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 irony. She was currently
in the upper basement level. Quickly sobering up as she
remembered her situation, she glanced at the sparse number of
choices she had in front of her. The lower basement was
definitely out, as was the roof. The exit would be on one of the
remaining two choices, either the first or the second floor. She
pressed 'one'.
She hoped she'd made the right choice as the door slid shut
in her face.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Outside the compound
12:33 AM
Unfortunately, the GPS receiver had failed to mention that
not only was the final location a few miles further in, but also
at least a half mile above him. Still, he had to admit, he'd made
good time.
He hovered a few feet below the edge of the road and against
the side of the cliff, slowly rising up as he kept watch for any
sign of life. Hearing and seeing nothing, he cautiously climbed
over the railing and onto the road. He turned and looked down the
way he'd flown, swallowing nervously at the steep drop. He
thought that it was probably a good thing he'd not looked down
while flying up.
Turning around, he crossed the road, coming up against the
face of the mountain on the other side. With a sigh, he jumped up
once again.
This time, he landed on what seemed like the edge of a small
forest. The wall of trees loomed in the darkness just a few feet
beyond where he stood. A glance at the receiver told him that he
was just a little over a mile away from his goal. Cautiously, he
made his way into the woods.
As expected, after about a mile, he saw the trees thinning
out in front of him. Coming to the edge, he took cover behind a
tree. He could make out the compound just a little under 500
yards away.
There was another fence around it. Beyond that, there
appeared to be three buildings forming a triangle, with a massive
fourth building right at the center. Behind the compound, the
mountain rose again, its summit lost in the darkness, and
probably the clouds as well, Mulder guessed.
The outer buildings seemed more like military barracks than
anything else. And he was willing to bet that the entrance to the
main building was teeming with security. Which left him with one
choice. He checked the receiver one final time, getting the
location readout as 450 yards away. Having made his decision, he
got out from behind the bushes, running towards the fence. He
hoped his choice of dark clothes and his speed would help him
blend into the night as he easily vaulted the fence and headed
in.
Halfway to the main building, he launched into the air once
again, heading for the small ventilation grate he'd spotted
earlier.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Inside the compound
12:34 AM
She wandered down the corridor, heading in what she hoped
was the direction of the nearest exit. She turned the corner and
came to a halt.
A dead end! Another locked door. All the ones she'd seen so
far had required voice identification. She silently fumed, and
almost turned back when she saw the small outline of a card slot.
Just like the one next to the elevator. Crossing her fingers, she
inserted the stolen cardkey in. With a soft sigh, the door in
front of her slid open.
She stepped inside, moving quietly. Once past the door, she
realized her error. Instead of a way out, she'd entered another
lab. This one was similar to the one she'd been held in
downstairs. Curious, she walked in further.
She came up to the nearest wall, her eyes sweeping across
the canisters of green fluid lined up on the shelves there. She
leaned closer, trying to read the small labels on the canisters.
Her jaw dropped at what she read. 'What the... It couldn't be...'
She moved to the next one, her eyes widening at each successive
label. 'Elizabeth Hagopian... Penelope Northern... Oh God!' She
almost cried out when she came to the ones at the end. 'Dana
Scully.' She froze in horror. Through the liquid, she could see
embryos, floating. No, she amended, they were fetuses. The one in
her canister just barely qualified as one, her clinical mind
supplied automatically, estimating its developmental stage at
somewhere between six to eight weeks. This room was some sort of
incubation chamber, she realized. But what brought tears to her
eyes were not the names on the labels, not even her own. Her eyes
wandered to the line below the one that read, "Donor : Dana
Scully."
To the line that read, "Emily II".
With trembling fingers, she reached out to touch the sides
of the container. 'Not again!' She could feel the tears as they
fell. She let them. Pain burned inside her; her anger blazed
white hot at the men who would perform such acts of atrocity for
their own reasons. She heard Mulder's voice in her head, telling
her about "genetic experiments being done," and about "children
being created." Was this what she'd helped steal from the Fort
Marlene facility during the incident when Deep Throat had been
shot? She hadn't wanted to believe Mulder when he'd told her what
he'd found in the retirement home in San Diego. But now, with the
proof right in front of her eyes...
She stood staring at the canisters for what seemed like an
eternity. With difficulty, she pulled herself away, moving beyond
the shelves to the refrigeration units. Still reeling from her
discovery, she pulled the doors open. The billowing smoke from
the condensation cleared to reveal several rows of small drawers.
She gasped as she realized what they were. She traced a finger
along the labels until she came to one with her name on it.
Taking a breath, she slowly pulled it open, uttering an
involuntary, "Oh, God!" at what she found. She reached in to pull
out the vial that lay inside. Her ova! She glanced at the names
on the other cells, noting those of the Allentown women,
interspersed among others she didn't know.
She gripped the vial tightly, moving back to close the
drawer and shut the doors. She looked down at the thin tube she
held in her hand. Another version of immortality, one she
wouldn't ever get to experience. She closed her eyes as she
stepped back, almost stumbling before she came to rest against a
desk. She put a hand behind her, steadying herself. She stood
there, taking in deep breaths as she strove to understand what
she'd seen.
But she couldn't, dammit! How could she? They had taken
something that had been uniquely hers, something to be cherished,
and perverted it for their own goals. How could she reconcile
that with her notions of justice? How dare they...? What right
did they have...? She couldn't complete her thought, her body
trembling with rage. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, to
keep from giving in to the urge to let it all out right then and
there.
She didn't even look up when she heard the footsteps enter
the lab. She knew, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, that
she had to take cover. But, in her present state of mind, she
couldn't bring herself to care enough. All she could see were the
floating fetuses... thousands of them, pleading with her to set
them free, to save them.
"What the hell! What are you doing in here?"
Her head snapped up. She saw the man in the lab coat run
towards the wall, his hands punching the intercom.
"Security, intruder alert! Security to lab one. I repeat,
intruder alert! Intruder... uhh..."
Before she could move, she saw the dark shape fall out of
the ventilation grate in the ceiling and land behind the man. She
watched as the lab tech's eyes rolled back in his head as he
slowly slumped to the floor. Behind him stood a sight she had not
thought she would ever see again.
"Oh, Mulder..." The crack in her voice betrayed her
happiness at seeing him, coupled with the horror and sadness at
her discoveries. She slowly took a step towards him.
"Scully..." The soft whisper conveyed words, thoughts,
beyond measure. He stepped over the prone body in front of him,
walking towards the other half of his soul. Coming up next to
her, he pulled her into a hug.
'So tight,' she thought, 'don't let go, Mulder. Don't ever
let go.'
"Never, Scully. Never again." His hoarse voice washed over
her as she realized she'd spoken her thoughts aloud. He pulled
out of the hug, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. He raised
her eyes to his, his own tears starting to flow at the sight of
hers. He rained delicate kisses on her forehead, her eyes, his
lips trying to capture every drop of moisture on her face.
"I'm so sorry, Scully. I was so stupid. I love you so much.
You are my soul, Scully. My other half. Without you..."
"Shh...," she placed a finger to his lips. "Just hold me,
Mulder." She burrowed further into his chest, her tears soaking
his shirt. "I'm sorry too, Mulder. What I said was... I never
meant..."
He silenced her with a sudden kiss, cutting off her attempt
at an apology. "Much as I'd love to do this right now, Scully,
we'll have to take a raincheck on the mutual confessions and
apologies." He glanced back at the body lying behind him.
"Security will be here any minute now. We have to get out of
here."
"No."
He'd already turned away, headed towards the door, when the
one word from his partner stopped him in his tracks. He whirled
around to face her. "Scully..."
His words were cut off as she grabbed his hand, dragging him
towards the canisters. Anything else he might have wanted to say
died on his lips as he saw the incubation tanks. She felt his
gasp when he came to the one... hers... He reached out a
trembling hand, gently caressing the outside of the glass. He
turned towards Scully, his eyes filled with sorrow and pain, his
mouth opening and closing a few times before he could get the
words out. "I'm so sorry, Scully. I never... Oh, god! What have
they done? What are we..." He saw the look on her face. His voice
dropped to a whisper. "What do you want to do, Scully?"
She swallowed a few times, trying to get the courage to tell
him what she wanted. "We... we have to...," she broke off with a
choked sob, a hand tightly grasping Mulder's. She felt his hand
squeezing back, assuring her of his presence, his comfort, his
support. She took a deep breath, then, "We have to kill them,
Mulder." He could almost feel her heart breaking as she
continued, "If they are anything like Emily... We... I... I can't
allow them to be, Mulder. Not again. They don't deserve to live
like that. They don't deserve to be used, to die like that."
"Can you do it?"
She blinked, surprised at the matter-of-fact tone in his
voice. She looked up into his eyes, and realized something. He
had to do this. He had to distance himself from this, else he
would succumb to his grief. Just like she would if she wasn't
careful. There would be time to grieve later. For now... she bit
her lip, then nodded.
He nodded in reply, then jerked his head up. "Someone's
coming. Probably in search of the intruder. I'll distract them.
Will you be all right?" 'Will you be safe?' his eyes asked
silently. 'More importantly, are you okay with this?'
"Yes," she replied, answering both his questions at once.
She saw that he still seemed hesitant to leave her. She whispered
one word, "Go," then resolutely turned to face the task she'd set
for herself.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"All the preliminary tests are done, sir. We're ready to
move the boy anytime."
