Part III
The car screeched to a halt in front of a nondescript building. Mulder leaped out and was at the door in a few quick strides. He pushed a button that caused a complicated chain reaction of buzzers and bells to sound inside, and felt, rather than saw a half-dozen camoflauged cameras focus on him. He waited impatiently for several long minutes before the door was pulled ajar.
"Finally," he muttered as he stepped across the threshhold. He picked his way carefully through the tangle of wires and cables that snaked across the wide floor. He smiled fondly at the mess; some things never changed. There was something about the Lone Gunmen headquarters that stirred in him feelings of both satisfaction and mild discomfort; it was still hard to believe that people actually existed that were more paranoid than he.
Frohike looked up at him, bleary eyed and appearing even more scruffy than usual. His unkempt hair stood wildly on end, as though he had been tugging on it in frustration. His weathered face was drawn and haggard. He looked terrible, even for Frohike.
He smiled warmly, however, when his friend entered the building, and shook Mulder's hand with genuine affection.
"Back from the wilds of the Pacific Northwest so soon?" he asked.
"The lead turned out cold," Mulder replied. "We caught the sick son of a bitch, but he was unquestionably human. Didn't even have an implant," he added with a sigh.
"Can't win 'em all." Frohike grinned.
"To what do we owe the pleasure?" Langley's tinny voice spoke behind Mulder. Turning, Mulder acknowledged him, noticing that he, too, looked more frazzled and untucked than normal. Only Beyers, lagging a few steps behind his blonde counterpart looked remotely presentable, with his hair neatly combed and his face freshly scrubbed. The only sign of wear he displayed was a slightly rumpled suit, but that was to be expected.
"You guys look like shit," Mulder declared.
"We should," Langley said.
"We've been awake for the past seventy-two hours," Frohike added.
Beyers chimed in, "There's been a fascinating development on the...." His excitement faded as Mulder waved his hand and shook his head.
"Not now," he intoned wearily. "I need your help on something."
All three of them perked up. "Sure, Mulder," said Langley. "What's up?"
"I need you to find some information. I seem to remember reading something about this several months ago, but I need to know more." Mulder paused, and the trio waited expectantly. Taking a deep breath, he continued, explaining his idea. The reasons were more complicated and difficult to voice, as were his intentions, but he managed to get through the entire explanation without being interrupted, which was a miracle in itself.
As he spoke, he could see his friends becoming more and more excited. Finally too agitated to be still any longer, Frohike spoke up.
"Yeah, yeah! We got that through our channels! A doctor in New Hampshire developed it." He paused. "Unfortunately, he seems to have vanished, along with all his research."
Mulder stared at him. He couldn't believe that this fantastic idea of his actually had a base in reality, was truly possible. The disappearance of the doctor threw a small glitch in things, but he had expected as much.
"I anticipated some difficulty in finding him," Mulder said. "I have a plan." Before he could tell them his scheme, though, Beyers interrupted.
"Mulder," he said hesitantly, and Mulder could see him exchanging a worried look with the other Gunmen. "Are you *sure* this is what you want?" They studied him closely.
Mulder held each of them in his gaze for a long moment before answering. "I've never been so certain of anything," he softly replied.
**********
Armed with the information the Gunmen had provided him, Mulder reviewed step two in his head. As his car hurlted through the Washington streets he struggled to calm himself, needing to slow the adrenaline flooding his system. He had already decided that a cool approach was the best route to take, at least at first. Should he encounter too much resistance to his request, he was prepared to pursue another avenue; however, he didn't anticipate things coming to that.
Before he got out of the car he double-checked his weapon---ensuring that the clip was full and the chamber loaded. Satisfied that his back-up plan was in order, he stepped from the car.
He stood for a moment in front of the building, lost in thought. He had hoped he would never have to set foot inside it again, but present circumstances far outweighed any petty qualms he might have about the impending encounter. With a final calming breath, he began walking toward the building.
**********
Scully dreamed. Wearing only a long, white slip, she tiptoed up and down endless corridors with no idea who she was or how she had gotten there. Tears streamed down her face as she walked, dropping to the floor and collecting in tiny silver puddles.
She heard herself calling out to someone named Emily, her voice bouncing eerily in the naked silence. She knew now who she was looking for, but she could not recall why she needed to find her. Who was Emily? Her mother? Sister? Daughter?
