TITLE: Binding the Edges AUTHOR: Jess E-MAIL ADDRESS: JessLB@aol.com RATING: PG-13 CATEGORY: XRA KEYWORDS: MSR, Character death(s) - It's not that bad, I promise. DISTRIBUTION: I ask only that you drop me a line beforehand and that my name and e-mail stays with the story. SPOILERS: Major ones for FTF, Christmas Carol/Emily, 2F/1S, Colony/End Game, Tunguska/Terma. You should know about Memento Mori, Pilot, The End, and Duane Barry/One Breath. Vague references to Agua Mala, Syzygy, Small Potatoes, Pusher, Redux, Ice, Fire, and The Unnatural. SUMMARY: When a mysterious case brings Mulder and Scully back to Texas, they find themselves suddenly thrust deeper into the conspiracy than they've ever been before. And with the threat of colonization at their heels, its a race against time as they try to fight the future, only to find themselves at the center of it all. DISCLAIMER: Yes, they belong to me. I was in this chat room one night, talking to some guy in California, telling him about this great idea I had for a show. He took my idea and ran with it. I'm just taking back what's rightfully mine (Ooh, sense the sarcasm). And I admit to having stolen dialogue, word for word, from Memento Mori. Sorry, Chris. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, though, right? If you don't send me feedback, I can't be held responsible for my actions. I may abduct you, shoot your sister, kill your father, make attempts on your partner's life, or infect you with an alien virus via a bee sting before sending you to Antarctica. And we don't want *that* to happen, now do we? ;-) AUTHOR'S NOTES (continued at the end of the story): For my fellow writers, I ask this of you: does anyone else finish a story, have it completely edited, have it stored on your computer, ready to send out to mailing lists - only to suddenly realize it has no title? And then it takes you forever and a day to come up with a title? Or this is just me? This story would have been impossible to start, let alone finish, without the wonderful assistance of Jan, the best editor in fanfiction-dom, who gives encouragement and gives me that lovely ego-boost at just the right moment. And without the real Christine Maudlin's brilliant 'quilting' ideas, I might never have finished this sucker. You know you have a friend when they'll sit for forty-one minutes on Mondays listening to you recount the previous night's episode, even though they don't really like The X-Files. And you know that's a real friend when you can sucker them into starting to watch the episodes. And it's absolutely fantastic when you can threaten bodily harm if they don't watch FX each and every night, and they actually heed you warnings. I've never felt more of a sense of accomplishment then I did when we realized Christine was a shipper. At least ONE friend has found the light. I dedicate this to my fellow iced-tea/root beer drinker; the girl who never tires of me answering questions with XF quotes, who made me a badge, and who *tried* to get into the J. Edgar Hoover building. Maybe next time, huh? xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 'It's not that I can't live without you, It's just that I don't even want to try....' Prologue I spent twenty-six years of my life searching. More than a quarter of a century. I put my faith into my quest, my life into the quest. I accepted no rules and began a long, tumultuous relationship with guilt. In the end, my search for answers became a crusade for the truth. I clung to this vague, distant hope for answers the way people cling to their faith. In a way, I suppose, the Truth *was* my religion. My only religion. All it once, it made me sane and paranoid. I abandoned all hopes for any semblance of a normal life the day I decided to find the answers. And after twenty-six years had passed, had I found my answers? Had all been revealed? I didn't know. I didn't realize that my answers didn't need to be found; I'd carried them with me my entire life. I found my Holy Grail that twenty-sixth year. Scully found it. For me. I had believed that when I found the Truth I had so doggedly chased that all the cloudiness in my life would be cleared. I'd believed that once I had that all-consuming piece of proof within my grasp, that I would be content to let all fall away and reclaim the innocense I lost at twelve. I'd thought it could end. That it *would* end. The phantom shadows, the endless pursuit of Dana and I, the conspiracy and the men behind it. For eight years, I had been thrown scraps of the puzzle, in various forms. A few cases involving telepathy, some genetic mutations along the way, Scully's abduction and subsequently everything thereafter. For the first time, I felt - *we* had felt - that we stood ready to lay claim on the prize. That it was ours, and ours only. That the pursuit which we had so clearly defined as our purpose was over. We didn't know that all the information we had amassed over the years, the implants, the MUFON women, Emily, the Crawford clones, my sister, the Syndicate, the bees and Dallas....that in the end, everything we had hoped for and fought for had never really been ours to achieve. Our futures, our lives had been shaped six years before; shaped by the same men we sought so valiantly to expose. It was impossible, then, to have realized the sheer scope and importance of our roles, of the pivotal characters we stood poised to play. We had our proof. We had our evidence. We had each other. We didn't, however, have time. Chapter One Katie McKenna hated Texas. She hated the long, hot summers and the dust that clouded the air. She hated the drones of bees that swarmed south and invaded the state. Katie deplored the acrid air, the sticky sheen of sweat that rolled down her face and neck whenever the temperature rose a few more degrees to something past one hundred and five. And she always hated herself for thinking so, but she hated Brian for bringing her there. She had been fully aware that he intended on bringing her to Texas the day he'd proposed to her seven years before. But the ideal of eighteen and the reality of twenty-five stretched as far apart as a canyon. Sighing, Katie ran a hand through her waist-length dirty blonde hair, cursing as her fingers struck a knot. Her eyes strayed outside, her heart stopping momentarily before she found him, playing in a small ditch near the shed. She smiled, for once not thinking about the thin lines developing around her mouth, and leaned back, closing her eyes, onto the couch. Billy. Possibly the only reason she had remained in the sultry jungle of southeastern Texas. He was their only son, her true pride and joy. Katie remembered their joy in finding out they were going to have a baby. Her mother had worried, fearing that the couple, at nineteen and twenty-one, were far too young to be saddled with children. But when he'd been born...Katie remembered it as the happiest day of her life; for the first time in a long time, she'd felt connected with her husband. The joy was overshadowed when he'd left to go back to work barely three hours after Billy's birth. 'I'm doing the best I can, Katie. What do you want me to do? Leave my post and lose my job? I was here all through the damn labor, like I promised I would be!' 'I just don't understand what's more important than your baby, Brian!' 'My job is *important,* Katie! Why can't you understand that? I'm doing this for you, for Billy. For us.' He'd left, of course. He always left. Where the hell was he now? she thought bitterly. At work. The all-consuming job. The goddamn bullshit that brought us here in the first place. A sharp cry shook her from her reverie. Her cornflower blue eyes shot open, and Katie ran to the front door, her heart in her throat. "Billy?" she called, trying to control the fear in her voice. He didn't answer her. "Billy!" "Mommy." It was a small, pitiful mewing sound, but it was enough. She flew towards the sound, dropping to her knees near the ditch. Oh, God. Oh God. No. God, please no. Nonononononono. It was a mantra, playing and rewinding over and over again in her head. He was laying in the dirt, his body twisted into an odd position, his Keds sneaker half off his left foot. She reached down to him and carefully pulled him out. "Mama," he whispered, his eyes searching hers. "It's okay, baby, it's okay; Mama's here, now. Sh, sh." Katie cradled him in her arms, struggling back into the house. She laid him down on the couch and raced for the phone, speaking before the operator had even picked up. "I need 911. Hurry, dammit! Hello, yes, my son...I don't know what's wrong with him, he was fine just a minute ago, and now he's - he's, God, I don't know what's wrong with him; just somebody help me, please!" The 911 operator was speaking to her, and the soft, gentle hum of the woman's voice filled the quiet air as the phone slipped from her hands, the delicate porcelain shattering as it hit the floor. "Billy?" The half-choked whisper broke the stillness in the air. "Oh, my God." Katie slipped gratefully into unconsciousness, the low droning of the insects outside lulling her asleep. * * * J. EDGAR HOOVER FBI BUILDING WASHINGTON D.C. MONDAY, JUNE 21, 1999 Fox Mulder stared clinically at the computer screen in front of him. His fingers moved deftly around the keyboard, moving from picture to picture, his mind in overdrive as he committed each scene, each photo, to memory. "What are you doing here?" He glanced up, a wry smile on his face. Scully stood in the doorway, a surprised expression on her face. "Nice to see you, too, Scully. And how was *your* weekend?" She gave him a patent look before dropping her briefcase on her desk and crossing the room for his own. "I'm just curious as to why you're in the office so early." "On a Monday, no less," he deadpanned, eyes returning to the pictures before him. "Seriously, Mulder, why are you here?" "We have a meeting with Skinner, Scully," Mulder answered, glancing up at her, "or have you so soon forgotten?" "I haven't forgotten," she said mildly. "I'm just wondering why *you* haven't." "You wound me," he said absently. She stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out the reason for his abrupt mood change. "New case?" she asked. "Mm." Bingo. Scully moved behind his desk so that she could see what had captured his attention. "What is it?" Finally, he tore his eyes off of the screen. "Billy McKenna, age four and a half. His mother found him outside their home and by the time she called 911 about two minutes later, he was dead." Scully recognized a dim, distant reminder of Emily in head, and she stamped down on it. "Cause of death?" Mulder shrugged. "Nobody seems to know." At the sight of her raised eyebrows, he continued. "His body disappeared from the morgue approximately thirteen hours after his death." "Did the ME get a chance to do the autopsy?" He shook his head. "She hadn't even looked at his chart yet." "Why would someone take the dead body of a four year old boy?" she mused out loud. "Exactly." Scully looked at him sharply. "Mulder, don't." He gazed back at her innocently, hands up in mock surrender. "I don't know what you mean, Scully." "Don't turn this child into an x-file." "He's already an x-file, Scully," Mulder replied, handing her the file. She stifled a groan at the familiar white and red folder. "Direct order from the Powers that Be. We're due at the airport in exactly one hour." "What about our meeting with Skinner?" she asked him, feeling a little lost in the whirlwind that was Mulder. "Canceled," Mulder replied easily, an innocuous look in his eye. He rose from his desk, grabbing his coat off the hook and opened the door. "Come on, Scully. I'll drive you home." She made sure he didn't miss the dubious look on her face as she passed by him. *** Scully kept one eye trained on her partner as she loaded up her suitcase. She disappeared into the bathroom to grab some essentials, returning only to find Mulder holding up her one and only little black dress, dancing it in front of him. He caught sight of her glare in the full-length mirror and turned. "Hey, Scully, can we bring this?" She snatched it away from him, throwing it into the bottom of her closet. She snapped the suitcase shut and stood in the doorway. "Out." "All work and no play makes --" She closed the door behind them and proceeded on her usual inventory of her apartment. She crossed off all the items on her mental list before checking all the windows and turning off all the lights. "You ready?" she asked him finally, opening the front door. Mulder nodded. As he passed by her, she heard a distinct, "Makes Dana a dull girl." *** UNKNOWN LOCATION SAME DAY 2:13 p.m. The stark white walls contrasted sharply from the professionally designed business room that he entered. He'd only been to see the General once in his entire military career, to be briefed on the project. He checked his reflection in the window as the imposing man shuffled his papers. "I understand you've been told of the results of our...little experiment, Lieutenant," General Atneim said briskly. He nodded. "Yes, sir." "I know it was a difficult decision to make, Lieutenant, and I do wish to commend your efforts." "Thank you, General." "What is your given name, Lt.?" "Ian, sir." "Ian, I've had my eye on you since the beginning. You're a bright young man. You could go far in the military. We've - *all* been watching you. You have the mind of a true soldier, Lt." He hoped he wasn't flushing. "I appreciate that, sir." Atneim nodded briefly. "You are to begin your new assignment tomorrow." "Permission to ask a question, General?" "Granted." Ian shifted in his chair. "I was hoping, sir, that I'd be able to go home to my wife tomorrow. Sir." The other man frowned. "Lieutenant, men in our business --" He stopped, hesitating. "Ian, you're a good boy. You do what you think is right. I speak, not as a commanding officer, but as a fellow soldier. And husband. We must prioritize, Lt. Is your wife ill?" "No, sir." "Has she called for you?" Ian vaguely wondered what kind of question that was. Men here at the base weren't allowed incoming phone calls, and were only permitted to make calls out if they were supervised and had a written permit to do so. "No, sir." "Then do you have any indication that she is, in any way, in need of your presence?" His heart thumped a little at the thought of being unable to be with her. Atneim caught his eye and held it fast. Ian's back straightened tighter, and he mentally reaffirmed his duty to the project. "No, sir, I do not." The silver-haired general smiled warmly at him. "You'll do, son. You'll do." Chapter Two Dana Scully sighed as another sunflower seed found its way onto the papers in her lap. She brushed it aside automatically, trying to keep her mind on the case. Next to her, her partner popped another one into his mouth. "So, Scully, what's your medical opinion?" he asked, cracking the seed. She flashed him an annoyed look. "How can I have a medical opinion when we haven't seen the body, Mulder?" He shrugged lazily. "Just trying to make interesting conversation," he said, not at all offended. Scully returned her attention to the file, carefully skimming over the background on the case. "Mulder, tell me this is a bad joke." "How can I tell you it's a bad joke if I haven't read the file yet, Scully?" he responded without missing a beat. She allowed the remark to pass. "This town, Mulder," she explained, pointing. He lifted the paper a little, glanced at it, grinned, and returned it to her lap. "Well?" she demanded when he said nothing. Mulder lifted his shoulders again, but she could detect a hint of mischief behind the hazel specks. "Oh, come on, Scully. It's not *that* uncommon." She half-snorted. I wonder how far away from Dallas it is, she mused inwardly. "It's about 120 miles south of Austin, which is what, sixty, eighty miles from Dallas." Scully refused to ponder the significance of his statement. How he knew what she'd been thinking...Her mind drifted to the month before, then shook it away. "Yee-haw," she murmured instead, taking a secret delight in the surprised grin on her partner's face next to her. *** BEEVILLE, TEXAS 2:37 p.m. "Can I help you folks?" Scully and Mulder turned at the sound of the voice. The short, balding man shuffled his way up to the front desk, brushing off the front of his shirt. Mulder wondered if his partner saw the way he was looking her over. "Yeah, we're, uh, Mulder and Scully," Mulder answered, gesturing between them. "We'd like to talk to the sheriff." "Yep, he's me," the other man said, smiling a little. "Jake Carlson. You must be them FBI agents that called me." Mulder saw Scully swallow a grin at the awed tone in the man's voice. "We just got in, Sheriff Carlson," Scully explained. "Agent Mulder says that you agreed to arrange for our stay here." Their was a slight question mark at the end of her statement. "Yeah, yeah," Carlson said slowly, glancing back and forth between the two. "Got you a room over at the Queen Bee Hotel. Bout two miles down the road, to the right." "Uh-huh," Mulder said, watching Scully. Her shoulders sagged a little at the continuing 'bad joke.' "Well, thanks, Sheriff. We appreciate that. I was wondering, though, if you'd point us towards, uh --" He glanced through the papers for the woman's name. "The McKennas. Brian and Katie McKenna," Scully interrupted smoothly. "The McKennas, right," the sheriff said, shuffling through some papers. "They're down on Green Street, 1310 Green Street." "Thanks, Sheriff. We'll be in touch if we need your help." "Yep. Sure thing." Mulder kept his hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of the police station, until they reached the car. He got in quickly, before she could object, and sped off down the road. "So, Scully, do we go to the hotel first, or the McKennas?" he baited. "I'd like to see the McKennas first," she said absently, her elbow propped up on the door. She tilted her face towards the breeze for a minute before looking back at him. "Unless you want to go to the hotel first." "No, no, we kin do the FBI thang fust, Aghent Schully," he said, over-accenting his Texan drawl. She didn't notice. "Hey, Scully, where'd he say they lived again?" "1310 Green Street." A pause, then, "Mulder?" He glanced at her. "We *are* on Green Street." He looked up at the street sign, spying the mailbox labeled 1310 and pulled up into the rocky driveway. "Never trust a small town cop," he joked, adjusting his tie when the tease fell flat with her. Yee-haw, indeed. *** Scully rang the doorbell, willing herself not to look at the dirt- caked ditch a few yards away from the rented Taurus they had drove up in. The sound of footsteps filtered through her reverie, and she looked up. The young, blonde woman that had appeared in front of the screen door was startling. Scully guessed that she couldn't be any older than twenty-five, if even that, though her blue eyes looked older than Mulder's, if that was possible. "Yes?" the woman asked tentatively. Scully took out her badge, Mulder following suit. "Katherine McKenna?" The girl nodded. "I'm Agent Scully, this is Agent Mulder; we have a few questions we'd like to ask you. May we come inside?" "Is this --" She bit her lip. "Are you here about Billy?" It was a hoarse whisper. The pain reflected in her eyes connected with the mother in Dana, and she smiled gently. "Just a few questions," she assured her quietly. Katie hesitated, then opened the door to allow the agents inside. A few minutes later, seated on the light blue sofa in the McKenna's living room, Scully attempted to begin the interview. "Mrs. McKenna, can you tell us about what happened that day?" Mulder, for his part, saw the vague thread of common loss that ran between the two women, and Scully was grateful that he simply paid close attention, cataloguing the information in his eidetic memory. "I was inside," Katie began haltingly, her voice trembling a little. "I had my eye on him from there - the couch. I must...have drifted off for a few seconds. That's all it was," she declared, sitting up suddenly. "I was remembering the day he was born," she whispered, fighting to hold back tears. "I heard him scream," she continued slowly. "And I got up and ran outside. I found him in the ditch, like he'd...fallen in or something. By accident. I picked him up, and I ran inside here, and I called the police. It - it was barely a minute into the call when I saw him." Both agents heard the shudder in her tone. Scully looked at the young woman carefully. "What happened to Billy, Katie?" she asked gently, using her first name to soothe her. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding when the woman visibly relaxed. "Have you ever seen a dead animal being eaten up on the side of the road?" Katie asked softly. "That's what it was like. My little boy was covered in something." "What did it look like?" Mulder asked. Her eyes flittered up to meet his. "Black," she said, her breath barely above a mere hiss. "Like black worms." *** "Black worms, Scully?" They made their way across the yard to the ditch where little Billy McKenna had died, still marked off by police tape. "She was distraught, Mulder," Scully replied, and he saw that she was back into professional mode again. "Her son was dying in her arms; any worm might look like something - else." "A *black* worm?" She glanced up at him. "Mulder --" "Agent Scully, Agent Mulder?" called Katie from the porch. They turned quickly. "Mrs. McKenna," Mulder acknowledged. "You asked me to describe it, back in there." Katie bit her lip again, and he was reminded of a sixteen year old asking out her star quarterback crush instead of a bereaved mother. So young, he thought. "It - the worms. The black worms; I just realized that they didn't look like worms." Scully raised an eyebrow. "Katie?" "It was like an oil," she explained. "Black oil. I guess - I guess that makes sense, though. This is Texas, after all." "Oil wells and such," continued Mulder. She nodded. "Please. Just find my baby so I can bury him properly." Her plea entered, Mrs. McKenna disappeared inside her house. *** QUEEN BEE HOTEL 5:25 p.m. Scully was reviewing her notes when the knock sounded at the door. "Room service," she heard him call. Smiling a little, she got up and opened the door. "Right on time, Mulder; I was starving." She grabbed the steaming bag from him and threw her glasses haphazardly onto the bed. "You're welcome, Mulder," he admonished. "You're welcome, Mulder," she parroted. "Chinese?" He shook his head. "Italian. For a town of 103, you'd think they'd at least have a Chinese place on Main Street," he said, settling down on his left side on the bed. "Lasagna's yours," he warned her. The room was quiet for a few minutes as they dug through the dishes, taking half of the other's meal for their own. Finally, Scully picked up her paper plate and moved back against the headboard of the bed. "What do you think happened to Billy McKenna, Mulder?" she asked. "Do you want my professional opinion or my personal opinion?" "When is that different?" she teased. He decided to ignore the jab. "I think we've seen this before." At her incredulous face, he hurried on. "Tunguska, Scully. *Dallas.*" Scully rolled her eyes at the mention of the city. "Mulder, you cannot possibly connect what happened in Dallas to a four year old's death almost two hundred miles away." "Can't I? Look, Scully. Black worms. Oil. The black oil. This is *exactly* what happened in Dallas." "Where's the jiffy pop poppers, Mulder? And the bees?" she challenged. "Hibernation," he returned dryly. She gave him a look. "I think you're reaching." "When do you not?" he said, laughing. Scully took his half-eaten Italian bread for herself, chewing thoughtfully. "We need to stay with the facts that we *have,* Mulder. And what we have is the missing body of Billy, a mother who claims he was covered in something likened to oil or worms, and a husband that's nowhere to be found." "Oh!" her partner said suddenly, jumping off the bed. "We do have that." She looked at him quizzically as he pulled a long white envelope out of his back pocket. He handed it to her, and she turned it over in her hands. "What is this?" "Open it." She found it was already neatly opened, shooting him a confused look. "A paycheck? Brian McKenna's paycheck? Mulder! It's a federal offense to open someone's mail, and *you* are a federal agent!" "All good points, Scully. Just look at the right corner." Scully's gaze traveled to the spot. "The United States Military?" she read questioningly. "Katie's husband is in the army?" Her partner returned her look. "Odd, huh? I sent the name to the guys back in D.C. Byers said they should have results by Wednesday, and they'll email it to us, along with Frohike's love." She ignored the comment on Frohike. "Well, now that we've found the husband, what do we do?" *** CARTER ARMY BASE OUTSIDE OF AUSTIN, TX 10:58 p.m. "This isn't exactly what I had in mind, Mulder," she said dryly, yawning. "Shut up, Scully." The car approached the guards, and he rolled down his window. "Just sit there and look pretty." "Stop," said the camouflaged guard, holding up his right hand. He walked over and stuck his head in the window. "Identification." "Agents Morris and Sanders, FBI," Mulder lied easily, holding up his badge in the shadows of the car. The guard peered over at Scully. "What's your business?" "We're here to see Lt. Brian McKenna," she explained. "For what purpose?" "His wife," Mulder replied. The guard hesitated, then stepped back. "You'll have to turn around, sir." "It's important that we speak to the Lieutenant, Fletcher," Mulder said firmly, noting the guard's ID tag. He pointed. "Turn around, please, sir." Scully laid a calming hand on his arm, and he blew out a breath. "Thank you for your hospitality, Captain; your mother must be proud," Mulder said bitingly, twisting the steering wheel and flooring it. "That went well," Scully remarked blandly. "Did you see his face when I said McKenna's name?" She nodded. "He wasn't expecting that." "Something's up, Scully. We weren't asking to see the General. Why is a lowly lieutenant unavailable to receive visitors?" "Maybe he doesn't want to see anyone. His son did just die, Mulder." "No. No, it's more than that. I can feel it." She gave him a look as he turned onto the highway. "Maybe he's gone back," she guessed, although her tone suggested that she thought otherwise. "Maybe." They were quiet, lost in thought, the rest of the 120 miles back to the hotel. Chapter Three JUNE 22, 1999 7:27 a.m. Scully rolled over in bed, pulling the covers tighter around her as she fought in her dream. "Cold," she murmured in sleep. "Scully." "Cold," she said more distinctly. "Scully!" She jumped up in bed, gasping. "Mulder!" Her face relaxed when she found him sitting next to her on the bed, concern etched in his features. "Are you okay?" he asked her, gently rubbing his hand up and down her arm. "I'm fine," she said, her face slipping beneath a mask. "It was just a dream." "Do you always shout my name in a panic in your dreams?" "My dreams are decidedly less extreme than yours, Mulder. It's nothing to worry about." She sat up in bed and glanced at her wristwatch. "Seven thirty. Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" "You looked like you could use a few extra hours of sleep after last night," he said, scooting down the bed so that she could get up. Scully yawned. "It isn't like we haven't been out till two a.m. on deserted highways tracking down missing husbands before." She patted his head as she passed by him on her way to the bathroom. "Go get dressed, Mulder, I'll be ready in twenty minutes." He grinned and waited until he heard the shower turn on before he returned to his own room. *** BRIAN AND KATIE MCKENNA'S RESIDENCE 8:19 a.m. "Next time, Scully, make sure you specify that that's twenty minutes Scully-time, not normal time," Mulder said as he pulled into the McKennas' driveway for the second time in as many days. She frowned at him. "Forgive me, your Highness." He grinned amiably at her and parked the car. They walked up to the front porch and knocked. Mrs. McKenna looked at them in surprise when she opened the door. "Yes?" she asked cautiously. "We have a few more questions to ask you, Mrs. McKenna," Mulder began. "May we come in?" Katie nodded quickly, opening the door wide. They followed her down the small hall into the kitchen. "I was just getting breakfast started," she said shakily. "Is your husband back?" Scully asked, her stupor evident in her tone. Katie looked at her strangely. "N-no. I received a call last night from him, though." "What did he say?" Mulder asked, accepting the glass of lemonade she put down in front of them. The woman focused her attention on the stove. "He's a little tied up at work right now, but that he'll be home as soon as possible." "Mrs. McKenna, I don't mean to intrude," he began. "But is your husband often gone for lengthy periods of time?" She looked at him blankly. "He's a lieutenant in the military, Agent Mulder. He has a duty to his superiors." "That doesn't bother you at all?" Scully asked gently. Katie shrugged, a small, cold laugh escaping her lips. "I understood his job when we were married six years ago, Agent Scully. I'm an army wife." She shrugged, sitting down across from them at the table. "I accept that." "Does Mr. McKenna work at, uh --" Mulder shuffled through his memory. "Carter Army Base," Scully finished. The young woman before them blinked in bewilderment. "No." Scully's eyebrows furrowed together; she saw her partner's do the same. "No?" "No," Katie repeated. "He works at the Kennedy base." "And where is that?" Mulder inquired, his mind whirling with this new turn of events. "I'm not sure; twenty, maybe thirty miles from here. Why?" Mulder and Scully shared a meaningful glance; she turned to Katie and smiled. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. McKenna; we'll be in touch." They left the house quickly. *** 10:05 a.m. "I don't care what she says, Mulder," Scully argued, sipping her coffee. "There's no Kennedy Base, and there's certainly no base thirty miles from here." Mulder leaned back in the booth, the information swirling around in his head. "She's his wife, Scully; don't you think she'd know where her own husband works?" "She said she wasn't sure," she pointed out calmly. "Look, Mulder; Katie's no more than, what, twenty-five years old. She said she was married six years ago. She would have been eighteen, nineteen years old. She's young, and I think she fell in love with a man who was already married to his job. I don't get the feeling that Brian McKenna is a devoted husband. And if you ask me, no, I don't think she knows where her own husband works. He seems the type to keep something like that from her." "Odd assumptions for a man you've never even met." "And why haven't we met him yet, Mulder? Because he's at work, at a nonexistent military base. His pay stub says Carter. Why does his wife think it's Kennedy?" "They both had great terms in office, though, didn't they?" he teased. "Mulder, look; we can drive out to this 'base' and waste twenty, thirty minutes of valuable investigation time, just to satisfy your morbid sense of curiosity. *Or* you can take the word of a Navy brat who settled not sixty miles away from here when she was thirteen and who would know from experience if there was, indeed, a real Kennedy installation." Mulder made a face. "That's a trick question, Scully. If we go to the base, you'll get angry with me for dragging you out there, and if we don't, you'll get mad at me when I sneak out tonight and go by myself." She grinned and mimicked his lazy lounge in the booth. "Two choices, one of them's wrong." He gave her a look, then gathered up their bill and headed to the register. Scully smiled to herself. That worked well. *** 10:45 a.m. "I don't see it." "Maybe because it isn't here?" "Do I detect a hint of patronization in your voice, Agent Scully?" "Mulder, we've given it a full forty minutes of our day. Can we just turn around now?" "She says its here, Scully." "Well, then where is it?" Mulder fell silent as he pulled to a stop and got out of the car. "Something's wrong, Scully." She sighed and got out, coming to stand next to him as he stared off into the distance. "Something usually is." He chanced a quick look at her. "Will you please just give me my moment here and help me figure out what the hell is going on, Scully?" Dana sobered and focused on the investigation at hand. "Maybe it's underground," she suggested. "Maybe its a few more miles ahead." Scully sighed and returned to the car. *** "Okay, Mulder, one more mile and we'll be in Louisiana." "Did you hear that?" "What?" "Listen." She listened. "I don't --" she began to say, but Mulder held up his hand to silence her. A moment later, he grinned at her triumphantly. "Did you hear *that*?" "I heard it, Mulder," she said wearily. He revved the engine and did a hasty U-turn, heading in the direction of the military chopper that had just flown over the car. *** KENNEDY MILITARY BASE THIRTY MILES WEST OF BEEVILLE, TX 12:13 p.m. The gates opened easily for them, and with a quick glance at his partner, Mulder pushed on the gas and glided through. A guard in green moved in front of the car, his hand up for them to stop. "What's your business?" "We're here to see a Lieutenant McKenna, Captain," Scully said, noting the insignia on his shirt pocket. The guard nodded brusquely and waved them through. "Park at the next building. Someone will be along shortly to accompany you through the premises." Mulder nodded carefully and rolled up his window. He did as instructed, putting the car in park next to a bland, beige building a few yards away from the first. "What do you think is going on?" he asked her quietly. Scully shook her head. "They knew we were coming. But how?" Before he could reply, Scully jumped as a swift knock sounded on her window. She opened it a crack. "Agents Mulder and Scully?" the guard asked. She nodded. "Step out of the car and follow me, please." *** TWENTY MINUTES LATER The agents were shown into a room with bare white walls, taking their seats on the stiff leather chairs. "Waiting room?" Scully asked, an eyebrow arched. "No magazines?" he replied, almost forlornly. "Agents?" said a voice from the doorway, and they stood. "I'm Sergeant Broski, I understand you'd like to speak with Lt. McKenna?" Mulder nodded. "It's about his --" "I'm afraid the Lieutenant is unavailable for questioning at this moment, but I have been authorized to answer any questions that you may have concerning Lt. McKenna." A slight pause filled the room before Mulder took a step closer to the sergeant. "Sgt. Broski, was it? Can you tell us why, exactly, Lt. McKenna cannot answer the questions himself?" "Lt. McKenna is indisposed at the moment." "Was he indisposed last night at Carter, too?" he snapped. "Agent Mulder --" "At ease, Sergeant.," came a soft masculine voice behind them, and all three in the room turned. A tall blond man stepped briefly into the room, dressed in full army garb. "Dismissed, Sgt. Broski." "Sir --" "You are *dismissed,* Sergeant." "Yes, sir," the young man said reluctantly, closing the door as he left. "Lieutenant Brian McKenna?" Scully asked suspiciously. He nodded shortly. "I understand you have some questions you'd like to ask of me." "We were told you work at Carter, Lieutenant, which is nearly a hundred miles from here. Care to explain the discrepancy?" "I was transferred from Carter recently." "How recently?" Mulder countered. He hesitated slightly. "Yesterday." "Are you aware, Lt. McKenna, that this base is, for all intents and purposes, nonexistent?" Scully asked suddenly. McKenna sat down in a chair. "Kennedy is still relatively new, Agent." "So new that when we asked the sheriff where it was located that he explained there was no such thing?" she returned mildly, a bit put off. "You work for the government, too, Agent Scully. Do you not understand the need for secrecy?" "Secrecy, yes of course, Lt., but legally, this is blatant denial." "Did you know that your son is dead, Lt?" Mulder asked. "Billy." His voice betrayed no emotion. "Yes. Kate called me when it happened." "Did you love your son, Lt?" McKenna looked at him sharply. "Don't all fathers?" "I just find it odd that you aren't at home right now, comforting an obviously bereaved wife over the mutual loss of a child. And why there are no pictures of you and your son around your home. Your distinct refusal to attend the funeral, or to attempt to find his body." "I have a job to do, Agent Mulder," the lieutenant said, his eyes flashing. "We all have our jobs to do. And right now, I am assigned to this base for an unspecified amount of time. I am a soldier, Agent, first and foremost. My son is dead, yes. I don't see the point in returning to Beeville. Kate won't have a funeral until there's a body. I have nothing to return home to." "What about your wife?" questioned Scully quietly. "Doesn't she deserve your time?" "My relationship with my wife is not in question, Agent. As a matter of fact, I can't say that I understand this visit at all. Am I under suspicion?" "No," Mulder answered tensely. "You aren't." "Then I'd appreciate an end to this interrogation. I'll