not here," he said pulling back as if to show Mulder
the empty apartment behind him. "And if you'll excuse me, I'm
late for an appointment." With that, Green stepped back into his
apartment.
Mulder's eyes narrowed at his statement. Something didn't
feel right. He could sense it, but couldn't quite put his finger
on what it might be. He followed the other man into the
apartment, watching as he retrieved his coat from the nearby
closet. "You haven't heard from her at all? She didn't call to
cancel or anything?"
"Hmmm...? No...," he replied, shaking his head as if in
thought. "No, she didn't. I was actually starting to get worried,
but what with her being an FBI agent and all, I decided that she
must have been called on a case or something. Is she all right?"
"I'm not sure, Admiral. That's what I'm trying to find out."
He fished in his pocket for his card. "I'd appreciate a call if
you hear from her," he said, handing over the card.
"Oh, sure, no problem. If that's all, then..."
"Yes. Thank you for your time, Admiral. Good...," he froze
as he realized what had been bothering him all this time. Lilacs.
It was faint, but unmistakable. He'd bought her that perfume
himself. And after the trouble he'd gone through to get it for
her in the first place, there was no way he'd forget that scent
anytime soon. Scully had been here, of that he was reasonably
certain. With a growing sense of panic, he finished, "... night."
"Agent Mulder...?" Green stared at the agent, getting more
nervous by the second.
"Admiral Green?" Mulder hoped he got the reverberation, or
cadence, or whatever it was, in his voice correct. "Are you sure
you haven't seen Agent Scully today?"
The other man frowned. "I've already told you, Agent Mulder.
I haven't seen her since yesterday, when I had dinner with her
over at her mother's. And now, I'm really getting a bit behind.
If you don't mind...," he trailed off, ushering Mulder towards
the door. He exited behind the agent, locking the door behind
him. "Good night, Agent Mulder."
A dumbfounded Fox Mulder watched as Jeff Green walked
towards the parking lot and got into his car. It should have
worked, he was almost sure of that. Which left two possibilities.
Either Green was telling the truth, or he was a resistor. And
with his, luck, he knew which one he'd bet on. Quietly, he walked
over to his car, deciding to tail his one and only suspect for a
while.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Georgetown University Hospital, DC
Lombardi Cancer Center
9:28 PM
He hoped he wasn't too late. With a prayer, he pulled into
the Leavey Center Garage, then raced into the hospital. He never
noticed the nondescript Taurus as it pulled into a parking space
close to his. He entered the hospital, and ran past the various
nurses' stations, right into the ICU. He stopped short at the
sight of the empty bed.
He spotted a nurse walking by, and grabbed her shoulder.
"Nurse. My son. He was supposed to be in here. Where...?"
"Oh yes. His transfer papers were just signed. They moved
him about 4-5 minutes ago. If you hurry, you can probably still
catch them," she said, pointing towards the service elevator at
the back of the wing.
With a hastily uttered thanks, Green rushed away. He was
just in time to squeeze into the elevator as the doors were
closing.
"Where are you taking him?" he managed breathlessly.
"That is not your concern anymore, Admiral." One of the men
wearing a doctor's coat turned towards him. "He will be taken
care of, as promised. Please return to your home. You will be
contacted shortly."
Green frowned at the doctor's words. "No. I'm coming with my
boy. After what I had to do for that smoking bastard, it's the
least you can do."
The four men surrounding little Jeremy's cart leaned in and
whispered amongst themselves. Finally, one of them pulled out a
cellular phone and spoke into it for a few seconds. "Very well,
Admiral. You may come with us," he said, hanging up the phone.
"However, we cannot guarantee how long you will be allowed to
stay with your son. You have duties here that you have to get
back to in order to avoid suspicion."
Green grunted in reply, bending down to brush the hair off
his son's forehead. "You're gonna be all right, Jeremy. Just you
wait. Soon, we'll go to DisneyWorld, just like I promised you."
He leaned closer, brushing his lips against the boy's forehead.
"Just you wait, son."
The other men looked silently at each other. Meanwhile, the
boy slept on, oblivious.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A few miles out of DC
9:55 PM
"Dammit, Frohike. I need that information now!" Mulder
turned the corner, then came to a screeching halt. "Shit! I'll
call you back." He turned off his cellphone and stared at the van
that had pulled over a few feet ahead. More importantly, he
watched as the three armed soldiers slowly approached his car.