He looked at the screen in front of him, the cigarette smoke
whirling around his head. "Good," he rasped. "I'll be expecting a
report tomorrow afternoon."
"What about the father, sir? He's still here. Do you want
him to go along with the boy?"
"No. Send him to his quarters before you start the transfer.
I have something else in mind for him."
The man on the screen nodded, then turned away, breaking the
connection.
He sat back, but before he could bring the cigarette back to
his mouth, his attention was diverted by the blinking red light
on the console. He turned on the speaker, frowning as he heard
the words, "Intruder alert."
'She couldn't have...' He flicked on a switch, bringing the
monitor in the basement lab to life. He allowed himself a sigh of
relief when he saw the woman still strapped down on the examining
table. 'But if not her, then...' Of course. He should have known.
He got up and turned towards the door.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Mulder saw her turn away and move towards the chemicals on
the other side of the lab. Taking a deep breath, he turned and
headed out the doors. Turning the corner, he'd barely gone
halfway down the corridor when he ran into the squad of guards.
As soon as he saw them, he moved, his figure almost blurring
with speed as he crashed into them. Silently, but efficiently, he
disarmed all five soldiers, rendering each one unconscious. He
was just beyond the range of Scully's quickening when he felt
another immortal, moving towards him. Even with Scully's final
warning about the presence of an immortal in the building, he was
still shaken that one of them would be a part of the consortium.
He looked down the corridor, then back the way he'd come. If he
went back to the lab, the immortal would surely catch up with
them before Scully was finished. Making a decision, he stood
above the guards, his hand reaching for the sword hidden in his
coat as he waited for the immortal to come to him.
"It's somewhat ironic, I think, that you would die your
first death in my absence, yet you consider me your greatest
enemy. Wouldn't you agree, Agent Mulder?"
If Mulder thought the presence of an immortal in the
consortium was surprising, the identity of the immortal knocked
him speechless. But then, he *had* survived the shooting, hadn't
he? He watched as the cancerman walked up to him, the ever-
present cigarette clutched between his fingers.
"You...," Mulder allowed the breathless whisper to escape.
The moment of surprise was all he allowed himself as a blank
expression settled on his face. His eyes narrowed as he got a
tighter grip on his weapon. "I suppose it's no use hoping that
you'll keel over from lung cancer anytime soon." Before Mulder
could unsheathe his sword, the other pulled out a gun, aiming it
squarely at his chest. "What's the matter? Scared now that I've
got something that can actually kill you?"
The taunt simply served to add a smile on his opponent's
face, one that sent chills down his spine.
"Do you know how long I've looked forward to this day, Agent
Mulder? I'm not about to jeopardize it by taking unnecessary
risks. This...," he said, nodding at the gun, "is just a simple
precaution. Now, if you'll be so kind as to walk this way..."
He stepped back against the wall, his gun following Mulder
as the agent walked past him. Away from the lab, Mulder noted in
relief. "Where are we going?" Mulder asked as they came up to the
elevator.
"Somewhere where I hope I can convince you...," he trailed
off as they stepped into the elevator.
"Convince me of what?"
"I think I'll let the evidence speak for itself."
The elevator stopped on the second floor, the doors opening
to reveal a short corridor into... Mulder stepped out, his eyes
roaming around the area in awe. The entire second floor was one
huge room, the ceiling almost lost in the darkness above him. The
center of the room was occupied with what seemed like an immense
hole. It had to have been at least a hundred feet in diameter.
Suspended above the hole, an intricate network of electronics and
cables gleamed in the artificial light. Looking around, Mulder
could see the array of sensors and monitors that adorned the
walls of the room. Just walking in, he could feel the power that
thrummed under the floor beneath his feet.
"Impressed yet, Mulder?"
"What... what is this place?" he whispered, tearing his gaze
away from the room to focus on his longtime adversary.
"Your truth, Agent Mulder. That which you've been searching
for your entire life. Proof."
"Proof?" Mulder turned to follow the cancerman as he walked
past the agent and towards the center of the room.
"Proof, Agent Mulder." He paused, his voice lowering into an
excited whisper. "Of extraterrestrial life." He walked to the
railing around the hole, turning and beckoning Mulder to his
side. "What do you know about the 1947 Roswell incident, Mulder?"
An eyebrow went up, even as the eyes narrowed in distrust.
After being lied to and deceived so many times, he'd grown almost
ambivalent about this particular topic. "Supposedly, a UFO
crashed there, and the government covered it up. From some of the
things I've seen, I assumed the event actually did take place.
That is, until I spoke with Kritschgau."
"Ah yes, Michael Kritschgau." A slow smile settled once
again on the cancerman's weathered face. "An excellent piece of
disinformation, even if I do say so myself. When I concocted the
story he fed you, I never thought the others in the consortium
would use it against *you*. I tried to tell you, if you remember,
that his story was nothing but lies. And that, Agent Mulder," he
said, waving his hand around to encompass the hole in the center
of the room, "is the truth. A large scale replica of the engine
from the Roswell UFO."
He turned to face Mulder, an almost manic gleam in his eyes.
"It's a deuterium based fusion reactor, Mulder. Alien technology.
Would you believe that this single piece of equipment could power
this entire compound for the next hundred years without
refueling? That the original engine could, and has, powered craft
at speeds close to a quarter light speed? Think of it! Anywhere
in the solar system in less than a day. Imagine the
possibilities. Imagine the power that would belong to the ones
who possessed this technology."
"Power. It always comes down to that, doesn't it?" Mulder
let out a derisive snort, shaking his head. "Besides, from what
I've seen, you haven't exactly gotten this technology to work
properly, have you?"
The cigarette man let out a sigh. "You are right about that.
Unfortunately, before we could examine the alien craft more
thoroughly, they managed to escape." He raised his head, aiming a
glare at Mulder when the agent laughed at his admission. "The
alien craft somehow used an inertia dampening system to reduce
the effects of acceleration, and some form of advanced force
field technology to contain the radiation. The radiation's the
reason the reaction chamber is buried almost a half mile down
that hole."
"What about the planes? The pilots? How do you protect
th..." Mulder trailed off, the answer obvious. "Of course.
Ellens, and the other planes..." Memories of one of his first
cases with Scully, images of pilots with what were probably
radiation burns flitted across his mind. "You don't tell them
about the dangers, do you?" he asked, horrified. "Is that why
even military test pilots die from testing these planes? From the
acceleration? From the radiation?"
"For every step forward, Agent Mulder, sacrifices must be
made. Those men gave their lives to further the project. They
were nothing but a means to an end."
"You bastard," Mulder spit out. "You would let people die,
just like that? How can you call yourself human?"
"I am not... human...," he replied, his face conveying the
impression that saying the word was somehow distasteful. "I am
immortal. The end result of millennia of evolution. Mortals are
but experiments of nature, trying to perfect the immortal
genome." He paused, taking a puff from his cigarette before
continuing.
"You don't believe me, do you? I can see the doubt in your
face." He took a step toward Mulder, his grip tightening on the
gun he still held against the agent. "I want to assure my place
in history, Agent Mulder. If this is the way, then so be it. I
have no wish to die in the Game. And if you were smart, you'd
realize that. I offered you the chance to join me once before.
The offer still holds." He paused, his face turning thoughtful as
he considered his next words. "You are an immortal, Fox Mulder.
You are as far above mortals as they are above dogs. And with the
information that I need, that I'm going to get from your partner,
we will be invincible. No one, immortal or mortal, would dare
stand in our way. What do you say, Mulder?"
"And who are you going to get to replace me in the FBI?
Another pre-immortal, like I was? That idiot, Spender? Don't
think I didn't see you talking to him in that hospital garage.
And what information are you talking about? What have you done to
Scully?"
The smoker blinked, a thread of suspicion running through
him. Something was not right; he could almost feel it. But he
couldn't quite put his finger on what it might be. There was just
something about Mulder's reaction that seemed out of place.
Shaking his head, he pushed the nagging feeling to the back of
his mind. "Despite the various stories you may have heard, Agent
Mulder, there have been only a handful of alien visitations to
this planet of ours. The one in 1947, the meteor carrying the
black oil organisms, and a few others including the one you ran
into in Chicago."
Mulder sucked in a breath as he recalled the case that had
almost sent him into a mental institution a couple of weeks
before.
The cancerman let out a small laugh as he noticed his
reaction. "Oh yes. We finally managed to catch up with it in
Missouri, after tracking it for almost ten years. All thanks to
you, Agent Mulder. But, getting back to what I was saying...," he
trailed off, walking away from Mulder and around the central
opening. His hands brushed the railing as he stared down the
hole.
"We managed to get samples of DNA from the aliens, Mulder.
You've seen the effects of grafting this DNA onto immortal genes,
haven't you? The bounty hunter clone was our greatest success. A
shape shifting ability combined with an immortal's invincibility.
Unfortunately, we haven't been able to do anything to remove the
vertebral vulnerability or the relatively short lifespans of
these clones. Now do you see why we need your partner, Agent
Mulder?"
"I still have no idea what you are talking about." Mulder
reached into his coat again, fingering his sword. The action
seemed to pull the other man out of whatever train of thought
he'd been immersed in.