send someone in to see you out." The door closed behind him. *** They returned to Beeville in silence, each considering what had just occurred at the base. By the time they had appeased Mulder's curiosity by stopping by the police station to question Sheriff Carlson about what he knew of the McKenna family and had picked up a quick sandwich at a local diner, it was nearing four thirty. Scully followed him into his motel room, wearily kicking off her high heels and sprawling on the bed. He smirked at her for a moment before flipping on his laptop. "What are you doing?" she mumbled, staring at the ceiling. "Checking my mail. The Gunmen said they'd send any preliminary research they found." The room was silent for a few minutes, only the occasional clicking of keys as Mulder replied to his e-mail breaking the stillness. "Hey Scully?" "Mm." "Come here." She sat up at the tight tone of his voice. "Mulder, what is it?" "Just come here." Scully rose and padded over to where he sat at the small table, putting her hand on his shoulder for balance as she leaned forward to observe the screen. She skimmed the first few lines quickly. "'...Senators' Stadium yesterday...fifteen injured were taken off to Harrisburg Hospital where they were treated for --" She stopped murmuring to herself and moved to look at her partner. "A bee attack?" He nodded thoughtfully, and she could see that he was already engrossed in the facts. "Hey, Scully, isn't Harrisburg near Allentown?" "I think it's about forty, forty-five minutes away from it, why?" "Likely coincidence, wouldn't you say so?" She started at his words. Allentown, where the MUFON women, all since dead, had lived. "You don't think there's some type of connection, do you?" "This," he said, pointing to the e-mail, "will not be seen in any Pennsylvanian newspaper. As it is, the reporter and senior editor of the paper have since denied that they have ever covered such a story, and the manager of the stadium has stated that there was no Senators game yesterday." "They're covering it up already. When does it say it happened?" "Yesterday." "Twenty-four hours," she mused. "Less than that. You think its that's serious?" "I don't know." Mulder twisted in his chair until he was facing her. His eyes were deadly serious. "Scully, you remember what Kurtzweil told me last summer?" She started to roll her eyes at the mention of the name, but he held up his hand. "No, Scully, I'm serious here. He told me that the bees were being used as some type of transporting device. Give the bees purity, the bees can carry it around the country, around the world. The simplest way to spread the virus." Scully looked at him dubiously. "You think you think It's going to start?" "I'm starting to think that maybe It's already started." Chapter Four QUEEN BEE HOTEL 9:12 p.m. The phone rang suddenly, startling Scully out of a restless sleep. She reached over, rubbing her eyes, for her cell, blindly pressing SPEAK and held it up to her ear. "Scully." "Agent Scully? This is Sheriff Carlson. I'm sorry to call you at such a late hour, but..." She sat up in bed at the unfamiliar sound radiating from her phone. "No, no, Sheriff, it's fine. What've you got?" Carlson hesitated. "We found the body." "Whose body?" "Billy McKenna's." She gripped the phone tighter in a conscious effort not to drop it. "Where is it?" "We found it about fifty miles away from here, in another hospital. They sent it up to Austin General about an hour ago." "Austin," she repeated wearily. "Okay. Thank you, Sheriff." "No problem, Agent." Scully ended the call, and, sighing, pulled the covers back. She pressed the familiar speed dial number. He answered on the first ring. "Give me ten minutes," was all he said. She hung up without another word. *** AUSTIN GENERAL HOSPITAL 1:58 a.m. They had stumbled into the rental car soon after Scully's phone call to him. By unspoken mutual consent, they had both packed up their things and loaded it into the Taurus. It was obvious they were bidding Beeville a hasty farewell. She had gotten an hour of sleep on the ride to Austin, finally forcing Mulder to pull over and change seats with her so he could rest, too. Now she shook him awake as she pulled into the visitors' parking lot of Austin General Hospital. They walked through the near-empty corridors in silence until they approached the main desk. A tired looking young woman looked up at the two agents as they stopped in front of her desk, throwing a smile Mulder's way. Scully noticed that he either decided to ignore it, or he was just too tired to even see it. "Agents Mulder and Scully, FBI, we're here to see Dr. Christophe," he said, half-heartedly flashing his badge. The blonde's smile widened an inch. "Dr. Christophe is right down the hall, that way, Agent Mulder." He murmured something in her general direction, his hand sliding involuntarily to the small of his partner's back as he guided her down the hall. The doctor's office was small and cramped, barely able to hold its two new occupants. Christophe looked relatively surprised to see them there. "When Jake Carlson phoned in to tell me he was sending you two up here, I was expecting to see you sometime tomorrow," the white-haired man said, taking a seat behind his desk. "We're...anxious to solve this case, Doctor," Scully said, blinking hard to stay awake. "Mm. I can understand that. He told me that there was a, um, rather suspicious nature to the disappearance of this little boy." "Have you taken a look at him yet?" "No, I haven't. I was authorized to wait until Dr. Scully was available to perform an autopsy." Mulder and Scully glanced at each other. "Authorized by whom?" she asked. Dr. Christophe shrugged. "My supervisor informed me of it when the body was sent down. I'm not sure where, exactly, the order came from." He looked back and forth between the agents. "Why, is something the matter?" "No," Mulder interjected quickly, "no, nothing's wrong. Would you...where is the body, Dr. Christophe?" "Down in the morgue." Christophe started, then reached down and pulled a beeper out of his pocket. "Will you two excuse me, please? I have an important page. You can go down to the morgue, just phone the main desk if you need anything." They stood, shaking hands with the elderly coroner, and retreated to the utter stillness of the morgue. *** 1:23 a.m. Scully snapped on a pair of latex gloves, rolling her neck from side to side to relieve some of the tension. She saw Mulder move automatically to the back of the room, fiddling with some of the equipment. Sighing, she pulled out the cold metal tray, pulling the white cover off of the body. Her swift intake of breath reverberated throughout the room. He was by her side before she had even clearly assessed the situation. "Scully?" "Mulder," she said, barely able to keep her voice from shaking. Mulder moved around the side of the tray and took the sheet from her, his eyes widening as he took in the body, the boy's hair completely corroded. His eyes were sunken back into his scull, his body twisted at an alarming angle, his mouth open in a silent plea. And the rest of the body.... "Tell me I'm not seeing that," he said, without a trace of humor in his tone. "How - I don't - this is --" Scully broke off, stuttering. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "This little boy is exactly the same as those bodies from Dallas, Mulder. The same edematous skin, the rapid disintegration of the tissue and bones. I mean...I don't know what I mean, Mulder. I can't explain this anymore now than I could a year ago." She looked at him strangely. "Can you?" He was silent for a moment. "How did those bodies in Dallas become infected?" He was testing her, she realized. Gauging her belief in this. "Through the black oil, the purity." "The bees are to be released for the purpose of spreading this - virus." "Right." A light clicked on in her head. "Pennsylvania, Mulder. The bee attack. Those victims. If this is what we think it is, and the same men are behind it, those people are going to be erased within a few hours. It'll be like it never happened at all." He nodded. "Is there a military base near Harrisburg, Scully?" She thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. "The Indian Town Gap is about an hour away, if my memory serves me right. Do you think they'd take them down there?" "My guess is that they're going to keep this undercover for as long as possible, Scully. I think the incident in Harrisburg was a fluke, a mistake. They're going to hide it. And if it *was* a mistake, they'd have to move fast." "My father had a friend who worked at the Gap; I can try to contact him to get us an interview." She quickly covered the cadaver and pushed the tray back inside the shelf. "Do we tell Dr. Christophe about this?" Mulder shook his head. "Why don't you try to get a hold of this friend of your father's and book us two plane tickets for Pennsylvania." "What are you going to do?" "I'm going to contact Katie McKenna and try to explain the state of her son's body to her, and then I'm going to get Skinner to try to get this morgue under our jurisdiction. The less people who know about this, the better. At least for now." "You can't tell Skinner about Billy McKenna, Mulder. He won't --" "I'm going to explain as little as possible, Scully," he assured her. "Cross my heart and --" "Hope your big plan works?" He snorted and ushered her out of the room by her shoulders. "Meet me in the cafeteria at six, okay?" She groaned. "I can't believe it's not even daylight yet, Mulder," she said as she closed the door behind them. "Well, look at it this way, Scully. The jiffy poppers are still popping. At least some things stay the same." He didn't miss the dirty look his partner shot him on their way up the stairs to the ground floor. *** BEEVILLE, TX 2:15 a.m. The phone rang, startling Katie out of a deep slumber. She reached for the phone across the empty space where her husband's sleeping body should have been. "Hello?" "Mrs. McKenna?" "Yes." "This is Agent Mulder. Have you spoken to Sheriff Carlson tonight, Mrs. McKenna?" She nodded, although she wondered why. "Yes, he called me about nine tonight. He told me that they found Billy's body, that you and Agent Scully were going to retrieve it." She paused. "Is something wrong?" "Mrs. McKenna," he said, then hesitated. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your son is carrying an extremely infectious disease; a disease that my partner and I have seen before. We've discussed it, and we don't feel it's safe for you to --" "Disease?" Katie replied sharply. "Agent Mulder, my son --" "When you spoke to us two days ago, Mrs. McKenna, you told my partner that Billy was covered in black worms, a black-looking oil. I can't go into details, Katie, but what you saw, I've seen, too. It's highly contagious and fatal." Katie was silent. "I want to bury my son," she stated simply. "I understand that, Mrs. McKenna. You can't begin to realize how much I understand that, but I'm afraid I can't let that happen." "When." "Agent Scully is going to perform the autopsy today and after we have completely secured the area, we *will* return your son to you. You have my word on that, Mrs. McKenna." "Thank you for calling," she said stiffly, hanging up before he could reply. Katie sat in the darkness for close to an hour, her mind in turmoil. Her son was dead, her husband all but refused to come home, she couldn't see his body...Her body crumpled on the bed, and she collapsed, sobbing, onto her pillow. Sobbing for her baby boy, her sham marriage, and the normal, happy life she'd always dreamed of having but had never gotten. She cried for the nightmare that was her life. *** AUSTIN, TX JUNE 23, 1999 6:03 a.m. Dana Scully had just put her cell phone away when she saw her partner maneuvering his way across the quiet hospital cafeteria, two steaming Styrofoam cups in his hands. He sat them down on the table, and she eagerly drew one to her, touching her lips softly to the dark, black liquid. "Mm. You know what I like, Mulder," she said, watching him as he got comfortable in the hardtack chairs. He grinned before launching onto his story. "I just got off the phone with Skinner. He wanted to know the exact reasons we wanted to have an Austin, Texas morgue sealed off and how the hell we ended up in Austin anyway, but I got the authorization. No one touches that body but us." "Did you call Katie McKenna?" Mulder nodded. "Yeah. She wasn't happy." "Can you really blame her, Mulder? Her son is dead. We aren't allowing her access to his remains to bury him. Can you imagine what she's going through?" "Yes," he said honestly, his eyes locking with hers. "I can, Scully. I think we both can." Scully was quiet for a minute, indulging in the memory of the beautiful little girl she had never been allowed to call her own. "I can't believe Brian McKenna refuses to go home to her, Mulder. What kind of man is like that?" He shook his head silently, taking a sip of his coffee. "No man is, Scully." They lapsed into a hushed quiet, each lost in the maelstrom of their own memories. After a few minutes, Scully touched the hand that rested in the middle of the table. He looked up at her. "Hey," she said softly. He smiled, and she knew they were back on track. "I called Captain Traylor; he said that he'd be happy to meet with us today, so I made an appointment for around three. I also called the airline, and our flight leaves at ten forty-five." Scully glanced at her watch. "Which should give me just enough time to perform the autopsy." "Scully, we need to get some sleep. We've barely had any in forty-eight hours," he protested. "I'm fine, Mulder," she said, back in professional mode. "Just keep sending in the coffee; I can manage." At his skeptical look, she continued. "I can sleep on the plane. I asked Dr. Christophe, and he's going to lend you an extra bed to sleep on until it's time to go." "Scully." "You need your sleep just as much as I do, Mulder. Don't argue with me." She stood, brushing her mouth to wipe away any remains of her coffee. "I'll come and get you when I'm done with the autopsy. Go grab some fresh clothes out of the car and get a shower while you're up there. Room 333, third floor." Scully turned to walk away, but he caught her by the elbow and held it firmly but gently. "Scully," he said softly. She raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue. "Thanks." She smiled at him, clasping his hand for a brief moment. "You're welcome, Mulder." *** AUSTIN INT'L AIRPORT FLIGHT 131 11:01 a.m. Scully had finished with the autopsy of Billy McKenna just before ten, and had managed to somehow get a shower and change into fresh clothes before going to wake up her partner. She'd been somewhat indignant to find that he'd wasted the precious hours she'd set aside for him by watching the free HBO that the cable company was offering. "Mulder," she'd said, exasperated. "What?" he'd replied innocently. "Come on, Scully; Independence Day was on. It's a classic, I couldn't miss it." Now, as she sat next to him in the window seat, watching as he unfolded his lanky frame into the always too-small airline seat, she couldn't help but notice how old they were getting. He had cracked more than a few muscles when he'd sat down in his seat, and she noticed a few new lines on his face. It was startling to realize that he was nearly thirty-eight. Where had the time gone? It seemed like last year that she'd been twenty- nine and fresh-faced from Quantico, walking into that basement office with her mind made up to give her new partner the benefit of the doubt. He'd been thirty-two, then. She studied his face carefully. The same hazel eyes, the same wide nose...the features remained the same, physically. But his eyes had hardened with time, and his body was always tense, as though always expecting to have to turn and run. Scully shook herself out of her reverie. A glance at him told her that he was falling asleep. Gently, so as not to wake him, she placed a hand on his arm, her thumb rubbing a gentle circle on his wrist. One day, Mulder, she promised him silently. One day this will all be over and we can heal. She hoped. Chapter Five INDIAN TOWN GAP, PENNSYLVANIA 3:03 p.m. Captain Edward Traylor sat behind his solid oak desk, hands clasped in front of him. He glanced at the clock just as his secretary buzzed in. "Captain Traylor, Ms. Scully is here." He pressed the TALK button. "Send her in, Liz." A minute later, he was startled to realize that the confident, weary redhead in front of him was the same little girl he'd last seen with a retainer and late-seventies Farrah Fawcet hair. He smiled warmly at her, shaking her hand, before turning to the man next to her. Traylor realized that she must have noticed his sidelong glance at the tall form beside her, and she quickly made introductions. "Captain Traylor, this is my partner, Fox Mulder." He shook his head to clear the fog of surprise. He hadn't expected both of them. Outwardly, however, his face remained a pleasant visage of friendliness and hospitality. "Dana - may I call you that? - what brings you here to see me today?" They settled into their seats, both simultaneously folding their hands in their laps. He saw her chance a quick look at Fox Mulder before speaking. "Captain, we were given a news clipping from a local newspaper down in Harrisburg yesterday. It detailed an attack of some sorts by bees during a baseball game on June 21, during which fifteen people were injured. However, when we contacted the paper, we were told that there had been no such game on that day and that the reporter mentioned in the article no longer worked there." During her explanation, his mind had froze. How had she tracked him down? How had she known to come to him, to this base? How much did they know? With a start, he realized that she was no longer speaking, waiting instead for him to respond to her statement. "Dana, I don't know what to tell you," he lied calmly, his eyes meeting hers then Fox Mulder's. "I can say with absolute certainty, though, that there were no bodies brought here. I'm sorry I can't help you." Traylor understood the significance that the two figures before him played in the preservation of the project. Essentially, without their involvement with Cassandra and Jeffrey Spender, they might never have been able to create the perfect hybrid those few months before. Without their dogged determination in the Truth with a capitol T, three- fourths of the Group wouldn't have burned to death at El Rico in February. He refused to wonder what would have happened without the intricately-planned, and delightedly perfect execution of the abduction of Dana Scully in August 1994. He stamped down on the smile that was forming on his face to realize that Fox Mulder was staring suspiciously at him. "We never mentioned that any bodies were going to be brought down here, Captain Traylor." Traylor gave the other man a glare. "I figured that's where this line of conversation was going." "Do you know of a bee attack, Captain?" he persisted amid Dana's unbelieving stare. "I know only of the occasional swarm of killer bees in the south, Mr. Mulder. Certainly not of any in central Pennsylvania." He kept his tone conversational, hiding his turmoil under a cool, collected mask. No need to alarm them. Traylor wondered if Fox knew just how much like his father he really was. They both had that same unflinching hunger for the truth, the same spooky ability to read between the lines and find the truth behind a liar's words. This same peculiarity had killed Bill Mulder. Traylor distantly wondered if it would kill him, too. "Mulder," Dana said warningly. Traylor noticed that his tight posture relaxed upon her words, as though fearing her wrath. Interesting, he thought. "Captain Traylor, we really should be getting back to Washington. Thank you for seeing us on such a short notice." Traylor rose with them, shaking both of their hands, albeit briefly in Mulder's case. He touched Dana's hair, a smile touching his lips. "Red," he noted, enjoying the slight flush that appeared on her cheeks. "You've grown up, Dana Scully. You aren't at all like the little girl who was in love with my son all those years ago." If it was at all possible, her blush deepened. "Well," he said, clapping his hands. "It was lovely to see you again, Dana." She smiled a little at him. "It was nice to see you, too, Captain Traylor." Traylor gave a slight nod to Mulder. "Mr. Mulder." "Captain," Fox Mulder replied shortly, his hand on Dana's back as he escorted her out of the room. Escorted. There was really no other word to describe it. Traylor wondered if they were sleeping together. They certainly exuded oneness. He'd have to ask about that. It would certainly only add to the plans. He picked up his phone and dialed the number of his associate. "It's Traylor," he said briefly. "I'm calling to talk to him." A minute later, he heard the phone exchange hands. "It's Traylor," he repeated. "Have you seen her yet?" "She just left." "What does she know?" "She has an article on Harrisburg. And she knew to come up here." "I asked what she knew, not what she told you." He paused, remembering. "Not much, I don't think. She brought Mulder with her, too." "Of course she did," he replied slowly, every resonance of his voice calculated to exude the perfect amount of power and confidence. Traylor could almost picture the cloud of white- grey smoke billowing up from the puff of the cigarette. "You forget, Edward, how - close our fellow travelers are." "I think he suspected something." "Fox Mulder is paranoid. Show him a star in the sky, and he'll tell you its a distant beacon light from Vega. We'll be in touch." There was a tiny click, and Traylor hung up his end, too. Interesting, indeed. *** The walk back to their car was a silent one. She knew he was just biding his time, waiting until she was good and comfortable before bringing it up. She opened her door and slid in, buckling her seatbelt. He did the same, pausing half a second before starting the car up. "So, you knew Traylor when you were younger?" She nodded to herself. Oh yeah. He was bringing it up. "Yeah," she said, offering no more information. He glanced at her as he eased out of the parking space. "Knew his son?" "Yep." "I've just been wondering what he meant when he touched your hair and said 'red.'" "Really?" "Are you going to spend this entire conversation offering no information and using only one-word answers, Scully?" She smiled. "Well, I could always just tell you that if you keep asking me such juvenile questions and acting possessive, I'm going to shoot you again." He grimaced. "Point taken." She waited a full four minutes before speaking again. "We were stationed in Pennsylvania for about six months when I was seventeen years old. Tom was a year older than me, and he was home visiting from college. I was...enthralled with him. And, like all teenage girls do, I followed him around like a lovesick puppy the entire summer, and all I got for my efforts was a swift goodbye kiss on the cheek the day he left. I never saw him again." "Lost the great love of your life, huh?" Was that a hint of jealousy in his voice? Part of her want to hug him for the absurdity of being jealous of a crush from eighteen years ago, while another felt a little put off by his possessiveness. A quick look at his face told her his joking tone hid his insecurity, however unfounded it may have been. She rushed to reassure him. "Hardly. It was your typical summer infatuation. And I never lost the great love of my life," she added, a small smirk on her face. Mulder looked over at her quickly. "You holding back on me, Scully?" "Maybe, maybe not," she said, the smile widening a bit. He grinned and fell silent for a moment. "You know, I can't picture you without red hair." Scully rolled her eyes. I knew he'd come back to that, she thought warily. "My hair was always auburn, with just a little more brown than red. I don't add anything. I just...accentuate what's already there." He nodded, his fears subsided, and concentrated back on the roads, visions of a love-struck, brown-haired teenage Dana Scully chasing after the boy next door dancing in his head. *** ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA 8:45 p.m. Mulder and Scully had done what they could with the evidence at hand. Trouping down to Harrisburg, they had visited City Island, the tiny island in the middle of the Susquehanna River where the Senators' stadium was located, only to find out that it was closed until the fourth of July for undisclosed reasons. No one seemed to notice the fact that the summertime getaway was unusually shut down. If anything, the two agents had found that the residents of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania took it all in stride. What was a week to wait? Resigned, they had opted for the long drive back to Washington, devoid of any new information. Mulder made an on-the-spot decision and drove back to his own apartment. Scully barely acknowledged the situation, just simply retrieved her suitcase from the trunk of his car and headed up to his apartment before he had even taken his own bags out. Dana used her own key to unlock the door, setting her suitcase next to the couch before dropping onto it and closing her eyes. She heard him enter the apartment and close and lock the door a few minutes later. He was puttering around the place, she thought, amused. Mulder, puttering. He went into his bedroom and after a few minutes of hushed murmurings, she felt him come back into the living room. "I'm so tired, Mulder," she said without opening her eyes. After a minute, one lid flittered up lazily, and she gazed up at him."Do you really think it's going to happen, Mulder?" He brought one hand up to rub over his face tiredly, and he sighed. "I don't know, Scully. Do you even know what It is? Do I? As far as we know, a bunch of UFOs are going to swoop down from the sky on any given day, land in the middle of Washington D.C. and let out an army of little grey men, who will then proceed to raid every big city, in conjunction with the bees from Dallas, and spread a worldwide plague that'll make the Black Death look like the chicken pox." Scully stared at him for a minute in amusement as his cut-and- dry take on the takeover. "Thank you, Fox Mulder, for that fine, forensic analysis." He laughed a little. "Sorry, Scully." His head fell into his hands again. Emotion tugged at her heart, and she felt herself wanting to be able to brush away his fears and keep him sane. Her arms went around his neck, gently pulling him down next to her on the couch, taking delight when he didn't resist. Scully shifted back so that they had more room and then they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, Mulder gently stroking the small, feminine hand that held fast around his waist. And for those few, precious moments, the rest of the world fell away, and they slipped easily into a deep sleep. *** 1:17 a.m. She was deep in the musings of a dream when the distant hum of a telephone met her ears. Pushing the ringing aside, she snuggled closer to the body behind her, feeling strong arms tighten around her middle. She felt safe. And the ringing persisted until, exasperated, Scully allowed the pleasant illusion to dissolve. Her eyes opened, and she rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe away her sleep. She paused, trying to discern which phone was trilling, finally realizing it was his cell, which had been thrown carelessly onto his coffee table. Sighing, she reached over his lanky frame and turned it on. "Hello?" she murmured sleepily in a low whisper, unwilling to wake him. "Hello?" A pause. "Yes?" "Scully?" Her mind cleared. "Frohike?" she whispered into the still darkness. She froze for a moment as Mulder murmured in his sleep and moved a little. "Is - Mulder there?" "He's asleep," she said, angry that he'd have the nerve to call in the middle of the night. "I have the information he asked us to look for." "Well?" Scully demanded quietly, when he didn't say anything. "You know I can't talk about that over an unsecured line." Beneath her, Mulder shifted again, and she saw his eyes open. Dammit, Frohike, she thought. "Scully?" he said, confused. "Hang on," she whispered into the phone, then turned to her partner. "It's Frohike, Mulder. Go back to bed." "What? Does he have anything on Brian McKenna?" he asked, instantly wide awake. Scully sighed, falling back onto the couch next to him. "Here," she said, holding out the phone. He took it eagerly. "Frohike?" There was a short pause. "You know I don't need that much sleep anyway." He sat up on the couch, and she had to move quickly to avoid being crushed. "Mulder, Jesus." Conceding that she wasn't going to get any sleep while Mulder was on the phone, Scully managed to stumble off of the couch, smiling when he made a small, uncomfortable noise of pain as she crawled over him. She went into his bedroom, making herself comfortable on his bed. The light switched on as she was falling asleep, and she groaned. "No, Mulder. It's one o'clock in the morning. I'm not going anywhere, not until it's at least daylight." "Scully," he said patronizingly, "if we don't get this information and act on it as quickly as possible, you know exactly what'll happen. They'll get rid of the evidence, cover this thing up, and we'll be back at square one." "Mulder, this is the first time in days that we've actually had more than four hours of sleep, although not by much." "Frohike says it's important." He wasn't going to budge, she knew. Sighing in capitulation, she rolled off of the bed and followed him out the front door, shrugging on her coat. "Well, by all means, if Frohike says it's important." *** OFFICE OF THE LONE GUNMEN 1:32 a.m. The door swung open on the fourth knock to reveal a smiling Langly. "Thanks for coming, you guys." Scully ignored him and entered the small room, Mulder behind her. "What do you have?" she asked. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not nice to visit someone looking like Hell, Mulder?" Frohike baited. "You look like you just rolled out of bed." "We did," Mulder shot back. "I didn't have time to put on my face." "Byers?" Scully asked, desperate to get the information and get out. Byers crossed the room. "Lieutenant Brian McKenna, aged twenty-seven. Enlisted in the army after graduating high school ten years ago. He rose quickly through the ranks, probably because his father had been in the army until he died and was friends with General Atneim." "Who's General Atneim?" Mulder asked, moving closer to Scully out of habit. "One of the top military commanders. The Elvis of the army," Frohike explained. "He heads a top-secret project, stationed in a southern Texas military installation," added Langly. "What kind of project?" Scully asked. "We aren't completely sure," Byers remarked. "But we found out that he had funded a previous project with FEMA, back in the early eighties. We thought that was a little suspicious, especially since what you told us about Dallas last year, so we dug a little deeper and found this." He handed Scully a stack of papers. She looked up at him questioningly. "It's a log of all the phone calls placed out of Carter Military Base from Atneim's extension since August 1998." Scully glanced over the list, then handed it to Mulder. "What did you find?" Mulder nudged her, and she moved into his personal space to look. His finger traced down the list, stopping every few digits. "Look at that, Scully. The same number, at least twenty times." He glanced up and caught Byers's eye. "775-555- 0982. What number is this?" "It's a Nevada area code. That's all we could find out," Langly told him. Mulder looked around the room for a minute, then put the papers down on the desk. "You guys aren't telling us something." There was a tense pause. "The calls to the seven-seven-five number suddenly stop in February," admitted Langly, refusing to look either Mulder or Scully in the eye. Scully's eyebrow shot up. "*This* February?" Frohike nodded. "About three days after El Rico." The two agents digested this piece of information in silence. "What else?" Scully asked after a minute. "Lieutenant McKenna began making frequent trips to and from a West Virginia medical clinic, beginning in July 1994 and ending the day before his son's death on June 17, 1999," said Frohike, sitting down in front of the desk. He, too, looked everywhere but at the two FBI agents in front of him. "What's the clinic called?" Scully queried of Byers. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. Scully and Mulder looked at each other in confusion, their gaze carrying on its own conversation. 'Why the sudden quiet?' 