"Keep your hands where we can see them and step out of the
car, sir. Slowly." Two of the soldiers moved closer, while the
third stayed next to the back of the van.
Mulder squinted against the bright flashlights as he stepped
out. "I'm a federal agent...," he began as he felt himself
roughly shoved against the side of his car. He felt one man pat
him down as the other removed his ID and guns. "I want to know
what you're carrying. I want to know who's in that van." His
shout was abruptly cut off as he felt a sharp blow to his side.
He winced, watching as his badge was tossed to the third soldier.
"Step away from the vehicle, sir."
He felt the two men beside him step back, aiming their guns
squarely at his chest. He looked towards the third, standing
beside the van, examining his ID, when he heard it. His head shot
up in surprise. It was so faint, but... There! His eyes widened.
He heard it again, a slight moan. Coming from the back of the
van. 'Scully!' He held his breath, glancing at his captors
warily. He saw their eyes move away from him, watching their
superior fold his ID back. He made his move.
With a grunt, he grabbed the two nearest him, swinging
around to toss them across the road. Snarling, he lunged forward,
aiming for the third man. He had less than a second to note the
startled look on the soldier's face. Before the man had a chance
to raise his rifle, Mulder swatted him aside. He didn't stop to
watch the body land, moving instead to the rear of the van. He
grasped the handle, roughly tearing the door open...
... and looked into the startled face of Jeff Green. He
glanced past the Admiral, noting the small body shifting
restlessly on the gurney. He had all of two seconds to take this
in before he felt the sting right above his heart. He was still
staring into the van in shock, his hands moving up, his fingers
brushing his chest in surprise. He looked down, staring numbly at
his bloody fingertips, when he felt the second sting.
Fire! Lancing through his head. He whirled, his head
snapping around with the strength of the bullet as it glanced off
his skull, ripping away pieces of bone and flesh in the process.
His knees gave way, his body sliding noiselessly to the ground.
The last thing he saw was the fourth soldier coming around the
van, walking up to him through a red haze. With a soft groan, Fox
Mulder closed his eyes, and died.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Fox Mulder's Apartment
10:05 PM
The man pulled his trench coat tighter around him, glancing
around warily as he moved quietly to the apartment at the far
end. He walked up to the door, his eyes moving down from the
number on the door to the brass figure lying on the floor. He
bent down to pick it up, holding it up against its neighbor.
'Forty-two. The answer to everything.' He allowed himself a
slight smile at the thought. Not quite what he had in mind, but
close enough. He clutched the figure in one hand, his other
moving up to push open the door.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
10:43 PM
At this time of night, especially this far out of the city,
there was no one around to hear the strangled gasp from the side
of the road. The lone body jerked, the head snapping up, drawing
in deep lungfuls of air. For a long moment, the figure simply
breathed as the memories came back. The van, the soldiers, the
bullets... and then, nothing.
With a sigh, the figure rolled over and sat up. He shook his
head, immediately regretting it as a bolt of pain shot through
his skull. No matter how many times he died, it still felt like
hell, he thought, trying to stand up on shaky legs. He looked
around, then glanced at his watch. Damn. Almost an hour. Wherever
the van was headed, they were certainly long gone by now. He
finally spotted his car a few meters down the road and off to the
side. Wearily, he ambled over, dusting himself off before he got
in. He pulled out his cell and punched redial, starting his car
up while he waited.
"It's me. Turn off the tape."
"Mulder. Thank god, man! We were starting to get worried.
What happened?"
Mulder winced at the panicked tone in Byers' voice, his own
fear barely under control. He sighed. "I lost them. Any luck on
the van?"
"Nah. Without more information to go on...," Byers trailed
off. "But we did get something on the Admiral's son. He was
supposed to be transferred out of Georgetown Medical sometime
tonight."
"I think I figured that one out myself," Mulder replied
wryly, rubbing the side of his head. His fingers came away
encrusted with blood and flakes of dead skin. "Any idea where
to?"
"It says private care in some nursing home in Virginia,"
Langly chimed in, "but from what you told us, I think we can
pretty much assume that that part of the transfer order was
bogus."