He shook the gun at Mulder, indicating that the agent keep
his hands at his side. "Dr. Ishimaru, the man you knew as Shiro
Zama, helped me perfect the results of the DNA hybridization. We
had one success, albeit a horribly disfigured specimen, and he
immediately stole the result. Of course, I immediately had him
killed. I never did figure out why the man I sent didn't save the
experiment. He said he'd gotten there too late. Apparently, not
too late to save you from the bomb though. I thought the results
of the experiment were lost forever. Little did I know Agent
Scully's procedure actually worked. My one *true* success."
Mulder sucked in a breath. "The branched DNA," he whispered,
"it was from the hybridization. You grafted immortal DNA onto her
own, didn't you?"
"Now you understand. Yes. We exploited her inherent tendency
for immortality, gave it a boost, so to speak. None of the other
women we tried the procedure on survived. If we could just figure
out how your partner did, we could then replicate it in our
clones. Think of it, Mulder. The secret to eternal life. An army
of soldiers who cannot die, loyal to no one but me... us. Our
current hybrids are invincible, and we can grow them to whatever
age we want, but they never survive for more than a few years
after incubation. You saw the result with Agent Scully's
daughter..."
"How can you be so callous, you son of a bitch?" Mulder
screamed, cutting him off. "Don't you feel even a shred of regret
at what you've done? How dare you presume to act as god with
these people's lives? What gives you and the consortium the
right..."
"Careful, Agent Mulder. Before I reconsider my decision to
ask you to join me. A conscience is not an asset in this line of
work, and you'd be well advised to remember that. And no one else
in the consortium knows about immortals. They are merely a tool
for me, for us. Once I have the secret of immortality, they will
go the way of all the other mortals who've stood in my way."
"Like my father?" Mulder hissed. "I suppose he stood in your
way too? Like Scully's sister?"
"Oh come now. Surely you don't believe he was your real
father? Don't you know about immortals, Mulder? No family,
remember? I placed you and Samantha with your parents, but yes.
Bill Mulder was nothing more than another tool, discarded when he
tried to betray me. As for Ms. Scully's sister, that was simply
an unfortunate accident. My men were supposed to scare your
partner, not try to kill her, and certainly not kill her sister."
He paused, almost as if he were trying to draw out his next
words. "Join me, Agent Mulder. Join me, and I'll return your
partner to you once we're done with her."
"What about my sister? What about Samantha?" There was a
desperate note in Mulder's voice that had been absent before.
"Will you return her as well? Was that really her in that diner?"
The other man grew silent, his eyes narrowing at Mulder's
question. The feeling of wrongness grew. Mulder's reaction to his
news about Dana Scully was totally different from what he'd
expected. It almost seemed as if he didn't care that she'd been
taken again. Had they had some sort of falling out? But, if he
didn't care for her, a small possibility considering their
relationship over the last few years, why would he have come
here, gone through so much trouble to find her?
After the incident with the first Samantha clone, he'd
figured that Mulder's partner had become almost as important to
the agent as his sister, if not more. Which made his current
attitude all the more incongruous. He considered his response to
Mulder's question. The agent had seemed almost indifferent to
Scully's second abduction. If he was simply putting up a false
front, maybe what he needed was another shock to break him. And
if he really didn't care, then he had as good as joined his
agenda anyway. He wondered whether the truth about his sister
would shake him up more, or a lie. Taking a breath, he made his
decision.
"She's dead." He paused at the strangled cry that escaped
the agent's mouth as he staggered back. He saw the color drain
from Mulder's face as he clutched the railing, his knuckles
turning white from the strength of his grip. Another push, and
he'd surely go over. "She's been dead for almost 20 years,
although she lived long enough to supply us with the raw material
for her clones. You've been chasing a ghost all this time,
Mulder," he went on, his voice almost taunting. He watched the
transformation on the agent's face with fascination. In the span
of a few seconds, expressions ranging from disbelief, horror,
anger and hurt raced across Mulder's face. When it finally
settled into a mask devoid of emotion, he started to feel the
first niggling strands of doubt. When Mulder reached in to pull
out his sword, the doubt solidified into realization. He'd gone
too far.
"I am Fox Mulder," the words came out, soft yet laced with
anger and pain. "And you are hereby challenged," Mulder whispered
quietly, drawing his sword.
The smoker raised his gun, pointing it unwaveringly at his
opponent's chest. "After all I've done for you, this is the
thanks I get? I made you what you are, Mulder. How sharper than a
serpent's tooth..."
"You are about to find out," Mulder spat out as he lunged
forward. He didn't flinch at the report as the gun went off. He
barely felt the bullet lodge within his body as he easily knocked
the weapon out of his tormentor's hand.
The cancerman staggered back, shaking his hand to get the
feeling back in it. Standing up, he watched in surprise as Mulder
came towards him, obviously unscathed. He couldn't have missed,
could he? Not at this range. He reached into his coat to pull out
his own sword. "I am sorry you feel that way, Agent Mulder. We
would have made a great team. However..." He pulled the sword
into a defensive stance, waiting for the first strike. "David
Williams, and I accept your challenge."
When it came, he was still unprepared for the ferocity of
the attack. He could tell that Mulder was still in the grip of a
tremendous rage, the clumsiness of the lunge clear proof of that.
But the agent more than made up for his inefficiency with speed
and power. For the first time in more than a century, the man
whose real name had long since been forgotten felt the faint
stirrings of panic.
Turning around to face his opponent again, Mulder uttered a
cry as he raced forward once more. Their blades met with a
resounding clash, sparks flying off where steel met steel.
Despite his agility and superior strength, Mulder felt himself
slowly losing ground as his hated enemy slowly pushed him back,
away from the center of the room. He knew what lay behind him,
the bank of controls, arranged in a small semicircle. If he was
pushed back that far, he would be trapped, his movements
restricted. Taking control of his rage, he tried to remember what
both Duncan and Connor had drilled into him since his crossover.
He felt a sense of calm overtake him as he distanced himself from
his turbulent thoughts. With an almost elegant grace, he pulled
up his sword to meet his opponent's onslaught.
The machinery in the room cast an almost eerie glow on the
two men as they battled. Mulder pressed forward, swinging his
blade as he tried to press his advantage, but the older man
effortlessly blocked his swings, his moves tempered by
experience. Any ground Mulder gained, he immediately lost as the
other pushed him relentlessly back towards the corner. With a
desperate cry, Mulder ducked a lethal swing, then pulled his
sword up, aiming for his opponent's torso.
The sword swung across empty air, and Mulder immediately
knew he'd made a mistake. He instinctively pushed himself back,
but not before he felt the other's sword rake across his face. If
he'd been a fraction of a second slower, he would have lost his
head. As it was, he knew he'd been hurt bad when he felt his
entire face on fire. Worse, the sword had cut across his eyes,
effectively blinding him as the blood coursed down his face. He
blinked trying to clear his vision, his sword moving up to meet
the other's swing almost on instinct. The swords met, the blades
caught, and with a tug, Mulder's blade was pushed away. He barely
managed to keep his hand around its hilt when he felt it.
Agony.
Or hell. That was how he'd describe it. He felt the steel as
it slid through his stomach, and he could almost imagine it
sticking out of his back. He threw his head back and screamed.
His muscles spasmed around the unwelcome intruder as his body
tried desperately to repair itself. He felt his face
transforming, his fangs sliding out almost involuntarily, even as
he knew his eyes had taken on an unearthly hue. He opened his
eyes, trying again to clear them, but to no avail. He decided to
keep them shut, straining instead with his other senses as he
tried to pinpoint his location within the room.
His opponent was taken aback, the blood draining from his
face. His hand on the sword still embedded in Mulder's body, he
simply stood there, his mouth agape. "What the hell are you,
Mulder?" he whispered hoarsely.
"The stuff your worst nightmares are made of," Mulder spat
at him, tightening his grip on his weapon. With a yell, he pushed
forward, unmindful of the sword running through him. His body
slid up the blade, coming to rest up against its hilt. When the
blade ran out, he kept pushing, moving them both towards the
center of the room. Still blind, he felt them both come to rest
against the railing. He pressed forward, jamming the hilt between
his body and his enemy's, preventing the other from pulling out
his sword.
"There can be..." Mulder tightened his grip on his own
sword, raising it above his head. His eyes still closed, he moved
his other hand up. "... only one," he finished, bringing the
sword down in a double handed overhead stroke. He felt the rush
of air as the blade swung. He felt the cancerman still trying to
disengage his sword, and he thought he felt him raise his other
hand in a futile effort to ward off the inevitable. Mulder felt
his sword catch slightly as it cut through flesh and bone,
swinging across, then down to his side. He felt a tickling
sensation as the sword slid out of him, pulled out by his
opponent as his body fell back.
Mulder staggered back, his strength spent. He raised a
trembling hand to his face, wiping it clean and finally managing
to open one relatively undamaged eye. He frowned, one hand over
the other eye as he scanned the deserted room. His face cleared
as he realized what had happened. He stepped forward, leaning
against the railing as he looked down the hole. He thought he saw
something, a faint glow perhaps, but he couldn't be sure.
Suddenly he saw the faint crackle of electricity, arcing across
the walls of the shaft an almost impossible distance away. The
cancerman *had* said that the hole was almost a half a mile deep.
Mulder allowed himself to feel a perverse sense of satisfaction
at the idea that he wouldn't be saddled with the black lunged
bastard's quickening. Not at this distance, anyway.