'Do you think it has to do with --' 'I think that's reaching.' "Lyman's Fertility Clinic," Byers said finally, his eyes floating up to meet first Scully's, then Mulder's. "It's a fertility clinic." Scully sat down abruptly in a chair. "Why - would he --" "For five years," Mulder added vacantly, lost in thought. "What's the address?" Langly handed him a slip of paper. "We already checked the wife, Katherine, out. She's clean. Nothing suspicious on her, except for the fact that she's been Lois Lane to her husband's Clark Kent throughout their marriage." "What do you mean?" she asked. "She hasn't asked any questions, despite the absurdity in her husband's life. As far as we know, Brian, also known as Ian to his friends in the military, left shortly after their son's birth in early 1995. We checked his log, and it seems that he was at their home all of about three months out of each year, for about a weekend a month." "Not exactly devoted," Frohike snorted. Scully nodded, looking at Mulder. "We gathered that much from talking to Mrs. McKenna. Do you think he killed the boy?" "No," Byers said, "but we don't think he was killed in the general sense of the word." "You performed the autopsy, Scully; what did you find?" Mulder asked, turning to her. "Evidence of a massive cellular breakdown, just as I did with the fireman in Dallas." "A virus?" Langly said, and she had a feeling he was trying to lead her to the answer. "Yes." "We've seen the virus before, Scully," Mulder told her, nodding towards the Gunmen. "When?" Byers asked. Another breadcrumb, she thought wryly. "Last summer. In Dallas." Frohike stood and handed her a small vial from his pocket. "Due to what?" he asked. The final piece of the puzzle. "I don't know," she said honestly. "We --" She broke off, a sudden urge to see what was in that vial. Scully held it up in front of her face, a sharp intake of breath her only reaction. "The same bee we found in your hallway, Mulder. By the time we got a chance to run the tests you wanted on it, we didn't even connect it. Luckily, we remembered it today." "What we found in that bee is an alien virus, unlike anything we've ever seen before. From a simulation we performed on the computers, we concluded that it caused a reaction exactly like the one you described to us about the men in Dallas, Mulder, and the little boy in Austin, Scully." "You're saying --" she interrupted, trying to find science in the wake of the storm they had thrown upon her. Who was speaking? Their voices had blended into one, dull hum since she had realized that she had been infected with the same virus as Billy McKenna. And especially since she'd been handed the insect that she had so many unresolved feelings about. "We're saying that Billy McKenna was killed by a bee carrying the exact same virus as the bee that stung you, Agent Scully. Only it was more quickly-acting than the bee in that vial. We're guessing it's a new strain." Scully vaguely noticed that Mulder was sitting down, too. Langly approached and handed each of them a piece of paper. "There's been another attack, this time in Phoenix, Arizona. We got wind of this through an associate of ours who works on a newspaper down there. According to him, about thirty- seven people died." "You won't find their bodies," Frohike interjected. "They've already disappeared." "Except for one person. A woman." Mulder looked up from the printed e-mail Langly had handed him. "Someone survived the attack?" "That's what Richard, our newspaper friend, couldn't figure out. He has no idea the scale of what's been going on the past few months, but he sent us these articles, too," Byers said, motioning for them to come over. He had brought up an image of a map of the United States, with small, blinking, red dots on various cities. "These are all the bee attacks that have happened since February. We found about thirty-seven altogether, since 1998. But these thirty have occurred just in the past four months." "Thirty attacks in four months?" Scully said incredulously. "How is it that no one is piecing this together? Some hotshot reporter?" "Well, these aren't exactly public record," Langly explained, sitting next to Byers. "We've only found these after a forty- eight hour search and a lot of luck. They're covering it up completely." "And this woman that survived was part of the last attack?" Mulder asked. Byers nodded. "All of the attacks have occurred in a public place. Parks, schoolyards, baseball stadiums, high school football games. Places where there's a lot of people - places where people have their guards down and expect bees to be around." "What's the woman's name?" Scully asked, handing Mulder his jacket. "Susan Morrison," Langly said, eyeing the pair as they inched their way to the door. "Okay, you guys, we're going to need everything you have on Susan Morrison; medical records, background check, the whole deal. I want you to call Scully or I if you find anything remotely suspicious in her charts. What hospital is she at?" Mulder said, opening the door. Frohike checked a sheet of paper. "The Charles E. Clyde Memorial Center in Phoenix." "Where are you two going?" Langly asked curiously. "Arizona," Scully said briefly, the door closing behind them. The three Gunmen stared at the door, watching as Mulder's hand went to the Scully's back, completely natural, on the TV screen in the corner. "How'd he get her so fast?" Byers wondered out loud. Frohike looked at him sharply. "She was over at his apartment." "Hickey," Langly said, rolling his eyes. "I'm serious, you dumbass! When I called his cell phone, she answered, and then there was a lot of whispering and Scully told him to go back to bed, and then he kind of grunted --" "Grunted?" Byers repeated doubtfully. "I don't know *why* he grunted, he just did!" Frohike exclaimed. "Anyway, I told him to get his ass over here, and he said he and Scully would be here in twenty minutes, if he could get her out of his bed first." There was a moment of silence as the other two processed the new information. "The taps haven't picked up anything new, Hickey," Langly said. "Well, maybe we should upgrade to visual," he snapped. "Because I'm telling you what I heard." Frohike threw his hands up in the air as the other two shook their heads in disbelief and returned to the task Mulder had assigned to them. *** CHARLES E. CLYDE MEMORIAL CENTER PHOENIX, ARIZONA JUNE 24, 1999 10:30 a.m. Scully strode through the halls of the hospital, stopping at the main desk. She flashed the nurse her FBI badge. "Agent Dana Scully, I'm here to see a patient, a woman named Susan Morrison." The nurse checked the computer, then smiled up at Scully. "Ms. Morrison is on the second floor, room 202." Scully rode the elevator up to the second floor, wondering if Mulder was having any luck. Their plane had taxied on the runway at nine thirty, and they had agreed to split up, with Scully visiting the hospital and Mulder checking out the newspaper office where the Gunmen's friend worked and also going to the park where the attack had taken place. She entered Room 202 with some apprehension. The woman had managed to survive a virus that Scully herself would have succumbed to, had Mulder not found her and given her the vaccine. How could someone a thousand miles away be subjected to the very same alien organism and not have a reaction to it? Scientifically, it was improbable. Unless she already had an immunity to the virus. Scully's hand, which had been poised to knock on the door, suddenly fell away. How could someone have an immunity to it? she wondered. How is that possible? Scully shook her head, willing the thoughts away. First, she'd interview the woman; she'd ask questions of herself and of science later. She knocked quickly on the door, turning the knob and stepping inside at the "Come in". The woman was laying on the hospital bed, and although the television was turned on, her head was turned towards the window. Scully stepped into the room, shutting the door quietly behind her as Susan Morrison turned her head. Scully froze. Susan Morrison had dark brown hair, and had the circumstances been different, Scully might have marveled at the other woman's curly hair, a style she'd always wished for her own locks. Susan had deep green eyes, eyes that met the blue of the FBI agent in front of her and refused to look away. She was tall, Scully could tell. And Susan Morrison was smiling at her, smiling the way that old friends do. For all intents and purposes, Susan Morrison was a nice-looking woman, who seemed very pleasant in all aspects. Except that she wasn't Susan Morrison at all. She was Samantha Mulder. PART TWO Interstice For six years, I had held a stubborn belief in that science held the answers to the quest my partner had so doggedly pursued. I found solace in my science the way that Mulder found sanity in the truth. I realize, looking back, that the craft I found in Africa was simply the crossroads of my faith. In my time with my partner, I had questioned science many times, had even set it aside when I could no longer search physics and chemistry and biology for the answers. I realize now that my years in the X- Files had merely lead up to that moment. That moment when I stood on a South African beach thousands of miles away from Mulder, stood back and watched as the foamy white waves slowly receded over the smooth metal of a ship I knew instinctively wasn't of this world. That moment, that instinctual realization that everything I had held sacred was nothing more than farce, changed me. I still wore my cross around the gold chain on my neck, but it meant something different to me, then. It meant that my God, along with my science, had betrayed me when I needed them the most. The days passed, and my anger faded. I found that that I was able to believe this was in itself a reaffirmation to my thirst for science. The belief I had held for so long was not wrong; it was merely a piece of a large puzzle, a puzzle I found on that beach, that day. And my God, if he was mine to have, was also a piece of that puzzle. I was no longer the brazen skeptic I had been before Mulder, but neither did I accept his beliefs on face value. So when I stood before Samantha Mulder a month after my acceptance in the existence of extraterrestrials, I did not think to question the validity of what I saw. I knew, intuitively, that the woman before me was the missing sister of my partner and that with this new development would come an unchangeable future. Her arrival would only spur our new quest - a mission to stop the imminent. I had always pushed Mulder away when I needed him the most. And looking at his sister, the same hazel flecks staring back at me, I decided I could not - *would not* - make that same mistake that time around. We had weathered the storm for six years, together. We had gone to the ends of the earth for each other. We had always managed to return to one another, through whatever was thrown our way. I like to believe that it was that day, staring into the somehow familiar face of Samantha, when I made my vow to open myself up to Mulder...that it was that day that I allowed myself to acknowledge the love I felt for him. And if there was one thing I had learned during my partnership with Mulder, it was that time was of the essence. Things could disappear, be erased, or become nonexistent unless you moved fast. We had hope. We had love. And we had each other. Just not enough time. Chapter Six "You came." Those two simple words shook Special Agent Dana Scully to her very core. She stepped closer to Susan - Samantha. "You aren't Susan Morrison," she stated quietly. "No, I'm not," Samantha agreed. She turned the TV off with a click of the remote. "And you're Dana." "How do you know who I am? You said...you said, 'you came' a moment ago. How did you know we were coming?" "It was common sense," she replied, motioning for Scully to come closer. "I knew you'd received the information about the swarm that attacked in Pennsylvania. It was natural to assume you'd find out that I was here." The shrill chirping of her cell phone startled Scully out of her trance-like reverie. Samantha's alive. It was a mantra, playing over and over again in her head. Mechanically, she held the phone up to her ear. "Scully." "Hey, Scully, it's me." Mulder. Jesus. "Mulder?" There was a pause on his end. "Scully, are you okay? You sound different." "I think you should get down here, Mulder." The lack of her standard 'I'm fine' must have shocked him beyond speech. "Why, what happened?" She chanced a look at Samantha. She was merely laying still in her hospital bed, watching with interest as Scully talked to her brother. "I think only you can answer that, Mulder." He paused again. "Scully?" "I just think you should get down here as quickly as you can." "I'm in the car now; I can be there in twenty minutes." "Ten." She felt him grimace and step harder on the gas. "Ten." Scully ended the call when she heard him click off. She turned to Samantha. "He's on his way," she said unnecessarily. The other woman simply nodded, and the room lapsed into silence. *** Scully rose when she saw Mulder outside of his sister's room, meeting him at the door. "I need to talk to you in the hall first," she said firmly, pushing him back and closing the door behind them. "What's wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowed with concern. She took a deep breath. "Mulder, the woman in there is not Susan Morrison." Mulder's eyes met hers sharply. "What?" Scully opened the door, her hand on his arm. "I'm right here, Mulder," she said, giving him a gentle nudge into the room. He didn't faint, or gasp, or do any of the things that Scully had steeled herself for. He stepped quietly into the room, his eyes locked on those of his sister, and waited for Scully to rejoin him. Samantha spoke first. "Fox." Mulder remained silent as he moved to sit down on the chair next to the bed. His hazel eyes stayed fixed on her. "I know that you're surprised," she continued, glancing up at Scully. Mulder laughed, then, a cold, short, ironic laugh that made both women look at him in concern. "Is there a reason we're here?" he said quietly, looking down at the floor. "You're here because you've come the closest to the truth than you ever have before." "Quit the cryptic bullshit," he said, his words tinted with anger, but his voice remained calm and soft. "Are you a clone?" Samantha tapped his shoulder gently and when he looked up at her, she shook her head. "No." "Then why do you suddenly decide, after twenty-six years, that it's time to make a reappearance? Are we supposed to just believe you?" "No, of course not, Fox. I understand your fear, I do. I have no other explanation other than it was time for the two of you to know. There isn't much time left; I felt you should know." "Why were you at that park, Samantha?" Scully asked, stepping closer. Mulder reached over and entwined his hand with hers. She gave his fingers a slight squeeze of reassurance, relieved when she felt him return the pressure. If Samantha noticed the exchange, she didn't comment, although Mulder felt certain that she was curious. He let his hand slip from Scully's, needing to gather his strength from himself. "I was meeting someone." "Who?" Mulder asked, looking fully at his sister for the first time. "A colleague." "*Who*?" he repeated, more forcefully. A voice from the doorway interrupted the conversation. "Ms. Morrison?" Three heads turned to stare at the nurse who stood hesitantly in the threshold. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Dr. Vincent would like me to take another blood sample now." Samantha nodded. "That's fine." "A blood sample for what?" Mulder asked his sister, moving away so the nurse could have room. She didn't answer him, and he had to avert his eyes when the nurse pulled out a long, dangerous needle. He felt Scully touch his arm a minute later, telling him it was over. They took their places by her bed again. "You have it, don't you?" Scully said before he could speak. He looked quickly at her, but she was watching Samantha. His head swivelled again, and he saw his sister nod. "When did you take it out?" "About four months ago." "February," said Scully faintly. Samantha nodded again. "You knew - you knew what would happen if you did. Didn't you?" Mulder sat back in his chair, feeling completely removed from the conversation. His partner had noticed something about Samantha's condition, obviously, something he was still too numb to notice. "I knew, yes. But somehow, when the world's ending, little things like this don't seem to matter much," Samantha said, a little wistfully. "Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Mulder demanded finally, glancing first at his sister, then Scully. "I have cancer," his sister stated simply. "A nasopharyngeal mass. It's a small growth between the superior conchea --" "And the sinoidal sinus." Mulder dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his face. "Jesus Christ." Scully touched one of his hands hesitantly. "Mulder --" He threw her hands off abruptly, jumping from his chair. "You did this to yourself willingly?" he said hoarsely, pacing the room. "You knew what would happen and yet you --" "I did what I had to do, Fox," Samantha said, her fingers picking at the soft cotton of her blanket. "We all do what we have to do." "You had an implant, too?" he asked, trying to reason the whole story out in his head. "Yes. Just as Dana does." "You gave yourself this disease," Mulder said quietly, suddenly stopping his pacing. He crossed his arms over his chest. "There are more important pieces of the puzzle than just any one person, Fox," she told him quietly. Mulder glared at her for a minute before letting the door slam on his way out. *** "Mulder!" He heard her flurry of footsteps as she struggled to catch up with him, but he refused to acknowledge her. He needed time, time to process everything that had been happening in the past three days. To figure out what the hell he was going to say to a sister who'd made a conscious decision to stay missing for twenty-six years and suddenly reappeared to tell him that she was dying of the same cancer Scully had had. "Dammit, Mulder!" Scully shouted. Mulder paused, his hand hovering on the elevator call button. He kept his back towards her, but he felt her behind him. "Look at me." He turned slowly. "Scully --" "Why are you running?" she demanded, hands flying to her hips. "That's your sister in there." "That's a sister whose known exactly where I was and what I was doing for the past twenty-six years! A sister who decided I was better of thinking she was dead for the past eight years." "We don't know the whole story, Mulder." "I know that she's known something about both us for a long time and she didn't say anything. She lied to me, Scully. How do we even know she's the real thing? That could be just another clone C.G.B. sent out to distract us!" "Well, then, we'll run tests. We'll find the truth, Mulder." She stepped closer to him, putting her hand on his arm. "We'll find it." *** 7:12 p.m. Mulder approached Samantha's door with some apprehension. He'd had nine hours to make sense of the situation, and yet all that he could comprehend was the fact that the thing he'd been searching for for the past eight years, the woman whose abduction twenty-six years before had shaped his entire being, was alive. Alive and within his grasp. He peeked through the window on the door, a small smile curling up on his lips. Scully sat on the chair by Samantha's bed, and Sam had the bed up in a sitting position. He couldn't hear their words, but he knew without being told that they were talking about him. It was a shock to his system to realize that the two women he loved most in the world were together, just beyond the door he stood before. What would my life have been like if she'd never been taken? he wondered, leaning his forehead against the door. Would his parents have stayed together? Maybe he'd have still joined the FBI and stayed in Violent Crimes. And maybe he'd have met a young Dana Scully when she came to Headquarters to consult with the VCS on a case from Quantico. They would have sparred, the same way they had when they'd first met, and maybe he'd have offered to take her out to dinner as an apology. And maybe she'd have accepted it. Would there have been another date? A few more? A succession of dates until there was an official 'them'? He would have introduced her to his sister, maybe during Thanksgiving. They would have giggled and teased him while they paged through family albums. Maybe Sam would have called Dana to go shopping together on the weekends. And Scully could have been the only one able to comfort her when her boyfriend broke up with her. And after a year or so, Dana would have slyly shown Sam the engagement ring she'd received on her birthday, and they would have giggled and squealed and discussed gowns and babies and the men in their lives. Maybe his father would still be alive, and Melissa Scully. And perhaps, if it had been another time, he and Dana would be at Sam's house for the annual Mulder family Fourth of July barbecue. He would be standing in a clear blue pool, maybe in some nice little suburb outside of D.C., talking politics and business with his brother-in-law. And maybe he'd have a beautiful little redheaded toddler in his arms, a little girl with her father's green eyes and her mother's face. And he would have looked over to see his wife waddling around the yard with Samantha, both glowing as they unconsciously rubbed their hands over their swollen bellies. Maybe his life would have been perfect. Normal, and peaceful. Mulder pushed the door open with his toe and held up two steaming paper bags. "Dinner's on." Scully looked up at him, a smile creeping across her face as their eyes met. He smiled back at her. Then again, maybe his life was perfect. Chapter Seven 10:13 p.m. They'd spent their day separately, pursuing every avenue of leads they could. Mulder had explained to Scully that not only did he not get to speak with the Gunmen's friend, but that the newspaper hadn't even let him in the front door. No one seemed to know anything down at the park where the incident had occurred. It was officially covered up. He'd spent a few hours alone, at his partner's insistence, with Samantha. They hadn't spoken much, just simply watched the television. His feelings were in a tumult in the middle of his stomach. She seemed to accept his uncertain silence, asking nothing of him and laying all her cards out on the table. Scully had disappeared down into the lab while she gave brother and sister time for themselves. Samantha's doctor, Robert Vincent, had given her a strange look when she'd calmly asked him if he'd give her the lab so that she could perform a DNA analysis. But he'd left her to her own devices, and she'd been grateful that he hadn't asked any more questions. Mulder looked up as she quietly slipped into the darkened room, careful not to disturb the sleeping Samantha. Scully sat down in the seat next to Mulder, folding her hands in her lap. Distantly, they could hear the wail of an ambulance. They sat in companionable silence for a moment before he spoke softly. "Do you think she's my sister, Scully?" There was a pause. "We won't know until at least Saturday, at that's stretching it. It usually takes somewhere between four days to a week to get results," Scully replied quietly, watching him. "I don't mean about the tests," he whispered back, his eyes resting on his sister. "You, Scully. As my partner and as my best friend...do you think she's my sister?" Their eyes met, and he waited patiently. "Yes," she murmured. "I think she's your sister, Mulder." He looked back at the woman laying quietly on the bed. "Then that's good enough for me." He looked down at his hands for a moment before catching her gaze again. "Thank you, Scully." "For what?" "For being you. For being my friend. For putting up with me through all of this." She brushed a strand of hair out of his eye lovingly, her hand gently stroking his cheek as it fell away. "I wouldn't put up with anyone but you, Mulder." Reflexively, Mulder leaned into her touch, marveling at how electric a mere touch between them was. Samantha sighed in her sleep, and he looked back over at her, tears welling up in his eyes. "Oh, Mulder," Scully whispered, getting off of her chair to kneel in front of him. Her hand slipping behind his neck to pull him closer to her. Their foreheads met in the middle. sFor two people who had spent two lifetimes building up walls around their hearts, this simple gesture was the only way they could offer comfort; the only way to accept comfort. They sat that way for a long pause, lost miles away in their own thoughts. He remembered a time, nearly one year before, that they had been in this exact same position. He could recall with vivid clarity the way his heart ached that hot summer day, when she had told him she was leaving the Bureau...he'd assumed that also meant she'd be leaving him, too. So he'd stopped her the only way he knew how; he'd spoke his heart for the first time in five years, told her exactly what all the innuendo and teasing had carefully concealed. And he'd seen her eyes when she had realized he was speaking the truth. She wouldn't leave him. He knew that. They'd come too far to push each other away. Mulder's hand reached up, brushing across her bottom lip, his heart pounding. That August day a year before had been one crossroads they had been willing to conquer. They were at another, now. Hazel sought blue, and a silent question was asked. His answer received, Mulder brushed the same hand across her cheek, down the side of her nose, continuing down past her lips again until he reached her neck. Almost dreamily, his hand moved to cup her face, and she pulled him closer. Before he could think twice, his lips gently brushed over hers. The soft sound of someone clearing their throat broke the moment. Their eyes opened, barely a centimeter apart, and slowly, they came back to themselves. Scully moved away slowly, her eyes unable to drop from Mulder's. "Sorry," Samantha said, and Mulder detected a hint of humor in her voice. Oh, how humorless the situation is, little sister, he thought wryly as Scully stood up. Scully coughed a little, her hand touching the spot where Mulder's lips had been only a few moments before. "It's okay," she murmured. "I thought I heard you two talking," Sam explained. "I didn't mean to, um, interrupt anything." The room was silent. "I'm, uh, I'm going back to sleep now, so...carry on." She sounded so desperate to escape the silence that Mulder would have laughed if it hadn't been so serious. "I need some coffee," Scully said suddenly, flying across the room. "Scully!" he said, jumping from his seat after her. He put a hand under her elbow as he guided her out of the room. "Where are you going?" he asked as they stood facing each other. The hospital was almost completely still, and his voice sounded ridiculously loud to his own ears. "I'm going for coffee," she said, and he thought he heard suppressed laughter behind her words. "Like I said." "Oh." Mulder averted his eyes from hers, unsure of how she wanted to proceed. "Do you want to come with me?" she asked finally, gently. *** 10:49 p.m. The two agents sat next to each other in the waiting room on the second floor, quietly sipping their coffee. They hadn't spoken in the time it had taken to go down to the cafeteria, order their drinks, and return to Samantha's floor. He turned to her. "Scully." "Not now, Mulder." Not ever, his mind substituted. "Scully --" "Mulder, there's so much at stake right now," she said, finally looking at him. "Samantha, the McKennas...whatever the hell is going on with the world." Her voice softened, her hand slipping into his. She squeezed. "Later." "When later?" Scully hesitated. "When you can look at me and say you've found everything you've wanted. When I can look back at you and not worry that you're going to be killed on some wild goose chase or by this conspiracy. When the world is safe again, Mulder." "I *have* found everything I've wanted, Scully," he said honestly, gazing at her. "I found you, didn't I?" Her lips trembled in a soft chuckle. "A modern-day Romeo," she murmured. "Later, Mulder. I promise you." "I'll be waiting, Scully. I promise you." She smiled at him, then lifted her hand to brush across his cheek as she stood up. "I'm going to the hotel," she whispered. "Will you be here?" "I'll be here." "I'll be back around seven, okay?" He nodded. "I want you to sleep, Mulder." "What's sleep?" he said, deadpan. He watched as she gathered up her things and disappeared down the hall, casting him a quick, soft look over her shoulder as she went. I promise you, Scully. One day. One day this is going to end, and we can make things right. We can heal. He hoped. *** CHARLES E. CLYDE MEMORIAL CENTER JUNE 25, 1999 7:07 a.m. Dana Scully opened the door to Samantha's hospital room to find it empty. The door swinging shut behind her, she walked quickly over to the receptionist's desk. "Excuse me?" "May I help you?" "The woman that was in room 202, Susan Morrison, where is she?" The nurse checked a few charts. "Ms. Morrison was taken into surgery early this morning." Scully's heart jumped to her throat. No, not now, she thought desperately. "What for?" "She began hemorrhaging internally this morning." "What floor is she on?" *** OR ROOM 3 FIFTH FLOOR She saw him the minute the elevator doors opened. He was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. She hurried over to him, the sound of her heels clicking on the floor interrupting the cool silence. "Mulder," Scully breathed when she finally reached him. "What happened? Why didn't you call me?" He didn't respond for a minute. Shock, she thought clinically. "Mulder," she said evenly. "I fell asleep in the chair," he said eventually. "I was out two, maybe three hours at most. The machines started going off, and the doctor came in." "What did he say, Mulder?" she asked, relying on the technique taught at Quantico; use their name repetitively to bring them onto your level, to get closer. He shrugged. "I don't know. I was half-asleep, and it wasn't like I'd be able to understand it anyway." "But she was fine when I left." "I know." Mulder lifted tired eyes to meet hers, and she saw the masses of guilt and self-torture reflected there. "I don't know what happened." She couldn't speak; if she did, she'd lose control, and Mulder needed her to be strong. Instead, she drew him close to her, wrapping her arms around his waist. His arms hung limply at his sides for a moment, and she feared she may have lost him. At the last possible minute, she felt the faint flicker against her back as his hands slowly found their way around her neck. "I did it again, Scully," he whispered. "You did nothing, Mulder," Scully replied fiercely. "This is not your fault." "I knew that she was in danger. I was supposed to protect her, Scully. Just like when she was taken. Before they left, my father told me to watch her. 'Keep her safe, Fox.' I failed her then, and I failed her now." She was startled to realize that his voice had regressed to a child-like quality. His eyes were focused above her face, almost as though he were staring through the doors of the past. "Mulder, we don't know what happened to her yet. And I think it's safe to assume that was done to her to cause this was done by one of Them. They knew you'd protect her, Mulder, and They waited until they could get to her safely before they made their move. This is not your fault," she repeated, feeling the strong pulse in his neck against her cheek. "It never was." "Mr. Mulder?" They separated slightly and turned at the sound of Dr. Vincent's voice. "Excuse me. We just finished up on your sister." "Is she okay?" he asked shakily, stepping away from Scully. The doctor hesitated. "She's stable. We still don't know what brought the trauma on, but we did find a small puncture mark on the back of her neck. I didn't find any clear results on the tox screening, so perhaps it was nothing." "Where is she now?" Scully asked. "She's in the ICU. She'll be there for at least a week, until we can accurately assess what happened to her." Dr. Vincent paused again. "I won't lie to you folks. She's weak, and the way her blood count level was *before* this happened...well, the odds are a little less favorable than I'd like. It'll be touch- and-go for the next few hours." "Can we see her?" Mulder's voice was quiet. "I'm afraid not, not for a few days. She's still asleep from the anesthesia we gave her during the surgery." "Is she going to be okay?" he asked. "I've seen patients pull through worse, Mr. Mulder." Vincent patted his shoulder sympathetically, then looked at Scully before walking off down the hall. 'Take care of him,' the look said. "She isn't going to pull through, is she, Scully?" Scully was surprised to find that Mulder had moved to sit down on one of the chairs that decorated the walls of the waiting room. She crossed the room and sat down next to him. "We just have to wait, Mulder." He glanced over at her. After a beat, he spoke. "I'm sorry I didn't call you." She gave a small, sad laugh. "It's okay." Mulder returned the wry laugh, which gave way to tears. His head fell onto her shoulder, and her fingers found themselves threading their way through. "We'll be okay, Mulder." They stayed that way, safe, for a few minutes before Mulder pulled away and reached into his pocket. "I found this in her hand before the doctors came in." "What is it?" she asked, taking the small packet of matches into her hands. "Flip it over." She did. Rachel, NV - Rt. 375 The two agents shared a look before Scully pulled out her cell phone. "Yes, I'd like to book two tickets, coach, to Rachel, Nevada, as soon as possible." *** RACHEL, NEVADA RT. 375 JUNE 25, 1999 3:05 p.m. The highway was long and narrow, rarely veering and hardly any curves. A straight, endless road, Scully though. The highway to nowhere. Or the road to the answers. Samantha's cryptic message had stirred something in Scully, something she wasn't sure was shared by her partner. She chanced a quick look at him. He was concentrating on driving, although a child could have driven. They hadn't seen another car on the road since they started two hours before. It was, for all intents and purposes, deserted, except for the occasional gas station or rustic souvenir shop. "When does this end, Scully?" Mulder asked suddenly, popping another seed out of his open window. He could have been talking about the seemingly endless chase after breadcrumbs thrown to them by mysterious informants, in that case, his sister. She decided, for her sake and his, that he meant the road. She glanced at the map. "About sixty more miles left." He rolled his head from one shoulder to the next. "What's that, about another hour?" "Thirty minutes at the speed your going," she said mildly, glancing over at the speedometer. He began squinting behind his sunglasses. "Hey, Scully, you see that?" She put her hand up to her eyes to shield them from the glaring sun. "See what?" The car rolled to a stop in front of the two white Crown Victorias strategically blocking the road. "Uh, that," he deadpanned. She shot him a dirty look. Damn this sun, Scully thought irritably. It was impossible to discern the faces of the drivers of the two cars. Before they could respond, the cars roared to life and started down Rt. 375 at a steady pace. "Think that's our cue to follow, Mulder?" she asked as he gunned their engine. "I thought government-issue spy cars were supposed to be black?" "Just drive." *** The glare from the sun made it difficult to see the building until they were almost on top of it. It took him a minute to realize they were, in fact, on top of a building. The two white cars ahead of them slowly pulled to a stop, and he took that as a sign for him to do the same. He killed the engine and glanced at Scully, who shrugged. Footsteps behind them made him turn his head swiftly. The red-haired man stopped at Mulder's open window and looked in at them. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully. Follow me, please." Wordlessly, they alighted the car, following him as he crossed what Mulder assumed to be the parking lot. He was surprised to notice they were walking down a ramp, not on straight ground. His hand moved to the small of Scully's back, if only to assure himself that they were together. Finally, their guide stopped at a cold metal door, sliding a card through it. It swung open automatically. A young woman with auburn hair stepped up to them as their escort moved around them to stand next to her. "Welcome to the Facility," Kurt Crawford said. Chapter Eight Scully started in surprise as the door swung shut behind them. Automatic, she thought, detached. Her mind was obviously playing tricks on her. Why would Kurt Crawford be standing in front of her, in an underground Nevada building named the Facility. It was something out of one of Mulder's sci-fi movies. Life is stranger than fiction, she thought. She turned to catch Mulder's eye, only to find him scanning the room. It was a small, barren room, with the appearance of a doctor's office. There were small refrigerators stacked by one wall, computers lining another, and a door opposite the one they had entered. "If this is a surprise party, you're a little early," Mulder said. His humor fell flat with Scully. "What are we doing here?" she asked Kurt clearly. "To help us. We were sent word that your sister was dying in the hospital in Arizona. We knew she'd send you to us if anything were to happen to her," the young woman said to Mulder. "Where are we?" he asked. "In an underground laboratory in Nevada," Kurt answered. "What kind of lab?" Scully countered. "I believe you've been to at least two of our labs before, Agent Mulder," the woman said. "Although Agent Scully has not." "No," Scully replied absently, her gaze flickering over to the computers. She bent over one of them. "It's doing some type of DNA sequencing." She looked up at the woman. "Why?" Neither answered. "There is more to show you," Kurt said, opening the door across the room. After a moment's hesitation, they followed him. *** Kurt and the woman led them down a stark, white hallway. The doors on either side of the hall were carefully catalogued in Mulder's memory for future references. No windows, he noted. Artificial light. Kurt glanced back at them as he opened a door at the end of the hall. Artificial life. The door opened up into a room much like the one he had encountered two years before, one that had been filled with other Crawford clones. The tanks, this time, were not perched on shelves or filled with developing clones. There were small containers on rows inside of a refrigerator, containers that were achingly familiar. The room, he saw, included two clones of the woman that stood next to Scully and another Kurt clone. Scully walked over to the fridge. After a pause, she opened the door, her hand brushing over one of the containers. Don't, Scully, he begged in his mind. Her hands shook slightly as she pried off the lid and peered inside. "What is this?" she asked clearly. "There is much to say," the woman said, crossing the room to Scully. Mulder was startled to see her hand flutter onto Scully's shoulder. "And little time. We'd like to explain." Scully's head turned and their gazes locked. Finally, she nodded, replacing the hybrid fetus back in the liquid nitrogen. *** The woman and Kurt led them into a small room. Mulder was hit by a shock of deja vu as he took in the rows of drawers, each labeled with a name in alphabetical order. He read the names as they made their way down the aisle. Gillian P. Abbington. Jennifer L. Caldwell. Rebecca A. Hadley. Tina H. Johnson. Christine R. Maudlin. They stopped walking, and the woman pulled open a drawer. Dana K. Scully. He felt her stiffen next to him as the younger woman pulled out a vial and placed it in Scully's hand. "You know that some of us had been working to develop a cure for the cancer," Kurt began. "To save our mothers." Mulder nodded. "This facility was abandoned about a year ago. It's creator felt he no longer had use for it. And then this past February, we received word that the other facilities had been burned. Only this and another in West Virginia remain." "For what purpose?" Scully asked, her fingers rubbing gently over the vial. "To create a vaccine, for the virus. We knew the Date was set, and we were working on that information." The other woman glanced at Kurt. "Until four months ago, when it became known the Date had been stepped up." "To?" Mulder inquired. She pinned him with an honest gaze. "This July fourth. You've been given some information on how it is to happen. A holiday, when people are away from their homes. Once the bees have been released here, the swarm will migrate south, and another will be released within two or three days in Europe." "The beginning purpose of this clinic was to monitor the abductees and to continue to harvest their ova and sperm in an attempt to create the perfect hybrid. For some reason, that project ended in February," Kurt explained. "We don't know why. We can only assume that the project was successful, somehow. More than likely, the perfect hybrid was created; that would explain why we were supposed to be shut down, why the Date was moved up." "And what are you in all of this?" Scully asked the other woman quietly. "We are clones, just as the Kurts are. Our sector of the project was to create clones with the intent of experimenting with aging techniques. Obviously, they succeeded. Half of my sector were used to further the hybrid project; the rest, like me, were used in the advanced development