"Damn." He hit the wheel in disgust. "The one solid lead I
had." And worse, Scully hadn't even been in the van. He'd have
felt her otherwise. Of course, the realization came too late to
actually do him any good, he cursed himself. The feeling of dread
was slowly growing, constricting his chest. Frohike's concerned
question didn't help any.
"Mulder? What are you going to do?"
"I don't know, Frohike. I just..." Mulder lowered his head,
rubbing the palm of his hand into weary eyes. "Give me a call if
you guys find anything." The dread finally blossomed into full
fledged panic, and the phone slipped out of his hand. He lowered
his head onto the steering wheel, his body shaking with quiet
sobs.
It was almost a minute before he thought of checking his
machine. He drew a long shuddering breath before reaching for the
phone again. He could almost hear her frantic voice in his mind
from that night so long ago. Four years, an eternity, but
fleeting nonetheless.
"Mulder...! I need your help!"
He blinked, reliving those agonizing moments once again.
The sound of glass breaking, then...
"*MULDER!!!!*"
He blinked again, the memory almost surreal in its
intensity. He could almost hear the scream echo in the hollow
confines of the car. He felt a shiver run through him as he
remembered the message on his machine, the one he'd been too late
to respond to. "Not again, God... please...," he whispered in
anguish, even as his machine finally picked up.
One message. Trembling, his finger brushed against the
playback button.
"Sometimes, Agent Mulder, the answers can be in the most
unlikely places. I'd pack light if I were you. And remember not
to get lost. The world can be a pretty big place."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Fox Mulder's Apartment
11:31 PM
The voice was so familiar, but Mulder couldn't place it for
the life of him. He stepped across one of the overturned chairs,
walking towards his machine. He played the message again, for
what seemed like the millionth time.
He'd hoped and prayed that Scully had simply gone for a
drive or something to clear her head. Lord knew, after the
debacle of the day before, both of them needed it. But he'd
already tried every single place he could think of. He'd had the
Gunmen check out some of the places around DC that he knew she
frequented, while he called Skinner, Mrs. Scully, and just about
everyone he or Scully knew.
Nothing. No one had seen her that day. No one could
corroborate her leaving her apartment, or arriving at Green's.
But, she'd been there, he would swear to it. And now, this
message, just when he needed it. It only served to compound his
fear, notching his already blooming panic up the scale. He heard
the faint click as the tape finished rewinding.
"Sometimes, Agent Mulder..."
He sank into his couch as the voice droned on one more time,
supposedly telling him what he needed to know, yet as cryptic as
any of him informants had ever been.
"... pack light if I were you..."
He almost knew it by heart now; he'd played it so many times
already. He allowed his gaze to roam around the room, his eyes
taking in the books hastily pulled out of the shelves, lying on
the floor.
"... pretty big place..."
The lamp lying on its side just beyond. The mounds of papers
scattered across the room. He'd even managed to pull out some of
the stuffing in his couch trying to find anything, any clue, even
one small piece of the puzzle that the message on the machine
hinted at. He reached over, hitting the replay button one more
time.
"Sometimes, ..."
His eyes fell on his computer, the cursor blinking at the
end of the file he'd been reading, hoping that some sort of
message had been left on it. His eyes came to rest on the various
objects cluttering the rest of his desk, the small clock, the
brass '2' lying between the globe and his computer, the various
books... the brass '2' next to the globe...
"... The world can be a pretty big place..."
His eyes narrowed. He reached forward to rewind again.
"... The world can be..."
With a start, he jumped up, his legs hitting the coffee
table, knocking down most of the objects on it in his haste. He
ran towards his desk, and with trembling hands, reached forward,
slowly picking up the globe. It had to be this. He was almost
positive.
It still didn't prevent a small cry from escaping when he
saw the small X inked in red. Right in the middle of the South
American continent. He leaned in closer, his eyes barely making
out the small numbers and letters etched in beside the mark.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The Andes Mountains
Somewhere in Peru, South America
Tuesday, May 26, 1998
5:15 AM, local time
She could feel the vibrations as the table slid into the MRI
machine. God she hated these tests. With a passion! The chemo
made her sick to the stomach, and then the nausea during the trip
through the NMR imaging machine was enough to make her cringe at
the thought of more treatments. Sometimes, at the worst of the
treatments, she could almost convince herself that she must have
been given this cancer because of some past life transgression.