His head shot up when he saw the room darken. He looked
around, taking in the sight as console after console abruptly
darkened. The blackout swept across the room, and before long he
became aware of a slight increase in the ever-present rumbling
beneath his feet. He felt the tremors increase in strength, and
he cast his eyes back down. As he watched, he saw the glow in the
shaft brighten, slowly increasing in intensity. The shaking was
threatening to shake him off his feet now. All around him, pieces
of equipment crashed to the ground, electrical sparks and shorts
running rampant as several of the consoles exploded. He sucked in
a breath as he remembered exactly what was down the shaft, and
the probable effect of any kind of disturbance on said equipment.
He thought he saw something moving up the hole, and when he
finally made out what it was, his eye widened in horror.
Below him, a wall of flame moved up the shaft, the terrible
brightness consuming the oxygen in the hole at an incredible
rate. Mulder had barely a second to step back before it erupted,
flames leaping out of the shaft in a grotesque recreation of his
very own private armageddon. That was the last thought running
through his mind as the fire enveloped his body, the force of the
blast enough to propel his charred and broken carcass across the
room. He felt the incredible pain as layers upon layers of skin
were simply seared off before the nerve endings were mercifully
cauterized. He saw more than felt his eyeballs burst, the vivid
red the last thing his brain processed before the severed optic
nerves broke the connection to his eyes. He could feel his bones
grinding against one another, bending in horribly wrong
directions before breaking under the strain. But he barely felt
the pain, his nerves already deadened to it, and didn't even have
the time to realize it as his body first lost consciousness, then
life.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
1:25 AM
She looked through the computer one last time, her finger
trailing across the screen as she read off the chart line by line
until she came to her own.
Scully, DK 13.10.94
02/08/67.0
NUC, RBC
Fetus: Emily
status: hybrid - donor samples S222-7.7.47, I171-27.9.73
life expectancy: 3 years, terminated
Fetus: Emily II
status: hybrid - donor samples S223-7.7.47, I171-27.9.73
life expectancy: 5 years
Ova:
status: hybrid - donor samples S226-7.7.47, I171-27.9.73
count: 2400 viable
She bit her lip, the words blurring in front of her eyes. It
took her a few seconds to realize that the reason was the tears
starting to flow down her face rather than any shortcoming on the
part of the computer monitor. Dammit, she'd resolved to hold her
emotions in check until this thing was over and done with. She'd
already cried far too much the last few days, but there was only
so much hurt a human psyche, albeit an immortal one, could take
before it started to break down. She'd been hoping against hope
that perhaps some of her ova at least could have been salvaged.
Unfortunately, all of hers and the others' had been hybridized.
She'd already destroyed the incubation tanks, taking care to
add enough cyanide to kill the fetuses, quickly and painlessly.
She'd also raised the temperature on the refrigeration units
until all the ova became unviable. All that was left was the vial
of her own ova that she'd retrieved earlier. She looked down at
it, her fingers stroking it as she thought about the
possibilities that could now never be. Swallowing back a choked
sob, she undid the clasp and pulled out the cap. She reached over
to the solution she'd prepared earlier from the supplies she'd
found in the lab. Picking up the dropper, she allowed a couple of
drops to fall in, feeling like a murderer even as she watched the
solution in the vial grow murky.
She had barely finished when saw the monitor turn off. She
looked up just in time to see the lights in the lab flicker, then
die down. A few seconds later, the emergency lighting came
online, bathing the room in dim orange light. At the same time,
she felt the rumble beneath her feet. She jumped out of the
chair, moving against a wall as she felt the entire room start to
shake. She glanced around, watching in shock as several of the
incubation canisters fell off their shelves. One after another,
they fell, the sounds of glass shattering echoing around the
empty lab. Across the room, several monitors and consoles burst
into flame, even as the floor beneath her threatened to push her
off her feet.
She barely had the time to wonder if this area was prone to
earthquakes when she felt the floor tilt beneath her. The vial
fell from her hand, shattering against the hard tiles. She looked
up to see an entire section of the wall buckle, then lean towards
her. The last thing she saw was the widening crack along the wall
as pieces of both it and the ceiling fell on her.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
1:37 AM
She came to with a gasp, realizing immediately that she'd
only been knocked unconscious. Her eyes flew open, taking in her
surroundings. Amid the irregular strobes of orange light, she
could barely make out the pieces of ceiling that lay atop her
small frame, propped against each other, providing a sort of
crude overhang. It had protected her from all the other debris
that she could see once she dragged herself out from under it.
She stood on shaky legs, turning around to survey the
damage. Her eyes widened as she looked up. This was the first
floor, with at least one more above her. Yet she could see the
stars shining above her head. Her jaw dropped. Whatever had
happened, the entire second floor of the building now occupied
the same space as the first. Looking around, she stepped over
various pieces of debris, giving the room a final once over
before heading out into the corridor. She had one thought in her
head. To find Mulder.
Having decided to retrace her steps to the elevator, she was
halfway down the corridor when she heard the faint groans. She
froze, her eyes darting every which way, painfully aware that she
was weaponless should someone decide to pose a threat. When she
heard the pain that laced the next groan, she turned, moving
towards the sound. A few doors down on her left, she paused. When
she heard it again, she made up her mind. With a grunt she threw
herself against the door, easily breaking it open now that most
of its supports had given way. She stumbled in, then stopped at
the sight that greeted her.
On the ground in front of her, a bruised and battered
Jeffrey Green lay under what looked like an entire section of the
outer wall. Uttering a small cry, Scully rushed forward, kneeling
beside the inert form. She dug her fingers under the block of
concrete, desperately trying to raise it. She stopped when she
felt the faint brush of his fingers across her wrist. She looked
down, watching his eyes flutter open as his mouth started to
move.
"I'm so sorry, Dana. For everything..."
She could barely hear his faint whisper. She pressed two
fingers against his throat, feeling the thready pulse there.
"Don't you dare die on me Jeff," Scully pleaded frantically. "Let
me just get this thing off. You'll be fine. You still owe me that
lasagna recipe, remember?"
The shattered mouth stretched in a grotesque imitation of a
smile, then went limp. "Too late...," he breathed, then coughed,
blood spilling out of his mouth. "I just wish..." He was
interrupted by another bout of coughing. Scully could easily make
out the sound of the fluid that was rapidly seeping into his
lungs. "... Jeremy..." The one word came out in a whisper as his
body finally stilled.
"*JEFF*!" she screamed, her fingers trying to find a pulse
without success. 'Not again!' she cried to herself. 'Not someone
else I care for. How many more?' she railed against a god she had
difficulty believing in at the moment. She wiped her eyes, then
slid a hand over his face, closing his eyes. Hanging her head,
she stood back up, turning to leave the way she'd come. Surveying
the damage, she knew that there could be no way little Jeremy had
survived this. She resolutely moved towards the center of the
complex, still trying to find Mulder.
She paused at the end of the corridor, gaping at the amount
of damage in this section of the building. Here, nothing was left
standing except for a few walls. But the piles of debris more
than made up for the lack of obstacles in her path. Absently
scratching her hands, she moved around the pieces of rubble. When
she felt the itch start up all over her body, she paused,
frowning. She looked down at her hands, her eyes widening in
shock at what she saw. She immediately recognized the signs...
radiation poisoning. What exactly had happened here?
Ignoring the itch for now, she walked towards where most of
the wreckage lay. With their luck... Her intuition paid off, her
eyes catching a glimpse of a hand jutting out from beneath a
mountain of debris. She looked around for something to pry the
rubble off. Picking up a piece of railing, she hooked it under a
piece of concrete, managing to lever it off the body underneath.
She gasped in horror at the sight in front of her.
She almost had trouble recognizing the body as Mulder's.
Most of his face and body had been burned off, his limbs
occupying positions unattainable by the human form. She knelt
down beside him, lifting his hand and caressing it gently. Her
head jerked up when she heard the noise. She looked up, just able
to make out the faint outline of a helicopter in the distance,
silhouetted against the moon.
She looked back down. Finding his sword not too far away,
she tucked it within what was left of his coat. She briefly
wondered at the identity of the other immortal that Mulder must
have fought with. 'And won, thank god,' she silently added with
relief. "Sorry about this, Mulder," she muttered, then grabbed
his hands and pulled up. Standing up, she placed one of his hands
across her shoulder, then dragged him as she moved down the
corridor to where she'd seen a possible exit. Reaching the hole
in the building's outer wall, she managed to pull Mulder through
it and out onto the compound ground. She tried to remember what
Mulder had told her about the layout of the place, but gave it up
when she saw that she couldn't make out anything in the darkness.
Wherever the chopper was coming from, they hadn't been here when
the explosion had occurred. The entire compound, what she could
make out of it anyway, was now a total loss, and she was sure
that other than herself and Mulder, not one person had survived.
She could barely make out the outline of some woods in the
distance, and decided to head for them. She trudged across open
ground for what seemed like an eternity after climbing through a
gaping hole in the perimeter fence, dragging Mulder's dead weight
behind her. She almost let out a hysterical laugh at the
appropriateness of calling his body "dead" weight, then sobered
when she heard the noise from the helicopter come closer. She'd
barely made it to the woods when she saw the bright searchlight
play across the compound and its surroundings. She saw the light
move in her direction. Protected though she was by the overhang
of trees, she still let out a breath of relief when it veered off
just a few feet shy of the two agents.