operation, known as A.D.O." "So clinical," Scully murmured, her breath choking up in an ironic half-laugh. "One must be." She paused. "We brought you here so you could help us. You've both been exposed to Purity, and you were the given the vaccine last year, Agent Scully. We were hoping you'd be willing to assist us in trying to create the vaccine for distribution before the bees are released." There was a moment of silence. "We understand you'll need time to think it over," Kurt said. "I will show you to your quarters," the girl clone said, touching Scully's shoulder again as she passed by. The two agents remained still. "This way," she urged gently. Moving in tandem, they followed the girl out of the dark aisle and into the main long hallway. She opened a door in the middle and flicked on a light switch. "Our space is limited," she explained. "We use most of the rooms for scientific purposes. We rarely sleep. I hope this is all right." Mulder and Scully entered the room almost mechanically. He dimly noticed that she still carried the vial containing her stolen ova. The girl hesitated by the door. "Emily Three and Emily Five will bring the things from your car down to you shortly. There's a kitchen down the hall, and the bathroom's that door in the corner. If you need anything, don't hesitate to find one of us. I'll wrap on the door at seven tomorrow morning." She moved to close the door. Scully started. "Who...did you say would be bringing our things?" The young woman heard, as did Mulder, the tight tone in the agent's voice. She glanced at Mulder, a look of confusion on her face. "Emilys Three and Five." She stepped back into the room. "Why?" Jesus, he thought. Mulder wanted to move to her, to restore some of the strength she'd given him back to her, but he was rooted to the same spot. He thanked a God he didn't believe in that she was strong enough not to faint. Instead, she merely sat down on one of the beds. "You're Emily." Her voice was deadly quiet. The other woman raised an eyebrow, in a startling similarity to her mother. Mulder knew the clones had little emotion, let alone betrayed their feelings. I suppose that's about as close as we'll get to surprise, he thought, dazed to realize he had detached himself from the situation. "We're all Emilys." She gave a quick, significant look to Mulder, and he was shocked to see Scully in Emily's eyes. "We thought you knew. I'm sorry." Emily shut the door quietly behind her. Mulder stared at his partner for a moment before he was energized into action. He crossed over to her. "Scully --" "I'd like to not talk about it right now, Mulder," she said, her eyes down. After a beat, she met his gaze questioningly, as though asking for permission. He nodded. "Do you want me to go?" "Could you just sit here with me for awhile?" Mulder nodded, sitting down on the bed and drawing her into his arms. He felt her stiffen a bit, then relax. He settled them back against the pillows, his hand absently tracing patterns across her back. "Mulder?" "Mm?" "Thank you," she whispered. Chapter Nine THE FACILITY JUNE 26, 1999 7:00 a.m. The knock sounded promptly at seven the next morning, just as Emily had told them. Scully opened her eyes and blinked habitually, though there was no sunlight to shy away from. It took her a minute to assess her surroundings. She glanced down as the arm around her waist tightened against her movements, and smiled. Mulder. She rolled slowly under his heavy arm and ran her fingers through her hair as she went over to answer the door. "Dr. Scully?" She knew instinctively it wasn't the same Emily who had shown them around the day before. "Yes," she murmured. "Emily Two instructed me to wake you and Mr. Mulder up. It's seven o'clock." "Thank you - Emily." The clone gazed at her in an almost sympathetic way. Mulder had told her that they rarely showed emotion. "I'm Emily Five, Dr. Scully. You can just refer to me as such." Scully nodded and Five turned away. She closed the door after a pause and went over to rouse Mulder. She shook his shoulders slightly, and he mumbled. "Mulder, it's seven. It's time to wake up." She left it at that and disappeared into the bathroom to take a quick shower. The hot rivulets of water that poured down over her presented a steady rhythm of distraction against reality. She'd spent the entire night without sleep; no doubt it showed, and Mulder would comment. Two and a half years before, when she'd looked over the DNA testing and announced to her mother, brother, and very pregnant sister-in- law that Emily was not her sister Melissa's, but indeed her own little girl, she'd felt her world drop away. Her stomach had plunged and she'd made a hasty retreat to the bathroom as her family sat in shocked silence in the living room. I only had a week, she thought desperately, hot tears mingling with the water. A day or two as the little girl's aunt; the days between Christmas and New Year's Eve as a confused, misplaced mother. She hadn't even had the chance to connect with the child in the womb; she'd been robbed of that chance, only to have her second chance stolen away a few years later. Had Emily known she was her mother? Or had the beautiful baby died wondering where her adoptive mother was - her real mother, Scully had to admit to herself. Perhaps it wasn't truth, but Scully forced herself to believe that her daughter had at least known that the nice woman Dana was something more than a friend. Oh, God, she thought, choking on a sob. Her head fell against the wall of the shower. She couldn't formulate the words to express her anger, her red-blooded rage at the injustice of what had been done, not only to her, but to her children. Can I do it? Can I get out of this shower and walk out of this room and look at those faces...the faces of what Emily would have looked like in eighteen years...can I look at them and not see what might have been? What should have been? She had held in her hands all the dreams and hopes she'd always wanted the day before. Other women could have said that they held their newborns in their arms; Scully would say that she had held a vial containing her most precious life's gift. Dana shivered as she realized the water had begun to run cold. Her hands mechanically turned the shower off and she stepped out, opening the door a crack to check on Mulder. He was sitting on the bed next to the one they'd fallen asleep in, staring at her. She closed the door without acknowledging him. I am strong. I can do this. One foot in front of the other. Dana Scully does not admit defeat. Oh, Emily. *** 8:03 a.m. Mulder and Scully entered one of the laboratory rooms at random; the hallway that held nearly eight doors was still a mystery to them. Two Emilys glanced up at them from their stations at large microscopes before returning to their work. Mulder glanced over at Scully to see her reaction. Her face remained a calm visage, her true feelings masked beneath it. He'd seen her despair when she'd opened the bathroom door earlier; she'd closed the door on him. And not simply figuratively; she had physically and most literally shut him out. It hurt more than he'd known it would. "This is Emily Three," one of them said, without looking at them. "I trust you slept well?" Scully nodded shortly, her eyes focused on one of their backs. "You asked us for help yesterday, Two. What can we do?" Mulder started with the knowledge that Scully could tell which was which. The year Samantha had been born, back in 1965, there had been another family at the Vineyard who had moved in shortly after Teena Mulder's return from the hospital. Four year old Mulder had bounded over to their neighbors's yard the day after the moving trucks had left to investigate. He found two little girls playing on the front porch, and he'd been startled to realize they were identical twins, the same age as he was. As they'd grown up and the summers passed by, young Fox had realized, with some amusement, that even their own mother had to stop and think before addressing an individual twin. But she knew. She always knew which daughter was which. Mother's instinct, he realized as the two clones finally turned their heads to look at them, their movements precisely coinciding with the other's. Or maybe it was just Agent Scully, the FBI investigator. It could be very likely that she had picked up on some small, otherwise insignificant detail about the three Emily clones, something Mulder might have been too shell-shocked to consider. But he knew. He just knew. Instinct. *** Emily Three lead Scully out of the room and down the hall. "The Kurts have gone to Arizona," she said as she opened the door. "We fear the worst for Samantha." "How do you know?" Scully asked her curiously. "A feeling," Three said, shrugging. "And I made my way into the Clyde Center's computer system early this morning and brought up her records." Scully would have smiled if she hadn't been mesmerized by the young woman before her. It took a conscious effort to reply. "She won't --" Three shook her head. "Two is intelligent. She won't tell Mulder. That is your area." She walked over to a storing tank much like the one Scully had seen the day before, in the first room. "Do you know what this is?" Scully stepped over to it and took it from her. Her breath exhaled quickly, and her eyes floated up to meet the other woman's eyes. "It's a child." "More accurately, it's a fetus," Three said, taking the pale creature out of Scully's hands and replacing it in the green substance. "We've been developing various vaccines in the hope that we will eventually find the right one." "What does that child have to do with the vaccine?" Please, God, don't let her say.... "We have access to the virus the bees will carry. A very small amount. Before we can distribute the vaccine, we will need test subjects." Scully's gaze fell onto the child, now full encompassed in the container. "You're breeding them to test on them." "They, Dr. Scully, are us. This is the original child. We've kept it in a sort of suspended animation. We've found that the liquid nitrogen keeps the fetus remarkably well preserved. That way, we are allowed to continually extract the DNA we need to perform the tests." Scully fought back tears. "What are we doing here?" "I know this is difficult, Dr. Scully. And perhaps its rather sentimental, but I thought you'd like to be here when I performed the process. If you don't, that's fine." It was wrong; she shouldn't be here for that. And she wouldn't get another chance to see her child being created. Created. Not conceived. Never conceived. "I'd like to be here." *** Three had donned her medical garb, and she'd given some scrubs for Scully to put on as well. They entered a secure environment and Three glanced over at her. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine," she said automatically. Three nodded and bent over a small microscope, her fingers deftly unscrewing the lid on the ovum vial. She began to speak; and after a minute, her FBI training kicked in and Scully realized it was to keep her mind occupied. A small, sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Once an egg has been fertilized by sperm it soon starts dividing," Three said softly, using instruments Scully had seen in use during medical school. Tools she had long forgotten the uses of. She concentrated on the procedure. "I'm using one of three techniques. This is called twinning." "What happens when they separate?" "If it divides into an eight cell embryo and those eight cells are separated, those cells can be implanted into the uteri of eight separate mothers. Then eight clones will be born of different mothers. Or in this case, the same mother, different containers," Three said, matter-of-factly. She looked up over the microscope. "They're splitting now. I already added the necessary ingredients." "Necessary ingredients?" Three looked amused. "Sperm, Dr. Scully." She was sure she blushed. "It's all right to ask questions, you know," Three said gently. "No matter how it came to be, you are our mother." Mother. Scully flashed the girl a quick look, something akin to, but not quite, a smile. "How did it happen?" Three didn't ask what. "They were able to accelerate the growth process by about three and a half years. I don't know how; none of us do. We only know they did. The technology wasn't shared with us." Scully did the math quickly in her head. Twenty-one years old. She frowned slightly. "That's not possible." Three looked curiously at her. "What do you mean?" "You said three and a half years. I was abducted in 1994." "199 --" Three stopped. "Oh." "Oh?" "You should talk to Two." Mulder was going to have one hell of a time when she explained to him that not only could the clones show emotion, but they had the same nervous habits as she did. "I think I should talk to you." Two eyebrows shot up in identical gazes and locked. Three blinked first. "You weren't taken first in 1994, Dr. Scully. The Emily Hybrid Project, E.H.P., was begun in 1994, during your abduction. Two was part of that experiment, as was Emily Sims. However, the initial project, the project that created us first five commenced earlier." "What do you mean, I wasn't taken first in 1994?" "The Emily project began in 1993." < What the hell was that all about? > < Oh, you know. Probably nothing. > < We lost nine minutes! > < Time can't just disappear! It it's a universal invariant! > < Not in this zip code. > "Are you all right?" Three asked her suddenly. She put a hand on her arm. "I'm fine," Scully said shortly, immediately regretting her words. She paused. "I'm sorry. I - you're talking about that first case, aren't you? 1993? It would be the only other time." Three nodded. Scully's eyes widened briefly. "Mulder - did they --" The young woman was looking at her curiously. Too curiously. "What, exactly, do you know of the project?" "I know that children were being created for the purpose of hybridization. And what you've told me just now," she said suspiciously. "I don't think I should be the one you should be talking to, Dr. Scully." "You're all the same aren't you?" she snapped. It stung her. Three's only reaction was a mere blink. After a moment, she spoke. "You were a compatible match. And it gave the smoking man another card to play. I know nothing more." The pieces slowly fell together. Scully's eyes focused on the clone's. "All of you?" "All the clones from the original fetus." "The child in San Diego." "I'm going to get Two." "Emily!" she said firmly. Emily Three paused and looked at her mother, however weak their family connection was. "I know nothing more," she repeated. "There is a vial in the storage room. I can retrieve it for you, if you'd like." She amazed to find her mind still functioning clearly. Finally, she nodded. *** 7:52 p.m. Mulder knocked on the door to announce his presence, turning the knob when she didn't reply. "Scully? You in here?" He stopped when the door swung open. She was merely sitting on the bed, illuminated only by a dim light from the bathroom. "Why are the lights off?" No answer. "Scully." She tore her eyes off of the spot on the wall to look at him. "Mulder?" He let the door fall shut behind him as he hurried over to her. "What happened?" Scully didn't speak for a minute, and he felt his heart jump into his throat with fear. He should have been with her the entire day, he thought angrily. I knew she wasn't doing well - hell, who would? - since what happened yesterday, and I just let her walk away with one of them. He knew, somehow, that Emily Three had told her something, something that had her shocked in stillness. Mulder saw her reach into her pocket and pull out a long vial. She put it into his hand. "What is it?" "Surprise," she said humorlessly, her voice flat. Confused, he looked down at the silver tube in his hands, turning it over until he saw the tag on it. MULDER, FOX W. Mulder looked up at her. "Scully?" "There were two projects, Mulder," she said in a monotone voice, but her heard her struggle to keep her emotions at bay. "Hybridization, which began in 1994, and the Advanced Development Operation in 1993. Emily was created from the hybrid program. The clones here - they were created from A.D.O." "You said 1993, Scully. How is that possible?" "Bellefleur, Oregon. Our first case. Nine minutes, remember?" "How did they --" "When you were at Ellens AFB a few months later. You couldn't remember what had happened to you while you were there." She gave a short, hard laugh. "I guess now we know." What she was saying....His mind refused to accept it. Mulder remembered his feeling of losing control when she had brought him out to San Diego to tell him about Emily. He had wanted so badly to save that little girl. Scully's obvious pain had hurt him more, he imagined, then it had hurt her. That there might be children, like Emily, like these clones, out there that were his own.... His own and someone else's. "Scully," he said, his mind racing with implications, "did they tell you who..." He let his voice trail off. "Emily." What? he thought, brow furrowing. "What?" She looked at him squarely. "They used us to create to Emily. These clones, Emily Sims...they used *us.*" Her words didn't register at first. He was too busy focusing on 'create.' It was so clinical, so detached. Us. 'They used us to create Emily.' Emily. Mulder stood up from his spot on the floor and stalked back and forth across the floor. "Who told you?" "Three." "They - Smoking Man did this, Cancer Man. Didn't he?" "She didn't say, but I think that's the most logical assumption." "Why didn't Two tell me?" he asked, suddenly stopping in front of her, his voice a little plaintive. He wondered when he'd begun referring to them by their numbers, as Scully did. "I'm surprised she didn't," Scully said honestly. "What did you two do all day?" "I told her about the McKennas. She said she could try to find out information about the lieutenant. We were at the computers most of the day." "They're almost as good as the Gunmen," Scully said faintly. Mulder crossed over to her and bent until he could see into her eyes. "Scully, are you *sure*?" "She did a test after she told me. I asked her to." His fury rose again. "God dammit!" he shouted, hitting the wall with his fist. "Mulder," she said quietly. "Dammit, Scully, they've been using us since the beginning!" he shouted, his anger focused on what had been done to them, although he was sure she thought some of it was directed at her. "Since the first goddamn case, they've been using us! They've always used you to get to me, Scully. What kind of men would do that to you?" His rage dissipated as soon as he saw the tired look on her face. She rose wordlessly and stepped over to him, taking his hand in hers. "Couldn't have hit the bed, could you?" she murmured quietly, allowing a tiny hint of teasing into her admonition. "Come on." She lead him into the bathroom and he sat down on the toilet seat while she busied herself at the medicine cabinet. "Fully loaded," she said, picking out a couple of bottles. Mulder didn't pretend to know what she was doing to him, beyond the fact that all he really needed was something cold to wrap around his hand. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "Why?" she asked wryly, and he thought he saw some semblance of her old self returning, albeit slowly. Obviously, he thought; she has a few hours on me in the shock department. "It's not everyday you find out you've been the subject of an experiment conducted by the same men who've been trying to kill you for the past six years and that there's been children created that until this moment, you thought was only your partner's problem." Mulder used his free hand to stop her ministrations on his hurt one. He covered her small one, nearly engulfing it. "Emily was never only your problem, Scully. I wanted her for you just as badly as you did." She looked at him carefully. "And now?" "Well, I am going to have to think of a way to explain to my family how I came to be the father of three perfectly identical twenty-one year old girls." "Sloppy on prom night, Mulder?" she asked lightly. He recognized their conversation had become a defense mechanism. They were making light of the situation so it wouldn't consume them. He gave her a quick leer. "Oh, if you only knew, Scully." Scully gave him a glare before patting his hand to tell him she was done and returning to the main room. "I know it's early, Mulder, but I'm tired." Mulder flicked off the light switch in the bathroom and followed her out to the bedroom. He looked at her, climbing into one of the beds, before his gaze fell on the other bed, situated a few feet apart from hers. "Hey, Scully, would it be off-color of me to make a Lucy-Ricky reference?" Her eyebrow went up. "Just keep the television down, okay?" "What TV?" She pointed to a small televison across the room. "What did you think that was?" "I don't know, it was so small I could barely see it," he said sarcastically, turning it on. "Hey, Scully, look. Clinton's doing another speech on Kosovo." He wriggled his eyebrows at her. "Wanna watch?" Scully pinned him with a glare. "Volume down, Mulder." He climbed into the bed next to her and gave her a meaningful look. "It'll be okay, Scully." She returned the look. "Will it?" she whispered softly. "Good night, Mulder." He could only hope it would be, for her sake and his own. Chapter Ten "Tell me a story." "It's time for bed," Mulder said, tucking her in. "I can't sleep unless I hear a story." "Mommy says its bedtime." "Daddy," she whined. "All right, all right. But if you see Daddy on the couch in the morning, don't ask for another story, capice?" She furrowed her brow as he sat down next to her on the small, toddler bed. She snuggled closer to him, and he wrapped an arm around her, holding her tight. He opened the book and began to read. He felt her body go limp under his after a few moments, and he closed the book, rubbing his eyes. "Dad!" Mulder looked up, startled to find himself outdoors. He looked over, his surprise fading, to see her waving at him across the lawn. He grinned and hurried over to her, vaguely noting the 'Congratulations, Class of 1999!" sign that hung over the university's front steps. "I can't believe you got so big," he said, brushing a hand over her dark brown hair. "It seems like yesterday I was tucking you into bed." "I'm still your little girl, Daddy," she said, a shimmer of tears glistening in her eye. She brushed his own away. "Always." "I can't tuck you in anymore, Emily." "Just call first," she teased, laughing through her tears. She threw herself into his embrace and held on tight. "Oh, Dad." *** JUNE 27, 1999 7:01 a.m. The knock startled Mulder out of his peaceful slumber. He rolled out of bed and stumbled across the room, careful not to wake up Scully. He opened the door. "Mr. Mulder," she said. "Morning wake up call." He ran a hand through his hair, which he was sure was sticking up on all ends. He blinked away the remnants of his dream. This isn't the same girl you dreamed about, he told himself sternly. She isn't your daughter in the right sense of the word. "Thanks," he mumbled, unsure of how to address her. He pushed down on his anger that he couldn't even tell which one she was. "I'm Three," she said, noting his indecision. The one who'd told Scully, he remembered. "Would you rather we simply got an alarm clock?" she asked. He caught the mischievous glint in her green eyes. His eyes. Why hadn't he noticed before? "No, it's fine. I'm just not awake until somewhere around ten. Seven's a little early." She nodded her understanding. "I am not morning person myself." He caught the use of 'I.' "And, uh - the others? They are?" Three looked at him, a look he was unable to decipher. "We are clones, but we are not the same person." "That doesn't make sense." "Simply because we all three derive from the same egg and sperm does not mean that we are the same. Our physical appearance remains the same, but we each have our differences from the other." He nodded, uncertain how to continue. Three put her hand on his arm. "You wear your heart on your sleeve," she noted. Mulder glanced down at her hand before meeting her eyes once more. "I will be in the room at the end of the hall. If you would like to see what I showed Dr. Scully yesterday." And then she was gone. *** 7:56 a.m. Mulder knocked once on the door before entering. He'd left Scully with one of the Kurts and Two to begin developing the prototype for the vaccine. She'd given him a questioning look when he'd left the room; he hadn't wanted to explain where he was going and why. Three intrigued him. Clones usually didn't show much emotion, he knew. But he had seen so much in the short time they'd talked that morning. Her green eyes had shown her respect when she'd spoken of Scully. He'd seen his own sarcastic streak when she'd questioned him on an alarm clock. She had Scully's ability to see through him. If he let himself go, he could believe she was actually real. "You came," she said, without looking up from her place over a microscope. "How did you know it was me?" he asked, stepping into the room. Three glanced at him over her shoulder. "I just knew." Mulder looked around the room, one similar to the one they'd been in when they'd first entered the facility. "You're different." He met her surprised look. "Aren't you?" "Different how?" she said challengingly. He waited for the eyebrow to rise. He wasn't disappointed. He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. "I don't know. Do you, even? I was with Two yesterday and the day before. She and Five seem to be what I was expecting." "And I'm not?" "You're different," he repeated. "I think Two is the leader, Five is the follower, but you - I don't know what you are." "I'm Three," she stated simply. "Ah, but what *is* Three? And where are One and Four?" "They were unsuccessful." "How are you different?" he persisted. "Mr. Mulder," she said warningly, turning back to her work. Mulder crossed the room and grabbed her arm. "Dammit, Emily, I want to know." There was a tense moment of silence between them. "She calls Emily, too, when she wants my attention." The profiler in Mulder perked up. It was a clue, however subtle or unintended. "And it gets your attention." "I am used to being called by my number." "Why do I feel like if I were to call Two or Five as Emily, they wouldn't be as affected as you?" "I told you, we are not all the same. You said Two was the leader and Five is the follower. Three is the one with emotion." "You referred to yourself in the third person," he said mildly. "There is no 'myself,' Mulder." "Do you always speak in riddles to evade the question?" "Do you always have to turn everything in your life in an X- file?" she snapped, glaring at him. Mulder fell silent for a minute. The investigator in him refused to let this lay; the curiosity streak that was human nature to him perked up. "How are you different?" he asked, although his voice betrayed none of the earlier tension between the two. Three looked up at him from her work again, and he felt scrutinized by her eyes. "Did it ever just occur to you that maybe, like you, I wear my heart on my sleeve as well?" she asked quietly. It hadn't. That she was, in fact, his daughter - what a child between himself and Scully would have looked like under otherwise different conditions - had not quite sunk in yet. He hadn't allowed himself to consider that any traits he possessed might, accordingly, be passed down to her as well. "No, it didn't," he responded in the same, soft tone. "Well, maybe it should have," she said, but her voice betrayed none of the biting quality of her words. A tense moment of silence filled the room before Three alighted from her stool and went over to one of the refrigerators lining the wall. She took out one of the containers, pulled out the fetus, and handed it to Mulder. "That is the original child," she said. "As I told Dr. Scully yesterday, we have it in a suspended animation." "For what purpose?" Mulder asked absently, his eyes on the baby in his hands. "Tests. We have a small, contained amount of the virus that will be spread by the bees." "You'll use this child as a test subject." "There are more important things to the equation than one or two or a handful of children. We are working to save millions of lives. There is a greater good at stake." Mulder held out the fetus. "Can you take this back now?" Three took it, restoring it to its jar. "I showed Dr. Scully the procedure we use yesterday. Twinning. I can show it to you now, if you'd like." He nodded absentmindedly. She took out a small dish from the same fridge and held it out. "That's another?" "Yes. Probably the last." "Why?" "To test our vaccine on. Once we have the inoculation, there will be no reason to continue the project. The child will be destroyed, the clinic closed, and we will distribute it as best we can." "Destroy the child," he repeated. "Why not let it live? If the vaccine is successful, if it works on it, then the child would be immune to the virus. Survive colonization. Won't we need people with immunity?" "Who would take care of the child, Mr. Mulder?" Three asked, giving him another undecipherable gaze. "We will separate for distribution. It is not a part of the A.D.O program." She paused. "Perhaps this was a bad idea to bring you in here." "Why was it bad idea?" he asked, his brow furrowed with indignation. She put the dish away and started to close the door. His hand shot out to her arm to stop her. "You are already too emotionally involved. It's obstructing your judgement." "Who the hell are you to tell me about my judgement? Or to decide whether or not to end that child's life? That's my child!" "You forget, Mulder, that the very child you are so hasty to protect also happens to be me!" Tension filled the room. The door opened a moment later, and Scully stepped in. "Mulder, they're --" Mulder could feel her eyes fall first on him, then on Three, and finally onto her arm where he was still holding firm. "What's going on?" she asked, closing the door behind her. "We were having a disagreement," Three said, still glaring at him. "Over what?" Mulder let go of the young woman's arm. "This isn't over," he said tightly before stalking past Scully, touching her arm as he passed. "Come on, Scully." Scully cast a concerned look towards Three, who merely gazed back at her, her eyes reflecting the anger her face did not. After a beat, she allowed Mulder to guide her out of the room. *** 1:30 p.m. She watched quietly as Kurt drew blood from Mulder, allowing him to take her hand for comfort. How he could stare death in the face for nearly eight years without flinching but needed her next to him for a shot, she couldn't understand. They'd separated again until lunchtime, with Scully returning to the lab to utilize the blood samples extracted from herself and Mulder. She'd been hesitate to let him return to Three after the obvious tension from the morning, but he'd been insistent. Now she walked down the hall to the kitchen at Kurt's demand that she needed to eat, stopping when she saw Mulder seated at the long bench, talking quietly with someone obscured from her view. Mentally, she crossed off names. Both Kurts were in the lab no. She closed her eyes momentarily. When Scully had first been assigned to work with him, she'd seen his thirst, his drive for the truth. As the years passed, she'd come to respect his hungry curiosity for knowledge. He'd brave a hail storm if he thought he could get to someone who could tell him what he wanted to hear. It shouldn't have been surprising to her, then, that he would try to understand, to get to know, one of their daughters. It made Mulder-sense. Taking a deep breath, she called upon her strength and entered the room. Mulder glanced up at her as soon as she came in. "Hey, Scully," he said, seemingly surprised to see her there. "Mulder," she said in a half-questioning voice, pulling a salad she'd made the night before out of the refrigerator and sitting down next to him. She looked closely at the girl sitting across from them. It was Three. Scully stifled a sigh of frustration. They were arguing not six hours ago, she thought, and yet now they can sit down and eat a meal together. This is ridiculous. Actually, a voice piped up, it makes perfect sense. Three, she could tell, had his temper. She was easily lead into an argument, but much like Dana herself, was more apt to express her anger through words, not volume. It makes perfect sense for them to intrigue the other. "Three," she said, by way of a greeting, and the young woman gave her an unreadable look in response. "I was just telling Mr. Mulder that Samantha's been transferred out to another hospital in Tucson," Three said, folding her hands on the table. Scully vaguely noticed that she wasn't eating. The girl saw her look. "I already ate." Scully's fork stopped for a moment on the way to her mouth before continuing. "I'm sorry," she murmured, concentrating on her salad. After a moment, "You said she was transferred. Did they find anything on the tox screening?" Three shook her head. "No, nothing. Whatever injection she was given was cleared from her system within twelve hours." "Twelve hours?" she repeated dubiously. "I know; very unlikely. I haven't been able to ascertain what it may have been." "Do you have any idea who gave it to her?" "A number of people," Three said thoughtfully. "Anyone who works for someone in the Syndicate, especially for the smoking man, the man you know as Mr. Spender." "Any reason why?" "She was going to tell you about us. The facility, the project. They didn't want that to happen." "Why would they start to care now, of all times?" "These men like to carry their secrets with them to the grave, Scully," Three replied. There was a moment of silence as Scully munched on her salad and Mulder carefully sipped his coffee. After a moment, she stood and threw away the remains of her lunch. "I have to be getting back to the Kurts," she said, standing in the doorway. Reluctant to leave, hesitant to stay, lest the burgeoning feeling of normalcy consume her. "I'll come and get you around nine, okay, Scully?" Mulder asked, speaking only for the second time. She studied him for a minute before answering. "Okay, Mulder. Bye, Three." "Goodbye, Dr. Scully." So Dana left, wondering what was going on between Mulder and Three. One minute they were obviously fighting, the next they were lunching like old friends? She remembered her own relationship with her father once she'd become a teenager. He'd argue with her over the decency of the dress she was wearing to her sophomore spring dance, she'd fire back with stinging words, stomp upstairs, change, and kiss her father lovingly as she passed on her way out the door. She only hoped that Mulder wouldn't be hurt this time. *** Scully kept her curiosity silent the rest of the day, until they entered their room, exhausted, and he fell onto his bed. "What the hell were you arguing with Three about?" she demanded, feeling somewhat ridiculous. Mulder opened one eye and peaked out at her. "You waited all day for that, didn't you, Scully?" "Mulder." "It's not important," he grumbled, stumbling into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. She followed. "Don't ignore me, Mulder," she called through the closed door. "I'm not! Jesus, Scully, I have to go to the bathroom!" She waited until he came out before continuing. "I want to know what you were discussing with her. And why you were suddenly chummy enough to eat lunch with her five hours later." "No, you don't," he said, stripping off his T-shirt and throwing it onto the edge of the bed. He saw her open her mouth to continue. "I know it isn't funny, Scully; I'm not trying to *be* funny. I just don't think you'd want to know." "Well, I do, Mulder. It's important to me." Scully turned her back automatically as he stepped out of his jeans. She faced him again when she heard the bed creak as he settled in. "She told me that you watched her do the procedure yesterday," he said, testing the waters to see how far he could go. She felt him watching her face carefully, and she stamped down on the faint blush that crept into her cheeks. After a beat, she nodded for him to go on. "She also showed me the dish where she's keeping the embryo. And she told me what they plan to do with it. I didn't agree. We had a discussion. End of story." "What didn't you agree with?" she insisted. "Scully," he groaned. "Dammit, Mulder! I walk in on an obviously heated argument between you and her, I see that angry glare you get, I see you grabbing her arm - am I not supposed to ask questions, especially after you acted so nice at lunch?" "They're going to use the vaccine on that child. They'll see if it works, and then they'll destroy it." He looked at her squarely. "I didn't agree. When I walked in to get something to eat, she was there, too. I apologized, we talked, you came in a few minutes later, end of story." Scully was quiet for a minute. "We're close to a vaccine. That's why they needed blood samples from us today. Kurt is confident they should have a small amount ready by Wednesday." "The fourth of July is only a week away," he said grimly. "We need to go back to Washington, Mulder. We haven't checked in with the Bureau in five days. We need to figure out what we're doing," she said as she seated herself next to him on the bed. Mulder nodded. "I was wondering when you were going to bring it up. Do you think we should stay here?" "I don't know, Mulder," she sighed. "I mean...I guess we're safer here than we would be in Washington." "What do we do about the Bureau? Do we quit, or do we remain the ever-faithful ghost-busting, alien-hunting law enforcement agents?" She cracked a small smile, spying the relief on his face. "I don't think I can bust or hunt anymore, Mulder." "Scully, are you coming on to me?" "I'm going to get a shower. Are you going to be awake when I get out?" she said, pointedly ignoring his statement. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her in response. The hot water was soothing to her nerves, but it couldn't stop the fear of the unknown that ran through her veins. They had survived almost everything else. She only wondered if they could survive this. Chapter Eleven FBI HEADQUARTERS WASHINGTON, D.C. JULY 1, 1999 12:54 a.m. The two agents sat quietly in the room outside of Assistant Director Skinner's office, the ticking of the clock on the wall permeating the silence. They had, as predicted, developed a small batch of the vaccine the day before. They had explained, with great care, the need to return to D.C. to wrap up their loose ends, and they had boarded the airplane at three thirty in the morning, bleary-eyed and uncertain of the future. Now Scully turned to her partner, nervously fiddling with her watch. "Mulder, he's going to ask questions," she whispered so Skinner's secretary, Kimberly, couldn't hear. Mulder leaned towards her just as the A.D.'s door swung open. He nodded brusquely for them to enter. Chancing a quick look at the other, Mulder and Scully rose walked into the familiar office, taking their normal seats. Walter Skinner shut the door with a brief, "Hold my calls," to his secretary. He sat down at his desk and a thick silence filled the room. Scully regarded the man sitting in front of her. Tall and imposing, even sitting behind a desk, with his glasses on as he folded his hands in front of him. She wondered if he knew that they had come to realize that if he was wearing his glasses that he meant business? Most likely he didn't, she answered herself. "I was surprised," Skinner said finally, his voice low and cold, "to find two identical letters of resignation on my desk when I came into work this morning. For the past five years, you two have been under my supervision. And in that time, I've received several of these same letters. In fact, I can't decide which shocked me more: the fact that two perfectly capable, intelligent, hardworking partners decided to quit together or the fact that they didn't even have the decency to be honest in their letters. Can either of you make sense of what I've read?" Scully crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt, peeking at Mulder out of the corner of her eye. He was, as usual, lounging in the chair with complete disregard for courtesy for their supervisor. "Situations have arose, sir, that --" "Cut the crap, Agent Scully; I don't buy it," retorted Skinner shortly. "'...In view of these new circumstances, I no longer feel that I can fulfill my duties as a special agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Please accept this letter of resignation.'" He looked back and forth between the agents, holding both papers in his hands. "Identical to the very letter, agents," he snapped. "What the hell is going on?" "I didn't know the FBI had a new policy, sir, whereas its agents were required to go into detailed specifics just to resign," Mulder volunteered sarcastically. "Mulder," she murmured. He closed his mouth and leaned back in his chair. Warning received. Skinner turned his hard gaze on her. "When two of my agents resign for apparently no good reason, I'd like to know why. Especially after you two just got the X-files back not six months ago." He looked at Mulder. "Under these suspicious circumstances, I'd say I'm well within my right to ask why." Mulder shifted in his chair and returned the glare to his boss. "What suspicious circumstances might these be?" Scully noted the absence of 'sir', and was sure Skinner did, too. Skinner took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Fine," he mumbled. He lifted his eyes to meet theirs again. "Fine," he said more clearly. "You don't want to say. I'm going to ask you, though, if this is what you really want. Have you thought this through?" "We have, sir," Scully said quietly. "We're in perfect agreement," Mulder added. Skinner glared at him for a beat longer before putting pen to paper. "I'm going to sign your resignations if only because I trust that you do, despite evidence to the contrary, have good reason to do this." Scully felt physically ill when she realized she was no longer with the Bureau. The finality of what was to come within three days hit her full force. She glanced at Mulder; he was wiggling in his chair. She sighed. Their former supervisor glanced up. "I'll send all the necessary paperwork over to the Review Board. Make sure your things are cleared out by Monday." "We'll do that now," she said. "Thank you." He rose and walked them to the door, frowning a little. "Watch each other's back," he said quietly as they passed by him into the secretary's office. Scully looked quickly at Mulder before replying. "We always have, sir," she answered. The door shut behind him. They made their way quietly through the bullpen that was the VCS, heads high, ignoring the whispered comments as they approached the elevator. 'Spooky' intermingled with 'Ice Queen' and 'Mrs. Spooky' danced with 'little green men' until Mulder stopped walking and backed up, approaching the first person he saw, a young agent with another insult dying on his lips. "Were you saying something?" Mulder asked, his voice deadly calm. "No," the agent said, his voice betraying his cocky posture. "Really, because I thought I heard rather negative comments coming from this area." He glanced around. "I thought I heard a lot of negative comments from this area." "Nothing you haven't already heard, Spooky," said a stocky man from behind his desk. "Mulder," Scully said softly, stepping up to him and putting a calming hand on his wrist. He stilled visibly, and his jaw clenched in self-control. "Come on," she continued quietly. "It's not worth it." She vaguely noticed the room had fallen silent, waiting in anticipation for a showdown. Finally, after a moment, he relented, letting her hand slide down to clasp his and lead him towards the open elevator. They stood, waiting for the doors to shut, when a clear, "Who had July?" rang through. "I had the holiday weekend!" someone else called out. The doors closed as a crowd gathered around a desk in the middle of the room, each agent calling out his or her own opinion. She'd never been more grateful to escape to the basement. *** Mulder had taken only the picture of seven-year-old Samantha on his desk and the poster that had hung on the wall during their entire partnership. They stood in the middle of the cramped room for many minutes, each wrapped up their memories of the past six years. < Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials? > < Oh, is *that* what you were extending? > < I think it's just encrypted. And I think I recognize it. Mulder, I think it's Navajo. > < He kept muttering something about cerulean blue, as gentle as a breeze... > < Not everything is about you, Mulder. > They remembered the smell of the burnt office the year before. So much had happened to them since that day when she'd walked into that office six years before. Could they leave it? It was Mulder's hand who broke the reverie, finding, as though by instinct, the pulse on her own wrist as he led her out of the room. He drove her home after they left the FBI building, possibly, they knew, for the final time. Neither spoke until she prepared to shut the door in front of her building. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at ten," he said in a tired monotone. She merely nodded as he drove away. *** 11:21 p.m. The phone had barely finished its first ring before Mulder picked it up. "I can't sleep either." He heard a light chuckle from her end of the phone. "You know, Mulder, one day you'll say that and it won't be me." "It's always you, Scully." "I've been laying in bed for nearly two hours." "Need company?" Scully continued, ignoring his statement. He grinned into the receiver. "While I was packing...I kept wondering what someone packs for the end of the world. Is my father's copy of Moby Dick more important than toothpaste or extra clothes?" "What did you choose?" She sighed. "I need to brush my teeth, Mulder." "Scully." "What did you pack?" Deliberate change of subject, he noted. He thought a minute. "All the necessities. Toothbrush, hairbrush, socks, clothes, some seeds." "You packed sunflower seeds, Mulder?" she repeated incredulously. "I prioritized." "And found clothes and food lacking in that department?" "I have everything I need. Don't worry." They fell into a comfortable silence. "What are you watching on TV?" she murmured. "Tammy Takes Toronto." "Seriously." "They don't have a VCR out there, Scully. I figured I might as well watch the classics while I can." "Mm, Mulder, what would I do without your illogical logic?" "Don't they have a word for that?" "A word for what?" "When you put two contradicting words together." "Oxymoron." "Am not," he deadpanned. "Goodnight, Mulder. I'll see you in the morning." "Ten, okay?" he said, pausing the tape in the VCR and getting out his phone book. A soft click announced her departure. He ended his own line before pressing ON again and dialing the number in front of him. "Yeah, hi, I'd like to order a large pizza. No anchovies, lots of pepperoni on half and lots of cheese on the other...." He hung up and laid down on his couch, waiting. *** 12:12 a.m. A soft tickling in his ear startled Mulder awake. Scully smiled and stood up. "Good, you're awake." "What are you doing here?" he mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Dana held up the pizza box. "I ran into your delivery boy. You planning on eating all this alone, Mulder?" she teased, going into the kitchen for some glasses. She reappeared a minute later and settled down next to him on the couch. "How did you know I was coming over?" "I always know when you're coming over, Scully." She poured him some of the wine. "Should we be drinking this late?" "I love it when you act as my conscience," he said, accepting the glass. "To answer your question, I don't care. This is our pre-apocalyptic party and I'll drink if I want to." "Is that what this is, Mulder?" she asked mildly. "Getting drunk before it all blows up in our face?" "Have a better idea?" "I'd say this is about what I had in mind." She gestured to her bag on the floor. "I brought my bag with me. You mind?" "Why, Agent Scully --" "Not anymore," she said, downing the entire glass in one drink and pouring more in. "Sorry, right. *Ms.* Scully, have you thrown your Catholic upbringing to the wind?" "I'm almost glad it's ending," she said, closing her eyes and falling against the back of the couch. "No more running, no more shadows, no more wondering if another attempt on your life is going to be made...." "My life?" "Our life," she amended. "Whatever, Mulder, the point is - it's ironic. The event that's supposed to end our way of life is giving us our freedom." She looked at him. "Does that make sense?" "Perfectly," agreed Mulder, nodding. "I agree. Did you really choose toothpaste over Moby Dick?" "Mulder!" *** Mulder was startled awake early, nearly falling off of his couch from the force of his nightmare. He checked in on Scully, noting with pleasure that was she peacefully sleeping in his bedroom, before grabbing their bags and hauling them down to the car. He was about to slam the trunk down when he caught sight of her standing on the edge of his building's front stoop. "New look?" he asked with a smirk. She gave a smile small, glancing down over her attire: a pair of ratty shorts with a sweatshirt, a robe she'd found hanging on the back of his bathroom door, and her hair mussed from sleep. "I thought maybe you skipped out on me," she said lightly, holding out a mug to him. Mulder closed the trunk and took it out of her hand, sipping it carefully. "I was just thinking how much I'm really going to miss this place," he said thoughtfully, looking at the car that held all they'd deemed priceless. She followed his gaze. "So much has changed, Scully. I thought it had sunk in, but it hasn't. Look at those people," he said quietly, pointing across the street. Scully looked at what she could only assume was a new father and mother taking their infant out for a morning stroll. The husband was gazing alternately from his child to his wife, who was equally enthralled with the baby. "Do they know what's going to happen to them?" Mulder asked. She figured he meant rhetorically. "In three days, their entire world is going to change and they have no idea. That baby's going to be lucky if it lives to see its first birthday, Scully." He met her concerned eyes warily. "And we know. We know. We'll be safe. We're going to be saved when millions of others aren't." She put a hand on his shoulder. "We have the vaccine now, Mulder," she said quietly. "We can save them, too." "Why is the weight of the world always on my shoulders?" he mused, and from his tone, she breathed a sigh of relief that deadpan Mulder was returning. "Our shoulders, Mulder." *** MARGARET SCULLY'S RESIDENCE JULY 2, 1999 1:19 p.m. The door swung open to reveal a smiling Maggie Scully, whose grin only widened at the sight of not just her daughter, but her daughter's partner as well. "Dana. Fox," she welcomed them warmly, "what are you two doing here?" "Hi, Mom," Dana said, her voice cracking a bit. Maggie hugged her only living daughter before embracing Mulder as well. "Come in, come in. I was just making lunch. Have you two eaten yet?" Scully shook her head and followed her mother into the kitchen. "I knew you'd be able to talk him into it," Maggie said as they sat down at the kitchen table. She went over to the counter and began to chop up carrots for the bowl of lettuce nearby. She glanced back at them. "We aren't here for the holiday, Mom," Scully said. Her mother stopped chopping and spun around, hearing the obvious seriousness in Dana's voice. "Dana?" "Mrs. Scully, you should sit down," Mulder suggested. Nodding slightly, she took a seat across from the partners. "What's wrong?" she asked immediately. "You know they're been - *things* - about our work that I haven't told you, Mom," Dana began haltingly. "Things I've felt you were much safer not knowing." "Yes, Dana, I know." "I can't even begin to tell you everything now. But there are things you should know, and I want you - I need you - to listen to us carefully. I want you to call Bill and Charlie and tell them not to come down here for the fourth of July." Scully continued quickly as her mother opened her mouth to protest. "I know, Mom, I know. This has been planned for months now. But this is far more important. I need you to trust me on this. Call them and tell them not to come down. And then I want you to pack a bag and go up to the old summer house." "Dana, you know I can't do that," Maggie interrupted. "I have --" "Mrs. Scully," Mulder said gently, "you don't have a choice. You need to do what we say." She stared at him in confusion. "I don't understand. Why?" "Things are going to happen this weekend," he said carefully. "Things we have no control over but can try to stop." "What kind of things?" "Mom, listen to me," Scully said sternly, covering the older woman's hands with her own. Maggie looked at her daughter. "Go up to the summer house in Maine. It's the safest place you can be for this. I already called ahead and had the caretaker buy some food and and clean the place up." She glanced at Mulder. Then, hands shaking, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a long, thin vial. "You need to take this with you. It's a vaccine." "Against what?" her mother asked dubiously. "A virus," Mulder supplied. "A very fatal virus that's going to be released by our government this weekend." Dana could see the incredulity on her mother's face. "Take this with you, Mom, and don't let anything happen to it. It's the...it's the only way I can protect you now, okay? If you need it, just take this --" she continued shakily, retrieving a needle and syringe. "There's only enough in here for one shot, Mom, so don't use it on anyone but yourself." "How will I know I need the - vaccine, Dana?" "You'll be stung. By a bee." "I have no allergy," Mrs. Scully protested. Mulder's eyes closed as a memory flashed through his mind. < Ouch! > < Sorry. > < No, no...Something stung me. > < It must have gotten into your shirt. > < Mulder? Something's wrong. I'm having pains in my chest. My motor functions are being affected. I.... > < I think you're going into anaphylactic shock. > < No, Mulder, I - have no allergy.... > "You will for this kind of bee," he said shortly. Scully found his hand under the safety of the table and squeezed, reassuring him of her presence. Turning back to her mother, she continued. "I need you to promise me, Mom, that you won't use this for anyone but yourself. Not Bill, not Charlie, not a neighbor. You." "Dana..." "It's important," Scully said, her voice betraying her desperation. "Please, Mom, just trust me." After a beat, Mrs. Scully spoke quietly. "I trust you. I trust both of you." Mulder rose, pushing in his chair. He put his hand gently on Scully's shoulder. "Scully? We..." He let his voice trail off. She already knew what they had to do. She nodded, resolutely standing up, her face carefully arranged to hide her worry. Margaret showed them to the door, and Scully turned back to her mother. "You know I love you, Mom," she said, her voice trembling. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, lovingly brushing a strand of hair out of Dana's eyes. "Of course I do. I love you, too." They hugged for a long moment, each unwilling to end the embrace, both for different reasons. "This feels like a goodbye hug," Maggie whispered into her daughter's hair. "It is," Scully said softly. "It has to be, for awhile." "How long is 'awhile'?" "I don't know," her daughter answered honestly. "But we'll find you when it's safe again, Mom. I promise." Maggie took careful note of the word 'we.' Mulder, who had distanced himself from the pair to give them some privacy, now stepped forward and held the older woman's gaze. "Friends of - ours - will be in touch with you periodically. They are the only people you are to have contact with. His name is Byers, John Byers, and he'll be with two other men. If anything should...if something were to happen that Scully or I wouldn't be able to communicate with you, they'll tell you. They are the only ones you should trust, Mrs. Scully. The *only* ones." Maggie released Scully and returned Mulder's serious gaze, moving closer to him. She clasped both of his hands within her own, smaller one, and spoke quietly. "Take care of my little girl, Fox." He nodded. "I will." *** THE OFFICE OF THE LONE GUNMEN 3:03 p.m. Mulder shuffled his feet around on the floor from his position on a stool next to the computer. "So when are you guys clearing out?" "Tonight," Frohike answered briefly. "We'll see Mrs. Scully up to Maine then head on out." "To where?" Scully asked curiously. Langly shook his head. "Nowhere important. You guys don't need to know." There was a moment of silence. "Thank you," Scully said quietly, all of a sudden. "For doing this for my mother." A sharp intake of breath from Byers' area made them all jump. "What is it?" Mulder asked, hopping off the stool and leaning over the other man's shoulder. "I don't believe this," Byers muttered under his breath, frantically typing. After a moment, he looked up at them. Frohike rushed over and after a pause, he too, remained speechless. "The category is, how to clear out the population before the Takeover begins," he said dryly. "I'll take that for two hundred, Alex," Mulder replied, deadpan. "The question is, how long will it take for you two to haul ass back to Nevada?" "We're leaving now," Mulder said, grabbing Scully by the elbow and pulling her out of the room. "Deduction for not phrasing it in the form of a question," Langly called after them. "We'll be in touch," Mulder said as the door shut behind them. *** Scully quickly called up the airport by memory on her cell phone as Mulder floored it. "Dammit!" she hissed after a minute. "What?" he asked, glancing from the road to her. "Watch the road. Listen," she responded through clenched teeth, holding the phone up to his ear. 'We regret to inform you that we will be closed beginning on July second throughout July the fourth. All tickets will be refunded. If you need further assistance, please dial 555- 1323.' "They did that, Scully," he said, his jaw tightening as he shifted in his seat. "They're closing the airports so people are forced to stay in the big cities." "Why?" she asked, still a little dazed from their hasty exit from the Gunmen's place. "They're going to bomb the cities, Scully." "What!" Scully looked at him incredulously. "Why the hell would they do that, Mulder?" "They don't have a vaccine, Scully; it fits perfectly. They may have done a few nasty deeds over the past fifty-two years, but the one redeeming thing They *were* doing was trying to create a vaccine against the virus. They wanted to save us, Scully; they just had different methods. Since they don't have the vaccine --" "They'll bomb the cities so the Takeover can't happen." "Exactly." "How much time?" "The recording said they'd be closed from today till Sunday." He grimaced and pressed harder on the gas. "I'd say it's a safe bet that we need to be far out of D.C. as quickly as possible." Scully bit her lip and looked out of the window, suppressing an urge to scream out of her window to the happy passerby. "Get out! Go! Get your kids, get your wife or husband and just leave!" But her voice remained locked in her throat, unable to muster even a sigh at the utter finality and hopelessness of their predicament. She felt his hand cover hers, and a small smile tugged at her lips. They were, at least, together. And would stay so, until all that remained. Chapter Twelve INDIANAPOLIS, IN KNIGHTS INN 1:49 p.m. Mulder's silver Taurus eased into the parking lot of the small hotel, stopping in the first space he saw. The two partners stepped out of the car, grateful for an end to the monotonous journey that had lasted nearly eleven hours in holiday- weekend traffic. They'd only had a pit-stop once, at Scully's insistence; they needed to get back to Nevada, and they needed to get out of the cities. Fast. "I hope they take VISA," he grumbled as they lifted their bags out of the car and walked into the lobby. "If they don't, you're paying cash. I'm not moving from this hotel until morning," she warned. "I have exactly one hundred dollars in my wallet," he said, more sharply then he'd intended. "Then we'll sleep in the damn car," she snapped back, her own restlessness and fatigue getting the best of her, too. She dropped her bag on the floor next to him at the main desk and stomped over to a couch where she promptly sat down, folding her arms across her chest. Grumbling, he kicked the bag closer to the counter and pulled out his VISA. "We take VISA," the forty-ish woman behind the computer said, a hint of amusement in her voice. She tapped a few things in on her keyboard, then looked up at Mulder. "How long will you and your wife be needing a room?" He rubbed his tired eyes, refusing to correct the woman. She meant well. "Just one night, please." "That'll be seventy-six twenty one," she said, taking his card. He signed in on the register, using the alias on the VISA card. Mr. and Mrs. George Hale. Mulder thanked her, returned the card to his wallet, and glared Scully's way. "You coming, princess?" he asked sarcastically, a grin that held no amusement on his face. She refused to answer him as they boarded the elevator to the third floor. The doors pinged open, and they quietly found their way into their room. Mulder used the key to open the doors, and Scully eased her weight onto the bed, slipping her shoes off. She didn't bother to look up as he disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. She waited a minute, listening. He wasn't using the toilet. Angered, she stood, stalking over to the door, then rapping loudly on it with her palm. "I'm going to the bathroom, Scully," came his voice from behind the door. Neither angry nor accusatory. Just tired. She could empathize. "No, you aren't. Open the door." "Go to sleep, Scully." "Mulder, open the damn door!" It swung open to reveal him, hands on hips. They glared at each other. "What?" he demanded. Suddenly, her argument didn't seem worthwhile anymore. How could she possibly explain to him that the whole reason for her anger lay in the fact that he had never once purposely closed a door on her if he wasn't doing something personal. That she felt a closed door was the equivalent of the Great Wall of China to their relationship. Whatever it may be. "Nothing," she snapped, turning her anger on herself for not having the courage to say the words. "Dammit, Scully," he said, running a hand tiredly over his face. "Look. We're both pretty exhausted right now. Eleven hours in a small car can do this to anyone, especially when they have to drive with me. Why don't we just let this alone and just get some shut-eye, okay?" Mulder, the voice of reason, she thought wryly. After a pause, she nodded. "Fine." With that, she reached out and closed the door. She had just climbed into bed when the door opened and a thin strip of light made its way across the bedroom. Ten minutes later, he padded quietly out, throwing his clothes into a ball on a chair. Scully waited until she felt the bed dip with his partial weight before she spoke. "Fold those." He stopped. "They're dirty." "Fold them." She could picture his face. Incredulous. Unbelieving. Glaring at her still form, her back to him. Finally, he got off of the bed, folded the clothes and slipped down next to her. The cloudy hazes of a dream were just beginning to envelope her when she heard his soft murmur. "Good night, Scully." She smiled drowsily. "Good night, Mulder." *** JULY 2, 1999 NORMAN'S RESTAURANT 5:31 a.m. They sat opposite each other in the booth, neither having spoken more than a few perfunctory words upon waking up. Scully sipped her coffee silently; Mulder concentrated solely on devouring the plate of pancakes before him. He gestured to her with his fork. "Better eat up, Scully; you never know when you'll get a good, home-cooked meal after this." Her eyes drifted down to his. "I'm not hungry." Mulder chewed quietly for a minute before swallowing. "Why not?" Her brows came together quickly. "Mulder, not today. Not now, not this morning." "What the hell is so different about this morning than any other morning?" "Dammit, Mulder!" she said angrily, slamming her cup down on the table. Coffee sloshed up around the rim and splashed onto her hand. She wiped it away furiously. "I'm sick of you going hot and cold on me. Will you just *stop*?" "Stop what?" "This! Yesterday, you were contemplating what's going to happen tomorrow. Now, today, you want to discuss fucking home-cooked meals over coffee and pancakes? My nerves are on edge, Mulder. We have less than twenty-four hours to make it back to Nevada. We have exactly one vial of the vaccine in my purse. We are, according to my calculations, at least three days away, and that's if we drive without stopping a hotel overnight starting today. Between the two of us, we have about two hundred dollars. We have no way to contact the facility to let them know what's going on. I know you had plans on passing through Tucson to check in on Samantha. I just sent my mother off packing to Maine without the rest of my family, who are probably going to die along with the rest of the world, and you haven't even phoned *your* mother yet. Are you planning on doing that, Mulder, or have you stopped caring about her like you've stopped caring about everything else?" He watched her face carefully before speaking. "Go out to the car, I'll be out in a minute. after I pay the bill." She stalked out to the car, silent berating herself for such a childish performance. *** TWO HOURS LATER Scully sighed and turned her head against the early-morning glare of sunshine. She still had no idea why she'd snapped at Mulder at breakfast. She did know why - she just refused to admit it to herself. She was scared. An emotion she'd felt so little in her life that she could count the times she had been frightened on two hands. She was scared for her mother, alone for an indeterminate amount of time, her only connection to her daughter arriving in the form of a trio of mix-matched computer whizzes. She was scared for her brothers, her sister-in-laws, her two nephews. Would they live to see another year? Another day, another week, another month, even? She was scared of the future, of the unknown. They had set their course when they decided to follow the McKenna case. More than anything, she feared for them. There was one vial left, and millions - billions - of the bees, ready to spread the alien virus. How could they know the difference between a normal bee and a mutated one? If both were stung, Mulder would insist she take the vaccine. She would insist he take it. And in the end, should she die, she knew he would soon follow. If he were to die first, she would, too. She feared this new threat would tear them apart. Things were already on shaky ground since their near-kiss in Samantha's hospital room and finding out about the Emily projects as they had. What more would they be expected to withstand? Scully opened her eyes and gazed at him. "Like what you see?" he asked, chancing a look at her out of the corner of his eyes. She smiled. "Mulder, I'm sorry." "It's okay." "No, it isn't," she insisted, sitting up fully in her seat. She sighed. "I'm - worried, Mulder, about everything that's going on. Some many things are up in the air all at once, and I'm no juggler. I'm worried about about my family, about you and I." She paused. "About us." Mulder shook his head, and for a moment she feared rejection. "Scully, the one thing you will never have to worry about is us. We're okay. We're *fine,*" he added, using her own words. She smiled slightly. "I know you're scared, even if you won't say it. Hell, I'm scared, too. We've both had a lot thrown at us in such a short time, no wonder we're at our wits' end. We're human, Scully. We're bound to get tired of the chase. The thrill of the hunt, the excitement of the unknown." "Jesus, Mulder, are we scared or eighty years old?" she murmured, baiting him. He leered at her. "Why, Dana Scully, are you baiting me?" She put a hand on his arm, a peace offering. "Can we just put the past twenty-four hours behind us and pretend like we've never even heard of Indianapolis or Knights Inn or Norman's Diner?" "Agreed." Chapter Thirteen I-70 WEST, UTAH JULY 4, 1999 12:02 a.m. Scully blinked her eyes, trying in vain to fight against the sleep that was fast creeping up upon her. She glanced over at Mulder, who was sprawled across his seat, mouth hanging open in a round O, his head resting precariously on her shoulder. She tried hard not to think about the puddle of drool that was collecting on her shirt. His head snapped up suddenly, awakened from a nightmare, and she looked at him. "Mulder, you okay?" He didn't answer her for a minute. "Yeah - yeah. I'm fine." "Isn't that my line?" she quipped. It worked; he smiled at her as he ran a hand through his hair. "So, where are we?" "Somewhere in Utah, I think." "You think?" "I'm beat, I can't see the map because it's pitch black outside, I'm trying not to fall asleep at the wheel....But I think we passed a welcome sign about three hours ago." "How much longer?" "I don't know. Two days, maybe, if we keep up like we've been doing." Mulder sighed. "I don't know that I *can* keep doing what we've been doing, Scully." "I know," she said quietly, her eyes concentrating on the long stretch of road in front of them. "It's after midnight," she said, after a pause. "July fourth." "Anything happened?" "I didn't turn the radio on, I didn't want to wake you up. And I don't think they'd release them before at least dawn, Mulder." A yawn escaped her lips. Mulder switched on the radio, keeping the volume to a low hum, before looking over at her in concern. "Maybe I should drive now." "No, I'm fine," she said firmly. "You drove all yesterday. I can handle twelve hours." "Care for company?" She half-smiled at him. "Hey, Scully, if you could go anywhere, right this instant, all expenses paid - where would you go?" "Twenty questions, Mulder?" "Answer the question, Scully." A pause. "Right now, I'm having real thoughts about Mars." That got her a full-fledged MulderGrin. "Why, Scully, are you suggesting that it would be *possible* to *go* to Mars?" "Go to sleep, Mulder." "You never want to play," he whined teasingly. "Mulder --" He shushed her suddenly and leaned forward to turn up the volume on the radio. "Listen." "....The Pentagon is keeping relatively quiet on this new development, but sources inside the White House have speculated that the threat *is* real, and that every precaution will be taken to ensure the safety of all American citizens." Scully's face paled and she stepped harder on the gas. "What new development, Mulder?" she whispered. He shook his head. "How fast are you going?" She glanced down at the speedometer. Fifty. "Seventy," she said, frowning as the car lurched forward with new intent. *** SOMEWHERE IN NORTHWESTERN ARIZONA 11:15 a.m. Scully felt his hands on her shoulders, roughly shaking her awake. "Mm. Mulder, what is it?" she mumbled sleepily. "Scully, get up." The sound of his voice made her eyes open instantly, and she quickly sat up in her seat. "What?" she asked urgently, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Look." She glanced around them. They were still on the same highway, she could tell. A quick survey of license plates revealed they had finally gotten into Arizona. Her mouth opened, ready to ask what she was looking at, before she saw it. The traffic. On a busy, multi-lane interstate highway that should have been bustling with busy drivers, eager to reach their destinations, sat hundreds of stalled cars. An occasional horn beeping resounded through the late morning quiet, mixing in with the dull chirping of birds, the sounds of different music mingling together in the air, and the hum of the engines. "Is there an accident?" she asked him finally. "No accident." "Is - is there any construction?" "None that the local PD informed me of." She looked at him in surprise. "You called the police?" "Do you know how long we've been sitting here?" he asked her, continuing at the glare she gave him. "An hour and seventeen - eighteen minutes, Scully. After the first forty-five, I gave up guessing games." "What do you think it is?" Scully asked him. She wondered if maybe she didn't want an answer after all. "I...don't know." *** 2:31 p.m. "Duck or giraffe?" "Duck." "Really?" "What?" "Nothing, nothing. I just assumed you'd want to be a giraffe, that's all." "Why the hell would you assume that?" "Height, maybe?" Mulder ducked away from the punch she threw at him. "So, really, why a duck, Scully?" "I don't know, Mulder, it's not like I've sat down and thought about it." He heard her exasperation. "Okay, okay," he grumbled, leaning his head back on the headrest. "How long's it been?" "About twenty minutes and a quarter of a mile." He groaned and closed his eyes, willing his head to drown out the sounds of two little kids arguing over who was the smartest in the minivan next to them. *** 4:34 p.m. "How long?" "Forty minutes, one whole mile." Scully bit back a smile at the caged look on her partner's face. She could empathize. Neither had eaten in nearly twenty-four hours, and the bathrooms, or lack thereof, had ceased being a joke an hour before. Mulder strained his neck, squinting his eyes against the early evening glare of the sun. "I think I see something, Scully." She frowned as a convertible blaring rap music rolled to a stop next to them. "What?" He was quiet for a minute, closing his eyes momentarily. "Mulder? What is it?" "Military. They're up there." She felt her heart contract at his words. The car began to move forward, slowly inching its way towards the convoy stopped up ahead. She guessed they were maybe another half a mile away from the roadblock. Scully's fingers sought out her cross, and she held on to it tightly. *** 5:02 p.m. Mulder glanced up in time to see a young soldier approaching the car, gun carried across his chest. He tapped on the window, and Mulder slowly rolled it down, a confused look on his face. "Is there a problem?" he asked. "May I ask what your business is?" "We're going to visit relatives. My wife's family," he lied smoothly, gesturing to