Surely nothing she'd done in this life merited this harsh a
punishment. 'Mulder would be so pleased,' she almost smiled to
herself.
She opened her eyes a crack, expecting to see the smooth
interior of the imaging chamber. Her eyes widened in shock at the
sight of the white ceiling in its stead. The room... Her head
spun as she turned her head ever so slightly. She could feel the
movements, the vibrations traveling through her body. She tamped
down on her panic and the ebbing feeling of nausea, trying to
calm herself enough to try to remember why the place seemed so
familiar.
'Of course!' The train car. She'd been here before. Or
another one just like it. Memories, old ones, started coalescing
in her mind. Not only the ones about the incident with the leper
colony and that Japanese doctor. What was his name? Ishimaru. No,
these memories were from before, almost four years old. Perhaps
it was the familiar feel of the movement of the car, or maybe
just the atmosphere, but whatever it was, it had triggered a
spark of recognition, a memory long buried, now resurfacing. She
recalled her vague memory flashbacks from before, but she was
sure now. She'd definitely been here before during her abduction.
The shock of realization sent a shiver of horror down her
spine. 'Not again.' She had no doubt what had happened to her.
She'd been taken again.
She tried to sit up, only to find herself restrained, her
hands and feet held down to the table by thick straps. She could
still feel the lingering presence of drugs in her system, the
signs evident even in her confusion. Other than the nausea, her
movements were ever so slightly off, her surroundings swimming in
a drug induced haze. She tried to crane her neck forward, trying
to get a better feel of her surroundings when she saw some
movement out of the corner of her eye.
"Not yet, Agent Scully," she heard the voice float over as
the man moved closer. "We still have a ways to go," the voice
continued, the tone almost condescending. "Here, let me give you
something to help you relax." His hands moved up, pulling off the
cap of a small hypodermic needle.
"No," she managed in a low whisper, shaking her head
slightly. She felt the tiny pinprick just below her elbow.
"Just relax, Agent Scully. Let us take care of everything.
You just rest..." The rest of his words were lost as the drug
took hold once again, and she fell back into a troubled stupor.
The train moved forward, resolutely winding its way through
the emptiness of the jungle and up the face of the mountain,
surrounded by the chirps of birds and animal calls signifying the
start of a new day.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
8:09 PM
The next time she awoke, she came to with a gasp. She
blinked, her lungs greedily sucking in oxygen. She lay still for
what seemed to her an eternity, trying to bring her breathing
under control.
"Right on schedule."
The voice came from behind her. She tried to turn around to
get a better look, but found that she was still tied down. She
struggled for a moment, trying unsuccessfully to escape the
straps before lying back down. She took the opportunity to take a
look around. She was in a room this time, bigger than the train
car from her last memory. She lay on a table, her clothes
exchanged for what looked like a hospital gown. Just beyond her
table, there were what appeared to be various tanks filled with
murky water. She glanced past the tanks, her eyes taking in the
lab apparatus just beyond, searching for the source of the voice.
"Glad to see you alive again, Agent Scully. I was afraid
that last treatment might have been a bit much for your system to
handle." The voice came closer.
She recognized it from the train earlier. How long ago had
that been? He'd said 'alive again', implying she'd died recently.
If so, how long had she been 'dead'? She felt the movement next
to the table. She turned her head, watching as the man moved
beside her. She sucked in a breath as she recognized the face.
Someone she didn't think she would ever see again.
"Scanlon..."
She was shocked at the weak voice that emerged from her
throat. Suddenly she felt the nausea and dizziness from whatever
medication her system had been plied with. She lay her head back
against the table, closing her eyes tightly to bring the spinning
room under control. When she felt the nausea recede slightly, she
chanced opening her eyes again. She almost flinched at the
flashlight shining into her eyes.
"You remember me! I'm honored, Agent Scully." The doctor who
had supervised her cancer treatments almost a year ago, and who'd
probably had a hand in killing all the Allentown women, pulled
the flashlight back. He put it in his pocket, walking over to
check on some readouts from the medical equipment beside her
table.