Quickly turning around, she pulled Mulder deeper into the
woods, hoping to find a method of escape on the other side. It
was slow going until she noted the thinning trees as she came to
the opposite edge, then almost let out a cry as she froze at the
steep drop just past it. Another couple of steps and she'd surely
have gone over. She backed up to behind the tree line, trying to
figure a way out. She couldn't carry Mulder much farther, his
body already weighing her down, tiring her. As it was, every
muscle in her body complained at the abuse she was putting them
through. And, for all intents and purposes, Fox Mulder had yet to
rejoin the land of the living.
She let Mulder slide down to the ground, then bent down,
hands on her knees as she drew in several deep breaths. The sound
of her breathing seemed almost deafening in the silence. Suddenly
she realized that she couldn't hear the helicopter anymore. That
meant two possibilities. Either they had landed, an unlikely
possibility considering the evidence of the explosion, especially
if they knew about the radiation. Or, more likely, they had gone
for reinforcements, which meant that soon the entire area would
be crawling with men in radiation suits, and resources better
equipped to investigate the explosion. 'And search for
survivors,' the voice at the back of her mind needlessly echoed.
She was running out of time.
She glanced back down at Mulder's prone body, and came to a
decision. She remembered something Natalie had mentioned back in
Seattle. The topic had come up in idle conversation, but she was
quickly running out of ideas. Taking a breath, she kneeled beside
Mulder, reaching in to pull out his sword. She held it over her
wrist, her fingers trembling over the hilt. Closing her eyes, she
gritted her teeth as she pulled the sword across her hand. She
flinched at the sharp pain as she severed the veins in her wrist.
Quickly, she put the sword aside, pulling down on Mulder's jaw,
laying her wrist against it. She watched as drop after precious
drop fell into his mouth.
After a few seconds, she felt the wound close up. She placed
two fingers against Mulder's throat, feeling for a pulse without
success. With a sigh, she repeated the procedure. Her wrist
brushed against Mulder's lips, this time sending an almost
electric tingle up her arm. She felt a faint warmth against her
hand, a faint tingle as she felt the field of his quickening
brush against hers. Looking down, she saw the dry and cracked
lips part slightly, allowing the liquid to flow through. Her eyes
widened in shock as she watched the fangs slide down from their
sheath. His mouth moved forward, his teeth latching onto the open
wound, sucking greedily.
She felt the sensations coursing through her, her body
almost shutting itself down at the incredible feelings it felt.
She threw her head back, her eyes closed tight, her teeth biting
down hard on her lower lip to keep from screaming. As it was, she
couldn't hold back the moan that escaped her lips.
'Ohhhhh!!! GOD!!!' The hunger. Unimaginable pleasure.
Unbearable pain. Sheer ecstasy warring against stark terror. A
fire in her, reaching from the tip of her toes to the roots of
her hair. The doctor in her mentally cataloged a possible toxin
in Mulder's saliva, some sort of endorphin or other peptide
hormone, triggering the opiate receptors in her brain. The rest
of her threatened to fall into a delirium of ecstasy.
But all this was eclipsed by the one feeling that shot
through her, striking her to the very core of her being. She felt
his essence, enveloping her, cocooning her within itself. She
felt the depth of his love, sweeping through her body, causing
her to almost cry out at the intensity of the emotion. She knew
he loved her. She believed it with every breath of her being. But
if this was what he felt, she wondered how he withstood it every
moment of every day. How had he survived for five years, so close
to her, yet standing across an unreachable chasm for all intents
and purposes? She shuddered at the loneliness he must have felt
all his life, being denied someone to share his heart, his very
soul with. Suddenly she felt almost ashamed of her actions. Not
that Mulder didn't share some of the blame for their behavior the
past week. But she could only imagine the kind of torture he must
have gone through when he'd left her apartment.
She made a silent vow to herself never to let that happen
ever again. Never to let it get this bad. She wasn't sure Mulder
would survive it. And she wasn't entirely sure she'd survive his
loss either. Two beings, two lives, so intricately interwoven
with each other. Almost inconceivable in its terrible beauty.
Ironic that a god that could create monsters that killed and
destroyed lives with such impunity could also create something so
wonderful. Ironic, yet somehow infinitely appropriate.
'SCULLY!!!' The scream tore through the haze surrounding
her. Her eyes snapped open, her hand automatically reaching for
his mouth in an attempt to quiet him. She was already feeling
somewhat lightheaded from the blood loss. The fog lifted as she
realized that his mouth was still closed around her wrist. She
frowned. He hadn't screamed, but she'd heard him, hadn't she? She
certainly recognized his voice. She saw his eyes blink once,
again, then almost recoiled at the angry red that seemed to light
up his face in an ethereal glow. She reached forward to disengage
herself from his mouth.
"Mulder," she whispered, even the low volume not quite able
to keep the tremors out of her voice. She could still feel the
intense emotions coursing through her, emotions that she was hard
pressed to keep under control. She tried to pry apart his jaw,
but she could hardly keep her eyes open. Damn! Natalie had warned
her about this, about the hunger, but she'd thought she could
control him. Obviously she hadn't been able to. This wasn't an
experience she'd forget anytime soon, she thought as she lost the
struggle to stay conscious.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Thirst! That was the first thing she was aware of when she
opened her eyes. It was still dark, and she had no idea how long
she had been unconscious. She felt a slight movement next to her,
and realized that the tickling sensation she was feeling was
Mulder's arm slung across her stomach. Licking her lips in an
attempt to wet her mouth, she managed to find her voice enough to
whisper a faint, "Mulder?"
She felt the body beside her stir, felt the arm tighten,
pulling her closer. With a regretful sigh, she pulled herself
loose, immediately feeling a sense of loss as she left his
embrace. She saw Mulder lying beside her, his eyes closed. His
body seemed to have healed a little, the horrible burns not as
visible now as they had been before. But he was still a sight,
flaked and burnt areas still evident as they formed a patchwork
across his body. She delicately ran a hand over his face,
thankful that it had almost returned to some semblance of his
former visage. Most of the hair on his face had been singed off,
and what remained on his head looked like someone had taken a
weed whacker to it. 'Not unlike some of his haircuts,' she mused
with a slight smile. Well, she consoled herself, it would grow
back. It always had before. She ran her fingers through the dry
bristle with a wistful sigh.
She was wondering how much time they had before somebody
found them when she was startled by her partner coming around.
"Mulder?" she whispered again, kneeling beside him as her hands
caressed his face. "Hey partner," she asked softly, "how are you
feeling?"
"Like I've been on a tour of Bikini Island at the wrong time
of the century," the hoarse voice whispered back before subsiding
into a fit of coughs.
"Whoa! Easy there, G-man." Scully helped him to a sitting
position, leaning him against a tree, then settling down to sit
beside him. "You may not be too far off. The compound is pretty
much destroyed by what seems like a small scale atomic explosion.
Anyone not killed in the blast would surely have succumbed to
radiation poisoning by now."
"Fusion, Scully," he corrected. He raised his hands to rub
his eyes. "Cancerman said he had a fusion reactor...," Mulder
trailed off, blinking as he finally opened his eyes. "Scully?" he
ventured faintly, his voice almost... frightened. His head darted
from side to side as he tried to focus on her face. His partner
watched his movements with confusion, then shock as she realized
something. "Scully, where are you? It's too dark. I can't see
you."
"It's not that dark, Mulder." Scully reached forward to lift
his chin, her heart thumping painfully when she saw him flinch in
surprise at her touch. She waved her other hand in front of his
eyes, eyes that still glowed red in the darkness. Her heart sank
as she registered the lack of response. At his questioning
glance, she replied softly, "The stars are out, Mulder. I can see
you."
"Scully..."
"Mulder, your eyes haven't healed yet. You're still blind."
He took in a deep breath. He closed his eyes, nodding slowly
as if accepting his condition.
It didn't fool his partner one bit. Scully could clearly see
the slight quiver in his lip, something she knew only happened
when Mulder was close to losing control. "It's okay, Mulder. I'm
here. You're going to be all right," she said reassuringly. She
moved beside him, cradling his head against her chest, hugging
him close to her. "Both Nick and Duncan said that eye injuries
are one of the hardest to heal. Give it time."
The raw terror that assailed her almost caused her to flinch
at its vehemence. When Nick had mentioned that a vampire's bite
initiated a faint mental connection between the parties involved,
she had written it off as unfounded fantasy. She was rapidly
revising her notions now. The overwhelming feelings coursing
through her when he'd bitten her, the spark inside her that was
Mulder, a part of him that remained with her even after their
connection was severed... all the side effects that both Nick and
Natalie had cautioned her about, only magnified a thousandfold.
They had thoroughly understated the effect, especially now that
she was in physical contact with him.
For his part, the fear was the only thing Mulder could think
of. The last thing he remembered was the wall of flame rising,
coming toward him. Pain, and then blessed blackness... permeated
with images of his sister floating away, ensconced in a bright
light, images of Scully being taken by Barry while he stood by
helpless, images of the office, his beloved files, his life's
work, whisked away in a flash, images of their fight... He'd
desperately fought the cloying darkness, the battle seemingly
hopeless until he felt it... her... his Scully. He could feel her
presence, almost tangible, yet somehow ethereal. A spark, the
essence of what was Scully somehow reached him through the
darkness surrounding him, lighting the way to his salvation. As
soon as he was able, he yelled out for her, his grip tightening
around what he knew instinctively was her. He felt himself
sinking into sleep, one less troubled now that he was with her.
