Scythe
By Anna Otto
Email: annaotto1@aol.com

Sequel to Priorities and Foreboding, found at 
http://www.geocities.com/~annaotto

Rating: R
Classification: SA
Disclaimer: Kyle is mine, the rest of the characters aren't, 
and every day they ask to be returned to their rightful owners. 
Their screams are getting really loud.
Summary: Parents. You have to be one to understand one.

"So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, 
No more through rolling clouds to soar again, 
View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, 
And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart."

			~Line 826, Lord Byron~

"Funny how secrets travel..."

			~'I'm Deranged,' David Bowie~

Scythe

A thick pane of one-way mirror separates me from the dark-haired 
boy who sits on the floor strewn with toys and books. The drawing 
he works on captivates his complete attention, undoubtedly to the 
relief of the staff. Keeping Kyle busy is a challenging task. 
Providing him with constant human contact sometimes proves to be 
even more difficult, but we've learned to satisfy this particular 
need. For his father, the flow of voices in his head was traumatic, 
at least initially. 

For Kyle, the very absence of these voices seems abnormal. 

Distracted, he raises his eyes and looks at the mirror, as if 
sensing my presence. Cautiously, I take two steps backward. How 
thick does the glass have to be?

"He doesn't bite," someone whispers in my ear.

I draw in a sharp breath. The familiar voice still possesses a 
deeply seductive quality, and I wait a few seconds before I can 
speak. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"Damage control. It took longer than I expected." Diana's spine is 
ramrod-straight, and it only serves to highlight the inescapable 
fact that the very foundations of our world are weakening.

More and more often, I come here to find safe haven. I'm certain 
that the location of this facility is unknown. For now.

My gaze strays to the child behind the mirror. The drawing is 
shaping up to be a sketch of some grand, colorful castle. Others 
would admire it. I merely wonder whose mind this picture came 
from. 

"Do you think that his abilities will ever fade?" I ask. Do you 
think that I will ever be able to sleep at night? Do you think 
that there is a limit to how much damage can be wrought from the 
secrets that were kept safe behind the locks of people's minds, 
before Fox Mulder came knocking on their doors?

"Like father, like son?" Diana replies thoughtfully. "For Mulder, 
his gift was a burden. He was like a star that burned too brightly, 
too quickly. For Kyle, reading minds is as natural and simple as 
breathing. In other words," she smiles tiredly, "the answer is no."

Her eyes settle on the boy, and I search them for a trace of 
tenderness, failing. Sometimes, I want to tell her that she doesn't 
need to pretend indifference around me. Other times, on the days 
like this, I wish I hadn't known that she was this child's mother. 

"I'm meeting with Mulder today," I whisper.

Her mouth tightens a notch as she silently waits for me to 
continue.

"We must let Kyle go." 

I expect her to protest. I expect her to be irate at the decision 
made behind her back.

Instead, Diana leans closer to me, her lips parted slightly as if 
poised for a kiss. My entire body reacts to this unforeseen 
proximity, and my fingers strain with an impulse to touch her. "Do 
you think he will recognize you after all this time?" she breathes.

She walks away abruptly, into the room where Kyle's brown eyes 
light up as he sees his mother. The empty space where she used 
to stand makes my old body ache, and I'm grateful that there are 
no mirrors around for me to see my reflection in. These three 
years haven't been merciful to me.

Perhaps, today I will be able to put my anxiety to rest. Like a 
magician, I want to turn back time and undo all the harm we've 
done.

Behind the glass wall, the dark-haired woman sits on the floor 
and places Kyle in her lap. The comparison to Madonna and her 
child is blasphemous, but it's inevitable as I watch Diana smile 
quietly at the picture that he proudly shows to her.

I walk away slowly, mindful of my steps.

Some damage will last longer than this lifetime.

* * *

Fox Mulder has matured since the last time I've seen him. He has 
the air of a man who no longer needs to prove himself right. The 
expressive eyes that used to light with fury at the sight of me 
now reflect nothing but faint distaste. Perhaps most telling is 
his hand that doesn't automatically reach for the weapon. 

We watch each other in silence for a few tense moments, as if 
re-establishing the rules of the decades-old game.

Curtly, Mulder motions me inside his apartment, and I walk in 
carefully, too aware that this is the enemy territory. I would 
have preferred to have this conversation in the basement office, 
but I don't want to involve Agent Scully in our discussion. She 
is a wild card, and I'm too cautious a player to risk her 
presence.