"What do you want from me?" she managed to whisper, her
throat scratchy and hoarse. She coughed from the effort, her mind
already contemplating worst case possibilities. He obviously knew
about her immortality, although he wasn't one himself.
"Would you believe the answers to life, the universe, and
everything?" He had an almost gleeful smile on his face as he
turned away from her to study his equipment again. "Seriously
though," he continued, still turned away from her, "do you
realize what you carry inside you, Agent Scully? Imagine if we
could somehow duplicate what we did to you. Just think of the
possibilities. No more sickness. No more death." He paused,
leaning in to observe a readout closely.
"I'm sure you only have the good of humanity in mind," she
managed sarcastically. She could almost feel her strength
returning as the drugs were slowly wiped from her system. "What
have you done to me?" Her voice was a little stronger now.
"Ah good," Scanlon muttered to himself, looking at his
equipment and adjusting the monitor one more time before turning
back to her. "Tsk, tsk. All these questions, Agent Scully. Or can
I call you Dana, like I did before?" He moved towards her, his
face breaking into a malicious smile. "It's quite simple really.
What we're trying to do here," he said, gesturing around to
indicate the facility, "is to replicate immortality. Did you know
that about one in every 10,000 people has the potential within
them to become immortal?"
With her slowly clearing mind, it took her a few seconds to
understand what that meant. She took in a sharp breath at the
implications. Almost a half a million people worldwide...
He didn't miss the look of realization on her face. "Ah. I
see you understand. But there are so many variables, you see. For
some reason, the presence of family seems to inhibit the final
crossover into immortality upon the individual's first death.
There are, of course, other factors. Immortals seem to think of
their inability to have children as some sort of side effect of
their condition. It's actually the other way round. The ability
to have children is another factor that inhibits the crossover."
He had been looking around the lab, almost as if giving a lecture
in front of an audience. His eyes came back to rest on her, his
voice lowering as he continued, "Of course, in your case, we took
care of *that*, didn't we?"
He almost seemed oblivious to the expression on her face,
one combining shock, then anger at what had been done to her, and
the reason behind it, humiliation at the violation of her body,
and hatred at the people who would conceive of such acts in the
first place.
"You, Dana," he went on blithely, "were our first success.
Our only success, actually. Unaided, less than a percent of those
with the potential actually become immortal. We never expected
the chip to work for you as well as it did. It never had before.
Can you imagine how pleased we were that you survived your
episode with cancer? We still haven't figured out exactly why
that particular side effect of the initial gene resequencing
occurs." He paused, as if considering his next words. "It's too
bad you were the only one, though. Makes the confirmation of the
correct genes we need to alter and splice that much more
difficult." He reached behind her, retrieving a hypo similar to
the one he'd used before on the train. "And now, Dana, it's time
for you to go under again. We still have so much to do." He held
up the syringe, measuring the correct amount of fluid.
Her eyes widened at his actions. She did *not* want to go
through this again. Before he could inject it into her, she
interrupted, "I'm going to be missed, you know. There'll be
people looking for me." She stared at him, her eyes daring him to
reply to her challenge.
Scanlon paused, looking up to meet her gaze. His next
sentence, delivered in a measured tone, sent a cold chill down
her spine. "They couldn't find you the last time. What makes you
think they will now?" He moved back, his hand coming up to point
the syringe at one of the tanks she'd seen earlier. "Besides,
this time, I don't think you'll be missed all that much."
Scully followed his gesture, looking at the tanks herself.
At first, she couldn't see anything through the dirty water. Then
she spied some movement. She took in a sharp breath. A hand! She
could have sworn it was a hand, brushing up against the outer
edges of the tank. The next movement masked any horror she might
have felt earlier. She saw what lay in the tank. A body, floating
in the water, some kind of breathing apparatus attached to its
face. But what horrified her most was what lay behind the mask.
Under the floating cloud of red hair, she saw a very familiar
face. Her own! She turned back to face Scanlon, her face
mirroring her dread.
"Yes, Agent Scully. A clone." He was still staring at the
tank. "So beautiful, even if I do say so myself." He turned to
look at her, his mouth curling into a thin smile. "Once she's
been programmed with your memories, no one will ever know the
difference. Quite ingenious, don't you think?"