But to come awake to this... this endless darkness that
somehow seemed to reach into the very depths of his soul,
terrified him. He abruptly felt his partner move closer, pulling
his head against her body, her warmth suffusing him, her love
pulling asunder the grip that his fear held over him. He could
feel her calmness surrounding him, giving him strength. "I'll be
okay, Scully. I just..." He felt a shudder run through his body,
causing his partner to hug him that much tighter.
"I love you, Mulder." She bent her head, her lips grazing
his temple.
And for the first time, not only did he just believe her
words, he knew them, felt them ring true to the very core of his
being. Flashes of what she had done for him, searching through
the lab, the trek through the woods, and finally lending him her
own life-force to help him heal... the images came to him across
their bond, faint, yet unmistakable. And above it all, he felt
her love, unconditional and absolute. He'd waited his entire life
for someone like her. How could he have possibly thought
otherwise? How could he have even considered the notion...?
Looking back, it seemed so ridiculous in the light of the raw
emotion he was now feeling. 'Never again,' he promised himself,
even as the tears streaked down the slowly healing cheeks.
Suddenly, his head jerked up in her arms. When he heard
Scully start in surprise, he raised his hands to her face,
placing a finger against her lips as he concentrated. "I think...
yes," he murmured. "Scully, I can hear choppers. At least a
couple of them, maybe more. They're getting closer." He heard the
quick intake of breath, then the shuffling as she got up. He felt
her hand reach for his, pulling him to his feet, clutching him to
her when he almost keeled over.
"We have to get out of here, Mulder. Right now, we're at the
edge of a small forest, and a few feet away there's a steep
cliff. It was pretty dark when we came out of the compound. Do
you remember seeing any other ways out?"
"I remember this place. I think I flew up this cliff and
came through this forest to the compound. There was a road
winding up the mountain, with some train tracks beside it in
places. I think I remember seeing the road behind one of the
barracks."
"I remember being brought here in a train. But I don't
remember any barracks."
"That's what they looked like. The small buildings inside
the compound."
"I never saw the compound or the surrounding area when I was
brought here, Mulder. And in this darkness, I stumbled across
this forest more by sheer luck than anything. I'd be surprised if
there's anything left standing back there though. Do you think
you can fly back down the cliff?"
Mulder still leaned heavily on her. She felt his weight lift
ever so slightly for a moment, even as his breathing became more
labored. She briefly wondered at that, considering that he didn't
really need to breathe, then chalked it up to his body's
instinctual response rather than a physical need. When his weight
came crashing back on her, she almost staggered.
"Damn. I can't even get my feet off the ground, Scully. I
think we'd better make for the road I saw earlier."
"Hang on, Mulder." Scully took his arm and placed it over
her shoulder, half dragging him back the way they'd come. It took
a little less time to retrace their steps, with Mulder helping
more this time around, before they reached the other edge of the
woods again. Considering that she still couldn't hear the
helicopters, she surmised that they had a good chance of getting
to the barracks Mulder had mentioned without getting caught. That
thought in mind, she set out in what she hoped was the right
direction.
After ten minutes of stumbling and more than a little
cursing on Mulder's part at his inability to see where he was
going, the agents finally reached the building on the far edge.
Now that the cloud cover had eased somewhat, Scully could see the
road beyond in the moonlight. Much of the building had been
destroyed in the explosion, and Scully could clearly make out
several vehicles and bodies inside. "Wait here, Mulder. I'll be
right back." She stopped when she felt him grip her arm tighter,
the sense of panic flaring out again. He still couldn't see, and
she could feel his terror at being left alone again. "It's okay,
Mulder," she whispered, pulling him back towards her, her arms
going around him, hugging him tight.
"I'm sorry, Scully, it's... I'm..."
"I know. I'm here, Mulder. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right
here. Just relax, Mulder. I'm going to see if I can find a car in
there, okay?" She paused, feeling his grip on her arm slacken
slightly. She peered up into his face. "Mulder? Will you be all
right?" She could still feel his terror, but there was a small
region of calm now. She saw him nod, then reached up to brush her
parched lips against his bruised and cracked ones before she
slipped out of his grasp.
He felt the burst of panic flare again before he reined it
in. She was no longer near him; he could hear her as she climbed
over a wall and walked into the building. But he could feel her,
within him, her presence from the... 'joining', for lack of a
better word... still inside him. He traced the edges of the
presence in his mind, much like tracing a filling with one's
tongue. But this was like reaching out and touching Scully
herself, yet not... He felt her answering message of reassurance
and love, fainter now, but there nonetheless. 'Hurry, Scully,' he
mentally prodded her, painfully aware of the approaching
helicopters.
Scully stepped over the bodies inside the barracks, noting
that most of them exhibited definite signs of radiation exposure.
Of course, most of them had died long before the effects had set
in, victims of the explosion that had caused all the damage. She
sighed, walking over to the back, towards the garage area. She
could see a few military vehicles, a couple of jeeps, a suburban,
and a few vans. Most, if not all were covered by debris from the
caved in ceiling. She meticulously checked each, but found none
that still worked. All had suffered severe damage from the
explosion. She walked to the back of the garage, almost giving up
hope when she spotted it. Taking a deep breath, she resolutely
walked over.
Mulder heard the footsteps get louder as Scully moved
towards him. He frowned. He'd expected her to be driving out, but
instead she seemed to be dragging something along with her. He
waited until she came up beside him. He raised his hand, his
fingers grazing hers as she reached out for him. He slid his hand
down hers, moving down until he came to the object she clutched
in her other hand. His eyebrows shot up as he realized what it
was, an expression that clearly said, "You've got to be kidding,"
plastered on his face.
"It was the only thing I could find, Mulder. And I was lucky
at that. None of the other vehicles made it through the
explosion. It's either this or walk down the mountain. Have you
ever driven one of these?"
"Scully, it's more than a few hours by walk, most of it
through South American forest. But, a motorcycle, Scully?" he
groaned, incredulous. Then, with a sigh, "Yeah, I've driven them
a couple of times, but I'm hardly in a condition to drive one
now."
"Good. It can't be harder than riding a bike, right? Just
tell me how to make it go. I'll handle the rest."
He gave her a look that clearly said she was going to be
finding out exactly how hard it really was, the hard way. "First
you gotta start it. You do have the key, right?"
"Yeah, I found it in the ignition."
"Good, okay." He proceeded to give her the basics, then
stood by as she straddled the bike. He almost let out a smile as
she let out a small yelp. A second later, he heard her jump away
as the bike crashed to the ground.
"Not a word, Mulder. Not a word, or so help me..."
He raised his hand in surrender. "Did I say anything?" He
couldn't help the small chuckle, however, as she hefted the bike
and sat on it once again. He had no doubt that she was glaring
daggers at him. He heard her try to gun the engine a couple of
times before giving up in disgust. When he heard her call to him,
he moved towards her. She reached out a hand to guide him toward
the bike. He placed his hands on her shoulders, then sat himself
behind her.
"I need you to hold the bike up while I start it, okay?" She
felt the bike steady itself as Mulder placed his feet on the
ground. She kicked the starter, cautioning, "Hang on tight,
Mulder," as she revved the engine.
Mulder obligingly held on for dear life as, with a slight
fishtail wobble, the bike roared off down the road. If he'd
thought riding a bike was exhilarating when he'd done it before,
it was just as terrifying now. The wind in his hair that had
given him a sense of freedom before now whipped his face, the
chill biting into the still healing burns. He tightened his grip
on his partner, praying that they got through this ordeal without
further incident.
It was still dark, and Scully had no idea how long she had
until daybreak. According to Mulder, they were somewhere on the
Andes Mountains in Peru. He had described the area where he'd
hidden his car, and she was fairly certain she could find it once
they reached the base of the mountain. For now, however, all she
cared about was keeping the speeding vehicle from careening out
of control. She was rapidly finding out exactly how like, or
rather, how unlike riding a bicycle this was. For one thing, the
motorcycle was heavier, although once she got it running, it
wasn't quite as hard to keep it steady. But she was still unused
to the accelerator being in the wrong place. Her unfamiliarity
with the vehicle caused it to swerve alarmingly a couple of
times, eliciting scared gasps from Mulder before she straightened
out again.
Thoughts similar to Mulder's coursed through her head. She
mentally crossed her fingers, hoping to make it down before the
helicopters arrived. Unfortunately, their luck didn't quite last.
Not a few minutes out of the compound, they saw the helicopters,
three of them, silhouetted against the moon as they moved towards
the speeding bike. Two flew over them, headed in the direction of
the compound. The third took its place directly above them, a
bright searchlight flaring out to catch them in its path.
"Pull over to the side of the road," a voice blared out over
the din of the chopper's blades.
Scully resolutely ignored the warning as she took a hairpin
bend at alarming speed. The bike almost skidded out of control
before she had it headed back in the right direction. The sound
of gunfire behind her caused her to momentarily close her eyes in
fear. Then resolution set in as she began to weave the bike from
one side of the road to another, hoping to create an erratic
target for their hunters. Another hairpin bend, and she lost
sight of the chopper for a moment, hidden as she was behind the
mountain. Before it could follow them around the bend, she
disappeared into a tunnel. She heaved a small breath of relief,
feeling the arms around her waist tighten ever so slightly.