I catch him in the middle of the packing, and he glances at the 
watch pointedly. "I'll be late for my flight."

"Where to now, Agent Mulder?" I ask, lighting a cigarette. "What 
new crimes against people have you uncovered?"

He's clearly irritated at my gesture, but instead of asking me 
to put it out, he goes to find an ashtray and places it in front 
of me. I'm grateful. It makes my task easier. 

"I assume you'll be informed of the results of my trip in due 
time," Mulder speaks distractedly as he struggles with his tie. 

"You might want to take a moment to watch this," I place the 
videotape on the table.

He chuckles and turns on the VCR with the air of one who has 
no choice but to humor a senile relative. The TV screen 
projects an image of a two-year-old boy leafing through a 
picture book, his serious face a study in concentration. He 
flicks his eyes upward as a figure dressed in white enters 
the room and proceeds with the regular tests: blood analysis, 
temperature measurement, and on down the list. It's a series 
of actions that Kyle has never paid attention to.

But they seem to hold Fox Mulder in a state of trance.

"A charming boy, don't you think?" I take another drag on the 
cigarette and hit the pause button just as Kyle's face comes 
into focus. "And a resemblance to his father is remarkable."

The earlier nonchalance of my host is gone as he tears eyes 
from the screen for a brief second to ask the least intelligent 
question. "What do you mean?"

"I know you don't trust my word," I reply with the calmness of 
one who can't look back. "This is the paternity test done in 
the first week after his birth."

Mulder tugs nervously on the carefully arranged tie and takes 
the proffered papers. "Eighty nine percent probability," he 
ruffles a hand through his hair. "High enough to assume...how?" 
he finishes hoarsely. "How did this happen?"

I want to tell him the truth, but something holds me back. I'm 
not a gentleman, and it's not the desire to protect the woman 
whom I possessed once upon a time. But I don't want Mulder to 
hate the boy, and I can't offer him reasons to do so. I remain 
silent, and he understands that I'm not planning to give him 
an answer.

"Why the tests?" his gray lips form a new question.

"He is a born telepath," I explain patiently. "His abilities 
are stronger than that of anyone else we've had opportunity to 
study until now. It's a lucky chance that rarely comes our 
way."

Mulder walks up to the TV set and places a hand on the child's 
cheek. Long fingers trail down the cold surface of the screen, 
and I can practically hear his heart rip. I wanted him to fall 
in love with the boy. Now I see that my purpose has been 
accomplished.

I smile, satisfied. His eyes assail me with the flare of old 
hatred.

Finally, we've arrived at the familiar ground.

"I want him brought to me at once," he hisses. "Or I will..."

"What will you do?" I ask, confident now that I hold all the 
cards. "What can you do? You may have generated enough 
momentum to continue destruction of much that I've worked for, 
yet I'm still here. And this child is hidden well, Agent 
Mulder. You will not be able to find him."

He swallows apprehensively. "What do you want?" He sits in 
front of me, and I'm stunned by the sudden transformation in 
him. A few minutes ago, he was a confident officer of the law. 
Now, he is just a man with simple human needs.

All because of the boy whom he hasn't known before now.

"There must be a reason why you showed me this tape," Mulder 
repeats when I take too long to answer. "What do you want?"

"Resign from the FBI," I say simply. "Stop pursuing whatever 
leads you have. If you can, persuade Agent Scully to do the 
same."

Mulder contemplates it for less than a minute. I can't help 
but admire the speed of his decision, whatever it may be. 
"It will be done tomorrow morning," he promises. "Right after 
the child is placed in my hands, safe and sound."

His cell phone rings, and he snaps it open reluctantly. 
"Mulder," he listens attentively. "Scully...yes...no, I won't 
be at the airport today," he raises eyes at me, and I signal 
my approval. "Scully... no, I'm... I'll explain later."

"Thank you for putting off this trip," I light another 
cigarette as he punches the end button. "It would be 
unfortunate if you were out of town and Kyle was brought 
here."

He stares at the floor. "Scully has a mind of her own," he 
says with resignation. "If not me, then her. If not her, 
then someone else - someone who cares enough. They will 
continue the work I began."

I nod in acceptance. It's been years since I've understood 
the inevitability of the events that would transpire 
regardless of this man's involvement. "Let it die a natural 
death, Agent Mulder."

He watches me as I stand up and reach for the videotape. 
"No," he protests much too quickly. "Please leave this."

"Of course." I can't resist an impulse to laugh. "Kyle makes 
it very easy to decide, doesn't he, Agent Mulder?"