In her shock, all she could do was stammer one word.
"Mulder..."
"Ah, yes. Your partner. Don't worry. We have something in
mind for him as well." The smile was bigger now, the syringe
moving closer. "He'll never even know you're gone."
She felt the sharp prick as the needle found its mark once
again. She could almost feel the drug working its way into her
body, deadening her muscles, clouding her thoughts. She shook her
head, trying to clear it. She had to stay awake. She had to
try... She bit her lip to keep the tears from escaping. She
managed one final question. "Why me? All this just to keep Mulder
in line?"
"My my, you certainly have a high opinion of your partner,
don't you, Dana? Not everything is about Fox Mulder, my dear. You
would have been taken regardless of your partnership with him. As
I said, your fate was determined the moment you were born, and
there was nothing you, or Agent Mulder, for that matter could
have done to change that." He pulled out the syringe. "Now rest.
We have so much to do, Dana. But then, we have all the time we
need, don't we?"
She could barely hear him through the haze that seemed to
envelop her. For what seemed like the umpteenth time, Dana Scully
let out a sigh as she slowly closed her eyes.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The Andes Mountains
Elsewhere in Peru, South America
10:25 PM
The quiet of the night was unbroken except for the incessant
chirp of cicadas and other nightlife. Suddenly the hum of noise
stilled as twin beams of light pierced the endless darkness. The
car rounded the bend, heading deeper and higher into the jungle.
The man behind the wheel gripped it tighter, his eyes
straying from the road every few minutes to glance at the GPS
receiver on the seat next to him. 'Almost there. Just a little
further,' he thought to himself, almost as if the mantra would
somehow calm him down or make the journey somehow shorter or
easier to endure. It had taken him almost a day to get this far,
but the distance he still had to travel was quite considerable.
"I'm coming, Scully. Just hang on," he whispered.
In his wake, the jungle resumed its nocturnal vigil,
seemingly oblivious to the temporary intrusion.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The lab
11:37 PM
"I'm coming..."
She could almost hear the faint whispers, his voice, echoing
around the vast corridors as she ran down them, trying to elude
her pursuers. She knew he was around here somewhere. She had to
find him. He would save her. She was sure of it.
"Just hang on...," the voice whispered.
'I'm trying, Mulder. I'm trying so, very, hard,' she
silently cried, the dream coalescing in her mind, then fading as
she quietly came awake into reality. Slowly she became aware of
her surroundings, and the others in the room.
"You promised you wouldn't hurt her!"
She kept her eyes closed, not allowing the frown to show on
her face. That voice... Not Mulder, but still so familiar. And so
out of place, especially where she thought she was now. She could
hear the footsteps coming closer. And she could now feel the
presence of another immortal nearby. She kept her face blank, not
giving any indication of her consciousness. Any advantage, she
thought to herself...
"What have you monsters done to her?"
"Calm yourself, Admiral."
She almost betrayed herself with her shock when she heard
the new voice, one she hadn't heard for quite a while. She would
never be able to forget that throaty rasp. Cancerman! But didn't
Mulder say he'd been shot? And the other voice...
'Damn you Mulder,' she cursed silently. 'Even at your worst,
you still have to be right, don't you?' She didn't know if she
hated Mulder for being right, or her friend for proving him
right. The voice she'd recognized as that of Jeff Green continued
to protest. She could feel the tears building behind her closed
eyelids, threatening to expose her. 'Oh Jeff, what have you
done?'
"I've indulged your demands thus far, Admiral. Do not
presume to overstep your bounds. You are here merely because I
have allowed it. What we do with Dana Scully is no longer any
concern of yours."
"Why you..."
"Really, Admiral. Such anger does not become a man in your
position, especially towards your benefactors. Shouldn't you be
more concerned about your son? We have kept our part of the
bargain, have we not? Your son will be treated for his cancer."
"How? I haven't been allowed to see him since we were
brought here. I want to see him now."
"I'm sure that can be arranged, Admiral. In a little while.
In the meantime, I'd advise you to return to your quarters. Now,
if you'll excuse me."
She heard the footsteps recede, then fade away. She almost
opened her eyes when she felt a slight touch. She felt the
fingers brushing her hair away from her face, then trail down her
face.