She looked ahead, but could barely make out the end of the
tunnel in the dim light. The moment she was out, however, she
heard the chopper take up the pursuit again. The streak of
gunfire razed past her, throwing up stones from the road to
strike her legs. She flinched when she felt one stone open up a
gash near her ankle, a small gasp escaping her lips. But then she
felt something she dreaded even more. Liquid splashed against her
leg, bathing her wound in fire. She immediately felt the effects
as the bike became more sluggish to handle. The brake line must
have been hit; she couldn't slow down.
She squinted in the darkness, the searchlight that dogged
them providing just enough light to make out the next hairpin
bend. She tried adjusting her course but she knew she wasn't
going to make it. She removed one hand from the handlebar,
bringing it to her stomach to caress her partner's hands. She
tightened her fingers around his, screaming a frantic, "Hold on,
Mulder," trying to be heard above the noise of the bike and the
helicopter tailing them.
Instead of crashing against the railing, mercifully halting
their wild skid, the front wheel of the bike hit the very edge of
the metal bars. The ends, where the railing was anchored to the
ground, acted like a ramp, lifting the front of the bike. The
vehicle followed, climbing up the makeshift ramp, then launching
into space.
For a heartstopping moment, they hung there in space,
seemingly motionless, as if crystallized in the amber of the
night sky. Then gravity inexorably exerted its hold on them,
demanding they obey its wishes. The front of the bike dipped, the
rest following suit as they passed the top of their arc and
started falling.
She felt the bike slip out from under her, felt Mulder's
arms tighten enough to almost choke her. She turned in his grasp,
facing him as she placed her own arms around him. Together they
fell towards the dark forest below. She could feel him trying to
exert his flying abilities, could feel themselves slowing ever so
slightly. But she knew it wasn't enough. The wind whipped around
the two of them, chilling them to the bone as they fell to the
darkness below.
She saw Mulder twist so he was below her, and frowned. By
the time she realized what he'd done, it was too late. They
crashed into the trees, branches breaking as they broke their
fall. Mulder took the brunt of the impact, as he'd intended. She
heard and felt more than a few bones break as they descended to
the forest floor.
He had slowed them enough, and absorbed enough the impact
that she hadn't lost consciousness upon landing. The same
couldn't be said of him however. Most of the injuries that had
healed simply reappeared, compounded by a myriad of broken bones
and contusions.
Scully winced as she felt her broken limbs mend themselves,
then stood up. She'd gotten a good glimpse of the forest on her
way down. Having spotted the road and the perimeter fence not too
far off, she was confident she could make her way there. With a
sigh, she leaned down and hefted her partner's unconscious body,
hoisting it as she trudged off into the jungle.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
La Jaula Rota Hotel, Lima, Peru
Wednesday, May 27, 1998
8:46 PM
She stepped out of the shower, running the towel over her
wet hair as she walked into the room. She crouched next to the
bed, pulling out her nightclothes from the suitcase. It had taken
them almost till noon to reach civilization once she'd found his
car. Neither of them would have won awards for their choices in
apparel, what with her lab smock covering the thin gown she'd
woken in the night before, and him in his tattered coat, what was
left of it anyway. Both of them uttered a silent prayer of thanks
for Mulder's forethought in packing an overnight bag as they
quickly dressed themselves, then fled the forest.
As it was, they'd had a trying time getting money wired to
them from the Gunmen through the local post office. They'd eaten,
then made reservations for their flight the next day before
checking into the hotel for the night. Now, both of them were
tired, ready to fall asleep within moments.
She sighed as she dropped the towel on the bed, then called
out for her partner. "Mulder? Do you remember when our flight
leaves tomorrow?" Not getting an answer, she looked around trying
to find him. She felt him, standing not too far away. She moved
toward the balcony, pulling aside the glass doors to step
outside. "Hey, whatcha doing out here, G-man?" she asked softly,
coming to stand beside him.
Mulder leaned against the railing, his head tilted up to
glance at the heavens. "Are the stars out, Scully?"
His partner followed his gaze towards the sky, then
answered, "Mmhmm. It's beautiful out here tonight." She leaned
into him, smiling when she felt his arm go around her waist to
hug her close.
"I could see the sunset, Scully. Just barely, but I could
definitely see it."
She turned a startled gaze towards him, the shock quickly
turning into pleasure as she pulled him into a hug. "You can
see," she said, smiling as she pressed her cheek against his
chest. It was a statement, a fact to which he nodded his head.
"It's slowly starting to come back. I can just barely make
out your face." His chin rested on her head as he took in the
slight scent of the complimentary shampoo. His eyes shut, he
simply stood there, taking in her scent, using every bit of his
other senses to augment his limited vision.
"We need to talk, Scully," he finally said, no trace of
lightness left in his voice. A sudden quiet descended on the duo
as they hugged each other, each basking in the presence of the
other.
Scully finally broke the silence. She took a deep breath,
then nodded against his chest. "Come to bed, Mulder," she said,
pulling away as she brought her hands down to meet his. Palms
clasped, she pulled on him slightly, moving them both indoors.
Before they reached the bed, Mulder pulled out a small
microcassette recorder from the suitcase and popped in a
cassette. He could feel his partner's quizzical gaze on him. He
smiled in what he hoped was her direction, details still
difficult to make out in the limited light. Moving towards the
bed, he held it out to her, then slid in beside her.
"That was left on my machine back home while I was out
searching for you. I had to hear it a few times before I figured
out who it was." He paused, then prompted quietly, "Play it,
Scully."
He heard the whirr of the recorder, then the click before
the words played once more. "Sometimes, Agent Mulder, the
answers..."
Her eyes widened at the voice. "Mulder... that's..." She
looked up from the recorder, and saw Mulder leaning against the
headrest, his eyes closed again. He nodded slightly. "But...,"
she stammered, "I saw him die, Mulder. I saw him shot."
"If Cancerman was an immortal, Scully, why not him? But
then, it's not as if they need to be immortal to fake their
deaths. I never did get close enough to the funeral at
Arlington."
"But why, Mulder? After all this time..."
He shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he faked his death because he
wanted out of the consortium. Maybe he was tired of it all," he
answered wearily.
"Mulder...?" she began questioningly, her hand reaching out
to squeeze his nearest shoulder.
"It's just... I almost... I..."
She was shocked at the sudden sob as his voice broke. She
moved closer, leaning into his side, holding his hands
reassuringly.
Finally, he managed a deep breath before continuing, "I
almost lost you, Scully." The weary tone had changed to a
frightened one, one that trembled at the mere notion of what he
said. "All over again. After I swore I wouldn't ever allow that
again."
"Mulder, this wasn't your fault."
"Oh?" he replied incredulously, not without a hint of
sarcasm in his voice. "You were abducted again, Scully. Because
of the X-files, because of this... this quest we're on, because
of me. I love you so much, Scully. I shudder to think what my
life would be like without you in it. But sometimes I wonder what
your life would have been like if you'd never met me." He felt
her about to interrupt, but continued on before she could do so.
"You could have become a doctor, Scully. A family... a living
family. A husband, 2.3 kids, the whole white picket fence deal."
"In case you hadn't noticed, O brilliant psychologist," she
replied wryly, "I joined the FBI long before I met you."
"But..."
"Guess who else I saw in that facility?" she blithely cut
him off.
He blinked at the abrupt change in subject.
"Scanlon." She could feel him tense up beside her at the
mention of the doctor's name. "Scratch one bad guy, I guess.
Anyway, do you know what he told me, Mulder? I asked him the same
question. Why all this? Whether it was necessary to do all this
just to keep you in line." She waited for him to digest what she
was telling him. "He said, Mulder, believe it or not, that not
everything's about you." She let out a small bark of bitter
laughter. "Imagine that, a bad guy with some brains."
"Oh?" Mulder hissed, the sarcasm evident in his voice now.
"And I suppose they took you just for the fun of it. You didn't
really believe him, did you?"
"Damn it, Mulder," she shot back, the anger rising in her
voice. "Do you blame yourself for the abduction of the Allentown
women? Do you honestly believe that you could have done anything
to prevent their being taken?"
The question brought the agent up short. Reluctantly, he
shook his head, a quiet "No," escaping his lips.
"Then why the hell do you blame yourself for my abduction? I
was taken for the same reason they were, the same reason all the
others were. Because of my goddamn DNA."
She saw that he still had that stubborn look on his face,
the one that said that nothing could possibly relieve him of his
perceived guilt. "Talk to me, Mulder," she whispered. "This
silent communication deal is all well and good, but if we don't
give voice to our feelings, we're inevitably going to get mixed
signals. It's like using smoke signals when you could just as
easily pick up the phone."
"They took away the X-files, Scully. They took away any
reason for you to stay. It was all my fault. I didn't want to
lose you, Scully. I worked so hard to get them back; I thought if
I could just show you... that you'd stay..."
"Aaargh! You're not listening, Mulder. What happened between
us that night should never have happened." At the mention of the
dreaded fight, both of them drew in a slight breath. She had
meant to approach the topic more delicately, but seeing as it had
to come out some time... "All I wanted was for you to be okay, to
tell me you still needed me. But noooo, not you. You had to duck
behind your usual litany of guilt, didn't you? *God!!* Do you
even know how irritating that's getting to be? It makes me want
to just come up and slap you. Why in heaven's name does
everything *have* to be your fault? Do you get off on it or
something? Please, enlighten me, because, honestly, it's beyond
me."