She grew more and more frantic whn Emily failed to answer her agonized cries. She began sobbing in earnest, her voice becoming garbled as she ran aimlessly through the endless maze. Suddenly her feet froze beneath her, and she looked down in horror. The puddles of teardrops had merged together, fusing to become a stream that trapped her ankles. The flowing water increased in volume, becoming first a raging river, then widening out into an ocean.
As she floated in the calm silver water, her fear began to dissolve and become one with the sea. She felt utterly at peace. An insistant buzzing in her ears caught her attention, and she strained to make out the words within it. Suddenly the buzzing became a voice, Emily's voice, sounding very content. "Mommy? Don't cry Mommy.....I miss you...."
Scully's sobs shook her into full consciousness. She buried her face in the pillow, muffling her cries. When she had regained her self-control, she rose unsteadily from the bed and moved to the window. There were still traces of daylight in the summer sky; she hadn't napped long. She lingered for a moment, gazing at the children playing in the street below, imagining Emily among them.
Reaching a swift decision, she turned and opened the closet door, grabbing the first outfit she saw. She dressed quickly and walked out the door, her motions automatic, as though she was still dreaming.
Scully's car seemed to move with a life of its own, instinctively knowing which direction to go. She drove swiftly, heading south and then west---out of the city, towards the cemetery. It was time.
**********
Mulder paused briefly at the door to collect himself. He resisted the urge to kick the door down, raising his fist instead and knocking on the solid wood. He waited, pacing back and forth in the cramped hallway. What if he wasn't home?
At long last the door opened. Mulder stopped in midstep and spun around to face the figure standing in the threshhold. Backlit by the open window, he appeared less haunted, more human. The deep folds that hung on his face were not as well defined in the poorly lit hall as Mulder had grown accustomed to. It was not now the face of a hated and hunted enemy, but simply that of a tired old man.
He looked surprised and somewhat startled to find the FBI agent on his doorstep, but swiftly regained his composure. As he did, the creases settled into their more familiar and forbidding pattern, inexplicably sending a wave of relief through the younger man.
"Mr. Mulder, this is certainly a surprise. Have you come to point a gun at my head again?" His words were tinged with amusement, but Mulder thought he also detected a slight trace of fear.
Mulder pushed down the boiling rage and hatred, and swallowed his pride with a strength of will he hadn't known he possessed. "I need your help," he said simply.
The old man smiled knowingly and stepped back slightly, indicating that Mulder should enter. The sound of the door closing behind him sent a shudder down Mulder's spine, but he ignored it and settled into a comfortable leather armchair. His host followed suit, seating himself in a similar chair a few feet away. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.
"Now, what is it that you want me to do for you, Mr. Mulder?"
Mulder met his gaze and replied, "I want you to give me my future back."
"What do you mean by that?"
Mulder paused, wanting to phrase his next statement very carefully. "When Scully was abducted, a computer chip was put in her neck---some kind of tracking device. She removed it, and developed cancer as a result. You saved her life." He stopped, his voice cracking slightly.
"Please, continue."
"While she was recieving the implant, something else was being taken from her. Her ova were removed---all of them---making it impossible for her to conceive a child. You gave Scully her life back. Now I want you to return her future."
Throughout Mulder's speech he had been distracted by a small, self-satisfied smile on Cancer Man's face. It irritated Mulder, infuriated him; he wanted to eradicate that smug expression for good. He restrained himself, however, and waited for his answer.
"That takes care of Miss Scully's future, Mr. Mulder. But what does it have to do with yours?" Mulder did not miss the irony in his voice, and began to wonder if he was being set up. Nevertheless, he plunged forward.
"Because I wanted those children to be mine," he said softly, feeling his insides wrench at the words.
"And what makes you think that I will do it?" the smoking man asked with an air of casualty.
"Because you can. Because it will give you even more control." Mulder had his answer ready.
There was a long pause. The seconds ticked by maddeningly on the wall clock, making Mulder feel as though he would jump out of his skin. This was his only hope....what if he blew it? Finally the old man opened his mouth, preparing to speak.
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Mulder. I will contact you when the preparations are complete."
Mulder stood and walked to the door. His hand paused on the knob, and he looked back at his old enemy. He hadn't moved, but was still seated in his chair, an unreadable expression on his weathered face. Mulder hesitated only an instant longer before opening the door and leaving the man to his thoughts.
Cancer Man turned his head to watch Mulder disappear through the door. As the latch clicked shut, he let out a breath---a deep, weary sigh that sounded as though it had been trapped inside him for decades.
"It's about time," he said to himself.
End Part III