"I'm so sorry, Dana."
She'd almost convinced herself that she would never again
forget Mulder's old adage about trusting no one. And then Jeff
had to go and screw it up. She was shocked at the wretched tone
in his voice. It was one that belonged to a broken man.
"So very sorry. But I had to do it. They told me... they
told me they could cure Jeremy. He's so young, Dana." He paused,
almost chuckling to himself. "Of course, you've never seen him
have you?" His hands trailed down to clasp her hands in his.
"He's so beautiful. Did you know that, Dana? When he was happy,
his face just lit up so." The voice held a distinctly wistful
note. "He hasn't seen much in the way of happiness in so long. I
swore I'd give him that once again, but dammit..."
She felt him squeeze her hand tightly. She almost gave
herself away, but held off at the last moment.
"That god you believe in certainly has a cruel sense of
humor, doesn't he?" Green snorted ruefully. "I mean, I've just
made a deal with the devil, just so my son can live a while
longer. Can you imagine a worse kind of justice? Sometimes life
can be so unfair."
"Very unfair..."
Green almost jumped when he heard her soft voice. He looked
at her face, shocked to see the twin tear tracks coursing down
her cheeks.
"Oh god! Dana..." His face paled at the sight.
"Help me, Jeff," she whispered, straining against her
restraints. "Get me out of here, please," she pleaded.
"I... I can't, Dana," he replied in a tortured voice. "God,
I'm so sorry. But I just can't." Her tear filled visage was now
mirrored on his face. "I have to think about Jeremy. I have to
give him every chance at life."
"Jeff, please. Don't let them do this to me. Don't let them
do this to *you*." She raised one hand as far as she could,
trying to reach for him. She let it drop back down when he
flinched away, turning his face away from her. "We can always
find a cure for Jeremy. But do you really think you can live with
this on your conscience?" she asked softly.
"Don't you think I've thought about that?" he almost
screamed at her. "Don't you think I've tried every possible
treatment for my boy? The doctors could do nothing to save Kyra,"
he hissed. "Nothing. Do you know..., god...," he broke off,
almost crying. "Do you know what it feels like to see half of
your soul disintegrate slowly before your very eyes? What it
feels like when you can do nothing whatsoever to stop it? I
couldn't let that happen again, not to Jeremy, not to my little
boy."
He swallowed, then straightened up, almost as if he'd come
to a decision. "Every fucking night my nightmares keep me awake,
Dana. Every day I tear myself apart wondering if I made the right
decision. I'm so sorry, but I'd do anything to have my boy back.
Anything..." With that, he turned and strode away from her, not
looking back once.
Behind him, the figure lying on the table closed her eyes
again, desperately trying to staunch her tears. She hated Jeff
for what he'd done to her, but worse still, she empathized with
him. He was where Mulder had been almost a year ago. Desperate,
and ready to do anything, including murder, or betrayal, to save
a loved one. 'Was this what Mulder had had to go through? For
her?' Mulder had almost sold his soul to the cancerman in return
for that chip. If that smoking bastard hadn't been shot, who knew
where Mulder would be now. Probably filling Jeffrey Green's
shoes, no doubt, she concluded. Just as she would if it had been
Mulder in her place.
Blinking back the tears to clear her eyes, she glanced
around. She appeared to be alone in the lab, but just to be on
the safe side, she tried calling out softly. When no one
answered, she tried once again to pull herself up, straining
against her bonds. No luck, just as before, but she noticed that
her left hand was slightly looser than it had been. Wriggling
slowly, she tried to pull her hand out of the restraint. After a
few minutes of fruitless struggle, she almost gave up, beads of
perspiration dotting her forehead.
She lay there for what seemed like an eternity before a
thought occurred to her. She'd seen it often enough both on TV
and in real life. Besides, in her case it was certainly easier.
She closed her left hand into a fist, her thumb surrounded by the
other fingers. She bit her lip, softly moaning as the pressure
increased. Squeezing harder, her teeth drew blood as she felt the
crack. She almost cried out at the pain, but managed to squelch
it with a grunt. She slowly opened her palm, her broken thumb
dangling uselessly from her wrist.