She saw him about to interrupt, but cut him off with a
scathing, "I'm *NOT* finished!" Her voice immediately dropped,
becoming more tender. "Mulder, I was duped just as you were. I
fell into the same trap you did with Gibson Praise. The
consortium dangled a prize in front of us, and we reacted in
exactly the wrong manner. And I still can't think of one thing we
could have done differently. Not with Gibson's life at stake."
"But still, the files... I betrayed you..."
"*Our* work, Mulder. Not yours, not anymore. Don't you think
I might have liked a say in getting the files back? God, seeing
the office... seeing it like... like that... don't you think it
drove a knife through my gut too? I thought we were partners,
Mulder. You never had anything to prove to me. I hate it when you
think I wouldn't forgive you for something. Even when there's
really nothing to forgive. That's not what love is about, Mulder.
Not one bit. You know what they say about love meaning never
having to say you're sorry? That's just crap. But it does mean we
forgive each other, Mulder."
"I know, Scully. And I do need you. Desperately. I wanted to
show you that I could get the files back. That all our... all
your sacrifices hadn't been in vain."
She let out a sigh, moving down to rest against him. She
reached out to grab his hand, holding it between hers. She
lightly stroked his palm, tracing meaningless patterns with her
fingers. Her voice was soft as she asked, "Do you really think me
that shallow, Mulder? That I was only staying because of the
work?"
"That's what you told me back in Seattle," Mulder rejoined,
his voice quavering, "on the night of your birthday."
"Oh, Mulder." Her voice carried all the love she felt for
this man. "You poor, poor fool." At his startled reaction, she
continued, "That was then, Mulder. A lifetime ago, it seems like,
sometimes. I had just been returned. I didn't want to admit that
I might be staying because of my feelings for you. The work was
as good an excuse as any. I couldn't even be sure of what I was
feeling for you then." She paused, her hands tightening their
grip on his arm. "But I sure as hell am sure now," she added with
measured determination.
Her face had been lowered as she'd confessed this, her eyes
locked on their clasped hands. She now turned to face him, and
was shocked at the tears coursing freely down his face. She
leaned toward him, gently kissing each shining drop before moving
to his lips. She grazed them ever so slightly, then returned for
a more forceful claim.
He pulled back finally, his tone full of wonder as he said,
"I love you, Scully, so much it scares me sometimes."
"I hope you remember that the next time, Mulder."
"I hope there doesn't have to be a next time, Scully," he
shot back dryly.
"Good answer, Mulder." Her eyes shone with unshed tears, and
even Mulder could make out the smile that seemed to light up her
face. "But, I know better than to ask you to promise that."
She was gratified to hear a small chuckle escape his lips.
"I guess you do. But how about a resounding 'I'll try my best to
remember'?"
"I guess that'll have to do. Now what say we get some shut
eye? We need to get up early if we're gonna make that flight
tomorrow." She slid down in the bed, pulling him down beside her.
She turned to face away from him, snuggling back into the warmth
of his body as he spooned her from behind.
She lay there for a few minutes, then ventured hesitantly,
"Mulder?" A quiet grunt let her know that he was still awake.
Screwing up her resolve, she asked, "How'd you know about Jeff,
Mulder? You weren't fooled by him one bit, were you?"
"Aw, come on, Scully. With a name like Green? That in itself
was points against him," he replied with a smirk.
"Be serious, Mulder," she chided gently, then paused. "You
know who he reminded me of?" When she felt his arms tighten
around her waist, she bit her lip.
"Who?" His voice was hoarse, an inkling of her reply already
forming in his mind.
"You know, don't you? You. He reminded me of you, of the day
you told me about Cancerman's offer about the chip."
"Funny," he replied, his voice devoid of any humor
whatsoever, "that's exactly who he reminded me of too. I could so
easily have been him, Scully. I was this close to giving in to
the smoking bastard's demands."
"I know." Her hands stroked down his arms. "He was a dear
friend, Mulder. Even when he... when he took the deal that you
didn't, I still felt sorry for him. They offered him the same
thing they offered you, you know. A cure. For his son. Just so
they could get their hooks into him. They certainly didn't need
his help to abduct me again." She paused, swallowing slightly.
"Mulder... I don't know that I could have refused in his place.
Not if the price was you."
"Let's hope we never have to find out then."
They lay in silence for a while, each considering the
possibilities. Finally, Mulder let out a small sigh as he asked
softly, "Scully? Why do you always call me Mulder?"
"What?" The unexpected question startled her, causing
memories of a long ago stakeout rushing through her mind. 'I even
made my parents call me Mulder.' She wondered what answer he was
looking for, what he expected her to say. Deciding to make the
answer as simple as possible, she ventured, "Because you think
it's a stupid name for someone to be saddled with?"
"Hmm..."
She felt him nod against her back. She could almost make out
the disappointment in the soft sigh. Her answer was the one he'd
expected, just not the one he'd wanted. She decided to try again.
"And because it reminds you of your sister," she added quietly.
She knew she'd answered correctly when the arm around her tensed.
"Cancerman told me that she was dead."
"What!? And you believed him? He's lied to us so many times,
Mulder. What about the person you saw in the diner?"
"He had no reason to lie, Scully. Not after revealing all
that information about the alien technology."
"Did you ever think that he might have said anything to keep
you there? And I'm still not convinced the technology was alien."
"Quarter light speed propulsion is not exactly current
technology, Scully. Not even for the consortium to have come up
with by themselves." He paused, his tone switching from dry to
somber. "He said Sam had been dead for almost 20 years. I suppose
the person at the diner was a clone too. All this time, I'd
always hoped... But, now, I don't have any..."
The choked off sob caused her heart to lurch. She could
almost hear the unasked plea in his voice, his tone desperately
asking her to understand, yet unwilling to give voice to the
request. "Hush. You'll always have me," she replied, then added,
"Fox." A silent promise, given, and accepted. She felt his lips
against her neck, caressing, silently thanking her for her offer,
and her promise.
He said nothing, but she could tell how much that request
had cost him. He'd kept faith through the years, almost a quarter
of a century, more than could be asked of any human being. He'd
lived with the conviction, hoping against hope, of one day
reuniting with his sister. Asking her, albeit silently, was his
way of telling her how much she meant to him. He'd as effectively
reassured her as she had him. And it was her turn to make him a
silent promise. 'You'll never be alone, Mulder. Not as long as
I'm here. I promise you that.' The final oath ran through her
mind as she heard his slight snore before slipping into dreams
herself.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
46th Street, New York City, NY
Thursday, May 28, 1998
6:14 PM, local time
"How many survivors?"
"None, except for the boy. He was being transported when..."
"And our man in the FBI?"
"His body was not recovered, although it is believed he
perished in the explosion as well."
"That has happened before. Make certain of it."
"Yes sir."
"Any indication on what he was working on in the facility?"
"Not yet, sir. All we know is that it was a side project
outside the group's mainstream. With the loss of all the records,
it will take us years to piece together what really happened."
"And what of the reports of Agent Scully's abduction?"
"Unknown. Our associate made no mention of his plans after
his return. We know that Agent Mulder left the country early
Tuesday morning, but we lost his trail at one of his transfer
points. However, we do know that he returned with Agent Scully
earlier today. Their flight originated from Jorge Chavez
International in Lima, Peru."
"But you cannot confirm that they were at our facility?"
"No sir. The response helicopters did mention two
individuals fleeing the area. However, we have it on good
authority that neither survived the incident. Apparently, they
fell off a cliff. We are in the process of locating their
bodies."
"Good. Then all that remains is that we maintain plausible
deniability regarding the incident. We wouldn't want to lose the
cooperation of the Peruvian government. See to it. And see to the
boy's examination as well. As for our intrepid agents, we won't
have to worry about them for a while."
The End
Futures Past 07:
Phoenix
by Arvy
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End Notes
Ok, now how many of you are wondering what I did with that
first scene (the 4 billion years ago thing)? I thought if CC can
do arcs, well why not me? I'm planning on having these little
scenes scattered throughout the series, hopefully building into
their own 'cohesive' arc. Of course, they are also connected to
the main story itself in some way, again, hopefully.
And how many of you thought Scully didn't have nearly enough
resolution or closure about what she had to do at the facility?
Yeah, me too. I just didn't have the heart to force more angst on
her after the shock she'd been through. I am planning on a couple
of future stories that will deal with the fallout from this one.
I also plan on resolving the fate of the X-files, hopefully a bit
faster than CC did with season 6.
For my next story, I'm planning on jumping around the
timeline a bit. I want to get some of the stories I have in mind
set in the far future out of the way. If I go chronologically, I
might never get to them. In case you hadn't guessed, the ?
crossover was with Star Trek: Deep Space 9, specifically the
"Little Green Men" episode, a favorite of mine. The 'people'
mentioned are, of course, Quark and co. and it's Odo's DNA that
kickstarts the entire bounty hunter saga, in my universe. Makes
you think, ne? Anyway, I'm thinking of maybe a Star Trek:TNG or
Voyager crossover next, although nothing's finalized yet.
So, until the next one, I hope you enjoyed the series so
far. And of course, may the force be with ye!!! ;) Send any and
all feedback to unmai@bigfoot.com. Ciao!
Futures Past Chronology:
01 - The Awakening (Oct 1997)
02 - The Light of Day (Jan 1998)
03 - My Funny Valentine (Feb 1998)
04 - Crossover (Feb 1998)
05 - Flying Lessons (Feb 1998)
06 - Hazel + Gold = Green (Mar 1998)
07 - Phoenix (May 1998)