Scully. "Although we were supposed to be there nearly six hours ago." "What town would they be in, sir?" "Just outside of Las Vegas. May I ask why this is necessary?" The soldier glanced across the seat to Scully, then back at Mulder. "Haven't you seen the news?" Scully shrugged apologetically. "We've been traveling all night." "The President has ordered that at precisely five-thirty this evening, martial law be exercised upon all United States citizens." They didn't betray their shock. "Why?" Mulder managed. "We are taking all necessary precautions against a foreign enemy. I can assure you, though, sir, that you will be safe, if you follow the orders." "What orders would that be?" "Proceed to the nearest exit, turn around, and return to your home." "We live in Pennsylvania," Scully said. Seeing the soldier's suspicion, Mulder continued. "We thought it would be fun to drive across the country. See the sights and all." "Then I suggest you find a place to stay. There's a local elementary school nearby that's being set up as a shelter." He stepped back and waved them past. Mulder rolled his window up, unable to look at Scully. He noted with a somewhat detached manner that his hands were shaking, barely able to control the wheel. His heart pounded. It's happening. It's happening. It's happening. It's happening. It's happening. "Scully," he said, his voice cracking. Her hand covered his on the steering wheel. She didn't answer him. His eyes closed, a futile attempt to hide from reality. Two words seeped into his brain, repeating over and over like a broken record. Oh, God. *** MESQUITE, NEVADA 6:09 p.m. Mulder lay sprawled on the bed when she came out of the bathroom, the remote control possessively in his hands, his eyes closed. She walked carefully over to the bed, easing her weight down carefully so as not to disturb him. They'd driven like mad to find a hotel and a television set; the exhaustion was beginning to creep up on them. He opened on eye and peered over at her. "I'm awake, you know." She smiled. "I know." "Anything?" She shook her head, pushing the curtain back on the window. "The soldiers are in the street already." "Here? They're here?" he exclaimed, jumping off the bed to run over to her side. She pointed. "Jesus, Scully. We can't stay here." "Where are we going to go, Mulder? It's the fourth of July; martial law was imposed exactly thirty-nine minutes ago. It's happening, Mulder. We can't leave." "What about the facility?" Scully heard his unspoken question: What about Three? What about the clones? "I'm sure they're fine. They're safe underground anyway." "And us? Do we have a plan for getting back there yet?" She sighed. "No. But Mulder...I have a feeling we won't be getting much rest soon. I think we should just go to sleep. We can't do anything now." He paused, then nodded. "You go ahead and go to bed. I'm gonna go get a soda out of the machine. You want one?" She shook her head, asleep moments after the door shut behind him. *** The noise reached his ears first, and his first thought was that he was going to go deaf. Then the shockwave hit him, and he fell to his knees, along with the handful of other guests in the lobby. And only one thought made its way through his mind. Scully. The light flickered and died as he stumbled to his feet, only to be knocked to the ground by a second blast. A woman screamed, and he flinched. "Everybody stay calm!" he shouted over the noise, feeling his way towards the steps. Scully. "Is anybody hurt?" A general chorus of no reassured him, and he flew up the stairs to their room on the third floor. The collided around a corner, and he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of the blood on her forehead. He shook his head. She was fine, she was running, she was fine - they just had to leave. Blood later. Mulder grabbed her by the arms, shaking her, convincing himself that it was really her and she was really okay. "Mulder," she said, her hand trembling as it touched his cheek. After a beat, their eyes broke contact and she pushed away from him, grabbing his hand to pull him down the steps. "We have to go." "Scully, our stuff --" "I put some clothes into a bag, I have the vaccine! Mulder, it's all we need!" She saw him hesitate. "Mulder!" The glazed look was gone from his eyes. He nodded and they hurried down the steps, pushing their way past the lobby, now crowded with the rest of the guests, and into the street. Chaos, he thought as they ran to their car. Absolute chaos. Scully was slumped in the passenger seat as he flew through the streets of northern Nevada, the horizon hazy with smoke from the bombs. The beginning, he thought, swerving to avoid hitting around car at an intersection. The stop lights dangled dangerously by a thin wire, each color blinking off and on. The end. The beginning of the end. He'd never heard anything so final. Chapter Fourteen LAS VEGAS, NEVADA JULY 4, 1999 DAY 1 After the initial need for flight had subsided, the white Taurus eased down the road gently, its paint covered in dust. They didn't look back. Signs of the disaster were all around them, from the acrid smell of a simmering fire to the shouts and wails that blended together from people shouting to no avail for their loved ones. They were the lucky ones; buildings were torn in half, the jagged outline of what once had been a dark streak against the background of a setting sun. As they edged closer to Las Vegas, ground zero for mass destruction in the state, their eyes began to become immune to what they saw. They had passed barely twenty other cars en route to the once burgeoning metropolis. Now the city lay in ruins, a staggering Elvis sign above a demolished wedding chapel the only reminders of what had been. "Oh, my God," Scully whispered, unable to draw her eyes away from the window. They passed a bloodied woman, her skin covered in soot, propped up against a car on the side of the street. As the car drove slowly past her, the woman's eyes met Scully's, and a need arose in her. "Mulder, stop." He glanced over at her, his eyes trailing over to what she saw. "Scully..." "Mulder, we can't just drove by," she said quietly, firmly. After a moment, he nodded and pulled the car off to the side of the road. They habitually checked briefly for signs of traffic, then ran across the street to where the injured woman lay. Scully knelt next to her, her hands moving over the wounds. "What happened?" The woman coughed, and Mulder's head shot to one side, refusing to acknowledge the blood that bubbled forth. "I - I don't know. We were walking, and I - I --" She stuttered to a stops, her memories fading. "It just happened." "Whose 'we', Ma'am?" Mulder asked, turning back to them. "My husband and I. This was our honeymoon," she whispered, her breath hitching. "Oh God. Oh God! Oh - God, where is he?" she said, her voice rising in terror. "Jake - my husband - oh, God, where is he?" Scully's hands flittered through the younger woman's hair, her voice intoning soothing words that eventually stopped the stream of panic from her lips. After a minute, she rocked back on her heels, a hand pressed against her forehead. Her eyes met Mulder's, and she was sure he could see it was futile. His eyes broke contact with hers, straying behind her. She watched as his body tensed, and she slowly turned her head. Recognition came as the woman next to her drew her last breath, a final sigh blowing from her lips. Scully leaned down and closed the woman's eyes as Mulder walked past her and did the same to fallen man behind them. *** They found a small, short-wave radio along the side of the road, and it quickly became their bridge to what was happening in the country. They listened intently as they drove on, intent on finding refuge back at the facility. Neither voiced their thoughts, focused only on their goal. Four died during Scully's ministrations, and each time, they returned to the car silently, returning to the road and the safety they knew lay ahead. Finally, as the darkness began to fade and the soft illusions of a new dawn met their eyes, Mulder pulled off to the side of the road and turned off the car. His hand pulled a lever and his seat went back, resting on the right side of the backseat. Scully wasted no time in doing the same. They lay there silently, only the crackling of the radio between them interrupting the reverie. Mulder reached over and switched the radio off, pulling a blanket off the bottom of the floor and wrapping it gently around her. He gently brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes before letting his hand drop away - surprised when she caught it as it fell. "We'll be okay," he said quietly, looking into her eyes, his thumb rubbing over her fingers. "I hope so," she whispered. And then, in the quiet aftermath of the war that had begun around them, they slept, the remnants of the city's destruction a looming outline against the early morning sky. *** OUTSIDE LAS VEGAS, NV JULY 5, 1999 7:41 a.m. DAY 2 Scully awoke to hazy white clouds of smoke rolling over the car, and suddenly the memories of what had happened the day before came tumbling back. She sat up, a glance at Mulder revealing he was still asleep. She was surprised to see a dozen or so cars parked behind them, in front of them, and across the road. Obviously, they'd started a trend. Mulder sat up next to her, shaking sleep away with a toss of his head. "Ready to go?" "I should drive, Mulder." He shook his head. "You need your sleep." "And what, you don't? Mulder, you're pushing yourself. You drove us here from Mesquite. Let me let you rest now, okay?" He was stubbornly holding his ground, and she sighed, throwing a quick gesture his way. Contented, he started the car and they drove off. She recognized his refusal to let her drive for what it was. In driving he found the control he lacked otherwise, the control that had been taken from them. Scully said a mental prayer for her mother and family's safety, then settled into her seat to make sure he stayed awake at the wheel. *** They clung to the radio, their only remaining link to what was happening in the world outside. By the fourth day, solid reports began coming over the wire, confirming what they had already suspected. The major cities - New York, Dallas, Los Angeles, Chicago, Las Vegas, Philadelphia - had all been bombed in an effort to stop colonization. They paid little attention to the death figures; the hundreds of thousands who had been lost in the bombings were just a starting point for the viral holocaust that was to come. Washington, as expected, was hit the hardest, the body count the highest in the metropolitan area. Europe was hit, and Asia; Australia, South and Central Americas, Africa. No one was spared, no country overlooked. Sometimes it was bombs - sometimes it was a hundred men in uniform that stormed the streets and shot at random. The bees came on the sixth day, and by the eighth, everyone had stopped counting. They worked their way slowly towards the facility, the roads crowded with people eager to flee the larger cities. The smaller cities were next, and within twenty-four hours of the reports from Europe and Asia, those remaining were spreading the news: St. Louis, Miami, Seattle, Baltimore, Boston, Houston, Phoenix. And the numbers rose. Military installations were quickly emptied; generals, commanders - all vanished, underground as most suspected. The fourth day saw the disappearance of the President and his family; the fifth, all heads of state. Directors of the top government agencies resigned and went under. Monarchies in distant countries crumbled, leaders killed, their families tortured. England held on, stoic and regal to the end, but eventually the news came. Presidents, royal families...all semblance of government demolished in what seemed to be overnight. In its place, anger reigned, fear and chaos its followers. The car drove slowly past the crumbled cities, towns where normalcy had once been taken for granted. Towns where children stood on sidewalks and wailed for their lost parents, where mothers collapsed in heaps on jagged grass, limp, small bodies still clutched to their breast. Where people now crammed onto the streets in what vehicles remained, clinging to some vague hope that if they could just get away, get away from the big cities, into the country that they would be safe. That everything would be okay. That they would safe.... They did not know who was in power any longer; but as bombs dropped and bees invaded, the bodies fell, and with them, any remaining hope that the inevitable would somehow cease to be. And still they drove on, a dim hope that they could still save them - someone - *anyone.* Their faces worn and haggard, the faces of two people had stared Death in the face far too many times; the faces of two people almost immune to the dead bodies littering the sides of the road, of the stale, stifling smell of death and decay. They drove on, nearly blind to the horror around them. Nearly. Chapter Fifteen SOMEWHERE IN SOUTHERN NEVADA MIDNIGHT DAY 13 A shrill scream shook the still night air, and Scully immediately leapt up from sleep, hand grazing her back and tightening around her weapon. Next to her, she saw Mulder do the same. A quick glance at each other confirmed the unspoken plan. Slowly, they both opened their doors, and Mulder waited until she had walked quietly around the car to his side before they continued. Another scream, more muffled and strangled than the first, pierced the darkness again, and they instantly hastened their steps. It took her a few minutes to assess their surroundings, but when she did, Scully realized that they were in a field. She reached for her flashlight, letting out a small grumble of frustration when she realized she'd left it in the car. "Look over there," Mulder said softly, nudging her. Two figures sat hunched over under the dark shadow of a tree a few ways off. She nodded at him, and they stealthily moved forward. The pair didn't hear the approaching footsteps until both former agents had them covered. "Stand up, put your hands in the air!" Scully commanded firmly, her gun drawn. The taller figure tensed immediately, jumping up from his spot on the ground. "Don't shoot," he said, voice trembling. "Who are you? What's going on?" Mulder demanded, inching closer to the man. The form below them, who upon closer inspection proved to be a woman, writhed and moaned again. "Mulder --" Scully said, realization dawning. "It's my wife --" the man tried to explain. "She's in labor, Mulder," she said, motioning for him to lower his weapon. After a second's indecision, she quickly pulled the sleeves of her shirt up to her elbows and knelt next to the woman. "I'm a doctor, everything's going to be okay." She gestured to Mulder and he bent down to hear her speak. "I brought some medical supplies with me. I need you to go get them and both of our flashlights. A pillow and plenty of blankets." He nodded and disappeared into the night. Putting a false smile on her face, she turned back to the pregnant woman before her. "All right, then. I'm Dana. What's your name?" "Carol," she said, breathing in hard, short gasps. "That's it, just keep breathing," Scully said soothingly, rubbing a hand over the distended belly. "And who's this?" "P-Peter," Carol said, sighing as the contraction passed. "All right, Carol, Peter. How long have you been having contractions and how far apart are they?" "About - about two hours ago. They're about five minutes apart," Peter told her, crouching next to his wife and rubbing her shoulders gently. She felt Mulder approaching from behind her, and she turned. He set the requested items down next to her and squatted easily. "Carol, Peter, this is my --" She stumbled; partner was no longer appropriate. "This is Mulder." "Nice to meet you, Mulder," Carol said, closing her eyes and leaning back against the tree. "If you don't mind my asking, Dana - how many babies have you delivered?" Peter asked suddenly. She saw the worry in his eyes and softened. They had just seen the world end before their very eyes, and now his wife was in labor; what must he be feeling? "Just one other," she said, glancing at Mulder. He drew a finger across his throat and mimed gagging. She smiled briefly at the memory. "And that baby - it was okay?" Carol continued, looking over her shoulder at her husband. "Ten pounds, ten ounces of piss and vinegar," Mulder said, and she thought for a moment she detected a hint of pride in his voice. She smiled again at Carol, and that time, it wasn't forced. *** Time blended together along with Carol's screams. As far as she could tell, the labor was no different than any other labor. Scully sympathized with the woman, going through it without the aid of any drugs. As the sky began to lighten with day, and the younger woman lay still in the throes of pain, Peter stood and ran up the slight incline of a hill that led to the street where the cars were parked. Mulder glanced at Scully, going after the other man when she nodded it was okay. He found him pacing the side of the street, an angry glare on his face. "Hey, Pete - Peter. Hey, relax." Peter swirled and faced him furiously. "She's in *pain!*" At the blank look on Mulder's face, he continued. "My wife is in pain and I can't do one goddamn thing about it." "Look, she's going to be fine; I know what it feels like, to watch her suffer like that, but --" "But what? In the end, it'll all be worth it?" Peter snorted angrily. "Right, whatever." He watched the other man for a minute, guessing he was just a few years younger than himself, probably around thirty-four or so. Carol, the wife, looked barely thirty. "Pete, look. Your wife is doing fine, and Dana's a good doctor. And yeah, in the end, you bet like hell it's going to be worth it. It's hard now, of course, but when it's all over, you're going to have a little you, Peter. A little person you created with the woman you love, who, frankly, could stand a little support right now from you." Peter looked at him squarely for a minute before he spoke. "You two have kids?" Mulder's brow furrowed. "Excuse me?" "Do you have children of your own?" he repeated, enunciating each word carefully, as though he were speaking to a child. "I - no - yes. Yeah." "How many?" Oh, how I wish I knew, Petey, Mulder thought dryly. Count 'em all, or count them all as one? "One," he said finally, meeting the younger man's eyes. "Did you have a hospital, and a doctor in scrubs, and nurses, and a nice, warm bed, and drugs for when the pain got too bad? Did you have monitors to let you know if anything went wrong, or an OR just down the hall in case something happened with the baby? Tell me, Mulder, did you?" He hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He didn't need to answer. "Because. We. Don't," Peter spat out. "If anything happens with that baby, we won't know until it's too late." Mulder looked him straight in the eye. "Dana won't let anything happen to that baby." "She isn't God." "Just - trust me, all right? She won't." He turned and headed towards the small sloping of the hill but Peter caught his arm. "Hey - Mulder?" "Yeah, Peter?" "What - what happened to your kid?" He wasn't sure how to answer the question. In the end, truth won. "We were too late." *** SUNRISE Mulder did as Scully directed, holding the blanket in a cup- shape, angled to catch the baby. The morning was broken by the occasional scream of Carol and the hushed words of encouragement from the three surrounding her. Under Scully's instructions, Carol coiled up and pushed the muscles in her lower abdomen, and Mulder watched, his mouth open in a small O, as the rounded stomach caved in. She gave another strong push and he noted distantly that there was a bright red, wailing infant in his hands. "Mulder. Mulder!" Scully said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. "Hold the baby still. Wrap the blanket around him, it's chilly." She spoke as she deftly used a shoestring to tie a loop around the umbilical cord, using a spare pair of scissors to cut it loose. She took the screaming baby out of his hands and cradled it in the crook of her left arm, using her right fingers to clean the fluids out of its mouth and wipe off its body. Mulder coughed pointedly, and she checked. "Carol? You have a little girl." Shaky hands reached out for the newborn and Scully passed her over to Peter, who helped cradle the little girl on her mother's chest. Finally spent of all energy, Scully fell back against Mulder, closing her eyes, concentrating on the strong beat of his heart beneath her ear. "You did it, Scully," he whispered. She gave a short laugh. "Carol did most of the work, Mulder." He leaned forward and spoke quietly again, his breath tickling her ear and neck. "I'm proud of you, Scully." She closed her eyes and smiled drowsily. "I'm proud of you, too, Mulder. You didn't even get queasy." The soft rumbling of his chest as he chuckled lulled her to sleep. *** Scully awoke a few hours later, startled at first to find herself asleep in a field. She blinked, trying to assess her surroundings, a warm feeling enveloping her when she realized she had fallen asleep in Mulder's arms. Memories of the night before came rushing back. Carol. The baby. Carol! She sat up suddenly, horrified that she'd forgotten her patient in the midst of her own fatigue. "Jesus, Scully," he said from behind her, though she didn't feel him move. She turned around and blinked again. They were leaning against another tree, a few feet away from where Carol and Peter lay sleeping, in each other's arms. "Mulder?" she said, an eyebrow arched. He gave her a childish grin. "Look, Scully, I found a baby. Can we keep her? Can we?" She knew he meant the words in jest, but they still struck a chord within her. "Oh, Mulder," she said softly, leaning back against the tree, letting her head drop onto his shoulder. Almost on its own accord, her hand reached up and began tracing lazy circles on the infant's back. "She's so beautiful," she said after a minute, marveling at how small and delicate the little girl looked, snuggled up on Mulder's chest. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, his own fingers playing with the baby's tinier ones. "For what?" "I didn't - I mean, I shouldn't have said..." His voice trailed off to a sigh. "Mulder," she said firmly, her hand dropping away from the child's to push herself up to a sitting position. "Look at me. It's okay. We - both of us lost Emily. Please don't forget that." He remained quiet, but she knew she had gotten through to him. "They're naming her Rose," he said at last. Scully smiled. "That's a nice name. Any reason why?" "She was born at sunrise," Mulder explained softly, transferring the baby to Scully's arms. He sat back at looked at them for a minute before shaking his head. "That looks so right, Dana." Scully had a fleeting thought as to if other women had a problem with a man catching them off-guard with something as beautifully honest as Mulder's words. She saw Carol stir, and flashed him a sad look. "Just not meant to be," she replied, just as quietly. She crossed the field, eager to get away from his obvious self-inflicted guilt. As she approached Carol smiled up at her in understanding. "Thank you," she said, her blonde hair catching the sunlight. So much like Emily's hair, she thought, and a pain clenched at her heart. "You're welcome," Scully said, bending to put Rose back in her rightful arms. "Peter told me about your own child," Carol said hesitantly. Scully looked at her questioningly. "Your husband spoke to him about earlier. When Pete went charging off." There was a hint of humor in her voice. Scully swallowed a lump in her throat. "Yes," she whispered. Carol put a hand on her arm. "I'm very sorry. I know it's probably not the same, but - we lost a child, too. Right after we were first married six years ago. I had a miscarriage at fifteen weeks." Scully forced herself to remain strong. "Circumstances may change, Carol, but the pain never changes. It always hurts, doesn't it?" She nodded, glancing down lovingly at the little girl cradled in her arms. "Did he tell you we've named her Rose?" Scully nodded. "We'd like to honor the two of you in her middle name. I --" Carol broke off, flushing. "What?" "I don't know how you'll feel about it, but I thought maybe - if you didn't mind, that we could name her after your child." She glanced back over at Mulder, who was standing up and brushing himself off. Their eyes locked, and he asked her a silent question. 'Are you okay?' 'I'm fine. Honestly.' "Emily," she said finally, looking back at Carol. "Her name was Emily." *** They helped Carol and Peter return to their own car, watching in silence as they drove off, Rose Emily nestled protectively against her mother. He waited until the car disappeared around the bend before speaking. "I wanted to give Peter the vial," he said to her over the roof of their car. She simply got into the car. After a beat, he did, too. "I know," she said as he started the car. "I couldn't find it," he continued, glancing at her. "Where did you hide it?" "I didn't hide it," Scully replied. "I gave it to Carol." A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Scully?" She closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat. "Yeah, Mulder?" "I know." The car was silent for a few minutes before she responded, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Mulder?" "Yeah, Scully?" "I know you know." He laughed as their hands found each other across the front seat of the car and squeezed. She returned the pressure, and for a short time, he believed that they might just make it. He *wanted* to believe. Chapter Sixteen SOMEWHERE IN NEVADA 9:26 p.m. DAY 20 Without the map that had guided them thus far, they were at a loss. The facility, even had they been able to find Route 375, was well hidden underground; both had little confidence that they could find it with the naked eye. And so they drove. Mile upon mile wrought nothing but the burned wreckage of small towns, and the seed of uncertainty began to grow. They spotted the village by accident. A light in the distance winked against the dark sky, and by silent mutual consent, they headed in its direction. In the wake of the thunderstorm of bombings and bees lay a small town, half of its buildings somehow resilient against the firestorm that had raged from the bombs. It was tiny by anyone's standards: a town hall, a small hospital clinic, no more than a dozen houses, all lining Main Street. The rest lay smoldering on the ground. They parked the car in the street, in front of the house with the light on and got out, approaching the front door slowly. The front door opened suddenly, and a woman appeared in the threshold. She watched them tensely. "Who are you?" she called out as they got closer. They held their hands up a little, away from their bodies. "We saw your light from the road," Mulder called back. "You need a place to stay?" Scully spoke up. "We don't want to put you out." "Nonsense," the woman replied, gesturing them forward. "My name's Ann. I got plenty of room. It's just the two of you?" They stepped closer to the house, enough so that the light from the inside fell on them. Mulder nodded. "You're sure it's not --" "Don't worry about it," Ann said, shaking her head. "Come on inside. It's just me and the kids in this big house; no need for two nice people like you two not to stay here." Once inside, they were able to see her more clearly. Scully guessed she was nearly forty-five, although her face was worn and tired as she fussed over her children. The three little ones seated at the table looked up at Mulder and Scully with wide- eyed awe, and she stifled a laugh. Such innocense, she thought, her eyes falling on the blonde-haired little girl. Ann ran a hand through her graying brown hair and pulled out seats for the two of them, then bustled in and out of the kitchen, grabbing two extra plates, silverware, and cups. "Please, have a seat," she called from inside the kitchen. They sat, Mulder eyeing the kids. "I'm Michael," said the oldest one, a brown haired little boy. He returned Mulder's wary look. "I'm six. But everybody calls me Mike." The smallest child, the blonde girl that had caught Scully's eye, wiggled down off of her chair and, thumb in her mouth, made her way over to Mulder. She stared at him, either in adoration or suspicion. Neither could be sure. "And whose this?" Mulder asked. "Lindsay. She's three," Mike said, a flavor of self-importance in his voice. He jerked his thumb towards the middle child, another little boy. "That's Brian, and he's four. I'm the oldest." Ann bustled out then, hands filled with plates of food. She set each plate down in front of her two guests and ushered her daughter back to her seat. "Don't bother these nice people now," she scolded, returning to her own seat. "Mike was just introducing us to everyone," Scully said, nodding at the little boy. The woman smiled proudly at her eldest. "He's the little man of the house," she said, eyes twinkling. Almost as an afterthought, she turned back to the pair. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your names." "I'm Mulder," he said, "and this is Dana." "Mulder?" Ann repeated dubiously. He coughed. "An old family name." "Ah." They made small talk throughout the rest of dinner until Scully helped Ann clear off the table. She waited patiently with her ex-partner in the small living room while Ann put the kids to bed. She came down a few minutes later and gestured. "Come on up, I'll show you to your room." Ann led them up a few stairs and down a short hallway. "There's a bathroom off of the room," she explained. "There's the boys' room, and there's mine and Lindsay's, if you ever need anything." She gave the last door in the hall a gentle but firm nudge, and it opened. "It hasn't been used in a little while," she said by way of an explanation. She stepped back and let them enter. They surveyed the small room without criticism, happy to have at least found a stranger willing to keep them for a few nights. "I know it's small," Ann sighed, "but ---" "It's fine, Ann," Scully interrupted reassuringly. "Really." "Okay, then," she said, crossing the room and opening two doors. A closet and a bathroom, Mulder noticed. "There's some shampoo and soap and towels in the bathroom. The sheets are fresh, don't worry. It's a little dusty, though." She saw him eyeing the bed and smiled nervously. "Like I said, I know it's kind of small...." He flushed at her insinuation, but neither he nor Dana elected to correct her. "We'll be fine," he said instead. Ann nodded. "Okay, then. Goodnight." "Goodnight," Mulder echoed. The door shut behind her. He turned to Scully, jerking a thumb in the direction of the bed. "Like she said, Scully, it's kind of small." She went into the bathroom, flicking on the switch. "You figure it out," she grumbled sleepily, closing the door behind her. The sound of a shower running met his ears a few seconds later and he gazed back at the bed. A three year old couldn't fit into that, he thought dismally. *** 7:46 a.m. DAY 21 Despite their misgivings about the size of the bed, they managed to spend the night in it without any mishaps. Mulder awoke to sunlight streaming through the open window, and he groaned at the sudden assault on his eyes. He flopped over onto his stomach, pulling the pillow out and throwing it over his head. "Ow." He chuckled. "I barely touched you, Scully. Don't be a wimp." She made a soft snorting sound in her throat, and he recognized it as a 'it's too early for this, Mulder' sound. "You kicked me." Mulder noticed her eyes hadn't opened yet. Either she was incredibly tired or she was refusing to dignify the conversation by looking at him. "My legs hardly moved." Her head lifted and an eye opened. "Fine, whatever, Mulder." Mulder refrained from sticking out his tongue, half-afraid to say or do something that would startle her out of the relatively playful mood she'd woken up in. He settled, instead, on stumbling out of the bed and into the bathroom. "Hey, Scully? We never brought our stuff in from the car." He heard her light footsteps as she padded across the room, poking her head in the doorway. "I'll go get it." "Fine, whatever." He could almost see her rolling her eyes as the door slammed shut. *** Scully passed by the kitchen on her way back from the car, nearly running into Mike. "I'm about to have breakfast. Do you want breakfast? Mom's making me some," he said in a rush. She smiled calmly at him, following him into the kitchen. Ann stood at the counter, pouring some cereal into a bowl for her son. "Good morning, Dana," she said, smiling. "What's all that?" Scully glanced down at the bags in her hand. "Our things. We left them in the car last night." She sat them down on the floor and took a seat. "Did you sleep well last night?" Ann asked. "As well as a person can in light of recent circumstances," she said dryly. The other woman nodded sympathetically. They fell into a comfortable silence as Ann busied herself scrambling eggs and cooking bacon on the stove and Scully watched Mike eat his cereal. "So," the woman said, glancing at Scully over her shoulder, "how long have you been married?" "What?" The question caught her off-guard, and she flushed, cursing her Irish ancestry for such light coloring. Ann nodded her head towards the ceiling. "You and Mulder. I asked how long you --" "We aren't," she corrected hastily. "We aren't married." The only reaction she received was the slow arching of an eyebrow and a soft, thoughtful, "Hm." "I, uh, I better take these upstairs," Scully said, picking up the bags and heading back up the steps. *** DAY 36 They had planned to stay for a few days, at most. But being around people again, in a town that still functioned, was too alluring to resist. For a month, they had been the only two people in the world, besides their interlude with Peter and Carol. And although Idle, Nevada now held a population of only thirty-seven, they were thirty-five extra people that provided them with a false sense of normalcy. So they stayed. A few days turned into five, five turned to six, and six turned into nearly two weeks. In an attempt to regain what they had lost in the past month, they fell into a routine. The effect of staying in the same place, knowing there was a warm, albeit small, bed to crawl into each night, and that there was always food available was as addicting as a drug. Half- hearted attempts to suggest a return to their original goal - return to the facility - were aborted as soon as they began. Returning to the facility meant returning to saving the world, returning to the one-adventure-after-another life they'd inhabited for six years. They didn't speak of their feelings; each knew it was a life the other, like them, was none too anxious to continue. To her surprise, Dana found out, through casual conversation with Ann, that all of the people attended church each Sunday, the town hall serving as a makeshift sanctuary. She didn't mention it to him, hesitant to even broach the subject of God in such a time. Could she do it? Sit through a service and declare her loyalty and love for a God she wasn't sure any longer existed? The question of His very existence was the most troubling to her. The craft she'd discovered in Africa had marked the beginning of her questioning of God, only to indirectly reaffirm her beliefs. But now she wondered. And in the end, either out of a loyalty to past traditions or because of the instinctual need to look for something greater in life, she went with Ann and her three children to the town hall on the second Sunday of their stay in town. Dana sat on the chair, eyes downcast as she allowed the Father's words to roll over her, some things familiar and others foreign in the mix of Presbyterians, Catholics, and Christians. Thirty minutes into the sermon, she saw someone sit down next to her out of her peripheral vision, and she moved over automatically to give them some room before she felt the familiar presence. She looked up, surprise written across her face, and he simply smiled at her. Afterwards, on the walk home, she rushed to question him. "Mulder, why did you come?" "I thought it was an open service," he said, affecting a hurt look on his face. It was gone in a matter of seconds. "You don't *go* to church," she continued. "But you do." She stopped walking and arched an eyebrow. "You're *Jewish,* Mulder." He gasped sarcastically and clutched at his chest. "Scully, sh! Someone might hear you." "You know what I mean," she said as they resumed their walk home. He was quiet for a moment, and she could tell he was giving her inquiry his full attention. "Because maybe even though I don't go to church - and maybe even though I can't always agree with what He does...I can still pretend that I feel differently. And maybe - maybe that's a nice feeling, Scully." Humbled, Scully slid her hand around to his back and rubbed it for a minute before letting her hand drop away. "You're right, Mulder. I'm sorry." And the next week, he arrived at the same time, sliding in next to her. A gentle touch on her hand indicating his presence. In the midst of her uncertainty about her God, of all the beliefs she had always clung so faithfully to, Dana Scully found herself reaffirming another certainty. Her hand slid silently over on the bench and entwined itself in his. She squeezed, and he looked over at her in concern. "Mulder," she said quietly, her eyes searching his. He said nothing in response, simply lifted his hand and brushed his hand down her nose lovingly. And he nodded. Without another word to each other, a course of action was sealed. They sought out the priest after the services had ended and most of the townspeople had started for home. The older man listened carefully, then smiled and nodded. He said a few words to a woman standing nearby, someone they presumed to be his wife; finally, he motioned for them to follow him. It took no more than ten minutes, five of which were spent filling out the proper forms. The Father was unperturbed when it was realized they had come unprepared. She had entered the makeshift church wearing her mother's family ring on her right hand. She smiled softly as they left the church, the ring catching in the early afternoon sunlight on her left. Chapter Seventeen They returned to the house in a companionable silences. Neither mentioned the new situation to Ann, who merely smiled at them as they passed by. The rest of the day was spent like many before; he poured over maps, trying halfheartedly to find a quick way back to the facility in Rachel, while she helped Ann with the kids. Throwing a football back and forth with the two little boys; Barbies with Lindsay. They barely saw each other for the rest of the day, meeting up only in their bedroom that night. Mulder entered, closing the door behind him, only to find her sitting up in bed, her glasses on as she wrote in a book that lay on her propped-up legs. She looked up at him as he came in. "Hey." He gave a slight nod. "Hey." Silence. Then, "Mulder --" "Scully --" They broke off for a minute in an awkward silence before she smiled faintly. "You first." Mulder sighed, sitting down next to her. She took off her glasses and looked expectantly at him. "I...I just - I uh..." He broke off, sliding a hand down his face. He looked down at her and gave a wry chuckle. "This is odd, Scully." "Mulder," she murmured. "What?" She looked at him quizzically for a minute, then smiled slightly. "Mulder, not Scully. I was joking." He swallowed audibly, and her smile disappeared. "I'm sorry. Mulder...you're right, it is - different. I had a whole speech planned in my head but..." "I just don't want you to think I - that I'd pressure you. Or anything," he added quickly. "I mean, I would never --" Dana reached out and put a hand on his arm, hoping to soothe him. He relaxed. "Mulder, I know that. You know, it isn't like we've had a lot of time to prepare for this. I didn't wake up this morning with this all planned out. It's...expected...that it's going to take some time to get used to." "We can go slow," Mulder replied, absentmindedly playing with her fingers. She tried to swallow a vague fear that rose up. Somehow, she'd been expecting more a fight from him. It was disconcerting to think that maybe he didn't care. "Unless --" she began haltingly, uncertainty weaving through her voice. He froze immediately, visibly. "Unless?" he croaked. "Unless - what?" She cleared her throat, a little nervously. "Unless...you didn't want to." She clarified quickly, "Um, stay. Stay...married." There, the word was out. Undeniably, irrevocably out in the open. Until that moment, both had avoided the word; had avoided the words that went with it: wedding, ring, husband, wife. Mulder found himself unable to catch a full breath and the ones that he could find, catching halfway out. Stricken, he caught her eye. "Do...you?" She raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "Want to stay...married?" "Do you?" "Did you ever realize that whenever you want to avoid the subject, you just return my questions with another question?" "Did you ever realize that whenever we talk about something remotely personal, you wear your panic face, like you're doing right now?" "Ever wonder how long you could carry on an entire conversation by asking only questions?" They smiled at each other for a minute before she sobered and pinned him with a look. "I'm serious, Mulder. And you never answered my question. Are you avoiding the subject?" "I want whatever you want. I want whatever you'll give me. But you already have me." He paused, searching her eyes. "I just don't know about you....Do I have you, Dana Scully?" She brushed her hand across his cheek. "You have me, Fox Mulder." "So does this mean I'm getting lucky tonight?" he asked, throwing her a leer. She was quiet. For a moment, he wondered if he had pushed the envelope too far. She looked up at him, a little smile on her face as she reached over and turned off the light. He took that as his cue to get into bed. She waited until they had both settled in before she spoke. "I think I need time to adjust, Mulder." She wasn't completely rejecting him. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in. "So...I'm not getting lucky tonight?" "Not tonight," she confirmed, patting his hand. He rolled over and concentrated on falling asleep and not the woman laying next to him. Instead, he found himself musing over her words. Suddenly, he rolled over again and propped himself up on one elbow, looking at her. If he wasn't mistaken, she had said those two words almost...coyly. She slept on quietly, a small smile of victory on her face. Beaten, he laid down again and prepared to sleep. Her soft whisper invaded his fog of near-sleep. "Had you." *** DAY 37 They decided the next day that they needed to return to the clinic, and the sooner the better. Reports from the radio suggested the swarm from Mexico was heading north, directly towards Nevada and California. They refused to take the risk. They loaded their things into the car early the next morning as Ann and her children saw them out. "We're going to miss having you two around," she said as she hugged Dana. She moved on to Mulder. "Are you sure you have to leave?" They glanced at each other for reaffirmation. "I'm afraid so," Scully replied. "We really do need to get back to our - friends." Lindsay attached herself to Mulder's leg. "You going?" He nodded, kneeling down so that they were at eye level. "Yeah, kiddo, we have to leave." "I go with?" "Hey, if you go with us, then who's going to take care of your mommy?" She shrugged her shoulders innocently. "Maybe we can come back and visit you, huh?" "Visit?" "Yeah. You like that idea?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Well, okay then." He ruffled her hair gently as he stood. They took turns giving a hug to each of the three children, Mike holding on tightly to Scully. Before the kids could protest any more, they climbed into the car and, with a wave behind them, took off down the road, forging once more into the unknown. *** ROUTE 375 7:00 p.m. Scully felt a gentle tap on her shoulder and looked up from her writing. "Mm?" Mulder gestured to the book she held. "Is that what you were writing in the other day?" 'The other day,' she repeated mentally. The same day that we got married, Mulder? Aloud, she confirmed his statement with a simple "yes" and continued writing, offering no more information. His fingers tapped out an unidentifiable rhythm on the steering wheel for a full thirty seconds before he spoke again. "Well?" "Well what?" He sounded exasperated. "What *is* the book?" "It's a journal, Mulder. I've been writing in it for years. I didn't even know I had packed it. It...keeps me sane." "I thought *I* made you sane." "Actually, Mulder, you do quite the opposite." She meant it in jest, but looking up at him, she saw the hurt in his eyes. She hesitated, then reached over and put a hand behind his neck, her thumb rubbing over the small patch of hair there. It was a gesture she knew from experience would relax him. "You do keep me sane, Mulder," she continued quietly. "But being able to write about my thoughts...it's therapy, I guess. You're the one who said I keep my feelings well hidden. Writing those feelings down in a book that no one else will see - it's just my way of expressing myself." "So you can confide to a book and not me?" "Mulder --" "No. No. I'm not angry. I'm merely interested." She removed her hand from his neck and gave a decidedly un- Scully snort. "Interested. Right." "Scully --" "Oh, no, Mulder, I'm not angry. I'm just intrigued." They sat in a tense silence for a minute before he dared to speak again. "It's just that we've been partners for six years. And since you were...sick," he said finally, not looking her in the eye, "we've gotten closer. You make it sound like you can't tell me anything when all along I thought you told me everything. Like I tell you." "You do not tell me everything, Mulder." He glanced at her incredulously. "What are you talking about?" "What am I talking about? I'm talking about half the cases we've worked on, Mulder, where you've kept information from me, ditched me, hidden informants from me. I'm talking about Emily and everything you knew before I found her that you didn't tell me until the fact. I'm talking about D --" She broke off and fell silent. "Say it. Go ahead, just say it. Diana, right? I didn't tell you about Diana?" She was quiet. "You might have told me about her...personal interest in the X-files, is all I'm saying," she replied calmly. "No, what you're saying is that you wish I'd told you about her personal interest in me." Her jaw tightened. "What I'm saying is that I wish that you would have trusted my judgment at the Gunmen's. Before El Rico." He pulled the car to a stop on the side of the road and faced her. "I did trust your judgment. That's why I went to her apartment to look for evidence to back up what you were suggesting. I trust you. I have always trusted you." The car filled with silence. "What did you find?" "Nothing," he said honestly. "Nothing concrete. Nothing until I was sick." At her look, he continued. "I got my phone bill about a week after I got home. A phone bill with a number on it that I didn't recognize. I called it out of curiosity." "Who was it?" "None other than C.G.B. I didn't get him directly, I think it was some type of switchboard number." "And you think she called him? From your apartment?" "I sure as hell didn't." After a minute, she spoke. "What was she to you, Mulder?" "Someone important once. But that was a long time ago....The shortened version is that we met right after I graduated from Quantico. We clicked instantly with our interests in the paranormal. We'd been together for awhile when I found the X-files in '91. We managed to become partners. Two months later, she put in for a transfer and left. I continued with the X- files, more or less alone, until they assigned you to me a year later." "Why did she transfer?" "I don't know. I didn't ask. By that time, we had become more like friends than lovers. I was in love with my files by that point. It wasn't a horrible split, for either of us. She kept in touch for about a month afterwards, but...." Again, they were quiet. "Are we done arguing?" she asked softly. "I think so. I'm...I'm sorry I got upset about your journal. It's just been...a harrowing month. I didn't want to leave that town and go back to all of this. I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at what I'm putting you through." "Hey," she said, touching his shoulder. "I'm here by choice. Just like I've always been." Her hand dropped away and she stared straight ahead. He saw she was debating her next words. "I didn't mean to sound like a jealous wife about Diana. I'm sorry." "Yeah, but you're my jealous wife, Scully. And look at it this way. We just had our first fight. Now it's out of the way, and we can enjoy the *other* aspects of being newlyweds," he finished with a leer. "Argument, Mulder." "Pot-tay-to, po-tah-to." "Mulder, are we going to be able to do this?" she asked, serious once more. "I mean, look at us. We're possibly the two most emotionally repressed individuals in this country. We have arguments that rise from a question over a journal. We can't even agree on fight versus argument. The closest we've come to actually kissing each other is three aborted attempts that left us more embarrassed than closer, and one of those attempts wasn't even really you. Are we crazy for trying this?" "We can be pathetically repressed together." "I didn't say we were pathetic, Mulder." "I improvised." He pulled the car back onto the road. "Can I ask you personal question, Scully?" "I guess so." "Are you really going to go by Mulder? I mean, isn't that a rather old-fashioned tradition? I thought you were a woman of the Nineties." "If you don't want to share, Mulder...." "I want to share. Is that Scully-speak for yes?" "I know what you're asking me, and nothing I say is going to stop you, so just say it, Mulder." "Okay --" He broke off, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "-- Mulder." *** DAY 38 8:24 a.m. Dana awoke slowly, reaching her hand out over the seat in search of Mulder. She'd grown accustomed to his presence next to her in the mornings. When she came up empty, she sat up in fear, her eyes hawk-like as they took in the surroundings. She opened her door when she didn't see him and shot out of the car. "Mulder!" she shouted. "Yeah?" She breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of his voice. "Where are you?" "Over here," he called back. She raised an eyebrow before she saw him crouched next to a pack of bushes. He stood when she started to approach, putting out a hand for her to take. Instead of guiding her closer, he began walking away from the bushes, pulling her with him. "Mulder, what are we doing?" "Going back to the car," he said, smiling at her. "Why? What was back there?" "Nothing, Mulder." "That's not going to work, Mulder. What are you hiding from me?" He stopped walking and faced her, though their hands remained clasped. "I'm not hiding anything from you." "Then tell me why the minute I approached, you started pulling me away." "Can you just give me this one husbandly duty and allow me to indulge in protecting you?" She was quiet for a minute, considering. Then she gave him a patent I-know-you're-hiding-something-Mulder look. "I know you're hiding something, Mulder. I'm going back there." She began to retreat towards the bush. "Scully!" he called desperately. She hesitated, then turned to face him. "I'll tell you. Just don't look. Don't...look." She walked slowly back to him, and he cleared his throat quietly. "It's a dead body. I was just pushing it off the side of the road and into the bushes." "Did you check? Are you sure they're dead? They could just be comatose --" "Scully, I'm sure. Their stomachs were...I'm guessing they've been there for about a week or so." "They?" His eyes narrowed, and he mentally slapped himself for his mistake. "It." She jogged back to the bushes, bending down and pushing a space so that she could see. He knew the minute she recognized the bodies. She let out a small gasp and fell back onto her heels, a hand at her mouth to hold back what her stomach was sending up. He ran over to her and drew her into his embrace. "He left them here," she said shakily into his chest. "Maybe he had to." "God dammit!" she shouted suddenly, pushing him away so abruptly that he fell back onto the gravel of the road. She stood and stalked back and forth angrily. "Dammit, Mulder, this is our fault. Why the hell didn't the vaccine work? If it didn't work for them, it won't work for my mother!" "I don't think he gave either of them the vaccine, Scully. There's no needle marks anywhere." "You're saying he just let his wife and newborn daughter die? What the hell kind of man does that, Mulder? Why did we help them if they were only going to die like this?" She stopped walking and knelt down next to him. "Would you have let that baby die, Scully, even if you knew this was how she'd end up?" "I would have shot Peter," she said coldly, staring at the corpses. "You would have helped them, though." "Of course." He was quiet. "Maybe it's faster now. Maybe it gestates quicker and there wasn't time for a vaccine." "Then why the hell did we work on one?" "I think we'll find answers once we get back to the facility." "Mulder." The word exhaled on a breath, and he stopped, unsure whether or not he had really heard it. Her eyes had widened imperceptibly, and her lower lip trembled a little. She was sweating, and he was betting it wasn't from the early August heat. "There's a bee on your shoulder," she continued quietly, her voice shaky. "We need to get it off." His mind had frozen upon her words, and as his eyes rose up to meet hers, he felt, for the first time, fear. "If I move...it'll sting. If you move, it might sting." His voice was quiet, calm. And frighteningly accurate. "So what do we do?" she whispered. "I don't know." "Maybe I should kill it," she said quietly, desperately. "With your bare hands? And get stung yourself? No." She sat back on her heels, a tiny movement. Mulder felt the bee move from his shoulder around to the back of his neck, searching for bare skin. The tiny fluttering of the insect against his neck made him flinch involuntarily. It was invitation enough. He imagined the sting just before it happened. He felt the prick, and his eyes drifted shut. No, no, no. It wasn't supposed to happen that way. Not now, not when they'd finally gotten their acts together. Not when he was more in love with her than ever. Scully. His eyes popped open. He had to save her, at all costs. Somehow, he found his voice. It would be a futile attempt, but he had to take the chance. "Scully, get back to the car." "What?" "Go back to the car, get in, and drive to the facility." "Mulder --" "Get in the damn car, Scully!" he shouted. "*Why*?" she asked, searching his face. "Just leave you here? It hasn't even stung you yet --" "It stung me!" he blurted hoarsely. "Now will you get into the goddamn car, Scully?" She stared at him for a minute, her thoughts in a whirlwind. Stung, he was stung. She let herself drift into a moment of oblivion, praying to God or whoever was listening to please just save him, before she snapped out of it. He isn't dead yet, she told herself firmly. It was her lifeline. She clung to it. "The vaccine may still work," she said evenly, though tears threatened to spill over. "We need to get you back to the facility. They can help you there, Mulder." "No. No, you are not going to risk this. *I* won't risk it." "We don't know how fast this thing works --" "Exactly! Dammit, that's the point, Scully! I won't let this thing gestate prematurely in the car with you next to me." "I'll take my chances. Come back to the car with me. You aren't exhibiting any of the signs I did. It must be slower. Or maybe it wasn't carrying the virus." "That's a hell of a big 'maybe', Scully. I'm not getting in the car." "I'm not leaving you here!" "Get in the car! Get in the car before it kills us both!" Scully grabbed his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "I am not leaving you. Not now. Not after everything we've seen and been through. Now are we staying here, or are we going to try to beat this?" He leaned down and their foreheads bumped gently against each other. He drew strength from her, then pulled away, his thumb caressing the side of her face. "Why won't you let me save you?" he whispered quietly. "I could ask you the same thing. And the longer we stay here arguing, the less time you have," she answered. She wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him to his feet. Together, they walked back to the car; she put him in the passenger seat and started the engine. She quickly glanced back over at him - he was slumped against the door. "Are you okay?" "I feel...different." She felt his forehead, noting that his pupils were dilated. "You're clammy. Fever, probably. How's your vision?" "It's leaving me." He closed his eyes, pulling away from her, and returned to his position against the door. She knew he was curling up into himself, hoping that by doing so, he was protecting her from the alien within him, vying for his life against his unwelcome intruder. She held back her tears and took off with a passion down the road. I will not let him die, she thought fiercely. I won't. Behind them, the rotting bodies of Carol and baby Rose lay in the deserted brush, their stomachs open and bloody where the organism had expelled itself. The birds hummed in the distance, oblivious to the horror around them. Chapter Eighteen Scully drove for nearly six hours before she recognized the landscape that surrounded the facility, although the underground building was strategically hidden from the naked eye. She pulled over onto the shoulder of the road and waited. She'd seen the video cameras when they'd entered that first day; they knew they were back. They'd come for them. She waited for forty-five minutes, her heart in her throat as she checked on her ailing partner every few seconds, until the small figure of someone walking caught her eye. She opened the door and got out, leaning against the side of the car until they had drawn up close. "He's ill," she said simply, her voice trembling. "We know," one of the Emilys said. Upon closer inspection, she confirmed it to be Two. "We've been waiting for you. Please follow me." They managed to extract the now-unconscious Mulder from the vehicle and a Kurt appeared to drive the car away. Two and Scully threw Mulder's arms around each of their shoulders, and together, they helped carry him down into the facility. *** Two led her into a small room, filled with medical equipment and a hospital bed. Scully looked questioningly at it, but the clone merely set about doing her work. They laid Mulder down on the bed, and she checked his pupils - dilated, as Scully had suspicioned - and stuck a thermometer in his mouth. She took it out a minute later and frowned. "What is it?" Scully asked. Two glanced up at her. "He's running a high fever. I expected as much. Five is on her way down with the vaccine. There isn't much we can do from here." "What do you mean, not much you can do?" she repeated, her voice rising a notch. "The vaccine works, doesn't it? You gave us two vials of it a month ago. You said it worked." "Our vaccine was successful in seventy-five percent of the trials we ran." "Seventy-five percent?" Her voice choked and broke off. "You gave me a vaccine that only works three times out four?" "No medicine can be assured to be completely full-proof if it is distributed mere days after its creation, Dr. Scully. I'm sure that as a fellow doctor, you realize that." "Well then maybe we need to make sure it works that extra time, don't you think?" she said, her voice holding just a hint of a challenge. Two held her gaze without blinking. "A fool's errand, Dr. Scully. We don't have time for that now. The vaccine is ready for distribution. We cannot possibly do enough research to develop a brand new batch in time for the planned date." "And when is that?" "Two weeks." Scully noticed Five in the doorway and bit back a reply. Two motioned her in, and together they bustled around his prone form. Scully closed her eyes as the needle dove into his flesh. God, please, let him live. Please don't do this to us now. She felt a hand touch her shoulder gently and opened her eyes. Five gave her a look, her eyes betraying a myriad of emotions before she left the room, Two following closely at her heels. "He's slipped into a coma, Dr. Scully," Two said briskly, snapping off her gloves. "We've administered the vaccine, kept him comfortable. I sent Five off to bring the Kurts down here; we'll move him to a more comfortable room. I've done all that I can do." Scully kept her anger in check; she wasn't upset with the girls. It was the chance that all their ministrations were being done in vain that angered her. "And what happens in two weeks, when we're all supposed to leave for distribution?" "I can't say. Hopefully, he'll have recovered by then." *** Mulder felt like he was moving through water; his movements were slow and deliberate. A low, dull ache in the back of his head was slowly maneuvering its way towards the front. A sudden flash of a bright light startled him out of his reverie, and he blinked. "Give me the ball!" His brow furrowed as he took in her stance: all six years of her drawn up to her full height, hands on hips, eyes narrowed. They were outside, he noticed vaguely. "Fox! Come on, Fox!" She was whining suddenly. "Samantha?" he whispered, confused. "No duh. If you don't give me the ball like you're a-posed to, I'm telling Mommy." The memory clicked within him. "Why, it's not like you can play basketball anyway," he said in a monotone, reciting from memory. Another flash of light, and he saw himself in the charred office, a drained Scully clinging to his shoulders, and he was immovable. He saw them together, from the outside, like the edges were hazy. A dream? he wondered distantly. "We aren't beaten." He jumped, startled by the words. He remembered they were the ones she had spoken to him after those long, agonizing minutes after the realized all of their evidence, the past five years of their lives, were gone. "We are," he heard his other self say. "They've won." "I won't let us be beaten. There's too much at stake now for us to lose." He blinked and the scene changed. He was suddenly at Scully's bedside, and his heart tore up at the thought. Too many hospital beds, too many gunshots, near-deaths, and kidnappings. Too much heartache. He was back inside of himself again, and he reached out for her hand again. "I have the strength of your beliefs, Scully." Nobody down here but the FBI's most unwanted! Time doesn't just disappear! I-it's a universal invariant! Mulder, you have to understand. You may not be who you are. Mulder, I need your help! Mulder! I'm fine. I don't imagine that you need to be told this, Mulder, but...you're not a loser. I have cancer. I thought I was protecting you. I never expected this. Oh, brother. The memories of their years together ran like an old film in a nickelodeon through his mind; images, some sharp and others dull - voices that whispered and yelled, spoke with infinite sadness and desperation. "I had the strength of your beliefs." And then, mercifully, he passed out. *** DAY 52 Scully sat by his bedside, her hands clasped around his, her head resting on the bed in silent contemplation. Two weeks, she thought desperately. Two weeks and nothing. Two had confirmed that the vaccine had stabilized the virus, halted its rapid destruction of tissue. X-rays showed no signs of an organism in his abdomen. After the third day, Three suggested that they move him to a temperature-regulated room, on a whim that the cold might aid the vaccine in destroying the alien virus. It was kept at a steady thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit, although his body showed no signs of the sudden cold. He was stable, Three reminded Dana. They could do no more. The ball was in his court, now. She had not left his side for more than twenty minute intervals, and those were only at Three's persistent urging that she needed to shower and eat. All former walls were de- constructed, previous formalities were thrown to the wind. It took her three days to work up enough courage to hold his hand without feeling guilty, five days until she was able to whisper seductive incentives for him to come back to her, twelve before she admitted aloud that she did, indeed, love him. When the silence became too heady, she remembered their six years together. Good times, bad times...the times she wished she'd never even heard of Fox Mulder, the times when all she wanted was to grab his face and kiss him thoroughly and passionately. She remembered the day they'd first met, when he'd baited her on her belief in the existence of extraterrestrials - she chuckled at that one, now. When she lay in her hospital bed, deep in coma, and heard his voice weave through her unconsciousness: I had the strength of your beliefs. When he'd pointed a gun in her face and begged her desperately to run. The moment she finally decided 'what the hell' and closed her eyes as he leaned in closer, only to be startled a moment later by the true Mulder. When she found out that Emily was her own daughter, and that agonizing phone call to him. In another hospital room, clinging to his hand and urging him to lay the blame on her: Let me save you if I can, Mulder. And now she was preparing to leave him, for a trek into the unknown to save people she didn't know about or care about any longer. She squeezed his hand and leaned in closer, brushing her lips against his forehead. As she pulled away, her mouth hovered near his ear, and she hesitated before whispering softly. "I'll be back, Mulder. And I have to believe that you will be, too....I won't let us be beaten. There's too much at stake now for us to lose." Her voice wavered and she broke off. "I have the strength of your beliefs." *** DAY 67 If she had been expecting anything less than a miracle when Dana Scully returned to the outside world, she was deeply disappointed. Radio reports were all but nonexistent; the transmissions she was able to receive were distant and hard to decipher. It soon became apparent that although there had been a surprising number of people uninfected by the bees, the organisms that *had* gestated had done so rapidly. Colonization was no longer happening. It became a fact. Swarms of people moved north, in the same mind that colder temperatures could help to prevent the virus. Cities were emptied, towns destroyed in the wake of its residents' hasty departure. The world of before no longer existed. Life was barren and cold; its people wearied, confused, betrayed. Times of yesteryear seemed miles away, in a different lifetime. Theirs was a changed world now. They concentrated on Nevada with the vaccine. Endless nights spent driving towards faraway village lights only to discover a ghost town with a Main Street full of rotting bodies. Her pathologist-educated stomach could endure only so much of the horrible stench of death, and by the fourth city, she emptied her belly behind a bush during a distribution. Two, Five, Kurt, and Scully returned to the facility after eight days of a fruitless search for any remaining civilization. Six had mentioned a feeling that trouble was brewing. In reality, all four were anxious to return to the safe haven that the underground provided. *** Scully found Three with Mulder when they returned. "Three? How is he?" she asked, stepping into the room and heading immediately to his side. "Still unconscious, although there's some hand movement when stimulated. I think its fairly safe to say that he'll be joining the rest of the living shortly." She smiled warily at her. "Thank you, Three. For taking care of him while I was gone." Three hesitated, then rose from the chair that sat next to the bed. She let her fingers trail down his body, from his shoulder to his wrist, an undecipherable look on her face. "It was nothing," she said quietly. "Three," Scully called suddenly as the girl prepared to leave. "You don't have to go. I'm...sure Mulder would like for you to be here." A small sound, something akin to a chuckle, Scully suspected, escaped her lips. "I'm quite certain of the opposite, Dr. Scully." But she returned to her seat. Scully perched next to him on the bed. "You don't have to use titles, Three," she said gently. "None of you do." Three watched her carefully. "He...he once called Two the leader and Five the follower, and he asked me what I was. I told him I was Three, and he proceeded to profile me." A hint of a smile found its way onto Scully's face. "That day that you walked in on us arguing - he was angry that I planned to destroy the children after we tested the vaccine on them. I think I understand. I tried to, before. "He believed that I was different, Scully," she continued, leaning forward earnestly. "He thought I was special, distinguishable from my sisters somehow. I told him that they are me and I am them, and although we are the same, we are still not the same person." "And are you different from your - sisters?" Scully asked gently. "The original child, Emily One, was cloned in 1993. The odds worked in favor, but instead of just one clone, there were two. Not twins, per se; but I believe you had an early case involving the Litchfield experiments. It was something like that. The second Emily, the first clone, never made it past three months in the donor's womb....Have you studied much on clones, Scully?" "In medical school, when it was still science fiction. And I admit to having read up a little on it a few years ago." Three nodded. "There have been many...theories involving the cloned children. Are they an exact replica of the first child, or do the similarities simply end after physical appearance and mental capability? These, of course, have been debated since Dolly was a mere idea in the mind of a few scientists ten years ago. But since, the questions have grown. Is it theoretically possible for the first cloned child to have a mental link to its predecessor? You and Mulder both knew when you first met the Kurt Crawfords that clones show very little emotion, that we eat less than normal human beings, and that if the experiment is successful, there is a high chance that our intellect may exceed expectation." "You're saying that it's possible for the first...cloned child to have the same emotional attachments and reactions that the normal child would have had? Is that it, Three?" Scully stumbled over the final word, as though she had just two more dots left to connect. "Precisely. The second child born of that first cloning experiment was myself, Scully. I never gave rise to examine the possibilities behind the theories I've just mentioned. Not until --" She glanced at Mulder, and her mother detected a hint of fondness there, "-- Mulder suggested I was...different." Three glanced up at her, a small smile on her face. A smile achingly like her own, Scully noticed. "I don't know why I felt the need to tell you this now. After all this time. But we've had our suspicions for a few days now that there may be some kind of trouble soon." It took Dana half a second's hesitation before she slid off of the bed and approached Three silently. Almost on its own accord, her finger reached out and tapped the girl's nose. "You have Mulder's nose," she said, a hint of humor in her voice. "I'm sorry about that." She grew serious, and their eyes met. "You are different. You're special. You have the amazing ability to feel emotion: love, fear, happiness, anger. It's a gift, and you should treasure it. And as amazing as this emotion is, Two just happens to have a predilection towards leadership and an infinite capacity to store knowledge. Just as Five is quiet and can sense what you don't say directly. And you, Emily - all of you - are a part of myself and Mulder. Don't analyze yourself. You're your own person, Emily. And I'm proud of you." Before Three could respond, a strangled coughing noise from his bed interrupted them. Dana raced back over to the bed quickly and lifted him off of his pillows, letting him ride the spasm out. When it was over, he fell back against the bed again and was quiet. After a moment, one eye opened and focused on her. "I always wondered what it would take to get you into my bed," he said softly, looking into her eyes. "Welcome back, sleeping beauty. How do you feel?" "I don't know, you tell me." Three stood up and moved behind Scully. "We administered the vaccine in time. No sign of the organism, although there are traces of an unknown substance in your blood stream. I wasn't able to identify it or even to get a sample. But I haven't found any evidence that it's harmful." "Three," he said. She nodded a little. "Three took over for me while I went out to help distribute the vaccine," Scully explained. "Thank you," he told her honestly, his eyes meeting hers over Dana's head. "Thank you." "I was...happy to be able to help you," Three said, hesitating over the third word. "Excuse me, I'd better go alert the others that you're awake now. We'll need to run some more tests." The door shut behind her. Scully stared at the closed door, the words running through her mind. 'I was happy to be able to help you.' Happy.... 