She could feel the heat as her body frantically tried to
repair the damage. Before the thumb straightened itself out, she
gave a sharp tug. With a sickening crack from the already broken
knuckle, her hand came free. She lay her head back, breathing
heavily. When she felt the pain recede, she reached over and
unsnapped the restraint on her other hand, then sat up to undo
her feet. With trembling legs, she slid off the table, holding on
to it for support as she righted herself. She was free!
She glanced around the room once again, her eyes taking in
its size for the first time. She could now see the rows upon rows
of tanks in the room, instead of just the three or four she could
see before. Quickly making a decision, she moved towards the
tanks. Many of them were unoccupied, and the ones that were, they
contained people... clones... with faces she'd seen before. 'What
had he said his name was?' she frowned. Her face cleared as she
remembered the name. Kurt Crawford. Mulder had mentioned meeting
the other Crawford clones at the fertility center. This must have
been what he'd seen, she realized. Looking up, she moved towards
the tank she feared the most. Coming up beside it, she steeled
herself before looking down at her doppelganger.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Scanlon slid his card through the reader, waiting for it to
acknowledge his presence before opening the door. He glanced at
his watch as he walked inside. Past midnight, he noted as he
walked towards the center of the room, pleased to see his newest
patient still sleeping on the table.
He walked up beside her, pulling out his flashlight to
examine her eyes again. He pulled back on the lids, satisfied at
the vacant look in the eyes hidden behind them. 'That last shot
really wore her out,' he thought to himself. She would probably
sleep till morning. 'Which is what I should be doing,' he added,
stifling a yawn.
He moved back towards the door, entering the small office
there. He hung up his coat, then with a last look around the
room, shut down the lights and exited the lab.
Behind him, a figure detached itself from behind the
cabinets, moving out of the shadows. The light from the computers
glinted off her red hair as she moved towards his coat. Reaching
in, she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a magnetic
card, slipping it into a pocket on the smock she'd found, then
left the room quietly.
She didn't even spare a glance at the perversion of her
body, now lying where she had been a scant hour ago.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Elsewhere
Wednesday, May 27, 1998
12:13 AM
The car came to a screeching halt about a hundred yards away
from the fence. Quickly shifting into reverse, the figure behind
the wheel backed away, then turned to the side of the road and
into the jungle. Once behind the cover of the trees and the
darkness, he got out, pulling out some of the underbrush in a
crude attempt to hide the vehicle and its tracks from the road.
A few minutes later, he sat back to survey his handiwork.
Satisfied, he took off in a quiet run towards the fence he'd seen
earlier.
He almost ran into it in his haste. Coming close, he reached
up to grasp it, intending to climb over it, when he heard a
slight hum coming from it. Quickly stepping back, he found a
small twig to throw at the fence. The small shower of sparks
confirmed his suspicions. He pulled out his GPS receiver,
squinting to see the readout in the pale light. He still had a
few miles to go, past the fence.
Straining to hear anything out of the ordinary, he moved
back towards the fence. With a nervous glance around, he
jumped...
... and almost overshot his mark by a good 40 feet. His
heart thudded in his chest as he looked down at the fence, and a
good piece of jungle, from almost 50 feet in the air. With a
gulp, he forced himself to calm down as he slowly descended on
the other side. Once down, he darted into the cover of some
nearby bushes, hoping desperately that he hadn't been discovered.
Vowing to brush up on his flying skills once this whole thing was
over, he glanced one more time at the receiver, then ambled
towards the location now burnt into his mind.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Back at the lab
12:32 AM
It had now been almost an hour since she'd woken up. She'd
tried following Scanlon, but he'd gone through a door beside the
lab that required voice identification. Probably his sleeping
area, she mused, moving past the door and down the corridor. The
room she'd been held in and Scanlon's room had been at the far
end. Now, turning the corner, she came up short against an
elevator.
Not seeing a switch, she looked around until her eyes came
to rest on the almost invisible slot next to the door. With a
smile, she pulled out the card from her pocket and slid it in.
She glanced around while she waited. The entire place seemed like
a tomb, especially this late at night. It almost reminded her of
the basement at the FBI when she and Mulder stayed late to finish
up paperwork.
She snapped out of her reverie at the sound of the elevator
chime. As soon as the door opened she slid inside. Looking at the
floor readout, she almost smiled at the iron