The younger man looks at me with something akin to pity. "He 
is my son."

* * *

The steel doors of the elevator part before me smoothly. The 
laboratory is unusually empty. Soon, there will be one less 
reason to keep it running, when Kyle finally disappears from 
my life - from my nightmares. It's a pity, really. This 
building is equipped with state-of-the-art machinery, and the 
scientists who work here are world-class. 

The empire may be falling, but it is still grand.

A woman in white appears at the end of the corridor, and 
retreats upon seeing me. Strange apprehension settles over 
me, and I quicken my step, wishing wistfully for the agility 
of my youth.

I can't see Kyle through the one-way mirror, and I snap open 
the door to his quarters for the first time in two years. 
Perhaps one of the technicians or Diana took him for a walk 
in the garden -

"He's not here," Diana's metallic voice reverberates 
through the empty room.

I don't want to turn around. I came here to collect the 
boy, and I'm not changing my plans in the last moment. 
"Bring him back, then," I order her.

She walks a few feet between us and takes my hand gently. 
"Come," she says.

Please, Diana, I beg her inwardly. The secrets weigh 
heavily upon my shoulders.

Please. I can't walk.

Still, I follow her obediently through the maze of narrow 
halls, and she leads me up to another window. At first, I 
don't recognize the small pale face obscured by the white 
covers, and I can't understand why she brought me here. 
Surely, this child isn't Kyle.

"They operated on him last night," the woman beside me 
speaks. "It was decided after you left. We needed to learn 
as much as possible about him before he was given away 
and..."

I need to lean against the nearby wall. "What have you 
done?" I whisper.

The wind knocked out of her, she falls silent. "It 
wasn't my idea."

"You had to participate in this decision," I object. "How 
many votes did it take?"

Her lips tremble. For the first time I notice that she 
looks older - that her beauty is fading. Why haven't I 
seen all these wrinkles before? Why didn't I realize 
how the black color highlights the papery whiteness of 
her skin? 

"How many, Diana?" I repeat louder.

"Nine out of nine," she replies. 

I expected that answer. It would look suspicious if she 
had voted against the majority. 

"The operation went well," Diana's voice is a horrific 
accompaniment to the picture behind the glass - and to 
the picture that my imagination paints for me. I can't 
return Kyle to his father in this condition. I can't not 
return him. Both options mean war. 

Both options leave me trembling in fear.

"Do you realize that now we have no protection against 
Fox Mulder?" I ask.

"I'm sure you will make the right decision regarding 
Fox Mulder," Diana's lips curl grotesquely. "Just as 
I made the right decision regarding my son."

I stare at her blankly.

Her eyes narrow as she studies my expression. "Oh," 
she exhales as if surprised. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?" I snap. "Stop playing these games, Diana."

"Eighty-nine percent is a good figure. But it isn't the 
most convincing figure," she starts out with a 
supernatural calmness. "I ran another paternity test 
against the sample taken from you. The yield was 
sixty-seven percent. Obviously, you weren't Kyle's 
father. But these two numbers beg a question -"

The colors blend and shake in front of my eyes, as if 
the world had become a mad kaleidoscope. Through the 
glass, I can hardly see if Kyle is still breathing. The 
monitors surrounding him could well be lying. I have 
been justified in mistrusting people. I don't trust the 
machines, either. 

"I mean, I assumed you had to at least suspect," Diana 
continues. "Isn't that the reason why you protected Fox 
all these years? Surely, you wouldn't hesitate to 
terminate him otherwise."

"He's all alone," I whisper. "Excuse me."

I brush past her, and walk inside the room where my 
grandchild sleeps, buried beneath the white covers. 

Diana lingers in the doorway as I caress the bandages on 
Kyle's head. His little hand is pliant, and it's hard to 
imagine that these very fingers were busy perusing toys 
and drawing castles just yesterday. It's strange to see 
this animated boy so still. 

"All alone?" she asks. Her eyes carefully avoid Kyle.

"He can't be left without human contact," I explain. 
"Don't you know?"

Diana nods silently, probably remembering, then closes 
the door softly.

I pull a chair closer to the bed. I will sit here until 
Kyle wakes up.

The End.


Author's Notes: I...am...guilty, officer. 

Rachel, Ashlea, Danielle - once again, I don't know 
what I'd do without you. 

Write me. After this, I need human contact. 

annaotto1@aol.com

Take Me To Your Leader

http://www.geocities.com/~annaotto