'It's a gift, and you should treasure it.' "Is everything okay, Scully?" Mulder asked, lightly touching her arm to get her attention. "Mm? I'm fine, Mulder." She smiled at him. "I'm really fine." Chapter Nineteen COORDINATES UNKNOWN UNKNOWN TIME The door opened quietly, although he refused to acknowledge the presence. He remained seated in his regal chair, his back to his visitor. He watched as they entered the room together in the reflection on the window, almost moving in tandem. "What do you have?" "Six clinics around the country distributed a vaccine," the younger man said. "Our clinics?" "Five were ours," the woman said, her head held high. "The last one...we believe it came from the Nevada facility. The one we abandoned in February." "How is that possible." "You know they never truly shut down. Samantha made sure of that," she replied. "Samantha is no longer a threat to us." "*He* is," Krycek said pointedly. "Which brings us back to another point." "Mulder and Scully, we gather, are in that same Nevada clinic," his partner added. He drew a puff of smoke, enjoying the tiny cloud of white- grey that billowed around him. "Gathered from what?" "Samantha contacted them shortly Before. We tracked them as far north as Route 375, which leads through Rachel to the facility," she continued. "They helped develop the vaccine...." he murmured to himself. His eyes narrowed and he snuffed out the cigarette. "Burn it." "Burn it?" Krycek repeated incredulously. "Why the hell would we burn a facility that we created to develop a vaccine? Especially when they succeeded?" "Did you hear me!" he shouted, standing suddenly. He faced the two before him. "I said, burn it. It's of no use to us any longer. We don't leave loose ends untied, Alex. I thought you understood that." His words were quiet, punctuated by an exhalation of smoke. "We understand," Diana Fowley said, nodding. "We'll have everything back under control within forty-eight hours." "I want it done now." Brown eyes met grey and a war was waged. In the end, she capitulated. "Fine. Twenty-four." He returned to his chair, back to them once more. After a pause, he heard their footsteps tread softly on the carpet, and then the door opened and closed. His eyes met their mirror image in the window, and he watched himself as he drew in a long drag of the cigarette. The end was near. Again. *** DAY 71 8:33 p.m. After wandering the barren halls for nearly an hour, Mulder gave up trying and knocked thrice on the door to Three's laboratory. He stepped in at her reply and poked his head around the door. "Hey, Three, have you seen Scully?" His voice fell flat when he saw the two red heads side-by-side at one of the counters. Both heads turned simultaneously to face him. Scully smiled at him. "What is it, Mulder?" "Nothing, I was just wondering what you were up to." "Bored?" she asked teasingly, sliding off the stool and walking over to him. She felt his forehead and prodded at him until she was assured of his health. "How are you feeling?" "I'm fine, Scully," he said, indulging her. He nodded towards the counter. "What are you guys working on so late at night?" "Nothing," Scully replied, almost instantly. She smiled. "Nothing important." Mulder's eyes narrowed with suspicion. He glanced at Three. "Nothing?" he repeated casually. The young woman's eyes met her mother's and returned to her work. After a pause, he brushed his hand down Scully's back and gave an artificial grin. "Well, then, I'm going to go to sleep now." Three looked at him once more, her eyes as unreadable as ever. Scully patted his arm and steered him towards the door. "Good night, Mulder." He nodded at her, the door closing behind him. *** 9:01 p.m. The door to their room opened quietly, a tiny sliver of light from the hallway penetrated the dim. Mulder lifted his head up and watched as his wife walked across the room towards him. She sat down next to him on his bed, and he waited for her to speak. "Three asked," were her simple words. He furrowed his brow and sat up. "She asked about what?" "You and I. Us." A pause. "What about us?" Her hands found his in the darkness, and he felt her finger the gold band on his left hand. "She wanted to know about the rings." Oh. He made a noncommittal sound and waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he cleared his throat. "What...did you tell her?" She glanced at him quickly. "The truth, of course." "What truth might that be?" Her eyes narrowed a little. "That we were married last month, in August." She paused, as though weighing her choices and boldly went ahead. "What other 'truth' might there be, Mulder?" Hoo boy. You asked for this one, he mentally chastised himself. "Well, just for the sake of conversation and my sanity, Scully, since I've known few married couples, and the ones I have known....Just how 'married' are we?" "What the hell kind of question is that?" "I-I think it's a rather important one, don't you? Don't look at me like that, Scully, you know what I'm talking about. I'm just wondering how our marriage differs from our previous relationship, our partnership?" "If you don't know the difference between marriage and a working partnership, Mulder, then I --" "No, I didn't ask in general terms, Scully; I meant in reference to us. You and I, specifically. How is it different? Are we any closer at this moment than we would have been if I hadn't gone to that church that day?" "Mulder," she said, rolling her eyes half-heartedly. She moved to get up, but he grabbed her wrist. Scully looked down at his hand, then met his eyes bravely. "You asked me a month ago if we were crazy for doing this. I'm simply examining the evidence, Scully. You haven't let me kiss you, we sleep in separate beds, you're obviously hiding something about what you were doing in the lab with Three today. I guess I'm just wondering if you're ever going to let us stop taking one step forward, two steps back....I'm wondering if you even care about us anymore." "I told you that I need time to adjust to this, Mulder --" "And I respect that. I needed time, too. And maybe yes, we were a little rash in doing this, but the fact still remains that we *did* do this. And I'm glad that we did. But you've got to throw me a lifeline here, Scully, because I'm hanging onto the edge." There was a tense silence. He waited patiently for her to examine his words, to analyze her thoughts, and to produce an answer. After a moment, she wove her left hand through his, an almost inaudible 'clink' of their rings permeating the silence. "There's nothing I'd like more than to just throw caution to the wind and jump headfirst into all of this. But that's not me, Mulder, and you know that. When you were sick...I didn't know what to do. How to save you. I realized, somewhere along the line, that I had one chance to bring you back to me. I told you the truth then, even though you couldn't hear me; and I'll tell you the truth again. You told me two years ago that I made you a whole person, that I was your one in five billion. So now you have to believe *me,* Mulder. I know I responded somewhat rudely before, and I want to redeem myself. The truth is, Mulder...The truth is that I love you. You know that, I know that. And the reason I haven't said it until now, the reason why I've wanted us to go slow, is because in the past four months, it's become painfully clear to me that neither of us are immortal. We won't live forever, and we don't know how long we will be here. I pushed you away because I realized that you had become so much a part of me, that if I lost you...I'd lose myself, too." Mulder bit his bottom lip, unsure of how to respond. He'd asked for a lifeline, and she'd thrown him a lifeboat. And he had never realized how much she'd held back in their six years together until she opened the gates and honesty poured out. He knew how rare it was for Scully to let anyone in...for her to open her heart to him so sincerely was almost heart- stopping. He looked into her eyes and found his answer. She moved closer to him and he enveloped her in his arms. He rested his chin on the top of her head. "I love you, too." *** 9:12 p.m. Two figures clad in black made their way across the highway. With uncanny ease, they located the hidden door and were stalking towards the entrance to the facility within seconds. As they reached their destination, the taller of the pair glanced up at the security camera. After a beat, he grinned into the lens. The woman beside him punched in a code and the doors slid open. On the floor above, Five watched the tableau unfold. Her eyes followed their every move, although she remained perfectly still and composed. When the doors opened, she turned around and met her sisters' eyes. "We have a security leak." *** The alarm sounded seconds before the smoke filled the room. Mulder and Scully leapt from the bed and raced for the door. The hallway was clouded with haze. Suddenly, a door across the hall opened and one of the clones stepped out. "Come on!" Two shouted. "We have to go!" "What the hell is going on?" Scully yelled back over the wail of the siren. "There's been a security leak!" her daughter replied. "We need to move *now!*" "What do you mean, a leak?" Mulder called as they followed her down the hall. "A man and a woman breached security at approximately twenty-one hours!" "Who?" "Alex Krycek and Diana Fowley, we think." They had reached a door. Two opened it and stepped aside. "Go through here until you reach the end of the hall. There'll be a door on both sides. Take the right one and run until you think it's safe to stop. Try to get within one hundred yards away from this building." Mulder's mind had frozen onto two words. "Diana Fowley?" he shouted as the sprinkler system kicked in and sprayed them with water. "Just go!" "Where are the others?" Scully yelled. "Go!" The sound of an explosion from within a room a few feet away caused them to instinctively drop to the ground. After a moment, Mulder was on his feet, retreating back down the hallway at a sprint. She knew immediately what was he was going for. "Mulder!" she shouted, scrambling up after him. She felt Two grab at her shirt, but she pulled away and took off at top speed. She skidded to a halt after she rounded the corner. He was gone. Scully wearily took in the dozen doors that lined either side of the empty hallway. Taking a deep breath, she began opening doors and calling his name. *** Mulder heard her voice, shouting his name in the distance, but he refused to be deterred. The moment Two had said her name, his mind had clicked to pure rage. And he refused to stop until he had answers from Diana Fowley. He slowed to a halt and tried to catch his breath, his mind moving to profiler. They were in the facility for a reason. But for what? The vaccine was an obvious answer, but why? He frowned. To take the vaccine or to destroy it. Destroy.... Destroy them. His breath hitched, and his eyes widened. It had nothing to do with the vaccine. It was about them; it was all about them, always. 'Divide and conquer.' "Divide and conquer," he whispered aloud to the empty hallway. Mulder spun on his heels and doubled back. "Scully!" he shouted. "Dammit!" *** The smoke made it impossible for Scully to see more than a few inches away from her face. She moved carefully, stealthily, albeit quickly. Every few moments, she shouted his name, to no avail. She closed the door and opened the one on the opposite wall. And stopped in her tracks. "What are you doing?" Three glanced up at her briefly, then returned to her work. "They'll take them, Scully. I won't let that happen." Her panic momentarily replaced with anger and confusion, Scully stepped into the room and closer to Three. "What are you doing?" Three met her gaze. "You need to go. Quickly. There isn't much time." "Which is exactly why you need to come with me right now." Three shook her head adamantly. "No. You don't understand. If they were to take this, all of our work, they'd use it to pursue their own goals, the further their own aims. I won't let that happen." "You're killing them!" "*They'd* kill them!" "Those are my children!" "Do you want Them to have your children again, Dana? Do you want what happened to Emily Sims and to me and to Two and Five? I don't want this to continue! And for God's sake, if I can stop it, then let me!" Scully put a gentle hand on her arm. For a brief instant, she could almost see Three's life as it should have been. Bringing her home from the hospital, the first day of kindergarten, her first dance in seventh grade, the first boyfriend, a sweet sixteen party, prom, graduation. A brother or sister to argue and play with. Loving parents in the room down the hall, always ready to give comfort when she was scared of the thunderstorms or if a nightmare frightened her awake. "Stop it," she said quietly. She closed her eyes at the sound of breaking glass and water running. Her mind could only conjure up images of the massacre, images she didn't want to experience. Finally, Three touched her arm and she opened her eyes. They made their way across the shards of glass that littered the floor. Glass that had once been vials and containers holding Dana's children. And now, like the future, they lay broken and empty on the floor. Scully opened the door and covered her nose and mouth with her hand. The smoke swirled up around them and with a quick glance over her shoulder at Three, she braved the hallway. And together, they ran. *** His heart pounding, Mulder opened and closed each door he came across, hoping against hope that he would find Scully in one of them. The heat of the fire was almost suffocating. He knew he had to get out, and get out fast. Never before had time been of such essence. He ran at a fast jog down the maze of hallways, turning down one hall to find a dead-end and returning to the previous unsure of which way was out. He coughed, choking when he inhaled more smoke than air. He opened a door and stepped inside. "Scully!" "Sorry, wrong number." Mulder's eyes narrowed as he kicked the door shut behind him and faced the voice. "Krycek. We have to stop meeting like this." "A pity, really, that we always seem to meet when your at the disadvantage, Mulder," Alex sneered. "Go to Hell, Krycek." He turned to leave. "There's a bomb, you know," Krycek said in a casual voice. Mulder faced him slowly. Alex gestured around the room. "Not just one, actually; more like a handful, all strategically placed around this godforsaken maze. All perfectly synchronized to go off at *just* the right moment." "What moment might that be?" Krycek pursed his lips and shrugged languidly. "Whenever." "Whenever," Mulder repeated, spitting out the word. "Whenever we tire of the little games." "And where might your little partner be, Krycek?" "Funny, Mulder, I thought she used to be *your* little partner." He kept his voice steady. "Scully. Is. My. Partner." Alex nodded. "We were wondering about that. If she was going to keep her maiden name," he added conversationally. Mulder's jaw visibly clenched. "We thought to send you a wedding present, Fox, but, well...we weren't quite sure where you were." "Fuck you." "Temper, temper. But, if you'll excuse me now, there are things that I need to do before we blow this baby up. If you'll excuse the pun." In the split second it took for his words to sink in, Alex had slid past him and into the hallway. '...blow this baby up.' '...excuse the pun.' Baby. Mulder turned and prepared to take off after the other man, coming to an abrupt halt at the sound of a gunshot. He opened the door to the hallway and his eyes met his daughter's. He stepped out into the hall and followed her gaze. She touched his back and handed him the gun silently. "We were not able to locate Agent Fowley," she said. He glanced back at the prone form on the floor and the pool of blood collecting next to the body. "Is he dead?" "It doesn't matter. We need to get out of here." She took his hand and pulled him down the hall. *** "Three," Scully gasped, pulling on the younger girl's shirt. She backed up against the wall and bent over, coughing from the smoke. "There are bombs," Three said matter-of-factly. "We need to get out of here while we still have a chance." "I have to find Mulder," she said, pushing away from the wall and stumbling as she tried to walk quickly. "He won't leave unless he knows I'm okay." "If we find him on our way out, fine. But we can't go looking for him. If we don't get out of here soon, you're going to die from carbon monoxide poisoning. Come on." Three slung Scully's arm over her shoulders and together they limped down the hallway. "I have to find Mulder," Scully whispered weakly, her voice muffled against Three's shirt. "We will," she said reassuringly. "We will." *** The sounds of explosions were all around them. Mulder ducked as one hit in the room he was passing and quickly caught up to the Emily. He covered his mouth with his hand and tried to yell over the noise. "I need to find Scully first!" "I'm sure she's fine!" Five yelled back. "Two or Three probably found her!" "I can't take the chance of 'probably,' Five! She won't leave unless she knows I'm safe, and I won't leave until I know she is, too!" Five stopped running and turned to face him. "We have about five minutes to get out of here, Mr. Mulder, before either you die from smoke inhalation or we both die from the bomb! Now, which do you prefer?" "I prefer Scully!" he called, gasping for breath. Five hesitated slightly before grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hallway. They turned the corner and nearly ran into two figures. Mulder pulled Five behind him instinctively. "Mulder?" "Three?" "We need to move," Five interrupted. "There's a bomb." "Scully," Mulder murmured, pushing towards her. His hands fluttered over her face, assuring himself that she was truly all right, until a hand on his shoulder made him pause. "She's fine, Mulder," Three said. "We're all fine. But we *need* to get out of here. Now." He shook his head, staring at the two identical faces standing side by side. Scully coughed and sputtered next to him, and he looked down at her in concern. "I'm fine," she whispered. They gathered themselves together and stumbled down the hallway. His eyes were already stinging from the smoke, and his lungs felt ready to burst for lack of oxygen. With each step, he could feel his desperation growing. The door handles were becoming extremely hot to the touch, and there was low rumblings in the ceiling above them. He grimaced and tried to hurry Scully along faster, shoving aside his fear of fire. Just as he felt he could no longer breathe in the smoke, Three pushed open a door and he could see the darkness of the night beckoning them. They stumbled out of the building, Five leading them up a slight incline. At the end of the hill, Scully fell to her knees, gasping for breath. He dropped down next to her, eyes closed in relief, oblivious to the slight drizzle of rain that had begun to fall. "Mulder," she said, grabbing his hand. "What?" he breathed. "Where are they?" "Who?" "Three, Five. They're gone." Mulder opened his eyes in confusion. He was stunned to realize that she was right. He stood and scrambled up the hill, Scully close behind him. His hazel eyes narrowed against the night, scanning the landscape for a sign of them. People don't just disappear, he thought wildly. "They went back into the building," she said quietly, next to him. He turned to her. "How do you know?" "I just know. Trust me, they went back." Her eyes locked with his. "We have to go get them." Mulder shook his head vehemently. "No. You aren't going anywhere." "Mulder, this isn't the time to start playing my knight in shining armor," she snapped, sliding down the slick grass of the hill. He ran after her, slipping a little on the damp earth. He grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him. "Stay here. I'll be right back." They looked back towards the facility, at the smoke curling up from the fire. He felt a slight lump in his chest as his mind cleared. There was a choice he had to make; to stay with her, safe on the hill, or to test Fate again and risk death trying to save their children. Their eyes met, and her shoulders slumped a little in defeat. He nodded at her, choice decided. And on the top of the hill, in the midst of the black velvet night that enveloped them, he bent his head, and their lips met. And for the few moments, they indulged in only each other, clinging to the vague hope that this was not the end. And then he pulled away gently, his hand caressing her cheek. They shared one last, long look before he was running back towards the inevitable, running on the chance that there might still be time enough. *** The sheer force of the heat inside the building startled him the minute he stepped back inside. Mulder allowed his eyes to refocus in the haze of smoke that now hugged every inch of the facility. He hurried down the hall, calling their names, his heart constricting with pain at each breath. He turned a corner and stopped, nausea pouring into his stomach. He hurried over to the limp body laying on the floor and pulled her up into his arms. A quick assessment of her features told him it was Two. His fingers moved quickly to find a pulse, purposely ignoring the blood that soaked through the gunshot wound in her neck and onto his hands. Finally, he laid her gently back onto the floor and closed her half-open lids, his hand pausing to smooth back her hairs. "I'm sorry," he whispered, bending to kiss her forehead. He stood, blind to the lone tear track on his cheek. Two loud pops dragged him from the reverie, and he pushed aside all qualms of guilt and rushed down the hall. *** Mulder stumbled upon the scene in the next hallway. Unbelieving eyes drank in the picture, his mind refusing to process what he saw. Five lay sprawled on the floor, one of the Kurts next to her. His eyes fluttered up and met with a familiar brown. "I'm very sorry," she said quietly, her eyes on his face and her finger on the trigger. He followed her aim to find Three on the receiving end. "I have my orders, you know." He spoke firmly but softly, not trusting himself to do anything more. "Let her go, Diana." She shook her head regretfully. "You aren't really in a position to dictate terms, now are you, Fox? I understand where you're coming from, I really do. I can't imagine how it must feel to stumble upon something like this. Two daughters already dead, another one moments away from it, all by the hand of a former love." "You're here to kill us, aren't you?" he said quietly. He gestured to Three, who stood completely still, her eyes blank and emotionless. "Let Emily go. I'm here. Let her go." "Not everything is about you, Fox," Diana replied, shifting her gun from one hand to the other. "Although you always did make everything personal. No, this is about the Project. How those that we created now choose to betray us. If there's anyone to blame for all of this, point your finger at your sister." "Samantha has nothing to do with you holding a gun to Emily's head, Diana." "She told you what was here," she continued, ignoring his statement. "She signed your death warrant, Fox, although she probably thought she was saving you. Of course, we're all grateful that you succeeded in creating a vaccine, that saved us all the hard work. But really, Fox. This facility was shut down in February for a reason. It was no longer viable to the Project. We can't let our little creations run rampant with side projects, now can we?" She sighed, her tone almost bored. "You probably think I hate you, don't you?" "Nothing says I love you like killing my children." Diana laughed. "They aren't your children, Fox, don't be sentimental. They're creations, experiments. Experiments that have become out of control and must be ended quickly....I don't hate you. I learned to love you in during our relationship. It wasn't part of the plan, but I did. Why else would I have tried to take you with me to El Rico?" "Let her go, Diana." She gave him a smile, tragic smile as her finger pulled the trigger. Mulder rushed over to her, cradling her head in his arms. Her eyes were closed, but he could see an uneven rhythm in her chest. He looked up, anger coursing through his veins, to find her gone. Standing, he pulled Three up with him and into his arms. He carried her with apparent ease, hurrying in retreat back through the corridors, side-stepping Two's pale body and outside. He managed to carry her thirty yards away from the building before his legs gave out and he collapsed on the ground. Mulder sat up quickly and leaned over her, examining the wound. "The bullet went straight through," he told her softly, pressing his hand against the entry wound. Three looked up at him with weary eyes. "Go," she whispered, her chest heaving as she coughed up blood. Mulder shook his head obstinately. "No. Don't try to speak." "It's no....use....Go, please." "Don't close your eyes," he said firmly, fighting the lump that was gathering in his throat. "Come on, Emily, stay with me." "That's...the...fourth time you've...called me that," she said, smiling a little as her eyes slipped shut. "Emily, don't close your eyes!" His voice broke as he choked on a sob. "Dammit!" He quickly wiped away a tear and pulled her up into his lap, cradling her. "Come on, open your eyes. Talk to me, Emily." "I'm tired." "We have to get to Dana, she can help you," he said irrationally. "No!" Though weak, Three's voice was firm. "No," she said more softly, "please...just stay...here." Mulder's hand pressed harder onto the blood seeping from the wound. "You're going to be fine," he said quietly. Her eyes opened and met his. After a moment, she spoke. "There's another...clinic. Virginia...West Virginia." 'Lieutenant McKenna began making frequent trips to and from a West Virginia medical clinic, beginning in July 1994 and ending the day before his son's death on June 17, 1999.' "Has...one...of the fetuses. You have...to find it," she continued, her breath hitching as a tiny river of blood crept from her lips. 'It's a fertility clinic.' "There...are no...more. It all...ends...here." Emily looked up into his eyes, her finger reaching up and tracing the tip of his nose. "Just...like mine," she said softly. Her breath caught, and her body shuddered. Mulder pulled her closer to him. He felt a faint whisper against his ear. "I'm sorry," she sighed, and her body went still. Mulder felt her slip away from him, and he held her tighter against him in a vain attempt to revive her. He remembered Scully's stoic visage that hid her internal grief at Emily Sims' funeral. He wondered if she knew that he had watched her the night the little girl had died; watched her lay in bed, cradling the toddler to her. He wondered if she knew the tears he had cried for her, for Emily, for all the children she could never hold. He hadn't felt such a level of grief until he saw the little girl die. He had doubted he ever would again. But holding the older version in his arms, he felt transported back to that early January days. The child that had died in the hospital room two years before had been Scully's child. The young woman with Scully's hair and his nose that had died in his arms was his daughter. A sudden explosion filled the calm night air and everything went black. *** She waited. Her eyes strained against the darkness, hawk-like in their attempt to discern a figure in the night. She watched as the smoke lazily engulfed the night, her heart in her chest. It was impossible to believe that after six years with him, after two aborted attempts and marriage, that it had taken such a catalyst to bring them together. He had kissed her and disappeared into the night, taking her heart with him. She doubted whether or not he had heard her whispered goodbye in his race towards the building. A thin film of tears veiled her vision of the orange flames that licked the air, springing to life almost from nothing. The hill was safe, she knew, but the intense heat still found its way to her. Her eyes closed, unable to keep vigil any longer, her quiet crying the only sound permeating the air. She was alone, with only the essence of grief and sorrow for company. She remembered shaking hands with him the first day they'd met. Blushing a little when she told him she'd only put herself on the line for him. Hearing his words and feeling his hands as she lay dying, and clinging to that to bring her back. The fear that had squeezed her chest when he put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. His refusal to believe she had cancer...the way he'd collapsed to his knees by her bedside when she told him her cancer was in remission. The look on his face when he'd said 'I do.' They were a kaleidoscope of memories, and she could hear, smell, and see each image with stunning clarity. She felt, in the hollow of her stomach, that it was over, that they had shared their last words, their last touch, their last moments together. And for the life of her, she had never felt anything as empty and tortured as the realization that he was not coming back to her. The sound hit her before the actual explosion. It shocked her to her the ground. She watched the fire explode from underneath the ground, as pieces of debris fell like rain around her. Scully imagined she could hear the breaking of her heart, the dissipation of her soul. She screamed aloud, her voice betraying her anger, frustration, and anguish into one word that echoed through the still night, haunting and taunting her. "Mulder!" Epilogue He stumbled up the hill to her some hours later, his face muddied with soot from the fire and blast, his hands bloody with the remnants of the carnage from inside the facility, his mind whirling with the new information Emily had given him. She was collapsed on the wet earth, her face on the ground, her body shaking with grief and pain. He put his hand on her shoulder, and she fell into his embrace, sobbing with relief, and he told her what had happened with Three. They made love for the first time on that night, a celebration of love, renewed life, and hope. Of course, whenever the story is recounted, that last part becomes G-rated. By the time that should have been Thanksgiving, they had trekked back to the East Coast, back to the West Virginian clinic that held her last chance. My kids always get a kick out of the fact that their mother was cryogenetically frozen for five years before she was placed in the womb of her mother via some twenty-first century medical technology. My husband asked me on our wedding day if I was twenty-five or thirty. It's a damn good thing I inherited Daddy's sense of humor. And Mom's eyebrow. I can't tell you how many times both have come in handy. By some twisted turn of Fate, I was born on the one year anniversary of my parents' marriage, August 8, 2000. Madeleine Emily Melissa Mulder. I never did figure out whose idea it was to give me such a mouthful for a name, but I'm guessing it was Dad's way of giving me a wide range of names to choose from if I ended up hating my first name like he did his. Dad always told me that I was just like he was, right from the start: cranky, tired, always ready for food, and enthralled with my mother. They never shared their concerns with me, although I learned as I grew older to read their eyes. It wasn't until I became a parent myself that I could see through their eyes. They watched, with a mixture of fear and hope, as I grew older. Would I look like the Emilys? Would I be a normal, healthy child that bled real blood? Would someone take me away from them? Mom sat me down when I was twelve and explained to me how I came to be, and prologue of it all. I had a feeling she brushed over a lot, especially parts that concerned the Emilys, especially Three. I think she was happy I ended up looking nothing like them. Only like the creation of herself and Dad; all five foot nine, curly brown hair, and blue eyes of me. I know they wish I'd had a more stable childhood. I was lucky enough to have been born during the last phases of colonization. Around the world, clinics much like the one they had stayed in were distributing vaccines and inoculating its citizens. Two generations of extraterrestrials gestated between July 4, 1999 and 2000. And by the end of that first year, nearly ninety-six percent of the population was vaccinated against the alien virus. The next gestation period yielded a mere one third of what had gestated the first time. By my first birthday, the virus had all but stopped producing. The bees died out eventually, too, although the threat of aliens was still very real. Each summer, everyone retreated north, to the colder climates. Mom's group of medical doctors and scientists were the ones who figured out that colder temperatures killed the aliens. When November came, everyone returned to their homes to wait until May arrived. When I was three, we moved to my dead grandmother's home in Martha's Vineyard. I was a lively child, into sports: baseball and basketball were my forte. I despised anyone who treated me like the child that I was, and I was keenly attuned to pick up a lie. Dad set up a basketball hoop in the driveway and I was a pro by four. I watched Dad and Mom to learn baseball. There were few children who lived nearby. Besides myself, there were only five other children within a mile, and we became each other's shadows. My husband was my best friend since we were six. I know I had two uncles, Bill and Charlie, and three aunts, Tara, Debbie, and Mom's sister Melissa, and a little cousin named Matthew. Grandma Maggie would pull me into her lap while she sat on her favorite rocking chair in our house and we'd rock back and forth for hours on end, me being lulled to sleep by her soothing voice. She told me of my dead family, and even though they were all dead long before I was born, I feel as though I know them. By the time I had my first period, our world was ours again. It had taken a little over a decade, but the aliens were gone, and the threat was over. Governments much like the former ones were restored to power, and the world underwent considerable reconstruction. We moved back to Washington when I was fifteen. By this time, the Constitution had been restored, we had an honest, reliable president, and more importantly, Americans had regained a lost trust in their government. My parents returned to their former jobs, the Bureau only too glad to have them back. Mom and Dad rose quickly to Assistant Directors of Forensics and the BSU, respectively. My schooling, for the first ten years of my life, was from my surrogate uncles John, Ringo, and Mel, who stayed honest just long enough to teach me the best, only to retreat back to their computers when the school system was re-established and I entered fifth grade. By the time I graduated the University of Maryland with a B.A. in English, Mom was graduated to Director of the FBI. They always had a good joke about that; something about Dad's premonition of 2023 and an early case they worked thirty years before. My life, for all its tumultuous beginnings, was relatively placid. And normal. I didn't have TV until I was in college, but the lack of that particular luxury only served to further my desire to write. Which is exactly what I do. As I previously mentioned, I married my husband David at twenty-five, and my son, William Fox was born three years later, and my daughter, Piper Margaret, was born a year after that. I always feel old now, when I look at them at them. Will looks more and more like his grandfather every day, while Piper is almost the spitting image of my mother. We wonder, sometimes, if they're even ours. There's a distant rumbling of thunder in the distance, and sure enough, a few moments later, I hear a loud clap and suddenly, I'm completely drenched. I stand, brushing the muddy earth off of my knees and the single tear that has managed to slip down my cheek. I imagine they're here with me. He'd tweak my nose, in an altogether too-familiar gesture from childhood, and ruffle my hair and tell me I was being a girl. She'd kiss my forehead and brush my hair out of my eyes and tell me if I don't get out of the rain I'm going to get pneumonia. Even though she's a doctor and should know that rain doesn't automatically mean cold. They're together, underneath me. Just as I found them that day. Spooned up together, his arms wrapped around her waist. Faces peaceful and serene after nearly half a century of worry and discontentment. I'd held onto the dim faith that maybe only one of them was dead. Ridiculous, really; they never did anything separately. I'd known since I was two and I saw them kiss. Since I turned thirteen and became a sappy romantic and pledged not to marry until I found a love like theirs. I almost wish I'd known them when they were partners, so that I could see how they became one person. Because they were. Together, they were whole. Two signature pieces of a puzzle. Coroner, amazingly enough, put the times of death at the same time. 10:13 p.m., November 27. I can't be surprised, really. Dad always taught me to believe in extreme possibilities. I bend and touch my finger to my lips, then press it against their shared tombstone before I head back to the car and the husband who waits for me. Fox W. Mulder Dana K. S. Mulder 1961 - 2039 1964-2039 The Truth Will Set You Free. the end. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx All feedback is humbly accepted and graciously answered. Hint, hint. http://members.tripod.com/~SueBridehead_2/fanfic.html NOTES, continued: For the record, all the hotels, towns, and first names of secondary characters are all real. Yes, that does mean that Beeville exists. All information concerning cloning is fact, also, except for that last bit in chapter eighteen, which was promptly created in order to further the plot. The names on the vials that Mulder notices during the 'tour' Kurt and Two give them are all real people, except for the last names. Gillian, of course, for Ms. Anderson. Ann is used courtesy of my lovely grandmother. I couldn't resist throwing in a 'Piper' at the end, there, and yes, before you ask...Madeleine *is* a nod to the new little Leoni-Duchovny.